It's Not A Baby, But It's Close

I’m not pregnant, nor am I having a child. Although, it’s a lot like that. I have something new to take care of,THE al.com - I’m not even joking. to nurse into an amazing… thing… and it’s all mine.

Well, some of it’s mine - just like that drooling bundle of love you call your own children. (I hate sharing)

As part of my Amanda Gets A Million Jobs Yet Has No Money campaign, I’ve proudly joined forces (light sabers, defeating AT-ATs, side-buns and all) with Alabama Live - you may know it better as THE al.com. (Also please click this - al.com/Montgomery)

I will be writing - naturally, blogging, taking photos and video as well. Hopefully, I can bring a bit of the “Shut UP Amanda” feel to the greater River Region (Montgomery included for those non-local, but loyal fans) as well as some stories that’ll be break-out stars and earn rights to The Big Boy Page (homepage).

I want to cover this community in a way that it’s never been covered before. What’s going on on a truly grassroots level. Church? Of course! Arts? Bring it. What YOU do with your life in this city - that’s what I want to bring to al.com. Even better - blogs included. If you know of any fantabulous local blogs, by all means, bring them to me!

I hope this journey is as much fun for me as it is for you. Yes, you may not live in Alabama, but I have a funny feeling that you’re going to enjoy it just as much. Or that may be the Chinese takeout talking. Uh oh.

Things For You To Do:

• Leave a comment - I want to know what you want me to write about! What’s going on! How can I keep this job!
• If I blog, what to I call it? Cuz y’all, pfffft.
• Follow al.com on The Twitters http://twitter.com/aldotcom
• Follow al.com/Montgomery on The Twitters too: http://twitter.com/alcomMontgomery *
• “Like”, “Fan”, “Stop Changing The Name, Facebook” us on FB! *
  *I have access to update these things. Shhhh. Tell everyone. 

Scurry along now and hound my links!

Tomorrow...

I’ll talk about my weekend. And what this picture means to me. For now? I’m navigating back home.

Hope all of you had a wonderful, and safe, Labor Day!

Mike: "Are you writing about boners?" Me: "Boners are funny."

I sit down to write and I say “oh, hell… what was the topic again?” and after clicking over to my Teux-Duex list (and you thought I was just being a smartass), I remember:

Boners.

And potty training.

Just stick with me here.

Over the course of 2 children, I have learned that little boys are… special… in the ways of mastering the throne. Wizzing away with their little joy sticks can mean havock upon any surface, showering feet above their heads, sprinkling out doors and onto grout, on their shirts, up their face (infants), and even as yellow script in fresh snow…

Beautiful thoughts, yes?

But after 2 seperate instances with 2 seperate children over the course of this week, I’ve decided that this must be addressed in a public venue so that I may not seek out therapy over the horror of seeing my son’s… attentive soldiers… ONE MORE TIME that which will land me in the Crazy House.

A few nights ago, Conner awoke around midnight. He had to pee, but this was hindered. You see, as your husband/fiance/screw-partner may have mentioned to you at some point, men can not pee with an erection. And although I have no men in my home, I do have 2 children and a Michael. And those children (sigh… and The Michael) can have erections.

So Conner starts screaming. From the toilet. With an erection. Because he is half asleep - and needs to piss.

And he screams, and he grunts (apparently, men have to PUSH… freaks), and at some point he makes “progress”.

He grunts more and piss squirts across the room. And he screams and cries and doesn’t totally understand what’s going on (he “half wakes”), grunts and squeezes…

Squeezes and grunts.

Piss and stop.

Stop and grunt and piss.

Walls, floor, door, Michael - these are all things covered in random piss squirts.

Then he is freed of his urine debacle and goes back to bed.

And I’m left laughing. At midnight.

Which leaves us with our potty-training King of The Month: Chase.

Chase, who was half-potty trained months ago (showed a huge interest in it, but had a lack of control over when he could, so he went when he could, and always wore a diaper), somehow decided last week (RIGHT after a Pull-Ups commercial) that he wanted to “go potty”. And he did.

And ever since, he has had a handful of accidents and wears a diaper only at night.

That’s right - even nap time is diaper free! It’s post-nap time that brings us to our Erectile Function issue.

He needs to go, and he’s groggy. And newly awaken, again, equaling erect penis. Especially since Chase’s #2 favorite thing to do in this world (#1 being playing with trucks, cars, vans, small planes, things with wheels, etc) is mess with his wiener.

Like. It’s. His. Job.

There he is, standing over the toilet, messing with his semi-erect cocktail weinie until it becomes more … attentive, and then he is all “uuughh” “uuggghhh”.

Him: “My pee is bo-kin”

:: face palm ::

Me: “No, baby, it’s not. We will try again in a minute”

And so he is dismissed to.. um.. walk it off.

Can I stop talking about this now? File under: delete before “Big School”.

On B-Metro This Week - Writing.

(Oh come on, click this one!)

Yes, I do it often, or at least more than I’d like to. It feels like a cop-out sometimes. But today, I spent 30 minutes sifting through the few months of articles I have here on B-Metro.com (so that’s where all those extra hits are coming from guys, no need to consider a pay increase…), and I’ve got to say I’m lucky.

Every week I write about my life, mostly about my children, Conner and Chase, but also about what this journey as their mother is like for me. There are highs and lows, moments in which I’m absolutely lost and without a compass, and other times when it feels like I just might have a hang on this whole parenting thing.

Read the rest after the jump.

From The Window, To The Wall

It’s 7:32 AM and I’m on hour 6 of sleep. Not too shabby, right?

But then it stops. 

“Hey. I think I’m going to need you in the bathroom.” Michael practically snorts at me.

Not knowing any better, I stumble in the direction of the bathroom (thanks, sleep meds, for making the stumble more of a “drunken fall”) and am met mid-master bedroom with an odor.

I turn the corner to find brown “sludge” 3 feet out each direction from Bella’s dog crate. It’s on the walls. It’s on the cabinets. It’s in the grout.

It’s dried.

So here’s where I start my Monday. At 730 scrubbing dried dog vomit out of the grout/off the floor/out of the cabinet creases/off the walls. And for the record, getting it… ::shudder:: undried went well with Clorox Green Works All-Purpose. But getting it out of the grout went even faster with plain old Clorox poured on and let to sit for 3 minutes. (Seems counter productive for going green, no?)

Then, I scrubbed my BODY down, and made breakfast. Because, damnit, even though I’ve been scrubbing literal shit off everything for an hour, people still have to be fed (Note: I will not be scrubbing shit before I make you food if you visit. Just thought that needed to be said).

Afterwards, I started sweeping the floor from the aftermath of the In-Law Tornado that whipped through my home this weekend leaving my freshly swept floors rather … ABSOLUTELY NASTY.

While said floors were being swept, Thing 1 and Thing 2 decided to start a food fight - with dog food. In aforementioned scrubbed master bathroom (and I failed to hear them over my ipod, FTR) . They managed to get halfway through a 5 gallon container before I discovered their “good times”.

I proceeded to do what any self-respecting southern mama would - I clothed their bottom parts, slapped on some bug spray, and chucked them in the backyard while I RE-CLEANED the bathroom floor.

But what do I hear 5 minutes in? What is that Conner is yelling at me through the window?

“Chase dumped the dog food out!!!”

OMG.

The TEN gallon puppy food bucket we keep on the back porch was DUMPED. OUT.

And that dog that threw up all night? Yeah. She was GOING TO TOWN on it. Ugh. 

I had Conner fetch (lol) the broom while I held back Bella (the bulldog in case anyone needed that cleared up previously, but I failed to do so until now). I swept it all up, dumped it back into the bucket, hosed down the crate from that morning (which had been hauled outside for obvious reasons), and lugged it back inside (it weighs around 30-40 pounds and is about 4.5 feet long and 3 feet tall).

Then i sat down and considered a nap - at 12:20.