Yesterday I took both girls to the pediatrician’s office by myself because I like to live on the edge. Actually in a rare moment of Zen peacefulness at the pediatrician’s we did not have to sit in the waiting room for 45 minutes segregated from the snotty noses and feverish brows, but instead were immediately ushered back to an examining room where I pacified Amelia with a container of Tic Tacs magically transformed into a maraca. It was her scheduled 2-year-physical and she got a Hepatitis A vaccine along with a nifty Bugs Bunny band aid.

Last night Caitlin and I were enjoying some rainbow sherbet at the kitchen table and we were talking about the day.

“Caitlin, you were a great helper this morning with sissy at the doctor’s.”

“I know it…and I didn’t get any shits!”

“You mean, ‘I didn’t get any shots. It’s shots, NOT shits.’”

“It is shits mommy. Shits is Spanish for shots!”

And here I thought we’d left all this behind us.

Once upon a time there was a woman who signed up to do a scrapbook workshop. A few cutesie stickers (archival of course) and die cuts later she was hooked. She bought fancy scissors, stickers, die cuts, and fancy archival pens. Oh my Lord, the possibilities! She made one cool scrapbook documenting her Key West honeymoon with her hubby. And that was it. Let’s see, that was 10 years ago. Now her scrapbook supplies are collecting dust. The cult of scrap just didn’t take.

But then the woman got a digital camera. And then she had two babies. And then she started taking about 9 million pictures a year.

And then she started digital scrapbooking. No paper! No mess! No more stuff collecting dust!

Well, she still only scrapbooks occasionally.

Like maybe three times a year.

I found a great site via the BlogJolt group I belong to called Real Women Scrap. At first I thought, oh yes it’s yet another annoyingly perky scrapbooking site that will serve only to remind me of what a slacker I am for not documenting every day of my girls’ lives.

But I soon discovered that this blog is not just another pretty scrapbook site. (Read on …)

…that was so #*$&@# big, I probably could have handed it a bottle of nail polish and asked it to give me a foot massage and a pedicure.

Tuesday night I was inspired to paint my naked toenails, which have been exposed far too long this spring, especially after reading this hilarious post while cruising the blogosphere. (My favorite line is, “there is no fiesta happening at the ends of my fingers. Just short, weak sadness.”)

I hunkered down in the bedroom, bright red nail polish in hand, and glanced over at our nifty ionic air purifier that the manny (aka my dad) purchased for us about a month ago to help rid our house of the various allergens keeping us in the allergy/cold aisle at our friendly neighborhood Walgreens.

Something black near the base of the air purifier caught my eye.

I saw a black spider on the hardwood floor.

This was the queen mother of all spiders.

The holy mother of spiders.

The big mama jama of spiders.

I’ve never seen a spider that big IN ALL MY 37 YEARS OF LIFE ON THIS PLANET.

I did a little research today and I think it was a trapdoor spider or perhaps a tarantula escaped from the local zoo. I have no idea. I didn’t get close enough to examine it.

I scurried barefoot down the hall as fast I could without making too much noise screaming in horror and waking the girls.

“HUBBY, I NEED YOU. I NEED YOU IN OUR BEDROOM NOW!!”

Unfortunately for the hubby, it was not passion that sent me straight to his waiting arms, but the comfort in knowing he would flush the spider down the toilet.

Look who’s back blogging and awarded little ole me a writing award for my take on real moms.

Speaking of R*Belle, I’m posting occasionally at her other blog, (you know you’re a true blogger addicted to blogging when you have multiple blogs) News for Women on the Fly. Check it out!

In lieu of a traditional blogroll, I just added a Google reader highlights clip on my sidebar to feature some posts that I find especially funny, touching, inspirational, informative, etc. Enjoy!

Edited to add: Well today all my planets, stars, karma, juju, aura, whatever must be aligned (maybe I need to run down to the corner gas station and get a lottery ticket) because Holly at Holly’s Corner gave me a Laughing Out Loud Blogger Award today. Thanks Holly!

Nancy at Mom, Ma’am, Me, tagged me last week for a great “Real Moms” meme started by Kristen at Motherhood Uncensored and The Mom Trap.

Because I’m verbose and can’t limit it to one thing, I’ve got a few to share.

Real moms use skin care products that claim to energize, rejuvenate, relax, and protect. No wonder my skin is so damn confused!

Real moms sometimes take their kids to daycare doctored with Ibuprofen.

Real moms put their kids to work in the kitchen.

Real moms will do anything to prolong the almighty nap.

Real moms let their kids entertain themselves.

Real moms get pooped on, cried on, peed on, and jumped on.

Real moms can’t imagine life before motherhood. But real moms sometimes miss life before motherhood.

Real moms laugh, cry, stress, worry, and love.

But real moms also get kissed, hugged, and adored a thousand fold. So as far as trade offs, it ain’t a bad deal.

Here’s to moms everywhere, keepin’ it real. Yo.

I’m tagging some fellow Tennessee mamas…Busy Mom, Ginger, Emily, Nicole, and Malia.

Edited to add: Real moms try to get ready for work and blog and realize their 2-year-old has escaped out the dog door and is in the back yard wearing nothing but a diaper.

Did anyone watch the sneak preview episodes I and II of The Tudors that’s premiering soon on Showtime? I watched them both on DirecTV Friday night and since we don’t subscribe to Showtime I may ask my officemate to record for me. I think I’m hooked. And leave it to me to get hooked on a show that’s on a channel we don’t subscribe to. Wait a minute, I’m sure the powers that be at Showtime did that by design. I’m such a sucker.

Did anyone see the season finale of Battlestar Galactica? Anne? I loved the ending.

Speaking of royalty, Working Moms Against Guilt have a hilarious take on these housekeeping tips from Martha the Great. And although I might act like I’m a Martha Stewart hater, I secretly wish I had more Martha juju. Like Mrs. M for example. She is a monogramming fool! Who knew you could monogram a fabric headboard? It boggles the mind! Any way, I keep hoping that by reading her blog, some domestic talent will rub off on me.

The University of Maryland did an interesting study showing that today’s working moms actually spend more time with their children than their own mothers spent with them.

My good friends itching and burning are back. I started taking Claritin Saturday.

And lastly, has anyone seen the new Suave advertising campaign? I love the new TV commercial. They also have a cool pledge for moms to sign online…”Today, I will say yes to “mommy you look pretty today.” Who says that being a mom means you have to be frumpy?

The day unfolded itself like a cat stretching after a long nap. The girls and I had nothing on our agenda, the hubby was working, and I had all the windows open and the ceiling fans cranked because despite the forecasted 80 plus degrees, I refuse to turn on the AC.

By 12:30 we’d already had a meltdown. And it wasn’t Amelia in all her glorious “two-ness,” it was Caitlin. I can’t quite remember what it was about, but one minute I was bringing them a little packet of Hershey’s coated kisses to split while they finished their lunch in the shade of a big patio umbrella, and the next minute Caitlin was beet faced and screaming her head off and refusing to come down from her swing set play house. I had to climb up and get her. It wasn’t pretty. She then proceeded to run to the furthest reaches of our yard and I chased her down and carried all 41 pounds of her into the house like a rolled up throw rug while she was screaming, “PUT ME DOWN!!! YOU’RE HURTING ME!”

Sigh…

I think it was a mistake to assume two little girls would actually share chocolate. It seems Caitlin was upset because she did not have a pink piece of candy and baby sister did.

Double sigh…

Maybe it was the heat?

Despite really wanting to smack myself upside the head, as well as Caitlin’s bottom, I refrained. I hauled her to her bed and told her to come out when she was ready to act right. I shut her bedroom door, took a deep breath, and contemplated having a drink. But I had some water. A four-year-old’s tantrum is mentally exhausting, I think, because you know they know better.

But the afternoon got back on track. I kept my cool and cleaned up the kitchen while Amelia yanked grass and ran and fell over and over in the back yard, her knees red and indented from the overgrown grass. Caitlin came out from her room somewhat timidly about 20 minutes later, her brow sweaty from her tantrum, and we started all over. I’m really surprised she didn’t fall asleep. I loaded the girls up in our trusty red wagon and hauled them up to the neighborhood park and to our new totally awesome playground. And no one was there!

The girls ran and played and I chased Caitlin around the playground a half a dozen times. I went down the winding slide with Amelia in my lap and pushed the girls in the swings and they squealed and laughed and their pony tails were flying in the air. We came home saturated with sunshine and sweat.

Tonight we grilled burgers and went for a family walk. I pulled Amelia in the red wagon, the hubby walked Jack, and Caitlin walked Bailey on the leash for the entire mile. Although Caitlin needed a little help with Bailey when a car would pass, she did great and Bailey was genuinely smiling. You might not think dogs smile, but our old girl, who will be 10 this fall, was smiling like a puppy and had an extra spring in her step.

We watched Shark Tale and afterwards the girls put on a dance show, Caitlin in her strawberry GAP nightgown and Amelia in her peasant style PJs, that was a cross between gymastics, break dancing, and disco.

So it was a good day. Not a perfect day. Not an eventful day, but a very good day. A very good day indeed.