Sunday, September 29, 2013

Bozo the Clown taught us beer pong

GUYS!  I just had a major revelation. The reason my generation is so enfatuated with playing beer pong, is because deep down inside, we are all trying to be THIS KID-

So, we play a game in which to hone our skills on the off chance that one day, some day, we will be hand picked from a writhing audience of fidgety children, by a clown (who is a dead ringer for Pennywise now that I look at him) to take our chance at throwing a ball into a cup for the ultimate prize of a crisp $100 bill.

Thank you Pennywise Bozo! Without you my early 20's would have been filled with mindless drinking for only a reward of getting drunk.

That is all - You may continue with your lives now.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

He's growing up without my permission

He’s a year old, y’all!

So yeah, my itty bitty baby, who was never actually itty or bitty, has turned 1! Where does the time go?? It seems like yesterday I was a terrified new mom on her first day home from the hospital with NO CLUE what I was doing. And now he’s 1, so basically next week he will start shaving and the week after that he’s getting married.

Big Dinosaur keeps asking me when he’s going to start talking, like in full sentences and quoting movies or something. Big Dinosaur is rushing the growing up process, and I don't like it. Baby Dinosaur is good at a few words though, Ba-Ba (bottle), Ya-Ya (Bianca), and Daddy. Yeah, not Da-Da, well sometimes just Da-Da, but usually it’s Daddy.

Baby: Daaaaa-dy, Daddy, Daaaaa-dy.
Me: Say Mama
Baby: Daaaa-ddy? Da-da-da-da-da-da, daaaaaa-ddyyyyy?
Me: No, say Ma-Maa.
Baby: Daddy.

But if he's hurt, sad, sleepy, hungry, it's Ma-Ma all the way, so at least I'm needed sometimes.

Daddy's Boy, all the way

Last night he spent an hour “cruising” around the coffee table (cruising is what babies do when they are using the furniture for support while walking), leading me to believe that any day now he won’t need the table any more, and he will simply walk around the room. We already keep the door to the bathroom closed because of his fascination with touching the toilet water. And don’t get me started with the dog food bowl battles. Mobility is a bitch.

"Ohh, don't mind me, just standing here, reading this Birthday Card."

Around the time he started crawling, I saw on Pinterest that you should keep a cabinet in the kitchen unlocked and filled with baby-safe Tupperware that he can pull out and play with to keep him occupied while your cooking. I thought it was a kick-ass idea, so I set one up. There’s a problem though...we now constantly have Tupperware all over our kitchen and living room and sometimes in our bed, and there’s not a single one that isn’t covered with a layer of dog hair or dust or whatever the hell that is, so that I could, ya know, actually put food in it. Have y'all noticed that Pinterest lies a lot? Pinterest is a bitch.

In the past year we have had to take the baby to the hospital twice. Once for an unexplained incident where he turned blue for no damn reason (they literally said, "Sometimes babies just turn blue." Unacceptable.) and then a 3AM trip to the ER for what turned out to be Croup. If you’ve never seen/heard of Croup, it’s absolutely terrifying. It comes on very quickly and causes a cough which sounds like a seal bark, along with gasping for air and all around can’t breatheingness. So we get to the ER, I’m freaking the hell out, the baby is bawling because he can’t get air, and the nurses are like, “Oh, it’s just Croup, all those kids over there have it too. Here’s some cold juice.” Uhh, come again? What was that? My child can’t breathe and you’re telling me cold apple juice is the answer? Yes, yes that’s right. He just needed to have something cold on his throat. Croup basically just causes airway inflammation, so when cold juice/popsicle/cold air reaches the throat, the inflammation goes down and lets him breathe normally. Oh, and its super common. Croup is a bitch.

Looks cute even in a hospital gown.
I'm still working full time, but luckilly I get to entrust Baby Dinosaur to the single most qualified person in the universe to care for him during the day, my bestie Angel. (You may remeber Angel from The Lizzard) She probably takes better care of him than I do. Seriously. She even threw him a mini birthday party with the other kiddos she watches. This was special because Big Dinosaur and I FORGOT HIS BIRTHDAY. Parent test EPIC FAIL!! See, what had happened was... The Baby's birthday was on a Tuesday, and his massive birthday party was scheduled for the following Saturday. With all my concentration focused on planning the party, when his actually birthday rolled around, we completely overlooked it and treated it like any ol morning. Big Dinosaur got him up and dressed and went off to Angel's. When they arrived, Angel opened the door and said, "There's the Birthday Boy!!" and Big Dinosaur said, "Oh shit...." So he text me and let me know that we were the worlds worst parents and that we forgot our only childs first birthday. Angel and Morgan came to the rescue though, in a big way...

It's a PARTY, yo!!

Then, when the baby came home, we begged for his forgivness with more cake.

I think it turned out okay. Fingers crossed we don't forget again next year...


Sunday, August 19, 2012

Meat Drink

When we moved from our big fancy apartment to this shit-hole apartment, it didn't come with a microwave.  The big fancy apartment had one built in, but apparently people around here prefer heating their leftovers over a campfire. (Side note- Shit-hole apartment kitchen also has no drawers wider than 5 inches. Because who needs a silverware drawer, right?)

No, really.  Our silverware tray sits in the cabinet just below the cups.

At first we like, "Oh well, we'll just buy one, no biggie." But then we didn't, and before we knew it there was no counter space to put a microwave on so we figured we could just live without one. People lived without microwaves for hundreds of years, right? I mean, housewives in the 50s made 5 course meals with nothing but a butter knife and a hand mixer, right?

Well sure, but you know what else they didn't have back then? Dietary staples like microwave popcorn, mini sausage breakfast biscuits and hot pockets. Sure, some of those things can be cooked in the oven, but I don't usually have the extra 17 hours that it takes to bake them.

Ok fine, we can live without these things, but for the love of God WHY CAN'T I QUIT BUYING THEM?!?!!? It's seem that every time I go to the grocery store I completely forget that we don't have a microwave and I buy all these damn frozen dinners and shit just so they can sit in the freezer and taunt me. When we finally do get a microwave again, I believe I'm going to make a smorgasbord of Hot Pockets and Popcorn and eat myself into a radioactive food coma.

Another dilemma we face with no microwave is the process of defrosting meat.  Which, of course, isn't a problem if you have your shit together and can remember to put your dinner meat in the refrigerator the night before. I do not have my shit together, so  I come home from work and dig the dinner meat out of the frozen, frosty depths and plunk it into a sink full of hot water.  Takes a little longer than the microwave method, but it works. Then, the other day, Big Dinosaur drank the meat water.

It was a normal day, I ran a sink of hot water on the left side to was a few dishes, then one on the right side to begin defrosting the meat. Only, the sink stopper wouldn't stop up the sink on the right side, so I gave Big Dinosaur the task of finding something to stop it up while I changed the baby. When I cam back to the kitchen, he had sucessflly stopped up the sink with a small plastic cup. Perfect.

We went on about our day, waiting for the meat to defrost, and when it was done I pulled the cup out of the drain and set it beside the sink. I made dinner, we ate, we sat in the living room. I was playing with the baby when I look over to see Big Dinosaur finishing off a drink....I recognized that cup.

Cat: Isn't that the cup you used to plug the drain for the meat?

Joe: I don't think so....IS IT?? This one was sitting BESIDE the sink.

Cat: Uhhh, yeah!! That's where I put the meat cup! You know, on the side of the sink? Where we put the DIRTY dishes?!?

Joe: Oh groose!! I drank the meat water!!!

Cat: *uncontrolable laughing* YOU DRANK THE MEAT WATER!!!!!

Joe: *gagging noises*

As hilarious as this was to me, it was equally un-hilarious to Big Dinosaur who was very concerned about consuming raw beef juice. So the next day I sent hm a text to check on him. "How ya feelin' Meat Drink?" He was fine. Not amused, and fine.

At least it wasn't chicken.

Beef Bacteria. YUM!

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Now I know...

There are many things you learn when you become a mom, some basic things like how often babies like to be fed and how to swaddle them tightly so they wont cry; but then there are some things you learn that surprise you.  This post is about those things.

I’ve always been a coupon cutter, but before I was a mom it baffled me why there were so many coupons for batteries.  Who is buying all these batteries and what are they using them for?!  Why can’t there be more coupons for toilet paper instead??  Now I know…."WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE BATTERIES?!?!?!?  I swear I JUST bought some!!!  No, not that size, we need Quadruple G sized batteries.  Why the hell are batteries so damned expensive?!?! What do you mean the swing is already losing power?!  AAAHHHHHHhhhhhhhh!!"

Before I was a mom, cleaning soggy food out of casserole dishes made me gag and nearly toss my cookies.  One of the first things I worried about when I found out I was pregnant was how I was going to handle getting peed, puked and pooped on.  Now I know….Sometimes laundry doesn’t get done for awhile, you dig through the pile, find the t-shirt with the least amount of spit-up on it and you carry on with your day.   When you get pooped on, you wash your hands, change out of your shirt and make a mental note NOT to pick that one back out of the pile to wear again tomorrow. 

I love sleeping; always have.  When I was little I would ask to go to bed hours before my bedtime and I would sleep in well past Saturday Morning Cartoons.  I worried that being woken up multiple times in the middle of the night wouldn’t fly well with me.  I worried that I would get frustrated and angry about not getting my beauty sleep.  Now I know…when that little noise wakes you up, it’s not anger you feel, it’s a split second of worry, and then you relax a little when you realize it’s a coo, not a cry.  And as soon as you stick your head over the bassinet and see the tiny, toothless, grinning person holding his feet and rocking side to side, there is no other feeling than pure joy.  Period.