It's a small world

When I started blogging I was a lurker for, oh about, 23 seconds. Then I was like fuck this I want to comment. I made friends and found people in different parts of the world and it was all fun. Then one day I started finding people I knew. First I found Emery. I had known her since elementary school. Then Sharilee found me and took FOREVER to comment. A couple other people from school found me and then one day Jen found me. The cool thing about blogging was that people could read and decided if they liked me or not. Emery and I still chat here and there. Sharilee and I remain great friends and for a while Jen and I were pretty close. It's crazy what a small world this blogging thing is. I've stumbled upon other people I went to school with too.

Today I got a really hilarious comment from a blogger I wasn't familiar with. I strolled over to read about her and comment back. Suddenly I found a picture and realized DUDE I WENT TO SCHOOL WITH YOU. She wrote back saying sending me a link that was actually about me. I'm linking this for two reasons, 1. her post is pretty funny and 2. Her entire blog is pretty funny. Her name is Katie. Hi Katie nice to meet you again.

Anyway, now my interest is piqued. Are there any other bloggers out there who know me? Are you secretly reading thinking, yup shes just as looney as she was in second grade? If so delurk. I love meeting up with old friends and talking.

I guess I'm declaring today national delurk on Shannons blog day. Let me know, who are you, how did you find me and do you know me in real life. Then I'll follow the link and come read about you. I'm always looking for fun new blogs to read and there is no better way to get traffic then to comment. So comment away and I shall follow!

Life

My mom asked me last night how I've been. My reply was OVERWHELMED. I notice signs often through out the day telling me I'm heading back down that spirally dark place again. When I notice this happening the hardest part is realizing that I notice it the most in my parenting.

I don't know if Brandon is just experimenting lately with ways to annoy me or if it's just the monster in me that makes him so hard to handle. Either way he's spent a lot of time in time out. Right now the issue at hand is not listening. This isn't general toddler assholey not listening either, this is a new form that I call FUCKYOUMOM. I tell him to do something like "finish your pancakes." He will look at me and say no. Then he will just walk away. Then ask for something, to which I reply, "finish your pancakes." To which he replies "I SAID NO." It goes round and round and before you know it he's in time out. Time out used to mean he would sit in there and be quiet because he was still playing with his toys. Now it means he screams and cries to the point where I'd rather let him sit out here and be a bossy little asshole to me then listen to him fucking cry in time out for five minutes.

He wants more milk and I told him no milk till you finish his pancakes. His choice is then to sit at the table and bang his milk cup until he bangs all fucking sanity from my head and I end up yelling, "FINISH YOUR PANCAKES OR GO TO TIME OUT." His reply was, "NO I WANT NILK NOW NOW NOW RIGHT NOW MOMMY NOW."

Can you guess where he is?

He's sitting in his room crying, "I don't want to be in time out." So I told him, "Brandon if you don't want to be in time out finish your pancakes." He came out and started crying for me to hold him. I told him to finish his pancakes, that was part of the deal to getting out of time out. Instead he chooses to sit here and cry to me that he won't eat his pancakes, he wants daddy, and that the is "SO SAD." While every bone in my body just wants to hold him and make him stop crying the brain in my head says, NO Shannon he needs to learn to listen to you. He is now back in his room in time out crying and crying and crying about daddy. In case you are wondering he can actually cry in his room for a god 30 minutes before I will have no choice but to go in and get him so he can go to school.

I don't understand why he can't just have the sense to listen to ME. He listens to his teacher, his dad, my mom, my dad, the kid across the street, my cousins and fuck he probably would listen to the mailman. So why is it only me that my son refuses to respect?

Last night he wanted a toy. I told him he could have it if he just put away his three other toys. He actually cried on the floor of his room for 25 minutes about not cleaning toys and wanting daddy. What do I do in those situations? Do I go in and try and appease him or let him scream? Some days parenting is so hard. All I know is at the end of the day, he's doing a lot of crying and yelling and so am I.

Yesterday he asked me for some whipped cream. I told him tomorrow at breakfast he could have it on his pancakes. So he went and asked dad. Dad said okay. Rob was in the bathroom so he had no idea I had said no, but still, it just aggravated me that he didn't listen and went and asked Rob.

Codi is going through a phase where he won't sleep with out a boob perma-affixed in his mouth. That means from about 9pm till about 5am he is attached to me like the handle I crazy glued back to my coffee mug. If I try and pull him off and lay him down he starts screaming immediately. The odd thing is he naps fine during the day. The more obnoxious part is a few weeks ago he started a new thing where he would have some milk, pull himself off, roll over and sleep all on his own. Now I feel like I sleep with a tiny suckerfish, only it's a suckerfish who farts and cries a lot.

My husband plays softball till September and as much as I know he needs a hobby I'm pretty much sick of softball. I guess softball wouldn't be so bad if I had a hobby too. I am trying to pick up running but it's hard to run when the days he doesn't have softball he wants to work out or drive all the way out to the field to hit balls. I got to run on Tuesday, and won't get to again until Friday because he had a game Wednesday and tonight he's driving all the way clear across town, wasting gas to hit balls. This probably would be fine if he didn't leave me home alone with a 3 year old who insists on spending the first 25 minutes crying about missing daddy, the next 30 minutes crying about how mean I am for making him clean, the next 30 minutes crying because I won't let him have sugar for dinner, 8 minutes crying because the phone rand and I need to talk on it not him, and the next 45 minutes crying because it is dark outside and he wants to go to sleep with daddy not take a bath and wait for daddy. All this time he is screaming my baby is screaming for a tit, or to be held or played with, and when I'm in a downward spirally kind of spot it's easy to say softball can really be the straw that broke the camels back. And by broke I mean snapped it in half, then beat it with a dead stick, then locked it in the closet and buried it alive.

I actually sent my husband a text last night saying I was going to lock myself in the closet to hide from all the screaming. If you’re wondering Brandon is still in his room screaming over and over and over DADDY DADDY DADDY DADDY. All the fucking kid had to do was eat his last goddamn pancake.

It's been 33 minutes. He is still screaming. We have to leave for school in 26 minutes and I have 3 people to get ready. I guess mom has to give in and go get him one more time. I just walked by his door and noticed he's not only crying and yelling for daddy he's actually laying on the floor kicking his feet as he does it.

So. For those of you wondering how I'm doing? I'm barely holding on. I'm feeling like a fucking asshole. I'm snappy and rude and cranky and bitchy. I'm doing a lot of bitching. I'm doing a lot of poor me, and I'm pretty sure I walk around with a fixed scowl on my face!

I saw the doctor the other day, and she followed up with me about where I was last time we talked. Last time I talked to her was the day I found out I was pregnant with Codi. She asked my thoughts on starting medicine and agreed that if I can hold out for the sake of breast-feeding that I should. Something in the way I was talking to her made her ask me how I was. I guess she could see the big FUCK YOU sign on my head or something. Either way, she wants me to call her as soon as I wean so we can talk more about making me less of a fucker and more of a lover!

** Update: It's now been one hour and 7 minutes of him laying on the floor alternating between screaming about daddy and nilk. I finally opened the door and calmly said, "Brandon stop crying." I asked him if he was talking to me like a big boy and he said no. I said what do you have to do to get the milk and he replied, "ask nicely, stop crying." So I asked what he wanted to do, he stopped crying, looked at me and said, "I have nilk please?" He's okay now but I'm not. I'm mad I yelled. I'm mad I got so mad about it all. I'm mad that I can't always handle being a mom. Maybe I'm not mad maybe I'm more sad.

Oh and about that

No I didn't just give up on the clusterfuck house blog. The insurance company and the builder have been goign through the house better to make sure they have it all figured out and they have enough money set aside. The number now is pretty large I'm stunned it could get bigger. I will post as soon as I have more pictures!

huh, whats that now

* The saddest thing ever = putting the cookie in your mouth, chewing it up and then realizing your out of milk

* I believe there is a huge difference between lies, and things you just don't tell your mom. The same way that I believe it is totally okay to tell a lie in situations like, "No honey your dad and I never have sex anymore." Those kinds of lies are juuuust fine

* I'm trying to run around a mountain. So far from my house around the mountain (.74 miles for the mountain) and back it takes me a whopping 15 minutes. I want to get to a 10 minute mile as soon as possible

* I hate Libra on Big Brother. What kind of piece of shit mom leaves her fucking 4 month old babies behind? She's obviously not breast feeding.

* I've had my Iphone for about a month now. I still want to tuck it under my pillow and sleep with it at night because I love it so much.

* In the last 8 days I have received chocolate three times. Mathers, Shawna and Stephanie brought me (or mailed) me chocolate. I love people!

* I'm exhausted but I can't sleep because I exercised to close to bedtime and I'm all hyped up.

* The baby is asleep so I have to go lay down and cuddle my husband for like 14 seconds before he wakes up.

3

Friday Brandon turned 3. He had 3 celebrations too! Each one was hard for me. It was hard as he held up three tiny fingers telling everyone he was THREE NOW. It was hard as he interacted with the kids like a big boy. Hard when someone asked him to smile and take a picture with mom and instead he chose to give me a big cake filled kiss. I knew parenting was hard, but I never knew how hard it would be to have your kids grow up. I spent so many years wishing time would just hurry up and now I wish it would just slow the fuck down.

I have a bajillion pictures, and they are on my flickr. I will put up a few of my favorites on here. This weekend was amazing. Brandons big birthday party was a huge success. Everyone who was important to me showed up. Every one of my husbands friends came, and almost all of mine came. Our families came and even some kids from school. Shawna even drove all the way down from Eurika. Friday we went to dinner with her, her husband and her daughter. Her daughter was so well behaved, in fact she behaved better then Codi who was on a mission to destroy the table.

My favorite part of the weekend was just seeing how extrodinarily happy Brandon was. He had his little friends there, even one from school. He got to drive them all around in his new Jeep. All of the kids got their faces painted and tattoos from the pirate entertainer who showed up. Even the adults got tattoos and stuff which just made the atmosphere so much fun.

I know I'm supposed to write some long drawn out letter to Brandon on his third birthday but I think first I need to get my emotions in check. I'm having such a hard time with him being 3. I hate wathing him grow so old. Knowing that soon I'll just be mom. Not mommy come hold me, but MOM leave me alone your old and a girl.

I guess if I had to say something to him on his birthday it would simply be that I love him. It's always that. It is always how much I love him. No matter how much we fight, or how often I yell. How many time outs he has, in the end it comes down to one fact, I love that boy. I love him for who he made me. I love him for saving me. I love him for helping me realize each day that I want to be a better person. I love him for his tiny features. I love him for his boisterous attitude. I love him for being so brilliantly different. I love him for being smarter then me even at 3. I love every part of that child. I love my little Brandon. He will always be my LITTLE boy. Even when he is taller then me. Even when he's old. Even when he has little boys of his own, he is going to be MY little boy.

Happy birthday my sweet little Brandon. I love you more then your ever going to know.

And yes, there may have even been a water fight. I might have started it. And there is a rumor that I TOTALLY LOST!

Live blogging

I love when your at a restaraunt and you go pee only to get in sit down per AND THEN realize both rolls of toilet paper are gone. I looooove wiping with seat covers.

Sent from my iPhone

Bullets

• I think I have an ear infection OWWW

• Brandon started the day by promptly ripping something from his brothers hands

• He's now taken about 75 things from him in an hour

• Last night at Robs softball game I had to run out onto the field and coerce my child to come out of left field because he thought it was funny to run out and mess up the game

• Brandon just said something and my response was to say, "Please????" His response instead of saying please for what he wanted was to say, "stop yelling to me."

• Every morning he gets up to the kitchen table, sits down ready to eat and then promptly jumps up and realizes OH SHIT I HAVE TO PEE! I wonder when he will think to pee first
  

• Codi just crawled across the room, pulled up on the TV stand, turned around smiled at me with his tongue out, and promptly made a squirting noise from his butt. The kind of noise that only happens when my husband isn't home

• The squirting just turned into a sort of gurgling noise and now I'm am actually afraid.

• And now I have to end the post because the other one is in the bathroom screaming MOMMY COME WIPE MY BUTT

• So who do I get first, the one with poop in the toilet or the one with poop in his butt

• The life choices us mommies have to make huh!
  

Music

Gone ahead and put music back on. Beware if your working to turn your volume down. Or just fuck it AND ROCK ON!

Acecepting who I am

When I started this blog I had no idea what blogging really was. I was a new young mom and I had a lot of things to talk about. Questions, antidotes and humorous mommy things to discuss. Before I knew it, I woke up and found myself a "mommy blogger." For a long time I delighted in being a "mommy blogger." I was good at it, possibly because my child seems to be more monsterous then most of yours but also because I have no qualms about embarrassing myself. I enjoyed being a "mommy blogger (oh fuck it I'm already sick of using quotes) mostly because I loved reading comments that I wasn't alone. In real life face to face women often find it hard to admit their child isn't perfect. They find it hard to say,
"you know, I'm really having a bad day today. My son poured pink robitussin all over my $150.00 bed sheet then sopped it up with tissue which he stuck to the walls and dresser, then poured it all over my earplugs and carpet. While I was cleaning that up my son pulled all his coats off his wall, buried his brother, tipped over his chairs, threw his socks at the fan and filled a bucket with water and poured it over him and his brother. While I cleaned that he dumped cheetos all over the table then poured milk over them in an attempt to clean it up. After all that I was minding my own business brushing my teeth when I turned around to see my son opening up all my girl products and sticking them all over the walls, the toilet AND HIS BROTHER. He then opened a crest white strip I didnt even know I had and ate it."**

You never hear that in real life. You also don't hear about how some moms lose it. They yell, they get mad, they say angry things and put their kid in time out. But, you come here, to the blog world and you find clarity. You see your not alone and it's relaxing and refreshing and fucking relieving.

After a while I started reading negative things about mommy bloggers. Mommy blogger became a stigma. It was like a disease. I noticed people saying, "oh don't read them, they are just mommy bloggers." So I shied away. I backed down from the mommy gig and made it more about me. I stopped posting as often because with out my kids, I'm really nothing. I started fearing people would peg me for a mommy blogger and stop reading me. At the same time I noticed my comments winding down. My friends, my blogger buddies were moms. I suspect I became someone they could no longer relate to. I think I got caught up wanting to please asshole people out there who have something against being a mom and being a blogger. Those people who are to selfish to have kids and appreciate the humor in a good poop story. People who think they are above the rest of us because they write about bigger better more important things like sex drugs and rock n roll.

Shit, my version of sex is cramming it in when the baby sleeps, or figuring out where and how to do it while the baby sleeps in the center of my bed. My version of drugs is a good stiff one a day followed with a Vitamin C chaser. My version of Rock N Roll is viewed daily on my Yahoo messenger by my friends, just ask how often I get laughed at for blasting "the wheels on the bus at work."

So what. I'm a geek. I'm a mom. I have tissue, and wipes, and a dirty diaper in my purse.

I AM A MOM!!!!!! I'm sick of conforming to what people want me to be. I'm tired of being embarrassed of who I am. I'm a mom. My kids do stupid shit daily. I fuck up as a parent daily. I take really cute pictures of my boys. I AM A MOM!

I've been holding back great pictures of the boys, for fear that people would click away because I was deemed a mommy blog. I've held back hysterical stories about poop, and about daycare, and boogers, and POOP for fear that people would remove me from their blog roll because I was a lowly mommy blogger.

But no more. The photos are returning. The tales of how misguided I am are coming back. The stories about how much I struggle with being a good mom will return. The antics of all the poop and boogers and vomit shall come back with a vengeance.

I know my audience. I know my friends. I know who out there has my back. If you don't want to read me because I"m a mommy blogger THEN GO THE FUCK AWAY AND STOP READING.

I am a mommy blogger HEAR ME ROAR!

**This was my morning this morning

What I'm wearing and, the walky walker

I'm totally amused that I'm wearing very expensive Lucky Jeans, with very cheap Payless shoes.

But dude THEY ARE CUTE!

Pay not mind to my fat sausage toes...or the smiley baby under me. Speaking of baby, look who is walking using his pushy mabob

He gets really crazy in his walker. He runs and goes backwards and chases you. He's loving his little push cart though.