Dear son

Dear Brandon,

When I tell you to please go upstairs and get dressed that does not mean you should go stomping up the stairs and shout NO YOU GET DRESSED! 

It would be in your best interest to say something more like, "yes mommy dearest of course I will get dressed because I am a good well behaved little boy."

When I ask you to please stop stomping around upstairs and throwing things down the stairs the wrong response is to shout YOU’RE MEAN and throw a book at my head from the top of the stairs. 

A preferable answer would be, "I am sorry oh best mother of mine, of course I will behave like the sweet little boy you birthed four years ago."

When I ask you to please find your shoes so we can go to school, I would imagine you are not going to have much luck finding it by sitting on the floor with your arms crossed and your tongue sticking out at me.

I am pretty sure you will find your shoes faster if you put your fucking tongue backing your mouth, stand up and ACTUALLY LOOK FARTHER THEN YOUR NOSE!


Thank you,

Your loving mother.


I had to ask my 20 month old permission to go pee tonight.

I have a pimple on my nose, right here [come closer, do you see it], it is making fucking crazy because it’s right in a place that I can’t poke it good but it’s in a place that is super obvious.

Mrs. F got her present today for winning the about me contest like 800 years ago.  She got a gift card for a pedicure to Polished Nail Bar in her town.

Now I want a pedicure.

Talk about sexy, last night my husband came down stairs to find me sitting on the couch with a trash in front of me scraping my feet.  Yeah, I’m that hot.  It’s totally amazing someone married me huh?

I just made the best chocolate chip cookies.  Crispy and crunchy on the outside and ooooey gooey on the inside.  I’m trying to eat good so I stopped at three cookies.

I meant to stop at one.

Then I meant to stop at two.


I’ve got a hot little black pajama thing on tonight.

No one else would think it looks hot besides me, because you know, you get a little tired and suddenly you think you are Americas Next Top Model.

If models could be five foot one inch tall.

What kind of bullshit is that, where are all the skinny girls of the world HOLLA!

Last night my husband and I sat in bed showing each other Iphone aps.  WE ARE SO NERDY.

School supply season is killing me.  I’m not sure you understand how much I love school supplies.  Y’all I want backpacks and notebooks, and freshly sharpened pencils and new pens in pink and purple and blue and green, with little post it flags and a brand new calculator that does formulas and binders and I LOVE SCHOOL SUPPLIES.  I think i could be a professional note taker.  I heart taking notes.

I heart lists more.

I have lists that list my lists.

I like bullets too. 

A list with bullets ooooh now were talking.

I’m finicky about pens.  If I have found a pen I like the worst thing you could do is take it off my desk.  I get mad enough if you even use it while you are at my desk, but taking it from my desk and putting it on your desk is like asking for the biggest paper cut of your life or maybe having your hand stapled to your desk. DON’T TOUCH MY PENS.

I feel like there is a hierarchy to pens.  The longer you have worked somewhere the more fabulous your pens can be.  Although, none of my pens are fabulous but still I feel like I’ve been at my job long enough to order 3 of my favorite blue pens at once, but the other people who haven’t been there as long soooo can not be picky about pens.

Who actually writes a whole fucking paragraph about pens?

I am watching More To Love right now.  Ginger mentioned it and now I’m pretty sure I am hooked.  Plus WOOHOO a show I would actually be eligable for with all of my jelly.

I can’t wait for my husband to get home from softball so he can tell me how good the special cookies I made him are.

Remember the ones that are CRISP on the outside and CHEWY on the outside.

Peace out fools!

 PS over 9 months and my blog spell check is still trying to tell me that fuck, fucking, fucker and fucked are not words.  Stupid fucking spell check.


Crying uncle

Codi is still not eating.  He is starting to lose weight, his bones show, and frankly he looks like some emaciated malnourished kid.  I tried to get him to eat chicken, pasta, noodles, anything that was FOOD. 


Last week I gave up.  I cried uncle.  My kid was losing weight, too much weight and I didn’t care.  Tuesday morning I packed food to take to work with Codi and I. Here is what Codi ate on Tuesday:

1- S’mores poptart

4- Eggo muffin tops

1- Gogurt

1- Chocolate pudding

1- Ho ho

1- ice cream sandwich

2- cups of chocolate milk.

Yes.  I realize how non healthy that was but guess what HE ATE! The next day I packed him basically the same lunch but it also had some chicken nuggets and Pediasure.  I had to mix the vanilla pediasure with milk and nesquik so he would drink it.  My niece let him sit on her desk and put the stamp pad in front of him.  For every bite of chicken he took he could stamp the paper, same with the milk.  The next thing I knew he ate four chicken nuggets.  He drank all of his Pediasure and ate all his other junk food.  Suddenly his little belly was popping out like a 9 month pregnant lady.  He was pooping like normal and happy as shit.  We even convinced to eat a bowl of Fruity Pebbles WITH MILK, on a spoon from a bowl. 

While I admit letting eat this stuff is bad I also remember that Brandon ate macaroni and cheetos for a full year before his food explosion.  Now the boy eats everything under the sun (the one exception is salad, he hates salad aka leaves).  Earlier in the year I received a book about kids who wouldn’t eat from a fellow blogger buddy.  I read it and it said to just let them eat whatever.  If he wants to eat pudding every day for every meal then let him, eventually slowly he will start eating other foods.  So far this has proven to be true.  I must also tell you that I am NOT above bribery.  

You tell me, does Codi seem happy eating pudding for breakfast?

(Please note rib bones. This is why I freaked out and gave him pudding for breakfast.)


I’m 27.  Nearly 28 and I am so ashamed to admit that totally love the show iCarly.  I think these kids are supposed to be in high school although they look about 12.  It’s on Nick Jr.  It is for kids AND I CAN’T STOP WATCHING IT!  Are any of you addicted to those silly little teeny bopper shows your kids watch?

Oh man.  Putting the picture up here just made me feel even more lame.


On a side note. If you have noticed I haven’t been commenting lately it’s because I am so backed up on blogs.  My Google Reader has 307 posts in it.  But don’t feel left out, because my Tivo has about 40 things in it.  I think 20 of them are Oprah alone.  I plan to make a dent in the number of posts this weekend so watch out for me!

Walmart hates me

You might remember the first time I discovered Walmart hated me.

Followed by the time Walmart and Sams club gave me another big fuck you.


Today. Wal-Mart was after me again. I went to Sams Club to pick up Brandon’s prescription for Epi Pens. After that I had to go to Wal-Mart, which is right next door to Sams Club (interesting fact, every time something happens it is at this fucking Wal-Mart). I walk over with Codi and head back to the diaper area. This already puts me in a bad mood because I’m reminded that I still have to pay $18.97 for a box of diapers with 20 less diapers then 2 months ago. Every box of diapers is crushed, smashed, ripped open etc. I grab some wipes (also crushed and ripped open) and a couple other baby related items when I realize I have to pee. Fun Shannon fact #eleventybillion I cannot enter a store with out having to pee EVER! I’m totally annoyed because this is going to make me even later to work. I pee, get Codi back in the cart and head up front.


I see a nice checker standing by her isle with no one in it. She asks me if I am ready and I say yes. I’m thrilled that I found an empty line and I was patting myself on the back for how quick I was being. She rings me up ($92.00 later for fucking diapers and wipes) I hand over a blank check. If you are not familiar Wal-Mart has this neat little thing where you give them a check, they put it in their little thingamabob and it will print everything on it for you. It also acts as a debit so you don’t have a check outstanding for months. I normally just use my debit card but it was way to far down in my purse so I grabbed that. The checker punched in some buttons, inserted my check in the thingy and WALA printing.


The machine ate my check. Checker lady decides to open the machine and force my check out. Then she pushes buttons on her little screen. Then she pushes more buttons. She looks at her check thingy, pushes buttons, looks at my check, pushes buttons, etc. Finally after 3 minutes of waiting I get a little annoyed, fish out my debit card and tell her I will use that. She says, "No, you can’t my whole machine is frozen, it froze when it ate your check."


I stood here for three minutes while you pushed fucking buttons knowing the damn thing wasn’t working. She proceeds to push more buttons and then another minute later calls for help. The manager walks over looks at the machine and starts pushing buttons. She is pushing buttons like she knows what she is doing. She grabs my check, punches in some numbers and then says, "YUP IT’S FROZEN, GUESS WE NEED TO MOVE."

Awe man really!

The lady behind me is extra pissed because she’s already unloaded her cart and her newborn baby is in it’s car seat screaming it’s damn head off and her older kid is running around crazy and now she has to load her shit back in her cart and move. Also no one offers to help her. They take me to a different check stand and make ME unpack my bags so they can re-scan them.
The checker ends up messing something up, having to start over again and then finally 45 MINUTES later I was able to leave Wal-Mart. As I was leaving I noticed they told the lady behind me to again put her stuff back in her cart and again move to another isle because this one didn’t have a till in it.
How in the hell did it take 45 damn minutes to buy 3 things of diapers, one box of wipes, one wipe warmer refill and one Backyardagains DVD?




 Once upon a time Brandon was nothing more then a twinkle in our eyes.  We got married in September.  One month later this happened.

We had tried for nearly a year for a baby so imagine our shock when I got pregnant so quickly after getting married.  I took the pregnancy test at work.  It was left over from all the earlier trying.  I had no real reason to think I was pregnant except for the fact that I was craving green olives.  This struck me as odd since I have never in my entire life tasted a green olive and suddenly it was all I could think about.  A jar of olives later I came to work and peed on a stick.  When it popped up positive I had no idea what I was seeing so I came running out of the office flailing a pregnancy test in my hand asking my mom to tell me what in the hell it said.  No one had a clue I was taking the test so she had to stop and figure out what I was talking about. Sure enough I was pregnant.

We did all of the usual things.  Guessed the gender (I knew it was a boy, I was so sure it was a boy I made the babies’ song ‘Simple Man’ even before I found out the gender).  I nested out of control.  I washed and washed and folded and OMFG how man times can someone repack a diaper bag?  Aside from nine months of puking I had a pretty easy pregnancy.  Nine months after that first test on his due date Brandon came.

Here he is, only a few hours old and already totally bored with the nursery.   I can never explain what I felt the moment he first cried.  I cried, we all cried and I was changed forever.  How does that quote go? "Being a mom is like having your heart walking around outside of your body."  That is exactly how I felt.  I was a mom in an instant.  There was no waiting period, no getting used to it, my maternal instinct kicked in and I was instantly that crazy mom.  I never knew worry until I became a mom.  I never knew what being protective meant.  I never knew what it was like to love that much.  The moment Brandon was born everything changed.  I set out to be better.  To be the best I could.  This little person was my responsibility.  If I screwed up everything in my life it was fine as long as my son came out perfect.

 I’ve never had as much fun as I’ve had being a mom.  Brandons very first bath Rob and I lovingly wrapped him up in a sweet little towel to which he responded by crapping bright yellow poop all over himself and the towel.  He was already pissed of at me for the first bath, you can imagine how mad he was during the second one.  I loved playing dress up with him, nursing him, having him sleep on my chest, and seeing his first smiles.

 I loved being his mom.

 One thing I never expected though is that one day, my baby would turn one.  I took one pretty hard.  Where had the year gone.  The first few months time drags as you wait for them to crawl, walk and talk.  Then suddenly the fast forward button is hit and your putting a little candle on the cake wishing you could have it all back, only slower this time.  Having a one year old was really fun.  Brandon was a huge dork, running in circles, riding my cat like a horse, having a 20 minute phone conversation that consisted of two words, dog and outfide (outside).

 When two came i was a little more prepared.  Not much but some.  Two was Brandon’s last year alone.  Soon he would have a brother.  I soaked up every minute of that time with him.  My only child, my first child, my baby.

 Brandon also took two hard.  He crashed out before the party even ended and I was glad, glad I got to hold his tiny sleeping body one last time before he began the terrible twos.

 Then like a flash before my eyes my little baby turned into a little man and he went and turned three on me.  That saying, two is bad, three is worse, and four will kill you, was true at times.  Three year old Brandon kicked my ass.  He knew he was already smarter then me and used that against me.  He had more energy then I could have even with an IV of java running in my veins.  Suddenly toward the end of three Brandon just grew up.  He started saying words and phrases that a 30 year old man would use.  He lost his baby cheeks and baby hair and baby anything.  Any remnant of my little baby that was once in there was gone. He was a boy.  He started swimming lessons.  He had no fear of anything.  I started to see the future; kindergarten (gasp kill me die dead), high school, prom, marriage, babies and every day i wanted to cry.  Who lets kids grow up this fast.  Who lets time fly so quickly.  Why is it when I wanted to turn sixteen every day felt like ten days, and now every day feels like ten minutes.  He goes to preschool.  He’s so smart.  He is the tallest in his class.  He has TWO girlfriends. And he is still the love of my life.  As much as three scared me, nothing prepared me for four.

Saturday Brandon turned four.  I took the whole day very hard.  I’m still not okay with it.  As he jumped on his trampoline yesterday yelling out LADIES AND GENTLEMEN PLEASE ENJOY THE SHOW I wondered what happened to my little boy who called yogurt honcrean and who called lotion loshish.  When I tell him to get dressed he says, "that’s not even an option mom."  My heart breaks a little more each time.  Can’t he just sleep on my chest one more time?  Wear footie jammies one more night?

I never knew what being a mom was about.  How much you could love people.  I didn’t know the love would grow every day.  That every day I would wake up loving these little people more and more.  I never realized that as scary as parenting is it’s the most magnanimous thing I’ve ever done.  No matter what I do in my life I know these two boys will be the best thing I ever did.  I could end world hunger tomorrow and these boys would still be the greatest joy in my life, the greatest thing I ever did.  I loved watching what kids did to the world.  How they made my husband a dad.  My big manly husband suddenly became all soft and "be careful putting his onsie on you don’t want to break him."  My parents became grandparents.  My dad became Papa and I swear it’s like he woke up and entirely different person that day, just like me.  My mom finally got the chance to show someone how to put a stink bug in their mouth with out them (read me) running away squeeling like a girl!

So.  As hard as four was for me to handle, I’m happy for him.  He loves telling everyone he is four. He loves getting bigger and taller.  And he loves his Nilk, and if anyone ever tells him it’s pronounce Milk instead of Nilk, I’ll break your face, that is the last little piece of baby I have left, even if he doesn’t know it.

Happy Birthday my dear sweet Brandon.

*Yes I have to finish the Vegas story.  I will.  It might even include something about a hot pink gorilla

**Yes I need to post actual pictures of Brandons birthday party which might include a very phallic looking ear of corn.

***Yes I need to write about my recent trip to the lake where I discovered playing volleyball hurts like hell and I think I’m still bruised.