Archive for the 'Babymamadrama' Category

Today, perhaps even as you are reading this, I will be putting Girlfriend on the bus headed for kindergarten, trying desperately not to cry until it rolls away. I don’t know where I’m going to pull the strength from, but I have to find it so I don’t freak her out.

I have issues with the bus, Queefies.

I’m quite certain that somehow there is a black hole that exists between the bus and the classroom that sucks unsuspecting kindergartners in, never to be seen again and unlike some people, I actually want to see my kindergartner again.

There’s also a black hole in the ventilation system at the mall, you know. I never look up when I’m in a big mall because it reminds me to be scared that I’m going to be sucked into the vents and then POOF! Bye, bye, Crissy.

Shut up.

It could totally happen.

Maybe all those people you hear about on the news who go missing at the mall are alive somewhere in the ductwork over Banana Republic.

I don’t really think Girlfriend is going to get sucked into a black hole. Don’t worry. It just seems totally weird and really bad mommyish to just put my baby on a bus and not see her again until much later in the afternoon and just assume she’s fine.

Like, isn’t somebody going to call me to let me know how she’s doing?

Like, can’t I call the school to check on her?

Like, can’t I stand outside the classroom window and tap on the glass and wave “hi” to her?

No. I cannot. I don’t want to be that asshole even though I really, really want to be that asshole.

And so Homeslice, whom Girlfriend calls “The Little Bother,” and I, who she calls “Fuss About,” will walk her to her bus stop and put her on the bus. Hopefully, she will get on it without one of her diva style incidents she’s so famous for, and then we will go home and figure out what we’re going to do without her stealing toys and making messes all over the house. Perhaps we’ll even have time to write our blog and wouldn’t that be something?

Maybe I will find my sense of humor again now that I’m not spending my days refereeing fights, denying eleventy million requests for a “treat” and re-capping markers?

I’m trying to look at all the positives here.

I bought her a Good Luck bear necklace to wear today.  She’s wicked into Care Bears. When I give it to her I’m going to tell her that when she feels nervous or scared, just touch her necklace and Good Luck bear will surround her with luck.  She has a good imagination.  It might work.

And my sweet, wonderful friend Ms.Darkstar made her some special First Day of School perfume!  It’s in solid form, like lip balm, and she sent three scents–Blueberry, which is Girlfriend’s favorite, Honey Rose, which is my favorite, and an amazing Berry Peach.  You guys need to get some of this stuff because it’s not loaded with chemical crap and you’re not gonna get body rot from it. There’s seriously only like 5 ingredients and they’re all stuff I recognize, so I have no problem putting it on my kid.  She feels so grown up to have her very own perfume!  It’s really cute.

So yes.  If it’s about 9:00 when you’re reading this, say a little prayer for your Crissy that she can manage to hold the water works until Girlfriend gets on the bus.

And it’s a Toy with Me day today!  I’ll get you that link in a sec.

HERE IT IS:

Dating For Ugly People

Wake up at 5.
5:15: Suck down horrible tasting coffee before giving up 1/2 way through despite desperate need for caffination because it tastes that bad. It was like someone jerked off in my coffee. Fuck you, Dunkin Donuts.  FUCK. YOU.
5:58 have two minutes to put on work out clothes, brush teeth, and check email. Computer crashes. Skip email. Put on work out gear and get ready to do Brazil Butt Lift for toned,tight, and high bum bum guaranteed!
6:02: Pick up toys from work out area. Cannot find Brazil Butt Lift DVD.
6:07: Locate Brazil Butt Lift DVD, put into player, DVD does not work.
6:07.5: Chuck piece of shit Brazil Butt Lift DVD across the room.
6:09: Sit on the floor and cry.
6:15: Settle for Turbo Jam instead, begin workout.
6:30: Mister leaving for work, hands Homeslice over to me.
6:55: Have paused Turbo Jam approximately 7 times to pull Homeslice off couch, dining room chairs, kitchen chairs, and train table, wipe Girlfriend’s ass, get her a pre-breakfast snack, and find “cup.”
7:15: Head upstairs for shower. Drag Homeslice kicking and screaming into the bathroom with selection of toys which she ignores in favor of standing with both hands on shower doors while screaming.
7:30: Dry off, get dressed in mis matched skirt and tee shirt from giant pile of laundry still waiting to be put away since motherfucking Saturday, change Homeslice’s poopy diaper while she writhes, twists, screams, and kicks at my face with shit on her heel. Brush Girlfriend’s hair while she screams bloody murder and Homeslice climbs up my leg, also screaming.
7:45: Homeslice finds horrible coffee left on my nightstand and dumps it all down her dress, my comforter, my bedskirt, and the floor.
7:47: Change Homeslice’s dress, mop floor, strip bed.
7:49 Discover that while I was cleaning the coffee mess, Homeslice has opened a bag of cotton balls and shred them all over the place. There’s also one in her mouth.
7:55: Girlfriend, for some reason, has taken off all her clothes and gotten back into what is left of my bed. I now have to fight her to get her to put them back on.
7:57: While fighting with Girlfriend, Homeslice finds the 1/2 full beer Mister left on his nightstand and dumps it into a basket of library books.
8:00: Wipe down and fan out library books.
8:20: Prepare and serve breakfast. It actually goes okay.
9:30: Go back upstairs to gather laundry. Pick up basket, carry down to first landing. Back up stairs, carry Homeslice down to landing. Pick up basket, carry to next landing. Go back up, carry Homeslice, repeat three more times until laundry is finally at washer in basement
9:55: Clean cat box, find that he’s eaten a good length of satin ribbon, gather Mister’s dirty dishes and empty beer cans from basement, collect Girlfriend’s shoes, get laundry out of washer.
10:15: Repeat stairs procedure and head out to clothes line to hang clothes out. Pull Homeslice off deck stairs approximately 897 times, give or take. Stop her from eating chalk. Stop her from walking through Alice’s Meadow Muffin Mine Field.
10:50: Go out to the garden to pick 8 million cherry tomatoes. Put 8 million cherry tomatoes into large silver bowl, while stopping to pull one out of Homeslice’s mouth about every other tomato.
11:00: Homeslice trips and falls into the bowl of 8 million cherry tomatoes, spilling the entire thing and sending them rolling all over the garden.
11:30: Re-collect tomatoes with Girlfriend’s help. Bring tomatoes in to sink to wash, open under sink cabinet to throw away paper towel and bottle of cleaning solution tumbles out of cabinet, onto floor and spills everywhere. Cleaning solution not safe for hardwoods. Douse floor with water while keeping Homeslice at bay with foot. Fail miserably, must now bathe Homeslice to get cleaning solution off her hands and arms and legs after she splashed in it.
12:13: Blogging about my morning which has been pretty typical actually while Homeslice, after a busy morning attempting suicide, is asleep in her organic freeze dried bananas. Girlfriend is having croutons and pickles for lunch and I’m totally understanding why those moms in the 1950’s were shit faced by 1:00.

Shhhhh!

Lynne and I are going on a stakeout. We spent all day planning it yesterday.

This is what we’re wearing:

Except we got so excited planning it, we forgot why we were going on a stakeout. I doesn’t really matter though because just getting a chance to wear some pretty kick ass outfits is justification in and of itself as far as I’m concerned. And we can hide in the bushes and then, at that critical moment, we can jump out and shout “AH-HA!!!”

That’d be cool.

Also, we’ll bring snacks like Ring-Dings and Twinkies so we have them in case we get hungry because if you leave a stakeout to go do drive through you could miss the thing you’re staking out and then you’re fucked.

Maybe we’ll just pick some random person’s house and just go hide in their bushes. It would be a shame to waste our outfits and delicious snackfoods.

Let’s see…what else did I want to tell you guys?

Oh!

I’m trying to find a babysitter for Homeslice for one day a week and it’s harder than it seems, you guys.

Remember the scene from Mrs.Doubtfire where Daniel calls Miranda and does all the voices to scare the shit out of her?

That’s EXACTLY what it’s like!

They’re all either

Too religious: One lady gave me her entire religious history and then was just like, “oh, and I love children!” I can’t have her turning Homeslice into a CATHOLIC. “Ev-ry sperm is sa-cred, ev-ry sperm is great, if a sperm is wa-st-ed, God gets quite i-rate” is not my favorite nursery rhyme.  NEXT!

Too illiterate:  If you don’t know the diff. between your and you’re then ur not smart enough to take care of my kid.  Is it too much to ask for some basic literacy skills?  Yes.  Yes it is.

Too young and stupid:  Your profile pic should not be of you making SEXYFACE with your cleavage hanging out. Save that shit for MySpace, kay sweetie? I cannot stress this enough.  Also, see above re: your/you’re.

Too foreign:  You know how I feel about  foreign people, right? Too much yucky white guilt when I have to shout en espanol at my nanny. No GRACIAS!

So maybe I won’t be getting a NEW NANNY like Mrs. Fancypants after all.

I found the perfect lady on a babysitter finder website thingy.  She’s 58, has 10 grandchildren, has been foster mother to 14 kids and won Foster Mother of the Year in 2007. I want her! But she’s not getting back to me because obviously she’s also a cunt. I spent $30 to get her email address, the least she could do is tell me to fuck off so I can stop fantasizing about Mrs. Doubtfire babysitting my kid.

HOLY SHIT!

THAT’S WHO WE CAN STAKEOUT!

And we can jump out of the bushes at her and hold up Homeslice and shout “why don’t you want to take care of my baby??”

Wait.

I just remembered who we’re really staking out. We’re supposed to stakeout the Facilities Manager over at Schmuckytown Pubic. She’s got men coming and going all day long and we think she’s running a whorehouse out of the basement. She’s such the type, too.

Homeslice pretty much says “cup” for everything and so Mister thinks we should have taught her “smurf” because it can describe anything and it wouldn’t make people look around for cup when what she really wants is something else entirely. It happens a lot. It’s kind of a problem.  Especially when the closest cup contains vodka and you give it to her before you realize.

It only happened twice, SHUT UP SHE’S FINE.

At least with “smurf” it could mean anything and we can keep guessing until we get it right and perhaps not alcohol poison her.

Also, I’ve been trying to sell some baby crap forfuckingever and nobody wants it, so I posted this ad on Craigslist and the only people emailing me are people saying I’m funny and that they’re sorry they don’t want my crap. The least they could do is flag it for “Best Of” because if I can’t sell my baby crap, I could at least become famous on Craigslist. (That was a hint, people. Go forth and do.)

Aaaannnddd it’s a TOY WITH ME DAY! It’s about smurfy smurfs smurfing. Enjoy!

Why is love and sex for the disabled such a taboo subject?

I love these little talks we have because I always sort of assume that everyone had the same kind of childhood and we ALL had lunchboxes and we ALL brought lunch to school.

But some of us were “buyers” as we called it at our school, and ate the provided school lunch. I was always jealous of those kids because my lunchbox was full of crap like whole wheat bread and apples and milk. My mom has always been a vegetarian, and as such, she had no clue how to make any sandwich other than cheese or PB&J. I remember requesting a bologna sandwich like everyone else had, and she made it, but she put butter on it. And my mom doesn’t fuck around with butter. When she puts butter on something, she puts some motherfucking butter on it. Like, at least 1/4 inch or more.

Butter and bologna on whole wheat is an abomination. Everyone (except my mom) knows that bologna should be eaten on Wonder bread with trailer park mustard and a side of chips to be washed down with a coke.

Anything else is just stupid.

And in all my years of elementary school, nobody would trade a pack of Ring Dings or a bag of Doritos for a fucking pear. I was always totally stuck with my bullshit healthy lunch. I used to beg my mom to let me buy lunch when they had pizza or tater tots because those things were always kick ass and they came with a nice big spoonful of floppy salad dripping in oily Italian dressing. I loved the floppy salad and the pizza that looked like an old lady’s finger underneath the cheese.

I know I don’t have to say it, but tater tots are The Food of the Gods. I like them medium brown with mayo and a ton of salt because I’m a dirty girl. Slightly undercooked ones have to have ketchup though.

Everyone is totally craving tater tots right now, right?

Sorry.

But for all my complaints about the contents of my lunchbox, I have to thank my mom. Because of her, I have some good eating habits (and a raging butter addiction) and my lunchbox still has many of the same bullshit healthy things in it to this day. It’s a tradition of Torture by Whole Wheat I fully intend to pass down to my daughters. Also, packing lunches is a pain in the ass. It takes forever to pack a healthy lunch and so I have to say thanks for taking the time to do that, mommy!

When I do Girlfriend’s lunches, I’m not buying anything in a convenience package because we have to be green so we can be smug. I spent $26 on 3 little stainless steel lunch containers because I’m better than you. I also have pretty patterned cloth napkins I bought at Saver’s because I’m really, really better than you.

See?

Tradition of smugness.

But just so you don’t have to go kill yourself because your virtue pales so in comparison to mine, just know that right now, Homeslice is eating a box of Nerds that she got for herself out of the bag of candy Mister keeps by the bed for his midnight pothead munchie festivals and managed to open it by herself. I’m too busy blogging to stop her, so there. I’m not that much better than everyone. I let my kids eat Nerds for breakfast (it happened yesterday too).

It’s a TWM day!

I’m Not In The Mood For Sexy Time

This has been the longest week already and it’s only fucking Tuesday?  This seems impossible to me.  It should be Friday, shouldn’t it?  Thursday at least.

Anyone having anxiety problems and not sleeping?

I am.

Only last night it was thunder that woke me up.  It sounded like the house next door exploded (oh lord wouldn’t that be wonderful?) but it was only thunder and it scared the bejeezus out of me and I sat straight up, gasping, my heart pounding, and never went back to sleep.  I’ve been awake since 2:30 worrying about things that are going on in my life right now and periodically crying my guts out and waking Mister up.

I’m so much fun I can hardly stand to be around myself.

Part of the freakout is anxiety about kindergarten.  I’m freaking out because I’m letting my Girlfriend go out into the world where people can hurt her and I won’t be there to kill them.  What if some little fucker is mean to her?  There isn’t shit I can do.  What if she gets on the wrong bus?  Will she be lost forever?

Is it still cool in Kindergarten to wear a Care Bears shirt?

What about a Care Bears lunchbox, because that’s what I got her.  It has a rainbow handle and sparkles.  Is somebody gonna beat her up now?  When I was in first grade, Justin Lyons had a Star Wars lunchbox and it infuriated me.  I totally wanted to choke him for being such a dork.  I remember telling my grandfather about it, it was that big of a deal.

My lunchbox had Lassie on it which was much cooler, obviously.

I don’t want anyone to persecute Girlfriend for loving Care Bears,  I don’t.

And I’m signing her up for a yoga class and an acting class and do you think that will be too much for her?  Will yoga and playing pretend stress her out too much because that’s so not the point.

These and many other things are torturing your poor Crissy’s tired brain.

Plus, we’ve been to sooooo many parties that the past two weekends have been insanely busy with crap to go to and I haven’t had any head space at all.  I want to go hide under my bed because I’m not that social.  I’m really pretty shy and having to talk to people sends me right to the vodka.

Mister’s been trying to get me to take a Valium, but I’m scared of it because I’m probably the only person who can take a Valium and have a panic attack because I just took a Valium.

Psy-cho.

So yeah.  That’s all I’ve got for today, so I want you guys to tell me what was on your lunchboxes and if you got beat up for it.

I had a Holly Hobby, Lassie, Muppets, Strawberry Shortcake, Barbie and Smurfs.

Now you.

A while back, The Gonzo Mama, publisher of The Gonzo Parenting Zine and recent guest writer at Toy with Me asked me to review her book, Everything I Need to Know About Motherhood I Learned from Animal House.

It’s taken me ages to finally do it (sorry Gonzo Mama!) because I’ve got my own Animal House going on over here.  In fact, I’m typing this with one hand while trying to keep Homeslice from falling off the bed and Girlfriend from kicking her in the face.  My life is pretty much a living hell 90% of the time.  And to think I’ve been awake since 2:30 am worrying about the welfare of these little crotchfroots! GAH!

But I digress.

This Gonzo Mama is truly a nutter.  She has seven children.

Yeah,  SEVEN.

As in 7.

I would totally kill myself if I had 7 kids, but this lady is a saint.  One little boy is her biological child, four others belong to her second husband, and two are adopted nieces.

Clearly, this lady knows a little bit about motherhood and marriage, and with that many kids running around, she’s got some funny stories!

This is what is says on the back of the book that had me lol’ing:

Raising kids is like living in a frat house.  There are too many all-nighters, there is never enough coffee or Top Ramen, the toilets are never clean, it’s no surprise if someone is puking and you never know who is going to be in your bed when you wake up.

The book is a collection of fun and entertaining essays which I read while sitting on the bathroom floor waiting for the kids to finish their baths.  It would also make an, ahem, wonderful potty time book if you’re a potty time reader.  I’m not, but some people are (Mister totally read it on the potty).  Think of it as the Reader’s Digest of motherhood, if you will.

I think my favorite chapter is the one titled Divine Secrets of the Ma-Ma Sisterhood. What she describes there is spot-on, and it is exactly why Mommy Blogs exist.  You’ve gotta read it.

Go git yerself a copy and have some laughs, Queefies!

The other day I was exercising while the two Princesses of Fucking Everything enjoyed their dress ups and their play kitchen. It was sooooo cute watching them together until Girlfriend swiped the Hello Kitty purse Homeslice had been filling with toy cutlery right out of her hands.

Well!

Homeslice let out a bear-like growl, picked up a plastic toy knife, and shanked her sister!

Girlfriend will think twice before gankin’ her sister’s bag again, I can tell you that. I did nothing to intervene because Homeslice had the situation well in hand, clearly.

I’m probably a better mother than you because I firmly believe that children should try to settle conflicts themselves–even if bitches have to get cut.

She’s also been going out and gettin’ crunk and eating cake till 7pm.

She’s going to be the first 14 month-old in Juvee. We’re very proud, obviously.

For those of us who aren’t yippie-skipping off to BlogHer, here’s an Ask Girlfriend for you.  It’s arguably better than Vaginapalooza.  If you really want, I’ll mail you a laundry soap sample and a cheap vibrator and you can tell everyone you were there and you didn’t even have to spend $150,000 or put pants on.

Dear girlfriend, I have a new boss at work and he doesn’t like how much time we spend on the internet.  how can i get away with reading blogs all day without him noticing?

You should, when you hear his footsteps, you should do what you’re supposed to do. You should fool him. Look on the Internet until he comes in and then stop.

Dear Girlfriend,
My daughter is going to become a big sister for the first time soon, do you have any advice for a big sister to be?

Hmmm…Yes. Do you know what? You should not let the baby pull your hair or climb on the couch. My sister does that and yours will too. You should go everywhere to hide from her because she’s annoying. I’ve been through it and you’ll go through it soon and guess what? You should hide in the basement. And please, please, please find some quite time just for yourself.

Dear Girlfriend- I just had a baby 4 months ago and my husband (her daddy) wants another one already! I keep telling him I’m tired and I think we should wait a while, but he says no. What can I tell him to get him to change his mind?
Sincerely- Tired Mama

Tell him to go play the Wii. That’ll keep him busy.

Dear Girlfriend,
What do you do about a person who chews their gum too loud? Also what about farting?

Hold your nose and cover your ears. That’s what you should do. Or just go outside. It shouldn’t be a problem.

Girlfriend, I would like to stop being mistaken for a child. I am almost 27. How can I look more like a grown up?

Stand on your tippie toes and buy some Romper Stompers. Romper Stompers are big dinosaur feet. Your mom can show you how to use them. You should also get a gumball machine for your birthday.

i’ve got a really good question for her:

how can we make our five year old stop chattering and babbling and yelling all day long?

Give her some salad and take her to the mountains and bring Sassy water–basil, cucumbers, and lemon juice.

I really like to drink wine at the end of a busy day. But one glass turns into three so quickly and then the bottle is gone. Am I consuming too much, what does my liver think?

Mommy in love with Chardonnay

Yes. You drink waaaaayyyy too much. Stop drinking for a little bit. Try to drink some soda or lemonade instead.

Dear Girlfriend,

My son wears a leg brace that covers his entire left leg. His leg broke when he was just 6 months old and he will have to wear a brace until he is about 18 years old. I’m worried about him getting bullied at school or made fun of because of the brace he has to wear. He’s only three and in preschool. Do you think the kids will be nice to him? What are some things we can do to make sure he’s not bullied?

Sincerely,
Worried Mommy

You should bring an extra leg brace for the other kids to try on so they know what it feels like to be him. I think the kids will be nice to him. Also, bring soda.

Dear Girlfriend – Don’t you think Thomas and Toby have a little something going on the side?

Yes.

Please tell Girlfriend she gives excellent advice and that my long hair is just brown, not purple or red. But I may try purple extensions. Next question:

“Girlfriend, I am now scared that I might trip on my long hair and fall while I’m running. But if I stop running, I might get pudgy from lack of exercise. What other kind of exercise should I do?”

She should pretend to run.

I totally need to sell 5,000 copies of my new book so I won’t be a broke-ass
mama anymore and so people will like me (you know, like that lady who wrote
all the Twilight books? Stephanie Whatsherface?).

Have you ever sold anything? If so, how did you get people to buy it? I
mean, I don’t want to sell my panties on Craiglist or anything, because who
would do that? Right?

Sincerely,
Broke-ass Mama

Yes. I have sold nothing before.  Maybe you could have a yard sale in your house.

Dear Girlfriend,

I recently lost my job. I need to have a job so I can have money. But, I really like to make bath fizzies and having a job cuts into my time to make bath fizzies. I don’t make enough money selling bath fizzies to pay my bills. Should I stop spending time on bath fizzies and try to be happy working a real job? Or should I do what I love and be poor?

You rock!

Thank you,

The Bath Fizzie Lady

Um, you should do what you love and don’t be poor. Do not. Work and work and work at your bath fizzies and maybe you’ll be rich. I’ll buy some bath fizzies from you. I have some money in my piggy bank.

What do think is the best way to help mom or dad feel better when they are sick and not feeling well?

Give em’ get well cards and fold the laundry!

I have a young daughter. What kind of fun father things should I do with her? She likes Elmo. She hates Jack in the boxes, as I and the rest of Target discovered today.

Don’t buy a Jack in the Box! Get no Jack in the Boxes!

Remember how Lynne and I had an eecards fight about the gayness of Jazzercise vs tap class, and then she challenged me to a gay-off?

Well, I finally went to her Jazzercise class because Pole Dancing is over now, thank Jesus, and you know what?

It’s completely gay and I love it because gay is fun. I grapevined and chassed, arabesqued and some other stuff I forgot the name of, but it was fun and I may have caught a little bit of The Gay because I wanted to touch Lynne’s sweaty bum the whole time.

And after class, the teacher said I “looked great out there” and can I just tell you how good that felt? Because I got nary a word of encouragement from the pole dancing teacher, and I’m the kind of student who will bust her head open just for a “well done! Excellent head busting open!” because I’m a nerd like that.   When I don’t get my teacher approval, I’m a sad kitten.

(Do yourself a solid and never, ever search Google images for “sad kitten.” You’ll want to kill yourself. Twice.)

Anyway, during our last class, and this is totally my fault because I’m an asshole for moisturizing before class which is the #1 thing you DO NOT do before pole dancing class, she kept looking back and saying “after 6 weeks of class you SHOULD BE ABLE TO DO THIS!” and I wanted to shout ” But I CAN! I CAN DO IT!” but I didn’t.  I was too embarrassed to admit that I broke rule #1  and that I was just too slippery to do any of the moves.  Every time I tried to jump up and hold myself on the pole, I’d just go “ssssssswwwwwwwwwwwweeeee” right down.

That pole is ruined forever now.

It’s been Crissy’d.

It’s forever going to be known as “the bad pole” because I don’t think they’ll ever get the lotion off of it. I thought of switching poles, but I didn’t want to ruin all of them, so I chose to sort of stand there and look like a dink  and not get the teacher’s approval I so desperately wanted.

But then Jazzercise Lady gave me the thumbs up and I was happy.

So I’m going to take Jazzercise classes, I think.

I still want tap shoes so badly it hurts, you guys.

Tap shoes.

Swoon.

Lynne won’t go to tap class with me because she say’s it’s stupid.  Maybe I can go with Girlfriend.  She doesn’t think it’s stupid.

Oh wait.

Yes she does.

I don’t care what anybody says.  Tap is cool.  There were almost fisticuffs yesterday at work between Lynne and me because she just won’t admit that tap is completely awesome.

I fully intend to prove how wrong she is as soon as I find an adult beginner’s tap class which is very difficult to do for some reason.  It must be that the Awesomeness Of Tap is intimidating for some people.

PS: This week on the Toy with Mes I have a bunch of random news/wtf? products for you! Random Awesome Stuff in My Inbox

PSS: Starting tomorrow,  we will test out a little idea I had.  Girlfriend is going to have an advice column called “Ask Girlfriend” where you write to her with your non-drug/gambling/hooker problems, and she gives you her advice.  I don’t know if this will work or not, but we’ll give it a whirl.  I just need your questions or this bus ain’t goin’ nowhere.

crissy@crissyspage.com

So we bought this swingset for Homeslice and Girlfriend, right?

And it took us a long time to find just the right one for just the right price with just the right quality and we were very excited to show the picture to Girlfriend and what does she say, Queefies?

“It doesn’t have a lot of stuff to do.”

Um, excuse me?

There’s a playhouse with a fucking veranda, three swings, a rock wall,  a picnic table, a sandbox, and a slide.  It’s nicer than our house, really.

Maybe Mister and I will live out there instead because apparently, she wants Disney out in the yard and anything less is unacceptable.

Clearly,  Girlfriend is spoiled to death, so to toughen her up a bit, we’re not going to put mulch under the swingset/palace.  We’re gonna put rocks like we had when we were kids.  My swingset was made of metal and it had a couple of swings and some monkey bars and a trapeze and that was it. It was not made out of some nice non-splintery cedar with rounded edges.  There was no playhouse, picnic table, veranda, etc.,  and if we went too high on the swings, the back would come out of the ground and we spent entire afternoons trying to get the whole thing to flip over.  I think my brother actually did once.  I can’t remember.  And instead of this “playground grade mulch” we had rocks to land on and if you fell off the monkey bars because you were clowning around like a dumbass, you got fucking hurt and it was your own fault for being stupid and you learned not to be a dumbass anymore.

Kids today are soft.

And so we spent half a billionty monies on a swingset that we want more than Girlfriend does.  Homeslice is pretty excited about it, but she’s only just recently discovered how much fun a ball is, so you know.  She’s easily impressed at this point.

And it’s a Toy with Me day today!

Come find out why I’m wearing these ridiculous socks!  Surra de Bunda–Punched by an Ass