Just a Little Sumthin'

So, I would like to tell you that my absence was due to an all consuming illness and that it was just too much for my broken body and I to travel the 5ft from my bedroom to the office. That would make me a big fat liar. I would like to tell you that I've been busy traveling the country promoting my new book (insert clever title here) but that would make me a liar liar pants on fire. I'm facing the facts here folks, I've been lazy, I've been lethargic, I've gained enough weight this month to walk by a mirror and scream "Bloody hell!!" That's right I'm having one of those months. But lets focus on the positive here. Guess who really is promoting her book this month? That's right...this little gem:

(Kate Gosslin of Jon & Kate Plus 8)

Does anyone else have a problem with her or is it just me? Lets just be honest here. I've watched the show -- many times. I couldn't resist temptation nor could I hold myself back from watching Kate chip away at her husband's self-esteem. Not to mention watch her smack, hit and slap her way to Jon's ultimate humiliation. I don't think I've ever watched an interview with the two of them where Kate's "love taps" didn't leave him comforting a stung shoulder or knee cap. Contributing to the circus that is Jon and Kate plus 8 is not the most responsible thing I've ever done BUT it is absolutely necessary that I lay the matter to rest on this note:

I hate Kate Gosslin's

reverse-mullet-Carol-Brady-wig-worn-backwards

hairstyle!!!

Now that I have expressed my thoughts on the matters consuming UsWeekly magazine shall we move on? A lot has been going on since I last left you and as concerned/nosy/you-could-really give-a-crap friends belonging my inner circle I want to keep you informed.

Item 1: The mini-van. That's right, Jeremy caved and bought me a mini-van!! My dreams of soccer mom-hood have really come true. I'm that much closer to sporting an honor roll bumper sticker and little stick figure people bearing resemblance to my family members on the back glass. I'm ROCKIN' that mini!! By the way, so is Jeremy. The points laughs and stares coming from all the green-eyed monsters he works with are only wails of jealousy and envy. I've reassured him of this many times.

Item 2: The cats. Living in Arizona has taught me a thing or two about unwelcome creatures that take up residence in homes without consulting it's current occupants. Mice! EWWWWW! The kids thought it was great...new pets! (Riley named them all and cried uncontrolably at each mouse funeral.) No matter how long I cleaned, scrubbed or bleached they would reappear and invite dear 'ol Auntie Icky and Uncle Nastiness along for extended visits. Problem solved with the help of our new feline friends. Riley named his kitty Meow Meow and Haley named her kitty Puppy. Don't ask!

Item 3: Mormon update. The Bishop came by a few times this past month. I cant say no to the guy. He's got to be one of the nicest guys I've ever met (that and he reminds me of my Uncle Ray-- and how could you not love my Uncle Ray!). I'm sure he is currently working on finding us an active "Mormon Buddy" to speed along the process of our re-conversion. If you're not familiar with the "Mormon Buddy" technique its simple:

1. Find unsuspecting active family church members that share absolutely no common interests or background to befriend said inactive Mormon family.

2. Set up "play dates" otherwise known as uncomfortable and abnormally long dinners in which you try not to shoot yourself in the head.

3. When said "Mormon Buddy" is appalled at lack of regular Family Home Evenings, tithe offerings, and church attendance but remain persistent -- its time to pull out the big guns and invite all your ex-communicated family members over for a visit.

So how 'bout it family? I could really use the help!!

Loves from AZ! ~Ang

Are You in a Mommy Slump?

Take the quiz here!!

1. The last time you got your hair done was...

A. Yesterday. I have a standing appointment every six weeks, if I don't show up my hairdresser calls to make sure I'm OK.

B. Hairdresser? Is that what the lady at Supercuts is called?

C. I had my hair cut last week thanks to my daughter, a piece of watermelon Bubbalicious and my husband's safety scissor skills.

2. The last time you had a manicure was...

A. Yesterday, my hair dresser fit me in w/ her nail gal while she touched up my roots and foiled in some new highlights.

B. As long as the Ruby Red Wet N' Wild (nail polish that is) covers 7 out of 10 fingernails who needs a manicure?

C. Last week I got to soak my hands in potty water while retrieving my husband's work keys.

3. The last time you wore of pair of heels that hurt like hell but made you feel like America's Next Top Model was...

A. Saturday night, because every Saturday is date night.

B. A few hours ago while showing my 5 year old son how not to scuff the floor if he insists on wearing them while Daddy is at work.

C. Exactly 2 years, 6 months, 3 weeks and 5 days ago the night our youngest was conceived. All of my heels have mysteriously disappeared from our closet. My husband still maintains his innocence even while under interrogation.

4. The last time you ate a meal that wasn't prepared by you was...

A. Saturday...its date night. Remember?

B. Do goldfish crackers count as a meal? If they do then my son can whip up a pretty mean helping!

C. I may or may not have, accidentally, eaten a booger off the baby's cheek when going in for a goodnight smooch. I try not to think about it.

5. The last time you left the kiddies with the husband for a well deserved time out was...

A. Friday night. Its Lady's night...DUH!

B. Time out? What is this thing you call time out?

C. Yesterday. The 4 1/2 min I spent alone while using the bathroom was heaven!

If you answered "C" to any of these questions -- RUN! Run far away from home and think twice about coming back. Sadly, I have found myself in a "C" kind of situation. I was in a mommy slump, that is until today.

Mother's Day is lovely. The homemade cards, breakfast in bed, cuddles from the kiddies that aren't forced and/or bribed. Its like our own personal Christmas. Jeremy made it especially fabulous for me this year. He sent me away! YEEEESSSS! Here is a financial rundown of how I spent my day.

* Breakfast with girlfriend and drinking all the coffee my bladder could hold

$14.00

* Purchase of the most awesome vintage aprons in down town hippieville

$18.50

* Sitting in a bar at 10am while getting the stink eye from a drag queen

$7.50

* Finding & purchasing a picture of Jesus that looks exactly like our good friend Zach

$38.00

* Drinking margaritas while getting "the nod" from cute boy at the next table

$0.00

* Finding perfect pair of hot 'n sexy heels covertly disguised in a Nike shoebox

PRICELESS!

It is safe to say that my family loves me and I no longer feel the weight of my 5 year slump. Happy Mothers day y'all. Hope it was as awesome as mine!

~Angela

PS: Dear Jeremy, the picture of Jesus disguised as Zach was a necessity and very much needed to grace the walls of his bathroom. Without it his bathroom decor would be lacking in class and style. Sometimes ya just gotta help a homie out! I knew you would understand.

They say its Your Birthday!

My sweet little boy, Riley, is in the next room watching Christmas movies. Why you may ask? Because it's his birthday, and by his calculations it must be Christmas too. After many days of begging and pleading for our Christmas tree to be freed from it's box in the garage, he settled for "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas" and "Its Christmas Charlie Brown!" tucked away in our family's DVD collection. This can only mean one thing -- a new holiday! Ladies and gentleman I give to you this 6th day of May....

RILEYMAS!

Did you forget? How dare you! Where is your Rileymas tree? No Rileymas cookies either? Your children will be so disappointed! What kind of a parent are you? The spirit of Rileymas must have escaped your heart this year. Well, now you've got the memo, lets try and keep up next year kay?

Today will consist of a little family dinner, some cake, a few presents, and possibly the singing of a small babe wrapped in swaddling clothes. It's been five whole years since I held my babe wrapped in blue crocheted fluff. Each year has taught me lessons I could have never learned on my own. With the help of my Riley I am a stronger wiser mother.

Year one lesson learned: Catch your child when he is falling. Otherwise the stares, whispers and finger pointing that will go on behind your back may lead to a call involving Child Protective Services.

Year two lesson learned: NEVER laugh, snicker or otherwise hint that you are amused when your child sticks sausage links up his nose. It will get stuck. You will have to go to the emergency room. You will have to explain to your boss why you were late for work and you will have pay the enormous hospital bill later.

Year three lesson learned: Explain to your child the difference between Jesus -- his fellow classmate and buddy at play school and Jesus -- son of God. Otherwise claims of innocence due to direct instruction from Jesus (out on the playground) will be hard to explain to neighbors and friends. You will be known as the "Jesus freaks" that live down the street and play dates will be few and far between.

Year four lesson learned: Never encourage obsession. Otherwise Thomas the Tank Engine and all his steam engine friends will invade your home and steal your husband's hard earned money. You'll have to follow Thomas on his tour of the United States, learn his theme songs and perfect his specific chug-a-chug-chug along the imaginary train tracks in your living room

Year five lesson learned: Hug your child more. Kiss him every morning and remind him how truly unique and special he is. Remind yourself how lucky you are to have that booger picking, forgets to flush the toilet, still needs a hand to hold when he's scared five year old in your life.

I am blessed. I am amazed. I am in love.

Merry Rileymas to you all!

Dont Pet the Piggies

My heart fell into my butt yesterday...no joke!

Little Miss Haley J and Riley decided to go ice skating on the kitchen's hardwood floor. No ice? No problem. Zelda's water dish served its purpose and became the key ingredient for the success of McBride Winter Olympics 2009. As the two of them gracefully danced, swayed, and slid their way to gold, Haley became the first casualty.

"Mom! Mom! Haley hurt herself and I didn't even touch her!" Riley announces. The usual ring of guilt in his voice was missing this time around. That's odd.

Apparently, while attempting a double flip with a half twist my little cherub fell into a most painful split action landing. The thud of her round little head wasn't what concerned me most. The sound of tree branches breaking coming from her 2 1/2 foot frame sent my heart into a downward spiral.

Crap! What do I do now? Jeremy just left for work -- no car in the driveway. My neighbors are freak shows. Their only concern is how many rabid dogs can they collect and tie out on their front porch without animal control interfering. No way was I going that rout. My nearest friend (and only friend) lives 22 miles away in Douglas. All I could think about was Haley clubbing me over the head with her second hand wooden leg because I didn't get her to the doctor in time.

I strategically scooped her up off our kitchen's new ice rink and rocked her back and forth. I checked for bruising, swelling and protruding leg bones. Nothing. Thank God. After a few panicked moments, hyperventilating, and practically pooping myself Haley stopped crying. She was taking this a lot better then her mother. OK, time to move on, diaper needs changed (hers, not mine. ALMOST pooped myself -- remember?) I laid her down. No screaming. This is good. I rolled her on her side attempting to lessen any discomfort and there it was again...logs breaking and children wailing, myself included. She wouldn't walk, she just screamed. If my heart wasn't officially in my butt before it was laying on the ground between my Nike's thumping panic and misery now.

Jeremy never answers his cell at work, and like the diligent and prepared mother that I am I didn't have a work number for him. (Emergency? We don't have no stinking emergencies!) I called his phone praying that God would forget about all the "herbs" I "might have" smoked in high school and to have mercy on me.

God loves me folks, He really does love me.

Jeremy answered on the first ring! 20 min later we were in the car on our way to the ER. I cried the whole way, Riley maintained his innocence, Jeremy drove like a man on fire and Haley J slept the entire time, the only McBride with any sense. I mustered up all my super mom powers and whisked my little girl into the ER careful not to catch my super cape in the sliding glass doors. Jeremy, armed with insurance card and seemingly innocent 4 year old, parked the car.

After I maintained my own innocence to the ER charge nurse, advising her many times that I have never beaten my children, I secured our place in line and made our way through the sea of coughers and hackers many wearing surgical white masks. Strange, I thought to myself. Then as quickly as my heart dropped the first time, I heard Jeremy's hit the bottom of his stomach as he quietly whispered into my ear.

Swine Flu.

Not only have I possibly broken my 18 month old daughters leg, now I could be responsible for exposing my entire family to a deadly virus currently sweeping the nation. When the President advised US citizens to avoid unnecessary travel to Mexico, he forgot about all of the tiny US border towns that might as well be considered Swine Flu breading ground. For the past week I have kept our children inside the protective boundaries of our home, diligently reading up on symptoms and searching them each night for unexplained rashes. Now there we were in the midst of a global heath crisis. Crap! If I haven't secured my place in outer darkness yet I sure have now.

Jeremy masked the kids quickly as I secured my own. He was calm, he was cool and he was, as usual, AMAZING. We took a seat close together away from anyone who looked questionable, the three of us, tucked securely into Jeremy's protective arms. What a great time to be in the ER, right? What were we to do though? Luckily, we spent a short 10 min in the waiting room thanks to a really kind security guard who spotted Jeremy in his uniform. We were moved to a private room.

So, long story short, Haley didn't break her leg. Thank goodness! She did however slip a joint out of place and tear a muscle. The doctor prescribed some pain medication, rest and requested that we keep her off her feet for at least two days. How the heck am I suppose to keep my toddler from running let alone walking? I'm leaning toward the aid of the pain medication but Jeremy has recently issued complaint with my sometimes unconventional parenting methods. I also fear that the ER charge nurse at Sierra Vista Community Hospital has enlisted that tattle tale abilities of our son.

So, the lesson learned here folks: DO NOT-- under any circumstances --pet the piggies!

The End.

Anesthesia Not Included

Zelda's butt has slid across my clean carpet for the last time!

Why do I need to write about such things? Do I really need to waste my perfectly good pent up frustration complaining about Zelda's hind quarters?

Yes. Yes I do.

Jeremy and Riley have the awesome responsibility of picking up poop in the back yard, feeding, watering, bathing, and any other pet duties that I find gross and disgusting.

Translation: When dog duties get too gross and disgusting (or smell permeating from back yard and said dog is too much) they wait around for Mom to get fed up and do it herself.

That's how most things work at our house. I'm sure that's how most things work in many good homes across America. I've accepted it, moved on, and continue to gripe about it on a daily basis. However, on Sunday evening I'd had it with our faithful super-hero side kick and demanded that Jeremy take "the nastiness" to the vet. Our carpet could bare no more. So, like a responsible pet owner Jeremy loaded her up in the car, checkbook in hand.

Apparently, Zelda's booty is going to cost us. The vet wants to remove an impacted anal gland. Cost of said impacted anal gland: $230.00 -- anesthesia not included. Darn you Zelda and your inability to control your inside parts! Of course we'll get her fixed up...but my goodness the timing couldn't be more perfect. Do you think Riley would mind a formaldehyde filled jar containing one impacted doggy organ for his birthday? 5 year olds like that kind of stuff right? He could show it to his friends, not to mention sharing the awesome story behind it. It wouldn't make him weird would it?

Zelda came home from the vet this afternoon with much poking and prodding from her new BFF at the Cochise Animal Hospital. She wasn't in the best of moods. Luckily Jeremy got to clean up her newest gift to us in our bedroom before he left for work.

"No...chocolate logs are not for eating!" Jeremy reminds our daughter. I didn't ask. I don't want to know. I just want the evidence removed and Haley bathed (preferably boiled and sanitized) before I get up from the computer in a few moments.

If you would like to donate to the well-being of Zelda's booty please leave me a comment below. We are now accepting donations in the forms of cash, check, money order, & carpet cleaner.

We've Been Discovered!

Im not sure how, Im not sure why but they found us.

Tucked into the crack of our front door last night was the smallest of postcards. You know the one. The picture of Christ, palms sunward, arms outstreached as if to say "come back to me my child...oh how I have missed you."

Guilt has already taken up residence.

The message on the back of the card reads: Welcome to the ward! We will try to say hello another time! ~The Elders (aka the Morman Missionaries coming to convert us yet again & change our evil ways).

THE ELDERS! THE ELDERS! Say it aint so, say it aint so! Is this some cruel elaborate joke?

Who told on us? How did they know we were here? Was it you Dad? If so, not funny dude, not funny!

Do missionaries have some kind of special telapathic portal that connects them with the big guy himself? Do they get special broadcasting alerts making them aware of inactive obstinant Jack Mormons that have just moved to the area?

Clearly, I've got problems now.

My record for dodging random knocks at the door and kind acts of service from young men in white shirts and ties: three weeks, two days and four cups of coffee. They always seem to find a way into the front room asking silly questions.

>>When would be a good time to come back?

My answer: Oh I dont know, we stay pretty busy around here. My husband is working really odd hours now....blah...blah...blah.....blah. Maybe next week?

What Im really thinking: Please go away. I dont want to go to hell. I just want to finish my beer while it's cold and my kids are still napping.

>>There is a short message we would like to share with you about The Plan of Salvation, could we come back next Tuesday?

My answer: Yeah...well...Im pretty sure Jeremy be working swing shift by then so next week may not work out after all.

What Im really thinking: MESSAGE...PLAN OF SALVATION!?!? Oh crap! Short message my ass! That'll take forever!

>>Oh, sure, no problem Sister McBride. We'll just try to catch you at a better time then. Meanwhile, is there anything we can do for you and your family?

My answer: I don't think so, (hand on chin in deep thought) but thanks anyway (smile politely).

What I'm really thinking: Yeah, there's about a thousand things that you can do for me. One of you can start in the back yard with the mountains of gigantic turds courtesy of Zelda the Wonder Dog. After that there is an entire laundry room full of pleasant afterthoughts courtesy of my daughter, the amazing pooping machine. I've got floors to mop, a garden to weed, two dirty kids, and a dog vomit smell to seek out and destroy in the bedroom. So take your pick, I've got all afternoon and another bottle of wine in the fridge.

I know all their tricks. Just like me, missionaries guard what they're really thinking. For example:

>>When would be a good time to come back?

Translation: We are going to come back no matter what you say. We'll catch you at the most awkward times. Like when you've just put the kids to bed and you're making out with your husband on the sofa. Or like that time we caught you and your friends doing keg stands in the front yard.

>>We'd like to share a message with you...

Translation: We need to save your souls right this very moment. The sooner we come back the better. You are so going to hell!

>>Is there anything we can do for you?

Translation: Please, let me guilt you into letting us in your home. After we paint your house, landscape the front yard and give your dog a bath you're sure to let us in. We wont keep score. Don't worry.

Why, after all these years of hiding out, screening phone calls and making up stories, I'm still not able to say what is really on my mind? Enough! I'm determined. I can tell them thanks but no thanks right? I can be polite but firm in my answers. I can and I will!

It's a new day folks...wish me luck!

~Ang

The Oregonians are Drying Out!

OH! MY! GOSH!

The thickness of Arizona summer hasn't even arrived yet. I'm pretty sure the lovely Grand Canyon State is trying to screw with me. It's only April and already 90 degrees! In Oregon we call this unbearable. Lets just say I'm a little homesick today.

I miss the smell of the rain in Oregon. I miss the valley and it's protective mountain rages. I miss the vineyards that decorate the hillsides and most of all I miss the ocean. The sound, the smell, the very sight of the mighty pacific is how I know I'm home. Home. How I miss thee, how I long for thee!

We are making the best of Arizona, don't get me wrong. After all home is where you make it. Right?!?! Really, the fam and I are doing great. I really shouldn't be complaining.

Good new is I no longer need my dryer! For once I cant wait to get my electric bill. This particular load of laundry dried in 15 min! Oh glorious day, glorious day!

And just how darn cute is this?

Alas, the day my little boy no longer requires cartoon underoos will be the day I die a little inside.

He hates it when I display his unmentionables for all the neighbors to gawk at. I hope this wont be the only opportunity I get to make that round face of his red! :) Because that's what good moms do ya know!

Meanwhile we are learning all the tricks and trades of dessert life.

1. Stay away from the round pinchie bugs. Also known as scorpions.

2. Cactus plants and their flowers are not a good idea to pick from mommy to display on the kitchen table. We have returned to dandelions and other non-prickly weeds.

3. Staying hydrated does not mean picking up a 32 ouncer of Dr. Pepper at local gas station.

4. Sunscreen and floppy hats are not only for babies, toddlers, and children under 12 but for really, really, white mommies as well.

5. It's never too hot to dial the phone. (Or so my father tells me, my mother would disagree.)

The kids were miserable today and complained like no tomorrow.

My southern gentleman of a husband was sensitive to our north westerner plight and took us out for ice cream this afternoon. God bless you Dairy Queen!

Later on he helped me hose off the kids in the back yard. It was lovely!

This particular scenario counts as a bath right? I'm sure it does!


Love to all my Oregonians...I miss you all fiercely!



~Ang