"Mom, you know what happened to sleeping beauty? She hurts her finger on the spinning wheel, she falls asleep and then she gets back into love."
i think she has her fairy tales mixed up but who cares.
Deep thoughts of a 4 year old
Monday, January 16, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Since people are going to be living longer and getting older, they'll just have to learn how to be babies longer.
here’s what I have learned about getting older…
1. my wrinkles have names. i have 11’s and bunny lines.
2. muscle relaxers are nice, but i’m a total idiot for a day and a half later.
3. drinking is an excellent stress reliever, but the hangover the day after is so not worth it since i can’t sleep all day long anymore.
4. your kids always know you’ve had too much to drink because they wake up at the crack of dawn the morning after.
5. drunk sex is the way to go.
6. my boobs look like empty ziplock bags without a bra.
7. mean girls are bitches when they grow up.
8. i can gain a pound a day with very little effort.
9. i have an intimate relationship with my bed buddy… it’s not what you’re thinking!
and there you have it!
Thursday, January 5, 2012
I swear it’s like a magical potion, the smell of my poop seeping from beneath the pocket door in our bathroom that attracts them all. The dad, the dog and the girls all seem to need me the second I sit upon my porcelain throne.
When my 2 year old decides to go and take a crap, she shuts the door and makes it know that she’s taking care of business by hollering, “A little privacy here please! I’m pooping!” Can’t a mama just get a little of the same?
If I’m not home alone taking a poop or God forbid, having to crap when I’m at work I am inevitably interrupted by one if not all of my family members.
It typically goes a little something like this. I slide the pocket door shut and turn on the fart fan (most normal people call it an exhaust fan, but it’s a fart fan in our house however we call it a toot fan in front of the girls), a brief moment of silence and then the games begin!
Within about 30 seconds, my husband knocks on the door and inquires, “Whatcha doing in there? How’s it going? Are you still pooping?”
To which I reply: “Taking a shit, do you mind?” He giggles and generally disappears. I usually lock the door upon his approach because otherwise he opens the door for a peek because he finds it hilarious to see me on the shitter.
The dog starts scratching at the door like she’s missing out something really special. I invite her in; she has a look and decides it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Exit dog.
An All Points Bulletin goes out for missing mom. “Mom! Mom! Where are you? We need you? Mom!”
To which I reply, “What? I’m in the bathroom, please just give me a minute.”
The miniature fingers poke through the door and slowly open like there is some mystery prize to be uncovered. Yep! You got it girls you won! It’s the poo prize!
“Ewww, mom, it stinks in here!”
“Well, what do you expect, I’m pooping (What I’m thinking… No SHIT SHERLOCK!). It would be really nice if I could just poop in peace girls. I’m not quite sure what you think you are missing.”
And then they linger… and they wait as if I’m going to lay the Golden Egg or something.
I find myself perplexed by this poop privacy phenomenon. What gives?
Will I ever be able to poop in peace again?