I return...triumphant.

And yes, I still misspell my own name.

Well, to my loyal 0 followers, here we are. I last posted in March, and its now October. I'm vowing to myself to do this more often. For the kids' sake of course. Actually, it's in part because 1) I just love to write. I do. I like to just sit down and let the thoughts just pour out of my little head and 2) I'm hoping to pick up a book deal. Maybe a paid blog. Hell, I don't care. I'm just broke.

So we're 8 weeks into this Stay-at-home-mom-of-two-kids-in-suburbia thing, and I'm finally getting the swing of things. Before, when it was just Andy and I, I had my stupid self convinced that I was SuperMom. Pfft. That was nothing. It was difficult, sure. Now, though, I am the worlds greatest juggler. I want to just bow down and lay burnt offerings at the feet of these moms with multiples. My good Lord, what these women must go through. My boobs nearly explode on a daily basis. Let's not get into what I think my head is going to do from time to time, when both the boys tune up at the same time. For the most part, though, I'm Stepford all the way now. And I'm pretty cocky about it. I just don't have the look down yet. (Can't afford it.)

These kids...wow. Andy is fascinating. He's coming up with all kinds of new crap all the time thats just hilarious. For example, three teenagers are walking down the street in our neighborhood - two girls and a boy. The boy is talking Mr. Big Stuff, as teenage boys will, and using some colorful language. I'm not opposed to swear words, and use them myself when Andy's not around (or when he is if I stub my toe, burn myself, or if Chris is being especially hard-headed). One of the teenage girls turned to the boy and said "Don't talk like that! There's a baby over there, you don't want him to pick up your bad habits!" Andy turned around to look at me and said "Mommy? Dey talkin' about me? I not a baby."

I said, "I know you're not a baby, sweetie, but I bet they figured you were my baby, so that's why they said that." Andy sat for a minute and thought. He looked really deep in his thoughts. After a few seconds, when the kids were fifty yards or so away, he hollered, "HEY! I are NOT a baby! I are BIG BOY!"

That really happened. I couldn't make this crap up.

Charlie is equally adorable. He's just beautiful. I worried myself sick while I was pregnant that I wasn't going to be able to love him as much as Andy. I talked to anyone and everyone who would take the time to talk to me about it. That worry melted away soon after he was born. He is a whole different baby, though....but they're both mine and I couldn't love them any more. My heart just swells.

I've decided I want to take up jogging. Two things are stopping me. Well, three things if you want to get literal about it. 1) What to do with Andy and 2/3) my boobs. My boobs are the bane of my existance. I hate them. I'd love to have them removed, but they're currently nourishment for my youngun. Anyway, I've never ever found sportsbra that could contain them. I've had to double-case them just for the ELLIPTICAL. Hello? Elliptical? I fear that while duct tape would probably do the trick, I'm just not a masochist. Lactation experts reccomend against ace bandages. Anyone else? Anyone got some suggestions for Andy? He can't ride a bike yet, and is seemingly unable to pedal.

Product reccomendation - Alouette spreadable cheese. Oh my dear sweet heaven, that's probably one reason why I haven't lost much weight. Put it on some sociables and bliss! Seriously. Give it a try.

Do you ever just have completely random thoughts? For example, there's a City Council election going on here in Greensboro, and it has apparently getting pretty heated. There's this one billboard on the way to Andy's preschool, and the candidate looks for all the world like he's trying desperately to hold back a fart. The devilish teenager in me wanted to climb up on that billboard and paint a little french handlebar moustache on that guy, just to complete the picture.

Also from this morning's commute to and from preschool, I swear some cops are mind-readers. Because every damn time I get to a stoplight and have the PERFECT opportunity for a right turn on red, there's a 'No Turn On Red' sign and a cop sitting somewhere at the intersection looking at me like he can see right into my soul and get my driving history out of there. He knows what I'm thinking. And I have to sit there. And sit there. And sit there. Meanwhile nothing comes, and I could have turned two minutes ago. Ugh.

I read last night that PeeWee Herman is making his comeback. I am beyond stoked about this.

Last random thought - I despise Yo Gabba Gabba. I hate it. COMPLETELY hate it. Detest it. That DJ Lance guy makes me want to do horrible things with a machete. And pretty much without reason.

Until next time.... I'm off to stay a little off center and let everyone think I'm totally normal.