i'd like to thank the little people

thank you, thank you. thank you all seven of my devoted readers who voted in my very first official blog poll. which had absolutely nothing to do with my blog in general. except that it focused on the occasional randomness that is the pop culture that i bring up from time to time. this particular randomness, of course, refers to the hair cut heard 'round the world, my dear felicity. so the show ended (gasp) in 2002. so what? i still think about it. i still love it. i've seen every episode at least seven times each (four times each while on bedrest thank you very much, which means my kids have seen, ok heard [by osmosis] every single episode four times each). i love it almost more than "my so called life" or the tragically underrated and short-lived "popular" (only two seasons, on the WB no less). so i thought i'd do a shoutout to felicitearful and her evil ben who, if this was real life would probably have cheated on her 79 times by now and impregnated 5 or 6 people by now and have failed out of medical school which he couldn't have possibly gotten into in the first place. you didn't get a spoiler alert because um, it's been six years. if you hadn't heard that felicity picked ben then i don't even know what to say to you. and let's hear it for good old noel. pulling down the win with a sweeping 42%. wait that's not exactly a sweep. but hey he won. and noel is the kind of guy that would appreciate a little random blogger poll victory six years later. whoa...intervention. hey, isn't noel a character on a television show (extinct television show) and not a real person? anyone else hear patsy cline singing "crazy" or is that just in my head? sidenote: i am pretty sure if you conduct your own intervention you are not crazy. or maybe it's the other way around...own intervention equals crazy? anyway. i didn't vote because i felt it was unethical to vote on my own first official blog poll (although that would have garnered me eight whole votes. EIGHT!). but had i voted, i would have voted for "all of the above." no reason felicitrocious couldn't have picked ben, kept noel close (mean but that's the beauty of their relationship, is it not? i mean was it not?) and javier. every gal needs a javier. javier's the kind of guy who will tell you that you shouldn't have cut 14 inches off your signature curly locks. into a buzz. bygones. thanks for voting, my seven favorite people. p.s. one of the voters was my spouse, whom i asked to (read: made) vote, God love him. he didn't even know who ben or noel were. guess he tried to stay out of the house during bedrest.

before.................................after
random trivia: the show's ratings nose-dived following the chop
i'm sure she told sally (janeane garofalo [yes! really!]) all about it.

uh oh

i guess my kids are looking out for me. lately they've taken to walking around to my backside and pulling out the waistband on my pants and peeking. you know. to check for poop. thank you very much. how considerate. how does it look in there? okay? i'm assuming they're checking for poop. since that's what i do to them. i swore i would never be that mother that sticks her nose in her baby's bootie to determine if it is poop positive. okay i have done it. more than a few times. but i've found it is less offensive to me to pull the diaper out a little to see if there is poop. i'd rather see it than smell it. so they must be checking for poop, right? unless they heard about my terrible underwear mishap. and they want to make sure i didn't do it again. maybe i look tired. maybe i'm grouchy. i don't know but sometimes when they do this they also say "uh oh." what do you mean uh oh? what's uh oh about my bootie? there's no poop in there. i'm certain. absolutely 100% certain. so what else is it? no poop? no thong on backwards? what could it be to deserve an uh oh? my self esteem was just starting to be on solid footing and now my one-year-olds are calling my arse an "uh oh."

life is better when you're facing forward

not safer. but better. well i guess it's safer, technically, for let's say, walking, running, etc. walking or running backwards can't be safer than walking or running forwards. but if you're sitting in a car, backwards is safer (even for me, at age 32 [but not while driving]). but not better. according to a super scholarly scientific experiment (ie, my kids). (yes, i've donated my children to scientific experimental research. mom of the year. right here.) riding in a car facing forward is better. it's more enjoyable. more to see. room to kick (my seat, thank you very much). i was waiting. i could have turned my little chunkers around six months ago because they met the "legal requirements" to face forward. but then i did too much research, as i often do (curses to the internet!) and found out it was safer for them to stay backwards. so we all toughed it out together. and it was brutal. so here's the update. we've been facing forward for approximately five days now and it. is. glorious. seriously. peaceful. i almost don't know what to do with myself. it's quiet. in my car. i haven't heard this much quiet in my car since the day i told my spouse "there are two babies in there" (womb). i realized how truly blissfulmonious (made up) it was when i was arriving early at our location a few days ago so i drove around a little while to buy us some time. excuse me? never would i stall for more time in the car when the babes were rear facing. no way. get us there as fast as i can and get us out. stat. one problem: i accidentally forgot to remove the pacifiers from the car, which has always been my plan for the day we faced forward. turn around. pacifiers gone. fair trade. blast! blast! i forgot to remove them! now we're all screwed. the pacifiers are never leaving. they'll have to take the pacifiers out of their own mouths to pose for their first driver's licence photo. and even then it won't be easy. oh well. cost-benefit analysis: it's now exceptionally quiet in my car. carseats facing forward and pacifiers. how much more peace could i get? i can talk on the phone. i can listen to music that doesn't drive me nuts. i can listen to absolutely nothing. nothingness. i could do yoga if i wanted to. it's that peaceful (but wouldn't be safe and this all started with safety, didn't it). you know what is actually safer than safe (remember those "grosser than gross" stupid jokes that pre-adolescent boys would tell you in the 5th grade? i hated those. right up there with the "garbage pail kids")? a calm and composed and focused mommy driver because her kiddos are peacefully sitting in the backseat, forward facing, happy as little larks. that's way safer than crazy roadrage mommy driver who is one-handed 7 on the steering wheel (no 10 and 2 here) turned around flinging toys and replacing pacifiers for various children while she listens to some horrifyingly horrible nail-scraping kiddie music.

sorry. i just felt like i needed a picture here.

yellow outfit + yellow hat + monkey = no dates

it's weird that a man, whose claim to fame is a yellow hat (matching yellow clothing, er ensemble including tie, might i add) has a pet monkey whom he takes everywhere. i don't know why it's worse to me that the man is single (of course he's single). but it is. just him and his monkey. (he and his monkey? bygones) hanging out. they eat at italian restaurants together. they fly airplanes together. they vacation in the country together. wait, are they dating? if he had a significant other it would still be weird. wait maybe that's weirder (i really want "weirder" to be a word but i'm afraid it's not)? i don't know. i think he's in love with that professor woman whose always poking around. regardless. how did it become acceptable for a man who wears the same yellow outfit and hat every day of his life (not that it would be okay if he only chose to wear it, say, one day per month. wearing a yellow outfit is wrong. period. let alone pairing it with a yellow hat) to obtain a pet monkey and bring him everywhere as though george (monkey's name) were tinkerbell (paris hilton's chihuahua, obviously. side note: why do i know this? i know the name of paris hilton's dog, yet not how to spell chichuahua, which i had to look up). why do i care about the man in the yellow hat's social life, or lack thereof? i just know it's been bothering me. maybe he should go on "the bachelor." i see a new series. but who would date a man with a monkey? and a yellow outfit? and a yellow hat? it's a trifecta. for no dates.
p.s. thank everything kathy griffin is back on bravo. analytical review of the man with the yellow hat might mean too much time on my hands.

not even "the bachelor" could save him.

st. john's not (wort)h it

whew last week i was a serious biotch. nothing in particular. no pre-meditated meanness. no name calling (not even "biotch"). not even the somewhat regular roadrage [insert high pitched voice and shaking finger (no, no, pointer finger) "you're a very bad driver, mister." i was just in a bad mood. you may have noticed from my last few posts that i have been a thrilling combination of tired and sick. and for me tired+sick=crabby. "crabby cakes" as i like to call my darling darlings when they are a little testy. i was also with my mother. a lot. now don't get me wrong here. don't go assuming. i do not have one of those mothers who drives even mary poppins over the building without her umbrella. my mother is the mother everyone wishes they had. the one you want to be when you grow up. but you know how when you are sick and tired your mother becomes the target? she's the target because you have her. it's easy. you know she loves you. you know she's got your back. you know she knows it's not really "you" to be so biotchy (is that a word? wait, is "biotch" even a word?). so anyway, my mother got the brunt. and in unmitigated true momness, she offered guidance in ever so subtle fashion. her version of ever so subtle fashion was recommending mood enhancers for my biotchiness (word or made up?). we're not talking about some stuff i would have to get from the high schoolers. she was suggesting the st. john's wort. i blew it off the first couple (or 9 or 6000) times she mentioned it. and she tried different entry points. "your dad and i have tried it," "it's just a vitamin," etc. i wasn't biting. i was fine being biotchy. afterall i had just traveled a great distance with two toddlers and hadn't left their side for more than two hours in eight days. but who's counting? fast forward a few days when i've returned to my natural habitat. on the phone. FORTHELOVEOFGOD SWEETJESUS I'LLTAKETHEDAMNVITAMIN. but before i do. let me just hop on that new internets thing and see what i'm getting in to. any side effects? any drug interactions? FORTHELOVEOFGOD SWEETJESUS ITREDUCESTHEEFFECTOFORALCONTRACEPTIVES. and, we're done here. i kind of like my birth control pill. mainly because it controls birth. well, conception. and i mean this as no negative reflection on my precious babes (who are amazing and would make anyone run out and pop a few st. john's worts to counteract their birth control pills), but i'm done. donezo. done and done. i knew pretty soon after they were born but i waited to really decide. and i really decided. hello this blog is called twinstant family. like instant family. like family, done. i want to say it's not tied to the whole girl and boy added to our family which plays into the crazy expectation from our crazy society of having a girl and a boy or your family is not complete. but maybe it is. the thing is, i just feel great where we are. family of four. five including dog. for me (us) this is perf. so the thought of a new addition really freaks me out. hey if it happens i'll embrace it. as divine intervention. but not if it's st. john's wort intervention. for now i'll just stick to embracing my biotchiness.

sure it looks lovely but no thank you.

this just in: vacation on stomach virus island sucks

ok i guess i deserved it. who wishes for a stomach virus? more importantly, who wishes for a stomach virus during a rampant salmonella tomato outbreak? and who eats a casserole including tomatoes during a rampant salmonella tomato outbreak? me. that's who. so there it is. enter terrible cliches here (be careful what you wish for, the grass is always greener, don't look a gift horse in the mouth, i don't know). i'll eat my words as soon as i can keep something down. in bed for many hours. and when i say in bed, which sounded delightful to me prior, it was horrible. it's no fun to be in bed feeling miserable after not sleeping because of the frequent visits to the lieu for vomit and other sordid horribleness. thank everything i was in good company, as in my mother and father, who could attend to the kiddos. and thank everything i didn't feed the kiddos said casserole. let me tell you. stomach virus vacation? not all it's cracked up to be. not like anyone besides me has ever cracked it up to be something good anyway. and i think i only lost a pound. a single pound.

barf.

you also know you're tired when

a stomach virus sounds like a vacation. today i attended a family function where i was consuming a casserole made by a family friend. please note: for me, this is erratic behavior. i hate casseroles. i hate food made by someone with whom i have never spent time in their home where i can observe their kitchen and home life habits. but today my defenses were down. lately i've been tired. i wore my thong underwear backwards for cripe's sake. i'm vulnerable. please note: the friend-made casserole was dee-licious. and not just because i was a little starving. i'm kind of still in shock of the tastiness. it also looked beautiful and i am a sucker for aesthetics. the only thing that would have made it better was if it was a miniature casserole. i heart mini food. it wasn't one of those clumpy broccoli is that cheese or pineapple right there casseroles. it was fresh and i trusted the source. as i'm eating said friend-made casserole, it is determined that said friend who made the friend-made casserole is not at the function because she has a stomach virus. dramatic pause. fork out of mouth. all of a sudden casserole not so tasty. but then i start thinking. what's that you said? friend has a stomach virus and is in bed for days, having lost four pounds? eureka. must. eat. more. casserole. i could stand to lose four pounds. i could certainly stand to stay in bed for days. i mean hours. or minutes. to me the stomach virus sounds like the hot new vaca. stay in bed. lose weight. perf. why haven't i thought of this before? hello tired delusionness (made up). stomach virus may also mean lots of bathroom and puke. which doesn't sound like a vacation. unless you're in cancun. and i'm too old for cancun. and i'm too tired for cancun. did i mention i was tired? 

you know you're tired when

you go to the bathroom and see "hanky panky" in front of your eyes. not hanky panky like you're in some creepy public restroom. the "hanky panky" brand name. on a tag. in other words, your underwear are on backwards. your thong underwear. which you've been wearing for five hours without a pee break but thinking a couple of times that the undies feel a little uncomfortable but you dismiss it because you don't have time to worry about your undies. you've got to worry about what happens if your kids drop a deuce in their swim diapers because you don't have backups. and you're tired. at least you remembered to wear undies. even if they're backwards. did i mention it was a backwards thong? who does that?

FRONT. i'm trying to help you here.