Easy come, easy go

And no, I'm not talking about my virginity. 

I speak of the yardsale I had the other day with a couple of my girlfriends. I made about $70 (suhweeeet!) and walked in the front door only for Big Poppa to take the money right out of my purse and head out to Home Depot. WHA???? 

Hubs and my brother in law's were all working on finishing our deck and supplies were needed. So there it went. There might be $20 left of it if we're lucky. UGH! So guess what I'm doing next weekend? Having another yard sale to make up for the money that Home Depot made. Bastards. 

But that being said, our deck is beautiful! YAY! Just in time to sell the house....WOOOO-fucking-HOOOO!

Observant much?

It's not even 7am here in my loving home and already things are deteriorating in front of my eyes.

Big Poppa was about to get in his car to leave for work while I sat at the dining room table feeding the kids. Then I heard his cell phone interfering with the tv in the other room and realized that he'd forgotten it. So, being the caring and thoughtful wife that I am, I jump up from the table to catch him before he leaves. But what do I do in the meantime? Slam my achilles into the edge of the dining room table and take a huge fucking chunk out of it. I won't post a picture of it since I wouldn't want you all to barf all over your pretty computers. Oh but it gets better...

I run hop over to the sliding glass doors (that are never used because the deck isn't finished yet) and pull them back to get Big Poppa's attention where I find this...

That would be crayon ALL OVER both of my sliding glass doors (the other door isn't pictured). And the kicker? I have no fucking clue when he did it! Sneaky little turd. So on top of the 35 other things I have to do today, I can add cleaning the doors to the list. 

And I'd like to thank my wonderful sister Ryann for causing this. You see, she has these markers that are specifically for coloring on glass doors. They clean off easily but the problem is that she lets Luca do it at her house and we don't have those same easy clean off markers at my house. So Luke thinks he can use anything to color on the glass doors now. So, Ryann...I'll be awaiting your arrival this afternoon to clean off my doors. It's the least you can do.

You're going to Mars!

So as I sit here and surf the internet research the most educational projects to do with my children, I see that Luca has decided to "play" with Avery. His version of playing is shoving her ya-ya (some may call it a pacifier or binky or nuk....it's a ya-ya in my house) into her mouth. Which of course is backwards and upside down but those are just technicalities. Whatevs.

This reminds me of how my sisters used to "play" with me. I was the youngest of 4 girls so to say I was picked on was an understatement. I was tormented on a daily basis but I hold no bitterness towards them. No. None at all.

Anyway, my sister Jodie and I used to share a room. Jil and Ryann shared the other one. Jodie was the oldest and nicest. But every once in a while I would test her patience. Whether that be by snooping in her goods or stealing her Madonna cassette tape. There were different ways I could go about annoying her but it would usually result in the same punishment for me. She would push me down to the ground between the wall and the bed and then push the top mattress over me all while screaming, "you're going to Mars!" 

Now, at my easily impressionable and vulnerable age, I believed her!!!! So what did I do? I screamed my apologies for stealing Milli Vanilli or whomever from her and tried to escape from my mission to Mars (always unsuccessfully).

I know these days are coming for Avery. Poor girl. So unsuspecting. But at least she can follow in her Mom's footsteps and maybe even be the youngest girl to go to Mars. I think I hold the record but I also didn't have a little demon child like Luca as my sibling. 

In case you've been up worrying about where I've been...

...please don't fret my lovelies. I've merely been falling in love.

Please come in and let me be your birth control.

I can almost guarantee that if you long for a baby or are starting to come down with baby fever for #2, this post will change your mind. That said, if you don't want to be scared shitless then I highly recommend you just move right along to the next blog on your dashboard. This post isn't for your naive eyes.

Ok...onto my hell our day. Luca and Avery needed to go to the pedi for a well visit (Avery) and 2 shots (Luca). What can I say, I'm a horrible mother that delays vaccines. Suck it. I should also mention that this is the first time I've ever taken both kids to the pedi for an appointment by myself. Usually Big Poppa meets me there and lends an extra set of hands. Apparently I was delusional and thought I could handle this on my own. God, I'm fucking tart sometimes. 

The waiting room was packed so I was stuck sitting on a coffee table/bench/ottoman thing in the middle of all the other moms. Yeah, I looked like a tool. It took forever and just as Luke was headed toward meltdown city, we were called back. Oh wow...there is a God. Or so I thought.

We walk back to the exam room and before even entering, Luke goes fucking ballistic which of course, makes Avery go ballistic. I know you're all thinking, 'big deal Amy...suck it up, put on your big girl panties and deal.' That's all great except they didn't fucking calm down!  I'm not talking fussy/whiny/annoyingness, I'm talking full on ugly cry from the both of them. We were there for nearly 2 hours and they cried THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME! It even got to the point where I was sitting on the floor of the exam room (which in and of itself made me want to barf...just think of the germy shit living on those floors....blech) consoling the both of them in my lap because I couldn't hold them simultaneously (last time I checked, I wasn't Chyna from WWF WWE with man arms).

I couldn't hear the doctor, the nurse was the biggest fucking douchebag in the world and they took 3 years to get the damn vaccines ready. And then she slowly tortured my poor kids with these needles which normally wouldn't bother me so much (does that make me sadistic?) but my nerves were beyond shot at that point. Just plunge the fucking thing and get it over with! She took her time inserting the needle and then while the kid screamed she would slowly unwrap the band aid but then she couldn't find where she plunged so she had to squeeze their sore little leg and...yeah, you get the point. She took fucking forever. And then it's all over and she comes in and offers 'Lucas' a fucking lollipop. Thanks asshole but that's not even his name. 

I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever try to take the both of them to the pedi by myself again. Ever. I wanted to drink myself into a stupor when I got home. I even called my sister and begged her to come over so that I could do said drinking and not be completely irresponsible. She said no. I no longer like her.

So to those who still want a baby and made it this far, have you changed your mind yet?

I was never a fan of the movie Whitefang...

...but I probably should be since my son could take the starring role.

Yesterday we were dancing to Mickey Mouse's "hot dog dance" when he started pulling away from me. I couldn't hold onto him any longer so I let go thinking he would fall into the couch which was right behind him. At the last minute he turned his body and crossed his feet all funky and fell, face first, into Avery's bouncy seat. And of course the first thing that hits is his big ass mouth. And to make the story even better, he fell directly into one of the three plastic pieces on the whole damn seat! What the hell are the odds?

So he's bleeding and looks up at me and I instantly see, or should I say, don't see his front tooth. He's screaming and I'm searching for tooth fragment whilst getting covered in blood. In the midst of a ear piercing scream I see the tooth on his tongue. I grabbed it and put it in milk because that's what my mom told me to do. Christ if I knew what to do in that situation.

I finally got in touch with the pediatrician who referred me to a pediatric dentist who told me to come over immediately. Oh and did I mention that this all happened right before nap time for both kids? Yeah, I must have left that part out. Like breaking off a tooth isn't bad enough, I had two children under 20 months old in my car during the beginning of rush hour with NO nap in them. Fucking awesome. I would have rather swallowed broken glass.

We get to the pedi dentist and they had to shave the tooth down because it was so sharp from the break. Technical diagnosis is a crown fracture of his front tooth. My poor little hillbilly. They said that since he won't lose this tooth for another 4 or so years that we can have it bonded (purely for cosmetic reasons) but they'd have to sedate him. I'm torn about what to do on that front. It seems so unnecessary but I also love his little gap toothed baby smile. 

Now every time my little hellion falls down (and that happens quite frequently) I have a minor stroke. I swear he'll be completely toothless by 2 years of age which is only 3 months away! My kid is the one who puts a blanket over his head and runs straight into the dishwasher because it's funny. I have to admit, that was funny. But not anymore! I think I might buy super absorbency pads and stick them all over him so that whenever he falls, it's like a little fresh scented cushion. He won't be made fun of too bad, will he?

This is the best picture I could get. Obviously, he's supposed to have two front teeth but in this picture he only has one front tooth and a little speck that is the corner of his other tooth. 

As if my self image weren't shit already...

I went out to dinner with my sister on Sunday night and got dressed up a little. Nothing crazy, just jeans, a nice shirt and cute shoes. I wasn't all skanked out but I rarely get a chance to dress nice and go out sans kids so I took advantage.

Anyway, I walked downstairs and asked my sweet Luca how I looked. Here's how the conversation went:

Hot Mama (that's me!): "Hey Lukey...how does Mommy look?"

Luca: "Moooooooooooo."

Fat Mama (yeah, that's me now): "Um, ok." (insert sad, dejected face here)

Kids certainly have a way of making you feel good about yourself!

And on tonight's menu...TARANTULA!!!

I'm gonna try my hardest not to vomit all over my iBook while typing this post. 

Tonight I was feeding and rocking Avery to sleep while flipping through the channels. A program on Animal Planet catches my eye called Tarantulas: Australia's King of Spiders.  

Now, I should preface that I fucking HATE spiders. As well as grasshoppers. Those little fuckers jump all over the place and are just so unpredictable. Ick. So yeah, back to my hatred of spiders. They totally skeeve me. And hairy ass tarantulas just look grodey. And aren't they poisonous or something? I thought my cousin taught me that back when we were braving it in the wild (which really means we were walking around in the woods 50 feet from his back door).

Anyway, I'm literally watching this show with my mouth dropped open while occasionally turning away from the tv so I can gag and heave. Poor Avie Baby probably thought I was pregnant or something (which isn't a stretch for me). Do not fear though...I am not knocked up. Instead I was watching Cambodians handle these bugs like they were tossing tennis balls around. And now the kicker...they fucking fry them up and EAT THEM!!! Of course not without a little salt and other seasoning. Because who in their right mind would eat plain old tarantula? Pft. So low class.

Turns out that tarantula is a delicacy over there. They fry 'em up in large batches and literally sell them to people sitting in their cars for 10 cents per bag. Oh, oh, oh...I almost forgot the skeeviest part! They have those open markets over in Cambodia with huge wicker looking baskets filled to the brim with LIVE tarantulas. And these women just grabs handfuls of LIVE tarantulas and pass them out like they're playing bridge with the ladies on a thursday night. Ugh...I can feel the puke rising up my esophagus. 

All kidding aside, I will have nightmares about tarantulas tonight. Or those fucking grasshoppers. And I'm sure you're all thinking, 'why the f wouldn't you just change the channel, genius?' And my answer to that would be that I obviously like to torture myself. For rizzle. I really have no other good reason for continuing to watch it. I think I was just so amazed at these Cambodians seriously inhaling these little fried hair balls like they were popping M&M's or some shit. It fascinated me. And then my stomach started turning and my Butterfinger blizzard started creeping and that was that. Unless Avery wanted to be wearing my puke, the spiders had to go.

So tell me...would you eat fried tarantula?