Netflix Categories Fail

While surfing through Netflix the other night to find something of substance and interest to watch, to feed the intellect; the hubs and I found this instance to be rather interesting. I cannot say much, I think the video will have to speak for itself.

Text Message Folly

Just the other day I was on my standard trip to Costco to load up on TONS of milk and miscellaneous that I need around the house. I really just need a freaking cow for crying out loud….you just cannot imagine the amount of milk three little gnomes can power through.

Anyway, I leave the house and totally space looking up where the nearest Whole Foods Market may be. I thought I might check them out for this specialty item I have been shopping for and haven’t found….thinking they might have it. So I figure I would text the old little sister and see if she can Google the closest Whole Foods for me. Fantastic! Here is how our texts play out:

Me: B, can u look up the closest whole foods, plz.

B: The nearest Whole Foods is Tempe or Gilbert.

Me: That blows!!! CRAP

B: Goats or penises?

Now here is where the replies get tricky, my sister and I have great banter! Watch as I foul up my texts…I am such a dork!!

Me: Goats!!! Penises are YUMMO!!!

DH: What????

Me: What……



Now I was laughing hysterically, in the car mind you….yes texting while I am driving, but hey…safer than surfing the web on the old phone. I seriously thought I had the best reply….only to have that shattered by the old DH. Who was wondering why I was discussing penises via text and with whom I was discussing penises. I could not understand why my sister did not reply….now I understood. Sheesh for having those two so close on my contacts list. I had to look into my sent messages to find I sent the text to DH instead of my sister. I failed miserably at the texting that day. So I forwarded the text to her with this note:

Me: ……sent this text to C, on accident, shoulda gone to you……GOATS!! Penises are YUMMO!!


Yes I am the texting noob queen. I will never text and drive again! At least not when I am talking about what blows….goats or penises!

My First, And Only, Retraction, or Edit

So many of you, as I did, thoroughly enjoyed the post about my letters I never intend to send. DH enjoyed it only half as much as we did.


OK, in all seriousness the man giggled, and then asked for a retraction.

I told him HELL NO……..but the words never left my lips. DAMN IT!

He Google messaged me……”Did you post the retraction yet? That I DID NOT clog the toilet?”

I ignored the Google message. Never happened. (LMAO)

“It was Big G’s fault the toilet clogged….you know how he is?”

Again…..the retraction why? Like father like son?!

“You know he likes to use A LOT of TP and baby wipes to wipe his ass.”

Yes my dear boy still uses baby wipes….he will also be the only child in the lunchroom at school using a warm, lemon scented towel to wipe his hands and face before and after eating.

Here I am on a Monday night, when I would rather be making my beer brew soap….which is OH SO DELICIOUS! You can use it as a shampoo bar too, so rocks, lots of lather, great conditioning.

OH RIGHT, sorry, so here I am posting my retraction about the “toilet and ass wiping abilities of DH.” As I had promised him…..because I never break a promise….unless it has to do with our parents….then I don’t promise anything….

Here is my official retraction to Mr. Fish:

My Dear Husband, I love you and at least 90% of the time your wiping abilities and flushing capabilities are adequate. However, at least 10% do require some tweaking. But I am willing to accept my wrong doing in that the dear boy Big G was the single, sole, and ONLY culprit for the toilet clogging incident that I, yes me ALONE, had to clean up. Please accept my public, very public apologies for the misrepresentation of your business with the latrine. Good day.

I can’t wait to see his reaction to this post.
I haven’t been able to stop laughing since I started typing!!
I love you dear.

To my Husband on Fathers Day

I knew in your heart that you wanted to be a father. Your armored exterior was merely a facade of protection from the world, not letting them know that you are a sensitive, loving man.

From the time we went to our friends back yard barbecue and we fell in love with that little girl who radiated to us. We were so fresh as a couple that kids were just a far off fantasy. She clung to me like I was her mom and she fooled with you as she would her own father. Her grandmother told us that her parents looked just like us and that her name was “Sara.”

That day forward we knew what we would name our daughter……if we ever got to the point of marriage. For which we did.

We walked down the aisle on October 1st, 2000 (you barely making the ceremony thanks to my over anxious, highly intoxicated family starting the show without you). Our first born was a son in 2003, Grant Thomas. Grant for the simple fact he was a gift after our heartbreak and struggle, he shares the same initial as your Grandfather as a token of remembrance and Thomas after your father.

When we thought our family was completed YOU were the one who roped in my heart for another child, for Big G and for us. We got a two for one special and you were radiating while all I was doing was radiating heat and hormones during the incubation! We welcomed a day after Valentines Day in 2008, Seth Michael, Seth because you liked the name and very fitting of the appointed second son, Michael for both our uncles, and Sara, our princess, our sole girl, our finale, Noel after her mother as the first born daughter.
We were complete in every sense of the word.

I love the moments where you struggle to be the father your children deserve, the father you want to be, the father you feel you did not have in your own dad. I love the moments where you sit among them and they crawl on you like the solid oak tree in a summer field. I cherish the moments where you stop and just look at all we have accomplished, how special, beautiful and wonderful our children are because of our love and your foundation as a father. You are a wonderful Dad. You are patient, kind, stern, and a push over, you love without beginning or end, definition or purpose, bumps and bruises are mended with kisses and tickles, frights are cared for with hugs and snuggles, and each one of those little people saw you first upon their arrival into this world and for that I could not be more blessed.

I love you my husband, the father of my children, best friend, worst and best enemy, my debate partner, my comic, my lover, my soul mate, my eternal love.

Happy Father’s Day.

Letters I never intend to send

I love writing letters. Especially ones with such raw emotion, with vigor….I love vigor, and you can vent all your angers, frustrations, hurts, and sadness without repercussion or worries. So today while battling with Pickles Magoo on his napping (or failure to take one) I thought I might take a moment to relax. Catch up on my friends’ blogs and all they have going when I hear screams…two to be precise coming from down the hall. One is Pickles Magoo, with a faint choking sound, and the other is Big G again a faint sound of distress and I am unsure so I jump from my chair and book it to the intersection of three doors.

I felt like Bob Barker should have jumped out with flashing lights from the Price is Right to help be choose a door because I opened all of them. No new car…damn. Twins in their cribs, no one is choking, okay onto door number three. NOT door number three. Please oh please…..why did I have to open door number three.

While nothing Earth shattering….or at least not in my mind….had taken place, Big G was standing in a mess the was preemptively caused by his loving, and sometimes clueless father whom I love, adore, and wanted to strangle.

There I stood….in the bathroom with water, I will go with water so I feel okay, under my feet and three screaming kids. Armed with nothing I scrambled for the plunger. All the towels were in the wash….Cheese and rice who’s bright idea was it to wash all the towels today!? Oh right, me. I plunge the toilet cursing Big G’s fathers name over and over and handle that small fire. Run into the Squids room to handle their fire…….still reeling in my anger and frustration I sat down to write this letter to DH that I never intend to send:

My dear love,

I understand nature comes calling. We all, as beings upon this Earth, either animal, insect, and or bird will generate excrement of sorts that must be expelled from our bodies for proper operations. However, your asshole is no different than any other in this household. Each of us has an asshole, each of us will take a heinous shit from time to time. These do not mean that you qualify to use MORE toilet paper than usual to wipe an asshole that quite frankly is the size of a quarter. Your ass on the other hand may be large, but your starfish is much smaller. Please take heed next time you wipe your ass that if you require a double flush to hang around and flush that second or maybe a third time so as to avoid a high speed blow out for me to clean up. Otherwise I will suggest you take the “Proper Ass Wiping Class” with your five year old son in order to learn proper technique and adequate toilet paper consumption. Thanks again for playing, have a great day.

Your loving wife and Plunger Employer Extraordinaire,

I felt so much better to have gotten that out and we never had to fight about it. I just told him how we had a clog….preemptively caused by him, and all was right again.

Dirty Jobs

Mom’s always have the luxury of the dirty jobs in the house. Not sure why….but we do.

Mine include picking up the land mines my bulldog has strategically placed in the backyard when attempting to play with the kids (poo on foot..YUM), laundry….definitely a dirty job, taking the trash to the curb (DH attempts to on most weeks but forgets), of course changing dirty diapers.

But one job appears to be the taboo in some households…..but not mine.

The other night while giving the Squids their nightly bath, DH was so kind to draw the bath for the little gnomes and proceed to wash them while I did dishes. (Another dirty job)
I walked in just when Pickles Magoo was set to be dried off and readied for jammies (another dirty job… is why) when I noticed he had what appeared to be a bit of a rash.
Not your typical splotchy rash, but one that was a solid red…..and in the worst spot.
Right on his “junk” as referred to by Big G and DH.
Yes, the poor boy had a solid red looking rash right on his baby testicles. Upon further investigation I found that he was probably just a tad chapped from his diaper and that the rash would clear once we dried him off and put in a fresh diaper.

So I went about drying him off and lubing him up (what we refer to as putting on lotion) when DH looked over at me and this conversation took place:

DH: You gonna do anything for his rash?
Me: No should be fine, it’s already subsiding.
DH: Well you are already lubing him up…..why don’t you get his junk, just rub it all over and that should help.
Me: (As if I didn’t already know that…..I am a mom!! DUH!! Look that I give him)
Me: *Continued moment of silence
DH: What?
Me: I just realized that I have lubed up every male’s testicles in this house……

It’s a dirty job…..but someone has gotta do it!!

Why the attack on Kate?

I have seen so many blog posts, tabloid covers, snarks, sneers, tweets, talk shows, premieres, and smears that I have to wonder why everyone feels the need to bag on poor Kate Gosselin.

Did she go shit on your front lawn or something? Did she slap you in public? Maybe she spilled your drink? Cutsy in line? Did she tattle on you?

How petty can women really be. Bad enough we have a mom blog war that now we have these women (probably the same war wagers) judging without mercy about how she (Kate) treats her husband, how she raises her children, how she wears her hair, I mean really……is THAT all you have in life is your boring time to judge someone on a reality show? Do you not have better things to do with your time?

I have to say that I love Kate Gosselin. Really I do. Want to know why? Let me tell you.

For one she is a MoM. Not your typical mom, but a real MoM which means she is a Mother of Multiples. MoM women are a different breed, we run our homes a different way, we look at life a little differently, we know the ear shot comments, we know the sneers, jeers, jests, know-it-alls, and “let me tell you how to be a mom” type comments.

I just don’t understand why so many people dislike her, judge her without mercy, and bag on her like she is the biggest pest on Earth.

I love Kate for her time management with those kids. If you have more than 2 children you understand time management. If you have twins or higher order multiples, you really get what I am saying. I love that Kate has some really well behaved children for how many she has. I can barely get my oldest singleton Big G to ask to be excused every night from the dinner table. Although he does have all of his “please,” Thank you,” “Welcome,” and “excuse me” down pat so at least I know I am doing something right.

Seriously, do people think she is just suppose to let her house and her children go? UH NO! Seriously I only have one set of multiples and every day my house is a disaster, I couldn’t imagine TWO sets of multiples, especially higher order multiples. Eight kids is a LOT to clean up after, so I can see her point of view with being so anal.

The husband thing…..I am so there. I made DH watch the show with me……he just kept turning and looking at me like he was watching my twin on TV. Again, when you have more than one or two children, especially, especially multiples your life is completely different. You manage your children….and sometimes your husband……much differently. Sometimes DH gets thrown into the kid mix, not his fault, but when you are managing a home, everyone is an employee, including DH. Parents have to be a united front and if one parent slacks, then the kids know it and FORGET IT!

I do thoroughly enjoy the singleton parents who have a lot of kids. I understand, I hear you. But just because you have kids “really close in age….like having twins”…..yeah that is not like having twins. Having twins or higher order multiples is like having twins or higher order multiples. You have no idea to have two or more infants needing feedings at the same time, two or more infants crying at the same time and figuring which one you pick up first….and then do you let the other cry because you are trying to console one? Yup this happens when you don’t have help, or you are outnumbered like with Jon and Kate.

So mothers of multiples don’t just have “X” amount of children, nope they have all those kids at the SAME TIME. This is NOT the same as having “oh well my kids are like twins because they are close in age.” WRONG. NOT THE SAME. NOT. EVEN. CLOSE.

So I learned to do everything at the same time. I tandem breastfed my kids until I about lost my sanity which was until they were 10 months old. I would solid feed them at the same time with both hands, baths were at the same time, bed times at the same time, naps at the same time. Why all at the same time? Because this is called time management, if you don’t know time management as a mother of multiples you have time FOR NOTHING!

I would really like to know if there are other MoM’s out there who love to watch Kate Gosselin because she makes life feel normal. That her life is a lot like ours, an organized chaos of trying to raise multiples. I would love to hear from my twin or multiple mamas on the whole Kate thing. Because I feel she gets a bad rap and too many people bag on her……why… they can feel better about being a bitch themselves I guess. Who knows. I just don’t see the benefit of bagging on a fellow mom….we do what we can with the tools we are given. We learn to evolve with our tools and we evolve from learning other ways of working with our kids and our husbands. I know I have with the grace of my AWESOME therapist “Pat.”

I have to say next time you see a mom of twins, triplets, or any other higher order of multiples just give them a smile. They don’t need your comments of:

“Man I couldn’t imagine.”
We know, that’s why WE have the multiples and you don’t.
“Better you than me.”
Thanks! We know how weak you are which is why the higher power chose US to handle more than One at a time.
“You sure have your hands full.”
You have NO IDEA and you know what? We love every stinking minute of it with all the hugs and kisses.

Just remember that karma sucks. Every Mom does the best she can, even if she is not raising her kids to YOUR standards. I know I am not perfect, nor is Kate, neither is the mom who is passing judgment on Kate and every other mom trying to do the best she can with what she was given.

The Nerve of Some People…

You know THOSE people. You know the ones that have the nerve, those pots, to call on us kettles? Yes, those rat bastards. I highly dislike them at moments when comments are slung like mud in a wrestling match, I mean, give me some goggles before hand will you!

DH and I were talking today about our typical nonsense. We generally have nothing important to say to each other during the day since he works out of the house. I babble on about housework, kids, bills, and all he hears is “Blah blah…blah blah, yadda blah. Yadda yadda blah.” Then he goes on to tell me about his job and his happenings with his job and all I hear is “Piss and moan, piss and moan.”

Anyway, I mention to him about my loot that I got in the mail today. I mean the mail lady might as well have been Santa in shorts with the packages. I received my products to review on the kids, among other things. So, I being the excited bloggy, tweeting, over-excited, don’t talk to anyone over the age of six during the day, run out to his office to share in my cheerleader-esque tone all my good news and excitement. We banter on about who knows what while I show him all the booty, and I mention how I can’t wait to blog about it.

Then he has the nerve. To tell me. Make sure you don’t forget to twitter that and whatever hell else you do.


Right. I told him, yes I do have my addiction to blogging, which by the way is more therapy than an addiction. Blogging is much cheaper than my $75 per hour therapist, whom I do love and adore, but heck I’m cheap….I blog! So I have my addiction, but my addiction is yielding some great stuff for the kids and WOM for these companies, thats what matters. Then, in all my wit, I call him out on his pot stance:

Mmmhmmm, and this WoW (World of Warcraft), do I see WoW yielding any goods? Is WoW going to one day pay the bills? (In reference to my writing among other things) I don’t think so, because you have to disconnect to make REAL money….WoW gold doesn’t count.

Then he proceeds to tell me….something….I kind of phased him out, oh right, he asked, so you going to go blog and tweet…….and I turned ever so nicely to close the door. I leaned out the door just enough to still be in the room to tell him:

No dear, I am actually going to make dinner. You know what dinner is right? You know, the meal after lunch and generally before breakfast the following day…..a meal you haven’t made in a while. Then I peer through the window as I shut the door giving him the most Nanna Nanna Boo Boo face ever.

I know…I am such an adult.