Tag Archives: Humor

Night & Day

9 May

I loved being the baby of the family and the only girl. It meant I could get away with murder while my brothers took the fall. Muahahaha!

There wasn’t anything wrong with being the third and final kid except when it came to baby pictures. There are three total.

I always thought I wanted a little sister, but now I’m glad I never got one. I can’t imagine how she would’ve stole my spotlight! Sharing is still not my strong suit.

Birth order is fascinating now that I’m a mom with two girls. It’s always interesting to hear how it affects children and what characteristics are true. Lately I’ve been struggling with some mom guilt over not being able to give my second baby what I gave my first i.e. my undivided attention and patience. I don’t possess either of those things anymore.Probably never did!

This baby is lucky to get a bottle of milk thrown at her in between running laps around the front yard or a clean diaper before playing horsies or spinning. Forget story time or any kind of one-on-one time. This kid won’t even know what a book is. She probably won’t be able to read until she’s twenty at the rate I’m going. It breaks my heart because I was reading to my first born in utero and all the second born heard were reruns of Sesame Street, the never-ending whine of her older sister, and me shushing the whining. Granted, that’s all she still hears.

Everything is so different than before. There’s just no time. No time to sit still and read. No time to sit. No time to still. Definitely no time to read.

My guilt goes beyond reading though. The first one got professional photos done, four different sessions at 3.6.9. and 12 months. We have enough to wallpaper the house.

Professional shoot

Professional shoot

The second one got pictures at JC Penny…once.

See what I mean?

See what I mean?

While they’re still as cute, there’s just no comparison. The first one got all brand-spanking new clothes while the second one gets all her hand-me-downs, stains and all. The first one’s baby book is nearly done while the second one’s is completely blank. She’s 8 months, people. Eight months!

The first one will get to do everything before the second, while she watches from the sidelines. All the second one gets is shushed during nap time because she’ll wake up her sister with her squeals and then everyone pays the consequences. I never thought I could get frustrated with a baby–surely I’m a monster. Of course I love her with all my heart, but like I said, it’s different this time.

It’s too bad we can’t all be first borns or better yet, only children. I understand a little of why my own mummy will defend her first born tooth and nail They’re the cherished ones, the ones that got the best of us, or maybe the worst of us because we had no clue what we were doing and we have to defend them if anything but to save ourselves. Now I’ve just gone cross-eyed.

My only hope is that they’ll be BFFs, balancing each other out and when it comes time to split up my jewelry collection they won’t kill each other.

How You Doin’?

19 Apr

I don’t know what it’s like for other moms, but for me, every time I’m at the playground it’s like a blind date. But I’ve never been on one date in my entire life, so how would I know?

There is this mom dance like a mating call minus the mating. I’m there with my two kids, this other mom is there with hers. Our children run around and play together. We smile. They get along without any incident. We follow each other around, and then finally we speak. She’s new to the area, so am I. She has a 2 1/2 year old daughter, so do I. She seems normal, so do I. In other words, a perfect match. Like if we were on Love Connection, Chuck Woolery would ask if there would be a second playdate and the audience would vote for number 1 and we’d get to go out again for free. Man, I loved that show–so much bad hair (see below).

love

It’s sad and a little embarrassing that I’ve never been on a date. But I married my high school sweetheart, so we’re both completely clueless when it comes to picking up people. At least he better be. It’s obvious I don’t know a thing about dating. I thought guys still said, “What’s your sign?” as a pick-up line. If it was up to me I guess I’d quote Notorious B.I.G. and say, “What your interests are? Who you be with? Things to make you smile? What numbers to dial?” And if she knows what I’m talking about, then we could be friends.

My daughter is a terrible wingman, she leaves me in the dust as soon as she sees the swings. And then I’m the weirdo wearing a baby strapped to my chest pushing my daughter’s stuffed zebra in the swing next to her. Nobody wants to talk to that loony tune.

Before becoming a mom, I never would’ve started a conversation with a random stranger. My shyness was too crippling. But with two young babies, you’re forced to get out of the house and interact with your fellow mums if you want to sustain any shred of sanity. There’s really nothing to worry about as you already have so much in common, first and foremost being that you’re starved for adult interaction.

Awhile back, we were at the playground and my daughter was playing with a little girl who was about her age. They were having so much fun running around together. I waited the appropriate amount of time, assessing the situation before I committed to ”getting chummy” with her mom, then we started chatting. She was very nice. Worked a part-time job at a nearby winery, and had good things to say about local schools. My Mom Connection was running high. She said she often brought her daughter to the same playground so she was sure we’d run into each other again–the blow off, perhaps.I didn’t have my phone so I didn’t get her number. Then we parted ways and I’ve never seen her again. The hubby couldn’t believe I let her slip through my fingers….worked at a winery–hell-o, what was I thinking?!? He went on about it for a few days. But I didn’t have my phone, what was I supposed to do? Write her number on my hand like some middle-school crush?

I’ve since joined a mom’s group in our area and am meeting some nice moms and my daughter is getting some socialization, although we have a long way to go. At our last playdate, my darling girl was eating a snack and every time one of the other children came near her, she screamed “NO!” and held her food close to her as if they were going to rip it out of her hands. So embarrassing. Before you think I’m starving her, we have two small dogs who constantly steal her food, hence the reason for her insane outbursts. But these kids don’t know that, they just think she’s  super hungry and stingy.

Maybe I don’t want her for my wingman after all.

Misery Sure Does Love Company

15 Apr

misery

Not to say that I’m miserable. Well ok, I am miserable on certain days but if you ask my hubby I’m miserable every day. That’s because he only sees me after I’ve put up with two screaming kids for twelve straight hours. Anyone would be miserable, am I right? He misses all the happy, silly moments that also make up our day.He mostly sees me when I’m at the end of my rope, my nerves shredded from a long day of temper tantrums and meltdowns times two.

Nobody understands my misery situation like my fellow mummy who also has two little ones. I got some much needed time with her this past weekend. She graciously opened up her home to me, the hubby, and our two darling lovelies. Yes, she’s that nice! She willingly agreed to house our crazy clan for a few days. It actually wasn’t as chaotic as you’d think having a 3 year old, 2 year old, 9 month old, and 7 month old all under the same roof. Luckily they have a huge roof!

It was so much fun! All the babies bonded and had fun playing together. And we got to vent/share all our mummy concerns and stories, making me feel like everything I’m going through and doing is normal. So it’s safe to say that we were definitely in good company comparing sleep schedules, fussiness, and eating habits.There’s just something special about swapping parenting stories especially when you’ve known the other mom since she was a kid herself. You still remember when you were in kindergarten together drawing pictures of unicorns and rainbows and now your kids are playing play dough on the dining room floor together. Special doesn’t even begin to sum it up.

The first night we were there, the men were “allowed” to go out to the baseball game what with it being opening night and all. Maybe we were trying to prove something, but we agreed that everything would be just fine without them. We waved off their concerns if we’d be alright on our own with four little ones to feed, bathe, and put to bed. Clearly we were outnumbered, but puh-lease, we could do it with our eyes closed, one hand tied behind our back, and a baby attached to a boob. So we told them to enjoy their night out, guaranteeing us our own night away for later during the weekend. Suckers!

I’m not gonna lie, at one point I thought we’d never get them all to bed before midnight because at any one time one baby (usually mine) was fussing and being ignored. It just can’t be helped when you’re chasing a toddler with sticky fingers and a poopy diaper.

But I’m happy to report that we had them all tended to and quietly tucked in by 8. After feeling like we’d won the World Series of child-rearing, we literally high-fived over our wine glasses and settled in for some more mom talk until our yet-to-be-mom friend joined us and relieved us of spending the whole night wallowing in our shared misery, um, I mean motherhood. We got on to discussing more pressing things like Real H-wives and the last time we bought new underwear, you know, what really matters.

Babymoonin’

16 Oct

Six weeks ago today I gave birth to another beautiful baby girl. It was an amazingly quick Hypno water birth (how granola of me, huh?) It was exactly the smooth and easy birth I wanted and we were back home within a couple hours. Let’s all say it together, child-bearing hips. I’m just glad they were useful for something.

Not to toot my own horn or anything but I’m pretty awesome at popping out babies. The hubby doesn’t know how lucky he is. There was no screaming profanities at him while I squeezed the crap out of his hand with each contraction and no mention that “he was the one who did this to me” through gritted teeth and crazy eyes. It was quiet and peaceful but most importantly, quick.

He does know how lucky he is though, he was bragging to complete strangers at his job (thanks hon) about our easy birth. I say “our”, but we all know I mean MY easy birth. Of course he had it easy too…he didn’t have to massage my shoulders or feed me ice chips–it was over before we knew it! He barely had time to pick up Rashard Mendenhall for our Fantasy Football team–I kid you not!

It’s a shame that this will be my last unless we have any mistakes surprises in the future. I will miss being pregnant. But on another note, I’m glad to be able to sleep on my back again, to not have intense burning heartburn every night, and to pee an appropriate number of times in a 24 hour period.

This go round has been super easy from the start. Unlike our first daughter, we can set this one down and she won’t instantly cry. She lets me get enough sleep to form a complete sentence and she’s a champion eater (already up 3 pounds!) It’s like I hit the baby jackpot!

So I’ve been enjoying this babymoon, trying to savor each moment because it is so fleeting. Six weeks have already gone by. And as crazy as it sounds, I’d go back to the night I had her and do it all over again just to relive that moment when she entered the world and joined our family. It was pure bliss.

Strippers and Babies Don’t Mix

17 Aug

Pregnancy does some weird things to you physically and mentally. Your body balloons in size, the smell of chili makes you retch, you drool like a Saint Bernard in your sleep, and you lose all rational thought. Who wouldn’t want to spend nine months like this?

Besides getting to the uncomfortable stage since I’m near the end, I’ve had to deal with some pretty vivid and messed up dreams. This one from last night really takes the cake.

I woke up in a sweaty panic thinking that the hubby really was cheating on me with a Japanese stripper named Skoshi and that he didn’t care one bit as I cussed him out for being such an effing A-hole. Even his own mother was there telling him what a pig he was. And still he didn’t care that I was about to pop out his second kid and he was off gallivanting with filth! Confessed and flaunted it right to my face! The nerve, I know.

The hubby always thinks I’m crazy when I have dreams like this and wake up angry at him. He never remembers his dreams and if he does, they’re always about flying through space or killing zombies–typical dude stuff. So he can’t relate when my overly dramatic unconscious mind concocts these wacky scenarios.

I don’t remember all the details, but those were enough to give me an icky feeling when I woke up. But I was so happy that I indeed did wake up and it was all just a dream. Such a relief that I wouldn’t have to chop his balls off.

I’ve heard other pregnant women complain about similar dreams of infidelity because we don’t feel attractive anymore and are insecure because our bodies aren’t what they used to be. This makes sense because with each passing day I feel more and more like a beached whale despite the fact that I’m growing a human.

I just hope I can make it to the end without Skoshi making another appearance because if she does, this preggo mama is gonna give her a beat down!

Fog of Denial

14 Aug

You would think that my burgeoning belly (and the squirming baby inside) would snuff out this fog of denial that’s been lingering around me for the past 37 weeks, but it hasn’t. Well, it’s starting to as my midsection is so huge now that I can’t see beyond my belly button and every time I pick my daughter up it feels as if my crotch is gonna fall out from under me. These are pretty tell-tale signs along with the never-ending heartburn and mini-earthquakes inside my abdomen that soon I will give birth. But it’s taken nine months to sink in.

Don’t get me wrong, like I’ve said before I’m really excited to be welcoming a new life into our family and I was thrilled from the moment we found out we were expecting, but it all seems a little surreal still. I felt this way with my first so maybe it’s just the norm for me. Not until I’m holding this baby in my arms will it finally occur that I’m a mom to TWO kids!!

As the hubby stares in what is supposed to be awe at my changing physique (all I see is terror), he can’t help but comment, “There’s a baby in there!” Well no shit Sherlock. I wish for one day he could be pregnant and know what it feels like. I’m not complaining, I’m one of those freaks of nature that actually likes being pregnant but it’s something I usually don’t forget about on a daily basis as I’m sure he sometimes did in the beginning and still does. The other comment I love from him is, “Oh my god. We’re having another baby.” It’s these moments when I look at him like, “Duh, welcome to Earth…have we met?” No wonder I walk around in a self-induced fog.

Today the fog of denial was officially lifted. My daughter needed a box of diapers and realizing I didn’t have any for our new arrival (that’s how prepared I am!) I threw in a box of newborns as well. I purchased two boxes of different-sized diapers.

That did it.

Fog gone.

Holy shitballs, we’re having another baby!

Forever Hold Your Peace, Lady!

9 Aug

Today as I stood in the checkout line at the grocery store allowing my 18 month old to hold my bag of candy so she’d be quiet, this woman standing next to us said, “Oh you’re going to have another one pretty soon.”

“Yep, 3 or 4 more weeks.”

She responded with an exasperated look. “And how old is this one?”

“18 months.”

“Was it planned?” She asked.

Instead of saying it was none of her business like I wish I had, I said no, but it wasn’t unplanned. I politely laughed and said I was getting it all over with in one shot and never looking back to diapers or sleepless nights. (Hah, yeah right.)

She then proceeded to tell me that she started potty-training her son when he was…wait for it…four months old. Four months old?! Riigghhht. Like I really believe that. She was such a “veteran” that I doubt she remembered where she parked her car, let alone forty-some odd years before. Then she went on to share how she could only deal with one kid at a time, that’s why she spaced hers out 8 and 10 years apart. I’m sorry but that just sounds like torture to me. Why would you want to go backwards and do the whole baby thing over again once you have a ten year old? But did I say that to her face followed by a look of extreme disapproval? No, because I have manners and a filter, unlike her.

A checker rescued me and I was happy to leave Negative Nelly behind, but she kept right on talking as I made my way into the next lane. I couldn’t see her face anymore, but I could hear her jabbering away at me, spewing out more unwanted advice on how to potty-train my infant. At first I pretended to care as I hurriedly threw my items on the conveyor belt, then I said screw it and let her talk at the wall of magazines and bags of chips separating us.

To the next bitter lady that makes me feel this way about my life choices I shall say, “I’m happy my kids will be so close in age (ask me again in 2 months) and I could give a rat’s ass that my 1 1/2 year old is not potty-trained yet. Thank you, ma’am.”

God, I hope I never become that lady. And if I do, as my Mummy likes to say, “Just put a pillow over my face and say goodnight.”

Pinteresting, Very Pinteresting

22 Jun

I could blame my lack of blogging on chasing around my 17 month old toddler or I could blame it on my lack of creativity because baby brain has officially taken over, but I’m going to blame it on Pinterest. I’m a little behind in joining the craze, but now that I have, I see what all the fuss is about. It’s like window shopping without any kind of budget or guilt, loading up my online shopping cart with everything my little heart desires only never pressing proceed to checkout. I can “pin” and “repin” all sorts of pictures of outfits, dream homes, recipes, and accessories all the livelong day and not spend one cent (the hubby loves this part of it).

It should be called Greediest though as I want almost everything I see. Good thing I’m not a shopaholic or else this would be like crack cocaine.

So for those who don’t know what Pinterest is, it’s basically an online bulletin board of anything and everything you could ever want. It keeps all the things you like in one place so you can daydream and wish upon a star that you had enough money and time to actually attain any of it. It’s really sort of depressing in a way. Sure it’s great for recipes because that’s stuff you might actually use in real life, but the photos of faraway places and million dollar kitchens is just a fantasy and always will be. Makes me a little sad and adds to this fog of denial that I’ve been living in for…oh, probably my whole life.

Somehow seeing everything I’ve pinned in one place is enough though. It’s my 50 Shades of Grey, so to speak (no, I haven’t read the book…yet). It completely takes over my brain and enslaves me. I can’t help but look at my boards throughout the day and pin things I just have to have. Like that dress I could never pull off or those shoes that would collect dust in my closest.

Really, it’s nothing like 50 Shades of Grey. It’s probably the antithesis of it because it’s like shopping abstinence and we all know there was no abstaining of any sort in that book.

Guess I’ll keep enjoying my new-found addiction until this baby comes along and I have zero time for anything again!

Time To Bust Out The Chundies

1 May

Chundies, as I’ve been referring to them recently, are chubby undies. Or granny panties. Or circus tents. Or whatever creative way you want to say big ol’ chonies. If I’m going to be honest, I busted out the chundies long ago in this pregnancy but I’m only just now getting around to writing about it…as if you’d been waiting your whole life to read this.

This Mummy has never been a thong, thong, thong, thong girl. When did I ever have to worry about panty lines? Never! And even if I did, I don’t think I would sacrifice my comfort by wearing butt floss just so that others wouldn’t be troubled by my visible underwear lines.

I don’t really understand the whole thong phenomenon. I get it if you’re wearing some fancy, curve-hugging number or you’re Giselle sashaying down the runway but just in everyday wear? To work and to the grocery store? Doesn’t make sense to me! Why would I want a skinny little piece of string up my crack all day? Sounds like torture.

As much as I’m a comfortable undies kind of gal, there is something terribly embarrassing about chundies. They’re just plain big and unsexy. It’s like trying to fold a parachute — you can’t really tell the front from the back. You don’t want anyone else in the world to see them either on you or in your drawers. You pray that your shirt doesn’t ride up in the back exposing your chundies bunched up around the top of your jeans…yes, there’s so much fabric that they bunch.

Almost everything about pregnancy is weird and embarrassing. When your body is taken over by ravaging hormones and an alien literally sucking the life out of you, you want to be comfy at all costs. So your pride is the first to go and then it’s your pretty, lacy underthings. I feel sorry for the women who are too ashamed to join the land of chundies, putting their comfort (and asses) at risk for the sake of femininity.

For now and the next four months I’m going to enjoy the comfort of my chundies and then throw them all away in a ceremony marking the end of my baby-making days. But don’t be fooled, this Mummy will never completely leave her chundies behind (though I definitely should). As any normal woman knows, there is always a spare chundie stuffed in the back of your underwear drawer.

OneCrazyMummy

23 Apr

I might as well change this blog’s name to OneCrazyMummy because with baby #2 on the way I won’t be sane for a long time.

Yes, it’s official — the hubby and I are expecting a brother or sister for our darling daughter sometime in September. We’ve had awhile to get used to the idea of two little rugrats running around but sometimes the fear hits us out of nowhere. We’ll be out on a walk and suddenly realize there will be two drooly faces to wipe…(not to mention two dirty butts).

We realize that once this baby gets here, making us a party of four, we won’t be making any kind of reservations or leaving the house period. The hubby already scoffs at how much stuff is required just to make a simple outing to the park. Weighted down with multiple bags on his arms and the stroller in tow, he asks if the amount of stuff will double with the new addition. Duh! Like with everything else, it will become our new normal I guess.

This wasn’t exactly planned nor was it unplanned but we’re very excited for our growing family. Sure we have our moments of “what the hell are we thinking?!?!” but the thought of our daughter having a sibling so close in age eases those fears. At least until she’s a teenager and wants nothing to do with her brother or sister (or her parents, for that matter). Did I mention I was going to have myself committed by the time she hits thirteen anyway? A nice padded room with no sharp objects, just a bed and a pillow. That sounds like heaven!

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