Earning my Cookie Badge

So it's Girl Scout Cookie time, well it must be because although I don't have a Daisy, Brownie, Junior, Cadette, Ambassador, or any full fledged Girl Scout amongst my cherubs, I do have 2 boxes of cookies, compliments of my sister for my kids for Valentine's Day.

And let me tell you that these over priced, tiny boxes of cookies are just wonderful. Presently we have the Peanut Butter Patties, which also are known as Tag a longs, and the Thin Mints. Thin Mints are like a staple aren't they when it comes to Girl Scout Cookie Flavors? Everyone has their favorite that they purchase and then they throw in a box of Thin Mints just because.

Were you a Girl Scout? I was, well I think I was for like 3 or 4 years, and then it wasn't cool anymore. Because things are awesomely cool and not cool when you were growing up, and then you come to find out later that those things that weren't so cool pay for college, get you a good job, etc. I was a Brownie first and remember crossing that little wooden bridge into Girl Scout Land, and that was about it for me. Now when I was a Brownie I specifically remember Girl Scout Cookie time. I also remember my best friend and I scrambling when it was about 2 weeks before the badge ceremonies to make up ways to get our badges like our rank in the eternal Girl Scout land depended on it.

Oh, but aren't the uniforms just hideous? I mean seriously, when you put on that ugly brown or green thing it might as well earned you the,'I know I am dressed like a Loser,' badge. Poor things. I can remember watching,'Troop Beverly Hills,' and thinking; 'Why can't I have a uniform like theirs? Why can't we do fun Girl Scout activities like they do, Why can't Shelly Long be one of my Troop Moms?' Maybe if I lived in Beverly Hills I would have been a Girl Scout longer, who knows.

Let's face it, these Girl Scouts, really have an edge over the Boy Scouts when it comes to the selling of food products. I mean they may be able to tie a mean knot, get you out of the wilderness alive, and 'Be Prepared,' but they sell Popcorn. What does that have on Girl Scout Cookies, really?

One year my mom was 'Cookie Mom.' This granted her the power over all cookies for our troop. Boxes of cookies were stored in my garage, this is a chubby prepubescent girls dream. Ok, so it was baby fat, no really actually it wasn't, but whatever.

My favorites are Carmel DeLites, or Samoas. Why do they keep changing the names? This is not a very effective marketing strategy, but I guess the Girls Scouts of America Association didn't ask for my opinion. Should have. Because had they asked my opinion on the cookies in general, I would have said, keep the names, and put more in a box. Really,there is like 5 in a box, with the exception of Shortbreads and Thin Mint, they really pack those suckers in and you get your money's worth. And on the subject of unacceptable name changing of Girl Scout Cookies, Shortbreads are also called Trefoils. What in the world is that and how in the world do you say that? You see what I am saying? And in reference to the amount in the box, when you sit down with your Carmel Samoas DeLites and battle with your inner fatty whether to just finish the box or not, you begin to curse the Girl Scouts, 'PUT MORE IN THE BOX, DARN YOU, YOU GREEN DRESS WEARING TROLLS!' It's that serious.

What is the price of Girl Scout cookies this year anyway? I think it is about 4 bucks a box. If a buy a case of Samoan DeLites do I get a discount? I am not knocking the Girl Scouts here entirely, in fact I think it's a wonderful activity for today's youth. I mean where else can you learn and earn badges for hundreds of wholesome activities, like 'Home Improvements' and 'From Stress to Success'? Mind you none of them involve the, 'Wearing your Uggs properly,' badge or the 'Your Skinny Jeans and You,' badge. It's a shame that being a Girl Scout isn't cool, upon further research, they really do attempt to produce wholesome, self-sufficient, well rounded women, but if they could just give me like 5 more cookies in a box, that would be great.

The best part about being a Girl Scout is that no matter when or where, you can always remember the pledge, its unreal, get your three fingers in position and recite after me;

'On my honor, I will try to serve God and my country, to help people at all times, and to live by the Girl Scout Law.'

Buy a box today.

And now she is 4...

Over this past weekend my little girl turned 4. 4!! That was enough to make me want to run to a stack of her baby photos and weep about how she has grown too fast. I mean in reality, like her mother suffered through, she doesn't even have all of her hair yet, and she still has a little fence on her bed so that she doesn't fall on the floor, but this is going to be her last year with me at home. No we don't kick them out 5, but she certainly won't be home with me all day, this is just the start of the process of leaving the nest, and I can't bear it.She is going to be going to preschool in the fall, she is going to start reading her own stories, she is then going to be five, and you know what five means...kindergarten. That is not humanly possible. That happened way too quickly. She is going to learn how to write her name soon, and I am going to cry my eyes out.

A few months ago we began discussing her coming birthday. Kendall LOVES her friends and she knows that at birthday time she can bring them all together to one spot. The shear prospect of this is enough to send her into fits of excitement and anticipation. I asked her what she wanted to do for her birthday party and she said a sleepover. Hmm... Her friend Juliana had just had one in the fall when she turned 5. I tried to pull this excuse with her, 'Well Kendall, Jules was turning 5, you are turning 4.' To which I got, 'So?' Good point. So I go to run this by her Daddy, because certainly I can pin the fact that she can't have a sleepover on him. He just says, 'ok.' Thanks pal.

Equipped with the fact that we are going to have a sleepover, when it comes time to plan the party, I tell her that we are only going to invite her closest friends. She starts rattling off this list with names of little girls I don't even know. We begin to narrow it down, and with her brother in the mix, we have a list of 8. Well 9, if you include her friend Sarah, but she could not come due to the devastating fact that she is allergic to everything. No, seriously, Kendall has already said that she will sit with Sarah at special tables at school. That's friendship people.

So leading up to the party, like every child, Kendall asks daily, 'Is today my party? How many sleeps until my party?' Isn't this just so much fun? I couldn't get her to function to complete any tasks on the days leading up to the party, unless it was, 'Today is the day,' it was of no importance to her.

So we had the party and it was, 'Little Girl Fest 2010.' We played Barbies, we whined, we dressed up, we watched princess movies, we ate candy and got really hyper, we threatened to never be each other's friends again, we cried when it was time to leave. It was a success.
Stanley enjoying the movie, 'Ella Enchanted,' with his special buddy for the night, Gabby.

And personally, to those that think it may be too young to have sleepover. I will tell you this; way easier then when they are teenagers. And here is why: At 11:30 p.m., I told these lovely ladies that it was time to get into their sleeping bags and go to sleep, we shut off the lights, and after a brief discussion between two of them about turkey bacon, (don't ask me), they were asleep. Another convenient thing was that I did not have to ship off her brother. When Kendall is 15, Ethan 14, there is either going to have to be the shipping of one to the grandparents for the evening, or he or she will have to wear those electric shocking dog collars that don't permit them out of their room. This being the only downfall of having a boy and a girl so close, the teenage years. So being young and getting in the birthday sleepover parties now, is something I favor.

Kendall had a fabulous 4th birthday, with a trip to the little girl spa with her aunt on friday afternoon, a sleepover that night, a nice birthday nap, dinner with Mom Mom and Pop, which was her favorite; tuna fish sandwiches, and then a family party that night.

Growing up way too fast.

My appointment with Snow White's 8th Dwarf

I sit here in my third trimester looking as though I could just about birth a 15 pound baby at any moment. I am officially uncomfortable.

I get that I am to eat so that this monster inside of me can thrive, but after I consume anything I literally feel as though my stomach is just going to bust open at the seams and explode all over the place. It's a bit of a graphic scene in my head, but don't worry, the baby is fine.

Today I went to the doctor. Saw the micro machine man. No really this doctor moves at a wickedly fast pace all of the time. And talks at warp speed. He delivered Ethan and in the throes of labor pain I asked him if he ever slowed down, and if he drove his wife crazy. He of course is efficient, I mean Ethan's birth was flawless, but just the same, every time I have an appointment with him it is like I have entered a cyclone and spit out in the reception area when it is all over. He's lucky I like him, and that he also looks like one of the seven dwarfs, otherwise we may have some issues to work through. An ob/gyn who talks a mile a minute and just may be the 8th dwarf, I am ok with this? Once again I will tell you that when you are in labor, you don't care who is on the receiving end. Preferably someone who can catch is the only requirement.

My appointment goes something like this:
I calmly get my blood pressure and weight taken, turn in my pee, and then I am led to the examine room by the nurse.

I literally step up on the little step to have a seat and he is in the room. Talking at least 89 miles an hour:
'O.k., everything o.k., any questions, concerns, what's going on, you feeling alright?'(At the same time, he is scanning the chart), 'Alright, looks good, had the 3 hour glucose, ugh, I hear that is as boring as watching paint dry, but you passed, so any thing else going on that I should know about? This is the third right, wow, you must be tired, oh look, who is this? Kendall, did I deliver Kendall? No, too bad, that's o.k.,the other doctors here are o.k., are you o.k.? And then he takes his first breath.

'Let's see, you are taking your folic acid, let me get a listen, lean back, whoa this sucker moves around a lot, huh? Your weight and blood pressure look good finally, that is good? You have any questions? April 25th is the due date? Wow, this one is going to be a big one, definitely over 9 pounds I am thinking. You o.k.? Let me measure the belly, yup definitely over 9 pounds is my guess. You think you will go early, no you didn't with your others, well that's o.k., you give me a call on the 26th alright?

Mind you, I have not said a thing other than, 'uh huh,'still.

'O.k., there is the heartbeat, you are in your third trimester so I should see you in 2 weeks. Yup, you will be 31 weeks then. Time flies when you are having fun. O.k., you o.k., have any questions for me? Any concerns?'

ME: 'I don't think so.'

'O.k., then you behave yourself and stay out of trouble and we will see you in 2 weeks.'

I look down at my belly and am reassured that there will be no getting into trouble since I move about as fast as a slug and am already knocked up.

As Kendall and I are standing in the reception area making my next appointments, he whizzes by, 'alright Diane, babies to deliver, see you tomorrow,' and he is out before the receptionist can even answer him.

God bless those women writhing in pain at that moment waiting for one of the doctors from the practice to arrive and put them out of their misery and extract a child. They are about to experience birth with the 8th dwarf, Speedy, before they can even bat an eyelash.

I will not be seeing him in 2 weeks mind you. I will see another doctor in the practice whose name Andy thinks is just hysterical in a 14 year old puberty stricken boy sort of way. I can't say the name on here, wish I could, but ask next time I see you ask me, or ask me on facebook, I suppose it is a bit of an unfortunate last name.

So dwarfs and weird names? I am ok with this? Well I have 2 children that lead me to have faith in them. Listen, they give me the o.k. for the epidural a little early, they listen to me whine about wanting to me induced when I am a week overdue, and they present beautiful and healthy children to me, what's not to like?

So unless there is an abdominal explosion here, I will have at the very least 11 weeks left. This is when I start to panic and look around the house, the baseboards that need wiping down, the baby stuff to gather. I don't even have diaper rash cream, and I want a new boppy, and I need to find a sling I like, and I really want two body pillows so I can sleep at night comfortably. Please, someone.

Someone tell my husband to pick two of these up for me, with pillowcases at Target, PRONTO! All I want is for my hips to have a break. Is that too much to ask?

This child also needs a coming home outfit. And am I really going to breast feed and pump? Cherie needs to get over her and provide me with a very candid tutorial on working this pump, which right now looks like a torturing device. I need to make room in the freezer for frozen breast milk. Yummy. Do I really want to feel like a cow? And I need to prepare meals, and I need new binkies. Why is it that with Ethan it all came together? Oh that's right because I had a baby already, it's been three years. A lifetime, well for maybe a bird, but still. Where is my swaddling blankets? And where is that thing that sucks boogers out of noses? And this kid needs socks, because Lord knows who ate the others, there are no matches.

See, see...this is why you stop at one. This is why in India pregnant women live with their mothers until birth. It's insanity.

The Goose Egg

They say that pregnancy can make you clumsy. Again with the 'they,' and again I will ask,who are, 'they?' I suppose I am part of 'they,'because I have been pretty clumsy while pregnant. Am I clumsy when I am not pregnant? I don't think I really pay attention to that. I suppose because when you are clumsy when you are pregnant you are hyper aware of it so as to not crack the egg that sticks out in front of you. How then, I suppose, can you not be clumsy when you have this thing sticking out in front of you throwing off your balance?

When I was pregnant with Kendall, in about my 8 month, yeah real good month to fall, right, it was a cold and blustery day, and I was late for work. Without thinking for one second that there could perhaps be some ice on my front step, I charged out the front door, and after some theatrics which included some arm flailing, legs moving a mile a minute under me, and some twisting motions in an attempt to keep myself upright, I landed flat on my bottom on the bottom step. I of course sat there and cried and waited for my water to break like a pathetic loser, and nothing happened except for a really bruised backside. Kendall was still 2 weeks late.

Now you are thinking there is nothing clumsy about falling on ice, it happens all the time, but I will say this, that if did not have 20 pounds sticking out in front of me, with no junk in my trunk to even things out a bit, I would have been able to catch myself. Or would have flung myself forward onto the grass, but those that have been pregnant know, you do not by any means of the imagination let yourself fall forwards while pregnant. Things move in slow motion when you are falling while pregnant, if you didn't already know. It's as if you have time to think some logistics, 'well I am going to fall, and so if I move this way just slightly I will break my hand, but save the belly.' You are able to contort your body in all these crazy ways, if you are lucky, so that the belly is not smushed.

While pregnant with Ethan, I fell down the stairs. Oh no, it gets better, while carrying Kendall, and most likely a ton of other things because I am an obsessed multitasker like that. I have no idea what contributed to the fall, with the exception of carrying a million things and a baby, no that isn't enough. But before I knew it my legs came flipping forward from under me. In the again, slow motion movements, I knew I had to readjust Kendall so that I didn't land on her legs and cripple her for life from my weight, and to brace her and the belly for the fall. BAM! On the step. I swear my butt bone is going to break with one more of these impacts.

So onto the clumsy mishap of this pregnancy, which has topped all the others. So it was trash day. Imagine that, the trash can still sitting there, not by the curb, I might add. My husband conveniently cannot remember what day is trash day to save his life. It's like selective memory, and in just the last week they changed the collection days, so now it has only gotten worse. I am 100% certain many of you ladies can relate. There are many times that the trash is just about ready to get up and walk itself all the way to the dump before it is set on the curb. And I don't want to get into why I just don't do it. There are times I do, like this time I will talk about, but this is a man's job. And I don't care what anyone else has to say about it, there are certain things in a household that are strictly to be a man's job if there is one cohabitating with you, and taking out the trash is one of them, along with shoveling snow, and a few others.

So feeling annoyed about the trash situation I had going on that day, I decided to take it out. I had people coming over that night and smelly trash really is not make for a fine welcoming committee. But that wasn't where the problem was. The trash and the recycling were successfully put out on the curb that day, oh and again, by me, the pregnant one. You know, the one giving and sustaining life to another human being. The Merry Maids should be here daily. But then you think of the women in the fields who would just pop a baby out and keep on going, and then even just taking out the trash becomes a little prima donnish by comparison.

It was bringing the items back in that created the issue. I am always one moving with a million things on my mind. Going on to the next task with one half of my body while the other is completing the last one. This can become very hazardous, and has. So instead of using the steps, so wonderfully provided by our contractors to make life easier, I decide to grab onto one of the posts that holds up the porch that has the open space next to it. Because that was a 2 foot short cut? Seriously, because it was a two foot short cut which bypassed the chair that is sitting on the porch. So I have the recycle bin in one hand, grab onto the post with the other, pull up to plant my foot, and miss landing on the porch by a good 3 inches. This throws me off balance a little bit, and as my body wants to fall forward, directly into the concrete porch, with a direct landing on my belly, I pull forward hard and up. SMACK! That's right, face slamming into post. Awesome feeling. My immediate reaction is, 'I have lost teeth. I have lost teeth, I will not be able to get surgery because the baby can't have the medication used, and I will go into the delivery room a toothless fat person, the nurses are going to make fun of me!' I am not lying, this truly is my thought process. My second thought, also completely rational, 'I am going to kill Andy, if he had just taken out the trash this morning, this never would have happened.' Disregarding the fact that I was bringing in the empty trash receptacles that have nothing to do with taking the trash out in the morning when you really think about it. But that was besides the point, it's his man job!

So I walk inside, head spinning, lip swelling, forehead throbbing. I call Andy to let him know what happened and that if I am unresponsive on the floor when he gets home, he will know to always take the trash out for his future wives. He promptly tells me that he will hold ice on it when he gets home. I am will not even go into girls, not even for a minute.

I then decide to inspect the damage in the mirror. This is the first time I check the teeth since I am having major anxiety attacks surrounding the entire possibility of losing teeth. So I stick my tongue to where they are to be and feel resistance. Hallelujah. I then start moving them all around with my fingers to check and see if they are loose in any way. Nope. But my lip is all puffed out, and I have some cuts on the gum. Not to worry though because Andy is going to put ice on it when he gets home from work.

I move further up the face, nose will not require plastic surgery, good, good, and then there it is a goose egg sitting right there in the middle of the forehead. And then having the trash pile greeting my guests for that evening became a whole lot better of an option then this mountain growing on my forehead.

Once bruised and out in public the next day at BJ's, my neighbor, Danielle, thought that perhaps it was Ash Wednesday, I reminded her it was Friday. Her husband, later that evening, just thought I had a really good priest who got his hands on some really good ashes that didn't wash off as fast as the others. And ever since then people have asked, 'Is that a bruise and bump on your forehead?' And I get to retell the stupid story over and over again.

There are a few things I have learned in regards to this goose egg.

1. Is that they really do hurt, mine still really hurts when touched, or when I stick my head directly under the shower's flow.
2. When my children get another one of these on their heads I will not expect them to get over it in 10 minutes, more like 10 hours, or maybe even 10 days.
3. That a man's job is a man's job, let it be.

2009...wait...wait...2010

Happy New Year. Welcome to 2010. I still am dating everything '09, which is really great when you work in the medical field. Usually I transition just fine into a new year writing the dates and I get all proud of myself, I am a loser like that, but apparently my subconscious does not like the '10. I keep thinking of this baby and when he is old and gray,and it is the year 2093 people stating in disbelief...'You were born in 2010!?!?!' I don't know why 2006 and 2007 don't hit me like that,and why I don't feel bad for Kendall and Ethan in the year 2093, but I don't. It's this new decade, at the end of it I will be in my 40's, and driving a different minivan, and that people, is unfathomable.

To commemorate this turn of the decade, which some people for some reason like to make a stink about, that it hasn't been a decade, I don't know, they are stupid, it was 10 years, to me, that is a decade. Phew, this baby is kicking away right now, my fingers just kind of uncontrollably moved when it jolted my body. This one is going to be a porker. I am going to go ahead and say, this one is easily going to clear 9 pounds. I am going to talk to my doctor on Thursday about scheduled c-sections. And my argument will be, Britney Spears and all those famous people get to have them, why can't I? Do I need to schedule a press tour, because I can write a book or something. No in reality, he will look at me like I have lost my mind, offer me some medication, and tell me that he will see me and my vagina sometime at the end of April.

Side Tracked, back on... I decided to list my Top Ten Mommy Accomplishments of 2009, since after all, I am a Mom, and well, we are pretty awesome.

1. How could I not start with this one, Getting Kendall to poop on the potty, and not in my neighbor, Sue's, immaculate basement. What a feat, I thought we were both going to die...Sue almost did.

2. Having the tubes stay in Ethan's ears. I know in reality, this has nothing to do with me, however, what me and this kids ears have been through since his birth deserves some recognition. I was always on edge about his stinkin' ears. Screams in the middle of the night would wake me and have me buying bulk baby ibuprofen, regression in his speech would send me in a panic. But it looks as though those second set of tubes stuck. Way to go CHOP.

3. Taking over the entire basement as a playroom. What started as a man cave, with an itty, bitty corner for Kendall's toys, has now evolved into a full fledged playroom. So the big tv with the sound system is there. Nemo sounds pretty good on it. But the poker table is gone. The fridge is still down there, but it is now home to juice boxes and plastic food items. I left his Eagles football things on the wall because I don't have frames for the kids artwork that is going to go up in their place yet. But you know, if you move slowly and slyly, complete domination can be achieved.

4. The Wooden Spoon. Enough said.

5. Getting, or should I say, inheriting, a dog. I mean every family should have one. Sure he sheds. But when you get back from being gone for 15 minutes and he greets all of us like we were gone for months, you'll take never being able to pull of black again. They love Stanley. Stanley tolerates us, even if when he goes out to play in the snow, he too, has to bundle up...look how happy he is!! He adores us, it's so evident.

6. Teaching Ethan how to pedal a bike. It was so sad and funny at the same time to watch him with his little tricycle and having to push it with his legs because he couldn't figure out pedals. Kendall took to bike riding like she was Lance Armstrong and pedaled right out of the womb. Surely all kids just learn this easily, right? Wrong. Then there was my sweet Ethan, my soon to be middle child, who fits the description to a tee. However, with a little determination, some tantrums, and a little self pity, because all the other kids went, 'too fast for me,' oh and the push handle, this kid is ready for a bike with training wheels for his third birthday.

7. Getting rid of cable and living to tell about it. So taking a gander at the budget and seeing that HUGE cable bill every month was killer. So were we up for the challenge? I decided to tell Andy to get rid of it. We nixed. We joined many of our friends and got rid of the cable, goodbye access to children's shows whenever they are driving you up a wall. And let me tell you. I was a huge, huge t.v. watcher. You know I love Oprah. You know I am a judge on American Idol and So You Think You Can Dance. How am I surviving? Actually how is Andy surviving without ESPN? Well all I have to say for him is iPhone. Without it and its glorious apps, this man would have never survived. Me? Well I read more then I did before. The kids? Well they are now enjoying, 'Movie Nights,' where we all snuggle up and eat popcorn and watch movies together. And during the day, they watch some shows on dvd. But let me tell you, this whole thing has put my creativity to the test. Mommy is the Entertainer, full time. To those who don't let their kids watch t.v., you are like, well, 'duh, it's your job.' Thanks. So all in all, we spend more time together. Just like the parent magazines want us to, oh we are so perfect! We now have a little converter upstairs in our room only. I mean I would like to know if there is some world crisis I should be up on, but that is it. And let me tell you, honestly, it is no easier today then it was the first day. I can honestly tell you I miss putting the kids to bed and just vegging to the nonsense that would ensue on t.v. But I suppose I am better for it, right? I am, I think, right? Just tell me I am. The biggest challenge is yet to come. The first six weeks after birth when this baby sleeps on his own time. I used to go down to the basement and snuggle with the baby and console myself through the fact that I never got sleep by watching a show or something. Not this time! It is me, an insomniac, and a wall. Post Partum craziness, anyone?

8. I got knocked up...again. I went back and forth with this one, really I did. When I committed to the third child, I essentially committed to the fourth, since my darling husband doesn't want a middler. Was it that traumatic for him? I am fine either way, and so in a few years, read that honey, in a few years, if I am able get pregnant again, well I am committed to the fourth. I really wanted another baby. I have gone and lost it. However, when I had the miscarriage, I was like, here we go again, and I doubted that I could go through with all the testing, the shots, the medication, the appointments, for years on end again. So in my mind I wrestled with the whole thing. Why mess with a good thing? Two happy and healthy kids, maybe I should go back to school in a little bit? But Andy and I agreed to try for a bit, and low and behold thanks to my fabulous doctors and a some major intervention from the one who creates life, he showed us that his plan for us was another one, come what may, he chose us to be this little man's parents. For a little plug; I highly recommend both my God and my doctors if you are having some fertility issues of your own.

9. Completing Kendall's Disney Princess Barbie and movie collection. This child is all about princesses. She is a princess, she plays with princesses, and if you don't like princesses, well then don't come her way. This Christmas when asked what she wanted from Santa she replied, 'Pocahantas and Tiana Barbies, and the Pocahantas movie, that way the set can be complete.' Good thing Santa could come through with this request, and that Santa stood in line on Black Friday in the Disney Store at 7:30 a.m. to get that special Tiana doll from the Disney Store, because they are 'fancier.' They are, I will attest to it. So we have appeased our wanna be princess who asks her Daddy if he would like to dance on the kitchen floor which in her mind is not covered in crumbs, but is a great ballroom, and then proposes marriage to him. Every.Single.Night. It also seems like Ethan will have to be the gallant prince who wakes the princess with a kiss at least 20 times a day upon demand, a little longer. But just when you think you are through, and the set is in fact complete, it is now, 'Well we will need all the princes to go with these princess dolls, and when does Tiana come on video so we can watch it here?' Thanks Disney.

Drumroll please...the 10th Mommy Accomplishment...

10. So this really isn't an accomplishment, well it is, you have to understand the wonderfulness of this to really deserve this. You have to have provided well for your family using alternate methods for a really long time to understand the true meaning of this. And you have to commit yourselves to provide even better for your family once you have this. You have to give it it's own space, clean it daily, and sit and stare at it at least 3 times a day.

You have to know what to use this for properly to really be an accomplished and respectful user:

That's right, mashed potatoes do taste better when whipped by the whisk attachment to your own...


That's right, there she is, Black Beauty. I screamed for 10 minutes straight when I opened this Christmas morning. That my friends is a true devotion. It was set in it's place that evening and has been pissing off all the other appliances since it's arrival, most especially Mr. Hand Held Mixer. I will again state that; No Trista, the hand held mixer is not easier then the Kitchen Aid Mixer, you have lost your head.

Thanks Mom and Dad.