Posts Tagged ‘Shopping’

So I’ve returned.


I can tell.

We’ve been busy. REAL busy.

Like we’ve been potty training.

Don’t get too excited. Potty training consists of Robbie shoving his hand in the toilet and then into his mouth all while I try not to throw up.

No, I’m not pregnant.

We also went camping and I learned I have a secret.

I will share when I am ready.

No, I’m not pregnant.

We’ve been trying to buy a house.

And by trying I mean we live on a hundred dollars trying to sock away enough for the down payment and the 7 thousand dollars that follows for the “extras”.

We really need the extra room. Like REALLY need it!

No, I’m not pregnant.

We cut Liams hair.

It was getting scraggly and the child is going through early onset male patterned baldness.

Makes me sad he’s growing up so fast.

He’s growing up so much faster than Robbie and with Robbie I knew early on that I would have another one to enjoy soon.


Let me clarify,



This blog posting has been written for my father. The man who continues to insist I am pregnant again. No Dad, I’m not pregnant I’m just fat. Thanks 🙂


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Tonight I am participating in Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop. This is my loose interpretation of prompt #5: What do the contents of your handbag/purse “say” about you?

I miss my purse.

Its soft, supple leather.

The adorable LV letters strewn across it.

The way it felt slung on my shoulder.

Its weight.

Its  feel.

I miss it.

When I carried that purse it felt like me.

It made me feel like someone.

It held my LV wallet, my over-sized Gucci sunglasses, my Coach wristlet that held my camera, my MAC compact, Dior lip gloss, my iPhone, and a myriad of other over priced baubles. I’m sure if you were to have removed all the items you would have found a pair of diamond stud earrings nestled at the bottom.

That purse?

It screamed she doesn’t have children.

It screamed disposable income.

It screamed self-absorbed.

Life changed.

That purse?

It’s somewhere in the house.

Hidden away from grubby hands.

My “purse” now?

It’s the small Coach wristlet. It holds medical ID cards for the family, my license, my debit card, a cheapo chapstick, my iPhone, and a pen.

That wristlet?

It’s nestled in a Walmart diaper bag given to me by my Grandmother. It has blue and green swirls and has been so used its interior is beginning to crack and fade. Inside there are diapers and wipes, extra outfits in case of accidents, snacks and juice boxes for the toddler, binkys and loveys for the baby, a first aid kit for the owies, and toys to ward off the boredom.

Before, my purse had been all about me.

All about how well I was doing in my job.

All about how put together and wonderful I was.


It’s about necessity.

It’s about keeping everyone happy.

It’s about two little one’s and their needs.

I may miss my over-priced purse and long forgotten belongings.

I may miss all the joy and confidence it had once brought me.

But I love my Walmart bag more.

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Things I have learned while having a newborn and a 12-month-old.

1. Toddler fingers can find the soft spot on top of a newborns head in approximately 2.4 seconds upon meeting their new sibling.

2. Takes me 1.5 seconds to fall over and assume the fetal position from said toddler fingers finding the soft spot and poking it.

3. Apparently eyeballs are extractable in the mind’s eye of a 1-year-old.

4. Newborns are forcibly made to watch scenes from the exorcist while in utero. I have no other explanation for the projectile vomiting. The kid has talent.

5. When one cries the other takes it as a sign of competition and must out cry the other one. No one has won; we are all losing.

6. Newborns are exceptional at pooping 4.9 seconds after the completion of a diaper change.

7. 1-year-olds are exceptional at pooping 4.9 seconds after the completion of a diaper change.

8. Moms are exceptional at not wanting to change said diapers– I do it anyways.

9. Neither can sleep in their own beds. They insist on sleeping in mine. Dr. Spock just rolled over in his grave.

And lastly…

10. I don’t mind the bed hogging. Because honestly? I’m on cuteness overload! SIGH

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The kid is twelve-friggen-months-old.

Why in the fritter is he waking up like he’s some needy newborn?!?!?

I haven’t slept in like a week!

Yea, yea, my husband works grave yards and thus he is home during the day.

Can we just discuss what being “home” entails for this dude?!?

He gets home at 5:30, takes a shower, goes to sleep, and doesn’t wake up until 2/2:30 (that is, if I don’t chuck the kid at him, screaming I’ve had enough it’s your turn, earlier than that. Sweet? I know). He then proceeds to make his coffee, eat “breakfast“, enjoy the quiet time of the child napping, goes to school/takes a nap and then goes to work again…

My schedule?!?!

Kid wakes up, fight the screaming I-refuse-to-have-my-butt-changed-nazi, feed him breakfast, sweep the floor, be yelled at while sweeping the floor as the child squirms and attempts to gnaw his way through the high-chair straps, put him on the floor, fight the kid for the piece of gross I missed while sweeping and his radar picked up and is now putting in his mouth, give him milk, argue with him about drawers and why he is not allowed in them, sneak away to the bathroom while he’s not looking, get caught trying to go to the bathroom and yell from the potty he’s not allowed to climb over the baby gate, attempt to do breakfast dishes while keeping the kid out of the dishwasher… By this time, it’s not even noon yet.

Can you feel me on the disgruntled page?!?!?

So the past few nights little Robbie has gone to bed peacefully and I do a little happy dance.

Then he wakes up.

And refuses to go back to sleep.

He doesn’t cry, in fact he does the opposite a lot. He sits and points at the dark and talks.

Well, that’s if I leave the room…

Otherwise, he’s totally screaming his head off demanding of me something I can’t seem to give.

Last night, after 5 hours of fighting the kid to sleep, I slept on the couch… He went to sleep immediately.

Night before, I got him to settle down by letting him sleep in my bed.


I think I’m pouring Benadryl into his sippy-cup.

I’ll take vodka in mine.

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I feel like I have nothing to say today.


I always have something to say…

Well, I’ve been basically talking to myself for the past hour and a half.

I keep texting my husband while he’s at work.

You know, deep, thought-provoking things such as;

“I’m hungry and there’s nothing to eat”

Let me decode that for you.

“I’m hungry and I don’t care if we just went grocery shopping, all the stuff here I have to make! Furthermore, why the heck aren’t you here to make it for me?!?!?”


” I was looking at clothes online, but my mom says I should go through her closet before I buy anything”


“I know you’re going to read that text she sent me and, don’t get me wrong, I will be rifling through her closet once this baby is out, but don’t you think for one second that means your off the hook on the new clothes business!”

and my personal favorite

“Why is it raining?!?! It’s supposed to rain all this week! Doesn’t the rain know I have big plans to walk spawn #2 out?!?!? Doesn’t this weather get that I’ve got to get this baby out some how?!?!”


“You suck, you did this to me, I blame you for, not only, this everlasting pregnancy, but also for the weather”.


For the life of me, I just can’t figure out why he’s not texting me back…

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