Monthly Archives: March 2011

Ba De Ya

A relaxing weekend with the girls…


That is funny right.


Playing with the girls.

Let’s get them moving a bit

and away from Dora.


So I turn on some tunes

Little Earth Wind & Fire

(I like to be current on my tunes.)


Do you remember?

21st night of September

Ba de ya de ya


What did that even mean?

Ba de ya?


But I am in to it


Little booty shake…


hair sweep…


Screeching some may say.




Ba de ya de ya

Ba de ya is my favorite part




Ba de ya de ya   whooo





Ba de ya de ya

Do you remember the
21st night of September?
Love was… watermelon watermelon

I can’t remember the words here.  Just say watermelon over and over…

no one will know

not even in Church.




“Honey!! What is it? This is one of Mommy’s favorite songs.”



I be so serious…

Can you do dat somewhere else?

It is just…

so not good”




I mean I realize that I am not a fantastic dancer.

And that most of my “moves” are nothing more than a lateral slide right, then left

Occasional pivot turn…

With a periodic whoop whoop to the roof.


I thought I had a few years…

maybe til they were 11 or 12

Until I was such an embarrassment.

It is not like I a dance like Elaine.












Posted by on March 31, 2011 in Dancing


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Hairy Berries

So I need to ask you all.


Does Target have such shitty produce?

The Super Target that is.

Does that not imply they have should also have SUPER produce?


Seriously I LOVE me some Target…

I do

In fact…

If I had a dog, I might name her Target.

I did, after all, name my cat Clooney…

After my virtual sweetie.





So back to the issue at hand.

When you are the single mother of two small children

You want them to eat healthy…

Which typically involves vegetables

At least on occasion.


You have no time.


So I one stop shop.

Because at Target you can get:

Great Lash Mascara

A spatula

And batteries

And I?

Go through a lot of batteries.



Oh good Lord people…

Get out of the gutter.

I have KIDS.

I mean everything they have eats batteries.


So I make the trek around the Super Target

Certain I no longer need to go to the gym.

And land in produce.

The trailer park of Target.


So beans grow in a field right?

And for the most part, don’t they all start out in pretty good shape?

So why do Target’s look like little brown worms.


And strawberries?


They should not be furry, correct?

Given the size of Target

Do you not think they have enough money

AND high paid executives to get some good looking produce?



So I mention to the cashier that their produce kinda sucks.

“what do you mean?” she says

“Well… like the bananas?

They should be yellow, perhaps with a tinge of green.

But not speckled with black dots at the initial purchase.



Continuing my incensed explanation.

“And the peppers.

Green is what we are going for here… not this faded lime tint

With a black fungusy center.”


“Oh… yea…I guess that is not like…good”


Really she does not care…

She is just waiting for her break…

To call Brittany

Because Jeffrey was just in there with Olivia

buying tic tacs and the new Justin Bieber CD.


So I ask to speak with the store manager.

After trying to tell Tiffany Amber all this.

Get me the store manager... I need some damn green beans.


“Ma’am let me see if I can find him – he may be in the back”

“Well… tell him who it is and have him pull up my purchase history”

(he will be out here to kiss my ass toot sweet I assure you)




And the manager is a nice man.

Round and round we go…

Explaining my nutritional plight.

He tells me:

“I know ma’m, I know… we are working on it.”


And that? Is all I can get.

Because lanes 1 through 11 are 3 deep with customers…

Seemingly not at all worried about their produce…



am not his priority.


I truly believe I could threaten them…

Threaten to stop shopping there.

If they don’t step up the healthy crap.

I can see it now.


A ticker across all major networks.

DOW takes dramatic plunge.

Denver resident suspect.

Safeway anticipates all time high earnings.

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Posted by on March 28, 2011 in Shopping



You know I always like to share my parenting tips right?

Well this one I happened upon quite by accident.


A lovely lasagna…

Prepared by Mama.

Little sister in bed.


And we begin the bedtime stall.

“Mommy I needs a drink of water”


Seated at last…

Sip sip of the red elixir


“Mommy…I scared of the dark…you need a turn the light on”


Light on…

Back to Dancing with The Stars

Look at Hines go.

Hubba Hubba…


“MOMMY! I need an orange to make me big and strong…

My tummy is so sad…”

I shall ignore this one and see what happens.


Is that me purring?

“Mommy… I need a lovey”

“MOMMY!  Can you come lay with me”

Honest to God… anything for a moment of peace.

I am going to miss Kirstie dance at this rate.


“just for a minute honey…Mommy is VERY busy”


So I lie down…

She is so happy

At least for a moment.
Then hands cover that adorable little snout…

“Mommy you be so tinky”



“Mommy what dat smell… it so yucky”

“what are you talking about honey?


Mommy doesn’t smell”



I say as I hand gesture to my nose.

And there it is.


On my hands…

It is a mandatory ingredient in Lasagna… I mean come on.

It is not as if I bathed in it.


And by accident…

Or perhaps divine intervention…

My hands do smell…

Strong enough to ward off even the most persistent of vampires.


“Mommy… peas…you needs a go…

It be so tinky…

It make my tummy feel like it gonna vomits.”


So I go…

Back to DWTS

And catch Sugar Ray…

And Kirstie (rocking the house)…

And that weird Mike Catherwood…

(certain my eyes will never recover from his performance)


Sipping my wine.

As I make myself a garlic necklace…

Which I plan to wear each and every day.


Posted by on March 22, 2011 in Cooking, DWTS, Misbehaving


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Man Down

I have a clumsy child.

I do…

And I can say that.

Because I have been known as Kelly Klutz my entire life.


It’s true.

I remember once falling down stairs…

8 , maybe 10 of them

It was quiet.

Waiting I am…

For my family to come running.

And I say

“It’s okay…I’m okay”


The silence ends…

A roar of once stifled laughter.

My family?

Not rushing to my aide…

But nearly suffocating from the rolling giggles.






“Kel.. ha ha ha… you…you….okay…snort…spit”







In their defense, they are used to it.

I have fallen down the same stairs 6 times before…

Just this week.


It was this morning’s entanglement…

Which brought back those fond memories…

Of familial love and deep concern.


It is time to feet the cats.

Tenny wants to help…

Which means that a 2 minute task will now take 8…

and will result in a big mess.


“I hep…I hep!!!  Mama I hep!!!!”


“Honey…okay…just calm down…

Hold my hand…let me help you”



“I do it”

SOOOOOOOOOOOO  two she is.


Pushing me away…she wants no part of me trying to stabilize her “toddler-ness”


“Honey be careful”

Shoving my hand.

Backing up in defiance.


SPLAT she goes.

Butt in the cat box

Feet and hands in the air…


Still, she is still…

for the first and likely last time today.

Looking at me as if to say

“how could you let this happen?”


I scoop her up…

Brush the clumped litter off her tiny bum…

And think to myself…


It is 6:21 in the morning.

What must the rest of the day hold?


And just so you know…

this is actually a Kitty Litter Cake…


Is  this a good idea?  Do we really want to encourage our kids to eat cat litter??


Posted by on March 18, 2011 in Cats, Misbehaving


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Well Endowed?

Where does a busy working mom go on her day off?



After all…

It is my nirvana.


Oprah is always saying how 80% of women wear the wrong size bra.

I decided check it out.

Get a bra fitting

at Nordys!



Victoria’s Secret does the same thing but…

Those girls look like they are hardly out of diapers…

All of them with their tape measures around their necks

Perky shirts…

and iridescent lip gloss.



I meet “Retha”

Aretha but without the A.

Like maybe because after a difficult labor…

Her mother just could not muster the extra syllable.


Retha is like the boob manager or something…

She has been doing this for years.


So she measures me…

Me in the dressing room

With glaring lights

Mirrors coming at me from EVERYWHERE

and no trace of dignity.

NOTE TO NORDSTROMS:   Soft lighting and a Cosmo would make me buy more.




Oh God


“This is NOT the right size for you!”


Could I actually be smaller? Is that possible?


“You need to be wearing two full sizes larger”


I LOVE Retha.

New BFF!




“Oh yes”


I mean I am on Cloud Nine.


“I can’t believe I am that big…


that is just so cool”


“well in your case it is not actual breast volume…”


Beg pardon?


“It it more the around’ness”


What in hell does that mean?


You could at least suck up to me a teensy bit.


I’m not in KMart.


And what the hell is “around’ness”?  That is not even a word.


One full minute!

Just one.

Would it have killed her to give me one minute of busty glory?


“and honey”




“This is WAY too big around you… it’s not even touching your back”


“Well I don’t like that stuff in the back…

The back fat.”


“That is breast tissue.”




“Excuse me? Retha are you sure? How did it get back there?”


“Well as we age…”


Blah blah blah

I hear nothing else.

I don’t like her anymore…

She is SO off the Christmas card list.


So now? My boobs are moving around to my back?

Dear God!

Don’t be surprised if you see me walking around backwards…

or in the Spanx department.

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Posted by on March 16, 2011 in Shopping


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“I want a groin stick”


“Okay honey…just let me …WHAT!”


“I need a groin stick…

A green one”




Reaching for support

How can she know that word even?

It is not we say “pass the salt and how is your groin today?”


Breathe in and out.




She said GROIN!



Where did you hear that”



I need a groin stick…

Like you gave Tennyson”


Oh!  Thank you God!

Four year olds don’t enunciate or get all their words right.

It turns out she wants a GLOW stick.


The Groin Stick




I was SOOOOOOOOOOOO not prepared for that discussion.























Posted by on March 14, 2011 in Misbehaving, Parenthood




It is a cold evening.

And our house is old and cold…

So we dress warmly at night.

Footy PJ’s for the girls…

And really…

there isn’t anything cuter than a toddler in footie jammies.



when you become 4…

you have more of an opinion…

which sometimes makes the evening routine difficult to complete.


“MOMMY…dey hurt… my toes… dey hurt”



“Honey … what is the problem?”


I investigate.

It appears that the little ridge/seam where the fabric comes together…

At the toes…

The microscopic seam…

Well it is bothering the princess’s toes.




How is this so?

when the child can purposely put her boots on the wrong feet…

and dance around the house for an hour

in total delight.





“I so hurting…

I gonna die”


Trying to adjust

Scoot scoot

Loosen fabric



So in a moment of hysteria and absolute loss of control…

Modified PJ's...modeled by Gigi the doll




Cut the feet out…

yes I did.


Freed those toes…




And I used?

My cuticle scissors

Because they were there.



And then?



Wailing from Landon because?
“dey not bootiful anymore”


More weeping and wailing…

this time from Tennyson.

Because she wants me to cut the feet out of her jammies too…

With my now broken cuticle scissors.


And then a whimper…


A collapse.


This time it was me…

Just wondering WHY!!!
















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Posted by on March 11, 2011 in Uncategorized


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