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MakeUp

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The other night I was getting ready to go out and the 5 year-old hummingbird was watching me put on makeup. I hate wearing it and as soon as I can, I like to take it off. So, she doesn’t normally see me in it that often.

Hummingbird: Wow, you look so pretty.

Me: Thanks!

Hummingbird: How did you get your lips so red?

Me: Lipstick.

Hummingbird: I like it! Really, really like it!

Me: Thank you!

Hummingbird: Why don’t you normally look like this?

Me: Um, well, I don’t really like to wear makeup. But maybe I should start wearing it more.

Hummingbird: You should. You look so much better!

Me: Next time, I’ll put on a little more.

Hummingbird: Okay.

Hummingbird: Mom?

Me: Yes?

Hummingbird: Can you put on more now? Please? You look better with it.

Leave it to kids to be so honest!

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50 Shades Of Grey: I’m Reading This Craptacular Book So You Don’t Have To. You’re Welcome.

I know, I know. Many seem to LOVE this cringeworthy, hot mess of a so-called book. Me? I’ve tried reading it twice and was only able to barely make it through the first few pages. But the movie is coming out next year and stars Mr. Hottie McHotster, Jaimie Dornan.

And yes, I will absolutely, positively see this craptastic masterpiece of a movie when it comes out on Netflix. Because I have a 5 year-old and have pretty much forgotten what a movie theater looks like.

I first noticed this gorgeous man, Jaimie Dornan, in Marie Antoinette, playing Count Fersen. Whooo! Is it getting hot in here? And I remember some scenes where he was grinding up against the lucky, lucky Kirsten Dunst.

Yeah, it is hot in here.

Now, I’m not a book snob by any means. I mean hello, I look forward to my US Weekly coming in the mail every week and may even do a happy dance when I see it. But 50 Shades Of Grey is pretty fucking awful. And that’s putting it mildly.

So, a few days ago I gave myself a little talk. I said “You know what, me? This craptastic book must be read! It’s not like you need to read it for the movie or anything. You must read it for the laughs.”

Keep in mind. There are a few universal truths:

1. Laughter really is the best medicine.

2. You need those guilty pleasures because life can be a pain in the ass.

3. Jaimie Dornan is such a hottie.

Now, this is where you may or may not come in. I would love for us to read this “book” together. And no, I won’t judge you if you’ve already read it. Or maybe even liked it. Okay, I probably will judge you but that’s besides the point. I promise not to hold it against you.

We need to read this book together, have some laughs, and snark the shit out of it.

I will try my best to give weekly updates on it and you are more than welcome to do the same. Whether you put your take on it in the comment section of my blog, on my FB page, or if you have your own blog and aren’t worried about your readers and/or family members questioning your life choices and sanity.

Whatever the case may be, if I have your permission, I’ll include your views of this book in the updates or link the post you write on your blog.

So, who’s with me?

Don’t worry, if you’re all for it and want to participate but then decide not to, no big deal.

So, ladies… this week, we will be reading the first 4 chapters.

Remember, Jaimie Dornan is counting on us!

Oh my, excuse me while I stick my head in the freezer and cool off.

Hot damn, this man is fine!

Hot damn, this man is fine!

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A Mom’s View: What Happened To My Bathtub?

As I took a shower yesterday, I went to shave my legs but when I lifted one of my legs up, I knocked over a small bucket containing a few squeaky ducks, some kind of small fish that squirted water, and a fake orange wtf from my daughter’s play kitchen.

That’s when I started thinking. What the hell happened to my bathtub?!

Pre-hummingbird, I would indulge in long, hot showers. Oh, those were the days. Or the occasional relaxing bath complete with an inflatable bath pillow, a loofah brush, soft music, and lit vanilla candles on the bathroom counter. Maybe even a glass of wine.

Post-hummingbird, I’m inundated with squeaky ducks, toy cars, and even snorkeling gear. Because every kid, or at least my kid, can’t seem to have a bath without it.

Now, I do quick showers while the hummingbird yells out Mom… Mom? Where is my Hello Kitty shirt? I want to dress up like Elsa but can’t find my blue dress. Can you give me a braid ? I pooped, can you help me wipe my butt? MOM! Are you almost done???

That’s when I thought, you know what? I’m going to show you a mom’s view of the crap all over the bath. And because I’m kinda nuts, I even took a picture.

Now, keep in mind, it’s usually more of a disaster than usual but I recently cleaned up because in just mere hours, my in laws will be visiting for four fucking days. Yeah, you read that right. My in laws are coming for a visit.

RED ALERT… MY IN LAWS ARE COMING!

Don’t worry. I’ve already purchased an economy sized bottle of red wine and made sure I have plenty of vodka at the ready. Actually, while we were at the store, my husband grabbed a big bottle and said “Do you think this will help you make it through my parents visit? hahaha

In case you’re new here, you might want to take a look at some of these in law posts: My MIL ruined my wedding and made me want to set myself on fire just so I could get away from her crazy, In-law Apocalypse, My in-laws are coming and I’ve already reserved myself a spot in a psych ward just in case, The time when my in-laws invited themselves to my sister’s wedding and she wanted to kill me and then my mom wanted to kill them only 2 hours after their presence, the very touching story of A Lack Of Boundaries With A Side Of Ranch Of Ranch Dressing, and my personal favorite… When You Wish Upon A Star… And It’s Stuck Up… Up Where?!.

If you dare, just scroll though my subjects and look up in-laws and mother-in law where I vent, bitch, and whine about them.

But back to the subject at hand.

A Mom’s and Dad’s view after kids. This could go two ways, zero participation where all you hear is crickets, chirp, chirp… or wanting to show your view. Whether describing your kids takeover of your bathroom in the comments section, or posting you own photo on my Facebook page, This Is Mommyhood.

I would absolutely love to read about it or see pics. I can’t be the only mama out there with this issue.

So, come on ladies and gents. Don’t be shy. We’re in this together. Show me what you’ve got! If this goes well, I may, just may show you my 5 year-old’s room aka the disaster zone that’s clean for five minutes and then BOOM, it’s an outright mess. I may even show the hot mess that is my kitchen, or the hummingbird’s play area… GASP!

This is my view of the bathtub. But keep in mind, it usually looks much worse, with toys on the floor and lying all over in the tub:

Mermaids, and buckets, and snorkeling gear, oh my!

Mermaids, and buckets, and snorkeling gear, oh my!

xoxo

Updated: If I get at least 5 pics of your bathtub kid takeover on my FB page, I will absolutely show you the little hummingbird’s hot mess of a bedroom next week. WTF am I saying?! I’ll probably show you anyway because I just lurves to overshare. haha!

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The Trash Can Dance Off

oscarthegrouch1When my husband and I first got married, it was a really tough adjustment living with someone else. But we were in (mostly) newlywed bliss. Despite the several polite, newlywed fights, followed by the make up sex, rinse and repeat, we could do no wrong in each other’s eyes. Even when we wanted to kill each other at times.

About a year after we married and he graduated college, he joined the Navy, went to OCS, and came back home 3 months later. We soon hauled ass to Georgia where he went to school for 7 months. During this time, the newlywed bubble seemed to be popping and that’s when I noticed that my “perfect, could never do anything to annoy me husband” started to do those little annoying things.

When it came to taking out the trash, we were both stubborn as hell and still are. Hence, the trash can dance off.

You may know it. The trash can starts filling up and you stick your foot in it to smash it down and there you are with one foot in the trash can, one foot on the floor, and you may even add a little wiggle while weighing your foot (while wearing shoes) on the trash, stuffing it down as far as you can.

Because you don’t want to be the one to take it out. I leave feeling satisfied that I won’t have to deal with it, only to find out the next morning that he seems to have done the same thing. That’s when we know, without ever speaking about it, that the trash can dance IS ON! This game has been played between us for many, many years.

I’ll spend the day stuffing the trash down, certain that when my husband gets home, he will see it bursting at the seams and will take it out. My husband will come home and be certain that I’ll see that the trash can is bursting at the seams and he’ll think I’ll end up taking it out.

I’ll see the trash can right before bed with the lid poking up as if to say “Please, please one of you stop this silly shit and take me out! I’m going to explode!” I think to myself “There’s no way my husband will be able to put anything else in it the next morning.” And I will be certain that a fresh, new trash bag will be in it by the next day.

Nope.

That butthead is trying to out trash can dance me!! I’ll stuff it down even more with my foot but the lid isn’t having it and still pokes up. Fine, then I just won’t throw anything away today.

But even adding one tissue or paper towel to the trash makes the trash can wave the white flag and surrender. Damn it! Okay, okay, I’ll take it out this time.

But the next time my husband and I have a trash can dance off, I will win.

Oh yes, I will win!

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My kid has learned to lay on the guilt. F***ck.

Not to offend or be politically incorrect (Actually I hate being politically correct, it’s called humor people!!! Get a fucking grip.), blah, blah blah… but I feel like I’m living with a tiny Jewish mother when it comes to my 5 year-old daughter.

Not that I have a Jewish mother and I don’t mean to stereotype, but as long as I’ve been on this earth, there have been countless times that I’ve heard that Jewish mothers have taken guilt to an art form.

Anyway…

What really stood out for me was when we had our camping trip a few weeks ago and the little hummingbird really layed the guilt on us. I felt like shit but at the same time, it was fucking hilarious to me. I don’t know, maybe you had to be there.

My husband was making a fire so we could roast some marshmallows for s’mores and to start the fire, he dug around in the backseat of the car for some paper. It was paper with drawings and such that the bird made at preschool.

Drawings that she forgot about that had been in the back of my car for months. Yes, I really need to clean my car. Desperately.

My daughter normally didn’t give a shit about these pictures and drawings but immediately grew an attachment to them when my husband picked them out to use for the fire. I get it, really I do, since I do the same but what followed almost made me pee myself.

As her sudden attachment to her pictures were burning in the fire, she layed on the guilt big time.

I’ll never forget it.

As she watched them burn, she stood by the fire with the most pitiful look on her face and said “Bye pictures, I’ll miss you.”

Really kid, REALLY?!

But it worked and the husband and I looked at each other and I knew we were thinking ” Holy hell, we are shitty parents.”

Of course, once we sat around the campfire together and made the delicious, gooey s’mores, the hummingbird quickly forgot her beloved artwork.

Since then, she has found that laying on the guilt works in her favor.

Damn it!

What have your kids done to really lay on the guilt?

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Total Recall: When you care enough to scare your kid and want to pay for a lifetime of therapy, take them to see the Easter Bunny.

Published: April 25, 2011

In the first 2 years of the hummingbird’s life, we haven’t taken her to see Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. She’s like me in that she has to hang back and take in a situation first before she gets comfortable so I had a feeling if we took her, she would freak out.

The past few weeks I started thinking I was depriving my little girl of these things and when I saw that the Easter Bunny would be at the mall on Saturday and that the picture would be free, I couldn’t pass it up.

I figured if things went bad but we didn’t have to pay any money then it would still be a win for us. Oh, how wrong I was.

I might be in the minority here but I think it’s kind of odd that people are so willing to throw their kids onto the laps of Santa Claus and The Easter Bunny.

From a kids point of view it would seem terrifying. My daughter has a few stuffed bunnies but then we take her to see a ginormous bunny who’s bigger than her dad and can probably crush his skull in. Cute? I think not.

When someone gets too close to the hummingbird while saying how adorable she is and so much as pats her on the head, I think to myself oh my gawd, I don’t know you and you’re touching my child so back off. If I’m holding her, I start moving around like I have to pee, hoping it will make it more difficult for the person to be all touchy as I’m swinging the hummingbird to the right and left.

But hey, let’s hand my child over to some stranger because they’re dressed up as a bunny. That’s totally normal.

What really creeps me out about the whole bunny business is I have no idea who’s in the costume. For all I know it could be someone who hasn’t quite made the transition to full zombie status and they’re in the middle of a pre-zombie tweak out.

Worse yet, it could be Charlie Sheen, although I have no idea what he would be doing in a small city in Northern California dressed as a bunny come to think of it, dressing up as a bunny would be tame for him and I’m pretty sure there aren’t an abundance of hookers where I live but I could be wrong since I’m not privy when it comes to all things hooker-ish hooker-y?.

Sorry, didn’t mean to offend. I meant to say “high-class call girls” because everyone knows they’re more classy than hookers. *snort* After all, they have “class” in their name. *double snort*

So against my better judgment will I ever learn? we took her to see the Easter Bunny. We were running late because of me and got to the mall about 20 minutes before the bunny was going to hop off.

While we were waiting in line, I didn’t see any other kids freak out so I started to think maybe my daughter would be okay with this after all. I also think my hairdresser left the bleach on my hair a little too long the last time I saw her and the fumes must have gotten to me.

I always imagine the people who dress up in these costumes go to some bar later I know I would after spending a day with an endless amount of kids and relay their tales of the worst kids they had to deal with. My little girl was most likely on that list.

The little hummingbird’s reaction was pretty much what I expected:

She started kicking her little legs and screaming while my husband was handing her over and I’m sure Charlie Sheen the guy has bruises all over and is temporarily deaf. What you can’t see is my hubby crouching down beside the hummingbird, trying to hold her legs still.

After we scarred her for life, we let her play over by her favorite fountain at the mall and all was well again I should just photoshop the Easter Bunny into the picture below:
Once she was calm and happy, we started walking back to the car and came across a person dressed up as a bunny in front of some store while passing out gift cards. The little hummingbird was like screw this bunny stuff, freaked out again, and we quickly walked by. Now, if we even mention Easter and Bunny in the same sentence she starts to whimper.

It’s safe to say we won’t be seeing the Easter Bunny for a very long time.

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Peenterest: Driving

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