Poop Comedy

WARNING TMI BABY POOP 

Changing Willow's Diaper 

Starring :

Lexi (7)

Mommy (old)

Lexi : omg mom!! Look! It's because you drink tea so much!

Me : *thinking wtF is she talking about* Lexi, what do you mean?

Lexi :her poop look!!

Me : *looking to make it resemble something or someone* What?

Lexi : IT LOOKS LIKE A TEA BAG!! Because you drink so much tea!!!

*facepalm*

The Sexes

Alexanda (7), Gabriel (6) and Evan (3) are having a conversation


Gabriel : No I don't WANT to play family Lexi!

Lexi : Yes you do, you just don't know it yet!

Gabriel : Yes I know!

Evan : No you don't, she's the girl!

Gabriel : So what?

Evan : The girl gets to make up the mind.

Gabriel : She doesn't get to make up MY mind!!

Lexi : Yes I do!!!

Evan : Mommy makes up Scott's mind, so yes, she does.

#mommyfail

Hugh...The Hippo

Anyone who has small children knows that running over 

their toys with your minivan is pretty much like stabbing 

your child's best friend...in front of them...while laughing. 


Today we are burying Hugh The Hippo (from WalMart), who 

is 2.5 years old (was a Christmas gift for Evan when he was 

1). 

Someone (probably Evan....) dropped him in the driveway 

and I, being the hippo murderer I am, must have run over 

him and literally smooshed his hard plastic head into 

probably 60 pieces (a thousand pieces if you ask Evan 

though). 


But Hugh will not be forgotten. No. He will not. 



Because Hugh has been replaced...but Hugh...The 

Hippo...from the same WalMart. 


And before anyone suggests it...yes...if Evan was NOT the 

one who discovered poor Hugh in the driveway, I would have 

promptly threw him in the trash very quickly, and gone to 

WalMart at 9 or 10 at night to replace him and no one would 

have known. 


Now I have to bury a purple, plastic, singing hippo in my 

backyard. 


Lesson of the day...go out before you children to inspect your 

vehicle surroundings for stupid toys that your own child left 

out to die.

Short on Rope

As mom sometimes I think I forget about ourselves. Not the mom part - but the part of us everyone else tends to forget about as well. The woman in us. The person inside of us who needs love, kind words forgiveness, hugs...and God forbid...that woman who needs sexual attention. It's almost like once you are dubbed "mom", you're no longer allowed to talk about sex.

Suddenly it's not okay to have a sex toy who we have nicknamed "Spot" because...after children, it can still hit that spot that you can't anymore because...a bowling ball has reorganized your vagina and Decided it was an ugly lamp that needed to go deeper into that corner over there.

Suddenly masturbating is thrown into the same pile of words as "getting high", "getting wasted"..."getting off by yourself the way nature intended" .

Society sees us in baggy tshirts and unflattering jeans that make us look 4 months pregnant...10 years post partum. In huge white bras and granny panties. Unshaved legs. Unwaxed bikini lines.

Well society...im sorry but I hav more sex now than I did before children.

I have found my body to be a pretty fun place recently and I want to take it out...in my own room...and see what I can do...with my little toy...who I call Spot. 

Sniffle Sniffle

It's that time of year...you know...that time of year that all humans wish they could avoid.

No - not Christmas. I have no beef with Christmas.

Yeeessss, now you're catching on. COLD SEASON!

It's that time of year when I wonder what people without children are doing. Are they snuggled up in front of their laptop netflix'ing with popcorn, all warm in a nice throw, sipping some kind of lemon tea? 

This is what I am doing to get through the season. I am getting up 8x per night between the three older kids, every twenty minutes with my seven month old, counting down each and every minute until help gets home from work to pull the short shift and not caring that I can't find a bra...who the heck cares...LET 'EM HANG! 

I'm also freezing a bit at night while my infant enjoys a nice snuggle-bug thingy that keeps her warm while exposing her face to cool air at night to limit her coughing. I'm in bed trying to snuggle up to my other half, while he is pushing me away because I am too warm. At least in an hour, a child will be up screaming at me that they want water, and then that they have to pee, so I'll just give up and camp out in bed with them for the half hour in between the water and pee breaks. 

I'm pretty lucky though, it is the time of giving...

Every single night, my children all give me gifts of buggers, snot (yes there is a difference), drool, germs...but most importantly, they give me the satisfaction of knowing even though we are all pretty miserable...I'm the only one who can make them feel better. 

The feeling when they wrap themselves around me, and instantly hit a light sleep again before mumbling a request...that moment...that moment makes me realize that every sniffle is totally amazing. Every cough, sore throat, every time I reposition the thermometer in their mouths (ya know...because keeping it under the tongue, keeping their mouth closed, and NOT talking is VERY difficult)...it's everything I signed up for and my payment are the precious moments when they are in my arms...the moments that they won't even remember in the morning. 

So...cold season...you may think you have the upper hand...and what I'll keep to myself is, YOU are what makes me feel like super woman every single night.

I'll let you think you're winning though....

Important Topics

I read an article today, and it really hit home, because when I was a child, articles like this were not in circulation. Here is the link to the article :

http://www.babble.com/parenting/never-tell-our-daughters-hes-only-mean-because-he-likes-you/

Now, the overall thought to this article is that we need to STOP telling our children that someone is picking on them, or hurting them because they must "like" them. Since when would we tell of our fellow mom friends that her husband punching her in the face means he loves her EXTRA special?! We wouldn't!! So why is it okay for us to tell our innocent children that it is okay to express "love" through physical abuse?

When I was a kid, there was this one little boy who picked on me. He pulled my hair. It actually did hurt. I was told that maybe he had a crush on  me. This made ZERO sense to me, if he liked me, why was he hurting me?!

That little girl...the one I used to be...had it all right.

That 8 year old girl had more common sense than my thirty-something year old teacher did.

Violence, pain, hurt, humiliation...is NOT love.

But...it is a wonder why domestic violence is such a battle we face today...since we are told from a young age that it is how we are supposed to express love.

Mommy-ing at a tumblr speed

I'm 24 year old...and today I created my first ever Tumblr account.

Also, over the weekend, my infant popped TWO teeth.

And we've been battling flu season. Not well, but we're fighting it.

This is all part of why I haven't been writing very often lately.


On a side note, as a mom, we end up only really having mom friends it seems. Why? Because no one really understands us like another mom. A non-mom friend doesn't really get why you're wearing a shirt over your bikini. They don't understand how proud of your vagina is after pushing babies out of it. They may still think that talking about your very sad sexlife...is still taboo.
Other moms GET YOU.
Nothing grosses them out *for the most part*. They've seen it or been through it before, or, are going through it now.
We can talk about poop, lunch, poop again, our poop, sex, leaky boobs, non-leaky boobs, coffee, laundry, laundry soap, cats, how cats make more laundry for you, how you forgot to bring the garbage out...all in a five minute span.....and it's not considered ADD...it's just that we have so much going on at one time that category jumping is more or less us remembering everything that we have to do.
That being said...I have no idea how Tumblr works, or why one would have a Tumblr account. So I decided to investigate...go undercover if you will. Possibly, a part of me is still that woman I used to be before having children...and I just want to fit in.