• I think I have an ear infection OWWW
  • Brandon started the day by promptly ripping something from his brothers hands
  • He’s now taken about 75 things from him in an hour
  • Last night at Robs softball game I had to run out onto the field and coerce my child to come out of left field because he thought it was funny to run out and mess up the game
  • Brandon just said something and my response was to say, “Please????” His response instead of saying please for what he wanted was to say, “stop yelling to me.”
  • Every morning he gets up to the kitchen table, sits down ready to eat and then promptly jumps up and realizes OH SHIT I HAVE TO PEE! I wonder when he will think to pee first
  • Codi just crawled across the room, pulled up on the TV stand, turned around smiled at me with his tongue out, and promptly made a squirting noise from his butt. The kind of noise that only happens when my husband isn’t home
  • The squirting just turned into a sort of gurgling noise and now I’m am actually afraid.
  • And now I have to end the post because the other one is in the bathroom screaming MOMMY COME WIPE MY BUTT
  • So who do I get first, the one with poop in the toilet or the one with poop in his butt
  • The life choices us mommies have to make huh!

Acecepting who I am

When I started this blog I had no idea what blogging really was. I was a new young mom and I had a lot of things to talk about. Questions, antidotes and humorous mommy things to discuss. Before I knew it, I woke up and found myself a “mommy blogger.” For a long time I delighted in being a “mommy blogger.” I was good at it, possibly because my child seems to be more monsterous then most of yours but also because I have no qualms about embarrassing myself. I enjoyed being a “mommy blogger (oh fuck it I’m already sick of using quotes) mostly because I loved reading comments that I wasn’t alone. In real life face to face women often find it hard to admit their child isn’t perfect. They find it hard to say,
“you know, I’m really having a bad day today. My son poured pink robitussin all over my $150.00 bed sheet then sopped it up with tissue which he stuck to the walls and dresser, then poured it all over my earplugs and carpet. While I was cleaning that up my son pulled all his coats off his wall, buried his brother, tipped over his chairs, threw his socks at the fan and filled a bucket with water and poured it over him and his brother. While I cleaned that he dumped cheetos all over the table then poured milk over them in an attempt to clean it up. After all that I was minding my own business brushing my teeth when I turned around to see my son opening up all my girl products and sticking them all over the walls, the toilet AND HIS BROTHER. He then opened a crest white strip I didnt even know I had and ate it.”**

You never hear that in real life. You also don’t hear about how some moms lose it. They yell, they get mad, they say angry things and put their kid in time out. But, you come here, to the blog world and you find clarity. You see your not alone and it’s relaxing and refreshing and fucking relieving.

After a while I started reading negative things about mommy bloggers. Mommy blogger became a stigma. It was like a disease. I noticed people saying, “oh don’t read them, they are just mommy bloggers.” So I shied away. I backed down from the mommy gig and made it more about me. I stopped posting as often because with out my kids, I’m really nothing. I started fearing people would peg me for a mommy blogger and stop reading me. At the same time I noticed my comments winding down. My friends, my blogger buddies were moms. I suspect I became someone they could no longer relate to. I think I got caught up wanting to please asshole people out there who have something against being a mom and being a blogger. Those people who are to selfish to have kids and appreciate the humor in a good poop story. People who think they are above the rest of us because they write about bigger better more important things like sex drugs and rock n roll.

Shit, my version of sex is cramming it in when the baby sleeps, or figuring out where and how to do it while the baby sleeps in the center of my bed. My version of drugs is a good stiff one a day followed with a Vitamin C chaser. My version of Rock N Roll is viewed daily on my Yahoo messenger by my friends, just ask how often I get laughed at for blasting “the wheels on the bus at work.”

So what. I’m a geek. I’m a mom. I have tissue, and wipes, and a dirty diaper in my purse.

I AM A MOM!!!!!! I’m sick of conforming to what people want me to be. I’m tired of being embarrassed of who I am. I’m a mom. My kids do stupid shit daily. I fuck up as a parent daily. I take really cute pictures of my boys. I AM A MOM!

I’ve been holding back great pictures of the boys, for fear that people would click away because I was deemed a mommy blog. I’ve held back hysterical stories about poop, and about daycare, and boogers, and POOP for fear that people would remove me from their blog roll because I was a lowly mommy blogger.

But no more. The photos are returning. The tales of how misguided I am are coming back. The stories about how much I struggle with being a good mom will return. The antics of all the poop and boogers and vomit shall come back with a vengeance.

I know my audience. I know my friends. I know who out there has my back. If you don’t want to read me because I”m a mommy blogger THEN GO THE FUCK AWAY AND STOP READING.

I am a mommy blogger HEAR ME ROAR!

**This was my morning this morning

What I’m wearing and, the walky walker

I’m totally amused that I’m wearing very expensive Lucky Jeans, with very cheap Payless shoes.

Pay not mind to my fat sausage toes…or the smiley baby under me. Speaking of baby, look who is walking using his pushy mabob

He gets really crazy in his walker. He runs and goes backwards and chases you. He’s loving his little push cart though.

Note to self

Do not wear a white shirt to work if you plan to give your child a tiny popcicle!

I found these at the store last night. They are maybe two inches big. I picked them up because 3 of them are only 45 calories and I thought it would be a fun work treat. Then I thought they would be perfect size for Codi. He loved them and I think they helped his teething!

What we will now refer to as "THE WALK OF DEATH!"

Earlier last week Ginger and I were talking about this weekend.  We had plans to go shopping for Rob and Brandon’s birthday parties. (Side note we got cool shit for Robs party, and I’m dying to post pictures already).  She had mentioned that she wouldn’t be able to go until 10:00 because she had to walk her dog.  Friday night I get the bright idea to tell her I’ll go on the walk with her.  She mentions she is going to walk the hill at the park.  I said sure okay I’ll just throw Codi in the Jeep stroller and it will be fun.  

Saturday morning Ginger calls me and tells me that shes on her way.  Rob is still sleeping and now I realize I have to take both boys.  So I stick Codi in the Moby and Brandon in the stroller and set off to the park.  
Then I see the hill.  One look at it and I’m already tired.  In fact looking at it felt like a work out.  Ginger asks if I want her to take the stroller since I already have an extra 17 pounds strapped to me.  I’m like, “noooooo I can handle this.”  So off we go.  Two and a half feet into the hill my ass starts screaming at me to turn back now.  7 feet into the hill my arms begin to cry and threaten decapitation if I don’t turn back.  
Finally we got up the hill and I breathed.  Then I looked up and saw a second big fucking hill.  Ginger, trying to be helpful said that if I wanted we could go to the left which was a smaller hill instead of going up the very. steep. other. hill!  My reply was, “dude, how will I live with myself if I pick the easy route?”  She was like, “Shannon come on you have two kids and at least 50 lbs of extra weight, it is fine to pick the smaller hill.”  
Alas, the stubborn side of me came out and after initially heading towards wussy hill I turned around and said, “FUCK IT we are going up the DEATH HILL.”  And off we went.  I would be lying if I didn’t say that I had to stop a couple times because that shit was hard.  However as soon as I made it to the top of the hill Brandon decided he wanted out of the stroller.  Little shit!  I took Codi out of the Moby and plopped him into the stroller and Brandon happily chased Gingers dog around the trails.  
At this point we ran into this lady who came chasing after us asking Ginger to put her dog on the leash because they had a “reactionary dog.”  She then went on to say, “it’s not a mean dog, just protective and reactionary.”  We put Gingers dog on the leash and then saw this lady running about a half mile back to her husband and dog and realized we had some time so we took the dog back off the leash.  A little while later they catch us and Ginger is leashing her dog again.  The husband comes up to me and starts prattling on about how leashes are laws and we should have our dog on a leash at all times.  As he is doing this his, “nice, only reactionary dog” is muzzled and jumping about growling and foaming at the mouth.  Picture the dog in the movie KUJO only fluffier and scarier.  I get pissed off and say, “maybe a dog like that doesn’t belong on a hill like this.”  After all there are tons of kids and runners around and it doesn’t seem safe.  The guy totally loses his shit and starts screaming at me, at which point the tired, sore, angry part of me comes out and I said, “you know what, the dog is leashed how about you keep walking and just shut up.” (I only ONLY say shut up if I’m mad, and the fact that this guy just came up yelling about laws and shit when we were clearly leashing the dog and moving really really made me angry.”  So the he retorts, “give me your name I’m reporting you to the cops.”  To which I just laugh and said, “honey I have kids not dogs I’m not doing shit wrong so get the fuck out of my face!”  So he moves on to Ginger who is standing 5 feet up the side of the hill off the trail to make room for these people and their dog with her dog leashed and he demands her name and address to report her.  Ginger was like yeah not happing buddy.  To which he starts hollering at me again and I respond with a very mature LALALALALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!  I start waving him away with my hand and declare that I am done with this, I don’t have anything more to say.  Their dog is still going ape shit and trying to tear Ginger apart and I finally just say, “thats one really nice dog you have there, be one your way now.”  I was done.  They then start yelling at another runner whose dog is off the leash.  She’s like I have a virtual leash IT’S CALLED MY VOICE!  She was pissed.  Here are two people with two great dogs, on DOG WALKING TRAIL and these people come along with their KUJO scary mother fucker dog and expect us to just bow down to them.  We spent the rest of the walk with Gingers dog on a stupid leash lamenting about how annoying it is that people like that take a dog for a walk on a mountain meant for other dogs.  To me it seems that if their dog is always that awful they would walk him somewhere with out other dogs around, like, I dunno THEIR OWN BACK YARD!
After all the dog chaos my muscles were starting to relax and I was recovering from death hill when suddenly Brandon decides he is now to tired to walk.  Unfortunately Codi is passed out in the stroller and I’m not moving him.  Brandon tries various methods of riding on the stroller even trying to fit into the basket of the stroller.  Finally he decides he wants to sit on my shoulders.  So!  I now have about 27ish pounds in stroller weight (assuming my big ass stroller only weighs about 10 pounds) and a 30 lb child on my shoulders  and we are approaching the second hill.  Once again I think I am going to die.  
800 miles later Brandon gets excited at the option of the park at the bottom and decides to walk.  Ginger, wanting to make him go faster offers to race him.  The next thing I know they are taking off running, and, not wanting to be left 20 feet behind I have no choice but to start running UP HILL WITH A STROLLER!  
We completed the walk and I decided after that, that I had just completed my exercise quota for the next 17 years!  However, I also decided that if I just walked up that hill pushing a stroller with 50 lbs in it once a day (just up the hill not around) I would probably look like a body builder in less then like ooo 2 weeks.  Seriously Sunday when I woke up my upper and lower arms hurt.  My calves hurt.  My thighs hurt.  My ass hurt and even my abs felt worked out.  I am actually thinking of trying to push the stroller up the BIG MASSIVE FUCK ME I’M GOING TO DIE part of the hill daily just to see what it does to me.  
However the entire walk took us 2 hours and I don’t have two hours.  I think if I got a double jogging stroller I would be fine but the whole carrying one kid on my shoulders thing SO NEVER HAPPENING AGAIN!

I guess size really does matter

I’ve been taking a break from my diet this past month. Basically for the month of July I kind of just took some time to myself. And by that I mean I was hiding in a corner with some cheesecake and a fork. Oh, who am I kidding, I didn’t even need the fork.

Even though I spent the better part of a month eating my way across town via pasta and desert I still basically maintained my weight. This week however I’m losing again, and all this losing weight is reminding me of one of my least favorite weight loss side effects.


I know your like wow, I can’t believe shes complaining about that. But seriously, when your walking through the store and your pants are falling down because they are too big and your underwear have ridden all the way up to your shoulders because even they are too big, well it gets a little annoying.

I only wish I had taken a picture. Yesterday I’m walking through Whole Foods. I have these really cute brand new capris on. As I’m walking I’m laughing because it would appear I don’t know my size anymore. So even though I just bought these and I tried them on they were way to big and now I look like a jack ass hiking my pants back up every 14 steps.

However, about 6 minutes into the shopping trip I realize I’ve got a bigger problem. I’m wearing these really cute lacy HOT PINK boy shorts. Maybe if I wore thongs this wouldn’t be a problem (I tried that this weekend and lets just say the 49859er times I pulled my thong out of my asscrack in a public place makes thongs not worth it). So I’m walking through the store pulling up my pants when I notice an extra little fabric there. It seems my undies are about a size and a half too big now. So instead of just falling down and bearing my ass like the pants they decided to just ride up OVER THE WAIST BAND OF MY PANTS.

Visualize a lacy pink muffin top, only there was no fat in this muffin top, nope, just HOT PINK LACY UNDIES. I spent the rest of the shopping trip walking around simultaneously trying to pull up my pants and shove down my undies. My favorite part of the whole trip was when I had an itch just above my belly button so I kind of lifted my shirt and itched allowing the whole store to see my ass crack though my jacked up lacy panties.

Actually my favorite part was when some random guy walked by me, looked at me checking my grocery list on my phone then smiled and shouted IPHONE YEAH! And then just walked off. Thats exactly how I feel about my phone, like I should cheer every time I see it!

The night continued on with me waking up at 2am to pull the fucking underwear off and fumble around in the dark to pull out my smallest tightest undies because the other ones were so big they were sliding off in my sleep.

This problem with wrong size clothes has been a reoccurring theme in my life lately. Like yesterday when I woke up totally stoked to wear my new dress to work. Then I put it on and realized that NO, I am not in fact a large anymore. Shit. I just got used to being a large from being an extra large and now I’m expected to get used to being a medium. This is a lot for my brain. Or how all of my bras right now sink in on themselves because they are too big. So I went and bought a new bra in a 38 C only to find out a 38 is too big and I’m now closer to a 36D. Yeah, the C cup wasn’t happening, these girls will never be a C cup.

Other things that you wouldn’t think of. My sunglasses don’t fit anymore because they are too stretched out. I guess my head was fat like Barry Bonds before (don’t yell I love me some Bonds but damn his head got fat!). This also means none of my cute head bands fit. My hates are all stretched and so on. You know, I always knew my cheeks and neck were getting fat, and I saw the three chins, I guess I just never realized my whole head was fat.

I’ve had to tighten my bracelets. My wedding ring hardly stays on anymore. In fact it really only fits if I stick it on the bigger finger right next to it. Then I look at that bigger finger and think damn my fingers were fat.

I’m not used to my new size. I am for sure not used to the shopping part. I bought pants in a 13 Juniors. They seemed to fit in the dressing room, but now they don’t. I can’t imaging that I could be an 11 in the juniors section. I tried on some 10s in a different brand in the juniors and they fit too. I stood there in the dressing room thinking, “something has to be wrong here, I haven’t been a ten in like 800 years.”

I wish I could get used to this though. It would save me a lot of time in the fucking dressing room not having to go exchange for smaller sizes. I have two final goals. Buy a pair of Seven Jeans, and buy a pair of Lucky Lil Maggie Jeans.

I’ve been pretty strict on my diet lately and I plan to stick to it. I have two great motivators. One, my mother in law will be in town in one week for Brandons birthday. You gotta look good for the mother in law. But two on August 30th I am throwing one of the biggest 30th birthday bashes for my husband EVER. The thing is, the theme is WIFE BEATER. Everyone has to wear wife beaters. All my skinny little girl friends are already planning to rip theirs and tie them up with skanky red bras and what not and I’m thinking fuck I wanna look good in my wife beater too. Soooo mama is back to strict so I can rock my Lucky jeans, wife beater and a causally sexy HOT PINK BRA!

On that note, I can’t wait until his birthday is here. I’ve got so many goddamn secret things planned and I’m just busting at the seams. I can’t wait to finally be able to talk about all the shit I have in store for him. If you know me, you know I don’t do secrets and surprises well so it is just about killing me not to just unload every little detail on ya’ll. Just ask my good friend Stephanie how well I do when it comes to HUGE GIANT GREAT NEWS SECRETS! But seriously, it’s going to be good!

Okay I’m out. Gotta go put on my dress that fits after I had to waste the gas to exchange the fucker.