PMS crept up on me tonight.
So. There I was making dinner for the kiddies. Everything is fine and dandy. I’m on the phone with Tyson and we are having a great conversation about the food that our kids will or will not eat.
Then it happened. I was trying to open a jar of applesauce and I couldn’t get the damned thing open. I mean, HELLO! It is friggin’ factory sealed for cryin’ out loud! How am I supposed to get the stupid lid off when it seems like it is glued shut?
So I then proceed to tell Tyson all about how I can NEVER get anything open in this damn house because it is ALL factory sealed. How am I going to get this open when he is working all the way down-town and I NEED him at home to open this damn jar so that our kids can reject my offering of sauce?
On the other end of the line I hear my sweet husband say, “Are you done yet?”
It is then that I realize that PMS has fully arrived in our neighborhood, and, no, I am NOT done yet.
I will be. In about one week.

So. Here is a little something that I am ticked off about.

How come, when I became pregnant with baby#1, nobody told me that for the rest of my life I would become absolutely dependent upon some sort of fiber supplement? (ie: Metamucil Caps) No one told me that my bowels would change FOREVER.
I never was constipated before pregnancy and I never had a hemorrhoid. Now, after baby#2 is 13 months old, I am pretty sure that my bowels are permanently scarred and that I should buy stock in Metamucil.
Hopefully, the 6 to 7 capsules a day that I take will ward off all future hemorrhoid attacks. (If not… there is always Preparation H!)

Please expect more secrets of pregnancy and it’s aftermath to come……

BlogHer

I figured out that I have reached an all-time high in my stress level.
I found myself wanting to eat a Tums because they have started to taste good to me.
How sad is that?

I need to tell the two readers of this blog that “Nelly” or “Nello” are nicknames given to me by my husband. My given name is Kelly…
You may ask, “Why the assumed name?” I don’t really know… I mean, lots of people go with their nicknames right?

Crappy conversation of the day:
Simon’s music therapist comes out to the waiting room to inform me of his progress in the realm of music therapy.
She says, “You look absolutely exhausted.”
I say, “Yeah. I’m really tired lately.”
She says, ” What, from just running around after those two?” (she motions over to Simon and Helene throwing blocks at each other.)
I’m thinking, “What do you mean just watching those two?.. And also, who the hell are you to comment on the way I look?” But I say, “Well… that, and from some other stuff that’s going on lately.” And in my head I complete the thought by saying, “Oh… and by the way, your friggin’ head is talking so close to me right now that I can actually see the plaque building up on your huge-ass teeth as we speak.”

This stupid conversation has hereby solidified my current feeling that I look like I’ve been run over by a mack truck about five times….. per day. That’s it. The nightly showers are out and I am going to find a way to shower in the morning like a normal person.

BlogHer

I am a defeated woman.
Life has beaten me. I have decided this. You may ask… “Why?”
The answer: Because I take showers at night. At night.

What? Did I time warp back to the fifth grade? You know…. back when you took baths.

I swore when I became a Mom that I would not become “one of those” Mom’s who looked like they got run over by a truck on a daily basis. Guess what? I am now officially “one of those.”

Showers at night suck. Every morning I wake up and I feel dirty. I know I’m not… but I still feel like I am. When I do my makeup and stuff, I KNOW I look TEN TIMES better when I shower and get completely ready right afterwards. Showering at night and then getting completely ready the next morning SUCKS. Sure… it saves time and definitely serves a purpose. (ie: I don’t have to leave my kids to be “babysat” by the tv to take a shower.) I just wish that I could be “one of those” that gets up at the crack and showers first thing. Too bad I’m not “one of those” and never will be.

Hence the reason that life has kicked my ass.