Pet peeves

I love that cute thing you do where you ask me to text you and you never respond. Gah! Adorable. Oh and that thing where I send you a paragraph and you just say "k", it's like you want to get slapped. Also, when I send you important questions that are time sensitive and you never respond and then tell me about how slow your day was and how you ran errands after work; priceless..
I love how people forget who you are until they need you. And how I got yelled at by my neighbor for living my life because she needed me to drive her to her appointments for the day but I wasn't home. It's also precious how complete strangers literally push me out of the way at the mall like I'm invisible; how do you not see a fat girl with two babies and a stroller?!
I love how cashiers dislike seeing me because my family is temporarily on government assistance so we are not as good as the rest of the world; I guess I'm supposed to let the kids starve or dumpster dive at McDonald's. I love how cars honk at me because I am driving the speed limit then flip me off as they pass with my kids in the car. I love how people drive in a merging lane and try to push me into oncoming traffic when I have two babies in the car. What I love most is that I am not allowed to say I hate these things because apparently that makes me a negative psycopath who is off her meds and needs a shrink.
So I love worship and adore that the holidays make people act like intolerant, hateful, butt munching lunatics! Merry Fucking Christmas! Hallelujah! Holy Shit!

War!!!!

We were getting ready for bed and I saw him at the window looking at me! When our eyes locked he ran and hid for cover but I chased after him with a broom. Then he came after me and I ran screaming through the house and he escaped. I hate mice. Fuck mice! I ran out at 11 pm and bought the meanest looking death machine Walmart had. The cashier told me peanut butter works great and thanked her explaining this will be my first kill. I called my mom and told her. My intentions are to stay up till I hear a snap and dispose of the body. It's in the kids bathroom. Why there?! I could be ok if it was my room. But not with my babies. It must die. My boys can't see it though...they love Mickey mouse and chuck e cheese. I keep envisioning the scene in Ratatouille where the roof falls in and mice are everywhere. I hate mice. Fuck mice. I feel like Rambo. I would be so empowered with a gun right now.
I was always a peace loving hippy but now I'm filled with bloodlust! You don't fuck with my babies.

Bootyful

Ok. I have never been a twig. Even when I had an eating disorder I was only a size 8. I am built like a tank. A very sexy tank that shoots glitter and roses but still a tank. Two babies have given me more curves. I think some curves are nice, they tell a man where to put his hands. However Victoria's Secret doesn't agree. The secret Victoria has is that she only loves skinny bitches. There. I said it. I have spent my whole life trying to look like a VS angel but keep coming up more of a cherub. Screw Victoria. I am going to try to fall in love with me at any size cuz lets be honest, you can't take care of something you hate.
New resolution. Love myself in all my wavy ripply stretch marked glory. It's taken me 26 years to start to love me and I don't have that kind of time to invest in convincing others.

Karma's only a bitch if you are

Some days blow. Some days are unfair. Some days aren't worth the effort it takes to chew through the restraints. Know what makes them worse? Giving up and being a moody little cunt. I have days where I am a total bitch. I know it's hard to believe since I am so utterly charming and delightful but it's true. But those days don't get better. If I force myself to be nice and to be productive I feel a little better. If I force myself to smile and be pleasant I eventually forget the things that drive me nuts... At least for a little while.

We all have shit to deal with. Some have it tougher than others. But trying to look at the good seems to help me. I have a loving husband. I have an amazing mother. I have two sweet little babies. Life is good. Sometimes you can't be happy all the time. Some days you break. I am trying to be a better communicator and on those days voice that it's just a rough day and no one's fault.

I wonder if Tupperware still farts. When I was a kid it did. They might have changed that. Christ I feel old. Kids don't know what transistor radios are or that there were penny candy stores. Pluto used to be a planet and corn was a vegetable. Brontosaurus was even a dinosaur. My kids will look at me and tell me I don't know anything and I will quietly nod in agreement.

Why am I telling you this? Cuz it's my goddamn blog! That's why!

Frustration

I know why Britney shaved her head. My hair is finally long and all the kids want to do is use it for their advantage. They pull it. They use it to hold me down to beat me. I would be lying if I said I haven't threatened to shave it. Five minutes ago my son blew his nose in my hair. I guess I have unrealistic expectations in life. I thought I would make through life without having the experience of cleaning snot out of my hair. Silly me.

I love my children. I do. So don't call child protective services when I tell you that I want to go lock myself in the bathroom for an hour. It wouldn't help anyway. My oldest picks up the baby and uses him as a battering ram on the door. The simple joys of motherhood.

I am getting 50 Shades Freed from the library today and so help me god I am reading it too! If I have to break a foot to take it with me to the ER, I will get to read it today!!! My needs are small. They offset my weight.

Tmblr

I tried to make a tumblr account. I felt like a caveman trying to create fire. I couldn't figure shit out! I made my screen name my password and my email my screen name and I don't even know what I made my password! I am technologically impaired. It was scary. Then I tried to find people to follow which was as intimidating as the first day of school. I can't do it! I couldn't find anyone and there were all these posts in foreign languages! I was on the verge of a panic attack when I suddenly decided fuck technology! Fuck it in it's smug dimly lit ass! I deleted everything and haven't looked back. Sorry Tmblr, it's nothing personal but your life is too complicated and I need someone with less baggage. It's not you, it's me. Okay, it's like 90% you and 10% me.

Nailed it!

So it's my son's first birthday is today. It is monkey themed. I made a banana cake and something went terribly terribly wrong.

Frederick's of Hollywood

I like to wear sexy things. I can't wear sexy things if I can't buy them. I can't buy them if the goddamn site doesn't work and accept my gift card. Now if I don't look sexy I won't feel sexy. If I don't feel sexy I will probably feel shitty. If I feel shitty then hubby will not be aroused. If hubby is not aroused sex will not happen. If sex doesn't happen our marriage may get stale and lifeless. If that happens, someone may cheat. If someone cheats then there will be divorce. If there is divorce my children may be psychologically damaged and turn into super villains who destroy the world.

What I'm trying to tell you is that since Frederick's of Hollywood won't give me my shit...the world is going to end.

Goodmorning

I make my children's breakfast with love. This morning they had crispy bacon, fluffy pancakes with syrup, a sliced banana, and orange juice a squeezed myself. After breakfast I dressed them in their nicest IZOD shirts and pleated pants and we released our butterflies into nature after a small parting ceremony. Now I'm sitting on my couch in my floral chiffon dress and sipping tea while I massage my husband's feet.

Now it's time to cut the shit. So my Real morning, not the Easter Bunny like one above, was a little more colorful. I awoke to the sound of "Momma! Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh!" coming over the baby monitor. Yes, they scream to wake me up. Hubby got them out of bed and I start brushing my teeth and putting in my contact lenses because quite frankly if I don't do it now then it isn't going to happen. I hear at the door "momma! Momma!" knock, knock, knock. To which I reply " mommy will be out in a minute baby!" which was the wrong thing to do of course because now he knew that not only was I alive and in the house but I was behind this specific door. The correct response is to not move or make a sound. I am convinced children love dinosaurs because they are part dinosaur and if you remain still and silent they can't see you. "MAMAHHH!!!!" smack smack thud! I open the door and he is now laying kicking the door.
Now time for breakfast. I ask my oldest what he wants to eat in hopes we will avoid our routine 20 questions. Of course we don't feel like talking today. I decide not to give him a choice and just give him applesauce. Him and brother turn breakfast into a morning art class. Apparently it's more fun to paint the furniture and mommy's favorite shirt. Below is a picture of when we had cereal for breakfast. Yes, pretty much every meal ends poorly. I was told by some child "experts" to allow my kids to be messy when they eat because it's part of some kind of childhood learning process. I guess Charles Manson's parents didn't let him make mashed potato sculptures. I wonder to myself if they will pay for new carpeting in my apartment.

There is poo on the penguin

Whenever your children are playing quietly you should start to pray to whatever deity you believe in. It's never a good sign. Unless they are asleep there should be noise.

So yesterday my children were playing happily in their room. Well, happily may not be entirely true since I'm sure even the neighbors could hear them yelling "NOOOO!" "MINE!!" and then a blood curdling scream after one bit the other. But it was a typical day of play in our household...Until I go in and find my youngest playing inside the toy bin and smelled the air.

Do you know how it smells when you leave out milk and it sours? Combine that with the smell of a homeless man's underwear and you get the idea of what raped my nostrils. I thought one of them died. Oh no, I had a diaper to change. I pick him up. Did I mention he was clad in ONLY his diaper? That's important. My child is small. He can only weigh about 23 pounds; well now it was probably only 20 since there was at least 3 pounds of feces spread between his diaper, body, and a penguin stuffed animal who was claimed as a prisoner of war.

I never thought I would be throwing a stuffed animal in the wash. Nor did I think I would sit quietly wondering if I would get pink eye from my clothes that touched it and ponder if death by fire would have put Mr. Penguin out of his misery in a more humane fashion.

That penguin was a gift to my husband. I have learned not to give a man a stuffed animal as a gift unless it can sing or fart because though he will accept it, he won't cuddle with it and he will give it to your child who will shit on it which will tell you that you wasted $20.

First post

So this is a blog? Nice. I am a young mom with 2 kids that I adore and a wonderful hubby. I am also a writer and dabble in painting.
Pardon me a moment, my oldest is throwing a tantrum over a piece of paper his brother took from him.

I thought screams like that we're reserved for ass rape.now my youngest is trying to eat tissue paper. There are many things they don't tell you after your home pregnancy test says positive. One thing you should know is that one day you probably will be on the phone with Poison control and the conversation will go something like this:
Me: hello? My son ate his diaper! What do I do?!
Dude: what's your child's name?
Me: Leroy. Is that really important? ( I think they have a file on me now)
Dude: as long as he isn't choking there isn't really anything in it that can harm him.
Me: so he doesn't need his stomach pumped or anything?
Dude: no just give him something to drink and watch him.

I never thought I would go in and see my child bare ass naked with a shredded diaper everywhere. I would have liked to think it wouldn't occurred to him to eat something so gross but he did. Got me right in the motherhood with that one.

What is so terrible about the terrible 2's? Well for one the screaming is at a pitch that would shatter glass and it occurs very frequently over things as small as saying the word "bed". We don't use the b word anymore, nor do we use the n word (nap).

Well I am going to keep this post short cuz I'm on my phone and I'm lazy. Plus it's my blog so I can do what I want. Btw, if you correct my grammar I will call you a poo face, so don't do that.