I am moving my blog to a new site. I am also changing the name of it to The Princess of Quite a Lot.
My new site is here. I decided I needed a change. I was reading Miss Zoot last week and she mentioned a new women friendly blog on Wordpress that I wanted to try. I hope anyone who reads this will come check me out!
]]>So, while doing the open thread at Mamapop I volunteered to do this meme. Because I HEART MEME's. No, really. Here is the blogger it originated from, gingajoy. She is totally hot and even better, she is British! And guess what else? She loves meme's too!
Here goes...
1- "Listen To My Heart" by the Indigo Girls
2- "P.D.A" by John Legend- a very sexy song!
3-"The Farmer's Daughter" by Merle Haggard
4-"Don't You Want Me,Baby?" by Human League
5-"3 A.M." by Our Lady Peace
6-" Rain King" by Counting Crows
7-"It's Your Love" by Tim McGraw & Faith Hill
Kind of a strange and out-dated list, but there you go. I am not terribly cool like that. I am supposed to tag seven more people to do this, but I don't think seven people read it!!
]]>]]>What, to you, is the first sign of spring? Have you seen it yet?
Submitted by Spy.I find myself looking for the early blooms of the Jonquil's and Daffodil's. Yes, they are everywhere. It makes me feel cheery to see them!
What is your favorite greasy spoon?
Submitted by S@ngarang.
Waffle House...the only way to go!
]]>One of the things I enjoy the most about where we live is the fact that both of my children can see their maternal grand-parents, paternal grandparent and paternal great-grand parents easily. That said, my parents are the ones who are the evil ones.
My youngest child is eighteen months. No one wants to do anything with him yet because" he's too little", so they take my oldest, who is three, to do whatever. I am really beginning to get royally pissed. He doesn't understand why his bubba gets to do (insert thing here) and he doesn't. I have tried explaining that he is big enought to go too. And it is falling on deaf ears.
Here is another example. Today my father made a stick horse for The Aidan. He came running up to show me as soon as we got back. After giving it the eyeball I asked my father where Quinn's was. His response? "I didn't make him one because he is too little"...I had to take a deep breath and try to remain calm. I told him no more toys unless they both get one. PERIOD.
I am just so sick of that bullshit excuse. He wants to do everything his bubba does. He is plenty old enough. I don't see what the problem is. But it better change quick like. Or Mama is going to put a stop to all of it. And I don't think you really want that to happen.
]]>Continuing on with my nostalgia tour. I have decided to explain why I chose to name my blog Project Moose. I hope it doesn't make people think I am strange. Here goes...
I have mentioned in previous post's that I grew up in California. What I have never mentioned is where. It is a really small town in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada's. It has less than a thousand people in it, probably even less than that now. Springville. Doesn't it sound idyllic? It was a great place to grow up. We had parade's every spring for Jackass Mail Run and then the Rodeo. We use to be a stop for the Pro Rodeo Tour. Big doins' for our tiny town! In the fall we would have an Apple Festival. I am making my own self moopy. We won't even talk about Christmas. I don't want to make anyone cry.
On to the reason for the name of my blog. My family lived just outside of town. We had a few acres and were able to do as we pleased, for the most part. We knew everyone. Most of our friends lived further out so we had to make do with each other as play mates. We also had a dog. Actually, the dog was mine. I had had him since I was a little girl. He was the greatest dog ever. His name was Rocky. He was a cattle dog. And I got pick of the litter. People used to come from all over the tri-state area to purchase one of these dogs. He was super protective and went everywhere with me. He was great fun and game for just about anything.
We had a small deck off of my parent's bedroom on the back of the house. We used to love to hide there and then jump out and scare the shit out each other! So one day I get this great idea. I tell my brother we should run around the house and see if we can get the dog to chase us. It took a couple of times around the house, but the dog figured out it was a new game and was totally on board. I decided we needed something to call our game. Wait for it... I cannot tell you for the life of me how I came up with it, but I named it Project Moose. All we would have to do is yell"Project Moose" and take off running and the dog would be in hot pursuit! We would be screaming and laughing our fool head's off. We would make a lap or two and then jump on that little back deck and watch the dog run right on by. We would laugh and laugh. And then the dog would find us and we would do it all over again.
So now you know. I have always been easily amused, even as a small child.
]]>I was watching my usual crappy Friday night t.v. when I was reminded of a little episode from my own less than stellar past. I thought I would share it with you now. So here goes...
When I was growing up my little brother was a small,spindly-legged kid. He had a small pigmentation problem(I can't for the life of me remember the damn name of it!) and used to get teased, a lot. Being his big sister, and completely fearless, I would stick up for him. It was what you did. When you are the older sibling you protect your younger sibling's. Period. It wasn't too bad while we still lived in California, then we moved to Georgia. It got worse.
We originally lived in Snellville the first year we lived here. My parent's moved us to Douglasville after that, which is where we grew up. Things were fine up until we moved into our new house. The next door neighbor's were absolute shits. The daughter was the same age as me, and I thought that was so cool. Until I actually met her. She was a stone-cold-fucking-class-A-bitch. I saw my dreams of Friday night sleepovers fly right out the window. And then there was the middle son. He was a year or two older than my little brother. We are not even going to talk about the youngest son, who I am pretty sure is like, some sort of serial killer by now because his parent's were that fucked up.
Back to the middle son. He was a big football playing-bully-jackass. They would play touch football in our front yard with all the neighborhood kids. Until he felt the need to "tackle" my brother and make him cry. My brother has never been a cry-baby. This kid was that much of a mean little shit. I would get pissed off and go out there and tell him to knock it off or one day he would be sorry. He would just laugh and tell me to shut up. Can you see where this is going?!
So one day he gets really rough with my brother and he comes in the house crying...and I see red. Literally. This haze comes over me and I am just FURIOUS. I throw open the front door screaming his name. He stops what he is doing and just looks at his friends and laughs. I storm over to where he is standing there with this whatchu-gonna-do-bitch look on his face and I haul off and punch him right in the face. He staggers back a few feet and I do it again. Apparently, the whole time I am screaming at him to NEVER touch my little brother again. My FATHER had to come outside to pull me off of him.
I am worried I will get in trouble for fighting. We explain what has been going on and sit there waiting for the shit to hit the fan. I will never forget the look my father got on his face. He was dumbfounded. I had just beat the shit out of a guy who out- weighed me by a good fifty pounds and didn't have even a little scratch. He said he was proud of me for standing up for my little brother, and while fighting was NOT the answer, I had done everything else I could do. He said to never throw the first punch, but to damn well defend ourselves if we ever did get into a fight.
The best part? The neighbor had to go to school with a black eye. And everyone knew that he had gotten his ass kicked by a GIRL. And my runty little brother? Grew up to be much taller and stronger than his big sister. And has forgotten all that I did for him in our youth, because we have not spoken to each other since my Grandma died. And before that, the last time was Mother's Day last year.
It makes me really sad. We used to be best friends. I miss that.
]]>Baby fever seems to be sweeping the nation. Or at least some of the blogs I read. It makes me all nostalgic for the days of my pregnancies.
I loved being pregnant. From the very first moment my husband told me I was pregnant( both times! with boys!) I felt this sense of earth-mother power. It was amazing. I am sure I tortured my poor co-workers with updates of how many weeks along I was,cravings,etc. I was so full of joy. I was actually glowing.
I was also a crazy-hormonal-raving-freakin'-maniac! Just ask my husband. It was his least favorite thing about either of my pregnancies! Well, that 2 a.m. donut run wasn't exactly a big hit for that matter! But, he cheerfully did it anyway. He rubbed my feet every night. Indulged my cravings for chinese food even though it gave me terrible gas. Dear God, the gas. Hoo boy. In short, he was the perfect husband.
When our first son arrived he was beyond ecstatic. He decided that since he stayed up late he would feed the baby while I slept. Then in the early a.m. it would be my turn. Pretty freakin' genius, right? It worked great.
One night I woke up hearing music coming from the living room. I stood in the hallway and watched my husband waltzing around the living room holding our son and singing Bob Marley's "Could You Be Loved", in that moment I had never loved him more. He is a wonderful father. Actually, wonderful is too weak of a word to use. It doesn't do his skills justice. I am not even sure what word I could use. I am a very lucky woman to have found him.
We are in negotiations for baby number three. We have agreed to wait until the summer to start trying. I am on Mirena right now, so it will have to be removed. That sucker works like nobody's bidness. I heart it. Seriously. Back to the baby talk. I am hoping for a girl. I am prepared for it to be a boy! It doesn't matter as long as it is healthy. We will have to wait and see.
]]>When do you file your taxes? Do you do it yourself or get outside help?
As soon as my husband receives his W-2's. We always use H & R Block. We having been using them forever and have always been very satisfied!
]]>If you put together a time capsule today, what would you put in it?
Submitted by Lilia.
The outfits I brought each of my children home from the hospital in, a copy of the USC fight song, a picture of my family, the boy's baby books, my wedding dress, and my grandma's Tom Selleck plate-don't ask!!
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