Is disgusting the new black? No? Oh. Darn.

I’ve totally lost any desire to put forth the effort to have good hygiene.

I have become a stinky, flaky skinned, hairy, brutally disgusting version of my former self.

I’ve gotten used to going for long periods of time without taking a shower, brushing my teeth, or shaving.

I took a shower the other day… but I couldn’t remember when the one before it had happened.

At some point, this is going to become so ridiculous that something is going to have  to change.

I mean, there’s only so long I can blame it on Braden or claim I’m saving water to protect the environment.

Eventually, I’ll be POLLUTING the environment.

Like, early next Thursday.

Or whenever that dirt-encrusted thing growing off the side of my body starts talking. (It already has a face.  I’m thinking of naming it Grubbo.)

To add to my new-found charm, I’ve gained quite a bit of weight.

Yes. Kevin & Leroy are back, and Pattie has become ginormous.  Once again, parts of my body are rolling over onto other parts of it, saying, “Oh, Hai!  I’m TOUCHING you and I’m SO NOT supposed to be touching you! Neener.”

I have a largish pile of clothes I can’t wear, but I’m rockin’ the maternity clothes.  And no, I’m not pregnant.

Unless we’re counting Grubbo.

It’s time for Operation Unfattenning and Destanking.

Hold on people, I’m about to step away from the fridge, onto the treadmill, and then into the shower.

This could get ugly.

I think Grubbo just hissed at me.

I ate snot. I win.

Being sick in Spring is not fun, wonderful, or delightful.

Being sick in Spring while your toddler is also ragingly sick? Well, that’s about as fun as being a balloon animal at a drunk porcupine convention.

And let me add, you have really not LIVED until you have been force-fed a handful of Honey Nut Scooters (generic brand of Cheerios, for you rich assholes) coated in toddler snot. Until you experience this, your soul just has.not.awakened.

I could be wrong though, since my brain is stuck in this mucky haze which is part “I WANT TO KILL YOU ALL RIGHT NOW WITH MY BARE HANDS” (menstrual hag) and part “OMG I AM DYING, I KNOW IT” (pathetic, whiny, sick douche).

I just… well… he has been SO miserable and sad lately. And his nose has been steadily and continuously leaking sick toddler snot in copious amounts. I try to keep up with it, but most of the time he beats me to it. That little hand just darts up and swipes it away.

And while, yes, this is gross, it’s not nearly as disgusting as that tendency some kids have to try mimicking a cow by sticking their tongues on up into the Snot Fest. So, I’m thanking my stars, here, that my kid hasn’t thought of that yet. (We’ll talk about how he licked snot off his fingers another day, okay?)

Anyway, today, he ran into the living room from the kitchen with a handful of his cereal. He made a bee-line for me on the couch, and since I was kind of slumped over towards the floor (yeah, I’m that pathetic) he had full access to my face. Which delighted him, and he just started shoving the cereal into my face.

He had this sparkle in his eyes as he crammed every last piece in my mouth.  Delight was painted across every inch of his face.  There was absolutely no way in the world I could bring myself to stop him.

His little fingers kept going in with the cereal.  I could detect the flavor of sweet, delicious cereal.

As well as the lovely sensation of cold, sticky, wet sick toddler snot.

And I just kept repeating in my head, “It’s okay, you’re going to be okay, just don’t think about it, don’t think about it, it’s going to be okay….”

I ate snot for my kid today.  WHAT DID YOU DO FOR YOUR KID?

When the fungal growth begins the insults relating to how long it’s been since you last shaved, it’s time.

Psst. I have something to tell you, and a question.

*waving you in this direction*

Come closer. I’ll tell you.

No, closer. I’m going to whisper, and you need to be really close to hear.

Okay, ready?

I scrubbed my shower yesterday.

*looking around and over shoulder*

It was time.

*biting lip*

You know, *cough* Spring cleaning and all.

I mean… uh, not that I don’t regularly clean my shower. Heh. Yeah, not like that’s the case.

*fidgeting*

So, uh, you know… I clean my shower, you know… as often as you clean yours.

*leaning in*

*expectant*

How often would you say that you do that, anyway?

Not that I’m gauging my own level of disgusting neglect by what YOU do or anything.

Nope, not at all.

*whistling*

*still eyeballing you; waiting*

When toddlers pee in anger.

A poem for my living room carpet:

They said you were dirty
but what did they know
I’ve cared for you plenty
and boy does it show

You’re not even black yet
just a dingy grey
I swore that I’d steam you
one of these days

Then a cranky toddler
had fits he did throw
got time out, and got back
at Mom with Pee Shows.

Oh carpet, it soaked in
and I waited too long
I steamed you last night
now you smell like burnt schlong (??? sorry, it rhymed)

Another Mom Lesson
with answers you seek:
don’t let it soak in! when
you do clean, it REEKS.

Just for the record…

…going into my child’s room at night in response to Mega-Screaming, to change a diaper full of diarrhea and clean the shit off of his face and hands is NOT the definition of My Ultimate Fantasy. (I swear, he got some in his mouth. *gag*)

I mean, there was no Kiefer Sutherland, anti-gravity underwear, perfect boobs for life, endless supply of calorie-free chocolate, or no-cost, worry-free daily babysitting offer in there ANYWHERE.

And wait… wait… let me check… no. I did not have the world’s largest, multiple orgasm at any time before, during, or after the event. (by the way, if I had? I’d be seeking therapy RIGHT NOW.)

And nobody has come to my door to offer doing my dishes, laundry, and to vacuum my carpets for the rest of my natural life.

Additionally, in case you were wondering, I have not found the deed to my private island lying around anywhere.

Also, there is still cellulite on my ass cheeks.

So, confirmation: it had NOTHING to do with any ultimate fantasy of mine.

It was just runny excrement. YAY!

(Why, oh why, do they have to get curious and stick their hands in there?)

PS: Don’t worry, I’m no Poop Newbie. This is the home of Scatastrophe.

Haik’ewww…

I have already
shared the fact that my dog is
absolutely gross.

We all got a laugh
when I told you how he ate
Braden’s turds with glee.

The Mexican stunk.
So, yesterday we gave him
a bath in the tub.

It is fun to laugh
and torment the dog while he
is in the water.

See how he is so
dumb that he chases his own
tail in the bath tub?

Or maybe he is
Trying to sniff his own butt,
because he likes that.

Indeed, we would be
washing his beloved stink
off and down the drain.

And, apparently,
he needed to let us know
How that made him feel.

This only made us
laugh at him even more, and
he vowed his revenge.

He was not joking.
Not long after he was out,
He peed on our couch.

*Insert 5 7 5 of swear-words here.*

Is it too late to
Nuke The Mexican and then
burn our microwave?

Crunchy Nibblets

Well, Braden finally did it.