Maybe just skip the trip to the remote island….


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In honor of the new Little enrolled in my daycare, Tiny T-Rex, I decided to spend my day yesterday watching the Jurassic Park trilogy. I was hoping for some insight into the mind of a Tiny T-Rex and I got it.

Not sure it applies to my new Little, but I’ve got insight on what to do if I ever come across a T-Rex on a remote island.


Maybe skip the remote island, if you can. Unless it’s an all paid for, inclusive getaway where the booze is free. Then I guess you have to go because it would be a complete waste to not go. But you’ll really need to follow my tips for survival.

One. Don’t move. Don’t move at all. Except in movie 2, they forgot to tell the T-Rex that he couldn’t see the actors in the trailer when they stayed still. Apparently, those parent T-Rex could see non-moving humans because said humans had their baby.

Two. Never, ever sleep. I mean, there are dinosaurs all over. Why are you sleeping?!?!?!

Three. Never trick anyone into coming on a dinosaur safari with you. It’s just rude. Poor guy from movie one was already traumatized enough, then he had to go back in movie 3 and there were no fences this time. At least the guy who went back in movie 2 went in with his eyes open.

(I’m taking a break here to plea with the people who are making movie number 4. Get it right. Don’t let me down. And please get the cast from movie one to return. I wasn’t a huge fan of the redhead from movie 2. Too stupid. Putting a cast on a baby T-Rex, I mean, why?!?!?! Don’t you know his parents are going to come for you?!?!?! And while I’m on the topic, do not bring back Vince Vaughn. I mean, who the hell replaces the ammo in the gun with spent shells?? Oh, now I have to add a final, final insight* since I already wrote this post in its entirety and then came back to add this little break in it.)

Speaking of fences, four. Never think the dinosaur can’t get you. I’d think this would be secondary nature. It apparently isn’t.

All three movies had it happen and I laughed each time as the person got eaten.

And the final insight into what to do if you ever visit a remote island. Pack snacks. On your person. Because you know when you start running from big dinosaurs that two things will happen; you’ll have to drop your bag to run quicker and your belly will get hungry from all that running.

*Final, final insight. Never, EVER, replace the bullets in someone’s gun with spent casings. I don’t care how hippie dippie, animal loving you are. When the dinosaurs come running, they won’t know who likes them and who doesn’t. And frankly, they don’t give a crap. They’re dinosaurs. They will eat any human they find.

If you forgot I enrolled a Tiny T-Rex into my daycare, read about him here:



Today’s a short one….


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All the Littles are cooperating today. It’s a bit unreal since one of them is a newborn T-Rex. I’m kind of just sitting here with my breath held waiting for the explosion.

And then I look over at my daughter and see her doing this:


She looks at her ball like I look at Twinkies. (God, she really does resemble me.)

Speaking of Twinkies, I will be going on a Costco run tomorrow so brace yourselves for another round of What Can Costco Convince Me to Buy That I Don’t Really Need.

And I’m going to eat enough samples to make myself sick to compensate for all the extra money they’re getting out of me.

Have a great weekend everyone!

All that is missing is a White Castle…


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For the first time, in my 31 years on this earth, there will be a Sonic within 10 minutes of my home.

Chuck Norris

The closest I have ever lived to a Sonic, thus far, has been an hour. An hour is really far to drive.

Don’t get me wrong, I drove to it just to eat there, but it is far.

But now the Sonic will be in my backyard and I sense corn dogs whenever I want them. With those stupid shakes that are so addicting you can’t even make a decision.

I mean, who has hundreds of flavors of shakes on their menu?!?! Are they trying to cause fat kid heart attacks from the anxiety caused by trying to pick?!?!

The Hubster is dreading this opening.

And let’s not forget the fact that they are opening this establishment near a Navy base. A place where women (and men) are left alone while their spouse deploys and who may have friends that suck big time and may not want to go to dinner with them. And eating alone immediately brands you a “less fortunate” by society.

Now I’m not saying society is right, but you know it’s true. AND you know you’ve thought it at least once in your life. Just admit it. You did.


Anyways, Sonic is the perfect solution. Instead of eating drive thru that has cooled past the point of edible by the time you get home, you can instead eat in your car like a happy fat kid.


Your cute English Bulldog can sit on the passenger seat with her mouth open.

Hot food, no one judging AND if you spill, no biggie, you’re in your car where no one can spot your faux pas.

Except the chick on skates. She is judging you like crazy. And she looks good on the skates.

Dammit, even Sonic will have to be driven home now…

I’ve enrolled a T-Rex into my daycare….


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and it’s one part funny and three parts awful.

So this new Little is literally little. He’s all newborn baby and filled with poop and crying.

We have spent his first three days in daycare alternating between crying for a bottle, eating the bottle, pooping and then crying for another bottle.


 Doesn’t even need a caption, the picture says it all about this Little’s personality. Oh wait, guess this is a caption. Oh well, who’s the doofus who read it?!!

In between all that we try to sleep, but we haven’t been very successful.

And then we arrive at today, day four of daycare. And it was 4 parts awful.

I ate a bagel (a HUGE one!), an entire box of macaroni and cheese from Kraft (those delicious bastards!) followed by two Twinkies filled with chocolate.

All while missing the real Twinkie filled with vanilla.

This Little is currently in the most epic battle to the death…with his arms.

Every single time he starts to drift off his Little arm shoots up and wiggles him awake. He wants them in his mouth, but they can’t quite reach because he keeps his elbow close to his body.

These tiny T-Rex arms are ruining my life and the lives of all in their path.

I called two providers AND my boss just to remind myself that there are humans currently surviving this T-Rex apocalypse.

I tried rocking, shushing, patting, walking, binkies, pacifiers, snugglies, wompies (who gives a shit what it means, I am in the middle of war!!) and plain old whiskey*

none of it worked!

So I finally decided that since I couldn’t make it better by making the Little happy, I would make it better using the internet.

Enter bouncy chair gently rocking Little (thanks to my foot) while my non T-Rex arms used the computer to google funny T-Rex images.


The internet makes everything better.

So now every time my Little jerks his arm up without actually being able to reach his face to suck his hand, I can laugh instead of cry with him.

Because of you, Internet.

*NOOOO!!! I didn’t really use any whiskey on the baby or myself. I don’t even have any liquor in the house. Take your pills and go to bed, you’ve obviously forgotten how to read sarcasm.

You are never too old for the ice cream truck…


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A few days ago I was just sitting on the couch and enjoying the fact that all my Littles went home early. I’m not going to lie, I was pretty close to comatose and drool was starting to form. And then suddenly I was propelled off the couch and towards the front door without any thought to what I was doing.

I could hear the ice cream truck.

For those of you who don’t live on my street (considering there are only 4 houses total I’m betting that’s most of you), the ice cream truck never actually drives on my street. He just does a teaser and gets himself put on the shank list.

Little bastard.

So I am halfway out the door and yelling at him to wait….

Ice Cream truck

Yep, I was incredible. I wonder if they need someone to play The Flash in an upcoming movie…

I haven’t run in years, frankly, I’m surprised at how very fast I can run when highly motivated. One of the neighbor kids was left in the dust and panting by the time he caught up to me at the truck.

Sure, he’s only five, but he’s a very fast five-year-old.

And then came the best part of the entire incident. My little neighbor said to me “thanks for catching him for me.”

Yes, let’s go with that…



It’s funny, because it’s true…


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A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…(or in the house next door, you decide.)

It is a period of unrest. Rogue Littles,


striking from their play tent,

have won their first victory

against the evil Giant. 

During the skirmish,

Little warriors managed to steal

secret technology to the Giant’s ultimate weapon,

the Lullabies, a playlist with enough power

to put an entire planet of Littles to sleep,


Pursued by the Giant’s Minion Army of Providers,

the Big Little flees home on his flying dragon

named Bruce, custodian of the stolen Lullabies

that can save the Littles and

restore their freedom from the Long Sleep…

Coming to a theater near you.

I may have the smartest dog in the world….


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So yesterday Lola had to wear the cone of shame due to her fatty tumor on her back leg. And before you freak out, it’s NOT cancer and apparently they just disappear on their own.

I freaked out for you, you’re welcome.

So today Lola saw me pick up the cone and I had to put it on while I took a shower. I knew the very minute I left the bed she would be back to licking it until it bled.

I removed the cone shortly afterwards to feed her breakfast and as soon as she saw me grab it again she made a big production of lying down and being submissive. Which always sends up red flags because she is nothing, if not my daughter; we don’t have a submissive bone in our body. Poor Hubster, so put upon.

I warned her in my best authoritative voice to “not lick!” or she’d get the cone.

Aaaaaannnndddd two seconds later she started licking.

So I picked up the cone and slapped it into place. She turned her back and pretended I didn’t exist.

About 5 minutes later I took it off and again told her don’t lick.

Aaaaaannnnndddd this time she waited until I turned away and I heard her lick. I mean, she has a big bulldog face and you can clearly hear them doing anything that requires them to reach their back legs. She was grunting and groaning and struggling to get her giant rib cage to move enough to allow for back leg licking.

So I slapped that cone back on and told her no and walked away.

This time she wore it for 15 minutes.

I took it off her and Lola made a huge show of lying down with her legs tucked under her.

Two times, folks. My Lola learned to stop licking after two times with the cone.

Now, I know what you’re thinking; why not just leave the cone on?

Damn good question!

Because Lola in a cone is basically a hippopotamus doing the ballet. On ice. In the rain. On a dark night.

She banged into so much shit that I was in fear for all my valuables.

It was a win-win situation.


UPDATE: Guess she’s not as smart as I initially thought. He memory only lasts for 12 hours, she’s now back in the cone.

And she’s not too happy about it.

It’s all fun and games until someone ends up in a cone…


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A few weeks ago I noticed a red lump on Lola’s back leg. Of course I immediately yelled out cancer, hugged her so hard she burped and then proceeded to give her a full body lump exam while on the phone scheduling a vet appointment.

Like any level-headed pet owner would do.

We took her in to the vet and was immediately reassured when the doctor said she thought it was nothing. But before you think I’m crazy she added, “but we need to send it to pathology to be sure it’s benign.”

Benign…BENIGN!! That means it could be malignant!

And my head exploded with worry and my blood pressure instantly shot through the roof.

Five days later the vet calls and tells me to get off the ledge, Lola has a benign fatty tumor that is “rapid growing and will need to be removed if it doesn’t go away in a few weeks.”


I was back on the ledge because my wild child is not one to “leave it alone.”

I warned Lola to stop licking it. I warned her to not bite it. I even warned her to stop looking at it, just in case she got tempted. She didn’t listen…

Cone of Shame

Are you listening now, fathead bulldog?!???!

Giraffes need food too…


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As I write this post I am listening to an infant bellow in the background like a foghorn. He just keeps letting out these great, big, deep sounding bellows.

I guess this is his new nap time routine; drive Ms. Heather out of the home with the drone from his voice.

Let’s hope he masters this new task quickly, the newborn starting on Wednesday is not going to like trying to sleep through this nonsense.

I am not a huge cuddler, neither is the bellowing Little, so we are both screwed if he can’t fall asleep on his own. It’s 90 degrees outside, 72 inside and cuddling will suck big time.

So, on to more important things.

First off, I guess that my laziness didn’t kill me this weekend. Even though my trachea got squished by my neck during Friday night’s tv marathon, I managed to find enough muscle to lift my head often enough to keep breathing.

There’s a small chance I may have suffered some brain damage though, I’ve been struggling to use big words correctly for two days. Like today I was commenting on another blogger’s site and I had to google if I needed to use the word nauseous or nauseated. I mean, really?!?!

If my brain was damaged by my stupidity I’m sure you’ll all know it pretty soon, I may only be able to string five words together at a time.

I need a long nap. I love Spam so much. I eat Twinkies in bed.

Actually, now that I think about it, life won’t be so bad if I can only string five words together. My basics are covered above!

Second, I went to Ikea this weekend.

And I spent $200.

On stupid stuff I didn’t really need totally needed.

And I’m not going to lie to you, I may or may not have purchased 15 boxes of the alphabet cookies they sell there….


Don’t judge me.

Damn those Swedes, their cookies are so yummy!

In my defense, 12 of those boxes are on their way to Florida to make a 3-year-old nephew very happy. They have no Ikea in their area and the little guy ate every single one of the cookies in my house while he was visiting.

I also purchased a changing table that looks like a platform on legs. It is going to save my back a lot of aching, because right now I have to use the floor mat the Navy provides and you just kneel and bend.

The changing table is great because I can use it for other things when the daycare is not here, I mean, it has 4 legs with two platforms. I even caught sight of it in one of the kitchens that Ikea had set up, they were using it as an island. I’ve started a list of how it can be used, just in case The Hubster thinks it was a useless purchase:

-espresso bar (we don’t actually drink espresso, but I think it will class up this house!)

-platform for Lola to stand on and greet people to their face as they walk in the door (Not sure how she’ll get up there, but we’re working on it)

-Twinkie stacker (you know, for those sale days when you have to go all out and buy every box)

-bookshelf (granted, I have few books since my Kindle was purchased, but I do have signed copies of Vengeance Bound and Promise of Shadows by Justina Ireland)

-I can convert it into a Chuppah (I’m not Jewish, but maybe I could rent it out to people who are Jewish and getting married)

-I can “plant” that grass that grows on any surface and use tiny scissors to keep it immaculate (I could even make designs to wow the mind)

-lemonade stand (who doesn’t need a few extra bucks?!?!)

-giraffe feeder (hello, I don’t want the giraffe to get a crick in the neck from eating off the ground)

I’ll leave you here to ponder the fact that I have giraffes in need of feeders.





My trachea got squished…

So last night the skin on my neck tried to choke me.

And it was very traumatic.

I guess I should start at the beginning…

I was on the couch and watching a riveting show on television. Sheldon Cooper was having a panic attack over Penny possibly getting him sick.

And all of a sudden I had a hard time breathing. So I lift my head up and I could breathe again. Then a few minutes later I would have a hard time breathing again.

And it hit me, my neck was actively trying to kill me. With each second I sat on the couch, my body slid further down and my head got heavier and then I would eventually have to look at the ceiling to breathe.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, why not just adjust and sit up straighter???

Well, if I had a good answer for that I wouldn’t have spent the entire night trying not to die.

daycare lazy

And now I know how those infants feel when they slowly slip down in your grip; like they are on the verge of dying under the weight of their own heads with neck fat pushing on their trachea. 


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