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Caulk Block

I look forward to when my husband pulls out his big caulking gun and a tube of caulk sealant. That means my inner 12 year-old boy comes out so it can take advantage of all the cock talk I can come up with. There’s always that time of year I dread. Ant season. Those little assholes come onto our kitchen counter and I just want to set fire to the house after so many days because they drive me crazy.

Enter caulk.

Husband: The ant bait seems to be working but I’m going to get my big caulk out and see if that helps.

Me: So, you’re going to caulk block them then?

Husband: Yeah, with lots of caulk.

He’s currently trying to get the master bathroom shower all caulked up. He’s been drying the shower with a fan since last night before he caulks it up and it’s driving me crazy because the fan cord is plugged in right in front of the toilet so whenever I’ve gone to the bathroom since yesterday, I have to be careful to avoid the tripwire that is the fan cord while making my way to the toilet so last night while getting up, I didn’t want to turn the light on so I just took these giant steps while hoping I wouldn’t trip over the cord from the fan and kill myself in the middle of the night. All this so my husband can get his caulk on in the shower.

The time finally came for my husband to rock out with his caulk out.

Husband: I get to go use my caulk in the shower.

Me: Have fun. Try not to be too messy.

A few minutes later…

Husband: My white caulk is too white. I need a nude caulk.

Me: Okay.

Husband: I’ll be at Home Depot looking at the different caulk. I’ll get the hardest caulk they have.

Me: Don’t get too big of a caulk though. We want it to fit what you’re caulking.

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ETA: I changed the name of this post because I didn’t want pervs googling people peeing in their pants and getting off on it. Ewww.

I’ve had a cold for the past three days. I am such a fucking baby when I get sick and feel the need to tell my husband I feel like shit every hour. He, on the other hand, is made of steel. Steel, I tell you! I practically have to beg him to help him out on the rare occasion he gets sick.

The thing that pisses me off (pun intended) about being sick, well, besides being sick, feeling like shit, and coughing up my lung is peeing every time I cough. My 15 year-old self would have laughed at my *mumbles* year-old self the first time I had to buy pee pads. I started out with period pads but after the hummingbird and then Ben three years ago, I can pee myself so bad that it goes through my underwear and pajama pants.

So, I held my head in shame when I first bought pee pads and it’s all thanks to my darling children. Damn it.

This is totally fucking karma because when I was a teenager and was at the store with my mom, I would ask her why she bought pads since I knew she used tampons. Like any young person or child, my voice level came across as “WHY ARE YOU GETTING THOSE PADS, MOM?”. I pretty much knew why but teenagers are assholes so there you go.

There are those extra embarrassing times when I may sneeze my nose off or get into a coughing fit and actually pee my pants and the pee might start running down my leg while I haul ass to the bathroom. Just one of the many things to love about motherhood.

Since I’ve been sick this week and coughing my head off, I’ve gone through several pairs of underwear and pajama pants that I’ve been washing every day. I could just easily wear pads (which I occasionally do) during times like this but my vagina is claustrophobic. Or, so that’s what it tells me but I can’t really understand what it’s saying while being crammed up against whatever the hell pads are made out of.

For some reason, I also shun pads because I’ll think “My vagina can handle anything!”

Why can’t men pee their pants also once you have kids? What’s up with that?! Then you can both share the embarrassment together. When are they going to have their vagina stretched out so much that a clown car could drive through? Granted, they don’t have the genitalia, but still.

What really gets me is while coughing and sneezing set off the crotch fountain, there have been times where I’m not doing anything that I deem strenuous but then what do I know? A little pee will just randomly come out. Really, vagina, REALLY?

I used to think those vaginal rejuvenation surgeries were laughable and now I want to kiss whoever came up with the procedure.

Yay to motherhood for making me piss myself.

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Peenterest: I Commit

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Washing My Face

A reenactment of what it looks like when washing my face at the sink.

A reenactment of what it looks like when washing my face at the sink.

Step 1. Walk in the bathroom with dry clothes.

Step 2. Remove eye make up.

Step 3. Feel around for my skin cleanser since my eyes are stinging from the eye makeup remover and and I can’t fully open my eyes.

Step 4. Locate the cleanser. Wait a second. That’s the faucet handle.

Step 5. Finally find the cleanser.

Step 6. While still relatively dry, start washing my face.

Step 7. Rinse cleanser off my face.

Step 8. Have water run down over my elbows, dripping onto the floor and all over my shirt.

Step 9. Give my face a few more splashes.

Step 10. Get soaked.

Step 11. Feel around for the towel and have a moment of feeling nice because at least part of my body is clean since I haven’t had a chance to get a shower yet.

Step 12. Open my eyes and look around.

Step 13. See that my shirt is soaked and not just a little wet so I can’t give it a quick dry with the blow dryer.

Step 14. Notice that the counter is covered in water and splashed on the mirror.

Step 15. Go to the closet to get a dry shirt.

Step 16. On the way out of the bathroom, step into a puddle that was caused by my wild, flailing arms while washing my face.

Step 17. Take the hand towel and scootch it around on the floor with my feet to clean up the water.

Step 18. Change into a dry shirt.

Step 19. Dry off the counter with a towel while at the same time, giving me reason not to have to clean the bathroom for another week.

Step 20. Tell myself this is why I should only wash my face in the shower.

Step 21. When leaving the bathroom, step into another puddle of water.

Step 22. Accept that I’m a human hurricane when washing my face.

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Peenterest: The Poke

It’s once again time for Peenterest; where I take funny little things I find on Pinterest and post them here. The more inappropriate, the better.

Just a quick catch up. I finally got my ass back in college. Last year, I went back to school, but it was for a specific program I thought I wanted to do. I ended up hating the fuck out of it. I decided that I just need to finally take the leap and go back to college instead.

I forgot how difficult and time consuming it is and have been so tired, I actually went to bed at 8:30 last night. Since school started, I’ve been going back and forth between I FUCKING LOVE THIS! to WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING?

And holy hell, I sure feel old amongst the 18 and 19 year-olds. Despite the stress and anxiety of going back to school, like Dory, I keep telling myself “Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming.”

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*Rock Your Body

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I’m Sorry I Ate Your Chips And Dip. And Drank Your Pepsi. And Didn’t Give You Any Peace And Quiet Unless I Was Unconscious.

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This past summer, we went camping at a cabin for four days. It may not seem like roughing it but I’m not outdoorsy so that was like being in an episode of Naked and Afraid. With the exception of the huge scare with the hummingbird’s hypoglycemia, the days prior were really nice, although being in close quarters with each other could test my patience.

I’m the type that gets drained by being around people frequently so I need to take time to recharge by myself. That’s hard to do when you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere in a small cabin.

After a few days of a lot of togetherness, I decided to stay at the cabin for the afternoon while the hummingbird and husband went swimming. When we were at the lodge picking up some overpriced items we really didn’t need, I grabbed some french onion dip and chips.

Yes, I actually have fond memories of my mom eating chips and dip. It represents me being about 10 years old during the summer, without a care in the world, playing outside for hours.

While looking back on my childhood, it seems rare that I saw my mom sitting down for long. The times I do were when she’d have some free time to just chill out with a magazine, a Pepsi (I’m a coke purist but had no control back then), and some dip with wavy Lays or ruuuuffles with riiidges. Am I the only one who remembers the ruffles with ridges commercials?

Just to be clear, I was a 10 year-old with a “my parent exists only to wait on me hand and foot” mentality. Kind of like when you realize your parent’s name is something else besides “mom” or “dad” and they actually have outside interests besides their kids wants and needs.

What kind of crazy talk is that?!

I would occasionally find her sitting in the dining room with an ice-cold Pepsi, chips and dip, and the latest gossip about Princess Diana or what kind of marriage crisis Elizabeth Taylor was in.

Because parents will forever be fucked when it comes to finding free time without their kids finding out, I felt it was my duty to sit with my mom and bug her. Not intentionally. Just because that’s what kids do best.

I would always ask her if I could have some of her chips and dip and she would never deny me. Then I’d be like “Mom? Can I please have just a tiny sip of your Pepsi? Please? Please? Please? What are you reading? Can I read it after you’re done? Which story are you on now? Elizabeth Taylor did what with who? Mom? Mom? Can I have a few more of your chips? And just another tiny sip of your Pepsi?”

Then, there was the camping trip over the summer and the several hours spent together with a lot of togetherness.

So, while I spent an hour alone that day, I enjoyed the hell out of it. And I noticed I was doing the same thing I remember my mom doing. The cabin was quiet except for the hum of the ceiling fan and I sat at the dining room table enjoying my coke, chips and dip, and reading my gossip rag, US Weekly.

I was finally relaxing for the first time on our camping trip but at the same time I had no idea when the hubby and my 6 year-old would walk through the front door and that’s when it hit me.

Oh my god. My poor mom. In her quest to find some peace and quiet from her kids, not only did I never leave her alone unless I was sleeping, all the poor woman wanted was a cold drink with some chips and dip and some celeb gossip between loads of laundry and cleaning the house and I took it from her.

I ATE IT! I ATE MY MOM’S CHIPS AND DIP!

The things moms and dads are put through that you have no idea about until you have a child can blow my mind. I had a grilled cheese for lunch recently and guess who wasn’t hungry but changed her mind upon me taking my first bite of my sandwich.

It ended up being hers, except for the crust and I didn’t say one damn word. Oh, I had plenty to think. Like “Omg, you’re taking my delicious, cheesy food and I’m STARVING!”

But on the outside, I was all “would you like me to make one for you? No? Okay. Sure, you can have half. Oh, you went through that fast. The crust? Sure, I’ll take the crust because I’m fucking hungry and you’re eating my food and not eating yours and you will never understand this until you have kids of your own and damn, that was the last, delicious, cheesy bite of my grilled cheese sandwich that you just ate.”

*When We Were On Fire

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It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like…

This year, my husband found that several of our Christmas lights weren’t working. After a few nights of him fixing them with some clicky thingamajig, he wasn’t making much progress. Since I couldn’t stand to hear that clicking thing he would click continuously to replace the bulbs of the lights, I suggested he just get new lights.

But that was way too simple. He said he could fix them so for another week he would be downstairs with that click machine.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Oh my god, it drove me crazy. Clicky click. Motherfucking click. Still, no lights.

And then a miracle happened. After the designated man time that passed by so it wouldn’t seem like he was, GASP, actually listening to me, he finally got new lights.

Men.

The hummingbird mostly decorated the tree herself and had a blast since my guy was still determined to fix the damn lights but finally gave up and then spent a few more days putting up the new lights that actually worked and I’ve been in cleaning mode.

I still wasn’t in the Christmas spirit until my husband stopped fucking with the lights and found the most awesome and inappropriate Christmas decoration, Peeny.

Once Peeny went up on our mantle, my mood lifted. It’s impossible to not get a case of the giggles when I see him above the fireplace. Because I have the humor of a 12 year-old boy.

Here’s to happy holidays and lights that work!

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*Natasha Bedingfield

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