My boobs were my tools of the trade for almost 20 months.

Once my youngest daughter weaned herself from the Magical Boob Juice, the fun really began!

(And by fun we all know I mean chaos!)

Pull up a chair, sit a while, read a few pages.

Keep and open mind and a joyful heart and you too can get pumped into the world of The Milk Maid.


Would The Chicken Shit Please Stand Up

To Anonymous who wrote:

"Maybe spend more time counting your blessings rather than focusing on the negative so much and you might just 'get over it'."

I'm pretty sure I know where you came from, and you can sure as hell GO BACK.

I never fucking said I didn't COUNT MY BLESSINGS EVERY SINGLE DAY. That wasn't even the point of what was written.

Pardon me for having a bad day, and worrying about my future, and being put down by my very own parents.

Why don't you grow a pair, stop reading my blog if it offends you, and YOU get over it.


The Reason Why If I Win The Lotto You'll Never See My Face Again 'Round There Here Parts Again

My father, who called as I was preparing to scarf down the only food I've eaten today, decided to take it upon himself to share with me one of the secrets of life. Because I am such a good friend and such a caring soul, I will share this little dab of How To Knowledge with all of you, my loyal comrades:

"You wouldn't be so stressed if you just get over it!"
Ok, everyone pick yourselves up off the ground and stop laughing. I know my father is the Grand Poobah of the Crazy People. Yes, yes- the village called and they are missing an idiot. The Insane Volcano is spewing molten WTF out of every fissure and crack.
"Dearest Father", she proclaimed. "Let me tell YOU the problem with your theory!"
First and foremost, just getting over it has not and will not ever solve a problem any bigger than say a hangnail or a misplaced sweater. When it comes to my life, which is currently full of things you cannot even fathom the depths of, I will deal with it in the only way I know how.
Between being a full time wife and mother, a part time student with a full time study schedule, a person who enjoys the occasional luxury like bathing and teeth brushing and speaking to real people- people who know more than the words bitebitebite or Pokemon Game, I have very little time to listen to your garbage ideas of how I should run my life.
Every time we speak you love to impress the idea upon me that "if you don't just get over all of this you will have a stroke". What is the all of this that I should be getting over?
Because if it's the part where I have 40 pages of study workbook due tomorrow for A&P, well getting over it won't get it done.
Is it the part where I'm unable to take my eyes off your granddaughter for even a second in fear she will find something just within her reach and pull it off a counter and cut her wrist, but only this time I won't be so lucky that a few stitches will cure her ill? Because if that's what I'm supposed to be getting over, well it isn't fucking going to happen.
Or maybe it's the thing where Jef is having all these health issues and if it comes down to where he needs a transplant "I shouldn't worry because it's not that big of a deal". Not a big deal, father? Perhaps to someone who has spent 46 years in a loveless marriage it wouldn't be a big deal. Perhaps to you it isn't a big deal. To me it's the only deal. Just in case you were confused, I love my husband more than I love myself. Between Jef and my children there is not a thing you could name I wouldn't do to keep them from harm or shield them from pain.
Maybe the thing I am supposed to get over is the constant nagging from you and mom. You know, where you both call me ten or twenty times a day and belittle and berate me for not having a house that fell out of the pages of Southern Living. Or perhaps today is the day you yell at me for not jacking up the front end of the Honda, taking the wheel off, and replacing the hubcap all by myself (oh well, I guess Ava could help me here). Or is today the day where you remind me of all my other short comings, and that I could stand to loose a lot of weight because I've porked up? I get so confused because there is SO MUCH SHIT that you constantly throw my way I just can't remember it all. I guess you will cover me being forgetful in tomorrow's session.
--The Milk Maid passes go and collects $200.
Perhaps if your parents are nice and they need a little bling you could get them one of these luxury watches!


Gots The Monday Lurve!

Mother's day is fast approaching... Is this mother's ring right for your mom?

I'm having a a great Monday gang! No reason in particular for all my happy-vibes, I guess this is just what the world looks like without the haze of depression.

Jef and I had a lovely weekend- He worked Saturday, but we managed a lot of together time, some great music and a little drink on Saturday night, and a whole day spent together relaxing and having some fun on Sunday.

Ava has a new love for lotion (wo-chin). If she sees any wo-chin around the house, she starts jumping up and down. I will put a little drop in her hands and she rubs them together or will yank her shirt up and slather up the old belly.

Faith got a mini-fridge for her room, complements of my dad. Faith is notorious for leaving cups and food in her room, so I implemented a system where she has to "check out" anything that is going into her fridge. Two drink packs up should equal two pieces of trash back down... I hope my system works. But of course if it doesn't then I guess I will have a little fridge just for me!

School continues to go well- I'm loving the scrubs, I mean how freakin great is it to not have to tuck in a shirt AND have an adjustable waist band. I should have thought that out better many moons ago and saved me a lot of uncomfortable trouble.

Ok, so here's my "thought for the day"... I'm looking for your opinions here gang, so tell me what you think:

I have the Summer quarter of school left after this quarter and I am trying to decide where to "go" post graduation. Originally, I had been thinking of returning to school to get my LPN. I've had a few discussions with people who have pointed out the obvious fact that I would make about as much as an LPN (with 2 years of school) as I would as a phlebotomist (with 9 months of school). I'd also have more responsibility as an LPN. So, considering the other courses that are offered, where I want to be a few years from now, and the salary aspect of it all I have narrowed down my future schooling options to the following fields of study: Radiology Tech, U/S Tech, Lab Tech, or Surgery Tech.

Thoughts anyone? Personal Experiences? Of course I want to fit in having a kid somewhere in all this grand scheme, so that's another piece of the puzzle to work into the master plan.

--The Milk Maid says burnin' it at both ends my peeps!


Friday Mish-Mash, She's Come Undone

Faith came down the steps from her room in a huff.

"The shoes don't fit my feeeeeet!" she wailed as she flopped her extremities like a breathless bass on a dock.

I informed her that those were the only pair of shoes here that fit her, and that she had let the insane person who lives next door my mother confiscate her clogs (mother feels that clogs are evil, yet she has bought Faith 3 pair of them in the past 6 months). I asked Faith to "wear the shoes to school for 30 minutes- only 30 minutes!". I promised to bring her a different pair once my mother had gotten out of bed. Seeing as how I am one to let sleeping parents lie, I wasn't about to blast her out of bed at 7:15am.

Faith looked at me like I had asked her to gnaw her own arm off, place the severed limb in her teeth, and then dance in circles singing Polly Waddle Doodle All The Day.

Having been through many a morning crisis, I knew that tears were imminent. The feeling of a 10 year old girl having a morning melt down is akin to a tornado brewing and the smell of ozone rising in the air. Wait for it... Wait for it...

"I (sobsobsob) kuuu-haaant (sobsobsob) POSSIBLY (wail whine sobsobsob) wear (sob) these shooooooooooze (high pitched keen).... (sobsobsob) they are (huffandpuff) touching my FEET!!!"

I looked at my hands to see if my eyeballs had fallen out of my skull. They hadn't. I waited for my head to explode like a rocket off of my shoulders. It didn't. I looked at Faith like she was the most irrational human being on the face of the planet. She was.

I calmly called and woke my mother up and got Faith a pair of shoes- that didn't touch her feet!- to wear for the day. Faith snubbed all the way to school (that's when you are crying and you keep sucking in air trying to stop crying but you cant so your suck in air and try to stop crying but you cant so you...).

--The Milk Maid says the shoooooze are touching my feeeeeeeeeeet!

(Maybe I can make a movie of this and pass out Blockbuster coupons to all my peeps!)


Fluffin' Stuffs

Zeus decided to de-fluff his new toy a couple nights ago...

And apparently the urge to de-fluff is rather catching!


Scene from the Great Pillow De-Fluff 2008, Faith's room

I can't be too mad at Faith for that since she brought home an all A's progress report! This was her 1st all A's progress report or report card ever. Her guided reading grade has come up from a 74 to an 89 to now a 100 average. The only grade that dropped at all was math, and it was from a 96 to a 95... and there is no way I can complain about that. I'm totally impressed with my Faithie-Poo!!

I took Faith on a little Tar.get shopping adventure this afternoon and got her some more evil stupid expensive worthless Pokemon cards and collectibles. What ever it takes to keep her motivated, right?

Ava gets her stitches out tomorrow. We don't have an appointment, but I think (?) we are just supposed to show up. If I'm mistaken, I will let her just gnaw the sutures out like she's already been trying to do any way (insert face full of exasperation here). Here's a pic of her arm for all the curious onlookers:


I'll leave you today with the mental image of what I see in front of me:

A toddler pulling her shoes off, bending over to the floor to grab a toe and putting it in her mouth, and the sounds of slurp slurp slurp as she contentedly licks the salty toe-sweat away!

--The Milk Maid says chew me up and spit me out!


My First Blood

Everyone grab a seat and hear the tale of how the Milk Maid drew first blood!

Well, ok so technically it wasn't really blood (it was water with red coloring) and technically it was from an arm, although it was just a fake arm. But the needles were real! And the alcohol swabs. And the gauze too! Yeah, don't forget the gauze!

Here a pictures of my first draws:

And here's a little photo of yours truly, all dressed up in scrubs like her hospital heroes on the television show Scrubs (although today I was more of a Doug than a JD or Dr. Cox- if you watch the show you understand completely).

I have to admit, welding a needle is exciting. It's dangerous! It makes me feel alive!! However, those stupid fake arms are about 400 years old and it looks like Ray Charles had been using them for practice. Oh well- I'm sure I'll encounter real people with veins like that too.
It's been a rather exciting day- I'm feeling pretty good as of late. I'm feeling a little peppier in my steppier. Sure, there has been a lot of heartache for my peeps B&K, there has been a lot of other nasty things going on too- in real life and in bloggerville, but I'm moving through a little easier these days. My secret, you ask? A low dose of my pal "Vitamin L". My new doc was more than happy to re-up my past scrip for it, and after the nasty side-effect of not being able to sleep wore off I became a new person this past week. I even watched a show on kidney transplants yesterday and didn't even fight back the urge to vomit, not even once!

--The Milk Maid says that's life in a vacutainer my peeps!


Playing The Sidekick

I arrived home from my A&P class this morning to find my father readying the playhouse to be moved to where the old shed used to be (which he got a wild hair to tear down last week). The playhouse was elevated about 5 feet off the ground. Dad called an over sized wrecker company, had them come back under the playhouse and use the flatbed of the truck to lift the playhouse. The supports needed to be cut, and this is where I (unknowingly) enter the comedy of errors.
"Here, cut through that 4"x4" post with this," dad said hading me a saw.
I jumped right into the cutting, of course. Any excuse to use a power tool, right?
We cut all four legs loose, the wrecker driver lifted the playhouse free and started to drive towards the concrete slab.
That's when the driver nearly took the side of the garage off with the playhouse porch. Then, once he backed and cleared that, he made it around and almost ran over my mom who was doing god only knows what wandering around in front of a huge truck. Anyway, the guy got to the slab and tilted the flatbed back towards the slab.
The playhouse was stuck.
So he shakes the flat bed. And nothing happens. So he shakes it harder. Still nothing. As the guy decides to tilt it farther and give it a solid bounce my father decides that exact moment would be the perfect time to walk behind the truck and see what was holding it on the truck.
Picture me, swooping in like a chubby Wonder Woman and pushing dad out of the way. Luckily, the playhouse didn't come off the truck completely and (obviously) I'm here to tell you the story.
I don't know who I worry about more- dad for walking behind the playhouse or me for jumping in to save the day.
--The Milk Maid says her thighs are too chubby for hot pants.
Today's comedy of errors was brought to you by the letters D-U-H, and this nice addiction treatment center!


Quiet Saturday

Not a lot going on around here today...

I've studied, taken my A&P test (one of them) and did rather well- I made an 80. The average class score (via online classroom update) is a 61.3!

I started moving some toys of Ava's around, but she decided it was move fun to bring everything that I moved to her room back to the den, so that turned out to be counter productive.

Jef had to work until 4... I was glad it was only 4 as they have been messing with his hours as of late. He had been having to stay until 5:30. Ug- I'm glad they have changed that.

The highlight of my day was getting a shower and washing my hair and shaving my legs ALL at the same TIME! I even exfoliated-- how wonderful is that?

--The Milk Maid says peace out and enjoy the weekend!


The 'This IS My Happy Face' Friday Mish-Mash

There have been so many let downs, so many heartbreaks and incidents, and so many hurt feelings in my little blogosphere this week. I had two choices this morning when it became blog-time: Write a sappy heart-felt blog or write something humorous. I vote that laughter is the best medicine, so here we go people- picking up where I left off Tuesday with Ava's adventure in stitches:

Ava is healing quite well from her slip-n-slide fiasco. Thanks for all the well wishes! On the doc's advice I have been keeping a little gauze roll bandage over the stitches since she wants to pull them out (ugg). The has only tried to gnaw thru the gauze twice so far, and we have managed to avoid putting one of those plastic collar thingies around her neck.

Wednesday, around our 5 o'clock snack time, Ava was following me to the kitchen for a pack of crackers and a drink. I make the turn at the counter to see Ava do her best "John Ritter, Three's Company" style pratfall. Seriously people, it was hilariously funny- her little feet just going like mad, her arms waving about! Unfortunately, she fell flat on her face and busted her lip open. She bled all over the floor, all over my new white shirt, all over the cat who came to try and figure out what the hell was happening. Ava isn't too worse for wear luckily.

Chip says hello by the way:

This morning is the only day I don't have school this week, so I used my free time to run a few errands like going to the dump, grabbing a few necessities at Tar.get and grabbing some dog food at the pet store. Ava has decided she will NOT ride in the buggy (that's a shopping cart for you Yanks) at the store. Try your best to picture me lugging a 29 pound Ava over one shoulder (kicking and screaming) and a 40 pound bag of dog food over the other shoulder (it held quite still luckily) as I tried to unlock the car via remote by only using my teeth.

--The Milk Maid says walrus gumbo and CAT5e!



Did My Day Get Easier??

No, but thanks to all who asked!

After the previous fun Ava and I had, I had settled back into studying my A&P. I hear Ava in the kitchen (that I usually keep gated off) so I walk in to the kitchen and check on her... She's playing with a doll in the floor. About that time the phone rings so I walk into the den.

I am about 6 steps away from Ava when I hear a glass sliding on the counter. I immediately turn to see what she is grabbing and see the liquid from the glass tip as she drags the glass from the counter. I continue walking towards Ava. She slips as the liquid sloshes onto the floor, the glass drops onto the tile, breaking into shards.

Ava slips and falls.

Her right wrist lands onto a piece of the shattered glass (which remained intact on the drinking vessel itself). I grab her up and look for blood.

I see no blood.

I walk to our couch, a mere 15 steps away, and set Ava down. All the while I have the plan to call 911 if I see copious amounts of blood. After seeing nothing much, I grab a clean towel, put pressure on the cut and wait.

A million things run through my mind from paramedics to stitches to her bleeding out and dying in front of me.

After a couple minutes- at the very least- I remove my compress and look. No blood. Shallow?

I take a few moments to collect myself and let Ava sit with her wrist propped against the towel. I clean up the glass, continuously checking to see if she'd moved, bled, fainted, died.

She was fine- Laughing at the TV actually.

After about 10 more minutes I put her on the counter of the sink and put peroxide on her cut. I could see how jagged it was... it looked a little deeper than I first thought.

Fast forward between me calling B for reassurance, me calling my dad for butterfly bandages, me calling Jef so hopefully he would just know what the hell to do!!!! and I could go from there.

I decided at this point that there were two options: Put a maxi-pad on the wound and let it heal or wrap it with something thinner and be able to check if there was a lot of blood loss.

I opted for a paper towel folded in fourths and some medical tape to hold it in place. I'm glad I went for this option, even though there was no further bleeding to speak of, but it allowed me the confidence to untape the wound and look at it...

Deep people. I was looking for the words to tell B what I saw, and I can think now that maybe adipose fat was what I was thinking. If I'm wrong with my definition, someone please tell me- but that is the only med term word I could think of at the time...

A little fatty blobby yellowish thingie- which I knew was FAT of some sort- was hanging out of the cut. Dad got home soon after I had called B for a second time (because B is the guru of all medical knowledge or she at least knows who IS the guru). Dad brought home some butterfly bandaids, and as I cleaned Ava's arm with peroxide and the wound bubbled and as the little fat blobs seemed evermore prominent, I knew that I HAD TO TAKE Ava to the doctor.

Long story short, I took Ava to the quick care clinic. She got 5 (maybe 6, I lost count) stitches in her right wrist. I realized I was in the absolute RIGHT line of work, because even though I was concerned for my daughter I was also intrigued with the inner-workings of her wound, the cleaning and stitching, and the Q&A of the doc on call at the clinic.

I also realized how lucky we had gotten... the little blue vein that would have caused a "major emergency" (per clinic doc) was only centimeters, nay millimeters, away. I only realized the depth, literally and figuratively, of Ava's wound once the doc pulled it open to examine and flush.

It was probably a 1/2 inch deep.

I felt like such a shitty mom. I still do. But things happen, right?

It doesn't make it any easier for me.

And, you ask, how is Miss Ava?

She's playing and laughing like nothing ever happened. She's happy as a lark.

She only got mad when the doc and 4 nurses held her down and made her be still (Well, she would call that PISSED in Ava-land).

Until 11pm she played, despite the meds to make her sleepy.

--The Milk Maid says she's glad Ava was a girl and not a boy, cause dude- can you imagine?!
budgeting software

One Of Those Stories The Milk Maid Is Sorta Famous For...

After getting Ava to sleep and then working on my A&P study guide for hours, I developed a headache and a case of the yawns. As soon as Ava awoke from her nap I tossed my books down and loaded up the family truckster and headed to get a caffeinated beverage from the convenience store.

I chose a 16oz R.ed Bull and grabbed Ava a small juice-type beverage with one of those pull-to-slurp tops. She drank about half of her drink while we went to the bank and ran a couple errands. We arrived back home, and of course I went to check the photos that B had sent from her recent Relay for Life walk. That's about the time the following chain of events happened:

Ava came through the house and wanted a "bitebitebite" and was carrying a tin of mixed nuts. I told her to take one, so in toddler speak that translates to take one hand full. I know that she will eat the small hand full of nuts one at a time, so I let her sit beside me and nibble while I read a blog or two. She gets up and wanders into the den (just out of sight). I hear papers shuffling and realize that it might be Ava in my school books and work, so I jump up and look.

Ava had taken the remaining juice-type beverage and poured it on my workbook that I will need to turn in to the teacher tomorrow. I grab the book, dripping blue liquid all over the couch, and run for my bathroom. I calmly grab the blow dryer, turn it on, and start to dry the book.

I look left and Ava is trying to get into my shower. I say no, no Ava! about the time she sits in the wet shower floor. I say get up! and she does while simultaneously grabbing a MOLDY SPONGE and putting it in her mouth. I scream NO AVA NO NO!! and she drops the sponge along with a mouth full of half-chewed nuts onto the rug. I run to move the MOLDY SPONGE and pick up the nuts as Ava opens the toilet lid and tries to stick her head into the bowl.

So there I am holding a wet book, a blowing hair dryer, kicking a MOLDY SPONGE while temporarily forgetting about the half-chewed nuts that I of course manage to step in while keeping Ava swirlie-head free by closing the toilet lid with my elbow.

Ava exits the bathroom stage right and I finish drying the book (which wasn't too worse for wear, actually). As I leave the bathroom I discover Ava using both hands to rub her tongue. Revenge of the MOLDY SPONGE?? No, Ava had managed to spend the 23 seconds I remained in the bathroom after she'd ran off to scale her 5 foot tall cabinet and grab (and drink some of) a bottle of milk from, well- maybe this morning? Maybe last night?
The kicker of the story is, that when I took the milk away from Ava she screamed and cried and was mad at me.

A&P Really Means Annoying and Pissy

I have had my head in a text book for the vast majority of the past 4 hours reading and studying and doing practice exercises and homework for A&P. If anyone comes up to me on the street today and asks me a question about amino acids or ionic and covalent bonds I will answer them, then punch them dead in the face.
I have 3 tests this week- 2 in A&P and 1 in Intro to Venipuncture (or as classmate C calls it "Venus Puncture"). The Intro to V test should be pretty simple and ask basic questions about things like HIPPA and needle sticks. The teacher (who I swear missed her calling to be a comedian) said the answers are pretty much going to be "don't say anything about anyone" and "don't get poked with a needle (you dummy!)".
I made a doctor's appointment today for my needed immunizations. I have to get a "mini-physical" since our insurance recently changed our PCP. I am SO looking forward to my grand and glorious mini-physical- I could just vomit right now I am SO thrilled. If you have been around the Milk-Induced Coma for more than a couple days, then you know how much I love doctors. Love, love, love- oh I am SO full of love (If I keep this snark up much longer I might be forced to use the best wrinkle cream ever to hide the furrows in my brow).
:::Maniacal look appears in Milk Maid's eyes. She grabs a pencil and threatens to stab herself in the jugular for effect:::
--The Milk Maid would never jab herself with a pencil... not on purpose anyway.


Welcome Back To Monday

Jef and I decided to take a whirl-wind trip to Tybee Island this weekend. We did the usual things like eating at the Crab Shack, walking on the beach and letting Ava chase the birds, and laying around the hotel room and watching Deadliest Catch! We had a great time, especially all the seafood we ate (and ate and ate).
After leaving Tybee Island we crossed back into Savannah and explored along River Street for a little while. For those of you unfamiliar with Savannah, it's quite beautiful. The book that later became the movie Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evil was based and filmed there. Paula Deen of the food network is from there. It's really quite a place! I can see me lounging in a hammock chair under a large tree covered with Spanish moss for certain. I wish we'd had longer to enjoy both Tybee and Savannah, but of course Jef had to work and Faith and I both have school, so that was that.
Not much going on today... I had A&P this morning and I will have Intro to Venipuncture this afternoon. It's a little overcast, which seems to fit my mood today. I'm feeling just a little down and out. We'll just blame it on the Monday Blues.


Once Again, Friday Mish-Mash

Because I am the BEST WIFE EVER... at least of all the previous Mrs. Big J's... I decided to something very special for my dearest Jef.

No it wasn't anything like that. Get out of the gutter people!

I decided- after Jef mentioned one of his favorite childhood memories- to bake him cookies. No, not just any cookies (why would it be that simple?). These cookies had to be just like the cookies a friend of Jef's mom used to make for him once a year, on his birthday, and wrapped up in a shoe box just for Jef. Jef wouldn't share the cookies with his siblings, and he would nibble away slowly, savoring each and every crumbly morsel of these magical cookies.

I thought about giving the special cookies a go for a while. I'm not much of a baker, you see. I'm much more comfortable weilding a large kitchen knife. I occasionally even use said knife while I'm actually cooking (harharhar you laugh).

The problem with the cookies comes in here with Jef's description:
They are thin, but cake-like. And have thin chocolate icing that is crisp and it holds them together!

"Huh?!", says me. A cookie is a cookie is a cookie. Right?

Jef finally uttered the magical phrase to inspire my inner cookie-baking goddess to emerge:

You would be completely perfect if you could make these cookies!

The last time I heard that phrase uttered (and I already know I am completely perfect, so no one has to fret or dwell on that any longer- ok?) was when he begged me to make potato pancakes (or tater patties) "just like mom used to make". I was all, "Ohhh, so it's a challenge now. I can do that!".

And I did... K can tell you just how perfect the potato pancakes are.
Back to the cookies.... I made them. They were thin (but not thin enough) and they were definately cake-like. The chocolate icing didn't turn out too well, but it was ok. Siiiigh.
He enjoyed the effort at least!
Which means I don't have to use my big bad knife on him.
--The Milk Maid says pack it up and send it off (in your brand new Johnston and Murphy no doubt!)


A Little Something Fun!

Yoga Is Much Better Than Yodel

I received a DVD a while back, and due to a few technical issues I haven't been able to share my find with you (long boring story, trust me).

The DVD is a Yoga DVD. I know what you are thinking... Yoga huh?

Let me start by saying that waaay back in my karate days I used to take yoga on the side. This DVD reminded me so much of those classes. It is a great way to get a compact workout- the moves really maximize muscle use and tone in arms, legs, and your body's core. The DVD was a beginner's level workout, and can I saw WOW- I am so out of shape. However, the workout was fun- it was a good pace (even for Milk Maid the Sloth Girl) and the instructor wasn't annoying! It's a Gentle Practice DVD... and I think the name is very fitting!


I know there are a LOT of us out here in BlogLand that need a little toning, and if yoga has ever seemed like something you might want to try, I would LOVE to suggest this Yoga DVD.

--The Milk Maid says it's got my squirt of approval!


Reader Mail, Part Two

After tackling sprinkle tinkle, I will now peruse back through my many suggestions for topics to write about (I smell something burning... Is that sarcasm Milk Maid?).

The first topic I shall tackle will be from Jennifer over at Playgroups are no place for children. Jennifer wrote, "How about [writing about] what you thought about motherhood before you had kids and motherhood afterwards? How about the WORST baby gift ever? Or the best? Or the most useless?"

Well Jennifer, as far as motherhood pre-kid and post-kid I feel pretty much the same. Oh sure, I had no idea I'd love the little devils so dang much. I also had no idea that children could make out the word S-U-C-K-E-R on my forehead. I also never would have dreamed at how much poop can possibly come out of a child.

Growing up an an only child I always wanted a large family of my own. I'm talking 5 or 6 kids! I would seriously still have a smathering of tiny people take over my home except for the one fact that Big J says poo-poo to that idea. Two, perhaps three max is his rule of thumb. Plus Paige. Yeah, I can see how the place would get filled up pretty quickly with half a dozen mini-mes.

As far as the worst baby gift ever- and the most useless too- that would have to be the Dick Tracey socks my aunt gave me... for a shower gift... yes that was all. It was the same pair of socks I'd gotten for my 10th birthday and re-gifted to my cousin. The best baby gift I got was the new cushions for Ava's rocker glider chair (that had been Faith's rocker glider). My Big J gave me those along with a nursing foot stool.

Moving along, Marcy asked about my favorite date with Jef. That's a hard one to pick, seeing as how they are ALL my favorite. If I had to choose, I would say the date where we went to play putt-putt in the freezing cold rain without our coats and ended up in the jewelry store looking at diamonds. Yep- that was my fave!

Baby Bound writes, "Well duh....its time for the Milk Maid to discover the fountain of youth, define the meaning of life, pin point the exact location of where the sky purchases its blue, and write God about gettin BabyBound a lil baby. DUH!!"

BB, I have discovered the fountain of youth. It's at my local mall and it seethes with young people. They practically OOZE forth all over the place, them and their perfectly perky teen-ness, their Abercrombie and Fitchness, their babydoll t-shirt-ness. Meet me there sometime BB... I'll be the one with the dark glasses that later follows them to their cars while wearing a hook hand and a scary mask.

The meaning of life is to look for a meaning in life. When you have all the answers to all the questions, then you die so you can't tell anyone.

You can purchase Sky Blue at any hardware store that offers paint matching.

The last Dear God letter I wrote backfired miserably... However, if you'd like me to chant to a fertility goddess skyclad, well- I hear the Pagan Gods are a little more forgiving for blasphemy.

Last but not least, K requests, "Physics. Definitely need to blog about physics. Or the relationship between physics and god. Yea. that'll do it."

Well K, the way I see it the laws of physics do not allow for a god to exist. And the way the Christian Church sees it, physics are something created by non-God fearing scientists who are trying to push the whole Big Bang theory into our schools. So basically everything equates down to this: Nothing is real. This is all make believe. Am I really sitting in this chair? IS there a chair? I'm falling OUT of this chair that doesn't exist! Oh God! Wait- there isn't one! Arrrrgh....

--The Milk Maid is planning that nice vacation for the River Styx as we speak.


The Soggy Butt Blues

It has come to my recent attention (from my wonderful new lurker friend "HellTygr") that a Public Service Announcement needs to be made about a topic ALL of us ladies are familiar with...

The Oft Misused Method of "The Hover" In Public Restrooms.
You know what I am talking about right? For sake of keeping your rump germ free in a public restroom, many women employ The Hover Technique. If you have lived on Mars for the past 455 years and are unfamiliar with this method of sanitary protection, the basic concept is to drop your pants and panties to Beyond Knee Range, spread your feet to ensure a steady stance (and keep said pants and panties to Above Ankle Range, aka Dirty Wet Clothing Range) then curl yourself into a position much akin to a downhill skier's tuck while you levitate over the dirty, nasty, filthy, slimy toilet seat.
As far as keeping germ-free, this method can have its merits. However, as HellTygr points out in her e-mail, this method is not for people who lack aim. Women of the world, take note: We do NOT have the equipment to aim a stream of urine hurling from our bodies anywhere (exception being if we are in the woods taking a leak we will successfully wet our socks 100% of the time).
Now, if you are a user of The Hover Method let me go ahead and apologise. No, on second thought I think all you hover-ers should apologise to ME seeing as how I sat in a rather large spatter of sprinkle this very morning! I even looked carefully at the seat before perching atop, so I'm sure that who ever was out there peeing on toilet seats in Atlanta this morning is well hydrated. I will go on the assumption pointed out to me by HellTygr that there are just some women out there who "feel the need to get revenge on the world in a situation where they no longer have to clean up after themselves".
I suppose the moral of this story could be based on the old Proverb:
If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweet and wipe the seat.
Or, perhaps the moral of the story could be this newer and perhaps more appropriate Proverb:
You wont be touching your face with your ass anytime soon,
so sit down and take a load off- it's called a restroom after all!
--The Milk Maid says sprinkle te tinkle te tuutuu!


Blog Drought

Subjects are a little few and far between as of late gang, so I am recruiting your help.

You- in your office reading blogs instead of working- I need you! Hey you- over there in the corner- come on! Even the person with dark curly hair making faces at me, even YOU have to help out (especially since you harassed me about not blogging).

So, is there a topic you think the Milk Maid should cover? A blog or two the Milk Maid should pick or pan? Is there a product you've always wanted to try, but were just too afraid to make the leap? Is there a burning question you just have to get the answer to? Comments, jokes, pointers?....


Email me with your "gotta have it":, subject line: Gotta Have It.

The future of Milk-Induced Coma is in your hands!
(Ok, not really, but damn y'all- help a sista out, ok?)

--The Milk Maid says c'mon, c'mon, c'mon now touch me babe!


Um Yez Kitteh....

funny pictures

moar funny pictures

I'll Have My Mish-Mash Now

I seriously debated mish-mashing today. I seem to be a little moody. A little crisp around the edges. Perhaps crisp all the way through. I'm grouchy. And I don't know why!

I've been moody for a few days now. Snippy snap this, snippy snap that. Little things, big things, red things, blue things, false things, true things. Dr. Seuss things!

I'm feeling better now, let me say, and kthx for asking.

I am partially better because Jef's asshole boss- short ex-Marine with attitude- got fired today. He's been walking a thin line, and something about the tens of thousands of dollars the service department lost over the past few months made the Big Boss cut him loose today. Jef's goal of outlasting short ex-Marine with attitude has been attained, and we will see where we go from here... I'm 100% positive it will be in the direction of up up UP!

It's a nasty and rainy day today. We are expecting hail and thunderstorms, and after the last bought of shit-weather, well- I'm so excited I can barely contain myself. Of course we will have horrid weather- I have an online A&P test this weekend! It's a timed test, as all of them will be, and you get 2 minutes per question max. There is no going back to change answers. And if you get locked out because of the internet going down or whatever then you are just "screwed" per Teacher In Need Of Makeup. Ahh, the joys of skool.

--The Milk Maid says here's your Mish-Mash K!


Baby Llama Drama

We added 2 new animals to our collection last weekend... 2 female llamas! Their "real" names are Alexandra Grand and Fantasia. The names I call them are Alex and Fanta. The names Faith calls them are Oreo and Cookies and Cream. Ava calls the llamas "mamas" and "meme!". Jef just yells "Hey llamas!".

Here are photos of our new gals:



Llamas do this thing called cushing when they are being transported. All cushing means, simply enough, is laying down. Llamas are great travelers. I kept trying to convince Jef that we should take Murray (the male llama) for a ride inside of Jef's VW bus when we first got him . Jef thought I was insane. However, when the llama girls came rumbling up to our small farm in the back of a Chevy Astro van, Jef got to wipe that little smirk of doubt off his face.

So, what happens when you combine 2 female llamas and a male llama? Oddly enough, the male llama who'd been extremely docile for months turns into a RAGE of HORNEYNESS that has not been rivaled in this area for many, many (many) moons. As llamas are induced ovulators (um- how FREAKIN' convenient!) we are pretty sure that Murray has knocked up both females. The females, once bred, will spit at the male and then kick him if necessary. Pretty much the way humans act, I do say.

Anyways, approximately 11.5 months from now we should have 2 llama babies (cria) on the ground and frolicking about. Let's all bite our nails for the next year in anticipation *wink*.

If you didn't catch the title of my post it's an homage to my BFF peeps B & K... if you haven't seen their fantastic news then mosey on over and give them a big whooowhooo!

--The Milk Maid says K is the leader of the pack!


School, Part 2

I'm back in school!

I have Human Anatomy and Physiology as well as Introduction to Venipuncture this quarter. I'm excited about both classes, but more so about the venipuncture class. First of all my teacher talks and acts like the comedian Maria Bamford. Seriously, just like that- complete with multiple voices and mannerisms, etc! She also uses a lot of drug references in her lectures. She lets ALL the students use her as their 1st live "blood poke". She says, and raised her sleeves to prove it, that her arms look like that of a heroin addict. She's been teaching for 13 years, so either (A) she's really that insane to let 15-20 newbie students a quarter stick her in the arm and draw blood, or (B) she's got the perfect cover.

The second reason I am SO freakin' stoked to be in this class is that it is 70% labs. We start by drawing blood from fake arms with real veins and red-dyed water and then move to the teacher for our first live kill, then we go on to use the other students as guinea pigs. That last part is the best, except for the fact that I have to be a guinea pig for a LOT of not so bright looking students.

Inadvertently (let's get that part clear strait away, ok)... inadvertently, I have made a friend in my A&P and Intro to V class. Her name (on this blog anyway) is Kate. She wants to be a cardiologist, but considering she just got her GED at age 22, she thought she would try a little technical college first. Now, let me say this before any undie-bunching occurs: I am very proud of this girl for getting her GED and pursuing her education. She has a wonderful personality and is very kind, compassionate, and would make a wonderful doctor.

But- isn't their always a but?- she is not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. This is her 3rd go around at A&P. At least she's endearing...

Anyways, I usually park in the lot that is furthest away from the building. I enjoy the walk, the beautiful tree with twisted branches that I park in front of every day, the smell of the paint booth at the school's body shop. Kate has started waiting for me in the parking lot to walk to class with me. Now, I am a creature of habit and routine- namely I have to pee-tinkle and wash my hands in the same bathroom every morning and do my little OCD shit in peace, thank you very much. Ok, so little Kate wants a buddy to walk to class with. That's cool. Kate also sits by me in both classes. And now she's wanting to walk me to my car after class. Um, Kate, honey, sweetie... I don't need an escort. If you are looking for love you are looking in all the wrong places. It's kinda creepy kid. Seriously.

--The Milk Maid says stalkers are fun until you can't get rid of them!