I Should But I Won't

...post a video of me because I'm a chicken shit. It seems that me with my iPod blasting Regina Spektor's Fidelity in my ears is apparently no bueno judging by the look on the face of the Sexy Beast as I came out of the kitchen belting out ♫♫..and it breaks my hear ar ar ar ar art, it breaks my hear ar ar ar ar art..♫♫ this afternoon. 

It's a good thing he isn't around when I'm listening to Eminem...

The Obligatory Christmas Summary Post

The boys helped set the stage

Stockings hung with care

 Reindeer food carefully spread on the lawn

The Sexy Beast and I did our duty

Cookies and milk, check. Letter from Santa, check.

Threats of the Naughty List, CHECK!

Rewards for a year of bad behavior, check.

I scored my Garmin Forerunner a device which is smarter than I, the Glow perfume I not so subtly asked for, and a Miche bag. Not the Sophia I demanded requested, and hooray for that because the Sexy Beast made an executive decision and picked the Karen for me. I'm in love with it! Isn't she pretty?

The Sexy Beast got a new hunting bow a few weeks ago and that was his big gift but until next hunting season we thought he could practice Big Game Hunting on the Wii. Me thinks he likes it.

The boys drove us crazy with dual remote control cars

Nerf tactical takedowns

and personal video game systems - a Nintendo DS for Aidan

 and a Leapster 2 for Asher

finally Asher just passed smooth out on the living room floor

until Grandma and Grandpa came for Christmas dinner and to spend a couple days with us. The boys made a giant gingerbread man with Grandma Patsy, had shootouts and Nascar races with Grandpa, and watched Christmas movies and played video games together until Monday morning when Daddy had to go back to work and Grandma and Grandpa had to go home. 

Overall, Christmas 2010 - Pass!

Wordless Wednesday - Rockstar

I Don't Understand!

If you haven't seen The Proposal with Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock, go watch it. Now. Well, after you read and watch this because Martians should always come first. 

The Sexy Beast and I just about bust a gut over this scene. All I can articulate through fits of tummy-aching laughter is "I DON'T UNDERSTAND!!!!!"

Musical Monday - Mix CD

I haven't bought a CD in years. I prefer to buy tracks from iTunes and make nineteen mix discs a month. My mix cds are epic in musical range as you will see. Here are the songs on the one I'm working on right now.

Love The Way You Lie by Eminem, ft Rhianna
If I Die Young by The Band Perry
Fidelity by Regina Spektor
Let It Be by The Beatles
Maybe by Sick Puppies
Secret by Seal
Toy Jackpot by Blackalicious
Party In The USA by Miley Cyrus by the way, you're welcome for that video link *wink*
Secrets by One Republic
Possibility by Lykke Li
Gravedigger by Dave Matthews Band
Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri

It's That Time Again

Time to make New Years resolutions. Last year I made a few and then promptly failed most of them. I did manage to keep Aidan out of juvenile detention, Asher isn't eating address labels anymore, and I ignore Twitter Bitches rather than tweet what I think of them. And my ass size is diminishing since October when I started running. Who'd have thought?

I didn't exactly conquer the laundry timetable and instead of buying Aidan a toy at every store, now I buy both of them a toy. So I guess that one's a half and half.

I wanted to read 50 books this year. I didn't quite make it. But I'm gonna try again in 2011. 

This running nonsense is apparently going to continue providing I don't die of a hip injury so I signed up for the 1000 miles in 2011 challenge. Yes, you are still at My Kids Might Be Martians, this is not an alternate universe. 

Speaking of My Kids Might Be Martians. I bought yet another domain to correspond with what I want to rename this blog. Amandapalooza is no longer on the table, although I now own that domain as well. Sometime in 2011, I will get it together and launch the new one. Maybe.

I will stop reminding Aidan to read for his Book It program. If he doesn't get his time in for the month, he doesn't get a damn pizza. I have enough of his crap to keep up with - spelling words, snack days, early outs, poem booklets, T-shirt orders... the list goes on and on. And on. I didn't expect Aidan's school life to be so much work for me.

I will not allow Asher to bully me into letting him sleep in our bed. I'm planning a big redesign of the master bedroom and bath and I will go out of my way to make it as non-kid friendly as humanly possible. It shall be an adult only space never to be peed on, pooped on, farted on, eaten in, spilled on, puked on, or otherwise damaged by a small person. They have every other inch of the house, our space is sacred.

That's about all I should commit to. Knowing myself as I do these few things will take the entire year to accomplish. What are your resolutions? 

Christmas Prep

Somehow the boys and I have managed to accomplish a few Christmas prep activities without one or all of us dissolving into tears. We made gingerbread houses

They went to see Santa

Asher cheesed it up in front of the Christmas tree

We even made sugar cookies, Buckeyes, and Ritzy Peanut Butter Cookies via Beth@I Should Be Folding Laundry. Although if I'm being honest mine look like the Frankenstein of the Ritzy Peanut Butter Cookie world. But they all eat the same, right? Also my sugar cookies were blah enough that I went back and iced them with the leftover white almond bark and added sprinkles. Surely that'll spruce them up, yeah? 

Tomorrow, Christmas Eve, we will be decorating the big dog gingerbread house, eating the crap out of the Sexy Beast's 'pizza snacks' which are not at all pizza-like but they're yummy to my tummy, and desperately trying to maintain some level of decorum while the boys lose their minds as they wait for Christmas morning. I think blasting Toy Jackpot and I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas all day should help, don'tcha think?

Think I Won't Do It?

Then you don't know me very well. Cuz I'll damn sure do it.

The Sexy Beast and I are discussing the possibility of Santa not bringing gifts for Aidan this year. Yeah, yeah, poor Aidan *eyeroll* bullshit! The little snot informed us last night that he doesn't believe in the Naughty List. I don't even think there is a Naughty List because every year you say I'm naughty and Santa is going to put me on the Naughty List but every year I gets gifts from Santa. I think they just made up the Naughty List so kids will be good. Oh yes, that's pretty much word for word. And the truth is, he's right. He acts like a complete asshat virtually every day of the year and on December 25, he gets rewarded for it in grand fashion with tons of presents, none of which he needs and very few of which he even appreciates. I'm of the mind that Christmas should be more about Jesus. Let me tell you, Aidan needs Jesus. 

I think this year Aidan will wake up to a full stocking and a strongly worded letter from the fat man in red. It will say

Dear Aidan,

Thank you for the cookies, I ate them all. I went ahead and ate everything else in the house that I thought you might like. Now listen up, you little shit. I've been watching you and I heard you say you don't believe in The Naughty List. Let me assure you, it's real. And your name made it this year. I took mercy on you and filled your stocking but I am leaving you no other gifts. You better watch your attitude from today on because I've got my special Look Out Elf reporting all of your behavior to me each day. If you want off the Naughty List next Christmas, you better shape up. Now what do you believe, smart guy?

Santa

A Christmas Confession

Much to the horror of my mother and probably some of you I have never sat down and watched It's A Wonderful Life from start to finish. I'm not sure how this was accomplished considering my mother watched that movie year round and at Christmas time it was on a never-ending loop at our house. Kinda like how TBS plays 24 hours of A Christmas Story, only in black and white, therefore making it unacceptable for viewing to my younger self. I much preferred watching that numb-skull kid stick his tongue to the pole and getting stuck. 

Now, in what I can only explain as payin' for my raisin', my kids start booing and running away at the first glimpse of a black and white movie. Just like a dumber younger me, they prefer to watch A Christmas Story. I almost can't take it anymore, I find myself tense up, willing Flick not to do it this time.  Don't do it dumbass! You KNOW it's going to stick! You KNOW your little punk friends will leave your ass out there! Just walk away!!!  But he never listens to me. He puts his tongue to the pole and Aidan and Asher roll into balls of laughter at the sight. Before you know it, Aidan is daring Asher to stick his tongue to the neighbor's flag pole. Asher, not one to back down from a dare, grabs his coat and boots before we stop him. We have to cancel out the dare with  We know you're a big guy, of course you would have done it, of course you would have been able to get your tongue off the pole...  So thanks a bunch TBS, it's gonna be a long 24 hours.

From December To March

I guess this is what the hallway from the garage into the kitchen will look like that entire time. 

The boys seem to have no knowledge of that room to their right. The one they go into to get all that crap on, the room where there are hangers and place to dry their boots. The towel there is just for catching snow, it was not meant to serve as an invitation to dump their crap in the middle of the hallway. 

Again? Really?

Dear Sick, Twisted, Dumbass, Son of a Bitch in Germany,

Making the word  n a k e d  cutesy like 'nakey' doesn't fool me. It doesn't change what you were looking for at all. When will you idiots learn that the internet is not anonymous? Start thinking with the head on your shoulders once in a blue moon.

Sincerely,

Grossed Out, Pissed Off, Mama Blogger with StatCounter

Search term - when I hold my nose shut the chatting in my nose stops - Hmmm, are you sure that "chatting" isn't in your head? Does your shrink know about this chatting?

Whoever is perusing the internet for the whereabouts of Lisa Martini and Christopher Swanner of Prescott Valley Arizona, I don't know these folks but I imagine you didn't get a We've Moved card for a reason. Just a thought

Also? I'm feeling a tad nervous about someone in Washington, D.C. at THE SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES viewing my blog. Dear God, let it be a clerk browsing the internet and not official business... involving a suit against me... you know, in a case that has somehow made it all the way to the Supreme Court without my knowledge. Yeah, okay, I'm feeling better about it already.

A Fierce Hunter Raising Little Fierce Hunters

The Sexy Beast is a bad-ass hunter. I wrote about it last year as well. Now not to pat myself on the back too much but I'm kinda the best damn wife ever because I push him out the door to hunt every chance I get. I don't complain when he's gone hunting, and I get just as excited as he does when he gets one. Also, I eat the hell outta some deer meat. Especially here, the meat isn't gamey at all since the fat bastards eat freakin' corn and beans all summer, it's just like lean beef. Only free. 

This year he went ape shit crazy bow hunting thanks to our neighbor, the Skinny Bitch's husband. Now that I think about it those two wield quite a lot of influence on us. Good thing they're not drug addicts or kleptomaniacs. Anyway, he got two does and the biggest buck of his life. In a few months it will be adorning a wall in our house. See? Best damn wife ever. 

So without further ado here's a carcass shot of the big buck to highlight his manliness. Isn't he hot? The Sexy Beast not the damn deer!

Aidan and Asher are walking the same bloody path as their Daddy. Aidan has been on it for years now as illustrated in this post from a few years ago. Oh well, as long as they bring home meat I'm good with it. And if they are out hunting that means they are with the Sexy Beast, not me! That's reason enough for me to encourage the sport, don'tchathink?

What Must It Be Like

... to be Asher? I imagine it's somewhat like being a cat. Cats don't have owners, they have staff. Asher doesn't have a mom, he has his own personal bitch.

Let's take this from the morning. Most of the time he wakes up in our bed, having either snuck in at 3am or he's been there all night because his mother bitch couldn't take the crying at bedtime anymore. We'll get deeper into the bedtime shenanigans later. The first words out of his mouth demand food and drink and/or put forth a direct order for me not to close my eyes. After he's been properly served to his satisfaction we fight over clothes. I, the ultimate pain in his ass, think that being as it is 5 degrees outside he should wear long pants. I know, how completely unreasonable of me. He wants shorts. Or nothing at all. Most often he winds up wearing shorts under long pants and this is only accomplished by taking an oath promising he can peel off the top layer of clothes when we get back from taking Aidan to school. 

Speaking of taking Aidan to school, every single day Asher asks if he can sit in the middle instead of behind me. Aidan is the ruling body for this and his answer hinges on whether or not Asher has pissed him off during the morning. Then Aidan is either Asher's "besth friend" or a "mean jerk". 

Once we've returned home my work really begins. He demands a snack, a cartoon, a drink, and a blanket. Then and only then am I allowed to open up my laptop and do something that doesn't revolve around Asher. This lasts about 4 minutes. The rest of the day is a plethora of demands, orders, and instructions from the little terrorist.

By the grace of almighty God in Heaven bedtime eventually comes. 8pm is my favorite hour. Sixteen kisses and hugs later Asher begins to cry. Mama, me need you! Mama, me needa asth you a questhion! Mama, me sthared! Me stherious, Mama. Can I sthleep wif you guys? This lasts several minutes until I admit defeat and hand it over to the Sexy Beast who is somehow immune to his tears. Sometimes he wimpers a little longer before falling asleep, sometimes he wails before falling asleep, and more often than I care to admit he cons me into letting him sleep in the guest room or worst case scenario, in our bed so that I get zero time away from him in a 24 hour period of time.

Like I said, his own personal bitch.

Some People Dream of Getting a Sitcom

Who wants to lay bets on if/when I will end up on Dateline or 48 Hours? And let's be honest, it's coming. I've pictured the episode in my head many times before. I don't imagine there will be interviews with my friends claiming There was never any indication she was going to go off on a homicidal rampage like that because let's face it, this entire blog hints at just that. I'm pretty sure I'm also out of the running for a public office, the PTA, any job where I carry a gun, and supervising other people's children. There go all my plans for the future! Or not.

Maybe I'll just fall of the face of the earth and it'll be a national mystery what happened to me. I will be severely missed. The whole country will put black bows, yes black, on trees and big banners with my smiling mug and an 800 number on them. Scenes of hundreds of people walking side by side across fields searching for me or my things will run in loops during the evening news. Candlelight vigils and all that jazz will ensue. Of course the Sexy Beast will be suspected in the beginning but he will be cleared when it becomes obvious that there's no way in hell he would dispose of me leaving him alone with Aidan and Asher. 

I'm thinking my best chance of making it to prime-time will be on one of those What Would You Do episodes with John Quinones. I'll be the one who gets up in the offender/actor's face screaming but you can't understand what I'm saying due to the near constant beeps to cover the profanity. Quinones will have to run out and save his actor from me. The police will surely follow and at the end of the show the announcer will tell viewers that they can see the trial of the crazy lady when her story appears on next week's Dateline.

What? Any of these scenarios is entirely plausible. 

Barbara Walters Inspired This Post

While watching this Barbara Walters takeover of my Thursday night TV, a thought crossed my mind. How'd you like to be Oprah's duplex neighbor? My heart quickens at the thought. And not because how fucking cool would that be but because I don't know what it is about that woman but she terrifies me. I may have mentioned this before, my fear of balloons and China are one thing but the way I feel about this person I have zero chance of ever coming into close physical proximity to is as real as the Spanx in my underwear drawer. It's not rational and I don't understand it myself but there it is, another shining indication that maybe I should be throwing the $.86 per day I'm raking in from this blog into therapy rather than ordering more paperbacks from Amazon.com. 

Another thought? Is it just me or did Barbara seem a tad jealous of Betty White? Go back and watch it again, there's some animosity there. Also, I couldn't possibly care any less about Justin Bieber and I'm kinda proud that I've never watched an episode of Jersey Shore. I'm feeling pretty smug about that Jersey Shore part. For real. 

Elfin' Ourselves

I Am THAT Mom

You know, the one in her curlers, bathrobe, and slippers at the bus stop? 

Only worse.

Aidan was being a sweetheart and riding the bus to school "because Mama's leg hurts and she's kind of a baby". Several minutes after he left I noticed his lunchbox on the counter. So Asher and I jumped in the Jeep and tore down the road to the bus stop. The last of the kids were getting on the bus, Hell yeah, I made it! so I slammed it in park and ran, waving the lunch box and hollaring as only a woman who absolutely does not want to have to drive all the way to the damn school to drop off a lunch box can run. As the bus pulled away and I was feeling all smug Score! I'm freakin' fantabulous!  and then it dawns on me, No, Amanda, you're a sad stereotype. Let me make the rest of the picture clear for you. It's 11 damn degrees, not only am I not wearing a coat but just a very thin t-shirt with a 3 day old hot chocolate stain and no bra. I feel the need to reiterate here that it's 11 damn degrees. No shoes, not even slippers, only goofy striped toe socks. There were no curlers but a hairbrush had yet to grace my scalp either and I'm pretty sure the jogging pants I was wearing had a big glob of toothpaste on the left ass cheek. Whew, I was smokin' hot, ya'll!

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

Once I bully the Sexy Beast into putting up the big lighted wreath on the house and my luminary bags along the walkway out front, our Christmas decorating will be done. Here's what we have so far...

My candy tree and candle trees

The family tree with the kid's homemade ornaments

The kitchen beffet

Anna's tree with her ornaments from each year

For some reason, she's one of my very favorite Christmas decorations

Snowman door greeter

Front door wreath

My showcase tree, the big one perfectly coifed in red and silver. I have issues, I'm aware.

The Big Picture

The tree in Aidan and Asher's room

One Thousand

What should my 1000th blog post say?

I guess it's going to say What should my 1000th blog post say?, hu?

Great, I'm Elderly

I've been running pretty much every other day for just over two months - a few times 2 or 3 days in a row but certainly not excessive. I even managed to live through my first 5K, which turned out to be more than 5K and it's my firm opinion that Nazi's designed that course. On the plus side, it turns out I've actually got some leg muscle and unless my scale is simply trying to keep me from forging headlong into a bulimic rage, I have lost a whopping 21 lbs. I haven't completely turned to the dark side, there's no high that makes me feel like I could run 25 miles or something crazy like that but I do kind of enjoy it. I suppose the added bonus of fat melting off my backside encourages my fondness a little bit. 

Aaaaand, now that I've delved into something healthy, I've broken my hip. Okay, it's not broken, I've got Bursitis in my hip. MY HIP! Aren't hip injuries for 89 year old women? My hip for crying out loud! It has hurt on and off for the last couple of weeks after I would run but when I was done yesterday, I kinda thought I was going to die. It's possible I may have even cried about it. Maybe. There was no sleeping last night and sitting, standing, laying down - it all hurt like hell. I bit the bullet and went to a dr this morning. I was perfectly pleasant, despite wincing when she jerked my leg around. In fact, I was very polite when I refused to get on the scale as well. Because let's be honest, it was only going to lead to more tears and I didn't need a referral for a shrink. She gave me an x-ray and determined I'm basically elderly. I came home bearing anti-inflammatory and steroid medication and orders to stop running for a minimum of a week. So bring on the lazy, ya'll!

Did He Just Spell That?

I must find a way to make it clear to Aidan that spelling a curse word is as big an offense as actually uttering it. He honestly believes saying I'm gonna kick your ay-ess-ess, Asher! isn't going to elicit a negative response from me. Yet he glances over at me to be sure and when I start in he says Mama! I didn't SAY the bad word! I'm a good speller, hu, Mama? Nice try, punk. Go get the soap.

Also, Asher won't quit calling Aidan a bitch. Really, where did he get bitch? 'Fuck' he would have heard from me but 'bitch'? No. Yesterday morning I was still in my room where they clearly believed I was asleep. Asher wanted in the fridge and Aidan was blocking him. A shoving match ensued and Asher lost his shit and screamed STOP IT BITCH!!! Plain as day. He sounded pissed! But he came hanging his head when I called him to me. Probably because I sounded pissed.

Why can't kids abide by the ol' Do as I say not as I do? 

Here's What $200 Got Us At Wal-Mart Portrait Studio.

Studio, puh-leeze, it was more of a cubby hole. But I digress. I picked up the photos Friday morning and even though Asher acted a fool and Aidan hogged the camera, there were some freakin' fabulous photos! Take a look-see!

Kid Sister, I dare you to comment on Asher's jeans. They are NOT too short, they pull up when he sits, ya freakin' fashion ninny!

That's It, I Have To Stop Cussing. Damn It!

Asher - You emember asth-hoe?

Me - What?

Asher - Asth-hoe.

Me - I don't know what you're talking about, Asher.

Asher - You know, that bad word, asth-hoe! 

Aidan's one cuz he pushed me off the white couch.

In What Universe...

...does cut my bangs to about the bridge of my nose so I can swipe them over if I want translate to this?

I look like a six year old only not cute. And I was just saying I was growing it out so that means I can't even go get a trim because I'll end up chopping it all off. And I basically did. See.

Then I came home and dyed my hair within an inch of it's life - rich mahogany brown on top, bright red underneath. I swear there are 2 different colors, but it sure doesn't look like it here. I think teenage rebellion color goes nicely with six year old bangs, don't you? 

Christmas Lists Aren't Just For Kids

Do you guys have to put together a list with all the specifics, photos included, for those precious souls who will be buying your gifts (AKA husbands) to ensure you don't end up with a new dish strainer for Christmas? I've never got a dish strainer because the Sexy Beast has requested specifics since the very beginning. He's a smart one! Aside from the thousands of books I would love to pull out of my stocking on December 25, I'm eyeballing a few other items. 

A Garmin Forerunner 205 to keep track of my running stats. Can you guys believe I'm still doing that shit? Me neither!

I've gotten perfume the last few years and this year I want this one. I'm not a huge JLo fan but this smells amazing!

I'm back to wanting the Miche Sophia purse. I can't go back into that store to get it myself, the owner probably wouldn't even let me in the door after I flip flopped on her last time.

This Cole Stripe Silk bedding set from Pottery Barn. Oh wait, I've been waiting for 4 years for it to go on sale and now they've discontinued it. See, Sexy Beast, waiting for a sale doesn't always work out. 

A pretty reasonable list if you ask me!