Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category

Instead of a web, I shoot milk.

As I was walking toward Bella because she was crying in her playpen for me to pick her up, I looked at Max and said, “Hey Max, watch this… mommy is a super hero, I have SUPER POWERS… do you wanna see what my special mommy SUPER POWERS are?” He was so eager to see. I reached into the playpen and put my hands under Bella’s arms and said, “See, all mommy has to do is touch Bella and she stops crying… and look… now she won’t start again because I’ve picked her up! I’m a super hero!!!!!” He laughed. He thought that was funny.

Later on, we were in his room playing with his dinosaur, Steve, and I asked him, “Max, your mommy is a super hero. Do you remember what my super powers are?” He smiled and said, “Yes!” And then he looked down, pointed at my boobs and said, “These are!”

That’s right, I’m a Super Hero.

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

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This morning when I blinked, Max poured out my Aveda hair product into the toilet and trashed the bottle into the can as well. Then, he transferred a bottle of Burt’s Bees Apricot Baby Oil into a coffee mug.

I realized early on that today was going to be one of those days. This was before 10 am. “One of those days” means I try to ignore him unless he’s being nice or wants to play with me. I spent most of the morning folding laundry and some of it playing with him and his dinosaurs.

While I was nursing him down for a nap (that he didn’t take), I decided that today would be the last day I nurse him for a nap. Tomorrow, I’ll read him a few books (like we do before bedtime at night) and lay with him until he falls asleep. He is almost weaned! The last nursing time to go will be the one first thing in the morning.

My MIL is coming soon to take Max to Jungle Gardens. While he’s with her I’m going to get the house cleaned and make some food for the week. I’ve been having issues with hunger. I mean, when I get hungry it comes on so sudden that I feel sick. I’m not eating as much as I normally do because of my food restrictions (no dairy, soy, eggs) so I need to have easy, already-made food on hand. And fruit. I don’t mind these restrictions because it forces me to eat healthier. It will just take some time to get use to preparing food in bulk so it’s good-to-go in the fridge.

Dear Max,

You will always be an awesome kid in my book, but… since you were such a tart this morning, I thought it would be shweet to post this picture…



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Oh Boy.

Hal loves mineral water. He bought a bottle for our little road trip on Saturday. We were in for an hour drive to visit with some friends that we haven’t seen in a long time. Hal was apparently very excited about his cold beverage. After taking his first gulp he exclaimed, “this is fucking good!” Hal has always been overly-dramatic when it comes to his bubbly water. Max, being the curios boy that he is, also wanted a drink. Hal passes the bottle back to Bossman who is eagerly awaiting his first taste. I can hear him taking a big gulp. Then HE exclaims… I’m sure you know where I’m going with this… “This is FUCKing good!”

Me: Did he just say what I think he said???

Hal: Yeah.

Us: Haaahaahaaahahaaahaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Max: Heeeeheeeeheeeeeheeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me: I have never heard him pronounce the “F” sound so clearly.

Every drink thereafter, Max said the same thing. Eventually we stopped laughing and explained to him that he can only say that around mommy and daddy. I’m certain, however, that the first time his grandma gives him a drink of her soda water he will let her know just how fucking good he thinks it is.

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I love this site.

We all have secrets.

I’m working on a card to send in. I just have to hunt my memory for a secret! Its kinda hard when you always spill the beans.

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I gave Max a bath today around 4pm. It was at this time which I discovered that the natural light in our bathroom is perfect for plucking the hairs on my face. I had hairs growing out of pours I didn’t even know existed – and they were, like, an inch long. As I meticulously stretched my skin and pulled the tiniest imposing black hairs, Max played happily in the tub. Unlike getting him to cooperate when it’s time to get in his car seat I have no problems getting him to take a bath. Baths, he likes. Car seats, that’s a story for a later day. And, yeah, getting him out of the bath is also a story for another day.

After freeing the mile long hairs pullulating on my chin and above my eyes I suddenly felt dirty. Although the mowing process took about twenty minutes and Max’s skin was beginning to look like an 80 year old’s, I decided to leave him in the tub and turn the shower on for myself. Bath time had us busy for about forty minutes. But, what the hell, I felt clean and like a woman when it was all over.

Since I was sparkling and my mug now had hair in only the areas one would expect, I was stoked to make the dinner I had planned. I got Max’s nappy on, turned on Sesame Street, and gleefully headed downstairs to get a recipe off the computer. As the printer was doing its magic I heard something that I would have sworn was impossible to hear. I heard the sound of a toilet seat falling on the floor (our seat is broken and is barely hanging onto the snaps that are supposed to keep my ass from falling in the water). NOOOOO! I thought for sure I must be mistaken because I know I locked that damn bathroom door.

Well, I “know” wrong and as I rounded the corner my fear was confirmed. Max was hovering over the toilet frolicking in the water. Thank the stars I actually took the time to flush – a rarity these days. When I got into the bathroom the seat was on the floor, one of Max’s hands was in the water, the other on the flusher, and there was a roll of toilet paper waiting to go down. All my gentle parenting philosophies were flushed down the toilet (heehee) and I yelled, “MAXAMILIAN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? NO, NO, NO!” I ripped him away from his play area and threw him back into the bathtub. It was mortifying because although the water was clean the rim had not been scrubbed in about a week.

But oh, there’s more…

When Max was in the tub it dawned on me that he was diaperless. “MAXAMILIAN! WHERE IS YOUR DIAPER YOUNG MAN???” With the sweetest look on his face and the softest most serious voice he pointed out into the living room and said, “poo poo.”

I just had to laugh.

So, after I get his butt cleaned and bath set up, again, I go out into the living room to see what the damage is – hoping that my dogs didn’t locate it first and turn it into a snack.

I found one big ball of terd and a diaper flung to the side. Damn it. When I finally scrubbed the carpet enough to take out its color I took the dirty wash cloth to the laundry basket. On the way there I stepped in another terd pile. So, as I kept one eye peeking in on Max in the bathroom, happily playing in the water, I scrubbed again then scanned the rest of the up stairs for more butt critters.

Hal got home maybe ten minutes after this whole fiasco. Lucky man. I whined to him about my last hour as he laughed at the humor in it all. We decided that we would all take the dogs for a walk so I could get out of the house. We also decided that Hal was going to cook dinner tonight.

Before leaving he put on some brown rice. I asked him if he thought it was a good idea to leave that sitting there cooking while we walked the dogs. He reminded me that brown rice takes forty minutes and that we’d be back way before that. Besides, he said, “it’s not like I’m going to burn the house down.” No, that is a job for me when I’m cooking.

So we go on a nice walk and when I run upstairs ahead of everyone because my bladder is about to let loose I smell the smell of burning rice. Before we left for our family walk, Hal turned the front burner on “low” after the rice started to boil and the back burner that actually had the rice sitting on it was left on the highest setting.

He almost burned the house down.

And, on a completely unrelated note…

Making love to your husband while your baby is taking a nap is a lot like taking the SAT’s. There’s no time for foolin’ around and the alarm always goes off before you’re satisfied with what you’ve done.

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A man came home from work and found his three children outside, still in
their pajamas, playing in the mud, with empty food boxes and wrappers strewn
all around the front yard.

The door of his wife’s car was open, as was the front door to the house and
there was no sign of the dog. Proceeding into the entry, he found an even
bigger mess. A lamp had been knocked over, and the throw rug was wadded
agai nst one wall.

In the front room the TV was loudly blaring a cartoon channel, and the
family room was strewn with toys and various items of clothing.

In the kitchen, dishes filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on the
counter, the fridge door was open wide, dog food was spilled on the floor, a
broken glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand was spread by the
back door.

He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of
clothes, looking for his wife. He was worried she might be ill, or that
something serious had happened.

He was met with a small trickle of water as it made its way out the bathroom
door. As he peered inside he found wet towels, scummy soap and more toys
strewn over the floor. Miles of toilet paper lay in a heap and toothpaste
had been smeared over the mirror and walls.

As he rushed to the bedroom, he found his wife still curled up in the bed in
her pajam as, reading a novel. She looked up at him, smiled, and asked how
his day went.

He looked at her bewildered and asked, “What happened here today?” She again
smiled and answered, “You know every day when you come home from work and
you ask me what in the world I do all day?” “Yes,” was his incredulous
reply. She answered, “Well, today I didn’t do it.”


For anyone who may not know… SAHM = Stay at home mom. And, I’m not sure who wrote this.

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I’m drinking a cup of coffee. Something I said I would not do again because it makes me hate my son. Well, I think I can work around that. If I don’t drink this coffee, I won’t get off the couch today. I am highly unmotivated to clean and that is exactly what I need to do, my house is a disaster area. I’m sipping a very small amount, just enough to get the caffeine high that I need to move. Then, I’ll guzzle a gallon of water and drink a cup of Oat Straw Tea, which is what will save my son from being growled at again and possibly eaten.

Oh, I should probably confess here that my growling at Max the other day wasn’t a normal, I’m standing here and he’s over there, growl. No, that would be acceptable and wouldn’t induce guilt in the least. My growl was the, in your face – my nose just about touching your nose, kind of growl. Now you see why he was so freaked out?

It seems both Hal and I are at least the same species. This morning Max was looking at one of his coloring books that have a picture of a monkey wearing horned rimmed glasses. He was really trying to say, monkeeeee, but no matter how loudly I emphasized the “K” sound all that kept coming out was, moMieeeee. I’m a monkey and Hal is a sloth. At least we both like climbing and hanging out in trees. It’s important to have some similar interests with your spouse.

So, I guess that makes Max a Slonkey.

Random Thought:

I really miss being able to take a shit alone. And reading on the can is now a fantasy of mine. Now, when I won’t pick Max up as I’m doing my thang he simply pulls his potty in front of me and climbs on my lap. Keeping him at bay when I have to clean myself is not easy. He cries, yells, “nononono”, and relentlessly slaps at me. I never feel clean enough anymore unless I take a shower right after. Yeah, it’s a hard life I live.

Num-Num News:

As of four days ago I pretty much had Max weaned from the boob juice at night. I would nurse him to sleep and he could – for the most part – make it until morning. He’d wake up, still, but accepted that his beloved num-nums went nite-nite and he couldn’t visit them until morning. Well, the little boob monster got sick four days ago. Nothing major, thank the stars, but never-the-less he had a little cold. I ended up nursing him when he woke up because I could hear him coughing and he sounded miserable. Now, he’s feeling much better and I’m back to square one. Last night was pretty painful because he cried his little eyes out for at least half an hour – which is longer than he ever did the first time around. My only consolation is that with each night it does get easier. And, at least he is in bed with me so when he finally accepts that num-nums went nite-nite, he can flop his weak from crying body on top of mine and snuggle in real close. He managed, after the first time he woke up (around 11pm), to fall back to sleep until 6:30 this morning. Only a few more nights to go and we’ll be back to where we were when he got sick.

When he gets sick again I’m gonna have to keep my No Nursing In The Middle Of The Night Policy. I think it is much worse to go back and forth with it than to keep firm and not nurse. I just have to remember (because it won’t be easy) that I can comfort him without whipping out the boob.

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Eric Carl wrote this book about the sloth. Hal brought it home the other night for Max. He insisted that I read it because it would “save our marriage.” So I read it and this is what it said:

Slowly, slowly, slowly, a sloth crawled along a branch of a tree.

Slowly, slowly, slowly, the sloth ate a leaf.

Slowly, slowly, slowly, the sloth fell asleep.

Slowly, slowly, slowly, the sloth woke up.

All day long the sloth hung upside down in the tree.

All night long the sloth hung upside down in the tree.

Even when it rained the sloth hung upside down in the tree.

“Why are you so slow?” the howler monkey asked one day.

But the sloth didn’t answer.

“Why are you so quiet?” the caiman asked.

But the sloth didn’t answer.

“Why are you so boring?” the anteater asked.

But the sloth didn’t answer.

“Tell me,” said the jaguar, “why are you so lazy?”

The sloth thought and thought and thought for a long, long, long time.

Finally, the sloth replied,

“It is true that I am slow, quiet and boring. I am lackadaisical, I dawdle and I dillydally. I am also unflappable, languid, stoic, impassive, sluggish, lethargic, placid, calm, mellow, laid-back and, well, slothful! I am relaxed and tranquil, and I like to live in peace. But I am not lazy.” Then the sloth yawned and said, “That’s just how I am. I like to do things slowly, slowly, slowly.”

I love my slow hubby and now, thanx to Eric Carle’s book, I totally get him now. He’s a sloth! Oh wait, not that Sloth, this one. The cute one.

This morning Hal was reading a completely different book to Max and on the last page there was a picture of a sloth. Max apparently picked up on our conversation the day before because Hal asked me as I stood in the kitchen slothishly making a bowl of cereal, “why does Max keep pointing at the sloth and calling it “daddy”?”

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So, THIS is what will make me a good wife? Wow, I don’t think so. This was published in 1955; maybe someone should let them know their list is outdated. My husband would be appalled to not see the 19th bullet point that was added in the 70’s:


  • It’s beneficial to your husband’s satisfaction for you to apply a fresh coat of Dick Sucking Red Lipstick precisely two minutes before he walks in the front door. Remember, he needs to relax after his hard day at work and before eating that fabulous three course meal you prepared for him.


Pfft, Good Housekeeping needs to update their shit. Prudes.

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