T Minus 4 and Counting

Continued from here, my favorite posts #201-400:

This is my all-time favorite post I have ever written. If you read nothing else here, read this one.

And that the feminist post I've re-written one hundred times can just get deleted, because oh yeah...already covered that.
You see, I want my boys to understand what a woman is capable of. I want them to realize that a woman can be strong, and very important, and not necessarily bring home a paycheck to be those things. I want them to understand the importance of parenting, of spouses supporting each other, and of somebody taking charge of things. They know that daddy goes to work, and he is the boss. But they don’t see it happen. They see me do it. They know that a family is like a team, and everyone has a role, and I am the coach. I am here to point everyone in the right direction. Read the rest...

You know what? Kids are absolutely disgusting. And I love it.
Every night he dictates exactly what sort of pre-sleep affection he will be requiring for the evening. Tonight it was the standard kiss and a hug (not to be confused with a hug and a kiss–a whole different matter entirely), with a raspberry on the neck thrown on the end. So he gets his kiss, then hug, and as I go in for the raspberry, he holds his finger up and tells me to hang on. You know, that little “wait a minute” sign. At least I think that’s what he’s doing with his finger pointed up. I ask what’s up and he says, “I have this boogie stuck on my finger”. (shows said boogie to me) “Hold on, I have to put it back.” Read the rest...

Yes, my mother in law actually said this to her 9 month pregnant daughter in law. It's a really good thing she moved to Africa.
Yesterday, we were discussing the fact that I will be in the hospital a bit longer than expected so I can get my tubes tied. She asked why I’m doing it, as she thought J was, and after I answered her she said, “Well, that’s good. You know, in case you ever have an affair or anything, you’ll be covered." Read the rest...

My parents' 13 year marriage, in 100 words or less-ish.

37 years ago today, Ed married a very not-pregnant Pat. This fact may not seem all that significant to you or I, but became an increasingly important revelation to Ed in the days following their nuptials.

Thankfully, 24 years ago, they divorced.

My own marriage, in 20 words or less.

7 years of marriage, and no one’s been shot yet. Not half bad.

Who knew that she'd be covered in black lipstick just two short years later? My first pictures of my first daughter.

Six short weeks after my daughter was born, I came to believe in God.
And the clouds party, and the angels sang. The thunder rolled in raucous applause. The Lord and his son Jesus themselves peered down from above and bestowed unto us this gift, this miracle. Praise be to God…read the rest

What happens when you don't celebrate Christmas as a child.
I recently caught Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer on TV, and I have but one thing to say:
What is wrong with you people?
How do you not realize that this is about the creepiest thing ever? It’s like Satan’s little holiday message of cheer. Maybe you don’t notice because you’ve grown up with it, but for those of us discovering it at 30 for the first time, it’s disturbing. Really, really disturbing.

I hope the Charlie Brown Christmas thing isn’t as bad.

After a good long fight with the lovely husband last night, and an even longer night with the baby (though not nearly as long as hers was), I was a bit tired this morning and slept in. Since I was the winner of last nights’ spat, J was still seeking atonement and more than happy to get up with the kiddies.

Allow me to mention here that he never gets up with them.

Here’s what I woke up to...read the rest.

The $300 Hamster.

Did you know that the equipment/litter/food and purchase price of a hamster comes to around $50?

Did you also know that it is considered off-season for duct cleaners, and they will come vaccuum out a $50 dead, cooking hamster from your forced air heating system for only $250?

Think I'm not the Worst Mother Ever? You're WRONG.
We are having a sleepover right now. Over dinner the children were having a lively conversation which I was almost completely successful in tuning out, until I heard B very matter-of-factly say this:

“…blah blah yada yada my parents didn’t want me, but they wanted 2of3 blah blah yada blah…”


The difference between having your first baby and your third baby

…is that you would NEVER be holding your first baby while she slept six full months after she was born and happen to notice something in her pretty little belly button that upon closer inspection turned out to be quite a significant amount of umbilical cord remnants. You would never sit around trying to remember the last time you gave her pretty little belly button a good washing, only to realize that you just hadn’t bothered to do that yet.

There is a good chance this could, however, happen with your third.

Maybe you shouldn't go reading my archives after all, because seriously, I am a shitty parent. And quite good at documenting it.

My son was puking in an empty paper Pepsi cup and for the first time I got to see vomit actually come out of someone’s nose. It’s fascinating. While I was watching this rather than helping him because there is some defect in my brain that allows me to forget I am his mother and it is my job to help him when distracted by random macabre events unfolding, my darling little baby decided that it was high time she did a double backwards somersault off the couch and landed on her tiny little head.