Am I Going Mad or Am I Just a Mommy?

Yes, I know. I have no shame. And this isn't wordless.

Moodswinging Mommy has been away from this blog for quite some time now.   She has been absurdly busy obsessing about vampires, fan fiction, and generally embarrassing herself in person and over the interwebz over the last few months.  No. Time. To. Blog.  She shall forgive Blogherads for yanking her ads because she was a Lazy Suck-Ass Blogger, and just before they were supposed to send her a check, too!  Google Page Rank is also absolved of the sin of taking away her coveted 3/10 page rank.  Zero suits me just fine, thankyouverymuch.  Less PR spammers to deal with is a good thing.

And now I give you a not so Wordless Wednesday:

PS:  This is not my car, nor is it Super Dad's.  But some girl in Manchester, NH must be very happy.

Phrases that spell T.R.O.U.B.L.E

These are in no particular order, and, I might add, all heard around these parts within the last week.

From the Forty-Year-Old Man:

"Uh, I'll be back in a minute.  I have to go to Home Depot again."
 (This is usually preceded by a smattering of colorful words.  Man in question does not return for at least 90 minutes.)

"Have you seen that Home Depot bag/receipt?....You know, the one that was sitting on the counter/hanging on the doorknob right here? "  
 (How to distinguish said bag/receipt from all others scattered about the house is a mystery.)

"Have you seen your blog today? Hehehe!  Check it out!"

"Um, so we had some paint in a yogurt container in the garage that we forgot about?  But everything's fine now."  (More on this later.)

From the Five-Year-Old Boy  :

"Mommy?  When you microwave popcorn, is there always a lot of smoke?"   (Sunday morning wake-up call,approx 6:15 am )

"I got myself some grape juice.  It is good.  And don't worry Mommy, I only spilled a little bit."  (What is it with these wake-up calls?)

From the Two-Year-Old Girl:

"Ta daaaaa!"  (This one can send shivers down one's spine.  Seriously.)

"I need more gwoo!"  (Time to hide the cat again.)

"Mommy, I have poop.  I changed diaper myself." 

From the Personal Trainer:

"Don't worry, I'll go easy on you.  Although last week I did made a guy throw up."


From Emergency Room Doctor to Nurse:

"Bring me a 25 gauge needle.  And she'll need  4 more cc's of morphine." 

(Spinal Tap=Fun times!)

Well, that pretty much sums up my last week and a half.  What spells T.R.O.U.B.L.E around your house?

Size Does Matter!

When it comes to many things, yes, size does indeed matter. 

Case in point:  The Marshmallow.

Yes, I said marshmallow.  Just stay with me and expect the unexpected around here, 'k?

And here we have it....

On the left, we have a generic mini marshmallow.  I usually toss five to ten of these in my hot chocolate.

On the right, a super-duper-genetically-engineered Malvavisco Super Gigante, direct from Progreso, Mexico.

(I say genetically-engineered because someone under ten in our house is under the impression that marshmallows come, and I quote, "Fresh from the Farm.")

There is supposed to be a "regular" sized marshmallow in the middle for a better size comparison, but that same someone under ten appears to have eaten them all.

Here's what the package looks like:

 

Since I have personally examined many of these Super Gigante marshmallows, I can personally guarantee that size does matter.  And they even come in strawberry flavor that actually tastes like strawberries.  How cool is that?

I think what we have here is a communication problem.

In case you are stumbling upon my blog for the first time, I just want to let you know that Moodswinging Mommy does read.  I present some evidence here, there, and way yonder. 

I am really not a small town kind of gal even though I am stuck in the 'burbs with two kids.   As far as I'm concerned, small towns do have some things going for them.  One of them is the free local newspaper.   Each week when a new edition comes out, I gleefully snap one up. Does this make me a concerned and informed citizen?  Well, I'm a taxpayer, so at some level it does.  Then again, I can't vote, so I'm kind of in a gray area.

The reason I love the local paper so much?  Two words:  Police Log

Don't get me wrong.  It's not out of some kind of schadenfreude that I enjoy the police log so much, it's just that they report on every event, from the most trivial to the most ridiculous.

How does this one strike you?

1945phone.  Assist citizen, services rendered.  Location/address: 123 Main Street (Yes, they give the entire address!) Walk-in party reports that his girlfriend and child have been missing since Wednesday.  Made contact with girlfriend, she and the child are okay.  She left him.  See N665's report.

Now, it is not my business why she left or whom she left.  Maybe the guy was a complete douche-bag or even worse. (I'm betting on the latter.)  However, since I don't know the details, I can't help feeling a little bad for the guy.  

Now I've heard of breakup via answering machine, breakup through text message, but breakup via the police and local newspaper?  And to give his address to boot?  What's next, breakup by sky writing? 

Two days until the next paper comes out. I can't wait!

Moodswinging Mommy's Busy Today

Whee!  Today I get to play "Hollywood." That's all I'm sayin' .  Apparently I have lost any shred of sanity and dignity I had left.

Will  you hear about this?  Of course, friends!

You just have to wait until some time in April.

Tales from the Truck

Let me be clear from the outset.  This tale is not about me, since I drive a cheerio and goldfish-littered Toyota Sienna that has been known to smell like sour milk from time to time.  This tale involves my dear brother, who happens to be a firefighter-  hence the title.  I assure you, his shiny red truck is as immaculate as my vehicle is filthy.

My brother is typically very closed-mouthed about his job.  From all accounts when he is on duty, he is either (probably in this order):

a) grocery shopping, because firefighters love to eat...a lot;

b) sleeping, eating, or watching TV;

c) en route to a false alarm;
 
d) returning to any of the aforementioned activities after said false alarm (usually it's to grocery shopping);

e)  actually dealing with something that is actually life-threatening and/or downright disturbing.

Today's anecdote falls into the last category. 

One day a 911 call came into the station:  Male in apparent cardiac distress at Catholic church nearby.

Super Brother and the his fellow firefighters arrived at the scene post haste to observe a man who had collapsed near the front pew of the church.  It was obvious the man was in bad shape, and the firefighters worked quickly to assist.  Super Brother was busy applying leads for the cardiac monitor to the man's chest when he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

It was the priest. 

"Uh, any chance we could move this along?" he inquired impatiently, nudging his head towards the parishioners who were beginning to enter the church for Mass.

My brother gave him a wide-eyed look, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. "We're doing the best we can," was all he could muster, while trying to concentrate on saving the man's life.  The firefighters continued on with their work to stabilize their patient. 

Three minutes later...

Tap, tap, tap. 

The priest again- "Perhaps when the ambulance arrives, we could all take a moment to pause in the vestibule?" suggested the man of the cloth.  While clearly the ailing man was not ready for the Last Rites, timing was everything and he had to be transported to the hospital without delay.  The firefighters gave the priest a look and didn't bother to respond.  The ambulance and paramedics arrived, and the sick man was wheeled inside the vehicle in a flurry of activity.

Timing was indeed everything to everyone on this morning.

Instead of showing piety and compassion for the sick, the priest was more intent on Mass starting promptly.  Failing that, making a grand show of blessing the man in front of his other parishioners as they arrived was next on his mind.   Purely disturbing.

The good news is that the man who was having a heart attack most likely survived.

I just hope he found a new church to attend.

Another Reason to Love Jerry O'Connell

As you all know, I have just crawled out from under a rock.   For the benefit of those like me, I thought I'd share Jerry O'Connell's spoof of Tom Cruise's Scientology indoctrination video.
(What a whack-job poor Tom has become!   I say good for Nicole for getting out of there, and is someone organizing a rescue mission for poor misguided Katie and darling little Suri?)

Okay, now that psycho Tom has given you reason to have nightmares for months, here's Jerry!  I think I now have to make room for him on my special list, along with Harrison and George, Johnny, Orlando, Viggo...

Be afraid! Be very afraid!

Okay, Moodswinging Mommy tries to be a kind person in word and deed, but every so often something shakes me to the very core and I cannot remain silent.

Surely there are others who were as horrified as I was to hear that Paris Hilton wants to have a baby? Let's rationalize this using her logic, shall we?   Everyone else is doing it, so why not Paris?  After all, she's had a lot of experience in dressing tiny dogs in chic outfits.   Lap dog/baby...same difference, right?

Why should Paris Hilton not procreate?  Well, you don't have to look hard for a reason.  All I will say is this:  In addition to her other, ahem, questionable actions and priorities, Paris cannot even keep track of her dogs!  What reason is there to believe that she would be any better at caring for a baby? I present for your consideration:

Exhibit A

But wait, there's more!

Exhibit B

Sigh.

I suppose there's a bright side.  With all her money, at least Paris could hire a nanny or two so as not to disrupt her club-hopping lifestyle.   Maybe that way her child would not be lacking in the necessities of life once the novelty of having a baby wears off for Mama Hilton.

I wonder how the folks at DSS took this news  Why am I picturing one caseworker exclaiming to another, "Awww shit!  Aren't we busy enough as it is?  Who's it gonna be next? Lohan?".

Okay, Down off my soapbox.

I have to get back to re-reading War and Peace now.

Nothing Says Fourth Of July Like

parades, fireworks and apple pie   stuffing your face with 59 and a half hot dogs?   I don't even want to know what these competitors do to prepare themselves for such intestinal carnage.

Happy Fourth of July to my American friends!

(AP Photo / Louis Lanzano)

Check out more Wordless Wednesday participants here.

Now That's Disappointment!

Google has been in my bad books lately.  First, it tried to drive me closer to the brink of insanity by turning off my comments, and deleting a post here and there in my old Blogger blog. Then, the Powers That Be decided to disable my Ad Sense account.*  What a blow!  There would be no more playing of my favorite game: What Hilarious So-Called Contextually-Relevant Ads Will Appear Next On My Blog?

How dare they screw with my mind and then make me feel like a common criminal?  I was done with Google!  Or so I thought. 

And then I discovered a new game.

All the cool kids were playing it.  And I finally figured out how to play too.  (It took me a while, since I've never been cool.)

Yes, dear friends, I will now share with you my favorite Google Searches that brought unintended and unfortunate visitors to my blog. 

1.  "i really Lost now"- Yes, I'd say you are.  Who would type this into a search box, anyway?

2.  "cute mommy awards"-  Did someone give me an award for being a cute mommy?  They must have forgotten to tell me.

3.  "caffeinated mommies"- Hey, wait a second.  Maybe this person was searching for me?

4.  "BEN 10 TOY"- Nothing screams Am I Going Mad or Am I Just A Mommy?  like this attractive fella, wouldn't you say?:

                                     

Actually, I do look a bit like this before I've had my coffee.  Damn!  Now someone might confiscate my cute mommy award!

5.  "Gorgeous Mommy Madison"-  How flattering! Only my name's not Madison.

6.  "mommy have to change your stinky diaper"-  Am I the only one who is creeped out by this? I'm glad I removed most of the pictures of my children. Of course, it could be completely innocent....Yeah, I don't think so either.

And the winner of Mood Swinging Mommy's most unique search term....Drum roll, please!

"rectal exam stirrups nurse toy"

Imagine the disappointment of this searcher!  He was very specific in telling Google exactly what he wanted.  What does Google give him? A humorous account of my trip to the gynecologist.  Now, I'm fond of this post myself, but methinks this was not what he had in mind.  (For the record, I'm aware that I used the pronoun He.  I stand by it.)

So where am I going with all of this? Well, all of this amusement has left Mood Swinging Mommy with the feeling that she was too harsh with Google.  In the spirit of reconciliation, I drafted this little letter.  What do you think?  As always, I am open to suggestions.
                   

                                 *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *        *

Dearest Google,

How can I stay angry with you? 

I owe you a big thank you for creating such a reliable, and yet unreliable search engine.  You've brightened my day, and that of many other bloggers.    Where once you used to piss me off, now you almost make me pee my pants with laughter.  Thank you for all that you do.

Keep up the good (or is it bad?) work!

Fondly,

Mood Swinging Mommy

PS: Just to clarify, that's mood swinging mommy, not swinging mommy. We wouldn't want to mislead some poor pervert out there.  Thanks.)

* I may not be cool, but apparently Google thinks I'm really bad news.  You'd do well not to cross me. It's all Super Dad's fault.  I'm afraid he was a little overzealous in his use of my blog's Google Search box.  I get the "don't click on your own ads" rule, but why can't he use my search box if he need to search for something?  Silly Google!