Four Better, Four Worse

I wish he was a “yes” man…

2011-10-16T22:04:00.001-07:00

Bug has made the transformation. Ya know the one – one day you have a sweet, albeit rambunctious, toddler and the next you have a cloven-hoofed two year old who doesn’t hear a word you say and if he DOES, he pretends he doesn’t. I’m talking about The Terrible Two’s. Or as I’ve come to think of them, The If-You-Say -“No”-or-Throw-Yourself-To-The-Ground-One-More-Time-I’m-Going-To-Lose-My-Fucking-Mind Phase.

I don’t remember it being this bad with Nut. I don’t. Sure, she liked to destroy her room instead of sleeping during afternoon nap. And sure, she threw some monumental tantrums. But this – this is a whoooolllle ‘nother level. I knew I was in for it when I read his daily sheet from daycare this week:

"Reid has not had good listening ears this week.”

“Reid took a swim in the sandbox. He is clean but wet.”

“Reid had to sit out on afternoon playground time.”

“Reid turned the water on in the bathroom and stuck his Mickey doll under the faucet when he was supposed to be napping.”

Swell. The Two’s had been rearing their ugly head sporadically up until this point, but this week has been HELL. I take a little refuge in the knowledge that Bug is no longer saving this just for me, but spreading his Two Year Old Glory to his teachers too.

His favorite word is “no”. And not just a casual “no”, not my boy. He SPITS it out with disdain, a look on his face like I’m an idiot. He sounds like a tiny Cartman from South Park. It drives me bananas and is his answer to everything lately:

“You want a hot dog, lil’ man?”

“NO!”

Thirty seconds later… “Waaaaahhhh! I want a hot dog!!!”

I feel like I can’t take him anywhere. He won’t sit in a cart, is a head injury waiting to happen, but as soon as I give in to his demands to walk, he SPRINTS like a God damned caged animal finally free and I’m left to decide which child to ditch ~ the pint-sized run away or his sister who is staying by the cart as instructed. He is like a tiny dog on those occasions; runs half a frickin’ mile before stopping and turning back to see if I’m behind him - and if he sees I am, whooosh! He’s off another six aisles. I call him The Terr(or)ier.

No form of punishment phases him. Time out? Psssh. Take his toy away? Oh well, he has 97 other Matchbox cars he can turn to. A threat to swat his bottom? He laughs and says, “silly, Mommy! That’s funny!”

His attention span is all of maybe 12 seconds when we are in public. He is cute, I’ll give him that. He tells everyone hello and goodbye and he dances and sings to music. And today when he pulled a giant VAT of vinegar off the shelf at Super Walmart, he told the poor worker who came to clean it up that he was “sowwy”. I guess in the grand scheme of things, at least the little shit has manners.

What made me happy this weekend:

2011-10-16T21:31:00.001-07:00

Taking my pumpkins to the pumpkin patch – where we took a picture where we ALL were looking at the camera and smiling.

Notice my hat? Remember the small tidbit that I am DIE HARD St. Louis Cardinals fan?!? …….. well……

WE ARE GOING TO THE WORLD SERIES!!!

I say “we” like I’m on the roster.

Which, obviously, I am not.

But still.

I just ran a victory lap in my living room.

*squeals*

SMKSTW Friday: Modesty is her middle name.

2011-09-30T08:00:00.000-07:00

Nut is my diva. She spends more time looking in the mirror and complimenting herself than anyone I know. That's okay though, right? Healthy self-esteem. And she's quick to tell other people how cute they look too so I think it all balances out. This morning she informed me she wanted to wear her Halloween skirt to school (yes, my 3 year old not only has her wardrobe memorized but also gets to pick out her own clothes). I hadn't gotten any pictures of her in yet though and when I looked out the front door and caught of glimpse of her in all her fashionista glory, I figured I might as well take some. As soon as she saw the phone come out of my purse, she was in full model mode.

I told her to smile and look cute for the camera and this is what I get:

I asked her what she was doing and she said, "I'm peace out'ing!"

I call this one her celebrity I'm-too-cool-for-this-crap pose:

I'm not really sure where she picked up the "Faaaabulous!" pose (secretly I wonder how many episodes of RHONJ she watched with my mom when she babysat them), but I have to admit it is pretty damn funny.

Christmas cards photos should be fun this year. She would have continued posing all morning if we weren't running late for school and instead had to settle for looking through my phone at all her shots and congratulating herself (and me) on her new clothes:

"You buyed me this outfit, Mommy? Pat yourself on the back for a job well done!"

Well then.

*pats self on back*

(Not so) Wordless - and not at all Wednesday

2011-09-29T14:19:00.000-07:00

I was all prepared to post one of my favorite pics of the kids from the past few months for WW yesterday but got distracted and it didn't happen. I'm doing it today though because I seriously *heart* this pic AND as a Cardinals fan, I am TOTALLY ON CLOUD NINE about my boys in red making it to the playoffs!!!

LET THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER BEGIN!!!!! GO CARDS!!!!!!

Dear Offspring,

2011-09-26T10:18:00.000-07:00

I'm writing to you in response of what I found awaiting me this morning in the bathroom. The photographic evidence is posted below in case you have forgotten:

Though neither of you will admit to it, I know for a fact that I didn't put the toilet paper under running water and then stash it in the hopes that nobody would notice. Oh no, not me. If I had done it, I would have known that sitting down on the potty ten minutes later was not a good idea. I would have known when the Starbucks I enjoyed last night hit me I better be prepared, seeing as how OUR LAST ROLL OF TOILET PAPER WAS NOW MUSH. But I didn't know that. YOU apparently did though, seeing as how nobody would respond to my pleas to please bring me the baby wipes, WHY WON'T SOMEBODY BRING ME THE GOD FORSAKEN BABY WIPES!?! I guess I should have been suspicious from the start, seeing as how I was actually being allowed to poo in private.

And that brings us to issue #2 (no pun intended). Here's the thing, kids... Mommy does not ask for much. And if I do, generally you choose not to listen anyways so it's like my demands were never mentioned in the first place. One thing I am consistant on is my request to poo uninterrupted. That's all. I'm quite stealthy at it, I can be in and out in under three minutes. Please afford me this luxury. PLEASE. Sure, the clapping you do is appreciated. And it is nice of Bug to offer me bits of toilet paper, even if they are so small it would be like wiping with shredded lunch meat. And I'll admit that it isn't ALWAYS your fault, Nut, that you have to pee the second my butt touches the seat.

But I don't need for my three year old to tell me my poop smells and to ask me to leave the bathroom (kind of hard to do logistically when I'm still..erm.. in the middle of it). You guys don't need to brush your teeth or wash your hands or put on lotion or get a bandaid or have me open a juice box RIGHT THAT INSTANT. Surely you can wait 90 seconds. Surely you can cut your mother some slack. Surely.....

Love,

Mom

SMKSTW Friday: Toddler Smackdown

2011-09-23T14:45:00.000-07:00

My precious offspring have started arguing with each other recently. There had been sibling rivalry before, shoving for toys, blaming messes on the other... the usual.

But now we are on to full-fledged verbal spats. Half the time I have NOT A CLUE what the issue is or what the hell they're saying, but it can be amusing to watch. You didn't think I'd leave you guys outta the fun, did you??

So from what I can gather, Nut pointed to a picture of her infant self, informed Bug it was her, and he disagreed. This is what ensued:

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Happy Weekend!

Give me your finest box of condoms , sir.

2011-09-22T13:35:00.001-07:00

So it's Thursday. On the one hand, only one more work day left in the week - on the other, still one more work day left. It's a glass half empty kinda day around here and I'm wishing it was half full of wine. I'm finally beginning to believe that fall is here to stay - yay! - and I think I made it through the allergy season relatively unscathed. This is AWESOME news if you remember my seven week long coughing fit from last year.

I've started working a new shift at work, 9 to 6, which I LOATHE. I have to rely on the ex to pick the kids up from daycare every night and then by the time we get home, it is almost 6:30 and I've still got a meal to fix. I swear by the time I get dinner on the table, Bug has all but started to gnaw his own arm off. Have I mentioned he has garnered the nickname Fat Baby in the last few months? Not because he is fat by any means, but just because the kid can EAT. Seriously. Do you know many kids who could wolf down three bowls of spaghetti on their 2nd birthday? Thank God he never sits still or he'd have to be moved out of the house with a fork lift by the time he was 5.

What I do like about the later shift is that I don't have to be at work until 9am, which means we don't have to leave the house until 8:30...which means I don't have to wake up two grumpy toddlers at 6:30...which means my morning runs much smoother. It also means that when I was driving to work yesterday morning, I got to hear the weekly segment on the local radio station where they have a psychic phone in. If you can get through, you give her your first name and age and voila! She gives you a reading. I should give a disclaimer here where I say that I take all the psychic stuff with a grain of salt, blah blah blah. Whatever. I like them. I think they're fun. Now hush. Anyways.... lo and behold, I pick up trusty Droid when they queued the Psychic Suzanna theme music yesterday and got through. Too bad they weren't giving away money or something. But I digress...

The first thing good ol' Psychic Suzanna asked me was, "Nicky, are you pregnant?"

Um... say what?! I about shat myself. I told her no (and by told I mean I pretty much shouted it into the phone), but she couldn't let it go. Oh no. She had to continue on, tell me I wasn't fixed and insist, "Well you don't have three kids yet, do you?!?"

Hmmph.

She followed up that jaw dropper by telling me to expect some fun in a bowling alley. What? My mind is always in the gutter and after the pregnancy shocker, my first thought was that if I ever thought of having sex in a bowling alley, THAT idea is out....

Needless to say I don't remember much else of what she said because the threat of an impending pregnany was enough to make my ovaries swoop down and rip my lady bits off. I mean, sure I'd like another baby sometime down the road - like when I'm duped into marriage again... but not now. No way, no how. All that lady has managed to do is effectively ruin sex for me for a while. Which, hello! How rude.

Shit-My-Kids-Said-This-Week Friday!

2011-09-16T11:32:00.000-07:00

I don't ever do regular features -hell, I don't even update regularly anymore if I'm being honest. But like I said earlier this week, I am turning over a new (or maybe it is old..?) leaf and getting back to my bloggy roots.

(pause for applause)

That being said, I'm introducing the one, the only (I hope, I didn't Google it before making that proclmation) SHIT-MY-KIDS-SAID-THIS-WEEK FRIDAY (SMKSTW)!!!! This is said dripping with sarcasm, so for those of you that are thinking I've turned into a complete douchebag during my blogging absence, fear not. I do think I will make it an every Friday thing though, because I have to say, my kids (well, okay mostly Nut since Bug doesn't say much that I can understand) say some huh-larious stuff.

Case in point -

Reagan on:

Her runny nose My nose is getting ridiculous.

Her new outfit This is the cutedest outfit EVER. I look FaaAAAAAaaabulous!

After passing gas (which is a really NICE term for what came from her tiny tush) Hear that? It was a bullfrog!

On hearing they were serving coffee cake for breakfast at daycare Coffee?!? I want a peppermint mocha!

While playing with her talking Jessie doll Stop talking, Jessie! You're driving me insane. I can't think straight!

So there you have it. The first annual SMKSTW Friday. Boom.

Lions and tigers and... tap dancing? Oh my.

2011-09-13T11:28:00.000-07:00

Nut started dance class last night. It has been all she has talked about since I signed her up last month; all she tells anybody she meets about: "I'm going to be a ballerina. I will look faaAAAaaabulous and people will watch me dance on the stage!" (Have I mentioned her modesty?)I knew I wasn't going to have to worry about her playing shy or not wanting to participate. She was impatient waiting for them to open the doors "This is ridiculous. Are they gonna let us in or what?!?" and when they finally did, she about took out three classmates shoving her way to get in. She barely glanced back at me after securing a spot in the circle and wouldn't even come give me a kiss.

After I picked her up, I asked her what she learned - wanting to make sure I am getting my money's worth and all - and she very seriously responded, "how to tap tap tap my toes and roar like a lion."

*blink*

Um, okay.

Is anybody still out there?

2011-09-12T14:05:00.000-07:00

I think I'm ready to blow the dust off my keyboard. I MISS writing. I miss reading. I miss my bloggy buddies.

It has now been one year since I began my single mom endeavor. I feel like I've finally settled into a routine and I'm ready to start spewing my randomness again. I can only hope that you all haven't given me up for dead.

I know you'd probably like an insight into what I've been doing the last twelve months or so, and it exhausts me to think about telling it all, so I'll just give the synopsis:

I am still at my job, but I still miss being a SAHM at times. I'm lucky the kids are at a great daycare/preschool though and doing awesome there, I'm so proud of everything that they are learning. Bug just turned 2, still doesn't sleep and is still a fricking wildman - as Nut will say, "my brudder is a WUNATIC!" As for my red-headed ball of fire, she is now 3.5 and sassier than ever. I could probably write a book of the things she spouts off, she is definitely her mother's child. Center of attention, a smart ass already, and a complete drama queen at times. I will definitely add some pictures later, I love to show them off.

I gave the ol' online dating thing a try... Good Lord, do I have some tales to tell. Those will have to wait for another day though, but I promise you they are worth it. I got my heart broken for the first time in my life. I think it needed to happen, as much as it sucked at the time. I know it probably sounds silly considering my husband and I split up, but I grieved that relationship while I was still in it so when things officially "ended", I was over it. I have been dating a great guy for a few months now though and I'm lucky to have somebody who makes me smile on a daily basis. I'll admit I don't like to talk about that too much on here - don't want to jinx it - but I will say I am a happy girl lately. :)

So there you have it. The ins and outs of the last year in 30 seconds or less. Now I just need to get into my Google Reader and see what the rest of you have been up to - unless of course you want to leave me your 30 second synopsis in the comments.. *hint hint*

M.I.A.

2011-04-21T19:19:00.001-07:00

Holy hell. Has it really been four MONTHS since I’ve updated?? Did you all think I was dead?!? I feel horribly guilty for neglecting what I worked so hard on, but I had the worst case of writer’s block ever. It wasn’t that I didn’t have anything to talk about, it was just that I didn’t have anything I wanted to talk about on here.

Around Christmastime, ex-DH (I really need to think of a new name for him now) mentioned some things I’d written about. He said he hadn’t read it himself – which I believe, he always thought I talked too much so why would he want to read my babble?? – but that somebody he knew had told him I was embarrassing the kids and talking shit about him. It was enough to make me want to give up the blog. I felt violated, not by him, but by whoever read this and decided to use it against me. I wanted to write but I felt censored. I write because I love it and I want you all to read because it entertains you, not because you want to use it as ammunition to stir up trouble between me and my ex. I thought about starting a new blog. Shutting this one down, deleting everything, moving on and being completely anonymous. I thought about it a lot actually. What I would call it, how I would have the time to put the work into getting followers like I did last year. It exhausted me to think about it. So instead I just let my blog I worked so hard on sit here for four months. I know it isn’t the best reasoning but I needed the time. A lot has happened in the months that I’ve been gone and I really truly honest-to-God promise I will write about it all very very soon. For right now, I just wanted to say hi, for those that haven’t given up on me and mourned my bloggy death of course…..

Wordless.

2010-12-14T19:47:00.001-08:00

That’s how I’ve felt lately. Wordless. I feel like I hardly get to see my kids anymore, I feel like I’m constantly on the go, I don’t know whether I’m coming or going, or going or coming, and I have a million different things going through my head. Thanks to the retail gig, I’m pulling 50-60 hour work weeks and I am TIRED.

I haven’t finished my Christmas shopping. I didn’t put up half the decorations I normally do. I haven’t done my baking. Nothing is wrapped.

I’m just… here.

Christmas is normally my favorite holiday. I joke that I shit holiday spirit because I seriously adore it. Normally. Usually.

But not this year. I’m not able to spend the money I want to, I’m budgeting myself paycheck by paycheck and now the things I was holding off on for last minute are no longer in stock.

My kids will be with their dad for the majority of Christmas weekend. We swapped Fridays so they are spending the night with me on Christmas Eve, which I am so very thankful for; at least they will wake up at home on Christmas morning. But the thought of coming home to an empty, quiet house on Christmas night depresses me.

Things have been weird. My mom and I constantly bicker, she told me a month ago we no longer had a relationship and she is definitely sticking by it. On Black Friday we got into a huge argument because she criticized me for working two jobs. Said I didn’t have my kids as my number one priority and that they spent too much time away from me. I find this laughable since I’m working two jobs to put food on the table and diapers on their butts and the time she refers to when they’re away is their scheduled time with the ex. Is that rational to you? I’m being given shit because I am doing the responsible thing and working my ass to provide for my kids and because their dad wants to spend time with them. I just don’t get it. But I can tell you it’s the last thing I need right now.

Le sighe. I am PMS’ing like a crazy lady right now in case you couldn’t tell by this whole woe-is-me post. I miss blogging. I miss reading blogs. I catch up on breaks at work but don’t have enough time to comment. I feel like I worked really hard on building bloggy buddies over the last year and I’ve just let it go to shit the last few months. All I want for Christmas is a vacation from everything for a while, I swear.

Happy Halloween!!

2010-10-31T19:00:00.001-07:00

Quick post, just wanted to get these up before the work week got in the way….

My little Woody and Jessie had a BLAST and Mama here is pretty fricking proud of her handiwork on their costumes. It’s amazing what some felt, two yards of fabric, an entire bottle of liquid stitch, and every curse word known to man can do. Eat your heart out, Martha Stewart. I think I’ll go reward myself by taste testing some of the kids’ candy…..

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!!!!

Back by popular demand…

2010-10-24T15:49:00.001-07:00

Okay. For those leaving comments (i.e. demands) on my Facebook, here I am. Blogging. Happy now?? My bathroom needs scrubbed, my kitchen floors need mopped, my 14 month old is currently running around naked from the waist down, but here I am.

I’m not even sure if an excuse would help but the only reason for my blogcation is this: I.don’t.have.time. Seriously. Most of the time I feel like my mind is one big cluster fuck. My house looks like Toys R’ Us threw up in it, the kids have been sick and demanding, work wears me out… I go from 6am to 10pm. And I’m tired. Thanks to a clogged drain, my washer is currently out of commission and until I can remember to call Dick Van Dyke Appliance World during normal business hours, I’ve been loading up clothes and taking them either to the ex’s or my mom’s to wash. Neither is too pumped about it and I can say I’m not either. As we speak, I have a whole basket full of wet clothing sitting in my mother’s laundry room that I need to go get and bring home to dry. Apparently she was none too pleased to return from their Nashville trip and find my clothes in her machine. Rather than offer to dry them though, I was rudely informed she throwing them “all in a God damned pile!”. Gee, thanks. Note to self: Call the repairman tomorrow.

The past week my best friend and her kids have been here staying with me. She’s leaving tomorrow and I have to say I’m pretty bummed out to be losing my temporary roommate. Seeing her youngest son – who was born 2.5 weeks after Bug – really reaffirms my belief that my child is N-U-T-S. The boy has no fear. Currently he’s sporting the remnants of a fat lip, as well as four bruises on his forehead. A stairwell? Ah hell, I’ll run down them! An opening in the playground equipment? I’ll fling myself off it! Front door that won’t open? Maybe banging my head against it will do something! Running down the hill in the front yard, tripping, and biffing the concrete?? Oh well! I swear I’m going to get the kid a helmet before he winds up retarded by his 2nd birthday.

Don’t believe that all hell is breaking loose in my house? Look at this picture:

This is what happens when you leave cupcakes cooling on your oven and then leave the room to go change a diaper.

I can’t win. I try to clean one thing and some tiny terror of a tot is right behind me messing up something else.

And as if to illustrate my point even further, please took at what my precious, precious offspring snuck off behind the couch to do while I wrote this post….

That’s Desitin. When I asked her what the hell she was doing (and yeah, I used that exact phrase, the situation definitely warranted it), she replied, “I got a boo boo on my hoo hoo!” Apparently her make believe diaper rash required a full body application.

And as for her brother, he wasn’t up to anything much better:

Drug out shoes from the shoebox, a box that needs to be shipped, and my personal favorite, rifled through the disaster that has become my purse. All while pantsless. Did you think I was lying about that earlier???

Saturday Confession

2010-10-16T14:55:00.001-07:00

I was going to join Match.com. In fact, I did. I painstakingly filled out my profile. I poured over pages and pages of members last night. I even emailed somebody I thought was cute. And then today I went to Target. And I found these:

They were $24.99, coincidentally just about what I paid for one month on Match. Being a single mom now, I rarely (and by that I mean never) buy myself anything so I couldn’t justify spending over $50 for frivilous stuff within a matter of days.

So what did I do? I bought the shoes, came home, hopped online and cancelled my account. Since it I was within three days, I got my money back.

That’s right. I chose a pair of heels over potential dates. And I’m okay with this. Because those shoes are cute. And comfortable. And they make me feel sexy. The end result of what I was hoping to find on that stupid site anyways, only I’m sure my relationship with my crocodile pumps will last a lot longer.

I’m a lazy shit.

2010-10-09T20:46:00.001-07:00

Get your whining boots on people, because it’s on like Donkey Kong.

I can’t believe I haven’t updated this thing in like…what…. two weeks? Epic failure on my part. Do you want to know what happened in those two weeks? I lost two followers. So guess how super awesome THAT makes me feel? Sure it could have been the over share about pissing my pants that did it, but I tend to go the more negative route and blame my absence. That way it’ll eat at me every day. Now every time I play the God, I need to post about (fill in the blank with random shit) but Gaaawwwd, I’m so tired game, I’ll worry that if I don’t just suck it up and do it, my readers will start dropping like flies. If there’s any of you left.

And yes, I am superficial and worry about the number of followers I have.

Sue me.

Work has been draining me. Not the actual work portion of it, mind you, but the effort I have to put forth every morning to get everybody up and dressed and moving and out the door in a timely fashion. Then I have to go to work and do the job. And when I come home and the kids cry and hang on my leg, effectively giving me their very own unspoken toddler Fuck You, guess what? That makes me even more tired. So when they go to bed, want to know what I do? I sit my ass on the couch.

And I enjoy it.

Sometimes I watch hours of TV. Sometimes I fall asleep at 9:00. Sometimes I take an hour long bath. But most nights, I don’t even think to open my computer.

Sure there are numerous times throughout the day where I think Man, I wish I could update the ol’ blog, where I have dozens of thoughts swirling around in my head. But then…

Then I come home.

And Jesus, I’m tired.

So for those of you that have stuck around? Please continue to do so. I PROMISE I’ll be back soon.

I even have something to post!

But I’ll get to that tomorrow.

After I sleep.

Because Jesus, I’m tired.

Verbal Butt Pees

2010-09-23T21:52:00.001-07:00

Week number two of work is winding down. That’s weird to say. Work. Maybe in a month it won’t seem so foreign to me. One thing I am pretty sure of is the novelty will have worn off by then and I’ll remember why I was so bajiggity to stay home in the first place.

Namely here is my one issue – besides missing my babies of course - with being a working mom:

The whole job thing really puts the kibosh on activities I enjoy.

Like catching up on shitty reality shows on DVR while the kids nap. And blogging. And reading blogs for that matter. I opened up my Google Reader tonight and I had 763 new entries to read. What the shit?? I go to work where I can’t even open up a damn link to the weather and you people are all out here writing prose fifteen times a day. I have performance anxiety over the whole thing now, so thanks overachievers.

I have been trying to catch up the past few nights but just when I think I have it under control, I sign off for 24 hours, come back, and you biotches have added another 300 posts. Call me nuts but I actually read everyone I follow. I feel guilty if I don’t. Is that weird? Probably.

In another random news I’m sure you’re all dying to hear about ( because I know you were all wondering), I’m STILL COUGHING. It’s gotten to the point of being fucking ridiculous. I’m on day 26. No lie. My chest hurts, my sides hurt, I keep pissing my pants… I’m over it. Last night I Googled --- cuz you guys know how much I love to Google shit – the following: Can coughing damage your bladder? That was shortly followed by Lasting incontinence + violent coughing, and lastly my personal fave, Can you cough out your bladder?

Oddly I did not find any concrete answers. The only silver lining in my recent adventures in involuntary self-urination is that after many instances of trial and error, I’ve finally discovered a way to combat the issue . In an ode to female solidarity, I feel I should share the secret with you: Overnight Maxi Pads. Oh yes. Like a big giant diaper. But I don’t just use one. Oh no, not with the amount of water I drink. I double bag that shit. Two pads. I overlap ‘em so I get extra coverage in the middle but due to their erm…large presence, I basically wind up with a pad from my belly button to my ass crack. Sure it ain’t pretty (or okay, really all that comfortable), but no pain, no gain, and I’ll take waddling around with a fucking jerry rigged diaper on over pissing my pants any day. And just because I’ve already ~~crossed~~ ~~jumped~~ took a flying leap over the TMI line, let me also point out that I’m currently being visited from AF at the moment too. So not only do I the sanitary napkin equivalent of a roll of Bounty paper towels chafing my lady bits, I also get the pleasure of trying not to get my tampon string stuck in a God damned Always wing.

Needless to say, I’m ready for winter to come and kill off all the shit that’s making me cough. Hear that, Mother Nature? 95 on the first day of Autumn today was some bullshit. BULLSHIT. Take note please. I’d like to make it to October without pissing out my bladder.

Whew. I feel a bit better after that rant. Since I’m incapable of taking deep calming breaths, bitching seems to be just what the doctor ordered. Maybe I can actually sleep now.

Until the coughing starts again of course.

Catch ya’ll on the flipside, I’m sure by the time I punch my password back into Google tomorrow, you’ll have all written thesis papers or something. To distract yourself from furthering my “I’m not good enough” feelings, go check out the fabu Mrs. Mootz over at a{museing} mommy... on a pink park bench. I get the pleasure of guest posting there today (tomorrow, whatever, it’s close enough to Friday) so if the mental image of me in my Maxi Pad Splendor hasn’t scared you off, click HERE and go read some more of my randomness.

And if you’re feeling all clicky happy, why not go pretty please throw me a *VOTE*too? Sure I may smell like your Depends-wearing senile relative in the nursing home, but at least I’ll stay in the top 10 for funnies, right?

Goooo Cawdnals!

2010-09-16T23:03:00.001-07:00

Wow, two posts in a row. Thank you, steroids!! Last night..er Wednesday night,whatever you want to call it since it’s now officially after midnight, marked Nut’s annual trip to a St. Louis Cardinals game. For those who haven’t figured it out, we’re diehards in this house so I’m excited I get to pass the ~~obsession~~ love on to my kids ~~even if I do think the team has given me an ulcer this year~~. Last night was doubly exciting since it was her very first Cub/Cardinal game. Too bad they lost. Horribly. As I expected. I need my Tums now.

But I digress. I think the medicine has given me some sort of temporary ADD also because I can’t focus for the life of me. Nut absolutely loved it. When we got close enough to STL to see The Arch, she started bouncing in her seat yelling, “Baseball, Mama! Go Cawdnals! Hit da bawl!” I guess since you can see it in the background when they play, she recognized it from TV. I just couldn’t go to bed tonight without sharing some pics of Nut’s first three games:

September 2008. 6 months old.

September 2009. 18 months old.

September 2010. 2.5 years old.

I can’t believe how big she’s gotten!! And just for fun, here’s some cute ones of her enjoying – which she did, let me tell you – the game:

ps: In case you’re wondering why Bug is absent from these photos… well, you’ve read my stories, would you take his squirrely ass somewhere he has to sit still? He can’t even make it three minutes, let alone three hours!!! By next year he should (hopefully) be calmed down enough to go. If not, there’s always HD, little buddy. Just like being there except you’re free to run around the house.

A Little Work, A Lot of Coughing

2010-09-16T22:19:00.001-07:00

How has it been a WEEK since I last posted?!? I cannot believe how busy I am now that I have started working again. For the bloggers that work full time, have kids, and still post a lot – you are super women! Seriously. Hell, even if you don’t have kids and you work and post I’m impressed because ::yawn:: all I want to do at the end of the day is sit on my ass.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. For reals. I get up at 6:30, take a shower, towel dry my hair, brush my teeth, put on makeup, get dressed, wake up Nut, get her dressed, turn the TV on for her, get her milk and some breakfast, blow dry and do my hair, wake up Bug, get him dressed, get him some milk and breakfast, get them loaded in the car and dropped off at my mom’s all before 7:30. Yeah. I get tired thinking about the fact that I have to do that routine all over again in oh….. 6.5 hours.

I’m happy to report they are doing GREAT at my mom’s though, although I do think I am sensing some resentment towards me. They are happy as clams to see when I walk in… for a total of maybe five minutes and then the whining kicks in. It continues as I’m strapping them in their car seats, during the entire drive home, and then the entire time I try to fix dinner. Generally they will take a break long enough to eat their supper and then waaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh all over again through bath and bedtime routine. I think it’s their way of telling me they’re pissed.

As for work, it’s going well. Or at least as well as four days worth of computer based HIPAA training can go. I am a speed reader though so I tend to be the first to finish and we can’t move on until the whole class is done. That can get a bit monotonous. I sat yesterday for hours. Literally. I met some fun girls that sit near me luckily so we’re keeping one another entertained as best we can. My only issue is that I can’t stop coughing. No, really. I cough all fucking day long. And then I cough some more. And oh wait, just when you look at a clock and think Gee, tuberculosis over there hasn’t coughed in five minutes, I then hack some more. Like a cat with a damn hairball. Raking, whole body coughs that cause me to gag and more often than not, piss myself. Thank you lasting souvenir from child birth. Panty liners are a girl’s – or a least a girl that had two kids in 18 months and pees herself if the wind blows wrong – best friend.

Not to be old and bitch about my health… well okay, that’s a lie because I’m going to…. but I am still feeling shitty from when I got sick at the end of August. I finally got in with my allergist tonight and it turns out I’m not even sick. What.the.hell. All it is is asthma. I’ve never had my asthma bother me like this, usually it just flairs up if I actually am sick. But this? Nah. Apparently ragweed – which is the thing I am most allergic too – is at an all time record high. Oh yay. Isn’t that lucky?!? What is it the youngin’s say; FML? Yeah. FML. Suck it allergies. Suck it weeds. Su—erm.

What was I saying?

Oh yes. The allergist. True to his usually medicine happy self, I was given a steroid shot, an IV drip of steroids, AND a breathing treatment filled with – you guessed it! – more steroids! I was also given a high dose of Prednisone (yet again, a steroid) and instructions to take 4-6 puffs of my inhaler ever 3 hours as needed. Holy hell. This was all after 6pm; it’s 12:15 right now and I’m high as a flippin’ kite. My face is tingling. Literally. I have so many steroids coursing through my veins, I’m too buzzy to sleep. Don’t get me wrong, I’m exhausted, I just can’t calm down.

On a very random side note… do you think I’ll get Roid Rage? Hmmmm….

The next American Idol

2010-09-09T12:50:00.001-07:00

My kid’s a rock star. A sideways rock star since Mommy is an idiot and can’t remember to turn her phone the right way to take video, but a rock star nonetheless. And yes – Bug’s real name is Reid. I’ve managed to unveil his secret identity in the process of showcasing his talent. Epic fail!

(Not-So) Wordless Wednesday: Preschool!

2010-09-08T17:23:00.001-07:00

Well I made it through yesterday’s 1st day of preschool without as much of an emotional breakdown as I thought. I guess the fact that my daughter could not have cared less that I was leaving helped dry the tears. Seriously. She skipped to the car, wouldn’t even stand still to take a picture:

That’s a look of sheer excitement, huh? Traitor.

Babbled alllll the way there, practically sprinted across the parking lot. Gave me The Look when I delayed her descent down the steps for more pictures:

Picture? Bitch, please.

And when we got the room, she just walked off and left me. No hug, no kiss, no please-don’t-leave-me-Mommy:

Salt in the wound, CHILD I GREW, salt in the wound…

When I went to tell her goodbye, my eyes welled up with tears.

“Mommy’s gonna go now, okay? I’ll be back later. You have fun and be a good girl. I love you, Princess.”

Very Hallmark Movie moment. Until she replied.

“Wook, Mama! I got a chicken! Bawk bawk bawk!”

Gee thanks. Couldn’t she have thrown me a bone and at least pretended she wasn’t pumped to be there?

Le sigh.

Misc Monday: Cloudy with a chance of tears

2010-09-06T18:53:00.001-07:00

(one) Tomorrow marks the beginning of the end of my stint as a stay at home mama. It is also Nut’s first day of preschool. Conditions are favorable for me blubbering like a baby.

(two) Saturday was spent on a road trip up near Chicago to hit up Ikea. Not because I was planning on buying anything, mind you, but because I wanted to see if I liked a couch as much in person as I do in the catalog (PS: I do. Maybe more.) While there, I decided to utilize the GPS on my Droid to get from Home Furnishing Heaven to the mall. I was pretty impressed as my phone immediately pinpointed my location and began spewing out directions: Go straight 400 feet. Turn right on Golf Rd. Turn Left in 500 feet….. Yeah, I looked up and the mall was literally ACROSS THE STREET. I felt like a dumbass.

(three) Thanks to the ol’ TCP discount – as well as their Labor Day sales – I picked this cute little number up for Nut today:

Not for Halloween, mind you, just because…. well I don’t know why. Because I have Mommy guilt about my impending job perhaps? Because she is spoiled? Because I can’t walk into that store without buying something? Regardless of the reason, she looks pretty stinkin’ cute in it, no? Boots and all.

That’s all I have for today. I’m tired and burnt out on doing anything that requires more brainpower than sitting on my couch in a daze. Luckily for me, the RHONJ reunion (part 2) is about to start. Let the brain rotting commence!

Things that make ya go poo

2010-09-04T22:44:00.001-07:00

I’m not sure what is causing my stomach to feel like it’s rotting from the inside out, but I’ve narrowed it down to three possible suspects: All the Sudafed, all the Pumpkin Spice lattes, or all the Prednisone.

I have been poppin’ the Sudafed like they were Pez for the last week; no problems. I mixed in the Prednisone Wednesday night; no problems (aside from acting like a fricking psycho). I mix both with a grande PSL yesterday; whooooaaaa buddy. I swear my intestines were attempting to break out of my body in an effort to wrap themselves around my neck and strangle me.

I have a sneaking suspicion the culprit in the trifecta may be the lattes, but I’m living in denial. And by sneaking suspicion, I mean I’m pretty durn convinced. And by living in denial, I mean I’m still going to go run by Starbucks tomorrow morning. And by run, of course, I mean drive. Because I’m lazy. And my stomach hurts too bad to actually do any physical activity.

See, here’s the thing about Starbucks coffee: It makes me poop. It don’t know what it is. I’ve Googled it (seriously. I Google everything.), but every thing I read points to the caffeine in it being a stimulant. I don’t drink caffeine. My lattes are decaf. What mystery ingredient makes me have to go??

After careful research (i.e. another trip through the drive-thru this evening) and successful, albeit unpleasant results, I think I finally figured out the reason why:

My mind starts analyzing the fact that I spent $4.71 on flavored milk with a shot of coffee in it and flips out.

$5.00 on coffee? AGAIN?!? Are you SHITTING me, Nic?!?

Why now that you mention it, yes, yes I am.

Literally.

5Q Friday: At least the dog's not Emo.

2010-09-03T13:36:00.001-07:00

Ugh. Septemeber is here and it brought with it my allergies (damn you, cornfields and ragweed!!), cooler weather, Pumpkin Spice lattes (I'm obsessed with them. Really.), and of course an illness or two. Or actually three, since the kids and I are all sick. If I was a man, I'd whine and tell you I was dying, but since I'm a woman, I'll just bitch about it. Upper respiratory infection and laryngitis. Seriously. C'mon immune system. Do your job! My head is so congested, I can't hear, can't taste, and can't breathe. I'm popping Sudafed like candy, Robutusin for the cough, my inhalor for the chest crud, aaaannnd my favorite (ha), Prednisone for the.. well, I don't know what. Because I went to the urgent care clinic and asked for a steroid shot to clear me out and they refused, I suppose. I wish my allergist was in the office 24/7. He woulda stuck in the hip, patted me on the head, and sent me on my merry way. Wait. That sounded kinda dirty, didn't it? Well you know what I mean. I hate taking Prednisone because it makes me a RAGING LUNATIC. Hello, PMS in a pill? I'm hungry, I'm irritable, and I'm wound up. I guess if I had to get sick, it's better to do it now instead of after I start my job, right? Right.

Moving on... time for a lil' 5 Question Friday with Mama M! Who’s excited??? I know I am, because that whole bitch/moan/complain thing about my plague was getting O-L-D.

1) What do you do when you have time to yourself?

Erm….what? Time to… myself? Wait, does that happen to mothers?? If so, I sooooo got shafted on my benefits package as the domestic engineer of this household. I thought by growing and popping out humans, I signed away my rights to anything resembling personal space and/or me time. Hmmmmm. Interesting concept. A foreign one, no doubt, but still interesting.

If I had any of this so-called, mythical “free time”, I would sleep. Possibly for days. And I’d watch television shows I wanted to when they were actually on, instead of DVR’ing them for later. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen a commercial?!? I actually miss them.

Actually that’s probably all a big fat LIE. The kids will be with their dad this weekend and what’s on my list of things to do? Laundry. Lots of it. And cleaning the bathrooms. And going through the kids’ summer clothes to pack away. And mopping the floor. And rearranging my newly half-vacant closet. So in essence my free time has gone right out the damn window. It’s best I didn’t even know such a thing existed. Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

2) When you look out your kitchen window, what do you see?

Outside my window, I see a red bird singin’, sittin’ on a wire Wish I knew what he was thinkin’. Outside my window…

Sorry, anytime I hear that phrase, I get that Sarah Buxton song in my head. It’s a catchy lil’ ditty.

Outside my window, I actually see my dumbass dog and the shit he’s decided to chew up today. I know I say it over and over, but he really is on his last leg as a member of this household. Anybody live on a farm and want a pup? He’s great with the kids but doesn’t like being indoors and looks at my backyard as his own personal chew toy. Just ask my internet cable. And utility box. And sandbox. And siding. And sliding screen door. And gutter extenders. And Dish Network cable. And Little Tikes Swing n’ Slide Castle. And doll stroller. And patio chair. And water table. And grill accessories. And citronella candle. And push toy. And ride on pony. And the fifteen play balls that have all met their demise.

Now that I think about it, that dog really needs to go. Any takers???

3) Who/What would you want to be reincarnated as?

I have absolutely no idea. Can’t I just say myself? Only a thinner, more successful, richer version? I’d also want vibrant, shiny, full, thick hair. And a trust fund.

4) What is your biggest pet peeve about other people’s kids?

Seeing as how I have the whiniest 2 year old known to man, my tolerance level is pretty high. But do you know what pisses me off? Teenagers. God, there are some smug little bastards out there! Wearing their weird skinny jeans and Chuck T’s and other ugly shit from the 80’s that should not have been brought back in ANY decade, let alone this one, sporting Justin Bieber haircuts and pretending their lives suck SO much that they need to be all Emo and frown all the time with their woe-is-me attitude. I took the kids to the park last weekend and there was four of them lounging around ON THE PLAY EQUIPMENT, with a pissed off look on their faces, as if all the tots running around were a nuisance. I shit you not. There was two sitting on the steps, one playing a guitar, while the other had a notebook. I actually heard the following “lyrics” – and I use the term loosely because Lennon and McCartney they were not - “Sitting at the playground, trying to make up a soooong. But it’s so hard because it’s loud and my silence is goooone.” Um, excuse me dumbasses but perhaps you should do your hippie bullshit elsewhere. As if there depressed warbley singing wasn’t enough to make me want to grab their pencil, gouge my eye out, and skull fuck myself, they also had two cohorts laying down – yes LAYING – against the rock climbing wall attempting to draw. I peeked at their page and what were they sketching? Equally depressing weird looking anime crap where everyone was frowning. For the love of all that is good in this world, ride your bikes to a coffeehouse or something. Or go make good use of the REST OF THE QUIET, OPEN SPACE you halfwits!! Eventually I stood off to the side with another parent and though we weren’t discussing them at all (other than a few snide comments), I stole enough glances at them to make anime drawer self conscious and they left. I swear I almost applauded.

5) Regular or Diet Soda?

Diet. And caffeine free. Because I rarely find this when I’m out, I’m not much of a soda drinker. If you ever invite me over (you know you want to, I’m a good time) and are wondering what kind to buy, I prefer Caffeine Free Diet Dr. Pepper. It’s oh-so-good.

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Where to begin…

2010-09-02T07:49:00.001-07:00

I keep asking myself that question. As you all know, I’ve had a busy busy crazy weird last few days. But you know what? I’m okay. Maybe reality hasn’t sunk in all the way, maybe I’m in denial…. or maybe, just maybe I really am okay. Whatever it is, I am feeling at peace and taking a whatever will be, will be approach to my life. If you know me IRL, you know optimism isn’t exactly my strong point. But I’m trying. And it’s working.

Keeping in that spirit, I’m going to do my first ever Thankful Thursday post. It is Thursday, right?…. :: checks calendar:: Yes, Thursday. And ps: How is it already September?!?!? Sigh.

Things I am thankful for the last week:

* My kids. As much as they drive me batty with their antics, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I had my first evening away from them last night and it.sucked. It was quiet in the house and I had NO idea what to do with myself from 6:30-8:00, when I would normally be in the midst of the bedtime routine. Love the chaos, love the noise, love my babies.

* Friends that were there for me over the weekend. That aforementioned bff from TN? Yeah, she rocks. And is my rock at times. Luv ya, lady. :)

* The old woman at Target who took it upon herself to tell Nut she knew Santa and would pass on the message that she had been a good girl all year. **coughcoughyeahright** After that, my 2 year old handed over the $50 Jessie doll she was carrying around (convinced I was buying it no matter how many times I’d told her no) without so much as a whimper, just so that “Mrs. Clause” could take it to the North Pole. God bless that woman! Every time Nut’s thrown a fit for something since, I mention one Mr. S. Clause and she immediately stops.

* That I got a job. I HATE that I’m leaving my kids – all of ‘em, even the two I babysit – but I am SO thankful I was able to not only get the offer in today’s economy but that I did so after not working (besides my p/t retail gig) for so long. It boosted my confidence, lemme tell ya - not to mention my checkbook.

* Pumpkin Spice Lattes. Oh, Starbucks how I love you and your overpriced refreshments. Now if the weather would just cooperate enough for me to switch from the iced decaf to the hot, frothy one, I would be in heaven. Take note, Mother Nature. I’m ready for fall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I just noticed I have 99 followers. 99!!! Just one away from triple digits! In honor of the momentous occasion, I’ve decided to do a GIVEAWAY!!! That’s right! If I get just one more follower, taking the number to the big 100, I’ll give…..

myself a trip to the hair salon!!!!!

Wahooooooooo!!!!!!

Wait, did you think I was going to give you all something??

Yeah, no sorry. I’m on a budget, people.

And my hair is bad. Really bad.

I mean, just look at that! The roots! Ugh. Excuse the weird bald spot I have going on. It was roughly around 136 degrees out and my hair was sweaty and laying in a weird way. Also, I hadn’t washed it in two days. Obviously, I wasn’t planning on being in any photos.

What was I saying??? ……

Oh yes. If you’re stopping by for the first time, please follow. You’ll get a few laughs and be supporting a good cause:

Fixing my effed up hair.

ps: Also, if you’re feeling really charitable, can ya give me a lil’ clicky love please? In my absence from the internet, I slipped a spot in the humor category on Top Mommy Blogs. Apparently I’m the only one who votes for my blog. Nice. Anways, A VOTE FOR ME IS A VOTE FOR....

well, still me. But do it anyways. Pllleeeeaassee!

(Not-So) Wordless Wednesday: I’m baaaaaack!

2010-09-01T20:34:00.001-07:00

Tonight I’m queuing up Peaches and Herb, turning down the lights, climbing into bed…. and playing BeJeweled Blitz.

Internet, I will never forsake thee again.

Sing it with me… I was a fool to ever leave your side. Me minus you is such a lonely ride……

Auto reply: Nic will be out of the office

2010-08-27T10:12:00.001-07:00

Well not really. But I am going to internetless for a few days. Five of them to be exact.

::panic::

What will I do without the world wide web at my finger tips?? I’ve never gone more than 24 hours without playing Bejeweled on Facebook!

::twitch::

DH is transferring our current internet account and I’m switching carriers. I called Tuesday but they were booked for an entire WEEK!! Don’t they know I need my fix?!? Shouldn’t my addiction give me priority? Did they not get the memo about what I have going on this weekend? I need the distraction, people of AT&T!!

Okay, so I have internet access on my Droid. And yeah, it’s pretty damn good so I can get on most of the websites I frequent. And by most I mean all. *Except* I can’t play Bejeweled. Stop the presses. This is a problem. I have a problem.

Going cold turkey can’t be good, can it??

I can already feel the withdrawal symptoms starting.

Le sigh. If you need me, I’ll be rocking in the corner.

Change.

2010-08-26T20:13:00.001-07:00

I got offered a job today.

I accepted.

Starting in mid-September, I will no longer be a stay at home mom.

I’m happy.

Relieved.

Sad.

The thought of not being with my kids every day, all day kills me.

This has been my identity for so long.

My reason for being. MY house. MY kids. MY rules. MY routine.

But I know it is for the best. Financially it is a smart move.

But I’m still sad.

So much change in such a short period of time.

Sigh.

Wordless Wednesday: Puss in Box

2010-08-25T12:13:00.001-07:00

No animals were harmed in the making of this photo. While I may or may not have been the one to put the cat in the box, he was more than welcome to ~~escape~~ leave at his own free will at any time…. which he chose not to do…. for 35 minutes. Besides, the TRY ME! opening totally allowed for oxygen to pass through.

Holding On

2010-08-25T10:10:00.000-07:00

When I got married, I told myself we were doing the right thing.

I loved my husband.

I was pregnant.

I believed him when he said our problems would solve themselves.

I silenced the inner voice that told me something wasn’t right.

Maybe it was the fact that I had never imagined my wedding day as a shot gun ceremony, thrown together in less than a week, and kept secret from everyone.

Maybe it was because I wanted to shout to the world that I was a WIFE, that somebody was my HUSBAND and instead we stayed mum and pretended to only be engaged in an effort to include everyone in our big, white wedding ceremony planned for 11 months later.

Regardless of the doubts, I loved him. God, I loved that man. And so I hung on.

Whatever it was – or wasn’t – I remember being whole heartedly blissfully happy after we said our I Do’s. I was married to the man I loved, we had a baby on the way… what more could I ask for?

If I’m being honest though, things weren’t all that blissful in our relationship. Now that our divorce is imminent, I’ve found myself dissecting it, piece by piece, month by month, year by year, trying to find where the problems started. Somewhere there had to be a leak, a crack in the foundation that spread and festered and infected Us until we crumbled.

DH and I had a very passionate relationship. We met on New Year’s Eve, started dating on Valentine’s Day, and thanks to a tornado that blew down half my house, were living together by St. Patrick’s Day. By Easter I’d met his parents and by Memorial Day he left for Iraq. I wonder sometimes if it wasn’t for those big events, the tornado and the deployment, if we would have loved as hard and as fiercely as we had.

Before he went to Iraq, we were together constantly, completely wrapped up in each other. We were – and are - two very different people. We used to laugh about the opposites attract cliché. I am social, I love people, I loved going out with my friends, happiest when I’m with a group laughing. I had a huge circle of people I hung out with and never went a day without something to do. My husband is the opposite. A very small group of friends, not very social, happiest to sit by himself. The things I enjoyed – concerts, the bars where everyone danced, the nights where my friends and I just hung out and played board games – were far from his idea of fun. I am more adaptable, more go with the flow, the one who would compromise – or bend, perhaps – to keep the peace. Yes, there were tons of times we went and did the things he claimed to hate. But once we were living together and he flat out refused to go, more often than not I stayed home with him, did what he wanted to do. That’s not to say he asked me to stay, that I was a prisoner or that I resented him for it because that’s not how it was at all. Looking back now, I don’t even think I realized (or minded) the pattern I was setting because I just wanted to be with him. Cuddling on the couch watching Ali G reruns was a change from what I was used to, but whatever we did together was great because we were just that – together. In a matter of months, I became one of “those girls” I hated without even knowing it was happening.

When he came back from his summer deployment, we were so happy to see each other that things were at an all time high. I couldn’t get enough of him and vice versa. I can honestly say that the month after he returned was probably the best of the entire five years we were together. We took weekend getaways, a vacation, went to baseball games, and hung out with friends. I had fun, I was head over heels with somebody who got me, made me laugh, and best of all, was head over heels for me too.

But things changed. The new wore off. The arguments increased. But I loved him. So I hung on.

The invitations with friends gradually dwindled away and when I did accept, I was so annoyed with the bombardment of where are you going, who are you going with, how much are you going to drink, when are you going to be home questions, that more often than not, it wasn’t even worth the night out. I went from an independent, do what I want and to hell with all of you girl to a love sick puppy. I felt like I lost myself. Reading this you’re probably thinking he was being controlling. Honestly though, I don’t see it as that. I was never told where I could and couldn’t go, wasn’t fearful to accept an invite. In contrast, he often encouraged me to go do things with my friends. I just figured in the grand scheme of things, a night out wasn’t worth the headache of an argument so I just didn’t go. Does that make any sense?

As is the cycle, things got good again. Awesome in fact. I think the best way to describe our relationship was that when it was good, it was great and when it was bad, well….. we fought and we fought hard. Both of us stubborn, both of us wanting the last word. He knew what to say to hurt me and I was the queen of the smart ass zingers. Although we planned on getting married, there were several times we considered calling things off. But since I loved him, I hung on.

I truly believe if we hadn’t been living together that we would have split. But I also truly believe that God had a plan and that things happen for a reason. And His plan for us, the purpose of our entire relationship, was to have the two beautiful children we do. When I look back on everything, I can’t regret him and I never will. Regretting him would mean regretting my kids.

It became apparent the fall after Nut was born that we were not happy. At least not in regards to each other. We were over the moon with our daughter, how could we not be, but as a unit, as husband and wife, something was astray. There were promises to change on both our parts. Promises were broken. There was talk of separating, talk of who would get this and that. The talk stopped. Because I loved him….. I held on.

Gradually, things did get a little better. I got pregnant with Bug a few months later. And then things fell apart again. The arguments were an almost daily occurrence, the snipping at each other, the criticizing, the nit picking, the disdain, the tension. I could feel it all the time. It was like having a weight on my chest. The things I wanted to say I kept to myself, let the anger boil my blood. When I finally did open my mouth to voice my frustration, it was an all out war. I was bitter, I was resentful, and I was PISSED.

Because of this, I tried to avoid the fighting, swallowed my pride and just held on. The damage was done though. It was us, it was what we did, how we worked. I realized I hated it, hated the up and down cycle. That wasn’t how a marriage was supposed to work. Yes there was going to be good times and bad, but the latter shouldn’t outweigh the other. We both deserved more. Better. We stopped sleeping in the same bed last July. After Bug was born in August, I told DH we had a year to change things, a year to finally make it better, or I was done. I took my wedding ring off in October and haven’t worn it since. I checked out. I was already done. I was tired of feeling like I lived my life walking on eggshells, tired of not being happy. We both readily admitted we were miserable and didn’t want to be together so why drag things out?

This is not to say the last year has not been hell on me. On both of us really. It is very hard to try to explain our split to people who haven’t been here in our shoes. It wasn’t a knee jerk reaction to a few arguments here and there. It’s not a phase. It won’t get better. We’re not just at a low point. We were holding on tight for long enough…but now it is time to let go.

with

PINT, FMBT, WWJD, AOL, SOS

2010-08-24T07:16:00.000-07:00

Okay, the last three things in my title have absolutely NOTHING to do with... well, anything but I was on an acronym roll and couldn't stop. One of those days already.

Now go link up. All of you. I dealt with shitty Blogger instead of my beloved MSN Live Writer so I could hyperlink the photos and my blood is boiling at how effed up this stupid program is. So please appease me and participate. Remember the PMS? I'm a women on the edge!

A Sniffle and a Smile

2010-08-23T08:07:00.001-07:00

Coming to you from my own weird state of Momminess today…. am I the only freak of nature that cries on her kids’ birthdays??? Even if I am, someone just humor me and say no. It is unfortunate that I PMS like a lunatic right around the celebration time but what can ya do? Let me just clear off my mound of tissues here so I can take you all back a year…. queue the sad music, maestro.

::sniffle:: Oh my God, he was so TINY! Wook at da widdle peanut! Isn’t he just da cutest widdle baby ev… Whoa. Slipped into baby talk there. Snap out of it, Nic!

Hard to believe we went from 6 lbs, 10 oz of squishy newborn to this 23 lb chunker of a little man:

And although he wasn’t born until 9:20 pm….

Happy 1st

Birthday,

Bug!!

Love, Mommy

A Birthday for Bug

2010-08-22T12:32:00.001-07:00

I can hardly believe that my little man turns 1 tomorrow. It seems like I wished away so much of his first year with my prayers that he grow out of his colic stage, his milk allergy stage, his constant crying phase, his Nocturnal Baby stage, his overly excessive pooing stage, his…. well, you get the point. Little man had a rough start and although it has been well over a year since I have slept through the night, I wouldn’t trade him for the world. If they ever invent Baby Ambien though, I’d still offer him up for the clinical trials…just so long as I got him back at the end of the day of course.

Yesterday we celebrated the Big One with friends and family. I was nervous that our cookout would get rained out – biblical type flooding in my basement AGAIN late Friday night, GRRRRRR – but the weather held up and we had a great time. As much as I want to touch on the weirdness I felt telling my in-laws good bye, as if there was a sense of finality in those hugs, I won’t. At least not yet. This is happy post weekend, remember?? And because I have been a picture postin’ fool the last week, the required photos:

The last one is my very favorite, he is definitely wearing a holy shit look. Every time we were at Target the last few months – and okay, we all know that is a lot – he was mesmerized by the overpriced robotic Buzz Lightyear they had on display. Since we were kind of at a loss as to what to get the baby whose favorite toys are electrical cords and the garbage can, DH decided he needed the Buzz. I really truly think Bug was in shock when he opened it. I’m sure he’ll be in shock again if he’s ever allowed to play with. Nut has high jacked it, currently the two are taking a nap together, convinced that it is real. She keeps responding to Buzz’s questions -“Are you still there? “Yeah, Buzz. I here. I payin’ wit the farm.” – and offering him snacks. Last night she was in the kitchen and said, “C’mon Buzz. Walk in here pease!” I’m not sure how to explain to her he is just a toy. She has watched Toy Story so much, she’ll probably think I’m lying. Oh well. It’s at least entertaining to watch.

I’m sure tomorrow I’ll be extra weepy (and probably spend the better part of my day sniffling over Bug’s newborn pics) but I’ll survive. Little guy still has one more gift to open – a Little Tikes Cozy Coupe – which means his sis still has one more gift to steal.

A Healthy Dose of Happy

2010-08-21T19:45:00.001-07:00

This post is going to be a hodgepodge of things that made me happy over the last few days. I know next week is going to suck and as a forewarning, I will be mopey as hell, so this weekend is all about things that put a smile on my face. Literally. It’s mostly pictures. And most of them were taken by my friend Amy, who I am so glad is up for a visit right now. We have been friends since since we were freshman in high school and while I hate that another mom had to go through the colicky, milk allergy, cry nonstop, non-sleeping, acid reflux, little turd of a baby too, I am soooo thankful I had someone in the same boat. We became our own little support group and I swear that was the only way I got through those hellacious first six months with my sanity (mostly) intact. She’s really been a lifeline for me the last year and I know I’m lucky to have a friend like that.

Why do I feel like I was giving some sort of acceptance speech? Oh well. Moving on… pictures at the park!

Amy and the kids stayed the night that night, which meant the mamas hit up the wine bottle(s) after they bambinos were snoozing. And hit them up we did…

And now, because I like laughing at myself, I give you my future online dating site profile picture. Please try to contain yourself at the hotness:

That’s right, I *heart* you. The suitors should be lining up outside my door after that. Take a number boys, take a number.

Coming tomorrow…pics of Bug’s 1st birtday party ::sniffle::!!

Meat Parfait

2010-08-20T11:44:00.001-07:00

Yesterday my friend and I took our kids, plus one I babysit, to the Illinois State Fair. That made for two adults, five kids under 4, and 90 degree weather. I thought I was going to have a fricking heat stroke after pushing 60 pounds of children around in that damn big rig of a double stroller I own for five hours. I can’t complain too much though; they were all surprisingly well behaved and had a great time. The only downer was that I was too damn hot to properly graze my fat ass through the food vendors like we had planned. Vinegar fries for breakfast and a corn dog for lunch and I was about to puke. I dreamt about the cheese on a stick I didn’t get the whole drive home. Oh well. One thing I wasn’t sad I missed was chocolate covered bacon ::gag:: heave::puke in my mouth:: and this thing called a Meat Parfait. In theory, it probably wouldn’t taste all that bad (layers of barbequed pulled pork or brisket and mashed potatoes, complete with drizzled barbeque sauce and a cherry -tomato that is- on top) but just the presentation icked me out. And the name. It sounds dirty. Like you’re in a bar and some skeeze ball walks up and says, “hey baby, you want some of my meat parfait?” I Googled it and came across this Chicago Tribune article. It has a picture too since I know you’re all DYING to put an image to the name.

This outing was the first time in many, many years that my state fair activities involved something more than walking in, going to concerts, going to the beer tents, and drunk eating my way back out. The kiddos slid down a fire pole, ooh’ed and awe’d over farm animals, and petted some furry (and one slimy) friends. For your viewing pleasure, a small photo montage:

The bestie from TN was due 2 days after me, although I was induced 2.5 weeks before she was. We’re always so excited to see the babies together and they always disappoint by ignoring each other.

Bug’s first taste of vinegar fries. He LOVED ‘em. I forgive him for not liking cake now. If he liked the way I had those puppies swimming in vinegar, he’s definitely my child.

Mini donuts are yuuuuuuumo

A Vose’s corndog. Best.corndogs.EVER. And I consider myself a connoisseur so my corndog word is Word.

d Nut’s boyfriend might be a future fireman.

She poked the frog in his eye right after this pic.

Freshly painted face, riding the train. She was ecstatic.

I wanted to do the same thing by the end of the day.

I was so wiped out by the time we got home, it was a struggle to stay awake after we got home. The kids napped and I sat in a daze, staring at the TV but not really watching what was on. I’d say it was all worth it though, I needed a fun day like that to put a smile on my face.

I’m still wondering if I can finagle another trip out there for that stupid cheese on a stick though…..

(Not So) Wordless Wednesday: My Lil’ Slugger

2010-08-18T08:08:00.001-07:00

Armed with my trust $3.99 portrait sheet coupon, we went to my home-away-from-home last night, Target, for some one year pics of Bug. Hard to believe in just five short days, my baby will be no longer be a baby. Two toddlers. Lord help me. But I digress. Just wanted to share a couple of cute photos of my little guy, to hopefully brighten up the depressing mood around this place from yesterday….

This one is my favorite. He’s cutting his 1 year molars and wasn’t in the best mood, but he cooperated for a bit…

My little slugger…I figure he’ll be on the Cardinals’ roster about 2030.

My other favorite.

And then of course the required cupcake shots. Get this though – my kid doesn’t like cake. What the..?!?! If it wasn’t for the fact that he looks a lot like my youngest brother, I’d cry foul that he was switched at birth.

Mostly he just sat in it. But whatever. It’s his birthday and he can do what he wants to…

I know these pictures aren’t the best quality but I snagged ‘em off the studio website; I’m too impatient to wait for my order to be processed in the meantime. One of my best friends – and a great photographer – is in town this week so I’m hoping the weather holds out and we can go take some more candid shots of both kids in the park this evening. Coming to a blog near you soon…

Go link up for some more Wordless Wednesday fun over at The Life of Rylie...and Bryce too!

Little Goodbyes

2010-08-17T07:48:00.001-07:00

Over a week and no post from me. Sigh. I’m back in a state of writer’s block. I just can’t slow my mind down enough to write and I HATE that. Writing has always been my way of calming myself down, but lately I can’t even do that. If you read my guest post last weekend on The Life of Rylie...and Bryce too! then you can understand why I’m a bit…frazzled. As the move date gets closer and closer, my stress level goes up and up. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not second guessing our decision or having reservations about it. It is time. It is right. But it is still hard. This weekend, we will be celebrating Bug’s 1st birthday with our families. The last weekend my children will live with both sets of parents as a unit. I can’t help but think it’s good we will at least be going out on a good note. Cake, presents, good food, good friends… our last Saturday as a family of four will be nothing short of fun. A bittersweet fun for me, but fun fun nonetheless.

As the weeks since DH signed his lease on an apartment – ironically enough on our third wedding anniversary – have passed and The Date has loomed closer, I have found myself looking back on our relationship. A picture here and there I stumble upon that makes me laugh. A bib that says “I Love Daddy”, the first baby item I ever bought when I found out I was pregnant, that makes me cry. How different we were then. How much promise I saw in our lives together. I guess I am in mourning for what was and what I had hoped would be. I am sad about the loss of a friend, because even though we argue and butt heads (a lot) and no longer love each other as husband and wife, he is the person that knows me best. It is odd to think that in a little over a week, I will have lost that. I joke to him that he will no longer have to pretend to care what I babble about. He jokes that I will no longer have to listen to him rant. Though we are ready for this marriage to begin its journey to the end, I know we are in for an adjustment. Life as I have known it is changing and I’m just… sad.

Sad. That’s really the only word I have to describe it. I wonder what it will be like when he leaves. I try to envision him packing his things up, loading them into his car, and driving away. I asked him last night if he was staying in his apartment the first night he has the keys. It was such a stupid question, I know, and the look he responded with let me know he was thinking the same thing. “Why wouldn’t I? The point of moving out is to move out.” I guess I have gotten accustomed to moving being a two day event but as he pointed out, he doesn’t have as much to move this time around. I think about random things, how it will be weird to open the bathroom medicine cabinet and see his half empty. How I will have to rearrange the shower shelves now that his will be vacant. I keep thinking of the SheDaisy song, “Little Goodbyes”. Not so much the lyrics (they’re more on the humorous side), just the meaning behind the title. Little Goodbyes. I know I will be slapped in the face with them when I’m least expecting it. Out of habit, will I try to go to DH’s dresser to steal one of his t-shirts to wear to bed? When I open the dryer, will I hold my breath like I do now, hoping he didn’t leave clothes in there (pet peeve)? Will I yell for him to come get the baby out of the bath so I can finish rinsing Nut’s hair? When the kid’s toys need batteries, will I walk out to the garage to get a screwdriver before I remember his tool chest is gone? Piddley things. Mundane things. But I wonder nonetheless. I won’t have to buy Doritos anymore. I’ll never have Coke in the fridge. I can make meatloaf without anyone complaining. I’ll have to get up early in the winter to shovel snow. If I hear a noise in the backyard, I’ll have to investigate myself. I won’t be forced to watch college football, which I secretly enjoy. Who will eat the leftovers from dinner? I’ll be the last one to bed every night. All of it, another reminder, another little goodbye. I know it will get better, I really do, I just wish I could fast forward through the shitty parts.

I Play Well With Others... really.

2010-08-06T21:01:00.000-07:00

If you're looking for me today, I'm at a playdate! LeeAnn from The Life of Rylie....and Bryce too! invited me over to play. Don't worry though, you can all come because it's a virtual playdate. Pretty nifty, huh? If it were a real playdate, I'm sure LeeAnn and I would already be half sloshed on wine; we both are riding out the Terrible 2's (emphasis on the Terrible)and well, it's 5:00 somewhere, right? Head on over and check out what came spilling out of my mouth and while you're there, check out LeeAnn's fabulous blog. I promise you'll love it - and her.

Scooby Dooby…Don’t.

2010-08-06T17:59:00.001-07:00

Dear Kraft,

While my toddler was THRILLED beyond measure to find her latest obsession in macaroni form, I leave the meal feeling a bit disturbed.

Those dog bone shaped noodles so nicely illustrated on the box? Yeah, those don’t hold up so well during cooking. Imagine my surprise at dinner when my two year held up her spoon, asked, “Mama, what’s this??” and shoved the following in my face:

Is it just me, Kraft, or do those dog bones look a wee bit phallic when split in two (which they all inevitably did during boiling)? You might want to pass on to the product development folks that the bone noodles are a definite Scooby Dooby Don’t.

Sincerely,

A Mother Wondering Why I Fed My Kids Penis Pasta

(Not So) Wordless Wednesday: Oops

2010-08-04T08:30:00.001-07:00

Warning: Look closely before you grab the Nestle syrup out of the fridge and squeeze it into your toddler’s milk.

These two bottles may look similar but produce very different results.

Honey mustard milk, anyone? Whoops.

Nut’s reaction?

“Da-custing!!!”

Mama needs some more sleep, I think.

How is it only Tuesday?

2010-08-03T18:43:00.001-07:00

Ugh. Really? We’re only two days into this week?? It just doesn’t seem possible. Some randomness from our week thus far:

Poor Bug has an ear infection and has been quite the fuss butt.

Poor Nut still has that nasty case of Terrible Two’s and has been quite the toddler terrorist.

Poor Mommy has two irritable kids and has been quite the biyatch herself because all.the.crying.is.driving.me.insane.

It’s hot here. Like sweat your balls off hot. Ya know, if I had balls and all. Heat index earlier today was 112. What the frick?? I live in the Midwest, so why does it feel like I’m currently residing ON THE SUN???

Yesterday I had to take Buggy Boy to the doctor. When we left, I clamored on the jam-packed elevator with the kids for the ride two floors down. I smelled something kind of funky but before I could wonder which jerk was inconsiderate enough to drop a bomb, my toddler looks at me and proudly announces, “Mama, I tooted!!!” Fabulous. Looks like we’re going to have to work on how to properly wrinkle your nose and pretend somebody else did the deed.

Last night I loaded up the kiddos and a bunch of stale bread and hot dog buns for a trip to the duck pond at the park. Nut was pleasant to be around for a whopping 25 minutes, melting my heart by telling the ducks, “Time to eat, duckies!” and making sure she shared with the entire flock. At least I know once she has an evil empire to rule, she’ll evenly distribute rations to her minions, right? Bug must have felt left out though because next thing I know, he wings his completely-full bottle three feet across the deck, right through the slats of the railing, and PLOP, into the water it goes. Little shit. He wasn’t happy after that and Nut wasn’t either. She took it upon herself to scold him repeatedly, then turned her wrath to the ducks, shrieking “Nooooo, ducks! I take it back! Take it back! Dat’s Reid’s bahtul!!!!” Needless to say, we left shortly after.

And now I hear an unhappy baby bawling in his crib so I better go check on him. His new thing is pulling his bumper off and then sticking his limbs through the bars and getting them stuck. Yeah, I don’t get the appeal either….

I’m Being Stalked!

2010-07-31T07:43:00.001-07:00

If you’re looking for me today, head over to The Adventures of Goober Grape & Monkey Man, The Life of a Sippy Cup Mom, or Stash Mama where I’m the featured blog for Stalker Saturday! A big thanks to Steph, Sippy, and Candice, so go give ‘em some clicky love, would ya?

I’ve officially hit the big time now, people. All the cool kids have stalkers. Next thing I know, I’ll have paparazzi lurking outside my house waiting to snap pics of me road raging my way to Starbucks in my hella cool Mommy Mobile. To see if what I had to say was stalk-worthy, check it out HERE.

(Not So) Wordless Wednesday: Think before you paint

2010-07-28T12:26:00.001-07:00

Nut has a favorite book called “Goodnight Beach”. We read it almost every evening before bed, to the point where I know the entire thing by heart. And so does my toddler. Every night without fail, she points out the mouse that’s trying to steal a hot dog from around the campfire, a balloon that is flying away, the color of the sailboats. I tell her how smart she is, ask her to count the animals she sees. I love reading it to her…until we get to page four that is. Every time we turn to this page:

Nut says without missing a beat, “Ew. Dat boy pooped. Da-custing,” while pointing to the giant brown ROCK that is poorly placed behind his arse. I can’t say I blame her though, it really does look like a floater. You would think somebody, the author, maybe the editor, the publisher, a test group, ANYBODY would have looked at this and thought, “hmmmm…maybe that isn’t the best placement of that boulder. Let’s nix it.” But no. So last night when Nut told me, “Dat poop’s ghoss”, I just agreed and laughed right along with her. If ya can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, I guess.

Misc Monday: It looks so big when cupped in my hands!

2010-07-26T12:31:00.001-07:00

Link up HERE if you wanna join in the fun. Or be lame and don’t. It’s whatev.

1) I’m dedicating today’s string of randomness to this picture I took at lunch:

Is that not the biggest damn strawberry you’ve ever seen? Nut was all “Wow! Berry! Eat dat, peeeeaasseee Mama!” and I’m all “No way! I need to take a picture of that monster. And then show it to whoever comes over.” Luckily I don’t have many visitors. This may or may not be attributed to the fact that I would entertain said guests by showing off a mutant strawberry.

2) Looking at the picture, my first thought was What the frack is WRONG with my thumb?? It looks disjointed. And deformed. I’ve never spent much time looking at my thumbs, but now that I have, a complex is quickly developing. I took eleven different pictures trying to find a better angle, and while this is the best, it still looks jacked up.

3) See that thurrr tattoo on my wrist? That is what happens when you are young, dumb, 21, and drink a pitcher of margaritas. You think it’s like, a TOTALLY awesome idea to go get a permanent reminder of your drunken stupidity emblazoned across your body. Thank God it’s tiny and not somewhere really horrible, like my forehead. My friends all got piercings. That was the plan. They tricked me with their foolery by telling me I had a cute nose and that I should pay someone to jab a needle through it. I was convinced… until we got there and I decided it would look like a sparkly freckle. In hindsight, I should have took my chances with the nose piercing. I mean, a star?!? Really? It was a very unfortunate coincidence that about the time I started sporting that atrocity, great role models like Lindsay Lohen were pictured in US Weekly with something very similar. Because you know, who doesn’t want to follow that coke head hot mess of a trend setter? Sigh.

Her Mother’s Daughter

2010-07-23T09:40:00.001-07:00

I think the time has come to potty train Nut. Queue the foreboding music… Duh duh duh duuuuuh. We’ve given it the ol’ college try a few times but with no success. She LOVES wearing the Gerber training underwear, LOVES sitting on her potty, but never quite grasped the concept of actually peeing in it. She’d sit on it for ten minutes, get up, and promptly urinate on my floor within 90 seconds. Lately though she has been throwing a fit whenever her diaper gets wet. She takes my face in her hands, gets nose to nose with me, pinches my cheek and hisses “Change the diaperrrrrr!” It’s kind of creepy, really. We are going through tons of diapers now that she demands to be changed the minute she’s wet. And since only 60 diapers come in her giant size 6 box, it’s getting a little pricey. It is apparent she is having mixed feelings about the whole thing though, check out this video I made a few minutes ago:

She was more interested in watching Sponge Bob than answering my stupid questions but oh well. Did you hear the hissing about breaking the couch?? Creepy, right?? She uses that tone to tell off the baby: “NOOOOO Reeeeeiiiddd! You go pay wit Mama!” And the dog: “Noooo Mo! Get back in cage NOW!” For the life of me I could not figure out where she picked that up….. that is, until I stormed up to her bedroom for the 47th time last week to scold her for playing when she was supposed to be in her bed taking a nap. As I stood outside her gate and did the whole “You get your little rear back in that bed RIGHT NOW and DO NOT get out of it again or you are in BIG TROUBLE young lady, do you UNDERSTAND ME?” thing, it hit me: She learned it from me. Ya know, that Mommy whisper yell where you don’t really open your mouth or take a breath and just kind of hiss through your teeth? Yeah. Holy balls. I’ve created a monster.

Needless to say, when faced with the task of potty training her, just the thought exhausts me. She has a mind of her own and does whatever she wants, with no fear of consequence. Notice that she’s wearing a long sleeved Tinkerbell jammie shirt in that video? Not my idea. It’s 96 degrees out today and I dressed her in a cute tank. She added the PJ top herself and refuses to take it off. So this potty training thing? Wish me luck. I’m gonna need it.

Dr. No

2010-07-22T07:37:00.001-07:00

Who knew trying to NOT have babies could be such a pain in the arse? About a month ago, I decided to call my doctor and schedule an appointment to have an IUD put in. The hormones in birth control make me sick, sick, sick (hence how DH and I wound up with two Whoops Babies) so I wanted something hormone-free. I talked to a friend who had the Paragard and decided that’s what I wanted. Because it’s me and nothing can ever be easy, the doctor’s office required that I come into the office to talk to my GYN before they’d schedule the procedure. Basically I had to make an appointment to make an appointment. Dumb. But I did it. Went in, told him I wanted the Paragard, scheduled the appointment for a month later, and went on my merry way.

Fast forward to Monday. I line up a sitter, go the office, sit in the waiting room for twenty minutes past my appointment time, finally get called back, pee in a cup (and all over my hand), walk into the exam room….and see a Mirena sitting out on the table. Errrrrm, no. I explained to the nurse that I wasn’t having that one put in. She checked the notes and guess what? That’s what they had pre-certed with my insurance company. Really people? They had to do a new pre-cert so I had to make a new appointment for yesterday and do the whole line-up-a-sitter-get-in-the-zone-for-being-violated-pee-in-a-cup-and-on-my-hand thing again.

When the nurse asked me if I minded if a med student came in, I should have thought of my recent string of luck and said no. But I didn’t. I said yes, because let’s face it, I’ve given birth twice and I have no modesty any more. You wanna look at my va-jay-jay? Have at it, I don’t care. So who walks in? Dr. Young and Hot, which made me immediately regret my decision not to uh… touch up the pruning job I’d done for Monday’s appointment. I’m sure if you spend your days looking at lady bits you become immune, but I was still self-conscious of my womanly version of 5 o’clock shadow nonetheless. As if that wasn’t unpleasant enough, my doctor then begins whistling a tune mid-way through the insertion. It sounded familiar but I couldn’t quite place it….. until he said, “Man, I just can’t get that song from that show outta my head.” Know what it was?? The camera song from Diego. Yeah, the “Say click! Take a pic!” one. What.the.hell. As if I didn’t hate that show enough, now I will be reminded of being pretty much fisted every time I hear Rosie Perez start warbling about finding the “aneemal in trrruuble”. As soon as he said what song it was, smart ass comments run through my head about the animal rescue being a beaver, but THANK GAWD my filter was in place and I kept my mouth shut. For once.

(Not-so) Wordless Wednesday: Cack cack

2010-07-21T11:57:00.001-07:00

My little Nut is starting part time preschool in September. Twice a week, she will leave the nest and spend two and half hours finger painting with twelve other 2.5 year olds. It’s enough to make me weepy just thinking about it. God help me when she goes to Kindergarten; I’ll need a support group to deal with the trauma. We were at Toys R Us the other night trying to find ideas for Bug’s 1st birthday (a little over a month away, *SOB*!!!) when Nut spotted the “cack cacks”. Since she’s going to need one anyways – and they were throwing in a free lunch box with it – I let her pick one out. She’s been wearing it ever since, along with this goofy ass hat I got on the clearance rack at The Children’s Place over the weekend. Contrary to how she looks, she will NOT be attending the Jason Mraz School for Toddlers:

Quality sucks, but I emailed them from my phone and didn’t adjust the size before saving. I learned my lesson looking at these but am too lazy to sign into my email to adjust and resave.

Link up HERE for more Wordless Wednesday fun.

Walker is my middle name…

2010-07-20T12:23:00.001-07:00

No really, his middle name is Walker. I’ve been waiting to use that line for almost 11 months now, glad I finally got to bust it out. He’s been getting better and better at the walking thing; I love to see him lumber around like some drunken dinosaur. Watch it over and over and pretend you do too. Oh and please excuse my high-pitched squealing; I sound like a douche and am well aware of the fact.

Five Q Friday: Tornadoes suck. Literally.

2010-07-16T09:21:00.001-07:00

Who’s happy it’s Friday? Yeah, that’d be me! I look forward to this day every week, only to be disappointed when it actually gets here because oh wait, I have nothing to do. But this weekend I actually have plans! Tomorrow my friend is having a psychic party…. don’t laugh… okay, go ahead and laugh, I don’t care…. and Sunday evening I am getting together with the bestie from TN and her kiddos. I’m actually doing a happy dance. I know what you’re thinking – just who is this optimistic person and what in the sam hell has she done with Nic? Fear not, I’m just in a good mood today, I’m sure I’ll return to my usual cynical self in no time.

That aside, it’s time for some Five Question Friday with Mama M. at My Little Life.

1. Do you collect anything?

No. And here is why: When I was about 13 years old, there was a phenomenon known as Beanie Babies. Having received a few for Christmas before they became “hot”, I was the proud owner of some of the earliest, rarest, most coveted creatures. This fueled the fire and I became one of those morons standing in line at Hallmark all day long, making small talk with crazy old ladies and offering up trades of some of my doubles. About a year later, I went with my friend to a place at the mall that purchased Beanies for resale. We both took an itemized listing of our “collections” for a quote. My friend was offered $200. I was offered… are you ready for this shit? $1100. Yeah. Over a thousand fricking dollars. And do you think I took it? Oh Noooooo. I decided to be a greedy little twit and hold on to them, to wait until they even more valuable. Fast forward 14 years. I’m stuck with a bag full of bean filled animals, their once lovingly placed tag protectors ripped off so that my children have better access to slobber all over them. I tried to sell them at a garage sale last year for 25 cents a piece and do you think I had any takers? Hell no. So that? That is why I don’t collect a damn thing. Except maybe dirty laundry. I seem to have a large pile of clothes that need to be washed.

2. Name 3 celebrities that you find good looking.

Eric Dane aka McSteamy because hell.fucking.looooo, I would so play doctor with that man any day. Or night. Or both. Swoon.

Matthew McConaughey. I would be more than willing to let him play the naked bongos at my house, rumored poor hygiene habits or not.

The last doesn’t really qualify as a celebrity, but there is only one other “public figure” so to speak, that makes my heart go a pitter patter like the above two: Skip Schumaker, 2nd baseman for the St. Louis Cardinals. I don’t know if it’s the uniform or the scruffy facial hair or the fact that I spent many hours staring at his butt from the bleachers when he played outfield (although all those things definitely didn’t hurt), but I luuurve me some Skippy. Much to DH’s annoyance, I’ve even taught Nut to point at him on TV and say “step-daddy”. Bahahahaha. At least I amuse myself, right?

3. Do you have any scars? If so, what's the story behind it (them?)?

As clumsy as I am, you think I’d be covered in scars. The most noticeable one I have is on my shoulder, from a surgery I had a few years ago. It was done laproscopically so all I was left with was a semi-circular raised scar. I get asked a lot what it is, which baffles me because it’s literally maybe the size of a pencil eraser. A few weeks ago, Nut and I were eating lunch at the kitchen table. She wrinkled her nose up in confusion, ran her finger over the scar a few times and then loudly announced, “Mama’s booby!!!” Apparently she thinks I have a nipple – a nubbin for all the Friends fans - on my shoulder. Fabulous.

4. What is a food that you like to eat, but others might think it's gross or weird?

I love pickles. If you open my fridge, you will find sweet, dill (both spears and chips), bread n’ butter, two jars of homemade, and a thing of relish. I am even one of those freaks of nature that drinks the juice.

5. Have you ever seen a tornado in real life?

Funnel clouds, yes, an actual on the ground tornado, no. I came close though once but luckily was convinced it was in my best interest to go to the basement since it was a) night time and b) headed towards my house. I’m thankful DH (who was my boyfriend at that time) and his pleas of “Get in the fucking basement NOW, I’m serious! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE NOW!!!” was enough to take me off the back step where I was giving weather updates (“It’s SO still!”) and quoting Twister (“Hail! We’ve got hail!”) while the sirens were blaring. Less than three minutes later, here is what my backyard looked like, courtesy of a half-mile wide F2 tornader:

Looking back, my roomie and I never did find our lawn mower. But we did find that giant telephone pole that came from God knows where.

That wood was actually the frame to the french doors on the front of our house. They got sucked right off and wound up in the backyard. Random. I still love reading/watching anything about tornadoes, but as soon as it’s my county or my town mentioned, you will find my ass in the basement, with a heart rate near 250, crapping my pants because tornadoes? Well, they SUCK. Literally and figuratively.

Alright kids, that’s all I’ve got for today. If you want to join in – and really, who wouldn’t?? – click HERE to go link up. Happy Friday and Happy Weekend!

(Kind of) Wordless Wednesday: Erm…..

2010-07-14T13:44:00.001-07:00

This is probably the closest I will ever come to a truly wordless Wednesday, mostly because this sight rendered me speechless. I came up from doing laundry not too long ago and found this:

Yes, that is my cat. And that is a giant Tinkerbell doll. Spread eagle. With the cat in a very compromising position. Poor Tink. She’s such a slut bag.

Notice: A small request

2010-07-13T09:14:00.001-07:00

Dear Offspring,

As your mother, I do a lot of not-so-fun things and ask for little. I wipe your rears, make all your meals, scrub unknown crusted food from your hair, clean up vomit, have caused irreparable damage to my back from lugging you everywhere, use enough Shout on your clothes to warrant buying stock in the company, and am on 24/7 duty to make sure you don’t cause injury to yourself or others. And that’s just to name a few. I’m not even going to go in to the whole pregnancy and birthing thing.

You are both with me constantly and while I can get over never showering without an audience, lukewarm meals that have had tiny fingers digging through them before I’ve even lifted a fork, and even the backwash floating in every beverage I attempt to drink, there is one small request I would like honored: Let me poo in peace. Please. I’m begging you. I try to sneak off when you guys are occupied and have it down to an art: In and out in under three minutes. A stealth pooper if you will. But it is becoming increasingly annoying that you will not even allow me 180 seconds to myself.

Mommy sitting on the potty does not equal brush your teeth time. Nor does it mean it’s time to hang on to my leg, unroll the entire roll of toilet paper, or crawl to the tub to knock all the shampoo off the side. I do not find it amusing. Suddenly my three minute activity has become a fifteen minute ordeal. Mommy puts the baby gate up for a reason, stop knocking it down. Please. Considering I grew you, I really think this is a reasonable demand, don’t you? Your cooperation in rectifying this matter would be greatly appreciated.

Love,

Mommy

ps: To clear up any confusion, the following photo is considered unacceptable behavior while Mommy is on the crapper:

Miscellany Monday: A small dose of random.

2010-07-12T14:44:00.001-07:00

It’s that time again….

ONE.UNO.UN. I was ~~wasting~~ passing time this afternoon watching some high-quality entertainment on TLC; anybody else think the husband from The Little Couple is cute? Look at him, he’s a good-looking dude, right?I don’t watch the show often (my DVR schedule won’t allow any more shows), but he always cracks me up when I do. I love the way he and his wife interact with each other, they’re sweet. Yes, it’s definitely safe to say I have a little crush. No pun intended.

TWO.DOS.DEUX. My 2 year old is obsessed with my boobs lately. I don’t like it. Maybe it’s because of the yelp of surprise I emit amuses her, but she’s taken to pretty much giving me a titty twister when I’m least expecting it. Like when I’m perusing cheese at Super Wal-Mart and she’s sitting in the cart. Or when I’m carrying her at the water park. Or when I’m asleep.

THREE.TRES.TROIS. I don’t know what I’m more excited about tonight, The Real Housewives of New Jersey (big fight episode!!!) or The Home Run Derby. It’s a toss up, really. What can I say, I’m a sucker for crazy bitches and baseball.

That’s all I have today. Babies are awaking and butts need wiping so that’s my queue. If you want to join in, head over HERE and let the randomness flow.

You like me, you REALLY like me!

2010-07-10T07:41:00.001-07:00

Or at least Carol over at Knee Deep in Mommahood does. And since she’s pretty much awesome, we’ll just pretend every one shares her opinion and likes me too, okay? She bestowed a few awards on me over a week ago but since ~~my head has been up my arse~~ I’ve been running around like a chicken with my head lopped off lately, I didn’t see her post until I started to catch up on my blog reading today. And ps: still not done with the catching up. When I logged onto Google Reader, there were 533 new updates. Hi, laundry? Not happening today. But I digress. Moving on to my awards – because this post is all about me tonight, thankyouverymuch -the first is…. drumroll, please…

That’s right, this blog has substance. So for the man I married that tells me I’m wasting my time, stick that in your pipe and smoke it, pal. Substance. Ha. Wait… where was I? Oh yes, the award. There are rules to follow, that are as follows:

Thank the blogger who awarded it to you.
Sum up your blogging philosophy, motivation, and experience using five (5) words
Pass it on to other blogs you feel have substance.

So here we go… to Carol, THANK YOU for the awards! Not just this one, but for every one you’ve ever been kind enough to grace me with. It makes me feel all warm n’ fuzzy inside that you thought of me. And while I am known for being a sarcastic a-hole, I really do mean that (did that last statement cheapen my gratitude? Hmmm, hope not). Your blog is one of the first I read when I log on and you crack me up every day. Keep it up, mama!

My motivation in five words?

I blog to preserve sanity.

And that’s no lie.

My next fabu award is the…..

It calls for ten things that are awesome about me. I’m going to go Carol’s route though and make it ten things that are random about me instead because right now I can’t think of ~~only~~ ten things about me that qualify as awesome. So here we go, in no particular order:

1) I am 27 1/2 years old and still cut the crust off my bread when I make a sandwich.

2) I am a human jukebox. It only takes me a few times to learn all the words to songs/jingles/commercials and I feel the need to sing along when I hear them.

3) I cannot sing. Think American Idol reject, cats howling. If I had a bunch of wishes that were being granted, I’d wish for a good voice. Not so I could be a singer, just so that I wouldn’t suck so hard at karaoke.

4) The three people I talk most regularly to do not live near me.

5) According to Verizon, I babbled for 4,862 minutes and sent/received over 3,400 text messages last month. I know, I know, it’s a miracle I’m a functioning member of society. Three cheers for mobile-to-mobile.

6) I have always dreamed of being a writer. It’s on my bucket list.

7) My New Year’s resolutions for 2010 were to finish my book and lose 50 lbs. I’m doing better on the weight loss (27 down!) than I am the book.

8) I regret not finishing college. That’s on my bucket list too, even if I’m 85 years old accepting my degree.

9) I take pictures all. the. time. Like almost to the point of being annoying. However, since the invention of the digital camera, I rarely print any out. I fear when my children ask to see photos of their childhood, I will have to ask them to gather around a computer.

10) This one really isn’t about me, but it definitely qualifies as random. Nut is named after Ronald Reagan. Honestly. When DH and I were discussing names, he was insistent that if the baby were a boy, he be named Ronald Reagan. I vetoed that one (veto. hah.) and said I liked Reagan for a girl but that was as far as I would budge. He held me to it when our gender ultrasound revealed we were having a daughter.

So there you have it. I’m sure your day is complete now that you know I don’t like crust on my bread. I am going to pass these awards on to a new blog I just recently started reading, Crazy Ramblings of a Tired Mom, that seriously cracks my shit up. I love her lack of a filter, most likely because I share the same affliction. Go check her out!

Happy 4th – they look happy…right?

2010-07-04T21:27:00.001-07:00

I’ve been neglecting my blog the last week. So much going on, I can't slow my mind down enough to sit and write. I’ll be back soon though, promise! In the meantime, here’s my favorite of all the (failed) attempts to get my kids together for a picture today:

Apparently “Look at Mommy and smile!” is code for both "look away” AND “hit your brother in the head with a stick.” Go figure.

I tried to get all fancy with it this evening to ~~waste~~ pass some time, but it still looks like my 2 year old whopping her infant brother in the head, only now it’s in red,white, and blue. A patriotic beating if you will.

Happy 4th of July!!

It’s Friday! Now What?

2010-06-25T07:07:00.001-07:00

Fridays are somewhat underwhelming for me because I have nothing planned over the weekend. Lately I have been feeling uber stir crazy and it’s driving me – well, crazy. I feel like I’m waiting for something, anticipating something, and then… nothing. It’s an odd anticlimactic feeling and I don’t like it. That being said, it’s time for a little Five Question Friday with Mama M.

1. Do you know how to play a musical instrument?

Sadly, no. ~~If I was being very immature, I would make some lewd comment about the skin flute. But I’m not being immature today. Or lewd. So please disregard.~~ I always wished I had learned though.

2. What is your pet peeve while driving?

Oh this answer is going to require a novel.

*Not using a blinker: Really, how hard is it to flick that lever? Located to the left of your steering wheel, I’m preeettttyyyy sure those come standard equipped on all vehicles.

*Making a right hand turn on red in front of me and then driving below the speed limit: Do you know how tempting it is to NOT slam on my brakes to avoid ramming my car up your ass? Perhaps a few weeks in traction would teach you a lesson, non-driving twit.

*Side seat driving: This is dedicated to both my mother and my husband. Don’t tell me to drive and then sit and fricking criticize me. Last time I checked neither of you were a DMV instructor so SHUT IT. I’ve been driving for well over a decade and aside from one wreck that wasn’t my fault (really, other guy got the ticket), I have a superb record. Rolling your eyes and making snide comments about “women drivers” if I decide to back up and adjust in a parking spot makes me want to ~~sucker punch you in the throat~~ go bat shit crazy. Directing me which route to take when I’ve lived in the same damn town for 27 years and know my way around quite well pisses me off. Contrary to what seems to be your belief, I am not a moron and can get from Point A to Point B without your effed up “shortcuts”. Oh, and telling me the speed limit is 35 when I’ve – gasp! – got the car up to 36? Yeah, that’s annoying. And it makes me want to floor it and listen to your pleas for mercy.

*Tailgating: This is my biggest pet peeve which is why I left it for last. It literally makes me see red. Especially when I have my kids in the car. When they are not in the car, I will slam on my brakes and dare you to hit me so that I have a reason to drag you out of your car by your hair and kick the shit out of you. This has not happened yet (most likely because I am rarely in the car without a child) but look for me someday in Police Beat.

All of that makes me sound like a raging psycho, doesn’t it? Ah well. Three cheers for road rage.

3. Would you rather have a housekeeper or unlimited spa services?

A housekeeper!!!! What’s the point of massages and manicures when you’re going to throw your back out scrubbing toilets and mess up those pretty nails with dishpan hands?

4. Is there a song that you hear that will take you back to the moment, like a junior high or high school dance?

Not really high school, but there are quite a few songs that take me back to being 21. I heard “Toxic” by Britney Spears last night (what a classic, right?) and had an immediate flashback to not only being 21, but also very very inebriated and ~~making out with a random in the corner of a bar~~ dancing like a damn fool.

5. What song best represents your life right now?

Hmmmm…. time for some insight into my previous post about censoring my blog. My theme song – and ring tone - o’ the moment is Lover, Lover by Jarrod Niemann. I love the entire song, but especially the last verse. I turn the radio up way louder than necessary to drown out ~~the bitterness that comes through when I spit the lyrics out~~ my horrible voice whilst warbling along.

I know you used to love me in every way
but now I’m giving it up, and I'm tired of crying babe
I can't stand it no longer, it hurts me to say,
but I'm packing up my bags and going far away

And that’s all I have to say about that. For now.

If you want to join in on the fun, go HERE and link up!

And lest I forget, Happy FRIDAY-FOLLOW! Welcome to my humble bloggy home visitors. Don’t bother taking your shoes off before entering, there’s already enough shit ground into my carpet.

(Not So) Wordless Wednesday: Operation No-Nap

2010-06-23T14:40:00.001-07:00

Nut was having no part of her nap today. I left my cousin in charge of the kiddos while I went to the doctor and when I came home, I was instructed to peek in to Nut’s room. Here’s what I saw:

She’d been in her hamper and pulled out her Thomas pajamas, which she’d then put on in her own special toddler way. Note the shirt inside out around her neck and the fact that she resembles some sort of mermaid with both legs in one pant leg. She also had half her toy box in bed with her. But on the bright side she was quiet, so I guess I can’t complain too much, right?

PINT: An Ode To My Pants

2010-06-22T10:06:00.001-07:00

Click HERE if you want to link up and join in the fun.

A PINT Love Note:

Miscellany Monday: There’s a Snake in My Boots

2010-06-21T22:21:00.001-07:00

In the grand scheme of my cluster fuckness, I completely forgot about my self-proclaimed new favorite thing, Miscellany Monday. Epic fail, Nic, epic fail. I’m going to pretend the clock didn’t just turn to midnight here and join in anyways.

one.

PMS is a bitch and so am I when in the throes of it. Consider yourself warned. Do not make a right hand turn on red in front of me and then drive 15 below the speed limit. I may just have to ram my mommy mobile through your back bumper so that I can reach you in the driver’s seat to sucker punch you in the throat, you non-driving asshat. Way to suck at life.

two.

Dear Disney/Pixar, thanks for making Toy Story 3 so effing sad. I felt like an idiot bawling the last 20 minutes of your animated black hole of despair. I did not come prepared with Kleenex and instead was wiping my face with a napkin that was covered in popcorn butter. Not only was I having to bite my cheek to keep from sobbing, I was also greasy. My 2 year old loudly announcing, “Mama’s sad, Mama’s crying” repeatedly during the aforementioned 20 minute span did not help matters much either. From the laughter, it appears the packed movie theater was entertained by it though.

three.

Do not go see Toy Story 3 if you are pregnant, think you may be pregnant, are PMS’ing, menopausal, emotional, hormonal, sappy, or HAVE FEELINGS. You will cry. If you don’t, you are either devoid of human emotions or you have testicles.

Saying a lot but nothing at all

2010-06-21T21:56:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I wish my blog was completely anonymous, that I could really truly say what I wanted to without worry that my grandma or some gossiping frenemy is going to use what I say against me. Looking back at some of my posts, it’s probably hard to believe I sensor myself at all, but I do. Trust me.

The last year has been, in a word, hellacious. Stressful and uncertain and nerve-wracking. And did I mention stressful? I feel like I’ve aged 10 years in the last 10 months and I’m not blaming this ~~solely~~ upon Nocturnal Baby this time. It’s given me a writer’s block of sorts and I hate it. I have been a journaler for as long as I can remember, but I’m finding it hard at this point in my life to get my feelings out. Or at least without all hell breaking loose. Ugh. I know I’m being really vague, but I promise it’ll all come spilling out in one big verbal diarrhea mess sometime soon.

Did that statement gross anybody else out as much as it did me? Gag. Really, that’s the best description I could come up with?? Totally proves my point about Writer’s Block.

A Wrinkle in Time

2010-06-16T20:47:00.001-07:00

Here’s the thing: I feel old. Not decrepit–sign-me-up-for-an AARP-membership-eat dinner-at-4pm-drive-20-below-the-speed- limit–give-everyone-a-dollar-for-their-birthday old, mind you, but the other kind. More of the Holy-shit-I’m-27-my-own-age-startles-me-sometimes-it’s-like-I-was-21-and-then-blinked-and-I’m-in-my-late-20’s-and-I-have-two-kids-where-the-hell-did-the-last-decade-go old.

Not helping this out is talking with the bestie about our 10 year high school reunion next summer (!!!!!!!). Nor did the grocery store cashier failing to ask for my ID when I bought wine Monday night help. Especially since he was wearing a button that proclaimed UNDER 40? WE CARD! in giant bold effing letters. But the biggest thing of all? The biggest hit to my delicate post-quarter-life crisis ego? I have a wrinkle on my boobs. My boobs! What.the.fuck. I looked down today at the water park to make sure they were still securely in my starting-to-get-too-big swimsuit (cruel how when you lose weight the first place it drops is from where you don’t want it to) and there it was in all it’s glory, shining in the Midwestern sunlight: A wrinkle. It is by no means my first wrinkle. Or even my second or third. I smile a lot so I’ve got smile lines on my face. Whatever. That’s fine. That’s why they make Oil of Olay (and also why my mother put some in my stocking two Christmases ago). All I could think of was those middle aged women with their leathery looking chesticles and I flipped out. I’m not ready for that. It’s bad enough gravity has started to work it’s ~~magic~~ voodoo on them, that if I’m going out and want any oomph, I have to wear not only a push-up bra but also a spandex-like cami with a built-in bra. I don’t need to add wrinkles. The only crease I want is cleavage, like I had when I was 21 and used that to my advantage (i.e. to get drinks). Sigh. To quote my step-grandma, getting older’s a bitch, ain’t it?

How Much is that Doggie in the Window? FREE

2010-06-15T06:43:00.001-07:00

Click HERE to join in on the fun!

EXHIBIT A:

Miscellany Monday

2010-06-14T11:48:00.001-07:00

I interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for a dose of complete and utterly useless babble.

Just found a new blog hop thingy to join in on and guess what? It involves being random! Dude, how did I not know about this before?? Being random is one of my very favorite things to do and this totally justifies my love of verbal diarrhea!

Numero Uno:

I fucking hate cottage cheese. HATE it. And I don’t just mean the stuff that’s shown up on my thighs since birthing children – although I’m not too fond of that kind either. I mean the gross, chunky stuff often found in the refrigerators of the elderly and bins of a salad bar. The container alone makes me wanna hurl: “ Small Curd, Grade A.: What.the.shit. Curd. Who finds that appetizing?? Curd is a derivative of curdled and when I think of that word, I think of spoiled milk. Or baby spit up that’s been sitting in an infant’s belly for a few hours. <Gag> I’m actually gagging. Need more proof?

This is the remnants of what I found in Nut’s sippy cup that fell behind her bed and wasn’t discovered for over 24 hours:

And this is cottage cheese:

Notice the similarities? **Shudder**

Numero Dos:

I’m no picnic to look at in a swimsuit, but after spending many hours at the water park last week, I have to wonder WHAT IN THE SAM HELL IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE??? At least I know nobody wants to see this shit and I cover it up appropriately, why can’t everyone else do the same? Remember those one piece swimsuits from the 80’s/early 90’s that were extremely high cut and had the stomach cut out? Okay, now that you have that image in your head, imagine your grandma in one. Horrifying, right? How do you think I felt seeing that in person on Saturday?? I swear to God, I bet the thing was an antique… the suit, not the lady. Although that wouldn’t be a farfetched assessment either. If you don’t got it, don’t flaunt it!!

Numero Tres:

Keeping in tune with the swimsuit thing, here’s a PSA for the European man who was floating near me on the Lazy River: The short wetsuit was, in a word, weird. We weren’t scuba diving. The heat index was a hundred and fucking two, not like hypothermia was an issue. Swim trunks cost like, what? $10 at Wal-Mart? If you can spend $25 to get into the park, I’m pretty sure you can check your couch cushions for some more loose change and splurge on the trunks (this also applies to the mullet-ed gentlemen I saw wearing denim cutoffs). You certainly were not pale so I’m pretty sure you weren’t trying to protect your delicate skin. You were, in fact, quite bronzed. And here’s another thing – if you’re going to throw caution to the wind and opt for the stupid wetsuit, please make sure it is not an ill-fitting one. They are supposed to be tight, not loose and baggy. While you had quite an attractive face, your DILF factor was cancelled out by the fact that your wetsuit was up your ass crack. That’s never a good look for anybody, especially somebody who I’m pretty sure all the mommies were trying to picture naked. Way to ruin it for the rest of us, buddy.

And that’s all I’ve got! Or at least all I feel like sharing. Once I get going, it’s hard for me to stop. Please resume your normal activities.

You are getting sleeeeepppyyy

2010-06-13T17:41:00.001-07:00

After 9 and a half months of begging/crying/pleading/cursing the skies to get Bug to sleep, would you believe all it took Friday was half a lap around the Lazy River at the water park? One minute he was sitting in my arms splashing, and the next… zzzzzzzzz. I got him his own little tube, laid him in there, and voila! 45 minutes of slumber on his part while we floated.

What. the. hell? Do you think they made waterbed cribs????

Friday Follow: A Parade?!?

2010-06-11T06:59:00.001-07:00

Okay, well not really. But I am joining in on two blog hops today:

Click here for:

and here for:

Apparently in the blogging world, Friday is not just a day for praising God that the week is finally over. Who woulda thought? If we’re just meeting for the first time, welcome! If you want to know more about me, you can read this post because honestly it’s Friday and I’m ~~being lazy~~ short on the time needed to type it all out. On a side note, that’s what happens when you decide to take three kids under three to a water park. Getting ready will take more time than what we will actually spend there…

Leave me a comment if you like what I see so I can go check out your blogs too. Love finding new ones to keep me ~~from doing laundry~~ ~~emptying the dishwasher~~ entertained.

5 Q Friday

2010-06-11T06:25:00.001-07:00

It’s been a while since I’ve played along with Mama M on her 5 Question Friday posts. Usually I don’t get on until late at night and by then I’m too spent to think. This morning everyone is still sleeping so here we goooo….

1. What do you think makes a good friend, or friendship?

Merriam-Webster defines friend as “one attached to another by affection or esteem; a favored companion”. I guess that’s true, but it’s also so much MORE than that. A good friend is someone who is there for you when you need it, who’ll lend an ear without judging, knows that sometimes offering up a hug is better than spouting off advice, someone you can tell anything to. Friendships should not be forced or one-sided. This is one I’m struggling with right now. I feel like a lot of my friends have drifted away from me. I realize that I am a stay at home mom, that I’m not always able to go out and do things, that I can’t always drop everything and talk on the phone. But it’d be nice if I was given the benefit of the doubt or the courtesy of an invite. It’d be nice if plans weren’t made with me and then bailed upon. It’d be nice if the line didn’t go mute as soon as I started talking about what was going on with me, if what I was saying wasn’t met with the Uh-huh’s and Oh yeah’s and Mmm, really’s that let me know the person on the other end really isn’t listening, even though I just sat for 25 minutes and listened to their boy drama and work issues. Maybe a line has been drawn in the sand because I’m a mom and they’re not. Or maybe we just weren’t as good of friends as I once thought.

2. What is the last thing you bought & later regretted?

Pizza. I’m on a diet; why the HELL did I buy pizza?!?!?

3. Have you ever had a prank played on you?

I’m sure I have, I just don’t remember it. Lame, huh? Usually I’m the one playing pranks. I guess I’m a good bullshitter because people tend to believe me when I tell them stupid crap.

4. What is your favorite theme park?

DISNEY WORLD!!!! Man, I love that place. It always bums me out that I live so far away. Or at least far away in driving-with-kids-in-the-car terms. 2 days. Blah. When I was in Florida for my sis-in-law’s wedding last spring, the in-laws and I stopped for one day/night in Orlando to take Nut to the Magic Kingdom. She LOVED it. She was only 14 months old and in no way remembers it, but seeing the look on her face while we were there was great. I am planning to take both the kids sometime in 2012. Cannot wait!

5. Have you ever seen someone else give birth?

Do those Miracle of Birth videos we had to watch in health class (in an effort to dissuade us from having sex) count? If not, then no. And I don’t want to. I didn’t even want to see MYSELF give birth, hence the “No Flip-Down Mirror” rule I instituted in the delivery room.

Alrighty, that’s my 5 q’s. If you want to join in, head on over to My Little Life and do the same! Happy Friday!

An Eye for an Eye, A Tooth for a Cheek

2010-06-10T13:03:00.001-07:00

As soon as the kiddos all went down for their naps, I figured I had two choices. 1) Do laundry 2) Catch up on all the posts on my Google Reader. Needless to say, all my clothes are still dirty, but I am finally all caught up on what’s been going on in the world of my fellow bloggy moms. A lot of you have babies around the same age as Bug. I love to read those since most of the time I am emphatically shaking my head while reading because YES, my baby SOOOOOO does that too! Today though, I came across two posts that kind of bummed me out. Shannon at Webbisodes and Jill at The Chronicles of Corbin both blogged about their babies walking already. Walking. At 10 and 9 months respectively. That’s pretty damn impressive, huh?? Bug came over to check out Shannon’s cute video of her little one buzzing around and started laughing. As I was watching him cruise along the furniture towards me, a terrible thing happened. My inner competitive nature reared its ugly head. When he finally got to where he could get a better look at my laptop, I pointed to the video, and said, “Slacker. That baby’s walking!” He giggled so I repeated myself in that dumb high-pitched Mom voice (you know the one), “Yeah! You’s a slacker! A chunky monkey SLACKER!” He reached his arms out to me in what I thought was a request for a hug. He wrapped his roly poly arms around my neck, opened his mouth, and leaned towards my cheek to give me one of his slobbery kisses. Or so I thought. Do you know that little shit BIT ME?? Clamped right down on my cheek and held on for dear life. All seven of those teeth dug in and it took me screaming my head off for him to finally let go. He laughed manically when he was done too, almost as if to say Eff you, Mommy. Nobody calls me a slacker! Evil, evil infant. I tried to take a picture of the offending teeth marks he left, but thanks to a trip to the water park yesterday, I have so many fricking freckles that trying to find the mark was like some sort of fucked up game of Where’s Waldo,The Ginger Addition. Apparently Bug was repentant because when I came back into the room, he’d put himself in jail.

He looks like he was in there thinking about what he’d done, doncha think?

(Not So) Wordless Wednesday: The World Is Her Canvas

2010-06-09T09:13:00.001-07:00

Nut was wearing a brand new white shirt on Monday so as I sat her down for her corn dog lunch, I took it off and set it aside. She insists that she have “sauce!!” for everything she eats and I knew globs of mustard would wind up on that new pristine shirt. I left her at the table to go upstairs to change Bug and to get the little guy I babysit up from his nap. I come back downstairs and find this:

I yelled, “WHAT did you do that for??!!!”

Her response? “Mama! I paint!!!”

It was one of those times where you want so badly to be mad, but you can’t help yourself and start laughing. The ironic part is, I’m sure if I’d just left her flippin’ shirt on her, she wouldn’t even have been tempted to paint herself with her corndog. Sigh. Never a dull moment!!

Ogres and Oh God’s

2010-06-08T08:37:00.001-07:00

I swear to you all that if I have to watch Shrek one more frigging time, I am GOING TO GO INSANE. Really. Either that or I’m going to down an entire bottle of pills, slam a bottle of Jack, and hope there’s no ogres in the afterlife. I blame myself for creating this monster. I’m sick of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse (because really, one can only watch Goofbot so many times before deliria sets in), can’t take any more Thomas the Tank Engine, or Straw-buh-buh-buh-buh-berry Shortcake so when I saw HBO was showing Shrek a few weeks ago, I grabbed the remote and set the DVR. I admit it was for slightly selfish reasons. I loved (or at least used to) the movie, in fact, I could quote large chunks of the dialogue on demand, and I wanted Nut to at least know the characters somewhat before I took her to see the new movie ~~so I wouldn’t look like a creeper sitting in a children’s movie laughing by myself~~. Big mistake. Huge. We watch it over and over and over again. And then we watch it some more. Oh, and just when you think that’s the end of it? Yeah, we watch it again. Last week she colored her arms and legs with a green marker and proudly announced, “Mama! I Chuck (did I mention her pronunciation sounds a lot like Chuck?)!!” Photographic evidence is below:

Anytime I ask her what she wants for lunch, she responds, “'Donal’s Chuck Happy Meal!” This is what I get for a) getting her a Shrek Happy Meal after we saw the movie and b) asking a 2 year old what she wants to eat. We ran by McDonald’s one Sunday morning to get breakfast and to curb her cries, I wound up buying her a Shrek glass as they don’t make sausage burrito kids’ meals. Since she’s 2, she drinks out of a sippy cup 99% of the time, so the cup was kind of pointless (although it did shut her up). Seeing as how they wound up being recalled, that’s probably a good thing. Only guess who’s been chugging water out of the blasted thing all day long for about 3 weeks now? Yeah, that’d be me. Damn you, Shrek!

Today of all days, I get up, go to turn the TV on for my daily dose of the news (read as: a blissful 30 minutes of television that’s not animated), and…. nothing. I thought perhaps I hadn’t hit the power button before flopping onto the couch so I tried the remote. No such luck. Oh God, are you kidding me?!? I moaned at the ceiling. Because, you know, that’s my way of talking to God. Through the ceiling. What the hell was I going to do on a rainy day with TV and a cooped up toddler? Granted I know the entire movie by heart now, but somehow I don’t think my dramatic reenactment was going to cut it. I went and woke DH up and after his “expert” (cough, cough) three minute analysis, he diagnosed it as “fucked” and stormed off in a huff to Wal-Mart. He came back with a brand new TV for the living room which seemed kind of a rash move, but whatever. He claimed the television in my bedroom was too heavy to move (I’ll give him that) and that “his” TV in the man cave was too big for us to haul up the stairs. That, my friends is a load of shit, since I’ve moved that thing by myself when I was 8 months pregnant and decided to rearrange while in a nesting frenzy. He just didn’t want to give up his big screen, he’s not fooling me. Either way, peace was restored in our household, because you know that in the 30 minutes he was gone, of course Nut woke up and immediately started demanding Chuck be turned on for her viewing pleasure. She got her wish. Twice actually because guess what? We’re halfway through it again. Sigh. I think it’s only appropriate I end this with a Shrek quote, don’t you?

“I’m a donkey on the edge!!!”

Two by two

2010-06-04T18:21:00.001-07:00

I typed this up Wednesday, but when I went to post it my internet wouldn’t connect. Thinking it was just our wonderful service provider, I saved it and waited. Tried again, nothing. Checked the router. It was fine. It wasn’t until our satellite started acting wonky, that I went in the backyard to investigate. Imagine my surprise when I found our genius of a canine trying to rip the DISH cable away from the house. I went to check on the internet cable and found the utility box OPEN with the wires chewed in two. Thank you, Mo, you beast of burden. Here’s what should have posted days ago:

I’ve been all but MIA the last week, but I’m not taking the fall for this one. I’ll blame most of it on my newest arch nemesis, Mother Nature. I don’t know what she has against me (maybe the constant barrage of profanity directed her way..?), but I’m convinced she hates me. Take last Wednesday for example:

Around 3:00, some nasty storms developed near me. A severe thunderstorm warning was issued, expect 60 mph winds, hail, deadly lightning, heavy downpours, yada yada. Not to say that I don’t pay attention to the weather because I do (a tornado hit my house once and pretty much traumatized me but that’s a story for another day). I was just irritated because I was supposed to make an hour and a half drive that evening to pick up something from my brother’s girlfriend and have dinner with a friend and who wants to drive in that shit? Not me. I had just finished drying my hair, was way ahead of schedule on picking up the house, sanitized the toys, had half the dishwasher unloaded, happy kids. Not to pat myself on the back, but I was feeling pretty damn on top of things. Then the storm hits. I have never seen so much rain in such a short period of time in my life. To say it was pouring was an understatement, but I can’t come up with a better description. Torrential downpour? Biblical flooding? Anyways, about ten minutes into the Midwestern hurricane, I hear what suspiciously sounds like rushing water somewhere in my house. We have a tri-level so I ran downstairs to investigate. Holy God, people. We have a walk out with a door that leads to an outdoor stairwell. Coming in on either side of the door hinges was what I could best describe as a waterfall. I had no idea what to do. I looked out the window of the back door and water was probably standing a good three feet in the well. I thought maybe the drain was clogged, so I ran like a bat outta hell into the backyard – in the 60 mph wind, hail, and aforementioned deadly lightning – to see if there was anything I could do to help it drain. There is a metal gate (hello, lightning rod!) around the stairwell so I scaled it, jumped down into waist deep water and started digging. The whole time, I’m praying Please God, don’t let me get struck by lightning, please, please, PLEASE while visions of all the cursing, drinking, and premarital sex I had danced in my head. I was a goner, I was sure of it. I didn’t get much out of the drain, and it was then that I noticed it was actually bubbling so I thought eff it and went back in the house. Looking out my front window, I noticed there was almost a foot of water in our cul-de-sac so Mystery Solved! The rain was too much for the drainage system to handle so it was pushing it back up. After all was said and done, I wound up with standing water in my entire lower level, a wet furnace that caused the blower on the A/C to go out, and a house that smelled like a lake. The final rainfall total? 5 inches in less than 2 hours. WTF? You needed an ark to get around town. Luckily insurance is covering our losses and our air was fixed late Friday. I’m telling you, I would SUCK as a pioneer. I was miserable without my temperature-controlled 69 degree house. So yeah. There ya go. My excuse. Now all I need to do is catch up on my Google Reader. Considering I have a week’s worth of reading and four kids to watch, I should be done sometime around two weeks from never.

(Not So) Wordless Wednesday: Nocturnal Baby

2010-05-26T06:52:00.001-07:00

My 9 month does not like to sleep nor does he think he needs to. He will do all he can to fight the zzzzz’s, including (but not limited to) babbling, screaming like a stuck pig, pulling himself up, crawling around, rubbing his eyes, using his hand to make the wah-wah-wah sound with his mouth, and throwing his bottle. I have been working on sleep training for the last 4 months, but it’s not helping much. I put him in his crib on Monday to cry it out at naptime as usual. He went through all the aforementioned strategies to stay awake and spent the better (or in my case worst because Jesus kid, just GO TO SLEEP!!!) part of an hour screaming his head off. At one point, I heard a giant crash, but since it didn’t break – or increase – his crying campaign, I didn’t worry too much about it. Here is what I found after he woke up from his whopping 35 minute long nap:

Notice anything out of the ordinary? If not, here’s another clue:

The giant crash? He broke his mobile. Snapped that sucker right in two. He has a St. Louis Cardinals themed roomed and that was a Fredbird mobile, was being the operative word of course. All that remained was one poor lone little birdie. He ripped off the other three and the baseball that hung in the middle. Oh the carnage! Little shit, that stupid thing cost $40 and was the first item I tried to order once I found out he was a boy (I say tried because it was on backorder until August). I had big plans to hang it in the corner of his room when he got older since it was so damn cute. Yeah, scratch that one.

Why I don’t go out much anymore:

2010-05-25T12:27:00.001-07:00

So I obviously survived the girls’ night over the weekend. I mean, I didn’t blog about awards from the afterlife yesterday or anything so I’m sure you all were aware I didn’t meet my demise. In case anybody was wondering, here is a brief recap of ~~what I remember~~ the evening:

Beer

Runs in the first inning? Suh-wheeet! High five friend.

More Beer.

Wow, way to blow the lead guys.

Have I mentioned there was beer?

Holy SHIT, our starting pitcher just hit a GRAND SLAM!!!!

High-fiving strangers.

Another beer? Well, I mean if you’re buying…

Wait, ANOTHER one? I still have one in my ha- oh fuck it, I’ll double fist.

Why yes, I would luuuuuuuuurve some Parrot Bay you snuck in!

I don’t even need a mixer, it’s like water!

More runs. Score is now 9-5.

More high-fives.

Here come the All-Star ballots.

I’m not coordinated enough to punch out the holes.

Guys next to us very interested by my rant on how Milton Bradley has a dumb name (it’s a board game company, come on!).

But not as dumb as Coco Crisp.

How did I get another beer in my hand? And where did the rest of them go?

Did we really drink all that Parrot Bay already?

7th inning stretch.

“Take me out to the ballllggaaaammmeee”

Drunk people behind us are very nice.

So very nice.

Yes, we would LOVE for you take pictures for us!

No, I don’t think it’s blurry. It just looks that way cuz we’ve had all those beers:

Last call?

Wait, the game’s over?

Trek to a bar.

Drink more beer.

Do a shot.

Run into girl in bathroom.

“OMG, you are SOOOOOO familiar looking! Why do I know you?”

Discussion involving work places.

Lightbulb! “You’re that nurse who fucked up my pregnancy test!!!”

“I didn’t fuck it up, the lab did.”

“Yeah, no, it was you. But it’s cool. I knew I was pregnant all along and forgive you for the ‘user error’ comment.”

Leave bar.

Take this dumb picture in front of the stadium:

Yes, I’m hugging Bob Gibson’s bronzed leg.

Walk to bars on The Landing.

Dancing.

Drinks.

Lots of dancing.

Lots of drinks.

Friend and I on stage for lively sing-a-long to Alabama’s Mountain Music.

More dancing.

God, I’m parched.

Wake up in hotel next morning.

I’d like to thank the Academy…

2010-05-24T19:56:00.001-07:00

I was gone for a weekend and completely missed the fact that I was given not one, but TWO awards on Friday. Please excuse me while I pat myself on the back. And maybe take a bow. Is it presumptuous to give an acceptance speech? Hmmm.. I’ll refrain. I WOULD like to thank the fellow mommy bloggers who gave them both to me though. Thank you girls!!

First off, from Jennifer over at Circle of Love (go read it, I COMMAND YOU!), comes the Preppy Mafia Award. I went and checked out their site and it’s pretty cool too so give both some clicky love, would ya? I’m still pretty new(ish) to this whole blog world so forgive the what-the-hell-am-I-supposed-to-do-ness about these awards. Apparently I am supposed to answer some questions. Fun for me because I love ~~talking about myself~~ that kinda stuff, so here we go:

1) Who is your style icon(s)?

I’m going to be honest – I don’t have one. Most days I’m doing good to put on a bra. Coming from someone who used to own over 80 purses and switch them out to match her outfits on an almost daily basis, I am pretty appalled at how far the mighty can fall. I’m sure if I had a job that required me to leave the house, things would be different…but I don’t….and these kids don’t give two shits about what I wear. Quick, somebody nominate for What Not to Wear.

2) What is your favorite Socialite lit book?

Um… what the frack is Socialite lit? Hold on, need to Google…

Okay, Google not helping on this one. If my mind is going in the right direction (it happens sometimes), let’s say The Gossip Girl series. So much better than the TV show, btw. If I’m waaaay off base then let’s just say False. When in doubt, always answer False. Or is that C)?

3) Favorite party theme?

Drink Yourself into a Stupor! Can that be a theme? Otherwise, I don’t know. I’m 27, the only themed parties I attend involve franchise-owning mice and down-on-their-luck-princesses.

4) Go in a Halloween costume?

I love Halloween. Back in my younger, wilder, wow-did-I-really-drink-all-that-and-NOT-die days, going out on Halloween Saturday was my favorite day of the year. Now that I’m ~~lame~~ ~~old~~ a mom, Halloween is all about my kiddos. I do secretly hope every year that someone is throwing an adults-only costume party though. So far, it hasn’t happened.

5) Extravagance you cannot go without?

Name brand ketchup. That generic shit doesn’t cut it. And if that’s not extravagant enough for you, let’s say bubble baths. I love ‘em and soak up the suds quite often.

6) Living person you admire?

Ooh, I hate answering these kinds of questions. I always feel so much pressure to be sentimental and give an intelligent answer. Sigh. I’m going to go cliché and say my mom. She left a shitty situation (i.e. my dad) with no money, no plan, and two kids and she made it. Worked like a dog to provide for my brother and I, all the while letting herself go without. Love my momma.

7) Greatest fear?

Something happening to my kids. I physically could not go on without them.

8) Trait in yourself that you deplore?

S0metimes I let people treat me like shit. Which is odd because sometimes I am a raging take-no-prisoners lunatic when it comes to people treating others like shit. I need to work on that.

9) What talent would you most like to have?

Can making nauseating amounts of money be a talent? If not, I’d like to be able to sing. I mean, I sing now but only in the car. And with the TV. And in the shower. And with commercials. And if I go to karaoke. But trust me, nobody really wants to hear that shit.

10) Greatest achievement?

Why, winning this award of course. Duh.

Nah, it’s those two sweet, adorable, little pain in the arse humans I grew!

Okay, I’m going to pass MY Preppy Mafia Award on to……

Is the suspense killing you yet?

Liz over at Tickled PINK. I love the pictures of her little chunkers, who incidentally, is only a few days older than my little chunkers.

Here’s what you have to do:

Copy the above picture and questions. Post them in your blog, answer the q’s, and then pass the love on to a blogger you love. That is your mission, Liz – if you choose to accept it. :)

Wow, that wore me out. All that THINKING! But I’m not done yet, oh no. I’m just getting started. My other award is from Robyn over at The Journey. I love her blog too – and not only because she quotes Don’t Stop Believin’ in her header - so continuing with the do-as-I-say-theme, go check her out too. She’s bestowing upon me the:

It’s got a panda on it so you know it’s gotta be cool. Now on to the questions. Ya know, just in case you weren’t sick of finding out random bits of information about me. So without further ado…

1) Why do you blog?

Because I LOVE to write and I love to talk and this is like a marriage of both. Plus I have a lifelong desire to get published and sadly, this is probably the closest I will ever get. Unless one of you are a literary agent in which case, have your people call my people. I got some things for ya…

2) What are your three best memories?

It all involves my kids so I can’t just pick three. Sorry. Fail!

3) If you had to change your real name, what would you change it to?

I don’t know. I don’t really mind my name too much. It’s Nicole LeAnn by the way. The only thing that bugs me is the way it flows together and sounds like Napoleon. It could have been worse though: I was born two days after Christmas and was almost, like thisclose, named Holly Noelle. Yeah. If that had been the case, I probably would have changed it. But to what? I have no clue.

4) What are 5 things you can’t live without?

My family, my cell phone, the internet, DVR, and Cherry Chapstick. I’m so transparent!

5) What are the four best books you’ve ever read?

This is hard, because I like to read. A lot. In no particular order here’s a few favs:

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott. Because I’ve read it so many times and it always makes me laugh and cry.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Because what woman doesn’t love her some Mr. Darcy? swooooon!

Lucy Sullivan is Getting Married by Marian Keyes. Because she’s my favorite modern day author and this is my favorite of my favorite. It gives me the warm fuzzies.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by JK Rowling. Because well, hell, it’s Harry Potter.

6) Tell me something unique and interesting about yourself.

I can type about 100 words per minute. I can fit my fist in my mouth. I am double-jointed in my pinkies. Guess which one of those used to get me free drinks?

7) What do you like about yourself?

My sense of humor. I like make people laugh. I tend to think I’m funny so please don’t tell me otherwise. Physically, I like my eyes. I have captivating eyes like a… like a unicorn. Or a princess. (10 points if you can Guess That Quote!).

8) What is the best movie ever made?

This is hard. I have several favorites, but I don’t know if that necessarily qualifies them as the best ever though, does it? Let’s humor me and and pretend it does. If that were actually true, that would mean the best movie ever made was actually Anchorman. Or National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. Or Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion. Yup, cinematic masterpieces.

9) If you had a Freaky Friday experience, who would you want to change places with and why?

Barbie. The bitch has everything. <-----I read that on a bumper sticker once. I don’t know. It’s getting late and I’ve been getting sidetracked by babies pooping, and kids waking up from naps, and cats puking in the crib, and dinner, and errands, and now Real Housewives of NJ. I can’t think straight anyone, I’m spent for the day.

10) What is the best part about being a woman?

Boobs. Men are powerless against them.

Okay. Thank God I’ve finally finished. This post really has been about 7 hours in the making. I’m passing the Super Comments Award (and the questions that go with it) on to Carol at Knee Deep in Mommahood because she readily admits in her About Me section that she comments to the point of addiction. And good for her because admitting you have a problem is the first step. Does this award make an enabler now though? Hmmmmm…..

Tonight, tonight

2010-05-21T11:22:00.001-07:00

You know you were born in the 80’s when your own blog post title makes you start singing a New Kids on the Block song. Does that every happen to you? Somebody says a phrase and you just want to bust out in song? Like, whenever I hear someone say “free ballin’”, I get Free Fallin’ in my head. Oddly enough that happens more often than you would think.

But back to Tonight. Tonight is important to me. Tonight is something I planned months ago. Tonight has been giving me butterflies of excitement all day. Tonight is the lifeline that has gotten me through this hellavuh week. Tonight is…. A baseball game. But not just ANY baseball game. It’s a Cardinals game, which equals too much draft beer which equals a lot of laughing which equals more draft beer (and maybe some Malibu we’ll sneak in) which equals going out after the game which equals dancing like a fool. The greatest part of all that? Besides getting a chance to watch a game without Nut yelling, “No morh Birds! Watz Chuck (Shrek)!”, it’s also a Girls’ Night! Stop the presses. Did you read that? A GIRLS’ NIGHT. Girls. No men. No husbands making me drink water because I was nominated to be the DD so they could drink. No kids to chase around the entire stadium (that happened). No one putting nachos down when I stand up to help Nut and then “forgetting” they were there until I’ve sat down on them (that happened too). I get to be Nic tonight. Not Mommy, not wifey, just Nic. It doesn’t happen very often (seriously, me going out of town like this is comparable to El Nino ~ quasi-periodic. If I’m lucky) and I’m going to enjoy the 12 hours or so when it does.

Can ya tell I’m just a wee bit ~~pee your pants~~ excited? I’m sure tomorrow morning when I wake up with that draft beer headache (and missing my kids like crazy), it won’t be so cool, but for Tonight, I’m just going with it. Watch out, St. Louis!!

PS: I’m also probably more excited than rational about the fact that Andy Cohen – the guy who hosts all the Real Housewives reunions and Watch What Happens Live on Bravo – is throwing out the first pitch. I’m pretty much obsessed with those shows. But not in a creepy way. Just in an omg-if-you-turn-off-the-DVR-while-RHONY/NJ-is-recording-I-will-castrate-you kinda way.

I need to bleach the baby

2010-05-20T08:58:00.001-07:00

First off, I need to point out that it’s raining again so a big EFF YOU goes out to Mother Nature today. I feel like I live in a frickin’ rainforest anymore. Well ya know, minus the forest part and all.

Earlier, I took Nut upstairs to change her diaper and persuade her out of her Tinkerbell jammies, leaving Bug down in the living room playing with his toys. I should mention he was out of my sight for all of maybe three minutes. Of course in baby time, three minutes is more than enough to get into something so Bug didn’t disappoint. Here is what I came down to find:

Little guy had been playing IN THE GARBAGE CAN. Queue the gagging. The shrieking. The desire to don a haz-mat suit and hose him down. Have I mentioned I’m a bit of a germaphobe? I probably have the only toddler who sees hand sanitizer and immediately starts demanding it be put on her hands. Needless to say, this really grossed me the hell out. It was too good to pass up though -and he was already chewing on a banana peel for God’s sake, the damage was done – so I grabbed my trusty camera and took these. Good for ~~blackmail~~ the baby book. He was having a grand ole time though, check him out:

Yeah, he is whipping that peel around like it’s a damn party. Too much Miller Lite perhaps?

It was there that the picture taking stopped because after he started doing the helicopter, I about peed myself. And when I say about, I mean I actually did. But only a little. And we’re both cleaned up now.

(Not so) Wordless Wednesday

2010-05-19T10:08:00.001-07:00

I’ve never joined in on the whole Wordless Wednesday thing. Not because I dislike it, because I don’t. I actually really enjoy looking at all the pictures as it requires less brainpower than reading. I just have a hard time being, well… wordless. If you know me in “real life”, you know I like to talk. A lot. Being quiet around me really isn’t an option because I will hound you until you speak. It’s a gift really. That being said, I did snap some cute pics of the offspring that I wanted to share. DH was able to mow our swamp last night and it now resembles a backyard again, albeit a mildly soggy one.

Mother Nature has also cut me a break by giving us not only SUNNY SKIES but also a nice balmy temp of around 72. Jeez, I sound like time and temp. And now your local extended forecast… er. Wait. What was I saying? Oh, right. The pictures. I was getting to that. Since it’s pretty damn gorgeous out, I ushered the kiddos (minus the napping 1 year old) out as soon as breakfast was finished. Granted there was the usual fighting over stupid shit, like dandelions and sticks, but for the ten minutes where they ran around giggling at the simple joy of being out of the house? That? That was bliss.

Being their mother (well for two outta the three), I did my part by stalking them around the yard with my camera. Here’s a few favorites:

My Buggy Boy isn’t too sure about the whole grass thing yet, but he’s getting used to it.

She wanted to climb in this tree. I may or may not be responsible for showing her this new found activity. After I snapped this one, I had a flashback to my senior pictures (only she didn’t fall out of the thing like her graceful mama did). If I was artsy, I would name this something like “Nut in a Tree”. Get it?!?

So there ya have it, my VERY un-wordless Wednesday contribution. Happy snapping everyone!

D is for Damn, nobody comes to my blog

2010-05-18T10:56:00.001-07:00

Guess what? I’m D-listed! Yeeeessssss! High fives all around. And as if that wasn’t enough excitement for a Tuesday afternoon, I’m also joining in on their blog hop. If you keep up with me, you know of my recent new-found love of the blog hop. Clickity click if YOU wanna join in on the fun:

So for those that are popping over from the par-tay, welcome to my world. <----- Side note: It’s weird to say that phrase without a condescending tone in my voice since I use it on DH so often.

I’m Nic. I’m 27, a Capricorn, and I enjoy long walks on the beach. Wait. Wrong introduction. I’ll do a Twitter-esque intro instead. The last few years in 140 characters or less:

Girl meets boy. Boy knocks up girl. Girl needs insurance, marries boy. Girl has girl. Boy knocks up girl again. Girl has boy.

Romantic, huh? Don’t get me wrong, we were planning on getting married anyways, but I like the above version better. Makes me seem edgy, even as I sit here and type this in my baby food splattered shirt. On February 24th, 2008, we had our daughter, known as Nut around these parts. A 7 lb, 3 oz red-headed ball of fire, she hasn’t stopped making life interesting since. Let me just say, hell hath no fury like a red-headed 2 year old. When she was 9 months old, I got pregnant again and on August 23rd, 2009, our son, aka Bug, came screaming into the world. He hasn’t stopped screaming since. Nor has he slept.

On top of the two kids in 18 months thing, I also babysit a 3 and 1 year old. I know what you’re thinking – and you’re right. I’m nucking futs. And so I blog to get through it all – the Terrible 2’s, the naptime destruction, a milk allergy, the not-by-my-choice co-sleeping, the tantrums, the fighting, the over excessive pooing, and the fact that my infant is not only Nocturnal, but also a stalker. I curse (once or twice or twelve at my kids), I yell, and I consider beating my head against the wall. But I don’t. Because at the end of the day, I love them. And I also love laughing at myself. So sit back and enjoy the ride - but please fasten your seatbelt. It’s a hellava ride around here.

Our Christmas card photo from last year. This pretty much sums it up:

I wanna make love to ya, front yard

2010-05-18T07:23:00.000-07:00

Wow, I followed up a week of super blogging with a week of... nada. I could be philosophical and make a paralell between that and how my life goes, but I'll refrain. I blame my absence on two things:

#1 - All of YOU. That's right. It's your fault. I log on with every intention of posting and instead get sucked into your feeds. By the time I read what all of you witty people have to say, the small window of time I have to blog - i.e when the kids aren't crying, fighting, climbing my leg - has passed. So there ya go. Stop being so interesting.

#2 - The rain. The God forsaken, never ending rain. For the last two weeks, we haven't gone more than a day without it. And do you think those few blessed days of non-rain could be sunny to dry up my backyard? Oh no. I've got a fricking pond in my backyard. As a result, it's been pretty boring around here.

Today I woke up at 6:44, very confused by the odd feeling of warmth on my face - wait, that didn't sound right did it? I feel like I should follow it up with that's what she said!. Ahem. Moving on though, it was BRIGHT in my room. Like, blindingly bright. Know what it was? Sunlight. Holy shit balls, Batman. THE SUN!

Here's hoping my ~~lake~~ backyard dries out soon. I've got a couple of toddlers whose stir craziness is making me crazy. Plus, I'd really like DH to be able to mow. Our lawn mower crapped out in the midst of his last mowing and thanks to all the rain, we have the tallest grass on the cul-de-sac. I'm surprised the senior citizens we call neighbors haven't come knocking with torches and pitch forks to banish us for tainting the street of otherwise perfect lawns. Not that ours is really all that bad. No woodland creatures are hiding out or anything. But compared to THEIR lawns, it looks like an effing prairie out there.

Our neighbors seem to have a few favorite hobbies: looking out the window, standing around in groups gossiping, and fucking their lawns. They are obsessed. We bought our house back in November when the grass was all but dead. The first time DH cut it this spring, the neighbor next door remarked, "oh, you're winning the competition now!" Uh, do what?? That's right. They compete with each other. The man across the street takes scissors to the grass along the sidewalk in front of his house. We have a cul-de-sac brush pile. Sprinkling systems. Lawn treatments. A lady was pulling weeds in the rain last weekend. One guy tools around on a riding mower while WEARING AN OXYGEN TANK AND MASK. Call me paranoid, but doesn't that make him some sort of geriatric explosive device? If a man showed me HALF the adoration, love, and attention these people shower their lawns with (no pun intended), I would be putty in their hands. And so would all of you.

ps: It's cloudy again. I give up.

Gimme an A!

2010-05-14T13:08:00.000-07:00

Gimme a D! Gimme a D! No wait.. scratch that. Just give me some alcohol. Or a nanny. Or better yet, a nanny who comes bearing alcohol. Do they make baby Ambien? They should. I'll even offer up Bug for the clinical trial. Hear that, drug companies?? Call me. Please.

Nocturnal Baby doesn't sleep. Ever. I know I bitch about it all the time - and have for almost 8.5 months now - but I'm serious people. He. does. not. sleep. I can't take much more of it, I'm losing my mind at a rather rapid pace. I just don't get it. It's not uncommon for him to go 12 hours with only a 30 minute nap. I put him in his crib to cry it out and he screams like he's being murdered. For long periods of time. He's so fecking LOUD that I can't concentrate on doing anything else. Try to put dishes away, there he is screaming his head off. Try to unload the dryer, there the sound is traveling through the vents and bouncing around the walls of the laundry room. Try to sit down and watch TV, shit don't even bother 'cuz you can't hear it over his crying anyways. The other night I went to take the garbage out and I could hear him when I was in the front yard. With the air on and the windows to our house closed. Did I mention his bedroom is on the 2nd floor too? My mom always asks me why the baby sounds hoarse all the time... uh, because he CRIES ALL THE TIME. I really fear for my sanity at times.

Bite me... but not literally

2010-05-10T20:25:00.000-07:00

Hi, my name is Nic, and my kid's a biter. I can't believe I am THAT mother with THAT child. I don't know how or why Nut does it and I don't know what to do to get it to stop. I've tried time outs, a swat or two on the bottom, and even biting her back. Nothing is working. I know the books will say it's a way for her to show her frustration since she can't fully verbalize what she's feeling, but that's not really helping ease my mind. Today she left two marks on the arm of the 3 yo I watch (prior to today that was the only person she's ever bit) AND chomped down on Bug this evening. At least - if this makes any sense - she was actually "fighting" with the one I watch. She got shoved back into a door, complete with a re-bloodied lip of the wound she got yesterday when she biffed on the sidewalk. All that was over a pink dress up shoe, by the way. Girls! It doesn't make it right but it was provoked so to speak, so I feel like maybe I can control that. Teach her a different way to show her frustration. With Bug though... I don't even know what that was all about. Sibling rivalry, maybe? Whatever it was, I need it to just stop. Any suggestions? I'm at a complete loss here. Help.

A letter to my firstborn

2010-05-10T07:10:00.000-07:00

I'm late on doing this, but yesterday was a busy busy day and besides - better late than never, right? In honor of Mother's Day and the final day of Mother's Day Mania over at My Little Life (link is in the post below this; Blogger is being wonky and not liking my links today).

A Letter to My Firstborn.

Dear Reagan,

It has been 2 years, 2 months, 2 weeks, and 2 days since you made me a mommy. And what a ride those 2 years have been. From the moment I first saw you, I loved you, and I didn't think it was possible, but I love you even more each day. You are my pride and joy, my mini-me, my girl. I love that you look so much like me (except for that red hair!) and that we have so much fun doing girlie things together, like shopping. I promise not to spoil you too much, but it's hard when you ask so sweetly for a "surprise" when we are out. I love your fiery personality. Even on the days where your stubborness tries my patience, I love that you stand your ground. I hope that you take that with you as you grow older and never let others lead you down a path you don't want to go. I love how hilarious you are, how you live to get a laugh out of me. I love how sweet you are, how you wipe my tears away if you see me crying over a book or movie (Mommy is a pretty big sap), and how you are quick to offer to kiss a boo-boo if Daddy or I so much as stub a toe. I hope you keep your creativity and love for anything artistic. I dream big dreams for you, little one. You are a very smart girl and while I don't want you to grow up too fast, I can't wait to see what you become. Know that Mommy will always be here for you, that I will always lend an ear, a hug, a dollar, advice, whatever you need. We will probably not always see eye to eye, but I will never turn my back on you. You make me proud to be your mother every day and I'm so happy God chose ME to raise you. I love you, forever and ever and ever, Nut.

Love,

Mommy

Now go check out some other letters. You'll laugh, you'll cry (I did. I told ya I was a sap), you'll get all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

I Love My Stalkers

2010-05-08T19:29:00.000-07:00

It's 9:30 at night and I'm feeling old and tired and lame, but I am going to muddle through this post before dragging my tired arse to bed. Keeping up his usual tradition, DH left me to ~~stress the fuck out~~ worry about finding something for his grandma for Mother's Day. I suggested a hanging basket ("Don't know where she'd hang it"), a potted plant ("My grandma's old. She just wants to smoke her cigarettes and take care of her dog"), jewelry ("She's old and has nowhere to wear it") and was shot down each time. Finally I took Nut to the mall after dinner and bought a candle. Unoriginal but whatever. I'm tired of freaking out about it. So much for a stress-free Mother's Day, right? It's been a long day and my brain hurts. That being said, let me move on to the real reason for this post: Mother's Day Mania!

I've been having SUCH a good time with that this week, I'm kinda sad to see it go tomorrow. Today's theme is what you love best about being a mother (or an embarassing mom moment but I'm skipping that. I'd like to end the day with the warm fuzzies, not feeling like a jackhole). So here it is, a random - because that's the way I like it - compilation of just SOME of what I love best about being somebody's mommy:

I love my kids. Love, love, love, LOVE them. It's true that you don't know just how much you're capable of loving someone until you become a parent.

I love the way Nut yells, "Mama!" when I walk in the door and runs to me for a hug and kiss, no matter if I've been gone at work for 3 hours or at the grocery store for 15 minutes.

I love the way that Bug is such a Mama's Boy and grabs onto my neck for snuggles.

I love the way Nut says "Wuh ooh" (Love you) right after I give her a kiss at bedtime.

I love when both kids have their jammies on and we all cuddle up on the couch for a bedtime story. I even love the way Bug grabs the book and tries to eat it while Nut screeches at him in a decibal so high that the dog runs away.

I love that they make the house more lively. I love watching them learn, seeing the world through their eyes, and sharing their excitement at the littlest thing.

It's true. My kids drive me absolutely bonkers at times but I can't imagine my world without them in. Don't want to. Not to quote Jerry Maguire, but my babies complete me. :)

I'll end this with a story from Wednesday night. The kids and I ran a couple errands and on the way home, I swung by Starbucks. My 2 year old, who idolizes her mama, started bouncing in her carseat as soon as she saw where we were pulling up too. "Mama, icee too pease?" She calls Frappucinos "Icees" btw). "Peeeeeassse?" Who could say no to that? We came home with our drinks, I put Bug down and then ran Nut a bath. At her demand, I got in too. When DH came home from class, he walked into the bathroom to me and my girl soaking in a tub full of Dora bubbles, me at one end with a caramel Frap, Nut at the other with her Vanilla Bean (i.e. coffee-free) Frap. After he saw us, he started laughing whichh gave me and Nut the giggles. Once DH shut the door, Nut leaned back against the tub just like I was doing and remarked with a smile on her face, "Mama, I happy". She wasn't the only one.

May I interest you in a cup o'poo? and other Q's

2010-05-07T06:44:00.000-07:00

I have been on a blogging roll this week, huh? Go me. Today marks day 3 of Mother's Day Mania. If you haven't been joining in, give a little clicky love and do so. The theme o'the day is 5 Question Friday so without further ado...

1) What is the worst memory of your siblings?

Having three younger brothers, I have a whole plethera of can-you-believe-he-did that/said that/threw that stories. I'm going to brush those aside though, as I'm sure they all have their own can-you-believe-she-did/that/said that/threw that stories about ME. Instead, I'll take the Debbie Downer route and regale you with the tale of how my oldest youngest brother, J (got that?), almost drowned. Uplifting, right?

When I was roughly around 3 years old, my mom worked the 3pm-11pm shift at the hospital. As a result, my brother and I were left at home with our dad. Brief backstory: The man was a raging alcoholic. Most of the time, he at least waited until we were in bed before getting completely shit-faced but there were a few times he drifted off into unconsciousness before we were tucked in. One night, he started a bath for J and me, plopped us in the tub, and left the room "for a minute". That minute stretched on and on and the water got higher and higher. I remember yelling for him to come turn it off but he didn't appear. I hopped out of the tub and went into the living room looking for him. He was out on the couch. I went back into the bathroom and that's when I saw my brother, who was a year and a half at the time. J had slipped back under the water and while trying his hardest to get up, the water was too high and instead he was just flailing about. I screamed for dad but nothing. Not knowing what else to do, I grabbed my baby brother my his hair and hauled him over the side of the tub. He was out of it, but I kinda think the thud from falling over the side of the tub onto the floor knocked the water out of him. I was terrified (and obviously traumatized since I remember it so vividly), but he was okay. That is my worst memory of my sibling, thinking I was going to lose him.

2) What was YOUR naughtiest childhood memory? (Must be something YOU did, no pawning it off on someone else!)

This is a bad one. Looking back at it, it's no wonder my daughter is a little turd. Don't they say you get what you give, tenfold? I seem to remember my mom yelling that at me a lot when I was a kid. lol. Okay, so my mom and dad divorced shortly after the above incident (surprise, right?). She was still stuck working that 3-11 shift so my great-great aunt would drive into town and stay the night with us on the evenings my madre had to work. Let me preface this by saying my Aunt Cil was one of the sweetest most caring and loving individuals I've ever known. She'd give you the shirt off her back, no questions asked. Yet at one point I was six years old and at many points, I was a shithead. One evening my brother and I decided to play a practical joke. We had just read a book in school about practical jokes and I was obsessed with the idea. Somebody pooped. I can't remember who, I just know there was a big ol' floater in the toilet. I got the bright idea that it would be HILARIOUS to scoop the poop out of the comode, put it in a cup, and fill the cup with water. J was then going to ask Aunt Cil if she wanted her a drink, offering her the aforementioned cup o'poo. I must have thought it wasn't going to end well since I had J give her the cup, effectively taking credit for my prank. So the turd is in the cup, I send J on his way, and I wait, giggling, behind the wall. I see J offer my aunt the cup. I see her take it. I see her put it up to her mouth. And then I see her stop dead in her tracks. Thank GOD she didn't actually drink it. Things didn't go as I'd planned after that. Despite my genius idea that J would be the fall guy, Aunt Cil saw right through that one and came looking for me. And let me tell ya, that was one pissed off senior citizen. My sweet, wouldn't-hurt-a-fly aunt picked me up BY MY HAIR and beat my ass with a RULER. The wooden kind. No lie. It was my first (and last) brush with old school disclipline and it was pretty damn effective. Really, though - can ya blame her???

3) Where do you like to go to relax?

Oh, this one is so EASY! I have two places that just melt away my stress: my bathtub (when it is filled up with nice warm water and a butt-load of bubbles) and Target. No lie. Nothing calms me down like going to Target. I make excuses to go there. Like, "Oh hey, the kids are outta wipes. I gotta go to Target" even if, in fact, we have six refills of wipes sitting in the bins under Bug's changing table. Honestly, if it weren't for Target, I'd probably be in a padded room by now. Someone once asked me why I didn't get a job there (instead of my p/t gig at the mall) and I used this analogy: It would ruin it. Like finally having sex with your celebrity crush and then realizing they have the smallest penis you ever -barely, cuz it's soooo tiny -seen. I don't want to taint the fantasy.

4) What was the last thing you won?

$2 on a scratch-off Lotto card. How depressing. Somebody should award me a prize so I won't feel so bad about myself....

5) If you could go on a game show, which would you choose?

This is a great source of frustration for me but Wheel of Fortune. I LOVE LOVE LOVE that show. And I'm good at it. Reeeeaaaaalllllly good. People are constantly amazed by my mad puzzle solving skills. I'm like a Wheel prodigy.

Sadly though, the folks at WOF will never know that. 4 years ago (this weekend actually), The Wheel Mobile came to a town about 35 minutes away for a contestant search. I was elated. This was my chance! But no. Every other self-proclaimed Wheel prodigy within a 100 mile radius showed up. Wearing homemade t-shirts. Carrying signs. It was nuts. The line was longer than hell 10 minutes after the mall where they were holding "auditions" opened. The process went as follows: Stand in line. Get color-coded wristband. Fill out stupid questionaire they would judge you off of. Stand in line some more. Listen to people around you screaming in excitement. Stand around some more. There was a lot of standing. Finally get to the head of the line. Ushered like cattle into a game ring with hundreds of other people sporting the same color wristband. Cross your fingers they drew your questionaire out of a bin. If they did, you played a mini game on stage. They asked you dumb questions. Made you dance. Or sing. Said it DIDN'T MATTER WHO SOLVED THE PUZZLE b/c they were looking for personality. What?!?!? Now I know why they have some real dumbasses on that show though. Needless to say, my name was not drawn and I slunked back to my car for the loooong 35 minute drive home listening to DH bitch about how he'd wasted half his day for nothing. Yeah buddy, how do you think I felt? It was like learning there was no Santa all over again.

Lordy, I typed a book. What can I say, I like to talk. Now for your reading pleasure, go check out some strangers' answers. You know you want to, you creeper....

Happy Accident

2010-05-06T09:52:00.000-07:00

~Today's Mother's Day Mania theme is birth stories, which I'm pretty pumped about because, well, what mom doesn't love rehashing her harrowing tale of popping out a human?

So here we go:

Our pregnancy was not planned. Not by any means. DH and I had been together for a year and a half but kids were not on the radar at that point. I went to Florida with my aunt and cousin in early June 2007. While there, I jokingly told my aunt, "This alcohol just isn't tasting good. Something must be wrong with me." Prior to rearing children, I thought it was an unforgivable offense to waste liquor you see. That was my first clue something was off. The last few days we were there, I felt like crap. I got 2nd degree burns on my shins, got bit by some stupid native bug called the yellow fly and was dealing with a disgusting pussing welt left in its wake. When I got back home, I still couldn't kick whatever I had, so I went to the doctor. They took one look at the freak show that was my thigh and diagnosed me with an infected bug bite. I was given Amoxicillan and sent on my way. Instead of making me feel better, I just felt worse. After about the 15th time of informing DH I felt as though I could puke if I just opened my mouth, he pipes up, "Maybe you're pregnant." I laughed at him. What a man. Pregnant. I assured him I wasn't, it was just the meds upsetting my stomach and besides, I was having cramps so it must be any day now. Before kids, I had a really screwy cycle so I never counted. I just expected it sometime around the 31-33 day mark. I woke up the next morning, June 27th (I remember b/c it was my half-birthday...random) and got into my calendar on my phone. After figuring out when my last AF was, I did some quick math. Huh. It had been 41 days. Weird. I went to use the bathroom and when I saw clean undies, I thought 'eff it' and went digging for a leftover pregnancy test I had from a prior scare. I peed on it (and my hand) and set it on the counter to wash my hands. I look down and PREGNANT immediately pops up on the screen. I stared at it, waiting for the NOT portion to show up. The directions said results would take 3 minutes and it had literally been about 20 seconds. When, after ten minutes, it became apparent that it would not be making an appearence, I started laughing. Like, manically. I'm a really bad inappropriate laugher so I'm always the idiot giggling at weddings and funerals. Once it hit me exactly what the hell I was laughing at, I started crying. Bawling in fact. I HATED having pap smears, how the shit was I going to squeeze a baby outta my lady bits??!!!??

I decided to put the whole birthing thing out of my mind and concentrate on the issue at hand: puking my brains out non-stop. Whoever invented the term "morning sickness" was a God damned liar. I was sick 24/7. I carried a shopping bag in my purse for emergencies and by the end of the first trimester, DH was immune to me whipping it out to throw up while we were out I lost 25 lbs in a month and wound up in the hospital. With as sick as I was, you'd think I would have known I was having girl. But no. I was convinced it was a boy and actually cried on the sono table when told otherwise because I thought I had a defective maternal instinct.

Fast forward to Februrary 2008. I was put out on "take it easy rest" (my ob's words) due to a spike in my bp (my normal 110/60 had jumped to 140/95) so I spent a few weeks bonding with our couch. After a few pointless trips to L&D - I HATE when you call to ask a question and they immediately tell you to come in - , I was still pregnant and dialated to ZERO four days before my due date of the 24th. I was so pissed, I thought for sure I would be pregnant forever. My ob told me we wouldn't even discuss an induction until I was two weeks late. 2 weeks. WTF. On Friday the 22nd, DH and I went out for what was probably our fifth "last night out" meal. I came home, zonked out, and had the best sleep of my entire life. I awoke the next morning and felt something liquidy exit me. My first thought was that I'd peed the bed (I peed myself a LOT that pregnancy) so I got up to go to the bathroom and investigate. Some more trickled out. I honestly did not think it was my water breaking because it was nothing like the tsunami you see on television. I busted out the baby books and got on the internet and both said if it was amniotic fluid, it would smell sweet and not at all like urine. I put on my game face and decided to go sniff my sheets. Too bad when I go into our bedroom though, one of the dumb cats is rolling around and purring like a fucking freak all over the wet spot. I took a big whiff but after that, it just smelled like a wet cat. The books said if it WAS my water, it would stop if I laid down and start back up once I got up. I put a towel down for this test, climbed back into bed.... and fell asleep. I woke up at noon, nothing happened, I wasn't having contractions so I decided it was nothing, made a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats, and settled in to watch a Spongebob marathon. I talked to my mom on the phone a few hours later and after an ass-chewing from her, called the on-call doctor at the hospital. I was told to come in to be checked (big surprise), which really irritated me. I told DH to just drop me off - I was too lazy to hike through the parking ramp - since he had a big paper due the next day and there was no use for him to waste hours of his time when they were inevitably going to be sending me back home. I got dropped off about 3:00. The registry nurse asked if I wanted to be wheeled up, but I was all, "nah! I'm fine!" and waddled my happy ass up to triage. They hooked me up to the monitors, swabbed me to check the fluid and said they'd be back. Mind you I wasn't feeling ANY contractions at this point. Imagine my surprise when they come back at 5:00, interrupt my People crossword puzzle and tell me, "It was your water! Call Daddy, we're having a baby!" I felt so stupid. Do you know how many times I had to explain why my water had broken at 9am and I didn't come to the hospital for six hours? "What were you doing?" "Uhhhhh, watching Spongebob."

They started my pitocen around 6:15 and having to turn it off a few times and give me shots to stop contractions (baby's heartrate was going goofy), I was finally 10 cm dilated around 5:30 am. I was so numb from my epidural - I swear to God, I was hitting that pump button like a damn feign - I couldn't feel a damn thing, so DH and a NICU nurse (they were there as a precaution due to her heartrate) had ahold of my left leg while another nurse had my right *. 45 minutes later, at 6:24 am Reagan Leigh made her grand entrance into the world. She was 7 lbs, 3 oz and 20 1/2 inches long. Full mullet of strawberry blonde hair. She was born on her due date, \February 24th. She was perfect, albeit tempermental - the heartrate issue turned out to be her tugging on her cord in anger at being evicted from the womb - and has been raising hell ever since.

Okay, so there ya go. Now it's YOUR turn. Yeah, you. Go!

*It's just not my birth story without this tidbit: DH and the nurse both failed miserably at the leg holding thing. As soon as Nut was born, DH left to take pics and the nurse just kind of forgot. Once she dropped her hold, my left leg flopped into THE most unnatural position I have ever seen. I actually wound up pinching a nerve and didn't fully regain feeling in my thigh for a few weeks after. True story. If it had happen to somebody, of course it had to be me.

Whoopsie Wednesday

2010-05-05T08:02:00.000-07:00

Being newish to this whole blog thing, I am amazed at all the stuff I DIDN'T know, example of the day being the blog hop. I'm partaking in my first today, losing my blog hop virginity to MY LITTLE LIFE. She is hosting Mother's Day Mania, a 5 day blitz of themed blogging, mommy style, where you can link up with other blogging mamas and read their posts for the day. How cool is that?? First off is Whoopsie Wednesday, the day to confess your parenting blunders, and I have to say I LOVE this one. How else to feel better about your flub ups then to ~~laugh at others' misfortunes~~ know you're not the only one in the Bad Mom Moment Club?

That being said, I present my whoopsie moment:

First, let me set the scene... St. Patrick's Day, 2008. Nut had just turned 3 weeks old and was sporting THE cutest shamrock covered sleeper, complete with a hat that proclaimed LUCKY CHARM across it. DH's grandma's sister's sister-in-law (or something like that) had passed away over the weekend and it was deemed that we were to attend the visitation in a town about 35 minutes away from us. DH and I went back on forth on the best way to save time and get there and finally decided that I would drive him back to work on lunch so I could pick him up when he got off and we could leave directly from there.

Fast forward to 3pm. I get a text from DH telling me he wants to stop by home when he gets off instead. Whatever. I finish getting ready and load up the wee babe to go pick him up from work. When he gets in the Jeep, he looks me over, and says, "Oh. Nevermind about going home if you're all ready. It's not a big deal. Let's just go straight there. Do you have a bag for R?" I told him I had a full bottle and some wipes and diapers in my purse, but not the actual diaperbag. "We should be fine," I told him. Oh how very very wrong I was.

We had no more than walked into the funeral home when we were greeted by my in-laws.

"She looks kinda red in the face, what's she doin? Shittin'?" my ever-eloquent FIL asked. I looked down and he was right.....then I smelled her. Good Lord, the child coulda gagged a maggot. I lifted her out of her carseat, grabbed my purse, and took her into the bathroom. When I walked in and saw our reflection in the mirror, I panicked. Poop. All over the back of my sweet baby's clothes, clear up to her neck. This was my first blowout and I had NO idea where to begin cleaning up the haz-mat that was my child. There was no changing station in the bathroom so I wound up having to lay her on the sink, praying nobody would come in and witness the horror of my shit-covered newborn. I used all the wipes I had and she was still half brown. I used all the papertowels they had in the bathroom and she still wasn't clean. Not knowing what else to do, I WASHED MY BABY IN THE SINK. Seriously. Desperate times call for desperate measures, people. On a side note though, let me just say my actions are precisely why public restrooms gross me out. You don't know what people have been doing in there.

I finally got her all cleaned up and into a new, fresh diaper. It was then that my stomach dropped. I had no diaper bag which means I had no change of clothes. What. the. hell. I tried washing out what she'd been wearing before but that was pointless. With no other choice, I wrapped her up in a receiving blanket, slapped on a bib that said "Beauty Queen" across it and took her out of the bathroom. I handed her over to my in-laws after hearing all about "first time mother" mistakes (thanks people, I already feel like enough of an a-hole) and got in line with DH to pay my respects. A few minutes later, I hear bits and pieces of the conversation of the women in front of me: "Who brought a naked baby to funeral? It's 30 degrees out!" I shrugged my shoulders and looked away. It would be the first (but not the last) time that I didn't claim my own child.

So, there ya go. My Whoopsie moment. Now, who else is going to join in? Come on, all the cool kids are doing it! Go HERE to read about it and DO IIIIIT!

The C-Word

2010-05-04T07:49:00.001-07:00

Sunday morning Nut woke up in A Mood. Capital letters needed. Granted she has been waking up this way for a while now - Terrible 2's, anyone? - but that day she had an especially strong desire to make everyone's lives hell. I'm standing in the kitchen after a particularly brutal fight over candy when she comes in, looks at me with a glint in her eye and says, "Princess cunt." Uhhhhh.... what? Confused, I asked her to repeat herself. Eyes narrowed, she accusingly spits it out again, plain as day. "Princess. cunt."

Many thoughts ran through my head: She must have felt pretty strongly about her desire for Hershey Kisses. Where in the hell did my toddler learn THAT word? And how does she know the practical application of it? Should I scold her? If I make a big deal, she'll use it more out of spite.

Finally I took a deep breath and told her it wasn't nice to use that word and that it hurt Mommy's feelings. I even pretended to fake cry. Making Mommy cry really seems to strike a chord with her. I use it often to elicit remorse from her. Don't judge. I made her sit in time out while I got Bug's breakfast ready and filled up her sippy of milk. After she'd served her time, I told her to come get her drink. She ran into the kitchen, giddy as can be, yelling "Yeeeaaahhh!!! Princess cunt!!!" and pointing at her - what the helll - princess CUP. Cup. Not cunt. Whoops.

&#$@!!!

2010-04-27T07:16:00.001-07:00

Confession: Sometimes I want to cuss out my kids.

Shame on me, right? What kind of mother has to bite her tongue to avoid telling her 2 year old to just shut the fuck up? *raises hand* Me. This mother. I feel as though I should start this post off by saying that I love my kids. Really, I do. I'd kill for them. So please nobody call child services on me. Did that sound like a threat? Hmmmm....

Moving on, the last week or so has been complete HELL with Nut. I thought she was going through the Terrible Two's the past few months and I was wrong. That was just a precursor, an appetizer of shitheadedness if you will, preparing me as she fully morphed into a Brat. Capital B on that title. She whines from the time she gets up until the time she goes back to bed. Every thing I tell her elicits a giant fit. She now spends most of her free time rolling around on the floor screeching because of something completely unreasonable, like the fact that I can't snap my fingers and make Barbie fruit snacks appear in the cabinet.

I've always been pretty good about watching my mouth around her. I'm quite foul-mouthed when I want to be (and sometimes when I don't want to be) and having kids has helped me to curb it. Since I babysit, I don't drop a single F bomb, shit balls, God damnit, or what the hell all day long. No need to expose other's offspring to that. But when those kids go home, I have found myself having a hard time lately. A really hard time. Take this exchange from yesterday evening for example:

scene: Living room. Nut is dragging around a Little Mermaid beach towel, demanding I put it on her like a blanket. Her brother (who is sick) is asleep in my arms.

R: "Mama, mermay towel. Mermay towel! I cold!!"

I put towel around her shoulders.
She immediately lets it fall off.

R: "Maaaaaaammmmaaaaa! Towel! Towel! I cold! Mermay towel!"

Me: "Shhhh! Your brother is asleep! Come here and I'll fix it!"

R: "Waaahhhhhh!!!"

Stands 2 feet from towel, pointing and wailing.

Me: "Be quiet right now and bring me the towel."

R: "Waaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh! MERMAY!" insert bloodcurling shriek. "Waaaaaaaaaaah!!"

Me: " Your legs aren't broken. Right now, bring me the God damned towel young lady. I can't get up, your brother is asleep."

Throws self to ground and rolls around kicking legs and shrieking. Towel now so close to her, she is rolling on top of it.

Baby starts to stir and cry. R keeps screaming.

Me: "Okay, seriously! Quit fucking screaming, bring me the fucking towel and thanks a fucking lot for waking up the baby!!!!"

R laughs manically, gets up, and goes to play with something else.

*sigh* Bad mom. I think she does it on purpose, just to see how far she can push my buttons. I just hope this phase of the Terrible Two's is almost over with and she goes back to her aforementioned more manageable fits. I'll wind up an alcoholic - one who cusses like a sailor - if she doesn't....

Quit stalking me (subtitle: I liked it better when you just laid there).

2010-04-21T12:34:00.000-07:00

A wise person once said, "You spend a year wishing your baby would walk and talk and the next 17 wishing they'd just sit down and shut up." I'm not sure who exactly said that or where I actually heard it but it was the most philosophical observation ever. They should print it in greeting cards. Can you imagine opening that up at a baby shower?

Bug has become my stalker. A full on don't-turn-your-back-because-surprise!-I'm-there-I-will-follow-you-wherever-you-go crawling creeper. He's such a stealthy baby too. I don't even hear him coming until I back up to shut the dishwasher and Whoa, there's a baby behind me! One minute I'm trying to choose a rinse cycle, the next I'm flat on my ass writhering in pain. I have a subscription to Glamour and while they said accessories would be big this spring, I don't think they meant 21-lbs-of-baby big. But alas he is attached to my pant leg wherever I go now. It's cute for a while, but after roughly hour six of it, I'm done for the day. It has also sparked a vicious fit of jealousy in his sister, who then has her own meltdown until I pick both of them up. At the same time. Thank God I have child-rearing hips to support their combined 50 lbs of child.

I took the kids to the park in our subdivision today, all four of them. They love going but I swear to God, I'm exhausted before anyone's even set a light up sandaled foot on any playground equipment. Today's outing was pretty typical and went as follows:

Step 1: Put shoes/Pull-Ups/jackets/clean diapers on kids
Step 2: Make bottle for Bug to pack in diaper bag
Step 3: Pack aforementioned diaper bag with diapers, wipes, drinks for kids
Step 4: Sniff armpits because I can't remember if I've put deoderant on
Step 5: Can't tell because nose is stuffed up from allergies and have no sense of smell
Step 6: Take allergy medicine
Step 7: Switch shoes that one or both toddlers have put on wrong feet
Step 8: Take Bug and 3 yo I watch to car
Step 9: As lifting Bug into his seat, get a clear whiff of myself
Step 10: Usher kids back into house for Mommy pit perfume application
Step 11: Take Bug and 3 yo BACK out to car
Step 12: Load both in seat. Go back for Nut and 1 yo I babysit
Step 13: Get 1 yo strapped in very back carseat, pull Nut out of driver's seat she's climbed into and get her buckled in her carseat
Step 14: Where are my keys??
Step 15: Bug starts howling
Step 16: No, really, where did the damn keys go?
Step 17: Dump out entire purse. No keys
Step 18: Nut starts screaming "Go bye-bye in booful (beautiful) car! Go bye-bye!!!"
Step 19: WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY KEYS???
Step 20: Search under seats and in very back of car. No keys
Step 21: Phone rings, my mother. Needs me to book a flight for my step-dad.
Step 22: Find keys. In pocket the whole time.
Step 23: Turn car on, blinkers, wipers, and cruise control all turned on thanks to Nut
Step 23: Finally driving. Out of habit, leave my neighborhood and don't realize it until I'm 5 minutes away
Step 24: Go by Starbucks since I'm almost there anyways
Step 25: Get to the park, praise Jesus!
Step 26: Start unloading children
Step 27: Realize I've left diaper bag at home. Pray nobody poops.
Step 28: Kids are playing, I'm parked on a picnic table with the baby, trying to look up flights for my parents.
Step 29: Keep smelling something foul, checking Bug to see if he's dropped one. No poop.
Step 30: Daughter decides to run into an evergreen tree to hide. Won't come out no matter the bribe or threat.
Step 31: Go fetch daughter out of tree. Am now sticky and sneezing.
Step 32: Chase 1 yo that decided to crawl around to make sure he's not trying to eat rocks
Step 33: Tries to eat rocks
Step 34: Puts 1 yo in stroller to round up toddlers to go home
Step 35: Look down and realize the stench I've smelled the whole time was not from child or diaper but decaying rabbit under the picnic table I'm sitting at
Step 36: Haul ass away from table and threaten/bribe Nut until she gets off slide
Step 37: Make it back to car.
Step 38: Load up kids and stroller.
Step 39: Drive home
Step 40: Repeat Steps 11-15 in reverse
Step 41: Yell at Nut who is now sitting in wagon yelling for a walk
Step 42: Finally, finally, FINALLY get all kids in the door
Step 43: Open fridge and look longingly at Bud Light Lime.

It's time like these I wonder how - and why - people with a lot of kids go anywhere. Blah.

I run, I run so far away

2010-04-19T05:53:00.001-07:00

My friend told me last week about someone she knows that ran a half marathon nine weeks after giving birth. I'll let that sink in. Nine weeks. 9. As in 63 days. Nine weeks after I gave birth, I believe I spent a majority of my time fantasizing about running my car into a pole to escape Bug's non-stop crying. Or slitting my wrists. Or hiring a nanny. Whichever it was, I was definitely NOT out training to run 13.1 freaking miles. Even now, almost 8 months later, the only time I use the word "run" in a sentence pertaining to me is the following:

"I'm going to run to Target"
"Can we run the kids by your mom's for a few hours?"
"If you guys don't put a cork in it, I swear to God, Mommy's going to run away and never come back."

Etc, etc. And of course I don't mean it literally. My ass isn't running anywhere. I'd probably vapor lock. Ya know, more power to that chick, but come on. Quit making normal mamas look bad. On a daily basis, I cook, clean, do laundry, all the grocery shopping and errand running (there's that damn word again), change diapers, bathe kids, haven't slept in years and some nameless faceless stranger I don't know made me feel lazy. Bitch.

How about we celebrate the REAL accomplishments of a mother of a 9 week old? You washed your hair today? High five!! You got out of your pajamas before noon? Or at all? You go, girl! You put on makeup? Holy shit, you're Super Mom!!

I've consoled myself with the certainty she is one of Those Mothers. You know the type. The my-child-doesn't-eat-sugar-or-white-starch-I-make-my-own-organic-babyfood-what-do-you-mean-you-don't-breastfeed-named-my-kid-something-pretentious-like-Buffy type. I bet she enjoyed being pregnant too. Loved every minute of it. I bet she didn't break a sweat during labor. I bet she didn't use any pain meds. I bet she does baby yoga and wears her kid around in one of those stupid looking papoose things I can't figure out how to use. I bet she only uses organic biodegradable recycled diapers and wipes her kid's ass with aloe vera leaves. I bet she blogs about how every minute of her newborn's life is joyous, a blessing, and that the little angel never cries, is the happiest infant she's known (and the most gorgeous of course), and that while she's gone from a size 0 to a size 2, she's loving her new post-baby body. Hey lady - eff you.

With Bug, I hated the last ten weeks of pregnancy. Hated them. Counted down the days until that glorious due date. Bawled. Frequently. Told DH I couldn't do it. Told my OB I couldn't do it. Prayed that I would go into labor at 37 weeks once he was fully cooked. Tried to bribe the aforementioned OB to induce me once I hit that mark. Did convince him to induce me a week early.

I went days without washing my hair after he was born. Days. Plural. I think the record was 5.

I once spent 6 days in the same pajamas.

I went most days on 2 hours of sleep.

He cried non-stop; I cried right back.

I ate lots and lots of Reese's PB cups out of stress.

I didn't lose the ten pounds I'd gained during pregnancy, I gained ten more.

The thought crossed my mind (more than once) that if I killed DH, I could use insurance money to pay for a nanny. It wasn't like he helped me anyways.

I don't boil my baby's bottles.

I give him formula.

I don't use nursery water, I use plain ol' - GASP - tap water.

I feed him babyfood straight out of a jar. Sometimes it's generic.

I use Pampers. Many, many, many Pampers. Between the stench of his poop and my purchasing those disposable diapers, together we are destroying the Earth. Alert Al Gore.

I don't wear my baby. I tried it once and it sucked. It was hot and uncomfortable and hurt my back.

Sometimes when he cries and I need to unload the dishwasher, I turn Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on for him and he stops. That's right - my baby watches TV.

But here's the thing - we're okay. Both of us. I may not be sprinting across any finish lines any time soon, but the fact that I make it through each day unscathed, with happy and healthy kids is more than enough for me.

Photo Friday

2010-04-16T09:15:00.000-07:00

Or maybe for alliteration purposes, Foto Friday. Either way, pictures for your viewing pleasure! Or maybe just for mine. Regardless, here we gooooo....

Bug was having a grand ol' time in the bathtub the other night, almost as good a time as Nut and I had covering him in bubbles.

The canine genius that we call our dog ate Nut's pink soccer ball. She found the deflated inside portion of it and, creative girl that she is, wore it around the backyard as a hat. For hours. It kept me entertained, lemme tell ya. Such the fashionista, that one.

That's all I've got right now. Bug started his day off by rolling out of my bed and hitting his head so I'm being my usual spastic self and keeping a close eye on every bit of his behavior to make sure he's acting normal. Or at least normal in his standards. I promise a real post later today. Or tomorrow. Okay, sometime this weekend.....

Step away from the WebMD

2010-04-08T07:31:00.000-07:00

I vividly remember DH coming to me one evening not long after Nut was born to address his concerns about her sleeping: Was she getting 12 hours a day? Every day? Was I sure? No, was I really REALLY sure? Like, 100% positive? I assured him that she was, more than that in fact, and asked him why he was so concerned about it. He told me he'd read an article on line that said babies who get less than that amount are more at risk for psychological and behavioral problems. Whether or not this is true, I don't know. I filed the info away in the Doesn't Apply to Me folder in my brain and didn't think of it again until recently.

Nocturnal Baby is back. With a vengeance. Never in my life have I met a baby who sleeps so little yet goes so much. Ever since he started learning how to crawl, he's stopped sleeping. He doesn't even make up for it with naps. It's the oddest thing. He gets up around 8am --- and we all know he still gets up two to three times a night --- naps for maybe 45 minutes to an hour the ENTIRE day and then fights bedtime until 9-9:30 at night. Every time he starts to doze off, he pops up on all four's and starts trying to crawl around. It's driving me INSANE. He's all over the house, rolling, scooting, and belly flopping along so I know he has to be tired. I thought during those early days of him never sleeping that surely, SURELY it was only temporary and that I would be getting some much-needed zzzzz's soon.... but no. That was almost 8 months ago and he's yet to sleep through the night. Yet to take two good naps during the day. Yet to let me feel like a human being and not a zombie most of the time. Don't get me wrong, I love that he's so entertaining and active, it's just.... SLEEP damnit! That being said, let me get back to the original point of this story - yes, surprise, it actually has one.

I jokingly told DH that I think Bug will have ADHD. He agreed. I jokingly mentioned it to someone else. And then another person. And another. They also agreed. Suddenly it didn't seem to be such a joke. So I did what any neurotic hypochondriac with the world wide web at her fingertips would do: I googled it.
"Early signs of ADHD in infants" "Common characteristics of infants with ADHD" "ADHD + infancy + signals"

That was a dumb idea. Dumb, dumb, DUMB. Here's what I pulled up (courtesy of adhdcentral.com):

"According to ADDResources, some of the signs are:

More squirmy
Less able to cuddle
More impatient
More easily frustrated
Require more attention
Have more colic
Have a more difficult temperament"

Fabulous. Everyone tells me how hard Bug is to hold, how they can barely keep him from squirming right out of their arms. DH's grandma flat out refuses to hold him because she's scared she'll drop him. Requires more attention? Go back and read my previous posts, I've often referred to him as the neediest little shite I've ever met. Colic? Dear God, the horror of the nightly four hour screaming episodes are still fresh in my memory. Difficult temperment? Check! Impatient? Check!

As if that wasn't enough to send me into oh-shit mode, there was also this little tidbit:

"In previous support groups for parents, some also indicated their children, later diagnosed with ADHD, slept less or took only short catnaps in comparison to children that were not diagnosed with ADHD."

Catnaps?!? That's all this baby ever took. Crrraaaaaap. And so I came to the illogical conclusion that my child has ADHD. I know, I know, it's overdiagnosed, he's not even 8 months old, I'm being a spaz, blah blah blah. Hence the illogical conclusion statement. Really deep down I know I'm being an idiot. You don't have to tell me that. You'll probably think it though and that's okay. I'd have to agree. And honestly if there is some slim chance that I'm right and not just being an overly dramatic bored mama with nothing better to do than self-diagnose my kids with stuff, well then we'll deal. There's a hellava lot worse things that could happen.

I ain't no trick pony, Ma

2010-04-07T08:06:00.000-07:00

My kids will never have to worry about me putting them in child acting classes. They NEVER do anything on command, in fact I think they secretly relish stopping what they're doing the second I pull out the camcorder or camera (and of course immediately resume it once I turn them off). That being said, I have been trying to capture Bug's "crawling" for the last week or so to no avail. He gets distracted by the TV, a piece of lint, you name it. I finally got a short video of it yesterday, although not without a couple of failed attempts first:

Mmmmm, yummy right? But finally, here we go:

SUCCESS!! He is all over the place now, I wish I could get better video of that seal lion flop he does but for now this is it.

April Showers?

2010-04-06T06:45:00.000-07:00

Today I have been peed on not once, not twice, but THREE times. Not exactly the April showers I had in mind. Changing boys' diapers: alway exciting.

Yesterday was an interesting day with the dog. Even though he is half border collie, I don't think the brain portion came from that breed. Keeping in line with the general stupidity of our pets, I'm afraid to say Mo isn't the brightest of all animals. Sweet as can be, but somethin's not clicking up there. Yesterday morning I let him out in the backyard for his usual 30 minute morning bathroom break. I was in the kitchen making breakfast when out of the corner of my eye, I see the dog staring at me. Through the window. He'd climbed up on the patio table. You're probably thinking, Well, that took some smarts, which would be true... if he could have figured out how to get back down. I had to go get him and put him back on the ground. Later he wanted out again. After about 15 minutes, I hear a riiiiip and look out to see the dog eating the screen off the back door. We slide that all the way over when he's out soley to discourage him from pawing at it or chewing on it, but it didn't stop him. It kept getting better after that. He was in the house with me for a few hours during the afternoon while it stormed. When I let him back out, he ran around like a banshee and got soaked. The next time I checked on him he was rolling around in the sandbox chasing his tail. He wouldn't stay out of it after that. How he gets the lid off, I don't know. Perhaps the icing on the cake though was when we left him the backyard to go run a few errands. We were gone about an hour and when we came home, we found that he'd torn the entire back screen door OFF the hinges and was dragging it around the yard.... I'll just let that info digest for a minute. DH has had it. He wants him gone, but that ain't happenin, I've got news for him. If it comes down to him or the dog, well... peace out honey.

This and that

2010-03-30T08:12:00.003-07:00

Okay, so the mobile upload was a success. Yay! Isn't that a handy little tool? Probably won't do anything to help the arthritic thumb I swear years of texting has given me though. I think I've brought this up before, but I often wonder if I could sue my cell phone company for the aforementioned text-induced thumb injury...? My thinking is if that one lady famously won millions against McDonald's for being an idiot and spilling coffee on herself, why couldn't I get some monetary compensation for my jacked up thumb? I won't ever do that of course, but mark my words, someday somebody will walk away a millionaire from a suit like that. Watch your back, Verizon!

Bug is still working on crawling. Right now he gets up on all four's, rocks back and forth, and then lunges for whatever it is he's trying to get. Like a puma or something. It's cute, although I know it's only a matter of time before he'll have it figured out and I'll be baby proofing everything. One downer about living in a tri-level is the amount of baby gates I'm going to need. Those things are ridiculously expensive! $50 for a damn gate? Maybe I should just get a leash and tether... joking of course. Don't report me.

Speaking of our house (kind of), we got our new bathtub and surround installed yesterday. The caulk wasn't dry enough for me to enjoy it last night so I am salivating at the prospect of lounging in that tub tonight. I swear it's so deep, I need floaties. Nut was soooo excited when they brought the new tub in - clapping, shouting, "Yay!!!" - until she got up from nap and saw the old tub was gone. She immediately threw herself to the ground and started wailing, "Noooo!!! My bath! My bath!" I guess she had more of an emotional attachement to the POS than I thought. Tonight's bath time should be interesting. She has this weird thing about foreign bathtubs, FREAKS OUT in fact, so I'm sure I'm in for it. I may have to get in with her tonight to ease her fears. Or maybe that's just an excuse for me to get in a warm bath twice...

2010-03-30T08:12:00.001-07:00

Testing, testing.... Mobile uploads. Fingers crossed for success!

The best cure for whine is wine

2010-03-26T12:45:00.001-07:00

It has been another One of Those Days today. Nut fought sleep last night and was still up at midnight singing about choo-choo's. My hatred for Thomas the Tank Engine makes me blame him. I was hopeful she'd sleep in today, but no. She was up at 6:30 before my alarm had even gone off. And yeah, she's in about as good a mood as you would think. Bug is about as pleasant today also. He is trying his damnedest to crawl on all four's, but all he is succeeding in doing is pissing himself off. He gets up, rocks back and forth... and then goes backwards. And then cries about it. It has been one hissy fit after another all afternoon so aside from his brief nap, I've been listening to him and his tearless cry for about three hours. It got old after five minutes. To top it all off, I caught a plague from one of the three kids that had the sniffles and had to go to the doctor this morning. It's just a sinus infection, but wouldn't you know tonight is my much-anticipated night out? My MIL is keeping the kids overnight and I'm supposed to go out to see a band with a few friends. I'm going come hell or high water, but I guess I just won't be able to taste my beer. That may not be a bad thing though, I guess I could drink the nasty cheap crap and not know the difference. Natty Light? Why yes, I think I will. Can't taste it anyways. And with that, I better get going. Bug is trying to use Mo as a launching pad to push off of and instead just rammed his toe in the dog's arse. I need to disinfect his foot now....

Picture Post

2010-03-24T18:17:00.000-07:00

A glimpse into what I go through every afternoon when Nut is in one of her anti-nap moods:

EVERY afternoon. It makes me tired just to look at it. How it doesn't exhaust her is beyond me.

(Wo)man's Best Friend

2010-03-24T05:45:00.000-07:00

You would look at my life and think I'm pretty busy. I have a 2 year old, a 7 month old, and babysit an 11 month old and almost-3 year old. I am on my feet most of the day - exception being the blissful two hours when the kids nap - and generally run around like a chicken with my head cut off. You'd think I wouldn't need to add any more excitement around my house. You'd think. Yet.... we got a puppy. I know, I know, I've heard it. What the hell was I thinking? And to tell you the truth, I don't know. If I was going to get anything it should have been a maid. Or a nanny. Or both. But yet, we got a dog. I should probably have my head examined. Honestly though, we lucked out. He's a GREAT dog. Potty trained, which is more than I can say for my daughter. Half border collie, half beagle so he won't be too big, but not small enough to fit in a purse and be annoying. We adopted him from the Animal Protective League so I consider it my good deed for the week. He is 3 months old and was being fostered at a home with a 4 year old child so at least he's used to kids. So blogging world, meet Mo:

March'in Right Along

2010-03-18T12:22:00.001-07:00

How is March almost over?? I turned 27 and it's like somebody hit the fast forward button. I'm going to wake up one morning and be 30, I swear. I was looking at a picture taken the other night during my brief venture out for drinks and dah-yum! I look old. Or maybe the friend in the picture just looked young. Either way, yikes.

Tonight I have to go to work. To be quite honest, I have no desire to go hang shirts up for three hours, but it's the only time I get away so I guess beggars can't be choosers in this situation. What I'd really like to do is sneak away someplace quiet with a cup of coffee and my laptop and WRITE. And write and write and write. I have so much going on in my head right now that I want to get out on paper (or Microsoft Word rather) before I forget it, but every time I open up something I've been working on, mama duty calls. The next great American novel could be completely wasted by too many diaper changes...... Well, not really. I don't expect chick-fic, as much as I absolutely adore it, to be considered a great American novel any time soon. It sounded much more dramatic when I phrased it that way though.

In case it's not obvious, this is a completely random entry today, but whatev. I'm in one of those moods. I've decided to start labeling my posts. Only problem is, I don't really know what to label them. Oh and I don't quite know what that will do, other than make my blog pop up on a search if someone types in say... baby poop or something. It feels weird to put my blog "out there", so to speak, but I feel having one of these is nothing if not self-indulgent, so why not admit that I hope I get followers? There. I said it. Tell your friends. I want followers!

Bug keeps dive bombing off the couch. It's becoming mildly concerning. I say mildly because I don't leave him up there unattended and have thus far, successfully caught him almost every time. Almost. There was twice I missed. Oops, bad mom. He is starting to low crawl, which is pretty exciting to the both of us. I know once he really gets the hang of it, he is going to be all over the place. When he's trying to low crawl, he gets those little legs going so fast, it looks like he's carpet swimming. I'm sure Nut will be pissed once he starts getting more mobile. They're already starting to fight over toys, God help me. There always seems to be a war over Thomas trains. Stupid effing Thomas. One more reason for me not to like that blue bastard and his equally annoying friends. Nut gets so OUTRAGED that the baby dare take one of her precious, overpriced, die cast metal engines, she emits the loudest, shrillest shriek I have ever had the displeasure of subjecting my ear drums too. I swear to God, she sounds like a pissed off chimpanzee. You know the sound..... Now imagine hearing it twenty times a day..... Now you know why I like my wine.

Well the time has come - i.e. nap time for the kiddos - for me to wash my hair so I'm ready for work tonight. If you lasted through all that blabbering, wow. Pat yourself on the back. A for the day.

Naptime Meltdown

2010-03-16T13:04:00.000-07:00

Please excuse me while I scream. I need to vent and this is my only outlet.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Ahem, I feel a bit better. My kids are trying me today. And when I say trying, I mean their goal is to drive me fucking insane. And it's working. Bug won't nap, but is so tired he's done nothing but fuss and whine for the last hour and a half. I finally gave up and put him down on the couch with his pillow and blankie and instead of giving in to his drooping eyes, he keeps fighting it and trying to divebomb off the couch head first. Nut isn't doing any better with nap time, I swear to God, I'm about to rip my hair out from her. So far in the last 2.5 hours (yeah, that's how long we've been going around and around today), she has taken every toy out of her toybox, dumped her hamper, threw her entire laundry basket of clean clothes around the room, pulled shit out of her dresser, took all the plastic bins out of her cubby (after dumping them of course), and - my personal fave here - gotten ahold of a marker and colored all over her fecking wall, bedroom carpet, outfit, and baby gate. I asked her where she got a marker from (I hide them and they are only used under supervision) and she leads me to her sock drawer where she's stashed all kind of crap: Chuck E. Cheese tokens, a necklace of mine, Scotch Tape, three markers, and a screwdriver. WTF? She has bags under her eyes, is grumpy as can be, but is still upstairs raking havoc. I need to pick up and sanitize the toys, get my kitchen cleaned up, and quite frankly, put on a damn bra. Bug puked down my shirt earlier so I ran down to the laundry room to change only for the doorbell to ring ten seconds earlier. I didn't have any clean ones in the dryer so I answered my door (to keep from the bell ringing again and waking the kiddos I babysit)and talked to an AT&T salesman for ten minutes in a smelly shirt while my girls hung free. And it was kind of cold. *sigh* It has been One of Those Days. Capital letters intended. Thank God it also coincidentally Wine Night, which is a great remedy for One of Those Days.

Last Call

2010-03-14T21:23:00.000-07:00

So Thursday night after I had put in my weekly three hours of retail slavery, I was - gasp! shock! stop the presses! - supposed to meet up with a few friends for a couple drinks at a going away party. No big deal, right? I should have known that could (and would) never be the case. To start off my evening, DH and I were in a spat. I left for work pissed off, stewed about it even more while there, and then after another heated exchange on the phone while en route downtown, well... you add alcohol to that mix and see what happens. I also uttered the phrase, "I won't be home too late." Why I said that, I don't know. I NEVER go out, never do anything without at least one of the kids with me, so why did I open my mouth and speak those words? He knew it probably wasn't true, I knew it probably wasn't true, so why did I say it? To make a long story short, shots were purchased, shots were drank (I wasn't gonna say no, they cost money!), and I wound up a hot mess. Luckily since my tolerance is pretty low (I was buzzed one beer in), I didn't have a hangover, but I will say my brain hurt for most of the next day. I think it's official though: I can't hang anymore. My young, cool, partyin' days are over and gone. While I had a blast, I was much happier to sit home yesterday and read a book than I was to go out for St. Patty's like my friends did. How did I get so old so quickly? I used to be able to drink people under the table, want to be out every night, and go on two hours of sleep the next day. How quickly the mighty fall. Ah well. It was nice to be Nic for a few hours, not Mommy, but I'm still stickin' with the latter.