Funny First Days and the Proof is in the Photos

Today my three boys all went off to school.  

It was the easiest first day of school for everyone.

It made me smile the whole drive home.  

I also now have time to write more and share it with you.  I am sorting some of my old stories from the journal I have kept since we began our family and I came across a funny from Mitchell when he and his twin brother Avery were in kindergarten.

My husband Jim came home from work and…

Jim, said very enthusiastically, “How was kindergarten boys?”

Mitchell, said with a very grown up matter-of-fact manner …“Dadda, I think there is more yelling than learning going on in Kindergarten.

First day of school – Kindergarten

Avery and Mitchell’s First Day of School – 7th Grade

(note our dog always wiggles her way into photos)

Peter’s First Day – Kindergarten

First Day – This Morning

I may not go back to pick them up.

I’m joking!

If I am not, I am sure it will make the news.

Abbie Gale

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Awkward! What do I do Now?

What do I do?

What do I do when I look on my phone and see I have a message.

I open the message.

It reads, “It took me forever to get the courage up to send this.”

There is a picture attached.

I open the picture and its a picture of boobies!

Mom boobies, like mine. I mean, they are NOT mine but they are by no means “dirty picture boobies.” They might be a picture for a husband out-of-town and it could be as innocent as “holy cow look at my tan lines” photo. It could be a “before” photo, as in before a little touch up with a plastic surgeon.

I don’t know why someone takes a picture of themselves naked. I don’t care if you do.

This does not change the fact that I just got a naked topless picture of a mom I know from my boys school.

A pair of boobies staring at me that I find myself studying and concluding that those are indeed her boobies.

Holy-Mother-of-God. What do I do?

Do I reply?

I get butt called and butt texted all the time. This is a byproduct of having a name that starts with “ABB”

I am a librarians dream.

Once she realizes she accidentally “sexted” me will she kill herself before school starts because she has to see me everyday.

I don’t want her to be uncomfortable. I have all sorts of wacky pictures on my phone. I don’t have MY boobies but I have other people’s boobies. I have pics of toilet stalls, dead mice in pool basket, husband spooning dog thinking its me…

Should I send her a naked photo of some of my anatomy so we are even? No harm, no foul.

Do I just send her a, Thank you?”

Do I just send her a, “Thank you but I like boys?”

Do I call the son and tell him, “Shame on you!”

Do I forward it to her husband and tell him I think if was intended for him?

These are the kind of pictures I send my husband. I sent this picture a couple of weeks ago. I wanted this puppy. I lost all sense of reason. I went to the mall to buy Chinese soup spoons and I am trying to leave with a Havanese puppy? Maybe he would have said yes if I showed him my boobies.

Do I play stupid and let it ride and always wonder if she quit speaking to me because of it?

After attending BlogHer last week and wondering where I fit into this whole “webosphere” God sent me a clear sign where I belong. I must keep blogging and telling these stories. He sent me Mrs ______ boobie picture so I could make you laugh.

I think God wants me to continue on.

What do you think I should do and do you have a story like this?




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Ten Stupid Things I Learned at BlogHer 2012

Ten Things I Learned from Attending BlogHer in NYC

1. Turn off your phone and do not even answer if it is your kids. Chances are they will only call when you are talking to a “cloth diaper mom.” You will find yourself yelling into the phone, “NO, YOU MAY NOT WATCH THE HANGOVER 2! WHERE IS YOUR FRIENDS MOM? THAT MOVIE IS RATED R TOO! LET ME JUST SAY THAT NO MOVIE THAT IS RATED R IS APPROPRIATE!” The other mom with small children will look at you as if you are raising barbarians. Secretly, you are so happy your three boys called before they saw a woman in a movie shooting Ping-Pong balls out of her “place between where the babies exit out,” (you can click that blue link to find out why I wouldn’t teach my boys the word vagina.) You also secretly cannot wait until this woman’s kids are older and she gets hers.

2. That 5% of the 5,100 people who attended BlogHer in 2012 are the long time bloggers that really know what they are doing and have learned through their own successes and failures. Then there were approximately 3,000 people there with the objective to get something for free, go somewhere for free, get a discount on something back home to make it almost free or build a relationship with a vendor who will start sending them something for free. Those women had a pretty good offensive line. Then there were the rest of us.

Just in case we didn’t meet and because I suck at passing my cards out to people and then wish that I had and because there were 5,100 people there and I only had 100 cards and I came home with 80.

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The rest of us wandered and occasionally bumped into one another. We wished we had someone with more experience to talk to but it turns out those with more experience were out together trying to get away from the people trying to “crack into their nut.” I get it. I have long time girlfriends too and I am sure these women have amazing relationships. Do I sound jealous? I am not because I really do get it. They have worked very hard to learn what they have learned and I am sure they had some bumps and bruises along the way. I am thankful for the sessions I attended and I did learn things. I am looking forward to catching a few of the other sessions I couldn’t attend, online.

3. It is IMPOSSIBLE to blow dry your hair and paint your toenails, at the same time. I am sorry Hilton and way to plan for everything with that polka dot carpet! We will call it even stevens since I paid $450 a night for a room with broken seals in the windows and I couldn’t even see out my premium priced views.

4. I may just have to accept the fact that I will never fit in with 5,000 women, as hard as I try. I never rushed a sorority, joined a mom’s group, or went on a “girls night out.” I like mixed company and I like men and frankly they were passing out plush vaginas and I won’t even teach my three sons the word “vagina.” When a table of women hear me say that I wont teach my boys “vagina” and that I refer to it as “the place between where the babies exit out,” they will looked at me like I just said women should not be allowed to vote. BTW, I didn’t get a plush vagina and I would have really loved one. I am the sole vagina bearer in my house and it would have been nice to bring it out on occasions and let it vote during family voting issues.

I need a man in the group, who used to be a boy, to get my sense of humor. I need a man to understand that it is a lot harder for little boys to yell at one another, “You’re a giant place between where the babies exit out!” versus “You’re a giant vagina!” I don’t need Judgy Judy looks and for you to whisper, “My children know the appropriate terminology” to your girlfriend. I just need you to chuckle or a smirk, that is what I do when I get that the person is being sarcastic. My husband is a doc and we all know the proper terms. My mom called mine my, “kitty cat” and I am not a stripper. She did give me a sense of humor because it is freaking hilarious when I hear a little girl get off a slide at the park screaming, “My vagina hurts!”

5. Mc Donald’s employees in NYC are paid wayyyy more than Mc Donald’s employees anywhere else, as evident by the McDonalds employee that sat down next to me and wolfed down a $24 cheeseburger.

6. You need to make connections before you go to the conference to meet people. If you don’t you will find yourself spending an evening listening to a woman tell you about the sex toy lock box business that she tells me is thriving. This leads me to the next thing I learned.

7. You need to be able to keep a straight face or get Botox everywhere so when the “naughty box lock lady” starts talking you don’t immediately begin making weird astonished faces and then decide to fist bump her? Ok, Botox arms as well.

8. If you work for a sex toy lock box company they train you to not blink when you talk about your products. Not one blink. Not one blink. I pay attention to blinks, (my story here about fast blinkers versus slow blinkers.) My guess is there was way too much giggling at training sessions so they just Botoxed their eyelids open. This whole sex-toy-lock-box episode has given me so much to think about and when I say that I am “thinking about” something it means I am hashing it out in public to anyone who will listen, that mean you reading too. I mean, have women not heard of a lock on their drawers? You put a locked box in my house and that is like giving my kids a challenge. That box would end up on a dark road waiting for someone to run it over for my little boys to find out what is inside and in their heads it would be gold coins and Skittles. Locked boxes are asking for trouble in my house.

9. Just because you took off your name badge off, Abbie, it doesn’t mean that it is OK to harass a vendor on an elevator. “But, why do we need to kill bad germs in the air now? Don’t we need to be exposed to germs? And how exactly do you know you are only killing the bad germs? We get new information all the time like, what if a germ we thought was bad turns out to be good for something else?” When the poor man finally breaks down and says his dad invented it, you can’t just say, “Oh, you will sell them gang busters because new moms are sleep deprived will buy anything for their babies” and then try to fist bump him, again…what is with me?

(Yes, my name is really Abbie Gale, (I said this 25 times.) My parents were hippies and they named me after the MAN Abbie Hoffman who spent his entire life trying to get pot legalized. He wrote the book, “Steal This Book.” My middle name is really Gale because they were babies having babies and they thought it was cute and they were lazy. Gale, as in a gust of wind hitting a sail because they also liked to sail. I am not giving you my last name, unless you want to hire me. I have high standards for my boys and hope that they get into college one day but if the school learns of their concerns over sperm diameter and whether or not this “sperm” I told them about is a liquid or a solid I will have to home-college them and I don’t even know how to form a proper paragraph.)

10. Wear a vendor badge so people will talk to you. Wear a vibrator company badge and women will chase you down like you have a key to Christian Grey’s house. I may do this next conference because I am much smarter now and very good with PhotoShop. I just have to make up a ridiculous vibrator company name. I am open to ideas. Anyone?

I think I will just keep on writing and keep on building the relationships I have on the computer and if it leads to more, than great. Perhaps one day I will be asked to sit with the “big dogs” but probably not until I learn to use a comma.

Hey, all you BlogHer chicks I didn’t meet, you missed out. I am much better in person as you cannot see my poor punctuation when I am speaking. I also had a rubber alligator in my purse my son sent with me. That is always a guaranteed good time.

You Tube Link (Click here if video above doesn’t work, because I never plan to run for public office)


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Our Most Embarrassing School Art, To Date Anyway

I am running a few of my favorite stories this week.  I will be back soon with new stories, that is if I don’t end up in jail in NYC.  My boys said they won’t miss me much when I am gone since I make them unload the dishwasher.  I reminded them that I wash and load the dishes and so they will have to load as well while I am away.  

Anyone willing to bail my naked ass out of jail?  I know I will be naked because with two drinks and I am drunk and three…NAKED and jail seems like the logical progression for four.  I hear the girls at BlogHer like to party at the conferences, crap.  

Your dad is a BONE doctor!  How can you NOT know there is NOT a bone in it?

I don’t know.  They are sweet.  They are cute boys.  They win classroom awards like, “Most Conscientious”.  These are the only reasons I can think of that the teachers don’t call me when my boys do a project in school and they...just look at the picture.

There are reasons I am not a PTO mom, or a scissor mom, (the ones that come to school to cut things out).  The reasons are because my kids think its funny to make a pasta skeleton and put macaroni testicles and rotinini pee-pee and spaghetti BONE?  I asked what the spaghetti was and he said, “That’s the bone in the pee-pee“.

I know I clearly have more to worry about, judging from this picture, but….




I take a few deep breaths.  I put it into perspective.  There are three types of pasta that makes up the noodle guys junk (oh and we know it’s a noodle GUY, right)  but the dude has no feet.

For all of you with girls I want to remind you that little boys are different.  For little boys, that area is a toy that stays with you.  To quote one of my kids when they were three, “When can I get one of these BALLS out so I can see what they look like?”  Your daughter is putting shoes on her Barbie’s feet right now and I have an anatomically (in)correct foot-less pasta dude on my fridge.

-Abbie, All that makes you smile, laugh, think, love, cry, and hopefully cry laughing.

Ellie Mae Takes on NYC

Update!  I am going!  That is, I am going to BlogHer 12 in New York City!

Well, I just booked the trip to BlogHer 2012 and I just realized I have NOTHING prepared!

Do people still carry business cards?  Will people look at what is on my laptop, over my shoulder, while I am in a meeting?  Do they too have pictures of their husband (accidentally) spooning your dog while sleeping and photos of bathroom stalls with abnormally low walls, (what is the point?)  Will I look like a doofus if I drag around a PAPER notebook?

How do I get rid of this giant zit in the middle of my forehead that looks like a “start” button before I fly out?  Will they refuse me entrance onto the plane for fear I have a communicable disease?  Do I need a note from my dermatologist saying I am not contagious but you probably shouldn’t stare at it too closely?

Do I just draw “Start” above Pablo, (I named it Pablo-the-Pimple) and it could be “my thing” like The Bloggess with her rollers or The Bearded Iris with her beard?  Damn you iPhoto for making it so easy to “disappear” my pimples that I get disappointed when I look in an actual mirror!

 I am too stinkin’ excited, especially considering a week ago I wasn’t going!  

To add to the excitement, don’t tell anyone because I cannot believe it myself with as much as I have traveled and it makes me feel a bit like Ellie Mae Clampett but…


With that said, if you see me wandering around NYC aimlessly, do me a favor and yell, “MOM!!!!!!  We’re hungry! He broke my Lego Star Wars ship!  I can’t poop!  I can’t stop pooping!  Come and see my cool corn poop!”  That way I don’t get homesick.

Also if you see me, please introduce yourself in case I don’t recognize you because you look SO MUCH better in person!

If you never hear from me again it is because I ran away from home and joined the circus as…

“The Woman With a Unicorn Horn”

Remember my story about “Unicorn Horn or Extra Finger?”

I so should have chosen the unicorn horn.

At least it would have covered the Pablo-the-Pimple.


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When Did I Lose Faith in Myself?

I worked in corporate America until I was put on bed rest with my twins, now twelve.

Companies would send their private jets to a little airstrip, by my home, and I would fly up to a factory and be back home in time for dinner.  I was young and feisty and I could keep a project together from idea to market.  I could negotiate a price and delivery date from China to the eventual chain of outdoor stores or military base.

I was on a product development team for a major boot company.  I was a woman in a business of men.  When passed a cigar to enjoy, I did.  I was comfortable there.

In college I worked in a steel mill running a blowtorch and assisting the crane operator.  I don’t remember another woman who worked there, but I know they did in the offices.  I weighed about 100 pounds and I wore three layers of flame retardant clothing, steel toe boots, safety glasses and a hard hat.  I fit in there.

I started blogging February 29th of this year.

I recently started calling myself a blogger.

I AM a blogger.

Bloggers need to go to conferences.  They need to meet others that proudly say they are bloggers.  They need to network and meet with publishers and find out how to monetize and find their people.  I need to find my peeps.

BlogHer ’12 is in New York City August 2-4.

I have looked at plane tickets.  I talked about going to the conference to my husband.  He has told me it would be awesome for me to go and encouraged me to do so.

I have no excuse not to go to BlogHer ’12, but I cannot get myself to do it.


The idea of going to a meeting full of women terrifies me.

Please don’t chastise me.  I know this is a counterproductive statement for women.

Hear me out on this.  I have always had a little secret motto in my head that goes like this…

“If a man can do it, I am sure I can.”

Women, for most of my life, have been harder to gel with.  I have girlfriends, but most of them would probably also get along with guys better than girls.

Where is that Abbie that would stomp around a factory floor asking the foreman questions?  Where is that Abbie that hopped on a plane and negotiated the price of thousands of sides of leather?  Have I gotten soft since having kids and no longer have an edge or a belief in myself?

If a man can walk into a conference full of women, why can’t I?

I feel stuck in limbo.  I am stuck between the person in the workplace full of men and the reality of my life now as a mom raising three little men.

BlogHer announced a contest today.  They are giving goodie bags to people who are NOT going to BlogHer ’12.  I wrote this to enter into the contest.  I was writing this post in my head though before I even knew about the conference.

Here I am on BlogHer

I have been thinking that if by chance I were to be chosen for a goodie bag I would like to request, rather rudely, that I would much rather go to the conference.

But I need a mentor. 

I would much rather see BlogHer run a contest granting one newbie the chance to shadow a BlogHer team member, DURING BLOGHER.

We would be instant chums.  She would tell me she appreciates my brass ba!!s when it comes to what I want to post and yet understands why I spell inappropriate words with symbols.  She would give me the inside scoop on how things really work and tell me plainly what I am doing wrong and how I can improve. She would share my fondness of vodka and love of desserts.  She would tell me there is a place for me and that I am not like everyone else that calls herself a blogger.  She would offer me a cigar.

-Abbie, All that makes you smile, laugh, think, love, cry or cry laughing.

Revenge on a Parent by Way of Birthday Gift for Kid

If you give my son a gift like this on his birthday he will think you are a…


I will be asking myself what the heck I ever did to you to deserve you giving my son this “evil doing” machine.

Don’t make me mad, or else I will be buying one for your kid this Christmas!

Link to Buy Terrorist Candy Machine Perfect for the Kid Who Has Parents You Hate

Don’t be fooled.  It just looks all nice and fun.  

It is not.

Look at the speed in which it shows the candy coming out.

Now picture three little boys gathered around and their (sarcastically said) “impeccable timing” and you can just imagine the “hit ratefor the CRACK candy making it into closed hands.

I keep picking the stinkin’ thing up to put it away (like off kitchen table or front porch or couch…) and the stupid thing shoots hard candy across the room as I’m holding it and as I try to turn it off I cause the motion sensors to shoot more!

It was just sitting on my kitchen counter, all alone and childless.  It was looking sad without having a child gazing upon it smiling.

It needed to fulfill its destiny.

It needed to make cavities, jack children up on sugar, and shoot sticky things across my floor to attract bugs.

I think “it” was just looking for an excuse to mess with me.

All it took was some sunshine hitting the motion sensor to invite me to one of its “candy parties.”

It just began spewing jelly beans.

They were skipping across the countertops like Mexican jumping beans and then hitting the hard floor and rolling and bouncing everywhere.

I am now cursing “It” and my “Rock Star Parent” friends that bought it.

(remind me to never move my jaw to the side when getting picture taken again)

It was all “Christine” the car from that scary movie excpet it is a possessed candy dish.

This is what the terrorists are making now to mess with us.

It is a subtle plot.  They have gotten a bit passive aggressive.

I told my kids the candy dispenser has been recalled for impregnating candy with lead.

I also told them parents have been advised to throw it away and have children scrub their  mouths with toothpaste for ten straight minutes.

I also have to scrub my mouth for the cuss words I managed to string together.

If you are a dentist and want that extra week at Martha’s Vineyard I would advise sending these to every family with young children that are patients of yours.

What is the worst gift someone has given one of your kids?


All that makes you…

You may also enjoy this story I wrote.

Easter, Another Holiday That Tries to Turn Me Into a Liar

It was featured here on BlogHer

You may also enjoy this story I wrote.

Easter, Another Holiday That Tries to Turn Me Into a Liar

It was featured on BlogHer

If you really like then hit the “Follow” button to come along for the ride!


Is it Possible to Write Without Insulting? I Say, IMPOSSIBLE!

Fear kept me from posting something I wrote a while back.  

I finally posted the story that scared me this week.

Why Can’t You Drop Your In-Laws off at a “Safe Haven”, No Questions Asked?

I had time to think about it and well, my in-laws know me.  They have known me for over twenty years.  They know I tease.

I tell stories and I tease in stories I tell, (my husband Jim says I would NEVER exaggerate.)   When he says, “NEVER” he looks up at the corner of the room and the word, “NEVER” doesn’t sound like the other words in the sentence.

I was not prepared for someone I am not related to, even by marriage, to take issue with my post.

It wasn’t on Word Press where I park my thoughts, but on BlogHer where I occasionally copy a post I think might be well received there.  I mean, come on, this is a story about a woman complaining about her in-laws and BlogHer is supposed to be female readers, right?

Whapppow!  Right to the back of my head.

A section editor over there let me have it in my comment section.

BlogHer post with BlogHer reader comments.

Here is the thing, I like this fellow bloggers style and respect her work and she has been very helpful to a newbie like me.  I even respect her for calling me out on it, (I will let you click the link above to read the comment for yourself.)

Here is what I deduced and replied with…(oh yeah, all in the comment section because I am a wordy girl.)

I think Safe Haven is an amazing program.  The entire concept is genius as I appreciate any government program that calls for the care of a child as an immediate priority instead of placing blame on the mother or father.  I realize that everyone has their own circumstances and I try VERY, very hard to not judge as I have not walked in someone else’s shoes.

I also work very hard at having a good relationship with my in-laws and the comment was made in good fun.  I would never really think anyone would think I was serious as it was simply a play on “walking in someone else’s shoes.”  If someone had been walking in my shoes they would realize that I would never want anyone to think I REALLY wanted to drop my husbands parents off at a fire department.  I never really would turn the porn channel on in the guest room to try and help them, “get along”.  However, I have sat up late into the night trying to think of ways to help them.

I was applauding Safe Havens as being a GOOD IDEA and thinking about a world in which it could be applied to other groups that need help.  If I could get a grown adult help without being judged for running out of options or lacking in the ability to help them anymore it would be great.   We really have though thought that their spouse might leave them with us.  I guess we are their “Safe Haven.”

I apologize if I offended you as I really think the entire Safe Haven program is great.  Sometimes I think I am funny and sometimes “getting” to funny I may have inadvertently insulted someone.   In this case I think we both agree that Safe Haven is a necessary program.

I also can tell you my dad in Michigan adopted me at three after my biological father signed off on custody.  I can also tell you that I have very real memories of having a dad and then going to see a judge who told me that I have a “new” dad.  I and am VERY aware of the ramifications of words related to adoption such as “real child” or “not really his” or “unwanted” and the list of words and phrases cut.  I feel in this case, and for me, it more of a compliment on a program that I obviously feel is genius.  I don’t think it is funny to write a “funny” story about REAL Safe Haven, but a fake Safe Haven to drop off your in-laws..I (still) do think is a little funny.

I joke about being anal retentive about things that don’t matter, but people really do have mental illness.  I joke about being messy but there are really people who have diseases that make them hoard.  I joke about having a cup holder as a bellybutton as a “birth defect”, (I give birth to double digits every time) and there are really people who have birth defects.  I have the attention span of a fruit fly and I blame it on a lead pacifier that I am convinced that my parents gave me, but there are people who really have contracted lead poisoning.   I tease about my poor writing skills and my inability to figure out how to use a comma, but there are people reading that have learning disabilities.

If I didn’t write things that MIGHT offend someone, I would never write anything.  When I was writing this story I was only worried about offending my in-laws.  Insulting anyone who has ever been touched by adoption, which is nearly everyone, had never been a worry.

I hope you understand and hope you might get to know me enough one day that you would know that hurting people is not even close to what I am about.  I do admit that I find things to laugh about but that comes from waaayyyyy back.  That comes from the same place that the people who like to make people laugh draw from.  I kind of consider it a gift, even if I had to go around the block a bit to receive it.

End of my BlogHer response.  

Then I thought, this is a post!  This is something I need to share with my WordPress friends!  What if they too have a bellybutton that turned into a cupholder.  What if I have insulted anyone that has wiped their boogers on the walls for someone else to clean up when I lied and said there was a “Booger DNA Test” that is sold at Walgreens?

Let this be fair warning to anyone who thinks I am an evil doer.  Let this also serve as a warning to everyone who thinks that I really have a TV in our guest bedroom to even turn porn on.  If I put a TV in the guest bedroom my in-laws for sure would never leave!

And I bet you thought I was a terrible person for the first photo at the top of the post.

Peter was so excited to be a black panther that he asked to sleep on the deck since he knew I would say he couldn’t go to bed without washing it off first.  Sometimes we just need to know the whole story or the whole person and sometimes we just need a sense of humor.

-Abbie, for all that makes you smile, laugh, think, love, cry, or cry laughing.

Why I Will Never Be Freshly Pressed

If you think you can handle me hit the “follow” button and I will explain later the booger test I mentioned, (I tweeted it but I will elaborate on “Booger-Gate” and Lord knows you don’t want to miss that when I do.)

Advice from Anyone Reading this Regularly or Accidentally

I have been cheating.  I have been cheating on my friends at WordPress.  I had a story I wanted to write but it was such a heavy story I didn’t think I should “drag down” my handful of readers at WordPress.  I am “Funny Abbie” on WordPress.  Right?!

I have been copying my posts onto BlogHer and I recently saw they were looking for Mother’s Day posts to feature and well, since you know we all already know WHY I WILL NEVER BE FRESHLY PRESSED…

if you don’t click here…

I decided I to write a Mother’s Day post about my mom.  That is when things took a turn towards “Downesrville.”

Guess what?  BlogHer loved “Depressing Abbie!”  Well, I am just putting it that way to try and be funny.

Here is my predicament…

Do I share this story on WordPress and run away 3 of my 12 readers because I haven’t been true to what content I have been keeping or do I start another blog with “heavier content?”

Next question…

I wrote a very funny story recently with some raging exaggerations, (for the sake of humor) about my in-laws.  Funny, funny, funny stuff.  While I really haven’t shared this blog with more than three people I know and one of those people continues to remind me she does NOT read blogs and NEVER will, (she’s pissed I am not playing tennis this spring with her.) If you’re here reading this, (you know who you are) then well bahahahaha!  Do I need a third blog where I’m anonymous because while this in-law story is mostly (NOT) fake my in-laws may one day have someone print up my story and mail it to them via the post office.  Nothing good would come from my in-laws reading what is going on between my ears.


Do I stay true to “All that makes you…” and delete that “cry” tab and post tomorrow about going to the Van Halen concert last Saturday and why I had to ask a stranger to “Promise you wont steal a kidney, OK?” and get back to “Funny Abbie”

Or do I post the “Mother’s Day” story that was “featured” and let me all hang out?

Can I tell a story about my in-laws with some exaggerations for the sake of making the world a little happier?  Do I need a third blog that is just my imagination based off of real events that I have to make up in my head to keep from killing people?  This was never an issue before as I never said the narrative that plays in my head, out loud.  It may even be relief for my in-laws as they would then have an explanation as to why I chuckle to myself the entire time they are around.

Ohhhh but I am sure no one has done a post about proposing a bill to be able to drop off your in-laws at a “safe haven” no questions asked.  I’m like the kid with the latest sneakers and I can’t walk down my street.

What do you want to read when you stop by “All that makes you..?”

Do I just continue my quest to be Freshly Pressed and post the pictures I take around my yard like this one I took a couple of days ago?  No editing on this required, not one adjustment, nature is beautiful…

Is it ok to mix things up?

-Abbie (the mostly funny, crazy mamma, gardening to watch beauty grow, introspective and sometime tells a sad story Abbie)

Our families downward spiral to being the next generation of Jacka$$ cast.

I have been voicing my constant worry since my three boys started talking.  What keeps me up at night?  I don’t want to be that poor mother on Jacka$$.  You know, Bam’s mom.  The mom that they set fireworks off at night in a trash can in her bedroom, while she is sleeping.  I am worried my boys, (and me, the victim) will be the next generation of the Jacka$$ cast.

I found a video Peter left on my laptop last night that I found this morning.  I just had to share it with you.  Apparently, he wants to be like his older REAL identical twin brothers.  He cannot even keep a straight face.  It’s really short but has me rolling laughing while having my coffee this morning.  Just click the link to my Facebook page or try this…

I think he was drunk…on leftover Easter Hawaiian Punch, (judging from his red mustache).  You can hear his funny scratchy voice.  He loves to say, “dang” but I know in his head that is not what he’s saying.  I have worse things they have done but sharing the pictures from the Christmas we bought them the digital cameras and found them giggling in the bathroom with the cameras shoved down their pajama bottoms, is probably not appropriate.  You always open a closed door to a room when you hear three boys laughing so hard they are gasping for air.

I started coping my posts over at BlogHer to figure out where I belong since I started sharing my stories Feb 29th.   They featured my Easter bunny story Friday.  It was super exciting, (for a nerdy girl like me.)  I still haven’t decided where I will park “All that makes you…”   I enjoy the WordPress crowd but know I have a ton to learn.  Oh, a girl can dream of getting Freshly Pressed but they must have “punctuation rules”. 😉

I will have a story tomorrow so follow me and GO WATCH THAT VIDEO AND HEAR ONE OF PETER’S STORIES!


Here is the link for the featured story on BlogHer.

“Colored Chicks Banned From Country Club” was funnier I thought!


That is me.  I am trying to follow other bloggers advice in using a picture of myself for my site.  I personally like our Norman Rockwell photo that wasn’t planned where the older boys are saying, “Come on!  If you would just smile Peter she would STOP taking our picture!”  But hey, I will snap pictures of myself with my laptop versus folding clothes anyway!

Elliott found my laptop because I was trying to get a PhotoBooth picture of me for my Gravatar.  He who takes the photos in the house, has no photos of themselves.  Our boys have taken up “Hillbilly Hand Fishing” in the pond which means I do NOTHING BUT WASH CLOTHES, poorly.

Having the laptop out snapping pictures has made for two future posts with “happenings” going on behind the pictures of me…those poor, poor Peeps.  I can’t wait to write that story…with the pictures of Jim and Peter behind me….the poor Peeps between them.  Their faces say it all.