Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Hug it out...

Aunt Sissy attempts to put h4 in his carseat... :)

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Train Hijacked

...and then sometimes we hijack trains in the mall... :)

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Emotional Me

Lately I have been an emotional wreck.  And not just the kind of wreck that leaves one rubbernecking to get a better look, I'm more like the kind of wreck that makes the evening news. 
Locally - and nationally. 

Some of my added stress, I'm sure, has to do with the fact that my bedroom is in my living room, my closet is in the hall and my bathroom is - gone - and I'm showering in my kid's bathroom whilst a plastic frog ogles my jubblies.

And, moreover, we are adding another member to our household. I would love it if I could swell with pride and tell you that it is going to be small, cute and bubbly --- a new cat! But no, I cannot.  Instead, we are moving my hub's granny in to our Below Apartment (it's not really a basement) so that we can keep a better eye on her aging self.  We're not sure how well this transition is going to go for her, or for us, hence the massive stress-thing. 

AND the kid has hit the Terrible Twos like a Ton of Terrible Bricks. 
Lord help us all on that particular torture. 

So I'm a bit of an Emo-wreck. Smudged mascara and all. 
Which, of course, prompts everyone to ask "What is WRONG with you?"
Which prompts ME to ask "What is WRONG with everyone else?"
When did having emotions go out of style? When did it become passe to be upset about something that was upsetting? When did crying become such a horrible stigma?
Why can't we just enjoy our moods?

I blame the golden age of Medication, Facebook, and Television. 

Medicate yourself enough and you can stop crying - FOREVER.  There are LOADS of stuff out right now that will help one forget their problems, their fears, their lackadaisy life, and, more than likely, their name.  

Facebook has given us such instant gratification that we can post a status update and see how much our online buddies value our humor, insightfulness or clever deductions on solving the Nation's most pressing crisis.  And our computer screens can't see us cry. 

Television has glorified emotions to the point that we are now trained to only emit a response if someone has lost a lot of weight, or got caught with a hooker (or two), had their house remodeled, or is in denial of their hoarding ways.  Nothing else is worth crying over. Or caring about.  

All that being said, I love modern medicine, Social Networking, and Must-See TV.  
I just wish I was "allowed" to shed a few tears when I stub my toe, or can't find my shoes, or burn a pot-pie in the oven.  

Until then, I shall line up with the rest of humanity and try, very hard, to shut off, shut down, and shut up.  

Wait - scratch that last one.  :)

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Ring, Rang, Rung, New Year is DONE!

I didn't go out and party for the arrival of 2013.
I didn't buy a new dress, open a bottle of "bubbly," or even put on extra eyeliner or lashes for the occasion.
I watched my two year old fall asleep on his daddy's lap, snore so loud he drowned out the droning of Carson Daly and then went to bed.
There were fireworks outside my window, but I couldn't be bothered to go to the window, part the poor excuse for a curtain (a Transformer's Blanket - remodeling is FUN), and gaze upon the heavens.

Why so glum?

I think it has something to do with the damn ball drop.
Every year I watch.
And every year I am sorely disappointed when the freakin' thing does not crash to a million pieces at the stroke of midnight.
I want it it to be a glass shattering, gravity defying mess as it plummets to the ground like a giant, angelic Pokemon ball full of shrapnel.
And then, amazingly, no one gets hurt!
Except maybe Jenny McCarthy  - and even then - just in her forehead, just a teeny scar so that it won't look so vacant all the time.
But I digress.

I want a ball to drop.
Actually drop.
During the Ball Drop.

So here's my proposal:

How to Ring in 2014
  1. Gather up as many dunk-tank Carnival booths as we can find this side of the USA. 
  2. Stick 'em in Times Square. 
  3. Gather up all the singers, politicians, writers, anchors, reporters, actors, actresses and Big Wigs and convince them to "volunteer" their time. 
  4. Sell balls to the masses for $1 each.  
  5. The clock strikes midnight.
  6. The masses kiss their lucky $1 balls that they might be the one to hit the target and dunk Christina Agu-a-layra (I can't spell her name and can't be bothered to learn), or Cheney, or Anderson Cooper, or Christian Bale (WET. HE'LL BE WET. AND COLD.  I CAN'T STRESS THIS ENOUGH - BATMAN WILL BE WET!!!), or even Justin Bieber and Kathy Griffin (together in one tank - that'd be  priceless). 

Following this new, and improved, method people will be able to actually have fun in Times Square on NYE, I will get to see Balls Drop (metaphorically and literally) and I will have solved the deficit.  
And maybe the Fiscal Cliff. 
Whatever the "f" that is. 

You're welcome, Americans.  
You're - welcome. 

 IN 2014!!!!