Me Factz Number Four!

#4.)  I want what I can’t have.

I think we are all like this.  It’s in our DNA somehow.  It has to be.  I have this “issue” when it comes to just about everything under the sun.

Right now I’m dealing with this on a dieting level.

“Oh really?  I can’t have those carbs?”  I say (inside my head) to my husband, who has never told me I need to diet, yet I continue to talk to him in my head as if he is FORCING me to lose weight.

Again, inside my head, directed toward my unsuspecting husband, “Well, I’ll just wait until you’ve gone to bed & THEN I will scarf down 72 of those almost-too-stale-for-even-milk-to-soften Christmas cookies that no one else will touch with a ten foot pole.  When I crawl into bed I will laugh (in my head) because now it’s like an inside joke between me, my mouth & my stomach.  You’ll NEVER KNOW!  Ha, tell me I can’t have carbs…!”

Crap!  I can barely fit my ass into my “fat jeans”.  Joke’s on me -and my thighs -and my ass -and my chin(s) -and my gut -and my ass some more.

FYI: This is a picture I found on the net

Holy TOYledo!


I only have a minute before the rug-rats come back from the “Joe” & ruin all attempts for concentration. 

It’s 1 day post-Christmas.  I have a few mixed emotions.  On one hand I’m feeling the pressure of buying/wrapping/thinking/spending/cleaning/cooking/decorating lifted off of my shoulders & on the other hand…I look around my house & wonder what fucking moron decided that these kids HAD to have all these toys!??  Oh, yeah.  It was me.


Damn it Santa NO MORE TOYS!!!


Shit.  You can not even walk through this house.  Granted, this house is too damn small & I must get a bigger one soon before I loose my mind completely except no one will ever buy it because my neighbor ((Who I believe either has been evicted or has OD’d on Meth.)) has trashed his entire backyard which of course backs right up to mine!!!!!!!  He’s a WHOLE ‘nother story.  (BUT now that he’s either dead or moved out I can share interesting & funny stories later.  Well, maybe out of respect I should wait to make sure he didn’t really die.  Well just see how it plays out, by that I mean well see if I get writers block & have to reach into my pocket of ideas that will be great stories but for one reason or another I’m withholding.)

Ok, so what the hell had I started to talk about?  Oh the spoiled kids in this house.

Without going into tooo much detail, I will tell you all that 1 of my New Year’s resolutions will be to get my little Princess Fontain to understand how good she has it.

I know she is young & doesn’t quite get it yet, the whole spirit of Christmas, giving to others, being polite (no matter what is in the box she just unwrapped), being grateful for what you DO have…but I feel it’s necessary to somehow expose her (gently) to the ideas of giving to those who need it.  I’m actually really excited to introduce her to the world of giving.  I do think it gives you a feeling inside that nothing else could.  If they come up with a pill or something that DOES give that same feeling…I’ll be getting me some, because it does feel preT-Ty good.

Happy Christmas Eve to all & to all a Good Night!

Shoot me.  Shoooot me shoot me shhhhhoooot me.  Shoot me.  Shoot meee.  SHOOOOOT me shootmeshootmeshootme…

This is the story of my life.  I’m sure everyone has a bit of this in their lives as well, but it seems to reeeeeally love to attach itself to MY life & hold on like a motherfucker.

Ya know how they say, “when it rains it pours”.  It’s true.  Obviously, or people wouldn’t say it.  I mean, it just wouldn’t make any sense if not tons of thousands of people, a crap-load of people, didn’t have this sorta thingy happen to them often.  The people would be like, “um nooo…sometimes when it rains, it’s just beautiful sprinkles of God’s love that washes the world clean, feeds the flowers & makes the way for rainbows.”  -Horse Shit.

I really think that “saying” (around here at least) is an understatement.  When it rains at this house…it pours, hails, sleets, floods, catches fire, & then explodes.  How does rain catch fire & explode?  -I don’t know, damn it.  It just does.

As most Christians are, I am in the midst of a pre-mid-post Christmas meltdown.

We got home from Xmas #1 on Sunday.  We spent the weekend with the in-laws, eating ham, deviled eggs, fudge, cookies, rice balls, meatballs, & basta.  remember they are Italian.  (When I first started dating Mr Tough Guy his buddies would joke around about how Tough Guy’s family eats turkey & spaghetti for Thanksgiving.  I thought they were joking.  They were not.  I am GLAD they were not.  That shit’s the bomb!  Shout Out to my sis-in-law, Drea & my mother-in-law for the amazing food!)

So anyway, we get home & I think to myself… cool, got 5 days until the next round of festivities begin, plenty of time to knock out my to-do’s…if I could only find my list

That’s about the time I realized that Shu Shu was laying on the couch.  Aw…Shit.  I know that you already see exactly where this is heading.  Yup, fever…102.  Ok, fine.  I can handle that…

…what I can NOT handle, is 2 kids begin to fry with fever, both become even MORE demanding than usual, the baby wants me to hold him every second-of every minute-of every hour-of the day…  Shu Shu wiz’s the bed around 2 AM Monday morn, because she’s so sick she just doesn’t get up.  Don’t worry I’m already up because the baby is screaming his head off & won’t sleep.  Well crap balls.  Monday’s gone.

Ok Whit, just get the kids through the next day & I’m sure they’ll be feeling better & you can go on w/ the to-do’s.  (Which includes, but is not limited to: wrapping a billion gifts, unpacking from the lake, packing for Xmas eve, grocery shopping, cookie baking, salad making, picking up the house so I can see what the f I’m supposed to be doing, laundry, laundry, laundry.)

**Side note:  I have adult ADD.  Diagnosed & everything.  Christmas has become a serious problem for me.  I’m pretty sure it’s all the glitter.  So trying to get anything done is krazy hard even if the kids weren’t tugging on my leg, crying because they can’t open a Christmas present & have snot running down their faces.**

Did I mention that my fabulous mother’s birthday was Monday?  We never seem to get to do anything super fun, so this time, my “future” sis-in-law, *wink-wink-fingers crossed-knock on wood* the Birthday Girl & my niece, Jack, all headed downtown to the Plaza for some shopping & dinner.  1st of all, it was raining like a son-of-a-bitch.  (You know, when it rains it pours…)  So it was also C-O-L-D.  We decided to skip the shopping outdoors & head inside the Cheesecake Factory for dinner.  We wound up having a really great time.  Aaaand then Tuesday, my brother’s girlfriend-my hopefully one day sister in law… was taken to the hospital & has been there since.  She’s super-duper sick, with something that they don’t “think” is contagious.  We all shared cheesecake the night before…EeeEE!  I’m sure we’d all know by now if we were sick but the poor thing will miss some Christmas plans & that makes her sad.  Which makes me sad…  then I realized that I had left my shittin debit card @ the damn Cheesecake Factory…which makes me MAD.

The Cheesecake Factory logo

Image via Wikipedia

The rest of my week looks just pretty much exactly like the above crap.  Me strapped down with 2 sick babies on my lap while the shit just piles up around me.

Every night I would get the kids to bed no earlier than 11 o’clock, one night it was 1AM.  Then I would attempt to get something done.  Stupid, stupid, stupid girl.

Every 20-30 mins, one of the 2 were crying.  The boy was crying because, come to find out later, that he had a raging ear infection.  These cries would in turn partially wake his sister.  That then set off an awesome week of reoccurring night terrors.

-If you’ve ever dealt with night terrors you know that there’s’s very little you can do about them.  It’s very hard to comfort someone that’s having a night terror.  It’s very hard to control the VOLUME of someone that’s having a night terror.  At one point I was seriously bouncing back & forth from one bedroom to the other because, well…I’m pretty sure they are trying to kill me.

Have I mentioned that my husband came home sick from work Weds?  Ladies you know what that means, now I have 3 sick BABIES.  He too is crabby, grouchy, demanding, & so much more helpless than one could possibly imagine.

Have I mentioned that I, too, have been sick?  Similar to the Tough Guy, I have a cold.  No fever.  His cold might be a little worse than mine.  Not by a lot though…not that anyone cares!

So, here we are.  Friday night…almost Christmas Eve.  The boy has been pumped full of antibiotics & now both kids are feeling better.

He is still requesting to be carried everywhere though.  I did get him to bed earlier tonight.  I think it was 10?  I know it was not before I pumped him so full of water -via feeding tube, that he vomited 150ml water & 150ml formula all over the livingroom floor & all over me.  The rug-less livingroom floor.  The splat was so loud it woke his father.  Somehow he got almost nothing on him but I was covered in toddler chunks.  (It wasn’t very chunky.)

They are all asleep now.  I busted a fast fricken move, cranked some holiday tunes & knocked that to do list in it’s damn teeth.

Only thing left now is to help Old St Nick build a certain toy…for a certain little girl… that stands 3ft tall & has 50 pieces…AFTER it’s been put together!  I had better get on it…or get on my bed…?  I might be able to get my husband to set aside his sore throat to put it together tomrrrrrrzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz            -whoa, how long was I asleep?  Happy Christmas Eve to you all.  Be safe & happy.

P.S. I received a shipment today.  Yup I got my X-mas Cards, finally, 2 days before Christmas.  Are you fudging kidding me?  Jacking my order up twice?  For my CHRISTMAS CARDS?  That I ordered over a month ago?  TWO DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS ARE YOU FUDGING KIDDING ME???

I’ve done a bad, bad thing…

I’ve done something bad.  I didn’t do it on purpose.  Ok I did it on purpose but I didn’t realize how bad I’d feel afterward.

Lately I have been at my wit’s end with the kids in this house being crazy monsters that don’t listen!!!!

Good Afternoon Sweet Princess

…I did something I’m not proud of.  At the very least, it’s not my most shining mom moment but I have promised you all that I am an open book so here it goes…

Shu Shu woke up the other morning & noticed that our Elf on the Shelf, Buddy, had a letter in his hands.  -I had to take it a step further, my kids are NOT afraid of Buddy himself.  Even though the idea of him flying around my house while I’m alseep scares the shit balls out of ME.  Even though I’m the one moving his red ass around.

Cover of "Elf on the Shelf"

Cover of Elf on the Shelf

I got it out & read it aloud.  It was printed on Santa Claus stationary & everything…thank you pinterest.  It told both kids that in order to get the amazing things they asked for in their letters, they needed to be a “bit” better in the listening & following directions dept.

That is the way to ensure a spot on his “Good” List.  It then directed Shu to tell me to check my email for a video message he had attempted to send. We watched the video.

In my defence, I’d like to say that those peeps that do those videos, need to have a freaking video that says like, “if you want to be on the good list, mommy needs you to…” which is what I had expected  -ooooh shit no.  The only ones they have, are either for the “good list” or …”naughty list”.

Now -I knew damn good & well, that coming off of the last few days with this “ray of sunshine” there was not going to a sparkling video from Santa telling her she was doing a great job & to keep up the good work. So I did the only other thing I could do.  (except of course just not send her the video)

I sat at the computer with the kids gathered around.  Santa’s elves put the file (with her name & FACE on it) into their machine & turned it on.  I watched in horror as it spat and sputtered and clanked and kerplunked and began to light up green and then the bells and whistles and lights …all fall flat…..

-Cut to Santa

A stachue of santa claus

Image via Wikipedia

“Ooops, looks you are not on the good list just yet.”

…aaaannnd, que 4-year-old sobbing & laying her face on my lap…

Shit, long story short, after a lot of reassurance & explaining that she still had 15 days to get on the “good list” which Mommy & Daddy would help her with, she began to calm down.  Words can not describe how badly I felt.  What a BITCH I am!  I told her the I was sure that Santa would be sending her a letter as soon as he heard how wonderful she has been behaving.  She’ll get it in the morning.

Although if I had it to do over I would have never sent it.  I would have just stuck to the old-fashioned letter…but I will say, she has been really good since…

This is the kind of shit that will stick with her little brain.  She’s 4 now.  She’s gonna start remembering things & I gotta figure out how to keep from jacking her all up.

I can picture her, 2033 -at the age I am now, (blogging on whatever bomb space-aged blogging thing they’ll have then.  Probably like full-body hologram bloggin…  they’ll call it hoggin…) & this same story will be posted and titled “the day her bitch-of-a-mother f*cked her childhood UP!” 


News Flash!! -Shu Shu Keeps A Secret.

Sometimes my husband leaves behind his cranky attitude & does something cute that reminds me of why I like him.  No, really.

Last week, he took the kids on separate nights to Christmas shop for each other.

Shu Shu got the Bitty Guy a huge Buzz Lightyear action figure.

200 px
Image via Wikipedia

This has turned out to be the gift to me that keeps on giving.  She can’t stand him not knowing what he’s gonna get from her, Christmas morning.  It is cracking us up watching her try to navigate through her day without letting this snip-it of info slip-it.

Her 1st plan was to fake him out.  She would attempt multiple times a day to throw him off of the scent.  Not that he is at all aware that there’s anything being kept from him.

She’ll say, “Hey Bitty Boy…I got you a….HAT!”

But then that became a bit hard for her to keep straight.  “Hey Bitty…I got you a…BUZZ LIGH-oOop! I mean…a-a-a-a…BASKETBALL!!”

The other day I over heard them talking.  These are always my favorite convo’s to drop in on.  They had just seen a commercial for something Toy Story related.  She bent down to him so they were face to face, put her hand on his shoulder & said to him in her very sweet, special, reserved-for-Bitty-Man-only voice, “Hey Bubba, you love Buzz, do you! (said as a statement not a question, which I also love)  Do you want to get a Buzz for Christmas!?  Ok, we’ll see then!!!”

Ohhh, if only they could be this precious all the time!

Post Holly-Day Parenting Advice

As you begin to de-deck your halls & box up those boughs of holly…you will, as long as there are children living in your home, be faced with another annoying year of toy commercials. The second those gifts are unwrapped it is an inevitable fact, that your kids will continue to beg…neh-demand, everything they see on that damn TV.  And you can’t just turn it off because it’s the best dag babysitter you’ve ever had. 

My puddin’ pop of a pro-momma friend, Blam Blur, tried to warn me.  I hate to say that I thought she was exaggerating a bit.  I admit it.  I am stupid.  I should have known that she was, as always, actually sugar coating this toy commercial hell & covering it in delicious strawberry icing.
It’s seriously worse than I could possibly have imagined…the day Shu Shu Fontain realized that you could find those same amazing toys seen on the tube -at Target.
There has been only 1 way I have come up with that works for us to combat this obnoxious part of child-rearing.  It’s a simple word, -only 2 letters. 
You’d be tempted to say, NO. Of course then this leads into explaining why.  They don’t care that they just received a butt load of toys & they must be freaking out of their minds if they think for a second that I’ll get them one more anything for another 364 days. 
I certainly don’t plan to go into specifics with a 4 year old every time a commercial appears.  Did you know there are like, 45per “break”.  That’s a LOT of hearing, “MOOOOM, Come here!! FAAAST, I WANT THAAAT!!”  I have no intention of saying anything more than 2 little letters in response. 
The two letters at this house are “OK”.  –That’s it.
Instead of now hearing her cry, or get an attitude, or having to explain when the next Christmas is, or dealing with hearing her say that she’ll tell Santa but you’ll have to talk because she is, “a bit shy of him” and instead of hours wasted explaining how many more days until her birthday… I just tell her OK.
The response is amazing. 
She says, “Thank you!” and she’s onto something else.
Now heads up, this has worked at my house for almost a year. But do not, I REPEATE DO NOT, attempt this during the month of December. Unless you fully plan to get whatever it is & shove it under the tree.  They will remember the things they saw on TV during December.  You will look like a dick, instead of a hero.