I should have taken the picture…



I hit the print button on a document that was 18 pages long. The Littles were happily playing with toys and I thought I’d sneak in a bit of paperwork. Seconds after I hear the printer churning out pages, I hear shrieking from the Littles. I glance over a few feet and see the Big Little holding up his arms as he tries to catch the papers flying out of the printer.

I forgot to pull the little leg out that keeps them from falling.

I wish I could have gotten you a picture, for this was a priceless moment, but I had to help the Littles out before one of them got a paper cut. With my luck it would have been on their face and they would have screamed every time we had to wash up after a meal.

Fast forward to meal time, the Littles screamed at wash up time anyways.


We need new movie plots…


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So this weekend I watched The Boy Next Door in theaters. It was garbage. And I mean complete garbage. My friend took two phone calls during the movie and I tried not to bludgeon myself to death by making fun of the plot the whole time. Out loud. In a theater with other people.

The fact that those people never once shushed me just goes to show you how loathed that movie was by all.

***Stop reading here if you want to go watch this movie in theaters because I’m about to blow the roof off this building with a major spoiler.***

Not really. I’m sure you already know the spoiler. This movie’s plot is identical to the plot of Enough. Woman has insane man in life. Woman murders man without ever going to the police for assistance.

Movie OVER.

I will never be able to trust another J.Lo movie. Not that I thought this movie would be great but I sure as shit wasn’t expecting the same plot as Enough. And no Whoppers or Junior Mints could cover the sounds of J.Lo whimpering like a helpless lamb as a man threatened her.

Jenny from the Block would’ve shanked that dude.

And I would bet my Lola that if the roles were reversed and the man was the middle ager and a female was the high school student, we’d have seen a whole different plot.

Sorry men, guess you are the villains in any sexual encounter, in any movie, starring J.Lo.

Coming soon to a theater near you…


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Behind Daycare Gates.

One Little’s story of hardship, heartache and heroism.

My Tiny Little has learned how to crawl and can stand up while holding onto furniture. Standing being a very fluid word. Sometimes stand means “to fall slowly” and other times it means to “clutch very hard with your hands while your legs wobble like jello.” And my favorite definition of stand in regard to this particular Little, is when it means “to victoriously have both feet on the floor while holding a toy in the air and screaming with glee.”

Sadly, due to the first two definitions of stand, I have to protect the Tiny Little from herself. I gated off the daycare area so she can’t get onto the tile dining room floor, grab onto a chair, and fall over like a stiff board onto her brain.

She’s not thanking me one bit. It’s like she’s too young to understand that brain matter needs to be protected. So now every time I have to step over that gate to get something, she loses her mind completely. She stands at the gate and wages a fierce war with tears and boogers until I come back to her side.

One day she’s going to thank me, unfortunately by then I’ll be completely deaf from all the protesting.

When adults get cranky…


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So a lady goes to work one morning and when she returns home, her house has been bulldozed.

By her husband.

And everything was still inside.

He’s in jail and she’s homeless. Hopefully crafting something from the rubble to shank her husband with.

This is why quality childcare is so important!!! This shows what happens when you are never taught how to appropriately manage your frustrations in life. As a toddler this guy would have been the biter, the spitter, or the hitter in his daycare.

Sour Patch Kid

And as a professional in my field, I could have taught that kid how not to grow up to be a toddler in a big boy body.

Now that I’ve made my speech for the day, I’m going to go work with some nearly two-year-olds and try to teach them bulldozing a house is NOT an option without serious thought put into it.

And a bucket of money on standby for rebuilding.

I am Darth Vader….


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On Friday I was awakened at 0300 with a throat on fire and a burning in my soul that no water could quench. Fevers can really be the worst.

I had to cancel daycare for the day and the Littles had to stay home with their beloved parents, back up care was non-existent. Once you tell another Provider you’re not feeling well, you have sealed the nail in the coffin as far as backup care is concerned. No one is going to take a kid who may be carrying the Plague into their home.

I toyed with the idea that I had strep throat, though my doctor told me to wait until the next day and then see the urgent care clinic on Saturday if it wasn’t any better. I think she personally didn’t want to see me either, she was exposed to the lovely H1N1 flu last year thanks to myself and a Little who makes friends with too many people.

So began the long four-day weekend from hell. On Saturday the throat fire was gone and I foolishly thought I was over it. I slept all day, went out to the last showing of a movie, and then came home to sleep the sleep of the innocent.

HAHAHAHAHA. No, I didn’t. I woke up every two minutes so I could hack up my lungs and try to piece together if I was a chain smoker in a previous life.

I am now on day five of this and I can’t do anything. I cough, I gasp, I gurgle air into my lungs. Then I repeat. Luckily, the Littles love me and they are trying to keep me alive by playing nicely and not needing to be cuddled. And my lung rattle indicates I may be on my way to death.

If I borrowed anything from you without returning it, now would be the time to ask for it back. Lola said she’s keeping all my shit once I die.

This marks my 300th post…



Good god almighty! Are you people still with me?!?!?!

In honor of this auspicious occasion, let’s all enjoy a Twinkie. Or a chocolate covered Twinkie. Or a chocolate and bacon covered Twinkie.


Or any other Twinkie variation you concoct.

Now that I’m thinking on it though, if I have 11,800 viewers and they all eat one Twinkie to celebrate…..

PUT DOWN THE TWINKIES!!!!! Those are mine and the world is going to run out.


Sparky strikes again…


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Remember how a few months back I electrocuted myself by unplugging my computer and earned the nickname Sparky, thanks to the Hubster and his quick wit?

Today I was hanging out at the stove, cooking some lunch, and I decided I needed more light. I reach up to the above stove switch and flip it, only to see a huge spark of light with a loud pop noise. And tingling in my fingertips.

So smart little me steps back and looks around. All the kitchen appliances are out of power.

Fuck you, electricity. And fuck you, house. I’ve had enough of both of you.

I’m blaming this on the Hubster. Yesterday he purchased a new surge protector for the laundry room and he said he had to get the “better one” because Sparky would be operating the item.

He totally jinxed me.

Down for the count…


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What do you get when you combine a Monday with sleep deprivation, Littles from another daycare and a Tiny Little returning from a 4 week vacation?

Horror. Mixed with hell. And a touch of “I want my mommy” yelled out by the Littles and the Giant.

I’m calling this round. Giant 0 – Littles 1.

We’re going to regroup for tomorrow and hopefully like each other again.

Oh yeah, I also earned my nickname Sparky again. I’ll post about that tomorrow, but for now read up on how that nickname came to be http://wp.me/p3WghM-wm


The frightening asshole of my future…


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I love dinosaurs. Who doesn’t? They are cool to think about, them running all over the earth. I mean, cool because it’s not actually happening. Let’s face it, I don’t have a gun to bring down a T-Rex so I sure as hell don’t want a live one running around on the planet. But let’s switch the topic to the dinosaurs who still exist and scare me shitless.

Dinosaurs of the ocean, to be exact.

I was born and raised in Hawaii but I have an unhealthy fear of Jaws coming up to eat my ass. It started after boogie boarding with some friends and getting stuck while a hammerhead mommy and her baby were swimming around underneath me. I know, what’s so scary about a hammerhead you ask?!? Well, it’s got teeth and I didn’t want to find out how sharp they were. I was unfortunate enough to see the movie Jaws with a much older friend, and in my pea-sized child’s brain that hammerhead became a great white.

So there I am, scoping out the new Jurassic Park trailer (again!) and I realized I must not have seen the full one before. Either that or I missed the two second part that made me shrivel up inside.

Jurassic shark

What.the.fuck. I can’t, I just can’t. Even bathtubs are no longer safe. Sinks look scary now. Why? WHY, for god’s sake? Stupid movie producer. He’s an asshole. And he better not use the Jaws music or anything like it. I can’t handle that.

Now, in Jurassic Park 3 there was a dinosaur in the water. But he was a land dinosaur that was just standing and wading in a shallow river. Shallow compared to his height, that is. He never bothered me because I figured if he could swim all that well, he would have already migrated to other places to wreak his havoc. The fact that he stays on the tiny, tiny island he was born on proves he couldn’t swim.

But this. This is a whole new ball game. I am terrified and excited all at once. A giant dinosaur shark that could eat Jaws…

I’m going to go watch Jaws tonight to say goodbye to the frightening asshole of my childhood so that I can prepare to welcome the frightening asshole of my future.

That Fed Ex guy deserves a medal…


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I have terrorized the Fed Ex man so badly that all employees who deliver to my home are in fear for their lives.

It all started in 2012 when we moved to WA and I opened my infant home daycare. Everyone who knows an infant, knows that nap times are sacred events that must be honored by the adult actually shutting the fuck up enough so the baby may sleep. While my home is never completely silent, we do have certain sounds guaranteed to cause pandemonium for a sleeping baby.

Like the doorbell.

And guess who likes to deliver all their packages right in the middle of nap time?! Yep, those Fed Ex bastards. I posted a large sign with large font on my front door that says no ringing of the doorbell or loud knocking. Just drop it and leave. I mean, if that doorbell rings or Lola catches a shadow of the guy out of a curtained window, she’s going to make a hell of a racket.

The post office lady is amazing and obliges me.

Nope, not the Fed Ex guy. He drops it and rings the doorbell and then strolls off. Obviously, he doesn’t need my signature, he just walks away. So the third time this happened within two weeks, I lost my mind.

I ripped my front door open and spot the guy halfway back to his truck. I scream out “HEY!!! Do you know how to read?!?!!!!!!” And I point directly at the sign. The guy takes one look at my enraged face and runs, runs back to his truck.

He never rang that doorbell again.

This week we have a substitute driver and I learned this fact by the break in our package delivery routine. The new driver parked on the main road instead of pulling into my street, to which I paid no attention since I thought it must be a delivery for someone else. But he apparently snuck through my side yard, avoided all windows, and left the package on the side of the front door where he wouldn’t risk making the Lola bark like a maniac.

Had it not been for Amazon tracking telling me it had not been delivered, I would have never known to go check around the corner on my porch.

That Fed Ex guy is a goddamn ninja!! He deserves a medal. His big truck didn’t alert Lola to bark, he avoided every window in the house and stealthily left that package in a secure location where no one would steal it.

All without waking the Littles.



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