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Archive for January, 2010

Don’t Ya Just Love It…

When you look like shit and you run into someone that you don’t want to see you looking like shit?  Yeah…  Good times.

Good thing I’m an annoyingly happy all the time person, because if I got in bad moods, today would have been a prime candidate.  It was one of those mornings.  I hope it’s not indicative of what the rest of the day is going to be like.

We were running late this morning, and some certain little kids, no names mentioned, were not good listeners…  And by not being good listeners (aka ignoring the hell out of Mommy…,) we were really running the risk of being late for school.  Being late for school itself is not such an issue, but being late for carpool drop off is…  Because if I have to take them in, I have to actually get dressed and look presentable.  Which means even more time is needed for me to get dressed.  If I do drop off, I pull up and the teachers literally unbuckle them from their carseats and take them out.  I can look like hell in the carpool line and nobody will ever know…  Can you see where this is going? 

And, since they did not have their listening ears on high, I yelled at a certain un-named female child.   I mean yelled.  I always feel terrible when I raise my voice, and I don’t do it very much…  Crazy, oops, I mean Mom, was a yeller, and I swore I never would be.  So, when I do shout,  I feel just awful and guilty and think about it all day long.  Good things kids are over stuff like that 30 seconds after it happens…  And back to whatever it is they just got yelled at about…

Anyway…  Not a shining Mommy Moment.

We did actually make it for drop off, so I didn’t have to get out at the school, thank god.  However, I was about half way home when Henry’s teacher called and said that I must not have seen their note in his bag about him being out of pull ups, since I didn’t send any…  No.  No, I did not see your note.  Because I was running so late this morning, I neglected to check his bag.  She said she didn’t have a single one…  I was right by the exit for Target, so I told her I would run grab some and bring them back downtown to her. 

Well…  I looked like shit, and if I didn’t want to have to go into school looking like that, where you usually see other moms looking like shit, too, I certainly didn’t want to go into Target.  You see everyone and their freaking mother in Target.  (Why is that, anyway?) 

I made it to the pull up aisle, ran through the grocery section, ran through the little travel size toiletries aisle (for DISNEY…  In ONE WEEK…,) checked out and managed not to see anyone I knew.  I thanked the cashier, grabbed my bags and headed for the door when I realized my phone wasn’t in the cup holder of the stroller…  Do you see where this is going?

SO, I have to go retrace all my damn steps in the store, twice, and still don’t find my piece of shit phone (I’m supposed to get a new one this week, I’ve had my old one since Avery was born and it doesn’t work half the time…)  I made it through two trips back through the damn store without seeing anyone.  Then….  On my way to check with customer service to see if someone turned it in, there she is…   One of the people I really, really, really don’t want to run into whilst looking like a crazy disheveled person.

One of the Mister’s old “girlfriends” from college.  Who is still really good friends with all the rest of his “girlfriends” from college, and one in particular that was more than just  a “girlfriend.”  I can hear her now…  “Good GOD, his wife looks like she’s from Alabama…”  (I can crack Alabama jokes, since I live on the Georgia/Alabama line.)

Anyway………  This girl is always perfect.  She always has her hair fixed, make up on, a super cute outfit complete with shoes, bag and accessories…  While she’s pushing her toddler twins around in their stroller…  And here I am.  In my faded gray, once black, lint-covered, too tight, misshapen from where I tried to stretch it this morning, maternity t-shirt, with a lovely faded brown ribbed long-sleeved shirt under it…  Sporting a greasy, unbrushed, lumpy headed pony tail, with some uber-wrinkled, covered in spit up from this morning, falling down khaki maternity pants.  I was looking awesome.  At least I had good shoes on.

Seems like I see her in particular every single time I run in that fucking store while looking like a homeless person.  Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.

I’m sure when I said the ole, “God, the one day you look like this and don’t want to run into anyone, you do,” she really believed that shit.  Because I’m not kidding when I say I run into her every single time I run in that fucking store while looking like a homeless person.  Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck. 

Maybe the cute baby I had in my stroller somewhat distracted her from the fact that I looked like poor white trash from Alabama.  But, he was also in his PWT attire, wearing some old footies with a stained up, covered in spit up bib…  With spit up on his chin.  (Not dried there, ewwww, from where he just spit up.)   At least he wasn’t wearing only a diaper, drinking a bottle full of Sprite.  He did give her his winning smile, so I’m sure she overlooked the spit up.  And even if he hadn’t of given her that smile that makes you melt, he’s just stinking (literally at that point, ) cute. 

So, I see her, looking like Mrs. America, chat for a minute and then head to customer service to discover that nobody has turned my crappy phone in, go out to my car and guess who is parked right beside me.  Mrs. America.  So, she’s standing right there, chatting with me, when I look down and see my phone sitting right on the snack tray of the stroller.  Of course, I had already told her I was looking for my phone…  Not only is she now thinking that I look like a smelly homeless person from Alabama, I’m stupid.  Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.

Then, as she’s reassuring me that “everyone has those days…,” in her not so reassuring voice, a friend of hers walks up, luckily that I don’t know, also looking like Mrs. Freaking America, with her toddler on her hip…  I did a quick duck and run and made a speedy getaway.  It was that bad…  I didn’t want one more person, especially one completely dressed in super cute clothes, with hair and makeup done, seeing my embarrassing state.

I get in my car, and in my haste to get the hell out of Dodge, went into auto-pilot mode and got back on the expressway going towards home.  Well, I wasn’t going home.  I was going back downtown.  The opposite direction. 

The Mister calls at this point and I’m telling him about my morning, and in my not-really-thinking-about-what-I’m-doing-mode, turned onto the freaking interstate instead of the exit I needed.  Going the wrong direction.  Again.  

So, I have to go around my ass to get to my elbow…  I finally got to the school to take the pull ups, that I didn’t know were needed because I neglected to check the bag, into the one place I was trying to avoid having to go into in the first damn place.  Of course, running into at least three moms from Avery’s class.  And there, folks, my story comes full circle.

Hope you guys had a better start to the week.  Now excuse me while I go put on some makeup.

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I purchased a little something for myself…  In leopard print…  You know, for Animal Kingdom… 

My friends, I introduce, The Harem Jumpsuit….

I linked it so you can order your own.  Because I know you want to.  Because that hot ass piece of clothing will flatter any body type, any person, for any occasion.  Especially Animal Kingdom.  Or an MC Hammer concert.  Or if you’re a member of MC Hammer’s harem.

Seriously.  What.The.Fuck.?  I’m truly confused.  I keep going back and looking at it, just in case I looked at it wrong…  Like I was mistaken in what I saw…  I mean, that can’t be what I’m really seeing.  Can it?  What.The.Fuck.???? 

I’ll pay any one of you that orders that bizarre thing and wears it out in public $100.00…  The VS purchaser that ordered that piece of shit needs to be fired.  Pronto.

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Happy Freaking ERD!

That would be a negative for those of you not fluent in pee-on-a-stick.

 

Some celebrations will be going on up in here.  (Plus Crazy, oops, I mean Mom, is coming to town, so I’m sure some beers will be consumed.)  I keep running in there to look at it…  Just in case a second line decides to make a late appearance.  I also keep picking it up and checking it out at different angles and in different light sources.  That’s.How.Damn.Paranoid.I.Was.  Yep.  We will be stocking up on some Her Pleasures…  Fo sho.

Can I get a Hallelujah?!?!   

And while this is oh, so sweet and cuddly:

And I’m just in LOVE with him…  I absolutely could not imagine being pregnant again.  With a just-turned-two-month-old.  Holy shit.  HOLY SHIT.  We’d never have sex again.  Ever.

Now let me go hide those (yes, I said those…  plural…  I needed the reassurance of a second one…) waaaaay down in the trashcan, under last Wednesday’s chicken casserole, before my Mom gets here and sees them…

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Anorexia Nervosa…

Food.  It’s what’s not for dinner….

That’s my new diet plan… 

Seriously.  I’m just cutting out the calories altogether.  No food for this gal.  Maybe some liquid refreshment of the adult variety here and there…  But, I’m cutting my caloric intake by, oh, about 99%.   Yeah, yeah…  I know.  It’s bad for me.  I’ll be unhealthy…  But, I’ll be skinny. 

Besides, I’ll take a vitamin. 

In other Shannieland news…

The Little Hoochie is two months old today.  Wow.  I can’t believe that two months have passed by.  He’s such a sweetie.  I swear he is the best baby on the planet.  And he’s getting to be such a chunk!  Chubby cheeks, chubby thighs…  I could just eat him up.  (And that’s about all I’m going to be eating up…  Remember, anorexia nervosa…)  He seriously is such a joy!  It’s like he’s always been here…  He just fits right into our little family.  I was so meant to be a mom of three.

(Although, and keep this on the way down low, I’m teasing the Mister relentlessly about being knocked up with number four…  We, um, had our first post-baby “relations,” and forgot to, um, be careful.  Yeah, I know.  We’re idiots.  It’s just that we’re so used to thinking I can’t get pregnant…  I guess we momentarily forgot that I just recently conceived and gave birth to a bouncing baby boy without the help of a fertility specialist.  So, I’m teasing him constantly about having Irish twins.  Jokes on me if I really am pregnant…  How funny would that be?!?!  Not at all, actually…  But, two ‘oops’-es after two in-vitros would be a nice story to tell…  In, oh, about three years…  So, maybe I actually was meant to be a mom of four…  God, I joke about this now…)

And…  Two weeks from today we leave for DISNEY.  Yes, I’m back in Disney obsession mode.  Just ask any of my real-life friends…  Can’t WAIT to get there.  And I’ve gone Disney outfit crazy.  Not for me.  For The Princess.  Outfits like this:

They would look pretty stupid on me.

Plus I’m too fat. 

And that brings me back to my anorexia…  How much weight can I lose in two weeks?  Enough to not look pregnant anymore???  Because I’d love to not be wearing maternity clothes at The Most Magical Place On Earth.  Wonder how well the no eating thing will work???  I’ll let ya know.  I may never eat again if it works.

(The occasional adult beverage thing is serious business, too, folks…  Even more so than the no food thing…  Part of my no fat/no calorie regimen will include only enjoying beer two nights a week.  Yes, only two…  Two times a week, not two beers…  Because I can’t have two beers…  If I have even one, I have to have 7.  Or 9.  Or 12…  And this occasional adult beverage deal doesn’t include the vodka…  Because we all know that when you pair the vodka with diet tonic, it’s just like drinking water.  Right?  Right.)

OH, and another cool thing about today…  It’s Dr. G’s birthday!  HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DR. G!  Good thing she reminded me…  By bringing her own birthday cake to my house last night…  Yeah.  I’m a kick ass friend…  We’re celebrating tonight with Mexican.  Which I may or may not eat…  Anorexia may have to wait til tomorrow.  I think Dr. G’s worth it.  Then I’ll get busy becoming a pasty waif with my bad anorexic self. 

Wish me luck, my friends.  Wish me luck.

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Happy (Not So) ERD!

Since Avery is now calling Tucker her “Little Hoochie,” guess what the Mister has her calling me?  Yup.  You guessed it…  Her “Little Hoochie Mama.”  Don’t ya just love a smart ass? 

So…..

Cheers from this little Hoochie Mama…

IT’S FRIDAY!  Even if the Mister won’t be home for Early Release.  Oh, and that’s a Bud Light Wheat, by the way…  Very tasty beer there, my friends.

And for your viewing pleasure….  The Little Hoochie himself…  Awwww….  (God, I hope that doesn’t stick.)

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Here’s To You!

And a very happy ERD!!!!  Let the good times roll….

Ahhhhh………  It’s good to be back.

P.S.  I bet Nosy Neighbor #1 is having a field day…  And I bet the convicts that pick up our recycling are saying, “Shit.  She’s back.”

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Whoever the Genius Is…

that invented Polly Pockets needs to be stabbed in the face…  Or have ten zillion little tiny shoes shoved up their nose. 

Just puttin’ that out there.

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