Give me a break..I'm MAINTAINING here!!

I was out running errands the other day and my husband called me in a panic:  "WHERE ARE YOU? ARE YOU OK? WHAT HAPPENED?????"  Um, I'm not sure...I know they're out of the kind of bread the kids like at Target and that Jada and Will are breaking up according to People but other than that I'm not sure what happened?  Which prompted me to ask "WTF are you talking about?!?!?"  Dead silence...long painful pause...."Um hello?"  He cleared his throat and informed me that he had just gotten home.  He didn't need to say anything else because I knew what the problem was.  I had abandoned ship in the middle of the day and the ship was a wreck (pun intended).

He was likely standing in the middle of a war zone.  The battle had ensued earlier that morning and there were many, many casualties that had yet to be dealt with.  The Cheerios that had dropped from someone's bowl had likely created Cheerio concrete on the kitchen floor, the various lunch fixings were still on the island countertop...but whatever, the youngest was going to need to eat lunch eventually so why NOT leave out the bread, peanut butter (including the pb that was smeared ON the countertop) jelly, cheetos, juice boxes, and baggies; for whatever reason the vacuum was smack in the middle of the front entryway (doesn't EVERYONE keep theirs there? No? No one?  Hmmm...weird...)  Pajamas were flung over the back of the couch, the arm of the chair, and strewn across the ottoman...and OH SHIT I'm pretty sure the youngest child's Pull Up was left on the floor by the tv...and we can't forget the container of hair accessories that got dumped in the upstairs hallway because the oldest couldn't find the exact one that she was looking for...discarded outfit choices were scattered haphazardly on bedroom floors, of COURSE no one's bed was made, I'm PRETTY sure the dryer was hanging open and half the contents were on the floor of the laundry room, toothbrushes were cemented to the bathroom countertop in a pool of Crest, a REAL battle between Jango Fett, Darth Maul, Anakin Skywalker, and ObeWan Kenobi had taken place earlier that morning as well (when middle child was SUPPOSED to be getting a clean pair of socks...which he never came downstairs with because DUH...Anakin needed some sort of battle cruiser and what better than a pair of Hanes???) so the victims of said battle were strategically placed along the stairs (along with a wide variety of weapons, back-up troops, and vehicles) So traversing the stairs was like battling a Galactic Heroes minefield...good times, good times.

So basically the house was a shit hole.  The scene that particular day was not normal (I had to leave immediately after putting the older two on the bus for an appointment and then stayed out to run errands after) but you're not going to find it spit-shined and polished every day before 9 am either.  I typically like to keep up with it during the day, I MAINTAIN if you will...dishes are done, meal preparations are cleaned up, kids rooms are tidy enough...but I'm guilty of maintaining a "lived in" home.  At any given time you could walk into my house and odds are pretty damn good you'll trip over a pair of shoes, step on a Lego, walk through a patch of mystery stickiness on my kitchen floor, have to move a jacket/backpack/blanket/stuffed animal/barbie to find a spot on the couch...you get the idea.  I have three kids and it's damn obvious.  It also drives my husband CRAZY.  He can't stand the pile of the kids' school paperwork in a certain spot on the kitchen counter.  Finding shoes/toys/sippy cups under the couch drives him to the edge.  The stack of DVDs that have yet to be returned to his alphabetical orderliness in the basement makes him want to hurt someone.  But keeping up with that shit ALL DAY EVERY DAY is akin to keeping the ocean back with a broom.  WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I BOTHER????  I clean up one mess, turn around to deal with another and the first mess is all fucked up again!  Ocean...broom.

Yet it's been our most consistent battle since we first got married.  I grew up in a "lived in" house...there were 8 of us...no freaking way could my mother have kept up with it all day every day.  She MAINTAINED.  I do the same. My house is clean, it's usually pretty tidy, 90% of the time I would not be embarrassed by unexpected guests.  My husband is a little different though.  He grew up in a house where his bed was made before he had completely gotten out of it, a discarded tissue was removed from a bathroom garbage can to be placed in the larger kitchen garbage before the snot even had a chance to dry, and dishes were washed, rinsed, dried and IMMEDIATELY put in their proper place, couch pillows were re-fluffed and re-positioned as soon as he had abandoned his spot.  So he's had a bit of a difficult time adjusting to the fact that shoes in the front hall and GI Joe guns wedged in the couch cushions don't bother me.  Sure they get dealt with eventually but I refuse to deal with every mess the second it happens.  I'd go crazy.  I'd drive everyone else crazy.  THERE.IS.NO.POINT  but he doesn't see that.  He doesn't understand why the kids backpacks, papers, toys, shoes are still in the family room at 6 pm on a Wednesday.  We always do a quick clean up as we head upstairs for bed...everyone grabs their shit and puts it away.  It works.  Shit gets picked up, everyone is happy.

I've proposed that he stay home for a week straight with the kids day in and day out so HE can get a firsthand look at what a huge pain in the ass even MAINTAINING can be.  He doesn't think it's that hard.  He CLAIMS that if I'm out for a few hours and he's left in charge the house is kept clean (um...yeah...that'll be reserved for another blog post entitled "My husband can't clean up after the kids for shit when left alone but I should be thankful that our children are still alive upon my return")  So in summary, Star Wars, Cheerios, ocean...broom...MAINTAIN my friends, MAINTAIN.

Why going to the movies sucks...

I don't even have it in me to come up with a witty title for this one...taking a family of five to the movies sucks ass.  Period.  I have yet to figure out why, everytime we have a low-key weekend without a bazillion different activities and destinations on the itinerary, my beloved insists on suggesting a movie.  Of COURSE he does it when the kids are within earshot so I look like a raging-party-pooping-Mommy-Dearest-pissing-in-everyone's-Cheerios BITCH if I say no.  Don't get me wrong, I like movies...ones I only pay a dollar for and can enjoy whilst wearing flannel.  I like hitting pause if I (or someone else) needs to take a potty break, I like perusing my pantry for affordable snacks.  Apparently my family does not enjoy these things as much as I do.

 

They LOOOOOVE going to the movie theater.  The smelly, sticky-floored, bacteria-infested-stadium seat movie theater.  Ewwwww.  I just threw up in my mouth.  But I digress.  My family loves movies, we have a lot of them, and yes, we GO to a lot of them despite my best efforts to redirect them into other activities.  Apparently the art of underwater basket weaving and making bottled sand art isn't nearly as entertaining.  Assholes.

So off we go...and it goes the same way EVERY.SINGLE.TIME.  I insist that we stop at a convenience store so I can purchase drinks to smuggle in.  This mortifies my husband beyond belief.  I bring the biggest fucking mom-bag I own, I could easily fit a small child in there but for these little outings, that baby is reserved for Gatorade and Diet Coke.  We argue for about 15 minutes about why I bring our own drinks in, he acts all irritated and whiny.  And even though I always smuggle in a soda for him, he always buys a small bucket at the concession stand as if to say "HA!  I can get my OWN drink bitch...I just spent $8 on flat, watered down soda that will have me pissing my pants 30 minutes into the movie..TAKE THAT!"  Yeah, good for you buddy, too bad I only brought Pull-ups for the youngest of the brood.  I also bring in snacks (yeah, it's a BIG.ASS.BAG) but again, he will buy a barrel of popcorn once we're in the theater.

After we sign over part of a college fund contribution to buy tickets and my man-child stands in line for his snacks (for which the total rivals a small grocery bill)  We make our way to the theater, stand in back while the man-child and the two oldest spawn argue about where to sit.  Let's face it, the 3D glasses are going to make me want to puke 5 minutes in regardless so I could give two shits if we sit in the back on the right, smack in the middle, or up front with my head cocked back at a 90 degree angle.  What's that you say? You want to sit in the parking lot??? OK!!!!!!!!!  Sign my ass up!  I'll race you!

We make our way to our seats and more arguing ensues about who is going to sit next to whom and then we listen to a chorus of :

"MOVE YOUR ELBOW"
"THAT'S MY DRINK HOLDER"
"SHE TOOK MY GATORADE!"
"YOU'RE GOING TO KNOCK OVER MY POPCORN!"
"YOU GOT TO SIT NEXT TO DAD LAST TIME!!"
"I HATE YOU ALL I HATE THE MOVIES AND I WANT TO GO THE FUCK HOME!!"  (oh wait, that last one was me...)

And a whole bunch of other bullshit that makes me want to knock heads together and just rouse them from unconsciousness once the movie is over.  But the real nightmare begins once the lights go down and the movie starts.  After of course 15 minutes of previews...those stupid BASTARDS know my kids are suckers so of course they show previews for 10 more movies I'll have to drag my ass to.  Fuck my life.  So the movie begins and I WILL say, there are a few times when I've actually WANTED to watch the movie that we paid a small fortune to see.  However, it NEVER turns out that way.  I typically spend 1 hour and 58 minutes listening to various requests/demands/bitching/whining/random-stupid-bullshit talking so I actually get to pay attention to MAYBE 58 seconds of every movie we go to.

"Mom, can I have more popcorn?"

"Mom, can you open my drink?"

"Mom, I don't like popcorn, what else do we have?"  (which requires me to dig in the big ass bag...not an easy task in the dark)

"Mom, remember in the first movie when the one guy had the thing that he took to the place to bring to the other guy?  Was he a bad guy or a good guy?  Did he have a different weapon?  Because that one doesn't look like the one he had in the first movie.  Can you check on your phone and google it and see what he had in the first movie that he brought to the guy at the place?"

"Mom, did you bring my jacket?"  Uh NO...I reminded you as we were getting out of the car.

"Mom, can I have your jacket?"

"Mom, can I play with your phone?"  OH HELL NO!  The tickets cost more than the GDP of some small countries!  Your ass will watch EVERY.SINGLE.GODDAMN.SECOND of this movie or so help me God...

"Hey..mom...did you look that up yet?  Cuz now there's another guy going to a different place and the other guy has a different thing and he's taking it somewhere else with another bad guy and they're going to the same place as in the other movie and I want to see if it's the same one or a different one so did you look yet?"

"Mom?  Did we bring M&M's?"  (to which I replied that I did NOT bring any M&M's...only to discover that child #1 was asking because she was suspicious of whatever floor snack child #3 had just unearthed from under her chair...HOLY SHIT)

"Mom, what did he just say?" this happens repeatedly and USUALLY about 12 seconds into the movie so they spend the next 2 hours confused because they missed something during the opening credits.

"Mom, I have to go to the bathroom"  OF COURSE you have to go to the fucking bathroom.  Because your father shared his vat of diet coke with you so not only are you going to spend the next 6 hours bouncing off the goddamn walls, you'll be pissing every 20 minutes too.  Awesome.  So as any mother would do, I ask ALL THREE if they have to go so I can just get it over with.  The other two say no but it never fails...I get back, sit down and someone else announces that they have to go.  I've started wising up and just dragging all of them with me.  It will get to the point where I will put them ALL in Pull-ups so I don't have to miss anything because I missed the last 10 minutes of Transformers 3 and I'm still pissed.

Occasionally their father will drag himself out of his popcorn bucket stupor to pitch in for 37 seconds of the 2 hour long movie but most of MY 2 hours is spent refereeing/handing out more snacks/mopping up spills/passing out napkins/prying mystery floor snacks out of the 3 year old's hands/etc...etc....etc.

So this is why I don't enjoy going to the movies.  I LIKE movies.  I just don't like them with my family.  Now I know why people go to movies alone.  I used to feel sorry for them. Now I wish I could be them.

Don't "sweat" it...at least not often...

Ok, so I fully admitted via Facebook one day last week that I was unshowered and SO greasy that the water was probably going to repel from my hair...and it did.  I should have taken one poster's suggestion of using Dawn dishwashing liquid because after all "it takes grease out of your way".  Duh...I should listen next time.  It took about 6 rounds of "lather, rinse, repeat" to get myself looking somewhat human again.  Whatever it takes, right?  Many of you told me that you had been in the same boat...which makes ANY mom feel better to know that other moms had been there, done that.

But here's the thing...the homeless woman, greasy, non-showering, unpleasantness is NOT a regular occurrence.  Spending the day in sweats does not happen on a consistent basis.  I do not make it a habit to schlub around in my scrubbiest clothes multiple days out of the week.  Simply put, I do NOT try to look like shit semi-weekly.  Yet many moms do.  Scratch that.  I shouldn't say they TRY to look like shit.  We all wake up looking like shit.  No one wakes up pretty.  If you think you do, you're full of yourself and delusional and we're probably not friends in real life because you suck for thinking that highly of yourself.  It's the women who MAINTAIN the overall shittiness day in an day out without any effort towards making it go away.  On a regular basis.  More than once a week...or twice or even three times a week.  Shit is just WRONG.

I work from home, as many moms do, therefore this lends itself quite nicely to staying in jammies maybe once a week.  MAYBE once a week.  No need to shower, shave, and get all pretty if I'm not going anywhere but my basement to work with only the two-year-old for company, right?  Even if I AM staying home to work I at least still shower...maybe put pj's back on but whatever, don't judge...But if I am leaving my house you bet your ass I'm in the shower, put on some decent clothes, make-up and am looking relatively decent to go out amongst the public.  I cannot wrap my brain around the moms who go out in public looking like they just rolled out of bed.  Familiar with the concepts of self-respect and self-worth?  Don't you feel better about yourself if you take some time to look even a tiny bit attractive?  I'm not talking Real Housewives of Orange County shit in full make-up and an outfit suited for a night out clubbing.  Hell, you can make yoga pants and a hoodie look good if you TRY. 

Riddle me this...why are some women's kids decked out in head-to-toe matching outfits, shoes, hair accessories, with perfectly styled hair and mom looks like she got dressed in a dark closet after just having pulled what was crammed under her bed and stepped from the nearest wind tunnel?  I just don't get it, I really don't.  I can't tell you how often I read of moms who admit having gone DAYS...multiple DAYS without showering or changing clothes.  Yummy.  I'm a mom too.  I get it.  I get how overwhelming and exhausting it can be and how difficult it can be to even find 3 minutes to take a shit by yourself (and that rarely, if ever, happens) let alone take a shower.  But don't you just feel better about yourself as a woman and a mom if you can find time to take a 2 minute shower and dig out some clean underwear?  Maybe slap on some mascara and some jeans instead of sweats?  Put on a cute shirt instead of digging a grubby sweatshirt out of the hamper that has lunch leftovers smeared across the front or are those boogers?  Hard to tell...but does it really matter?  Shit is just WRONG...

photo courtesy of Fussy Pants

Like I said, I've had my days.  We all have.  We have our days when our periods make us feel fat, bloated, and miserable.  A cold has us so run-down that getting dressed is not an option.  Being awake all night nursing a baby makes showering seem like an impossible task.  I GET THAT.  I really do.  I've been that mom that has spent the day smelling like sour milk.  I've been that mom who is so congested from a head cold I'm only grateful that I can't smell myself.  I've been that mom who is so cranky and pms'ing and feels so "fluffy" that sweats are the ONLY FUCKING THING that are going on my body that day.  I've had to schlep the older two to school after they missed the bus wearing ladybug pajama pants, a pink hoodie, my winter coat, Uggs, glasses, and MIGHT have brushed my hair...but I didn't get out of the car, I just slowed down long enough for them to roll free of the back tires.  Anyway...the point being, I GET IT.  I'VE DONE IT.  But we ALL know moms who have way too many days like this far too often and just claim that "there is no time" and they just don't bother.  I feel sorry for them.  I feel sorry for the moms who forgot what it was like to make themselves LOOK and FEEL good.  Not only for themselves but for their spouse.  I do myself up for myself AND my husband.  He doesn't need me to be in a housedress, high heels, fresh lipstick, and pearls everyday when he gets home but shit...I can at least have showered and have on a pair of clean underwear for God's sake...how hard is that?

If someone can PLEASE clue me in to the mystery that is the schlubby, frumpy mom...I would be so appreciative.  Please explain to me the phenomenon that is the mom who does not give a shit the majority of the time.  I've heard the "I'm not vain" or "I don't care what other people think" bullshit before and I'm not buying it.  There is a direct correlation between LOOKING GOOD and FEELING GOOD.  So moms who are having a shitty ass day, sometimes all it takes is a little bit of make-up, a cute outfit, and getting the fuck out of the house...can't hurt, right?  Might even help...ya never know...so please, if you have some insight into the habitual schlumpadinka, do tell...I'm dying to know..

Prankster Friday


That's what my kids are calling today...creative geniuses, huh?  They're huge fans of those cheesy, lame-ass shows like "Funniest Home Videos" and we saw a program on some other channel that was all about pranks and they just about pissed themselves watching it.  SO they were consipiratorial and giggly last night when they went to bed and BOTH woke up without prompting today which instantly put me on my guard.  Luckily those little shits aren't out to prank me (because I would have been PISSED if they had tried to Saran Wrap my toilet...because #1 that shit ain't cheap and #2 I usually stumble to the bathroom half asleep so I would have been an excellent candidate for that one to actually work...they would have been scrubbing the toilet/floor with their toothbrushes).

They are out to prank each other...yet keep talking TO EACH OTHER about different pranks.  See, creative geniuses..I told ya.  I've been watching and listening and wanting to point out the HUGE flaw in their plan.  Really fucking hard to prank someone when the someone you are going to prank is your accomplice.  Oh yeah, super smart.  I'm so proud.  So child #2 comes down into the kitchen and his first "prank" on his sister is to....wait for it...put her juice box in her lunch box for her.  Wow.  Seriously?  He was so freaking excited about it I was not about to piss in his Cheerios with the insight that that was one of the lamest fucking pranks I had ever heard.  SO I preemptively went upstairs to clue #1 in on what the "prank" was so she would respond appropriately.  WELL...let me just say she will NOT be up for an Academy Award for her acting skills anytime soon.  #2 ended up in tears that his prank was dumb (yeah, ya think???) and #1 was NOT helping by telling him "well buddy, that's not really a prank" which just made him cry harder.  I wanted to punch her and sign her up for acting classes. 

SO fast forward a few minutes to scrambling to get ready for the bus...#1 asks #2 where his fake spider is.  WOW...again.  Super fucking geniuses.  He goes and gets it for her out of his room and she giggles and runs away to the bathroom.  12 seconds later she asks him if he has to go to the bathroom before they leave for school.  You have GOT to be fucking kidding me.  I am inwardly screaming at them how lame they are and how much they suck balls at pranking.  He looks at her like she's got a penis growing out of her forehead and says no.  She asks if he's REALLY SURE???  Sweet Jesus Lord above you guys are HORRIBLE and I'm embarassed for you.  So she tries another tactic to get him into the shitter (where, DUH she's got the fake spider that he HAD JUST HANDED HER sitting on the toilet seat)  WOW.

"hey buddy, do you need a tissue"
"no" (rolls his eyes at her)
"are you sure"
"uh, yeah I'm sure" (now giving her looks of total disdain)
"UM, can you get ME a tissue?"
"probably not"

So she is watching her brilliant prank unravel before her very eyes and asks me if I need a tissue.  HOLY FUCKING SHIT.  No, I don't need a tissue and you need to get your lame ass on the bus...get out of my house before I disown both of you and your sad, pitiful, sub-standard skills.  So as they leave, they start conspiring about what pranks they can pull on me when they get home from school.   Oh boy, I can't wait...but in the meantime I'm going to come up with some KICK ASS pranks for those little shits that will make them terrified beyond any reasonable doubt to come anywhere near me with a prank...no matter how lame...

Now I just need some ideas...bring it on... ;) THEY ARE GOING DOWN MUTHAFUCKAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yep, I'm *THAT* mom...

I went grocery shopping the other day and the spawn was making it difficult to get through the bowels of super Hell-Mart so I bribed her with my iPhone and powdered sugar donuts.  I drew the line at sharing my diet coke so I got her a Snapple instead...yeah, way better.  Other mothers glanced my way with looks of disgust as they eyed my offspring covered in processed sugar while she stared glassy-eyed at Dora the Explorer blaring out of my phone via Netflix while their little darlings (who were manufactured in petri dishes, no doubt) were reciting Neitzsche and enjoying an package of organic fruit snacks (that mom had brought from home, not ripped from the shelves then handed half eaten to the girl at the register).

Yeah, whatever...I'm THAT mom.  Just these minor indiscretions made me think of all of the other things that make me THAT mom and how little I actually give a shit...cuz guess what?  My kids are still alive, healthy, and for the most part, happy and well-adjusted...(yes, their college funds can be earmarked for therapy, just in case...)  Some of the issues that MOST parents seem to be overly concerned with or focus a great deal of attention on and my take on them, just a little glimpse into how I do shit 'round here (this could explain A LOT...)

TV:
Well, we tried the no cable thing...that lasted ALMOST a year, not too shabby huh?  It's not on 24 hours a day but I don't set timers for how long they can watch, I just can't get on board with that shit and let's be honest, if I shut the TV off that means *I* have to do something with them and that's just not always appealing.  I DO however put some limitations on what they can watch.  My husband feels if it is animated it means kids can watch it...hmmm...ever watched Family Guy?  A drunken dog stumbling around with a martini and a perverted baby trying to pick up hookers from his carseat does NOT scream Playhouse Disney to me...but TV isn't all bad, the 2 year old can count to ten perfectly...in Spanish.

FOOD:
They eat junk food.  Yep, they do.  If I went to take a picture of my pantry right now you WOULD see sugar cereals, processed foods, and shit with ingredients you can't pronounce.  Yes, they eat fruits and vegetables and I make relatively decent meals for dinner.  Does dinner come from a box sometimes, you bet your ass it does!  I love some of my friends dearly but do you REALLY need to make EVERY.FUCKING.THING from scratch???  That Little House on the Prairie bullshit ain't my style.  They get fruit snacks, pizza rolls, and Cheetos.  We've done a "totally popcorn dinner" before and I was the coolest fucking mom EVER (for like a day).  They've tried soda, the toddler gets more juice than she probably should, and yes...more than one of them has had Doritos for breakfast.  I'm admittedly too cheap for organic and according to some, that makes ME the asshole because I'm not concerned with where our food comes from and what I feed my family. Whatever.  I'm a good cook and a good mom but if they decide they want *GASP* hot dogs 3 nights in a row when dad is out of town and the two year old wants a cheeseburger for breakfast...what the fuck ever...I choose my battles and sometimes those little shits win.  No one is malnourished or morbidly obese so YAY me, everyone is still alive and moderately healthy.  Score.  Should probably incorporate more fiber into the toddler's diet though because she cries at the thought of taking a shit...

PLAYING:
I became a middle school teacher for a reason, I don't have the patience or the tolerance for being hands-on for hours in a row.  I couldn't do preschool or anything with little kids, just thinking about it makes me want to drink.  God gave me independent children for a reason.  My kids like to play on their own, half the time if I try to engage in a tea party with Barbie and the Zhu Zhu pets or a battle I get yelled at because I'm doing it wrong.  Okie dokie, you're on your own you tiny little tea party Hitler.  Yep, I play with them...we play games, we color, we go outside.  But I'm not a fucking Gymboree instructor therefore we will not be playing with sensory toys from 9:00-9:30, finger painting from 10:15-10:45, with a light snack at 10:46.  So do I play with them constantly?  Will you walk in my house at any given time and see me fully engaged on the floor with the Little People farm playset?  Do we hold hands and sing nursery rhymes all day long?  Nope, because I'm *THAT* mom.

TREATS:
Technically this could go under the food category but this tends to be such a HUGE issue for so many parents I figured it deserved it's own moment in the spotlight.  I'm a treat person.  I LOVE me some sugar.  I can be painfully full from a huge meal but if you walk by me with a tray of cupcakes, I will take your ass down.  Period.  My kids know that treats don't flow freely in my house and they need to ask for them.  However, my petite little demon baby chewed through the lock on the pantry door and has been found literally SCALING the shelves in the pantry to help herself to a snack.  Whatever, she didn't fall AND was so proud of herself for her success who the fuck am I to take away her fruit snacks???  But the standing rule is you must ask...Do they always get what they ask for?  Nope, if that was the case they'd have cupcakes for breakfast, Oreos for lunch, and pudding for dinner.  But yes, they get "treats" every now and then.  They each get a little sweet thing in their lunchbox every day and we occasionally have dessert after dinner.  Ever seen what happens to those kids who aren't allowed to eat that shit?  They are the ones who hide under the cake table at little Johnny's birthday party and every now and then you'll see a grubby little hand reach from under the tablecloth to snatch a handful of the forbidden fruit because mommy won't let him have it. Why the fuck not?  Everything in moderation folks, little Timmy and Susie aren't destined to a life of obesity if they get a fucking Twinkie in the lunch box every now and then.  The parents who fuck with their kids food and so rigidly control what they can and cannot eat are raising kids with eating disorders.  There, I said it...because I'm *THAT* mom.

I'll just leave you all with that glimpse into my life and what kind of mom I am, you all know my take on sleeping...those demons do NOT belong in my bed.  Period.  Don't need to go into more detail than that :)  So yes, I'm *THAT* mom.  My kids watch too much TV,  my son turns EVERYTHING into a weapon, they've had their fair share of Little Debbies, and they ALL know what Diet Coke tastes like (and probably beer too...yep *THAT* mom).  Haven't killed 'em yet, have I??  I do my "good" parenting in other ways, my kids will remember the fun shit I did with them and for them.  I want them to tell their children and their children's children that I did cool shit like popcorn and root beer for dinner...not lame shit like "my mom broiled me tilapia and braised organic asparagus"  Whatever.  I'll eat that but if I tried to serve it to my kids they'd look at me like I had a penis growing out of my forehead.  No mother is perfect, the good moms are the ones who can admit that they cut corners and that we are bound to screw them up in SOME way, despite our best efforts. So yep, I'm *THAT* mom and I'm ok with that. ;)

Now, where does THIS part go?

***Make sure the kiddos are out of the room for this one!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Inappropriate picture content!!!!***

A conversation with a girlfriend about thigh high nylons and comments about crotchless panties on our Facebook page got me thinking about a certain drawer in my bedroom...a drawer that is rarely opened...a drawer that houses a few items that my husband is unaware of but he'd probably be pretty damn excited about them if he was.  SO it got me thinking about the usage of those items and in the spirit of Valentine's Day I started perusing your run of the mill websites looking for "attire" and then started finding some...well...for lack of better phrasing, I started coming across some freaky shit.

Let me just say I am not a sexy person.  I don't DO sexy.  And I'm not just saying that because my mom reads this blog.  Sexy for me is wearing just a tshirt to bed instead of a tshirt, socks and pajama pants.  Remember the scene from the movie "True Lies" where Jamie Lee Curtis tries to do the sexy dance for Arnold Schwarzenegger and just as she's getting sexy she throws herself onto the floor in a clumsy heap?  Yep, that's me...except I'd never even attempt the dancing because my husband would piss himself laughing before I even pressed play on the iPod.  However, I have done some Victoria's Secret stuff...but there is some shit out there that I just could never bring myself to try, hell I was cringing just looking at them on the computer; a few of them I had to turn my laptop different ways to figure out which way they were supposed to go.   And of course I need to share them (and my observations of said "outfits") with you all...



Who is more likely to get tangled up in THIS mess???  How the fuck do you even get it on let alone get it OFF?  We'd need to keep scissors by the bedside and that's just not a good idea for several reasons...and stilettos in the bedroom are never practical...just sayin'



For those super sexy, romantic moments when you're making out under the frat house black lights you've recently installed in your bedroom...



There are no words...



Zippers in lingerie just don't strike me as a good idea...fumbling with a zipper in the "heat of the moment" is probably not the best move...knowing me and my not-so-graceful ways I'd end up unzipping a nipple, catching something of HIS in it,  or something equally as disastrous...

   

Odds of someone getting fatally tangled up in either one of these are pretty good...and her pigtails do not distract from the potentially hazardous strangulation likelihood with these ensembles...but matching his and hers death traps??  Awwww....



Remember that scene in "Something About Mary" where Ben Stiller gets his frank and beans caught in his zipper???  Yep...disaster written all over this godawful contraption...nothing about this makes me want to unleash the beast from it's pleather cage...I just threw up in my mouth...



So does it come with instructions like an IKEA bookshelf?  Strap A connects to hook F after looping through the back portion of the left side of the underwire of the first part of the second strap B2.  DO NOT connect the first strap before unhooking the second underwire before detaching the looped hook connector, but NOT strap B1.  Seriously....how the fuck do you even get this on?   I'd be sweating in some very unattractive places when it was all said and done and then I'd want to take the goddamn thing off and take a shower...



Hm....is it there?  Can you find it?  Aren't the items on these kinds of pages supposed to make the guys looks super virile and masculine?  Yeah, not so much for this poor bastard...it's like they took a "Pee-Pee Tee-Pee" off of the Babies R Us website and turned it into a leather thong...are the somewhat chiseled features and kind of there abs supposed to distract us from the barely there manhood (total dimestore novel term thank-you-very-much) hiding under that pleather scrap...poor guy...love the manly bicep band though, I bet his boyfriend does too.




Hmmmm....knowing my luck anything I glued to my nipples would rip one of them right off or I would end up with glue in the wrong places or gluing things together that don't belong glued together so I just can't get on board with the whole idea...and the hat would just fall off so that just seems silly to me...and anything made of "pleather" is bound to make for some awkward, uncomfortable noises if you know what I mean so that material should just be avoided altogether...

I could have gone on and on and on...I saw things that were crotchless (like a FB reader said, why bother...just go commando) things with metal studs (potentially resulting in eye gouging and other fatal injuries) whips and chains (blunt force trauma is always sexy) furry and other "faux" materials (one word for ya there: CHAFING)...the list goes on.  Maybe I'm just not adventurous enough.  Maybe I need to take a trip into Victoria's Secret sometime soon, or maybe even branch out a little bit more and go all out for Frederick's of Hollywood.  But I MUST give credit where credit is due, for those who are wondering, the lovely pieces showcased here today can be found HERE at Wicked Temptations...very appropriate, doncha think?  It all scares me to be perfectly honest and I'll probably just keep the drawer closed and stick with the tshirt and MAYBE, just MAYBE if I'm feeling really saucy I'll venture into the Gilligan and O'Malley section at Target today...

The family that sleeps together...

I'm exhausted...painfully, deliriously, mind-numbingly exhausted.  I have diet coke to my left and coffee to my right...I'm considering snorting a 5 Hour Engergy shot soon.  Has anyone ever successfully started a coffee IV?  Just curious...

Why am I so tired, you ask?  A child slept with us last night.  I know that is not a big deal to MANY families but in my house, that shit does not happen.  Children do not belong in my bed.  Children do not enter the inner sanctum that is my sleep chamber.  Children do not infiltrate my nest.  In the last 9+ years of being parents, yes we have broken that rule...as rarely as possible.  We don't typically allow the kids in our bed, I try to avoid it at all costs (my beloved is the worst offender of this...the kids will go to his side of the bed because they KNOW I won't let them in...he's too lazy to take them back to bed, he gives in) I HATE sleeping with my children.  I detest it.  I loathe it.  I would rather sleep in my car in the driveway or curled up on a chair on the deck, or shit, I'd even just lay out on the deck itself before subjecting myself to sleeping with one of my kids.

I like cuddling with my kids...on the couch...in a chair whilst somewhat upright...but NOT in my bed.  My kids don't cuddle while they are sleeping.  They embrace their inner ninja and go Bruce Lee on my ass.  Many parents swear they sleep better when their kids are in the bed with them.  They are liars.  How one can sleep better while getting a roundhouse kick to the larynx is beyond me.  A knee drop to the uterus is just what I want at 3 am, and I don't know how the fuck it happens but my children's joints seem to multiply at night like little zombies.  They have so many knees and elbows it's frightening.  And those little knobby knees and elbows manage to find every sensitive part of my body between the hours of 1 and 4 am.  Why not my skull?  Nope, right in the eye socket.  Fucking fantastic.  I am clinging to the edge of the mattress for dear life while a 24 pound 2 year old is jamming her knees into my kidneys and then drops and elbow into my temple for good measure all while her father is blissfully snoring away on his half of the bed.  HOW 24 pounds of toddler can take up half of the bed is beyond me, but she managed quite succesfully.  My little human X kicked my ass right up to the edge of my Tempurpedic mattress to the point where I was using every muscle to keep myself on that edge.  So not only do I have internal bleeding and bruises but every muscle aches from trying to maintain my 1/16th of an inch on the bed.  At one point I DID manage to fall asleep only to find my feet pinned down.  WHAT THE FUCK???  The 9 1/2 year old had joined us at some point.  Sweet Jesus Lord above.  I was now curled into fetal position IN my pillowcase because that was the only free space in the bed.  I hate my children.  I hate sleeping with my children.

At 6 a.m. I am groggily shoved awake by my beloved on my side of the bed shoving me towards the middle because the 2 year old "took his spot"  Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME???????  The alarm is on HIS side of the bed so in order for the alarm to be shut off, *I* will have to reach over said 2 year old to shut it off for him??  Awesome.  I hate them all.  Alarm goes off and he has the balls to ask for me to hit snooze...I hit him instead.  I hate sleeping with my family.  The family bed can suck it.  I don't sleep better with my kids.  Some nights I question if I sleep better with my husband.  I TOTALLY get that some people can sleep very successfully with their kids and that works for them...SOOOOOOOOO does not work for me.  AT ALL.  I am sleeping in the basement tonight, where no one can find me.