Friday, September 27, 2013

WTF Friday

1. I accidentally showed half my left boob and all of my right bra to a 87 year old flower delivery man yesterday. I was in the middle of feeding Dillyn and I was so shock that the door bell rang, AND that there was a man standing at the door holding a huge bouquet of flowers, that I threw the baby on the couch and raced to the door to see who my secret admirer was. (And by 'threw', I hope you know I laid her gently down on a pillow.) 

It was only when I got to the door I realized my shirt was still up.

What the F*ck IS IT with me and showing my tatas to random people lately!?!?

BTW, my secret admirer was my husband. Flowers for our 4 year anniversary! He's the best!

2. The other day there was an infestation of black birds in the backyard. I'm not sure if they decided to have a black bird conference and invited all of the black birds on the planet or what. But I was not happy. Cure to my problem: Send the BIRD DOG outside to get them! I'm a genius!

Well, I opened the door and the 'Bird Dog' looked at me like this:

Didn't even move. WTF.

Some bird dog he is.

3. Do you see at the right there -----> Where it says Running For Beer??? (you actually might have to scroll back up a little.) Ya, my goal this year was to do 100 miles. I'M AT 79 MILES!!! What the frick?!?!? How did that happen?! Especially when I've been pregnant all year!

Apparently I need to up my goals next year. 200 miles maybe????

That's it for me. I got a little girl that is all smiles and wants to play!

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Dillyn Overload.

Here's some pics of Baby Dillyn!

Two Weeks Old:

That's a poop smile because 2 seconds after this photo she pooped all over my backdrop. 

I know. The one of Wyatt and her is just precious! Quite possibly my fav ever.

One Month Old:

This one looks SOOO much like Ryan!

This is our kissy face. lol

I think someone is going to be a little camera model for me!

I know this is an overload of Dillyn pics, but you're just going to have to get use to it! lol

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Mommy tip #498: Always bring a poop bag.

So, last week I decided that 3 weeks spent making a significant dent in the same spot on the couch was enough 'recoop' time. I needed to get my ass outside otherwise I was probably going to be a permanant fixture attached to that couch. Like that breastmilk stain on the armrest or the ice cream glob that won't come out of the throw pillow. Both of which I had nothing to do with, btw. It was the dog.

Unfortunately, I had heard horror stories of women that went back to strenuous exercise too soon after giving birth and they broke bones or seriously injured themselves. THAT is something I definitely didn't need. But walking seemed harmless enough. And the Weather Gods have graced us, in our fine flat state, with some cooler fall temps, so it was settled....walking here we come.

And by 'we', I mean baby girl, puppy, and I. I mean, obviously I have to take the child....can't leave her alone for second or her milkshake calls all the boys to the yard.  (That was probably inappropriate. Oh well. Save me a drink in Hell.) Then, Wyatt looked so sad when I was hauling the exuberant amount of shit, that accompanies a small little humanoid, out to the car that I just HAD to take him too.

I may have sightly over-extended myself by taking both the baby AND the dog on our first walk at the park.
Just slightly.

After the excruciating long ass time it took to figure out how the damn stroller folded up (which I made a lot harder than it should have been) I loaded Dillyn in the car, then grabbed the diaper bag, made sure I had some water, threw apart my nightstand drawer looking for my ear buds, rummaged in the dog bag for his stupid leash, and finally loaded the dog in the back of the jeep. And we were off. Like the effing Griswolds.

Arriving at the park was uneventful....getting ready to actually start the walk, that's a whole other story. Do you know that it is physically impossible to hold onto a stroller and try to control your dog at the same time??? Well, it is. Trying to put the halter leash on Wyatt was like trying to put lipstick on a hippo. All the while, making sure the baby didn't roll away.

I finally got the dog wrangled, the kid locked in the stroller, grabbed the keys, phone, ear buds, water, diapers, wipes, binky, blanket, and the liter of tequila that I'm going to chug on the way to the padded cell. Off we went. In public. Lord help us.

The walk itself was surprisingly good. After the stroller rammed Wyatt's back legs 52 times when he crossed in front of its path, he finally got the gist of how this whole 'walking with the stroller thing' works. We took a leisurely jaunt around the city park, and I decided that half a mile just wasn't enough. So we headed into this nice little neighborhood across from the park. And when I say nice, I mean houses 3 times the size of mine, 4-car garages that probably hold Land Rovers, all nestled around a cozy private LAKE. Not a little pond with paddle boats, a freaking LAKE with ski boats. Ya, we're talking fireplaces on the decks and pretty manicured lawns taken care of by professional lawn peeps.

It's fine. I'll fit right in. In my throw-up stained sweatpants and college beer drinking shirt. It's cool.

Actually, I figured I was safe because it was 10am in the morning, on a Tuesday....I mean, these people gotta work right?

On every damn corner there was a family playing in their yard or someone driving by or someone getting their mail. Jesus H Christ.

As if my rats nest hair and stained clothes weren't bad enough, we're about half way through the neighborhood, and it happens.....Wyatt takes the most horrendous dumb right on someone's perfectly green grass.
I die. I die.

Thank the Lords of the Baking Soda Scent Control Diaper Poop Bags (Jess, I love you long time for those!) I remembered to bring one just in case Dillyn dropped a load and I had no where to throw away the diaper. Seriously, having that kid just saved my life. I never remember dog poop bags. Ever. And the one time I bring one FOR A BABY, the damn dog poops the biggest, stinkiest poop of his life.

So there I am, trying to hold the stroller and the dog and pick up his load without adding my breakfast to the pretty lawn too. Obviously, I'm not Wonder Woman, something was going to have to give. And I knew the dog wouldn't sit still, so I put the brake on the stroller, re-gripped the leash a little tighter and tried to bend over to grab the poo. But wait, out of the corner of my eye I see the stroller rolling away down the street, I scream obscenities, went to run after it, get wrapped up in the leash, the dog wants to go the other direction, damn near face plant the concrete, but I finally wrestle him toward the stroller, get it stopped, back everyone up, and again MAKE SURE I put the brake on correctly this time as I try Poop Pick Up #2.

All the while, I look around to make sure I don't have an audience, and sure enough, a mother and three kids are staring straight at me with this horrified look on their face.

Mother of the Year, right here.

I grab the poo, the dog, and the kid and speed off (as best you can with a kid and a canine).

I'm pretty sure this ranks up there with the Boob Out At The Vet's Office day.

Embarrassment Level: Grand Champion

But I can still smile, because at least everyone is still alive.

Saturday, September 21, 2013

I'm back! And sleep is so overrated.

Hellllooooo my love puppies!!!!!

Oh how I've missed thee!

Have you missed me?!

Of course you have. I'm badass. We all know this.

Well, lets see.....what have I been up to.......oh you know, lovin' on this little cupcake:

Ok, well, she's about 2 weeks old in this picture, and now she's about 5 weeks, so she's changed a little, but I just love that pic.

Mommy life has been grand. Well, except for the waking up at 4:30am part. You know how everyone always says that you never get any sleep??? Well, I'm calling bullshit. You get sleep. You just don't get GOOD sleep. Like those days where you blissfully fall into a deep slumber and slowly wake to pretty birds chirping and the sunlight gracefully peaking through your windows????

Yup. F*ck that shit. I'm never going to get that ever again. EVER. AGAIN.

It's more like this: it's 9pm and you're already exhausted from the day, you've got a mini-me sucking so hard on your nipples that you winch with pain every few minutes, all while you have to pee like a race horse, but can't do anything about it because you're in the middle of a feeding. Then your beautiful mini-me decides to have the longest feeding session ever, ending with refusing to fall asleep afterwords. So you're standing in the living room, slowly rocking your lovey bug back and forth, your back aching and your knees weak (and your bladder bursting). Then, by the grace of the Slumber Gods, she finally falls asleep and you gently put her in her crib (selling your soul to Satan to make her STAY asleep).

It's 10pm and you literally face plant your mattress, so thankful that you can finally get some rest. But then your F*CKING mind won't shut off. You think about diaper sales, and if you remembered to put Buttpaste on your grocery list, or if you even started the damn grocery list. Then cursing life because you realize you have to go to the grocery store tomorrow and that requires you to change out of your 3 day old stinky PJs and actually comb your hair rather than shove the rats nest in a pony.

Finally, you fall asleep. But gone are the days of dreaming about Ryan Reynolds fanning you with one of those large feather fans on the beach while Adam Levine serves you frosty adult beverages...nekkid. Nope, no more of those precious dreams. Now you can't even get into a good REM sleep because at the slightest whimper from your mini-me you're damn near wide awake because you think she might be choking or spitting up or might have a dirty butt or might need another feeding.

Then all the sudden it's 4:30am and you must have finally passed out because you hear crying and your eye lids are so heavy and hard to open, and your mind refuses to believe that it's your child. You think that you've entered into some other reality where other peoples children are in your bedroom crying and you're waiting for them to get up to make the crying stop. Because, obviously, the lack of sleep have made these psycho thoughts possible.

You finally realize it's your child crying and she wants food. Now. Not in like 10 minutes, so you can fully be awake, but like, if you don't get your boob out for my milking pleasure right this instant I will scream so loud the people in the next county will wake up.

You stumble in the dark to pick her up and try not to slam her head into the door jam as you make your way to the changing table, because it's with absolute certainty that she's at some point in the night dropped the most awesome load in her diaper and you will have to clean her butt. You're half asleep changing the diaper and you've got poo on your hands. Life has just stepped up a notch.

Once that's complete (and you've washed your hands like a surgeon) you proceed with the feeding and the amazing nipple pain...again. This lasts a stellar 30 minutes and you finally lay her down at 5am. But now you have to pump. Ohhhhh the joy of pumping at every possible minute so that at some point in the future, you can get shit face drunk (because lets face it, you totally deserve that) and you'll need sober milk in order for that dream to come true.

5:30am has now rolled around. You know you should just stay up because, really, what's the point of trying to get back to sleep. But the bed looks so comfy and you're so exhausted you've started to hallucinate that you just might be able to get another 3 hours of good sleep. So you face plant the mattress again, and you're juuuusssstttttt about to fall asleep when baby girl starts to make squeaky and grunting noises.

Shitballs. She's awake.

But she's happy, so you try to ignore the noises and fall asleep. You've just about got there and when those 'happy' noises turn into cries of agony because she's hungry again.

It's now 7:00am.

You want to shank a bitch because you know you're not getting back to sleep. Until probably midnight that night.

So that's my life.

How's yours going????

Oh, and I may be exaggerating just a smidge here. 

PSS: Look for 1 month photos this week too!