A few minutes after diapering Baby Nugget yesterday, I found him wet-bottomed. Had he sat in spilled water? Did the diaper leak? Well, yes it had, because that’s what happens when you put on the diaper inside-out.
Those picnic blankets? I want those to go to here.
Oh yeah, and I wish Kate great strength. Keep your chin up, momma. I’m rootin’ for you.
I thought it was time to introduce you all to Nugget’s girlfriend…Sweet Baby J.
He luvs her and kisses her whenever they’re together.
She’s not quite into the level of PDA that he is, so I’m trying to work with him on expressing his adoration through other means, which, at his age, means sharing pretzel rods and toys with her.
I’m in love with my little Nugget, too, and thankfully, I love and welcome his PDA.
AND you all know this little boy, Jojo.
I think this photo was taken right after he discovered a “someone print” (footprint) in the mud and right before he asked for the one millionth time that day if he could play with the hose.
I had a dream, nay night terror, last night about having an affair with (check your gag reflex) John Travolta. It was not good. He was not good. If you know what I mean. In fact, at one point, I said to him, “maybe you can just have sex with other people, and we’ll be together for the press,” and that was MY suggestion. How sweet am I?
I’ve stopped feeling like I need to vomit now that I’m a good 12 hours past that nightmare.
The Real Housewives of (Insert Large Metro Area) are too blame. I’m glad my dream didn’t include a need for false bubbies or other scary examples of plastic surgery. Is anyone else watching the latest batch? If so, can you guess which woman I’m obsessed with and why?
How is it that I haven’t been invited to a surprise party in oh let’s see… I cannot even remember if I ever have (note to party planner if I have: your party was not memorable)… and yet I have been invited to TWO surprise parties for next Saturday. Two. On the same day.
Also. Is it ironic or just moronic that I’ve been spending lots of time generating and organizing donations for someone in need in our community then ran dangerously close to having a negative balance in our bank account?! And by dangerously close I mean, ok fine, we were in the negatory zone. WHICH also means: hi. no more contests here at hollowsquirrel because the postage and envelope costs, not to mention my awesome prizes (yes, I realize they suck). Anyway, I’m puttting the smackdown on all frivolous spending, so no more spontaneous trips to the Gap Outlet, Dunkin Donuts or (gasp) Target.
I had to test myself today by ONLY buying diapers at Target today. I did it (and let me tell you: those magazines just SCREAM TO ME “BUY ME BUY ME YOU MUST FIND OUT IF JON IS REALLY CHEATING ON KATE” and you know what? They never tell us. It’s enough to drive me mad. Even though it’s not my business.*).
We’re not eating trapped chipmunks yet…we’re fine…we just stumbled into some Bad Timing and Unplanned Purchases and Oops I’m a Fucking Moron. And a $35 fee for being $10 in the hole, Bank of America…nice. Do you kiss your mom with those fees?
*But the “See Jon Cheating on Kate with this 23 Year Old” stories are much less offensive than the “Kate is an Atrocious Mommy” stories. Do you just want to burn down the magazine stands like I do? If I had eight kids, with six all one age, I can tell you, I wouldn’t be alive or at least in public life (i.e. mental institution) for people to judge. I do not have the mental fortitude to handle more than my own children, and on some days, I don’t think I’ll make it to the end of the day without going batshit crazy. Sure, Kate says things to her kids that aren’t fucking Barney perfect SOMETIMES, and I don’t know her, but I can guarantee at the end of her day, she regrets saying them…but more often than not, it’s more than apparent that she adores her children and tries her hardest to be patient and kind although I don’t know how she does it with all the NOISE and TALKING and OH MY GOD you should have seen my ears bleeding tonight at dinner with just my TWO kids. I’m getting all defensive of Kate, and I really think all moms should tell the haters to suck it. Leave her alone…especially people without kids– you can seriously just shut your judgehole.
Seriously. When did I get so bitter?
President Obama should add this to his priority lists: banning all forms of monokinis. I hate to be all Not In My Backyard, so instead I’ll be Not On My Body and Hopefully Not Through My Eyeball. I don’t want to wear or see monokinis. Monokinis…brought to you by the Evil that created stirrup pants and the word “whimsy.”
Also, I’ve decided to return the first, printed suit. You guys were pretty split on liking it or not, and since it lacked any boobal support, I’m risking an encounter with Douchebag Rick at the post office to return it. It’s that droopy.
The lovely Melissa sent me this fantastic book to take for a spin, and OH has it been fun. I’ll be honest, I hadn’t picked up a copy of their first book, and now plan on purchasing it. It’s great for young girls and grandmas alike…a little something for everyone, and I’m not just blowing smoke up your you-know-where. Oh no.
A set of these books would be amazing graduation gifts (be it high school or college) or housewarming gifts. They’re fun just to pick up and read through a couple of short chapters at a time. Melissa challenged me to try out one of the activities, blog about it and challenge you, faithful HollowSquirrel reader(s), to the same challenge I so valiantly tackled. I’ll be honest, it was difficult choosing just one task.
I plan on studying the Lacrosse rules before taking Jojo to the local high school match.
I’m going to use my leftover knitting skeins and the chapters on bracelet making to show the neighbor girl how to make bracelets and other projects so she (and the three others) STOP trying to sell rocks and START selling something people actually might buy. You’d think the stagnant supply of rocks would have tipped the kids off, but apparently, not. 
I think the book even just cleared up my lie/lay usage confusion. If you can say “place” in place of lie/lay, then you’ll want to use “lay.” There. Done. THANK YOU.
Since I had three prizes to mail out for a recent contest, I decided to try my hand at the Japanese art of wrapping called furoshiki.
I love almost all things Japanese (their public bathrooms are hideous), and finding this explanation of how to wrap and/or wrap and carry any and all shapes of things will be my new way of wrapping all future presents. I am in love with it. LOVE.
Please note: I used plastic tablecloth…not classy (as two of you winners will see when you receive them), but I was short on time and tall on plastic tablecloths (and the leftover fabric from cutting off my living room curtains).
All you need are some fabric squares — handkerchiefs or extra fabric — from like 18 inches square to, apparently, a bed sheet.
You can wrap things sleekly, like a traditional American wrap job, or you can create a satchel or hoboesque purse.
Try this: grab a handkerchief (unused). Put some snacks in there for your kid or yourself. Grab two adjacent corners and knot them together close to the ends. Do the same with the remaining two corners. Slip your fingers through the two handles you made and viola, carry away.
Do it. I dare ya, girl. And make sure you check out The Double-Daring Book for Girls next time you’re at the bookstore or online — I know you’ll find yourself completely immersed in subjects completely different from the ones I’ve discussed here and loving it.
And I double dare you to try your hand at furoshiki… post a picture of what you’ve wrapped with fabric and leave a comment with the link in these comments. Next week at this time, I’ll randomly pick a winner to receive a super special secret prize (no more saucy used books, I promise)! Go to it!
Remember my list to entice people back to reading my blog?
1. Have a contest with awesome used book prizes I scored the other day at the Farmer’s Market (note: not books about farms or markets!)
2. Just shut my burrito hole and blog already.
3. Post a picture of me in the two swimsuits I’ve purchased this year to see whether I should return them. I guess that would mean I should post two pictures, not one picture of me wearing both suits. That would be stupid. Actually this whole idea is stupid, but maybe it will get me to do a sit-up.
4. Tell you my most embarrassing moment of All Stacy Time. Yes, the one from Mexico.
5. Too late. You suck.
Before you begin, grab some shades to cut the glare coming off my legs. Also, let me help you by offering some words to use when a friend asks for your clothing advice by quoting my best friend, Smitty . Not only can she find the best deals, she also can tactfully tell me not to buy something by saying “it does nothing for you” instead of “if you want to highlight your pasty saddlebags, then YES! Keep it!” Trust me. Use them. They are your friends, much like breathmints and deoderant.
My most idiotic idea has come to fruition, and I’ve taken it an additional stupid step forward by taking pictures of all my bathing suits so you, my honest readers, can voluntarily burn your retinas help me make the best (of several bad) choices: This is the suit that started off my moronic and spontaneous offering to put my unaltered pasty pictures up on the web. But really? Is it worth keeping or returning?
I love the print on this suit, and so far, that’s about it. Things I wish were different: the straps are not adjustable, and I could use a little more support in the chest. I definitely don’t want pads in there, since I’m currently rocking the D cup size, and who knows…maybe these babies will shrink once the Nugget gives up the breastfeeding. I also which the material had a little more strength to it to shape my sides, if ya know what I mean. This is the one suit I can still return. What do you think?
And now onto the impulsive bikini buy. 
Sigh.
Horizontal stripes? Check. Ruffles? Check. Pasty, untoned bod? Check.
I think I must have been in my must have navy and white moment when I bought this, and even though I’m not a ruffles kind of girl (you might not be able to tell, but they’re along the bottom of the top and the top of the bottom…got that?), I kind of like it. I mean, I don’t look like one of the models in the Athleta catalog, but is it so bad that I need to toss it out? Please. I’m asking for your help.
Clearly, I need to invest in some self-tanner. Oh, fine, I already own some. I just need to pretend it doesn’t smell like pee. Am I the only person who thinks self-tanner smells like urine?
Onto the most boring suit of all time. I actually wore this dull red number on my honeymoon — could it be any less sexy? No. It can’t. Do you know why? Because it’s from Lands’ End, and they’re about as sexy as a high-necked Caroline Ingalls nightgown.
Scratch that. Ma Ingalls always looked beautiful at night when she’d let down her hair, and Pa would come in with his suspenders and tight pants and sweaty, tan face, and then the girls were right upstairs, so were they just quiet? Did they sneak out to the barn? I think I’ve gotten off track…
The good thing about this super dull and not so flattering tankini is that no matter what is going on, I’m confident there will be no wardrobe malfunction…and yes, I’ve been on the giving end of one horrific bathing suit malfunction incident (see list item #4).
The last bathing suit also comes from Lands’ End, and has some fat-squashing properties; fat-squashing AND top-lengthening, so it can become a little (wet) black (sausage-casing) dress.
Let me tell you something…trying to get out of this suit is a fucking workout (especially when wet), and it always seemed to happen when The Nugget was crying to be fed, and I’m contorting myself trying to free JUST ONE boob, and I swear, I’m blaming my bum shoulder on this suit. But it wasn’t cheap, so even if you vote it off the island, I’m not throwing it out.
As I say on the pic, I need to pull the side cord thingies to make it ride up a bit more, since it’s currently hitting at my second widest point (hott!). You can tell this was at the end of the photo session, as my rickety tripod, made up of all four Twilight books, another novel and a Kleenex box was starting to topple. Try and explain THAT camera accident to my husband.
What was the point of this lesson in humiliation? Should I keep the first suit? What others would you not barf on if I sat next to you at the pool while wearing them? Was I the only one who worried about where and when Caroline and Charles got their groove on? And finally: HollowSquirrel is not responsible for burnt retinas or other maladies caused from viewing this post. Good day.
Apparently, ShitFest 2009 is being held right now on our front porch! Please pass this information along to other non-bird-flu-carrying rats with wings in your area.
Who knew that last question was so taxing.
S’MORES, people, S’MORES. IN the microwave. Done. Congratulations Danielle! You’re brilliant and will receive a not-so-brilliantly written used book shortly. Was it worth it, I’m not so sure.
I’m grouchy. Did I need to tell you that? I’m going to go make some microwave s’mores, which, btw, are flipping awesome. Not as awesome as freshly baked chocolate chip cookies scraped into a bowl and covered with cold milk, but very tasty.
