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Guest Post: Breaking Dawn

This guest post comes from Scott Williams. He’s a writer who was first published in his 4th grade school newspaper. He was later published in a book of poetry that was most likely a scam, but he was published none the less. Choosing to see this as a symbol of honor, he never gave up writing.

When he found out he was going to be a dad for the first time, Scott decided to start this new adventure in a way he had never attempted. He started his own blog. And thus Raising Hubigail was born.

~~~~~~~~~~

This happened. Click for previous part.

I honestly don’t know why I called this Breaking Dawn. Maybe my subconscious was trying to find a correlation between my frustration, angst, and pointless drama, and an equally pointless source of drama, angst, and frustration. That’s right. I just slammed the Twilight saga.

Oh, I was going to tell you the most frustrating thing my wife does. It isn’t just one thing. It is the combination of several things at any given time.

After all the human father guy has been through just in the beginning, there is a myriad of obstacles he has yet to even realize. And, they only get worse as time goes on. Lets explore a few of them, shall we? Keep in mind that many if not all of these examples are the direct result of the changes a woman goes through during the “miracle” of child birth.

We, as men, acknowledge this fact and do not blame the woman. That only makes it ten times more frustrating.

Pregnancy Brain Fog!

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I feel I should explain what I believe is the source of all of this. Here we were enjoying life. My wife and I are very much the same. We don’t enjoy shopping. Each trip is usually “an in and out as quick as we can” sort of adventure (unless it is a Walmart date). We think the same and feel the same about almost everything. Drama is the worst thing ever invented. Stupid people annoy us. Inconsiderate people annoy us even more. Unfortunately, there are so much of all of this taking over the world. Because of this, we like to stay home and enjoy each others company rather than venture out and come back irritated and frustrated.

Since my wife got pregnant, life has changed dramatically (the worst way for anything to change ever invented). Whether it be the grocery store, school, the doctor’s office, or all the other things that seem to pop up, we always need to be going somewhere. Thus, our exposure to the previously mentioned unsavory people is greatly increased.

Additionally, my wife’s pregnancy brain fog has taken a hold of her. But it comes and goes. It is very similar to watching a person in the early stages of dementia. Trust me, I have some experience with that. They have their own sort of logic and you never quite know where their mind is. Sometimes they seem completely functional and able to do everything. But, since you have been paying attention all this time, you know that this could be a trick as dementia patience are prone to hide their condition.

You have to be ready at any time to correct or complete a story. You also need to be able to add details to what they are saying as they tend to forget that the first part of the conversation was in their head or that the other person is unaware of facts they have no reason to be aware of. This is very draining.

Occasionally, they have a moment of clarity and realize exactly what is going on. This is both good and bad. It is good because I have these occasional wonderful moments with the woman I married. Bad because it makes all the other times that much worse. Unlike dementia, this pregnancy brain fog is contagious. So, now we have two mindless people on alternating schedules of clarity.

Sort of the blind leading the blind scenario. On the rare occasion that we are both clear at the same time, 99.9% of that time it is ruined by having to go somewhere and deal with people we don’t care to (see above section about stupid and inconsiderate people) rather than enjoy our time together. This is the reason that I am always running 4 levels above the normal “frustration zone”. I just want my wife back.

Walking or the inability to do so.

pregnant-on-beachYou may be thinking this is just a still shot. You would be wrong. This is a full speed video of a pregnant woman walking. I don’t know how many times my wife and I have been walking somewhere and all of a sudden she was gone. I looked back and there she was standing in the middle of the road or in any other worst possible place to stop, rubbing her belly.

Never did she utter a single word or signal to me that she was no longer by my side. Really, it was a surprise every time. She now just grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop with her. Still in the middle of the street or at the edge of a cliff that is quickly eroding. She pauses to let a contraction pass or catch her breath while I stare into the eyes of our impending death.

What’s worse is that any time we go anywhere it takes forever to do anything. Everything is sssslllloooowwww mmmmoooottttiiiioooonnnn. Walking through Walmart is equally as frustrating as getting stuck behind a car going 25 mph on a road where it is absolutely impossible to pass. You are not in a hurry. You are not going to be late for anything. No big deal. You can wait.

But, what if you drove this road every day? What if every day you get stuck behind this car? What if every day there is a line of cars building up behind you and you know they think you are the one who is driving slow even though you have veered off to the right side several times to let them see that there is a car in front of you?

And, what if said line of cars has had enough and they drive as close to you as they can without actually touching your bumper while honking and alternating between flipping the bird and loading their firearm? Multiply that feeling by ten. Oh the humanity.

*Read the full post here.

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Tooth Fairy Drama And Other Mythical Tales

1kids-are-so-much-braver-than-adults-if-i-believed-a-fairy-collected-human-teeth-from-beneath-pillows-id-never-sleep-again-f402b

The hummingbird lost her first tooth last summer when she was 4. She was understandably in pain and feeling miserable. But not as miserable as she was after we told her the tooth fairy was coming and would leave her a present.

I don’t remember ever fearing the tooth fairy but it was mostly because I would get money. Sure, it was only 50 cents or even a dollar but I felt like I had hit the jackpot.

The hummingbird, however, was anything but excited about getting a present from the tooth fairy. I get that a fairy coming into your house at night while you’re sleeping is pretty damn creepy so my husband and I tried to calm her down.

But she would not go to sleep, in fear for her life over the dreaded tooth fairy.

That’s when the whole tag team parenting thing went into effect. Where you and your spouse start pulling things out of your ass and work with each other, trying to come up with anything to calm your kid down. Or whatever the situation may require.

I told my 4 year-old that I would call the tooth fairy to let them know they weren’t needed that night. That didn’t work so I said I’ll call the tooth fairy and she can speak to him herself.

I repeated to her that she can personally speak to the tooth fairy and that’s when my husband caught on and suddenly, he had to make a trip to the bathroom.

So, the hummingbird was able to talk to the tooth fairy aka the hubby in a really high voice on the phone, and she seemed to relax.

As soon as we tucked her into bed for the 3rd or 4th time that night, we were ready to pat ourselves on the back. We felt like we rocked this parenting thing.

Before we could even sit down in the other room, she came out and was still scared as hell about the freaking tooth fairy. It was a very long night.

The next day, I told her we struck a deal with the tooth fairy and she was able to go to the toy store to pick out something. I figured she had the reaction she had because she was still so young.

She recently lost another tooth and holy hell, the tooth fairy drama came back in full force. I reassured her that he wouldn’t come to the house, bribed her so she would go to sleep, begged her to go to sleep, and then she got her way and slept in our room despite calling and emailing the tooth fairy that night.

But she was still terrified and since my husband had to run to the store anyway, we told her that he was meeting up with the tooth fairy to collect her present.

Later on, I basically told my husband “fuck this tooth fairy stuff”, we need to tell her that they don’t exist.

It’s one thing if your kid enjoys it but needless to say, the hummingbird was not that kid.

At first she was confused but I think she got it. She knew that parents are really the tooth fairy. I had to also be sure to let her know that she needs to be careful and not let other kids know. That this is something they will find out on their own later on.

When she asked if the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus were real, I assured her that they were. I felt like shit but didn’t want to burst the bubble for my 5 year-old.

I figure there is always that one asshole kid you have in your class while growing up that spills all those things and ruins it for the other kids. I remember the dickhead in 2nd grade who told all the kids in the class that Santa Claus wasn’t real.

While I loved Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny was actually my favorite when I was a kid.

I love the pretty clothes, Easter egg hunts, fluffy stuffed bunnies, not having to write out all of those holiday cards, coloring eggs, and most importantly, those orgasmic peanut butter cup shaped eggs and Cadbury chocolate eggs. Although, I could do without eating so many eggs because everyone in the house end up having smelly egg farts. Don’t light a match!

When I was about 6, a tragic chain of events occurred and scarred me forever when it came to the Easter Bunny.

Okay, not really, but damn it, I still want to believe that there really IS an Easter Bunny that hops around, spreading chocolate joy and sugar highs to many kids and adults.

So, one night I was in bed and supposed to be asleep. At the time, my mom was single and worked a few jobs. My grandmother lived with us and was watching me that night.

I set out a few carrots for the Easter Bunny and could not wait until the next morning. My excitement kept me up late. That’s when I heard my mom coming home from work.

My mom and grandmother were talking about different things and I was finally feeling sleepy. As I was lying there half asleep, I heard my mom talking about the Easter Bunny.

That’s when it happened.

I heard my mom crunching on a carrot.

OH MY GOD!!!

NOOOO!

At first I thought that was so mean of her to eat the Easter Bunny’s carrot but as I heard more of the conversation she was having with my grandmother, I found that my beloved bunny wasn’t real after all.

I thought about freaking her out by running down the hall into the living room and catching her in the act. Oh, how glorious that would have been.

Instead, I decided to just go along with it because it seemed to make her happy.

Mostly though, in my kid state of mind, I was afraid if I did say something, all of that candy I would get every year would stop.

Hmmm, now that I think about it, maybe this is why my husband drives me crazy every time I hear him crunching on carrots.

When did you or your kids find out the truth about these tall tales? How did you or they find out?

*You’re The One That I Want

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How To Survive A Visit From Your In Laws

1324012756612_5703688My in laws have finally left and surprisingly, I survived. I pretty much avoided them and stayed out of their way as much as possible. Unless of course they took us out to eat. Because HELLO, FREE FOOD! Who the hell doesn’t like a free meal?! Nobody, that’s who.

If I didn’t avoid them as much as I was able to, I would probably be writing this with pencil and paper from a prison cell. I would’ve been all Orange Is The New Black but really though, orange just isn’t my color.

Well, it isn’t really anyone’s color, except for maybe super hotties like Mark Ruffalo, Ryan Gosling, Chris Hemsworth, Liev Schrieber, or perhaps even the always gorgeous Kerry Washington and Robin Wright.

But I’m totally getting off point here.

For the low, low price of zilch, zero, nada, you too can follow these easy steps to survive your visiting in laws.

Take notes, people! There may be a pop quiz later on.

Step 1: Drink… A Lot. Vodka or wine in a coffee mug is a great choice. Especially one that has been hand painted by your child. It will look sweet and innocent but at the same time, you’ll be getting plastered. It’s a win win.

Hiding your alcohol intake will be one less thing your mother in law will judge you by and bitch about. It will also make it more tolerable and entertaining when your in laws tell you stories about your spouse growing up that you’ve heard 1oo times before.

Step 2: Fake an illness (cramps, bloating, pms, mad cow disease, problematic anal warts) and hide out in your bedroom with chocolate and a good book. Make sure to let out a few groans of pain in their presence.

Step 3: Fake raging diarrhea and hide out in your bedroom with chocolate and a good book. Nobody questions diarrhea. Ever.

Step 4: See steps 1-3.

Happy visiting!

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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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Despite 3 bathrooms, my kid ALWAYS wants to use the one I’m using. For clarification purposes, I’m not in the bathroom right now. No, really, I’m not.

It never fails. No matter when I need to make a quick trip to the bathroom, my daughter decides all of a sudden that she has to go to. Then it’s a mad dash to get there. We have a guest bathroom but I just don’t like using it.

Mostly because my husband uses that one a lot and so does my 5 year-old. And our 2 cats eat in there so you have to dodge whatever cat food they knocked out of their bowl and onto the floor without it sticking to your bare feet. I guess cat food tastes better off the floor than from a bowl. What animals!

My husband has his own bathroom and the little hummingbird and I share one.

I don’t use the hubby’s bathroom because to be honest, ewww… boys. Walking into his bathroom is like walking on the set of Nightmare On Elm Street, where at any time Freddy Krueger could jump out of nowhere. His bathroom is clean-ish but scary at the same time. When I must walk in for emergency purposes, I swear the music from Psycho starts playing in my mind.

No, you can't make me! I will not go into my man's bathroom!

No, you can’t make me! I will not go into my man’s bathroom!

I’ll slowly open the door. His shower will be dripping. The smell of man pee starts to hit me. There will be an empty roll of toilet paper, just waiting to be changed. His sink will have hair all over from when he shaved that morning. And there will be a big ass ball of clumpy dried soap on the dispenser.

Am I the only one that actually cleans my soap dispenser just so that ball of goop doesn’t form?

But anyway, back to the hummingbird.

She’s not afraid to use his bathroom.  So, I usually ask her to use his so I can use mine. But nope, the battle of the butts is what we usually resort to. Whoever gets their butt on the toilet first wins of course. I’m sure that’s quite a sight. We’ll run up the stairs side by side, giggling all the way up, and we drop trou as soon as we hit the bathroom door.

If she does win, and let’s face it, she is younger and faster, I’ll just wait until she’s done. The hummingbird always asks me why I don’t just go into the hubby’s bathroom and that’s when the Psycho music starts going around in my mind.

SCREECH, SCREECH, SCREECH, SCREECH.

What I imagine happening ever time I take a shower.

What I imagine happening ever time I take a shower.

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When my husband wants to drag me out into the wilderness to go camping, I’m pretty sure it’s because he’s planning to kill me and I start thinking about who I want to play us in the Lifetime movie, Camping With A Killer.

We stopped by Stephen King's house in Bangor on the way to the cabin. Squee!

We stopped by Stephen King’s house in Bangor on the way to the cabin. Squee!

I would hope someone like Jennie Garth would play me but the way things are going for him, it would probably be Shia LaBeouf in a blond wig. I think Kanye West would be a fantastic choice for the role of my husband because Kanye is so damn angry all the time and you need that kind of drama in a Lifetime movie. Could you imagine?

Hey, honey, let’s roast some marshmallows and make some s’mores.

I don’t wanna make any fucking s’mores, damn it!! I’m Kanye West!!! I’m THE MOST CREATIVE person in the world.

Ummm, okay, how about if we go kayaking?

Fuck that noise, I’m Kanye. I AM THE MOST IMPACTFUL ARTIST OF OUR GENERATION.

Well, then, can you read the hummingbird a bedtime story?

No, no I can’t! I AM SHAKSPEARE IN THE FLESH! I don’t need books to read. I’m KANYE! I’m YEEZUS, BABY!

Yes, yes we need Kanye for my Lifetime movie. Talk about ratings gold.

So, anyway, my husband had his birthday recently and wanted to go camping for a few days. He saved his ass by reserving a cabin for us instead of actually sleeping in a tent.

I still got eaten alive by bugs, we didn’t have any air conditioning, and we reeked of bug spray, sunscreen, and smoke from the fire so I still considered it camping.

The second day that we were there, we hung out by the lake for most of the day. Next to us were 2 couples who had about 8 or 9 kids between them and I was in awe over how laid back they were.

We dubbed one of them “the chill couple”.

With just my 5 year-old, I admit I can be a helicopter mom so seeing the chill couple was fascinating. Nothing their kids did seemed to phase them. Chill couple gave their kids money when they asked for it, and the kids came back with a ginormous bucket of cotton candy and ring pops. Their kids asked if it was okay if they ate it now and chill couple was all suuure.

They were the kind of parents I wish I could be as far as not having anything phase me. I worry about everything when it comes to the hummingbird. I thought it would get better as she got older but I worry more now that she’s out in the real world a little more. And don’t even get me started about her beginning kindergarten in the fall and all the worry I have about that. Eeek!

Anyway, nothing ever bothered chill couple the whole afternoon, no matter if their kids whined, were fighting, or however many times they yelled out Watch! Watch this!! from the lake.

As we were driving back to our cabin that night, my husband let me in on a little secret of chill couple.

He told me they had been slamming back beers since early that morning.

AHA! The secret to chill parenting is lots and lots and lots of alcohol. Duh!

The hummindbird caught a fish.

The hummindbird caught a fish.

I actually had a really nice time once the shock of the wilderness and being eaten alive by horse flies and mosquitoes wore off. Sidenote: Moose have been in the news more frequently here as far as being involved in car accidents. They said the reason they’re more prevalent in the summer is because more cars are on the road AND the summer bugs of Maine drive moose crazy so they run out of the woods into the roads here.

So, yeah, 1,000 pound moose are driven so crazy by the damn bugs here which is why they run into the roads. Now I don’t feel so bad about bitching so much when it comes to the bug bites I get just from being outside a few minutes because even big ass moose can’t handle it.

On the way back home, it took a few hours to get back into civilization and wi-fi and we drove through a really small town that had signs on either side of the street. To the left. Vote Yes! A few feet after that: Vote no!

On the right: Vote YES! Vote no!

We had no idea what this tiny town was voting over but they had the yes and no signs on both sides of the street for at least a mile and it was like watching a tennis match.

Then the husband and I were talking about some of the things we did as kids to our parents. I forgot how that even came up but we agreed that one of the worst things we did was when we would go out shopping with our moms. Back then, they had circular clothes racks and the hubby and I were talking about what a kick we got out of hiding in the middle of the rack.

As I would hear the panic grow in my mom’s voice as she would be calling my name and looking for me, I would be in the clothes rack, giggling like crazy. The hubby also had fond memories of doing that to his mom.

We talked about some more bad behavior like that and that’s when I came to the conclusion that we were total assholes. If the hummingbird ever pulled that on me, unlike the chill couple, I would probably have a heart attack.

Once we finally got home, I actually missed our little cabin but after firing up my laptop and the television, I soon got over that. But, yes, we had fun. And I came out of it alive.

Sorry, Lifetime.

What are you doing this summer?

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The promiscuous parakeet and the nympho cat.

When my husband and I first got married, we lived in an apartment that only allowed pets like fish or birds. I don’t know why but we decided to get a parakeet. I’ve never really cared for birds — with their chirping and squawking and their flappy wings flap flap flapping around.

The first parakeet we got was Alfalfa and he was this pretty blue bird. We said we would just have one bird so of course less than a week later, I wanted another one. My husband and I had been in a pet shop and spotted this gorgeous lavendar and white parakeet. That bird’s name was Raptor.

So, Alfalfa and Raptor took over our house pretty quick and the would love to fly into our living room and sit on top of the window curtains while pooping all over.

Yeah, I was not thrilled and found that a bird as a pet was not for me. While we were finding them a new home, we found that Raptor was quite the slut.

One night, Raptor was perched on my husband’s finger and stared rubbing up against his thumb.

We thought “Awwww, how cute. The bird’s being so affectionate”.

Raptor kept on rubbing against his thumb and started making this weird chirping.

We looked at each other and started cracking up. This freaky deaky bird was masturbating. On my husband’s hand.

Ewww.

After that, Raptor would find whatever it was to rub up against whenever her was out of his cage and would go to town. Against our file cabinet, books on the desk, our pencil holder, anything.

We finally found a new home for the birds and said goodbye to the little horn dog.

Not long after, we moved into another apartment that allowed cats and got our kitty, Zira, who we had for over 14 years. We didn’t get her fixed until about a year after we got her so she was in heat a few times.

I don’t know what the hell it was but when she was in heat, the sound of my voice drove her crazy. For some fucked up reason, it got her excited.

Ewww.

Each time it lasted for several days and no matter what came out of my mouth, Zira would be cat moaning MEOWR RRR MEOOWWW.

It was funny but annoying as hell.

Example:

Hubby: Hey, I’m home!

Me: Hey!

Cat: MEW MEW RAWRRR

Hubby: Any plans for dinner?

Me: I was thinking…

Cat: MEOW MEOW MEOWWWWRRRRR

Me: we could have…

Cat: MEOW RAWR MEOWWW

Me: Zira, stop it!

Cat: MEOOOOOWWWWWRRRRRRRRRR RRR RRRR

Me: pizza.

Cat: MEOWWWWWWWWWWW OWWWWW OWWWWW RRRRRR

Even after she got fixed, she was like that for a few more years. As crazy as it made me at the time, looking back, it was fucking hilarious.

*Silverspun Pickups

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