Top 10 Things That Used to be MINE

Last night the Beans was being a two year old.  The nerve.

Paul Bunyan decided to read something on his Kindle Fire in order to tune out the baby death shriek and repetitive chant of "no no bed."  But the second he pulled out that electronic device a gasp rent the air, followed by approximately 2.7634 seconds of rare and precious silence.  Then came "BABY'S BIG PHONE!" and the Beans grabbed it from daddy and expertly jabbed the screen a few times until the Lorax cued up and began wailing "How Bad Can I Be?" on full volume.  Appropriate, no?

This made poor Paul Bunyan sigh and bemoan that he wondered when he would get to read on his Kindle again.  I had about 2.7634 seconds of pity when I realized that if all I was lacking was Kindle access I might be a shit-ton more sane.

 Top Ten Things That Used To Be MINE

1.  My boobs.  Bunyan likes to think of them as his, but a nursing baby wins every time.  No matter what, even when the milk bags are no longer feeding a little vampire any longer they aren't MINE anymore.  MY boobs had some life to them.  They were small, but they at least seemed to not lack filling.  Since nursing children I apparently lost like a third of my boob mass because they are still small but deflated and droopy looking.  What the eff?

They are actually *mine* ... well, they once were.

2.  My Wardrobe.  I used to get dressed because I liked an outfit.  Or I looked good in an outfit or it made me feel good.  Occasionally I dressed in something because it was comfy.  I would even go, dare I say it, shopping for clothes for myself ... and enjoy it!  Now?  I wear whatever happens to be clean, roomy enough to cover this expanding version of myself, and often provides easy access for nursing, running after children, or cleaning something.  Bonus points to clothing that can cover the ridiculous number of stains I obtain in a day without obnoxiously announcing "LOOK this is strawberry applesauce!" and "Yup, that's a booger" whenever you look my way.

3.  My Phone.  I have more than 72 apps on my phone.  I tried counting them but kept forgetting what number I was on, so there are at least that many.  I use 7 maybe 8 of them for myself regularly.  Lets make it a round ten apps for ME.  That means there are 60+ apps that are simply there because I need to put the food on the conveyor belt at the grocery store without Houdini baby trying to escape the cart.  My iPhone is so full of kid apps and pictures of kids that I actually only have room for one playlist of music.  Only reason I get that is because my children haven't realized it is possible to load any of their music on the phone yet.  They do know about my Pandora app though.

The ultimate Mom Purse

4. My purse.  Oh wait, that's funny I don't HAVE a purse anymore.  I have a backpack/diaper bag/first aid kit/snack storage/changing station/toy holder/crumb hoarder hybrid with a monkey hanging off of it that also carries my wallet and chapstick.  When I can find them.  Yes, it is actual one the one pictured above.

5.  My Jewelry.  I used to wear some.  I now wear a wedding band, and not the nice one either.  The other day whilst changing a poo diaper someone (AKA Beans) thought it would be hilarious to start bouncing his cute little baby butt all over the place.  Thus getting nasty baby crap all over my hand.  This had of course happened on the one day so far this year I wore the pretty channeled band Paul Bunyan bought me for Christmas three years ago.  If jewelry isn't an effective way to cause me pain while getting my attention (earrings and necklaces) then it means I am washing shit off diamonds.  Screw jewelry.

6. My Anything-Below-the-Neck.  Hell, who am I kidding?  I have grey hair, wrinkles, and raccoon eyes -- screw it being just the belly I don't want to claim and the varicose veins that make my legs look even worse than before.  What the hell happened to me?  Thank goodness children are cute, because the side effects that come with them are hell.

7.  My Bladder.  Perhaps if we are going for anatomical accuracy it isn't the actual bladder but the muscles of my pelvic wall or floor or whatthefrickenhellever.  I held out hope with the first pregnancy that the whole wetting yourself when you sneezed thing would go away.  Since child number two I am realizing that this is a pregnancy symptom that may never abate.

8.  My Sleep.  I used to have some, with complete cycles and everything.  I can almost remember back that far, but deprivation being what it is I may just be hallucinating.

9.  My Sanity.  I swear, I used to have more of it.

10.  My Life.  I used to have one that revolved around me.  Looking back, I am not sure that it was entirely enjoyable.  This may be exhausting, I might have lost of my sense of Self, and there are moments that straight up suck (anyone claiming otherwise lies) but this is a gift and I am grateful.

Again, I may be hallucinating here though.

Candy Crush is the DEVIL

So while I have never been really consistent with blogging because I categorize this as "for me" and therefore it drops in the priority list beneath ... well, like everything ... I have been especially bad lately.  Now that Meatball is out of school for the summer I am not sure if that will help or hinder my productivity.  The Beans has taken this last month as an opportunity to hone his skills for driving me completely bat shit crazy.  I am pretty sure this child will be either a horrible dictator or like the best interrogator the CIA or some other agency has ever seen.  This kiddo could make the sanest, strongest, most bad ass mother trucker break -- and I am none of those things so I deserve a medal for holding it together this long.

Sigh.

Anyway, Candy Crush is the freaking devil.

Productivity is a questionable thing anyway.  I mean really, I have such lofty goals and plans and most of them laugh in my face as they go down in flames anyway.  It isn't like I need anything helping me NOT accomplish stuff.  I am totally awesome at doing that myself!  So when a few weeks ago I started getting a bajillion requests for crap from my friends on facebook for this game I was intrigued, but alarmed.

It is best to know yourself and accept who you are.

I know that I am an obsessive compulsive yet extremely competitive buffoon with absolutely no self control or discipline who also has a lot to do and never gets any of it fully done.

Games like Bejeweled and Words With Friends?  Kryptonite to any resolve I may have otherwise magically developed.

So when my friends were all falling like moths to a bug zapper light I swore I wouldn't even TRY it.  Wouldn't even LOOK at it.

I lasted three weeks.  Seriously, I am actually pretty proud I made it that long y'all.

Because I am a sneaky junkie I didn't let it connect to my facebook page, thus I could hide my addiction.  Then I got to level 35 and was told I needed my "friends" to help me move on.

What?!

As if making me wait 30 freaking minutes for a new life when I run out of chances to die wasn't evil enough???

Now I am dependent upon all the people whom I have been ignoring and diligently deleting their requests for help?  Karma is gonna have fun with me as I send out my own pleas for help isn't it?

Yes.  Yes, it freaking is.

I need three friends to help me move past 35 into whatever that chocolaty looking lake thing is and I have two.  Everybody and their mother gives me lives but no one is given me whatever it is I need in order to make the bubble after 35 light up.  WTF?!

I don't need lives people, it is best that I have a self imposed break of needing my lives to refill every 30 minutes.  That means I may do something else for 30 minutes.  Someone help me get into the choco-lakey-thing!

This is exactly why I didn't want to play this game.  Because I knew what it would do to me.  In my inability to move forward I have obsessively backtracked now with the intention/goal of beating the crap out of everyone else's scores on the previous 34 levels.

What started off as a "oh I am waiting in line" or "I have to go to the bathroom" game has turned into a "HAS IT BEEN 30 MINUTES YET?!" obsession.

Is there a 12 step program for Candy Crush?  Or does someone just want to give me whatever it is I need to get to level 35 and continue this vicious love hate cycle?

Only 21:17 to go ...

Sheldon ... & owl poop

Recently I did a post detailing some of the things I never pictured saying to a child of my own in those days, ages ago, before children. Many of them centered on hygiene, safety or logic but I had a dozy today that I simply must share because I think there are high odds it has never in the history if parenthood been said before.

Oh yes, the debate between is it boogers or blood has surely been said before by someone. Certainly at least one parent before me has wept in gratitude at the avoidance of the catastrophic prior to hitting the deductible.  But this ... I'd be willing to bet my wine cozy has not been said before.

"No! Rat bones and owl poop are NOT appropriate keepsakes!"

While not nearly as frightening or even as creepy as it sounds, it was still wholly unacceptable that it needed to be said.

Here is hoping no mothers-of-mass-murderers have said this sort of thing before.

Recently, however, Paul Bunyan and I have been watching the Big Bang Theory for the first time.  I'm only a few episodes in and I've noticed something that alarms me: I have way to much in common with Sheldon Cooper.  Like enough that while we are watching things Paul Bunyan swivels his head to stare at me pointedly.  Kinda like ...

... and I'm all ...

... but this was me when Meatball asked if he could keep his owl poop and rat bones in a baggie because science class was soooooo cool today.

Um, no.

*stuff* parents say

Parenthood changes you.

One moment you have dignity and some semblance of self worth, the next you are feeling like hot stuff because you shaved your legs this month, a stolen chicken nugget is a meal, and you feel a huge sense of accomplishment when you teach your children to use a bottle opener for you.

I know in my pre-kid days I was a Judgey McJudgeison who often turned my nose up at parents who's children weren't eating their broccoli with smiles at every meal, saying please and thank you in their sleep, and knowing how to locate an effing salad fork.  Seriously, I don't even  know which one is the salad fork so I am not sure where these delusions came from.  At any rate, I was thinking the other day that there are some real gems that my kid-free friends would be equally horrified and amused-in-a-non-understanding-condescending-way at hearing me utter.

Here are my top fifteen.

Shit I Never Said Before I Became a Mom

1. I used the baby's Nose Freda ... on myself.  I feel better.

2. Thank gawd, it is only pee.

3. Bye bye penis!  Bye bye now! *said in a really animated voice that makes pulling one's pants on acceptable even when one really doesn't want his pants on*

4. I can't tell for sure, let me just sniff his butt.

5. Ha ha ha, they say it is unbreakable!

6. So do you want to wear pants today? Please?

7. Is that a booger or a scab?

8. OMG, seriously, I can go to the grocery store and shop By. My. Self?! (okay I have never said this, but I fantasize about getting to, and that is a new thing)

9. Well at least he didn't swallow it, we are no where near our deductible yet.

10. What, you don't have the number for poison control memorized?

11. Holy flip flops Wolverine, trim those toenails!

12. When did I get that black eye?

13. Oh it is only a little poop/pee/vomit/snot.

14. Did you actually use soap/toothpaste this time, or just water?

15. Dora is a hooker, DJ Lance is on acid, but Caillou is a whiny bitch.

What about you?  What are some zingers you never thought you'd say prior to parenthood?

"cougar" is a homonym

Some times I can pretend I'm not married to a redneck.

Most of the times, I try.

But when I dust off his commemorative Number Three shot glasses it's harder to be successful about the whole thing.  I figure it isn't like I am some high class prize myself, though I do not understand the value of cars driving around in circles even if it is really fast.

When it comes to parenting, Paul Bunyan and I are of a similar mind.  Sometimes this is a good thing, but sometimes I wonder if things would be a bit better off if one of us was more mature -- just generally speaking.

Case in point, the other night was Family Game Night.  A very serious affair here in a house of deeply competitive individuals.  We eat appetizery foods, have special fancy glasses for our beverages, and pick a board game of some sort to play.  Since Meatball got Catch Phrase for his birthday and we hadn't got to use it yet that was the one we chose.

So it is me, Meatball and Paul Bunyan sitting around a table.  Bunyan had devised a complex schemed with which he would constantly be switching teams so as to be "fair" though Meatball and I noticed a few rounds in that this meant he was like never guessing.  Cheater.

So Paul Bunyan is prattling off clues and Meatball and I are bouncing back and forth but here are a couple of moments that make the devil on one shoulder laugh and the angel on the other faceplam.

Paul Bunyan: Sex on Fire!

Meatball: KINGS OF LEON! (he only has one volume when playing this game and it is "sonic boom")

Paul Bunyan: Uh, the lead singer peed her pants on stage once!

Me: Black Eyed Peas!

Paul Bunyan: A large cat ...

Meatball: LION

Paul Bunyan: No ... um ... another breed, big cat ...

Meatball: TIGER!

Paul Bunayn: No, no, keep guessing ...

Meatball:  JAGUAR?! LYNX?!

Paul Bunyan: Keep going ... its one that is agile ... oh that doesn't help ...

Meatball: OCELOT?! LEOPARD?!?! PUMA?! CHEETAH?!?! LIGER?!?!?!?!?!

Paul Bunyan: No ... Its an older woman who is interested in young guys!

Meatball: OH, A COUGAR!!!!  IT IS A HOMONYM!!!

And that is total parenting winning right there folks!

parenting, something I am so good at

I'm not exactly a parenting paragon. I accept that. My kids haven't totally gone postal and blamed me in the plea bargain, so I take some consolation int that. But it's not like I pretend to be all serious and right and shit.  People (and blogs) like that drive me nuts.  

That said sometimes I possess even the astounding ability to amaze myself. Take tonight for example. In the course of one single hour the Meatball acknowledged that I am the source of his knowledge on swearing in sign language, witnessed me trying to wedgie Paul Bunyan, and said "we'll if its a pin up of you then it would be clever and pretty."

Starting at phase one -- sign language swearing fluency -- American Sign Language (or ASL) is a second language for me. Growing up with a non-verbal sister we incorporated sign into our familial language early on.  Naturally, I learned to swear proficiently because ASL offered me the opportunity to not only communicate with friends brilliantly on multiple choice tests, but also a way to covertly be a rebellious little pain in the ass in high school.   Apparently somewhere, sometime, somehow Meatball saw me sign a phrase that rhymes with "duck two" and tonight he asked me "Mom, what does this mean?" Um yeah, mom of the year I never claimed to be.  But at least I don't lie to him.  Oh, and I also told him that if he ever uses it I will shave his eyebrows off in his sleep.

No, that is't a how-to for you, but it is a totally badass ASL interpretation of Marilyn Manson's This is the New Shit.  If you watch it closely, you are likely to learn most of the bad words anyway.  Be smart about watching the video if there are children around or if you are at work.

Second high point of the evening, wedgie time. Dear ol' husband and I are being argumentative and messing with each other, so of course we resort to fighting slightly dirty. When Meatball and Beans where looking the other way, Bunyan proceeds to smack my ass hard enough to make a loud crack. Of course, the boys notice that, and somehow *I* am blamed.  Don't ask how, logic has no place in this.  My menfolk have solidarity, none of them claim to miss the toilet or leave the seat up -- yet both things happen regularly -- and no one will rat the others out.  So when the boys look the other way again I know I only have moments with which to exact my revenge.  Knowing that returning the spanking would only thrill the perverse Paul, and not make my point at all, I decide on a small, but ever so poignant, wedgie.  Of course, Paul Bunyan can strike my derierre on the downlow but I can't yank his boxer briefs up without getting caught. While I believe that parents should honor each other and never argue in the presence of their children, I categorically refuse to believe that my wedgieing Mr. Bunyan is in anyway not a healthy precedent for me to set.

Lastly, me as a pin up. Meatball really doesn't understand pin-ups a sexual beings, he knows them as a tattoo style of women he wished would be more conservatively dressed -- an indication of both the environment we've created (tattoos are art) and his youth and kootieish tendencies (he's eleven, this will end soon). So when I was mentioning using my Kitchen Aid for something I had to bake I told Paul Bunyan that I'd seen these amazing works of art (artist's website) and desperately want to do that to MY mixer.  We decided it should totally be a redheaded pin up in an apron, thus making her look like me.  Being the wise little brown noser he is, it was at this point Meatball dropped the line about how if it is a pin up of me she'd have to be clever and pretty but wondered how we could fit all the awesome on to the surface of my mixer.

Well played, Meatball.

But I will still shave your eyebrows if I catch you swearing in sign language.

demon zombie crickets

Am I the only one?  I know I have issues, but is this something I should add to the ever growing list?

I killed a cricket while doing my hair.  Used a tissue to pick up the evidence of my deed, and then deposit it so it could be flushed.

While I am normally very conservation minded I had to waste an entire bowl of toilet water and flush immediately.

Because, you know, that if I didn't and I just left it there, it would have been the zombie demon cricket from hell and attacked my ass the second I sat down to pee.  Am I right or am I right?!

I am working already on a post for tomorrow.  Its an Olympic recap, Dr. D style!

the baking grenade

You know how some people have weird issues that are like totally die hard serious for them but you cannot help but laugh a bit at them?  Like, take my husband for example.  He has to just see those wood  popsicle sticks, like the tongue depressors they use at the doctor's office, and he gags.  If you jokingly say "you mean like {mimic licking a popsicle} popsicle sticks?  Those things?" incredulously when he tells you about it while you are dating him he will actually wretch and ask you to never do that again, please.

True story. I admit to laughing and feeling horrible at the same time.

So hubby has popsicle stick issues, and yes, that made my chore sticks project a bit uncomfortable for him.  But, I am scared of these things.

Seriously, my only thought for the day is this ...

... the words "Press spoon at seam until can pops open" could instead read ...

..."pull pin, throw grenade, then run like hell!" ... and be just as accurate.

I hate these things, yet you can make so much out of the stuff in tubes that explode!

beer pong and nose theft

A couple thoughts to share with you today.

I was reading over at MommyShorts, one of my favoritest places on the interwebz, and she had a video that I too must share.  As she put it, this 9 year old is apparently already training for what will be "the most epic freshman year of college ever" and I do agree.  I would also like to point out that while MommyShorts has featured my child in one of her hilarious posts (she often asks for readers to volunteer children as tribute) this is not my child.  However, in slightly related news, I will begin a rigorous training program with my children today simply so I can watch this kind of awesome in person!

Second thing to share, and I am clearly running with a theme here is a picture.  My husband sent me this with the subject line of the Beans' name.  I about feel off my chair laughing.

I hope you had a safe and fun 4th, I will be back to more regular posting again shortly! ;)