And the fake google search was...

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The fake entry in the crazy google contest was...

FINDING MY SANITY.

While I am sure there are many people out searching for their sanity, none of them have been looking through me. Probably because I don't have any and the internet knows that.

There was a lot of strangeness - nothing beat camel toe sneakers, that is for sure. I had me some good laughs on a daily basis at the expense of these searches.

And speaking of contests, the recipe challenge is going extremely well. My family has been devouring the delicious recipes sent by all of you kind people. So far, some favorites have been from Lisa-Marie, Jessica R., Tiffany W., Holly, and many, many others. I am still working my way through the recipes and will probably have to extend declaring a winner until January 15th so I have enough time to try all of them. You all were just way, way too good to me. You've given me some fantastic help. Who knew that there was so much variety out there?

Well, you did.

And now I do.

My husband thanks you from the very bottom of his heart. Stay tuned for a winner January 15th.

And now we'll never invite him to another party

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Let's just say you have a son. He seems like a good boy. You enjoy him most of the time. He grows up and turns eight. You let him have a party and invite all his friends. One horrid child will bring your son "Frog World." Frog World is a frog habitat, which you think looks like a really cute toy for him to house his plastic frogs.

Your son will fill out the enclosed card requesting the live tadpole that comes with the gift.

He will mail off the card in September.

Then one cold day in December, you will open your mailbox and see this:

Nothing in the mail pile should ever say "Live Tadpoles, Open Immediately!" That does not a good mail day make.

Unless you are them. Then it's the best mail day ever:


So we have a new pet. Against my will.

Chase named him Sir-Croaks-A-Lot. [I'm hoping he's more like a Sir-Croaks-Not.]


Sir-Croaks-A-Lot comes with his own food, which will only serve him for the next four weeks when he is in his tadpole state. Once he becomes a grown-up frog, he will require live crickets. Yes, that's right. I said live.

Sir-Croaks-A-Lot only enjoyed his post on my kitchen counter for about ten whole seconds. Then he was banished to the black hole that is Chase's bedroom.

[Is it wrong to hope we accidentally kill him before the four weeks are up?]

One of these things is not like the other

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Here's a fun game. All of these phrases, except for one, were actual google searches that led people to my blog. See if you can guess which one does not belong:

  1. Annoying cough in kids.
  2. What does my baby look like right now?
  3. Pouting chauffeur recipes.
  4. Birdlike arms.
  5. Teepee p0rn.
  6. Things to say to your son.
  7. Finding my sanity.
  8. The best thing about my brother.
  9. How my hair look like.
  10. Strep throat infection on face.
  11. I need to quit or I will lose my mind.
  12. Camel Toe sneakers.
  13. Things men hide.
  14. Why does my infant look at my hair?
  15. Bad belly aches.
  16. Hot sneakers in November 2007.
  17. Trying to forget my past.
  18. I need your help.
  19. Pictures for a web site download.
  20. Birthday massages for best friends.
  21. Favorite things to give husband.
  22. Martha Stewart n*ked.
  23. What are your guilty pleasures clothes?
  24. My luck my life.
  25. Hannah sandwich.

The answer will be posted on Friday. Give it your best shot.

Mother of the Year

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Today after running on the treadmill (or what I like to call "Attempting to burn what I will eat at the Great Cookie Swap of 2007"), I went upstairs to take a shower. I took my time getting beautiful (because it DOES take a long time for me) and made sure I looked my best (I didn't).

It was then time to turn my attentions to the Princess and take her breakfast syrup-soaked tangles and turn them into something lovely. I called and called, but she didn't come. Not even when I used my loud yelling voice or my angry impatient voice.

Assuming she was paralyzed by the hypnotic powers of Noggin (because it's like preschool on TV!), I took a trip downstairs to retrieve her. It was not until I had my hand on the basement door that I heard her screams.

Rushing down, I find her head pinned awkwardly between a collapsed metal folding chair -- her body twisted and tangled -- and unable to get out. She was hysterical and sobbing (understandably). I pulled her free and felt pangs of guilt as I saw the large bruise on the left side of her face. I have no idea how long she had been like this, but I suspect quite a while.

What added salt to this already painful wound (for me, not her) was when she said, "I thought you were in the other room and just wouldn't come get me."

Yes. My child was painfully pinned between two pieces of metal and she thought I would not help her.

I must be the best mother. Ev-er.

Stupid Mondays.