Archive | satire RSS feed for this section

Bless His Heart

6 Mar

If you are from the south, you know that “Bless your/his/her heart” is usually just a way for Southerners to say something negative about someone without feeling guilty. It’s like saying “no offense” when you say something offensive or a way of saying that you pity someone. For example:

“She is so naive, bless her heart.”

“She’s a homely looking child, bless her heart.”

“He’s a dumbshit, bless his heart.”

In this case, regarding my husband, it means, “It’s your birthday. I pity you because, if you don’t stop being a douchebag, it might be your LAST birthday.”

Because of the fact that I have no means of transportation right now, my plans to go get a cake and a sweet card–went out the window. Instead, I decided to deep clean the worst room in our house: The Bedroom. Listen, y’all, that room seriously gets neglected–I admit it. Whenever we are in the other rooms cleaning, one of us asks, “Hey, where does this go?”, and the other almost always responds, “Hell, I don’t know. Throw it in the bedroom and shut the door!!” It’s the catch-all. We also have a serious problem with coming home from vacation and, rather than unpacking, living out of our suitcase until..well..until we go on vacation again. Don’t judge me!

Anyway, so, I decide to deep clean it. Hubby is always bitching about not being able to find anything and we are always kicking suitcases in the middle of the night, so I thought it would be nice. I worked my ass off. I actually broke a sweat. I know, gross, right? Luckily, I found my super strong muscle relaxers while I was digging through things. I needed those after tackling that mess. My back was, no, is throbbing and I am exhausted. I phone Hubby to see if he wants me to order some Outback Steakhouse to-go. It’s one of his favorites, so I figured it was a win-win for all of us. He says that, no, he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t feel like having to stop to pick it up on the way home on his birthday. I explain that I am about dead and, since he needs help with his resume tonight, it would benefit us all. In comes the bitching…”Well, I don’t feel like stopping. I guess I will just come home and cook by myself on MY BIRTHDAY!” I’m all, “Dude, STFU. I didn’t ask you to come home and cook.” He bitches some more about me “whining” about my back aching (I’ve mentioned my bulging discs and arthritis, right?). I didn’t tell him about the bedroom initially– because I wanted to surprise him. However, at this point..I wanted to go sling shit around everywhere, completely destroying it, then yell, “Surprise, mutha fucka! Happy Birthday!” when he walked in, but decided against it.

Hubby gets home and starts moping around. I run out the door to get cake and come back as quickly as possible. When I return, the kids are telling me about how Daddy said he doesn’t even want cake. The fuck? The kids were so excited about getting him a cake and seeing him be excited. Jerk. Since his mood hadn’t improved and the bedroom door was still shut, I assumed he hadn’t been in there. I walk in the bedroom to put my purse down (I used his car key, by the way..because mine is still missing) and he walks in behind me. Finally! Maybe he will see what I have been doing all day, realize that I wasn’t bullshitting about being exhausted and in pain, and cheer up. He walks through the bedroom and goes into the bathroom without saying a word. I just sat there until he came out, thinking he would be all, “Wow!” on his way out. Nope. Not a single word. He just walked out. Just WALKED OUT.

The rest of the evening didn’t go any better. He continued to mope and wouldn’t eat dinner with us. I had to force him to come sit and let us sing Happy Birthday to him. My eyes had daggers shooting out of them at him. I wanted to yell, “Ever heard the song It’s My Party And I Can Be A Big Bitchy Baby If I Want To?! No? ME EITHER!”

Bless his heart, he might not make it through the night.

‘Never Say Never’, ‘If It’s Meant To Be, It Will Be’, & Other Dumb Shit People Say

22 Feb

Never Say Never

Recently, I found out that an ex-friend slept with another woman’s husband…because she was mad at the other woman. When I found out, I expressed my disgust. She informed me that I shouldn’t judge because I could find myself in the same position one day. I told her I’d never do such a thing, that I had morals, and she should get some, too. Her response? “Never say never.” Are you shitting me? I’m pretty confident when saying that I will never sleep with another woman’s husband out of spite..or at all, for that matter. There are plenty of other things that I can also say “Never!” about. Like what, you ask? (for the sake of the post, yes, you asked) Here is a small portion of the list:

I Will Never…

  • Shave my head, assuming there are no medical reasons for it

  • Pierce my eyebrow (never liked the look of that piercing, honestly)

  • Fly a plane (no depth perception, sadly)

  • Smoke crack

Let's ignore the bad grammar in this poster..

  • Get busy with Gerard Butler

This one makes me sad.

What’s Meant To Be, Will Be

You know what I don’t like about this? I don’t like the fact that it implies that you have no control over outcomes. Sometimes you do not have control and this saying is true, but I often hear it applied to things like troubled marriages or career advancement. Sometimes, you have to work your ass off to make things happen. You can’t sit by idly  in a marriage that desperately needs some work, and just assume that if it’s meant to be, it will work itself out. You can’t go to school and slack off, then claim it just “wasn’t meant to be.” If you want something that you have at least a little bit of control over, TAKE CONTROL. Make it happen! If after you have done ALL you could do, you are free to say that it wasn’t meant to be.

What Goes Around, Comes Around

Unfortunately, what goes around, does not always come around. Sometimes, it seems that what goes around gets stuck somewhere. My husband and I have always been very generous whenever we are able. We have recently found that the more you help people out, the more they expect. When you give what you didn’t have to give, people tend to assume that you must have not only had it to give, but also had extra. When you go out of your way to help people out, they sometimes assume that you have time and resources to spare. So, when you find yourself in need, the people you have helped often seem to assume that you aren’t really in need. Maybe this isn’t true for others, but it has been for us recently. I personally know plenty of people who are always being “helped out”, but refuse to help others out when they can. This is not to say that you should never help people out. In fact, I don’t believe you should ever help people out just to get something in return (unless you have a deal). My husband and I will continue to give what we can, when we do have extra to give. We will continue to help others when we have the resources. However, I will no longer entertain the idea that I can possibly turn to those I have helped when I need something even as simple as a baby sitter. We will also no longer feel obligated to help every person we barely know, when doing so will put us in a bind.

Good Things Come To Those Who Wait

(this is awfully similar to the “What’s meant to be, will be” one, but just go with it, k?)

Not always! There are quite a few things I have been waiting on that STILL. HAVEN’T. COME. We live in a go-getter world, these days! If you want it, you better set out to get it on your own. Also, when you have a husband like mine, if you just silently sit around and wait on things that are supposed to be coming your way, he will forget what you are waiting on and it won’t come.

(if you could see me now, you would see that I look bitter)


Common sayings/phrases that make you cringe? Piss you off? Make no sense? Let me know!

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

19 Dec

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.

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"..

26 Oct

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.

Ewww, FREAK!

21 Oct

I haven’t posted much lately because I have been working on a few things.
Number 1: In-home Daycare. It deserves its own post, so I’ll get to that next.
Number 2: Adult Day Care

When my neighbor suggested opening an Adult Day Care, I still had THIS STORY  burnt into my brain and thought, “Ewww, FREAK!”

…And before I move on, let me just say–the person in that story with the REAL mental disability is the one taking care of the weirdo.
Anyway, she was actually talking about a place where the elderly go for care and socialization during the days when family members are working or just aren’t available to care for them. Whew!
After a lot of talking and researching, we decided to do it together. I never knew how much work goes into things like business plans. Holy shiz! When I’m not watching children and even during nap time, this is what I’m working calls, research, business plan, research, emails, and more research. I really hope my neighbor is better about staying on track with her ideas than I am. If its left to me, there will be a half written business plan or a half built building..I’ll half ass SOMETHING major.
Anyway, after a few weeks of all this, I’m not sure where it is going or if it is even going anywhere. Being a housewife just started sounding better and better. Still, that is one major thing that has been going on with me. It isn’t nearly as interesting as the adult baby story, so I’m going to touch on that with this picture that says EXACTLY how I feel about the freak. (F being PC, you know you are thinking the same damn thing.. F-R-E-A-K!)

Did I already say that I think he is a huge FREAK? Yeah, total f’ing freak.

Now, off to write my second post about how much I dislike children who didn’t come out of my vajizzle.. or, in my son’s case, out of a custom created hole in the area just below my belly button.


What was I thinking?

9 Oct

Beware: This is incredibly boring. I started writing it about 2 weeks ago, so I dated it for when I wrote it. Yeah, that’s how much time I get to actually write.

The lady who has a hard enough time wiping asses, cleaning up after children (and husband), and just maintaining a household in general..has decided to start watching kids in her home. I’m the lady. Today, I’m the lady with 7 kids all by myself. Those of you that choose to birth this many..baffle me. I wake up at 5 am, I take my medicines and go back to sleep for 15 minutes, I then get up and shower. At about 5:45, I get dressed and start straightening the house back up plus sweep..I do this the night before, but it’s always necessary again in the mornings. At 6:05ish, I make my kids and the early birds breakfast. The samurai is usually up by now and destroying my hard work. At 6:25 am, I take a deep breath, say a prayer to ask God to help me keep my sanity throughout the day, and then…I open the door. Shortly, lots of little feet are clonking around my den. Sugar gets up, I get her ready for school, and then, my neighbor-whom watches the kids with me (but is in hospital sick this week)-shows up and one of us runs my kids and hers to school.

We do breakfast, ass wiping, story time, outside play, snack, sneak into the liquor cabinet, activity time, quiet time, lunch, wipe an ass, nap, pull my hair out, more outside time, wipe ass, free play, and clean-up. Seriously, the amount of times I hear, “I’m through!!” from the bathroom..from ONE CHILD in particular…is ridic. As much as he shits, you’d think he could wipe himself by now. Another child is only here for 7hrs a week (2 days, 3.5ish hours each day), but I swear, it’s the only time he poops. It’s the “bring a trash can to the changing area because you might puke” type. Shoot me. He’s just not a nice..or cute.. kid either, so I think it makes it worse. Kids are like any other person: attractiveness can totally depend on personality. A not so cute kids can be adorable with the right attitude. Let’s face it, not all kids are cute. They just aren’t. I keep one (or two) of those kids.

By 6pm, most kids are gone and it’s time to really cleanup. I have to do the dishes, cook dinner, sweep, mop, vacuum, clean up the table, do the dinner dishes, and sanitize. Before I know it, it is 8:30. Kids go to bed, I get Gracey’s stuff ready for school, wash some clothes for the next day, cry, then pass out. Wake up at 5 am and start all over.

I don’t usually have 7 kids. In fact, after this week is over, I’ll only have 3 full time kids and one part time. Right now, school is out for Fall Break and I have a little boy who has only needed care for the last month. I kept him until 7:30 in the evening. Whew. Wears me out just thinking about doing it. That little boy is WILD and I hate to say it, but I won’t cry when he leaves. I can’t handle this many on a daily basis. I don’t know how long this lack of sleep can last, but it’s wearing on me. I promise to blog more, but it’s sleep or blog during nap time and sleep is usually the winner. Now, I must go. A kid needs wiping. Awesome!


2 Sep

sat·ire   [sat-ahyuhr]
1. the use of irony, sarcasm, ridicule, or the like, in exposing, denouncing, or deriding vice, folly, etc.
2. a literary composition, in verse or prose, in which human folly and vice are held up to scorn, derision, or ridicule.
3. a literary genre comprising such compositions.

Please keep in mind, many of my posts are sarcastic. I do not actually think parents who harness are sick people. My children had Elmo and a monkey harness. I travel alone frequently and have 2 children very close in age. There was no way I could have survived without them. I can’t carry 2 children, I couldn’t fit my double stroller in the trunk with my luggage, and depending on 2 toddlers to hold my hands at all unrealistic. I AM the mom who cares about “petty” things like safety and security over looks and others’ opinions. Go ahead, give me a nasty look. I’ll just tell my children to start barking at you and have the boy come piss on your leg. 😉

I can’t believe my sarcasm was taken so seriously by so many. Maybe I’ll start using the sarcasm/  and  /sarcasm tags.

Edited to add: I was not directing my post towards everyone who  dislikes harnessing for whatever reason, just those who judge other moms for using them and claim we are treating our children like dogs.

%d bloggers like this: