I pay HOW MUCH for TV?

OK. What the crap is up with Man vs. Wild on Discovery Channel?

Let me back up a bit...

Every so often Boone and I find ourselves facing a DVR that is totally caught up (unless we want to watch Backyardigans for the thirteenth time that day). Occasionally we anticipate this little snag in our nightly ritual and rent a movie or just read or stare at computers. But sometimes we decide to take a trip down memory lane -- back to the days before we had the DVR -- and just browse our billion channels to see what's on.

The answer, in case you were wondering, is NOTHING.

But that didn't stop us! First, I am embarrassed to admit that we watched some show on E! (never a good sign) that was like a highlights reel of worst TV dating show moments. We watched people get drunk and throw up on first dates. We watched people try on lingerie (yes, both people) on first dates. We watched some skanky girl "impress" her date by putting both her feet around her neck. On the first date. At the dinner table. In public.

Needless to say, it was an uplifting program and I feel smarter and more enriched having watched it tonight.

But things got really good when Boone switched to Man Vs. Wild. If you haven't seen it, this weird (but hot-ish) guy named Bear (OK really? Isn't that a bit much?) goes out into various wilderness settings and "survives". Boone is all outdoorsy and likes to watch stuff like this from time to time to keep up on his man skills. You know, in case he's ever in a plane crash in the arctic circle or falls off a cruise ship in the Indian Ocean.

So today cute little Bear was in the Okeefenokee swamp here in the good old south, surviving his heart out. I have seen his show a few other times, but I have always thought he just overdoes it a bit. He's like a survival hypochondriac -- everything is always REALLY BAD, but he always pulls though with some luck (read: cheating) in the end. And in the middle. Pretty much throughout the whole show.

Anyway, the overacting and staging is not my biggest complaint. I get that if he was all soothing and mellow nobody would watch (except yeah they would, because he's hot. Ish! Hot-ish!)

But he crossed the line from annoying hot guy to "don't come near me psychopath" tonight when he reached down and caught a water snake that was swimming around his ankles, held it up to the camera to identify the species, reassured us that is was not harmful (phew!), and proceeded to bite the snake's head off. He threw the head behind him and took a massive bite out what was left, and in between bites explained that we should probably squeeze the rotting fish out of the snake's body so we wouldn't get sick. I'll be sure to keep that in mind the next time I catch a snake with my bare hands and start eating it alive.

I sat through this scene with an expression of horror mixed with sick fascination plastered on my face, and turned to Boone who was grinning like crazy as he said, "Dude! This guy is all about shock value!"

Oh wait. Maybe that reaction was in regards to McCain picking Palin. (Come on, I HAD to say something...)

Anyway, it got better/worse. About 10 minutes later he was wandering through the swamp again flinging all kinds of factiods at us about the climate of the south, native species, etc., when he came upon a 6 foot alligator. At first he was all cautious, kind of whispering as he got closer about the now recovered gator population, and about how humans are encountering more gators recently since their numbers are back up. And he got a little closer, telling us about how powerful they are. Closer. And boy are they fast when they need to be. Closer. And man are they ever tasty.

Whaaaa? And I thought, no way. No way is he going there. Except oh yes he is.

He throws himself on top of this alligator, clamps its jaws shut, and uses his pocket knife to stab it in the neck and sever the thing's spinal cord. With blood everywhere, he hauls it up onto his shoulder and continues marching around the swamp, all the while giving us a rundown of the cholesterol levels of gator meat.

Now, I am not all PETA-ish, but this is just sick. The guy isn't really trying to stay alive. He is not alone and starving to death. He is on cable TV and he just devoured a live snake (which he opted to kill with his teeth instead of his knife) To slaughter this animal who was just minding his own business in the swamp -- just to prove you can -- is disgusting. Frankly, I am kind of surprised that Discovery is okay with stuff like that. All morals aside, it was freaking gross to watch.

And yet, I couldn't stop. Boone was asleep at this point (it was 9:36 after all) and I still left it on the channel! I looked up the show's page online and saw pictures of him eating all kinds of animal parts and drinking blood out of hearts and junk. Point being, it's not like this was some isolated incident. The whole show is based around Bear being a hunky, British, overacting, cheating faker of a survivalist know-it-all/psychopathic killer. What is wrong with us as a human race that we accept this as entertainment? How desperate are we? And what does it say about me that as yucked out as I was I left it there until the end?

I think I am going to claim shock on this one -- that I was too stunned to move -- although if that is really the case (it's not -- I was too lazy to bend over and pick the remote up off the floor), I'd better watch my back before Bear comes to rip my flesh from my bones while Boone sleeps through it.

The joke would be on Bear though. I have inhaled so many Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches today that the guy would probably fall over dead halfway out my door. I'm no low cholesterol gator...

I love him. I don't understand how anyone could not love him. And I will never shut up about shaking his hand in December in South Carolina. Ever. Till I die. My last words will be, "Did you know I shook Barack Obama's hand before he was president?"

Because I really did.

Something other than poop stories!

Alright, let's move on to something more pleasant -- SCHOOL IS BACK IN!

Rylan began first grade 2 weeks ago and I have been informed that her teacher already refers to her as "the little overachiever". Sounds about right. She has also started ballet lessons and loves getting to dance like "a real ballerina". Can't you see what a traditional ballet pose she is striking here?

OK, to be fair, this was before the first lesson, so let's all cut her some slack.

Another exciting thing in Rylan's life the last few days was to see the bloom of her sunflowers. She planted these with her Nana in the spring and we were supposed to help her water them every day when we watered our vegetable garden in the back yard. If you were only shown this picture, you might say, "Not bad, Terry family!"


Only we never got around to planting the vegetables, so the sunflowers got a little...neglected. Honestly, Boone and I were shocked that they bloomed, but she and Keaton were thrilled to death. Don't look too closely at the actual stems/leaves/general bendy-overness/lack of vitality, okay?


In any case, Rylan has a lot to be happy about in her little world, and what better way to celebrate than by hosting an event?


I'm not sure if my favorite thing about this is:

• that it is an actual advertisement for a cat show on her bedroom door
  
• that she chose to highlight the even as both free and "a cool one" (because nothing irritates me more than a "pricey and lame" cat show)
• that she ran out of tape so she attached the flyer with a stove sticker

Boone and I haven't heard anything more in the way of details about the cat show, but we HAVE seen trophies for the cats (works in progress) on her art desk. I promise to keep you all updated.

Keaton has also had a busy couple of weeks as he started preschool in mid-August. He is going 3 mornings a week which is just about perfect for him (and me) for the time being. This was the night of the open house. I look kind of weird but Keaton is cute so, whatever.


This was the actual first day. He loves going to school but has some challenges we are working through. It's a good thing he is so good looking because he charms people into putting up with a lot of his antics. If he was ugly he'd be in trouble (more than usual).

Case in point...


He helped himself to a "small" cup of yogurt and when the whole tub came gurgling out of the container, he just used it to wax the table! On second thought, that must be his charm oozing out because he didn't get reprimanded for this one bit.

So yeah. We are chugging along. We still have Branik, I just don't have "first day of a new activity" photos of him, so he's getting left out this time around.

What?

OK FINE. Because I am an honest blogger, I will post the only photo I have of Branik the last 2 weeks. It is freaky and blurry and he has blood and syrup and a sticker on his clothes, but this is how he looked tonight before dinner.

That's all I got. Senor Nosebleed Cross-Dressing Cousin It de la Syrup. So sue me.

In fairness to Branik I will also post what his older siblings looked like today. Also freaky/slightly disturbing. But very real, which is my whole goal with blogging.

The most embarrassing thing about these photos is that now you will all recognize Boone and I in our disguises when we go to Democratic events. Busted.

More Fun With Feces!

Okay. So my last post about Keaton's poop has prompted a few of you to email/call me with a request that I put in writing what has come to be known as "The Dumptruck Incident". I'm a people pleaser, so here you go...

Once upon a time, there was a 3 year old boy who LOVED volcanoes. He talked about them all the time, drew them on his Magna Doodle, and sculpted them out of play dough whenever he got the chance. He turned strawberries upside down to look like volcanoes, watched YouTube videos of eruptions, and even had a volcano birthday cake when he turned 3. The boy was particularly fond of an episode of Dora the Explorer where young heroine Dora leads an expedition through "the muddy mud pit", over the bridge, and to the volcano.

The little boy's mommy loved him and his siblings very much, but one day she thought she might throw herself in front of a bus if she didn't leave the house alone and have a few hours of priceless silence. The boy's daddy knew this about the mommy, and because he loved the mommy and the children very much, he sent the mommy to Target.

The wise daddy and the children waved goodbye to the mommy as the car screeched out of the driveway, and when she disappeared they went inside to eat lunch. Afterwards, the daddy put the 3 year old and his little brother down for their naps and got on the treadmill to exercise. Silly daddy!

About 45 minutes later, the daddy got off the treadmill and headed out towards the living room. He paused, however, in the hallway when he noticed a particular odor coming from the last bedroom on the left. As he approached the door the stench got stronger, and the daddy was sore afraid.

The daddy mustered all of his courage and opened the 3 year old's door and beheld a scene that was beyond anything he had ever witnessed.

There was the boy, wide awake and gleefully running around his room -- naked from the waist down -- pushing his dumptruck in front of him instead of taking his much needed nap.



"That's not so bad," you say?

*** Did I mention the part where he had poop smeared all down both legs from yanking his nasty Pull Up off? No? How about the part where he had removed a shelf from his little bookshelf, used it as a platform to hold the contents of his Pull Up, "shaped" said contents into a volcano/muddy mud pit (we still aren't totally sure which it was), and wiped his poopy hands on his shirt and his HAIR to clean them off? Did I tell you that part?

How about the part where he had driven his dumptruck through the "muddy mud pit" over and over and over again grinding tire tracks of poo all over his bedroom carpet? ALL. OVER.

Or the part where the poop was all stuck in the tire treads on the dumptruck, so that the daddy had to blast it off with a hose which caused the wheels to spin which sent stuff flying in a manner we like to call the "Sprinkler O' Poo"? Did I tell you all of that?

Good. Back to our story. ***

The little boy's daddy was not happy, and found himself uttering a question the little boy got asked several times a week while he was potty training:

"Keaton Blake! WHERE DOES OUR POOP GO?"

To which the little boy quickly replied, "On the yellow truck, Dad!"

So the boy went into the shower, and the truck stayed outside, and the daddy called the mommy and said in an eerily calm voice, "Where are you?"

"Just leaving Target. And yes, we can still pay the mortgage. At least part of it."

And the daddy said, "Can you please stop and get carpet cleaner?"

And the mommy said, "We have some. It's above the washing machine in the laundry room."

And the daddy said, "I used that. We need more."

And the mommy was frightened and said, "What happened?"

And the daddy said, "Just get the cleaner and come home."

So the mommy spent more money on materials for cleaning floors and returned home and beheld the magnitude of the nastiness that she had avoided by going to Target.

And the mommy smiled.

THE END

(Except for 6 days later when the little boy did it again in the living room -- this time running back into his bedroom to retrieve a different vehicle (you know, on PURPOSE, instead of out of convenience) -- while the mommy was away. The fact that I was gone both times this blessed event occured has assured me that divine intervention is a very real thing.)

Words I dread hearing...

"Mommy, we should only go poop in the potty."

Thus saith Keaton whilst using his hand to cover the evidence protruding from his backside. Apparently looking at pictures of Thomas engines on the computer is too good to tear yourself away, even for (seemingly) urgent reasons.

I never claimed to be tasteful -- only honest.

So that was today, but since I am already on the subject, let me quickly recap the most awesome 3 minutes of my day yesterday:

1:14 I get off the treadmill, dripping with sweat, and come out to check on Keaton. As I pass the hall bathroom, I notice a light on, and Thomas underwear on the floor next to the toilet. Uh-oh -- this is usually not good news. Oh Hurray! They are dry! He must have just forgotten to put them back on...let's go find him...

1:15 There he is..."Keaton, let's put your underwear back on, okay?" Keaton casts a nervous glance in my direction and doesn't move from his perch on the arm of the loveseat. I come closer to physically remove him from the couch, at which point he says to me, "Poop is too yucky."

1:15 1/2 OH. MY. FREAKING. NASTY. Dry heave. Gag. String of expletives running through my brain. Gag again.

1:15 3/4 Quick assessment of damage: poop on arm rest of loveseat; poop on fingers of right hand; poop on heel that he rested under his rear end; poop all over floor where said poopy heel contacted carpet over and over and over again; poop up and down opposite leg where boy "wiped" poopy heel on shin to clean it off.

1:16 Yell at Keaton not to move and frantically grab wipes. Start disgusting process of cleaning up Poop Fest 2008 while muttering under my breath and swearing in my head some more.

1:16 1/2 DOORBELL.

1:16 2/3 Me frantically yelling at now escaped 4 year old, "GET OVER HERE NOW!" Too late. Keaton is now standing totally naked from the waist down in the window to the side of the door, grinning wildly at the UPS man while pressing the family jewels into the glass.


Let's pause here to remember that I am soaked with sweat and have a handful of poopy baby wipes in my hand. Let's also point out that as I am home, running on my own treadmill, I am only wearing my sports bra (and also shorts, socks, and shoes, but no shirt). Did I mention the sports bra is white? And I am TOTALLY SOAKED?

Are we all on the same page now? Good.

So I can't exactly hide now because I have a nude 4 year old talking to the UPS man through the glass and unlocking the door at the same time. I have no choice but to go to the door and try to use it as a shield while I lean my head out enough to talk. Oh good! The guy has a 5 pound tub of protein powder in the box and it's too heavy and awkward for me to grab it using only my left hand and still manage to keep my nudist in the house! So into full view I go, apologizing profusely and avoiding eye contact.


Poor UPS man. Unless I am way hotter than his wife/girlfriend, in which case, Happy Birthday, pervert.


1:17 I shut the door totally humiliated and go back to the glorious task of cleaning fecal matter off a good portion of my front room.


You only WISH your life was this awesome...

OK so here's something I am just really curious about. When I was a kid, I remember my mom telling me that she spent $100 a week on groceries for our family of 6. She also had an in-home daycare/preschool, and I think she may have fed breakfast, snacks, and lunch to those children out of the same budget.

Now, I understand that it's been over 10 years since I lived at home and prices always rise due to inflation. I also am painfully aware of the huge jumps recently in dairy prices, grain prices, etc. But I can't help but be dumbfounded every time we grocery shop when our total comes, and today was no exception:

$221.74

I did not buy lobster. I did not buy steak. I did not buy Pull Ups. I did not buy makeup, cleaning supplies, pesticides, or school supplies. I bought bread, milk, eggs, yogurt, lunch meat, and produce. And maybe some pizza. And Blue Bell ice cream. And stuff to make a key lime pie...let's move on, shall we?

My point is that this was not some unusual grocery week -- nothing major, nothing fancy -- and I guarantee that before the week is out I will run back out "for bananas", which will end with an extra $20-$30 being spent.

It gets worse. On the weeks we go to Sam's Club we can drop over $300 without trying.

Anyway, my question is this:

What do you spend on groceries? Are we abnormal?

If you can't say something nice...

I want to blog. Really, I do.

I have just been so crusty lately that I don't dare open my mouth for fear of what might come out. And you don't deserve to have my bad attitude unleashed in all it's fury.

I will try to come up with something that is not a complaint/rant/gripe ASAP.

Until then...


P.S. My apologies to my children, my husband, Chrysta, Emma, Anne, pretty much anyone I go to church with, my neighbors, the chick I chewed out at the YMCA, and all the people included in my uncle's email list (to whom I "replied to all" with some snarky comment about John McCain -- do I need to tattoo "I'M A DEMOCRAT! on my forehead?) and anybody else I have already unleashed said fury on.