The Cutest Thing Ever

Is there anything cuter than a puppy? No. And nothing is cuter than a baby chihuahua. This is my sisters baby, his name is Zucko.


He is twice as big in that pictures as he was a week earlier when she got him. To put things into perspective, here he is with Taco, who weighs all of 6lbs. He was trying to run with the big dogs, but he just couldn't.


He is so tiny, he fits into a tee ball mitt!


Zucko is the cutest, sweetest thing I have held since my babies were tiny. AND, he doesn't spit up, which quite frankly my children were apt to do at any given time. I held him and he chewed on my ear, and sniffed around my face. He has skunky puppy breath, which is disgusting when it's a skunk, but so precious when it's a puppy.

Zucko was named by my nephew Bradley. He's running neck and neck with Zucko in the cutest thing ever department, don't you think? Have you ever seen eyes so blue in your life?


Look at that sweet face! Bradley was nearly 10lbs when he was born, and yet he has always seemed so vulnerable to me. It has to be the baby face. And when he gives you little baby kisses, they smell like sugar cookies. Even if he is sweaty and dirty, which he often is, he still smells like a sugar cookie. If you ask Bradley for a hug, he will tease you and turn his back to you, glance at you sideways and then give in right when you are about to give up. And when he hugs you, yeah you guessed it, you smell sugar cookies. I love sugar cookies.

Busy Busy Busy

This is always a crazy time of year for me. First of all, I have finals. Those alone are butt kickers. Then the end of the school year brings class trips, PTO events, awards assembly and kindergarten graduation (don't get me started or I'll cry a river). I am also managing both Jack and Sydney's tee-ball teams, and coaching Syds. Sydney also has her tumbling recital at the end of the month. So that means that I am doing something every night of the week. And I love every stinking minute of it. I wouldn't give up a thing.

Yesterday was PTO fun day. I spent the day outside manning giant inflatables and sweating like a large farm animal. Jack loves giant inflatables. Sydney took this picture of him.



Then later that day Sydney had ball practice, so I was out there all sweaty and unathletic. Actually, to my credit, I can catch a tee ball pretty well. Then again a 4 yr old threw it so take that as you will. I went to bed last night sun-kissed and exhausted. BUT, my makeup totally held up all day. Bravo Bare Minerals! When I got home late last night, Bob told me that I looked pretty. He says that when he knows he is suppose to, but this was pretty random so I knew he meant it.

My kids are so athletic. I am so not, so they must get it from their dad. He has amazing athletic ability, and he makes everything look so effortless. I am not shocked by Jack's natural ability, because I've watched him for years. What I did not expect is for my precious little girl to knock the freaking ball out of the park! She's a powerhouse! Here's Aunt Desi showing her how to hit the ball.


And that's all she needed!



And she doesn't mess around either, she doesn't ever seem to get tired, and she loves being active. Thank God. Because I'm a lazy pud. I'm going to brag, she's the kid in gymnastics that the coach has the other kids watch to see how to do things the right way. She's very disciplined. At sports, not in life. Look at her, telling Lily to catch the ball!


So if we can survive until school is out, I think I'll be able to slow down. Until then I'm all in.

My Poor Children

Apparently my kids are very underprivileged. I believe that Jack is getting sick, because he's acting like a crazy boy and that's his tendency right before he gets a cold or a virus.

Last night he spouted off outside to his dad. He came in and told me that he accidentally said something mean to dad. I told him that he needed to stop being so mean and bratty. Then I told him that since the last couple of days he's been acting like that, he wasn't playing any games last night. On school nights, he's allowed to play this computer game for one hour. And if you want to really get to him, threaten him with that because he lives for that hour.

So after I told him that he was essentially grounded, he threw himself on the floor and kicked his arms and legs. Literally threw himself on the floor and had a fit that a two year old would envy. I just stood there staring at him, and he looked at me. I asked him if he was really doing that? He then told me that he never gets anything he wants. No vacations, no games, no t-ball, no bike riding, and some other things that I had no idea he was interested in. I mean, the kid lives in a mini Disneyworld and he's complaining because he never gets to do anything.

Today if I look at him crooked he bursts into tears and yells "MOM". He has told his sister he hates her, he has kicked the dog, and he has commented that he is indeed leaving this place and going far away. Those are his words "I'm getting out of here and I'm going far away, I've had it". I think that this is because I told him to stop pushing his sister. Who, by the way, THRIVES on this behavior. She totally knows what buttons to push to make him mad.

Right now they are on the couch, and have drawn an imaginary line that must not be crossed.

Just Call Me Coach

Tonight we had the coaches meeting for T-ball. We got the call that the meeting was tonight at 7pm at 1pm this afternoon. Niiice. Fortunately people came out in droves and volunteered to coach, so my team has 3 coaches and 13 kids. Bob's team has 3 coaches and 13 kids. For some reason I thought that I could handle the administrative side of two T-ball teams and let the other coaches do all that sweaty physical stuff. I'm an idiot. I'm already overwhelmed, with the calling of the parents, and the making of the rosters, and the setting up of the call lists and snack lists and figuring out the uniform situation. At least two of each teams phone numbers are wrong, and two of the kids on my team have names that I cannot even begin to pronounce. I named my kids Jack and Sydney for a reason. You can't screw that up. I would simply feel horrible if I mispronounced a childs name, I hate it.

But...I can do this. I'm a wiz at this stuff. I have the knowledge. But I totally lack the motivation. That's always been my biggest obstacle. Motivation.

I'm coaching the Cubs. My husband despises the Cubs. We're a White Sox house over here. He's coaching the Braves, I have no feeling either way on that.

When we lived in Chicago, one of Bob's dudes sent us to a Cubs game at Wrigley Field. It was fun, they sent a limo, and we went to dinner downtown, all that jazz. Really the limo was more of an embarrassment than anything. We pulled up to the front of the stadium, and everyone watched. Then we waddle our nobodies out, only to disappoint the crowd of people waiting to see who was inside. I have never felt so completely insignificant in my life. You don't know low until you have a hundred people look at you like that. We had fun though, I can say I've been there. I was going to get my niece a Cubs onesie, but I wasn't sure if she was a boy or a girl at the time, and Bob wasn't about to let me purchase Cubs gear. I did manage to get a cool bucket hat, which I might just wear this season.

So away we go...

Why I Changed My Blog Name

I never really liked Living With Mel. It was lame and generic and it was all I could come up with on the fly. I was having an off day. Besides, I don't want to just focus on my life, I want to share my favorite things. For example, if you look in the header up there, you will see that I have quoted Dwight Schrute. I used this quote because 1)I think that Dwight is hilarious and 2)I just like any quotes that reference bears. Bears, Beets, etc. Fact. Bears eat beets. If something strikes me as funny, I'm going to share it. I love funny.

I decided on confessions of a quasi pseudo soccer mom because that's what I am. I'm almost a fake soccer mom. I'm really not as together as a soccer mom, but I still do all the things that soccer moms do. People think I've got all my stuff together. In reality, I'm a big old mess. I'm admittedly lazy, and I love to sleep. But when I go to the school or the tee ball field, or to gymnastics, or to PTA events, I turn it on. I take extra kids all the time. I always have a snack available. And I volunteer to make cupcakes or homemade granola bars for snack days. But when I'm home alone, I'm wearing paint stained clothes that hang off of me and I lay on the couch cruising the internet. If I don't have to take a kid to school, or keep another one, I could sleep until 1pm daily. And still be in bed by 10pm. I call my dogs filthy names when they won't stop barking at cars passing by the house. And I am a moody little cuss.

So to summarize, I could be considered a fake soccer mom because the time that I'm not doing soccer mom stuff, I'm laying around the house ordering my kids to bring me the phone. But I'm walking the walk, so I'm not quite fake. Pseudo. Just almost. Quasi.

When Kids Grab Cameras

My kids love to take picture with my camera. I have no problem with it, they know to be careful and sometimes they get some good shots. However, I downloaded my latest batch yesterday and I found some disturbing shots. I'm not sure when these pictures were taken, or where I was when they were taken. What I do know is that I had some movie moments while looking at them.

"Ghost" Is she running from a ghost? Is this one of those orbs or something? And what
are her intentions when she gets to her target? Is she the good guy, or the bad guy?


While I love his little hillbilly gap, this is a little "Deliverance", don't you think?


Did you ever see "Dog Day Afternoon". Just call Jack, Pacino, for the purposes of this blog entry. He's holding Taco hostage and forcing him to watch "Beverly Hills Chihuahua for the 100th time.


Taco looks away when Chloe gets thrown into the cage with that big dog.


And here's what happens when you look away. (Taco is fine, btw. He's not being held down...this time)


We cannot leave out the Oscar winners. I give you, "My Left Foot". (I know that's her right foot, but My Right Foot wasn't a movie, and this was close enough. I needed to add some class to the mix.)


And it what is quite possibly the scariest freaking scene from a movie being reinacted. I give you..."The Ring".

Remember when that little girl came crawling out of that well?

Remember when she came towards the TV?

Remember when she came OUT of the TV?

Remember when the guy tried to get away from her?

But in the end, she got him?


Well, all those crushed up potato chips that you see on my floor scare me more than that movie. And they both know that. They know that crushed potato chips on my floor eat at my soul. And I have been looking all over the house for those two flip flops. I guess they made their way under the couch.

AND SCENE...

I Did It Again

Today I ran into Penney's to take back a shirt. While there, I went to check out the final clearance racks and I found about 3 outfits for $24. I was so excited! I noticed people looking at me, and when I went to check out the cashier asked if I was ok. I told her I was and then I said, I'm sure too loudly, "I loooooove the final clearance rack". Then she said "oh me too" but sort of like you would tell a kid that you like ice cream too. I was so wrapped up in my bargains that I just kept smiling and being chirpy.

I got out to my car, and looked in the mirror, and I realized why I was getting strange reactions. When I left the house, I had my hair up in a big clip. I took it down as I was driving and then just stuck it on the side of my head in my hair. Very out of place. I forgot I did that and walked around the store for 30 minutes looking like a drunken pillhead.

This is not the first time, or the worst time this has happened to me. Once, when Bob and I lived up in Michigan, I went for a massage. I had been wearing black hose and when I got dressed after the massage I threw them in the pocket of my coat. While I was getting my massage, I threw my hair in a pony tail. I left the spa very relaxed and laid back. I ran into a store to grab a CD, once again, giddy from an hour long massage, and people looked at me. I imagined I had a glow about me. When we lived in Michigan people always looked at me, or so I thought. I had just moved from Texas, I had a touch of an accent, and I guess I thought they saw that special somethin' about me that was different from them. So the stares didn't really make me think anything was up.

I got home, and when I walked in, Bob double glanced me, and with a very strange look, asked me if I was ok. I wasn't sure what he meant, and I asked him why. He told me to go look in the mirror. When I saw myself, I was mortified. There I was, with my ponytail kicked to the side of my head and falling down, raccoon eyes from mascara being smeared, black panty hose hanging out of the pocket of my long black overcoat that was buttoned up just off by one button. I looked like I had either been mugged, or again, drunk.

Aside from forgetting that I look like a deranged drunkard, I also have a habit of saying hello to people who look like people I know. I once waved to a guy and his pregnant wife across a store, telling them I would see them at the baby shower. It was after I walked away that I realized that while he looked like a guy I knew, that was not his wife, therefore I had just told total strangers that I had intentions to crash their baby shower. I had an entire conversation with a man at a doctors office, only to end the conversation with "you're not William are you?" He politely answered "no ma'am". I excused myself and tried to walk away with an ounce of dignity. I probably tripped over a rug on the way out, I've blocked most of that incident out. I once yelled out "Nana" to an elderly lady with short gray hair. When she didn't answer, I said to myself "she can't hear a thing". Once I got up closer I realized it was a man. I'm kidding on that last part, just another dig at Nana's lesbian haircut.

I do this all the time. It's getting bad. If my mother in law did this, I would have her committed. Yet people that I know? I can look them right in the eye and not even realize that I know them. My GG has called me and told me that I flat out ignored a great aunt at Walmart once. I had no idea I ever saw her. But to be honest, I've dived into the frozen food section more than once to avoid talking to aforementioned great aunt, so my whole "I didn't see her" line didn't go over so well.

I either need to start paying better attention, or just start wearing matching pantsuits and white canvas keds, and a sweater in the middle of July. You know, just in case the car gets too cold. And if I do that, I'll have to carry tissues in my purse, and let mints get all fuzzy in the side pockets. I went from not leaving my car without checking my lipstick to wearing two different colored flip flops, just that fast.