walking, farah, man boobs, and pouting mom....my family

I don't know if you know what this picture is? It is what my little family looked like after Jones took some of his first steps! That's right, we have a little walking Jones (sick...that's my child's name, not a penis! Don't be a perv...Remember when people use to use that word?)!
I am a work at home mom. I do this because I want to spend time with my sweet baby and get to see moments like this. Tonight I worked outside my home for two hours, what did my son do? Took his first two steps for his father!! That's right...well guess what son...that is the last time I let you suck on my boob. If you love your dad so much go suck on his and see how you like it! Anyway, while I was playing with Jones and pouting about not being able to see his first two steps, guess what? He stood up from where he was sitting, took three steps, and then grabbed what he wanted to get to!! I was so happy! He's the cutest ever!! Yeah for Jones!

And yes, Jones does have a six hair mohawk and Ryan does have farah facet hair. Viva Charlie's Angels!

The best show in town...my butt?

We have a little hatch-back Hyundai Accent. A cute little silver guy. To get Jones in the car and into his car seat is quite a feat indeed. I must crawl behind the seats, squat down, balance myself on the ball of my feet (Not enough room for flat footed balancing) and lift him up in his chair (all this while holding him in my arms...he's 25 pounds and wiggly!!). Crazy, I know.

Today when we were leaving the grocery store he was very hungry and a little fussy so I decided to feed him after I got him strapped into his car seat. He was in his seat...I grabbed his biscuit/cookie thing...Resumed my squatting position...fed him...And then half way stood up. I was standing in this little car, completely in an "L" shape, bent at the waist. My bum was facing the windshield (actually, Practically on the windshield) and I was leaning over talking to Jones. He was frustrated with something and so I remained in this position for a good 2-3 minutes. All was good...or so I thought. Today was wearing a long dress, which I guess while squatting had somehow hiked up around my tummy, slip and all. For two minutes I had been standing with my underwear covered butt exposed...I am pretty sure I had a fantasic weggie to boot.
How did I discover this? It wasn't until I heard a truck start behind me and I peered through my legs to see an older couple in the truck part directly nose to nose with my car. They were trying to look like they hadn't noticed my underwear stuffed crack exposed, but you could tell they were a little bit shocked my the whole thing. I reached up, picked my weggie, pulled my dress back over my buns and and looking like nothing had happened I calmly walked around to my car door, all the while smiling at the older couple and mouthing, "have a nice day". I got into my seat and drove away...To my knowledge the couple just sat there starring. I hope they got home tonight.

For Lisa and for that guy that comments on her blog as Ron Burgundy

Anchorman, anchorman, oh how I love thee
A poem I will write, a good one, you'll see
This is for Lisa, for sticking by me.
a poem in the voice of Ron Burgundy...

I should climb a mountain and yell out loud
I should tour the country side, of my band, I'd be proud.
that's right, a family band is what I would form
With dancing and fluting, and maybe some porn?
Our band will be neet-o, our band will be swell,
"Right on gang" to each other we will tell.
We will make lots of money, we'll be a big deal
Like rich mahogany and leather bound books we will feel.
The ratings will place us on top, number one
Of the losers, numero 2, we will make lots of fun.
But in our future I will now predict,
a simple act of littering, will make us just sick
We will fall from the top, fall very hard
Why did I read the work f### on that cue card?
A glass box we will be in, one filled with emotion
We will find out the milk is not the magic potion,
actually my friend we soon will find out
that milk is a bad choice when the sun is about
The one thing that all you should know
is how to bag a classy lady...this is how it should go
Don't try to use desire, or touching or wit
Give her two tickets to the gun show, and see how she likes it
Bed her quick, is my mantra, my ticket to life
"Take me to pleasure town" I'll hear from my wife
Once you find love you'll love what you hear
"I want to be on you" I will say without fear
You better be good at talking to me too
cause I don't understand Spanish, it is all just poopoo
Speaking of poop, what's that my sweet brick?
you eat An-y-thi-ng you want...that's rather sick.
Yogging is great, when your witht he one you love
like number one rating sent from above
"I will fight you", if this poem isn't one that you love,
I will straight up murder your ass.


*This poem was written late at night. It was not spell checked or edited. This is in raw form and was not changed one stinking bit. You are welcome. You. are. welcome.

To squeeze ones own poop

Ryan Changed Jones' poopy diaper. When he was finished he left the poop filled diaper on the ground next to where he had been changing him. Seeing his mistake he quickly picked up the dirty thing and threw it away. Close one!
A few minutes later I was watching Jones play. Hmmm..."what is that in his hand?" I though. "oh a cookie. No he doesn't have cookies like that. Wait, why does he have brown playdough?...Oh my...Poop!" I scream. "Jones is Squeezing his own poop!" Jones had in his hand what looked to be a brown/orange (you know the look, when a child mixes two colors of playdough together but doesn't blend well...lots of the dark color with streaks of the light. In this situation, lots of brown with some orange. Maybe pumpkin?) ball of playdough. It wasn't a smear of poop that the had gotten. No my friends, he had in his hands a big round turd that had apparently rolled out of his diaper when his dad picked it up. And he was squeezing....just sitting there squeezing it. Needless to say it had squished between all of his fingers and it was covering his hands.
I picked him up...."Ryan, get a baby wipe...wipe it off! Wipe it off!" I yell as I grab his hand, which he is trying to put into his mouth. Ryan, being dazed and rather confused by this horrifying things that is happening (all in about 5 sec I might add), runs to the kitchen sink and somehow dumps a whole pan of water all over himself and the kitchen floor. "Ryan a baby wipe" I scream "Not a pan of water!" He got the wipes and started trying to get the wads of poop off his hands...Jones starts to scream and shake his hands, flinging balls of poop all over me. We get most of it off Jones, take off his poop covered shirt and Ry takes him in the bathroom to wash off the excess residue. Some how while in there Jones falls in the sink and soaks what little clothing he still had on. I try to clean the poop off myself, making a mental note to change my clothes as soon as I could.
Later that night Arwen and I were doing some shopping. I think we went to the mall or something. On the way home I looked down and realized I was still wearing the poop pants! Not only that, but they still had some dried poop on them! It was a low point in my life. I am cool with sleeping in pee covered sheets, but wearing my waste covered clothes in public is something I am still not use to....Oh I miss the days of not smelling like a mixture of boob milk and feces!

*I want to mention that during this situation Arwen helped my discreetly using some wipes to pick up the extra turd from the ground. Thank you Arwen.

Do you know Stan Granberg?? Or should I say Richard Foster...

Is it just me or is Stan Granberg trying to change his image so he looks exactly like Richard Foster (or as I like to call him "Dick Fo")? If you have seen Stan recently you will notice there are many similarities. Too many similariteis if you ask me. Infact I have never seen them in the same place together...Hmmm...

What if Stan Killed Dick Fo and he wants to pretend he is him and take all the credit for writting killer books!? Blast you Stan Granberg! Blast you! This gives me a great thought....

Watch out Oprah...I might just pull a Stan Granberg on your ass!

The Greatest Game Ever Played

We must apologize. Ryan, Arwen, and Jessica must all apologize. It began as a joke, it turned into obsession, and it ended in pain. Some have called him bipolar, but we like to call him tripolar. It no longer matters, for he is dead now, killed off by his creators, nay, by his very own personalities. Here is his story:

It was a late Thursday night and very little had happened in the blog world that day. The weekend was coming and little more was to be expected. Boredom ensued. Ryan, Arwen, and Jessica jokingly came up with a plan. Find a picture we would. Give him a name we would. Create a completely artificial blogmunity member we did. We looked upon our creation and exclaimed that it was good.

There was brilliance behind the mystery. A purpose behind the bloody boy...Prepare yourself for a story that will shrink your balls to the size of raisins (results may vary).

Have you ever tried to google Monkey Knife Fight? You should try it. Go ahead. Try it. Do you notice someone? That's right people. Its none other than our dear sweet departed Raj VanAllen. We think that there is a need for some clarification. Raj is not a real name. It could be a real name, but the Raj that we all know and hate is not a real name. It's a heartfelt acronym for Ryan, Arwen, and Jessica. Are you catching on? We were bored one night and thought it would be terribly clever and even more terribly funny if we combined forces and created a new blogger. Arwen had a sudden recurrence of Monkey Knife Fight obsession, so she googled it. There was Raj. What better picture to go on that one of a pretty little boy covered in blood? So our story begins...

Everyone had great ideas of who this guy would be. Ryan created the name. Jessica created the attitude (or the direction that it would head in). Together, we created the profile and then... Raj's very first blog. From there, he took on a mind of his own. Because we all had the password, we commented on blogs without the others’ knowing-- so at times, Raj was real. He was real in our hearts. WWRD. No, not word, What Would Raj Do. It became our mantra. If Tara and Eric went camping naked, what would Raj say? If Raj ran out of ideas to blog about, who would he steal a post from? If Raj loved slurpees, what kind would he like and what would be the most disturbing thing he could say concerning them without truly offending someone personally. We figured that Raj would simply be a little joke. Something to do when our ideas for blogs wouldn’t fit into the genre of our own blogs. But then, Raj’s profile view’s surpassed all of our expectations. He had almost half of our own (Ryan and Arwen) profile views and actually more than Jessica (lets all work on this)… all over the course of a simple weekend. Raj was a genius.

He had friends that included Stacy and Tobin. Who is Stacy? Raj asks that . Through some research and much planning, we stumbled across a young lady named Stacy who was from Northern California, not too far from San Jose where Raj lived, yet far enough away from Lisa in San Diego that they would never meet. We linked to her and called her our friend. Stacy knows nothing.

One morning though, Raj got out of hand. He made comments that were inappropriate. He took a joke too far. Perhaps some of you got some of those comments... "I lost my virginity ______. It was ______." It was funny to us (or at least to Arwen, it was funny). Unfortunately, we are the type to carry on a joke about 3 days after it stops being funny. Some were outraged. Some sent direct e-mails complaining about Raj and defending the people they were aimed at. Some people had to be called personally so that they did not have heart attacks and rage and kill innocent puppies, husbands, or pedestrians. This is when we decided that it would be best if Raj were no longer in our blogmunity. Our joke had gone on long enough. Hearts had to be broken. So, our dear Raj signed off forever, but not before he apologized to everyone for hurting feelers.

So now you know the story. Raj was, and remains to be, the best blog joke of all time. We sort of Reign Supreme in that aspect... you know… thinking of it and all…

The moral of the story is that the blogmunity is a place of honesty, authenticity, and of sharing each others funny stories, their sorrows, and their random thoughts. Raj broke all those rules. And for that we, and he, apologize.

R.A.J out.

Two and a half feet + two and a half feet = Arwen

Interesting fact for today.
My son had his 9 month check-up and he is 2 and 1/2 feet tall. While telling Arwen about this today, a thought came to me...."arwen aren't you 5 feet tall?" "Yep"

So, if you put my son on top of himself you get Arwen! That's right, two little Jones' = one little

Arwen. How cute is that??