Crying. And arguing. And swearing to GOD that I DO feed my child - ALL THE TIME - And REAL FOOD TOO! Meat! Potatoes! Corn On the Cob!
Because Logans annual YOU FAIL AS A PARENT appointment is scheduled for four ten on the afternoon of July the fourth. Enjoy your fucking fireworks. And barbecues. And Independence. At least I don’t have to pay for Doctor appointments!
Here’s the deal. Logan turned four on June 27th. pretty cool, eh? NOT! When Logan was eight moths old my Aunt bought him a snow suit. He wore it that year, and the next and the next. He still fits it and will wear it this winter. AGAIN. He fits size 18 month clothing. I put him in size three shirts to cover his budah belly - and becuase it lets me slip into a fantasy where my child is actually growing and thriving, but the kid has not grown in. Two years. And six months. Not that I am counting.
But his Pediatrician is. And tomorrow when I stand Logan on that scale to be weighed and measured, and I have to watch his doctor make his secretive little notes on his clip board, well. It’s going to SUCK!
Check out this picture.
This is Logan days before his fourth birthday (In the red shorts) The little girl in the red hat beside him? Thats his two year old cousin. She’s not big for her age,either, Logan is just so, SO small for HIS!
This will be my next tattoo.
Also. Check out the box of Canadian Porn Sheila had me put together for her. I added some of that neat-o warming KY-Jelly, so she should be all set!
Also, Canadian Porn isn’t some cute way of saying chocolate or band-aids or a pink rubber duckie, it REALLY is a box full of porn. And If I see the tape of me and Hubs on YouTube, I swear to GOD I will kick your ass, Sheila!
*ten points to the one who knows what the title is from.
I was just outside for a smoke. It’s 11PM. There are people, and by people I mean fucking retards, still out there setting off fireworks and firecrackers. And when I think about how very mad I am that they are still doing it, this freaking late at night, on a WEEKDAY, I realize that I might have turned 29 today, but DAMN, I act like crotchety old man!
GET OFF MY LAWN!
I celebrated my Birthday with the kids and Hubs today - wait a sec - I want to point out that on BPR, I like to write about how my day went each night, and you read it in the morning. (Except those of you who love me most and sit around hitting refresh until a new post pops up) So you MIGHT notice that in the first paragraph I wrote like it is today - your today, July second, but now I am writing like it is today, MY today, the first. And, if any of the lines you just read made any sort of sense at all, you are very obviously high and drugs are bad. MMM’K.
As I was TRYING to say before I so rudely interrupted myself, Today me and the Testosterone Pack celebrated my Birthday. I’m 29. I TOTALLY scored in the gift department! Logan gave me a rock, and a lady bug AND a dandelion covered in little squirmy black bugs! And then hubs came home, forced me to sit in the bathroom while he rescued actual gifts from the trunk of the car, and wrapped them in the privacy of the bedroom.
I have to say, I am impressed. Not only were the gifts wrapped, but each gift was something I actually WANTED. I scored a new coffee mug - to replace the one hubs dropped on my foot and broke (the mug broke, not the foot) Some super cool socks - one pair has “left foot” and “right foot” on them, and I am absolutely going to wear them on the wrong feet! I got a box full of of bath Bombs, bubble bath and soap from Lush - If you have never been in a bath full of Lush products, I feel very, very sorry for you. Seriously. You might as well jump off a cliff. No, I’m not joking.
AND
I got a flat iron.
(I’ve figured out how to flat and iron the front part of my hair, but how in the hell do I do the back? Seriously? My hair is REALLY thick, I cannot see back there, and even if I had eyes in the back of my head, the instructions that came with the flat iron strictly prohibit eye/hot flat-iron-part-thingy contact. I’m going to search YouTube for instructional videos. Is that anal?) [who wants pictures of flat hair - when I figure out how to flatten it?]
Ahh July - possibly the best month of the year.
July First - some people in Canada refer to this day as Canada Day. However, this is a 141 year old myth. Canada Day is just the country’s way of kicking off MY birthday - Which technically, is on the second. (However, this year we will be celebrating it on the first) [YAY PRESENTS!]
Holy hell-O was it ever hot here today! Thank God. I was beginning to worry we would have 12 month of winter instead of ten!
I help trying to figure out what I am going to do for a week straight with no kids.
Hubs and I built a thingy on the deck and when we finished, there was only ONE cut, ONE bruise and ONE burn. AND - none of the injuries were on me (or done BY me).
I have ice cream calling my name. Rather incessantly. So I better be going.
Admit it. If YOU were in my situation, you’d answer the call of the Breyers too.
Unless you were a zombie.
ARE YOU A ZOMBIE?
Fucking Zombies.
I totally understand that puppies need to chew. I get that, I really do. I can also kinda see why they like to chew up dirty socks, and even though it totally skeeves me out, the panties that did not make it into the hamper when I tried to slam dunk (and failed) on the way to bed.
But for the love of God people, What kind of puppy eats an Iron?
