Just take out the trash & Day 91. 274 Days Left.

Most women have that thing.

The one thing our hubby’s can do to make us melt; make us swoon.

The key to my heart isn’t the dishes. Not the laundry. Not vacuuming. Not cleaning the house. Not cooking dinner. Not breakfast in bed. (Granted those things would be nice).

I just want my hubby to remember to take out the damn trash.

(my husband is wonderful when it comes to helping with the kids. The moment he comes through the door he will take them from me, most of the time, before he has even had the opportunity to shower.

And prior to children my thing would have been quality time together… but now I would rather have him take out the trash… funny how children change us.

Here is why… I spend the day with tiny humans hanging off me, spending playtime together followed by one on one time with each. When the hubby comes home the last thing I need is more time with another human… sounds a little selfish. I know.)

But the trash is full of yesterday’s poopie diapers, snotty tissues, paper towels filled with cat, dog and baby vomit and any other number of disgusting things I have to throw away during the course of my day.

By the next morning it stinks is repulsive. I cringe at the thought of having to open the lid. I move as quickly as possible only to be left gasping for air. Plus no matter how many baby proof latches I install, Jackson finds a way in and I am left digging out sippy cups, toys, clothes, shoes, the computer mouse and a number of non-trash items Jackson decides to toss out while holding my breath.

Still wondering what the big deal is?

I have two options…

1. Wait for the kids to nap. If, at this time, I do decide to take the trash out I have to contend with my three stupid dogs which bark the moment I open the door. Series of events to follow… toddler’s woken--> two very cranky miserable children--> one very cranky miserable mom--> one very unhappy hubby just home from work.

Or

2. I can bring them with me. Put shoes on Addison and Jackson, chase Jackson down the entire hallway while hauling yesterday’s over flowing garbage, dodging spiders on the trash shoot, listening to a screaming Jackson refusing to go back into the house.

You can see this is a real pain in the ass chore.

So please honey, the love of my life, please before you come to bed each night or before leaving for work in the morning TAKE OUT THE FUCKING TRASH.
Love me
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Day 91
Planting Marigolds

A driver’s aide & Day 89. 276 Days Left.

I have a problem. Well, it's not so much a problem for me as it seems to be a problem for the person sitting in the driver's seat; the hubby...

I'm a backseat driver.

It's an affliction I just can't seem to control. I feel this compulsion to help the driver the hubby by aiding him with helpful suggestions and warning gasps. I choose to view it more as being a driver's aide than a backseat driver.


A trip from point A to B will typically sounds much like this…

Me: "We need to be in the left lane."
Hubby: Than you drive.

Me: "That stoplight up ahead is red."
Hubby: Do you want to drive?

Me: "Are we this close to that car's bumper because you like the smell of exhaust fumes?"
Hubby: You can drive next time.

Me: “Why don't we get around this car.”
Hubby: Gives the "shut-up" look
Me: "Unless you like going 30 miles an hour."
Hubby: You know what… you are driving home.

Me: “Don’t change lanes now, there is a semi-truck… I don’t like being next to them.”
Hubby: If you can drive better than why are you not driving?

Me: “Is there a reason we are not going the speed limit?”
Hubby: Really? Every time?

Me: “I would have taken the other street.”
Hubby: I am going to pull the fucking car over and you drive!

Me: "Well, we are here now."

What he doesn’t seem to understand is that I am just being constructive and offering help. The problem is not always him… it is mostly the other douchebags cars I fear. We are, after all, traveling with precious cargo and I am just taking extra precautions. Extra percautions because these other douchebags cars on the road go fast. They go very, very fast. And I am a mom. I am a mom that worries about everything; especially when it comes to my children.

So for now, I will continue to aide those transporting my precious cargo.

Do you do anything that drives your loved ones crazy?
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Day 89
Little Boys+Trucks= Pure Joy

The Airplane & Day 75. 290 days Left.

A wife's guide for starting the perfect argument with your hubby…



let your parents talk you into assembling a toy
<-----like this. Step One for creating an argument: Placement of the box before it is even opened… after all you open the box where you are going to assemble the toy right? Well, not according to the hubby. He decided to start in the garage. Why? I still do not know and if you ask or suggest the box be moved, creates a perfect reason for argument #1. After much bitching convincing, by me, the box was moved to a shaded area outside.

Step Two for creating an argument: The instruction manual and the list of tools. Your ideas of tools are far different from his. What do you really know anyway, you are just a woman. And by all means DO NOT suggest he read the entire instruction manual before assembly!



Step Three for creating an argument: Laying out the parts. Do not suggest any of the following: laying the parts out by color, number or size. Because even though he has NOT read the entire manual, he is the man and he knows best.


Step Four for creating an argument: Leaving the hubby “hanging” as he attempts to assemble the toy himself in the 85 degree South Florida heat. Meanwhile you are in the air-conditioned house trying to get two overtired and cranky sweet toddlers to nap and dozing yourself.

(Hubby's progress after 2 1/2 hours)

Step Five for creating an argument: Ask your hubby (after 4 hrs 40 min) how much longer he thinks he has.

Or even better, do this…
Unleash the anxiously waiting excited toddlers on him.




Addison: "Daddy are you almost done building the airplane?
Ok, we help you Daddy."

Total time for toy assembly: 8 hours over two days. Number of arguments with the hubby… I lost count after the first day.

Note to my mother:If you ever purchase a toy with this type of assembly again I am going to bury you under the toy, before set-up, so the kiddos can stomp all over you.

Finally! Playing with the finished toy.




According to my mom: “worth every second!”


According to the hubby:

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Day 75
Keeping busy while waiting for the airplane

Selfish Me

I am selfish.
Yes, the above statement is very true.

I have no reason to be. After all, I am the oldest of three. I have had to share almost everything my entire life. Perhaps that is why.

Last night I went to bed late; by late I mean 1am. My husband falls asleep with in seconds of lying down- I hate him for this. I however, toss & turn, watch TV, replay my day and sometimes worry about the next. The last time I looked at the clock was 1am.

I was up late because we are (correction I am) driving to Ocala tonight to see my bestie, her hubby and their little baby boy. The hubby, kids and I are visiting them for the weekend. I was up packing and getting things together in preparation for our weekend trip. My goal is when the hubby gets home from work this evening; we leave.

I was hoping to get some sleep knowing I would be up with Jackson at 6:30am and not able to nap. I wanted to be rested for the four hour drive I am going to have make.

This is how last night played out:

Addison woke at 1:30am. Shit. I put her in bed with us.

After fighting to get her to sleep in the middle of the bed rather than on mommy’s side, it was 2am. Finally some sleep.

Jackson wakes at 4am. I yell; “goddamnit". No one moves…I wake my husband (who has to get up for work at 5:30am) and say “you need to get him.” Yes, I realize this was selfish but I was tired and I will be the one driving not him; he will be the one sleeping. I wanted sleep.

He tends to Jackson; warms him a bottle and brings him in bed with us. Jackson throws-up all over our bed. FUCK! I chase them both out of the room and clean the bed as much as I can without disturbing the quietly sleeping toddler that lays in the middle.

I peacefully go back to sleep. Selfish? Yes; I know. I wanted sleep.

6:15am Jackson is back in bed with Addison and me. The hubby has left for work.

6:30am Jackson is awake and ready to play. FANTASTIC! (sense my sarcasm)

7am I call the hubby to bitch. Complaining about how I was up all night.
Complaining about not being able to nap today. Complaining about being the one who will be up driving tonight. I end the conversation with “sounds like fun?”. (sense more sarcasm)

His response is “Yup”.

“Yup?! Oh really yup? You ass”... as I hang up the phone.

Yup is such a lazy, uncompassionate word. I hate the word yup.

Perhaps he will be the one driving; being that I am so selfish…