Thursday, May 12, 2016

How to potty train a toddler

1) Pick a date. Make sticker charts and buy M&Ms and cheerios. You got this, how hard can it be?

2) After several days with out success draw the hard line, "underwear only, pull ups are obviously the major problem here"
You know you have a Pull-ups problem when people start mailing them to you.
Also, for the record, the kid pictured is NOT the one I'm training. Crap away tiny baby.
3) After several hours of mopping every floor of your home, return to the pull ups. Remind your toddler that they need to go potty and to keep the pull up drier than your floors. Pour yourself some wine and eat the rest of the M&Ms, tomorrow everyone will do better.

4) Give up potty training for several weeks. Return to diapers and whenever anyone asks you how its going retort, "I'm just not ready for my baby to grow up yet. These days are numbered and I want to savor every moment. Sleep when the baby sleeps. Housework will always be there, babies grow quickly. Other annoying phrases people say to new mothers that annoy the shit out of me." Curse loudly while you change nasty toddler poops.

5) Pick a new date. Download an app and get the husband involved in this adventure. He'll buy "poop coins" which are those gold covered chocolates from the front counter of CVS. It's like he didn't even fucking notice your M&M plan, but whatever.
Shut your lying mouth
6) Watch as your toddler strains to poop 2 little nuggets to obtain poop coins. Husband will smugly look at you as if he just invented the fucking wheel. Hide all resentment. This will happen at least 8 times the first day, continue to change pee pee diapers.

7) At 6am you will get the brilliant idea of "naked time" (thanks pinterest). Remove all clothing and "let them experience the sensations of their body". Feel the anxiety that rises whenever they go anywhere near your furniture.

8) At 9am return to diapers and clothing. Google when your local liquor store opens. Pack everyone in the car when you realize they open at 9am and be thankful you can make it in and out of there before the lunchtime/naptime meltdowns occur. Wash the toys that were involved in the great pooptastrophe of 2016.

9) Offer 2 poop coins for poop and 1 for pee

10) Run out of poop coins.

11) Declare poop coins a thing of the past.

12) Change poopy diapers for several weeks. Curse life. Enjoy Seagram's 7 and 7up.

13) Leave child with your mother in law for a weekend. Surely she has some type of grandma powers that will make your child potty like a champ. Hope for the best. Nap. Become irritated to hear that the little shit told her he had to pee while riding all the escalators at the mall and stayed dry all day. Hope that this is the beginning of the end.

14) Change poopy diapers from Monday through Thursday. Google the cost of adult diapers and if colleges accept incontinent students. Drink Seagram's straight because you've ran out of patience and 7up.

15) Receive a box of poop coins in the mail from your favorite Aunt. She also sends you a lavender eye pillow that can be placed in the freezer to help "soothe those tired eyes". Purchase straws and drink on the couch with eye pillow in place. Vow to try potty training again Monday.
We're ready for you, Monday!

Tuesday, May 3, 2016


My washing machine was clearly designed by a man... GE is truly in need of some female engineers and I'll show you why...

See?!?! WHY THE BLEACHY COMPARTMENT THINGYMAJIG RIGHT WHERE BOOBIES GO!??! The left boob of approximately 37% of my shirts has a bleach stain. 100% of those shirts are black, gray, or dark purple because my fat ass cannot wear other colors. Thanks a fucking lot GE, now they call me Bleachy Tits! Ok, no one actually calls me that but, I feel like someone would call me that if I spent more than 2 seconds a day dealing with adults. I think GE owes me a $50 gift card so I can go buy replacement Target shirts. 

My mother in law will be here in a couple days to celebrate J and BGs birthdays as well as mothers day. Of course my husband works all weekend so I'll be making myself mothers day breakfast at 530am. I'm thinking we'll have a swanky brunch that includes toaster waffles and strawberry yogurt. Delicious. Then we'll relax by picking tiny crumbs off my floors and wrestling small children into clothing, changing 298492 diapers and finish up the morning with mimosas while everyone takes a nap at 11. Jealous yet? Oh yeah, you are.

My favorite part of having visitors is procrastinating on my cleaning until the day before, then running around like a chicken with my head cut off mopping the floors and hiding things in various closets. That, and the question "when's your husband going to be home?" Which I always know the answer to, a shoulder shrug. #chefwifelife #neverknowwhentheycomingback

Saturday, April 30, 2016


Nothing makes you seriously debate your permanent sterelization options like bringing 3 children to the beach sans spouse. A girlfriend of mine and her two met us there but 5 kids (4 under age 4) and 2 adults is a lot of fucking work. It doesn't end there either. When you get home you have to wake everyone up from their car nap and hose them down and change clothing and wash towels. It is almost too much work. My favorite part of going to the beach is when they all fall asleep in the car and I go to Dunkin Donuts for a large iced coffee. Then I proceed to drive around Charleston looking at the homes for sale. Its the little things. Way back when, I would go to the beach with nothing more than a coffee, some smokes (judge away), a book, and a chair. Now I'm loaded down with so much shit I probably look like a contestant on The Amazing Race. These women sitting by us had a baby who looked to be about 10 months old and this baby TOOK A NAP IN THE PACK AND PLAY. Seriously, who are these people? My kid barely sleeps in her bed let alone a pack and play in a strange place. My kids have no chill. Am I using that phrase right? Hang on I'm googling it.... Well, according to Urban Dictionary its possible I have no chill...


I'm going to have to curtail my verbal cursing. Yesterday would have been a good day to start.
Me: Middle man, where are you going?
MM: Uh, I hab to shit my pants... AWONE! 
Translation: I have to shit my pants... ALONE
Shit. Well at least he uses it right.

Quick poll: at what age is it appropriate to give the task of applying a kids own sunscreen to their face? I thought the answer was 8 (in 2 weeks) but J's face is looking like a piece of marble rye.... hopefully this is a learning experience for everyone involved.

Friday, April 29, 2016


I have got to get these sleeping arrangements under control. Every night is a crazed form of musical fucking chairs. We all start in our own beds (baby girl in her bed, middle man in his bed, and J never bothers anyone so he's really a shining star here) but by morning Hubs is in the other bed with middle man, and baby girl with me. If everyone could just chill the hell out and sleep alone I would be a whole new person. You know the type, someone with matching socks and who doesn't leave their keys in the fridge. Any advice on how to fix this is welcome but I'm considering going to a hotel and asking my mother in law to stay with these kids for a week. My God, that sounds great. I'd even stay at that hotel where they found dead hookers a few years ago. I'm sure the smell is gone by now. Even if it hasn't, who the hell cares? Speaking of which...
Middle man refuses to poop in the damn toilet all of a sudden. We were doing this awesome thing where he got a chocolate coin whenever he went. "Poop coins" we called them. Well apparently without poop coins we shit our pants. True story. 
Me: Hey man, why are you pooping your pull up?!?!?
MM: A'cuz, no mo poop toins.
I'm not sure how people survive more than 3 children. Fun fact: I was going to say 2 children then I realized the impending doom I would be putting onto myself and changed it.

I'll finish my first post by adding that it's Prince William and Princess Kate's 5th wedding anniversary. I cried on my couch and told J "that was supposed to be my husband!" He replied "but you love dad, right?" Yeah I guess. But, that love comes with sparkly things, trips all over the world, and nannies. I'll bet Kate's sleeping through the night and giving zero fucks about the status of George's potty training. I'll also bet she bids them "goodnight" while she drinks pinot noir on the royal couch and watches reruns of Seinfeld. Which is totally what I would do. 

A little background for you...

Back in 2006 I met this guy while I was waiting tables at a chinese food restaurant in Plymouth MA. By early 2007 he had me convinced to move to Charleston, SC with nothing but our tax returns and a dream. In 2008 our first son was born (I'll refer to him as J throughout this blog). In 2013 after much convincing, bribery and crying, we finally agreed to a second baby (Middle man or MM). After a vicious silent stand off about who would go though the pain and suffering of permanent birth control we had one last baby in 2015 (Baby Girl or BG). Times are tough and child care is expensive, so I quit my job at a call center to stay home with the kids. Its been almost a year now and I literally have nothing to show for it, except that everyone is still breathing. This blog is mostly a journal for how I'm coping with the craziness, one day at a time. You should be aware that my northern background makes me very sarcastic, and my southern surrounding have me blessing hearts inappropriately. Enjoy.
Look at us, all childfree, poor as shit, and happy