Thursday, February 13, 2014

Public Washrooms

I hate using public washrooms.

At work, there are 7 stalls on the right, and 6 stalls on the left, one being a handicap stall.  I stand there for at least 3 seconds every time I have to pee.  It's my attempt to try and figure out which is the stall that people use the least.  I have a sinking feeling that the stall I choose is the same stall that other people choose when trying to avoid the stall they also think is the most popular.  And in the end, we all end up using the same goddamn stall.

On that note.  Why are the tampon/pad cans a magnet for little toddlers?  Some are shiny silver containers with a simple lid, nailed to the wall.  Other ones are complicated motion activated machines with blue fluid in them.  All of them attract my kids.  I have 3 kids.  That means when I am dealing with one, two are free to wander about the mommy stall.  Someone is always drawn to the nasty pad can.  Someone always tries to reach into the nasty pad can.  And when you are changing a baby diaper on the rickety plastic wall mounted table, watching your toddler reaching into the can is like those dreams where things are happening fast but you personally are moving in s.l.o.w.m.o.t.i.o.n.  It's terrible.

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Shameful things I do often

Watch reruns of "My 600 lbs Life" in order to motivate myself to run on the treadmill.

When my kids ask me "are we there yet?" while we are driving somewhere, I tell them, "Yes, we are!  Take off your belts!  Let's go!"

I imagine what people on vacation are doing right now, and compare their situation to mine.

The drawer on the bottom of my stove won't close properly because a baking sheet fell behind it.  I could reach in there and pull it out, but I only care when the oven is at 450 degrees.  Then I tell myself I'll fix it in the morning.  It's been like this for weeks.

I laugh when my kids fall down.  Is it the slapstick?  Is it because I told them to stop being dangerous?  I still hug them, but I also laugh.

I drive my minivan really slowly on one-lane roads in front of sports cars full of too much testosterone because I know they can't see around my vehicle.

Monday, December 2, 2013


My husband thinks toxoplasmosis is a disease made up by lazy women.  Because of this, I still have to sift the litter for poop, despite the fact that I breast feed our 3 month old baby boy.  After we came back from a 2 day trip to my mom's house up north, the cats were in desperate need for a scooping.  When I was done, I could smell cat poop dust all over my clothes.  I went upstairs to change into pyjamas.  Standing there, naked, I could still smell poop dust.  That's when I realized it was on my arms and chest.  For a good 15 seconds I debated about whether or not to have a shower.  

I debated cleaning cat shit powder off my body.

Who does that?  A sleep deprived mom, that's who.  Showering would cut into the time I was planning on using towards sitting on the couch and doing nothing.

For the record, I showered.  But only for the baby.

(not my baby not my cat)

Welcome to My New Blog

Here is my new blog.  I had to create it since my last blog was a little too specific to a life event, and I don't want to clutter it up with my random thoughts and stories.

I'd like to add that people are jerks and stole my pictures from my previous blog.  I mean who really has time to do stuff like that?  Lame August 2013 Birth Club weirdos, that's who.  I can't change my blogger profile name, nor do I choose to be cyber bullied into having to do that.  But this time around, I won't be stupid enough to leave my heart on a platter.  I am leaving my other blog up, but only because it has proven to help women who find themselves in a tough situation.  But I will leave my sarcasm here and clean up the other blog.

If you are an August 2013 Babycentre weirdo who has ended up here, I have one thing to say:

Lohanthony's calling all the basic bitches.