Parenting is Overrated

Here's to another post about my negligence as a parent. Today's adventure includes Kid #3 (otherwise known as Evil Spawn) and the refrigerator.

When we remodeled our kitchen just before Evil Spawn was born, we thought it was a phenomenal idea. Get it done and out of the way and we'll live happily ever after. Hell to the no.

Big Daddy just had to have one of those fancy fridges with the ice and water dispensers. Did you know they make some with locks? Yeah, I didn't. Therefore, ours doesn't have such a lovely feature.

Can you see where this is headed?

Evil Spawn pulled a chair over to the counter and scaled the cabinetry to retrieve two plastic cups. I only know this because she of course was not smart enough (or just didn't give a shit enough) to put the chair back before she started her water adventure.

I speculate that she was filling up these cups and bringing the water back to her bedroom which of course is clear across the house. She left a trail of water down the center of the hallway. Just enough so that you can slip and fall, cracking your head onto the wood floor.

The kitchen floor was completely soaked. The puddle was probably 80 ounces of purified water which OF COURSE goes partially under the fridge. Not like I pulled it out to clean underneath it or anything. Water evaporates so that's clean enough for me.

Onto the bedroom, which is how I discovered this in the first place. I heard the faint sounds of splashing and evil laughter from the living room. When I saw her, she was standing on the guardrail of her toddler bed, soaked to the bone, patting the puddles of water on top of her dresser. It was like we turned a hose on inside the house. Water everywhere. On the dresser, in the dresser, on her bed, on her sister's bed, on the carpet, everywhere. Her pillow was soaked. Her toys were drenched. When she saw me, she smiled brightly and said "Oh, sorry mummy." Sorry my ass.

No harm done really. I mean, a couple towels later and everything was back to normal. It's no Sharpie on the fridge, ya know? It's still enough to make me move the baby gate back to the hallway ASAP. By "me," I mean Big Daddy and by "ASAP" I mean in 3 years when he gets around to it.

Posted in: BUT NOT A DROP TO DRINK on Monday, February 25, 2008 at at 10:26 AM 0 comments  

I ♥ my mailman!

Every day at 3pm I wait for him. He brings me the most awesome things! This week I got some fluffy mail!!! Yay! Thanks to my favoritist cloth diapering swapping website diaperswappers.com I got this little beauty for Kid #4.



How can you even want to clothe him when that butt is SO cute? I had to fight the urge to leave him naked all day. Knowing that the wind chill is 9 degrees outside today though brought me back to my senses.

So now that we got the booty out of the way, onto the bargain!

Kid #4 is teething... hardcore! 6, yes, SIX razor sharp teefies are cutting through his swollen gums. Poor kid. Motrin, Tylenol, Hylands Teething Tablets, tried 'em all. Natural remedies of olive oil, frozen washcloths, and teething rings, tried 'em all. Nothing is touching this kid's pain.

Desperate for any new treatment, I resorted back to the ancient times of using amber to heal. Baltic amber is a natural pain reliever and a traditional European remedy for teething discomfort. When amber is worn on the skin, the warmth of the skin releases trace amounts of healing oils on the skin, helping babies and young children stay calmer and more relaxed through teething. Amber is also recognized for its anti-inflammatory properties and benefits to the skin (helps diaper rash too!)



Look at what a little man he is in his amber necklace! We got it online from the company Inspired by Finn. Use code SAVE10 for 10% off your order! It cost me $9.50 for this little necklace, but I swear I would've paid $950 for it. He's FINALLY QUIET! It's awesome.

Posted in: THAT'S ABOUT AS BOGO AS IT'S GOTTEN LATELY on Saturday, February 23, 2008 at at 8:34 AM 1 comments  

Why do I hang my head in shame when I say that?

Big Daddy and I decided to go to marital therapy. We had our first session yesterday. To be honest, we both really enjoyed it. I'm really proud of him for manning up and admitting he did some dumb shit in the past. That's more than I can say for Stupid Ex. He will never admit fault at our first marriage.

I also needed the venting outlet because I'm pretty sure my friends and Little Sis are fed up listing to me bitch all the time. I can't help but to bitch though. It's one of those learned behaviors and as we all know my mother is the queen pessimist. There was also that whole grunge era that was very "my life sucks so I have to wear black everyday" thing which had a bit of influence over me.

Our therapist is kind of a holistic healer type which is right up my alley. She's going to try some weird knee tapping thing on me to get me to not have any more panic attacks which I tend to have often lately. I'm stoked.

So if the blog ends up being super happy, cheesy, and full of sunshine I apologize.

Posted in: BACK TO YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED CRABBINESS on Friday, February 22, 2008 at at 7:47 AM 2 comments  

I try hard. I really do. I want to be one of those moms that can turn 100 plastic sandwich bags into a wreath or that has every minute of their child's lives scrapbooked. I feel like I'm missing a gene or something.

My kids; however, have this gene. Apparently, it skips a generation. My girls love crafts. Coloring, painting, cutting up paper, gluing and taping it back together again, all that jazz. My boys, well, one loves drawing Pokemon and the other one isn't old enough to do anything other than eat a crayon yet.

The only problem I have with their craftiness is WHERE they decide to do their little projects.

Like an organized mommy, I have all their crayons and various crafty shit in an orange toolbox sitting on top of the fridge. I make sure they only do this crap in the kitchen where the damage is typically minimal. Somehow...some way...Kid #3 manages to hide a crayon or two and I don't find out until it's too late.

Do you know how long it takes to scrub the walls up to 3.5' in a 11'x11' room? Exactly too fucking long.

Fucking pink crayon everywhere. Well, not everywhere. Just up to the height she could reach. I about had a fucking stroke when I saw it. Big Daddy thought it was cute and funny. I wanted to choke him. Of course it IS cute when your ass isn't the one cleaning it up!

Two Magic Erasers later, it's mostly cleaned up. I managed to take the stain off the back of the bedroom door with this miracle cleaner. It doesn't get into the little crevices very well unless you're scrubbing like the Incredible Hulk and yeah I was already over cleaning by that point.

So ends another day at baby mama's house. Oh wait, it's only lunchtime. Ah fuck it.

Posted in: BENADRYL SNACKS ANYONE? MAMA NEEDS A NAP on Tuesday, February 19, 2008 at at 10:33 AM 2 comments  

No phone calls from Hermy since that night. Coincidence?

Posted in: I THINK NOT on at at 10:24 AM 0 comments  

Typically, when a person would eat all of the popcorn in a bowl they would dump out the kernels, right?

Not in this house!

Kid #3 thinks that at the end of a popcorn snack the custom is to throw the bowl up into the air so the kernels fly everywhere and announce "I WANT MY CUP!"

If this had been a single incident, I would've just shook it off, no harm done. But damn, every time child?!?!

I suppose I have two choices...

1. No more popcorn. This of course limits her food now to lactose free milk, spaghetti, and dry cocoa puffs.

2. Take out all the kernels before she eats popcorn. However, this is time consuming and I just can't see myself putting forth so much effort for snack time.

****

Okay, so I took a quick break from writing this to go fill up Kid #3's cup. It turns out that during the 10 minutes of typing time I allowed myself she snuck into the kitchen and drew on the floor with a black crayon. I just can't win.

Posted in: CRAYON BEATS A SHARPIE ANYDAY on Tuesday, February 12, 2008 at at 8:26 AM 0 comments  

Seriously.

How can someone read my ghost story and think it is lame? It was scary!

First off, it really happened. Unlike all those gay ghost stories where it was retold 50 times and is listed on Snopes.

Secondly, I don't know this lady, but she obviously knows me. Why is she calling me? Our number is unlisted and I've done extensive googling of myself with no real hits. How did she get my number and name?

Is she the wife of Hermann? If so, she is no older than my mom probably. Although the name Hermann Seebacher sounds ancient, the dude croaked when he was only 48. So he would only be 57 now. That's not even old (to me anymore at least). So if this is his wife, why wouldn't she change the name on her account? It's been 9.5 years lady! Don't you want to move on already? There's plenty of fish in the sea still. Try match.com, I hear it's super.

Anyway, the phone calls have stopped now so I guess me and Hermy are even. I do still want to drive slowly past his house and perhaps wait outside for a few hours to see who goes in/out, but I think I might get arrested if I take it to that level so I guess we'll have to call it even for now.

Posted in: IT WAS SCARY ASSHOLES on at at 6:12 AM 1 comments  

For the past couple nights, someone by the name of Hermann Seebacher has been calling me. His name and number aren't familiar to me at all so no one answered before until last night.

Little Sis got sick of him calling so she answered it. A lady asked for me (calling me Mrs. Lastname). She asked "May I ask who is calling?" The lady repeated herself asking for Mrs. Lastname again. Little Sis repeated herself and the lady hung up.

Well, Little Sis is sassy. She's a bit out of control, but we love this about her. She decides to call this person back to find out what they want. She calls several times. No one picks up. Not even an answering machine. Who doesn't have an answering machine in 2008?

Mustering up all my psycho stalker abilities, I zaba search ol' Hermann. Turns out he lives in the city about 45 minutes away from us. Same phone number, same name, all that jazz.

Being officially creeped out, I decide to go to bed. Little Sis had only begun her quest.

In our state, court records can be found on the internet. She decided to look there to see if he had any records perhaps stalking? Murder? haha

She got a hit!

In the estate of....

Say what?

Yes, Hermann Seebacher is dead. He has been dead for 9.5 years. The same address that was listed on zabasearch.com was listed on his death certificate. The same phone number that was listed on zabasearch.com was listed on my phone. Freaking creepy, right?

Now I know this sounds contrived, but I swear it's not.

I didn't know about this until 1:30 this morning. I woke up then and was freezing my ass off. Turns out, my furnace broke and my house was about 30 degrees INSIDE.

I go wake up Little Sis in the basement. I stood over her and said her name. She yelped in fear and I swore at her to STFU or she would wake the kids. I tried calling Big Daddy at work and no one picked up. Out of options I call a 24 hour emergency HVAC guy and have him come out.

Did Little Sis calling Hermann's house back piss him off? Was breaking the $500 ignition switch on my furnace his revenge for disturbing him?

All I know for sure is that I will definitely be answering the phone tonight if they call again. I just want Hermann Seebacher to leave me alone!

Posted in: WHO YA GONNA CALL? GHOSTBUSTERS on Monday, February 11, 2008 at at 12:07 PM 1 comments