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Just a heads up – this is a parenting post. I know. Those suck balls. I’m so so sorry. But I told you right off the bat so if you are childess you can go back to wondering if you should screw your no-really-he’s-just-my-best-friend roommate or the hot Asian guy in Starbucks. I wish I had your problems.
Also, if you are considering spawning, you should probably skip this post.
The truth is, sometimes children are miraculous little butterflies that flit around your face and you love them and you think ridiculous thoughts like, ‘my children are the greatest, most beautiful, most effervescent, most minty (holler Steph!) things on earth. No, in the UNIVERSE!’ This is a great batch of feelings. It comes complete with hugs and elevated self esteem <—-because they must be so awesome thanks to me.
And then, then, they like….flip their shit. Always both at the same time. Two weeks ago I was riding high on kick ass kiddiesness. Then, Fox, who up to this point was kind of cruising along in underwear ok, minus the whole poop thing (oh god I hate when people talk about that on their blogs – ergo I hate myself) Anyway, daycare handles that aspect. Then, last night, he just up and pees on the carpet. It seriously sent me over the swing set. Past annoyed, past angry and right on over to hilarious. I swing on some fucked up mental playgrounds. Clearly.
So I’m laughing and dying inside because potty training is the worst thing to ever exist. I have serious doubts that this child even knows what planet he’s on half the time and so how do I reach him? I mean, he pulled down his underwear and just…let it fly. WTF <—-the f stands for FUUUUUUCCCCKKK
Then later he peed in the pants and took them off, carefully put them in the dirty clothes pile and stated, “I handled it.” So now I get to say F to You internet message board which told me if a child pees to make them ‘handle it’ and they will hate dealing with ickyness and they will want to use the potty. For Fox, it’s an out.
I’m just so frustrated. To make things worse, I have underwear eyes. You know when you are wanting to be pregnant, you see preggos every where you go? Or when you want a Kia Soul suddenly there are 50 thousand of them on the road? Like that. Only with cute children in their cute underwear and their goddamn cute smiling pee free parents.
And don’t even get me started on Leo. He’s about to get his ass straight kicked out of daycare. I’m not even kidding about that. That’s another post.
So I’m tired and stressed and exhausted and waaaaaaaahhhhh. This Saturday Danny is going to UFO Field Investigators training all day, leaving me with his children. It makes me want to sob, on the floor – except I can’t – because it has pee on it.
I also realize when I write statements like, “Danny is going to UFO Field Investigators training all day” without even thinking about it, that maybe there’s a reason my children are kind of strange and alien.
So…sometimes, my stats make me create tears. Like little eye puddles. It’s because I learn something new and I realize that I have failed you. For example, yesterday, I learned that you do not like discussing child abuse even though I was not condoning it, hell I wasn’t even really talking about child abuse but child abuse awareness. Whatever.
I bow to your wishes. Specifically, I believe the topmommyblog crowd (which I always read as tommyblogs and I’m like wtf is Tommy? oh wait wait TOP my bad). See I know I’ve offended when a lot of tmbs come in but don’t click the juggling woman (who, by the way, is waaaaay worse a mom than me – I mean, maybe she doesn’t talk about abuse but she’s juggling heavy objects and not feeding her baby and she’s grinning like she’s on meth). By coming in then not clicking the bitch it’s like saying “oh no! This blog has offended!”
So today, in honor of topmommies every where I am making it happy baby thought day.
First order of business is adding the offensive subject to my list of things to never ever bring up again. The list now looks like this:
- dead bab(doll)ies
- Bode Miller’s scrot
I’m sure there will be more in the future. *sniffs*
Next, I’ll tell you about an entire subgenre of Romance that I like to call Babeh Fever.
The conventions of babeh fever go like this:
Get knocked up – by a hot guy of course, please, no ugly babies here. What do you think our heroine will do with an ugly baby? That’s right. Abuse.
Then have the hot guy bail because he’s an enormous jerk with no redeeming qualities. Score! She gets hot genes and a blissful man-free pregnancy. I can see the appeal of this genre.
Then, lady is getting all near due date and thinking ‘damn, I’m about to have a baby. I need a man to worship me and change this kid’s diapers. Make that a HOT man. Where am I going to find that?’ Cue knock on the door.
Surprise! Here’s a hot man who is unnaturally attracted to pregnant women (though it helps that the lady has no physical symptoms aside from a perfectly cute round belleh). He falls in love at first sight. How could he not?
In one case he’s a ranger and he goes to tell lady about her long lost family (don’t try to make sense of this) but THEN he realizes that might send her into pre-term labor. That’s right, a single hot man who understands potential labor triggers. It’s fantasy folks.
Anyway, some sort of natural/manmade/vampire disaster happens and the woman has to give birth in a cozy location (like a giant mansion or something) with just the hot man beside her. He is not grossed out. He is moved to accept babeh as his own.
In short, he’s got the fever.
Sex follows because the woman heals and drops her two pounds of baby weight in a week.
All is wonderful in the world.
Not that I’ve walked by these books and considered reading them like a 1,000 times or anything….
Another happy baby thought?
Ok, you’re so insistent –
I’m posting an awesome kid video! A healthy non-abused kid!
Ugh, except I have to link to it because WordPress doesn’t allow videos which is SHIT.
Awesome Jessica <—-trust me, it’s not dirty or wrong it’s very very great
If you are content then click the mommy to the left! Why? Well, I’ve got an ego the size of an elephant and it needs to be fed.
*I was going to say “Texas” but that would be mixing metaphors.*
**Also, do check out topmommyblogs because there are some really fun, cute, touching uh mommy blogs on there!**
People. I did not manage the time change well. Let’s be honest, I did not manage it at all. Which is why I’m an hour late to work. So embarrassed.
What happened? Just a simple series of missteps, I guess. First, I openly and mercilessly mocked a coworker for taking today off because the time change is just too much. Universe didn’t like my pretentious attitude so Universe was like, ‘lesson coming your way. Be nice to neurotic time-sensitive people.’ I was set up to fail.
The second thing was the baby getting sick. Wah. I was distracted and sleeping on the couch because I have this notion that it’s easier to get up from the couch if I need to or that I sleep lighter so I’m more in tune with his little breath. The last thing on my mind was checking to make sure my phone (which I use as an alarm) had changed time. AT&T promises me automatic changeover but AT&T is a liar.
Then, I dropped all the lunchmeat on the floor. All of it! No more turkey sandwiches for me. Thankfully, I had made my Monday sandwich. So, we’re ok there.
Then, I got stuck behind every cell phone talking, trailer pulling, old ass man on the road.
Finally, work and coffee and feeling just ‘off’.
How do you handle the little missteps? They can be very frustrating, can’t they? I just want to start the week over.