Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
At a swim meet this weekend, my friend's husband took his three year old to purchase a drink.
In line, the three year old yelled that the man in front of them was "FA-A-A-A-A-T! "
The husband was horrified. What was worse was the big man got offended and turned around all mean-like and said in a challenging voice to the father:
"Did HE just call me fat?!"
The Dad covered quickly.
"No, no. He called you bad. He calls everyone bad."
Mollified, the big man smiled.
Of course, because in this country, it's better to be evil than fat.
Kids can be so brutally honest was my immediate thought. My daughter once said loudly in a Macy's dressing room that my belly was like a bowlful of jelly.
Yes, we had been reading the "Night Before Christmas" and yes, she had also identified several white bearded, ahem, large men and asked if they were "Santa Claus." And, I say defensively, it was only a month after delivering a over 10 lb. baby.
Yet, damn, you know a 2 year old is not lying. They have no filter. They give it all to you which surprises me that the faaaaat man above took issue.
Dude, if a three year old says you're fat, you're fat. Deal! Don't get pissy. Don't confront. Look at your dinner plate. That's what I did.
And what's wrong with you that it's cool to be bad, but not fat?!
So, it comes down to you are fat, not "not phat."
Get it? Not phat = bad.
Nope, just fat!
Live with it and leave the unfiltered pre-schoolers (and their poor dads) of the world alone.
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 8:00 PM
My husband however, uses our real names and puts his blog in his email signature line.
And guess what, I'm on his very short blog roll.
So, I've been outed a few times by friends.
They usually come up finally and say I found your blog. After the "Oh, fuck, did I ever write about them" thoughts, I'm okay with it. My sister found my blog the same way.
It does however stifle our conversations because I'm always thinking: I blogged about this or that, so they have read it, so maybe I shouldn't say it again and bore them. Or maybe they didn't read that post? Second-guessing and awkwardness at it's best.
However, I live in physical, gut-wrenching fear that my religious, sometimes holier-than-thou sisters and my sometimes incomprehensibly insane parents will find my blog.
I only speak the truth, but sometimes it's brutal what I write about my childhood, my Dad especially and my self-esteem issues, and their Mormon faith.
It makes me absolutely sick to my stomach to think about.
At the same time, I know I could have hundreds more readers daily if people did know I write, but, then I would self-censure and you wouldn't get to hear the whacked out tales of trophy wives and dog-butt wipers in my neighborhood or how crazy, insane my Dad can be.
So, people, can you give me some peace of mind? If you know me and are reading this, can you let me know? Either a comment or an email would be just fine.
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 9:46 AM
Moosh in Indy wrote a poignant photo-essay style post about sisters. It made me sniffle a bit my sisters are not close by, but more than that it made me tear up for PB. I've posted my comment:
I grew up in a family of five girls and one boy. While my brother and I tolerated each other, I loved my sisters.
They protected me. They did my hair way better than my mom. We went to movies. We shared secrets. We gossiped.
Today, we still do a lot of those things even though we are states apart.
So, what's the problem? My princess has two brothers-no sisters. She will never know that bond of sisterhood. It's likely she will have closer girlfriends because she won't have her sisters backing her. Still, no sisters.
It makes me so sad. There are days where in la-la land, I've shopped on-line adoption pages looking for a sister. I've had dreams where she is from India or Pakistan. Where I can be a hero to both girls.
Then I think, who am I kidding. My husband wanted two children. I got lucky his vasectomy failed, so we got our third miracle baby. Three is all he can handle. But then, he also said that once when we only had one child.
Dreaming of Sisters...
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 8:16 AM
Sunday, April 27, 2008
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 8:13 AM
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Wasn't it just yesterday that she looked like this:
My baby girl is growing so quickly. 3rd Grade today. College tomorrow.
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 10:49 PM
She chose my mother.
My mother had some difficulty understanding the questions. She also had some humdingers of answers.
Next Question: "Who was your favorite family member?"
Her Answer: "All of them."
Next question: "What advice do you have for me about being a child?"
Her first answer was,"Don't associate with the wicked people of the Earth."
Yes, my third grader really wants to have that on her poster of her warm, cuddly grandma.
I took over the phone. "Mom, she's not going to write that!"
My Mom revised her answer: "Okay, then be happy, smile all the time, and be friendly with everyone."
Whoa! From one spectrum to the other. Luckily, the second answer was more of which we were looking. Warm and cuddly. Easy to put on a poster and say in a speech.
But! Gah! Now you have an inkling of what atmosphere I grew up in, yes? Extremes!
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 3:30 AM
Friday, April 25, 2008
Flickr Photo by cobalt123
I know you thought that price was for well aged wine. Or blood. Or gold juice.
Nope, we are talking about that funny smelling substance (which I secretly love to sniff) which makes the car go vroom, vroom.
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 8:30 AM
We just finished our taxes! Yeah!
What's that you say?
No, not the 2007 ones.
Yep, the 2006 filing.
Good News: We are getting a $5500 return.
Bad News: We have had a credit card balance that entire time. So at an average 10 percent APR and if we had done our taxes diligently and put the rebate towards our credit card balance, we would be $750 less in debt.
2nd Bad News: We bought super Turbo Tax so we could file electronically and they would aud-ja-matically put it into our account quicker. Sigh. When you procrastinate like us, you have to go old-school and send it in the...gasp...mail?
I mean, who uses the postal service anymore?
M'kay, agreed. We suck.
We are college-educated lame-sticks that should know better not to overpay the man that much in the first place, much less let him keep it for over 2-1/2 years without paying us interest.
Okay, gotcha. Agreed. Numb skulls extraordinaire.
Now, about those 2007 taxes. Emmm...Errrr... CG? He's estimated they owe us at least another $3000 plus that family credit.
The IRS should be paying us interest. We seem to not be in any hurry to get it back.
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 3:30 AM
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Well, I didn't say no at first. First, I had to clarify the difference between whippED cream and whippING cream.
You see, as bad mothers through out the universe are wont to do, I run out of milk more than occasionally. So I let the kids use my coffee's half 'n half. Or occasionally the whipping cream if we bought some for a particular recipe.
So, it's a fact that my kids like buckets of milk on their cereal.
At least a cup.
Sooooo, when they use the whipping cream, that would be over 1 cup of heavy whipping cream which makes probably three cups of whippED cream stuff of which CG mentioned.
So, no, I answered honestly, I don't squirt a tablespoon or two of the puffy, pre-whipped cream on their cereal or oatmeal. Nope, that would be ridiculous, right?
Nope, I just give them the equivalent of hundreds of tablespoons of the stuff. You do the math. More than ridiculous.
So, this week, we happen to be flush with milk. Li'l Man, however, had some suspicious substance in his 100 percent Natural (HA!) Granola this morning.
"What's that?" I ask.
He says sheepishly,"Half 'n half."
"You know we have milk?" I ask with raised eyebrows.
"Yes. I like cream better, Mommy."
Ummm, now that I think about it, so do I. Ahem! But that's not the point. I still let him have it.
However, don't think I am totally irresponsible. He was using the FAT-FREE half 'n half.
Mmmmm. Mmmm. Good.
No fat, but lots of chemically goodness that replicates fat.
I deserve a Scurvy, Scallywag, Mom of the World award, me thinks.
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 3:30 AM
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Dana recently caught her husband red-handed with a receipt for a vibrator. I asked my husband what a man would do with such a vibrator.
He had some theories, but then he went off on a tangent about electronic hoo-haas.
I mean in real detail.
Like they are rubber tubes.
Like some feel like mouths.
Some feel like hoo-haas and others feel like, ahem, other orifices.
Like he's done research...
Can you sense my eyebrows were raised?
He saw those eyebrows and defensively said he'd only read about them in Wired magazine.
He said that last time when we went to see "Lars and the Real Girl."
He knew ALOT about those REAL girls.
Seems he'd visited the website.
Seems he read it in a magazine first...
Seems it was probably Wired...
Funny that! I couldn't find any electronic vaginas when I searched Wired?
Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I still say hmmmph! Wired seems to be more about electronics than software nowadays, eh?
Dangerous, girls! Dangerous!
Shaking my head.
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 10:30 AM
The rhododendrons were blooming. The cherry trees blossomed. The grass was freshly clipped.
Couples were walking, hand in hand, enjoying the spring air.
Then my gaze caught one couple...
Oh my fucking Gobstoppers!
There was a affluent, Burberry dressed, young Asian couple, she in heels, each hunched over on either side of their white short-haired Beagle, fastidiously wiping his puckered anus. The same puckered anus which faced the road and was imprinted on my bewildered mind.
What the living hell?
It seemed as if every spec of feces was being removed with their hands in their black, neighborhood supplied poo sacks.
Affluent, Fastidious Dog Poop-Chute people, can't you do that in the privacy of your own home? Or at least off my sparkling boulevard? Can you at least turn the canine assticle away from on-lookers' gazes?
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 3:30 AM
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Li'l white boy can dance.
Yes, he can.
Check him out freestyling:
Apparently, there's a series of these that CG has videotaped. Li'l Man's got some moves.
I can honestly say he doesn't get this from any of us. CG's got the typical tight arms close to the chest jerks of a man dance and I was the morose, black clad Goth spinning around and around like Robert Smith of the Cure in high school. The older ones? Not like this.
This kid of ours?! Maybe a little too much MTV watching in utero and listening to his Daddy's music. Maybe it was the six months of dance class (mainly ballet) when he was eighteen months old because I was his Mommy and I could. I need to find some video tape of that. The only boy in a bevy of pink tutu clad girls.
All I can say about this impromtu dance session is, where the hell did he learn to spin around and break dance?! And do cat eyes?
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 8:36 PM
So, obviously, he feels comfortable that he can tell us anything, and he decided to share his joke with us. You can read all the details on CG's blog.
In short, I don't think he got it. He knew it was funny, but didn't get that the punchline:
"That wasn't my belly button," and "Well, that wasn't my finger, " referred to body parts.
I think he must have laughed along in the locker room--clue-less! I'm sure lots of the boys laughed along clueless because men, no matter the age, are lemmings.
I found myself explaining that the finger might refer to another body part, similarly shaped.
Suddenly, his face was like an open book. Realization dawned. His face was bright red. "Ohhh!"
He's so naive at times. It's cute.
But! We need to work on him NOT telling dirty, locker rooms to his mother, yes?
It's just not right. Right?
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 10:00 AM
Flickr Photo by Daniel Greene
Remember how I mentioned I can be irrational yesterday? Pa-shah! That's nothing compared to my eating issues.
I hate Americanized Indian food.
Give me crap green curry and I will give you the stink eye.
Serve me Tikki Masala all fatty and glue-y? There goes your tip, you stupid whore.
Give me gummy, sticky Basmati rice and I will leave you a bad review and talk shit about your restaurant endlessly to
CG to anyone who will listen.
Luckily, the Eastside has good, authentic Indian--especially in Redmond near Microsoft. When you are the only white person in the restaurant, you know you are at the right place.
I loves me some Americanized Chinese. Authentic? Bah! I miss my California Chinese.
I love Chinese, but Seattle doesn't do it for me. They suck at Chinese food. Bleck!
Sniffle. Why can't you make good chicken almond chow mien here in Seattle? You do so-so Dim Sum (I like that authentic, but can only find it in Vancouver, Canada or San Francisco).
I'm looking for a restaurant that has a wondrous combination of Asian husband and white wife or vice versa that blends the two cultures food into that glorious food of my childhood.
You know the restaurant with darkened interiors, maybe a few cockroaches, definitely greasy spoons, and lots of elderly people eating there. Lots of greasy sweet and sour pork, Mongolian Beef, General Tsao's Chicken. You get the deal.
Yeah, I told you I was irrational this week.
Is that so wrong?!
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 6:00 AM
Monday, April 21, 2008
There's something you should know about me.
I'm an infected human agent of the worst form of Herpes Simplex.
Yes, my friends I get cold sores. Monstrous one. Ones that start in my middle of my lips and leave trailing pain down my chin.
So, another fact you should know is that my feelings get easily hurt. Ask my mother-in-law I haven't talked to in four years. Yep, I'm grudgy too. And irrational at times.
So, I'm feeling all grudgy, irrational, hurt, and in pain today.
Why, you ask?
For the last twelve years, I've taught my husband CG not to kiss me when I have cold sores. He's been resistant, but I have stubbornly clung to the fact that miraculously, he does not have this pestilence, and I don't want to be the one that gives him the gift that keeps on giving.
So, after eleven years of marriage, I have a disgusting, weeping, painful cold sore today and he had the nerve to kiss me repeatedly...on the forehead.
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 7:00 AM
Sunday, April 20, 2008
So, you know the schpeal:
Yes, my friends.
I entice you to stalk me as I make my windy comments across the country.
Come meet my favorite blogs. Read what I read. Then read my reaction.
Today, I will stand on the premise that comments speak volumes.
Are you guys still here?
Okay, in come some more comments I've made. Whew! I keep reading and commenting. Reading and commenting. People have been writing some good stuff.
I think these will be the last comments of the night so I decided I should do some shoutouts to some Seattle locals:
Let the Dog In on Flowering Attitude and my comment: " My husband did a Mini rally there with the kids last spring during the festival–but we can only fit four of us in a Mini–and there are five. Sigh. I stayed home...Driving around in circles in a Mini isn’t my idea of fun anyway..."
I Forgot Where I Was Going With This on http://imhelendt.wordpress.com/2008/04/18/holy/ and my comment: "Try having the kids swim in the snow the week after we took off the bubble and then take team pictures while still in wet swimming suits? Lots of crankiness and shivering..."
So stalk away, my friends. Stalk awaaaaaay....
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 6:40 PM
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 3:31 PM
The kids had to swim yesterday and get team pictures, all wet, in betwixt hail, slush, and freezing rain on Mercer Island. There were dumbass Seattle drivers driving 30 MPH because it was hailing--in all four lanes including the carpool lane.
Arrrggh. And the little demon children are working my last nerve. Snow days on a week-end when there is homework to get done and swim practice is not, I repeat, is not good.
So, I laughed with and commiserated at Carrie's post. She is also is the snow-y Seattle area. She blames it on the testosterone. In the spirit of Comments Speak Volumes, my comment to her:
"I don't think this bickering is just reserved for the male
sex.In our little unit of joyous (cough, cough) harmony
that I call our family, it's the two closest in age--mainlymy 8-1/2 year old daughter and 11 year old son whichare the problem.
I usually resort to guilt. You know, the kind your
Mom got you with all the time."Guys, (fake sniffle), what if Mommy and Daddy die?
She is the only sister you have and he is the only bigbrother you will ever, ever have. You must take careof each other ... when your Dad and I die tragically
of diphtheria or tuberculosis or the grippe. Yeah, yeah."I sigh heavily, put hand to brow, and wander unstablyaround as if a lost soul.
Their eyes get teary. They gulp. They look contrite.
And there is silence for a blessed five minutes. Ahhh, peace.I walk around the corner and bust up laughing and
call them something much stronger than "stinkers."
Ah, parenting. It's war. You've got to use the tools
at your disposal, my friend."
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 1:52 PM
Avitable has a cool contest for one of these:
Now with Obama's bullshit comment on guns and religion, I think he's too much of an asshole to ever hold office. I left a comment on the Seattle PI's Strange Bedfellows Blog that sums it all up:
"ohhhh, whatever. Did you see the nasty comments at the
Democratic debate the other night? McCain doesn't need to sink in their mud.
They are so busy slinging mud, innuendo, and lies at each other, they are
letting the election slip through their grasp.
I used to respect Obama, but his guns and religion comment was
elitest and showed a complete lack of sensitivity, reason, and judgment. Yes,
they all are elitest, but he has the poor judgment to make that drivel come out
of his mouth in public. Furthermore, he was right that Hillary also has had
verbal diarrhea with her stand by my man/making cookies ridiculousness in the
Yes, it's been said McCain has a temper, but at least he
has the reason to let his enemies kill themselves slowly with soundbites as his
percentages continue to rise.
It comes down to who do you think can run the country? Who do
you trust with this war? I don't think the guns and religions crap will go over
to well in the Middle East either. Nor will a crybaby, teary eyed
McCain's my man.
Blogging on the Sammamish Plateau Since 2006"
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 12:48 PM
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 12:05 PM
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 11:33 AM
Friday, April 18, 2008
PB's third grade curriculum includes simulating a pioneer school house including dressing up in authentic pioneer garb. We were given the option of purchasing a bonnet from a teacher's Mom who makes them as a hobby.
Bah! I said two months ago.
In the spirit up Mommy one-upmomship and visions of bonding while stitching with my daughter, I planned an ambitious project. Nope, church dresses and bonnets wouldn't cut it.
I purchased the pattern and the fabric for a pioneer dress and two different pinafores and bonnets. I held back buying fabric for a second dress.
Then that fabric sat and sat.
PB begged to get it started, but I procrastinated through out all spring break knowing it was needed the Monday after spring break.
So guess who was up until 3:45 AM that Monday morning
Yep, I started the actual sewing on Sunday afternoon. PB got to do some cutting and some sewing, but I soon realized the pattern was not the usual easy Halloween pattern. She didn't get much more opportunities after that. I could barely keep up.
Did I mention I learned to sew at 25? And that I'm not all that when it comes to sewing? And reading a pattern is worse than assembling furniture? It literally makes me cross-eyed and very cranky of attitude.
So, at 1:30 AM there I sat watching a Youtube video on how to make a button-hole with really terrible elevator music in the background. Yep, I bought buttons, but never thought to figure out until the day the dress was needed on how to make those damn button holes.
Funny, I'm always harping on the kids to get projects done very early. As in the first week-end assigned. Not optional. Get it done.
So ironic that I was the procrastinator on my Mommy homework I made for myself.
Eldest actually seemed shocked that the dress was due the next day and said such wise words full of censure at the same time, "Ummmm...Mom, don't you think you should have started this project much sooner?"
Umm, you think? Duh!
So, the dress was finished and we had a bonnet. No pinafores on Monday, but we found an apron that worked.
And today, TODAY, I finally finished one pinafore:
Only 1 week to go of her "Apple Valley Pioneer School" and one pinafore and two bonnets to go.
CG keeps saying give it up. No need to stress about it.
Nope, even if it's the last day of school, I will finish this project.
Why I do this I don't know.
Maybe for a smile like this:
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 9:47 AM
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Exciting news, my friends. Let me do a jiggy dance. Bop. Bop. Bop. Taaa-Dum......
Little ol' me has her own domain.
Now, instead of typing http://unitedstatesofmotherhood.BLOGSPOT.com ...
You only need type http://unitedstatesofmotherhood.com . Wow, huh? Exciting news. Aren't you pumped? EIGHT, count 'em, EIGHT key strokes saved!!!
Other than saving you eight keystrokes, I'm not sure what this means.
I do know CG (aka my computer geek husband) thinks it rocks.
So, it seems that Blogger sells domain names and transfers your blog to the new url seamlessly. They will continue to send people from the old url to the new url. They still host for free. And all for the bargain price of $10 per annum.
So, other than it seems cool to be simply a dot com, what other benefits are there? Errr... I dunno. I guess I get some gadgets and tools. I get another email account. Emmm... It sounds cool?
Now, I just need to revamp my site design. It's so blah. It shouts blogspot, and now I'm a domain owning, dot com snob-bloganista, baby!
By the way, the old url and feed will still continue to work if you feel your digits need the exercise. Masochists!
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 2:27 PM
Sunday, April 13, 2008
No,no,no. I don't play it. It does however grate on my subconscious.
For instance, I was watching American Idol with the kids the other day. Suddenly, a song comes on that I recognize:
"Hey," I say. "That's that Guitar Hero song."
Yep, that was the first thing that came to mind.
Not that it's Heart.
Not that whoa Nelly, those Heart chicks look way different.
Not that that's Fergie with 'em.
Nope, Guitar Hero.
Okay, my second thought was whoa that Fergie is very bend-y and acrobatic. I knew for once CG would be willing to watch a segment of American Idol. Usually he abhors it.
Yep, I was right. He was really into her bend-y moves.
No big surprise there, eh?
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 12:30 PM
Yes, my friends, the elusive suburban husband flamingo lives.
Luckily, myself and my young daughter are immune to the wii-itis effects. Nope, she read her book in disdain and I just bitched in my head.
I might have to get a Nerf gun and put down those flamingoes, zombies, and changelings so I can watch Top Chef on Tivo.
Damn you, Wii. Damn you, Nintendo.
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 8:38 AM
Saturday, April 12, 2008
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 1:57 PM
Thursday, April 10, 2008
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 10:10 AM
Besides, our swim team took spring break last week, so we would have missed two weeks straight of swimming. We did that last year when we went to Florida at this time and you would think my kids had forgotten how to swim.
So due to these reasons and a million more, I've planned a bunch of day trips and activities to keep our kids busy while staying local. Fortunately, they don't have any homework this break, so we are free and clear to get out and about.
At least he will finally get his Mini back today with it's stripes. Now, just a month after the accident, he needs to get an alignment, fix the hood position (too much road noise), and get the engine checked out. We are already at $3000 plus for that accident on the bridge. Thank God for insurance and $500 deductibles.
Errr... I did say photo essay, yes? So a long-winded intro later(people don't call me Windy douchehole for nothing), let's get back to the photo essay.
After going all Martha Stewart yesterday and making three types of scones, and forgetting to put the all important ingredient, butter, in one batch, we had a some yummy, flaky goodness with milk and OJ.
We left some for CG and took the rest over to a friend's so she could enjoy the benefit of all that butter and sugar and carb yumminess.
After dropping off PB's sleepover friend home and picking up Eldest from his sleepover, we went off to Seattle.
The weather was so-so. SO, we went to our favorite museum (we're members so it was FREE!). Parking was great. $6 later, we spent a fun two hours exploring water explorations:
And blowing massive bubbles:
And visual displays and some actual science:
Some couple even offered up their bread bowl to the kids! Unfortunately, those fowls were super fast so I only got wind-ups.
Even the flowers on the piers were beautiferous:
And tulip trees abloom:
And wrote in the sand:
And I was given that gift that always melts a mother's heart, the wildflower bouquet given with soft, still slightly pudgy fingers:
Then, it was back to home base to eat dinner with CG. He was only a little lonely. The meatloaf muffins and leftover whipped potatoes from the night before had kept him company for lunch. He had had a rough day at work.
Now, he had us and two lovely fresh steel head fillet basted in a miso, soy sauce, and sweet teriyaki sauce. Add some coconut rice and steamed broccoli, and all was forgiven.
'lisciously scribed by Heather Murphy-Raines @ 12:52 AM