Adopt a Ho for the Holidays

Now that the holiday season is upon us, it seems we have even less time for ourselves. As if mother(and father)hood wasn't lonely enough, now we are so busy with familial and ceremonial obligations, that we don't have time to do the little things that make us more than just a mommy. The things that make us happy. The things that, in the long run, make us better parents. I would like to help with that. Via...

I have a proposition for you all: let's Adopt a Ho for the Holidays. What's that now? No, I don't want you to go under a bridge and find a hooker to hang out with and feed soup. I want to pair you up with a fellow Boozehound to do a care package exchange. Just a little something that can help brighten everyone's holidays and make us feel a little special. There will be a $25 spending limit, so you don't have to break the bank to participate.

Anyone that is interested, just send me your name, address and a list of likes and dislikes (ie: loves Precious Moments figurines and kitty cat sweaters, dislikes bondage and vodka) and I will match you up with a fellow ho. Then, just put your package together and send it to the ho I have matched you up with, and they will do the same. It might even spark some real friendships, which is the best gift a mommy can get, really.

If you want to adopt a ho this holiday, email your name, address and like/dislikes to ilikebeerandbabies @ gmail.com (remove spaces first).

Happy HOlidays, Boozehounds!

Today You Are Three

Dear J,

The Beginning

My sweet little girl. The light of my life. My reason for being better. You are now such a funny and quirky little girl. You love animals and farts. If I ask you what you want for your birthday, Christmas or your dreams at night, you almost always say something sweet. Like candy, or cupcakes, or cookies, or brownies. You have a big sweet tooth, just like your mama.

You love to sing and dance. If I ask you what you want me to sing, you always say, "Ba Ba Black Sheep." You also love the song Rehab by Kellar Williams, Rumor Has It by Adele and anything by Yo Gabba Gabba. Your favorite things to watch on TV are Pee-Wee's Big Adventure and Where the Wild Things Are. You also love Coraline.

One Year

Right now you like to play kitchen and babies. You are a very good mommy. In fact, at school, you act like a mommy to all of your friends. You hug them when they are sad, rub their backs if they are trying to take a nap and help them do things they can't because they are younger than you.

You have the sweetest personality of any child I have ever met. You are loving, funny and almost always in a good mood. You are full of joy, and that joy rubs off on all of those that are around you.

Two Years

We call you Sweet Pea, Bean, Beanie Weenie and Nark (sorry, you are a bit of a hall monitor).

At night before you go to bed, I always tell you your dreams. After I tell you them, you always say, "Tell me my other dreams." You like to read Shel Silverstein poems, as well as Giraffe and a Half (you always have to find the bee), Tickle Monster, Giraffes Can't Dance and Fancy Nancy Halloween or Bust.

Three Years

Thank you for making the last three years of my life better than I could have ever imagined. I love you more than I thought was possible.


Love,

Mama

I Just Need a Day

Today I am at my boiling point. All I want is one day with my kids where they don't drive me to take a swig of ethanol for every 15 minutes I spend with them.

I just need a day.
A day where my son doesn't cry hysterically every time I detach him from my hip to do something frivolous, like go to the bathroom or feed myself.
A day where my children don't constantly fight over nothing.
A day where I am not asked for something every 15 seconds.
A day where I don't have to fight my kids to do simple things, like brush their teeth or put their clothes on.
A day where my daughter doesn't whine for everything she wants or needs.
A day where my children don't trash the house the second I turn around.
A day where no one fights taking a nap.
A day where I can sit and enjoy one child without the other climbing on top of me out of jealousy.
A day where I don't cook dinner only to have to let mine get cold while I coax my daughter to eat hers.
A day where no one is allowed to say the word, "why?"
A day where I don't get scratched or get my hair pulled fulfilling my children's needs.
A day where I actually feel like my children appreciate all that I do to make them happy and healthy.
A day where I feel both needed AND wanted.
Just one day.
Please.

All About Me

So a while ago, I promised to let you know a little more about me. Here is the first installment:

1. What is something you should be embarrassed about, but you're not? Picking my nose.
2. What are two things you do every day? Drink. Poop.
3. If you had a perfect day, what are three things it would include? My husband, my kids, wine.
4. A five word sentence that describes you... I like beer and babies. Man, that was easy.
5. What’s your biggest fear? Needles. I cry like a bitch when I have to get a shot or draw blood. No joke.
6. Where is place that you’ve vacationed and vowed to never return? New Orleans during Mardi Gras. *shivers*
7. What’s your number one goal for 2013? To not get pregnant.
8. What beverage do you drink the most? (Both alcoholic/non-alcoholic) Wine. Milk.
9. What’s your favorite meal to cook? Biscuits and gravy. It is an art and makes me nervous every. damn. time. I cook it.
10. Which is worse? A gaggle of immaculately dressed soccer Moms or a pack of ravenous wolves? That is like asking, "What would you rather drink? A bottle of Coppola Zin or a glass full of fox urine and hot sauce."
11. What is the worst way you've put your foot in your mouth? Probably im'ing one friend about how much of a bitch our other friend's wife was and accidentally sending the im to him instead. Doh.
12. If you were a cocktail/beverage/bar snack, what would you be? Long Island iced tea with a side of Gardetto's.
13. If you were a super hero what would your power be? Teleportation. Man it would rock to get anywhere in the world instantly. I would spend every lunch our on the beach.

Feel free to send me your questions about myself and I will answer them honestly and with brazen. I am happy to throw myself to the wolves for y'alls amusement. I will feature the questions and answers in future posts. Bring it, Boozehounds.

A Few of My Favorite Things

Since Oprah is out of the game, I thought I would do a take on her Favorite Things and hip you to what The Quiet Contemplator and The Cool Cucumber will be getting from me and ADD Daddy Santa this year. Sorry, none of you will be receiving a $2k bathrobe, trip to Vegas or new car out of this. But if you are looking for a gift for The Beer Bitch, you all know what I really want. Here are the infant and toddler editions of My Favorite Things from last year, for reference, or for more gift ideas for your life-sucking midgets wonderful, deserving children.

Things I like for The Quiet Contemplator:
  
Plan Toys Play House

Pee-Wees Playhouse Sets One and Two


The original Willy Wonka 

Melissa & Doug Dress-Up Reusable Sticker Pad

Tiny pink Toms 

LEGO DUPLO My First Fire Station
  
LEGO Duplo Building Set 

Little Tikes TotSports T-Ball Set

Little Blue Truck Book 

Pete the Cat: I Love My White Shoes Book

Things I like for The Cool Cucumber:

Little Tykes Workhorse


Ugly Doll

Melissa & Doug Habitats Reusable Sticker Pad


Tiny blue Toms 

Melissa & Doug Car Carrier 


Melissa & Doug Deluxe Pound and Roll Tower


Goodnight, Goodnight Construction Site Book  

How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight? Book



Mega Bloks


Bath Froggy

Dear single, stay at home and military mamas

Dearest single, SAH and military mamas,

You are the mother fucking shit. I bow down to the greatness that is you. What you mamas do on a daily basis is amazing and deserves some sort of congressional medal of honor. I have just spent five days as the sole caretaker of my youngins and it made me want to buy you a beer, or a puppy, or a midget, or whatever would make you the most happy. You deserve it. And then some. And then some more after that. You are goddesses.

After five long days trapped in the house alone with my two kids, I was about ready to commit harakiri. I hadn't showered properly in days because every time I tried, one of the nuggets would need me. I hadn't eaten a full meal because whenever it is my turn to eat, the excellent game of "What are you eating, mama? Can I have some?" started. I hadn't taken a descent poop in five days because god forbid mommy EVER be alone in the bathroom.

I was covered in the urine of two different children at two different times. I had an hour where they both cried simultaneously for seemingly no reason. They fought. They trashed the house. They basically went ape shit. And I was left standing in the rubble, ready to cry every night after bedtime. It was a disaster. I lost my temper, along with my mind, halfway through the third day. I felt like a turd of a mom. It is probably a good thing that we can't afford for me to stay at home, because I would end up in the loony bin. It would only take about a week.

Me after ADD Daddy returned home

And all I could think all weekend is that there are moms out there that do this for a living (without pay) and how awesome that is. How strong they must be and how much their kids must gain from having such an amazing mom.

I also thought about the mommies that were out there going this whole parenthood road alone and there are just. no. fucking. words. for how awesome you ladies are. I mean, really. Wow.

And don't even get me started about the puppy dogs and rainbows that are military mamas. Many of you are, in essence, both SAH AND single moms. And you can't even break off a piece of action on the side because your baby daddy is off fighting for our freedom. DAMN! You get a midget AND a puppy. And some of you mamas are the ones off fighting for your country while your babies are back at home. Damn, ladies. Mad kudos.

I think the world often casts a negative light upon single, SAH and military mamas and for that, I want to punch the world in the vagina. Because you are doing a job that is a million times harder than any job on the planet. Obama, Bill Gates and the entire cast of The Deadliest Catch have nothing on you ladies. You are rockstars. And I love you. Rock on, mamas. Rock on.

The Playroom

When we were looking for houses this spring, I was dead set on having an area that could be used as a playroom. It was pretty much my top priority outside of upgrading to more than one bathroom, getting an actual closet and having a space for The Cool Cucumber to sleep besides the hallway he was currently residing in. But hey, I have swanky, high-brow standards.

When we found our house, it had a huge, partially finished basement. I knew that we could finish it and make it into the perfect place for the kids to go crazy and for us to have our family room. We put up two new walls to divide the laundry area from the living area, installed a drop ceiling and laid new flooring. Here is just a bit of info on the playroom. I will add pics of the family room soon, or not most likely, because I am lazy.

The before. Gah. Concrete floors, exposed electric, white walls...

The after. New ceiling, floor, wall color, organization, and, of course, Fatty.

Ottomans and pillows from World Market. Table from Target. Art and frames from IKEA. Lamp from Marshall's. Fish (Boy) and snail (Alyssa) from Pet Smart.

Left detail

Those damned benches. Art by The Quiet Contemplator. Frames from IKEA.

Right detail.

Picasso prints from Allposters.com. Frames from IKEA.

Bench storage.

More detail.

The toy closet before. There used to be enormous wooden doors on it. We removed them before I could get a before pic because they were impossible to open and m'f'n dangerous, yo...

The toy closet after.

Curtains and shelving from IKEA.

Light from Marshall's.

Now don't go thinking this project was crazy expensive or that I have converted to Mormonism and started a perfect mommy blog (not that there is anything wrong with that). Everything you see here was cheap and easy, just like me. Have questions? Feel free to ask. I am happy to help!

Mom Up

There our times in our lives where we have to go beyond just being a mommy or daddy and become a true parent. When you have to "mom up" and go the extra mile for your kid. Whether someone hurts your kid, or they get really sick, or you need to make a big decision that will effect their future, these times are incredibly hard and, in the end, take a year or two off your life. But they are the reason we signed up for this gig. They are what make us more than just moms and dads. They are what make us the warriors that will fight to the death for our children.

I had one of these moments the other day. The Quiet Contemplator woke up in the middle of the night with a really high fever. Now, I am no fever alarmist. I have a kid in daycare. Fevers happen at our house about six times a week. I take all kiddie illnesses in stride. But this one was different. I don't know why, but it caused the mommy hairs on the back of my neck to stand up and yell, "Danger, Will Robinson!" It scared the shit out of me. I actually prayed to God to keep my baby alive.

By the time the sun rose, her fever was gone and she was all unicorns and jelly beans again. But I was not. I felt like I had been through the ringer. Even though she was fine in the long run, I had seen my baby's life flash before my eyes and had lost a few years off mine in the process. I was changed. Yet again. A new layer had formed on my skin, added by my intense love for my child. A layer that made me strong by making me weak. A layer that might add a few wrinkles to my outside, but will also add a new level to my inside.

Oh, sweet girl of mine. What you do to your mommy just by simply being alive.

You too, Bubba.

Fear the Crazy

Though my kids often drive me to drink (OK, let's be honest, I would drink either way), they are some pretty damned good kids. They share, take turns, don't throw an epic amount of falling-on-the-floor fits, don't have a lot of public meltdowns and don't hit or bite other heathens children. Overall, they rock. I know most of this is because they are just freaks of nature, but at least a little of it has to do with what me and ADD Daddy have done.

I think I have figured out why my kids mind like hypnotized monkeys. It is because they fear the crazy. Now, don't misunderstand me. I am not saying that my kids are good because they fear me. My kids think I am birthday cake with a side of awesomesauce. I am just saying that my kids are good because they sense the crazy behind my eyes the third time I say to not do something and my eye gets a little twitchy. They know mama has a bit of a crazy side and know it is easier just to put the dog turd down than to deal with the mess that is mad mama. It's a win-win, really.

Sure, they push boundaries and act crazy just like normal, smart kids do. But they don't act like fools while I ask them not to hit the cat over and over again in my sweetest mommy voice. I don't really have a sweet mommy voice. I work full-time, have to clean up after myself and others, pay bills, deal with health insurance, etc. I am a mom. Not Mary Poppins. And, FYI, Mary was getting PAID to act all nice like that. She probably went home and was a horrible alcoholic who tortured innocent animals for sport. Just sayin'.



My point? Good god, I don't know. I lost that a long time ago, along with my waistline. But I think my point is that a little bit of crazy goes a long way. You don't have to be saccharinely sweet to your kids 24-7 to be a good mom. Sometimes they need to know that you are also the boss, applesauce. A boss with a taste for pinot noir and a tiny bit of cray cray.

Remember: your are a mom, not Mother Theresa. And, besides, that bitch was only that nice because she didn't have any kids of her own (Just kidding. Love you TT, you so worldly.). If she did have kids, she would have put The Fear of God in them for sure. I am doing the same thing, only mine is The Fear of Mommy's Crazy. Now stop pulling your sister's hair before I lose my shit! *twitch twitch*

All About Me

A sweeter reader that goes by the tag Amazed sent me this query:

I've been following you for a while and have amassed a collection of questions for you that keep rolling over and over in my head after reading a post for the day. Would you ever consider having a "20 questions" page or something similar to the confessional where we could ask these oh-so-important questions? I have a feeling that you're readers will shit a Twinkie if given the chance to "chat" with you about specific, obnoxious personal questions. What do you think? If not, can I just ask you a bunch of invasive and dirty questions? xoxoxoxo

Well, Amazed, 

I would love nothing more than to witness someone shitting a Twinkie, so I, of course, accept the challenge. Though I have no idea why anyone would be excited about the chance to talk to me, given how idiotically truthfully I portray myself on this very blog.

Overall, I think there may be a big misconception out there about me. I think some of you may have the horribly incorrect notion that I am cool. I am soooo not cool. Let's just say, I am about as cool as a steaming hot cup of coffee. Read on for solid evidence of my uncoolness:

I am clueless.
I am the type of person that would be all, "Hey, fellow moms at my child's school, we should all get together sometime! Maybe we could start a book club. We can start with that new book everyone is talking about that I have no idea what it is about. What's it called again? Oh yeah, 50 Shades of Grey. You guys all read the first few chapters and we will get together and discuss it over wine."

Que the first book club meeting where we go to discuss 50 Shades and the crowd is all crickets and throat clearing because the entire book is about bondage, beatings and ben wa balls. AWKWARD! Oops. My bad.

I never think before I speak.
I am the type of person to blurt out to a room full of people, "My god, if I ever have to hear that song 'Boyfriend' again I am going to punch myself in the face", only to look around and see that every person in the room is wearing a "Bieber Fever" shirt. Doh.

I have diarrhea of the mouth.
Even once I realize that I have said something stupid, I. Just. Can't. Stop. The. Shit. From. Coming. Out. Ignorance flows from my lips at such a rate that it is impossible to plug the leak.

I am physically awkward.
I trip over my own feet. Daily. I have absolutely no athletic prowess and would sooner gouge my own eyes out with a rusty shoe horn than play a pick-up game of volleyball. Is that even an expression? See. It's bad.

I often dress like I have a mental disability.
Sometimes this comes off as quirky and cool. That is not the case. Most of my clothes are mismatched and many have stains and holes. I am not a trendy risk taker. I am a fashion nightmare.



Anyway. The point is, feel free to send me your questions about myself and I will answer them honestly and with brazen. I am happy to throw myself to the wolves for y'alls amusement. I will feature the questions and answers in future posts. Bring it, Boozehounds.