I'm So Effin Thankful it Hurts

At least I think that is why my boobs are killing me. I have heard that being overly thankful can lead to chronic chesticle pain. Either way, I'm still thankful.

And since the gluttonous of all the holidays that encourages us to gorge ourselves with food until we pass out on the couch with our pants unbuttoned and sit around in uncomfortable silence (or outrageous fighting) with our families is around the corner, today I will write about exactly what I am thankful for. You will have to forgive me though, because I have not been feeling well, thus I don't have a lot of overwhelmingly "fuzzy" feelings taking over me. Excuse me if portions of this list seem a little sarcastic. But you know, you are on the "Wise" Young Mommy blog. You didn't think it was called that because I'm smart, did you? Dumb ass...

So of course it goes without saying that I am thankful for my family, the health of my children, my friends, and blah-de-blah-de-blah, right? I mean, I am not a monster. I love my peeps. There is nothing more important to me than my friends and family and their health and well-being. Well, except this:
Yes people, this is the piece of equipment that I bought at the girl's night out party and it has not disappointed. I am also thankful to Elizabeth at Parenting Pink for oh-so-generously dubbing me the "Goddess of Dildos," which is a title I accept proudly. I will try my best not to let down my fellow lovers of all things electric and vibratory and represent them with grace and style. Wow, vibratory is actually a word...I thought I made it up. Anyway...

While we are on that topic, I would like to state that I am supremely thankful that I have not seriously offended anyone on my blog (at least that I know of) and if I did, they were smart enough to mosey on to another blog full of rainbows and sunshine and non-vibratory things. Also, that none of the disturbed people that Googled "sexy ass young mommy" and "wise mommies like them young" have not contacted me or left me inappropriate comments that would make me want to shut down this blog forever. So there's definitely that...

I am also thankful for him:

...because he is beautiful and occasionally I get to look at him on the television.

Then there's this:

And it's not what you think. I am thankful that I do not have teenage daughters that I had to stand outside in the cold for hours for to get tickets to this movie. Nor did I have to hear them squeal and scream over Edward, or listen to their little friends squeal and scream over Edward. I know that someday it will be my turn and there will be another equally obsessed-over movie that my daughter will dig, but I am just grateful that I escaped this one.

The little things people.

I am extremely thankful that I can fill up my gas tank for less than the cost of a car down payment, that's for sure. However, I am pretty sure that I could buy a whole friggin farm for the amount of money I spend in groceries every month. The universe gives, and it takes, I suppose.

And lastly, I would like to thank a few of my bloggy friends who have supported me and made me laugh these past few months, and that helped me immensely in getting this blog off the ground. They have become not only people to tag for a meme or pass an award along to, they have become true friends. If you haven't checked out any of these people's blogs, you must do so now, or the Thanksgiving Turkey of Thankfulness will come peck your nose off. Or at least you will be missing out on some great blogs, and that's just wrong.

Here they are, in no particular order:

Elizabeth at Parenting Pink
Jim at Irregularly Periodic Ruminations
Jennifer at Sex Diaries of a Mom
Kelly at Neurotic Mom
Athena at Hot Child in the Suburbs
Jenni at Jiggety Jigg
Jennifer at Happily Ever After Land
Mel at Mommy Doodles
Renee at Cutie Booty Cakes
Rachel at Following in My Shoes
Toni from A Daily Dose of Toni
Chais and David at Full Course Meal

Also, thank you to Ron at Clark Kent's Lunchbox for giving me my first guest post, which was an awesome experience and it made me feel a tiny bit special and a little gooey inside that he thought enough of me to trust me with his blog.

And these people are just hilarious and I emulate them to no end. I am thankful for them because they continue to raise the bar and give me something to work towards as a writer and blogger:

Jenny, the Bloggess
Jen at Steenky Bee
Mary Anne at The Stiletto Mom
Deb from I Need a Martini Mom
Becky from Mommy Wants Vodka
Ana from Life Keeps Getting Weirder
Kirsten from The Soccer Mom Files
Britney from Musings of a Barefoot Foodie
Megan at Undomestic Diva
Kaui at How to Party With an Infant
Maggie at Okay, Fine, Dammitt

There are a lot more incredible blogs out there that keep me entertained and envious of their copious blogging skillz, and I am sorry if I have left you off the list, but I can only type so many, plus I have to link all of them, and I am really tired and feeling cranky and my boobs hurt, so I am going to leave it at that.

Thanks bloggy world, for just being you, and allowing me to be me.

(Silence)

You can't see it, but I am saying "you complete me" in sign language.

Happy Turkey Day!

Guest Post: The Wise (*Young*) Mommy Goes to Metropolis

Today I am guest posting in Metropolis over at Clark Kent's Lunchbox, since it seems that Clark Kent has disappeared and nobody knows where he is. He has been giving us these completely obscure hints and I have no idea what it's leading to, so if you would like to read about what I have been doing to help ease my antsiness, go on over to CK's Lunchbox and check it out. I have no idea why he chose me of all people to guest post on the one and only man of steel's blog, but I think it might have something to do with the recent Wonder Woman award I was given, or it could possibly be that he heard I dated a comic book fanatic in college and know more about comic books and superheros than any grown woman should. Either way, I am totally thrilled and can't wait to see what you guys all think about all the activities I have been partaking in during this long, excruciating wait.

Go check it out and leave Clark some comment love. And while you're at it, tell him to get his ass back to his blog, would ya? Some of us need some Superman to get us through the day...

The Wise (*Young*) Mommy: The Early Years

Remember when I said you would never see pictures of me in my Underoos?

Well, I take it back. Because the other night I went to pick my daughter up at my mother's house and guess which pictures my daughter was looking at? You guessed it: me in my Underoos. Then, my mom, bless her little soul, properly sold me out by promising that I would post them on this here blog, or SHE WOULD. So I guess that leaves me buggered. And about to post rather embarrassing photos of me as a small child.

Which leads me to this post: The Wise (*Young*) Mommy: The Early Years. For anyone who has been wondering what such a twisted, nerdy individual like myself looked like as a child, here you go:


Amazing how innocent and unassuming I looked, isn't it? You would have no idea that I would grow into the crazy, dildo-obsessed mommy that I am today, huh?

So here come the money shots. The alleged "Underoo" pics. Yes, I loved my Underoos, and you can certainly tell by the excited, "can't wait to try these puppies on" look in the next photo:


You have all seen this face, right? Especially if you have children. This face is the face you see on a child that has gotten EXACTLY what they want for a gift, instead of some lame socks or a Cabbage Patch rip-off doll that had to stand in for the real thing because the stores were sold out (yeah, that still stings a bit, Mom). Now I just realized that these are not the pictures of me in my Wonder Woman Underoos, but in my Batman ones, but you get the general idea. It was only a matter of minutes before I had stripped down in the middle of the dining room in order to try on the mother of all undergarments--the Underoos:


There it is people. It's a little fuzzy, but I think you get the general idea. This is what a 3-year-old who has finally realized what she was meant to be looks like. I knew, at that moment, that I was destined to be a super hero. I think I wore those Underoos for about three or four weeks straight until my mother refused to continue washing them every day. Then I got my Wonder Woman Underoos and wore the hell out of those.

Memories...

And by the way, I find some adult sized Wonder Woman Underoos, so stay tuned for those pics...

HA! YEAH RIGHT! DREAM ON!

Where are My Underoos When I Need Them?

OK, I got the coolest award ever from Keely at the Un-Mom. You know why it's so cool? I will tell you why...

Because it is the WONDAH WOMAN AWARD!!

Yes, my friends, I said Wonder Woman, THE awesome chick superhero that I worshipped and emulated as a child. I distinctly remember a picture taken of me in my Wonder Woman Underoos (that I am sure you would love to see, but it's NOT gonna happen) from when I was about 4 years old, and all I can remember is thinking that I would NEVER take them off. Obviously, I did take them off eventually, but years later I remember finding those same Underoos and holding them sentimentally, wishing they still fit me so I could feel the spirit of Wonder Woman take over me like the old days.

Well, I digress...Let me show you this dope award

How cool is that? I still get the chills when I look at her...she's so cool.

So now I get to pass on the superhero love to other Wonder Mommies out there. I am going to pass this along to Jennifer at Sex Diaries of a Mom and Elizabeth at Parenting Pink because they are two other kick ass moms that run businesses from home and raise their kids with style.

So you must excuse me now because I have to go cruise e-bay for some Wonder Woman Underoos in size "chubby mommy."

Have a great weekend everyone!

OUT!

My Sweatpants Do Not Define Me

I'm having a crisis of mommy proportions, involving some of my absolute best friends.

These best friends of mine live in my clothes drawers, are super comfy and soft and make me a very, very happy mommy.

These best friends are also not people.

Sad? Quite possibly. But I have not encountered something of animal, vegetable or mineral makeup that covers me in comfort and makes me feel so delightfully cozy and serene. Nothing compares to their support, and their willingness to be there whenever I need them. They don't judge me, they don't mock me, and I am always at ease with them.

These best friends are...

MY SWEATPANTS.

These five or six pairs of cottony goodness are the only item of clothing that I want to wear lately. I pull them on and I am finally able to breathe and live life without the distraction of the annoyance of a stiff waistband cutting into the tender skin of my abdomen. Even my old best friends, the jeans, can't compare with how I feel when I am in my "sweats." Now my jeans are just an irritating reminder of my expanding waistline (even when they are wonderfully supplemented with the miracle fabric we know as lycra) and I find myself not being able to spend an entire day wearing them. They are stiff and unyielding, forcing me to wiggle and adjust constantly, especially in the vain effort to avoid showing half of my buttcrack when I bend over. And although I heart lycra almost as much as I heart my sweatpants, the problem with the lycra blend jeans is that by the end of the day, they are so stretched out that the waist ends up around your thighs and it really thwarts my practice of wearing my jeans about 13 times between washes to avoid the ultra too tightness of them when they are fresh out of the wash.

I don't like having to lie down, suck in my gut and use pliers to pull up my fly people. It's not a pretty sight and it's not comfortable. Trust me.

"What's the problem then?" you might say. It sounds like a deliciously perfect relationship, and I don't even have to give blow jobs on occasion to keep them happy. And yes, you are right. The relationship is pristine and unwavering. But I am beginning to feel a little bit of animosity towards these friends of mine, because I feel like they are luring me into the dark side. More and more I wear these sweats out in public and forgo the task of picking out fashionable clothing. I don't want to be "that mom" that never bothers to get dressed anymore. But I find myself in a downward spiral of elastic-waisted obsession and it might just bring me down folks.

I have already abandoned showering every day. I have given up on putting on makeup most mornings. And to avoid wearing a thong anymore, I have just quit wearing underwear altogether. I cannot go down this road. It would officially be the end. No longer "young, fashionable" mommy, now "haggard no one ever looks at me or talks to me unless they need something diapered, cooked or cleaned and I don't even care" mommy.

I need an intervention people. I need someone to tell me that it is NOT OK to forget all about all those lovely other fabrics, styles and cuts of pants that would make me look startlingly like I DID NOT just crawl out of bed. The next thing I know I am going to be wearing sweatpants not just to the bank and grocery store, but to the movies and out to dinner. Ah, the sweet bliss it would be to have those ever yielding sweats on to allow my gut to hang out after a large dinner and four or five glasses of wine...

NO, NO, NO!

PLEASE, somebody stop the madness. If you love me, even if you like me even marginally, you will give me the support I need in this very difficult time and make sure that sweatpants are not the last type of clothing I will ever don over my legs.

And if you are a mommy like me who is having the same problem, let's band together, because there is strength in numbers. We can beat this affliction.

We'll do it together.

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

Here are my adorable children. Hard to believe they have different mothers, huh? (Ignore the mess in the background please. Thank you.)

And for your viewing and listening pleasure this morning, I have a video for you that my daughter loves and the first time I saw it, I laughed through the entire thing. Many of you parents out there will recognize it from Noggin. Introducing the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players:



I dare you not to smile :)

See Kai Run Giveaway Winner!!

The winner of the See Kai Run shoe giveaway is:

Kristy from Mommy in Pink!

Congratulations Kristy! I will be sending you an e-mail to let you know you are the winner and all you need to do is send me what style and size you want!

Thank you everyone for participating. I am excited to do another giveaway, hopefully soon. Keep coming back and I'll keep giving stuff away!

Do You Have a Dull Banana?

My new friend Tim over at That Tim Guy suggested that I write a post about bananas. Bananas? Yes, bananas. What could I possibly write about bananas, you may be thinking. I was thinking the same thing, however, I am always up for a challenge. Well, bananas are a lot more titillating than you think. But before I go into the multitude of uses for bananas, I would like to share with you this video. Because the Muppets will always be one of my favorite shows from my childhood, and come on, Beaker's a stud!




So not only can you use bananas as a potentially dangerous weapon (with the help of the banana sharpener, of course), there are various other uses for bananas other than eating them (the most obvious). I, myself, do like a good banana, but for those of you that aren't fans of this potassium filled fruit, here are some alternative uses:

Yes, we all had to do it at one time or another. The practicing of the condom on the banana. Whether you did it during your sex ed. class or just for fun (you little freak of nature), this is a common practice among teenagers and 40-year-old virgins alike.

For the immature or anyone that adores humor of the "Three Stooges" variety, we have the old standby - the slipping on the banana peel. And let's not forget the banana pie in the face. Now come on, what's funnier than seeing some schmuck get it in the mug with a pie? Not much.

Then there's this:

I have no idea what this is, but it made me laugh and it just proves to you that there are MULTIPLE uses for bananas that you had probably never even thought of.

And now for some banana humor:

Bert: "Hey, you've got a Banana in your ear!"
Ernie: "What?"
Bert: "I said, YOU'VE GOT A BANANA IN YOUR EAR!"
Ernie: "What? I can't hear you; I've got a Banana in my ear!"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tilly the kindergarten teacher first settles the children down and then announces with a smile, "Kids, we're now going to play a guessing game".
The kids settle and show intense interest and expectations.
Tilly continues ... "Ok now, who can guess this? It's yellow and tastes real good".
A tiny little girl named Rebecca can be heard over the noise of the other kid's answers "It's a lemon!" Tilly rejects that answer, responding, "No. I'm sorry Becky. It's a banana, but I'm glad to see that you're thinking"
But before Tilly can proceed with another question, a young kid by the name of Danny shouts from the back of the room "What do I have in my pocket that's long and hard, has a pink tip?"
Tilly is astonished and acts quickly to shut Danny down ... "DANNYY! That's not something you should be asking about!"
But Danny blurts out the answer "It's a pencil, but I'm glad to see you're thinking.

So go find a banana and give it some love today folks...for my friend Tim.

More Reader Suggestions: Fun With Bodily Excretions

Elizabeth over at Parenting Pink Blog suggested that I talk about poop because it's ALWAYS funny. I tend to disagree that it is 100% always funny, since I have run into some rather unpleasant experiences involving poop, however, I do agree that MOST of the time, it's funny after the fact. As parents, many of us have run across these particular situations, and there is a phenomenon I would like to explore here that encompasses our gradual desensitization to things of a disgusting nature with or without the involvement of bodily fluids/excretions.

10 years ago, I didn't mind changing diapers or having a baby spit up on me. But now, after seven years of parenting, my tolerance for the grody and revolting has skyrocketed to the point that sometimes it is mildly disturbing. Who would ever have thought that I would think nothing of picking up a nugget of poop that has rolled out of a diaper onto the floor and sinking a two pointer with it into the trash can--

SWOOSH--

--And then being proud of myself for making the shot, not completely sickened that I just PICKED UP POOP with my hand. I mean, yeah, I'll wash my hand and everything, but there's no need for the HAZ MAT suit. It's just baby poop, right?

When my stepson was almost 2 years old, he decided it was a good idea to redecorate his room. With paint? No. Markers? No. You guessed it, he artistically covered his entire room (and himself) in sticky, disgusting POO.

This was my first truly vulgar experience as a parent and all I can remember was stepping into his room to get him from his nap, the smell wafting to my nose and then the scene before me registering sickeningly in my brain. POOP EVERYWHERE.

Yes, people, I cried. Literal tears. Like. A. Baby.

I had no idea what to do in such a situation. Do I tend to the baby slathered head to toe in fecal matter or first attack the new brown decor of the room? Could I do this without throwing up and how exactly did I accomplish this without getting any on myself or anywhere else in the house?

Needless to say, an hour later, I was still crying as I scrubbed the poop out of the carpet and off the walls while the baby sat in an empty bathtub, naked as a jaybird, completely pleased with how much of a reaction he had gotten from his young, inexperienced stepmother.

It almost made me run screaming from the apartment to never return.

But I stayed. And I experienced a plethora of even more repugnant events and excretions, so that by the time I had my daughter five years later, I could deal with all kinds of bodily fluids without so much as a cringe.

For example, do YOU know what to do when your kid's nose is running and you don't have a tissue? Why, you have two perfectly good hands, why not use those? Yes, my friends, you wipe those boogers with your hand and then use a good hand sanitizer to kill the germs. That's why God gave us hands, you know. Moms have to be resourceful and use whatever's "handy."

And now I can't even imagine the amount of poop that has been on my person in the past few years, and I don't blink an eye. Poop on my hands, under my fingernails, and even an unfortunate incident in which it ended up in my hair. Big deal. I have had worse things in my hair, if you know what I mean...

Finally, we come to the dreaded of all the bodily fluids, the mother of excretions and I think you know what I am talking about. Yes--BARF. My least favorite thing in the WHOLE world. Literally. Like, my personal hell would be vomiting in a cave full of vomit. I have a PHOBIA people. I am not even kidding.

BUT...

when it comes to my daughter, my flesh and blood, I will cup my hands under her mouth to catch the puke coming out to avoid it splashing on her clothes.

UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE.

That is how much I love my daughter and how programmed I have become to managing her bodily fluids and excretions. I won't even think twice. I am the commander of the poop, the master of the vomit, the goddess of boogers.

I handle it all, and most of the time, it does not phase me one bit.

So if you have learned one thing from this whole repellent diatribe, it is this:

If you ever meet me in person--you might not want to shake my hand.

Just sayin.

Dildos: Give the People What They Want

I learned quite a bit about my readers by reaching out for help on my funny blogging dysfunction. The first thing I learned is that you guys are all horny perverts and are gagging for some more dildo pictures, stories, etc. Well, unfortunately, I don't have any more dildo stories (surprisingly enough), but in order to prevent the sex starved masses that frequent my blog from navigating away to some porn site or another, here you go:

I like to call this one "My dog ate my dildo"


Here's a gift for the aquarium lover in your life (if they also happen to be a complete pervert)



If you like "Where's Waldo?" you are going to love "Where's Dildo?"



And with this one I am pretty sure that I am sealing the deal on my ticket to hell, but for the churchgoer in your life we have the "CRUCIDICK"


Finally, for those of us who don't like to "dildo" solo, we have the dildo built for two:

I hope that satisfies all you sinners' craving for some crazy dildo action. If not, go to Google and type in: "perverts that love dildos" and I promise you that after you navigate through all the pictures of YOU PEOPLE, you will find something to satisfy your dildo lust.

I can't wait to see my Google keywords now...man, I'm askin' for it...

Where's the Funny?

I realize that my posts the last couple of days have been, well let's just say "unfunny." I know you are all super concerned that I am changing the genre of my blog and from now on I am only going to write poignant stories about milestones and mommy moments and you might have to stop coming in fear of throwing up or getting a cavity from all the sweet, tender moments.

Don't worry; it ain't gonna happen my peeps.

I just haven't been feeling very funny lately. Perhaps it is because of the neverending chain of bummers that comprise my life lately. Such as the lyme disease. Such as the one a.m. wakeup calls to evacuate monsters from the little one's bedroom. Such as the fact that I have so much work to do that I am starting to seriously break out into cold sweats when I look at my computer. So maybe all that stuff is taking over my brain and shoving out the funny stuff, eliminating my capacity for creating humorous blog posts and forcing people to squirt various fluids from their nose (or fart, as in Jamie's case).

I really like doing that, you know.

So today I would like to beg for some funny from my readers. What would you like me to write about? What do you think would be so hilarious to read about me that it would make you squirt something or pass gas? I am open to anything except stories about the first time I got my period or anything that involves me sharing past sexual experiences with men other than my husband (because there were no other men, come on, what do you think I am a SLUT?)

I really need some help people. Maybe your ideas will spark up the dormant funny quadrant in my brain and help me get you laughing again on my own. Think of it as blog Viagra (or Cialis, or whichever one works best).

Yes, my name is Petra and I have funny blogging dysfunction. I'm not afraid to admit it, because the first step is recognizing that you have a problem.

And I have learned that it is always best to let people help you when you are having a problem.

SO HELP!!!

Stop. Breathe. There, That's Better

Yesterday started out as a really crappy day. Following a sleepless night up with my little one scaring away monsters, in which I found a tick and a big red rash on my leg, it continued with finding out it would be two to three weeks before I would get my laptop back from the shop and a trip to the doctor to find out that I have Lyme disease.

Ah, the inhumanity of it all.

As I got home from our adventures out in the real world, my daughter looked at me, sleep and love thickening her gaze and said "Mommy, rest on the couch with me."

I thought of all the work I was supposed to do. I thought about the dishes in the sink and the dirty laundry piled to overflowing in the hamper, and I realized that my wise little sage of a daughter knew what I needed better than I did. I needed to let go of the vice grip on myself, dial down the pressure I was applying, and take a breath.

A deep, deep breath. IN...OUT. I closed my eyes, wrapped my arms around her tiny little frame (how can something so small carry so much wisdom?) and positioned myself on the couch with just the right amount of pillows so that I felt like I was floating. My muscles relaxed and I felt like someone had removed a hat that was too small for my head as I sank deep into the sanctity of my couch.

There were moments when I looked over at the computer, sitting there so patiently waiting for me to come back to work. More than once I almost hopped up and started cleaning, organizing or straightening something, but each time I resisted and snuggled in closer to the warm fuzziness of my daughter's body heat.

At one point my daughter got off the couch and found two crowns amidst her dress-up clothes. She put one on her little head and placed the other on mine. "I'm a princess," she said. "And you are the queen."

I smiled and wore my crown with pride. How could I possibly be melancholy with this little ball of joy in my presence? My work could wait, feeling bad for myself was a waste of this precious time and the cleaning and stress of life was only a distraction from the beauty of this snapshot in time where I was completely relaxed, breathing and enjoying being a mother.

My daughter continued to decorate me with various combinations of mardi gras beads, bracelets and bangles and then topped it all off with the best bling of all--a princess' kiss placed gently on the queen's head.

I sighed and realized that the best gift of all could be someone wiser than you opening your eyes to what is right in front of you, and making you appreciate it. Have you breathed today? It could just change everything. All mommies are queens, and they all deserve to breathe once in a while.

So said the queen. And so it shall be.

Monsters

My little one, usually so unafraid, so fearless, bold and brave, had monsters in her room last night.

This was our first foray into a fear of the imaginary. At 2 1/2, she has always embraced anything mysterious, scary or creepy. But, the time has come for her imagination to run off with thoughts of the unknown lurking in the shadows and threatening the safe haven of her bedroom.

It started with a little voice on the baby monitor that, of course, immediately woke me from a deep slumber to keen my ears for whatever her need may be.

"Oh man," she said quietly. "There's a monster in my room."

I smiled inwardly, because it was more of a statement than a complaint. I lay there, in wait, fully expecting her to fall back to a deep, sound sleep. But instead of this, she continued to babble on and on about the monster in her room. She told her stuffed puppy dog. She told her Nunny bunny, and I listened attentively, not paying any mind to the fact that it was one in the morning. But, just as the monitor went mute and I was beginning to drift off again, I heard the wails of my baby girl and immediately shot up in bed.

"Do you want me to get her?" my husband asked sleepily as he rolled over in the bed.

I listened to her cry, analyzing the tone and vibrato, deciding whether this was a "real" cry or a temporary disturbance in her sleeping pattern that would resolve itself quickly. As the volume and urgency increased and she began to shriek, I nodded my head.

"Yes, go get her."

I waited in the bed for him to bring me my baby, my heart aching and my stomach turning over, just hoping that I would be able to give her whatever it was she needed. As soon as she saw me, she laughed with relief and the crying subsided enough for her to say "Mommy, there was a monster."

She sat next to me on the bed in the darkened room, her little body shaking with fear. I had never seen her so frightened and my heart jumped into my throat. Her eyes were big, darting around the room, searching for a telltale sign of the intruder that had scared her so. I pulled her into my arms and ran my fingers through her silky hair.

"There are no monsters, baby," I said softly. "Mommy and Daddy are here."

"Oh, Mommy and Daddy," she replied. "the monster was in my room."

I pulled her tighter, feeling her shallow, uneven breaths, as though she was trying desperately to catch up with them. I stroked her back and kissed her head. "No monsters here," I whispered through her hair. She shook and looked around, finally finding my face in the darkened room. And finally, she began to relax.

We lay there in the bed for what seemed like hours, but was in reality about 30 minutes. She fit in my arms like an extension of myself and eventually our breathing became even and in synch. But we didn't fall asleep. I listened to each breath and cough and was acutely aware of each shift in my arms. She sucked her thumb and every now and then reached out to touch my face or my arm, as if she was checking to make sure I was still there, that I hadn't dissolved into the shadows or that the unseen beast hadn't emerged and carried me away. Each time, I was there, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Eventually, I felt her turn towards me and she whispered my name.

"Mommy," she said. "I'm all done being scared."

I pulled her closer, because I knew what was coming next. "Are you ready to go back to your bed?" I asked, and she nodded.

I took her back to her bed, knowing that tonight, I had forced out the monsters and kept her safe. But there was a part of me that was more frightened than she was, because this was just the first of many monsters she would encounter in her long life to come.

I just hoped I could protect her from all of them forever. And although I knew that this was a futile desire, that I wouldn't be able to save her from every frightening experience or heartache, I knew that there would not be one day that I didn't use all that I had to fight for her. She completed me in a way that I never thought was possible and brought me more joy and unconditional love that I ever could have dreamed of existing in this world.

Those monsters don't know what they have coming to them. A mother's love is nothing to mess with.

Bring it on.

Ode to My Husband

My husband totally rocks.

Well, not ALL the time, of course. There are certainly those moments when I want to open a can of whoop-ass on his insensitive "I live on Mars and you are from Venus" attitude. But there are also a lot of moments that make me go "aww, I have the best hubby since Mike Brady." I guess that's what keeps me from running away and living with the circus, or at the very least, divorcing him. God designed it that way, you know. Men and women annoy each other just enough so that things aren't always beautiful and serene, but then he added a little dash of communication and understanding so that we continue to propagate the human race. He was a pretty smart omnipotent being, I must admit.

So last night was one of those nights that made me appreciate my other half. The reason for this consisted of one out-of-body experience inducing FULL BODY massage (yes bitches, I said FULL BODY--that's a lot of area) followed by sweet, sweaty pleasure that left me drooling on my pillow and not being able to feel my legs. It. Was. AWESOME. No other word for it. I know awesome is terribly overused, but this cannot be described as anything but awe inspiring in the most literal sense. But...

Yes, when we are talking about men, there is almost always a but.

The reason I got this pampering, gluttonous treatment was because he owed me. Yes ladies, you know the deal. It's our upper hand, our guarantee to at least sometimes getting what we want and being thought of first--because THEY screwed up. Or acted stupid, said something stupid or some combination of the above. In this case, my darling hubby stayed out until 4 a.m. at his buddy's house on Saturday and then because he was SO tired yesterday morning, I made him breakfast and waited on him hand and foot like the super 50's wife that I am.

HA, 50's wife my ass.

I might help him out when he is so hungover he can't see, but then--you know it, he's gonna OWE ME. So yesterday he offered me a massage. And I gladly accepted this offer. And added a few more things to sweeten the deal and ease the sting of barely sleeping Saturday night because I was so worried about him getting home safely and then waking up for an hour when he got home to sniff him for the scent of another woman and check his pockets for matchbooks with phone numbers on them. (I'm just kidding about that. Let me clear this up by assuring everyone that I trust my husband more than anyone in this world and I know he is always where he says he is. You can't have a marriage with anything but this level of trust. So for all of you that have comments on your tongue ready to give me shit for being a jealous, untrusting wife, go BITE IT.)

So to summarize, last night was awesome. My husband is awesome. And no matter what us ladies say, we always want our husbands to screw up occasionally because then we get treated like the queens that we really are. Don't deny it.

But, in all seriousness, I love my husband like fat kids love cake, and I wouldn't trade him for anything in the world. We have grown in our marriage together so that it almost feels as if part of me is him and part of him is me. When he isn't there, I feel a little empty, and breathe a sigh of relief when we are reunited. And lately, we seem to be hitting our stride. Like after seven years, the kinks and poorly performing parts of our relationship have been re-designed so that we can function at (almost) 100% every day. He gets me. He knows what to say and when to say it. And he makes me feel like the only woman on earth.

And that, my friends, is WAY better than any massage. Word.

Two Awards (From Three Dope People) and a Pair of Spanky Pants

Spanky Pants?

Yes, spanky pants. Because my leg warmer wearin' buddy Jenni over at Jiggety Jigg told me I had to mention "spanky pants" in my post when I accepted her award. So there. I did it. Are you happy Jenni? Jenni is really awesome, so you should go send her some love when you get the chance. She is so awesome that she gave me this Motherload award and told me I could make up my own rules--yee-ha! So here is the award:

Look at that puppy! Pretty cool. So my rule for this award is that I am going to pass it along to just ONE other person, a person whom I hold very dear to my heart and who was one of two people to give me this next award this week. It just happens to be my rockin' MOMMY - Rose from All About Cakes. Yes, people, the one and only goddess that is 50% responsible for my existence (you can thank her when you see her, she gets it all the time). She is the ONLY recipient of the MOTHERLOAD award because well, she's the only person I know motherload-alicious enough in my book to receive it. So there you go mommy!

So my Mom and Heinous over at Irregularly Periodic Ruminations (who will from now on be known as "Daddy-o,") both gave me this award:
Since this award is in Portuguese and that is one of the six languages I am fluent in, I will translate for you. It means: "This blog invests and believes, in 'proximity' [meaning, that blogging makes us 'close' - being close through proxy]. These blogs are all charming and they aim to show the marvels of friendship. Lets give more attention to them! So with this prize we must deliver it to eight bloggers who in turn must make the same thing and put this text."

Yeah, I don't really know Portuguese but Daddy-o and my Mom say that that is what it means
so I believe them. For all I know it could say that I have unbearably stinky feet, but whatever. It's cool no matter what cause it's a MAJOR AWARD.

So I have to pass it along to eight others so they can continue to share the Portuguese fortune. So here they are, in no particular order:

1. Rachel at Following in My Shoes
2. Jennifer at Happily Ever After Land
3. Elizabeth at Parenting Pink Blog
4. My Aunt Lori at Recovering Stroke Survivor
5. Casey at Half as Good as You
6. Mel at Mommydoodles
7. Athena at Hot Child in the Suburbs
8. Jen at Cheaper Than Therapy.

Phew. I'm tired now. I don't have much stamina because I have been drinking mimosas at a baby shower all afternoon. Did you know that they have a jacuzzi spa for babies now?? I KNOW! Craziness. Anywho, I am off to spend the rest of my Sunday trying to relax while continually being asked to do something, and tomorrow I will have a nice little post for you to devour (you little bloggy vultures you!)

*kiss kiss

Nouveau Riche University

If you are looking to change careers, and have ever thought about going into the real estate market, you will want to check out Noveau Riche University. Their programs are designed to create real estate investors, not just teach abstract concepts and facts. They provide hands-on training and the support a student needs to get started.

You get to choose the type of program and how you want to learn the vital aspects of real estate development to hit the ground running in the market. You will be surrounded by a variety of different people with different backgrounds, but with the same goals--to be successful and make money. There are various learning paths you can choose from and Nouveau Riche will help you choose by having you fill out a personal preferences questionnaire, so they can recommend the best program depending on your time frame, finances and availability.

Nouveau Riche's Real Estate College is based on an educational process known as Instructional System Design. This method of learning has been proven to be highly successful at preparing students for real-life situations and optimizing the learning process. You will also be a part of the Noveau Riche community and have access to countless resources that will help you reach your goals.

So if you are ready to change your life and your career path today, head over to Nouveau Riche Real Estate College and get started today!

Some People Think I am Cool (AKA Oh, the Disillusionment!)

When I first started writing in this little corner of the internet, I really, honest to blog, didn't think that anyone was going to read it except for my mother and MAYBE my husband. Well, I was wrong on two counts. # 1. A lot more people read it and # 2. My husband doesn't. No, just kidding, he does, I just like to give him a hard time because with his insanely busy schedule sometimes he goes weeks at a time without checking it. Which is fine with me, actually, because there are probably plenty of posts I wouldn't mind him missing out on because in my mind, only about 42% of what I write is readable. Maybe 43%. No, definitely 42. But thankfully, some people disagree. SHOCKING, I exclaim. Some people even think I am "sparky" and (now hold your breath for this one people) SUPERIOR. I would NEVER call myself superior (unless we're talking about activities in the boudoir...you know, like making the bed--you dirty, dirty individual, I know what you were thinking), but Jim over at Irregularly Periodic Ruminations apparently thinks my scribbling is superior, so he gave me this:

I am assuming this means that he likes what I write, so for that, I am flattered, and also wondering if he should have his head checked (but that's for other reasons that we won't go into now...) But, no matter the reason, I say THANK YOU JIM. I am especially honored because it seems that Jim now has a little posse of groupies that treat him like a rock star, although I am not completely convinced that it doesn't have to do with subliminal messages placed on his blog. Very suspicious.

The next award is from Bridget over at Mama Belly Blog and Jennifer from Sex Diaries of a Mom, and it is the Maternal Spark Sparky Blogger Award, and it sure is purdy!!

I really like the idea of sparking creativity, conversations, controversy and friendship. Those are all pretty awesome things to spark, if you ask me. Almost as awesome as a doobie. Almost.

So the last thing I want to "scribble" about today is how much I appreciate YOU (yeah you, you doofus, stop looking around). Because I wouldn't get so much out of this whole blogging thang if it weren't for you, the gals and guy (thanks Jim) who frequent my blog and leave comments harrassing me, supporting me and all around making me laugh until I tinkle. I never imagined that blogging would actually make me part of a community and that I would make actual friends from it, but lo and behold--I have. That's boffo, as a friend of mine would say (you know who you are). I hit 50 followers yesterday (after some pleading on Twitter and a couple of small pay-offs) and I was pretty stoked that 50 people actual want to get into my sick, twisted mind every day. Although they are probably just waiting for me to post another embarrassing picture of myself (or for more stories about dildos), I am super duper appreciative and humbled. Cause, you know, sometimes I wonder if I really make any sense to anyone else but me...you guys prove to me that I do (or at least that my nonsensical ramblings are mildly humorous).

Now I must pass these awards to five other unsuspecting bloggers. So here they are:

1. Kelly over at The Neurotic Mom
2. Toni at a Daily Dose of Toni
3. Renee at Cutie Bootie Cakes
4. Jenni at Jiggety Jigg
5. Angie at In Pursuit of Fulfillment

All these ladies spark all kinds of things and are definitely superior scribblers, so there you have it. I demand that you go visit them and tell them that Petra sent you. (By the way, that's me).

Later playas.

Are You a Mommy or Did You EAT One?

Well, it has officially gotten out of hand. The Halloween candy eating, that is. And now I stare in the mirror and dissect my less than perfect body, zeroing in on the lumps, bumps and cottage cheesy flesh that hang from my skeleton like unwanted baggage. Like those saddlebags, for instance...I don't know about you, but I don't ride horses all that often (except in those dreams where I am riding bareback down the beach with...um, well, nevermind) so I certainly do not need those. And, although it sounds yummy and delicious, my muffin top is anything but. Which brings me to the topic of my BUTT. What can I say, J-Lo's got nothing on me. But instead of my ass drawing media attention for it's curvy sex appeal, mine just functions really well for sitting on it at the computer ALL THE TIME. Something's gotta give. And today is the day that I have decided I am going to do something that will motivate me to become the hot momma that I know I really am inside this fat suit. First of all, I joined The Muffin Top Killers, started by Jamie over at My Suburban Can Run Over Your Minivan...and Will. It is an awesome private blog for those of us mommies looking to squash the muffin top and become all sexy, all the time. Secondly, I am posting a picture of my muffin top for all to see--yes people, I am going to show you something that I never allow--a picture of me from the neck down.

This is something that has not been seen by human eyes for at least three years--since before I got pregnant with my daughter and my body got taken over by aliens (it's the only explanation I can come up with). So here it is:
Sorry about the fuzziness, but my daughter takes a really shitty picture (usually of up my nose or part of my ear) so I had to use the good old mirror trick. But you get the general idea. The lighting is perfect for you to see that bulge right above the waistband of my jeans; the famous muffin top. There's mine, in full color. Actually, it feels kinda liberating to get it out there--I HAVE A MUFFIN TOP, AND HERE IT IS. Below the muffin top, you can see the evidence of the chubby thighs squeezed into the jeans, but thank GOD, my knees look great, don't they? Thankfully this picture doesn't show my wings (and we're not talking the ones that can fly) because they are hidden by my long sleeved shirt. But trust me, they are there. And when I wave goodbye, WATCH OUT--you might get slapped with the flap!

So in the spirit of motivation, here is what I would LIKE to look like:

Oh wait, wrong picture. How did THAT get on my computer...

Here's the right one (you're welcome to the four guys that read my blog):

You know, I don't have completely unrealistic expectations or anything...

But really, I know I will never look like this woman (aside from getting massive amounts of plastic surgery and obtaining a personal trainer, a personal nutritionist and a stylist). But I want to look in the mirror and say "Damn girl, you be bangin'!" instead of "Dang lady, are you a mommy or did you EAT one? I want to pull on my pants and button them without straining and pulling in my gut until it hurts, only to have the fat spill out over the top as soon as I get them fastened.

So...I am going to rededicate myself to working out, eating right, drinking water, and stopping the constant shoveling of candy into my piehole...mmm, pie...ergh, sorry...got a little distracted there...

I think I have my work cut out for me...

See Kai Run Review and Giveaway--YEEEAAAH!!

Hooray! It is officially time for my very first giveaway in honor of me hitting 10,000 visitors. I am totally psyched to have had the opportunity to review a pair of See Kai Run shoes for my 2-year-old daughter. If you haven't heard of See Kai Run, they have an incredible line of flexible soled shoes for infants and toddlers that are not only great for their feet, but are super adorable and stylish. The shoes I chose for my daughter to try were the Melody design and they did not disappoint.

They are so incredibly adorable; so much cuter than your typical Mary Jane. The leather is so soft and supple and the black rubber flexible sole is sturdy, yet allows for comfort of movement and proper support of her little growing tootsies. I am seriously in love with these shoes. And my daughter is too. She was so excited when they came in the mail and just kept talking about the "birdies on her shoes." ADORABLE.

See Kai Run has been oh-so-gracious enough to allow me to give away a pair of these puppies to one of my lucky readers. So please go their site, pick out the pair you want and the size, and leave it as a comment and I will pick a winner next week. Just so you know, the sizes included in this are the Smaller line, which is 0-18 months and the See Kai Run line, which is size 3 to 9.

Good luck to everyone--I can't wait to see who wins!

Crazy Mommy Seeks Vacation

The past few weeks have gone by in a blur, leaving me feeling dizzy and a little bit like my eyes won't focus properly. This might have something to do with the 12 hours a day I spend staring at a computer screen, or the fact that my stress level is one step below heart attack range. Perhaps it is related to my 2-year-old's sudden explosion of headstrong attitude and refusal to listen to anything that mommy says. My educated opinion is that it is probably due to a combination of all of the above, and therefore, I think I need a vacation.

Anyone have a spare ticket to Hawaii?

Some might say that I have no right to complain because I brought it all on myself. Yes, I did agree to move in with my in-laws, and yes, I didn't run screaming when my husband asked if I wanted to buy a 150-year-old house and fix it up (a.k.a. rebuild it almost entirely). I had something to do with the conception of my daughter, so I guess I had a hand in creating her adorable, aggravating little existence. And because of our seriously failing economic status, I have bitten off way more than I can chew when it comes to work. I now hold three different freelance jobs, as well as a part-time editing job; not to mention running my blog and writing reviews. But, I have chosen to do this, and even though I'm pretty sure we'd be eating beans out of a can if I wasn't working, it still all boils down to free will.

But that doesn't make me feel any less exhausted...or OVERWHELMED.

In addition to our financial woes, my dog has become a verifiable tick magnet and I remove a colony of ticks from her two to three times a day, despite the $50 flea and tick medication I have applied to her every month. And, of course, my daughter wants to sleep with her on the floor, hug her, kiss her, and roll around with her all day long, so I spend a large portion of my day trying to keep her away from our little parasite magnet. As stated above, SHE DOES NOT LISTEN TO A WORD I SAY. So my pleas to "leave Maggie alone so you don't get infested with bugs" are all in vain. She looks at me with her cherubic little face and those deep blue eyes the color of cornfields and says with a look that can only be described as pity.

"No, mommy."

It's not a yell or a scream. It's a very matter of fact statement, almost as if she is saying "I really wish I could Mom, but it's just not in the cards right now." She has an old soul, some would say. I say she's just a really cute pain in the you-know-what (for those slow folks out there--that means ASS).

But I guess things could be worse. At least she makes an enormous mess every day and decides on some days that it's appropriate to speak only in decibels loud enough for the neighbors to hear. You know, so there's that.

But she's freakin' adorable and extremely smart. Too smart, actually. So smart, in fact, that I can't keep up with her quest for knowledge and stimulation and I am considering sending her off to some toddler future MENSA boarding school so she can get the brain aerobics she truly needs.

HA! Who am I kidding? I can barely make it through a whole day without her...she's got a hold on my heart like nobody's business. She gets me through the day. Her laugh, her smile, her ever expanding vocabulary which never ceases to amaze me. Like on days like today when my mother-in-law came to me asking what the big chunks were in the bath tub that looked like feces or vomit. And why didn't someone clean that up?

Yeah, that's just gross.

But I guess the story is that my daughter swallowed a whole bunch of water in the tub the other night while my husband was giving her a bath, choked on it and puked. She had reflux as a baby and she still has a pretty strong gag reflex, so sometimes she barfs when she gets something caught in her throat or starts to choke (another one of those lovely perks of being a parent--the ever present puke factor). But apparently, as so many men do, he "forgot" to go finish cleaning it up after the tub drained, so my mother-in-law got to find that little surprise in her tub. And then I got the shit for it, because mommies are supposed to have ultimate control over what everyone else in the family does, and it's a sin for us to let something slip.

Bad mommy!

So I will take responsibility for my stress. I will chastise myself for not keeping my ESP in tune so that I know all the happenings in my household in order to avoid any messes, chaos or shenanigans, and I will just slip on my mommy smile so that nobody can tell I am one step away from the insane asylum.

Cause you know, at least that would be a vacation...

Voting Day Randomness

Well hello my fellow Americans! I hope all of you got out and got 'er done today (or at least have plans to do so later). If you don't know what I am talking about, then I'll give you a hint: It involves a curtain, a small cubicle and it rhymes with bloating. Yeah, you know what I am talking about.

So I haven't voted yet, but I plan to do so later when I have someone to watch my darling children so they don't terrorize the lines of citizens waiting patiently for their turn to take advantage of democracy. So for now, since I am completely bogged down with work, I am going to recognize a couple of awards I have received as of late and call it a day. I promise to entertain you all with a smashing post tomorrow about my adventures as an insane multitasking momma and my recent mental breakdowns involving my daughter, my dog and vomit in the bath tub. Yeah, I betcha can't wait for that one!

So the first award I received was from Jennifer over at Sex Diaries of a Mom, which is one of my all time favorite blogs (not just because it's about sex, please people), because Jennifer is a really fly lady. Yes, I said fly. I'm bringing the word back, get ready for it.

Apparently, I have an uber-amazing blog!

Which is way better than just amazing, you know. UBER-amazing is a special title reserved for those bloggers (like Jennifer) who go above and beyond to pleasure their audience. Wait, I meant please their audience, yeah, that's right...

So thanks Jennifer!

Julie over at Cool Mom Guide gave me another version of the Kreativ Blogger award, which I am extremely grateful for because my other one was lonely and needy and being really clingy with the other awards. So she really saved me from thousands of dollars of blog award group therapy.

So there it is. Both awards are so pretty and girly, and therefore my first awardee that I am passing these to will be my very good (and manly, but not afraid of his feminine side) friend Heinous over at Irregularly Periodic Ruminations. I like him even though his blog title is way too long. And he wrote me a blog post on demand today, so he's on my good side...for now. Then I would like to pass this to Mommy Wants Vodka becuase I am really impressed that she is making it through this really trying time, what with the raging day care cold and the vaginal pain...need I go on? She deserves it. And lastly, I want to honor the Hussy Housewife over at My Suburban Can Run Over Your Minivan...and Will. She posted a really profound post about the Halloween candy addiction that so many of us suffer from, and she made me realize I am not alone. I am still waiting for Part 2, which is supposedly going to change my life and my intense obsession with fun sized chocolate coated confectionaries. Go read her--she's FUNNY.

So, again, I hope everyone gets out and votes today and doesn't let their voice go unheard. I'm pretty excited to find out the results tonight. Because no matter what, it will be CHANGE, which is what we need right now. So go do it!

And if that isn't enough reason to vote, I hear all kinds of places are giving away free stuff if you vote. So do it for the free Starbucks, loser.

OhMyDogSupplies.com

If you have a dog, and especially if you spoil your fur-baby but don't like to spend a lot of money, you have to check out OhMyDogSupplies.com. Recently I have been thinking about buying my dog a dog bed because she is constantly sleeping on the couch and the hair and dirt is driving me crazy. Well, if you are looking for dog beds, OhMyDogSupplies.com is the place to go!

The prices are really reasonable, and the different designs and fabrics give you such a great selection. I love the dog couches, like this one:This one is made of microfiber and it looks like I would love to take a nap in it!

They have a dog bed for every size dog, and they have WAY more than you will find going to your local pet store like Petco or Petsmart. Plus, they have personalization so you can get your dog's initial embroidered on their bed, which I think is just adorable. I am definitely going to purchase a dog bed from OhMyDogSupplies.com. Especially because they offer FREE SHIPPING on all their dog beds!

They also have a great selection of other dog supplies, such as toys, clothes, crates, and grooming supplies. If you need help, they have "dog consultants" ready to help with anything you might need and you can chat live with them online.

Go check out OhMyDogSupplies.com to buy the perfect bed for your dog!

He Loves Him Some McCain

Some idiot kept having his McCain/Palin sign stolen by some punk-ass 9-year-old kid, so you know what he did? Well watch:



Yep, he wired it up to his electrical fence. Sure, he put up signs saying that there was an electrical fence, and the shock wasn't enough to REALLY hurt the kid, but come on!

He gets the ass of the day award.

On a brighter note, I am a featured contributor over at MomDot.com today, so go read what I had to write about Halloween today, as opposed to when I was a kid.


I hope everyone is getting out to vote tomorrow! No matter who you just can't live without, whether you are an Obama Mama or you just love Sarah's shoes (that's you Jenni!), get out there and cast your ballot, cause otherwise, what's the FUCKIN' POINT?

Godspeed.

I'm Definitely Going to Heaven...

So if all my past indiscretions haven't completely destroyed my chance of getting into heaven, then I think I'm in. St. Peter won't be able to resist letting in a woman who devoted her life to saving small dogs from becoming roadkill, could he? I mean, I don't know the guy, but he'd have to be real heartless for that (you know, like Judge Judy or something--she scares me).

There I was, driving down the road, minding my own business and texting away, I mean, paying very close attention to the road, when this little brown creature scurried across the road in front of my mommy-mobile (a.k.a. hideously uncool minivan). Since I was paying such careful attention to the road (thank GOD I am such a careful driver), I was able to swerve my giant child transporter out of the way so that I avoided hitting this little furry guy. As he ran down the side road, I could just make out his features to realize that it was a little brown Chihuahua (insert "AWWWW" here). So, being the lifesaving, kindhearted and extremely community conscious mommy that I am, I headed down the side road to follow him (and it had nothing to do with me thinking how much the kids would love a Chihuahua for Christmas).

As I drove down the road, the dog was nowhere to be found, and I almost turned around to go home, but I thought that I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight not knowing if he got home safely (yes, I am a sappy sap sap with a very soft spot for dogs and babies--get over it!). And then I caught sight of him--running as fast as his little stubby legs could take him. So I pulled over and got out to see if he had a collar.

No collar.

Now this is where the little devil and angel showed up on my shoulders to banter back and forth about what to do. Part of me said "take the dog and run sista," but of course the angel (of course I am definitely about 95 % angel) reminded me that there might be some handicapped kid on that street sitting in his wheelchair sobbing his eyes out because the dog that his dying grandmother had given him on her deathbed was nowhere to be found because some mini-van driving psychotic pet-snatching mommy had taken him back to her house for her children to torture, I mean, smother with love. But then I thought maybe it belonged to some crazy old guy that lived in his car and spent all his money on Jack Daniels and cigarettes and that he had thrown the dog out of a moving car cause he was sick of him tinkling on the car upholstery. So that got me mad. And I almost turned around with the little shaking ball of brown fur in my arms and took him home.

Damn you handicapped kid! Get out of my head!

The dog had been running through someone's yard, so I thought, "what the hell, we'll ring this dude's doorbell and see if he knows whose dog this is." So I did. Nobody answered. I looked around at all the other houses began across the road to try another when I heard a man's voice yelling "Hershey! Come here!"

I thought this might be the dog's owner (aren't my powers of deduction fantastic? Yes, I know; I am a mental gymnast).

I called to him and brought the dog over, and a relieved look washed over the man's face.

"You're an angel!" he said. (This I know, but it is always good to hear.)

So I placed my hand out looking for my reward and he shook it vehemently (yeah dude, not what I was looking for, but I figured I had a better chance of using this as my free pass to heaven if I wasn't greedy about it) and told me how much he appreciated it.

So I went home empty handed, my arms still warm from the little doggie's body heat, but I felt pretty good. I mean, karmically speaking, saving a dog must be good for a little bit of good luck coming my way right? And then there's the whole getting into heaven thing and I think this must be a big check in the "Yes" column for me.

What do you think? Am I in?

BlindSaver.com

Need blinds or shades for your home?

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Right now they are having an extra special pre-holiday savings event. Use the coupon BONUS5 for an additional 5% off at checkout. Plus, their Hunter Douglas Duette Honeycomb shades, the #1 selling honeycomb shade, is now on sale! Get 10% off and a free upgrade to top-down/bottom-up on all Duettes for added light control.

Not sure what you want? No problem. Visit their web site and view all the styles and designs, including a full sampling of fabric and color swatches. Still having trouble deciding? Give them a call and talk to one of their friendly and knowledgable customer service representatives and they will give you all the assistance you need.

Visit BlindSaver.com and get the blinds or shades you need for your home today--for the best price around!

Halloween Antics

Well, I promised you pictures of my kids, but we were so busy hounding people for candy that we didn't get very many. However, here are a few so you get the general idea:

This is my son and goddaughter. She was some kind of witch-type thing and he was a combination of Batman, Spiderman and Darth Vader. I was pretty sure people weren't going to "get" his concept of a "mixed-up" super hero and that they were just going to think he was a little slow, but he thought it was pretty cool, so who am I to judge?

Here's my little monkey, off on her first actual Trick-or-Treating excursion. Notice the look on her face which says "It's already past my bedtime and I am overtired, but completely hopped up on sugar so HERE I GO TO GET MORE CANDY!" She ended up doing fantastic and she was SO incredibly excited; it just thrilled me to watch her experience it. Just the fact that she got to walk around outside in the dark was exciting to her. How can you beat that?

Here's a little bit of the aftermath. Now this face says "It's over?"

And here is my baby "reading" her Halloween card. THE cutest EVER!

There you have it! I have to go now so I can start working off the five pounds I have gained eating Halloween candy. Hope everyone had an awesome Halloween!