Young Love: Confessions Of A Broken Housewife

We’ve all been there..young and in love. We think, “This is it. This is going to last FOREVER.” We are so ready to grow up and start a family. I’m here to tell you, it’s not that glamorous. Also, it doesn’t always last forever. I wouldn’t trade my kids for the world, but if I could go back and have them later in life, I would. They would more than deserve it.

When I was 16, I met The Ex. He was The BFF’s boyfriend. We all went out to shop one day and, when we returned,  The BFF decided he was too shy for her. I told her he was nice and she should give him a shot. She promptly handed over his number and said, “If you like him, then YOU CALL HIM!” When he called her later, she handed me the phone. We became good friends. Right before my 17th birthday, he became my boyfriend. I will never forgive The BFF for that. (just kidding)

Our rocky, on/off high school relationship ended for a good 4 months right before graduation. I graduated and moved to Baton Rouge with a good friend for about a month, moved back, started nursing school, and was working full time at a dry cleaning place. I eventually reunited with The Ex, moved in, and decided I was in love. “This is it. This is going to last FOREVER.” Before I knew it, I was 20 years old, pregnant, unemployed, and had long quit nursing school.

Now, I’m 26, going through a dirty divorce, 2 kids, unemployed, and no degree to fall back on.

My advice?
*Stay in school. Finish college.
*Find a good job. Keep it.
*Birth Control. Children are wonderful. Have them later.
*DEPEND ON NO ONE BUT YOURSELF. The longer you wait to do it, the harder it gets.

As it turns out, Domestic Goddess doesn’t really have a spot on resumes.

And when you meet that guy that thinks you are beautiful with no makeup on, pushes your hair back out of your face so he can look you in the eyes, kisses your forehead, sends you “Good morning, beautiful.” texts, and does all the other things facebook quotes tell you guys should do, do me a favor:

Look deeply into his eyes, smile..then punch him in that pretty face and yell, “LIES!” Then go do your homework.

Household Cleaning and Organizing Done Right

People ask me all the time,

“L, what are your best house cleaning tips?”

Just kidding. No one asks me that. Ever. But I have the best kept house cleaning/organizing secrets ever. I’m going to share them with you today!

First, ask yourself, “Who makes the most messes around here? Husband or kids?” There are very different guidelines for each.

If you answered “kids”:

This one is more difficult than dealing with a hoarding, messy husband, but there are more options.

*You can try chore charts to teach responsibility. Have your kids put each toy or activity away before they are allowed to get out something else, clear their own plates, make their own beds..shit like that.

*Allowances work wonders. Reward the good behavior.

*Confine them to one small area of the house, preferably near a bathroom. Less area to clean & you have the rest of the house to yourself.

*Last, if all other options fail, check out your state’s Safe Haven Law. I think there are usually age limits, but I’m pretty sure those are just a suggestion. You will need to first convince your children that your full name is Mommy McMommerson. Tell them you are going to visit the firetrucks! It will be fun!

If you answered “husband”:

This one is so easy! I like to call it The D.I.V.O.R.C.E Method.

*D is for, well, Divorce.
*I is for dIvorce.
*V is for diVorce.
*O is for divOrce.
*R is for divoRce.
*C is for divorCe.
*E is for divorcE.

I don’t know why this isn’t more widely known as an effective method. It makes such a HUGE difference. You know that saying, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks”? Likewise, you can’t teach an old bastard to stop being a fucking pig.

I was an amazing housewife, truth be told. I clean a little, cook a little, and copulate a lot. I will not, however, be your mama. Put your dirty laundry in the laundry basket. Put your dirty dishes in the sink. Remember that thing you empty once a week, only because I killed you twice with my death glare when it overflowed? It’s called a trashcan. Put your damn trash in it.

Booooooom! Clean house.

*Disclaimer: Calm your tits. I do not actually advocate dropping your kids off at the fire station unless it’s necessary for their safety. The rest of this post is spot on. Trust me.

Am I Being Punk’d?

*Disclaimer: I’m writing this from my phone. My screen is cracked and extra punctuation is going to happen. This is not a typical post, it’s more of an explanation.*

It’s been a while, but I can explain..

I’m getting divorced.

Remember this post? Yeah, I’d just found out Hubby–who will be referred to as “The Ex” from this point on– had screwed my crazy crackhead neighbor. He didn’t “screw her over” or “screw together some furniture for her”. No, he straight up screwed her, baby makin’ style.

After almost 8 months of trying to work it out, other issues (with him) crept up. I realized I had never forgiven him for the affair, I was still bitter..resentful, and just not “in love”. Considering he called me a “cry baby” in February for not already being over it, we REALLY weren’t doing too well when I wasn’t over it 6 more months later. His new issues were too much and I was tired of trying to piece together something that had been FUBAR’d for months.

So, yeah, that’s where I’ve been. I didn’t quit writing for lack of material (he’s given me SO MUCH). I didn’t quit because I’ve been wallowing around in.self-pity. Trust me, I don’t need sympathy. I’m better than I’ve been in 10 years. No shit, my face is even clearing up. It’s just that– I’m still waiting on Ashton Kutcher to pop out and tell me that I’m being Punk’d. Not over the affair, but over the divorce filing aftermath. It’s been insane. I could legit be on Jerry.

In August, The Ex moved out. He begged me to hold off filing until he had more time to process what was happening. Somehow, even with my months of unhappiness, his numerous fuck-ups, and me admitting that I wasn’t in love with him, this was a huge surprise to him. HUGE. After he HACKED MY FACEBOOK and told everyone what he’d done, admitting to snooping through my things to see if I’d cheated (I’ve never in my life cheated and never will, not after having been through it myself), and begged me to take him back, I knew I was DONE-done. I know his intent was to apologize, but–you know–nothing says “I love you” like hacking a facebook, snooping, and humiliating your wife. Hellllo? I hadn’t told people what was going on FOR A REASON. Either way, out of pity, I decided to give him until the following Monday. Friday morning, I was served divorce papers. He was divorcing ME. Okay, that’s fine…on what grounds? Well, because I’m crazy. OF COURSE. Why else would I have stayed married so long?! I did see a psychiatrist for the ADHD and, after the affair, when my anxiety got bad again. Luckily, he was nice enough to write a letter stating that I was not insane.

All through September, I got calls and texts begging me to give him another chance. I didn’t respond. So, he took to harassing friends and family and spreading viscous rumors. More begging to take him back. Really?! Did you even READ the divorce papers you filed? Did you HEAR the things you were telling people as they came out of your mouth? Are you drunk? High? Probably. Probably both. Who knows, really.. Either way, NO! Just…no.

October comes and, suddenly, the calls stop. He isn’t calling the kids either. Toward the end of the month, I was in a wedding. I stayed at my grandmother’s so she could help babysit and so I would be closer to the chapel. While there, I brought all mine and kids’ clothing to do laundry. I had pretty much lived out of my car over the weekend out of fear that I would forget something for the wedding. After the wedding, I didn’t unload the car. I was too tired. While I was in bed, The Ex came and stole the car. Allllllll our stuff, including the carseats, were in there.

Early November, I got several calls that a female “friend” of his was driving my car around. Bitch was DRIVING. MY. CAR. Word was, they’d been seeing each other since early October..when the calls stopped. Let me make this crystal clear: I legit PRAYED that he would find a girlfriend. I had no issue with that. I wanted him to find someone else to obsess over, anyone but me. I was over it. Mid-November, we went to court. The car was to be returned back to me the following weekend.

Here it is, first week of December, and still no car. Supposedly, the girlfriend took my car and ran off with her ex. Fantastic. Fan. Fucking. Tastic.

So, there is the drahmz. It doesn’t take up quite as much of my life as you would think. I struggled a lot in the beginning, but not so much anymore. I made a decision a few months ago:  I’m 26–a lot of life left, and I will keep nothing short of AMAZING people in my life from now on. I have some pretty amazing people in my life that make me far happier than he makes me miserable.

If we have a good relationship (friend, family, or otherwise) of some sort now or in the future, rest assured that I fucking love you and your presence. If you start sucking, you are out. GONE. Ain’t nobody got time fa dat! I’m not wasting anymore time on being miserable. 10 years was long enough.

If you, by chance, wonder if I will change the name of this..maybe. Maybe NEXT YEAR. This bitch is paid up until July!

Need to move some stuff! I’m BRIBING again!

http://qssdivx.com/chat.php

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I have an abundance of Crochet.Rock.It items that are already made and ready to move, and although I’m working on 2 different orders RIGHT NOW, I have the next week to work steadily on more (will be at parent’s with sitters! Woot!). So, I’m bribing you all with another coupon code:

UNDOMHOUSEWIFE10

Use it to get 10% off your order when checking out on http://www.etsy.com/shop/CrochetRockIt (opens in new tab) .

Accept it. I am awesome and you want to buy something from me, right? RIGHT?! Let me show you a few of my most recent additions to the store:

Ruffled Bottom Rainbow Bright Diaper Cover

Adjustable Ruffled Bottom Diaper Cover with Removable Flower

Minnie Mouse Bottomless Baby/Toddler Sandals

Crocheted Suede Cord Headband with Removable Rose (can be used solo as hair clip) for Adults

Crocheted Neapolitan Rose Hair Clips

Crocheted Suede Cord and Big Red Rose (not removable) Headband

Plus, there is more, so go check it out and help me move it! If you don’t find anything you want, pass along the coupon code (UNDOMHOUSEWIFE10) and link ( http://www.etsy.com/shop/CrochetRockIt ) to someone you think will! Don’t forget, I love custom orders!

HELP A BROKE BITCH OUT!

That is all. I will return soon with “Shit Husbands Do That Drives Us Crazy”. Be on the lookout!

PS,

I got a new Hair Did.

Bottle of Wine: $19.99, Cheesecake: $8.49, Fifteen Minutes of Silence: PRICELESS

I love my family. I really, really do. Those 3 people are my heart, my life…they are my world. I really do LOVE being a stay at home mom and once both kids are in school, I will probably spend my days wishing I had these days back. I rant about them a lot, but I truly do enjoy my family.

Now, with that said, can everyone just calm the eff down for a minute? Please? Dayum!

Here is a little PSA:

Moms get over-stimulated, too!

All day long, the kids are yelling:

Mommy! Mommy! Mom..momma..moooommmmmmaaaaa! I’m hungry! I’m thirsty! Wipe me! I want chocolate milk! No, regular milk! I wanted JUUUIIICCCEEE! I said I needed to be wiped! Can I go outside? Can I come inside? Can I go pee? Can I sit down? Can I stand up? Can I spin in a circle? Can I breath air? Hey, mommy! Watch what I can do! OWWWWW! I did that thing you told me not to do and I hurt myself on the coffee table! WHY DID YOU PUT THE COFFEE TABLE THERE?! Little girls can jump off the couch and get HURT when you put coffee tables in the living room! FEEEEED MEEEEE!

Meanwhile, in the background, the tv is screaming:

Spongebob Squarepants, spongebob squarepants, spongebob squarepants, sponnnngebobbb squarepannnnnnts…

…and all I can do is lock myself in the bathroom for 2 minutes, sit in the empty tub, and rock back and forth while hugging my knees and loudly singing Livin’ On A Prayer. I pray that Hubby will hurry home to help out, but the second he walks through the door:

(((CHILDREN)), Hubby, [Television]

(((DADDDDDDDYYYYY!!!))) Hey! What have you been doing all day? (((I’m SOOO hungry!))) Where are my jeans? Can we eat? Did you lay anything out? [Spongebob Squarepants, Spongebob Squarepants..] (((*Samurai loudly sings made up song*))) Have you seen my shoes? Hey, will you come help me for a minute? Babe? Baby? (((Can I have a popsicle??))) Why do you look so stressed? I know, I’ll turn the TV up really loud– as though I have a legitimate hearing problem! That will make you feel better! (((Mom! Come in the bathroom..I pottied and it looks funny..))) About dinner..Why are your eyes burning holes into my skull? Oh, you want the TV louder? [It’s the best day EVVVEEERRRR..] (((She’s looking at ME!)))

My smidgen of remaining sanity… my livelihood… my ability to love–each relies heavily on two things:

My kids’ bedtime and Hubby’s nightly shower

Those 15-20 minutes are so refreshing. That’s all it takes to be reminded of all the reasons I’ve never actually run away. During that sacred time, I get to drink wine, I get to stuff my face with whatever junk I can find without anyone seeing the animal I really am, and I get to do it—in total frickin’ silence.

PRICELESS.

Remind Me To Never Put Things Where I Can Easily Find Them

It happens Every. Single. Time. And, please, tell me it happens to you too… I came home, put my purse down, and walked around for a bit while holding onto my keys. Realizing that my keys were still in my hand, I decided I should put them up before I accidentally lost them. My purse was too far away for me to bother walking, so I just stuck them in the first easy-to-remember-but-out-of-children’s-reach place I saw. Bad idea.

I woke up early this morning for my appointment. I was proud of myself–I was going to be able to get myself and the kids ready, then have time to kill before having to leave to get there 10 minutes early. I get ready, feed the kids, then head to grab something from my car…it’s locked. I walk into my bedroom, open my drawer–where I’m certain I left the keys, but the keys aren’t there. That’s right, I put them on top of the fridge. Hmm, not there either. Oh! My bedside organizer thing! Duh! Nope. On the shelf in the living room, by the door? Nah-uh.

WRONG! THEY AREN'T THERE!!!!

On top of the microwave?

On the coffee table?

In the bathroom, where I’ll see them while getting ready?

In my make-up bag?

In the laundry room?

Under my bed?!

Down under the couch cushions?!

In the box my new camera came in?!?!

Dear God, WHERE ARE THEY?!

My car is push-to-start and, I swear, I even carried the trash bag out to my car and held it up to the door while pressing the button and praying the door unlocked (I was not about to dig through the trash without being sure they were in there..). An hour of searching, and I still have no clue where they are. I finally called and rescheduled my appointment. It’s also Hubby’s birthday and I was supposed to go get his cake before he gets home from work. Now, he will likely come home to a completely destroyed house and find me stuck upside down in the big trash can…desperately searching for the keys. /WIFEFAIL

It’s just like when I hide things from the kids. I hide the thing I do not want them to find and–go figure—I’ve hidden it from myself, too. Why does this happen?

Why, God, WHY?!

It’s not just me, right? …..RIGHT?!?

First World Problems of a SAHM

First World Problems Of A Stay At Home Mom

• I woke up 2 hrs before the kids. I wasted quality sleep.
• I’m out of caffeine.
• The children expect to be fed at least 3 times a day.

• I am running late for something, as usual.
• WHERE IS YOUR OTHER SHOE?!
• I can’t find the DVR remote. How am I going to do anything if I don’t have SpongeBob on demand to occupy the children?
• The baby took off her diaper in her crib at nap time. She had pooped.
• Laundry

• I just poured the kids’ cereal, only to discover that I’m out of milk.
• I have to go grocery shopping…with the children.
• Another toy is clogging the toilet, yet someone pooped in it anyway.
• I woke up later than the toddlers. They found my craft drawer.
• Why must I listen to the kids fight over which one gets which color cup?!
• The baby is poopy. DAMN IT! I’m out of diapers.
• The parents in McDonald’s play area keep trying to talk to me about their kids.

• I forgot to lay out dinner.
• Hubby didn’t take out the trash. It’s full and the trash can is by the road.
• Someone colored on my couch.
• My corkscrew is missing.
• There is nothing interesting to read on the interwebz.

• I have a stomach virus.
• The children have a stomach virus.
• I’m out of wine.
• The kids finally learned to open the doors on their own.
• Baby gates are no longer effective.

(These are not necessarily all mine. I compiled the list from other SAHMs, as well.)

Tell me yours and I might add them to the list!

*Disclaimer: I am very well aware that I did not create the “First World Problems” meme. Not claiming to, either. There are a lot of FWP of SAHM posts out there. Just clarifying.

Winning At Discipline!

“Some’uh y’all done lost y’all minds,
Some’uh y’all done lost y’all minds,
Some’uh y’all done lost y’all minds,
And it made me cry, cry, cry.”
-Kilo Ali

Kilo wrote this chorus with me and my future children in mind. He was specifically thinking of how this past week would be for us, I’m fairly certain.

Lately, Sugar has been very, how do I put it?..DESTRUCTIVE. Sugar and The Samurai have both been destructive, really. It has gone way past the typical shredding of anything shreddable and disassembling anything with multiple parts. I have cleaned up insane amounts water, paint, whiteout, sugar (of the edible variety), salt, and toothpaste out of the children’s bathroom floor. I have scrubbed toothpaste out of rugs. I have cleaned cereal out of my living room floor. I cleaned glitter glue off of my hardwoods.

Not my kids.

I can’t let my 5 year old go potty alone anymore, nor can I go to bed at night without waking to some sort of unnatural disaster having occurred in one room or another. They either do it instead of pottying, pretend to be sleeping and do it once I’ve fallen asleep, or they wake up ridiculously early and do it before I realize they are up. I am just going to start including my Klonopin in my morning cocktail of drugs I take to function.

I am already taking it damn near daily anyway! (Chill out, I have a script) Hell, I took a piece of one half-way through a grocery store run tonight–just to stop myself from parking the buggy containing the kids down an empty aisle..and running. Fast.

I have tried every form of discipline known to man, short of stringing them in a tree by their toenails. That’s next.

I’ve gone the gentle route..talking. I think I’m doing it wrong. They smile at me the entire me I’m speaking. When I ask why they did whatever it was, they laugh and say something like, “Because my brain is a silly brain and it told me to!” Sometimes, they just say, “POOP!” /sigh

I’ve tried time-out. It isn’t effective for one of two possible reasons: 1.) They don’t care; or 2.) I have ADHD and forget they are in time out 30 seconds after I put them there. It’s probably both.

I’ve tried “grounding” them from certain things. They haz no caring.

I’ve even done the unspeakable…I spanked. When your kids giggle while you are spanking them, you are doing it wrong. I am doing it wrong.

I give up.

When two people love each other very, very much..they make a baby. Or two.

I know I have been MIA again lately, but..nothing. I have no excuses. Well, I have one..sort of. I intended on this being a light-hearted and somewhat humorous blog (which is why the last post is gone..too much dramaz!), and the truth is: I don’t think I’m all that funny that often. Others tend to agree. In fact, my younger sister told me that the first time my dad read this blog, he said something along the lines of, “Huh. I didn’t know she could be funny.” Thanks, dad.

Annnnyway, I have a lot on my plate right now. Some of it is so top secret that my husband won’t let me even talk about it yet. If those who knew me did not know that I wrote this, it wouldn’t matter. BUT, I have friends who know and like to use my name when leaving comments or writing on the facebook wall. Thanks, guys! 😉 Now that I have gone off on another ADHD tangent, I’ll try to get back to what I was saying.

Ahem. I have a lot on my plate right now. I know they say that opposites attract, but that isn’t always the case. It isn’t in MY case. Aside from politics (SO not going there), my husband and I are pretty similar. We have a similar sense of humor, we like the same music, we were raised with most of the same values..I could go on. We also both suffered from anxiety as children (I still do) and both have pretty severe cases of ADHD. Apparently, when two people like us procreate, they end up with one child with such severe anxiety that she no longer wants to leave the house, and another who will ask you the same question 152 times and still say “What?” each time you answer with the exact same answer..all because there is something shiny in his peripheral prohibiting him from processing that answer.

Right now, the only time The Samurai’s issue is REALLY difficult for me to deal with, is when I tell him to go pee after catching him doing the I Need To Potty dance and he comes back soaking wet because, on the way to the bathroom,  he turned into Spiderman and his spidey-sense led him to another room where he had to hurry and defeat some bad guys before he turned into a transformer and had to save the world from a tyrannosaurus rex and OH, LOOK..shiny object!!!

My Sugar Boog’s anxiety is a bit more troubling. It is awful for her and, pretty much, for the rest of us, too. Even if it didn’t feel like a knife through my heart every time I had to watch her shake, scream, and cry in fear, it would still be difficult. If I don’t put her in the cart when we are shopping, she holds onto my jacket or pants so tight that it’s hard to move. If I do put her in the cart, she has a meltdown anytime my hands are not on the cart..even if I am staring at her. Do you know how hard it is to shop without being able to remove your hands from the cart? It is Pretty. Damned. Hard. She constantly reminds me that I “have 2 little children and you might lose them if you don’t hold onto the buggy!” Thank you, Sugar. I almost forgot that I spent months in agonizing pain before delivering each of you. She can’t help it, though. She says she knows I would never lose her, but she can’t make her brain stop thinking that I will. Oddly, while that really doesn’t make sense, I know exactly what she means. So, yeah, right now, her main fear is–getting lost. Her other fears: being locked in the car or other small areas (like bathroom stalls), being left at home by herself, and lastly–she is terrified that one of her parents will be put in jail. Reading that, you are probably wondering what the hell kind of parents we are to cause her to worry about those things. Really, it’s nothing we have done. She has never been lost (she has thought she was, when we were actually standing no more than a foot behind her), I have never locked her in the car or left her there alone, I have never left her home alone, and I’ve never even gotten a speeding or other traffic violation citation before! I’ve never even been pulled over for a busted tail light or anything. While I’m not 100% sure where her other fears originated, I DO actually know where her fear of police putting her parents in jail comes from. She told me. It came from “that baby show you were watching where those parents went to jail” (DON’T JUDGE ME!). F#CKING JENELLE AND KIEFFER!! It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been watching my guilty-pleasure show in front of the kids. I tried to turn it off, but Sugar wanted to look at the babies. I didn’t know this would be the outcome. /facepalm

Sugar hasn’t had any major episodes like this is a long time. It has probably been at least 4-6 months.This one is by far the most crippling. She just doesn’t want to leave the house, nor does she want anyone else to leave the house. She tells me bye, that she loves me, and reminds me to pick her up 538 times before she will walk into the school each morning and her teachers say she recently started having meltdowns there. Tuesday, she had 4-5 inconsolable meltdowns while there. Makes me really want to pull her out of school. It’s just pre-k anyway, right? Anyway, right now, she is at my mom’s. They had their Christmas get together with my grandmother yesterday and I didn’t want them to have to miss it just because I did. I was terribly worried about how she would do, but she is doing surprisingly well. My mom says the only meltdowns she has are when they are in the car. She doesn’t want my mom to get out until Sugar is unbuckled–so she can ensure that she will not be left in the car.

We have an appointment with a psychiatrist at the end of January. I made sure to be put on the call list in case of any spots opening sooner due to cancellations. Until then, I am instructed to pretty much do what I can, within reason, to appease her. If she doesn’t want to leave to have a playdate at her friend’s house, she doesn’t have to. If she doesn’t want to accompany me to the grocery store and another option is available (staying with her father), we will go with the other option. We’ll do this until we are told otherwise (IF they tell us otherwise) at her psychiatrist appointment. It might be a long road, but we are going to do everything we can before resorting to medications. In the end, though, if medication is needed to make my sweet girl feel safe and not constantly terrified, medication it is. I just want her to feel safe and secure again!

Alright, enough rambling, too little cleaning. My house is a disaster and I’m about to go all Cracked-Out 50’s Housewife Who Also Suffers From OCD on this bitch. It needs it. Bad.

P.S.
I just realized that I thanked people a lot in this post. Ha! Guess I was feeling thankful. I’m so nice.

Toddlers aren’t really "my thing"..

I have decided that I’m not a huge fan of toddlers. Many of them don’t talk, they hit, they cannot wipe their own asses, they have no understanding of the word “no”, they are messy eaters, they are just messy in general, they hate nap time more than any other age group.. oh, and, they bite. Don’t get me wrong, I love toddlers. I just do not always like them. I used to. I used to see a kid aged 4 or under, and immediately wish I could pick it up…without seeming creepy, of course. Now, I keep toddlers in my house everyday. Now, they scare me.

The Hitter: Well.. she hits. All. Day. Long. My other kids are terrified of her. She cannot walk into the room without every kid in there bursting into tears, anticipating getting hit in the face with a car or other hard toy. I have tried redirecting, firmly saying no, time outs…she still hits. She can’t talk and some think that she hits because she doesnt know how else to communicate. Well, yeah, she is communicating loud and clear by hitting. She is saying, “I’m a tiny asshole!”


The Pooper: How many times can one kid shit in a day? Well, this kid goes at least 4 times in the short amount of time I have him. I’m not exaggerating. Everything goes STRAIGHT through him. I have a break from keeping him for a while since custody is split between his parents..and thank God. If I had to hear “I’m DONNNNEEEEE!!!” come out of his mouth one more time, I was going to lose it.

The Creeper: This kid creeps me out. He gives me evil glares and is never just.. nice. I try my damnedest to sweetly talk to him and play with him and I just get a cold, mean stare back and a, “NO.” He will also kung fu your ass in the face if you even attempt to get him to take a nap. He is completely relentless..he will cry until you finally say, “fuck it” and let him up. On top of everything else, his poop is rancid. I only keep him part-time, but I swear he saves up his shit for me. I can’t even double bag the diapers to keep the stench out. I keep a garbage can near me just in case I lose it and puke. RANCID.

The Manipulator: She is such a sweet child. She, however, has some serious, constant demands and follows them up with big puppy dog eyes and a “Pweeeze.” Nap time is a bitch with this one. She puckers up and pulls out all the stops. Makes you feel like shit for even considering making her nap. When you deny her requests, she drops to the floor and squalls.

The Baby: I have nothing negative to say. Best baby ever.

In conclusion, I’m an awful person.