Happy Valentine's Day!

Luke (19 mos) and I spent all last week homemaking valentines for friends and family. He would scribble them up with markers and I would add the glitter glue. We had it down to a pretty organized assembly. Until the last one, when I ran short on glitter glue and was forced to abbreviate Valentine ’s Day to “V-Day,” or so I thought. There was less glitter than I realized and the card wound up saying, “Hope you enjoy your VD!” I think the message was somehow lost in translation.


This got me thinking, if you opened a greeting card from an ex-lover this week that read, “Hope you enjoy your VD!” then maybe they too ran out of glitter glue, and you need not rush to the health department. I’m just sayin’.

Happy VD to you all.

Dear Cupid,

Dear Cupid,

Please bring me one Hoodie-Footie Snuggle Suit. I have been good all year and would really love to feel sexy and warm at the same time. I didn’t think it was possible until now. There’s really nothing worse than getting a chill when you’re feeling in the mood, but it doesn’t have to happen anymore. Sweats and lingerie have finally come together to make this uber-sexy, velveteen suit and I would love it if you could send one my way.

All my best,

Lori

PS: Sorry to hear about the rotator cuff…occupational hazard, I guess.

Man, Oh Manna!

In the blink of an eye a baby is transformed from the womb to the world. It’s a little known fact that simultaneous to the birth of a child, the mother’s purse is also transformed. What was once a trendy handbag instantly becomes a messy, eighty pound satchel full of randomosities that would make MacGyver proud.

As a child, I remember staring at my mom’s half ton leather bag with fear and wonderment. I knew items had been pulled out of this creature on many occasions to save the day, and yet I couldn’t grasp how the strap withstood all of the weight. Now, I’m a mom as well, and I can fully understand the importance of a purse that holds everything. It saved me from my demise just last week when Luke and I were on our way to the pediatrician.

We were running late for his eighteen month check up and I had left the house without packing a sippy cup or a snack. An act of such negligence is considered taboo in our family, but there was no time to turn back. Of course, as soon as I made this realization, Luke began asking for cook-cooks (cookies). Just great, I thought. This is going to be a long trip.

I kept my eyes on the road as I blindly began rummaging through my purse. Eureka! I found a pack of animal crackers and passed them back to Luke. He quickly scarfed them down and requested more. I groped through my purse, yet again, in hopes of finding a loose cookie or two. I expected this search to be fruitless, but to my surprise, I found another pack of animal crackers. What luck!

Twice more this happened and both times the search turned up more animal crackers. Four packs total wasn’t bad for what was a seemingly ill-equipped bag, not to mention also finding a granola bar, half a candy cane, and a tube of Target brand anti-itch cream (that I do not remember purchasing). I immediately thought back to the Bible story where Jesus fed a multitude of people with five loaves and two fish given to him by a little boy. That’s when it hit me. That wasn’t a miracle at all. Jesus and the little boy were just pulling things out of his mother’s purse. I could probably feed twenty people right now with the contents of my purse, so long as no one minded eating stale cheese puffs, a World’s Finest chocolate bar and sharing what is probably an expired juice box. Then again, maybe that is the miracle.

You may not find my new accessories in Vogue, and I may not have room in my bag for things like nail polish, lip liner, or perfume, but if I can continue to pull rabbits out of my hat and make my little fella happy, then I think it’s worth the sacrifice.

Guest Bolgger: Audry

I was in a post dental procedure haze when I logged onto facebook and read an update from my friend, Audry. I laughed so hard I thought I popped a stitch. Enjoy the story below detailing how feeding a panhandler went awry…

"I drove past a homeless man begging for money this morning, so I decided to give him half of my lunch. However, before I could hand it to him, the light turned green. I couldn’t sit there holding up traffic so I threw it out the window, hitting the homeless man with string cheese and a Clif bar®. Ooops. I hope that he realized my good intentions and was not offended by the impact. Clif bars are quite hard, after all."

Audry, thanks for making the world a better place, one culinary assault at a time.

Brantley-isms

I’m used to a little static electricity in the winter, but this year it is OUT OF CONTROL. I touch the TV and get a shock. I touch the sofa and get a shock. I give Luke a kiss and get a shock. Slowly and for good reason, I’ve developed a fear of touching things. (On a side note, be on the lookout for my new self-help book, Static Electricity and Why Kisses Shouldn’t Hurt.)

It’s no mystery why I’ve taken to stuffing dryer sheets in my pockets. It gives me that added safety and protection I need to face the day. However, when my pants don’t have pockets I’m forced to tuck the dryer sheets in my bra, and if I’m not wearing a bra, (wipe that look off your face and stop judging me) I stick them in my underpants. See girls, this is just another reason to ALWAYS wear underpants.

Suffice it to say that I don’t clear everything I do with Brantley beforehand, so when he saw dryer sheets sticking out of my pants I was met with a puzzled look.

Me: “It’s to prevent static.”

Brantley: (with an “aha” look on his face) “I thought it was for a not so fresh feeling or something.”

Me: “Wow, what is that about?”

Brantley: “I uh…I’m just trying to be supportive.”

Me: “How ‘bout you stop trying.”

Brantley-ims

The last couple of weeks have been pretty hectic for me and combined with a sick baby, I was a bit overdue for a hair appointment. I emerged from the bathroom yesterday morning flustered after a fruitless twenty minutes of trying to fix my hair. Brantley handled the subject with as much sensitivity as you would expect. "Are you getting your hair done this week?" he asked. "Yes," I replied. He went on, "it's not the style that's bad, but your roots would make Kunta Kinte blush."
Thanks, honey. I hadn't noticed.

Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bull @#$!

The circus is in town and forgive me if I don’t wet myself with excitement, but I HATE the circus. This is a problem. It’s a problem because I have a kid that will undoubtedly want to go one day. If I have my way, my son will never learn about the circus. It is a stupid and overly elaborate place where you sit in uncomfortable seats and smell elephant crap for three hours.

And we can’t forget the clowns. Tell me something, why is it that a grown man is allowed to parade around in a costume and a perma-smile for the sole purpose of entertaining children and he doesn’t get arrested? A priest could never get away with that.

Somewhere along the way a mother told her child that she’d be proud of him no matter what, and this is the result. I don’t care how many of you freaks just climbed out of a clown car in full costume. That’s not talent. I once saw twelve Mexicans climb out of a Geo Metro in front of Home Depot and they were all wearing steel toed boots. Top that.

Suffice it to say, if your forty year old son is performing for a crowd in oversized shoes and too much lipstick, you failed as a parent.

Lastly, a trip to the circus wouldn’t be complete without an overpriced hot dog or snow cone. I don’t know if it’s the music or the lights but something convinces you it’s alright to pay sixteen dollars for a funnel cake.

Hey everybody, want to see me ride my motorcycle in a tiny round cage while I dodge two other people on motorcycles? No, not at all. You can keep your animal excrement, your epilepsy inducing strobe lights, and your acrobats…and don’t you dare tell my kid about it, either.

Deep Thoughts by Lori Wescott

What a cruel twist of fate it is that the word, “lisp” has an “s” in it. Everyone should be able to thay their diagnothith.

My Kid is Better Than Yours...

I was bragging at work last week about my brilliant son, Luke (18 mos). At his young age he loves to turn things upside down and see how they work. One of my co-workers chimed in, “I had a nephew who used to do that but he’s grown now.”

“Really,” I asked. “What did he grow up to be?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s on disability for alcoholism.”

Terrific! I can't wait for that.

A Little Somethin' to Get You Through the Week

If ever you're having a bad day, you should visit http://www.awkardfamilyphotos.com/. Their laughable Kodak moments are sure to please. Here are a few for you to enjoy.

Suzie was only allowed to go without her helmet at birthday parties.

"...and the dish ran away with the spoon."

Bedtime stories

Have a great week!!