In case you’ve ever wondered what it’s like at my house in the mornings, I give you “My Life in the Mornings, Every Morning, Except for the Weekends and Vacations.”
“Get up!”
“We’re TIRED!”
“On the Gooood Ship Lollipop” OR, maybe “I like big butts and I can not lie, you otha brothas…”
“STOP!”
“GET OUT!”
*Pillows flying at me*
“Get dressed.”
“Get your socks on.”
“Get your shoes on.”
“Why aren’t you dressed yet?”
“Put the ball down and EAT YOUR BREAKFAST!”
“Stop writing “I love pink” on your brothers notebook and FINISH EATING!”
“SCHOOL IS FOR BABIES!”
“I hate school!”
“Well, I hate cleaning toilets and washing your dirty chonies, but I have to do it!”
“PUT YOUR SHOES ON!”
“My socks are BUGGING ME! I can’t stand it!”
“Stop calling your brother a bunghole!”
“I don’t care if you called you a retard first! BOTH OF YOU STOP!”
“If you miss the bus, you’re on restriction tomorrow.”
“I hear the bus! THE BUS IS COMING!”
“I have to PEEEEE!”
“Go pee and then RUN! RUN LIKE THE WIND!”
“I love you!!”
“Ah, peace and quiet! I think I’ll sit down and read…”
“Wahhhh, I want tittymilk! WHERE MA’ TIT AT?”
This is all MIKEY’S fault.
Oh my God. How do I even begin to explain this? I’ll try. Ok…
Have you ever had a fart in the form of a bubble that travels all the way up your crack, not actually “popping” until it reached the top of your pants?
NO!?
You’ve not LIVED til that happens! I only wish someone had been here to share the moment with me.
God, I love them
Apparently, it’s “not cool” to wake your boys up by singing “Goodship Lollipop” while pretending you know how to tap dance. Infact, it’s “annoying” and “stupid” and they’ll want you to “GET OUT!” of their room.
Also? If the “the tooth fairy” forgets slip a five dollah bill under the pillow of a 7 year old who lost a tooth? They suddenly don’t believe in the toothfairy. They suddenly think “Hmmmm, maybe it’s because the tooth fairy doesn’t exist and someone forgot to go to the ATM to get cash out.” And no matter HOW HARD you try, how good you lie, they have lost faith and they KNOW it’s you. Especially when they find an empty bag of M&M’s on the couch.
Do I even NEED to tell you what an ass of a mother I feel like this morning? But, it’s ok, really, because I haven’t laughed this hard in a very long time.
Grind on the mind
I need to thank Sara for trying to help me out in my time of feeling pissy and angry at the world by sending me a picture of Mr.Eric Nies. You may know him from the first ever Real World. Or, you may know him from the current season of the Real World/Road Rules battle of the sexes. OR, just MAYBE you know him from “The Grind” workout video. Then there’s the horrific thought that you might not have ANY FREAKING CLUE who he is. That would be sad for you.
Sad because, I can’t think of another man in the world who is hot AND yet, so totally mockable. Nothing like a fine guy you can laugh at while dreaming of flicking his nipples at the same time. Who cares if he’s almost 50 and he’s still doing things like shooting MUCH YOUNGER people with paint ball guns to try to win prizes? Who cares if, like Mariah Carey, he “can’t let go?” NOT ME, he’s hot. And? HE DOES THE GRIND, PEOPLE.
If you don’t know The Nies, might I suggest that you take the time to get to know him? Research The Nies, educate yourself about The Nies, try to understand The Nies. That way, we can laugh at him and drool over him together.
How can I ever repay Sara for a)sending me the picture and b) understanding where I’m coming from when I talk about how Eric makes everything better.
Ok, not everything, but almost everything.
That’s MY daughter. ALL MINE
I do believe that one of the most precious things in all of the world is a toothless smile.
Well, that is, if you’re 4 months old. Because, if you’re like, MY MOTHER and you smile at me without putting your false teeth in first (especially without warning me that their not in and you’re “gummin’ it”)? Not so adorable. Infact, THAT is downright horrifying.
Mmmmmm sleep deprivation
The perfect way to ensure that I’ll be a raging bitch for the rest of the day? Bring home a plain ol’ regular stupid poopoo peepee latte instead of the GINGERBREAD LATTE I asked for. To be fair, I really don’t have a right to be pissed at “the person” who went out at 6am to get me the coffee, (I should be pissed at the maker of the coffee, right?) However, if they didn’t write your order on the cup, like they’re SUPPOSED to do, shouldn’t you check to make sure they didn’t screw up and that they made the coffee you ordered? But “the person” who went to get my coffee didn’t check, leaving me no choice but to dramatically rip the lid off, pour the STUPID DRINK down the drain while crying “A GINGERBREAD LATTE HAS WHIPPED CREAM AND CINNAMON ON TOP! WHY DIDN’T YOU CHECK BEFORE YOU LEFT? WHHHHHHYYYYYY?”
Another way to resurrect my Inner Bitch? Call my house at 6:30 in the morning, just after I FINALLY got my baby to fall asleep after being since 3:30am to ask me if “I just called your house.”
No, I didn’t just call your house and if you had caller id, you’d know that. (But seriously? When was the last time I called ANYONE at 6:30 in the morning? Let me think… NEVER! That’s when, so why in the hell would you assume it was ME calling and not one of the gossipers from your church?)
Damn, I’ve been kind of assholey lately, huh?
It’s not my fault! IT’S BUSH’S FAULT!
Beautiful cheese
I held my daughter up to the mirror so she could see herself. She looked puzzled at first, then she smiled the most beautiful smile.
And she kept smiling. At herself. It was as if she thought she was the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.
Tears started streaming down my face. It was one of the most pure, amazing moments in my life.
Why?
Because I’ve never known what it feels like to look in the mirror and like the person I see. It’s something I’ve always wished for, but loving myself is foreign to me. So, as I held my little girl in my arms and I watched her smiling at herself, I thought to myself “I hope she always feels this way when she looks at herself. I hope she never feels the way I do when she looks in a mirror. I hope that everytime she sees herself, she smiles like this because she feels beautiful. Because she feels loved. Because she feels special. Because she loves what she sees. Because she loves herself.”
One of my the biggest fears I had when I found out I was having a girl was that she would grow up hating herself the way I did. I swore I would do everything in my power to make sure she knew how loved, how worthy, how wanted, how beautiful she is, but I was afraid I’d fail. I was afraid I wouldn’t know how to do that, because I don’t know how to love myself. But when I saw the way she looked at herself just now, it was as if God was speaking to me, telling me that if I love her unconditionally, if I value her, respect her, she, in turn, will do the same. She WILL love herself inside and out, she WILL believe she’s beautiful, because she’ll have no reason to believe otherwise.
Don’t tell me to shutup!
I talk. A lot.
And when I say a lot, I mean “I never shutup”. Melly knows this, she’s even done the hand gesture thing to me, you know, the one where you mimic someone who talks a lot, the “Blahblahblah” gesture? I know it’s irritating, but I can’t stop myself. I mean, I could, I guess, but I just have so much to say! Why do you think I have A BLOG? Do you think people in my real life want to listen to me talk about shit that doesn’t matter?
Anyway… there is a scenario that plays out in my head from time to time when I’m talking to someone and I KNOW I’m talking too much. It goes like this.
I’m talking. Talking, talking, talking. At first, the person is listening, but then they tune me out and I KNOW they’ve tuned me out, and as much as I know I should? I can’t stop talking. So, I’m standing there “blahblahblahblah” and all of a sudden I fall over. So, it’s like, I’m all “Yeah, so, I hate James Earl Jones because his fucking Verizon commercials are all ‘why don’t YOU get DSL from Verizon’ and I’m all “Because it’s not available in my AREA MOTHER FUCKER!” *THUD*
I just hit the floor. Out cold. And when I wake up, I’m all alone and I wonder “Did I talk myself to death? Or did someone hit me on the back of my head to make me shut the hell up? OR WHAT?”
It’s like my mind is telling me “STOP, PEOPLE ARE SICK OF HEARING YOUR VOICE, JUST STOP!”
I was telling this to Tony last night and I asked him if I got on HIS nerves by talking too much while we’re watching TV. “Well, I’m USED TO IT”
“Used to it!?” Excuuuuse me, I won’t talk to you anymore then!”
His response?
“Promise?”
*THUD*
Milking Myself
Apparently, it’s some GOOD SCHTUFF.
At first, Gabby didn’t know what to think
“What IS this stuff my mother just shoved in my mouth?!
Hmmmm, is that tittymilk I taste? Because I loves me some momma’s titty milk!
Oh MY GOD! It IS tittymilk! Sweet Jesus, this schtuff is AWESOME! GIMME SOME MO’
You can tell by the smile on her face that I make a BADASS rice cereal. Can I make you a bowl?