Technology: Can't live with it, can't throw it out the window...

I am going to do something I don't do very often; I am going to whine. What I am about to type is very stupid and petty, and I am ashamed that I even feel this way. But, I is what I is so here I goes... I recently came into a MacBook for my birthday (I know, you feel sorry for me already). I was going to get an iPad but while I was there I started comparing features and having thee ole 'pros and cons' debate in my head. I decided that between the iPad and the MacBook, I could get a lot more bang for just a wee more buck by going with a laptop. The salesman assured me that I could get apps and play my music from my iTunes library on my laptop, just as I wanted to do on the Pad. I told him my main concern (other than using it for my business and accessing the all important email and Facebook was to be able to watch my movies in my iTunes account. He said, "It's SUPER easy. Just home share your new computer with your old one." I asked again, "It's that easy?" He said, "Yes, it's THAT easy". So, I walked out of the store with an adventure in a box ready appreciate the 'ease' of the Mac!
Cut to 4 hours later and I STILL CAN'T GET MY COMPUTERS TO SYNC AND ALLOW ME TO HOME SHARE!!!! Somehow I got my music on there last night (although it was gone this morning), but the movies, which were my main concern, are still MIA from my lap. Nothing like technology to make me feel even more intellectually inferior than my kids already do. So here I sit, on day two, still trying to figure out WHY I still have no iTunes library on my toy. It has me so frustrated that I decided to write about how awful my life is because my splurge won't work properly; I refuse to believe it's operator error.
So, now that you know how bad I have it, you probably want to help me out any way that you can. Please fit my dilemma into you nightly prayers, somewhere between ending the war and feeding the starving people of the world. Just ask the Lord to pretty~please~with~a~cherry~on~top have my movie absence resolved before we go home for Christmas...ever since our car wreck I HATE road travel and I need my movies to keep my mind (and eyes) off of the road while I am stuck in the car for 6 hours. And before you ask, NO, I am not the driver ~ And before you tell me how awful I am for even being so ridiculous about this, remember that I already owned it, so there! For now I must go stomp my feet and throw something (just not my new baby, for I will be selling a lot of plasma to revive the bank account after welcoming her into our lives{and by 'our' I mean 'mine' because the kids can't come within 5 feet of her}). Namaste dudes.

72 days is the new 7 year itch

OK. Seriously? 72 days... I had morning sickness that lasted longer than that. I once changed shampoos, and although I wasn't fond of it, I kept it around just to see if it would grow on me. Guess what, it did! It took me three months, but by the time it was empty I loved it! The point of this is, IT TAKES A WHILE TO WORK OUT THE KINKS SOMETIMES. So why after only 72 days, is Kim Kardashian filing for divorce? Isn't that stil considered 'the honeymoon phase'?
For some reason I am VERY upset by this. Why, I'm not sure. I am not a fan of the family (even though my blog implies otherwise, it's just a fun play on words), I have zero time invested in watching the wedding on TV (btw, the televised version lasted longer than the actual marriage), and even less than zero invested in the eleventy billion the stupid thing cost, but it still honks me off!
I was a 20 year old CHILD when I got married (would I condone this for my girls? UH, NO), but even at that young age I knew of, and appreciated, the sanctity of marriage. I looked forward to being a part of something that was bigger than Ben or I; something that we had to work on together to make succeed. We DID NOT take our vows lightly! After all, they were a promise to God that we were ready to take on this role of husband and wife, and take it on we did! We did not need to mortgage the great state of Ohio to pay for our wedding. We had a budget of about 6 thousand dollars (that included, pics, dress, food, flowers, tents, tables and chairs) and we created a BEAUTIFUL WEDDING! People still tell me how much they loved that day (and it wasn't even televised). I am so very proud of the fact that two kids who didn't even know how to balance a checkbook when they said " I DO" have managed to create a wonderful partnership, two beautiful kids, and {almost} 17 years of marriage. Was it always easy? No. But we worked on it, for more than 72 days!
Listen, I understand that sometimes divorce is inevitable. As much as I love my husband, there are a few conditions to our marriage. If he laid a hand on me, I'd be gone! If he cheated on me, I'd be gone! But, what we have is so much more than a marriage; it's a friendship. And with friendship comes respect. He respect me too much to do these things to me, and I feel the same about him.
It saddens me that in this country, people go into this union with the mindset of "well, if it doesn't work out we can always divorce". Sickens me really. I feel bad for my gay friends who aren't even allowed that option. They would do anything to be able to marry their other half, but can't! Then, to rub salt into their wound, they get to see grotesque displays like the Kardashian/Humphries debacle of 2011, where a courtship, engagement, wedding, and divorce happens all in one year, and it's perfectly acceptable!
In closing (before my BP skyrockets)Kim K., I will take my 6 thousand dollar wedding over your 'fairy tale' ANY DAY OF THE WEEK! I feel sorry for you. You appear to have everything, but can be happy with none of it. I pray that someday you find that the REAL meaning of happiness does not come from material things (such as 2 million dollar rings, multiple wedding dresses, painted mini-horses). REAL happiness has to be created within yourself. That is all. namaste

Admitting defeat...

It is with much sadness that I write this entry. After a year, we have decided it is time to find Scarley a new home. I know this news will be received 50/50; half of you can't believe we can get rid of her after a year, and the other half (those that know me well) can't believe I endured this daily torment for a year. I, too, have these same feelings. It is truly one of the hardest things I have ever done, but it is time. Believe me when I say, this decision WAS NOT made lightly. She needs something that we can not provide, and I am unselfish enough to admit that. It is not fair to her to continue to live like this, and it is unfair to us. She needs a family that will be SUPER active with her! She needs to be the center of attention. She needs to be the only dog in the house. She does not play well with other dogs; in fact, her new past time is attacking Zoe, and that was the nail in the coffin. She is awesome with kids, just not the four-legged kind! I know that the perfect family is out there for her, but it is not the Karacia's. I asked for your prayers yesterday to help me get through the endless phone calls trying to find somewhere to place her; somewhere that can put her exactly where she needs to be. Thank you for all of your prayers and support. You have no idea how much they carried me when I needed it. Your kind words about me when I felt so bad about myself were such a blessing. 95% of you knew nothing of what was going on, but sent me love anyway, and for that you are greatly appreciated.
Please keep your ears open and let me know if you hear of anyone that is looking for some entertainment in their lives (in the form of a 75 pound blazing ball of energy). She is up-to-date on all her shots, has been spayed, and let's not forget that brand new crotch of hers.
Please friends, I ask you to help me find a loving home for her. Yes, she is crazy, but she also so sweet and will make

someone very happy. Thank you.

REMEMBER...

Cate and I went to the Ground Zero 360 exhibit yesterday at the Field Museum. There was a section where you could sit and listen to the actual radio transmissions from 9/11 between the fire and police. When we were there they were trying to get to a fireman that was trapped after the first tower fell. He was trying to give them his location to come and get him. It was chilling and something that will probably stay with me forever. I pray now , more than ever, for all of those down there that have images to go with what I heard for those small 20 minutes that I sat there. As I went to bed I kept hearing those transmissions in my head. I wonder if they ever found him; I doubt it. As Americans, we have very short memories. We need to remember that day, ALWAYS. We need to thank firefighters and police in our neck of the woods when we see them, for they would do the same for us if we ever needed them to. We need to thank every soldier we see, for he/she is helping make sure that this never happens again in our own backyard.

It was so important for Cate to see this. She was just a year and a half on that awful day and has no memory of it. I guess on one hand, that is a blessing. But on the other hand, I want her to know the beauty that came out of that day... for at least a few months after. Neighbors took the time to wave or say "HI". Strangers weren't so distant at the store. People looked out for each other a bit more. The resilience shown by us, as a nation, was awesome and awe inspiring. I want her to know that part of September 11, 2001. As I sit here typing this, I can recall vividly watching the news and having all those frightful images seared into my brain forever, and you know what? I'm glad that they are! I never want to forget that day! Otherwise, everyone that died then, and since then, would have died in vain. As we come upon the tenth anniversary of 9/11, please remember those that have died, both here and abroad. Remember the love we had for each other in those uncertain days immediately after. Remember the feeling of gratitude we had; even though we were sick that all our 'brothers and sisters' had died, we wefelt so lucky to be holding our children that night, while theirs cried themselves to sleep. Please, never forget. Always Remember.

REMEMBER

* Ground Zero 360° is organized by Paul McCormack and Nicola McClean

Love Letter to Ali...

As you left the house this morning on your way to your first day of high school, my mind played for me a mini slideshow of mental pictures I had stored in there of you. I saw the doctor handing you to me right after you were yanked from my body, a beautiful, gooey, butterball of a baby; the most beautiful thing I had ever seen! I saw your face light up when we brought home Lexie for you to grow up with. In saw the look of terror on your face when I took you on the Beastie for the first (and last) time.

I saw you walk into my hospital room after I had Cate, wearing a huge pink paper crown that read "Big Sister'. I saw you sitting in the solon chair while Darlene did your hair for homecoming, where you were the flower girl (after you had cut 3 holey spots in your hair, the day before you were to perform your royal duties). I saw you, wise beyond your years, carrying on conversations with your grandparents. I saw the sadness in your face when I told you we had to move away from the only place you had ever called home (and again, when we told you the same thing 3 years later). I saw you throw your head back in laughter at something that tickled you (that laugh that is so you; I LOVE that laugh). I saw all this in a matter of seconds, even though it has been almost fifteen years in the making; to me, it seems like it all really happened in a matter of seconds...
I am so in awe of the young lady you have turned into. In an age when young girls feel the need to be much more mature than necessary, you have still kept that same innocence you had as a kindergartener. I admire you for not feeling the need to give into peer pressure and act up. I admire you for always rooting for the underdog. I admire you for your brains and your strength. Most of all I admire you for simply being comfortable in your own skin. At 14 you have mastered something that I still can't fathom at 36. I can't wait to see the greatness that you create as you get older. I hope you never forget how awesome you are and how wonderful you make my life. I love you, Ali. More than you will ever know :)

Scarley & Me

Scarlet, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways... well there is the; NO, that won't work. How about how you; NO, that actually drives me crazy! I know, it's the; wait, that makes me cry! Hmmmm, I got nuttin'!
You know there is a problem when you have to pay someone (a big fat THANK YOU to the saint Brittany M. for your sacrifice) to keep your dog while you take a vacation (for the sole purpose of being away from her). I am afraid that she accepted the challenge because she loved dogs so much. I am even more afraid that a week with my dog has made her become more of a 'cat person'!
Back to Scarley (that is her new name, for Scarlet seems to dainty and fragile for this feral beast!)and her God given gift of pure annoyance. Our day starts with her barking sometime between 5:30 and 6:00 a.m. (although she was in rare form for Brittany who informed us that she was awakened EVERYDAY at 4:50)ready to eat, do her bidness, and play a round of fetch the tennis ball (in the dark) This is EVERYDAY. She does not sleep in... EVER! We (and by 'we' I mean Ben) come downstairs, let her out, get her food, put her in the cage (yes, she needs caged to eat. She is hostile when it comes to food), and let her eat 2 cups of food... which takes about .03 seconds. Then she needs let outside again. All this takes about 4 minutes, at which time she is let back in the house, does her bast Carl Lewis up the stairs and bounds on the bed and starts slapping me in the face with her tail. If I don't respond to her hints that it's time to get up, she then jumps off the bed, stares at me, and starts that ear~piercing bark of hers that rivals nails on a chalkboard!
AND THIS IS WHY MOMMY DRINKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I know I complain about her... A LOT! But, to be fair, there is A LOT to complain about! She is ridiculous. She is annoying. She is messy. She is L.O.U.D. She is expensive (do you need reminded of 'Vulvagate 2011'). She is bitchy. And she is mine. In spite of all her {insert appropriate word here. I looked in the dictionary for the perfect one, but she has eaten half of it, so there you go!} I love her. God help me, I do. I just don't like her very much. I have shed more tears over her than I have for my missing abs and shoulder blades, but I can't help thinking that she was put into our lives for a reason. God created her and said, "This will make for good payback for them". Oh, God, you are a funny, funny man, with a wicked sense of humor! I calm myself during moments of mayhem with the hope that one day she will be like my Hanky. He is the perfect specimen. They are uncle/niece, after all so how different can they be? I know the answer to this, but it helps calm me, so LET ME HAVE IT!
Well, that is all for today. I must let Scarley outside, for a leaf has fallen off of a tree and SHE IS HAVING NONE OF THAT NONSENSE!
Enjoy the peace of your quiet homes, readers (except for you Carrie. I enjoy a sick kind of happiness in knowing that I am not alone in this puppy hell. We are currently raising Satan's twins)!

Home is where the mess is...

It's very true that home is where the heart is. I can attest to this. Living like a military family, and nomading (yes, it's a word) around the Midwest, I know positively that home is where Ben and the girls are. I can make a home anywhere as long as they are there!

So, after a crazy morning of packing lunches, letting dogs out, letting dogs in and cleaning off 8 paws and 2 muddy noses (if you are asking yourself where the other 4 paws and extra nose are, they are attached to Zoe who is lazy and will roll out of bed about 10 or 11), and cleaning out and organizing my pantry and fridge, I sat down to relax with my second cup o' joe and saw it... THE MESS! Yep, home is also where the mess is! I looked at the floor and saw a mud spot in the freshly cleaned carpet (thanks, BACC), looked to my left and saw a lampshade that was so crooked it was hanging on only with the help of the dust, I looked around the room and saw 5 tennis balls (2 partially eaten, 3 whole ones ). To my right was my favorite sweatshirt blanket from The New River, bought during our whitewater vaca last year, containing enough holes to make it NOT qualify as a blanket anymore. At the front door lays a ripstik that Caty rides tirelessly when home. It takes her to the door in the morning before school and she hops on it as soon as she walks in the door in the afternoon. On my office desk lays 2 digital cameras and a video camera for transferring pics from Cate's Narnia play last night (I got the pics on the PC with no problem, but for the life of me can not remember how to put the video on it!) On the mantle rests a HUGE blueprint drafted by Ali as a school project; not in a frame mind you, just rolled up like a poster, because that is as far as it got after school yesterday! Point is, it's like a tornado rips through this house every day! Don't get me wrong, my house is clean. I HATE clutter and dirtiness, but I am slowly (kids are 14 and 11) learning to not be so OCD about the house, because it's a LOSING battle. It is impossible to have a spotless house when 4 people and 3 dogs LIVE in it! If you have this and your house is spotless, send me tips! It's just that all this crap in my house reminds me that this mess directly coincides with my heart, because they are a part of the people (yes, we consider our dogs people) I love more than life. So, if home is where the mess is, THERE IS NO PLACE I WOULD RATHER BE!!!

To Pee or Not to Pee? THAT is the question...

When you are pregnant, it is such a joyous time. People are so nice to give you all kinds of unsolicited advice... where to give birth (no thanks, I prefer not to get birthing juice all over the same place I shave my legs), whether or not to find out the sex of your baby (the fact that we were pregnant at 21 was a surprise enough, so we went ahead and found out the gender), which nipples were best for the little bundle of joy ( I tried to make sure they were mine, but Ali ate to much and the real things got raw and bled, SOOO we went with the synthetics). My personal favorite was a when a girl told me I shouldn't drink caffeine because it would make my baby's head shrink ( FALSE!!! My baby was 10 pounds at birth, and 7 of it was head! Now that baby carries a consistent 4.0+ gpa, so I say, CAFFEINE IT UP, MOMMA'S!!) Most of the advice and 'helpful' hints were OK, and as a first time mother I listened to every piece of it! BUT, what I would have really appreciated was some honest to goodness, hard~truth, facts about the whole process! For example, I would have loved to have been warned that when you are pregnant you can develop hymroids. At 21 I had no clue what these were, so when I discovered them, I thought I had only months to live. I would have loved for someone to tell me to not even bother packing my size 8 jeans to come home from the hospital in. I would have happily packed my MC Hammer pants to avoid the post-partum breakdown that happened in my hospital room when I couldn't pull the size 8's over my knees! I would have LOVED to be warned that after birthing my baby, I would most definitely not be able to cough, sneeze, laugh, or jog, without peeing my pants! That one was a real eye~opener (oddly enough, I use that one as an excuse as to why I can't jog! THANK YOU incontinence!)!
This is why when I happen upon a pregnant woman all glowy and happy, I proudly tell her all the things I was never told! Sure, I may come across as a Debbie-Downer, but I can almost guarantee that it's MY words of wisdom that sticks with her most! I tell her not to over~eat just because she is 'eating for two', or she will gain 90 pounds like I did (I know! It's true! Why did I think I could wear the size 8's home? Did I honestly think I would birth 90 pounds?) I assure/warn her that laughter will become funnier/mortifying when she pees her pants during it! But mostly I warn her that once she holds that baby for the first time, she will never be the same! She will know love that she never knew existed. She will finally know what it's like to say you would die for someone and mean it! Motherhood is unparalleled to ANYTHING in the world! That is why I enjoy every time I pee my pants for I know it's my girls gift to me!

Antarctica

We are the world

My two cents on 'Christian' protesters...

There has been a lot in the news lately about so called 'christian' groups protesting funerals of fallen soldiers. I have watched video coverage of these 'Christians' in action; they hold signs reading "thank God for 9/11", "semper fi semper fags", "thank God for IED's", "God is your enemy", "Not blessed just cursed" and "thank God for dead soldiers". WOW! What bible are they reading? The Christians I surround myself with would have been inside the church, holding the hands of the family members, consoling them, and telling them how sorry they were for their loss, while at the same time THANKING them for the sacrifice they have made for the good of humanity. The Christians I know would have made meals for these families and brought them groceries. They would have provided a quiet ear to listen to the family revel in stories of their personal hero or they would read them scripture from the bible reassuring them of the beauty that surrounds their lost soul now and, help lead them too, down the path of eternal life. To say I am disgusted that these folks use the term 'christian' as a platform for hatred is a GRIEVOUS understatement. The bravest thing they have ever done is picket in front of a funeral home for people who are to distraught to fight back. Meanwhile, the HERO that fought to defend them, and their hate-filled souls, lies in a coffin, draped in an AMERICAN FLAG, just feet away. I know what the bible says is right and wrong. I also know that the bible says Judge Not Lest Ye Be Judged, and Let He Who is Without Sin Cast the First Stone. I choose to 'love they neighbor' without condition... not 'love thy neighbor unless they are gay or don't have the same beliefs I do'. I am going to be the christian that loves all God's creatures and leaves the judgements to Him.
I am thankful for the Patriot Guard who rallies for good at these funerals and let's them know that their loss was NOT in vain. I am thankful that the majority of Americans, christian or not, are crying right along side them. I pray for these lost 'christian' souls. I pray they read the good word and let the true meaning of Christianity sink in. I pray that they learn the true meaning of God's word before they pass on this blatant hatred to their children. I pray that they can knock down those walls of hate and for the first time feel the real meaning of God's love, BECAUSE IT IS AWESOME!
Rest assured ye of little faith; THESE ARE NOT ACTUAL CHRISTIANS! Yes, they are children of God, we all are, but they are also zealots giving Christianity a very bad name. True Christians accept you for who you are and love you in spite of it...just like Jesus did for them. True Christians 'hate the sin, and love the sinner'! I would just like to say to these 'Christians'...if you are so disgusted by the ones that are giving their lives FOR YOU...YOU ARE FREE TO LEAVE!

RIP ALL FALLEN SOLDIERS, AND MAY GOD LAY HIS HAND UPON ALL THAT ARE STILL FIGHTING FOR US EVERYDAY AND BRING YOU HOME SAFELY!!!!

Peanut butter time!!!

Scarlet has be seeing red...

What do Dennis the Menace, Charlie Sheen, Lindsay Lohan, Gary Busey, Paris Hilton, Hannibal Lecter, and Sasquatch all have in common? Give up? They are all fictitious characters/caricatures that cause massive amounts of trouble wherever they go...well, all but Dennis the Menace. He is real and just happens to be my beautiful nephew T(shout-out to Senor Sassypants)!
I was thinking about troublemakers [again] this morning as I was pulling the rolls of toilet paper out of Scarlet's mouth [again]! As I was jogging circles around the kitchen table chasing my angel, I was trying to think of a word to describe her and the 'lust for life' zeal that she brings to our home on an every second basis. Could it be 'feral'? 'Untamed' maybe? 'Tempestuous' even crossed my mind. In the end I came to the conclusion that there is not one single word that can pinpoint her. If I had to describe her I would have to say she is "The bane of my existence. The one who drives me crazy every single second I am home. The one who requires more attention than all 6 of the other living creatures in my house ~ COMBINED. The one that is smart enough to open an automatic trash can and open the back door herself when she is ready to come in, but still hasn't learned what 'don't jump' or 'stay' mean. The one that is so socially bitchy to my other dogs that I am afraid to take her in public for fear of how she will treat others {I'd know it's 'all talk', but they wouldn't}. The one that LOVES more than anything to snack on toilet paper all day. The one that has a setting three times higher than her older, much bigger brother, for her shock collar." I think that is a good way to START to describe her to anyone that doesn't know her. This dog has driven me to make my wine glass a little fuller at dinner on many occasions.
That being said, when she isn't causing me to batten down the hatches, she is a doll. She loves to curl up on the couch at night and sleep, chasing whatever she is torturing in her dreams. She loves to 'protect' me from Hank when he wants my attention. She makes me laugh a hundred times a day in a hundred different ways.
I wanted her because I wanted another dog just like Hank, and I managed to pick the one that only has their breed in common. And for that, as much as I complain, I am grateful. She is gong to get out of this puppy stage soon (please God)and will be the dog that I know she can be. Until then, I will keep drinking and supplying you with funny (for you) stories about my dysfunctional dog.

Sibling rivalry

Scarlet loves the word outside!

Ali gets ninja kicked in the face by Scarlet

What happens when opposites attract?...

Ben and I don't really celebrate the 'Hallmark' holidays; Valentine's day and Sweetest Day. Once he tried to lump our anniversary into that category, but the outcome to that is a whole other post (SPOILER ALERT...HE LOST). We are fine having just one day a year to remember to gush about our love (if he is reading this, it's July 1st). We show each other everyday how much we love and appreciate each other, in tiny little gestures (Me: packing his lunch, washing his clothes, raising his clone children; Him: coming home at night). So when I woke up this morning and spotted an envelope on my bathroom sink I was curious... was it a thank you card for getting that BBQ stain out of his good shirt? Was it something he needed me to mail out for him today? I opened cautiously (I assumed there was no anthrax in it, but I test his nerves often, so you never can be to sure). Inside I found the sweetest Valentine card (gasp) that said, "TO MY WONDERFUL WIFE. SOMETIMES I FORGET TO TELL YOU HOW SPECIAL YOU ARE. I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'D DO WITHOUT YOUR CONSTANT LOVE". Ah, hell! Since when do we get each other Vday cards? I got nuthin'! I'm sure there is a generic sympathy card in the office; could that work in this instance? When he came down to head out the door, I calmly told him that although I forgot to tell him last night, the brownies I made for dessert were actually his Valentine gift. I can't be sure, but I think he was calling my bluff!

In all seriousness... 20 years ago I hit the jackpot! This guy is awesome and never ceases to amaze me. He doesn't let many people see the Ben I get to have everyday. He is the smartest, and most caring man, I have ever met, and for some reason he picked me. What in the world does a 17 year old, all-American brainiac guy see in a not so smart party girl that takes nothing to serious? I still haven't figured out the answer to this question. On paper, we have not one similarity. In the real world, the only thing we have in common are our beautiful girls! Lucky for me, I quit questioning my good fortune years ago, and have just learned to love the fact that he still sees me at that goofy 17 year old girl he fell in love with all those years ago!

I joke a lot about my crazy life, but the truth is, NONE of it would have been possible without him. Although he drives me to the brink of many a Thelma & Louise moment (and I know the feeling is very mutual), he is still the greatest thing that has ever happened to me and I thank God every single day for giving Ben the tenacity to not quit pestering me for that first date. I also thank God daily that although on that first date I told him I DID NOT want anything serious, he changed my mind. I thank God daily that because of these two happenings years ago, we have the two most beautiful babies ever. And I thank God everyday that 'we' are still 'us'. I guess Jerry McGuire said it best... YOU COMPLETE ME!

I love you today and always, Ben!!!

BEAM ME UP SCOTTY! NO, SERIOUSLY, GET ME THE HELL OUTTA HERE...

It's 5:45 in the morning and I am already having to recover from the dogs.

Every morning, Ben's alarm clock sets off a chain of events; some of them are mundane but most of them involve pure chaos. This morning is proving to be a 'pure chaos' kinda day. Ben rolls over to hit the snooze for the first time and the movement stirs Hank out of his beauty sleep on his big boy bed. He jumps out of his bed, stretches, and hops onto my bed. Scarlet, never to be outdone by the specimen three times her size, lunges like spiderman onto my side of the bed, and the wookie chorus begins! They growl and moan and snarl at each other while inching closer and closer to the prize... OUR PILLOWS! Hank makes a graceful leap onto my head and traps me. WINNER WINNER, CHICKEN DINNER, he is thinking! (Keep in mind the time lapse here is an impressive 30 seconds, so I am still in my sleep position; laying on left side, left arm safely under the pillow) He has a huge strip of my hair pinned under his chihuahua size paw; his body is like concrete on my pillow; coincidentally, the same one that is keeping my arm warm. Needless to say, at a quarter to 6 in the morning my limbs (the ones that AREN'T being held hostage) are pretty unresponsive to what my brain is commanding them to do. In this case, it's to remove the beast from my head, before he gives me a nice bald spot. The conversation between my mind and body goes something like this:

Brain: "Uggghhh, your hair is being pulled out! Take your right arm and pull the dog off"
Body: "OK, I'm doing it, but he's not budging! HE'S NOT BUDGING!!"
Brain: "You are kicking your right leg, dumbass, I said use your right arm!"
Body: "No need to be so hostile! I'm trying but it's early"
Brain: "OK, if it's only your leg that works, then use it to kick your knight in shining armor in the nards and wake him back up to save you"( again, it's been 30 seconds, so he is back in a deep sleep). Now, Ben and I have been together so long that my internal conversation wakes him up (or it was my cries of help. I choose to believe it's the same brainwave thing; much more romantic). He makes one swift movement with his arm and fills the room with that booming voice and it's a miracle!!! Hank has jumped off my head! Hallelujah! Then I realize the happiness is short-lived, for he has landed perfectly on my boob. Somehow, he has managed to pin my baby feeder between his ginormous paw and the mattress, providing me with a complimentary mammogram. (for the sake of time, and my PTSD, just re-read the above Brain/Body conversation, but substitute 'boob' for 'hair')

Needless to say, by 6 a.m. I am ready to drink myself into oblivion; because of the pain of multiple Hankisodes I encountered already AND because I know this, or something eerily similar, will happen again tomorrow.

JAAAAAAAKKEEEE!!!!!!!................

Today started off like all the others do (aka. Groundhogs day). I got up at 6:15 to pack three lunches, consumed a gallon of coffee and some oatmeal, got three kids out the door (yes, I consider Ben one of my children during the week, for he requires the same questions I ask the kids before they leave; lunch? backpack? zippers up?). I relaxed on the couch for an hour due to the 8 hours I spent in the laundry room painting it yesterday (whoever decided red was a great idea for walls was H.I.G.H., sure it looks awesome, but getting to the finale is hell!). My body is still screaming at me as I sit here! I decided what I needed was a nice long, scalding hot shower to ease my aging bones. Of course, this required me to remove 110 pounds of dead weight off of my lap and then to untangle 15 pounds from the blanket at my feet. Once I did this, I wiped the sweat from my brow and headed upstairs for the tranquility of my rainforest showerhead. I preheated my oven and waited until all the glass was so steamy I couldn't see the tile through it, this is how I know it is at the perfect temp. I hop in and enjoy the peace and quiet. {(some of you may remember when Hank learned to open my old shower door and scared the piss out of me. It was a good thing I was already in the shower on that one!). Ever since that day I have shut the dogs out of the bathroom when I get in the shower, but the new house has a completely different shower door, so I figured I was safe!} Well today, I got a whole 38 seconds to myself before I heard the wookie chorus (Scarlet and Hank sound like wookies yelling at each other when they are in the midst of a heated battle) bounding into my Eden. Scarlet ran and sat down in front of the shower door and Hank didn't like it, so he nudged her out of the way and plopped his happy ass down on the rug. I was so proud of him. Usually he relents when it comes to Scarlet; she definitely rules the roost when it comes to the two of them, but today was different. As he laid guard (like a lazy Homer Kern lion) I enjoyed the steam. It was a great moment... then I realized there could be a problem. My new shower door opens out, and I have a dog the size of an S-10 laying outside mine; a dog that has finally stood up to Satan's spawn and is not about to give up his territory. I tried with all my might to push that door open, but every time the relaxing steam hit him when the door gave an inch, the deeper in a trance he became. I couldn't help but laugh... I was stuck... in my shower. I stood there contemplating my options, then I did the only thing any person who grew up in the era of John Hughes could do.... in my squeakiest voice I yelled JAAAAAAAAAKKEEE, while hitting the shower door! This scared the bejesus out of the S-10 on the floor and he shot out of the bathroom like a rocket. Mission accomplished! Thank you, Farmer Ted.

DEJA VU...

I woke up this morning at 1:45 because I felt something HUGE and FUZZY making it's way across my right cheek. Now, anyone that knows me well, knows that my ninja skills kick in when I see a spider. I HATE spiders! I LOATHE spiders! I DETEST spiders! SO, in order not to lose this nasty arachnid amid my spider colored sheets, I s-l-o-w-l-y reach my right hand up to scoop Charlotte and her web off my face (I'm not smashing her on my cheek, for as much as I HATELOATHEDETEST spiders, I hate bodily fluids even more). When I start skimming my cheek, I catch the softness and am just about ready to commence Operation Ninja-Scoop (O.N.S.), when it dawns on me just how big this things is. I leap out of bed in one (not so ninja-like, more like a lady that has just felt a tarantula on her face) movement. I flip the light on certain I have to find this thing before it sucks all of Ben's blood, or whatever tarantula's do, all the while, steeling myself for whatever I am about to see!.......

Let me rewind a little at this point. If you are a regular follower of the Karacians, you have already read how much I HATELOATHEDETEST sharing my bed. Up until we moved to our new place our king sized bed occupied a man, a woman, a 110 pound Chessy and a 15 pound rat terrier, every night. SOOOOO, I was bound and determined to break this cycle. Our new bedroom houses a twin size mattress at the foot of MY bed that was for Hank (much to Ben's dismay! After all, "Who will I spoon with?") and the new addition Scarlet. Well, turns out Hank is not really into sharing, which prompted Scarlet to try to blend in with the sheets,ON MY BED, all chameleon like, in the hopes that she wouldn't have to (GASP!) sleep on the floor!!! Every night, I walk into the bedroom to see Hank on his bed, a lump under the covers where my feet will be (that would be Zoe), and Scarlet pouting, curled up on the floor. This brings a smile to my face! This is my family and they are doing exactly what they are supposed to be doing! Really does a momma's heart good! So, I proceed to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth...I'm sure you can guess what is happening in the bedroom! Ben is coaxing Scarlet onto my bed with the hopes that he will have a spooning partner for the night! This lasts all of 2 minutes. The ice queen has re-entered her room and is kicking the mistress out of the bed! This 'show' plays on a loop every night!

I gather by now you have put two and two together and realized that the tarantula is in fact Scarlet's big ole ear, twitching across my face, because, YES, she is once again ON MY BED! The picture depicts how I have lost my bed to another four-legged member of this family (they don't like the term 'dog'). As I stand beside the bed, taking in this spectacle, I laugh at how good I am at this dog parenting thing and just how scared I make them with all my intimidation. I get back into bed, where the tarantula has been reunited with my cheek (of course she is still snoring on the pillows. THAT is how ninja-like I am), and hear Dr. Phil asking me, "So, dog training? How's that working out for ya?".

Dr. 90210. Paging Dr. 90210...

Where is Dr. Rey when you need him? I took my little angel (I use that term only because I feel sorry for her at the moment) to her 6 months check up today. The vet looked at her teeth ("pearly white" was what she said about them), looked in her ears ("looks great" she said), listened to her heart and belly ("nice strong heartbeat and the belly sounds great" she said), checked her hips ("sturdy hips" she said). "Now let's roll her over and see how that belly looks"...here is where it gets interesting. She cocks her head and I hear a quiet "Hmmmm". She then proceeds to give the equivalent of what I consider a gyno exam to my angel (this is why I currently feel sorry for her; she will resume her Satan-spawn status soon, I am sure of it). She looks at me and asked, "Have you ever noticed how deep her vulva is"? My reply was what I expect a normal person's response would be, "Uh, NO". She proceeds to poke and prod at my angel (who has now experienced what Alien abductees feel like after a good ole probing) and show me where it 'should' be. I am both horrified and embarrassed (like this is something she has inherited from me, since I AM her mother, after all). All the while, my angel is looking at me and I can hear her shouting at the vet with her best Steve Martin impression..."EXCUUUUUUSE YOU"! During her exploration of the angels nether regions she discovered that she has a UTI (Urinary Tract Infection, for all you lucky souls that are unfamiliar with that term) and that this is a result of her "deep vulva" and will continue to happen unless we remedy the situation. I ask how we do that. Her response...wait for it..... a VULVAPLASTY. My response, again, was what I expect a normal person's response would be, "I'm sorry, come again. A WHAT"?

So, long story short. When she goes in to be fixed next month, she is going to have to get plastic surgery on her lady bidness. BIG FRICKIN WELCOME TO WOMANHOOD, MY LITTLE ANGEL!