Things that make my brain bleed

Don't you just hate it when you tell your twelve year old son not to put the swipey lock on his phone because the chances of him forgetting it are really high and he goes ahead and does it anyway and sure enough he forgets the combo?  Ugh, me too. 

These things are the devil

We spent the next several hours trying to figure out what the combination was because honestly how many could there be?  The answer is a billion. 

Oh and he got the phone from a used cell phone store with his birthday money and even though he spent a lot he still didn't pay full price.  Which is good because now he had a phone he couldn't get into. 

Did I mention he had it all of three hours before this happened?

So I finally sucked it up and took it to the cell phone carrier store that we have and asked them to factory reboot it for me. 

I mean these guys are professionals and would never google how to factory reboot the phone like I did with no success.  Only that's exactly what they did.  With no success. 

So they tried for half an hour while I stared at them awkwardly for half an hour and then finally they threw their arms in the air, declared defeat and said "We'll just send him a new phone!"

To which I replied "That sounds fantastic."   

Moral of the story: ignore your mom when she says not to do something and you get a brand spanking new phone. 

I have this parenting thing nailed.

Pics

So many youths. So many awkward smiles.

Hubby playing a fun game with them that involved a lot of hitting each other. Obviously they loved it.

Aliya is now taller than her Aunt Sheri.  I'm next.

A kind of half hug. I'll take what I can get.

Amber, we adore her.  Like seriously.

Nothing proves you love your kids more than acting really weird around their friends.  Clearly we are the best parents ever.

EVER.

There were many boxing matches and two bloody noses. You may say two?? I say ONLY two?

Aliya and her friend Angelique

This is how boys crash. Eventually.

And if you do be prepared to be written on.  It says "poop".

All work and no play makes mom a dull girl

I have been so unproductive lately it's nuts.  I mean compared to like wonder moms.  But compared to vagrants I'm on fire!

Unless those vagrants clean and make dinner and then well, back to being mediocre. 

In my defense I've been working a lot and it just sort of sucks the life from me so by the time I get home all I want to do is find my happy place which usually happens to be in some episode of The Walking Dead. 

At first I couldn't watch it while eating but now I'm all "Crawling around with half a body?  Seems legit."

Plus I'm behind on blogging but my camera card is being lame so I can't share all my latest and greatest pics or rather blurry / badly lit shots of Dylan's party.  My camera sucks ya'll.

I keep saying that I'll get it figured out on my next day off but then that day comes and I just self medicate on coffee and home made salsa.  But not the salsa in my coffee.  I'm sleep deprived not crazy.  Yet.   

In other news hubby woke me up screaming obscenities in his sleep.  He had no memory of it the next day.
I think it's safe to say that work is stressing him out too.  We need to take our sucky camera and go on vacation.

You never know when a zombie apocalypse will wipe us all out. 

 I want to be a beach zombie.

Dylan is {12}!!

I tiptoed into his room this morning at 5:30 am to smother him with kisses since I had to work and wouldn't be able to make him breakfast in bed as I like to do with my kids.  He barely woke as I kissed him goodbye.

When I called him after school our conversation went like this:

Me: Happy birthday!  How was your day?

Dylan: I can't really hear you, call me back on Aliya's phone.

Me: {after calling back} Better?  So, how was your day?

Dylan: Are you going to be checking my texts?  Justin wants to know.

Me: Did dad give you Aliya's phone? Yes, I will, why does he want to know?  That's my rule.  Hey, how was your day?

Dylan:  Fine, he wants to know because some of my friends are allowed to use bad words.  I need to go, I want to text my friends now.

Me:  Hold on, I'm your mother and I want to talk to you on your birthday!  If not for me they wouldn't be able to text you at all! 

Dylan: {sigh} true.

Me:  So...your day?

Dylan: ...It was fine.

Me: Oh geez, go, text your friends, but text me too!

Dylan: *click

And that's all I got.  My grand welcome to my next pre-teen.  Awesome.


P.S.
I'll post pics of his coming party where he will hug me and show me love or I will flush his phone down the toilet so help me...

Good news! A spot just opened up in my head shrinking class!

Now, I know what you're thinking, so let me put to rest any fears or concerns you may have now.  The seat is in the middle of the room so you don't have to worry about that awkward "new kid" feeling when you first show up but also kind of close to the door so you won't be too far from the bathroom should you need to use it. 

The ancient art of shrinking heads is also a fantastic way to meet new people and I like to think of it as kind of a lost art.  I mean just imagine the surprised look on grandma's face when she opens her present from you this Christmas and discovers her very own shrunken head, perfectly preserved on a lovely silver string through the ears with pearls where the eyes once were.  Her shrieking will only mean one thing.  How much she loves it! 

Everyone getting the boss something but it seems to be the same old gifts?  Why not stand out for that promotion you've been wanting?  Shrunken heads make a statement in a way no other gifts do.

In my class you will not only learn the process of shrinking a head but also jazzing them up a bit.  Gone are the days of dark leathery skin and stringy lifeless hair.  I will show you step by step how to improve your head to make it look cleaner and brighter while adding some shine to the hair.  Just because they're dead doesn't mean they have to be lame. 

All of our heads are generously donated from the local "Body for Science" department at the University and we give them a much needed thanks.  Believe me, my job was so much harder before getting them on board.  People can be so touchy. 

So if you're ready to have something really interesting to talk about at parties, give me a call. 

Because anyone can give a diaper cake at that baby shower, but only you can give a tiny baby head and that my friend, they will never forget. 

The five stages of grief: losing your eyelashes to a faulty eyelash curler.

Let me begin by saying, you look so pretty today.  I mean that.

Also I noticed that I don't really put a lot of pictures on my blog. Well, I seem to go through stages and that's not fun.  On the contrary, it's boooooring. 

So to liven things up I decided to draw you some pictures.  But let me preface this by saying I don't know how to draw.  Like at all.  Well compared to a two year old, I guess I know a little more than they do, but compared to a five year old, they have me beat. 

Here is my best person.

Notice the fingers and feet.  That would be called attention to detail.

In my head I'm all:

But then this comes out:

So.

Here are the five stages of grief when someone loses their eyelashes to a faulty eyelash curler.  A sad sad day.

Stage one: Denial

At first the woman is just going about her day as usual, probably thinking about how low sodium tomato soup has more calories than regular tomato soup and wondering why in the world this is the case, putting on her makeup.

And then.

Stage two: Anger

Stage three: Bargaining

Stage four: Deppression

Stage five: Acceptance

The stages can be applied to anything really.  I once applied them to picking out grapes.  Just for funsies. 

Also I hope to improve my drawing.  Or drawling.  If not, welcome to being subjected to this.  Sorry.

A few pages from a disgruntled teenaged zombie journal.

Week 87

This blows.  Like, I know I'm supposed to be all into brains and whatever, but seriously they are way messy.  And no one ever uses napkins at all anymore, it's just all "Auuhhhhaaahhhhggg".  I mean if you're going to slobber all over my brains then they're yours.  Gross.

Week 90

I had to stumble four blocks yesterday just to find one human and when I got there do you think there were any brains left?  No, so I had to settle for guts and then the girl's boyfriend jumped out from nowhere and started shooting and now I can't keep my left foot on.  I mean, really?  Luckily I found some duct tape so here's hoping it works.

Week 91

It didn't.

Week 94

I managed to find a cozy little spot off the highway where I can keep re-stapling my foot back on and luckily humans keep finding this place too.  I play dead and let them poke me for a bit then bam it's brains for dinner.  Oh and I found some napkins as well.  I mean just because I'm dead doesn't mean I have to be a slob. 

Week 97

It's getting really boring here.  I've resorted to playing hand puppets with real hands.  On the upside I've discovered that Mexican brains taste remarkably spicy!  I'm on the lookout for anyone Italian now. 

Week 104

Good news and bad news.  I was three in on the Italian family I found, my experiment going just as I had hoped, when the teenage boy gets all rampage-y and out of control and I managed to only nip him before he got away.  But man the rest of that family was good!

Week 105

I guess my nip must have been enough because now that guy is back, only now for some reason he looks way hotter.  All hunched over, left ear missing, mouth open, gurgling sounds at the back of the throat.  I really hope he doesn't stare at my foot.

Week 108

Well apparently it doesn't matter what form a boy takes!  They're all just stupid jerks!  I put it all out there, asked if he wanted to go get some brains and he just stood there are all glassy eyed, staring at my foot and said "Uhhghhhhhuuhh."  Really?  How rude.

Week 109

What does it take to stumble into a hive of humans and get shot around here?!  Geesh!  Miranda did it last week!

Week 110

I'm so over Italian boy.  Besides I saw him with a skanky looking undead girl the other day with only half a jaw and ewwww.  Even for me.  So. 

Week 115

No feet left.  Also missing both my ears.  And brains are getting really old.  If I keep crawling around my arms won't last long either.  A bunch of us have heard stories about a hive of humans living about 20 miles from here and we're hoping we can make it so they'll put us out of our misery.

Week 127

We made it and it turns out the humans are a part of some sort of "Ant-Violence Pro Zombie" group.  For the love of all that's decent....I'm writing this with my teeth now.  Seriously shoot me.