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A Hairbrush In My Coffee Cup

Me:*Sips coffee* C’mon, brush your teeth and hair! The bus will be here soon!

Hummingbird: Okay!

Me: Please, hurry up! Brush your teeth and hair!

Hummingbird: Okay!

Me: *Sips coffee and thinks to self to record this mantra that I tell my daughter so I can play it back every morning*

Me: What are you doing?? You need to brush your teeth and hair!!

Hummingbird: Okay!

Me: C’mon! Let’s go!

Hummingbird: I did it! Can I brush your hair now?

Me: *Sips coffee* Sure!

Hummingbird: *Leans over me on the chair* *Hairbrush PLOPS right into my coffee*

Me: Me on the outside… That’s okay, it was an accident. Get your shoes on because the bus is going to be here soon. Me on the inside… *OMG, I’m actually drinking warm-ish coffee and I’m almost at the delicious bottom of my awesome coffee and a hairbrush falls in my cup. What are the fucking odds? Dammit! I almost had a whole cup of warm-ish coffee. Bahfuckinghumbug! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. And this is part of the reason why I’m drawn to the icky crack liquid of Red Bull. It’s already cold and you can chug it in between yelling at your kid to hurry up and get ready for school.

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*Ed

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Hide My Shit

When I was about 9 or 10, I borrowed my mom’s scissors for something and when she asked for them back, I forgot where I put them. On television, they were showing an Alice In Wonderland two-part special and it was the second night. Since I couldn’t find the scissors, my mom was angry and wouldn’t let me see the second night of it. I thought she was the meanest mom in the world. The scissors were found the next day where I had absent-mindedly put them on a windowsill covered by a curtain.

Turns out, my mom wasn’t in fact the meanest mom in the world. She was just sick and tired of me losing her shit all the time, I’m sure. I’ve found that I have to hide anything, even from my husband, that I don’t want to go missing. In fact, the issues of scissors comes up frequently. I have a secret spot for two pairs of scissors. One is a small pair and the other I use to open up my hundreds of amazon packages.

The small orange handled one is hidden away in my bathroom and the other scissors are in the very back of our junk drawer. But, even those get found and then lost so I resorted to hiding them in the bedroom closet. The older my daughter gets, the more I have to be a hiding ninja.

It’s the same with my lighters that I use for my vanilla candle addiction. I use the long lighters and probably go through several a year since my husband will borrow one for the grill and I’ll reluctantly hand it over and then will I ever see that lighter again? Of course not.

Somehow, between the kitchen and my husband’s grill on the deck, it gets Twilight Zone’d and disappears into thin air. Later on, I’ll want to light some candles for winding down and then I can’t find the fucking lighter. My husband will just respond with “it’ll show up sometime” and I want to bop him on the head because how does he expect me to unwind when I can’t find the damn lighter for my damn candles so I can fucking relax?!

Then, there’s the chocolate issue. We have a bowl of candy in the pantry but I’m hooked on the Lindt chocolate truffles and have to be careful where I put them. I thought the perfect place would be behind my Shakeology bag… fyi, that stuff is gross. It turns into this gelatinous goo even when I drink it in a fast amount of time. I know some people swear by the stuff but if you come across it, don’t bother. Making my own fruit smoothies with protein powder is so much better.

Okay, I’m totally off track. Back to my chocolate. I hid it behind my protein powder where I thought my husband never goes and while the hummingbird was wanting some chocolate, he mentioned my chocolate stash. That’s mine! My precious Lindt truffles are all miiine!

So, I have to find a better place to hide them if I buy a bag… like in my belly. If you’re a parent or parent to be, hide your shit. Because if you don’t, you’ll never see it again. Then again, when you have kids, you have to worry about finding their shit too.

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Finding Lost Soccer Socks And Shin Guards Twice A Week Will Be The Death Of Me

Every soccer season is dreadful because it ends up being so time-consuming. I love that the hummingbird enjoys playing but her weekly practices are late and by the time the season is over with, I freeze my ass off and it’s dark when practice is done.

Then, there’s the games. We got lucky because most of her games are at 8:15 in the morning. 8 fucking 15 on a Saturday morning. That’s crazy for me. The most annoying part of her playing soccer is that two days a week I tell her the same thing over and over and over again.

Put the soccer gear in the same place every time so we know where it is.

I don’t know if it’s little mischievous soccer fairies that move these things around but by the time we’re in a rush to go to practice or a game, we can’t find her stuff.

It will be by the door one day and the next, it’ll be gone. She’ll have no idea where it is and I’ll rip the house apart while yelling in my head that soccer sucks and it’s not worth the frustration week after week and year after year.

I hate the fucking soccer season.

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I Spent The Summer With My Husband And Didn’t Kill Him

My husband retired from the Navy over the summer and was at home. He was waiting for his new job to start but with all the paperwork and signatures they needed, he was home for two damn months. I thought he would start his new job a few weeks after he retired but nope. I would ask him if he had heard anything about it nearly everyday.

The first week was really nice. We did things like go to the farmer’s market, went to the park, went to lunch, blah, blah, blah. After all these years, I actually convinced him to go to the nail salon with me and he actually got a pedicure. He didn’t say anything afterwards, but we all know he liked it. Then, we closed on our new house and moved in. Things went pretty smoothly until the last few weeks. I wanted to get back into my routine. He started making me crazy.

When I would ask him if he heard anything and he said no, in my mind, I threw a toddler fit. The kind where you try to pick a toddler up but they go limp and are like a slippery noodle and then they throw their head back, red faced and crying while speaking gibberish. Yeah, I was like that.

And then finally, he had news that he was starting work two weeks from then. YES! I will finally have the damn house to myself!

The husband finally started work a few weeks ago and the hummingbird started school on Tuesday. I can now drink my coffee in peace and more importantly, while it’s hot.

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The Reluctant Reader

young-girl-reading-jeanhonore-fragonard

I’ve loved reading as soon as I learned to. I gobble up books but also have this book hangover I go through after each book I read. It can be hard to keep up with my reading with a kid in the house who always wants my attention. I naturally assumed since I loved to read, my dna would make her feel the same.

Oh, how wrong I was. Asking her to read and having her actually do it is like pulling teeth. Once she gets started reading, she’ll sometimes get into it. Or, if I suggest reading to her, she whines nooooooo. I love reading her the Ramona Quimby books and she’ll independently read the Princess Posey books which I highly suggest since oh my god she actually reads them, thank you sweet baby jeebus, but again, getting her started up in reading is the biggest pain in the ass.

Here are the stages I’ve gone through with my reluctant reader.

Stage one: You need to read for ten minutes. Yes. Yes. No, you’re not going to see if Samantha is home. You’re going to read. Yes. Yes! Please go and read. Please? Just read. 10 minutes. That’s all I ask. Read. Read now. I got you several different books to choose from at the library today. Maybe you just haven’t found the books that you find interesting yet. So, please go read. Yes! Read! Go!

Stage two: Would you like me to read to you? Why not? Well, let’s have you read to me. Why not? Please? Let’s just sit down and you can read to me for only 10 minutes. You need to ready every day. Yes, you do. Yes. Please read now. Why not, Well, I’m sorry that you have a scratch on your ankle but that doesn’t mean you can’t read. No, it doesn’t. No, it doesn’t. Please, hummingbird. Just read to me for five minutes then. Five minutes! No, it’s not that long. Okay, how about this. You can have a cookie after dinner. Okay, ice cream then. Yes, you can have chocolate sauce but then you have to read for ten minutes. You don’t want chocolate sauce then? Oh, you do. Then, yes, read for 10 minutes. Please just read now. Please!

Stage three: Okay, it’s time to read. We have two hours before dinner. Why don’t read for 20 minutes to yourself while I read too. Why not? No, you can’t watch PAW Patrol. It’s time to read. No. There’s no PAW Patrol while we read. The television is going off. There. Please read. Whichever book you want. There must be something you’d like to read in our library book bag. You picked out all the books. Please, pick something and read. Then, I’ll pick. Here. Okay, then you pick something now. Please, hummingbird. That looks good. Okay, you have twently minutes. No, I said for twenty minutes. Not ten. Twenty. Hummingbird, it’s only for twenty minutes. I’m not asking you to jump off a cliff. Twenty minutes and then you’ll be done for the day. Okay, how about if you read for twenty minutes and you can watch PAW Patrol. No. You can’t watch two. Just one for twenty minutes of reading. Fine, thirty minutes of reading and then you can watch two PAW Patrol’s. No, you can’t watch three. Only two if you read for thirty minutes. Okay. Thank you.

Stage four: Read! Yes! Now! Please, read now! I don’t care if you don’t want to. READ!

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Ink Quills Guest Post: Parent Hacks

Kass is part of the Ink Quills blog we’re starting and you can also find her at Katkinslee. It’s easy to get lost in her blog because it’s such a great read..

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I live in Australia with my husband, my 16 month old gremlin and my two cats.

In 2013 I set up my blog so I could review books and movies, but my weirdness took over pretty quickly so now I ramble about a whole lot of random stuff. I love all things horror and I have a brutal weakness for Pinterest.
Parent Hacks
 The husband is currently away for work so I’m riding solo with the young gremlin, and it got me thinking “How the fuck do single parents do this?!??!” I love my kid but he is driving me insane, he is driving me so crazy that I am tempted to put him in a basket and drop him off at a church or something….do people still do that??

In an attempt to look like I kind of have my shit together, I google things that I can do with the gremlin to stop him from making that horrible whinging sound but it always back fires because Pinterest loves to pop up and remind me just how shit of a parent I am.

So I have compiled some of my own parenting hacks, for those parents who are just trying to make it through the day without slamming their heads into the wall repeatedly.

Hack one: If you’re one of those crazy parents that doesn’t want their kids to watch too much TV, then music is the thing for you! Most kids love music but if they continue to be little assholes, then you just turn the volume up! Hey presto! no more whining!

Hack two: Does your kid want your attention all the time??! All you have to do is lay on the floor and play dead, seriously. Your kid might climb on you and throw toys at you, but if it stops those horrible screeching sounds then who the hell cares!!

Hack three: Kids will steal everything from you, your energy, your will to live, but most importantly, your food. If you can’t manage to sneak into the kitchen to quickly stuff some chips in your mouth then you can just steal the kids food instead! The gremlin has some great snacks and his chocolate custards are the bomb, so I just bring out more than he will eat and then I finish it off for him, and I don’t even have to feel bad for it because I’m just preventing wastage.

The most important hack is biscuits…..yes biscuits…..they can be healthy biscuits if you like but honestly I don’t even worry about the gremlins sugar intake because he works it all off by throwing tantrums so it’s all good. When your kid starts throwing down, you start throwing biscuits. Easy fix.

There you have it….yup……you’re welcome.

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You Can’t Handle The Truth

With parenthood, I’ve found myself to be in several situations where I have to stretch the truth to really get the point across. She’s getting too smart to fall for much of that anymore but I still try.

Your teeth will fall out – So, your teeth can fall out if you don’t take care of them obviously but I make it sound like OMG! You won’t have any teeth in a few years so you need to brush them really well.

Yes, I love your singing – My daughter can sing but there are occassions when it’s kinda torture and I think make it stop while putting my finger in my ear. Then she’ll ask me if I knew that she was singing like Adele and of course I say yes, sweetie, you sound a lot alike.

I don’t have anything in my mouth. Why would you think that? – When I just have to sneak that cookie or have a bite of ice cream, she seems to pop up and asks what I’m eating. With a full mouth and a crunch crunch sound, I’ll say nothing. She’s too old to believe that anymore. Damn.

You need to get in bed early because it’s been a long day – Okay, while that is true, my reasoning behind it is holy shit, if my kid isn’t in bed soon, I will lose my damn mind because this day has been never ending and I won’t have time to watch The Walking Dead.

I can’t wait for your grandma and grandpa to get here – They’ve only been her since last night but I’m already hiding in my office to avoid them. I know the hummingbird will eventually figure things out and has done so with some things already but I keep it happy with their arrival even though my stomach will be in knots.

You need to go outside and play. Get some fresh air – Again, that’s true enough but my intentions are because A. I just want to be left alone. B. I’m pms’ing and would like to eat some chocolate in peace without sharing or C. Your father and I want to have a quickie because you never leave us alone or get to bed on time so we’re usually too tired.

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