This is an interesting short clip taken a few years ago. The old diver was offshore and they got something snagged and tangled in some lines. Check it out.

Hey, why is there a chunk of hair on the kitchen floor?

I suppose I asked for it. I always thought it would happen to other kids, but not mine. I trusted her to have scissors. Mistake number one, I suppose. I got in the shower while she was playing with said scissors. There's mistake number two. As a child, I butchered my hair with scissors. I suppose heredity would be mistake number three.

I guess my most heinous mistake is thinking that giving numerous lectures about the evils of cutting hair or anything other than paper to a couple of four-year-olds would actually sink in. I really am learning something new every day. For instance, Nyquil mixed with beer is a great way to relax.

G'night!

The Syllabus

At long last, I have scraped together enough time to do what the kids these days are calling "blogging." I remember when I was in 6th grade, Miss Rauhut would drill into us the importance of writing in a journal each and every day. It didn't matter what we wrote about, as long as we were writing something. So, here goes nothing (and I mean that...seriously).

The first day of school is always the "administrative day". This is the day you are told what to expect each day of class. This is where you learn what is expected of you as you progress through the year. Welcome to the administrative day. Here's your syllabus.

I have 4 year old twins. They have a tendency to fill my thoughts and musings about them quite frequently.

I have a husband. He works offshore. He's gone for six weeks at a time. There's no need to ask me if he's home or not. If I'm not posting much, chances are he's home. If I post three or four times a day, it's a safe bet that he's offshore and it's a Tuesday or Thursday between the hours of 9 and 12 Pacific Time (that's when the girls are in school) or sometime after they've managed to finally fall asleep.

My husband works offshore. He works in the oil and gas industry. He works in the Gulf of Mexico. He commutes from California to Louisiana. These are short and sweet sentences that I've had to use numerous times over the past ten years. They've been ingrained into my brain. I apologize for their simplicity, but it's become a habit to blurt out these sentences before anyone really starts asking the questions. I'm just glad he stopped diving. Trying to explain saturation diving five times a day was getting on my nerves like you wouldn't believe! Where was Google when I needed it then? I can hear it now, "I really don't know how to explain saturation diving to you. Just Google it!" That would have been NICE!

One more thing about me that I have a tendency to blab about a lot (especially when I'm angry) is my infertility. I am what most people like to call barren. Well, that's what they would have called me back in the old days. Thank God and The Fertility Institute of New Orleans for In-vitro fertilization (oh, yeah...thanks to the old diver, too!) I will drone on and on some days about how much I hate fertile people. Most likely, my rant won't apply to you. It will apply to some whackadoo* I read about in the news...the newest Octuplet mom, for example. We shall, no doubt, revisit that story many times before I choke on her name as I hit the floor in an apoplectic fit.

For the most part, I will try to be funny. There's nothing more I love than getting folks to exhale liquids out of their noses and onto their keyboards over some dumb fart joke I've made. Yes, that's what it's truly all about.

Enjoy and feel free to share your stories, too, be they infertility, offshore or multiple mom stories. I love 'em all!