Girl in the White Shirt & Day 52. 313 Days Left.

Just when I think I am the most unreasonable parent some dim-witted mother comes along…

I decided to take the kids to the park for a little weekday fun and get the hellions out of the house to burn off that pent up energy. Addison found a little girl around her age to play with. They were having so much fun together. The mom was sitting close by with her newborn twins. Jackson was climbing up the stares and sliding down the slide on his belly- I don’t know; he just likes to slide that way and why would it bother me? Well Addison brought her new friend over to play on the slide with Jackson. The three of them took turns climbing and sliding down on their bellies. After a few minutes the little girl’s mom looked over and said “No, don’t slide down on your belly you are going to get your shirt dirty, slide on your butt.” The girl’s mom dressed her in a white shirt and told her not to get it dirty…AT THE PARK! Really? So the little girl decided she did not want to get in anymore trouble and left Addison and Jackson behind. Stupid mom.
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Day 52
A Day at the Park

You Don’t Get Out Much

As we are driving to yet another appointment, this one for the dog, the hubby and I get into a dispute over an off ramp on the highway. I have never seen it and asked when the hell did they put that there? He said it has been there. Oh really how long? because I have never seen it. The hubby’s answer was as long as he has lived here (which has been 15 years). Really? I think I would have noticed an off ramp on the left of the highway and I have lived here 30 years. The dispute then turned into how they hell do people in the HOV lane not end up on the public transit off ramp. Well this dispute was shortly followed by another. I saw some jackass yanking on a bank door. When that one wouldn’t open he went to the second door. Who would have thought,also locked. He then started peeking in the windows,no luick. Back to trying both doors. I say, Look at the fucking jerk. It’s Saturday what bank lobby is open on Saturday? The hubby's reply this time “Boy you really don’t get out much“.

Pregnancy Brain, Teething and Soon-to-be-Threes

No, I am NOT pregnant.
I do seem to have the brain that goes along with pregnancy minus the precious little baby growing.

Well, in my case, we can call it stay-at-home-mommy-of-two-toddlers brain.

It is a wonder I manage to get the kids fed and dressed, at all. I have caught myself putting Addison’s pink Princess Pull-Ups on Jackson, giving Addison his bottles, putting Addison in Jackson’s booster seat, going to put Jackson on Elmo potty seat while Addison is looking at me in bewilderment doing her pee-pee dance and even putting the wrong shoes on the other.

As far as around the house; I am now keeping the cereal, bread and peanut butter in the frig and the chocolate syrup, jelly and juice in the pantry because that is where they end up.

Perhaps I can blame the above on the cranky teether and the toddler making a very difficult transition from the Terrible Two’s to the Holy Fuck Three’s.

First the cranky teether; Poor guy screams and rubs his face constantly. Nothing seems to help and I have tried EVERYTHING! Did the Humphreys because so many Mama’s swore by it; like it was magic… “use the Humphreys and you will sleep tonight”. I used the Humphreys and the shit ended up in the trash. Tried frozen carrots and washcloths, Baby Orajel, an assortment of teethers in every color, shape and size (even vibrating), mesh teething bags filled with fresh frozen fruits. Yes, I have tried it all. If it was marketed for teething I purchased it and it probably ended up in the trash. That is except Tylenol. I REFUSE to unnecessarily medicate. Just wondering, how many teeth does a baby need anyway? Really.

Now on to the cranky almost three year old I call my sweet baby girl. AHHHHHH! She is a screaming at the top of her lungs, “NO”, “I WANT”, “IT’s MINE”, “GET IT FOR ME-NOW” temper-tantrum throwing brat disguised as my sweet beautiful little girl. Seriously, what the fuck happened over night?

When people tell you “just wait it only gets worse”, you really have no idea what they mean until you hit worse. Well hello worse, my name is mommy, I am running out of hair to pull now working on the eyebrows. Could you please take it easy on me?

So, sorry hubby. This is why when you get home from work breakfast meats are pulled out rather than dinner and why bath time is all yours and why I am so miserable to deal with come 10:30pm. And from what I understand: It Only Gets Worse!