However, I have recently discovered that my maternal instinct of protecting my beloved offspring goes much deeper than I had previously thought.

Y’all should know by now that I am quite literally petrified of spiders.  I want to cry and vomit simultaneously when I see one.  I’d like to think that I’m not usually a squealy and scaredy-cat kind of girl, but when it comes to spiders, oh hell yeah I’m scared.

Two weeks ago my boys and I were in the back yard.  I was doing yard work and the boys were teetering around playing and yelling and having a great time.  I sat down on the patio in a resin chair for a moment and my youngest came toddling over to me.  His brother screamed something to him so he turned his back to me to look and when he did I noticed that there was a decent sized wolf spider on his back.  It was crawling up towards his neck.

I gasped loudly, startling both of my children and attacked my youngest muttering, “OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT!”

With my bare hand I swatted that freaky spider off of my child’s back and righteously stomped it.  I then collapsed back into my chair and tried to keep my heart from climbing out of my throat.

Score Spider: 0 Me: 1

I’m a great mom like that.

Then today, the same basic backdrop.  Outside.  Me doing yard work, children playing.  Again I sat down for a break and my youngest made his way over to me.  He put his hand up on a concrete stair and I noticed a spider the size of his hand sitting ON his hand.

Without taking time to scream or yell my usual frantic obscenities, I picked up my baby’s tiny hand and swatted the nightmare off.  It was superhuman, really.  Because I’m supermom like that.

But the spider was nowhere to be found so that I could execute the righteous stomp.  I checked the baby again to make sure he was spider-free.  I then frantically searched myself.  I looked at my oldest and said, “Do you see the spider?”  He replied, “It’s in your hair.”

*Cue blood curdling scream that was fit to wake the dead*

In seconds I was flipping my butt-length hair here and there looking like a person on fire.  I was squealing and shrieking about the spider in my hair.

The spider that I never found.

I sit here now self-consciously smacking my head in case the spider is still in there.  But I am glad it’s no longer on my baby.

Some mothers claim to give the world to their children.  Me?  I swat spiders off of them with my bare hands like one hell of a bad ass.

But seriously, someone come check my hair.  I think that damned thing might still be in there!

“But Somer, you silly goose, what on earth are you talking about?  Where have you been?”

Folks, I got sucked into the damned Sookie Stackhouse books, and then the show True Blood.

I have no good excuse.  I fell in love with the characters and the writing and then I kind of loved the show, too.

I wanted to do something fun for myself, since I don’t usually let myself indulge in things anymore because, for some stupid reason, I see it as being selfish.  But with my Kindle Fire equipped to download entire books in mere seconds, and the internet to help me get up to current on the TV show, I was addicted.  I read all 11 books and watched 4 full seasons of the show in about 2 1/2 weeks.

I’m not a book reviewer, nor am I a TV critic, but I’ve been having a hell of a lot of fun.

My friends, now that I’ve done it, I realized that I needed that quiet-no-kids-allowed-and-nobody-else-either kind of fun.  I feel better than I’ve felt in a long time.

I used to love to read.  I used to go through books like crazy, but since this whole black blanket mentality has been slowly strangling me, I just couldn’t seem to get into a story like I used to.  Thank goodness that’s over.  Thank goodness I’m starting to resemble my old self again.

I’m going to set my jaw and make sure this happy-to-see-the-old-me mentality sticks.

And among all of these wonderful posts, at least once a month I come across a post ever eloquently going on about internet friends and IRL (In Real Life) friends.  It’s a bit of a debate, this friend thing.  Are your internet friends IRL friends, or do they stay neatly categorized as simply ONLINE FRIENDS NEVER TO COME INTO TO THE IRL REALM.

I’ve come and gone in my years as a blogger.  I’ve gone from active, to super active, to super quiet.  Right now I am tending to be quiet.  I’ve intentionally pulled back from a lot of this networking.  There are a few reasons to this.  One is that, while this internet world repeatedly proves to me how wonderful people can be, it also proves to me that it has also become a tool in the merciless rat race of life.  Follow me on Twitter (see my little badge on the right?  UGH)!  Like this post on Facebook!  Pin me on Pinterest!  What’s your Klout score?  How many readers do you have?  What about subscribers?  What does your analytics look like?  I can appreciate using a blog as a tool, but this popularity contest thing is really starting to remind me a bit too much of high school, except now that I’m older and more comfortable in my skin, I’m pretty much opting to be happy in my lonely corner.

The second reason is that I have a bit of trouble really enjoying “online” friendships.  Many people out there have really gotten wonderful friendships and connections from online friendships.  I am not one of them.

Look, if you read this blog long enough, you are reading ME.  I’m not hiding under this blog to be somebody else.  I try to keep things light and funny because I can tend to get rather dark and moody, but I do that in real life as well.  I don’t talk about some of my personal struggles and bad memories, I’m the same way in real life.  I LOVE vulgarity and filthy humor online and in real life.  A lot of bloggers are like that, and I love it.  But there’s a missing piece in the friendship equation.

When I was sitting alone in my bedroom day after day crying for no reason, not blogging, not participating in any online life, did any of the wonderful people from the internet reach out to me as a close IRL friend would?  No.  Was anybody reaching out and asking how I was?  No.  Were there phone calls or funny emails with pictures of kittens?  No.

This doesn’t make these online people any less wonderful.  Not one bit.  But it categorizes them in a place that can sometimes seem a bit imaginary when life starts to get a little bumpy. It was very obvious how easily you can fade away when you aren’t constantly commenting and posting and basically playing the “LOOK AT ME” game.

Man, how I envy the people who’ve come across real tragedy (way worse than anything I’ve ever seen) and had just a huge and beautiful outpouring of love and support from the internet.  I don’t envy the tragedy.  I think they would all agree that, although the outpouring of love was wonderful, they could have done without the tragedy.  No, I envy the support.  The unquestioned and unsolicited love.  Because people are wonderful, things like that happen.

But for a little person like me?  Someone with a tiny blog where each post gets maybe 10 reads?  I’ve got nothing coming from this online life.

Okay, maybe nothing is the wrong word.

No kickstand.  If I need to lean over and rest, there’s nothing there to hold me up, so I fall over.  If I get weak or wrecked, my face ends up in the mud.  I have my IRL supports, but those online connections?  Not so much.

So I guess that makes me a pessimist?  Or someone who is not thoroughly submersing herself into the online world?  Or someone who is not being aggressive enough in my pursuit of friendships?

I don’t buy that.  Not one bit.  I just think I should call it what it is.  We look at each other’s Facebook posts and occasionally comment or Like.  We read Twitter feeds and sometimes retweet.  Other than that, when the computer is off, the friendship is off too.

ENJOY THE RED (any questions as to what some of this crap might be, feel free to ask so that I know someone is looking at this shit)

*NOTE: none of the jewelry I have in this post is worth anything.  I’d hate to have someone thinking that I’m bragging.  I’m just showing off red jewelry that my mother gave me that I didn’t donate to the Goodwill because I can’t make myself give away a garnet.

I also have a red tattoo.  ALL RED, but I can’t get a good picture of it and I’m kind of embarrassed of it because I got it when I was 19 and it’s a tramp stamp and it’s a bad piece of work….so no picture of my tramp stamp.

Please tell me there are other people approaching 30 or in their early 30s who are  not all that willing to show off a college-era tattoo.

And I don’t want to do a post that contains 5,000 pictures.

Ok, there wouldn’t be that many.  But it would be close.

I think I can have it all broken up into about 3 posts.  Today’s post is all about my family room.  My family room is awesome.  It’s got all of these wonderful built-in cabinets so that I can hide my children’s substantial stash of toys at the end of the day.  It’s got a big closet for board games and my vacuum cleaners.  It has a HUGE fireplace.  It has travertine marble floors.

And the color scheme down there is red and orange.  Colors that make me feel snuggly, at home, and really really happy to be stuck in the house.  You see, when it’s nice outside, we hardly step foot in our family room unless we’re passing through it.  That room is for when we want to snuggle into our insanely soft and cozy couch and watch tv on our wonderfully sized television.

But, yeah, the color scheme.

We haven’t done much work (and by “much work” I mean we haven’t done ANY work) down there.  I’d like to paint the walls a lighter color.  The windows need to be replaced.  The cabinetry needs a lot of love and wood putty.  The fireplace needs to be re-faced.  But, it works for now.  That room is nowhere near the top of the massive to-do list we acquired when we bought this house 2 1/2 years ago.

For now, it’s awesome.  And it has a LOT of red.

I was so happy when I found these throw pillows for my big sectional sofa.  I bought this sofa off of Craigslist for $200 and paid $300 for slip covers.  The sofa is in great shape except for the cheap canvas fabric that covered it, and besides, being able to take off the slip covers and throw them into the washing machine is a GREAT thing with two little boys.  And my husband.  Ok, and me too.  We’re a messy lot.

Cute embroidered pillows on my mom’s old wooden bench.  When my mom lived in WV, she kept this wooden bench in the kitchen.  I remember sitting on it a lot and talking to her while she cooked or cleaned.  I’m glad I took this off of her.

These are beads off of candle holders that I bought from Pier One years and years ago.  The coloring is pretty much perfect for the whole room.  When they are lit, OH BOY is it pretty.

I cannot, for the life of me, remember where I bought these.  But aren’t they neat looking?  I love that jeweled look they have and that Indian and/or Moroccan look.

I love the burned red color of these books.  A family Bible, an antique children’s Bible, my FIL’s passed down collection of Reader’s Digest condensed books, and a really really old copy of Rudyard Kipling’s complete works.

I have sort of a thing for not only Latin books, but also reference books.  That copy of Suleiman the Magnificent is such a gorgeous bright red.

Random red stuff.  All pretty.  All happy-making.

These are just random red vases.  I have them in front of the window because when the evening sun starts it’s descent, and is shining hard through this window, the red light coming into the room is amazing.

These belonged to my grandmother and then to my mother.  I remember seeing these when I was little and thinking they must have once belonged to a king.  Now, I see them as the Avon glass that they are.  They are so retro it is almost tacky.  But I love them.

I love these red curtains.  The way that they are curled up on themselves and sit right behind the TV reminds my of an old vaudeville stage, or an old movie theater.  There are also red candle jars on either side of the TV.  Lots of red.

The next red post will be a lot of random stuff from all over my house.

Anyone else a red-o-phile?

The first part of the day was alright.  We had our breakfasts and played with noisy and annoying little toys at the table.  We then went to the family room and played with toy vacuum cleaners.  I got into the crawlspace and pulled out Easter decorations and the boys played with the oversized plastic Easter bunnies.  They fought and screamed at each other, they giggled and laughed at each other, the tickled each other and played peek-a-boo.

I put the little one down for his nap and the oldest and I set about making this place look Easter-y.  We placed bunnies and eggs everywhere and started the decorating of the Easter Egg Tree in the front yard.  He yelled at the neighbors and I apologized and told him NOT to talk to strangers, even if it’s to tell them to go away because they LIVE THERE.

The little one awoke from his nap in an absolutely horrid mood.  I gave him a snack and a new sippy and nothing would make him happy.  I carried him around and showed him the Easter decorations and still he screamed.

My youngest has a bit of a talent for screaming.  He hits this really high note that makes the glass in the house tremble and leaves my ears ringing for quite a while.  I don’t have a whole lot of tolerance for his screamy days.  They sort of kill me.

I prepared dinner and placed it in front of them.  On a good day, they both dig in and eat quietly in between minor babble and conversation.  I love the good days.  It was a half good day.  The oldest ate his dinner in content while the youngest began eating quietly until he decided that I looked a little too at ease for his liking.  The screaming resumed.

As my wonderful oldest ate every last bit of his dinner like such a good boy, I had to hand-feed the youngest getting screamed at the whole time.  By the time dinner was over, I had an idea that I would have liked to have hidden in my dryer for a while.  Then I realized that the screams would sound even worse in my dryer.

Two cheap plastic Easter bunny snow globes changed the mood instantly.  The two boys ran through the house shaking their snow globes and giggling and yelling those happy yells that I know I’ll miss some day with all of my heart.  They took off their socks and threw them at me, giggling the whole while.  When they got tired and needed a rest, they found rest sitting on my lap with their heads resting on my chest.

The oldest retired to his room for some alone time (he wasn’t in trouble, I just like to encourage alone time) and the youngest and I went to my room.  A strand of red beads kept him entertained while I folded laundry.  Then he rolled on my bed while I tickled him.  It amuses me how my children view my bed as a playground.

Then I put him in jammies, brushed his tiny teeth, kissed his chubby cheeks and put him to bed.

I then put my oldest in his jammies, supervised as he brushed his teeth, and let him sit quietly in his room with a video game so he could be awake when his Daddy got home.

My ears hurt, but so does my face from all of the smiling.

Corny?  Perhaps.  Truth?  Hell yes.

This site is fast approaching it’s 500th post.  Yes, that’s right.  500 posts for the MWC.  Admittedly, I should have hit that mark two years ago, but whatever.

Back to the green.

I had a wonderful St. Patrick’s Day.  We went to my mom’s house and had some drinks and some corned beef and cabbage.  Then we came home and wanted a late night snack.  It was about 10 p.m. (and yes, I AM a late night snack kind of gal and it isn’t always something a body conscious person would approve of) and I wanted Taco Bell.

Look, as far as fast food joints go, I have had surprisingly good luck with Taco Bell.  KFC is usually the place that makes me sick.  But this time?  I won’t be eating Taco Bell again for at least a few years.  My guts were literally sore and, you know, I’ve never been a fan of staying up all night puking.

But the day itself was a lot of fun.

My oldest cutie-pie in fine leprechaun form.  The hats were cute, but we were all covered in green glitter by night’s end.

Baby cutie-pie in his green shirt and food all over his face.

Baby cutie-pie and Daddy.  All in green.

Cutie-pies beating the holy hell out of grandpa’s drum kit.

Me showing off how super ladylike I am.  I’m super ladylike.

My husband.  With his STUPID phone that he never puts down.  Ahh, being married to a tech geek…..

In all seriousness, I will most likely lose my life for posting this picture.  I nearly lost my life for taking it.  That’s not a demonic look on my mom’s face (although it totally looks like it HAHAHAHAHA!) that’s a very surprised and “I will kill you” look.  You have no idea what I had to go through to protect this picture from being deleted.  She’s cute, though.  Mom, I love you.  The picture is STAYING!

And this is what happens whenever my mom tries to take a posed picture of me.  I’ve been doing it since I hit puberty.  My mom is accepting volunteers to throw her a “I’m sorry your daughter is an asshole” party.  Come one, people!  Help that poor woman!

Who’s in for a few days of posts about nothing but red?  Look for that next week.

I did, however, celebrate Pi Day (3/14) with these awesomely kickass mini barbecue chicken pies for dinner!

The recipe and how they were prepared are over at SMP here.

Anyone else make a pie?  Savory?  Sweet?

I LOVE popcorn.  It’s one of my favorite snacks.  I’m alone a lot (no IRL friends, kids go to bed early, and my husband works a lot) so I take a lot of comfort in food and snacks.  Popcorn is an all time great.

I take offense to microwavable popcorn.  It burns easily, it can taste awful, the bags smell weird, they only come in one size, and THEY ARE EXPENSIVE!

I like to buy 1 lb. bags of popcorn kernels.  I pay $4 for them.  For that, I can eat popcorn to my little heart’s content for about 3 months.  And I eat quite a bit of popcorn.

This stuff makes me happy.  Supremely happy!  It comes in several flavors, and I can use it to get my please-just-kill-me-now picky 4 year-old to eat broccoli without having to smother it in cheese.  It’s AWESOME!

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go eat my popcorn and pick up a bajillion toys.

Also, my house is sadly pretty sparse in the green department.

BUT….

I love candles.  I ADORE candles.  I have them all over the place.  I’d bet that I have close to 100 candles throughout my home.  But you know what?  Candles can be expensive, and a candle habit is one I’m not really thrilled to pay exorbitant amounts of money to feed.

So I bought a candle-making book and a 32-lb. chunk of wax and some other odds and ends and went to work.  So far, I’ve only made poured or molded candles.  I’m really hoping to make tapered candles which are made by dipping.

These gorgeous green jars are from some Glade Christmas Tree scented candles.  My home always has fake trees (have you seen the videos of those things going up in flames?  NO THANK YOU!) and I miss the scent of a real tree.  Glade did a great job with the scent, and the glass jars are soooo pretty.  I also have red jars (of course I do!) that I’ve refilled and keep in my family room.  And in my kitchen I have mason jars that are filled with white wax and they look freaking adorable next to my cream-ware pitcher.

The only candles that I buy anymore are tea light candles.  I have 7 liquid potpourri burners around my house, so I go through quite a lot of those and the time v. money-saved just isn’t worth it to make my own tea lights.

It’s just another thing in a long list of “crafty” things that I only do in a very half-assed manner.  It doesn’t stop me from enjoying it or being happy to show it off, it just means I’m more useless than you might suspect!

Any other candle fiends out there?