Kaiser

The Twat Isle (of Eden)

February 20, 2007 by Queen of Spain 20 Comments

I hate going to the feminine needs aisle anywhere.

I’m not embarrassed. I’m not shy. I just hate when that ONE old man in the store ends up looking for Old Spice in that aisle on accident while you painstakingly decide between the supersuper have a happy period Kotex or the heavy/super Always max.

Sigh.

So why all the twat talk? Let’s just say I had to be taken to the doctor by my husband this morning due to…um…complications from the catheter during my surgery.

I swear I’m the only one in the world with an infection in her pee hole from having her thyroid removed. $10 to anyone who can find me someone else.

Anyway, it was doctor day because we then took both kids and they have the ear infection/sinus infection winter blahs with an added bonus of bronchitis for my little princess peanut.

Armed with cranberry pills and orange flavored amoxicillin, I’m ready to announce that Karen over at Swank has been kind enough to, once again, indulge me in a redesign which you, my faithful reader, will get to see very soon.

It’s beeeeeeeeeauuuuuuuuuuuuuutiful, if I do say so myself. The great and powerful Kaiser finally bestowed upon me his time and artistry and whipped up a lil something. Of course he made Sarah’s header eons ago. But I’m not keeping track. Really, I’m not.

The design will also include some very exciting Second Life information about my money making fun in the virtual world. Virtual world, real MONEY.

My business partner and I have been buying and selling virtual real estate and making some bank. Let’s just say our first deal TRIPLED in profit. He’s boy wonder and I’m the eye candy. Because in Second Life I totally get to be eye candy.

The really fun part is I plan on bringing you guys along for the ride. I’m counting on you. The Queen has a virtual castle in which everyone is welcome to talk, surf, ride jetskis, pet the monkeys (I’m not kidding) and meet each other in real time. For real talks. Having real fun. Ask Gidge….she’s living in my castle and having a blast.

You can advertise your blog at my pad. You can network with the likes of Arianna Huffington and Speaker Nancy Pelosi. Or you can go have cybersex with my neighbor. You can even buy land next door and set up your own place and we can all live in one, big, happy, Mommyblogging commune.

We’ve named the island the Isle of Eden, and in honor of my blogging friends I commissioned an AMAZING piece of artwork (because I can do that in second life…) that an amazing female artist painted to represent YOU. YOU my blogging friends. The artist has been reading our blogs (as part of her research) and she made this piece to be the focal point of our virtual girls night out space.

It brings tears to my eyes.

So grab some cranberry juice (just in case) and join me, won’t you? I’ll show you the piece and then we’ll go to an all male review.

Filed Under: Feeling YaYa, Holding Court, Kaiser, Queen Tureaud

When CoSleeping Ends (Part II)

February 13, 2007 by Queen of Spain 18 Comments

Put on PJ’s. Brush teeth. Read stories. Get tucked in. Go to sleep.

It’s that FUCKING SIMPLE.

My kids don’t do that. They have NEVER done that. Well, expect for the past three nights.

Cue the choir of angles.

Having been breastfed to bed, co-sleeping babies, our bedtimes habits are a bit…umm, lax. Throw in the usual snots and sniffles and pukes and we had a routine of children either having been breastfed, laid with, or held to sleep.

We slowly made the transition from our bed to their beds with protests. Throw in some parental laziness and bam…four people in our king.

Now that I’m on the mend and the kids had a few night of Mommy gone at the hospital, we’ve decided to re-impliment the “kids go to bed in their own beds” rule. I automatically assumed this would be a total failure. Which is fine. I’m tired. I don’t have the energy.

Turns out we’re on night #3, as I type this…with kids asleep in their own beds. I nearly gave in to the Count because he has a bad cough and runny nose. But I held firm. KNOWING this could go on and on and on until they go off to college.

People TELL me co-sleeping kids eventually leave your bed, but really you don’t believe it. You just assume they will come and go and come and come and come and come and come. And just stay. Forever. Or until they decide to marry or something.

I am still emotional over weaning Princess Peanut. So this whole not sleeping with a kid-leg in my ribs is a little hard for me. I keep telling myself it’s fine. I keep telling myself not to get all crazy/protective/hover mommy.

But none of that really goes away until mindblowing sex, IN MY OWN BED, with the Kaiser.

Emotional crisis over. Cue the choir of angles again.

Filed Under: Count Waffles, Kaiser, Princess Peanut, Royal Sexlife

Build A Bastard

February 11, 2007 by Queen of Spain 12 Comments

Have I mentioned lately how amazing my husband is? Well, in case I haven’t…let me just say the man is a wonder.

Since my surgery he’s been SUPERwonder Dad. From doing everything around the house to taking the kids everywhere from hair cuts to birthday parties.

Which leads me to today…and the Build A Bear Birthday Blowout.

I’m normally not an evil bitch, but every time my husband comes home from an outing with the children, I get all frazzled because they have such a good time with no problems.

What do you mean Count Waffles didn’t have a melt down in the produce section?

Really, Princess Peanut didn’t throw the red ball at you because she wanted the blue ball?

It drives me insane. They always seem to be bizzaro kids for him.

Except for today. When the Build A Bear Birthday Blowout had my sweet Kaiser twitching when they walked in the door. It wasn’t so much that the kids were bad, it was just one of those parenting situations where you wish you had never left the house.

The Build A Bear store was the size of a small bathroom stall. It was the Sunday before Valentine’s Day. One of our kids could care less he was there, and the other had no clue what she was supposed to be doing. Cue Chaos.

My defeated and disheveled husband arrived home with two large bear boxes and 40 more gray hairs. He sat in front of me and talked quickly about the too small store and the throngs of people and the clothing and the kids and the holding of the bears and the holding of the kids and the picking out of the outfits for the bears and how the Princess wouldn’t allow the Bear to be dressed and the Count wouldn’t pick a name and he couldn’t carry the boxes and the bears had to be out of the boxes to carry home but the kids wouldn’t carry them, they just insisted they were not boxed.

This went on. And on. And on. He talked and talked and shook his head and put his hands in the air.

It’s not that I was happy, per say. Just relieved it finally had happened to him. Now we can really share some war stories.

Filed Under: Kaiser, Royal Family Outing, Uncategorized

Down, but So Not Out

November 28, 2006 by Queen of Spain 16 Comments

The skies have cleared. Thanks to all of you who sent your well wishes and caviar dreams. I’m in such a good mood that I HAVE to share the best post I have seen in ages, GGC and OPP.

Yes, that’s Girls Gone Child and her version of Naughty by Nature’s OPP. Classic. Classic I tell you.

Everyone please offer their congrats to my KICK ASS HUSBAND and his new employment at a very well known special effects house. As luck would have it, he will follow up his triumph on a certain Johnny Depp movie with yet another installment of that franchise. (seriously, don’t make me type it)

The Royal-ness of this Royal family will keep on keepin’ on. Whew.

Filed Under: Feeling YaYa, Kaiser

Ballots and Hickeys

November 8, 2006 by Queen of Spain 11 Comments

I took my 19-month old along for my “I meant to mail it, but ended up dropping it off at the polling place” absentee ballot vote. She got a sticker. She didn’t actually vote, but the nice lady gave her sticker. Which meant I heard “Oh! The baby voted!” at the:

polling place
music class
preschool
bank
toys r us
escrow company
burger joint
grocery store

The sticker was in her hair by the preschool stop. I nearly had to cut it out. Why is it that damn “I voted” sticker fell off my shirt in 10 minutes yet stayed in my daughter’s hair ALL DAY LONG???

So while my little girl spent the day laughing about the sticker in her hair, my husband spent the day trying to hide (in bizzaro 90 degree weather) the hickey I “accidentally” gave him. He nearly made it all day without a comment, and as he walked out the door heard “Aaron, is that a hickey on your neck???”

I know. I know. Tacky. Totally tacky. But sometimes things happen. Normally I would just giggle about it, but instead I rolled with laughter because my husband (and his sweet, sweet ass) had to give a tour of his place of employment and then have dinner with members of a certain state’s film commission. With a hickey on his neck. From his wife’s hot, hot lovin’.

Wanna know what kind of man I married? His response to those who noticed:

“10 years and a hickey! That’s good, right??!!“

Filed Under: Kaiser, Princess Peanut

MURDER!

September 27, 2006 by Queen of Spain 31 Comments

crabby

I love California. It means sunshine, hippies,

and fresh seafood.

…and by fresh, I mean Houseboy handed me a box of blinking, pinching, wiggling crabs yesterday. For dinner. For me, to kill. For dinner.

I had to kill dinner.

Is this suddenly 1802? Why am I killing the night’s meal?

I like my dinners prepackaged and eye-less. I really like them when they don’t move. But the whole looking at me AND moving thing made me uncomfortable enough to consider pizza.

But, being the carnivore that I am, I knew what had to be done. The crabs had to die.

I had hid them from the children so they didn’t end up named. 6lbs of crab is easier to kill than Pinchy, Reddy, and Pinchy 2.

I should probably take the time to tell you that fresh crab is perhaps my most favorite food on earth. I actually moan when I eat crab. The Kaiser will skillfully crack large portions, hand them to me and say “…because I love you so much.” The man gives ME his big pieces. That is love, people.

I understand they are animals. I understand they are dead animals. But I, personally, have never had to kill anything. And it actually crossed my mind as I took the crabs out of the box and into the pot that this might taint my crab eating. I might actually NOT be able to bring myself to eat them after steaming in beer and spices.

I made sure they were asleep (short time in the freezer to get them all coma-like, thank you Alton Brown) before ending their lives. I made sure it was quick and painless. But I watched that pot for a good 5 minutes feeling pretty damn guilty I had just murdered the creatures inside.

…then my husband handed me a big piece of claw…

Crisis over. I killed dinner, and liked it.

But Karma is a bitch and I do have a nice crab-inflicted gash on my left thumb. My penance. I can live with that. And my new found feeling of being Queen of the animal kingdom. I am Queen of Spain. I will murder and EAT you, lowly being. I am QUEEN!

I’m going back to the kitchen to eat my veggie burrito now.

Filed Under: Houseboy, Kaiser

Love Thursday-The Men

September 14, 2006 by Queen of Spain 19 Comments

Love Thursday

I love that he naps on the couch and his daughter gives him Elmo, because she loves her Daddy that much.

I love that despite his inability to stand up, he’s trying to skate. He only knows it makes Mommy “so very happy.” He falls and cries, but tries again…because, “Mommy, you like when I skate.”

Filed Under: Count Waffles, Kaiser

Proof! Men Are Idiots!

August 18, 2006 by Queen of Spain 25 Comments

Men. Duckcamps. Whatnot.

That phrase is a censored version of the usual “Boys Are Stupid” that Sarah and I exchange all too frequently when speaking about our husbands.

Figuring we’ll do a pretty good job at fucking up our sons in many other ways, we decided we needed to ditch “Boys Are Stupid” in favor of some sort of code that wouldn’t make the little men around us actually grow up thinking we found them stupid.

That’s just good rearin’ of the chilrin’, ya’ll. (blow bubble-POP! and scene)

For those of you who have read (not seen the movie) The Divine Secrets of the YaYa Sisterhood, you know the men often hideout in the duckcamps to get away from the crazy women. Or to avoid changing diapers and actually scrubbing a toliet. Whichever.

Somehow “Boys Are Stupid” was changed to “Men and their duckcamps.”

With all of that explained, I would also like to offer you a definition from Wikipedia:

BEARD:

A beard is the hair that grows on a man’s chin, cheeks, neck, and the area above the upper lip (the opposite is a clean-shaven face). When differentiating between upper and lower facial hair, a beard specifically refers to the facial hair on the lower part of a man’s chin (excluding the moustache, which refers to hair above the upper lip and around it).

My idiot husband seems to think he must make a conscience decision to grow a beard in order for it to be called a beard.

He’s obviously high.

The man fails to shave for 2 days and he has significant scruff and the children recoil when he goes to kiss them. 2 weeks and he’s got a full on beard. 2 months and he’s a lumberjack.

But this man o’ mine seems to think that just because he’s lazy, that does not mean he has a beard. Simply natural facial hair.

And he actually argued this with me tonight until he was blue in the face. Well, the face that I could still see under his pile of black and gray mass of tiny, piercing, needles of death.

Turns out, he says, what is on his face now IS actually a beard. Because he chose to grow it. All the other times, he was just lazy. Translation: ALL THE TIME.

I’m still really tired and jetlagged and busy with the things I mentioned in an earlier post that I still can’t tell you yet (hopefully today, I swear)-so can you all lay the smack down on him for me, please? Send him back to his duckcamp or wherever.

I also offer up some photos to show you what he says is “not” a beard, just lazy shaving weeks.

Filed Under: Kaiser, Men and their duckcamps