Oh Shit!!!

That's right, ladies and gentlemen!!! Mason unloaded some timber in the porcelain pedestal. Boooyah! I am proud beyond words... and also a little disturbed.

Mason pooped and I started a friggin conga line, folks. But instead of singing "duh-duh duh-duh duh-DOH!" I'm screaming "Poo-poo in the pott-eh!"

I've been waiting 2 1/2 years to hear him yelling "Moooooom Im dooooone!"

Now, if only his arms were long enough to wipe his own hiney-hole.

I keep getting flash backs of "Big Daddy" - "But I wipe my own ass! I wipe my own ass!"

It's fairly hard to wipe someone elses ass... even if you are a pro at cleaning your own. Any tips would be greatly appreciated.

In other news, packing up an entire house while trying to entertain a 2 year old and a 2 month old= what Hitler should have to do in hell.

Cause it sucks. Hard. Like your mom.


Also, if you are looking for a laugh, check out the video The Accidental Olympian posted of her first time tubing. I had to watch it like five times. (Ash- are you proud of me?! Look! I did the "click my words-link thingy! Genius! Thats what I am!)

Happy Thursday!

Corn flakes...

Adam and I have never been apart from each other for more than a few hours.... never spent a night away from each other. If I read that about someone else I would think that it was a bit weird and psychotic. Swim Fan psychotic. Buffalo Bill psychotic. IT COMES HOME EVERY NIGHT OR IT GETS THE HOSE AGAIN. Adam recently went out of town for a week. Which meant that I was pouting for six days and writing corney ass stuff like, "heartsick and pathetically so..."
Seriously?
I'm not a corny person in any sence of the word. Remember when Titanic came out? My group of Bulldog friends and I all went to see it. I didnt cry at the end (in fact I laughed when the guy falls and hits the propeller) so my friends wouldnt talk to me for a few days. Because I didnt cry during Titanic. Yeah.
I also didnt cry when my kids were born. Cause they were covered in nasty white candinda crap. I watched "A Baby Story" when I was pregnant with both of them. Every mom on there was crying, laughing and couldnt wait to hold their little bundle of... snot. THEN!! AND THEN!! They always friggin kiss it! They kiss it when it is covered with white nastyness, blood and tidbits. eh. So here I am thinking you are supposed to kiss this lil thing and that "Mother-ness" will over come me and I will not mind the nasty nasty nom nom. Well, with Mason I lucked out and they had to whisk him to the NICU before I had the head-kiss-dilema. But with Marlee? That lil brat. They threw her on my tummy and told me to hold her.
I. just. gave. birth.
You think I want to hold 7 lbs?
No. I want cranberry juice.
Lots.
Its a diuretic, ya know.
ANYWAY.
Here I am thinking I am supposed to kiss her head and it will all be good and we will bond and it wont smell or anything.
Let me just reiterate. I AM NOT A CORNY PERSON.
I pressed my lips to The Beavs head.
Ew.
Friggin ew.
I think the worst part was that it was warm.

What will it be like for my kids to grow up with a mom who doesnt cry? (Well, thats not entirely true. I bawled like a baby when dumbledore died... and when I finished Book 7).
Moms are supposed to be nurturing and soft spoken. They make cupcakes and cookies. I make EVERYTHING dirty. Just look at our daughters nickname. I make Mason wear a shirt with a cartoon beaver on it because I think its funny that nobody will get that he is wearing a BEAVER. Even better the beaver shirt has two logs on it. Its a very ambitious beaver.
Which was my nickname in highschool.

What was my point? Oh yeah. Im not corny except when it comes to my husband. But what can I say? He's friggin hot.

A Puke Saved is a Puke Earned...

Dear Mason,
My hand is not a waste receptacle. Please deposit your bodily excretions elsewhere. Thanks! You’re a doll.
Love, Mommy


Have you ever noticed that the days you look awesome (and by awesome I mean you change out of yoga pants, blow dry your hair and wear mascara all in the same day) you never see anyone you know at the store?
But the minute you step out of the house after a three day shower hiatus wearing slippers and zit cream, the store turns into a friggin high school reunion?
Oh. That’s never happened to me.
So, a couple of weeks after we brought the Beav home, the Meathead got sick. Like, cough so hard that he would vomit into a bowl sick. My mixing bowl. Cause I only have one. So every time I make cupcakes or brownies I’m thinking of puke. It’s a great diet.
ANYWAY.
The kid was finally feeling a lil bit better, so I took him with me to the store just to get him out of the house. We walked up to the cart area, had our traditional slap fight over who got to push and who had to sit in the seat and went into the store. As I was going through the automatic doors I hear my name being called.
Let me pause here. That is just fucked up. Don’t call out to me as I am going through an automatic door. It’s going to end awkwardly.
Do I wait to strike up a convo?
Yell through the door?
Keep walking ?
And what if I pause in the middle of the door way? The friggin door will shut on me, then you will feel bad. As you should. Ass.
Back to my story.
In this particular case, I continued through the door and waited for this friend. Mason and I are making small talk… when he starts to cough. Hard. I knew it was coming. Still, I hoped it would stop at a gag.
No.
No it didn’t.
The lil Meathead threw up a generous wad of mucus into my hand.
Just as my friend came through the door.
I wiped Mason’s face off with his shirt.
I’m a good mom like that.
My friend came over smiling. “Hey how ya been?!”
As he bent down to hug me.
I hugged back, my hand cupped full of pukey mucus behind his back.
Now, a smart person would have wiped the mucus mound on the unsuspecting friend’s back.
I’m a bad friend like that.
But I didn’t.
Have you ever tried to nonchalantly hide puke in your hand? In the neon lighting of a grocery store? I mean, everyone has hid puke in their purse, their shoe… or in desperate times, their pocket… but your hand?! Thinking back I must have looked like the “strong hand” guy from Scary Movie 2. “Make way for fanny!”
This friend must have thought I was coked out too. I wouldn’t make eye contact and was acting all shifty trying to get out of there.
Wanna know the worst part?? I didn’t even go wash my hand after. I wiped the rest on Masons shirt. AAAAAAAAAHahahahahahaha
I’m a bad mom like that.
Mason didn’t even say thank you.


*Photo by Becca Nuss Photography

Weiners, Jergens and Tissues... oh my.

Dear Mason- As proud as I am of you for sharing, your weiner does not eat oatmeal. No, not even blueberry oatmeal. I know… I know… wieners are weird. Mommy totally agrees. Keep it on your spoon. Thanks! You’re a doll… Love Mommy.


There are a few days every parents dread from the first moment that little pink line appears on that $25 dollar piece of fated plastic. Some that top the list? First day at school… getting their license… their wedding day. But for most parents, the number one spot is usually held by, “Where do babies come from?”

THE talk.

Have I mentioned it’s my life ambition to become a sex therapist?

Cause it is. I am beyond fascinated with our most primal of instincts and have been since a very young age. My parents never had THE talk with me. I just knew what happened. (Can a 6th sense be sexual?) I remember driving in the car with my mom and asking her why my cousin was having a baby.

Her reaction?

“Aw shit. (Nice opening, Mom) Well you see daughter- who- is- not –even- in- kindergarten- yet, when a maaaaaaaaaaan loves a whoa-man.”

I remember distinctly rolling my eyes and saying, “Not THAT… I mean because she isn’t married.”

Mom: “Oh. I don’t know. How do you know the other stuff?”

Me: ???? Were there people who DIDN’T know? I think I just ignored her. Which served her right for asking such a dumb question.

So when Macdaddy and I found out we were having a little meathead I called dibs on THE talk. Adam had no problem with that. Although I may have to have Adam in the room. Hell, I may have to have Adam video tape it.

I know most guys have a special bond with their units.

Im smart like that.

However, I was under the impression that this bond happens sometime in their junior high years.

Im dumb like that.

Apparently it is born into males, much like the reflex to high five after a particularly nasty fart, or …

No… that’s it… fart high fives.

Moving on… Mason has always preferred to be nakee. He used to just scream when it was time to get dressed. Then he graduated to removing his clothes while I was in the shower and running outside into the neighborhood. Now he doesn’t wait for me to be in the shower. The kid removes every article of clothing. No biggie, right?

Wrong.

He has also start laying on his bed and screaming, “Go mommy! GO!” If I enter the room.

Egads.

Obviously we are simply ignoring this at the moment… cause he’s two. (And if Adam said anything against it, he would be the worlds biggest hypocrite). So I am going to convince Adam that THE TALK is different than the Wanky Talk.

Cause it totally is.

Totally?

Totally.

AND. Whatthe hell am I suppose to say when I think wieners are ridiculous in the first place? I don’t know how you guys can even walk. I had trouble as it was when fanny packs were in style.