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Dear Every News Outlet in the Country -

I'll thank you for stopping all the ridiculous reports about the birth of Kim Kardashian's baby. And I'll double thank you for never referring to them as "America's royalty" again. Because if they're American royalty, I'm moving to Canada.

Erin

 

Best day at the gym EVER! The Yoga Instructor Extraordinaire didn't get picked for jury duty AND there's a dude on the treadmill singing Prince at the top of his lungs. This day will have to be extra awesome if it's gonna get better than this.

 

The Kid randomly says to me today, "Don't worry, mama, when the police come to get you, I will get in his car, too, and come down and bail you out."

#1 Does she know something I don't? #2 Where on earth did she learn the word, "bail"?

 

75 pounds of ripe tomatoes. I feel like Marilla Cuthbert and her 25 pounds of brown sugar. Except in this case, it's all my fault.

 
After a killer workout with Scott Meyer at the Parisi Speed School yesterday, I came home pretty puffed up and confident in my abilities only to have Husband again challenge me to a 100m race. Apparently he's never seen my highlight reel. Like he thinks he can actually win. As if, Husband, AS IF.

 
After explaining to The Kid how Ola Mae is going to be born:

The Kid: Dr. Mith better not hurt you else Ima spank him.
Me: No, you won't.
The Kid: Ok, I'll just punch him in the throat.


One of two things happened over the weekend: #1 Ola Mae gained 421 pounds or #2 My Friday workout completely busted my entire abdominal wall. Because as of Saturday, The Gut has taken on a life of it's own. It's popping out all over the place. I don't appreciate it one bit.


During sacrament meeting yesterday, that kid that was screaming, "I don't want a spanking, I don't wanna be spank!".. yeah, that was totally my kid.


Saw a dude at McDonald's yesterday with a United States Postal Service tattoo. Now there's some dedication to "getting it there on time".

 
I feel like I'm being held hostage in my own home. Where on earth did all these bloody tomatoes come from? I swear they're breeding in that box.


Talking to The Kid about bears:

Me: Did you know that they eat a lot and get really fat and then sleep all winter? It's called "hybernation".
The Kid: Well, of course I didn't know that. I've never even met a bear.

 
Husband bought a new suit and was modeling it for us last night:

Me: Doesn't daddy look handsome?
The Kid: Yeah, he looks soooooo sassy.

PS Dear Miley Cyrus, I'm sorry you went from being the cutest thing ever to looking like a trashy prostitute. It really is a shame.

 

Me: Man, I'm sweating like a pig.
The Kid: Well, how much do pigs sweat? Because you sweat a lot.

 

Husband put The Kid in bed with us last night while we talked about our day.

The Kid: Mom, I really want to be nice to you, but you need to be quiet. I'm trying to sleep.

 

Some dude at the grocery store actually tried to convince me today that July 4th is not "National Everyone Eat a Steak Day". As if there's even another option of things you could eat. He was talking some crap about hot dogs and such. Ridiculous, sir. Ridiculous.

I'm pretty sure Nick, Jr. has ADD. This kid never stops moving. It feels like a cat kneading my bladder.

The Kid after a HUGE party at the church:

Me: Did you have a good time?
The Kid: Yeah, it was a big party just for my birthday!

Does this mean I don't have to have a party when her actual birthday rolls around?

 

The Kid: Momma, I need you to help me put on this monkey costume.
Me: Why?
The Kid: Because we're going to a party and it's not a party without a monkey costume.
Me: Well, that's pretty good logic.

Got read the riot act by The Kid last night as I was shimmying to the music on Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. She shook her finger at me and said, "No, no, don't you do that, it will hurt Nick Jr." This is the same kid who knees or elbows me in the gut at least 10 times daily.

The Kid as I'm giving her a bath:

Hey, let's get out your big ole belly so I can dump water on Nick Jr.

 

While watching the first Despicable Me in preparation for the second:

The Kid: Where's Gru going?
Me: To the bank to get a sucker.
The Kid: They don't have suckers at The Bank of Evil.

 

Reason #213 you shouldn't get pregnant while you've got a 2-year-old:

The Kid: Whatcha doin' spitting in that toilet?
Me: I'm gonna puke, go out of the bathroom.
The Kid: I think I will watch.
Me: NO! GO OUT!
The Kid: What are you going to puke up?
Me: NOTHING! GO OUT!
The Kid: I think it's just a nectarine. I need to see it.
Me: NO! GET OUT!
The Kid: Move over. I have to see.
Me: DUDE! GET OUT!

When I finally finished, she stepped up to the toilet and began to spit...

 

Husband and I argued this morning over who will have the most influence over the favorite sports team choice of our kids:

Me: Which do you like better, me or daddy?
The Kid: You AND daddy.
Me: Well, which do you like better, "Go, cougars" or "Gig 'Em, Aggies"?
The Kid: I like Easter Bunnies.
Me: You didn't answer the question.
The Kid: I don't have time to answer questions.

I think I can say with absolute confidence that I have never been this tired in my entire life. I mean, other than when I had a brand new baby. I was pretty tired then, too.

The count up is officially over (which is kind of anti-climactic because I totally miscounted and thought it was over last week). Let the countdown to Nick Jr begin! And just as a PS last night The Kid prayed I would start growing Ola Mae in my belly, too, because she STILL doesn't want a brudder.

Today for the first time, I exercised without my compression pants (as they are inhibiting breathing). I'll tell you, it was a hot, sweaty, floppy mess. It might have bordered on obscene.

 

As we're walking out of Chick-Fil-A:

The Kid: Hey, this is where we go to church!
Me: No, it's not.
The Kid: We don't go to The Church of Chick-Fil-A? Just Becky and Jordan go there?
Me: Yeah, that sounds about right.

The Kid when asked why she was riding her bike buck nekked: Well, anyone who's cool rides their bike like this.

Had a dream last night that I won Amazing Race all by my onesies. Kirk Herbstreit was the host and when it was all over, they did College Gameday in Ruby Valley where they'd built an entire stadium out of pine trees, and Florida and Texas A&M were playing. It was pretty much the best dream ever.

The Kid walks up, starts poking my belly and shouting, "NICK JR! NICK JR! I'm going to need your attention, gosh dangit!"

Me: What does a cow say?
The Kid: MOO!
Me: What does a sheep say?
The Kid: BAA!
Me: What does a frog say?
The Kid: BOOM-SHAKA-LAKA!

My mother is getting married today. This makes me sad on two levels: 1. I am the only sibling who will not be there and I'm feeling homesick for them. 2. There will be a sno-cone machine with four syrup options. Nothing says "party" quite like a sno-cone machine.

Me: Hey, did you know Grandma Judy is getting married today?
The Kid: She's a silly woman. She's already married to Grandpa Paul.
Me: Yeah, but Grandpa Paul had to go back to heaven, so she needs a new husband.
The Kid: Well, then she should marry a giraffe. Giraffes make everyone happy.

Me: Hey, why don't you jump up on the bed and snuggle me for a bit?
The Kid: I don't have time to snuggle you. But don't worry, when Nick Jr comes out, he will snuggle you all you want and you will be ok.

 

Parents: Please share your best tips on coping with 3-year-old tantrums. We've tried everything - time outs, spanking, ignoring, talking, explaining....none of it's working. If we can't figure it out, there's a distinct possibility we may have to sell The Kid to the gypsies. She's turned into a little monster overnight!

I can't get the smell of bacon out of my nose. EVERYTHING smells like bacon...including myself. In other news, The Kid is walking around the house singing, "I like 'em big, I like 'em chunky!" I guess SOMEONE might sing that song too much...

 

The Kid received a birthday card in the mail from her Grandmother that included an un-inflated balloon:

The Kid: Mama, why'd grandma send me a balloon with no air in it? I think we got ripped off.

Me: Man! Nothing I have fits and I feel giant and I hate summer in Texas.
The Kid: Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! Uh-uh. Whining is no bueno.

BUSTED!

Me: It's awfully quiet in there. What are you doing?
The Kid: Well, I am NOT hanging on the door to the dryer.
 

The Kid: If we go see Dr. 'Mith can he put a girl in your belly, too?
Me: That's not really his job.
The Kid: Well, can he make Nick Jr into a girl?
Me: I don't think he does that, either.

Thursday morning only means one thing: The Yoga Instructor Extraordinaire was at Zumba! Is it wrong that I want to take videos of him to put on a Facebook fan page so I can watch him whenever I'm feeling especially sarky?

 

Two things: 1. My goal this next week is to kill every fruit fly on the planet. 2. The Kid has been the owner of a Barbie for less than 24-hours and already the Barbie is already naked in the middle of the floor - the eternal and natural state of Barbie dolls.

 

The Kid found an ant pile yesterday and after witnessing my various attempts to kill fruit flies, this, " DIE, YOU NASTY BUGGERS! DIE!"

 

The Newest Rule of the Universe: Only police cars (and maybe fire trucks) should be allowed to have lights on top. Because if I slam on my breaks when I pass the escort service "cop car" one more time, I'm going to stop, get out, and throw rocks at it and those driving it.

Spent most of the afternoon cleaning up ANOTHER poop mural. I appreciate that The Kid thinks she's artistic, but is there any way she could choose another medium? Preferably a less smelly one that won't make the vein on her mother's head look like Satan's horns.

I would hereby like to apologize to every pregnant woman who has ever come to me with sciatic issues. Because I'm pretty sure I have been completely unsympathetic and have instructed them that if they'd "just stretch" their pain would go away. What a load of baloney.

I cried at the gym today. As in sat down on a weight bench in the middle of the Big Strong Man Area and cried like a little girl. I'm not even sure why - other than frustration that my body won't do what I think it should be able to do and pure exhaustion. In reality, I should have been crying because I had my pants on inside out like an idiot.