You don't know Jack!

We had the family pumpkin carving festivities last night. Our first pumpkin started out as an alien, then transformed into a devil then ended up as a bull. So he is a E.T. Devil Bull with tongue hanging out. That stuff on top is his brains.

The second pumpkin was Sage's idea and Alan helped him realize his evil vision. Those guys are truly disturbing. I love it!!

Happy Halloween!

Here's a present for my friend Zibbs over at That Blue Yak. Here's a treat for you that I found online--A Halloween moon.

Tales from the Mini Van

I have never admitted this publicly but I am now the owner of a mini van. It happened this summer. I am a bit embarrassed by it since I have always been a bit anti mini van. But I couldn't take the Oldsmobile station wagon anymore. Our driveway looked like that drunk Exxon Valdez captain had been hanging out there and I needed a new ride. So we went car shopping which I rank up there with bathing suit or bra shopping. Hate it!!! I didn't go looking for a mini van but she somehow found me. And when I sat in her...oh, it was magic. The mini van, she seduced me--her comfortable seats, her multiple drink holders, her 6 CD changer, her automated doors, her tinted windows, and stow and go seating--I was in love. And I have never looked back.

The car is an interesting place for a parent. Mostly it is a giant torture chamber. Forget water boarding, just try putting a terrorist in a car with my 2 boys. Here's how it would go--the terrorist, let's call him Bob, is driving along, practicing safe defensive driving when all of a sudden he hears a scream from Shepard. Sage just took his toy. Bob yells at Sage to give the toy back and Sage is saying, "Huh? I can't hear you. Shepard is screaming." So the screaming continues until Bob threatens to "Pull this car over!" Bob never thought he would say that in his life, but he was wrong. Then Sage starts to whine that Shepard is not sharing the snack. The whining continues until he yanks the snack from Shepard's hand and Shepard begins to cry again. Then Sage asks to go to the library. Bob says no because we have to go to the bank. Both kids whine because they don't want to go to the bank. Bob arrives at the bank drive thru and is in line when he hears a sneeze. He looks back in the rear view mirror to see two snot stalactites hanging from Sage's nose AND he does not have a tissue. He finds a piece of paper under the seat and hands it back to Sage who has already used his sleeve anyway. He leaves the bank and turns up the radio to hear the news when both boys ask to hear the Miley Cyrus CD. He says no and the loud protests and shouting start "Why can't we hear Miley, Terrorist Bob?! Why do you hate Miley?! I want to hear some music!!!" They are so loud that he misses the news and so he gives in and puts on Miley. So here is Bob--stuck in traffic, listening to Miley Cyrus when from the back he hears "I have to pee right now!!" Terrorist Bob will break, I guarantee it.

However, there are some quiet moments in the car. I have discovered that it can be a great environment to talk to your kids about life issues. For some reason they tend to open up more in the car. It may have something to do with the fact that I am not looking directly at them trying to invade their brains with my mother vision. I guess the back of my head is less threatening. So we have some good conversations.

Yesterday, Sage said, "Mommy, remember that time you ran over that Christmas tree? How old was I, three?" (I was driving 65 on the interstate when the car in front of me veered off suddenly to the other lane. I found myself confronted with a Christmas tree someone had dropped off of their car. With no time to avoid it, I thought I was going to wreck but my Oldsmobile ran right over it and I kept going. I wonder if that had anything to do with all that oil leakage.)

"Yes, you were three?"

Shepard asked, "How old was I?"

"Shepard, you were still in my tummy. You weren't born yet."

Sage said, "Mommy ate you." Shepard's eyes went wide.

"No, I didn't eat you! You were a little baby and you were growing safe in my tummy until you were ready to come out."

Shepard, "How did I get in your tummy?"

"God put you there."

Shepard, "How did God put me there?"

Flashback: One summer day when I was a young teen, I was watching 'The Young and the Restless' with my mom. Teenage Tracy had just found out she was pregnant. My mom turned to me and said, "You should never have sex before you are married." And that was the extent of my sexual education from my parents. That is why I vowed that I would always be open with my children about sex and sensitive subjects. Education helps make better choices. BUT, Shepard is four and he is looking at the back of my head so I did not think this was the right time to explain to my children where babies come from.

So with the question still lingering in the air I said, "Well Shepard, God was in heaven and he decided that you should be a part of our family, so he...OH LOOK, COWS!!!!"

And he turned to look and started mooing and that was the end of that.

Tattoo you?

Sage strikes again. Let me remind you of the first time Sage wrote on his brother. Will Shepard ever learn not to trust the devil that is his older brother? I think not.
This happened while they were serving punishment time in their room. Sage claims Shepard wanted him to do it which I tend to believe since, among other things, he had a pirate drawn on his chest and a volcano on his forehead. But I don't think Shepard asked for this little gem on his lower back.

Crisis over

You may return to your lives, the crisis is over. My husband has finally honored me with a comment or two. It seems he does value his whites being separated from his colors, a clean plate to eat his wonderfully home-microwaved meals, and the cute way I fold his boxer briefs into swans to leave on his pillow at night. So wifely duties are back on and it is possible that I will throw in a few extras for such lovely comments. Yes, I may change our sheets a week early this year! Do I know how to treat my man or what?!

You might wonder if I feel guilty for strong-arming my husband into commenting on my blog. And to that I say--Hellz no! If you have been reading long enough, you know I am shameless and not above whining, threats and mental torture. I learned it from my kids. Anyway, with his comment I achieved half of my personal comment best for my last post. Ha! Ok, well one of the comments was my own. So maybe a third of my personal best. I do have a dream that one day I might achieve ten comments on one post. If Jesus can reveal himself in a grilled cheese sandwich, if Britney Spears can get her driver's license back, if my husband can take time out from working (or as I like to call it, gallivanting) to comment on my blog, then I know miracles can happen. And someday, it could happen to me. Or not. It's up to you people. So will you do the right thing or will you burn in eternal hellfire? Let me know by going to my comment section. tee hee

One more thing--Hey Alan, wifely duties are suspended until you cut the grass!! ;)

**Notice**

It has come to my attention that my own husband has not commented on my blog for the last EIGHT posts. I know I speak for all of you when I say this is shocking and egregious. As you all know, comments are very important to a blog and since I need all the comments I can get, I have decided that drastic measures are called for. I am hereby suspending all of my wifely duties until such time as my husband chooses to resume supporting his wife. This is effective immediately until this crisis is over. Thank you and I, J.Hi, have approved this message.

**I'm coming after you next, sister-in-law!!!

Trifecta

My weekend was pretty fantastical! It had all the element of a perfect weekend--fall, football, and free stuff.

We attended a fall festival that was sponsored by my employer so everything was free. And my motto is 'If it's free, it's for me.' If there are more than one blowup jumpy thing at an event my boys give it five stars. Shepard declared, "That vegetable was awesome!"

We arrived home in time to see our football team lay the smack down in OT and win the game. Very exciting. In fact when we went to a neighborhood event later in the evening, one little girl said to me, "I heard a lot of screaming in your house earlier. What was going on?" Yeah, when my team is on, I am a screamer. I get very emotional. Sometimes I scare Alan. But what's new?

Sunday we made our annual trek to the Pumpkin patch. I always get the best pictures at the pumpkin patch. So now that we have our pumpkins, the Halloween preparations are complete. Yes, we all have our costumes--the boys started planning their costumes in August. Alan and I always dress up for our neighborhood party. The neighbors are already trying to get out of us what we will be this year but they will not break me!! They might get it out of the boys though--they are weak.

Gas money to get to pumpkin patch: $15

All you can carry pumpkins for one price : $20

Saying to Alan, "Just hold on, wait, don't move,

I've got to get your picture, ok smile, come on, smile! : Priceless

Everything I need to know I learned on South Park

So these are my choices. Really?! I usually do not delve into politics on this blog because politics is just too icky. When you visit J.Hi I want to you leave feeling warm, euphoric and safe like you just went back and visited your mother's womb--yes, please, come and float in my amniotic sac and be nourished by my placenta. Mmmmm, isn't that nice?

I don't want you feel like you have been thrust out in the cold world all wet and screaming with people telling you what to do and getting all up in your shit. However, the subject is on my mind, people! You feeling me? I know you are thinking about it too. You watch TV or read the paper with that frustrated helpless feeling. You look at your neighbor and wonder if they feel the way you do or are they a complete idiot--they are probably the latter because anyone who is not smart enough to turn off their outside floodlight at night so it shines right in my face when I am trying to sleep can not be trusted to vote the correct way. Damn idiot neighbor!!! You also are probably checking what you say around others because you don't want to come off too religious or too elitist or too racist or too communist. You might be sitting quietly by at a dinner party of friends when all of a sudden you are blindsided by a political lecture and urged to "do the right thing" and vote for their candidate (while you are rolling your eyes inside your own brain.)

So I call SHENANIGANS!!! Shenanigans on both of these candidates. Watch this clip and just replace the carnival workers for the government/politicians and you will know how I feel. They are both going to take us to the same place, but one is the tortoise and one is the hare. I am going to vote but I am not going to let them limit my choice. I feel like just slitting my wrists and bleeding all over the ballot in protest. Wouldn't that be cool? Maybe I could be famous like Joe the Plumber! Or I might just be put away for awhile to "rest."

I will vote my conscience--and it won't be for you know who or the other one either. I will vote and then I will go home and continue doing the things I enjoy doing like watching reality shows, eating Cheetos on my sandwich, shooting guns, attending gay weddings, spanking my children, having irresponsible sex with my husband, praising Jesus, listening to Satanic heavy metal music, recycling and using any damn kind of light bulb I damn well please. I'm an American and I am free to do it--for now anyway.

Countdown to Halloween

Three weeks and one day until Halloween!!!!

Are you scared?!

Ain't no party like a J.Hi party

Yesterday was my birthday and I am now solidly in the late 30s category. Ack! Getting older isn't really bothering me yet. Although I am a bit worried about my labia. I had a co-worker once who was about 15 to 20 years older than me. She said that as she got older her labia began to drop and I have been freaked out ever since. So I said to Alan, "Look at my labia."
"Wha? Huh?"
"LOOK AT THEM!"
"OK OK, I'm looking."
"Are they dropping?"
"No, they look fine."
"Measure them."
"WHAT?"
"You heard me. Get the ruler."
"Your labia are fine. They have not dropped."
"Thank God, safe for another year."

So here are some things that were great about my birthday...

1. Bacon--2, count them, 2 slices of bacon, bitches
2. Naked nap
3. Birthday money and guilt free shopping with MY birthday money
4. Sage played "Happy Birthday" on his guitar for me
5. My mom made me a blackberry cobbler even though she had to hunt around town for blackberries
6. When my 20 year old niece said, "You look really good for 38!!" hee hee
7. All of my email, blog and Facebook birthday wishes (Awwwwwww)
8. Tame family party with little to no drama

There weren't many, but here are a few things that disappointed me about my birthday...

1. Not enough time to shop with MY birthday money
2. I still had to do dishes, laundry and scoop cat litter
3. No half-naked men to carry me around on a royal birthday litter so my feet wouldn't have to touch the ground
4. Tame family party with little to no drama

So here is my birthday rap...

I'm 38, I'm a bad ass ho
My labia ain't swinging low
At an all night party I'm known as Speed Racer
Drinking liquor and beer with a Maalox chaser
Rollin' down hard with my birthday wishes
Fuck you all, I'm 38 bitches!

**Just so you know the last two lines were written by Alan because I was stuck. Yes, I am appalled too. I didn't know he was so gangsta.