I May Have Just Talked Myself Out of More Kids But Seriously, It Will Be Okay

When I talk to newly-pregnant friends about what it’s like to have kids, I don’t try to sugarcoat shit because you don’t send someone into a war-zone by telling them “Just walk through this door to your spa appointment and cookie buffet, ma’am.” I want my friends to be prepared. I also want them to feel bad for me and pick up the lunch tab. I stay home and Panera does not cost for free.

Newborns are the fucking pits a sizable percent of the time. Yes, you’re going to be stoked on your new and healthy baby and the miracle of life and yada yada. But there is nothing that really prepares you for the kind of sleep deprivation that comes with that. Or the ’round the clock feeding and changing and burping and What noise did he just make do I need to call the pediatrician WHAT IS THE NUMBER FOR 911?? It’s just a whole thing. So thingy.


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Staycation, All I Ever Wanted

Zen as hell right now. My kid could bring me a beehive and scotch tape it to my upper lip and I wouldn’t give a fart. Spending a weekend alone with Sophia, Dorothy, Blanche and Rose was exactly what I needed. Also, finding out that on any given moment, at least four episodes of Golden Girls is on the air, makes me want to get cable again.

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Probably the Same Feeling Mufasa Felt When He Fell on all Those Wildebeests

When Adam left for Colorado a couple months ago, the main thing that got me through three and a half weeks alone with a hellion and a fresh-out-the-uterus baby was knowing I was going to spend an entire weekend in a hotel by myself when he got back. I haven’t been alone for more than a few hours in over three years. That’s the case for pretty much all parents when they start parenting, but I’m weak. So I booked a hotel, not far away, for the sole purpose of spending 48 hours watching TV and eating pizza and taking baths and stuffing my face with waffles and sleeping. I was ready to swim in a pool and go get a pedicure and pack my running shoes so I could pretend I was going to use the fitness center and smuggle a bunch of breakfast pastries back to my room for second breakfast and elevensies.

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This is What Happens When You Drink a Whole Bottle of Champagne While Cleaning and Then Try to Blog

Since Adam has been back from Colorado, my house has been dirty as balls. Filthy. Don’t even wanna look at it. It embarrasses me without anyone even seeing that shit. I mean, I was up to my eyeballs in newborn and preschooler business while he was gone and then he came home and I was crazy busy and also tired as hell. Then August, Halligan and I all got sick and the whole house got covered in a shiny layer of snot. I don’t really blame myself because it  was straight bullshit over here.

Then I decided to drink an entire bottle of $7 champagne by myself tonight and clean and it might be the booze talking, but this house is beautiful and this is the best thing I have ever done. There’s a pumpkin spice candle in my trunk waiting to be the icing on my house cake. It’s raining so I made sure I bought all non perishables at Target so I could leave them in my trunk overnight until a dryer time. My trunk probably smells delicious right now. If you are reading this and a thief STAY OUT MY DAMN TRUNK.

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Just In Case You Don’t Want to Sprinkle Your Environment with Feces

We are three years into cloth diapering. August is potty trained during the day, but he still wears a diaper overnight. We started when he was a baby, and bought a stash of Bum Genius 4.0 diapers. I love them, because they look and work like regular diapers, so there wasn’t much of a learning curve. And they have a million snaps that allow them to grow with your child, so you don’t need several stashes of various sizes.

One of the only complaints I ever had about cloth diapering was the poop. When your kid is older and eating solid food, they mostly have solid poop and you can usually just dump it into the toilet. But babies are gross and have gross wet cement poop that is a total pain to get off of cloth diapers.

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Someone Stop the Damn Bus, Please

I’m being assaulted by a constant barrage of milestones at the moment, all screaming at me that time is moving forward forever and that my babies are growing every second. There’s no stopping it, and one day I’m going to blink and they’ll be fully grown and it will just be me and Adam and Bea and cats. My life is hurtling towards the inevitable decades I will spend trying to fill the hole in my heart with a shitload of cats.

It is possible that I am a little emotional about August turning three and starting preschool in the span of a few days. It’s not helping that Halligan also feels like she’s minutes away from talking and walking and watering down my booze. I want to know how it’s possible that every minute after 5pm is the longest minute of my life until Adam comes home from work, but it also feels like I snapped my fingers back in May and suddenly it’s today and I have a four-month old?


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Wine is Gross But Whine is Great

Greetings from Hell. Adam’s been out of town for two weeks. We still have a week and a half to go. As per the laws of by-myselfness, an appliance kicked it and the kids are sick. I’m trying to keep the house livable and occasionally eating not-pizza and planning August’s third birthday and getting everything in order for him to start preschool . I’ve got beer in the fridge. I have not had time to drink it.

Almost immediately after Adam left, I was heating up some broccoli in the microwave when I heard a ZAP sound. I look over to the microwave and it looks like there is fucking FIRE in there what the shit. Turn it off and open it up, and the broccoli is scorched black in places and smoking. It was in there maybe 10 seconds. Then something shocked me in the lip so I cut off the power supply to the whole damn thing. I felt like Carol Anne was hiding in there and trying to get me to sell my house.

So we have been without a microwave the whole time. I did not realize how heavily I relied on that stupid thing until we didn’t have it. I think the new one is finally coming today so at least I can heat shit up in a timely fashion again. Weirdly, it’s had the biggest impact on me eating healthy. I’m lazy and turn to junk when I don’t feel like putting much effort into cooking for myself. But even at my laziest, I can throw some of those steam-in-bag vegetables into the microwave and eat the whole thing and feel like I did one kind of adult thing that day.

Then a few days ago, we were staying with my grandparents for the weekend and August was throwing way more tantrums than usual. Whoever said two was bad was an idiot because two was a cake walk. I’m staring down the barrel at three and it makes me pee a little just thinking about it. I can already tell three is going to be straight bullshit. My happy, chill little weirdo has turned into this giant turd that goes from sweet to primal screaming on a dime.

Anyways, way more tantrums and a giant grump over the weekend, then a complete slug on Monday. Took the kids to the doctors and August has an ear infection and Halligan has a stomach virus. The good thing is that August’s body is busy fighting germs and it kind of sedates him. Tantrum-free for a couple days. Amen.

So on top of that nonsense, I’m trying to prepare for August’s birthday, which is the day after Adam gets back. His party is the day after that, but all I need to do is bake cupcakes. We are having it at a kid place so he and his friends can climb shit and go nuts and eat pizza and pee on things and I don’t need to abuse Xanax because at the end we just go home. The only part Pinterest will play in this party is helping me choose a cocktail to hide in my thermos.

That cocktail will have lots of friends in the coming days, because August starts preschool a couple days later and I’m already having nightmares where he’s going off to college and marrying an evil idiot and leaving me forever. He was born three days before the cut-off, so he’s the youngest in the class and it feels way too early for him to be big enough for school. Granted, it’s only preschool and it’s only for a couple hours, two days a week. But shit. My baby. My whack job little goob is heading out into the world.

Once it sinks in that his school is across the street from where I get my nails done and that I can finally have some time to get my nails done again, I’m sure I’ll cheer up. And I will especially cheer up once Adam is home because all this is such a shit on a shit-stick. I’m just going to snuggle up to some Ben and Jerry’s and watch Nurse Jackie and figure out which pills sound the best. I’ve never missed my Adderall more in my life. Cheers. Barf.