The Blog of Bex

I know this guy who always knows the most perfectly hilarious comment to any situation. It's just uncanny. One time he came to visit us in South Florida. We had all gone out the night before and were, shall I say, a bit over served. The next morning pancakes sounded REALLY good. As luck would have it we lived pretty close to an International House of Pancakes and off we went. We miscalculated something important, however, that can be summed up in two words: Church People. It was Sunday and there was a fairly significant line to get in. We put our names on the list and sat down on the pleather (looks kind of like leather but it's really plastic and in South Florida your butt will stick to it no matter what the temperature is outside) bench and waited for a table. About 20 minutes into our wait the door slowly swung open and in walked a very interesting couple. They were both probably in their late 70's and I'll bet their contemporaries referred to them as "Dapper&qu

Yesterday morning I was worried about our family holiday cards. I was mad at myself for not having taken the time to get some made for the family and friends we hold so dear. But I'm not worried about it anymore. Because I now have a different perspective. Yesterday afternoon my 6 year old daughter was running down my driveway and fell and hit her head. The next thing I know we were in an urgent care center where we were having trouble keeping her awake. The ambulance came, strapped her to a board with a neck brace and whisked us off to Scottish Rite Children's Hospital which, by the way, is the fucking bomb [IBT (I beseech thee) please see note below]. They even have a free car valet service because they KNOW that when someone has a sick kid the last thing they want to do is fuck around with parking the car. She had a CT scan which gave us good news. She does indeed have a brain, the brain is intact and there weren't any fractures or hemorrhaging. It was just a concussion.

I've been receiving holiday cards for about a month now. Beautiful and coordinated cards with thoughtful and kind comments written to us. When I received the first one I was stunned. These guys MUST have prepared this thing in October! I even got one where the picture was taken in Zermatt , wherever the hell that is. I thought back, guiltily, about the drawer in my office that contains the Christmas cards I had made last year but never got around to mailing. Ooops . And here it is, one week from Christmas and I haven't even thought about sending cards. Well, I've thought about it. I've thought about mailing last years cards with the 2006 crossed out. I've thought about scrambling to get my kids together to take a picture of them so I can slap something together but...all of the cards I've received have the children in coordinated outfits. I have similar outfits for my kids to wear, of course, and as soon as I can budge the laundry door open I'll be sure to l

Somebody FABULOUS wrote me not too long ago and said that she was enjoying the fecal theme of my blog. I was like...huh? What fecal theme?? Then I reread my latest entries and thought HOLY CRAP (pardon the pun)! I have an unintended fecal theme! Do I get extra points for that on the humor blog website ? So now every time I want to write something I screen it for potential fecal themes. Truth be told I'm having trouble figuring out what the hell to write about! How sad am I...I can't write ANYTHING without somehow tying it to that. So if I sound strained (jeez...the puns are flying at me! I really am trying to resist...) it's because I would like to have just a few blogs that don't center around my apparent fecal fascination. I may have to start that tomorrow. Today I would like to talk about diet drugs. I keep seeing these ads on TV and feel as though they are taunting me. It sounds tempting...I'll look great and feel better! All of my friends will be jealous! My hu

My son will be 2 next month. He's actually really good at being 2 already. Perhaps he is gifted? Yesterday he threw a Christmas ornament across the room and it shattered in a million pieces all over the floor. Then during the girls gymnastics class he had a World Class tantrum because I wouldn't allow him to bang on the huge window (and then lick it with gusto when the people on the other side looked up). And when I change his diaper he loves to get away from me and run naked, as fast as he can, with his head thrown back in laughter. He's thinking, "Olly olly oxen free! I'm naked and running away from the clean diaper! This just NEVER gets old! Weeeee..." He pulls the heads off of Barbies, yanks on the puppies tail and steals toothbrushes. He tears up and chews on the girls school projects, resets Don's alarm clock for midnight (something even I don't know how to do) and throws food during dinner. But today he fell asleep in my arms. I pulled him close

My mom invited me to bring my daughters, ages 6 and 8, to her home in NC to watch the Nutcracker ballet. So we left the hubby, the son and the puppy unsupervised and drove up yesterday for 24 hours of holiday bliss. The drive to Winston-Salem normally takes about 5 hours so I guess I should consider myself lucky that it only took us 7 hours to get there. And in between pleading to stop somewhere and either eat or use the restroom my girls peppered me with "Are we there YET?!" comments. I'm surprised that I didn't bend the steering wheel through my frustration. But we finally arrived and my mom had a bottle of wine open...suddenly things were looking up. The show started at 7:30 which is 30 minutes past when my kids typically go to bed. But I figured that one late night wouldn't hurt them. As the lights were dimming Allison, my 6 year old, suddenly looked a bit lackluster. Her skin was pale and her eyes were at half-mast. I remembered vaguely slipping her a Dramami

Almost every morning I have eggs for breakfast. I love them poached or over easy with a little butter. In fact my family eats so many eggs that I buy 3 dozen at a time. This is why I found it so surprising that, when given the opportunity, the idea of eating a Farm Fresh egg made me feel like I needed to barf. And here is why: Farm Fresh eggs don't come in a Styrofoam container. No indeed. Rather, they come out of the asshole of a chicken. Did you get that? The bird SHITS out its offspring. And then we crack open its' protective layer and fry it in some butter. Did I mention that they are warm to the touch and the shell is covered with a gooey afterbirth? Oh, yeah! And sometimes, if you get really lucky there can be feathers and hay and shit stuck to it in the goop. And then there is the yolk. It is noticeably more orange in color than its' store bought counterparts leaving you to wonder WHY. This past summer we vacationed on a lovely farm. Horses, chickens, roosters, aspar

I think the theme for todays blog will be Kids Say and Do the Darndest Things. I hope that works for you. If not maybe you should skip down to read about a chick who lost her shit at Dunkin Donuts . For some weird reason I think that story has broader appeal than this one. Anyhoo... One morning I had been nursing my son who was about a week old and my middle child, Allison, came into the room and watched her new brother with wonder in her eyes. The sun was just beginning to rise and sunlight was filtering through the bedroom window. I laid Jax down on the bed to change his wet diaper. I was sitting up with him between my legs and took off his old diaper and gently picked him up by his legs to slide the new diaper under his butt. At this very moment shit sprayed out of his undiapered bottom. It splattered all over my stomach and shot up the right sleeve of my bathrobe. I was absolutely speechless. Allison stared at me in shock and horror. We both took a moment to consider the events tha

Yesterday I went shopping for groceries at Costco. I go there at least once a week as we are Consumers of an extraordinary magnitude. My cart was brimming with the giant kinds of boxes that one finds at a warehouse store - the package of toilet paper was bigger than my two year old so I hid it at the bottom of my cart. I was finishing up my shopping expedition on the cereal aisle when I encountered an Older Gentleman who was looking at a huge box of Super Duper Fiber Cereal. I was immediately slightly embarrassed. I felt like he could have been wearing a shirt that said, "I need help shitting!" I quickly averted my eyes and walked on past him. For some reason he felt compelled to tell me, "Jeez. They give you eight grams of fiber but 180 grams of sodium ! WHAT are they thinking?!" And then he smiles conspiratorially at me, like we are Comrades of the Commode or something. I don't know if he could read the expression on my face or not but I was thinking that ther