How could I not write today? Happy Blogiversary, dear readers!!!! Can it really be three years have passed since I wrote that first, angst-filled entry in the basement of the old, tiny house, home alone with a five year, three year and ten week old?
A lot has changed since then, but a lot has remained the same. I still can not get everything I need to get done accomplished in one day, I still hate laundry, my kids alternately drive me insane and humble me with their love and beauty, H is still drives me wild, and I still eat too much peanut butter. What also has not changed is the fact that this is my outlet and keeps me sane and I am very grateful to all of you for reading. Seeing how many of you check in on days I have not written, motivates me to keep it up and it is a great feeling that people not obligated by blood or friendship like what I write enough to keep coming back. Many of you have been here since the very beginning, but for those of you who haven't, today's post includes a lot of back links to old posts, as I review all that has transpired since Mean Mommy came to be. So to steal the ending to Bridget Jones' Diary, a recap, in numbers, of the last three years.
Number of children potty-trained: 1.75. Little Man is so close I can feel the shoes I will buy with the monthly diaper budget on my feet as I type. We have even ventured into I-Make-Pee-Pee-Like-Daddy Land and I now have the joy of trying to manage a wild spray of urine every time we go potty. I am also not that wild about touching his junk since he has recently come up with a descriptive for it in it's erect state. "Look, I make it bouncy, Mommy!" Miraculously, #2, who nearly broke me in the effort to train her, no longer has any issues. Unless you count clogging the bowl every night when she sneaks out of bed to poop. We call her The Stealth Bomber.
I look forward to the day I no longer have to travel with the potty in the van.
Number of pictures of feces: 2
Number of pictures of shoes: 4. Hopefully this will increase in the next year, as mentioned above, as H and I have started a new tradition of Christmas Shoes (not at all related to that repellent Christmas song). Last year he bought me a pair of great shoes I had been lusting over and he did so well I decided I'd like to make it an annual thing. His only guideline is that I be able to wear them with a black dress and they not be practical in any way. I also told him finding the gayest sales clerk on the floor would be helpful.
Number of television appearances: 1. Still one of the best days of my life.
Number of home improvement projects completed: 6. Many of these took place in the old house getting it ready for sale. There were major ones, there were minor ones, and there was a lot of painting.
Number of rabbits killed: 1
Number of posts involving Reilly: 4. Most of them involving a crisis of some kind. The irony is lost on me that I had to drag him to the vet at the last minute yesterday with a massive eye infection after what happened two years ago.
Number of houses bought and sold: 2. Days it took: 3.
Number of "celebrity"-related hate-filled comments: 2. I still think it was Bill himself.
Blatant children's book rip-off posts: 2
Weddings attended: 5
Souls saved: 5. If that's what you get from spordic church attendance and half-hearted home-school CCD lessons.
Pieces of writing published: 2. Well, one was a letter to the editor, but beggers can't be choosers.
Thank you, thank you, dear readers, for all the great feedback and laughs you've given me in return for the paltry smattering of writing I throw at you every few days. With Thanksgiving fast approaching, once again this year, this blog is one of the things I am most grateful to have in my life. I wish we could all go out for a drink to celebrate.
Hugs,
MM
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