The post where I come clean - Mother's Day SUCKS. Yes, I said it.

Generally, I try to keep this space light and funny. I pride myself on sharing little tidbits of our life that induce involuntary giggling.

Today, ain't that day.

In fact, today is a vent...and tomorrow may be too. (Should I have the energy to open my laptop, which is doubtful.)

Going through my reader this morning, I found a post by one of my favorite bloggers admitting that she hates Mother's Day. Go ahead and gasp, I'll wait.

Good?

Good.

Here's the thing...I DO TOO. In fact, this year I've hated every single holiday. EVERY ONE.

To be fair, I blame hating my birthday, Christmas and Valentine's day on my husband's lack of getting me a gift and making smart ass comments about 'getting me a new house' for those holidays. Not funny, dear. Not funny at all.

I'm going to save the five-paragraph explanation of why he's actually a wonderful man, yadda yadda yadda and just say that he's forgiven, for now, but I reserve the right to throw it back up in his face when needed.

Ahem.

So, this whole Hallmark Holiday Horseshit that everyone else calls "Mother's Day" only reminds me of how much I miss mine. (Even though she was a huge screw up.)

Today marks the 7-month anniversary of her death. You can read about that here. I'm not repeating it. But, if you want to know how I'm dealing with it all, well, that post is here.

And dammittohell, I really miss her. I guess I miss the lost opportunities more than anything.

So here I am, hiding from the boys because I don't want them to see me crying and yes, I'm crying. I am six hours from all my friends and family who understand me, those who were there with me, and those who miss her as bad as I do. Not to mention my husband is working 12-hour shifts for 6 days a week for the past 3 weeks because apparently a nuclear reactor needs to be refueled.

PFFFFT.

So, I will be crying in private today. I will be hiding on the porch, behind sunglasses, repotting plants. I will explain, if asked by my sons, that it is okay to cry. It is okay to miss someone. But I will be doing anything and everything I can to keep this private.

But in this space; I will be honest.

Since you're on the edge of your seat waiting...

Yes, he is in diapers.

I cannot take it any longer. We went through 4 pairs of underwear in a matter of hours WITH ME REMINDING HIM EVERY 30 MINUTES.

So, I quit. Done.

He will be wearing diapers until Pampers no longer makes them that big.

Then he will be wearing granny diapers.

BECAUSE I AM OVER IT.

Aside: They have been fighting for 2 days straight over a Fisher Price pocket knife. I am not kidding here. Between the accidents and the fighting, somebody's gonna be locked in a closet.

Don't worry, I'll take my laptop with me.

To get my mind off ALL the batman underwear I've had to wash in the past 3 hours despite the fact I've reminded him EVERY 30 MINUTES to GO POTTY...

Today is much more than Cinco De Mayo (although with the above title, you KNOW how I will be celebrating this holiday)...

Today, my favorite author's fourth book has hit the shelves!



If you've been following me for a while, you'll remember the time I got to meet her; and subsequently embarrass myself.

Ahem.


In fact, you might have read some jealous tweets about another dear friend receiving a surprise in the mail...

But I'm totally over that.

Well, I was until I saw this picture on her facebook page this morning:



Now I'm a bit jealous again.

But as soon as I can leave the house without worrying about someone else's bladder...I'm buying my book, dammit.

Honestly, all three of her previous books have made me laugh so hard I had to lay them down to compose myself.

Hell, I check her blog more than I do my own voice mail! I am not exaggerating here people. Forget about the silly vampire stories, GO! BUY! JEN! (And buy me some gin while you're at it...)

MIA....or "I'm in potty training HELL, so check back later.

No, I haven't left you all. Last week, I took Deuce to the doctor for his three-year check up and her only concern was that he is still in diapers.

I assure you, just as I did her, it has nothing to do with his ability, but rather my lack of patience with that sort of thing.

When I trained Bonus, okay, actually, he trained himself. I kid you not. The little 28-month-old walked into the living room and said, "I no wear diapers." I said, "You can't pee in your pants then." He never did. He never had an accident during the day or at night. We went with the naked-kid route for a week where he peed in the potty if inside and 'watered the plants' when outside. But that was it. No worries.

The littliest one here is a bit different. He doesn't like being naked; which may or may not have something to do with his brother pointing at his pee-pee every single time. (It's honestly the only reason I get dressed around here too, so I can relate.)

So I decided that today is the day. Come hell or yellow-colored water, we will be done with diapers this week.

There will be tears, there will be a shortage on the East Coast of paper towels, and I may be out of wine in two days...but dammit here we go!

Ug.

I hate potty training.

A peek inside a typical morning at the Davis ranch

Scene: Spongebob is on, coffee’s brewing, grandmother (Mams) is constantly asking questions about who the TV characters are, kids are still in p.j.’s trying to wake up and the dog went back to bed.

Dorkfish: “Bonus, Spongebob just broke Patrick’s bassinette.”

Me: “Bassinette? Dude, that’s a cello. Do you even know what a bassinette is?!”

Mams: (Dying laughing)

Dorkfish: “Well, that’s what Spongebob called it!”

Me: “Well then. I guess I’ve been calling that baby carrier thingy the wrong name all along…”

Mams: “Maybe it was a viola.”

Me: “Isn’t that the thing in the back of your throat?”

Mams: “No, I think that’s your vulva.”

Me: “No, that’s the maker of my car.”

Dorkfish just walked off. But I get the feeling he may have a better idea of where I get it from…

The Voices...I haz em

Last night I had the privilege of attending (and sitting 12 rows from the stage) at the Yanni Voices concert and let me tell you...it was one of the most impressive concerts I've seen.

And I was at Michael Jackson when I was five. So there.

Granted, with seats pretty incredible, but this one was truly a show.

I had seen the preview at Blissdom '09 and thought it looked 'pretty neat' but didn't see myself ever actually going. Then I saw the ads online for it and a poster in the bathroom at a stadium and was a bit surprised. Actually, to be accurate, I grabbed Jennifer's arm and drug her over to the wall yelling, "I SAW THAT PREVIEW AT THE BLOGGING CONFERENCE AND LET ME TELL YOU...THOSE TWO GUYS ARE SUPER HOT!!!"

The other restroom attendees were not nearly as impressed as Jennifer pretended to be.

So when the One 2 One Network ladies emailed me* and invited me to the concert...let's just say I knew who I was taking.

This show? Was much more impressive in person than any of the previews or PBS specials. It would have truly been the most perfect date night; with all the hot guys and sexy women up on stage. Jennifer wouldn't let me put my arm around her though. She might be a little bit uptight...I'm not sure yet.

There was dancing (on and off pianos), amazing musicians who not only were true masters of their instruments, they were performers as well, and of course the singing. Let me tell you, the singing, was so much better than I had ever imagined! These performers are artists. I can see why Yanni said that he was proud every time they walked out on stage. It was quite a show.

Not only were the singers incredible, gorgeous and wonderful performers, they were truly sincere people. I can say that truthfully as I MET THEM AFTER THE SHOW!

(All but Yanni. I think he was worried about falling in love with me. I can't say that I blame him. After all, I don't know how the boys would do on the tour.)

However, I did get a hug from Ender and let me tell you...it was about as wonderful as you ladies would imagine.

I was going to let him know that if this whole "Yanni thing" didn't work out, I'm in need of a cabana boy. (I'd build a cabana for him, trust me.) But Jennifer wouldn't let me. Something about 'embarrassing her enough already', I'm not sure...

*No bloggers were injured (or paid) for this post. It is solely the opinion of the writer...and her opinion is the only one that matters anyway. ;)

Payback's a bitch, you know...

If you really want to get your husband back for some insensitive comment, I would suggest the following:

When his father asks what the 'juice' your husband is drinking is you let him know that it isn't really some sort of glucosamine drink for his rickety knees, but rather, it's an experimental medicine for ED.

Bet he won't call me 'whipped cream for brains' again.