I’m standing behind the desk at work doing lunges and squats due to Jessica Simpson’s most recent IG post. Seriously, if you need any motivation, look at it. You’ll die.


I’m also doing some tai chi moves with my arms. “Working”.



On Monday the following things all happened.

– #1 came down with a dry cough & fever rendering her unfit for preschool

– My fridge crapped out leaving me to surrender a full line of newly purchased Costco portions of dairy products.

– I am now stalking a refrigerator repair man named Jorge who has yet to call me back.

– My cleaning lady called in sick.

Obviously the most important aspect of this list is the cleaning lady. She is my everything. I would give up my phone, cable, internet, and go into collections with the PUD to keep her employed. It is very ‘un-Real Housewifely’ to clean your own house. Plus, I hate cleaning.

My ineptitude for all things domestic was not cultivated, it is a born in trait. Therefore, it is in my DNA to pay someone to do that for me. I still have to put forth a meager effort at cooking and I do all the laundry. It has been since I was a small child that I have been cultivating ways to get out of cleaning/housework. Here are a couple examples…

– Thanksgiving 1999- my mother sent me to clean something with a spray bottle full of some chemical and an old sock. Either i got confused or side tracked because I sprayed down the TV in order to ‘dust’ it. Rendering it useless on a day supposed to be dedicated to eating and watching football.

– Thanksgiving 1995-1998- I peeled 20 lbs of potatoes only to shove all the peels down the garbage disposal. This took a number of years before I was relived of my duties. Still very worth it. (Btw, if you don’t know what happens when you put peelings down a garbage disposal… you should go try it.)

– Spring 2000- My mom gave me the vacuum and I was to use it in my room. This was not  new request so I had a great system in place. Turn on said vacuum, lie on the bed and read. This was the only time I was caught. Vacuuming became a spectator sport after that.

Now I’m an adult and no one can make me do any of this anymore. It was one of my favorite things about adulthood. Until my college roommate came up with a bathroom cleaning schedule…

But none of this mattered on Monday when she called in sick and I was left with 2 bathrooms that were possibly harboring the plague and a kitchen floor covered in kid litter because I had been putting of sweeping because the cleaning lady was coming! Fantastic.

My girls were actually playing rather well so I took a bottle of those Lysol wipes into one of the bathrooms and proceeded to wipe things down. Including the toilet and the floor.

I was about done when I notice #1 standing in the door, staring at me.

“Mom, what are you doing?” When she asks me questions, I often feel like I’m the subject of a science experiment and she’s collecting the data.

“I’m cleaning the bathroom.” I try to sound causal.

“Wow! I’ve never seen you do that before! Can I help?” She sounds excited. Where the heck did this kid come from…

She is going to wish she hadn’t said that.

Then I realize, my girls will think that cleaning occurs by a magic woman who comes once a week while we go play at the park. At least, I will be able to relate when they call me from college and complain about their roommate asking them to clean the bathroom.


If only this is what I looked like…



When I was a kid, I couldn’t wait for Christmas. It was truly the most wonderful time of the year. I could count on roller blades, a new saddle, or a pair of Abercrombie jeans. It truly was the most wonderful time of year. This year, I bought myself a waffle maker at Macy’s.

I wanted to get my shopping done early. So one wintery day, I let my kids dress themselves and braved a trek to the mall. After a 40 minute drive, insanity ensued. #1 scaled the vinyl fence the moment she saw him. #2 was already hysterical so she just continued being just that. #1 was on Santa’s lap within 2 seconds of knocking down the fence surrounding his ‘Winter Wonderland‘. Talking a mile a minute.

I have recently been trying something new. Not freaking out about things, so I decide to go with the impromptu Santa visit and get their picture taken. That way I won’t have to repeat this trip if I don’t need to. I ask Santa how he feels about screaming children. He tells me to just back her in slowly, keeping eye contact. Like she’s a wild animal. She kind of is a wild animal…

So we get a screaming Santa photo but I’m ok with that. I did not put any thought into my next question. “So, #1 what did you ask Santa for?”. Her answer makes me realize I have passed from being the parent of babies to the parent of an actual child.

“A Disney Princess Jeep.”

Oh, F. I immediately know I’m screwed. How am I going to talk her out of this one? My house is the size of one of those Barbie Glampers and even if we could find a place to put it, how is she going to use it the snow that Leavenworth gets??

Later that night I am reflecting on what I asked Santa for as a kid. Was there anything I didn’t get? I have some recollection of asking for a Nintendo for several years before actually getting one. So I ask my parents, thinking Ill get some support on the fact that a Disney Princess Jeep is well outside the realm of possibilities right now.

You know what they say… you can wish in one hand and crap in the other, only one will fill up first.

I am told that my parents employed the idea that if a kid as been good, they can have whatever they want for Christmas. So I’d better get going on a jeep. Awesome.

A couple of weeks go by, I’ve collected some other opinions and I feel like I have a pretty solid plan of attack…

Me to #1: “So, what do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas this year?”

#1: “I already told him (4 year old eye rolling), a Disney Princess Jeep.”

Me: “Ok, so heres what happened sweetie, the elves at the north pole got too excited one night and wreaked all the jeeps doing donuts in the snow. Now they can’t get the parts to fix them until April. So Santa told me to tell you, he’d bring you one then.”

#1 looks at me like I’m an idiot.

#1: “Don’t tell me stuff thats not true, Mom.” End of discussion.

I do what any good mother would do when faced with a difficult decision. I told the hubs he had to talk to her. So he goes in right before she goes to sleep and all I can here coming from her room is the word “Dinosaur” being yelled loudly. Evidently, when her father presented her with the bad news from the North Pole she said she wanted a dinosaur instead. A live one. Score is #1-1 parents of #1-0.

The next day, I am out finishing my christmas shopping, once again not paying attention, when I hear her…

“See mom, I told you they all weren’t broken. Theres one right here.”

I am officially backed into a corner. This is a moment of truth for my parenting skills.

So I let her push the cart (containing #2) to the front and I drag the box filled with a Barbie Jeep to the check out aisle. The great patrons of a giant retailer are staring. When I do questionable things, I always feel like a crowd of on lookers is necessary. Its a struggle of epic proportions but I tell her that Santa wanted me to pick one up for her if I saw it. This is without a doubt one of the largest mom fails I’ve had.

We get it home. I wrestle it out of the back of my car and set it in the garage.

“Mom, I didn’t want a Barbie one. I wanted a Princess one.” I ignore her. Simply because I don’t know what else to do. Being a mother is hard.

So I spend 3 hours on Christmas Eve putting it together. Which include soaking what are called “traction bands” in hot water for 30 minutes to even have a chance of fitting them over the plastic tires. I am skeptical of its size but its together, in the house, and ready for morning.

#1 wakes up and sees it. Drives it back and forth across the living room for 10 minutes and it becomes painfully obvious she is much too large for this model. The front wheels can’t get any traction because they barely touch the ground, with the back weighted down it is difficult. It looks like #1 is continually trying to pop a wheelie.

So the Jeep is currently on craigslist and I am currently out of ideas.

May your days be MERRY & BRIGHT

Tip of the Day

First, I have found this bad ass website called It also has a baby section and a women’s section (it also has a scrapbooking section but lets face it, that doesn’t hold my attention). I have been scoring some major Christmas steals on this site. It sells one thing for 12 hours then changes. It updates at 8 am and 8 pm, I get super excited to check to see what is there. If you have kids, a baby, or a body you should check it out.

Second, I was watching Courtney Loves Dallas last night. My favorite line…

“There is nothing worse than being hung over, except being hungover with a baby.” (And Courtney doesn’t even have a baby)

True dat.

Lastly, here is a few tips I picked up yesterday while having an impromptu photo shoot with Santa at the mall.

1- Don’t let your kids dress themselves.

2- Don’t have any preconceived notions that they will behave or smile.

3- Don’t believe that just because he is working Santa is not hitting the JD bottle.


An Open Letter to the Chick Buying Out Safeway of Plum’s Peaches…


You are ruining my week. Evidently, your child enjoys Plum Organic’s Just Peaches too. The reason I know this is… I’VE BEEN THERE EVERYDAY THIS WEEK AND THEY ARE OUT. I understand they are on sale but for the love of God, Lady I need that shit too.

I don’t think you understand the ramifications of your actions. My #2 is a 18 lb ball of fire. She eats the following foods- Macaroni & Cheese (don’t get me started about Yellow #5), watermelon, blueberries, Ritz crackers, and THOSE PEACHES! You’ve single handedly reduced my child’s food intake by 20% and have caused me to have to haunt different retail establishments. She is an unhappy camper. By unhappy, I mean she has whole heartedly rejected any substitution that I’ve attempted. How often do you have to clean prunes up off your floor or your face? Not often enough by my standards…

For the past week, I have been stalking those pouches in Aisle number 5. At first, I was surprised I didn’t run into you. Maybe we could have come to some sort of understanding. I thought I had you beat when I went to Safeway this morning at 8 am after coordinating with the manager. Meticulously planning out my day in order to beat you to the punch. Well I didn’t get up early enough because when I got there, you had already cleaned them out.  Now I understand you better, I see your game. I believe I have underestimated my opponent on this one. Well, game on beezy, game on. Put on your running shoes because you’re going to need them.

I know more about you than you think. I’ve been making friends in high places. The inventory/night stock manager says she has met you. She gave me a physical description. She said you have told her how much your kids love those peaches. So much so that you asked her to order another box. Well guess what?? She did order another box and you bought that too! How about you try the Gerber Peaches & Summer Apples? I heard they are delicious this time of year…

Why haven’t I tried something else, you ask? I have. I’ve tried prunes, apples, quinoa, pears, mangos, blueberries (she likes them whole not pureed. Don’t test me!), millet, bananas, yogurt, spinach, peas, beans, strawberries, sweet potatoes, and apricots. All of that ended up on my floor, on my clothes, in #1’s hair, and everywhere else except in #2’s belly.

You think you have the peach pouch market cornered. But you haven’t met me yet. I have some tricks up my sleeve. Its taken some recon by me and is going to take some early mornings, late nights, and possibly a gilly suit. But I will triumph. Make no mistake about that.

You have yourself a game lady. I don’t think you know what you’re up against.

Bring it.

A Writing Exercise

I’ve been in a blogging rut. I haven’t been able to form a series of coherent thoughts lately. Because of this, I am going to just share an exercise I do from time to time. I’ll just share some snippets from this summer…

– Quote from Lola: “Mom, I can’t wear my sandals. There is STILL poop on them.” Still?

– My brother in law is from Texas. Obviously, I have been obsessed with the brain eating  amoeba  epidemic that is tearing up the south. (If you haven’t heard yet. Get it together. This shit is real and terrifying.) So I say to him…

“Hey, do they post signs by swimming ponds and drainage ditches down there warning people about the brain eating amoeba?”

He says to me- “Do they post signs up here warning people of Bigfoot?”

Me-“Uh, no but Bigfoot isn’t running around eating people’s brains and killing them.”

Him- “How do you know? Everyone who runs into a Bigfoot is killed.”


– The “Don’t pet the raccoon” warning signs have gone up in my neighborhood. Would someone please explain to me why you would want to pet a raccoon???

– I’ve decided the squirrels in my neighborhood need a healthier fear of me. One came up an tried to take a pinecone out of #2’s hand. She is 17 lbs and 24 inches tall. I realize she is smaller than a marmot but I can’t have squirrels thinking they run this joint. So I have taken to chasing them with plastic baseball bats and attempting to shoot them with my bb pistol. All this has done is create a fun game for the squirrels.

– I caught a stomach bug at the water park. Once again this proves how much benefit can come from being a Duck Dynasty viewer. Jase once said “I don’t do water parks. My kids don’t do water parks. One word: feces.” Lesson learned.

– #2 ate 2 and a half pints of blueberries in 48 hours. All I can say is blueberry poop stains skin. If you don’t know, now you know.

– I didn’t get a job. I’ve decided I’m either going to become a cupcake decorator (not a baker, that is much more difficult) or a lifestyle expert. I’m not exactly sure what a lifestyle expert does but I saw an article in Better Homes & Gardens written by one and it seems like a bad ass job to have. (Sidenote: Don’t hate on BH&G I got a free subscription with the purchase of my shower curtain rod!)

– Why is everyone so obsessed with fall? As a Pintrest fanatic, all I see are ‘cozy sweaters’, pumpkin spice lattes, and burlap crafts. Slow the heck down. Don’t rush me out of warm weather, my under used summer wardrobe, and being able to go outside without 7 layers and boots on.

– Lastly, today is an important day in the lives of various peeps who read this blog. If you have a spare second, please send some good energy out into the universe. Everyone will benefit. (I follow multiple celebrities on Instagram who constantly post pictures of Buddha next to their infinity pools, surrounded by a sunset over the ocean. This would be fine too.)


Where have I been?!?

So today I realized I haven’t posted anything in 5 weeks!! What have I been doing do you ask? …

First, I have taken on the monumental task of getting #2 to sleep through the night, in her own bed. This has consumed a large amount of my evenings. Plus, in my post partum stupor during moving time, I conveniently placed my computer desk in her room. So I can’t be in her room while she is sleeping bragging about how fantastic I am for getting her to sleep…

Next, it was 90 degrees for a week, The hubs bought a trampoline for the girls to ‘develop their athletic ability’, and I planted a garden. Naturally, I did not feel spending time indoors was necessary. Instead, I tortured #2 on the trampoline, went on a deer repelling rampage, and got some shitty information on sunscreen. Evidently even what is good for you is bad for you now days… Whatever. I still make my family wear that crap everywhere. 100+ SPF, Full coverage, waterproof, sweatproof, zombie proof. If its something proof I will buy it and put it on myself and my fair-skinned little girls. Turns out I know exactly what my mother meant by ‘I did not spend 18 years taking excellent care of your skin only for you to turn around an mar it with a tattoo. This will backfire on you someday.’ Well played Mother. (P.S. if anyone has any ideas to turn a flowery tramp stamp into a tasteful, classy, chic, and invisible piece of body art… please let me know.)

Then this happened.One word. Marmots. Google that shit if you don’t know what I’m talking about, I had to. A few weeks ago someone in a position of power decided to erect this sign on my street…Image

What the heck is a marmot, you ask? After an extensive internet search, a few personal interviews, a marmot hunting expedition, and a great deal of waiting beside this field in my car, I have decided a marmot is a cross between a ground squirrel and Buzzer the cat. (If you haven’t read Harris & Me, Buzzer is a bad ass barn cat. Imagine a cross eyed lion in a domestic cat‘s body). They literally sit just like the shadow on the sign. Funny thing is, they aren’t endangered nor are they particularly useful for anything so I’m not sure why they need a sign. I posted this pic on Instagram with #mountainpersonproblems. I’m not sure what else to do with something as crazy as this… I did find out they don’t bite so I don’t have to add them to my list of wild animals to fight off.

Lastly, Nordstrom Half Yearly Sale. Done.

So there you have it. Sleeping, weather, marmots, shopping. Also, #2 still weighs 15 lbs. Which makes her the size of a less than desirable salmon or a whopping trout. However you want to look at it. Also cause for concern.

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