Monday, May 21, 2012

Mom Slob

Some day my kids are gonna hate me.

Why?  You ask.

I am a mom slob. I am a mom slob because I dress like a redneck.  And I couldn't give less of a flamingo's fart about it.

I regularly rock holey maternity jeans or ancient stretched out yoga pants and my Boo's stained "fish" t-shirts with rolled up sleeves so they don't hang down past my elbows.  Clean is the only standard my undies go by - matching is totally overrated.  I rarely wear makeup (but my toenails are painted) and my hair hasn't been out of a ponytail in about a decade.

What does it say about me that I would actually wear this?

And yes, I've left the house looking like that.  Guess what?  It sure doesn't stop The Firefighter from trying to get with this fine piece of honey on the regular.  Mmmm Hmmm.  You know that's right, honey boo boo child.  I make trashy look good.

See, Kids?  It could get worse. 

No, I haven't made it onto the People of Wal-mart website - yet.  Definitely, isn't for lack of trying.

I think everyone should rock the redneck look once in awhile.  Seriously.  Dressing like a white trash trailer park princess has it's perks.

Top Ten reasons why looking like a redneck mom slob is practical. 

10.  Miss Chatterbox can recognize and name at least ten species of saltwater fish.  It's not lazy.  I'm edumacting my children with my slobbery.

9. The mean kid at the park hassling your sweet pea skedaddles when they see you coming.  One raised eyebrow from your direction keeps his sancti-mommy at bay.

8. Your baby decides she really doesn't like what your trying to feed her and llama spits it back at you.  Oh well, just wipe your glasses off and keep on trucking.  Your shirt was a loss long before that.

7.  You're dining out at a fancy joint like Chili's and your kid suddenly turns and wipes their face on your sleeve instead of their napkin.  Guess what?  You don't have to get mad at your baby.  No one can tell.

6.  You get to live in the moment and enjoy the simple things in life - like rolling down a hill with your kiddos.  Grass stains be darned.

5.  Your little sweetie finds a mud puddle to jump in and splatters you while you unload the groceries.  Oopsy.  No need to get pissy, there's no dry-cleaning bill to worry about.

4.  You kid is invited to an impromptu messy play playdate?  No problemo.  Grab the diaper bag and go.  You're already dressed appropriately to get down and dirty with the kids.

3.   Your kid sneezes and has a giant string of snot hanging out their nose - and there isn't a tissue anywhere in sight.  You can use the hem of your shirt, because who cares?  What's one more stain.

2.  Your dearest darling dimple butt tosses her new $40 pair of shoes out the car window.  No biggie.  You're equipped to tramp through the muddy roadside ditch to retrieve them.

1.  Strangers give you a wide berth and are excessively polite - especially, in hunting season, if they see you drive up in your diesel dually and think you might be packing.

Even Barbie rocks the look.

Happy Monday, Y'all!

Saturday, May 19, 2012


Have you ever noticed how a disproportionate amount of conversation revolves around bodily functions when you have young children in the house?

This last week has been a doozy.

So far, I've had to explain that peeing in the pool is not fun and exciting.  It is something we whisper quietly to mommy.  Not yell loud and proud to the world at large.  

I've had to break down exactly how those little stick figures on restroom doors refer to boys and girls (Miss Chatterbox vehemently disagrees).

And point out that since we are girls, we only go into girls bathrooms.  Apparently, Miss Chatterbox is unwilling to just take my word for it.  

I've also had to clarify that urinal cakes are not for eating.  

And describe why gravity makes standing to pee a really bad idea for those of the female persuasion.

SIGH.  But it didn't stop there.  Nope.

Other phrases heard around the Household this week included:

"Please let me wipe your butt.  I don't want to clean skid marks out of your panties!"

"Catch her! Catch that naked butt!  Don't let her wipe her butt on the carpet.  We are out of Resolve."

"My mommy's boobies are bigger than yours.  Why do you have small boobies?"

And last but not least - drumroll please - "Dada" :)

Just a quick shortie!  Wishing everyone a poopy free weekend!

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

All About The Bun

Over the last month or so, I've noticed The Bun's personality really start to shine.  

She has become very expressive.

The Pity Laugh
Did you even know an 8 month old could give a pity laugh?  Yeah, me either.  I'm still trying to figure out how Miss Chatterbox's farts tipped over The Bun's tickle box, but my Firefighter impression only earned a smirk.  Seriously?  Everybody's a critic. 

The Nose Squinch
She loves to squinch up her nose and snort when she finds something interesting.  Like dirt.  Or toilet paper.   I'm starting to question whether I gave birth to a baby or a puppy.

My Singing Face
Miss Chatterbox has a new competitor in the "who can be the loudest" contest.  The Bun likes to "sing" along with her sister and The Fresh Beat Band.  I either have a future American Idol champ on my hands or just a kid with a powerful set of lungs.  Can someone send me a lifetime supply of earplugs?  Like overnight?  Pretty Please?

The Pouty Face

 I must admit, The Bun is fairly happy go lucky so she doesn't employ this face often, but when she does....   Those baby blues get me every time.  Little Stinky Noodle, don't think momma isn't on to your game.  

Miss Chatterbox has finally made her peace with not being the only kid in the house and has actively starting playing with The Bun.  What you can't "see" is that Miss Chatterbox was hitching a ride on the walker, calling, "Mush, Sissy, Mush!  Go faster, faster!"  The Bun was torn between being thrilled her sister was playing with her and being pissed Miss Chatterbox was slowin' her roll.   Seriously.  Step into the kitchen at your own risk.  With The Bun's need for speed, no toes are safe!   I'm considering setting up a speed trap near the stove.

Speaking of food...

Parsnips?  Don't believe I've actually seen one in real life.
(Have you seen these squeezy baby food packets?  They are fantastic for on the go eating.  No spoon required.  I'm all about streamlining, People.)

Unlike Miss Chatterbox, my resident picky non eater,  The Bun devours anything and everything.  She eats the equivalent to 6 jars of food a day, plus at least 4 bottles.  

Bad pic, I know.  

Yet, still has legs this skinny.  Though, I think that has more to do with her constant state of motion.  Once she could crawl, that was it.  She was everywhere, into everything, and constantly up in Miss Chatterbox's bizness 24/7.  

It has been awesome watching her blossom into a little person and I look forward to all the next 18 years will bring!

Happy Hump Day, Y'all!

Friday, May 4, 2012


It's been a week, Y'all!  Hasn't it?  I'm glad it's over, aren't you?

This week has been full of aggravations, especially since rich people have a very deluded idea of what reality is for the rest of us, peons.  But blah, I don't wanna talk that.  It's over, right?


I got to go to the store last night, alone.  Yeah, I know your jealous.  You should be.  It was pretty much orgasmic.  I didn't have any of those awkward moments when a cashier pulls a vibrator, or 3, out of my cart and I have to try not to turn the shade of a tomato while saying, "Huh, how did that get in there. Or boy isn't the hubs gonna be excited, ha ha."   What?  You don't have those moments?  Well, damn, I have a 3 year old you can borrow if you need to add some spice to your grocery experience.

 (FYI - Apparently, Trojan now makes "personal massagers" and they are sold in the feminine  hygiene aisle across from the baby food I was actually trying to buy.  You are warned.  Place your shopping cart appropriately.)

I was also just reflecting on how far the kiddos have come.  This time last year, I was genuinely concerned about Miss Chatterbox's development.  She was missing milestones, left and right, and was the screaming scourge of Wal-mart.  Seriously.  She wasthisclose to being banned.  I'm not worried.  Give it a few years.  She'll do me proud.  I recently heard that I was still on the "banned" list at a particular Safeway in Boulder.....  My poor mother, the fits I must have given her.  No wonder she's in heart failure!

Miss Chatterbox has now long since covered all those missed milestones and is now even way early on a few others.  Best of all, she no longer tantrums for hours on end.  She communicates her emotions and thoughts in an appropriate fashion.  So far, the threes have been a treat compared with the twos.  Honestly, I credit diet changes for the improvement.  I think we frequently underestimate the power of food.

Her coordination has come a long way too.  Last night at gymnastics, I was marveling at how cleanly she was performing some of the moves - in just a few months.  Pointing toes, jumping with her feet together, and even doing a preliminary cartwheel - with straight legs.  I was impressed.  But most impressive?  She also waited her turn! This. is. HUGE.  It means all the endless talks about patience and sharing are starting to make an imprint! It made me feel like I made the right decision to put her in a class setting like that, even though I wasn't sure she was ready.

The Bun, can you believe it, is 8 months old already!  She has hit that cruising stage of crawling and she's fast.  Ima have to keep my running shoes on to keep up with her!   You just blink, and she's down the hall, around the corner, and in true Horn form, into something she shouldn't be.  She's also fearless, like a few other Horns I know, pulling up and attempting to walk holding onto the edge of things.  She's got the gift of gab, just like her sister, and it won't be long before she's talking.  Right now, she says, "mum mum," when she's pissed, and looks around for me.  She just give her Daddu kisses.  The little stinker, what's that all about?  So far, she's still kept those baby blues and the curls coming in, now that her hair is starting to grow, are to die for cute.  Watch out, Boo.  We have another knockout on our hands!

A couple of night ago, I was giving The Bun a late night feeding, when she and Jellybean starting to hiccup, in sync.  It was wild.  Not to read too much into it, but I wonder if it means they will always be on the same page with each other?  That would be kinda cool.

I've always said my kids have had distinct personalities, in utero.  Miss Chatterbox was like carrying around a bag of angry kittens under my shirts trying to claw their way out. 24/7. I'm pretty sure my diaphragm and bladder still have her footprints on them.   The Bun was extremely mellow and reserved in her movements.  She's more energetic on the outside, but she is still very go with the flow.  Jellybean is a bit of a cross between the two.  She moves more than The Bun did, but only a fraction of what Miss Chatterbox did.

And Y'all wish me luck!  I'm going to brave the one last big thing I need to do - break the paci habit.  Tommorrow, I'm rounding up all the paci's, poking holes in them, and coating in lemon juice.  Then I'm going to start talking up a "big girl party day" for Miss Chatterbox.  What I think I'll do, is take her to get her paci put into a build a bear (so she can still "have" it)  then have cake and ice cream at a park.   Cross your fingers for me.  This is plan Y and I really, really don't want to go the cold turkey screaming no sleep route.

I've also finally figured out this egg free cooking thing and successfully made a few tasty things.  Except, meatloaf.  That shit sucks without eggs.  If you know of an egg free version let me know.  The Firefighter has been lamenting how dull a life without meatloaf is.  He's a wierdo, but I love him.

Anywho, sorry for the weekly catch up.  I'll bring the funny next time.

Wishing y'all a happy weekend!