For your scorecards:

The Kaiser and Queen have quarreled.
The Queen Mother and Houseboy have quarreled.
The Queen, Houseboy, and the Queen Mother had a blow out over the placement of this blow up:

The Queen Mother has gone back to the grocery store twice today because, apparently, the $300 of groceries I bought-from her specific list-were insufficient. My paper plates, it seems, are not the right paper plates.

There has also been a last minute glitch in the gift I’ve been planning for the Kaiser that’s 2 years in the making.

…and the other set of grandparents are just now getting off the plane.

Can also be seen on Mr. Big Dubya’s holiday mantel
I’ve scrubbed. I’ve washed. I’ve clorox wiped and windexed. I actually used my finger nails to pick yogurt (no H) stains out of the carpet (the kid yogurt variety…not the other kind…geez). I’ve gotten breakfast food for 4 grandparents and planned dinners and lunches (no suppers) for a week. I shipped in Kielbasa from Detroit. I even have snacks and appetizers. The gifts are wrapped, including the Teacup that nearly cost me my life. And tonight plane #1 lands. Tomorrow plane #2. I’ll be popping in and out to update you on just how many times my father-in-law says “Yes sirriiee Bob!” and how many times my mother points out a stain on my carpet or my lack of tablecloths. Wish me luck in our first family Christmas at home with the Royal Family. Happy Holidays everyone! And I suppose Happy Birthday to that Baby Cheeses guy too.

Here’s some Holiday Card Envy for you!

My good friend Sarah and her Goon Squad are packing up and leaving the sun for the snow. So she’s been on my mind a lot lately. And honestly, I’m giggling a lot.

You see, long ago-before our boyfriends became our husbands, before the Goon Squad, before Count Waffles the Terrible, before Princess Peanut, before we became Wives and Moms…we hung out a lot and drank a lot. Good times were had. Good times. Good times.

And because I’ve been thinking of Sarah a lot lately, and because I’ve also been thinking about getting off my ass and exercising lately…I can’t help but think of the time we, obviously drunk, signed up for a women’s only yoga retreat. I’m giggling as I type this. I’m not kidding.

It started innocently enough. I saw a sign, posted God-only-knows where…probably a lamppost…advertising a women’s yoga, daylong retreat. They made it sound all Ya Ya bonding and fun. Get in touch with your femininity. Bring your girlfriends and enjoy a day of relaxing yoga and sisterhood. Well shit! Sign me up! And I’ll drag Sarah.

I’ll never know how I talked Sarah into going. I must have showed her the flier. And I’m pretty sure she was wasted when I asked her and made the arrangements. So off we went, having no clue what we were in for.

Ever have one of those moments of uncontrollable girl giggle fits of laughter??? Ever have to hold it in. And I mean…hold it in because you have to or there will be dire consequences????

Really most of the day is a blur. And bear in mind this had to be almost 8-9 years ago. But I remember it being someone’s house…not a place of business. And when we got there you had no idea anything might be a little…umm…off.

Don’t drink the purple kool-aid.

A very yogi type woman (head scarf and all) led the class. And instead of really doing some good, stretch your butt yoga, she talked. She talked a lot. She talked mostly about yogurt.

Did you know you could bathe in yogurt?
…Make a facemask?
…Douche???

I’m sorry. Did that woman just tell me to douche with yogurt? Really? Ok…don’t look at Sarah. DO NOT make eye contact with Sarah. Must hold in giggle. MUST hold in giggle.

Oh my god. She is NOT simulating how to insert the yogurt. MUST NOT look at Sarah. Compose yourself. Compose yourself. giggle. giggle. COMPOSE yourself.

Whew. Ok. First giggle fit controlled.

Then, finally, after what seemed to be hours of discussing our periods and how to douche with yogurt… The actual yoga. Horray!

Now, since this little “class” I’ve taken many, many yoga classes. And at the end you usually lie on your back and relax. Eventually we were on our backs. Relaxing.

We lay there. And lay there. And lay there. And lay there. And lay there.

…And then some music started.

Ok, Loreena McKennitt. I can handle this. Seems like good yoga relax music.

Then came the 1970’s “I’d like to teach the world to sing” music. And it just kept coming. A good 30 minutes has gone by and we’re all still just laying around on our backs, listening to really, really shitty music.

I start to giggle. I can’t help myself. The more horrible the music gets, the harder it is to just lie there and control the hilarity of it all.

I finally glance over at Sarah. She’s laying there half peeking out her supposed to be closed eyes, trying herself not to shake with laughter. This is soooo going to get ugly quick. Because as soon as I look at her I’m giggling more. And my body is shaking from trying to hold it in. So there Sarah and I lay…and we probably look like we’re bacon in a hot skillet. I’m guessing Kool-aid leader just thought we were possessed by the spirit or something.

..and we hold it in. And hold it in. And hold it in. Its getting ugly people. I’m going to explode into laughter. I can’t look at Sarah, because it will only make it worse.

Finally…finally mercy. She bids us good-bye and tells us to get up slowly.

Sarah and I could not have possibly gotten up any faster, and we both had a half of one foot out the doorway when we erupted into giggles. My sides hurt just remembering.

Then I’m pretty sure we got drunk.

Good luck on the move Goon Squad!

It started around Thanksgiving, I think. But I’ve been off the diet wagon. Ok, Ok, I’m not just off the wagon…I leapt off, ran to a pool of chocolate and mashed potatoes and threw myself in…then rolled around.

Here is my problem…I haven’t gained any weight back yet. So I’m not feeling all that horrible about it…yet.

I still have 10 lbs to go to get to my pre Princess Peanut weight. (a slim, slim 130) But I’m back in my size 10’s, eating, and happy and hovering around the 140 mark. AND the family is coming this week and it will be nothing but food, food, and more food until 2006.

I WANT to get rid of the rest of the weight. I really, really, really do. I just don’t want to work at it. Lazy, lazy, lazy me. But I’m going to hit that 9 months UP 9 months DOWN date with the Princess at the end of the month and I’m feeling the pressure to make sure all that pregnancy weight is gone for good.

I also feel guilty because I spent the money and re-upped with Weight Watchers and I haven’t been going. Maybe I’ll really buckle down after the holidays. Hopefully. No. No. I WILL buckle down. I WILL. And I’m going to keep telling myself that all the way to the holiday buffet.

We just finished watching the original version of Frosty the Snowman. What a crapfest.

I actually was calling Count Waffles into the room when it started, worried he would miss the opening “Frosty” song. Worried he wouldn’t see the rabbit jumping up and down in the magic hat. I was sooooo excited for him to view it for the first time…that I did not realize its probably been 15 years since I’ve seen it.

I was really disappointed last week when the Count didn’t want to watch Charlie Brown. All he kept saying was “Mommy, why is that boy so sad?” And all good old Chuck had done was walk across the screen. So I gave up my hopes on him loving Peanuts and moved on to Frosty. He was probably more toddler friendly anyway, right? Wrong.

Count Waffles covered his eyes for most of it. Its his new thing. He just can’t stand to see anything he loves walk or talk or move.

Take Santa…everyone has Santa in their advertising this time of year and its making the Count batty. He just can’t STAND to actually see Santa. He gets this HUGE grin on his face and then throws his arm over his eyes. The love it just too much. I am so incredibly happy I can’t even look at you.

So when Frosty pops on the screen he covers his eyes. But ends up peaking out from time to time. Meanwhile, the Kaiser and I are tearing this little movie to shreds:

Of course she’s cold! She’s not wearing pants!
Oh yeah, you can take a train to the north pole and be home by dinner…
Hey there magician man…you might want to talk to the doctor about your jaundice…
I know! Lets take the cold girl out of the refrigerated box car and into a blizzard!

This went on for the entire half hour. With Count Waffles the Terrible finally completely covering his eyes when Santa appears. He just can’t bear it, people. Santa is HUGE with the kids.

So now I sit here, dejected, because I wanted to get all warm and fuzzy watching Frosty with my little guy for the first time. No such luck. And I can’t imagine subjecting myself to that Frosty, steaming pile of poo again next year.

Anyone know when Rudolph is on???? There is no way we can watch that, though…waaay too much of the big red guy in that one….

I have a million things to do before my holiday guests arrive on Wednesday. A MILLION. But the Kaiser keeps saying “its OUR PARENTS…don’t go crazy.”

Is polishing silverware, getting out good china, ironing a table cloth, making sure guest baths have towels, washing sheets, emptying the fridge of leftovers, etc. CRAZY???

I don’t think ANY of that is unreasonable. I don’t think any of that is any more or less what many of you do. Can I get some back up here? Or is he right, am I a crazy, clean obsessed, Martha holiday perfection wanting bitch?

December 16th, 2005. First day on skates. Yes, I cried. And mostly because he LOVED it. Which means his grandfather has just one more reason to battle on.

I created a nation. Its oppressive. Its psychotic. Its all me baby. Go check it out and make your own.

THE KINGDOM OF SPAINFOOFOO

Thanks to Adena for the fun.