Browsing "The Little People Are Trying to Kill Me"

Sometimes I Am Confused. The Rest of the Time, I’m Just an Idiot

The other morning I was a Confused Idiot….

I actually enjoy some forms of momentary confusion.  Sometimes I’ll try to sleep sideways on the bed so that if I wake up, the light from the doorway will be in a weird spot and I wont know where I am.  I LOVE that feeling!

Never really works when I do it on purpose, though.  In High school I used to rearrange my room just to experience some night-time confusion and it seemed to work better when I was young and impressionable.


ANYWAY, Boy has been getting up REALLY early.  Sometimes as early as 4-4:30.  Ugh.

The other morning he got up and sat on the ottoman watching cartoons and sucking on his blanket.  I sat there, bleary-eyed, drinking my coffee.




Suddenly, my phone started ringing.  My phone never rings. And if it does, I NEVER EVER answer it.

I was shocked and frightened and irritated by the noise.




And then I saw who it was.

why are you calling me



And I was like What the heck??

Was he calling me in his sleep??

I realized he must have left his phone somewhere and somebody probably picked it up.  But its one of those crappy old pre-paid flip-phones (he doesn’t believe in phone usage). So who on earth would bother to track down its owner?

I decided, after much sluggish debate, to answer it.




It was a kid on the other end.  My husband must have left it at the park.

The kid started babbling something completely incoherent.

Great. A nice, productive conversation at 5 in the morning.

are you being supervised young child


I figured I should talk to an adult.

But then, a bunch of things happened at once.

I looked up, and the kid on the phone said the exact same thing that MY OWN KID was saying….

oh good grief


uh duhhhhhh




hey you sounds yung


mommy der


who tell you my number



Good grief, Heather!



Wow has this been a long week.  A long week of nothing out of the ordinary.  Just me. And the screamers.  Screaming.

I realized yesterday that it was already Wenesday and I hadn’t even thought about posting.  I was all….


But then, you know, after a day of changing diapers and wiping peaches off the wall, its hard to produce the mature thoughts.


And today I can’t even tell you about my week without putting you in a coma.  So here goes. Get your IV ready.

What happened this week?


Just a nonstop stream of screaming and fighting and legos and eating and wining and Dora the Explorer.

From the minute they wake, the noise begins.


They fight over the usual things I guess.  Like the hole in my pants.

This outfit is my REAL uniform. It just takes too long to draw. Also, thats a ruffle on the end of the dress. It looks like I’m wearing thigh-highs. I’m not.


There is a hole in my leggings.


Weird kid….


And then Trouble moseys up…


And everything has to involve “turns”.


….and thats where it all goes downhill.


And thats when I yell things like…

…right when the neighbor walks by our open front door.

But the fighting isn’t as bad as the constant demands.  They act like they’re too short to do anything for themselves! (as if!)


Constant constant “MOMMY”s all day long.





Oh, well, I wouldn’t want to disrupt your leisure time on the soft fluffy chair.  Let me just put down this stack of laundry to retireve your blankie.


Its just constant constant constant constant constant CONSTANT CONSTANT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





So, no.  No masterpiece today.  No masterpiece this week.  Only chaos.  And pain.  Now I’m off to cry in the corner and eat 30 cookies.


Why Does Every Major Event in My Universe Have to Happen in One Week?

Ok, 2 weeks.

Christmas Eve=our wedding anniversary (because I chose that day back before I realized I wasn’t a romantic)

Christmas (people get toys and Jesus gets born!)

December 30th. (Siggy turns 4. People get toys.)


New Years Eve (we stay up and think of all the stupid things we used to do).

January 7th (Boy turns 2. People get toys).


But thats ok.  Out with the old, in with the new.

Other than that, I’ve been working at night some.  Doing the ‘ole window at Bless Your Heart (you Texas people need to check them out!)


But mostly, I’ve had no time and no space, so I’ve been trying out a new art medium….


Don’t worry, I don’t even understand it my own selfs.

All I know is that I spend an inordinant amount of time crouched in the corner, shredding pices of fabric. FOR NOW.

I seem to do a lot of that though….

I’ll let you know when my creation is finished.

Anyway, happy birthday 2013!

I Eat Burlap for Breakfast!


That is a picture of me sitting with my still-shattered ipad, thinking of HILARIOUS things to blog about.

But I can’t.  Not this week.  Seems like I have something big going on every week.  Last week, barfing my brains out, this week, shredding and washing 200 yards of burlap in our tiny tiny apartment.

That is 100 POUNDS OF BURLAP, in case you’re wondering.

And burlap sheds like a really furry, stinky dog.

My shirts look like this.


My socks look like this…



My food looks like this…


Or maybe its the fact that i have a coating of this on my eyeballs….





Want to know why I’m man-handling 200 yards of mind-melting burlap in my little tiny home??

I can’t tell you…..yet.

Lets just say that I am doing an “installation” in a big city in 2 weeks.  I’m treating all this burlap, shipping it off in boxes, and then dragging my little brother to the big city to help me build this structure in less than 8 hours.


It will look nothing like that….

But until then, my house is overrun with stuff that looks like it should be outside killing a tree.


Its everywhere…..


In other news, Siggy has found a wooden hot dog and refuses to put it down, even to go to the bathroom.


Last night (at about 2 in the morning) he awoke and realized the weenie was MIA.  He was beside himself.  We searched and searched until The Dark Knight found it.

But all day today its been My Hot-dog this, and My hot-dog that.  We took a break from the burlap and went outside.  There is a hill on the side of our condo and Siggy threw that hot-dog up and down the hill for an hour and a half. Thankfully the groundskeeper is use to our weirdness.




The End.