Mama Needs a Cosmo

As a kid, I love LOVED going to the state fair. I was a food eating, ride riding, sweaty mess of a girl that dragged my mom through every inch of that fairgrounds.

Now, I’m a food eating, ride riding, sweaty HOT MESS of a mother, being dragged through every inch of the fairgrounds by her kids.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

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Yes, I made them wear red shirts on purpose. Red hides ketchup quite nicely.

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"Mama! Do you see the baby goat? Oh my GOD! HE'S SOO SOFFFFT! MAMA! I'MMM PETTTTTING THE BABY GOOOOATT! DO YOU SEE ME? DO YOU?"

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Benny is riding the Mater Truck. But you can't really see Mater, because Benny was stage-directing the composition of this photo. "No mama. Closer! Get CLOSER. MAMA, I RIGHT HERRRE!!"

I got this little nugget in the mail a month ago and, after calling in for two days, was notified that I was not needed.

Perhaps the prosecution and defense counsel shared my sentiment: The jury box is no place for a blogger.

A small part of me wanted to be foreman of the jury and eat stale sandwiches.

Benny turned three in July.

And, poor little guy, he didn’t get a party or balloons or even a CAKE.

Because he’s the 2nd child. And second children get the shaft until they’re old enough to know better. And, not only that, but he’s ONLY THREE. All he cared about was that someone sang him the birthday song and gave him ice cream and a toy that made lots of noise.

It looks like a tender moment, but what you don't see here is Benny flinging the spoon at his brother 10 seconds later.

The boys and I went to the zoo today, along with my BFF and two of her kids. It was a fantastic way to spend a sunny Saturday afternoon, especially while fielding questions like, [Benny] “Mama, where’s the cows?,” or [Jake], “Mama, why is that one giraffe peeing all over the other giraffe’s foot?”

After the BFF left, the boys and I stayed at the zoo where we met up with my niece (a weekend zoo volunteer) who provided us with a guided tour of spots and animals that we hadn’t seen yet. And a few that we had.

Then my niece shared an awesome revelation, after which we all concluded that the Pink Flamingos weren’t really all that pink.

JAKE: “Mama, we already SAW the flamingos ALREADY.”

ME: “Honey, you don’t have to say already twice. I know we’ve been here before but there’s not like, five thousand people trying to look at them right now so chill out and let me take some pictures.”

NIECE: “They’re like, kind of orange-ish.”

ME: “Yeah . . . They’re really not pink, are they? They’re more like . . . salmon-y.”

NIECE: “Salmon-y flamingos?!”

Then I realized that all the plastic flamingos in this world were totally fake. I mean, I know that they’re “fake,” as in PLASTIC. But all this time, the plastic pink flamingo makers of the world have totally been LYING TO US ALL.

"Dude, I'm not kiddin' you, that fish I caught this morning was like, THIS BIG."

I love this image. I took it while out with my BFF for some . . . therapy.

Many of you who follow me on Facebook know that I have been dreadfully ill for well over a week now. The story is quite hilarious, and I’ll be posting about it soon.

In the mean time, chill out and pour yourself one of these . . . I’ll be back in a jiff.