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Monday, Monday

12 Sep

I had this grand idea to get organized.  The pool season has ended and so it’s time to stop neglecting the house/kids/myself.  As I do with most of my grand ideas, I looked to Pinterest (aka “Carol’s brain” because how did I ever do anything or have an idea on my own without Pinterest).  And with any great idea that can only be completed with the help of Pinterest, I had to spend hours searching and pinning and then clicking on pins and filtering through pins.  I finally decided to do this…


Yep, 147 pages!  Not to be confused with 148 pages which would totally be overboard.

…and then there were all of these checklists that had to be printed out and organized.  (because you have to organize your organization binder to help you organize)


…and then I had to fill in checklists, make menus and plan a whole week of cleaning.

The more lists I completed the more overwhelmed I felt.  *This is already backfiring.  Why do I feel less organized.  What’s that?  What’s happening?  What’s going on?

So I worked and typed and penciled-in this and that in my binder all weekend.  And finally, at 3 AM this morning, I had the week ready to go.  I looked over my Monday morning checklist and thought to myself “Ok, it seems like a lot.  I’m overwhelmed, but wait… some of this I can really knock out in the hour that I have in between dropping Phoebe off at her bus stop and dropping Leila off at her bus stop.  Tess will be asleep.  This may work!  I’ve got this!”

…But then Tess woke up at 4 AM crying and I couldn’t get her back to sleep until after 5 AM and feeling exhausted I started reasoning with reality.  “I have to get up at 6:30 AM to get Jax off to school.  Let’s be real.  I’ll be too tired and want to take a nap after all of the kids are gone.  I’m going to have to add “nap” to my to-do list.  Is that contradictory?  Can you add “nap” to a to-do list that is supposed to keep you organized and timely?  Screw it!  Adding “nap” to my to-do list will be the first thing I “to-do”.”  Zzzzzz…

As predicted, I was exhausted to the point of delirium, but I got Jax up and ready, then I got Phoebe up and ready, and then I opened my binder and set to cross things off quickly, so I could get to “nap”.  I did a load of laundry, took care of the dog, woke Leila up and got her in the shower, realized that most of the things I actually do weren’t even on my to-do list, but thought things were going well… until Leila walked up to me in the hallway mid-“laundry” check-off.  Soaking wet with tears in her eyes she stammered, “Mom, I just remembered, I was supposed to do a project this weekend.”  

“A project?!  Not a worksheet or a chapter to read, but a whole PROJECT?!”

“Yes!  I need to make a poster about something for health class.”  Still dripping under her towel, she shuffled through her binder and handed me a sheet with her project requirements. 7 research bulletin points, to be exact.

“Crap!  Ok, get dressed.  Seriously, Leila?!  You have to be at the bus stop in 20 minutes.  It’ll be fine.  Dry your eyes.  Mommy to the rescue!  Let me see what I can knock out.”  I quickly turned to the computer and tapped away at the keyboard, scrambled for a gnarly piece of leftover posterboard, a glue stick and my paper cutter.  Frantically, I searched, copy and pasted, printed, cut and glued and all the while it was killing me that I couldn’t rephrase most of it and that it wasn’t pretty.  It dawned on me that most people with OCD are probably unorganized because if it’s not perfect then it’s not good enough, so why even try?  I had completed 5 bulletin points before she had to leave for the bus stop.  She walked out of the door without a project and both of us were deflated, but I trudged on and when it was completed I jumped in the van with what is quite possibly the worst looking poster on “Stuttering” the teacher will ever be handed.  I zipped to the bus stop just as the bus was coming down the street to pick her up.  *Yay!  I got to be her hero!  She gave me a giant hug, as I told her to study the poster on the bus and really learn her topic.

I left the bus stop smiling, but even more exhausted.  I came home to stare blankly at the mess the haphazard project had left behind in its wake and then look over even more blankly at my “to-do list” with its one… lone… check.  Nope, “do Leila’s weekend project for her” wasn’t on there.  Just then… *crunch* *crunch* “Shit!  What’s the dog into?”  Fabulous, “cleaning up shards of gnawed on colored pencils” isn’t on my to-do list either.  F U, Monday!



In need of buckling down…

18 May

Phew!  How long has it been?  Really?

I’ll spare you the details of why I’ve been MIA on wordpress… it goes without saying.

On Earth Day, the kids and I made a compost bin by drilling holes into an old Sports Authority storage box (from the distant past of Michael’s career endeavors).  While I searched the yard for crunchy brown leaves and dry grass, Leila went on a scavenger hunt for worms to make a home in our compost… more importantly to poop in it.  Later that weekend, we planted a very small organic garden.  A week ago our plants sprouted.  I think it was due to my $1 Target-special mini-gnome.  He’s an excellent gardener… well, was an excellent gardener…

Enter Phee-Phi-Pho-Phoebe:

I recently made a pair of shoes for Phoebe that she immediately wanted to wear outside.

So, I thought that I'd take some photos of them while she was out there.

She always heads straight for the garden.

She always heads straight for the garden.

She likes to take my popsicle stick markers out of the soil and mix them up.

Ha ha!!! Now they will never know what exactly they are unearthing!!! Is it a carrot or a shallot? The suspense will kill them!

Ha ha!!! Now they will never know exactly what they are unearthing!!

all of the little brown things scattered about?

Our mini-organic farm. What's that you say? What are all of the little brown things scattered about?

They would be from this awesomeness above, sh*tting all over the place! It is also the host of blinding clouds of pollen filled doom.

Oh yeah! There is the awesome compost bin! Shut up! Do you know how long it took to drill all of those holes?

Wait! An ant carrying a beetle four times it's size...

Phoebe's back at trying to confuse me again!

Phoebe's back at trying to confuse me again!

Seriously... Mommy's not that intelligent... you needn't try so hard!

Oh! Oh!!! Plumber in training!

Grover appears to be trying to escape.

Hello, Mister Gnome! Thank you for watching over my garden!

Phee-Phi-Pho-Phum... I smell the blood of an english gnome!

You are mine and I shall call you "ball"!

Hmmm... Are you sure that you are a "ball"?

Let me take you over here, "ball" and throw you very hard!

No, Phoebe! Just because you call it ball, doesn't mean that it is!!!

Excuse the tiny photos… it’s now 2:30 AM and I don’t feel like editing this farther.  Maybe I’ll get to it tomorrow…

…But I wouldn’t hold my breath

…unless you just farted.  Then by all means… don’t breathe!

Squirrel!… and other tidbits from Easter

8 Apr

Ahhh, Easter, the most glorious time of the year for kids (except for Christmas, and birthdays, and the last day of school, and any day in the summer which allows for a visit to the pool, and field trips, and sleepovers, and camping trips, and lightning bugs on a cool summer evening, and the airing of an “all new” Spongebob episode, aaaand…  Well, let’s just say that Easter ranks up there on the ultimate super-fun list.)  As soon as the Easter decorations and baskets are pulled down from their storage in the attic, the kids grab up all of the plastic eggs that they can find amidst the stored items and run outside and start practicing thier egg hunting skills.  This is great for the first few days because if they are driving me batty all I have to do is say, “Hey, why don’t you guys go outside and have an Easter egg hunt.” “Yay!” And they’re off and out of my hair for at least an hour.  But then, you know, because the grass grows around this time of year, I have to pick up dozens of mismatchy plastic egg halves all over the yard in order to run the lawn mower.  Yippee!  I get to join in on the festivities!

The night before Easter, Jaxon wrote the Easter bunny a long letter, while I tried to clean as best I could.  He put out a plate of carrots in the shape of a smiley face, as a gift for the Easter bunny.  He mentioned in the letter that, just in case the Easter bunny wanted more carrots, “I put the rest of the bag of carrots out for you, too and a ziploc bag for you to take them in.” Isn’t he thoughtful?  Everyone finally fell asleep around midnight and then I was up until 2:oo AM filling baskets with goodies and loading plastic eggs with Bunny Money.  I usually hide eggs for the kids in their bedrooms whilst they sleep, but upon peeking in their rooms I realized “Dear Lord!  How long has it been since they cleaned these things?  I couldn’t find the floor in here, let alone a colorful egg.” So, I took my basket of plastic eggs out to the backyard that they had been practicing in for weeks and hopped around strategically placing a blue egg here and a pink egg there.  I then wrote a response letter in bunny prose (I bet you didn’t know there was such a thing, did you?) thanking Jaxon for the carrots (I made a bunny shape for him with the leftovers) and explained that I was sorry that I couldn’t hide eggs in their rooms because they were super messy, but if they nicely asked Daddy to make a pancake breakfast, he would find a clue for a surprise I left for them.

After, they reexamined they Easter basket goodies (because they were up at 5:00 AM sneaking peeks while everyone else slept) they asked for Daddy to make the pancakes.  Michael poured the powdered mix in the bowl, but then realized that we were out of milk.  So he added some sort of whipping cream milk substitute concoction.  Then he realized that we had boiled all of the eggs and dyed them the night before.  Crap! He then said (directed towards me) “The Easter bunny should’ve checked in the fridge to make sure we had the ingredients to make pancakes!” I then heard Jaxon say, from inside the fridge door, “He did go in the fridge because there is the bag of extra carrots that I left out for him!”  Oops! Red in the face, I told everyone to just pretend like they were going to make pancakes, just so they could find the clue.  After 20 or so hints, they finally found it in the drawer with the spatula.  The clue was a picture word puzzle that stated that eggs were hidden in the backyard.  (I did mention that I was up until 2:00 AM, right?)

I told the kids that they would have to go on their Easter egg hunt later because we were running late getting ready to go to the shore for the great Ewing Easter Egg Hunt.  It took us longer to get dressed than I thought and the kids were told that they’d have to hunt for the eggs when we returned home later that evening, but they didn’t mind because the egg hunt at mom mom’s was all they had been thinking about for weeks.  At mom mom’s the great-grandkids found a total of 488 eggs! (Although, the total number of eggs hidden was unknown.  Some eager hiders got a jump start before a tally was made.)  Phoebe yelled “Ball!” every time she found one.

My mother had another egg hunt at her house before we ate dinner, but then the kids hid the eggs again and again and again.  They really don’t get tired of the egg hunting thing.

When we arrived home that night, the kids were already asleep in the van, so the eggs that were still in the backyard would have to wait until morning.  But they didn’t!  When the children ran outside to have the backyard hunt, I noticed plastic egg halves scattered about the backyard.  Hmm, I know I picked up the excess egg halves when I hid the “real” eggs. Upon closer examination, I noticed that the eggs had actually been gnawed into and the candy was missing.  Only a handful, out of the 40 eggs hidden, survived.  We even found a few of our eggs, eh-hem… I mean the Easter Bunny’s eggs, on the other side of the fence, in our neighbor’s yard.  Squirrel!


11 Mar

I came on here to blog about…. something…. but, I’m tired.  I’m SOOOOO tired!  An illness is once again circulating around our house.  It’s not that we are sickly people, it’s just that we… well… we take turns catching this, that, and the other and then we pass it along.  Chances are one in five of us is sick every day of the late fall to early spring season.  Phoebe does not take well to illness.  She can’t stand a runny/stuffy nose and wakes up every hour on the hour screaming at me to make IT stop!  I hug her and try to soothe her and whisper in her ear that the screaming and crying is just making a once runny nose, now, waterfall like.  She’s so frustrated with not being able to talk and is rapidly picking up and trying to repeat ever word she hears.  “Dak do, dak do,” she says to me as I carry her back to the table to change her diaper (translation: Thank you, thank you!).  Before Jaxon went to bed tonight, he asked her if she’d like him to read her a story (his own idea, not mine… I know, he’s incredibly in love with her).  When he was finished and went to bed, she followed behind him.  And after he had closed his door, she beat on it with her little teeny hand and yelled “Dax!  Daaax!”  Then she got on her hands and knees and tried to squeeze her body in through the 1/4 inch crack between his door and the floor.  It was adorable!

I have many more interesting things to type, but Mr. Sandman just got a new shipment of the driest-sand-known-to-man and is hellbent on unloading the majority of it in my eyelids.  ZZZZ… I’m not even making sense to myself anymore and round one of Phoebe’s nightly screaming ritual is set to hit… well… any minute now.  Yay!!!

Ball Baby

24 Feb

Leila shoved a ball up her nightgown tonight and said, “Look, Mom, I have a baby in my belly!” Oh, Jeez, it’s a little early to start having to worry about stuff like this!

I think it’s pretty true-to-scale to being 9 months pregnant, myself.  I mean minus the fact that she doesn’t have swollen feet… ankles… calves… face.  I asked her how she got a baby in her belly.  She giggled and replied, “I put a ball up there.” Like ‘duh, it’s not real, Mom!’ She posed for me and laughed and I asked her if she liked looking like she had a baby in her belly.  “Yeah, because you can bounce into things!  See!”

Sooooo, I have nothing to worry about except a lesson on “borderline child abuse”.  Meanwhile, Phoebe kept walking up to her and smacking her “baby belly” (she, too, should be included in the lesson).

Translation:  What are you doing?  You look mishapen.  Now, give me my ball back, woman! I couldn’t help but wonder, if I were pregnant would she smack my “baby belly”, too?  Would she wander around the house looking for her ball and when she found it, would she stare at me puzzled like “If my ball is here, then what is in there?” Phoebe then commenced to following me around the house whining with her arms in the air begging to be carried.  She always wants to be carried, but then promptly wants to be put down and as soon as I put her down, she starts whining again with her arms in the air.  It’s a vicious cycle.  A vicious cycle that instantly slammed the door on the “what would she do if I had a baby belly”-thoughts because OMG… ummm… another pregnancy… another baby… NO… JUST NO!!! *thought bubble pops images of frequent moments such as this [aka- exhibit A]  in my head*

exhibit A

I not only slam the door, but I lock it, and then cartoonishly* nail 2×4’s across the doorway and then mortar a brick wall in front of that, and then… I hear Leila in the background, “Hey Jaxon, do you want to shove a ball up your shirt too and then we can bounce into each other?”… and then I giggle.

*Yes, spell check, I like to make up words!

Woo Hoo!!! How’s this for starters?

18 Feb

I’m sick at home with the flu!  My youngest daughter, who just turned 1, decided to wake me up five days ago by coughing in my face.  I peered at her and smiled and then closed my eyes again praying that she was still tired and would drift back to sleep herself.  Then I felt her tiny finger rubbing my nose.  Her finger felt wet.   Why was her finger wet?  After determining that I was, indeed, going to have to get up, I dried my nose with my sleeve.  It was then that I realized that when she coughed in my face earlier, she had accidentally coughed up flem on my nose.  She did not have a wet finger, yet she was just playing with some snot that she had spat onto my face.  Lovely!  And that is how I contracted the flu!  These past 5 days have not been my finest moments.  My house is in utter chaos, thanks to a husband who tries (that’s the nicest way I can put it, so it’s my story and I’m sticking to it).  I dare not show you photos of the evidence for fear that Child Welfare Services will soon be knocking on my door.  My oldest son has been permitted to have free-reign of the Wii and the computer.  I just wave my hand at him from my corner of the couch where I huddle in my blanket.  “Just play… I don’t care!  As long as you are not fighting with your sister… I don’t care!” My 5 year old has pulled out all of her Barbie dolls and strewn them about the house, along with her Playdoh, over 100 different socks (how did that child acquire so many socks?), some dress-up clothes (she’s a different princess every hour), some Spiderman playing cards, a puzzle or two (there are odd pieces everywhere), Band-aids (don’t ask), stuffed animals, and hair barrettes.  I don’t have the energy to get her to put them all away, nor do I have the right considering that I’m laying amongst 50 or so dirty or waded up tissues that I’m too sick/lazy to walk to the trash can.  If you are curling your lip in disgust right now, STOP… or I will wake you up in the morning by coughing a green surprise of my own in your face.

Christmas ’09

4 Jan

Jan 4, 2010

Christmas ’09


In case you were wondering the above picture is what finally landed it’s way into our Christmas card… not a flip-book.  The snowman in the background has sentimental value as it made it’s way into Mike’s family’s photos since his dad and uncle were little boys.

Leila and I made cookies for Santa on Christmas Eve.  (Note to self:  Next year write to Santa and ask him for a butt or at the very least, pajama pants that don’t make me appear to have ‘old lady *ss!)

Phoebe:  Hey, whatcha doin’ up there?  Something smells kinda good! Also, mom?  Umm, Snow boots?  ???  Ohh, to distract from the non-existent buttocks, you say!  Ok… I’ll go along with it!

Whatcha doin’, Phoebe?  Why, I’m waiting for cookies, of course!

Ok, I’ll settle for the beater.  Nom, nom, nom!  I’m storing some in my chipmunk cheeks for later.  P.S.-  Nobody better say anything to my mom about ‘blah, blah, blah… cookie dough… raw egg… bad for baby… blah, blah, blah’ because I’ll hunt you down and club you with this here yummy beater!

Christmas morning!!!!
(you will notice that most of these photos are of Phoebe:  1) because it was her 1st Christmas, so it was an extra special day for her 2) because 100 photos of Jax holding up a matchbox car or a Wii game/ Leila holding  up yet, another Barbie doll, makes for really bad entertainment.)


Look, Mommy!  I got a baby!!!

Phoebe: What did you get, Jax?  I got a baby!  I don’t care about any of my other presents.  I just want to lay here and watch you and play with my baby! (stupid fuzzy picture yields illegible writing on butt-flap that states “Naughty”)

What?  I thought Santa left this one for me?

Damnit, woman!  What the hell have I told you about hats?

Get it OFF!!!

Mike putting his Redskins Snuggie from Santa to good use!

While Jax and Leila were playing Twister, Phoebe walked up and attempted to join in on the fun.  Mom?  What is left?  And what is red?  And what is foot?  I don’t get this!  This game is stupid!  Why don’t we just wrestle!   And since I’ve got a secret-weapon-surprise in my pants, I predict you guys are going down!

What shall I put in my Christmas cards?…

17 Dec

Dec 17, 2009

What shall I put in my Christmas cards? Hmmm….

I attempted to take the kids’ photo for our Christmas card insert.  Mistake #1: attempting to take the photo while Mike was working his 50th hour of overtime this week (you need more than 1 adult to manage a photo-op).  Mistake #2:thinking that getting 3 children to sit still and smile long enough to push a button would actually happen.Basically, this is what went down:


She’s still happy, but she wants down!  She’s already had enough!

“No seriously… let me go… I’ve had enough!”

“Just to let you know… I’m getting down one way or another!  So, you gotta ask yourself, punk… Do you feel lucky?”

“Ha ha, SUCKERS!”

“I’m going over there!  Who’s with me?  We can protest this picture taking crap!”

“Ahh!  Wait… There’s that woman… the woman with the camera…”

“You and your camera are going down, b*tch!”

“I shall hypnotize you with my freakishly large, yet cute eyes… you know, like Puss in Boots from Shrek 2.”

While Phoebe waddled around, I caught Leila trying to kiss Jaxon’s cheek.  What a sweetheart!

Jaxon, however, was not a fan of the little sister sneaking in a kiss thing.

Silliness ensued until I had enough and sent big brother to do his homework!

Meanwhile, my pretty princess still wanted to pose some more.

But, somebody’s head kept getting in the way.

“Hey, you distract her with your ‘take a picture of me’… yeah that’s good stuff… while I grab all the ornaments I can and chew on them!”

Alright, Phoebe, let’s get your hat back on and do some sister shots!

Very good!  That’s what I’ve been wanting to see!

Wait…. there is one sister missing now.  Where’d she go?

Nibbling on an ornament… right!

“Nom, nom, nom… me loves Reindeer and sequins!”


“Wait… how did this thing get back on my head?”

“I didn’t want this back on!”

“If I tug on this ribbon thingy really hard…” *grunt*

“No… it didn’t come off!  Hey, you… biggish girl… come help me get this thing off!”

“I’m freaking out, man!”  “Somebody better get this damn thing off of me!”

… meanwhile… Silly faces!

….Jesus!  Scary faces!

“What?  What’s that you say?  The hat is off?  …Aaannd… scene!  That’s a wrap on the tantrum everybody!  Take two will be sometime within the next 15 mins.”

“Now, what should I do?”

“Oh, yeah!  Get the mommy person!”

“I got ya!”

“Phew, this getting your picture taken stuff is hard work.”

And that was that.  I’m thinking of putting all of the photos in a little booklet, so that Christmas card receivers can flip the pages really fast (you know, like the old stick man running flipper books we had or drew as kids) and see 5 minutes of life through my eyes.

Christmas is coming, Carol’s getting fat…

16 Nov

… come and put a hay-penny… Wait!  A hay-penny?  What’s a hay-penny?!  Half a cent?  And I thought the current economy was bad.

Well, my last post ended with me dropping the computer in the bathroom on my son’s toe.

While driving to Texas during the week of Thanksgiving, I heard my husband say, “What happened to the computer?” Me:  *quick!  grab your poker face*  “Hmmm?  What?” Mike:  “The computer!  What happened?  The corner of the screen has cracked off!” Me:  *glance at laptop screen, notice that indeed the corner has completely chipped off*  What?  My ears must be popping.  *glance out window and notice that we were in Arkansas.  crap!  we left the ear-popping mountains of Tennessee behind us the day before* Mike:  Jaxon, did you hit the computer with anything or drop it?  *crap!  he’s going to out me… quick say something…* Me:  It probably happened while we were packing up the van for the trip or during one of our many pee breaks.  *see Mike roll his eyes… aaaand  I think he’s buying it…. shew!*

Now, as long as I don’t tell him that this blog exists… this chipped computer thing is our secret, so shhhhh!

So, Christmas is right around the corner and we got a boatload, as in Noah’s Ark… sooo….arkload of snow on Saturday.  The roads have been horrible, so we’ve been cooped up inside for 3 days.  Christmas + stuck inside = CHRISTMAS COOKIES!!!  I love baking!!!  Love, love, love baking!  Just last year I discovered the key to great cookie baking is UNSALTED butter.  I had no idea.  So far I’ve made Hershey’s White Chocolate Biggies (chocolate cookies with white chocolate chips), Gorilla Cookies (chocolate chips, white chocolate chips, and crushed walnuts), and Peanut Butter Secrets (Resees peanut butter cup, hidden within a peanut butter cookie, iced with a melted mixture of peanut butter and chocolate chips)  *yum!  I just had 2 of these for breakfast.* I’m having a very hard time buttoning many of my jeans already!

Random Thoughts On Limitations

7 Jul

originally posted- July 7, 2009

random thoughts on limitations

I’m so lazy cheap that I use the same razor blade until it is so worn that it basically only shaves every 20th or so hair.  BTW, I also use Mike’s razor, so eventually he will give in and change the blade.

Speaking of shaving… shaving cream around these parts is a luxury.  It turns out that Dove soap works just fine (especially if you are only shaving every 20th or so hair with a dull razor)!

I have a giant collection of barely used bottles of acne cream, wrinkle cream, and face wash.  I do not wait to see the one month guaranteed result.  If it doesn’t miraculously give me a baby smooth face after the first or second try… I’m on to the next one.  Needless to say, 50 down and still searching.

I have 4 unfinished scrapbooks waiting for me to have a free moment.  I stare at them as I type this blog.  Somehow, I think, if I stop typing stupid notes about myself to the public… I might get something done.

When things (i.e. Capri Sun straw wrappers, odd cereal bits, lollipop sticks, anything which can be traced back to a tiny sticky hand) start sticking to the bottom of my bare feet, I decide that it might be time to sweep the floor… tomorrow… maybe.

I have grand plans for tonight’s dinner; however, I always manage to forget to thaw the meat the night before.  Chick-Fil-A for dinner tonight… again… how long has that meat been in the freezer waiting for me to thaw it out anyway.  No… I’m not forgetting to thaw it out on purpose… I think.  Is there a psychiatrist who works with mealtime-dementia?

I guess I would be in need of wet-clothes-need-to-go-in-the-dryer-before-they-acquire-a-musty-odor-and-need-to-be-rewashed-dementia as well.

I wonder what is on the disposable camera that’s been collecting dust above the computer.  Do they even sell disposable cameras anymore?  It could be long-lost Spring Break ’98 photos.  Hmm… maybe it should be destroyed rather than developed…..

How many broken toys does a child need?  I keep trying to get rid of them.  I throw out or give-away (What a nice gesture, right?  Giving broken toys to homeless children.  I’m expecting my Nobel Prize in the mail soon.) a trash bag full of random crappy and broken toys about once a month.  I often wonder why McDonald’s even puts so-called “toys” in happy meals anymore.  Once the kids are lucky enough to figure out what it is and what it does, it falls apart moments later.  I have about thirty or so broken pieces of happy meal toys scattered about the floor of my van.

Don’t get me started on the floor of the mini-van!  Holy-Buckets-of-Crap, Batman! When it starts getting so chaotic in the van that the kids can no longer get in and out of it without things spilling out of the doors… I clean it out.  Let’s see… a tiny sweatshirt, a tiny hat, a gallon of wrinkled up old French fries, 5 pairs of tiny shoes, an odd sock, a couple of Chic-Fil-A educational kid’s meal “toys” and bits of happy meal toys galore, a ripped up map, some puzzle pieces, a plastic lizard, 8 matchbox cars, 5 (or so) crumpled up receipts, a baby bottle ewww… a baby bottle with stinky stuff resembling what once was soy milk in it, an empty CD case, a couple of car chargers for unknown items, a sticky piece of hard candy and a popsicle stick!  Would you like a ride in my mobile trash can?

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