Showing posts with label Raw Mama Drama. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Raw Mama Drama. Show all posts

Friday, November 5, 2010

HOLEY crotch!

Family photos on Sunday, and go figure... just ripped a huge hole in the crotch of my FAVORITE and only dark pair of jeans. So now I'm faced with the task of finding a new pair of jeans or putting my panties on display in the photos that will probably be hung on the mantles of everyone I know this holiday season.

I hate shopping for jeans because I haven't lost the weight I want to lose yet, and all those extra calories tend to take up an extended stay at my butt and thigh motels. I wish they would check-out and move north to my boobs... there are always vacancies there.

I'm no seamstress, and that's for sure. So fixing them is out of the question. My husband who does automotive collision repair can sew better than I can, and that's no joke. He's proven it many times. How can that be?!? The man who thinks the hole in the crotch of my jeans is an easy access point (think about it... ..... .... that's right) can sew better than I can!

So, I guess it's off to the mall tomorrow to scour the endless stores filled with manequins who would look good in a potato sack to find a pair of jeans that fit. UGH!




Just Married with Coupons


Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Reaching Adulthood...

Yesterday was my 23rd Birthday, and for the first time, I actually thought to myself, "Wow... 23... that's almost mid-twenties. You're really an adult now."
You would think I would have felt like an adult when I said,"I do" 20 days before my 20th birthday or when I gave birth to a beautiful little girl nearly 2 years ago, but I didn't. Up until this past year, my life had been a whirlwind of bliss. And while the blissful moments continue to leave me in awe, I've been struck down by chaos.
This past year in my life has been very difficult for me. I have struggled with some very personal issues with myself and with my family. Over the next couple of days, I will be giving you the insight into my life over the past year. It's going to be the most Raw Mama Drama I have ever shared.... with anyone. You'll get a front row seat to who I really am.
Bare with me as this will be difficult for me to share, but I think it will end up being very therapeutic for me to do so.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Pancakes, Poop, and who knows what else!

Within the past 2 hours my daughter has:
1. Dumped the entire bottle of Garlic Salt out under the sink
2. Emptied a brand new bottle of bacon bits into the dog's water bowl.
(You don't even want to know what that looked like, but the dog rather enjoyed it.)
3. Lost 2 sippy cups.
4. Sent Pancakes flying.
5. Pooped in her potty and attempted to dump it in the big potty with little success.
What is happening!?!? Why does my husband ALWAYS HAVE to work late on days like this? WHY!?!?!

Friday, October 22, 2010

Rant About your Husband Friday






Ok ladies... if you can't tell, my husband really ticked me off this morning.


So, I have officially dubbed this:


RANT about your Husband Friday!


So, let's hear it. Get it all out right here, right now.


Here's what happened to me:


My husband is always saying, "You never talk to me." And it's true. I'm infamous for giving the "Nothing" repsonse when he asks me what's wrong. I've been working on it, but in my defense, it really is my way of dealing with things. If I really told him what was wrong most of the time... I would bite his head off.


So here's the deal. My husband has a Mustang GT that he drives daily. It's obnoxiously loud as crap and a pain in my butt. In the past month, we have replaced the Thermostat and Harmonic Balancer. It is nothing but a MONEY PIT! (May I also add that we have only owned it a month and a half.) So, he gets the bright idea to take it to the drag strip to race. (WHAT AN IDIOT!) Keep in mind, this is his ONLY form of transportation because if he blows it up there's a snowflake's chance in hell he's driving my car, he has no health insurance at the moment, no life insurance, and we only have liability on the car because it's a piece! To add to the fact, we really don't have the money to fix anything he breaks or buy a new car right now.


Anyway, back to the point. So, I approach him with my concerns this morning. (You know... talking about things instead of bottling them up like he requested.) So what does he do, tells me "I don't want to hear it," slams the door, and goes to work. WHAT A JERK!!!

Yesterday, all he wanted was for me to talk to him, tell him things, and voice my issues, and now he "doesn't want to hear it!" ARE YOU KIDDING!?!?!?!



Thursday, September 2, 2010

Let's Talk Dinner...

I know I'm not alone in feeling this way, but this is a warning: There's some raw Mama Drama about to be shared.

Ok, so every evening I make the trudge into the kitchen to figure out what on earth I'm going to feed one hungry toddler and one incredibly picky husband.... oh yeah...almost forgot, and me.

I know I should just make a menu every week and stick to it, but that idea just hasn't worked in the past. Allow me to say, that I put myself in this situation because I am blessed with a wonderful husband who works very hard to allow me to stay home with our daughter, but I have some room to rant a little!

My first issue: my husband has Crohn's Disease and he is lactose intolerant. His response to food is pretty much the same no matter what I cook, but I do my best to give him items which won't mess with him too bad. So the most obvious choice would be an array of vegetables, soy products, and a limited dairy intake. That would be ideal except for a few minor issues: My husband hates vegetables (I mean pretty much all of them), he is obsessed with cheese, and refuses to eat anything that even has a speck of green in it. Did I mention that his seasoning of choice is Ranch Dressing and he puts it on nearly everything? So there goes my attempt at cooking something to suit his needs because I simply refuse to eat ranch smothered chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese every night.


Now onto my nearly 2 year old. She actually loves vegetables, which is great because I do too, and she's adventurous in her food choices. (I mean REALLY adventurous. I'm talking bugs in the backyard adventurous.) Her issue is that she cannot stand the idea that I actually have to cook the food before she can eat it. Either this is a really early indicator that she is going to eat a raw food diet, or she unfortunately inherited her mother's patience or lack thereof for that matter.


On top of it all is our 70 lb. Boxer who honestly believes that I go grocery shopping JUST for him. No matter what I'm cooking, he sincerely with all his doggy heart thinks its his. So, I'm high-stepping over a pacing dog, and twirling to avoid plowing over our daughter.

By the time I actually find something to cook that suits my husband and is quick enough to meet my daughter's needs, I'm fed up... but the duty is far from finished. I fix my husband's plate (what a good wifey I am), fix my daughter's plate, and bring them to the table. Only once the plates hit the table does the game of musical chairs begin. One needs this, one needs that, one dropped their drink (not the baby...) etc. Remember the dog, well he happens to be my daughter's best friend, and she happens to be the instigator for his strong beliefs that I cook for him. He usually gets half of her food... don't get me wrong, he has manners. She gives it to him. Ugh.

By the time I sit down to eat my food, my daughter is finished and wants down. This should be a victory, but no. It simply means that she wants to see what is on my plate, and of course try it.... even though I could have sworn she had the same thing. So now I have fingerprints in my mashed potatoes and backwash in my sweet tea.

Oh the joys of motherhood... funny thing is.... I wouldn't trade it for anything. Now my husband on the other hand... make an offer. (Just kidding) And as for the dog, well....




We just like to think he can't help it.

Monday, August 23, 2010

My beef with the Garbage Truck....

I meant to write this on Thursday, but I probably would have used some choice words, so I needed a couple days to calm down.

Dear Garbage Truck,

Why, oh why, must you be the loudest vehicle on the roads? Not even the big yellow twinkie makes as much noise as you. The brown delivery driver can sneak all the way up to the door, leave something, and be gone without me noticing he was here. Even if he does make a little peep, I am quick to forgive him as he usually leaves nice presents on the doorstep. You, on the other hand, have the world's squeakiest brakes, and while I understand that budget cuts are the new norm, I would appreciate that you try to squeak a little less when my daughter is taking a nap. Or for that matter, squeak in a lower pitch so my dog doesn't assume you are a dog whistle to which he must respond with the most obnoxious pacing, whining, and barking. He is 70 pounds of brawn without brains, and he just does not understand that you will not come any closer to the house than the end of the driveway. (Even though we followed this routine for over a year now.) I understand your job stinks (literally), but if you could humor me a little and keep it down I would greatly appreciate it.
With love and severe hate,
Erinn

Dear Garbage Truck Driver,
It is not necessary to accelerate to 20 mph between stops. The driveways in this subdivision are relatively close together, and the "VROOOOOOM, SQUEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK" combination gets really annoying. Not to mention, that you are traveling down hill. In addition, could you please refrain from parking in front of my house to make a phone call. The culdesac is one house down, and you are more than welcome to park Ol' Squeakalot there and chat. Reference my letter to the Garbage Truck to get a better understanding as to how your presence creates high levels of chaos in my household.
I love you, but I really don't like you,
Erinn