Because I'm married to a second grader

Rob: What do a pizza delivery man and a gynecologist have in common?

Me: Uhh they can both deliver you in 30 minutes or less

Rob: No, they can both smell it but aren't allowed to eat it.

Me: Ewww

Rob: He he

Thanks babe, I could not have gone on in life with out you sharing that little gem with me!

Do any of you know any good jokes? If so let me hear em! The winner of the funniest joke will get a spotlight post on my blog!

This day is against me

I should have just called in sick and laid in bed. Oh how many blogs start out that way daily around the world? I got zero sleep last night due to a nursing baby and a snoring husband. I woke up too early and knew the day wasn't right. I had forgotten to make coffee the night before so I had to fumble around and do that. After arguing with Brandon all morning about brushing his teeth I finally had to basically hold him down to do it. I kept reminding myself that if I was a good mom my child wouldn't fight me so much on this kind of thing. I got him dressed and went in search of shoes. I remembered my parents had just brought him a new pair of shoes. He got all excited over the new shoes with the flames when I discovered there were two right feet in the box. So then I had to put them back in the box thus making him cry and run and get more shoes. I was 3 minutes late at this point for work. We were about to leave when Brandon Tarzaned my curtains right off the rod. I was now 5 minutes late. I picked up Codi, turned to leave and launched my yogurt off the car seat and splattering onto my wall and floors. I was now 10 minutes late. I cleaned the mess, realized I had nothing else breakfasty, said fuck it and left.

I arrived at work realizing I forgot my coffee on the counter, my lunch in the fridge and my vitamins and pills in their pill container. So, if you are wondering why I just ate bread, appetizers, salad and desert from Macaroni Grill, there you have it!

Today was one of those days where I feel like a bad parent. Every little thing Brandon did today registered in my brain like Finger nails on a chalk board. By noon it was better but this morning left me feeling like less of a mom. I don't talk about God on here a lot, mostly because I'm still learning, and then some because I don't want this blog to turn into some sappy, mommy, non comical type blog. I would hate for you all to leave me because I put on my serious hat for a day. However. In the last few years I've toyed with praying. I've prayed for friends, for family, for animals, and for my kids. But mostly, I pray that today I can just be a good mom. I find the majority of the time I call on God, it is to ask him, to please, let me be calm and peaceful with Brandon. Let me be the best mom I can be. To just let me be, the mom I know I could be if I didn't have a mental illness weighing me down. I look around to other moms, moms who don't yell, have no need for discipline, whose kids are always the model of perfection and I ask myself where I went wrong.

I can already see Codi is going to be different from Brandon. And rather then feeling joy knowing that this child will be easier, I feel weight on my heart knowing other people will always compare Brandon to the good child. That Brandon will become the burden, or the bad child. The child that everyone says, "Oh you just did a better job with Codi because you learned." But thats not true. I just have two very different children. One who will be quiet and cautious and well behaved and one who just wants to howl at the moon, similar to his mother. I pray every day that I will never be one of those people who compares the two negatively and who always realizes that Brandon isn't a bad child he is just an amazingly free spirited child with energy I wish I could have for only a day.

I keep wondering when I will come out of the hole I've been in for a long time now. This one is lasting longer then they have in ages. I know most of what is causing it. A lot of it is money woes, a lot of it is the snow and dreary weather, a lot of it is the want to ride my bike but having a flat fucking tire, a lot of it is worrying about my kids, a lot of it is worrying that I'll never measure up as a mom. A girl was killed recently in my town. She wasn't doing anything wrong, she was sleeping on a couch and some one came in, got her and killed her. They found her just a few blocks from my house. I am now terrified of ever letting my kids out of my sight. I'm terrified of pre school or regular school. Of letting them go to the movies, of letting Brandon play out back. I'm terrified. Everyday it seems I find a new reason to feel like an asshole for even bringing kids into this world. Like the other day when my mom told me that allowing you to see my kids on my blog and being open about who I am and where I am is opening up for some fucker to come steal my kids and hurt us all. Great, now I feel like mother of the year for potentially opening my kids up for that kind of terror.

I want to get out of this slump. I need the weather to pick up so I can go riding. Last summer when I was riding daily I know I was a lot happier, I could ride away the crazy rather then be burdened with it in my head. It is so hard, people say, just run, go on a treadmill, do anything, but they don't get, something about riding triggers my brain. It's the equivalent to Prozac or Lexipro for me.

Back to praying. Like I said, I really try to pray. I try to ask to be the best I can. But then there are some days when I just can't do it. I wake up feeling silly and trivial for wanting to believe in God. I feel like those around me judge me for trying to believe. Even those who believe look at me like a poser. Like I'm not doing it right, or it's a joke or something. And maybe in the end it will get me no where, but I think that just asking for help makes me feel like a better mom already. I really hope that someday i can figure this all out, and I can be the mom that my kids brag about. I want to be that kind of mom, the kind of mom that other little girls say I want to grow up and be like her some day. I want my kids to have nothing of fond memories of me, and I want them to remember more then just my stellar cooking!

Feeling very powerful...and also kind of sneaky

This weekend my dad finished installing my zoning system. What's a zoning system you ask? That means that for each zone in my house (ie, living room, boys room, master room) there is a separate thermostat. So, what that means is when we are lounging in the living room we can have the heat on in there with out un-necessarily heating our bedroom. Or at night we can make our bedroom toasty with out wasting energy heating the living room. Or we can have our room at 65 but the boys room can be at 70 so they are extra toasty.

The point of all this is that this is extra helpful with Rob and I being polar opposites. Seriously in the summer he'll be burning hot and want the A/C on and I'll be just right and want it off. In the winter he will be perfect and I will be colder then a popcicle in Antarctica. A large portion of our relationship is spent with me sneaking over to the thermostat and turning it up 74 and then him sneaking behind me and turning it off. We can do this for hours and never tire of it. Some times at night I'll wake up and crank up the heater while he is sleeping and he will wake up all confused and sweating.

Back to the point. Today I was sitting in the living room and I was FUUUREEEZING! Rob was in the bedroom. I got up and wanted to turn on the thermostat but I knew Rob would get mad because he would be hot. I sat down and pouted and then I remembered my zoning system. I hopped right up and cranked that sucker to 71. I sat her on my couch all toasty and warm while Rob sat in the igloo bedroom all cool and comfy. I felt so sneaky and powerful having control of my very own thermostat. Seriously, it was how I imagine it would feel if Rob ever let me have the remote control.

Breakfast anyone

To see how I made this amazing fried egg sammich for my husband this morning, head over here. Then run to the store and buy everything to make your own sammich for Sunday morning!

Maybe some duct tape will work

Todays post will be short as I am in a dismal state. I was just getting dressed. I was putting my socks on first of course so I bent over to pick them up when my boobs brushed my knees.

I had to take a moment to pause there, as I realized, aging and gravity are definitely taking a toll on me. Nursing two kids probably isn't going to help either.

I never thought my perky boobs would get to the point where they would dangle down and touch my knees if I bent over.

Excuse me I need to go find some duct tape now.

Whats that on my doorstep?

I came home today to find this on my doorstep?
What is it?

HMMMM WHAT COULD IT BE?

IT'S PACKING PEANUTS!!!!!!!!!!!

SURPRISES MAKE ME DO THIS

IT'S PIZZA!!!!!!! BUT NOT JUST ANY PIZZA!!!

IT'S PIZZA FROM....

NOW I'M REALLY EXCITED (APPARENTLY SO ARE THE VEINS IN MY NECK)

I MEAN REAAAAAAAAL EXCITED

LOOK FRESH OUT OF THE OVEN NEW YORK GARLIC KNOTS

OUCH THATS HOT..I SHOULD LET MY FOOD COOL DOWN

THE PIZZA IS READY THE PIZZA IS READY

OH YEAH BABY, NO FORK AND KNIFE HERE!

MMMMMM IT'S LICK YOUR LIPS GOOD

THIS POST IS COURTESY OF PATTY! WE WERE CHATTING ON VALENTINES DAY AND SOME GOT GOT TO TALKING ABOUT NEW YORK PIZZA. I WAS TRYING TO EXPLAIN HOW MUCH SHE SHOULD APPRECIATE LIVING IN NYC WHERE SHE COULD GET ALL THE NYC PIZZA SHE WANTED. SHE ASKED ME IF IT COULD POSSIBLY BE THAT DIFFERENT AND I WAS ALL UMMM ITS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A PILE OF DOG SHIT AND A BAR OF CHOCOLATE. OR MAYBE LIKE THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN AUTHENTIC MEXICAN TACOS, AND TACO BELL. IT'S! NOT! THE! SAME! WE CONTINUED CHATTING AND I WAS LIKE YEAH YOU REALLY SHOULD FEEL LUCKY. HER RESPONSE WAS, WELL I'M SURE NEVADA HAS SOME SPECIALTY FOODS. I WAS LIKE YEAH WE HAVE BUFFETS AND BAD CHINESE. SHE JUST LAUGHED AT ME, BUT I WAS DEAD SERIOUS. HERE IN NEVADA WE HAVE NOTHING AT ALL THAT WE ARE FAMOUS FOR, OR THAT I WOULD MISS IF I LEFT (JEN AND LEE WOULD ARGUE THAT NEVADA HAS PORT OF SUBS, BUT SO DO OTHER STATES, NO OTHER STATE HAS NEW YORK PIZZA.) ALL THE SUDDEN PATTY ASKED FOR MY ADDRESS AND TOLD ME SHE WAS SENDING ME A NEW YORK PIZZA VIA IWANTNYPIZZA.COM. I NEARLY DIED RIGHT THEN AND THERE. THAT WAS THURSDAY. THUS BEGAN COUNTDOWN TO PIZZA DAY!

TODAY WAS THE BIG DAY. I WOKE UP FEELING EXTRA HAPPY. I BUDGETED MY CALORIES SO I COULD INDULGE AND I RUSHED HOME. I GOT HERE AND THERE IT WAS. MY VERY OWN NEW YORK PIZZA. IT WAS GOOD. IT WAS DELICIOUS. IT WAS PROBABLY ACTUALLY ONE OF THE MOST THOUGHTFUL GIFTS I HAVE EVER RECEIVED IN MY LIFE, AND NOW I FEEL SAD BECAUSE NEVADA IS FULL OF CRAP AND I HAVE NOTHING THAT COULD EVEN KIND OF COMPARE THAT I CAN SEND BACK TO PATTY. I'M GOING TO FIGURE SOMETHING OUT THOUGH, AND WHEN I DO, IT WILL BE GOOD, BUT IT WILL PALE IN COMPARRISON TO FRICKING NEW YORK PIZZA.

MUST STOP TYPING NOW, POSSIBLY DYING FROM CARB OVERLOAD, MUST ROLL FROM COUCH TO BED. LOVE YOU PATTY THANK YOU SOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH!

PS. IF YOU WANT TO FULLY UNDERSTAND HOW I FEEL ABOUT NEW YORK PIZZA, YOU KNOW THAT MOVIE DODGE BALL WHERE BEN STILLER GETS PIZZA, THATS KIND OF HOW I FEEL ABOUT NEW YORK PIZZA.

Who gave me pets

Apparently I shouldn't be married. And seriously, who the fuck gave me kids? They say, when you go into rehab and AA and stuff before you can have a relationship you should get a pet. And before getting a pet you should get a plant.

When I moved out my mom thought that AA had a pretty good idea. So she brings me a plant. Ha ha! Not just any plant, a fucking violet. NICE! Thanks mom. Some kind of fancy water techniques with that one. Something about watering it from the bottom upside down while standing on your head and flying on a trapeze. No, that can't be it, because THAT sounds easy. Needless to say the violet last about 3 hours in my home.

After that I did what any logical person would do. I got myself a cat. Getting a cat was easy. Or at least mine was. You couldn't not feed it, the little fucker wouldn't let you forget. Seriously. If dinner time for him was 3:00 then you can bet at 2:55 he would go into full alert mode. MEOW MEOW MEOWWWWWWWWWWW! At 2:58 he would start biting you. At 3:00 he would start knocking shit over. And if you made it till 3:01 well then the little shit would just go chew a hole into the side of his food bag. I thought I was being smart by putting his food into a Tupperware, but he just knocked that off the shelf and pried it open (I do not lie this cat is a damn genius).

So then I got a dog. He was the same way. If I didn't feed him, that was fine with him, he would just hop on my counter and eat an entire loaf of bread. So you can bet I fed him right on time every day.

I'm doing good with the cat and the dog so I think, self, you've done good why not get yourself a man. I get a man. We get married we have kids. And then it happens. My parents buy us fish. Great. The first thing I think is, FUCK! Fish have no alarms. They have no meow, or barks. They can't bite me they have no way to say, "hey you, asshole human feed me I'm starving here." Everyone assures me that Rob is going to handle feeding the fish. So far this is how that has gone:

Monday:
Me: Hon did you feed the fish
Rob: Sure did

Tuesday:
Me: Hon did you feed the fish
Rob: Sure did

Wednesday:
Me: Hon did you feed the fish
Rob: Sure did

Thursday:
Me: Hon did you feed the fish
Rob: Uhhhhhhhhhhhh I think

Friday:
Me: Hon did you feed the fish
Rob: I think so maybe, not sure

Saturday:
Me: Hon did you feed the fish
Rob: No I had Cody do it.

So as you can see we are doing great with the fish huh. Anyway Sunday night rolls around and Rob looks in the tank to see our tiniest gold fish has died. Well shit. 1 out of 4 not so bad. A whole week the made it WOOHOO! We decide to wait till Brandon is asleep to scoop out his fish and flush it, because being the brainiac mom I am I can already foresee what would happen if he watched us. "Mama I wanna plush pish I wanna plush pish", thinking it was some sort of game. MOnday morning rolls around and I look in the tank to see tiny fish still floating. CRAP! Rob forgot to scoop him out. So me, Mrs. I'm not touching that so back of Mr. Had to scoop the fish out with the net and run to the bathroom to flush it while holding down chunks of vitamin and vomit.

On to yesterday evening. I look in the tank and see that my Sucker fish is dead. FUCK! Brandon will know that one is gone. I'm all freaked out. He's just floating there all weird and lifeless, and definitely not sucking on anything. I tell Rob and he says we will get it later. I come out about an hour later and the fucking fish is doing flips in the tank. Huh? Just to fuck with me he did a giant leap and flipped right in front of me. I didn't even know sucker fish could flip and leap. Well shit. Had Brandon been asleep I would have scooped that fish right out and flushed him. I guess it is a good thing we had to wait for him to go to sleep or I would have flushed a live fish.

I ask again, who in the fuck thought it was a good idea to give me fish? Sucker fish, more like fucker fish! I'll keep you all updated with this, see if I nearly flush anymore totally alive fish this week!

Fucking holidays

• Times I drove to the bank today and had to keep driving because it was closed: 1
• Times I went to put mail in the mail box today: 1
• Times my boss/mom put mail in the mail box today: 1
• Times we had to go back and get the mail out of the mail box because of the fucking holiday today: 1
• Times I called the insurance company today to add a dependent but couldn't talk to someone because of a holiday: 1
• Times I picked up the phone to call social security for Codis SS number: 3
• Times I checked my mail box at home but found it empty because it is a holiday: 1
• Times I called the power company but didn't get through because it was a holiday: 2
• Times I started to do the bank deposit but had to stop because no one could pick up the deposit: 2
  

FUCKING HOLIDAYS

Valentines day

From my mommy

(I would have taken pictures of the chocolates she got me but I ate em all)

From my husband

A how to guide on being ghetto

This week the girl in my office went to 7-11 to pick up her lunch. Shit, I could stop this whole post right there couldn't I. 7-11 for lunch, thats about as ghetto as it gets huh. The only times I've ever been to 7-11 for lunch is when I was menstruating or super high and really "needed" some nachos and/or powdered sugar donuts (not just any donuts, but the ones with the raspberry goo inside).

I digress. The girl in my office returned and announced that this particular 7-11 was going out of business and everything was 50% off. I paid it no mind since I can't buy alcohol or anything but water during Lent. Later that night my parents called and informed my husband that beer was basically being sold for about .50 each. He was impressed. They showed up with a ton of Bud Lite and Newcastle and I think anything I had ever done wrong to my husband was magically erased by the generosity of my parents toting arm loads of beer into my home. Not just any beer but Bud Lite AND Newcastle. To my husband Newcastle is similar to the difference between Hersheys and Godiva to me. He promptly popped open a fresh beer and exclaimed that he thought it tasted better because it was free and half off.

Tonight, I was sitting here talking to Robs friend who had just come from 7-11 for some chaw (a lá "The Sandlot." Suddenly I remembered that I wanted to go there. So I dumped the kids on Rob and off I went. I arrived to see little pink signs declaring the store half off and away I went. I walked straight for the Beer. I grabbed (3) more 6 packs of Bud Lite and (2) 40's of Corona. I feel ghetto just typing out that I purchased 40's.

As I was stocking up on all this beer it reminded me of my younger years. I could picture young skinny Shannon bopping into 7-11 with her posse of male friends (I still don't get along with women, they are all bitches) and heading for the alcohol. We would discover the sale and rather then stock up on good beer we would do what any logical college assholes would do. Go right for the cheapest beer. Keystone Lite half off HELL YA! Why pay .50 for a beer when we could pay .25 for one. Then I realized that is what all of my male friends would have done. What Shannon would have done was proceeded to bop up to the counter and purchase every single bottle of liquor AND OF COURSE every single mini bottle of liquor, "because they were cute and like teeny and stuff." Then I would have bought a few cherry Parliments and called it a night. I would have proceeded to see how much liquor I could drink at once since it was on sale I wouldn't have to ration, and when I was puking it back up that night, it would all feel okay, because that puke was much less expensive then the puke from the night before. (was that just the mother of all run on sentences or what). I could see me now. Drunkinly stumbling around a frat party telling anyone who would listen and even those who wouldn't about how awesome I was scoring 50% off alcohol and how, "I'm not even drunk guys," seconds before heaving onto their carpet. Oh to be 19 again.

Then genius struck. I walked to the chips and loaded up on stuff for Robs lunch 10-15 bags later I had Lays, Maui Onion chips, Wasabi chips, Doritos, Kettle chips and so on. I also grabbed about 7 bags of puffy Cheeto's for Brandon. I grabbed (5) packs of gum and about (9) Hersheys jumbo organic chocolate bars. I had (6) Kit Kats and (7) Twix for Robs lunch. He hasn't had candy in his lunch since Halloween when we picked through Brandon's loot. Not only would he be delighted to see candy in his lunch box it would be WHOLE candy bars! Yeah I was fully aware that he was going to want to do naughty things with me when I got home, beer, chips and candy, shit it couldn't get any better.

But it did. I ventured over to the novelty ice cream and picked up (3) cinnamon Choco Tacos for him. At that moment, I knew I had won the award for wife who did the best shopping at 7-11. I picked up some large Nestlé chocolate milk for Brandon, some M&ms, some donuts for his breakfast, some butter (shit it was the good Land O Lakes unsalted and it was half off and I was out of butter), and some other ice cream and various goodies.

I was about to leave when I realized I hadn't gotten the only thing I ever go there for. NACHOS. Okay that is a lie, I go there for nachos and raspberry jam filled powdered donuts, but mainly the nachos.

For me, eating nachos is nostalgic. Every time I get them I revert back to the days in high school when I was ALWAYS stoned. I would be out in the valley with my guy friends and we would get way high. You could tell I was stoned two ways. 1. I asked them to take me to get chicken, or 2. I asked them to take me to 7-11. We would get to 7-11 and it would feel as though I was a Catholic who had just set foot on the popes front door. I had a routine. I would head straight for the Slurppy machine, get a large Blue and then head for my donuts. I would put those on the counter and head back for some delicious nachos. Onions, triple cheese and chips and I was on my way. We would head back to Joshie D's house and I would proceed to stuff my face with food. The guys loved watching this, because for some reason guys get off seeing skinny girls eat. You should have seen how much they loved to watch me eat chicken tenders with ranch dripping off em, that might have had something to do with the sex noises I made while eating them.

However. Now, every time I get those nachos I realize something. You have to be really stoned to eat them, because fuck they taste like shit! And considering I made a deal with myself to never take another drink or another drug after having kids, you would think I would stop subjecting myself to the rancidness that is 7-11 nachos. But that's like saying that you would think at some point fat people would be smart enough to stop super sizing. I'll never be smart enough to avoid the nachos that are so toxic they could probably peal that paint Brandon spilled on my garage floor clean off!

When I got home it was as though Brandon's head nearly fucking exploded. I walked in carrying bag loads of goodies. All the guys ooohed and ahhhed over the beer while my son jumped from bag to bag shouting, CHEEYO'S, CHOGGLET NILP, DOE NUTS, CHOGGLET, GUM, CHOGGLET NILP, MAMA IT'S CHEEY'S AND CHOGGLET NILP. I swear he is laying in bed right now dreaming of how he loves that his mom is just ghetto enough to guy buy discount beer, milk and butter from her local gas station.

To reiterate, it hurts being this awesome ya'll!