Things I’ve Learned This Week

** Summer break is the equivalent of a homefront civil war.

** August is a REALLY long way away.

** Babysitters make everything better.

** If I had a penis, it would be a “ginormous” one, according to my son anyway.

** BP sure must like the taste of feet in their mouth.

** It’s not easy to shit out Scotch tape.  Just ask the dog.

** Sand & ass bombs are not a good combination.

** My life involves entirely too much shit (literally).

** Cheese fries may very well be the nastiest food on the planet — I can’t even look at them, much less ever eat ’em.

** Skin cancer has scared the living beejesus out of me.

** The lights in our basement playroom were on for 3 straight days, 24/7.  Sorry, Mother Earth.

** Starbucks REALLY needs to start delivering to me first thing in the morning.

** Kids have WAY too much energy.

** Everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING, always goes wrong when the hubby has a business trip.

** My husband is going to bring me a fabulous present from Paris (did you hear that, Honey??!!)

** Sadly, smiling seems to have gone out of style.

** I should wear a fancier thong if I’m gonna flash a crowded street of cars.

** If you’re seven, swim evaluations are called “swim evacuations“.

** My personal assistant REALLY needs to come back from vacation.  Oh wait, that’s right, I don’t HAVE a personal assistant.

** The kids’ bathroom was attacked by toothpaste.

** I believe I set a record number of “fucks” said within a seven-day period.

** There’s a mafia of mosquitoes out to get me.

** I cannot do it all.

** Despite what I might think, God does not give me more than I can handle.



The Fugly Sweater

     Following in the footsteps of our non-traditional Thanksgiving, our Christmas this year was also a very alternative one.  We went over to our same friends’ house who hosted us for turkey day for some good old festive fun.  There were three total families there, with a whopping sum of seven kids in all.  You can probably just imagine how apeshit crazy the kids were for Santa & his antlered bitches to swoop into town later on that night.  To add to the fun, the wives had conspired to have an ugliest sweater contest amongst our men, and I am proud to say that my hubby won, hands down, with his unbelievably gay and merry ensemble.

     Shopping for the appropriate sweater for this little contest was no easy task either.  I was actually surprised to learn just how hard it is to find a man’s Christmas sweater period, let alone a fugly one.  My mom and I looked EVERYWHERE when I went back home last weekend, and the only thing I found that was even a remote possibility was located in the larger “WOMAN” department of Target.  All I needed was a good base, since I planned to bedazzle the hell outta the thing. The one I chose was black with a green embroidered Christmas tree on it, and I then bought glittery snowflakes, beads, jewels, and multi-colored sequins to hot glue on it.  When my mom and I were finished with it, it was one hot mess of a sweater, just the exact look I was going for.

     And just before heading over to our friends’ house on Christmas Eve, I found the mother of all mothers as far as Christmas attire goes — my mother-in-law’s red plaid wool pants, which just so happened to be hanging in the closet of our guest bedroom.  Somehow or another, I convinced my husband to wear these pants with his bedazzling sweater, and he could not have looked more ridiculous.  I laughed so hard that I nearly fell down at the sight of him.  He reminded me of Cousin Eddy from Christmas vacation — the only thing he was missing was a pair of white patent leather shoes.  It was perfect!

     When our friends got a glimpse of him in this get-up, they didn’t quite know what to say.  It was truly hard to carry on a serious conversation with him without busting into snickers and howls. Needless to say, his sweater was by far the ugliest of the group.  The best part of the night came when the three husbands decided to play Beatles Rock Band in their idiotic-looking duds.  They looked like a REALLY feminine boy band gone wrong.  It was priceless!

     So, once again, our friends really came through for us during yet another difficult time.  Being without my family for the first Christmas ever was extremely hard for me, but the laughter and the fun of being with good friends (and a few too many Holy Berries) helped to put me in a jollier mood.  It also didn’t hurt to have a husband who was willing to make himself look like a complete jackass all to amuse me.  🙂



     If I have to wonder even for a second why my son is always leaving his belongings pretty much anywhere he goes, I don’t have to look very far. He seems to be following right along in the footsteps of his father, who would most certainly forget his legs if they weren’t already attached to his body. I think it must just be in the male mentality to walk out the door without doing a mental checklist of what they need.  And over this past weekend, my husband proved this point yet again to me.

     Sunday was a crazy day in our house — I had the half-marathon race at the crack of dawn, and my kids had two birthday parties to attend.  My husband agreed to be the kid shuttle for the day, since I was going to be M.I.A.  I knew I needed to have everything laid out and ready to go, so Saturday night, I wrapped the presents and laid out the cards for the kids to sign.  I attached post-it notes for my husband so he would know which kid was supposed to sign which card.  I wanted to be sure the presents were in plain eyesight and not forgotten, so I put them smack dab in the middle of the kitchen table. Surely, they couldn’t be missed, since they would be eating breakfast there before the first party of the day.  

     In addition, I left specific instructions about the times and locations for the parties, along with a big reminder note about NOT FORGETTING THE PRESENTS!  I even went through all of these little details with my husband to be sure he had the low-down on the day’s schedule of events.  As he rolled his eyes with a sigh of disgust, he claimed to have everything locked and loaded in his head.  His face, however, seemed to be saying, “What do I look like?  A moron?”  I just bit my tongue and held back any opinions I might have had on that subject. He certainly means well and is very good about taking the kids off my hands when I really need him to, but his track record for remembering all the little particulars is not necessarily the strongest.  

     And wouldn’t you know, I called it from the get-go.  As predicted, he got half-way to the first party with the kids before he realized that he had left the present sitting right there on the kitchen table.  And he wonders why I leave lists everywhere for him???!!!  They ended up missing the first half of the party by the time they turned around, picked up the gift, and finally made their way back.  My husband explained the reason for their tardiness to the mom of the birthday girl, who just laughed with a “been there, done that” sign of understanding as she glanced over at her own husband.

    I really don’t know what more I can do to help the men in my house be better about remembering things.  Surely, there’s gotta be something I haven’t tried yet.  Should I start putting post-it notes on their eyeballs?  Or is it simply just a lost cause?  Maybe I should consult with an elephant….

Oh No He Didn’t!

     When I am over-stressed with the kids, my husband just really doesn’t know the right thing to say.  In fact, he quite often says all the WRONG things. I know he doesn’t do it intentionally — it’s just that he simply doesn’t get it!  

     Earlier this week, he had to travel for business to New York City.  I, of course, was left to man the fort here at home.  You might recall that I didn’t have a particularly good start to the week (i.e. — my son’s stubborn showdown before school).  That very same day, my daughter had to put her own unique stamp on my stress level.  She was so caught up in watching “Tom and Jerry” on t.v., that she pooped in her pants and told no one about it.  Thanks to my bloodhound-like nose, I discovered her dirty little secret and proceeded to clean up yet another mess.  (Do I have a shitty job or what??!!)

     Around that time, I received a text from my husband telling me he was out to dinner with a client and asking me how the day went.  I told him about my morning from hell in trying to get my son to school, as well as my daughter’s lazy crap in the pants story.  His response back:  “At least you don’t have to stay out late and drink like I do.”

     I literally think steam blew out my ears when I read those words.  At least I didn’t have to go out to a fancy dinner, have drinks served to me, and have someone else clean up the mess?  Are you kidding me?  Yes, I can see how that’s soooo much worse than cleaning smeared shit out of someone’s underwear!!!!  Needless to say, I didn’t even bother to respond because I was afraid that my fire breath might just burn my iPhone.  He felt bad the next day when I told him about it, but he still doesn’t understand how much of a stab a comment like that can be.  When you’re stuck down in the trenches of motherhood, you need someone with whom you can commiserate.  There’s a reason why they say misery loves company.

     Do you have similar “Oh no he didn’t!” stories?  How do you handle these moments with your spouse?