Birthday, Bitches!

Egg turned ONE!! on January 20, 2010. On February 13th we had a party. The kitchen was complete, the back yard was awesome, the weather was perfect, and we all had a great fucking time. Here are some pics to tide you over until I post again.

Look at our forehead furrows. You think we are related?

The island in our kitchen, which I turned into a cupcake extravaganza. The cake was two layers with butter cream frosting. I made it all by myself because I am awesome. I'm not a cake maker so I am super proud that it doesn't look like a three year old retarded monkey made it. The birthday boy bib was a Christmas gift from Crazy Neighbor Lady.

Dude. Look at that motherfucking back splash. I KICKED ASS, yo.

The island! We did a different color Corian on the island than on the kitchen counters. Do not look at TB's Star Wars Lego collection up high! DO.NOT.LOOK. Avert your eyes, dammit. This is only part of it. The rest is on the other side of the kitchen up high.

TB in front of the television compromise. He wanted a big assed tv. I wanted new counters in the kitchen. WIN-WIN!!

Egg's girlfriend. The party kicked so much ass that she accidentally left her pants at my house.

 

Chicken and his best girl friend.

My adorable baby sharing cake with his daddy.

Egg sharing cake with Mama!

So cute! NOM NOM NOM!

Egg opened all of his presents. Tearing off the wrapping paper, he handed me a piece and continued until he was finished. He pulled every piece of tissue paper out of each gift bag, and pulled out the gifts. It was crazy. I've never seen a one year old do that shit. Notice the wardrobe change? Someone got cake ALL over so he got a quick bath and change into his Batman shirt that daddy loves.

TB and his friend Michael discussing their Droids, aka Geeks in their natural habitat. The room behind them is Egg's. For those of you that are Twitter inclined, they are also known as @xyrth and @michael_saul.

Egg got this play structure from TB's dad for Christmas and his birthday. TB and I (well mostly TB) worked our asses off to get it put together in time for the party. We had to stain every piece of wood and then put it together. In the background (if you squint) you can see the bushes we just planted and a Fuji apple tree in the corner. Our backyard was barren when we moved in and now there is GRASS! and BUSH! and TREES! and FUN THINGS!

I Miss My Dad

Four years ago my dad died. I'm making his chili for the first time today. It has taken me too long to get to this point, where I can make his chili and it will be more good memories than painful goodbyes. I am finally at the point where I can read his recipe and think, "Dad, 2# Beans unsoaked is NOT sufficient information. What KIND of beans? And who measures water in POUNDS?" *sigh* I miss you, dad.

Cloth Diapers FTW (for teh win!) Part I

I love using cloth diapers. I recently held down a poor pregnant couple for more than a half hour when they unfortunately mentioned that they might be using cloth diapers. I have many opinions on cloth diapering, and I am going to share all of them with you tonight! YAY diapers! The first thing in order to entice you to read further is teh cute. Cloth diapers ARE FUCKING ADORABLE, YO. Here is Egg at four months:

See the cuteness? Have you ever seen a diaper clad baby with COW print on his nethers? You have not! Think of all the joy you get out of dressing your baby boy or girl. With the wee little socks, the cutest onesies, the hair bows, etc. Dressing babies is FUN. Adding another opportunity for cute and/or matching? AWESOME. Egg at six months:

Notice how the cow diaper cover still fits and is still sparkly white? Do you have any idea how many times Egg has shit his ever-loving brains out all over that cover? Exactly. Much shitting all over. And the cover keeps on keeping on all day. Now you're intrigued, right? Teh cute has sucked you in and you want to know more about keeping your baby's ass rash-free and the landfills disposable diaper free? I know! WIN WIN!

If you have looked into cloth diapers, you might have become overwhelmed with all the choices, acronyms, washing, drying, OMGICANTDOTHIS. But! You are here and I can make this easy peasy for you. In disposable diapers there are a few types, too. You have the EXPENSIVE, the CHEAP, and the EARTH-FRIENDLY. Sometimes you have Huggies that are earth-friendly-ish and then the sensitive type and the crawling and the swaddling and isn't every baby's skin sensitive? So if you can make a decision to disposable diaper, you can figure out cloth diapering. I promise!

There are three general types of cloth diapers, ignoring the permutations of organic and not bleached cotton and blah blah blah. You can mix and match types as well as CHANGE when your baby grows. So you are not married to a particular type. The first type is Prefold + Cover. A prefold looks like this on one-month old Egg:

A prefold is a square piece of cotton that is made of layers sewn together. The layers are thicker in the middle. They come in different sizes to fit your baby. The thing holding it together is a Snappi and is much like the metal thingy that holds an ace bandage on your parts. You don't have to use pins unless you prefer them.

These are from Green Mountain Diapers. Two people I respect and admire recommended using this website to purchase prefolds. I really didn't like how 1999 the website is, but the prices and quality and reams of how-to advice are invaluable. You cannot buy the crap you find in Babies R Us. Is is like trying to use a Kleenex as a pad on a heavy flow day. That shit just won't work.

So we have a prefold, a snappi, and a cover. Covers are teh cuteness. Look:

Covers are waterproof. The prefold soaks up all the yuck, and the cover keeps the yuck from getting on you. There are designer covers, plain white covers, character covers, the sky is the limit. Now there are covers that are more adjustable, which means they last longer on your growing baby. These are Thirsties, and they kick ass. The snaps on the front allow you to adjust the rise, making it span a wider range of baby sizes.They come in a TON of cool colors and really last.

Prefolds, the cotton part that absorbs the yuck, snappis that keep the prefolds on, and covers that are a waterproof barrier between you and the yuck. If it sounds like I am repeating myself, it is because that's how you learn, stupid hooker face! Next diapering post we will talk about Pocket Diapers and All-in-ones.

FUCK YOU BLOGGER Picture FAIL BOAT

I had a spot of trouble uploading the correct picture. And removing the blurry picture. And basically breathing. So here we are, awkwardly gazing at a picture of a mouse that is now deceased. And some of you are saying, "EW FUCK EW EW EW" and standing on a chair that is perched upon a table. Sorry about that, really I am. While I'm here, welcome new readers via Swistle and Blog Share 5. Where I didn't share but somehow another mother shared about her gay son and then people found me? I have no idea how it happened, but HEY! How the fuck are ya? Thanks for visiting! Next post: vaccinations and the veterinarian. Cloth diapering. Cloth napkins. Awesome care packages from Swistle. Postcrossing. And more!

PS Did you see that I am starting to add labels to my sidebar? Fuckin' A!

Fifi Daisy Ninjamouse

Spring of 2007 we had a snake named Wesson, and we were living with TB's father and step-mom and littlest sister. My FIL and Little SIL are deathly afraid of snakes, so when Wesson went missing we searched high and low and didn't tell anyone that he was gone. Wesson left behind what was to be his meal, a white feeder mouse that cost a dollar. Although he had tried to eat her, even going as far to grab her and coil around her body, she used her ninja powers and escaped death. We decided that any mouse that can ninja out of a certain munching should be allowed to live, and we bought her a cage. For a few months she lived in the garage in a cage, a cage that she was capable of popping out of at any time.

We would find little clues (I'd rather call them clues than mouse shit) that told us where the mouse was going in the garage, but she always came back to her cage. I assumed that one day she would be gone, living in the wilds of suburbia. When week after week passed and still the little ninja mouse remained we named her Fifi Daisy Ninjamouse. Chicken preferred Daisy, I preferred Fifi, and we all agreed on Ninjamouse. Eventually we bought her a nice cage, and when we left my FIL's house she came with us.

Fifi Daisy Ninjamouse was a badass motherfucker. When a cat would bat at the cage she would push out her chest as if to say, "Fuck you, you stupid fucking cat. I survived the coils of a snake and I can kick your balloon-knot ass." During cage cleanings she would go into her ball, rolling around the house. Frequently she would knock the door to her ball open and run out, cats quick behind her. Reina caught her more than once, and we had to pry Fifi out of her mouth. Fifi would turn back, glare at Reina and flip her the bird. Or at least that's what it looked like to me.

In the last month Fifi went from super plump to sadly skinny. She stopped the incessant running on her wheel. I knew that her time was near. We were out of small animal bedding and I just knew that the instant we bought bedding and cleaned her cage she would die. On Sunday we bought bedding, and Chicken put her in the clear ball. She just sat there, not moving. I pulled her out of the ball, and held her in my hand as Chicken continued to clean. She gasped for each breathe, curled up in my hand and shook. Poor girl.

I told Chicken to say his goodbyes, I told TB that the end was near. I held her, talked to her, told her that it was okay and she was safe. Thirty minutes later, she died in my hand. Fifi wasn't a cuddly pet, she didn't do any tricks, but she was a ninja and we loved her. She could have left her cage and walked away at any time, but she chose to stay with us. Goodbye Dear Friend!

Have Cats Or A Sense of Humor?

Then go here. Are you scratching your head, too? Fucking bizarre shit, yo. Teddy Bear sent me the link and I had to share.

My MIL sent this to me today:

This picture was taken over the weekend and I hadn't seen it yet. It makes me smile.

Let's Play "Where Is The Egg?"

When your husband wants his egg over easy, one might just want to cook it for him. Using the old-fashioned pan and stove technique.



Oh. Dear.

Ho.Ly.Fuck.


Let's go over the egg + microwave rules:

1. Out of shell.
2. Stab yolk like it is a representation of the last person to fuck up these rules.

Restless

Every time that Chicken goes to visit his father for more than a week I get restless. You see, although he is 12 and fairly self-sufficient Chicken is high maintenance. He needs to interact with me as much as humanly possible. I get that he is an extrovert, it is just plain bad luck that I am an introvert. I love people but I need down time. I joked to someone the other day that when TB was down in my vag area cutting Egg's cord he should have cut Chicken's as well. My Lord the kid can talk. And talk. And...talk.

While Egg has his own demands on my time, he doesn't require actual two-way conversation as of yet. This means that my brain has extra energy that I use to think thoughts of the thoughtful sort. I want to update my blog template and I want to do more with my writing. Not in the advertising, money-making way, just in the more sense. I can't articulate at this point very well. For example, although I tell myself that I don't censor what I say beyond not talking shit about (most) people I really do watch what I say. I try not to gush about Egg too much, I don't talk about really personal stuff too often because of certain real-life readers, and the list goes on and on and does not end with a preposition.

One would think that I could talk about Egg on his blog, but there I feel the constrains of having TB's conservative Christian Arkansas grandmother reading every word. How does one write without an occasional fucking cunt-faced whore sprinkled into the mix? I suppose the shit-ton of writing that I did in college was absent foul language, but I'm fairly sure that the writing was not as intriguing. *sigh* The goal I have in my head for the moment is to start writing here again like I am writing for myself and my dear bloggy readers that love me no matter what tumbles out of my brain. I'm weird, random and foul. I like myself that way. You will, too.

I want to post more pictures here, too. I really enjoy taking them and I want to share them with you. Everyone loves a cat picture, right?


I don't know what you call this pose at home (if you have cats), but we call it bread. As in, "Look, Chicken, Reina is bread!" I truly lead a life that is a thrill a minute.

Chicken At The Beach

Chicken is visiting his dad in Virginia until the middle of August. I miss him. He's coming back an eighth-grader. He'll be 13 in October. How the FUCK did that happen?

Half-Nekkid Bath Time

For more half-nekkidness, visit the King of HNT.

Fucking Whores

I fucking SWEAR that the next time I get a forwarded email about some dire emergency virus or political issue or what-the-fucking-ever that says, "Verified by Snopes.com" and includes a direct link to the page in snopes that deals with the fucking horrible OMGWTFBBQ whatever I am going to lose my shit and kick everybody's asses. EVERYONE starting with the fucking WHORE that sends it to me.

Do you know why? Because if one fucking single person would fucking READ the page in Snopes that deals with the problem they would realize that they are forwarding a hoax. Most of the time they send this forwarded email to everyone in their Inbox and that is fucking how viruses get spread, you stupid fucking twat lickers. (Not that I am against licking twat.)

It was bad enough in the days before most people knew about Snopes. But when the email has a handy link RIGHT THE FUCK THERE? And you blindly assume that just because your dear friend ASSMUNCH sent it to you that THEY read it? Nobody reads things, people. No one. But me. So stop it. It makes me fucking cranky because I feel like an asshole when I reply to a well-intentioned person that they are forwarding on a hoax. I hate being that person. But seriously? This shit has gotta stop, yo.

To make up for the FURIOUS cussing, here is a picture to make you smile:
This kid can sit up like a champ. He is king of sitting. And pooping up his back when sitting because the shit has got to go somewhere, right?

At Least I Was Wearing My Seatbelt?

We sold the convertible today, and I was in charge of delivering it to the new owner. Neighbor Lady took Egg in her NEW CAR! and I drove one last time with the top down.

Twatapotamus

My next door neighbor and I are getting along famously. The other day I texted her and called her a "twatapotamus" which is a combination of a pussy and a hippo. A really large pussy that is terribly lazy and floats around in the water eating lettuce. That's my neighbor. I also decided that I hate the word crotch.

I'm sorry that I forgot to post. I was so excited that I posted a real, live, post that I promptly got caught up in reading comments and yelling, "OMG I ARE A BLOGGER!!!1!1" and thus forgot that I promised to post again. Thanks for reminding me that I am LAME.

I watch way too much What Not To Wear. You know how people look at themselves in the secret footage and say, "OMG I didn't know I looked that bad?" Well I had a similar moment the other day when I received this photo from my MIL:
Although my thought was OMGTITS!! I was at a pool party/meet the baby thing in Visalia with my MIL, step-FIL, and various friends and family of that nature. With my titties going RAWR!! I wore the suit because it had the most coverage (HAHAHA) with boy short bottoms and tummy coverage. It only shows one tattoo on my back and is fairly modest. When one doesn't have nursing titties. Ooops.

But, ther than the awesome display of bewbies, isn't the picture so sweet? It was Egg's first time in the pool and he really liked it even though it was on the cool side. That boy really enjoys the water. *sigh* He's my favorite baby. I am trying to put together an Egg post for his blog since I haven't updated there in forever. FAIL.

Wanna see my frog vagina? I know you do!
Isn't it pretty? I have been going through this personal transformation where I am wanting BRIGHT and PRETTY and HAPPY colors around me. I guess it is a reflection of how I am feeling on the inside, huh? I wish my body felt the same way. My body is currently angry, hateful, and sucking ass. I'm trying to ignore it and focus on the good stuff, like SUMMER and TASTY BABY and BLOGGING!

Fuuuuck Me

I am totally posting tomorrow. I swear. In the meantime, a very short and inappropriate story to tide you over:

H2's cat (which was originally my cat but she decided to love him instead) is dying. Or dead. He might have put her down today. I'm not sure. But yesterday I drove Chicken to see her before she went to the great beyond. She has been in his life since he was 4 or 5 years old, and this was traumatic for him. (this gets funny! don't cry!) When we saw Zada (the cat) she had a lion cut to reduce the spring shedding/licking/barfing cycle. As a very fluffy cat, the lion cut looks a little....ridiculous. So Chicken says, "Maybe she is dying of embarrassment." OMFG. That is totally my kid.

Aren't we adorable? That's us at the NIN concert. Or, us in the parking lot in my car right after I pumped at the NIN concert. Which I had Chicken take pictures of (the pumping, not the actual bewbies). Must document the ridiculous, right? See Chicken's missing tooth? That fucker fell out in December and is just now coming into place. According to the orthodontist that is normal for canines. Who knew? Also, this angle is perfect for my face. Look! Only one chin! But. Not so good for Chicken's face. Oh well. As long as I look stellar, right?

PS Don't hate me. I will be a real, live, blogger again. Pinkie swear.
PPS I got the most awesome new purse today. Bright green outside, pink inside. TB says, "It looks like a frog's vagina." ASSHOLE.

Easter Bunny

We got back from our vacation late Saturday night and skipped Easter this year except for the adorable bunny ears that I traumatized Egg with yesterday. I found them at Target for a dollar a few weeks back and could not resist. Happy 1st Easter baby boy!

PS I have a post on TB's Bad Grandma saved on TB's phone, I just need to transfer it over and hit publish. I wrote it on his phone Saturday night after taking an especially awesome shit in the middle of the desert. I highly recommend a good outdoor poo every now and then. Speaking of poo, I am almost done with the poo book. On with the contest! I already finished Dooce's book and will have a post on it some day soon I hope.

Half-Nekkid Shower Time

For more Half-Nekkid Thursday excitement, go visit the King Of Nekkid.

Reminder

I post Egg pics and info at the other blog. Don't forget not to mention Sam's Stories if you comment over there or I won't be able to publish it. I will be putting a link to that blog in my sidebar and updating other linky goodness soon I hope.

Milk Face

You know that you've had enough when you pass out in your plate.

Sleeping

Baby + Kitty Cats = Bliss

Thanks to Batty Nurse for the most amazing handmade blankie, sent with a handmade card. Egg spends most of his time snugly wrapped in it. She set the bar high, peeps. I swear I will post something with wordy content soon, but at this point if I'm not holding Egg I'm sleeping while TB holds him. The only reason I am posting right now is that I am in my favorite room on my regal throne dropping the kids off at the pool so to speak. Chicken said to me earlier, "Now I know why they call them milk jugs." Yes, Chicken. The titties are HUGE. Relatively speaking that is...not compared to someone with actual huge titties but huge in my world. I hope my MIL doesn't mind them hanging out when she comes to visit next week. These puppies need AIR people and I am not about to deprive them. Upcoming posts to include:

• The joys of breastfeeding and the baby that turns up his nose at Righty
• Watching poop come out of the butthole and discussing the phenomenom with TB
• Stitches in my taint
• Feeling the urge to push and then pushing Egg out
• The post I forgot I wrote, AKA totally stoned in Labor & Delivery
• Foreskin and swim shorts
• Listening to a woman throw up repeatedly
• Things I learned while Knocked Up
• Food and Hunger OH THE JOY
• Weight and the laws of the universe
• TB fathering a newborn baby
• TB getting pulled over for "driving like an asshole"
  
• ...and whatever else strikes my fancy the next time I take a shit

At Home With Egg

So fucking happy.

You Want Pictures? I Got Pictures!

I haven't had family portraits done since I was married to H1. Last week I finally got up the nerve and I am pretty damn happy with the results. I'd like to present The Sam Family:


I purposely uploaded low resolution versions of the portraits to make the page load faster. You're welcome.

Half-Nekkid Oh Baby!

33 weeks and 4 days into this crazy journey and what I wonder the most is why Teddy Bear didn't tell me that I was smooshing the shit out of my boob in every shot. For the mathematically challenged, I am 7 1/2 months along. I can't fucking believe it. I've gained 11 pounds thus far, and I'm fairly sure that 10.5 pounds of that is directly in front of me. Holy fuck how big is my belly going to get?

Baby Magic Tender Love

When I was a cute little girl I modeled a bit. This weekend I went through some boxes with old dolls in them and found this treat from 1978:

Side panels

Front of the box

Back of the box-what I look like as a cartoon!

I'm guessing that sunblock wasn't cool in the 70's, because I only get that color after MUCH time in the sun. Go Mom! Tan the shit out of your four-year old if it brings in the bank, huh?

Chicken's Party

Dude. I am totally knocked up, huh? More to come...

The Big One

I normally don't include ultrasound pics on this blog, mostly because not all readers want to be smacked in the face with BABY! But this pick is so representative of my child, I had to include it here. The rest will be posted here for your viewing pleasure. Remember that ancient great-grandmother types read the baby's blog, so curb your fucking enthusiasm, okay?



Now tell me that there is any doubt in your mind that this picture is a full frontal "Here is my scrotum and penis" view. Today's ultrasound was amazing. I've been waiting forfuckingever for this one, the super long here are all the parts and let's measure them ultrasound. The other ones have always been a quick and dirty on a rinky-dinky machine-which is awesome but not quite the same. Kind of like jerking off versus an hours long intimate encounter with a loved one or two.

I got to see Egg swallow, people. Fucking swallow. Like little lips moving and WOW I am still stunned. There is a PERSON in my uterus. Egg is now moving around to the point where I can feel heels/knees/bony something or other with my hand as opposed to just a quick POP! to the bladder which could be caused by a reptile or eating my food while it is still mooing. This makes all the pain more manageable, the interaction with Egg and the belly rolls and SQUUEEE! I am feeling mushy and good about it all.

It helps even more that Egg has moved further down, putting pressure on my inner thighs and pelvic floor (AKA Teh Pussy) instead of my hips. While it still hurts, the pain is reduced and I can walk a little easier. YAY for walking! I'm still a cranky, tired, hurty bitch I am a happier bitch. And that is good news, indeed.

Preggo My Eggo

Yes, I am going to bitch. Live with it and I shall reward you at the end with a picture from the pumpkin patch yesterday.

Yesterday I hit a new milestone: The Dreaded and yet Highly Anticipated Third Trimester. According to one website, the honeymoon phase of my pregnancy is over. To which I reply: HA HA HA HA HA and FUCK YOU. This shit sucks and I am so glad that I have waited a decade for this pregnancy. Otherwise I'd be royally pissed off at myself and TB for his part in the whole mess. The Egg is doing splendidly, and technically my health is peachy-keen. I do object, however, to the never-ending fucked-up pain in my hips that requires me to ride the electric carts at retail shops many days because fuck me if I'm going to walk around Home Depot or Lowes for an hour or ten minutes. The rash on my face that arrived at month two or three? Still grimly hanging on and ugly as voting Yes on Prop. 8.

My appetite still sucks donkey balls and prevents me from enjoying things like chocolate and caffeine free Coke. I'm on the cusp of gaining a whopping total of TEN pounds, people. WHAT THE FUCK?! Anyone remember how I gained 13 pounds in October of 2006 simply by eating wheat? And now I'm just a tad over 6 months months pregnant and I have yet to hit the ten pound mark. I would LOVE to sit and eat like a fucking goat but NO the body says. (And I just ended a week and a half of wheat binging in a futile attempt to gain more weight. Guess what? I just feel like MOAR SHIT.) You know what else the body says? Let's see how much fun hypersensitive skin can be!! YAY! When I touch things (like my CAT or GRASS or AIR) I itch and if I don't wash it immediately I end up with little bitty itchy as FUCKALL rashy bumpies on me. Thanks skin! Because the disfiguring facial rash isn't enough, right? SIGH.

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Since Corinna punched me, I have to do this damn meme thing. Plus! I have a website to tell you about. And an awesome Etsy site or two. Later today or tomorrow, I promise. And no, these aren't sites that paid me or give me free shit. Just things I think you ought to know about because I care or some shit. And because I totally care about my readers, I shall leave you with the number one sign that you are too fucking old to ride in a wheelbarrow at the pumpkin patch:

Teddy Bear runs him around the patch at top speed while he screams with joy. It's my favorite part of fall.

Half Nekkid Six Months

My name is Sam and I think I swallowed watermelon.For more half-nekkidness, visit the King Of Nekkid, Osbasso.