Once you have kids your life gets totally fucked up. Remember when you and your significant other would go to dinner and a movie? Or go downtown and listen to live music while drinking with friends? Yeah. Date night. It could have been seven nights a week. You didn’t have to work around anyone else and it was just the two of you.
Don’t get me wrong (or do, whatever). I love Avery more than I can put into words but it sucks gorilla balls when I have to plan a month or so ahead to have my mom watch Avery overnight so that Jacob and I can have some alone time.
And since I’m writing this clearly we are on date night RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND! And I’m spending it BLOGGING!
After we dropped Avery off at my mom’s we made a trip to Walmart (the romance capitol of north Texas) and purchased shelves and beer. Then we cleaned the garage and assembled the shelves so that we could organize our shit in the garage instead of piling it in the corners. Which is what we were doing. Our garage has just enough room for our two cars. It’s ridiculously small.
ANYWAY, once that task was mostly completed Jacob and I played Lego Harry Potter on the XBox (I’m better at this game than he is and I can tell that it annoys him).
We kept drinking and while Jacob got sufficiently buzzed I felt nothing. Well, that isn’t true. I feel bloated.
AWESOME! SEXY TIME!
So date night once you have kids is not the same pre-children. Our other child-free evenings have featured trips to the grocery store, painting the bathrooms and working on our budget.
Do I wish that we could get away for the weekend? Fuck yeah I do. But unfortunately we can’t even afford to go down the street. Our dates aren’t fancy because we can’t afford for them to be. I would love to sound like a sappy bastard and tell you that as long as we’re spending time together that’s all that matters. I DO believe this sentiment but dammit, it’s nice to actually go somewhere and do something.
But hey, as long as I don’t have to change diapers and deal with tantrums for a night I’ll take what I can get.
I miss my swoopy bangs.
Now. (well, not RIGHT now. Like a few days ago.)
Then. (Okay, this is a goofy photo. Whatever.)
That is all.
I am going to keep this short(ish) because there are much more eloquent posts written by other people about the same topic.
Today an article was posted on the Marie Claire website about the television show Mike & Molly on CBS. I have never seen it but here’s the gist: It’s a show about two overweight people who start dating and all of the formulaic sitcom hilarity that ensues. Each episode is probably laden with fat jokes because isn’t that what overweight people do? Yeah. We spend all day cracking jokes about our rotund stomachs and second helpings of pie.
Actually? Fuck you. No we don’t.
Anyway, the article in MC was basically the writer’s (can we even call her that? Okay, the BAD writer’s) opinion on how she didn’t like seeing fat people make out on TV. Or in a restaurant. In fact, fat people’s MERE EXISTENCE bothers her.
Are you fucking serious?
It appears that overweight people are the last group of people that we as a society are allowed to say negative things about without serious recourse. If you read the article (Google it. I’m not linking it here) and replace “fat” with “black,” “gay” or “Muslim” you will be appalled so why is it okay for her to dribble on for 500 words about her disgust of fat people?
If you were a fat kid you know how painful it is to be teased. I was made fun of every single day until I got to high school. Yeah, I was (am) fat but that didn’t make me inhuman.
Are we allowed to make fun of overweight people because they allegedly CHOOSE to be fat? A person isn’t born fat, right? Sure, maybe not. But it’s still a FUCKING HUMAN BEING and no one deserves to be treated badly or made to feel disgusting by his or her appearance. If you don’t want to see two fat people kissing then maybe you should just fucking disappear off the face of the earth.
Have you noticed a little change at the bottom of each post?
Yeah, those are called Google ads.
I know that they can be annoying but we need money so if something looks interesting feel free to click on the link or graphic. Or don’t. I can’t tell you to do it so I won’t.
Also, I am aware that there are formula ads and I’m trying to filter those so if you see one just know that I’m working on getting them off my blog. Don’t fret.
I will also be adding some new widgets and shit to make my blog posts easier to share.
Basically my goal is to start making some money from my blog. I will probably do some sponsored content every now and again but it won’t suck like some of the blogs out there who just copy corporate rhetoric and don’t bother to be even slightly original. That’s not how I roll.
So thanks for putting up with the changes and if you know if anyone who needs a copy writer or blog design (Blogger only!) send them my way.
Baking is stupid. Sometimes I claim to enjoy it but that’s only if I’m drinking wine while operating the mixer. It isn’t fun or relaxing. It isn’t an outlet for my creativity. You know what my creative outlet is? Writing while drunk.
Hey, you asked.
However, even though I dislike baking and the culinary arts when the holidays roll around I feel obligated to tie on my apron and attempt to bake some shit that will at least taste tolerable.
I recently found a very easy vegan sugar cookie recipe (which I will share later this week unless I forget which is likely unless I get a craving for more cookies and then I’ll remember that I promised to post on the blog) and have been making a batch every weekend. Every time I make the cookies it gets better. Sort of. One of the batches didn’t turn out AT ALL. I was out of Earth Balance margarine so I substituted apple sauce that I MADE MYSELF. In some recipes you can do this particular swap but sugar cookies is not one of those recipes. So one batch was a total failure but the rest?
Delicious town, population: ME.
And look, aren’t they cute?
Okay, the icing job is a little sloppy but I don’t exactly have the tools to paint perfect little jack o’lantern faces on cookies that won’t be around long enough to be appreciated. All I can say is that they fucking taste amazing and I totally ate three of them while writing this post.
I received an email from the office of our subdivision’s HOA today and it had some fantastic pieces of news in it and I couldn’t wait to share them with you:
1. A couple of guys broke into a home through the back door and took stuff while the family wasn’t home. The neighbors thought that the burglars were movers since the house is for sale.
What the fuck? Why would you have people moving your shit when you weren’t home? And I doubt they had a moving fan. It was probably someone’s grandmother’s Chevy Celebrity with the custom rims. Look, I’m not saying that your neighbors are responsible for detecting break-ins but COME THE FUCK ON. Obviously a neighbor spoke up after the fact admitting that the guys looked like movers.
Does this freak me out? Fuck yeah it does. I’m going to talk to Jacob about getting a security system installed. We were going to do it when we first moved in but flaked on it and decided that our neighborhood was a safe place. NOT ANYMORE.
2. Apparently there is a bobcat roaming around our neighborhood. So um, don’t let your infant or small dog or cat out of the house.
Bobcats are afraid of humans. At least, they’re afraid of adults. Since Avery doesn’t go outside alone this isn’t a problem. I do let her play in the backyard while I’m in the kitchen since I can see the entire yard from inside the kitchen. Can bobcats jump over eight foot tall fences?
Maybe it will eat my neighbor’s fucking annoying dogs. Yeah, that sounds mean. It is. But Ohemgee they are barky.
3. A yellow lab puppy is hiding under someone’s truck in their driveway and won’t move. The owner of the truck requested that the owner of the puppy claim the dog.
Maybe the bobcat will get it.
I didn’t have any gloves so when I dyed my hair tonight I decided to be a complete fucking moron and use my hands. I tried a new brand and it was very concentrated. So much so that it WILL NOT COME OFF OF MY HANDS.
I have tried rubbing alcohol, vinegar, nail polish remover, baking soda, dish soap and shampoo and nothing has worked. My hands are raw. My skin HURTS. I can’t imagine using bleach or any harsh cleaner (which I don’t happen to have since we’re a green family) on my hands in their chapped state.
Someone on Twitter suggested that I pick up some industrial hand cleaner from the hardware store. I think that I may have to try it because I can’t have pink hands. I mean, I can. But I don’t fucking wanna.
I have been thinking of a way to start this post with a joke or anecdote but I can’t come up with anything that sums it up quite like the following:
I HAVE BABY FEVER.
Like I am burning up and need a cool bath and plenty of fluids and rest. Even after Avery’s week of terror (which we are still recovering from) the urge didn’t fade. I was focused on my kiddo and getting her better but when she would fall asleep on my shoulder I would melt into a puddle. It made me remember how rad she was as a newborn. Avery slept A LOT. She would nurse and fall asleep and I just held her all. day. long. And I loved it. Sure, there are ass-shaped dents in my sofa and during the first few months of her life I spent way too much time on the internet but it was obviously worth it.
And now I want another bebeh. Avery isn’t jealous when I hold other babies and for being an only child who doesn’t attend day care she is very social. She shares her food and her toys. She is affectionate and friendly. Basically she is PERFECT IN EVERY WAY and I want to make another one just like her! It’ll happen!
Jacob and I have talked about this (a lot, in fact) and we are going to start trying for our second spawn around Avery’s second birthday (end of March). We figure that having our kiddos three years apart is best for our family. By then Avery will be potty trained (or else!) and she will almost be ready for preschool so I can devote my undivided attention to the little one while Ave is in school.
Sounds like a killer plan, right? Fuck yeah it does! BABIES! FOR! LAUREN! NOM!
Here’s the problem: I’m a fatty. I need to lose about sixty pounds in order to no longer be considered obese (I fucking hate that word! Hate it!) and I MUST do this before trying to have another baby. I want a healthy pregnancy and a natural birth. I don’t want to get pre-eclampsia again. I want to feel good and look good.
So I have the motivation but the will power? Notsomuch.
I am a late night snacker. Actually, I think I fall into the binging category most nights. And yes, vegans can be overweight. Hello CARBS! I drink soda more than water and I don’t drink diet pop. I’m a Pepper, goddammit. Some days all I want to eat is pizza (and yes, I’ve even had it with dairy cheese lately. That’s how out of control my diet is right now). I feel like a blob and that doesn’t do much for my self esteem. It’s hard to want to make a baby when you don’t want to be naked. I know that my husband loves me and finds me sexy but I feel like shit so all of the compliments in the world aren’t going to change that.
I need to get my diet back on track. I need to exercise. We have started walking again and will make it a habit again. It’s good to walk every evening after dinner. Unless, of course, you eat something that doesn’t sit well with you and you have to run back to the house while clenching your ass cheeks so you don’t have diarrhea in your neighbor’s yard. Not that that’s ever happened to me before.
So there you have it. That’s my plan and now I’ve shared it with the world. It’s a long post but it’s not like most of you read the entire thing anyway. I can do it and I will do it because I HAVE to do it.
But in the meantime can I hold your teeny baby?
Yesterday Jacob, Avery and I went to the mall because I was fucking bored out of my mind and apparently I like dragging my husband out of the house against his will. He would much rather sit on the couch all weekend watching shitty action movies while I bring him food.
Yeah, I know what I married into but he wasn’t always like this!
But that isn’t the point of the post.
We parked by the entrance that is next to the kiddie play area so that Avery could play for a bit. We walk into the mall and HOLY SHIT there were tween and teen girls everywhere. Hundreds of them. And they were loud. There was a stage set up and the backdrop said in huge print “Vampire Diaries.”
Oh god. What the hell did we just walk into and how do we get out? There wasn’t anyone on stage but the girls were facing the stage whilst salivating. We quickly walked past the mob and took the elevator upstairs. I figured that we could just swing by Hot Topic so I can look at their ear plugs; I was hoping to find some sparkly acrylic ones. We turned the corner and there was a line coming out of the Hot Topic that looped around the walkway. We guessed by the huge poster in the window of the HT that the cast of the show Vampire Diaries was in there doing some type of meet ‘n greet. Isn’t that cute.
I have never seen the show so I couldn’t care less about the celebrities that for some reason were in FRISCO TEXAS instead of Dallas. All I knew is that I had to get out of there. The swarms of people and the chaos was making me ill.
I was pissed off that we drove all of the way to the mall only to leave a few minutes later. I was fucking bored and wanted to get out of the house and this is what happened. Now I’ll never be able to talk my husband into going anywhere with me. He already has an aversion to the mall. Or going anywhere that isn’t an electronics store.
After the mall fiasco we went to dinner at a chain Tex Mex restaurant and the dish I ordered didn’t list ‘cheese’ as an ingredient but there was totally cheese in it.
Our outing was a failure.
In fact, our entire weekend fucking sucked. If I could go back in time I wouldn’t because then I’d have to relive it and that would be my own personal hell.