Why don’t you go….

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Today is one of those days where I want to peel my face off and go do something productive as someone else.

Anyone else feeling that way?! No? Okay, awkward silence.

I have dealt with the most inept people today who are incapable of seeing logic and fulfilling a simple request. I wish everyone was Amazon. Amazon rocks.

I could ask Amazon why the world is round and I bet they’d give me an explanation. I mean, it may not be scientifically accurate, but at least they wouldn’t tell me to go get fucked.

Thanks non-Amazon people, you all suck the big one today.

Moo

 

Constanza bought my stationary…

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Last night I was finishing up the last of my Christmas newsletters and began to sweat. As I lifted an envelope to my mouth I realized I was probably licking toxic glue. I ignored my paranoid side and kept sealing envelopes.

Ten minutes later, I was still sweating. Paranoia won out and I went to google the brand of envelopes I had bought this year. Just to make sure no one had reported signs of illness while sealing their envelopes.

Nothing.

I decided to take a break and, if I’m being honest, I considered the bottle of Elmer’s glue that Constanza told Susan to use. I decided to watch TV instead and pulled up my Seinfeld collection to randomly pick out an episode.

And I just so happened to pick The Invitations episode.

You know, the one where Susan died after licking toxic envelopes that George picked out?!!!

Yeah, I sealed all the remaining envelopes with a wet sponge and called it a night.

Cake eating is complicated…

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The other day I was talking to my friend on the phone when I used the phrase “You can’t have your cake and eat it too.”

She instantly wanted to know how anyone got to eat cake if you couldn’t have it and eat it. Apparently this expression has escaped her notice until now, or else no one has been able to answer it for her.

She knew exactly who could answer random questions about cake.

I told her you can eat cake you don’t have. Basically, you have to steal cake if you want to eat it. That way it’s not yours to have and you can eat it.

She immediately replied that she had to go, her husband was holding a cupcake.

My last bit of wisdom to her was to be stealthy. If you steal the cupcake and then he steals it back, he gets to eat it.

Twinkies

People say these are fake cake, so you can have them AND eat them without all the theft involved with real cake.

Better get working on those crunches….

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It has been quite the week with my Littles. Yesterday the Big Little mastered the art of walking. Well, by mastered I mean he stumbles around like a drunken sailor on a Friday night.

Which is perfect since we’re all Navy!

But today got even better. My Tiny Little learned how to sit up. For the past week or so she has managed to pull off the Playboy pose; side sitting with one arm holding the upper body off the ground. But picture a really chunky Little with double chins and no teeth.

Today Tiny Little managed to get all the way up, legs out in front and torso swaying above her lower body. She was so damn proud of herself that she grinned and laughed and then promptly fell back over.

Tiny takes a few minutes to get her strength back and then pushes herself into sitting position again. She grabs a toy and the decides to just use her arms to hold herself upright.

Twenty seconds go by and I’m watching the most painful looking position I’ve ever seen a Little contort into. She is now folded in half, both arms splayed out on either side of her legs and she’s yelling her guts out. I knew exactly what she was saying.

“Come on ab muscles!! You can DO this!!!”

Sadly, her ab muscles just couldn’t support all 18 pounds of chunky fat rolls. I know the feeling Little, want a Twinkie?!?

It’s like politics, but with Littles…

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Today, one of my Littles broke the walking barrier. The Big Little had previously taken steps and made attempts at walking from handhold to handhold, but today he achieved his life long dream.

He stood up from the floor using no support and walked across the house to get to me because I had food.

Dancing

Crawling is officially done! And the knees of his pants thank him.

Now, I’ve already warned him to take it easy on the weekends, he may get detained for being drunk. I mean, he tilts all crazy to one side and stumbles around like Vodka is coursing through his veins.

Lock everything down people, another Little is ready for the world!!!

The Tiny Little is a little less enthusiastic than I am about this walking achievement. The Big Little keeps tipping over and landing on her. I explained to Tiny that it is all her fault. She’s so darn chubby that it’s a nice cushion to the fall. Tiny Little wants him to crawl again.

Lola is even less enthusiastic than the Tiny Little about this walking. The Big Little uses Lola to catch himself while he’s walking. He took Lola down today so as punishment Lola has been knocking him over with her head all morning. Lola wants him to crawl again.

And now that I think about it, I’m not too thrilled about this walking either. He’s going to be impossible to corral when we go outside. He’s definitely going to go in the mud in the backyard. The Giant wants him to crawl again.

Oh my god. I wish he were crawling again. He hates getting his hands all dirty. It was perfect for keeping him on the patio and off the muddy yard.

Did it, motherfucker!

And there you have it…someone wins by screwing over the rest of the group.

 

 

Feed me a crescent….

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Today has been a hell of a Monday. The Littles are losing their minds in daycare and I am trying to get Christmas stuff done while they nap.

And it is not working.

So I went to my back up plan. Screw Christmas. You’ll get your presents and newsletters when they show up. I’m going to eat a can of Pillsbury crescent rolls and forget the world exists today.

That is all I have for today. Mostly because my fingers are starting to get slippery from the butter on the crescent rolls.

Lola just ate Jesus…

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Poor, tiny, baby Jesus sleeping in his manger. I bet he never saw it coming. That giant, wet, bulldog mouth with a tongue the size of a dinner plate…

Lola

Lola was sniffing out the new Christmas decorations and when she was done I noticed the baby Jesus was missing from his mother’s embrace. I walked over and realize it is gone. It’s not under the shelf, it’s not hiding behind the cow that the shepherd is watching over.

It’s just gone.

I look over at Lola and she has a completely panicked look on her face. It’s not her I’m in trouble and you’re going to yell at me face. No. It’s her oh my god I can’t breathe and I’m dying face.

I immediately know that baby Jesus is trying to kill my sweet, sweet little Lola. I get my hand in her mouth and I’m just praying I can fish this murderer out of her throat before she dies.

And I got it out.

I’ve never wanted to punch Jesus in the face as much as I did today. I held back though. Mostly out of respect…maybe a little bit out of fear of retaliation.

I’m going to go take a nap now so I can recover from the scare.

 

Every.single.year.

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It’s that time of year again. December. The time of the year where people start dropping dead from exhaustion and overeating. Also the time of the year when an above average amount people fall off their roofs and electrocute themselves.

And I was this close to being one of those fools for the first time in my life.

Luckily, my fat kid side won out.

I made my first ever wedding cake and it came out great. I had a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner that was timed perfectly and was still warm even when unexpected guests showed up after we had finished eating. And I had baked cookies.

Everyone loves cookies and I love baking so it was a win all around.

The next incident can only be blamed on the high I was feeling as I achieved Martha Stewart levels of homemaking. And the sugar in the cookies.

I decided to decorate the front of my house with Christmas lights and yard decorations. I have never, ever decorated the outside of my house for any occasion. Ever. A wreath on the door, sure, that’s easy. But nothing else. You can read why:

http://shank-you-very-much.com/2013/12/06/i-may-have-to-burn-the-house-down/

This year we are celebrating our third Christmas in WA and we have at least one more guaranteed. But realistically, we have three more. All in the same state! At this point, it wouldn’t be a waste of money to buy outdoor decorations, use them for 4 seasons and then leave them here with a friend when we move. I’d be getting my money’s worth.

So there I was at the store, looking at all the loot and loading a cart, when all of a sudden my fat kid self smelled a hot dog.

Someone was walking past me and eating their Costco hotdog and I realized I wasn’t prepared to decorate. I would rather be eating a hotdog.

hot dog

Delicious bastard

So as I sat and munched on my delicious puppy in a bun, I got to thinking. If I decorated the lawn and house I would just have to take it all down. But I’d be taking it all down after eating for an entire month. Cakes, prime ribs, cookies, cheesy potatoes, you name it and I’d be eating it in December.

Not to mention New Year’s Eve when I’d be stuffing my face with chinese food and watching the ball drop on TV.

And then BAM! Just like that the month would be over.

I walked out with zero decorations and the knowledge that every single year I end up with the same conclusions after spending an hour in the store staring at decorations.

 

 

 

My most viewed blog post…

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So today I was browsing around my stats and decided to share with you my most viewed blog post of all time. Enjoy the laugh! 

The day skinny jeans fought back…

and won.

So my medium-sized Little (who is about to turn 1) came into daycare this morning wearing the cutest little pink jeans you could ever imagine. I was totally in love with everything about them.

Until I had to change her diaper.

I get the Little lying down and I go to tug the jeans from her butt. Little goes flying, jeans are still in place. Well, shit. Figuratively and literally.

So I wrangle the Little back on to the diaper mat and prepare for an amphibious assault. I begin tugging the jeans with one hand while tugging the Little up with the other. It was quite a feat but we managed to slip the jeans down to her thighs.

And it did not get any better from there.

I now have to slide my chubby fingers into the pant leg between her chubby Little ankles and this impressively tight jean material that has absolutely no stretch in them like the adult version does!

Needless to say, as I tried to tug on the jeans the Little spent some time hanging upside down.

I finally get the jeans off and I have to take a moment to recuperate from the ordeal. The Little is winded and decides to kick her legs as fast as she can to get her blood flowing in her legs again.

And then it hits me in the face; how the fuck am I going to get these jeans back on the Little?!?! I decide to let that worry hang and I change her diaper.

The Little has blood flow back into her legs and just when she thinks she is free I pick up the jeans and smirk at her. This is going to be like wrestling a baby hippopotamus.

So I manage to get one foot in and immediately the material is stuck on her calf. Not to worry, we’ll just move along to foot number two. And there you go, we’re stuck on the calf again.

I am fighting the material to shimmy up her legs and the Little is making the worst faces in the world. One said “Ow, that’s my ankle chub, be careful.” This was swiftly followed by “Mother of God, my fat has feelings, Ms. Heather.”

At this point I am visibly sweating and the Little is bucking like a maniac trying to free herself of the shackles that her jeans have become. I decide to stand the Little up and just tug until we die.

So here we are face to face and as I slowly and painfully tug the material up, inch by fucking inch, the Little’s face is just going to town. Some of the best ones conveyed:

“Knees, just tug to the left, dammit!”

“Ow, ow, just….there, we’re past the knee.”

“Oh fuck, I’ve got two knees.”

“Holy mother of god, my thigh fat is bulging.”

“Push that bulge in, we should have this.”

“Well shit, where did that bulge come from?!?!”

“Tug…..tug…..TUG!”

“I knew I should’ve done some damn crunches last night.”

My ass cheek hurts so bad…no more Twinkies, EVER.”

“THEY ARE UP MOTHER FUCKER!!!!”

“[BEEP], [BEEP], [BEEP], THE [BEEPING] BUTTON!!!!!”

(Jeez, this kid’s got a foul fucking mouth…)

So I try to button the jeans and I get smacked flat in the face. The Little’s facial expressions once again convey it all. “What the FUCK, Ms. Heather?!! You are pinching the shit out of my belly!” Well then, guess I earned that smack. My apologies Little.

I lie the Little down and tell her to suck it in as I button and zipper her. As she sits up to scamper away, her belly bulges over the jeans and I realize it’s one diaper change down- 4 more to go.

Fuck it all.

*This was written with permission from the Little’s mommy and in no way did cursing happen by, at, or within hearing of any Littles. I did all that in the bathroom.

Long live the mac & cheese…

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The other day I was browsing around Costco; I’m a bit addicted. It was my third trip in 10 days. I love that they change their products all the time and keep me on my culinary A game by making me use crap I never would’ve looked at in another store since the Kraft box is sitting right on the shelf where it always waits for me to grab it. I mean, if you have macaroni and cheese, you have everything you need in life.

I know I’m not alone in my thinking…

But not in Costco, they move stuff all over and take stuff away all the time.

So there I was, wandering down the frozen section and I stumbled across a box of macaroni and cheese. I notice it says it’s from “Beechers at Pike’s Place Market” which happens to be right across the sound from me. So I start asking random people in the aisle, “what’s Beechers? Where is it? Do you know anything about this restaurant? Is it good?!”

The desperation was setting in. I hate buying disappointing mac & cheese, it makes me cranky. Finally a lady takes a look at the box and tells me that Beechers is a famous cheese maker in WA.

Cheese…maker…

I snatched that box out of the freezer so fast I almost took her head off.

Cheese maker. Enough said. You know that mac and cheese is going to be magnificent.

And it was.

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