Who's Your Handyman?

Baby told me he needed to fix the house today.



What?
Doesn't your handyman wear a gold sequined leotard?
Note the fringe tool belt.
I think I might get one for Bo Hunkmeister this Christmas.
Hey, quit complaining about the mental image in your head.
It could have been a lot worse.
A lot worse.

Slacker?

I know, I know. It's been a long time since I've made a post. Hey, cut the Domestic Goddess some slack. It's not easy to keep up this level of fabulosity and still have time to blog about it. I need an entourage. Yeah, that's it, an entourage to report on my activities. I'll have to speak to the Bo Hunkmeister about this....

Anyway, what has the Domestic Goddess been doing you ask? (even if you're not asking, I'm going to tell you)


1. Exploring nature with the kiddies


We periodically see these things in our yard, but this one happen to be a biggun'



2. Examining the 'fruit' of the garden










Is there a world record for smallest watermelon? Princess Buttercup tried to grow one here in New England. We actually tasted some of it. It tasted very...watery.



3. Running a massage parlor


I plead the 5th here.



4. Trying to keep up with Gummi's appetite



Need I say more?



5. Debating my brother on the merits of Intelligent Design

Representing the Darwinists, my brother


Representing the ID folks, me


Hey, my blog, my picture choices!



But of course this morning, when I saw this, I had to blog.


Who is this you might ask (and I ask that frequently myself)?
Why it's Flying Boy!

(at least, that's what he tells us)

And this morning Flying Boy walked up to Princess Buttercup with some old dress from the dress up box and asked her "Will you be my princess?"

Buttercup looked at me with a questioning look.
I replied, "It's a special thing when a superhero asks you to be his princess."

So she put on the dress, to which Flying Boy exclaimed, "Princess!" and then proceeded to save her from various entrapments.



It's Baby's world and we're just spectators in it.


see what I mean?

Who?

Friend
Husband
Adviser
Fellow movie critic
Yard sale buddy
Father of my babies
Rubber of my feet
Fetcher of lattes
Partner in crime




To paraphrase Shakespeare ~

What's in a name? A Bo Hunkmeister by any other name would be just as fabulous.


Happy Birthday Honey!

The Other Uncle Dan

Not that I didn't like him, but Uncle Dan was the source of much confusion in my childhood. I knew that for someone to be called an 'Uncle', he had to be a brother to your mom or dad. However, since he didn't have the same last name as my dad, and wasn't in any of the old pictures, I knew he wasn't my dad's brother. Seeing as he had no Japanese features what so ever, this removed him from being my mother's brother. So maybe his wife, Aunt Mary Alice was related to my mom or dad. Again, Aunt Mary Alice, though lovely, was not Japanese and some sleuthing on my part revealed that she did not share the same last name as my dad's family. My five year old brain was quite befuddled as to how we came to call these people Uncle and Aunt when there was no blood relation.

Finally it occurred to me to actually ask someone to clarify all this, and my brother lovingly replied, "They're just good friends of the family, you dope."

Oh.

Okay, I can live with that.

The brother who said that is the one named after Uncle Dan, by the way.

I came to find out that Uncle Dan had met my father in third grade and they had been friends ever since. Wow. That blows my mind. In this day and age of immediate gratification and disdain for anything long term, a relationship that has lasted that long is worth noting.

Anyway, I always liked the visits with Uncle Dan and Aunt Mary Alice. He had a dry sense of humor and his wife was the most laid back person I had met. They had six kids. Six kids? That's crazy, eh? They also drove a VW bus. What's neater than that?

Uncle Dan has some mad carpentry skills. He built a bunk bed for one of his girls and a little captain's bed for another. He built a sun room addition to his house all by himself. I think I made a box in high school shop class and the teacher took pity on me and passed me anyway.
So recently he called me out of the blue and offered his skills. Perhaps he was having flashbacks and thinking of raising his own six in the small (by today's standards) house they shared.

And this is what he did for us. He made us a bench so the kids would fit more comfortably around our kitchen table.











































Bo Hunkmeister, having some skills himself, had the kids sign the bench before he finished it.
















And here's the tribe giving it the weight test:


















No, Baby is not wearing a diaper, he's wearing a gold sequined leotard. Don't ask.



Thanks Uncle Dan. This was truly a blessing to us and we appreciate the time you took to do this.


Oh! I almost forgot to mention my favorite part:



















This is the bolt securing the corner of our bench. Uncle Dan used this same bolt to secure a bench he built for his tribe. Rumor has it that it was pilfered from the Verrazano Bridge job site in the 60's. Don't worry Uncle Dan, your secret is safe with me.

A Confession

I am normally one of those conscientious moms, concerned about the health and wellness of her family. I try to keep a close eye on the nutritional value of what I put in front of them, but today I left the res'. I fell off the wagon. I hit new levels of gastronomic lows.
And I'm confessing this here because I value the honesty in my relationship with all 429 million of you, my closest friends.



What did I do?





I ate one of these.

















A Kentucky Fried Chicken "Double Down" sandwich. And I gave half to my husband. He asked, "Is this because you love me or hate me?" I said, "If I hated you, I'd give you the whole thing."

I couldn't help myself. It looked so good on TV. Yeah, I knew it was probably a heart attack waiting to happen, 2,000 calories in one sandwich, but it's fried chicken. I like fried chicken. And cheese. Well, I'm not a big fan of cheese so I'll leave that there. Special sauce? I'm always interested in what constitutes 'special sauce'. And of course, the deal maker - bacon...who doesn't love bacon? Well, vegetarians, Muslims and those abiding by Jewish dietary laws, but outside of those people, who doesn't love bacon?

So with some hard earned money, I bought a "meal" that consisted of this sandwich, a 16 oz. Pepsi and potato wedges.

the Pepsi was 200 calories
the potato wedges, 260 calories
and the sandwich, 590 calories (according to KFC)
for a grand total of 1,050 calories in one meal!

Even if you allow a generous 2,000 calories per day for your average gal, that's 50% of your daily need blown in one meal! I could eat an entire pint of Starbucks Caramel Macchiato ice cream and still not hit that many calories (no, I really, I could eat the entire pint.)

So if I'm going to blow 1,000 calories, it needs to be indulgent, succulent, worth the trip, as they say.

But this sandwich was...

it was....

remarkably mediocre

exceedingly average

astoundingly uneventful


So now I'm out $6.48 (arrgh! that's 3 Coolatas!) and I'll probably have to start mainlining statins tonight and eat salad for the next three days. But at least I know the truth now, right? Right?

~sigh~

How Time Flies

Eighteen years ago today I was at church....

No, I wasn't doing the Mormon multiple spouse thing. From the left are Matt, my "man" of honor, me, Bo Hunkmeister and Lou, Bo's best man. I asked my college roommate to be maid of honor but she took off to Italy. So I asked my good friend Matt to step in. I love the fact that he so readily agreed.


Pre wedding...
...I was pinning a corsage on my dad, running the show like a stage manager on a power trip. I love the smile on my dad's face. You can tell he saying, "Oh that poor boy! I wonder if he knows what he's in for!"


On the other hand, Bo and his best man were watching Rocky and Bullwinkle. Bo said he shaved three times that day. Maybe that's why Bo's cheeks were shiny.


These are my brothers lovingly telling Bo, "Now that you're part of the family, we don't have to pretend to like you any more." Aren't they the sweetest?


Marrying this wonderful man has helped introduce to the world...

Gummi

Tater

Princess Buttercup

W. Bear

Princess Git Er Done

and of course...

Baby!

It's been a fabulous eighteen years, Bo. Here's to more adventures!

Public Service Announcement #234

Everyone needs to read this (it's an easy read, no really, it is):




To prevent this:





We'll address the whole public speaking skills thing later....

The Road Less Traveled

Dear New England,

This letter has been a long time coming.

You know I love you. We started our relationship on shaky ground with the schizophrenic weather patterns and the funny accents, but when I discovered your fall foliage, your quainter than quaint little villages, your plethora of Dunkin' Donuts, I said to myself, "I think this relationship could work."

But there's something I gotta ask you, something I need an answer to.
What the heck is up with your roads and road signage?

Between road signs that are placed on the opposite side of the turn, non-existent road signs and highway signs placed just at the exit or after (when the turn is too late), it makes me think you don't want me here.

Today was the final straw.

You see New England, a friend told me I didn't have to go all the way to Boston for good cannoli. I could go to the North End Deli in Plainville which is just off of Route 152 which is off of Robert Toner Blvd. A mere 20 minutes from my house!

Like any good New Englander, I started my trip with a stop at Dunkin' Donuts. And here was my omen: a sour coffee. I should have seen it for what it was but, because I didn't, I tried to remedy the situation. I bought another coffee to mix with the sour one rather than concede defeat; retreat to fight another day. (Am I being melodramatic here? I mean, we're talking about pastries after all.)

I forgot the Google directions at home but, in my mind, it seemed so simple. I confirmed the directions with a friend who lived in the area. She said, "Sure, just bang a left and then another left and it's right there."

Confident in my information and in our knowledge of each other, I took off. I turned onto Robert Toner Boulevard. You know I'm a cautious person, New England. I like confirmation that I'm on the correct road. So after a few miles, I started to look for street signs that would indicate the road I'm on. I find a sign at the cross street that only has the name of the cross street itself, not the one I'm on. As a matter of fact, it had two signs on one pole for "Kevin Koska Drive," as if there was a disagreement whether there should blue signs or green ones and it was decided to use both. As I passed each cross street I looked for confirmation but there was nothing. It was as if you, New England, were telling me, "You should know the street you're on." I've also noticed that sometimes, you put the street signs on the right side for a street that is on the left. Is it not a little dangerous to be looking to the right side when you need to be turning left?

Befuddled, I went into one of the three Dunkin' Donuts that I passed to ask directions. The girl inside told me she was good at directions. This, in hind sight, I should have seen as another portend of misfortune. She said, "Follow Landry to the end."

I followed Landry. I stayed straight. I did.

But at some point, I saw I was no longer on Landry. Finally, there was a street sign but only to tell me Landry had left me. Going straight, no turns, the road changed. Did I enter a time/space continuum? You can't just up and change a road name in mid stream. Or direction for that matter. I tried to follow this new road to the end but the last block was one way in the opposite direction I was traveling. Same name but different direction. How can I get to the end if the road is against me?

Now, traveling back and forth to find out where I am, to see where Landry has disappeared to, to somehow find Route 152 (which is supposed to be a major route), I return to my starting point with 1/4 tank less of gas, frustrated and more importantly, cannoli-less.

Really New England, I need to know. We don't seem to be communicating clearly. I need to know where I am with you.

Love always,
Domestic Goddess

Postition Available

I need someone.

After the standard question, "Are they all yours?" I'm usually asked, "How do you do it all?" Meaning, how do I keep on top of the cooking, cleaning, educating, child care, et. al, ad nauseum. Truthfully, I never thought of my life as particularly full of chores and work.

Until now.

I need help. To clean my baby. It's a full time job. No, really, it is.


This is Gummi.
Cute little bugger with a sweet disposition.
He's bathed on a regular basis. Not as much as the only child of a first time mom, but never the less, he's a fresh smelling kid. But I'm finding it harder and harder to keep him funk-free. Why?

Consider his ear.
Notice the tiny little canals. Perfect for trapping stuff.


This is his chin. When I pull back his chin to clean, I discover two other chins. I swear I could lose a dollar bill under there.


And his belly button. I'm scared of what's in there but I don't know how to get it out. (I'm sorry, did you just finish eating dinner?)


Ahhh, yes. The toes. Which stay clenched all the time. I want to clean between them but that would require prying them open somehow. I'm scared.


His hands

Do you know how long it takes to trim the nails of an appendage that's constantly in motion?

So I can either tend to the rest of my house or spend the day cleaning Gummi, but I can't do both.

I will be interviewing people tomorrow.

My Girl

This is my girl, Princess Git-Er-Done.

I think of all my kids, she's most like me.

For example...



she likes to cook,

she thinks rules or instructions are for people who don't know what they're doing,

and she can multi-task like a pro.

Sometimes, she's a force to be reckoned with...

But she's also very sweet, like here when she's trying to soothe her brother:

Most of the time, she's just dancing to her own music.

And that's why we love her.

Happy Birthday Sweetie!

What Happens When the Baby is Left with the Siblings

I like the look of resignation in the last photo.

Fashion in the Domestic Goddess House

I told Baby to go upstairs and get dressed for the day and this is what he came down in. Note the shoes.



This inspired me to post about Baby's fashion sense until I uploaded the other pictures on the card and saw these.

Doesn't his expression just say, "Why, Mother? Why?"

This is Grandma getting in on the action (or getting a snoot full too early in the morning).

"You will bring me more kibble. You will bring me more kibble. You will...oh, nevermind."

What happens when you leave the baby with his sister.

I couldn't tell if this was a clothing issue or interpretive dance.

As Princess Buttercup once said, "We're all about fashion in this family."