Because I am fresh out of witty thoughts and big words

Today I will just resort to stealing someone else's idea and posting pictures of my adorable offspring. It's too hot too think and The Duckling is hollering, singing, screaching and talking (pretty much anything and everything BUT sleeping) from her crib which throws off any ability that I once had to concentrate.

Completely nicked from Meritt:

I'm: thankful for the adult interaction and yummy salad that I had this morning at Jennifer’s (whom as I can see is damn efficient at posting!!!).
I want to: drink a nice, cold beer.
I should be: drying the laundry and hanging it up.
I'm wearing: Pink Panther undies and my bra (gimme a break, I just woke up from a 5 minute nap with Peanut).
I'm sitting: on my old, busted to crap English chair that hurts my back.
I'm thinking: that I could really use some ice water.
I'm feeling: like liposuction might be a viable option to get rid of my post-pregnancy thighs.
I'm wishing: the magical Fat and Cellulite Removal Fairy will visit me tonight in my sleep.
I'm longing: to be back home in Austin.
I'm wondering: why my girls are torturing me by refusing nap-time.


Here we are resorting to taking self-portraits. Hey, it's cheaper than Sears and you don't run the risk of Poonami's happening in public.

OK, now we're going to the beach to cool off.

Later gators!

It's moments like this when I can barely control myself and humbly thank our ancestors for breaking free from England

So we have this quaint little 4th of July parade in our neighborhood where the kids are to dress in their patriotric best and decorate their bikes, strollers, etc. in red, white and blue. It's a nice way to bring the community together and remember that if it weren't for our forefathers we could still be saying things like "bonnet" for the hood of the car and eating stuff like Bangers & Mash and Steak and Kidney Pudding.

This gave me an excellent excuse to visit my favorite vice. Target. I needed streamers or flags or hats of something, didn't I?

As Peanut and I perused the aisles of Target I began to get a warm tingly sensation. Where had all the summer stuff gone? Then I saw it in front of me. Taunting me in an inviting gesture.

"Mama Duck, come and see what we have to offer! We're ALL on clearance! 30% off! You NEED us!" they beckoned.

Damn retail merchandise and their evil magical powers, I thought as I felt my body being tugged by a strong force not unlike gravity toward the pretty red "30% Reduced" signs.

Cute kids' chairs! Didn't I need these for the girls? Adorable throw pillows in a refreshing madras seersucker material! Wouldn't those be fabulous on our couches during the summer months? Dishes, cups and serving platters! O My!

I felt a lot like Rebecca Bloomwood from Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic books. Certain that I needed each and every item that my fingers caressed.

I managed to show some restraint. I am hosting a family gathering next month and being a recovering basketaholic I had a breakdown, a relapse if you will. I found these adorable baskets (reinforced with metal frames!) with a totally cute striped liner and a covered baking dish (perfect for brownies and Pumpkin Crunch!). Each was about $7.

Now Meritt, before you go and say that's not deep enough of a discount, let me tell you about my luck. If I were to wait for these to go on further clearance, something would come up and I wouldn't be able to make it back to Mecca that week and alas, they wouldn't be mine. I wouldn't be able to hear my guests proclaim, "Mama, how cute and accessorized your buns and chips are in these gorgeous baskets!" I would mourn deeply. Now that I've read your post for today I wonder if I shouldn't go back for a matching platter to serve the ham on?!?! Wouldn't that have made it all the more appealing?

BTW, didn't get any flags, streamers or decorations for the parade. Will have to check in my crafting stuff to see what I can put together.

And if we were still under English rule do you think we'd have anything as cool as Target? No. We'd have to shop at Harrod's and they JUST cannot complete with the rotation of stock and cute baskets that the fine folks at Target/Fields can. Period.

Must. Tear. Self. Away. From. Blogging.

Must. Start. Dinner.

The counting system of Enron and the likes

So, Papa Duck who SWEARS he is funny (to which I ALWAYS reply, "Honey, you're not funny, you're an accountant.") came up with a funny today.

Here are some things you need to know:
1. Apparently Haloscan is having difficulty counting the comments from yesterday. It keeps saying that there's one comment (although, for awhile it said there were three, but who's counting? and who's counting well?)

2. Whevever The Duckling counts she counts, "two, two, two, two"...all numbers are two. Period.

Papa Duck says in an e-mail, "P.S. I thought I’d mention that your blog from yesterday counts like The Duckling does. Regardless of how many people add comments the counter continues to say three, three, three, three……."

Not roll on the floor, wet your pants hysterical, but kinda cute funny.

Monday on Film: Walk a mile in our shoes...

Thought I was gone forever, didn't ya? Nope, just MIA for a bit, but I'm back now!

Once again it is time for Monday on Film...the day where I recover from the weekend and show the world what we've been up to using my little digi camera. Today I'm taking you along on our morning walk. Actually, I notice that instead of being a "daily morning walk" it's actually like a "Monday morning walk" as every week when Tuesday and the rest of the days roll around, I'm too doggone lazy/tired/hot to leave the house.

That aside, let's get started.


This is my favorite house in our neighborhood. It's on the water and brand new (most of our neighborhood was built in the 1920s-1930s). The little house type thing you see in the foreground is actually their drive through garage...I'm not sure of it's actual purpose, but it's cute and probably cost a pretty penny. The house itself is fabulous and looks like a great place to host parties.


We usually walk for 20-25 minutes and then arrive at the beach for some play time. Since it's early when we get here we almost always have the place all to ourselves which is very nice. Just enjoying the serenity of the water lapping at the shore and The Duckling screaming like a banshee whilst digging in the sand.


The lifeguards show up at 11 AM to sweep away the seaweed...long after we've gone and The Duckling is in her crib quietly napping. Or as luck would have it today, she was playing in her crib getting her leg stuck between the slats requiring vaseline and a cold cloth to assist in the removal of her knee from the wooden prison. A process not done without a lot of boo-hooing on the parts of both Duckling and Mama.


It's kind of a ghostly shot because our air quality is really sucky today, but you can see the skyline of the city across the lake. This morning the smell of dead fish, seaweed and some sort of rotting carcas was in the air. Maybe the humidity made the odors linger in the air longer? Dunno, but it was kind of rank this morning.


The Duckling and Mama Duck share a tender moment on the beach...seconds later she broke from the hand holding to play in a stagnant puddle of water on a concrete slab from the sprinklers. All the sand on the beach, all the water in the lake and that's what she finds appealing.


Finally we arrive back where we started. The big, white barn. In addition to having what could arguably be the world's worst ventilation system, scariest death trap of a balcony and toilets that frequently strike, the exterior is quite lacking in...ummmm, let's just say it's aesthetically challenged. We finally have functioning air conditioning, and that my friend, is a very, very good thing.

Happy Monday all!

Stuff Portrait Friday...Something old, something new, something stolen, some crappy gift...

Ya know what? I think I have more fun thinking of my titles for Stuff Portrait Friday than I do taking the pictures sometimes. Looks at the sheer genius this week...the wedding saying thingy about "Something old, something new" yadda yadda yadda.

Alright, back to the task at hand.

As always, the agenda for Stuff Portrait Friday is posted by the lovely and talented Kristine at Random and Odd. Go check her out and play along if you like! It's quite fun! Tell her I sent ya, it'll make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Here's the scoop for the week...

Photos #1: Something stolen (or borrowed and not returned)

Alright, alright, you caught me red-handed. I stole this book from my mom YEARS ago. It's a little known book from the 1960s and it's fabulously hilarious. So much so that I read it EVERY year during the holidays. I'll spare you the details, but check it out...The Joyous Season by Patrick Dennis. It was recently put back into print because of the junkies like me and yes, I did buy my mother a hard-bound copy of it that's all shiny and new and not beat to crap like this one.


Photo #2: Unopened (or unused)present you forgot to return

Alright, here's the scoop. I didn't have anything that fit this category so I took a picture of this awesome purse that my sister-in-law gave me for Christmas. Why? Well because it was a gift and I haven't used it yet, so it met two out of the three criteria and I thought that was good enough. And the reason I haven't used it? It's one of those totally cute hold it in your hand purses...my hands are FULL with The Duckling and Peanut right now...I hope to use it soon when I can escape from them for a weekend on my own!

Photo #3: your perfume

I go back and forth...Rapture by Victoria's Secret and Beautiful by Estee Lauder. But honestly, I haven't worn either in ages. Mostly I'm wearing Eau de Whatever The Duckling had for Lunch or Fragrance de Peanut Spit Up. Sad but true.

Overheard from the living room...

"That's gross!!!"

Knowing that if something was actually so gross that Papa Duck recognized it as being fowl and disgusting I knew my attention was needed.

I peeked out from the kitchen and there was The Duckling bent over. Sucking her toes.

Gross indeed.

But possibly not as gross as when she tries to suck on my toes while I'm feeding Peanut and I can do little to remove my toes from her mouth.

Poonami of a smaller more manageable magnitude hits!

MOMMY & PEANUT SURVIVE!
FAR LESS DAMAGE THAN ANTICIPATED!

It was easy to sense that the Poonami was on the horizon as Monday night Peanut had some rather odiferous farts. Amazing how stinky one little adorable baby can be.

We were home pretty much all day on Tuesday enjoying the lack of air conditioning for the second straight week (I keep threatening bodily harm to our landlord, and with my luck he's gonna wind up dead somewhere...where will they look? that's right, at me...on the bright side, I'd get to spend some time in the air conditioned precinct until they sorted it all out...) , so you'd think the law of averages would apply and it would reach ground at home, right?

Of course not!

We went over to our neighbor's house for a few moments in a cool house and to watch her fold laundry because, let's admit it, it's always great fun to watch other people work.

Then it happened. I heard the grunting and knew the Poonami wasn't far off. This seasoned Poonami chaser was ready! I left Peanut in her car seat and we headed back home (we live 10 ft. from our neighbor...city dwelling and all). Instead of STUPIDLY trying to change her immediately, I lifted up her Onesie and let her lay on a TOWEL on the fabulous Pottery Barn chamois changing pad (seriously, the first time I felt how soft these things were I wanted roll around naked on them!!). No way was she going to get poo-poo all over the luxurious white pad.

I'm an expert at this now, remember?

The Poonami passed and I took the diaper off.

Peanut smiled at me.

I IMMEDIATELY put the towel over her little parts to avoid spraying the living room with highly pressurized baby crap.

I had won!!!! She didn't poo again, it was just a smile of gratitude and relief to her Mommy.

No Poonami photos for you guys this time.

All's well on the Northern Front.

Over and out.

Five days and holding

It's been five days since the mega-pooping Jackson Pollock style happened.

That's just fair warning that were due for something today.

For those of you who have just joined us here at Texas Ducks, my daughter Peanut only poops every five days. And when she does, it's always a spectacle to be memorialized in print and photo.

God bless us all...let's hope it's just a simple Poonami.

Monday on Film

Is there anybody out there?!?!?!

Oh, hi there! It's Monday and Mommy broke out her camera today. Today it's hotter than the peas when Mommy takes them out of the microwave and that's pretty hot. Our air conditionning is still not working...it's been almost two weeks. Actually, the new thingie is out there, but the geniuses who left it there didn't hook it up. Mommy's a bit upset about it, but that's OK, we're from Texas! If there's one thing we know, it's heat. It's 88 degrees in my room right now so instead of napping I'm singing "The Pootie Song" and typing to you.

Here I am outside enjoying the shade in our backyard. I could have gotten in our splashy pool to cool down, but I hate to mess up my hair.


Both of our grandmas bought us matching outfits. Today we're wearing the ones from Grandma Duck, aren't we cute? You can send us things if you want. I like Goldfish, books and Pootie.


Here I am working very hard to keep my toes clean. Spoons make great toe-ick-getters.


Last but not least, here I am strapping Peanut into her car seat. I'm not sure where she's going, but I'm kinda glad. Maybe she'll leave her Pootie behind and I can have it.

For Duckling

Dearest Duckling,

There will come a day when you show interest in boys, when you are somewhere around 35 years old, and think about having “relations”. This letter was written to you while the memories of our recent road-trip together are still fresh in my mind. Think of this memoir, my dear daughter, as form of birth control or at the very least insight into what your life might be like should that the little rubber receptacle break.

As we all settled into the back-seat of the Mommy’s car we issued Daddy the “home Jeeves!” command. Nestled between the car-seats of you and Peanut I wondered how it was that I was having to enjoy the fabulousness of my new luxury vehicle in the least comfortable position out of the four occupants. I didn’t have long to ponder as you handed me “Giggle, Giggle, Cluck” for an unprecedented half a dozen readings in the first 15 minutes of our two-hour car ride.

When the humorous antics of duck and the other farm animals ran dry for you I offered you every toy made by the Chinese out of brightly colored plastic that had ever been mass produced. Methodically, each one of these was ungratefully launched to the floor of my car without so much as a moment of playtime. Finally the toy that provided us with twenty minutes of silent enjoyment was a white napkin with ham residue and grape stains on it.

Soon the napkin lost its novelty and it was at this point that you decided pulling my hair was the most fun you could think of. Calming explaining that I didn’t like that game you eventually released your death-grip on my rather expensive haircut.

Having exhausted all of the toy and book options in the car you began singing “The Pootie Song”, “pooooeeeee, pooooeeee, poooooeeee.” Since it is fact that Pooties only live in cribs of little girls I told you to suck on your fingers for the time being to which you responded by singing the second verse of “The Pootie Song”.

Being able to stand it no more I looked lovingly, but firmly, into your beautiful brown eyes and said, “Your mother is going to get drunk tonight. Are you proud of yourself? That’s what you’ve driven me to.”

Quietly you slipped your petite index finger into you mouth and stared at me with those sad baby eyes.

I’m sorry to say the return trip wasn’t much better. After foregoing an afternoon nap and making Mommy most proud by not only flirting with the hot young men at your uncle’s engagement party, but persuading them to push you around the yard for hours on end in your cousin’s stroller, it was time to go home. I took up my seat, again, in the least luxurious position in the car. As you were busy flashing random partygoers with your bellybutton, you couldn’t have been bothered to eat at the party, so we stopped at a gas station for food but all they had was string cheese. Three minutes later we added some coin to Ray Kroc’s pocket by purchasing a Four Piece Chicken Nugget Happy Meal with a “SharkBoy & LavaGirl” action figure.

As we finally made our way on to the toll way your precious little lips flattened out as you proceeded to grunt and push out a poopie. Once again we found ourselves on the side of road where Mommy witnessed a horrific scene as Daddy changed your crappy nappy on the leather center console of my beloved car. But you’re worth it honey.

Back on the road, it was bed-time. I tucked you in and handed you Cashew and Pootie.

Thinking with a full tummy and empty large intestine that you might be ready to drift off to Sleepytime Land to dream about sandboxes and a never-ending box of Goldfish to munch on, I rested my weary head on your car seat. Not a moment later did I feel something wet pressed to my nose. So generously were you sharing your sucked on Pootie with me.

This long trip culminated with Mommy resting her head between her legs singing along to “Delta Dawn” and “Jose, Cuervo, You Are a Friend of Mine” and you sweetly falling asleep twenty minutes before we arrived at our home.

With all my heart, I love you and hope this serves as insight to what your life could be like if you choose to do dirty things with boys.

Love,
Mommy

In hopes of achieving greatness, make me proud, Peanut

Brenna Geek, Chairbaby
US Olympic Distance Pooing Team
c/o Olympic Committee
Olympic City, IA


Dear Miss Brenna:

I believe that I have what it takes to make the US Distance Pooing Team.

I have attached a few photos of my distance trials and think that you will find my aim and the pressure behind the poo to be quite sufficient. This particular trial was done on the changing table when my Mommy thought I was done. She had removed my diaper, used one wipe and had me perfectly positioned to shoot all the way across the room.

I hit two baskets, a basket liner, the diaper wipe warmer, my big sister’s shirt, the dresser, the changer, the wall (in three separate places) and smattered the carpeting somewhere in the vicinity of fifteen different spots. Exhibit #1 shows my excellence for spray.

Exhibit #2 shows the measurement of my performance as a total pooing distance of 102 inches which my Mommy tells me is roughly 8 ½ feet. I believe that this more than exceeds the six foot requirement for all team potentials.

Thank you for your time in reviewing my trials and I look forward to hearing from you regarding the next step toward my becoming and official US Distance Pooing Team member.

Warmest regards-
Peanut Duck


Exhibit #1: The shit hits pretty much everything but the fan.


Exhibit #2: Measuring for distance post-clean-up (I promise it's accurate, I used the final inch of soaking wet Resolved carpeting as the end point...yup, really...102 inches)

A little bit of lovin' poultry-style

So I have no idea why this struck me as being so funny...maybe it's because my brain has gone soft from conversing only with an 18 month old and 2 month old all day long, but check out my chicken! Oh, veggies may find this offensive, but chickens need love too, my friends.


"C'mon! Gimme a hug! It's because I'm so pale and pasty, isn't it? Isn't it!?!??"


(for best results, read a la Barry White or maybe like Chef from South Park...it makes all the difference)
"How 'bout now, baby? I'm dark and buff, gimme some lovin'..."

My opinions have been confirmed as facts

So as we were waiting for Mean Nurse (not really...she's actually fabulous, but I still wanted to kick her in the shins for making my Peanut cry) to come along with the vaccinations at Peanut's two month check-up today The Duckling and I bided our time by reading "Everyone Poops."

Fabulous reading my friends. Short on plot, but lots of pictures of poop.

My sincere wish is that by her four month check-up the office will have invested in "The Gas We Pass."

Told ya Meritt. Poop and farts are funny.

So there.

Oh, and someone is making BIG bucks off of it.

Not unlike a baby rabbit being swooped upon by a hawk

Yesterday marked Day #2 at the sitter's house for The Duckling. I was lucky enough to have her enrolled in a MDO (Mothers' Day Out) back home. If you don't have these programs in your state I strongly suggest you move. They're fabulous.

We aren't so lucky as to have these programs here.

As you may recall there was a considerable amount of boo-hooing on the parts of The Duckling and her mother when she first started. As Murphy's Law would have it, by the time we moved she LOVED going to school and playing with the other kids.

Let me just say, we're going through an adjustment period. When we pulled up to the house yesterday there saw a screech from the back seat. This was before I even got out of the car to get her from her carseat. Tears a'streamin' down the face. When I tried to leave she climbed on me like a koala on a gum tree. Not a pretty sight.

Four hours later when I went to pick her up she was crying (I could hear her as soon as I entered the house...it's a split-level, so that was a good bit of lung power being used), sucking wildly on Pootie and holding Cashew in a choke-hold that looked like an illegal move even for the WWF. The good news in that there was apparently an intermission from the tears at drop-off and the tears at pick-up.

This my friends, is progress.

As to the title of the post...if you've ever heard it, you can pretty much understand the exact noises being made by my Duckling

Torture Devices and Bovine Intervention

I could mass produce these and market them as torture devices. Just as soon as you get them to sleep and FINALLY get started on something you need to do (clean, do laundry, screw around on the internet, work on their scrapbooks, you fill in the blank) they wake up screaming demanding to be held. For no reason other than they just want to be held. Not hungry. Not wet. Just needy.

"Ohhhhh, but they're so cute!" No one would ever suspect how torturous they could be...bwaaahahahaha! (evil laughter continues)


So, here we are downtown where you might expect to see some cows, right? It was Cows on the Concourse this weekend at the weekly farmer's market on the Capitol square. These are some mighty savvy and very metropolitan bovine, my friends!


Papa Duck and The Duckling checkin' out Beef...he's what's for dinner...

In the words of Frank Barone, "Holy crap!"

I honestly believe that "Everybody Loves Raymond" could be used in marriage counseling sessions. Inevitably in each episode Raymond will pull some stupid "Raymond" move by either saying or doing something to piss off his devoted wife Debra. When this moment in the show occurs Papa Duck always pipes up, "Oh, he's in trouble...." It's like a training video of what not to do. Anyway, I love Ray's dad's frequent exclamation, "HOLY CRAP!!" and it's frequently something I think on an everyday basis.

Today that little phrase popped up as heard the lady tell me my total at the Traget check-out.

"HOLY CRAP!! I can't have spent $174!! There's just not that much in my basket!"

(BTW, is it a southern thing or a Texas thing to say "basket" for shopping cart? It used to drive me nuts when people would say that, but once again...I succumbed (past tense?) to peer pressure)

After my coupons it was down to about $165. Still...HOLY CRAP!! Then I looked. Well, this certainly explained everything. There on the receipt, they had over-charged me for a pair of shorts by $4.

I headed to Guest Services, got my $4 (plus tax) in cash-back and felt completely satisfied. My basket of stuff was well worth $160, but $165? Ludicrous!!!

(LuckyLum, does this scenario sound painfully familiar to you, sweetie!?!)

Stuff Portrait Friday

Good morning ladies and gentlemen and welcome to another installment of Stuff Portrait Friday! As usual, the list of desired items was posted by Kristine, so check her out and tell her I sent ya!

This week I like to refer to the list as Quasi Three Bear Syndrome...stuff you have too much of, stuff you want more of and stuff that you have just the right amount of. Let's get started, shall we?


Alright here we have a collection of items. You thought I might choose something deep and thoughtful like a clock for more time? Nah. Not today. Today I would like more stuff from Pottery Barn (which would require money, but we were supposed to think outside the box...). I love their furniture and accessories and if I were a rich girl (da da da da da...insert "Fiddler" music here) I would outift my ENTIRE home with their stuff. Also in this photo you will see some Lindor Truffles...I want more. Always. If you haven't had them, you MUST try them. Smoothest chocolates ever...you won't want to share. I don't.


Here's something I want less of. For the record, I am holding The Duckling in this picture because you didn't think I would post my actualy weight on the internet for the whole world to see did you? Yeah, it's OK that Peanut was introduced on the internet wet and naked, but God forbid Mama shows her weight. And yes, I realize that The Lindor Truffles that I want more of do not help the fact that I want less poundage.

And now for my just right amount...Kids. Yup, you heard me. I REALLY wanted three kids (just ask my family) but after this labor...I'm done! Not a real fan of pain and pushing. Cheers to those of you who only pushed "for 15 minutes". Good for you. Really. I mean it.

But lookie at how sweet they are!