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

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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.

Oddly Comfortable With Myself..

I have spent the last 11 years or so trying to lose weight or “fix” my body in one way or another. Every year, I’d look at pictures of myself from the year before and I’d wish I still looked like that. In 2010, I was wishing I looked like I had in 2009. In 2011, I was wishing I looked like I had in 2010. I’d spend so much time on my scale and wishing I looked different, that I never appreciated how I looked at that time. I was never happy with myself.

I currently weigh about 10-15 lbs more than I did last summer; however, I weigh about 15 lbs less than I did 6 months ago. I started Abilify at the end of last summer and gained 30 lbs from mid-July til the end of October (when I quit taking the Abilify). Last year, when I first reached this weight–on my way UP in weight–I cried. This time–as my weight dropped back down to this weight, I am happy. I am comfortable.

I finally feel perfectly happy in the clothes that I wear. I know I could stand to lose a few pounds, but I don’t care. I am heavier than I have ever been naturally (meaning, not postpartum or due to medication), but I’m okay with that. My clothes fit fine, my husband thinks I look great (he’s an ass man, my weight gain works in his favor), and I don’t feel stressed. If my new medication makes me lose weight (common side effect), great. If I stay the same weight, great.

I still wear a bikini and don’t give a shit if some random person thinks I need to cover up. Too bad! I still wear shorts and dresses, and I have always hated my legs. It feels good to not hate them so much anymore.

One thing I do want to change, is my health. I eat crap food and should really start eating healthier. I’ll work on it. But, my focus is on getting healthy and gaining energy …maybe relieve myself of some of this constant brain fog. If I don’t lose an ounce, though, I won’t shed any tears.

I feel happier now and less stressed. My husband is happy with me and I’m happy with me, and that’s all that matters, right? Life is too short to stress about what everyone else thinks.

P.S.
I like Oreos.

P.S.S.
Abilify can suck it.

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.

Ewww, FREAK!

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 on..phone 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?

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!

Satire:

sat·ire   [sat-ahyuhr]
noun
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 times..is 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.

Another random thought: Sometimes, a little sexism is okay with me!

This is regarding me, and me alone. Whatever you want to do with your life, I support your right to do it regardless of whether it’s a stereotypical man-thing, or stereotypical woman-thing.

Just now, while on my way to pick up my daughter from school, I drove past some road construction workers. I thought, “What a miserable job! It is too damned hot for all that!” Then, there were the guys working on the power lines. Again, miserable job. I understand that, while men hold the majority of these jobs, women do these jobs as well! What I don’t understand is..why? Why would ANYONE want to work in a profession that requires subjecting oneself to extreme weather?? I know people don’t always us choose it, it’s necessary. I’m referring specifically to those that are wanting to ensure that they have the right to burst into flames while working on a power line. Right now, I’m sitting in the pick-up line, air conditioner on, trying to type this before I melt. People want to work hard, doing manual labor in this stuff?

You know what other stereotypical man things I don’t like doing? Taking out the trash. Killing bugs (I’ve blogged about these twice now, I really hate them!). I even try to push the “but driving is the MAN’s job” on to my husband sometimes. That never works..instead, the non-driver is the one that makes it to the liquor cabinet first. This is why women should always go first in things, too..like ordering at restaurants first. “I’ll have a margarita on the rocks..double. Oh, by the way, husband, you are driving home tonight, right?”

Anyway, back on track..plumbing–another male dominated field. I’d like to meet the woman that complains about losing out on that job to a man. I’d shake her and ask, “Woman! What is wrong with you?! Have you ever smelled SHIT?!” I can use a plunger when my children have had too much milk or tossed a toy in the toilet, but that’s MY toilet. Others’ toilets? Um, gross.

I dream of a day where washing dishes is “a MAN’s job!”

Another thing..I like being prettied up and dressing like a typical female. I’m not trying to be a man. Facial hair is going to be enough of a bitch when I get older, I’m sure–considering my black hair and all.

I guess what I’m saying is..I don’t fight for the right to stab my eyes out of my head or slam my fingers in the car door repeatedly. I don’t get how it even crosses one’s mind to fight for certain rights. The day I start fighting for my right to use a urinal..is the day you can punch me in the face and call me a douchebag. Sometimes, a little sexism is okay with me!

I don’t kiss his ass..

I’m writing this really late. Forgive typos, run-ons, or shit that just doesn’t make sense. I’ll clean it up tomorrow!

Today, I have decided to address some things regarding military wives. I don’t say too much about being a military wife..because I am my own person. I know, I know–my name refers to me being a housewife, so why not military wife? Because, overall, I mostly write about being a housewife. And that brings me to the first thing Id like to address!

**These may be true for many, but I doubt it’s true for most. I’m speaking for those of us that are quietly loving military men.**

• Military wives sit at home on their asses all day.

Well, I do..sometimes. Most times these days, I am up and doing something from 6am until 11pm. Yeah, so..um.. you can F off if you think I sit on my ass all day, everyday. I could get a job if I wanted to, but being home with my children as long as possible is more important to me. Besides, I intend on starting school again in January. Plenty of non-mil wives stay at home with their children too. It isn’t exclusive to a specific group of women. Also, many women stay home because they move a lot. It is hard to move up very high on the totem pole when you move every few years.

• We are all fat, lazy slobs.

Speak for yourself. I am within my healthy weight range, I have big and fake boobs, and I only go to Wal-Mart in sweat pants every other time I go. Yeah, suck on that. I haven’t even seen many fat wives around here. I’m sure there are plenty, but–at this base at least–there aren’t anymore than there are in other groups.

• We also dress up to go to the commissary and judge those who don’t. We are representing our husbands out there!!

Wait.. what?!? I thought we were fat, lazy slobs? Now, I admit that I have seen plenty of these types out and about. They are typically rank wearers & I’ll get to those later..

• We are popping out kids left and right.

I don’t know about the majority of the military couples, but we have 2 kids. I thought that was pretty much the norm? We did consider the benefits of Tricare when it came to our decision about more children. Tricare doesn’t just cover birth, it also covers VASECTOMIES..and female birth control. I am done, done. We have insurance.. I do NOT have a death wish. Even if another pregnancy wouldn’t kill me, I’d still be done. The cost of birth is not the only factor in the decision to have a child. All of the couples I know have a normal amount of children.

• I want a trophy for being a military wife. After all, it is the toughest job EV-AR.

I mean, if you really want to give me one..but, I’d prefer a crown. You could actually just give me the cash. Really though, no, we do not all expect people to kiss our asses for being military wives. It is not the toughest job in the world. It isn’t a job. Sure, I support my husband in his work. Isn’t that what spouses do? Support each other? Do you get sad when your spouse is gone? I do! It isn’t because he is military, it is because he is my husband. He is also put in dangerous situations. However, I am not in a dangerous situation, not that kind anyway. He is the one who has it HARD. I have it.. sad. Also, not all of us get irritable when people complain about missing their spouses because they are working a little late. It isn’t a competition. I spent the majority of the first 2 years of my marriage away from my husband, and I still get sad when he comes home from work too late. Other people’s problems do not become petty to me.

• Military wives kiss their husbands’ asses, because they have the second hardest job in the whole wide world!!

My husband is awesome. He goes to work everyday and bitches about it only at a reasonable level. He provides for his family because he loves us. Still, he has responsibilities at home, too. Being a member of the USAF doesn’t mean you are excluded from lifting a finger at home. I don’t kiss his ass… I’m not that freaky. Hubby washes his own uniform, he cooks sometimes, he even cleans up after himself on rare occasions. Bug needs killed? Hubby kills it. Trash day? Hubby takes it out. Nine times out of 10, I’m the one needing a massage. And I get that massage.

• Our husbands’ ranks are how we define ourselves and others.

What?! No! I do not wear my husband’s rank. I didn’t earn it and, to the bitches who think you are special because your husband is a what-the-f-ever he is, you didn’t do anything to earn that rank either. Blowing him doesn’t count.

• We all screw our husbands’ best friends during long deployments. All the good wives do. The friends are just being GOOD friends & helping us out, like our husbands asked.

Nah, not all of us. But, uh, thanks for that, Hollywood…and whores!

Some afterthoughts:

No, it isn’t hard to be married to a military man. It’s hard to be married to me. Really though, it’s marriage. It all takes work.

Sure, the lack of..ahem..”intimacy” during deployments, TDYs, and whatnot is a bummer, but it doesn’t ruin a marriage. I didn’t need to “get down to bidness” to fall in love & don’t need to in order to stay in love. The women who cheat on their deployed husbands and husbands who cheat on their deployed wives (or spouses that cheat while they are the ones deployed) are shitty people. They are the same people who would be sluttin’ it up outside the marriage with the pool boy or “working late” if they had/had spouses with civilian jobs. Deployments do not drive people to cheat. Whorie’ness does.

I’m not downplaying the role of the military spouse. We go through a lot of heartache and pain..and we sacrifice a lot. However, I guarantee that 99% of us make those sacrifices for love, not a trophy. Not all of us feel some sense of entitlement for dealing with long separations.

I do appreciate the gratitude others express, but no one has to thank me for loving my husband.

Why bother?!

I cleaned the living room spotless. I cleaned the kitchen..spotless. Now, I just stand around with that “the f*#k?!?!” look on my face. I actually cleaned the kitchen yesterday. Like, yesterday evening. Sometimes, I think I must be stupid. I can’t think of anything else I would fix over and over and over again, knowing it will be destroyed moments later.

My children have this strange quirk..they have to destroy everything in sight. A clean house just means they get to start all over again. My hubby has a bad habit of setting shit down wherever he is standing. I need freaking order!! Organization! I need things to have a place. Why do I even bother? I’d, obviously, be a much better housewife if I didn’t have to clean up after everyone.

(found on Views from the Couch)

You know, I love Angry Birds. I mean, who doesn’t? Someone should really make a game for me: Angry Housewives. You would throw things like vacuums and brooms at little cartoon men and children. Each time you peg one, your house gets cleaner. I’d play the shit out of that. I’d play the game rather than actually cleaning the house. Win-win for me! I hope it goes without saying that I’d never throw brooms or vacuums..well, I’d never actually throw vacuums at my children or husband. I’d never throw birds at pigs either.

Okay, enough random thoughts. I think my anger has subsided enough that the stupid has set back in & I’m considering cleaning again.