I hate everyone

not dead. I think.

I’m here. Sort of. I’m here in a fuzzy, I can kind of see through  my frizzy bangs and dirt halo sort of way.

I’m going to say this. Military wives are my heros. They deserve badges and buckets of gold and honors and things like that.

It’s March. It’s snowing. March is a whore.

Also today I introduced coffee back into my diet. Next I’ll be introducing cocaine.

Ruby cut her first tooth.

G smacked me 98 times and is becoming the tantrum champ of the east.

Ruby thinks that 20 minutes of sleep is all that babies need. Ruby hangs out with some asshole babies.

So all of that.

I’ll update you as I can. Send nannies.

xoxo

modg

me

POSTED IN: I hate everyone


Hello. If you’re reading this post it means something, even if it’s a very small something is going right in this house. Something being, both kids are napping at the same time. Because that time my friends and ONLY that time is when we can talk. Oh, and only after I cook 40 meals from scratch in my kitchen.

Wait. What was that last part?

Me? Cooking a bunch of shit?

EVERY.G.D.DAY?

Yes. Oh yes.

My diet has morphed from restrictive for breastfeeding, to Paleo, to Whole30 and now the Candida Diet (removing yeast). All to help my little bugger Ruby feel better. She now has full body eczema, mucus face, man farts and sparse poops. We went to the naturopath yesterday and were told that she has too much yeast and is reacting. That means, no fruit, no honey, and definitely no gummy penguins. Listen, I know it’s my choice to do this. But manalive cut me a break with this food shit. Also, who am I? Martini MODG barely recognizes this frizz ball makeupless train wreck.

DSC_0043

If I squint real hard and tilt my head and suck in my gut, I can kiiiind of remember the cool weird girl that started this blog. I remember posting pictures of a shaker and martini glass and being all, “my evening”. And that would be the whole post. Ok quality lacked around here, but my life was miles different than what it is now. A good newlywed friend of mine just informed me that my last “drunk” category post was 2 full years ago. She asked me to rectify this. Another commenter asked that I start posting more of what my “adult” life is like these days. Both had good intentions, but friends without kids, hear me now: THERE IS NO ADULT LIFE. You think I’m exaggerating. You know, because that’s what I do around here. I’m not.

Let me break it down for you:

Wake up either from a grunting baby next to me or a toddler jumping on top of me saying “more special movie” “more special movie” (this is what he calls cartoons. TV has become the 5th family member since Ruby arrived)

Hold one kid while getting another dressed, reverse.

Prop small one somewhere and occupy toddler with a brush and my bra drawer while I somehow get dressed

Sometimes I look in the mirror

Play trains, feed baby, play trains, feed baby, play trains, feed baby, change diaper, play trains, feed baby, play trains, feed baby, change diaper.

DSC_0092

TRAINS. (these guys are my train relief)

Cook lunch while holding baby. Try not to drop her on anything hot. Drag toddler around on my leg as he screams MORE CHEESE. (?)

Prop baby, nap G. Nap involves extreme routines involving specific clothes, diapers, sounds, stars, lights, books, blankets, dolls, lighting concept, etc. It takes a full half hour.

Baby has HAD IT.

Feed her, nap her.

RUN downstairs. Cook everything in the kitchen for dinner, for breakfasts, etc. for B and I containing only safe ingredients for our stupid diets. Worry about G’s food later.

30 minutes. Baby is awake. Stare at her in the video monitor like a mental patient. She goes back to sleep. Whew…

MOMMYCOMEINMOMMYCOMEIN G is up. Shit. Sa;lskdjf;laksdjf;lkj

Tell him to be quiet because he will wake up Ruby.

Cook more.

This cycle repeats 3 times.

Everyone is up. I am out of breath.

play trains, feed baby, play trains, feed baby, play BLOCKS, feed baby (crazy I know).

DAD IS HOME THANK THE JESUS IN THE SKY.

Get dinner on the table

Baby wants me, not dad. Duh.

G wants me to PLAY GD TRAINS AGAIN. Dad isn’t cutting it.

SHOVE food into my mouth so I can pick up the baby.

Bath time.

Dad does bath. I get Ruby. Switch.

G to bed. Wants mommy to read to him.

Ruby screams, wants mom. Duh, who doesn’t. Mom is cool. But please hang out with DAD.

*****SUPER SPECIAL ADULT MOM TIME***** here it comes everyone, my special time———————->

I GET TO SHOWER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am alone and it’s my very own time.

I do not get to dry my hair though. I have to run down and get Ruby because she’s screaming.

Feed Ruby and watch the Bachelor in 30 minute increments every night. I’m on episode 2.

9:30pm Ruby is tired, sleeps next to me and will only stay asleep next to me. So I sleep. She moves to her crib around midnight.

AND THEN WE DO IT ALL AGAIN.

See how there wasn’t like, wine time in there? There wasn’t any chocolate and internet shopping time? There wasn’t any, read my Lucky mag time and take toilet pictures time? And no, there wasn’t even blog time.

Listen friends, I’m not complaining. I have a really cool little family and it’s my job to be the momma. And I know this is all a phase as I’ve said. But it’s literally every minute of every day. There is no adult fun time. I hate to break it to everyone who doesn’t have little bundles of poop and pee yet. But let me tell you this, you will be SO good at playing trains. You will play the shit out of those trains.

So stay with me folks. You’ll see more of me as time goes on. And the more you see of me, the better you know we’re doing. Because somehow I’m alone, at my computer and I’m breathing (and maybe drinking wine. Praise Britney, please let me be drinking some wine)

I will have non mom skinny jean post #2 for you soon. You know, when I get time.

xoxo and sexy grain free love,

MODG

DSC_0002

POSTED IN: babies,I hate everyone,Mom Stuff,Not Pleased,Toddlers,You think you know but you have no idea

Baby’s explosive diarrhea = DJ Tanner’s pimple on picture day. But messier.

Dudes. Shit has been real around here. I forgot I had a computer. Let alone a blog of nonsense to run. I remembered when I had a dream that one slapped me in the face with a piece of bologna. I’m going to declare something here and now: I will never declare anything ever again. […]

Read the full post →

Shit Baby Center Tells Me To Do (part 1). You lucky beast, there are FOUR PARTS. Also I’m disgusting.

Welcome to the last 4 weeks of my pregnancy. Or as I call it, the final 4 levels of hell. I think Catholics call it purgatory. I have to check with Grandma. In honor of this “special” time, I present to you a weekly series called: Shit Baby Center Tells Me To Do If you’ve […]

Read the full post →

My unborn child is a reckless bad ass with blue tooth and an attitude. And I’m in no mood.

Hello friends. It’s been a spell, hasn’t it? I however can no longer take responsibility for my body or it’s actions. I declare that this 3rd trimester will somehow, someway get me onto at least the local news, if not Watch What Happens Live with Andy Cohen. Let me explain. Lest you not forget (I […]

Read the full post →