Thursday, January 01, 2015

Off Facebook - December 2014

It feels dirty to look for a Christmas tree while also swatting at mosquitos.

Super rude awakening: while Christmas shopping for your baby, you discover that without your knowledge or permission, according to Target branding, he has been kicked out of babyhood and branded a toddler. I am not mentally ready for this!

The tree is successfully decorated. Or, the top half is. It'll face The Test of The Tater in the morning.

It only took 10 minutes after Husband left for work today for the tree to fall over, smashing half of the ornaments. The good news: at least it didn't smash any of the children. Parenting WIN!

Do you ever look down at the end of the day and realize that the only purpose you have served is that of a human snot rag/napkin/Kleenex/crap catch-all? And not one of the stains/globs/snot trails on your shirt actually came from you?

Sitting at a stop light with my window rolled down when the dude next to me stuck his head out his window:
Dude: Hey. Hey! You're cute. I think I'd like to see you again.
Me: I don't think my husband would appreciate that.
Dude: I don't think he would, but I don't care. Mmmm, gotta get me a piece a YOU.
Turn green, light. Turn. Green. Light. Turngreeenlight!
It's the cranberry scrubs. Drives 'em wild.

Reason #824 that we need a bigger house: The Kid, in less than 48-hours, ferreted out all of her Christmas gifts. The only other option we have left is to keep her padlocked in her room whenever she's home.

Before moving to Texas at the ripe old age of 28, I'd been pulled over by the police exactly once. In the eight years of living in Texas, I've been pulled over eight times - only one of which has been legit (thank you, Officer Burmaster for letting me go with a warning, because I deserved that ticket). These guys have it out for me. PS Another trip to the courthouse on parole check-in day? Priceless.

Confession: I am the worst holiday person on the face of the planet. It's not that I don't want to give great gifts, introduce new, super awesome traditions, or decorate my house, it's just that I'm so (soooooooooo) super bad at it. I believe it's mostly to do with my extreme distaste of planning, the fact that when I shop, I keep finding stuff for MYSELF, and my lack of design savvy.

Totally hypothetical situation: Say you're a massage therapist doing chair massages in the lobby and are in between massages and one of your favorite Zumba tracks comes on the radio. On a scale of 1-10, how inappropriate would it be to say, bust out the leg track right then and there? Because if the general consensus is seven or less on the inappropriate scale, it might happen.

Ever have days where you feel like a complete parenting failure? This mama need a nap. And a reset button.

Watching College Game Day - Navy's "We Give a Ship" commercial is almost as good as Dr. Pepper's Larry commercials. Almost.

I just whipped out my homemade pumpkin pie sugar scrub. Not to brag or anything, but it was beyond outstanding, I now smell delicious, and I'm pretty sure I have a future in the sugar scrub making industry (PS Wealthy Benefactor, I also wouldn't mind if you sent me $7,000 so I can go to aesthetician school).

Someone sent The Kid a pair of tap shoes. Awesome. In retaliation, I'm sending them a set of drums. And maybe some cymbals and a rooster.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: before I had kids, I was that jerk at work who judged other women because "their kids can't be sick THAT often". Well, karma is a you-know-what. Woke up to a fever-running, snotted up baby. He just got over his last snotty episode about a week ago. I mean, FOR THE LOVE!

Poor BYU. They can't win the game OR the fight after the game. I guess they don't teach them to get crunk down to Provo High.

The Tater feels nasty and he doesn't care who knows it. He also thinks I should be available at a moment's notice to serve as a pillow, a snot rag, a vending machine, and a chew toy. How much snot can a 25-pound body generate, I ask you!

I made the major rookie parent mistake of putting out some gifts before Christmas morning. All morning long, The Kid has been venturing nearer and nearer and shouting, "Mama, thank you so much! You're the best mama EVER for giving me all of these beautiful gifts!"

This evening The Kid gave me a full, and according to Wikipedia, accurate history of Queen Mary I, or Bloody Mary. I still have no idea where she came by this information.

You know you're in a pretty funky funk when you put your shirt on as your kid walks in the room and she shouts, "Congratulations on putting your shirt on, mama! You've done one thing right today!"

Today would have been dad's 71st birthday. The Kid already sang Happy Birthday to him in Heaven and we're packing up to head to the store to get some raspberries for raspberry icebox cake (his fave). And once again, The Kid doesn't really understand when I tell her that it's not HER birthday.

I love watching commercials with The Kid because she gets so excited about EVERYTHING. Today it was a Eucerine lotion commercial. She yelled, "Mama, did you hear that? That lotion is for when your skin is dry, tight, or itchy! We should get some!"

The Kid has just requested a bowl of chili for breakfast. She is her father's daughter. There's no way she's mine.

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