Tuesday, March 26, 2013

#6 is "The New Situation"

Well it seems like we have a little situation on our hands. The little gal's home is acting a fool. And I am on bedrest. Here is the scoop...
( this may be on the line of TMI- proceed at your own risk)

A few weeks ago I went to the doc and I told her how damn itchy I was. To the point that I was scratching so hard I had bruises. So she ordered some bloodwork. It came out a little wonky. So I worried and stressed and it turned out to be fine. Thank freaking god. I found out on Friday it was all good laughed at the amount of worry I had and promised myself I wouldn't pull that kind of overreaction bullshit again.

Well Monday reared her ugly bitch-ass. Everything was great until it wasn't. I was sitting eating lunch and all of a sudden I felt like I was pissing myself. I sat there seriously about to kick my own ass because I JUST put the last load of regular clothes in the wash and now there will be pissy pants sitting in the laundry room ranking up my house for the next 20 hours. Not to mention the fact that I am not 3, 93, or Kris Jenner so that just can't happen. I don't care who you are that kind of shit will never be cool. I was silently making fun of myself and debating whether to blog about it or not until I realized it wasn't urine.

It was blood. I sat there staring unable to move, replaying every horrible thing that I read in the "What to Expect" books from my first pregnancy about 15 years ago with vague memories just horrified. I picked myself up and went to the hospital and got checked out. It was determined that the bleed in fact came from the uterus and wasn't a raging bleeding hemroid or a nasty case of infected crotch rot. It seemed to stop while I was there so they sent me home and told me to call and get an ultrasound today and do the whole bedrest crap.

So I am sitting here freaking the hell out. I didn't sleep last night because I was afraid I would miss a clue and something horrible would happen to the new kid on the block. I have had early contractions but I knew that if they got out of hand there is medicine for that. This, this is different. This is a potential placenta problem. In the house doc's words it's not like they can shove a giant tampon up there and stop it.

I am 25 weeks and it feels like my insides are tearing. I have no clue if this is a case of nothing or something unimaginable. I can't bring myself to even look at a baby website or a web md. As far as I am concered Dr. Google can go overdose on a Trojan virus. I want to have the stupidity and ignorance that there is nothing wrong and this bedrest will be more of a few day vacation than a several month long stress fest. I am just going to smile every time my little gymnast kicks and pretend I'm not keeping time or trying to evaluate every move she makes.

I am going to take the opportunity and use my little stint of laying around to troll some blogs, so watch out folks Mama bear and Baby C are gonna hold some unicorns hostage and catch some rainbows on fire... Just kidding I don't waste my time with that bullshit. I like myself some real bitches and some profanity that will make a sailor blush. My copy of I Just Want To Pee Alone is on its way to my porch and I can't freaking wait!!? I need it about now.

****UPDATE*******
Baby C is kickin in there, they can't find where thw bleed occurred and as of now there is no active bleed... WHEW! It looks like the new kid on the block is a prankster and likes to scare the shit out of me for no reason. That's ok, she needs to get it all out before the teen years get here...

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Dipshit's Guide to Girl Scout Cookie Purchases.

I hate Girl Scout Cookies. There I said it. Not necessarily the cookies themselves, the selling part. Getting people to write down their name, address, and number of cookies their stomach wants is actually quite simple. People retrieving their cookies isn't the worst thing in the world either. Getting people to pay for said cookies, hand me the pliers folks because this broad has become the dentist. Since the world is so full of moronic individuals with a "who me" attitude it seems like the perfect time to throw together a little How To Guide...

The Dipshit's Guide to Girl Scout Cookie Purchases:

1:Just say No.

The philosophy is simple my friends. We have all heard before. Remember 5th grade, D.A.R.E. class? Anyone? If the thought of putting your jiggly ass on a treadmill or the thought of the no card diet has even crossed your mind say no. If your electric bill is behind say no. If you have just had surgery and are loopy on pain meds, I know these cookies sound like the only good thing in your life about now but just say no. 
Unless you fully understand what you are getting yourself into and are willing to make the commitment and get wallet raped for a box of cookies, just say no...

2. Be home for delivery...

I saw the curtain move, I know you are in there. Do you not see the 47 packages in my hand? Seriously, you are not that popular. You were in fact home at some point in this whole debacle, three weeks later and what happens? Did you become a freaking Internet sensation overnight? Were you the girl that burned her hair off? Was that your freaky ass doing the Harlem Shake? Come on fess up. No. Didn't think so. Answer your damn door. 

3. Answer the phone...

I know how this works. I call from my cell phone, the number is weird you send me to voicemail. I get it. I don't want some crazy person calling me either. But I leave a message letting you know that your cookies are in and not only leave my name and phone number but also give you my address, it is only fair since I know where you live, and my email, in case you have some sort of people interaction difficulties. Wait a minute, you are too hot to be home. I will call. Answer your damn phone

4. Pay for your cookies...

Payment for purchase. It is a novel idea right? I mean it has only been around since the turn of the mother effing century. I will drop off a check tomorrow, uhuh, its been 2 weeks and the amount of checks I have are nil. Strangers drop the "I am on a diet" or "oh I have to pay for these NOW?" and the "I can't afford these" Sorry asshole, I could care less that your same sized ass is now bothering you and that you decided to blow your paycheck on shoes because I can't afford this shit either. I didn't order $473 dollars worth of cookies and I feel no sympathy for your ass unless you have just been diagnosed with diabetes in the past 3 weeks. Maybe it is a rising epidemic I didn't know about in our area. Clearly, it's contagious and I need to be checked immediately.

Seriously, folks I am not Dog the GD Bounty Hunter. I shouldn't have to pretend I was fully trained by the FBI, CIA, and the Bill Collector Institute. I am just a mom with a daughter that happened to join the Girl Scouts. I know never again will any of my daughters be allowed to do any type of sales for the Girl Scouts. Never. Ever. It is like the blind leading the blind. The corporates know how this works. The kid gets all these orders and then the parents foot the bill when people don't pay up. In their eyes they won't fix what isn't broken. Someone please tell me there is some sort of relief fund to pay the grocery bill for the parents who have to spend a month's worth of grocery money on these cookies these people won't pay for...

There will be a follow up letter/plan for next year sent to the CEO or whatever the heck that lady is on how to make the cookie sales jump into this century...

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Don't be a Bloghole Blog Hop

The lovely YKIHAYHT is freaking busy. Did you know the sweet lady has 5 kids, a farm, AND a book. That gal has some energy, not to mention that she is pretty dang awesome. Since she is busy I will be hosting the No Bloghole Bloghop.

A little background on this whole Bloghole debacle. It came from a Twitter conversation about how some blog hops have so many rules and how people don't follow the rules, but expect you to. Sorry Princess, that is not how this is going to work. So after/during the conversation I wrote a post, B(itch)log added the term Bloghole into the Urban Dictionary and YKIHAYHT started a Blog Hop. The community effort put together to end asshole blogging behavior is awesome. Now if it could only be so easy in real life....

Thank You YKIHAYHT for passing the plate to me.

Until I figure out how to break it out like she did, just add your type to the end of your blog name. Thanks.
(I am humor/parenting.)




Thursday, March 7, 2013

Stop the Stupid #1: Airlines

This is my first edition of STOP THE STUPID.  

Supposedly there is a petition going around, but I searched for 2 minutes trying to find it, and didn't. I'm not linking it, or attempting in anyway to make you want to sign it... It is all fun and games around here, I saw this crap on the news. 

Common Sense is such a rarity these days...

Airlines, where is the common sense..

You can't bring batteries for your child's toy........ but can widdle a stick, hmm I didn't realize The Beverly Hillbilly's ran the world.

You can only have 3 days worth of hair gel......but can have our bottle cap opener handy, because you never know when a random beer will just be sitting around on the plane that needs to be opened STAT.

 Gingivitis prevention is much more of a concern than say, a pocket knife. Clearly mouthwash spit into one's face is of much more concern than an object MEANT to puncture something, right?

Now breast milk may be permitted, MAY BE, after a TSA guard confirms the contents of the container. Because, we as mothers, are told not to whip out a tit and latch a kid, but in order to feed our baby someone must test our milk. The possibility of outside contaminants are the EXACT reason we nurse.

Don't be alarmed, folks, you can bring any amount of liquids on board if they are checked in.... But it will cost you. 

Don't forget to take out a second mortgage to pay for the bottles of water needed to mix that formula for your baby's bottle, Oh and you can bring that overpriced souvenir bottle of wine onto the plane that you just purchased at the airport gift shop and bring that on board. Because everyone knows not to waste alcohol, and a bottle has NEVER  been used as a weapon. I wonder if the people making the rules are drunk?

You are damn near molested to get into the gates to board a plane, you run the risk of  catching athlete's foot taking off your shoes but yet you can brink a pocket knife on board.

How in the Hell does this make any sense? STOP THE STUPID...

Monday, March 4, 2013

Never trust my kids in a rest stop...or me for that matter...

The two younger boys had a karate tournament in Kansas yesterday. I am not a fan of hotels, they are gross and you can't try to tell me otherwise. So I decided that I would wake up at 3am and throw the kids into the car and just go. Nothing can go wrong, right?

Well I had decided the day before that I could not take the ugly color on the wall one more second.  The paint stuff, that the hubs used a few weeks ago, was nowhere to be found in the pits of hell I call a garage. So I pulled everything out and started organizing...until I found the paint stuff and then it was go time. FYI the hubs was pretty pissed when he couldn't park in said garage. Too bad, he should have put the crap back in the first place. He apologized for leaving it out, I don't think he cared much for when I replied with a "good" and not an apology for leaving a heap of crap in his spot.

So you get the point, I had done manual labor all day on Saturday. From 7 am until 9 p.m. At 9 I started to get tired and looked around at the shitpile that the shorts had left from the day. I decided to clean up instead of putting them to bed. So, of course, they got a second wind when I was trying to fall asleep. No sleep until after midnight. I woke up at 3, the big one came along to keep me company while I drove to boys the 4 1\2 hours to their tournament. It was nice, only one bathroom break after the sun came out. We made it on time, kids got some medals 4 got a trophy- a real one, not participation. I got to see more ass-cracks than I ever wanted in my entire existence. Does Kansas only sell pants that accentuate the ass-crack? Is that a specialty fashion trend in Kansas? Anyway.

We left around 11, I realized that I had left my sunglasses in my purse, the one I decided last minute that I didn't need. So I gave my phone to the teen girl and told her to use the maps to find a Dollar Store. The map sent us into the effing ghetto. After driving around for 30 minutes seeing cars with plastic instead of windows, boards on windows with some form of graffiti or another we found a Family Dollar. We parked, away from a group of people sitting on and around a beat up car with thousand dollar rims.  I was debating on whether this was a good idea to enter the store or not. When a person with more underwear than pants showing flashed a gold smile and started walking over to my car- which I was sitting in, and one of the little boys said look mom, he plays bad guys too. The man had a handgun in his underwear... THAT SEALED THE DEAL, fuck the sunglasses- this biotch was OUT...

We were lost in the ghetto, the maps had a death wish for us. It kept trying to take us farther and farther into the crime scene waiting to happen. I ran a red light, I was prepared to get charged with a hit and run and serve my jail time because a man started walking toward my car at said light. Thank God no one was coming! We finally found the highway and sped out of that town like a bat out of Hell. 

About an hour in someone had to pee, so we stopped. I can't be trusted at a rest stop. I walked in on a lady mid-shit. MID-SHIT! The door wouldn't close. So I stood there holding the door for this lady for the next what seemed like an eternity (probably for both of us) while a volcanic eruption came from this lady's ass. Upon leaving she informed us "nobody needs to go in there for a while." Really? I am pretty sure the defecation that shook the entire concrete bathroom told that story.

Of course, with a 4 and 6 year old there are many more bathroom trips to speak of. We stopped at a nasty gas station. We had higher hopes for this one. There was someone tearing the toilet a new one. 4 walked in and loudly started talking about how bad it smelled. And then proceed to dry heeve. I tried to lie and tell him it wasn't so bad but it came out like this : "It's not... uhmm, put your shirt over your face... OH..just piss in the parking lot." I couldn't, it was THAT BAD. It smelled worse than a colostomy bag busting, and if you have never smelled that, consider it your gift from God. Some parking lot urination ocourred and we got the Hell out of there too. 

We made it home and rested only to find that the washer, that was fixed two weeks ago, had broken again. Yesterday was just not my day...