I woke up this morning feeling foul.  It’s one of those days that I must monitor my every word and every action, knowing that I could explode on the nearest offenders.

Tate is lucky he’s at work today.

My children are lucky that I know how volatile my mood is today.

I’ve been keeping a running dialogue of self-checking reminders in my head all morning. 

Don’t throw the green spoon at Carson, simply hand it to him and take the purple spoon away.  He’ll stop crying if you do.

Ella will be napping soon.  Don’t scream at her to shut up.  She’s just a BABY.

You don’t even believe in spanking!  Keep your hands to yourself.

Grow up!  Act like the PARENT, not the toddler.

I don’t know what, if anything specific, set me off.  Tate and I went on a date last night that was almost as fun as taking both kids with us.  Almost.  It is actually supposed to be in the 60’s today, but both of my kids are sick so we are stuck at home for what feels like the 873rd day in a row in exile.  Maybe it’s the 8th day of Aunt Flo’s visit.  Maybe the upcoming “vacation” home is stressing me out.  Maybe I’m just tired.

I don’t want to feel like this.

Don’t drink all the alcohol in the house.  The authorities would frown upon that.  It would also cost thousands of dollars in therapy for the children.

Forget about baking those brownies to self-medicate.

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List of things I accomplished before 9:10 AM…

Nursed the baby, grew a banana tree, harvested it and fed one to the baby, checked and answered several emails, dressed the baby, dressed the boy, reminded a certain person of our quest to leave the house by 9:10, changed two poopy diapers, showered myself, invented a shower lock, patented the lock, marketed it, and began to reap the profits, brushed my teeth, flossed, put on make-up, dried my hair, put on clothes (including pantyhose), reminded a certain person AGAIN of our quest to leave the house by 9:10, realized I had no time to eat breakfast, planned in my head the meals to be made for the day, laundry to be completed, and bills that needed paying, packed a travel bag for the kids filled with snacks, toys, diapers, wipes, and burp cloths, came up with a few viable solutions for world hunger, got two children into their coats and buckled into their car seats, wrote this blog post in my head, seethed with anger.*  9:10

List of things accomplished by a certain person who shall remain nameless…

Got up and hour after me, complained about the baby being fussy and loud, did some work from home on the Internet, “made” breakfast for himself and the boy that included pouring cereal and milk into a bowl, patted himself on the back for making breakfast, rolled his eyes at repeated reminders of our looming departure, asked what time we were leaving, showered, got himself a road sody, marveled at his amazing ability to get ready by 9:10, wondered outloud to himself why his wife was “sportin’ a ‘tude.”

*Certain accomplishments were embellished for EFFECT.

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Tags: Go Fly a Kite, Men?, hole-y matrimony by Jennifer
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The curse has returned
Gone nearly three years with just
one Aunt Flo visit

Men.  This is your cue to leave promptly.  Quietly shut your browser and pretend you were never here.  Please return again tomorrow when I promise to talk about something ELSE like boobies or trucks.

So hello ladies!  It’s just us today, feel free to look around and note how CLEAN and tidy and sock-free everything is.  The counters are wiped and you have control of the remote. 

When I went to bathroom earlier in the week, I noticed something on my undies. 

“Huh?” I thought to myself.  “What in THE hell IS that?” 

It took a minute, but I finally came to my senses and realized, “Oh yes.  It’s THAT.” 

I wondered if I even had any feminine hygiene products in the house, but then remembered to my horror that my movers had packed and moved them in a box labeled “WOMEN’S PADS.”

So I retrieved one of my WOMEN’S PADS and set off to spread the word to Tate and explain to him why I had been picking fights and acting even more passive aggressive with him than normal for the previous week.

He looked at me, squinting and crinkling his nose.  I assumed that he was going to make my need to wear WOMEN’S PADS all about him and his needs. (gag)  Instead he was confused. 

“Is that even possible?” he asked.

Since the arrival had also surprised me, I decided to forgo the lesson on menstruation and wimmins for Tate.  Rather, I explained that yes, indeedio, it was possible.

“Well, I KNOW that it’s POSSIBLE, but I didn’t think IT would happen with the IUD,” to which I realized Tate had a point.  I didn’t think I’d need WOMEN’S PADS with the IUD. 

Of course I contacted my trusty family doctor **Google** and she explained that 20% of women did in fact have NO need for WOMEN’S PADS while the rest of us get to entertain an unwanted visitor every month. 

This is one of those times in my life that I really, really, really wish that I was less than average.

***************

To play along for Haiku Friday, follow these steps:

1. Write your own haiku on your blog. You can do one or many, all following a theme or just random. What’s a haiku, you ask? Click here.

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3. Pick up a Haiku Friday button to display on the post or in your sidebar by clicking the button above.

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On the way home from the bank, Carson cried from the backseat, “No go home Mommy, no go home.” 

Not really wanting to go home either, but without a plan, I asked Carson, “Well, where should we go?”

“Target Mommy.  Go Target.”  God I love that kid.

So off to Target we went, in search of a good time.

After an exhaustive search of the Dollar Spot and scoring some much needed items like a dust mop and other plastic crap like margarita glasses for ONLY $1!!!, we headed to the infant/toddler clothes section.   Not surprisingly, I found a plethora of adorable little dresses for Ella and hardly any cute boy clothes for Carson.

Shopping for kid’s clothes, while mostly thrilling, also makes me so incredibly frustrated. 

Every brand has it’s own sizing.  There is NO ORDER to the madness.  Size 6 mos in one brand may very well be the exact same as size 3 mos in another brand.  I don’t really care if the size actually corresponds the the actual age of my baby (although it would be nice if the world revolved around me and my petite children), but it would be nice if I could reliably pick the correct size for my children.

And another thing that completely baffles me about sizing is why some brands completely skip 9-12 mos!  Babies don’t just go from being the size of a 6 month old and suddenly wake up one day and are a rotund 12 month old.   Or!  OR!  I don’t like it when brands have a generic 6-12 mos.  I need smaller increments!

One more thing that confuses me, and truly confused me at Target yesterday, was understanding the difference between size 24 mos and 2T.  I held up two pairs of shorts, one 24 mos, one 2T and there was NO discernible difference between the two.  NONE! 

Also, it seems that whenever I find something that is cute, more often than not they are out of the size I’ve estimated I need to buy.  Of course they have oodles of EVERY OTHER size and NOT EVEN ONE of the size I want.  Case in point, yesterday at Target, they had several Lightning McQueen shirts.  Some of these shirts were hideous so obviously they were teeming with size 3T.  The cute Lightning McQueen shirts were only available in size 18 mos and 5T.

I feel like since I’m a mom, and have been for 2 1/2 years, I should have a better handle on children’s clothing sizes.  But I’m still a novice.  Possibly I just need more practice shopping.  Or a margarita.  In fact, I’m going to go make myself a margarita in one of my Dollar Spot margarita glasses now.

Cheers!

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Tags: Huh?, Little Monkeys by Jennifer
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What is up with the men in my house?  Both of them think it’s their God-given right to invade MY shower.

First it was just Tate attempting to ruin my shower.  He’s always looking for a little sumpin’ sumpin’ and I’m just wanting to be ALONE while I clean my body.  I don’t need, nor do I want, companionship in the shower.  On the weekends when Tate is home, I’ve learned to shower when both kids are awake and in need on very strict parental supervision so that I can shower in peace.  When I do make the mistake of waiting until the afternoon to shower and the children are napping, I have to fend Tate and his eyebrow wagging and feeble romance attempts in order to JUST shower.  Alone.  And clean my body.  And nothing else.

It wasn’t always like this.  In fact, we used to shower together regularly.  Sometimes we showered together in our attempt to save the planet and save water, other times we showered together because…well, just because.   You’re a smart group of Internetz, I’m sure you can figure it out.  Anyhow, now one of my only solo excursions IS the shower and I’d like to be left the hell alone.

Showering is an iffy prospect many days since the birth of my children.  Some days the stars align and the wind is blowing just the right direction for me to shower in peace.  Ella naps while Carson watches Wonder Pets and I shower ALONE.  Lately, though, Carson has also decided that showering with me is absolutely necessary.   No amount of bribing, cajoling, or strong arming him makes him see the need for mommy to have her few minutes alone.  Admittedly, the first few times he hopped in the shower with me, it was pretty cute.  Now WEEKS later, and nary a solo shower to be had, it’s cuteness has completely worn off.

Can’t a girl just shower in peace?  Maybe I should invent locking shower doors and curtains.  I’d probably be a bajillionaire.

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Tate would never publicly admit this, so I’ll do it for him, but he enjoys that show Jon and Kate Plus 8.  Of course, he probably would never have purposely watched this show if it weren’t for me.  We are both so fascinated by this show and how they function.   ”Eight kids!” we say.  “All those kids!” we say, shaking our heads in disbelief. 

A good evening in the Binky Bitch household is when TLC or Discovery Health is playing a marathon of all the episodes! 

I have so much I’d like to say about this show.  Since it’s been some time since I compiled my thoughts in handy outline form, I thought I do that for you today.  

I.  Jon and Kate’s relationship
     A.  Wow.
     B.  Wow.
     C.  How DO they stay married?

II.  Kate’s OCD and quirks
      A.  Wow.
      B.  Wow.
      C.  She makes me feel inferior that I have a mere TWO kids and can barely keep the house clean.
      D.  She scrubs the floor on her hands and knees MORE THAN ONCE PER DAY.
           1.  Wow.
      E.  She took pictures of her kids’ first poo.
           1.  Gross.
      F.  I would like to be friends with her.

III.  Those kids are so freaking cute.
         A.  They never seem dirty or unkempt.
               1.  Where are their snotty noses??
         B.  They all speak so well…especially for being MEGA-multiples.
         C.  The kids are all pretty sweet to each other.
               1.  Maybe they are horrible when the cameras are turned off.
                     a.  Doubtful

IV.  They never eat out.
        A.  Kate cooks from scratch and mostly with organic foods.
              1.  Again she makes me feel inferior.
              2.  I would die if I never got to eat out.  
                   a.  Of course, I’d probably die if I had to eat out with 8 children.
        B.  Those kids have never had fast food
              1.  Or so Kate says
                    a.  I don’t think she’s lying, though
              2.  Inferior!  ME!  We eat Chick-Fil-A weekly.

V.  Jon is cute.
      A.  More importantly, he’s also a great Dad.
            1.  This is probably why I think he’s cute.
      B.  He is a saint for keeping his cool with Kate.

VI.  They took the kids to Disneyworld
        A.  They drove there all the way from whatever northern state they live in.
              1.  Air travel would have been equally as HORRIBLE in my opinion.
        B.  They must be crazy.
        C.  How DID they SURVIVE?
             1.  Not only did they survive, they seemed to have….fun?

Discuss.  Jon and Kate dissertations are due by 5 AM tomorrow.  Pass the No-Doze!   

(This wasn’t supposed to post until tonight…damnit.)  (There is a post below this one that was meant for TODAY…I’m telling you this because the comments are hilarious!)

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I have a question to ask about your husbands.  Before I do, though, let me just be clear…I’m not saying that men are dumb idiots, ewww, yuck, blech MEN!  No.  I’m simply asking a question.

Let me set up the scenario.  Husband can’t find something and calls to you to help him find it.  “Honey!  I can’t find the ointment/peanut butter/towels/shoes/whatever.”

You call back, “Honey!  It’s right there on the shelf/in the drawer/on the floor/where ever!”

Somehow the Husband cannot find the item.  You are beckoned to come find it for him.  You are irritated because you KNOW that the item is RIGHT THERE.  You huff and puff and roll your eyes on your way to find this item for him.

And voila!  There it is.  It truly is RIGHT THERE.  Husband would have found it if he had looked behind, over, beside…..  Instead of putting any effort into the search, he asked for your help.    Instead of being grateful, he’s irritated that it wasn’t in plain view, and that he’d have to actually LOOK.

This male pattern blindness, as I like to call it, also occurs in the kitchen.  Let’s say that the Husband offers to clean up after dinner, but cleaning up only entails putting dirty dishes in the washer.  It does not include wiping the counters, sweeping the floor, or hand-washing any items not suitable for the dishwasher.  When the “over sight” is mentioned, the Husband claims not to have “seen” the smeary counters, crumby floor, or giant high chair tray in the sink.

Does this happen to all husbands or just the one I’m married to named Tate?

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Tags: Happy Homemaking, Huh?, Men?, hole-y matrimony by Jennifer
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