tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63529362782999403412024-03-13T13:41:29.000-07:00The Incredible Misadventures Of Mother CardinalLiving each day one hilarious misadventure after another proving that in my life there is never a dull moment...The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-43148114093214416042014-09-16T22:32:00.000-07:002014-09-16T22:32:20.164-07:00All About Boys And Other Calamity And Mayhem Since The Last Misadventure<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Todays misadventure starts with a great big I"M BACK!!!!! So goes the life of a stay at home mom. You get a wonderful idea in your head like writing a regular blog, only to have things like house work, church and other stuff monopolize your time. "Damn those kids and my husband needing things like love, affection a clean house and nice hot meals once in awhile!" </i></b></span><b style="color: #660000;"><i>Of course I do love my life or else I wouldn't have stuck around as long as I have. </i></b><br />
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<b style="color: #660000;"><i>So many things have gone on since the last misadventure. The little Jelly Bean I had been posting about is now a full on 12 month old Baby Boy, which by the way is what I will now be referring to him as. So now I have a Mr. Man and a Baby Boy. I also have a not so little Little Miss. She has entered the throes of high school. So far things seem to be going well. Her experience has been more like scenes from the movie Clueless than the movie Mean Girls which is a sigh of relief for this mama.</i></b><br />
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<b style="color: #660000;"><i>The other exciting thing to happen is that yours truly, Mother Cardinal, has entered the working world again. Those of you that followed me before will remember a past post in which I gave thanks to a dear friend of mine who blogs under the name of Fabby. Well I now nanny for her 2 evenings a week while she gets to <strike>escape motherhood</strike>... I mean attend college(LOL)! So now I get the pleasure of hosting the Wonder Kids two nights a week which will add even more misadventures.</i></b><br />
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<b style="color: #660000;"><i>Now on to the real reason I took to posting tonight. Let me first say that I initially was going to post this as a status update in Facebook Land but after a quick gathering of my thoughts, I realized I had so many that a simple status would not do....</i></b><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>10 YEAR OLD BOYS ARE GROSS BEINGS!!!!!</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>This is how I imagine a phone conversation going with my future daughter-in-law(or son-in-law)...</i></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>In-law: "Mother Cardinal?"</i></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Me: "Yes."</i></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>In-law: "How did you ever survive raising that man!!? I am about ready to pack him up and send him home!"</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Now mind you in my head I would be giving him or her my best accent while saying "Mother Cardinal no live here no more!" However seeing as I empathize I heave a big sigh and explain to her all about the man I call my son. This brings me back to my afore mentioned declaration of 10 year old boys. Little Man has reached the age of double digits and with it seems to have come a level of disgustingness(is that even a word?). Long before Baby Boy was born. When the main floor bathroom was shared by all who dwell in the chaos I call home, If anyone else used the shower before I did, all that was needed was a quick rinse before utilizing my only means of alone time. Even when Cowboy went back to the ever so loverly career field of removing <strike>mesothelioma </strike> asbestos from buildings, and now when Baby Boy has had bedtime poopnados that blew away his diaper requiring a quick wash, only a rinse down is needed. </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>This has not been the case after Little Man has been in the Throne Room. As I enter the room, there is the slapping sound of feet hitting a puddle of water. The the squish of a sopping wet rug. I slide open the shower curtain to discover that I need a hazmat suit just to clean the shower before I use it! There are little hairs all over the tub. I did get a hair cut today but I was no where near my bath tub which makes me scared to know where those little hairs have come from! I have every intention of calling him downstairs to give him a stern talking to about picking up after himself, but of course he beats me to it, coming down to say good night to me and giving me a hug while batting his eyes and giving me that sheepish "but I'm cute" grin. This exchange makes my heart melt and suddenly I have forgotten what I was going to call him down for in the first place.</i></b></span>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-73707754125606204312014-01-04T22:23:00.002-08:002014-01-04T22:23:31.834-08:00Who I Am<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Happy new year everyone in internet land! In keeping with the spirit of new year new beginnings I have decided to stay true to who I have always been and that is an open book. Today is not going to be a typical misadventure though I still have those on a daily basis. Today is about putting the book on the table so to speak and letting you all read my life story. I am not ashamed of anything nor do I wish for any parts to be rewritten. Everything I am about to tell you are all the ingredients in the crazy stew that is me!</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Let me first start out by admitting something. My name is Mother Cardinal and I am a food addict. It took me getting gestational diabetes for me to realize that. My food addiction started right after I got clean from the drugs I was using. I had just found out I was pregnant with Little Miss and could no longer ingest drugs into my system so I started ingesting food as a replacement. Thinking back the hight of my addiction came pre pregnancy with the newest addition of the Cardinal clan, Little Id whom you all knew though pregnancy as Jelly Bean. When I woman is glad her husband falls asleep on the couch every night so she can be in bed alone with plates and bowls of food, there is a problem. Having gestational diabetes forced me to have to change what I eat and how I eat.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Now on to the good stuff, this is the part of the story where I tell you who I am or more importantly where I came from. I won't be cliche and do the whole "Once Upon a Time". Doing so would imply that there was a happily every after which I won't know that until it's my time to meet my lord and savior and I don't think even he would say "and you lived happily every after!"</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Right from the start I was born damaged. I am the poster child for It Only Takes One Time. My fathers first time having sex ever ended with my mom getting pregnant. She had been on the pill for 6 months that alone caused doctors to peg me as a goner. They thought my mother would miscarry thus ending my life before I even got to take my first breath. God however had other plans for me because on August 16th 1978 I was born.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Now getting back to being born damaged. The meaning behind that involves the fact that my mom didn't really love my dad in that way. My parents married because of me. There was also the fact that my mother, who was a talented and gifted singer, gave up a full ride scholarship to UCLA a college that few out of staters get accepted to, to be with my dad and raise me. Raising a child when you have regrets is not a good combination. </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>My parents were only married for 5 years and that was 5 years to long for me. Even though my mom tried her hardest to make sure I didn't see the abuse she suffered at the hands of my dad, I could still hear. I heard every smack and slap and slam and scream. My mom finally decided enough was enough and she left my dad. The day we left we only had the clothes on our backs and my stuffed Monchichi monkey that I carried with me everywhere. </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>On top of audibly witnessing the domestic abuse in my parents marriage, I was also being molested by a boy that lived in our neighborhood. He used to tell me things like my dad said it was okay or threatening to molest my cousin that went to preschool with me, all in order to keep me from telling anyone. I was 16 when I finally revealed to my mom what had happened. She in turn made it all about her by talking of the guilt she felt working with abused kids in the head start program, being trained to see the signs of abuse in other kids but missing them in her own.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>My parents divorce was a turbulent one. I was glad when it was final and they could both move on with their lives. I spent weekdays with my mom and weekends with my dad. I was a lonely child. In my mom's family I was the oldest with the next grandchild being 4 years younger that me so I really had no one to play with. In my dad's family I was the only girl until I was about 8 or 9 so I had no girl cousin's to do girly things with. My one solace was my natural ability to tell a story. Every year at school conferences in grade school, the teacher would tell my mom and dad how talented a writer I was. </i></b></span><b style="color: #660000;"><i> </i></b><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Because the odds were already stacked against me even before I started school, I was instantly branded with a target that attracted all classmates to pick on me mercilessly. 5th-8th grade were the worst years. I started puberty in the 3rd grade so in the 5th grade while all the other girls in my grade were just started to wear training bra's I was already in regular bra's. I was even more developed than the other black girls in my grade and black girls are known for having large chests. At that age boys associate breasts with the man boobs that overweight men have so I was called fat countless times.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Junior high was ten times worse. Because of where my mom had bought her house I had to go to neighborhood school instead of the one most of the kids at my grade school were going to. My only solace there was the fact that my best grade school friend was also going to the same junior high because her brother went to that junior high two years earlier, though I wouldn't call it much of a solace. Most of the other kids came from the same grade schools and were good friends with each other so clicks were formed way before school started. Of course most of those kids came from working class families that made good money so they could afford fancy clothes where as I couldn't. There were a few girls in the in crowd like me but because they were part of the in crowd from the same grade school as everyone else, it was okay for them to wear Kmart clothes and still be cool but not me.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>On top of dealing with the troubles of junior high, I was also dealing with the sexual abuse going on at the hands of the two son's of my moms boyfriend. At that age I didn't really see it as abuse. I was just so glad that two guys, older men no less, liked me. None of the boys at my school liked me. I now see that what they did was abuse. </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Also during that time my mom was diagnosed with Lupus. Back then not a lot was known about Lupus and I started having nightmares about my mom dying. We fought all the time. Part of it was my anger and rage from the shit that life and already slung at me, and part of it was my suffering from ADHD which I was diagnosed with at the age of 10. When the ritalin kept me up at night and gave me bad headaches, my mom took me off of it and didn't bother to seek other treatment for it. A teenager with untreated ADHD is not a good combination. </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>When high school started I knew I wanted to go to Saint Paul Central which is where my cousin's attended. Initially the plan was to use my dad's address just so I could get in but I decided I wanted to live with my dad while going to high school. That turned out not to be such a great fit. Things started out well until I started to have a more strong and independent personality like my mother. That seemed to bring out the mean side of my dad. This man who had always treated me like a true daddy's girl that gave me everything I ever wanted, was suddenly cold and mean. That was also when I started to notice his mental health issues. He used hoarding and squaller as a means to control me. The rule was I would leave the house to hang out with friends once the house was clean, then he would proceed to live in a manner that left the house in constant filth meaning if there was always a mess to clean, I couldn't leave the house. His house was the only home know of that had flies in the middle of winter. </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>I finally had enough the night I told my dad I was my own person and he beat me severely. The next day I told my friends I was going to kill myself. I had to threaten suicide to get out of my dads home. I ended up spending a week in the adolescent psych unit and Fairview Riverside Hospital and when I was released I returned to my mom's home and since then my relationship with my dad has never been the same.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Moving back to my mom's home was no better. She had just learned that her fiancé was gay. Of course she was so caught up in her own feelings about that, that she forgot the fact that I was affected by it as well. Soon after, she met my stepdad and his two girls. When they moved into our house there was a bit of normalcy. we ate dinner every night at 6PM and once a week had families meetings. When it was my stepdads weekend to have his girls, we did family movie night. In spite of all that, things still weren't great. My parents were a little to lax with me. My first beer was with my parents on a Friday night. I would sit and smoke pot with my stepdad. </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Unlike junior high where I sat and took it when kids teased me, in high school when kids made fun of me I would fight back in a violent way. I was constantly getting kicked out for fighting. </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Because I had the body of a grown woman at 16 years of age, grown men were constantly making passes at me. I of course missing the relationship with my bio-dad, would accept those grown mens attention though inside I knew it wasn't right and not what I wanted. It also made me feel good that even though the boys at my school didn't seem to want me, those grown men did. I fell into a deep depression and began to self mutilate. I would burn myself with the cigarettes I was smoking or take an old flat head screw driver I kept in my room, heat it up and burn my arms and legs with it. I also started drinking a lot more and smoking pot a lot more.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>In high school I was not the most popular person so after high school was done I seemed to come out in a big way. I partied super hard. I became known as the bottomless pit because I would drink anything, ingest any kind of pill, smoke anything in a pipe, or snort any kind of powder that was put in front of me. The one thing I didn't do was shoot up though if I had continued with partying that would have come next. I caused so much trouble with my partying. My mom was a former addict and she wasn't stupid. She knew I was using but she never said a word. She figured I would come to her when I was ready. I got caught up in the drugs because for once in my life I was the life of the party though deep inside I still didn't like myself.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>I am lucky to be alive. There were so many dangerous things I did while using. I would leave the club with random people. I would get crazy ideas to do dangerous things. I stole from my mom and from the bank I had a checking account through, to get money for my drugs. I even went into extreme credit card debt as a means to get drug money. Finally my mom put her foot down. She agreed to pay off all my debts if I enrolled in the job corps program. I agreed but I wasn't really ready to be done with that life. </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>When I started Job Corps, things started out good. Then I met my daughters birth father. Soon I was signing out on weekends to be with him and drink the weekend away. I was also meeting up with some of my party friends and started using drugs hard core again. At one point due to issues between a friend of mine and my ex's then roommate, my ex returned home to his home state of Virginia and he convinced me to go with him. We returned back to MN after only 2 weeks of being in VA. </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Upon our return I once again started partying and using but this time something seemed off to me. A week before I found out I was pregnant with my daughter, I had come home to my grandma's home(my ex and I were living with her) after a night of super hard partying. I sat on the front steps, lit a cigarette and told god I was tired. I said I didn't want to party like that anymore that it wasn't fun anymore and I needed his help to not go back to that. A week later I found out I was pregnant. 4 months later my ex left me to face being a parent alone. </i></b></span><b style="color: #660000;"><i>With the exception of a brief few months of attempting to see if me and my ex could be a family with our daughter when she was a year old, he has not been in her life at all. </i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="color: #660000;">After the failed attempt at working things out with my ex, who was also very abusive to me, I decided to give up trying to find a man. I had a dream one night that I was married and had two more kids besides my daughter. It was a very vivid dream yet when I </span></i></b><span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>woke up I gave it no thought. Every once in awhile I thought about the man I was married to in my dream but it wasn't any type of longing to find him or know who he was. It was more of a wow that was a vivid dream. I went about the rest of the year taking care of me and my daughter. I went to work, hung out with friends and family and did all kinds of fun things with my daughter. We were living in public housing which is not the greatest of places but it was our own place. My daughter had her own room and a little yard to set up a kiddie pool in. Then one night I decided just for the heck of it, to set up a profile on a few online dating sites. I wasn't looking for anything serious, just someone to see a movie with that didn't have cartoons or the rating of G. I also wanted to have a few dinners at restaurants with no singing animals or talking clowns. </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>In my profiles I was upfront about having a daughter but that is all I said about her. Most of the men that responded to my profile, got mad when I refused to discuss her so they quickly went off my list of potential dates. One night this guy responded to my profile. He asked if he could email me a picture because for some reason the website would let him upload a photo from his computer. I agreed and nearly had a heart attack. Staring at me was a picture of the man I dreamt I was married too a year earlier. I freaked out! I shut down my computer, unplugged it, then plugged it back in and rebooted it. I pulled up his picture again and he was still there. When we talked online again he asked about my daughter and when I told him I didn't care to discuss her yet, he simply said okay and started talking about something else. We talked online for a few weeks then talked on the phone for another few weeks. Our online and phone conversations lasted for hours! </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>When we were setting up our first date he tried to set it at a time where we could meet for drinks and I wouldn't need a sitter for very long or at all. Of course because our phone conversations went so well, we ended setting a real date. I knew on our first date that I wanted to be married to this man. Me who used to never want to marry and who thought if I ever did I would be a career mom and wife, took one look at this man and heard my heart say to my head "I want to marry this man, have all of his babies and stay home taking care of them in a little house in the suburbs with a white picket fence!" He was so respectful of my daughter as well. Until I was ready for him to meet her, he waited till she was asleep to come to my home and he made sure he was gone before she woke up the next day. When they did meet my daughter took to him right away. We meant in 2002 and have been together every since!</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>This is not to say we haven't had out issues. My husband struggles daily with trying not to be the emotionally unavailable husband and father his own dad was. I struggle with the demons of my past. We have been separated a few times but we always come back to each other. We wouldn't know what to do with ourselves without each other so we keep working at it day by day. He loves my daughter as his own and she calls him dad. She is a true daddies girl though he won't admit it. We also have two son's together, the youngest of them was born this past September.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>So thats me in a nutshell. I put the most important ingredients into this. For me to type out everything in a great a detail as I did this entry would require more time and a literary agent as it would be a best seller. Thank you thank you thank you if you managed to read through all of this! As for this new year of 2014, I plan to take each day one misadventure at a time!</i></b></span>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-12509274411752719412013-06-10T21:49:00.003-07:002013-06-10T21:49:31.231-07:00The Unspoken Punishment or How The Heck Do I Avoid Ending Up In The Nut House!<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Today's misadventure involves birthdays! Thats right folks, the wonder kids have made it to another year of life(surprisingly!). Mr. Man is now 9 years old and Little Miss is in her first year of the wonderful world of being a teen! Okay so wonderful is not the word I would use to describe this first week. You will understand more as you read on...</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>I have come to the conclusion that there is a secret punishment that God bestowed upon humans when Adam and Eve each took a bite of the forbidden fruit. That punishment is what we know as the teenage years. I am not a versed in the bible as some that I know but I have to wonder if Adam and Eve's sons Cain and Abel were teenagers when the whole tragedy of one killing the other transpired. It was having to stop my own teen from nearly killing her brother that made me first wonder this. Don't be alarmed, she wasn't literally trying to kill him. He just happened to glance over her shoulder to see what she was watching on youtube that had her laughing so hard. Her response to that was to slam her head back so that she head butted him in the chin, pinch his arm, and run over his foot with the computer desk chair. Maybe she was trying to kill him... okay moving along, nothing more to read on this subject.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Getting back to the punishment known as teenagers, I read somewhere that when I child hits the teenage years, their sleeping habits revert back to that of an infant and their behavior reverts back to that of a toddler. The sleeping habits I can believe but the behavior, I think the researcher got that part wrong. What he meant to say what it's us parents whose behavior reverts back to that of a toddler when dealing with our teens! So far I have had to deal with Little Miss acting like it was a personal affront to expect her to put down the book she was reading and get up off her rear end to help me look for something Cowboy bought for her bike. I have also had to deal with her walking around in a foul mood as if something is bothering her yet when asked she says she is fine, only to get mad because something was wrong and we didn't draw it out of her. She fails to remember we tried the draw it out approach only to run screaming from the room! All of these behaviors have had me stomping away to my room in the manner in which a toddler would stomp away and at one point I wanted to lay on the ground and have a good old fashioned kicking and flailing temper tantrum!</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>My good friend/neighbor also has a teen(she had been dealing with the teen years 8 months longer than I have) and she told me she just reminds herself that this too shall pass. I see where she is coming from however there are some moments where I wish "this too" would pass a just a little faster! Until that day comes, if you don't hear from me in a while know that I am safe in my own little corner, in my own little chair, in a nice padded room void of all teenagers!</i></b></span>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-57123376130965010882013-05-11T12:17:00.002-07:002013-05-11T12:17:50.190-07:00An Ode To An Unborn Child WIth Love From It's Mother<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Tiny little Jelly Bean growing inside me</i></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Oh how I love you so</i></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Will you please stop sitting on my bladder</i></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>So I don't constantly feel like I have to go?!</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>I mean it little child</i></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>You had better do what I say</i></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Or else you will be grounded when you come into this world</i></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>On your birthday!</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Mommy loves you!</i></b></span>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-49269409609673742412013-05-01T11:45:00.002-07:002013-05-01T11:45:14.023-07:00The Hunt For Mother Nature<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>Todays misadventure involves my my quest to find Mother Nature. Why you may ask, do I need to find her? My answer is simple and honest and a speak for all Minnesotans when I say this... "She deserves a serious beat down!" </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>As I type this out, the tornado sirens are going off because it is that time of year again where the sirens everywhere go of on Wednesdays to test them out and make sure they work. Now as the sirens are going off, it is snowing outside! It's May first and the great state with too damn many lakes is under a winter storm watch! </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>Little Miss put it best when exclaimed "Mother Nature be acting cray cray! I am also in agreement with Mr. Man, Mother Nature is really getting on my nerves too bud!</i></b></span><br />
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<br />The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-12737747262625314762013-04-13T15:40:00.001-07:002013-04-13T15:40:57.477-07:00The Life Of No Pie<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>In my past post I shared with you all the misadventure of being diagnosed with gestational diabetes. This for todays misadventure I would like to talk more about this....</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>Let me first start out by saying having gestational diabetes is worse than walking into my dads home at Thanksgiving the year he decided to make chitterlings (pronounced chitlins a.k.a pig instestines)! I have decided that instead of working on my novel about the average Joe not knowing how to deal with his wife's depression or working on my Spirit World Chronicles series I am going to start a whole new book all together. I am calling it "The Life of NO pie, or no cake, or no ice cream, or no more yummy delicious foods ever ever ever!" </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>Now in all fairness I can have 1 serving of potato chips but only one serving a day! It's not like I can have a serving of potato chips with my lunch and then have another serving as a snack. I have to strategically plan out when to have that serving and if I have it with a meal I have to be mindful of what I have with it. I made the mistake of having chips with two hot dogs in buns. Not good. My blood sugars were sky high. That means the next time I try that meal I either need to skip the chips or have two hotdogs with no buns. Well folks that one is a no brainer, the buns must go!!!!</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>Of course in a cruel twist of fate or maybe a test from God to see if I am really willing to take care of myself, the Kentucky Fried Chicken that is near our local mall has now become a Popeyes Chicken! I grew up with a Popeyes Chicken within walking distance of my dads house. One of my oldest and dearest friends lived right behind it! When ever we both had a good amount of money we would pool it together and treat ourselves to a Popeyes feast! Visions of telling my husband the Jelly Bean is craving Popeyes and him saying "Yes dear we can go there for dinner!" Danced in my head. I even posted my excitement on my personal Facebook page. Then my aunt had to go and remind me to check the nutrition chart to make sure their food didn't have too many carbs! Suddenly I got scary visions of discovering I could eat nothing on the menu clouded my head and made me dizzy!</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>Of course Jelly Bean doesn't help matters. Everything I love and miss eating, Jelly Bean has a distaste for! We walk past the bakery section at our local supermarket and instead of wanting to eat every sweet treat in sight once the delicious smells hit my nose, I gagged and told Cowboy we needed to hurry up away from there before I got sick! I got sick eating a small piece of milk chocolate, but was just fine eating that piece of dark chocolate. This Jelly Bean can differentiate between which of the two chocolates are good for me!</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>I finally reached my breaking point. After not handling the labor too well when Mr. Man was born Cowboy had it in his head that with Jelly Bean I would get an epidural right away. I nixed that plan telling him if I have to suffer for 9 months of either no being able to have or gagging up all the delicious foods I love then he gets to suffer through me in labor unmedicated!</i></b></span>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-57301761724306463042013-03-17T18:19:00.000-07:002013-03-17T18:19:12.123-07:00Attack Of The 268 Pound Hangry Woman<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>Let me first start out by saying that I came to know the word Hangry from a podcast I enjoy listening too. This word describes someone who is so hungry they are irritable and grouchy and mean. That folks is me right now. </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>This little Jellybean that I have been blessed to house within me for the next 29 weeks has thrown this pregnancy for a big loop de loop! I have gestational diabetes which anyone that went gestational during their pregnancy and those that are diabetic knows, means a drastic diet change is in effect. Being that I am a larger sized woman, the diet change has been a bit of a shock to my system. Now the OB nurse claims that I can still feel full and satisfied on this new diet I have to stick to but so far I'm not feeling anything but hangry. My husband tried to create humor in the situation when I turned to him for moral support. I explained to him what hangry meant and that I just wanted to eat something that was good and adhered to this new diet. That is when he announced that I could eat him. You can pretty much imagine how hard I wasn't laughing. I am going to stick this out in hopes that this gestational thing will go away after Jellybean is born. The only thing I am left wondering is if it's normal to see a whole turkey when looking at the family dog or to seek a pork and beef roast when looking at our two cats?</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>Here's a little video to showcase how I am feeling right now. Lets hope I don't get as hangry as that man eating plant!</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-39832151846682051082013-02-28T20:01:00.001-08:002013-02-28T20:01:32.266-08:00The Great Conception<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>This is a misadventure you will not want to miss.....</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>So Cowboy and I have been faithful college students since this past fall. I am hoping to earn a degree in early childhood special education and he is getting his degree in chemical engineering. We have two beautiful children whom we adore. We had been semi trying for a third for almost 4 years not with nothing happening. Cowboys soldiers were marching but they just couldn't seem to hit the correct battle field. After months of discussing things we came to the decision to stop trying. I was worried that it wouldn't happen for us until after I had my degree and was working again which I didn't want because I knew if it did, I would want to stop working and be a stay at home mom for that baby like I have been for Little Miss and Mr. Man. Cowboy thought that his years of working in a lead foundry, the exposure caused there to be issues with his soldier. </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Let me tell you folks when you decide to stop doing something due to having no success that is when things suddenly start to jump off. That's right folks, I am PREGNANT!!! No sooner did we make the decision to stop and we were well into the groove of second semester when SURPRISE!!!!!! We found out another baby bird will be flying into our nest in the fall. I am normally not one for surprises but this is one surprise I gladly appreciate! In fact Little Miss was a surprise too.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>So far I am feeling good with the exception of my misadventures in pregnancy nausea. So far apple juice, toast and apples are this baby will allow my stomach to hold. Little Miss is super excited and has aptly called the baby her Jelly bean. Mr. Man being the 70 year old man trapped in an 8 year olds body, first complained about the cost and work load of having another child in the house. His exact words were... "Now there will be to many kids in the house to take care of!" Really what he was worried about was mom not having enough love to go around. Once he was reassured that I would always have more than enough love just for him, he warmed up to the idea of a new baby and wants a baby brother because sisters are dumb and mean( so he says).</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Mama-The-Hun and my Smother In-law were both equally excited and my bio-dad or as the kids call him grampy, was happy for us too. I only wish my stepdad could be here for this. If this baby is a boy I will be honoring him by giving the baby his name. David Germain Cardinal has a nice ring to it</i></b></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here is Jellybean Cardinal, right between the 2 x's<br /></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-55365579872598997762013-01-20T18:45:00.001-08:002013-01-20T18:45:13.462-08:00Injuries of the Peculiar and Strange<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i> Todays misadventure involves me(no surprise there), the lovely Little Miss. She got a lesson in just how not surprising it is for me to have nothing but misadventures.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i> Before I delve into todays misadventure let me first give you a rundown of some past misadventures I have had that resulted in injury. Once you hear these and think back to my previous posts the question "Why am I not surprised?" will come to mind. </i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i> Injurious misadventure number one happened when I was just a kid Cardinal and not even a Cardinal yet. I was walking along the pathway that was in front of the row of town homes I lived in with my parents. I turned to walk across the grass to our front yard area. Directly in front of me, in my line of sight was the brown metal pole of our clothes line. My dad knew I was going to hit it but my mom being ever the optimistic one was so sure that I saw the pole and would turn before I reached it. Unfortunately her optimism was misplaced. I walked smack in to this pole receiving from it, the gift of a lovely goose egg on my forehead. Naturally my parents did what any parent would do, they tried hard to stifle their laughter as they rushed to my aid. Every so often my mom likes to tell this story to Little Miss and Mr. Man just to hear the uproarious giggles that erupt from them when they hear it.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i> Injurious misadventure number two occurred about two years ago. Cowboy and I had had an disagreement that morning and he took off for work without giving me his usual kiss goodbye. Even when we are mad at each other I still like getting a kiss goodbye from him before he leaves for work. I saw him pull out the driveway and I ran to the front porch to get his attention. I tapped gently on one of the windows and Crash! My hand went through! LouLou bell, one of my best friends, came to my rescue and brought me to the emergency room where we did was any bored stay at home moms would do, we clowned around and took pictures of not only the glass that the doctor had to fish out of my right index finger, but also of the doctor as he was digging. There are pictures on my personal Facebook timeline as proof of this. Of course LouLou Bell has heard the story of me, the brown pole, and the goose egg several times so she was not surprised to learn that all I did was gently tap on the window and this happened. The first words out of her mouth when I told her what happened was "Why am I not surprised?"</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i> Finally we come to this afternoons misadventure. I stumbled over my own shoes as I was walking to my dinning room table. stumbling over ones shoes is not anything new. Everyone has done it at some point in their lives and even sustained an injury from it. Now when I say injury I am talking a sprained, bruised, swollen, maybe even broken toe. Not me folks! Oh no not me! </i></b></span><b style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>After I stumbled I felt pain and I thought it would go away after a few minutes. When it didn't subside I didn't worry about it though I did get annoyed at the thought that I might have broken it. I sat down and took off my sock to asses the bruising and possible swelling only for me and Little Miss to discover my left pinky toe and the toe directly before it were covered in blood. Little Miss sprang into action and got a wet cloth to wipe the blood away. My brain, deciding it wanted to play news of the obvious, told my mouth to ask "Is it cut?" Of course Little Miss said yes and she added that it looked pretty bad. She then said it was deep. I asked her if she was sure because I know my Little Miss and sometimes situations will look or seem scary to her so she assumes it must be scary and make it out as such when questioned about it. She was adamant that it looked pretty bad so off to urgent care we went. My mil had to drive us and Mr. Man came along for the ride, regaling us with tales of when he had to get 7 stitches in his head. When the doctor initially looked at my foot I was sitting in a chair in the exam room and he thought all I would need to do was keep it bandaged and wear shoes and socks constantly until it healed. Then he asked me to sit on the exam table to he could look at it from other angles and thats when he saw how deep the cut really was and announced that I would need stitches. Thats right folks, only I would stumble over my own shoes and gash my foot so bad it requires stitches. Oh and in true me fashion, according to the doctor, the cut was in a very odd place. The cut is right near the bottom of my left pinky toe and slightly in between the pinky toe and toe next to it in the fold. That is how the doctor explained it to me. The first words out of my mouth when he told me all of this were "Why am I not surprised?!"</i></b><br />
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<b style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Only me I tell ya! Only Me!</i></b><br />
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The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-26252824480457034332013-01-06T20:50:00.002-08:002013-01-06T20:50:48.134-08:00My Favorite Things<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">HAPPY NEW YEAR FOLK!!!!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">On this incredible misadventure I have decided to list my favorite things. If Oprah can do it so can I, only don't go thinking I am going to be giving away any of these things. I may be big(I'm speaking literally) like Oprah once was, I'm not that big. Unfortunately I have these people in my life called children, that require most of my money which technically isn't even mine. Cowboy is the one that earns it and I don't think he would be to please if I spent the mortgage showering strangers in internet land with gifts.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So here goes ladies this is my list of favorite things for 2013. Along side each item will be an explanation of how or why it earned a coveted spot on my list. I will say that Calgon bubble bath will never make the list. If you want to know why you will have to go back read through my past misadventures and you'll understand.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><u>MOTHER CARDINALS LIST OF FABULOUSNESS FOR 2013</u></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">1. Cafemom - This place is like facebook for mom's. Actually it's more like myspace for mom's. This place has everything from drama, to trolls, to the so unbelievable that it's too good to be true and too out there to not be true! If you are ever having one of those days where you are feeling like the worst mother in the world, just go to their mommy confession group and </span><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">read some of the topics posted </span><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">anonymously and you will step away from the screen feeling like the Martha Stewart of mom's! Oh and you can make some great friends and get some good advice.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">2. Mamas Latinas - I have to first give the disclaimer that this site is for latina mama's. The group originated on Cafemom but have since branched out into it's own website. If you are of Latino heritage and want a place where you can feel connected to that, this is the place for you. I go there and practice my spanish. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">3. Google Translate - I'd like to thank google translate for helping me to decipher what the mamacita's of Mama Latina are saying. I also want to thank you for assisting me in those playful conversations my husband and I have with each other in french</span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">4. Swiffer wets - Yes I took it there! I put a household cleaning product to my list. I am sorry but when you have a wet wipe that cleans everything you just gotta talk about it. I knew it could clean floors but then I saw my husband use one to clean our kitchen cabinets and man I was impressed!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">5. CampbellsKitchen.com & Kraftfoods.com - Both of these websites offer some tasty and budget friendly meal idea's. Part of my decision to actually make resolutions this year was being a better wife and mother. I figured the best place to start was in the kitchen and how I do dinners. So far every recipe I have gotten from either site has been a hit and this time I remembered to print it out, use my 3 hole puncher to make holes in it so I can stick in a 3 ring binder</span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">6. Hasbor's Family game night for the Nintendo Wii or Play Station 3 - There is a game night 1, 2, and 3 and we have all of them. This is an excellent way to play all those family game favorites without the bulkiness of the game boxes. As much as we wanted to get the kids more actual games this Christmas, our game cabinet was too full.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">7. Muk Luks - If you don't know what these are, google them. Everyones knows I am not a fan of winter boots due to the horrors of having to wear those god awful moon boots as a child. When I saw a pair of these boots on the JcPenny website I fell in love. Then I googled them and found a website full of them! These boots will keep your feet warm and look fabulous. The pair I want are dark brown with fringe and they come to about mid calf. Now I just need to convince Cowboy to let me spend $250 on a pair of these boots!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">8. This last and final thing on my list is not a thing, it's a person. She is the best photographer around! She is also an inspiration. She has found a way to make money doing what she loves and not lose sight of why she loves doing it. She specializes in location shoots because she feels posed shots don't really capture the emotions of the people being photographed. The fact that she actually got Cowboy to give a genuine smile is a few of the photo's we just had done is a miracle. She doesn't have her website up and running yet but she does have a Facebook page and I encourage you all to go there, check out her work and become a fan! <a href="http://www.facebook.com/BrandieAnnPhotography?fref=ts" target="_blank">http://www.facebook.com/BrandieAnnPhotography?fref=ts</a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So there you go folks, those are just a few of my favorites for this year. </span></div>
The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-32692037827817723242012-09-20T09:05:00.002-07:002012-09-20T09:05:45.773-07:00A Return to Misadventures<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i> I am back folks! Thats right, in true misadventure fashion I took a hiatus and didn't tell anyone about it! Actually I forgot to tell everyone. I blame it on the fact that my doctor took me off of my Adderall for most of the summer. I won't bore you with what occurred during my brief break. Most of it is a sad tale of woe and would not be in keeping with the hilarity that is me so I will simply jump right into today or should I say, this mornings misadventure...</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i> Today was a trying morning in the Cardinal household. Mr. Man came into my room way before the butt crack of dawn and woke me up with his flopping around. Little Miss had troubles understanding the concept of crazy hair for crazy hair day at school which resulted in a big mother daughter brawl that sent Cowboy off to his 7:45 class in a foul mood and me to the couch where I fell asleep and thankfully didn't miss sending Mr. Man out to his bus stop. Hopefully my afternoon and evening will be better.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i> That is the shortened version of my misadventure. I guess the fight with Little Miss could have been avoided if I had not mumbled under my breath that for a school volleyball player her school spirit was nonexistent. I told Mr. Man he was no longer allowed to come into my room in the middle of the night until he could teach his arms and legs to stay still. And last but not least Cowboy doing what he does best, not only did he voice his annoyance at the mother daughter brawl but also unleashed a tirade about other things he was annoyed with me for that he never tells me at the time I cause the annoyance! Like I said before hopefully my afternoon and evening are better or today will be a double misadventure post!</i></b></span>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-28296121429218499962012-07-31T19:39:00.001-07:002012-07-31T19:39:35.358-07:00Kids Ask The Darnedest Things<br />
<b><i><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This was tonight conversation with Mr. Man. It started with me telling my mother in-law about her granddaughter the ever famous Little Miss getting her first period. It also showcases how sharp Mr. Man is. Sometimes he can be a little too sharp...</span></i></b><br />
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<b><i><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">Mr. Man: Whats a period mom?</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">Me: girls and adult women get it. It lets our bodies know we are ready to have babies</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">Mr. Man: Sylvia is only 12 she is not ready to have babies yet</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">Me: That is correct! You should be married before you have babies</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">Mr. Man: Well you weren't married when you had babies</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">My mother in law: Your mom and dad were too married before you were born(I want to note that she laughed when Elijah commented that I wasn't married when I had babies)</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">Mr. Man: Well what about Sylvia, you weren't married to daddy when she was born</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">Me: You are right bud, mom didn't do it right the first time but Sylvia being born was never wrong</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></b><br />
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Mr. Man: Well it was wrong to me because she always calls me a jerk when I harass her and thats not very nice!</i></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i>This concludes the conversation. Tune in next time when my misadventure will be about explaining growing up and the birds and bee's to Mr. Man as I am sure that subject will be brought up next! </i></b></span><br />The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-5249763917375682092012-05-06T17:26:00.002-07:002012-05-06T17:26:54.136-07:00Things We Lost In The Fire<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i>I killed the family grill today. In true Mother Cardinal misadventure fashion, it happened at my very hands. The hose somehow caught fire and from there it was a goner. Thankfully I caught it in time so that it didn't have to suffer for very long. </i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i>So for todays installment, I would like to take this moment to remember a fine summer aide to our familial nest. </i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i>R.I.P. Cardinal family grill. You have served us well. You were put together my Father Cardinal 1 a.k.a my father in-law with his own 2 hands. You have provided us with burgers, and brats for many a birthday and created some great chops, steaks and chicken on warm late spring and summer nights. You have been gone above and beyond your usual call of duty making great roasted marshmallows for s'mores. You will be missed old friend but you will never be forgotten.....(excuse me while I grab a tissue!) </i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i>And of course I wouldn't be me without pictures of the carnage... Oh and by the way, does anyone know where I can get a grill for dirt cheap?</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4VmZLtkz3fQ/T6cVitO6EzI/AAAAAAAAAIo/PS4tLkvlh-I/s1600/100_5528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4VmZLtkz3fQ/T6cVitO6EzI/AAAAAAAAAIo/PS4tLkvlh-I/s320/100_5528.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The carnage I left behind</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eeN7JBGygt4/T6cVujl2YJI/AAAAAAAAAIw/73LnYKfg4lc/s1600/100_5527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eeN7JBGygt4/T6cVujl2YJI/AAAAAAAAAIw/73LnYKfg4lc/s320/100_5527.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the knobs that melted off</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ibbWyaGbieE/T6cV5Or3wmI/AAAAAAAAAI4/chZJ8mS8rCU/s1600/100_5529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ibbWyaGbieE/T6cV5Or3wmI/AAAAAAAAAI4/chZJ8mS8rCU/s320/100_5529.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A miscellaneous plastic piece from the grill</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T2E70glt4VM/T6cWEuFAL4I/AAAAAAAAAJA/iBnQPBu_YO0/s1600/100_5530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T2E70glt4VM/T6cWEuFAL4I/AAAAAAAAAJA/iBnQPBu_YO0/s320/100_5530.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And of course the other knob fell off and melted to the bottom. It was apparently not ready to let go</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-57413354363976296172012-04-26T23:24:00.002-07:002012-04-26T23:36:12.108-07:00Where It Started And Giving Thanks<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i>They say one never forgets their roots and I have always prided myself on living that statement to the fullest, but recently it was brought to my attention that I have forgotten my roots so to speak. I'm not talking about my African American or Mexican heritage. What I had forgotten is the roots of what made my incredible misadventures so incredible. I would like to take this time to remember this mother birds roots and in doing so also give thanks because its through the support of others especially one woman in particular that made this bird and my misadventures so incredible. You might even say my misadventures are Fabbylous!</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i>My misadventures got their start on facebook of all places. It was shortly after one of my oldest and dearest friends made the bravest decision of her life. It meant her children would not have the life all mothers dream of with the mother and father living harmoniously in the same dwelling, but her choice also meant her children would have the kind of mother they deserved to have. Like the karen White song goes "I don't want to be a fool for love. I'd rather be alone than be unhappy" She would have rather been alone and been a strong mother to her children than remain with their father and be an unhappy shell of a person. Not that her ex is a bad person. In fact apart they are very good friends but sometimes good friends don't make a good couple. They got two beautiful and unique wonder kids out of there attempt at taking their friendship to another level.</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i>As I was saying after her life changing decision, she flew on over to my nest to rest her weary life wings for a spell and in doing so the misadventures started. It began with our comical take on daily life taking care of her clan of two misfits as well as mine in the same household. Each night one of us would post an evening installment of our misadventures. It was thoughts of those status installments that motivated me to create this blog.</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i>To my best friend since the 3rd life time the ever Fabbylous Tanita, I thank you for inspiring this and hope to one day soon see your posts about Fabby and the Wonder kids.</i></b></span>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-33247745547879688392012-03-25T20:51:00.001-07:002012-03-25T20:56:24.367-07:00Mom's Say She Darnedest Things<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i>This misadventure is brought to by my children. Ah those wonder kids they bring such hilarity to my life and they are the inspiration for a lot of the motherly sayings I have in life. I have comprised a list of those that have brought great humor to me and have really helped me to navigate some pretty interesting misadventures thus far. I will also give a brief explanation as to how the saying came to fruition so as not to create a misadventure in reading this blog entry.</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><br />
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<ol>
<li><b><i><u>"Ask me no requests and I'll give you no denied's!"</u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"> This one came up just tonight after Little Miss requested an iPhone and Mr. Man requested and Ipod Touch. When I suggested they start saving their money, Mr. Man whined that he wanted to use our(mine and cowboys) money because waiting to use his would take to long</span></i></b></li>
<li><b><i><u>"Don't go digging in your nose unless you expect to find gold so you can help with the mortgage!"</u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"> This one came about during the nose picking phase I had to endure with Mr. Man. There aint nothing pretty about a 7 year olds boogers!</span></i></b></li>
<li><b><i><u>"I'll give you a round of applause on your behind if you don't stop whining!"</u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"> This was said on a day Mr. Man was more ornery than usual. I had reached my breaking point when I said this. The straw that broke the camels back for me to declare this was him whining that his sister didn't cheer and clap for him when he did well on the nintendo Wii.</span></i></b></li>
<li><b><i><u>"It's illegal for minors to have whine in their system so knock it off or I'll have you arrested!" </u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"> This was said after this mom had had enough of the whining.</span></i></b></li>
<li><b><i><u>"That which does not kill me better run pretty damn fast"</u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"> This is a phrase for when mom has reached her limit. It gives the kids a nice warning to run and run real fast because mom is a coming.</span></i></b></li>
<li><b><i><u>"I'm gonna pretend I didn't just see that because if I acknowledge it, you father is gonna come home to discover he doesn't have children anymore" </u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"> You don't know how many times I have said this after catching the wonder kids doing exactly what they know they are not supposed to.</span></i></b></li>
</ol>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Finally my favorite which I felt didn't need to be on any list. I call it the mom answering service. For those times when your kids have driven past crazy and you just don't want to be bothered anymore. Simply recite this phrase... </i></b></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i>"Hi you have reached mom</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i>I am not able to take your whine, complaint or request at this time</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i>Please leave a message after the beep</i></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i>BEEEEEEEEP!!!!!!!!!</i></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000;"><b><i>This works perfectly because your kids will be so annoyed they will growl and angry sigh and walk away and not talk to you for the rest of the day giving you a nice afternoon of peace and quiet!</i></b></span></div>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-81535704626233609332012-03-21T17:19:00.003-07:002012-03-21T17:19:53.274-07:00Just Another Day Living In The Hood<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>*disclaimer* in this misadventure I make mention of my mom. Because of her love of frogs I have aptly given her the blog nickname of Mother Frog</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i>As I type this latest misadventure the theme song to the Mister Rogers show is playing in my head. As I continue on you the irony in this will have you in stitches! </i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i>As a city girl born and raised the lights, sounds, and overall chaos of city is something that I miss since being out in the quiet of the suburbs. So I would like to take this opportunity to thank the neighbors that live in that duplex two doors down, for bringing the city to me. Nothing makes me tear up with nostalgia like the tale Mother Frog told me, of the the cops being at your home at 1 in the morning because of the fight that ensued on your property, I love how loudly your adolescent children use every foul word in the dictionary. I can't wait for my kids to experience knowing those words at such a young age as I did when I lived in the rough neighborhoods of the city. The burning smell that isn't cigarettes or a bonfire that emanate from your front stoop as I walk by gives me that feeling of city home that I love.</i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i>Yes folks in this installment it was just another day living in the hood of the suburbs for Mother Cardinal.</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i>In tribute to my neighbors that live in the duplex I present this song...</i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-199349348162746392012-03-11T18:42:00.000-07:002012-03-11T18:42:20.304-07:00The Misadventures of a Photo Shoot<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #20124d; font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 800;">*Disclaimer* I will be mentioning others in this blog. To protect their identity I will refer to my niece and nephew as Red and Bubba and the photographers son as Mini Muffin. Her fiance I will simply call her Handsome Assistant.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-weight: bold;">On this installment of my misadventures, Little Miss and Mr. Man A.K.A. the wonder kids, get their photo taken. I should first inform you all that from time to time, my misadventures will include a shameless plug. Hey if a service or in this case a photographer is that damn good, I'm gonna open my loud mouth and tell the world about it!</span></i></span><div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i>For years my best friend, and Godmother to my daughter, Lou and I have been talking about getting our kids photos done together. My kids call her auntie and her kids call me auntie and they call cowboy uncle. So getting a photo of all of the "cousins" is something we have always wanted to do. Life however, as it always seems to do(damn that no good thing called life!) often pops up when you don't want it too and either she or I were not in a financial situation to afford photos or we just couldn't find the time to schedule a session. This is where my new personal photographer comes in. I shouldn't really call her my personal photographer since anyone can hire her services once she gets everything in order and officially goes into business in June. However if I didn't have to share her services and could keep her talent all to myself I surly would and I'm not just saying that because I happen to have known her since Kindergarten with our first meeting in life involving her informing me that a bee stung her on the butt. She truly is that talented and took the time to nurture her talent and perfecting it before sharing it.</i></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i>Her business name and slogan reads "LIFEography by Brandie, capturing the magic of life's everyday moments" and boy does she ever! I already knew I had some good looking children but those photos she took of them make the wonder kids look nothing less than beautiful. I imagine the only other time I will see my kids look as handsome and beautiful is on each of their wedding days, though I am sure having her take their picture every year they will always look spectacular! When she says the best and favorite photos she likes to take are the unposed ones, she means it and she captures those unposed opportunities perfectly! You know a photographer is good when the sneak preview she posts on Facebook drums up a new client. When I met with her this past weekend to view the photo, we discussed her doing a photo shoot of Cowboy and I seeing as we only have one photo of us as a couple. She may not have noticed it but their was a look of ease on his face when she described how the session would simply involve her with her camera observing us in a location of our choosing(she gave the scenario of Cowboy and I sitting on a park bench talking)and capturing us just being us. Those of you reading this that know me have seen the one couple photo of us and know that Cowboy does not do well in posed photo's. </i></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i>The location for the shoot was perfect. A place called The Dutch Oven, where Lou and I used to hang out in high school, had recently been rebuilt and we thought what better way to bring life full circle than to have the kids photo's done there. In true preteen manor, Little Miss and my niece Red acted as if having their photo taken would plummet their popularity stock, while Mr. Man and Bubba kept wanting to pose wielding sticks in samurai sword style. My photographers Handsome assistant was kept on his toes by their son Mini Muffin who kept trying to run towards the woods. There was lots of chaos and our photographer had to do plenty of coaxing to get some sibling photos but all in all it went great. Knowing us for so long meant she wouldn't run screaming from the location after being frightened by our wild bunch. I could go type forever about this misadventure but instead I would rather show you just how much fun we had!</i></b></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Man</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sibling love Cardinal Clan style!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bubba</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Red</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sibling love Red Bubba style</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BFF's and Cousins for life</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All the kids together</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BFF's for life!</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-61390942272495580942012-03-07T01:57:00.003-08:002012-03-07T01:57:28.099-08:00Ode To The Preteen and everyones favorite "The Mom Song"!!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>I would like share with you all if I may, a small I have written dedicated to the preteen in my life. Some of you may be also suffering from this affliction known as the preteen so I am sure these words will ring true for you also. This song will be sung in 4 part anger, 5 part annoyance and 6 part frustration. Throughout the song I would like you to note how the anger's section is very similar to the annoyances section. Also take note at how much stronger the volume of the frustration section is compared to the other sections.</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>First a brief warm up... "Grr, Ugh, AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>O loverly preteen</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>you are the light of my soul</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>now please please tell me</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>Why must you frustrate me so?</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>I beg and I plead but no completed homework or chores do I see</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>I beg of you to release my sanity</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>You defiance is great</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>and your attitude much severe</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>If you don't cut it out you are going to force me to runaway from here!</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>Thank you</i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>I hope you all like that little song. I try to make life as a mom as creative as I can. </i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>Now I would like to share with you all, a little something that I had the pleasure of viewing when it was posted on my online mom's group. This comedian who also happens to be a mom decided to take everything a mom would say to her children and put it to the music of the William Tell Overture. I hope you all get a kick out of it as much as I did the first time I heard it!</i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-91288016745569991582012-03-05T21:50:00.002-08:002012-03-06T10:43:43.620-08:00A Tale Of False Advertisement<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>In todays misadventures, the Cardinal house was in true Monday form. Children and parents alike coming down from the weekend. Monday night bedtime is particularly a fun time. That is when the epic battles of trying to get a 7 year old and a preteen to take a bath occur. A word to the wise, never tell a preteen girl that she needs to take a bath because she stinks. Trust be you don't want to know what the outcome of that will be! </i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>In typical Cardinal children fashion, Little Miss and Mr. Man were playing ruler of the bathroom sink also known as fighting over who would get to brush their teeth first. I tried to do what any normal stay at home mom whose husband works nights does. I promptly turned up the volume on the TV and ignored the chaos going. I figure they were both still alive so I didn't need to intervene. Besides all the "experts" say it's good for kids to work things out amongst themselves and being the good mom that I am, I chose to follow the "experts". </i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Let me tell you there is nothing the like sound of a crash and a screaming child to make you wanna smack the "experts" with very books they have written! It was very apparent that it was kung fu mama time and I needed to whip some young grasshoppers into bedtime shape! Why is it that when the kids see mom approaching they both need to speak all at once or on the rare occasions they do let each other get a word in, they speak faster than an auctioneer? Parents of only children will know all about this last one. I being an only child for all of my childhood and most of my adult life, remember speaking that fast when trouble was amiss.</i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>Children were screeching at me and of course the dog picks that moment to need to go outside and the two fatty cats start yowling for more water. So I closed my eyes, clicked my heels 3 times for good measure and cried out rather loudly as only I could, that one simple phrase that mom's have been calling out for years. Not "Lord Jesus Help Me!" though looking back, calling for him would have been more reliable. "CALGON TAKE ME AWAY" amazingly a brief moment of stillness came over me. I opened my eyes and realized that I had merely yelled loud enough to drown out the sounds of my children's tirade.</i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>After promptly marching Frick and Frack up to bed I sat down at my computer I wanted to find the creators of Calgon and berate them for the false hope they bring to mothers daily. I watched an old Calgon commercial on Youtube. I saw how the tired and frazzled housewife found herself in a luxurious bath after Crying out for Calgon to rescue her from the chaos. I am sure when that first commercial hit, mother across the nation were cheering in delight that there was finally an instant escape to the pressures of life that are bestowed upon us daily. What a let down it must have been for those mothers that viewed those first commercials.</i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>So now here I sit blogging to you all in blog reader land with a letter ready to send to Calgon saved on my computer. Do I dare send it and create another misadventure for myself?</i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b><i>What do you think?</i></b></span>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-29461197434896052022012-03-04T17:54:00.004-08:002012-03-05T04:47:53.730-08:00And On The Seventh Day, She Didn't Rest...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><b><i>This installment involves a collection of misadventures starting with an unmedicated Mr. Man upset that his sister didn't tell him good job to the eye roll of a preteen after hearing something she deemed annoying coming from my lips. It says in the bible that on the seventh day God rested. No where in that great book does it say when us mothers rested.</i></b></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><b><i>Misadventure #1 involved a very unusual alarm clock... </i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><b><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My family is one strange bunch so it's no surprise that we have had a Homer Simpson alarm clock or the fact that my cell phone alarm clock plays a cheesy 50's sounding good morning song sounds like it belongs as the theme song of a morning news program. This morning however my alarm was rather strange. I say strange because I wasn't supposed to have an alarm go off. </i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><b><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The weekends are a day that Homer is kept quiet and my cell phone is on silent. This morning however the blood curdling screams of my son jerked me out of bed and in Samurai mom stance, until I heard the oh so loud yell of Cowboy screaming "What the hell is going on in there!?" </i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><b><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I gathered what little senses I had available this fine morning and stormed down the stairs to investigate the chaos that for once I was not in charge of. Mr. Man came running up to me with a very tear stained face. He and Little Miss had been playing just dance on the Wii and he broke his record on one of his favorite songs for this game. He looked to his sister for the praise and glory he was sure was to come and got nothing but a typical preteen uninterested in life expression. </i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><b><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> After inquiring if she was gonna say anything, he got a response but it wasn't the one he was hoping for. Some how an "Oh yaay!" spoken in a sarcastic and very monotone voice just doesn't scream encouragement the way an enthusiastic "Awesome!" would.</i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><b><i>Misadventure #2 will is best put in one name only ... "Miss Betty"</i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><b><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Thats right, for the umpteenth time of the umpteenth day of the umpteenth week, Miss Betty was making her daily visit to my home. She makes being the good Christian that I am striving to be, extremely hard. I'd like to tell her just once that today is not a good day to visit but then her whole sad sordid life story of betrayal replays in my head and for some odd reason I hear my bff Tanita's stepfather Jeff's voice in my head calling out "Thats the Devil in you!" Which I always take to mean just let the poor unfortunate woman thru the door.</i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><b><i>Misadventure #3 turned out to be an extremely fun experience. Ever since our girls were little, My bff Lou and I have talked about getting our kids pictures done together. We have known each other since high school(about 17 years now!). She is my daughters god mother and her kids call me auntie and my kids call her auntie. Of course life always seems to happen when planning things like this and whenever we would decide to partake in this activity, something would come up for one of us that financially prevented us from doing so. <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>This past Sunday we were finally able to make it happen. A friend of ours from high school is a semi pro photographer(she just has some loose ends to tie up to make things official) and is trying to build up her portfolio with more photo's of others outside her own kids and family. So we asked her to do a photo shoot for us. Everything went excellent. You can be sure that as soon as I get the photos in I will be telling you all in blog reader land all about it. </i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#660000;"><b><i>So there you have if folks. While most spend their seventh day in peace and solitude, I spend mine doing what I do best, having misadventures and loving every minute of it!</i></b></span></div>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-7410186185091734962012-02-29T23:30:00.004-08:002012-02-29T23:58:26.986-08:00Being a real housewife... The incorrect way<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>Todays misadventure involves me coming to the realization that no matter how hard I try, I am just not doing this whole stay at home mom gig correctly....</i></b></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>Wednesday is lazy day for this head of house hold affairs and todays lazy activity involved watching the season finale of "The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills", The Season premiere of "The Real Housewives of Orange County", and watching the Ladies of the "The Housewives of Atlanta" round out their trip to South Africa. </i></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-family: verdana; font-size: medium; "><b><i>As they played the preview for next weeks Housewives of Orange County, I came to the realization that somewhere along the line I got the rules of being a housewife all mixed up. </i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>All those years of volunteering at my kids school, never once did it occur to me that what I was really supposed to be doing was going out to dinner and other various gatherings with my girlfriends. When my bff comes over to visit with me while we await the return of our boys from school, we should be out getting manicures and pedicures while sipping wine and champagne, not sitting at my dining room table each of us going through the various paper work of our lives.</i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>I called another dear friend that lives in a city north from me and demanded that she pack her bags and get ready for our trip to some exotic place, because after all we are real housewives and as such instead of dealing with our families, we needed to be in some foreign land dealing with which one of us gets to do the next body shot off of the hunky bartender or maybe it was deciding which one of us the hunky bartender does the body shot off of, or maybe it was if we should do one off of each other, I'm not really sure. </i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>All I do know is that while all the other housewives in Beverly Hills, OC, New York, Atlanta, and even D.C. and Miami, are doing things the correct way, I in my Minnesota home, continue to do things incorrectly. You know, keeping my house clean without the help of a maid, cooking the family meals(no chefs for me!), and raising my kids without the use of a nanny.</i></b></span></div>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-83987543122580670232012-02-28T12:11:00.002-08:002012-02-29T23:26:56.648-08:00I Truly Am Fat!!!<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;color:#660000;"><b><i>I just saw a recent picture of myself in a bathing suit. Let me just say it was yucky!!!! It's a good thing I am getting myself reacquainted with my SparkPeople account and have taken up exercising to the game "Just Dance", on the kids Nintendo Wii. </i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;color:#660000;"><b><i>I will say this is a rather proud thing for me to write about because in the past when I have noticed how unappealing I have looked I would complain about it then go right back to warming the couch cushions with my ass. </i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;color:#660000;"><b><i>Today was different. I really took notice of how not in shape I am and doing something about it. Though being round is a shape, just not a healthy one according to Little Miss...</i></b></span></div>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-38556280492259242702012-02-23T18:35:00.006-08:002012-02-29T23:29:48.599-08:00Sorry For Party Rocking<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b><i>If you haven't guessed by the title of todays installment, I will be delving into the mind of the group LMFAO. Their Party Rock Anthem has been the preferred song of Little Miss and Mr. Man as of late. I decided I had better get up off my lazy butt and do the good parenting thing of listening to the song and actually paying attention to the lyrics to ensure nothing inappropriate is being said, so </i></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b><i>I figure what better way to do so than to watch the video on Youtube. Not only will I be doing what I as a parent am supposed to but also be visually entertained(I hoped). </i></b></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>The song itself is very upbeat and danceable and nothing in the lyrics indicate that Bitches and Hoes in different area codes need to take their shirts of and spin them while dropping it like it's hot and shaking their money makers. Already I was liking the song!</i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>Then it got to the part in the video where they call out "Everyday I'm Shuffling!" It was after that line that they proceeded to do engage in just about every dance move that I and my friends had ever done during our 4 years of high school! They were doing the Running Man and the Kid~n~Play The Watusi, and The Charleston. Granted the last two dances were not new to us but thanks to a cheesy move called swing kids, at least the Charleston became popular again.</i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>I decide to play the video for little miss and explain to her that I can do all the dances the lead performers of the group did. After showing her just how well her mom can get down with my bad self, do you know what this child had the nerve to do? She let out and exasperated sigh while shaking her head, reached up and patted the top of mine and told me don't ever do that again! I was floored. I showed her the video again this time breaking down the dance moves and explaining to her what they were called in my day. Again came the exasperated sigh. </i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Mom!" she exclaimed. "Those guys say everyday I'm shuffling, not every day I'm doing the Watusi, Charleston, Running Man and kid~n~Play!"</i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>I asked why it was that those two guys as well as she and her friends were allowed to partake in those dances of my youth but I was banned from doing so. Again do you know what that Little Miss of mine had the nerve to say? Her exact words were...</i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Well... #1 you're old!"</i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>So there you have it folks. That was my misadventure in dancing and all I can say is sorry for Party Rocking...</i></b></span></div>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-5643267546926124412011-10-04T06:30:00.003-07:002012-02-29T23:24:22.287-08:00A Strange New Instrument<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>So a couple of weeks ago my spanish speaking neighbor stopped by my house for a little visit. During our conversation Mr. Man interrupted with an interesting conversation of his own. Here is how it all played out...</i></b></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>Mr. Man: "Mom I wanna learn how to play the Vulva!"(His voice was full of excitement)</i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>Me: "You wanna play the what?!"</i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>Mr. Man: "The Vulva mom!" ( he seemed annoyed thinking I hadn't heard him the first time)</i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>My neighbor: "I didn't know that was an instrument, I think I need to check my english language dictionary. (English is her second language and she was laughing while she said this)</i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>Me: "Let me process what you just asked me for a moment. You wanna play the what?!"</i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>At this point Little Miss comes out the house cracking up laughing. "You're not saying it right!" she exclaimed. </i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><b><i>They had been watching video clips on YouTube. In one of the videos a man known as the "Mystery Guitar Man" plays a plastic horn known as the vuvazela(pronounced voo-vuh-zel-uh) So Mr. Man looks at me and asks "Then whats the vulva mom? It sure sounds like it would be fun to play!" Me who never gets embarrassed turned bright red and told him I would explain it to him when he was 8. Now knowing him and his memory at his 8th birthday party in front of all the party guests he'll call out "Remember mom you told me you would tell me what the vulva was when I turned 8!"</i></b></span></div>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6352936278299940341.post-3167016965316144862011-02-08T11:23:00.002-08:002012-02-23T19:08:38.970-08:00A Walk On The 10 Year Old SIde Of Life<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;color:#660000;"><b><i>There truly is something quite comical in having a 10 year old daughter with Asperger Syndrome. Little Miss's views on life never cease to amaze me! One day she observed Cowboy getting upset with me about something. She felt daddy was being mean to me about the situation and proclaimed that if her husband talked to her that way she would just get a new one. Just the other day she proclaimed that if she went on a date with a boy and found out he liked to date more than one girl at a time, she would whop him with her purse! Her goals in life are to be a famous broadway performer, a veterinarian, a preacher, and a whole list of other professions which is says she will be an expert at. I asked what she was gonna do when it was time for her to become and mommy and have babies. She looked me square in the face standing nice and tall and confidently said... "My husband will stay at home and take care of the kids and if he complains I will go out and find a new one who will!" Now that right there is a priceless statement. God I love that girl and future men of the world beware because she won't take no crap, from you, she'll just go out and get a new one!</i></b></span></span>The Deviant Momhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06855887765530747814noreply@blogger.com0