30-Day Shred: Day 1
Still fat. But apparently, 1/30th of the way to less fat. So there’s that. Waist: 31” Spare Tire That Appeared Out of Nowhere: 40” Hips: 41” Thighs: 24.5”(R) and 24”(L) Upper arms: 12.5”(R) and 12”(L)
Dictator Has a New Friend
He’s a bug named Olivia, who she’s been carrying around in an empty coffee tin since she found him this morning. Dictator thinks he’s really shy. I don’t have the heart to tell her that Olivia’s not shy so much as he’s really, really dead.
bujnik replied to your post: Amy’s Baking Company Some people bring this shit upon themselves though. I don’t think we can fight human nature 100% of the time. I think what she’s brought upon herself is a failed business, potential human rights lawsuits from her staff, and perhaps an investigation into her labour practices - all natural consequences of the way she runs her business. Regardless...
Amy's Baking Company
So, Amy’s Baking Company. Trainwreck, right? I’ll admit that it’s incredible to watch/read, and full disclosure: I’ve been paying close attention to the entire situation because I just couldn’t look away. I was both entertained and horrified by the show itself, and Amy’s responses to the people who have chosen to interact with her. I want to shake her and say,...
Go Home, Kik. You're Drunk.
Mid-conversation, Kik decided to start sending message notifications but no actual messages. Twenty minutes later, it’s still sending me a new notification every 30-60 seconds. That’s not annoying at all. Anyone else having issues today?
Did You Ever Notice How Much "Cheese String"...
Because I was relieved to realize I hadn’t actually heard a daycare worker ask a three-year-old “Michael, is this your g-string on the table?”
I've Made a Huge Mistake
A single glass of wine + my “down” playlist = instant sedative/depressant
Oh, so NOW she wants to take the credit.
Me: Ooh! Did you send me flowers?
Dictator: No, I didn't!
Me: You didn't? Well, how did these get here?
Dictator: I don't know.
...after unwrapping the arrangement...
Dictator: Oh, those flowers are beautiful! Yes, I sended you those!
Whether or not you believe Mother’s Day applies to you, I want to thank you for choosing adoption and for making this day a possibility for someone else. I had the privilege of breakfast on the fancy china and excited chatter with my best girl this morning because someone chose me to be her mom. Mother’s Day is possible for me only because of the selflessness of a woman like you. ...
I Found My Footwear Kryptonite
Evidently, I can’t do wedge heels. Four-inch stilettos? No problem. Tiny kitten heels? Walk in the park. Flats? Of course. But 2” wedges? Bad news. I look like a newborn giraffe.
Dictator: Mama, why you have those lines next to your eyes?
Me: They're wrinkles that tell you that I smile a lot.
Dictator: Oh. I thinked they are wrinkles that say you are OLD.
Anonymous asked: So now you're encouraging your daughter to be a boy? Parents like you are why kids grow up thinking it's okay to be gay or in the wrong body instead of seeking therapy to fix themselves. You should have corrected her.
Introducing Olivia, the Prettiest Boy on Earth
Dictator: Mama, today I wish to be a boy.
Me: Okay. How come?
Dictator: I just want to try it.
Dictator: And you will call me Olivia.
Me: Solid name for a boy.
Dictator: I know! It's the prettiest! Wait. What is 'prettiest' for a boy?
Me: Usually 'handsome'. But I think boys can be pretty, too.
Dictator: Okay! Today I will be Olivia. The prettiest boy in the earth!
I Got Drunk & Told a Friend About Tumblr
I regret everything.
Or a nude lady. One of those.
Husband is on night shift. I just got home from a wine-laden fundraiser. Drunk me likes texting. Autocorrect and I just sent this gem: “There’s a baked drunk check in your bed.”
He Thinks He's So Funny
I’m “coaching” (and I do use that term loosely) Dictator’s under-5 soccer team this year. I just sent out an introductory email to all parents on my mini-soccer distribution list - which happens to include the Husband, since he was the one to originally register Dictator. Minutes later, I received this reply: Dear Coach, I want to make sure my daughter, [Dictator],...
I Feel Like His Actual Answer Might Be Different.
Dictator tried to marry me off to a slightly older gentleman at the grocery store tonight. It went from vaguely cute to “hahahaha shut up, kid” to “where’s the nearest hole I can climb into and/or throw my child into?” in about 0.6 seconds. At one point, she insisted we kiss. I asked her what she thought Daddy would say to that. “Him would say… Let me...
Not Even Mad That It's Snowing Right Now*
…because one of our cats is repeatedly hurling his tiny body against the patio doors in an effort to concuss himself catch the snowflakes. And it’s really very entertaining.
She's Not Wrong, Necessarily...
Dictator [waiting in line at Starbucks]: Daddy, you got your money?
Husband: I have MY money. Do you have YOUR money?
Dictator: No... I don't have any money!
Husband: Well, I have money for MY stuff. How are you going to pay for your stuff?
Dictator: You're going to pay for my stuff.
Husband: I am? And why should I do that?
Dictator: Because you're a sucker.
Thefootlightclub Has a Weird Aversion to One of My...
thefootlightclub replied to your post: Vomit Log: Star Date 25.4 I hope it was Sam. Of course it was Sam. Simon is smart enough to avoid the child at all times. Sam is… not so smart.
Vomit Log: Star Date 25.4
This puking continues. This time, instead of hitting the bucket, Dictator hit the cat. I wasn’t sure who to clean up first, so I let the vomit-streaked cat run around the house while I attended to the kid (because the cat is never going to tell his therapist about the time that he had to sit there, covered in puke, while I cleaned up someone else). Then I had to locate the cat. And...
Wise Beyond Her Years
Dictator just threw up the bulk of her dinner. Twice. We made it to the toilet the second time, after which she laid down on the bathroom floor and said, “I’m just going to sleep right here.” I was in college before I learned that trick.
Bet You Can't Guess What We're Reading At Bedtime
Dictator can now identify the words “Wilbur,” “pig,” “Fern,” “Avery,” and “goose.”
Thank you for taking care of my muffin top. You’re amazing, and I love you. However, what in the name of all things good and holy is this roll of back fat that you’ve created? No me gusta.
"I Am A Book..."
The Husband is reading one of my favourite childhood books to Dictator, and he keeps making faces at me because some of the rhymes are really kind of inappropriate. It’s awesome.
Referral Code for $10 off Kiwi Crate →
I decided to give this a shot, partly because Dictator LOVES getting mail, but mostly because I’m not so great at coming up with creative ideas for crafting (and I figure, worst case, I get a kit or two, hate it and cancel). If you want to give Kiwi Crate a try, the referral link above gets you $10 off.
No, This Isn't That Kind of Breastfeeding Post
Dictator asked me yesterday why my breasts were so big and hers were so small, which led to an explanation of the biology of feeding babies with boobs. Partway through, I realized that she’s probably never seen anyone breastfeed a baby, which was clearly evident by the look on her face as she stared at my chest and said, “You feeded me milk with your breastses?!” So I explained...
Destined for Management
After cleaning up the kitchen...
Me: See? Isn't it easier when we both do it together?
Dictator: Not as easy like when you just do all of it and I just watch you.
There Are Two Acceptable Ways to Pronounce...
If Marcia MacMillan continues to call Genevieve Beauchemin “Jen-a-vee-ev”, I’m going to reach through my computer screen and smack her. Why isn’t her producer correcting her?
Hijinks and Pratfalls and Tears, Oh My!
thefootlightclub replied to your post: I Just Signed Up To Coach My Kid’s Under-5 Soccer Team I will come be your lesbian assistant coach if you want. Can you imagine the two of us “coaching” together?? I think we’d be morally obligated to turn that into a reality TV show.
I Just Signed Up To Coach My Kid's Under-5 Soccer...
This will be: a) disastrous b) hilarious c) dangerous d) all of the above
Dictator: May I have my pink shirt and my green pants? And then I want some Froot Loops and strawberries. And may I watch Iron Man on the 'puter?
Me: Yes, yes, no, yes and only after you're finished eating. You're very demanding this morning.
Dictator: What's 'manding?
Me: Demanding. It's when you ask for a lot of stuff all the time or all at once.
... an hour later ...
Me: Bebe, put on your boots and your jacket, please. And bring your lunch kit here.
Dictator: Mama, you is very 'manding.
Today, I turned down a job that came with a 30% increase. Twenty-year-old me is shaking her head and wondering what’s wrong with me. She wants to buy all the shiny things. Thirty-two-year-old me is happy with my decision and knows the shiny things won’t make up for the extra hours and stress.
Me: Do you want breakfast now, or do you want to wait until Daddy gets up?
Dictator: Um... Now. I don't want to talk to Daddy at breakfast.
Me: You don't? Why not?
Dictator: Because Daddy doesn't talk at breakfast... He only says [grunting & grumbling noises].
I'm Going To Sleep With One Eye Open
After her story tonight, Dictator insisted on tucking me into her bed. She was so sweet - arranging the blanket just so, tucking it under my feet, and then rubbing my back for a minute before giving me a hug and leaning in to kiss me on the forehead. Then she reached over, grabbed her pillow, and attempted to smother me with it. I’m going to have to keep a special eye on her when...
Rebel Mama of Twins: Describe Your Adventures in... →
not-yourmom: zumbamomma: tightly-folded-sheets: cinnamonmagnolias: kimbob-schmim-bob: perfect-little-prince-x-x-x: ttc4hannahballoon: myfairbabyy: seulery: mamamusement: In Six Words or Less….can you do it? You’re my universe, I need… I haven’t strangled anyone today. Yet.
The urge to sell her for parts is mostly subsided
“Mama, you are the most beautifullest.”
I hum this at work when I can’t tell someone...
It's Really That Simple, Isn't It?
Me: Bebe, what are all your friends names?
Dictator: Gloria, Kennedy, Montana... Hmm... Dictator...
Me: You're your own friend?
Dictator: Most of the days. But when I's not my friend, I just say, "that's not nice!" and I be my friend again.
Dictator: I don't like Brooklyn all the days.
Me: You don't?
Dictator: Nah. I don't like her on Sundays and Mondays.
Me: Why don't you like her on Sundays and Mondays?
Dictator: Those are my grumpy days.
We'll Submit That One to Merriam-Webster
Dictator: That's unfairable!
Me: You mean "unfair". "Unfairable" isn't a word.
Dictator: Yes, it IS, Mama. When you say it's time to go to bed when I'm not sleepy, that is unfairable!
Welcome to my brain.
I just flailed around my kitchen/living room putting things down, realizing I needed them and picking them up, remembering I forgot something else across the room, etc. Then my brain yelled, “Carol! Get your shit together, Carol!” and I laughed. Out loud. At myself. As if the Husband needs further proof of my particular brand of crazy.
Lesbianism, it is!
Dictator: When I grow up, I'm going to marry Daddy.
Me: You can't marry Daddy, sweetie. Daddy's already married to me. Besides, people get married to make their families bigger, and Daddy's already part of our family.
Dictator: Oh. Then I will marry Uncle Drew.
Me: He's already our family, too. But you can marry anyone who's not part of our family.
Dictator: Hmm... Maybe I can marry a princess? Like [friends who recently got married]? And we both will be princesses?
Dictator: But no Daddy and no Uncle Drew.
Dictator: [sigh] Okay.