Getting Political Once More

Lololol just kidding.

Four years ago, this was happening. I was full of hope, dreams, and rainbows. Can’t say the same about this year.

At one point, I openly admitted I would have voted for Jesse Ventura had he ran. I despise Jesse Ventura and the weird-ass legacy he left in Minnesota.

A few days ago, both kids were spinning in circles and Big A declared “it was just like the election!” I wanted to say Mini B was like Hillary, but her hair was all Trumpy-catawampus and she, as Big A stated, “was more hateful” (which is true, she is a fairly vicious little girl). And Little A was just bumping into things and giggling. Abe (the puppy) was running around not knowing what to do, making him Gary Johnson, and the cat peered from around the couch, mostly forgotten. He was Jill Stein. And we laughed. And died a little inside.

I’m not going to say anything else. I already stated that I would have voted for %^%$@#$@^#$T@EF@#$ VENTURA and that pretty much sums up my feelings.

Maybe, like those same-sex marriages, our children will look upon this and see change. Either a woman as a leader, or a non-politician in the role. Maybe this sets off changes that will benefit them in the future. Maybe the country won’t implode.

But maybe it will.

Here is how we spent the morning four years ago:

election baby

This morning, Mini B sat half naked on the clinic floor, waiting for the pediatrician and eating goldfish. (I would show you a picture but I don’t know the rules on nudity and I don’t want any creepy peepies because eww). Since I can’t vote today (not registered in the state), I figured this was just as fitting. In a diaper, on a floor, eating crackers. Happy and unaware. I may go sit in the kitchen and do the same right now.

Is it too early for a drink?


I’m Back and My Kid Got Shitty Halloween Candy

Well, hello there! I’m back. And if you’re reading this then so are you and that makes my bitter heart just soar through the heavens or whatever. It’s been a busy year for the Dear !@#%# Family, but I won’t lie, I wasn’t here much because I didn’t have the energy, had nothing to say, or most often just couldn’t be asked to give a shit. I wanted to, believe me, but it seemed to be so much of a struggle to muster up the strength to write and be witty.

For a quick update: Little A is 4, Mini B is 15 months, our dear Pit Bull Baxter died, We got a dumb Pibble puppy named Abe in his place, and our cat currently has fleas because he’s a jerk.

Now on to the sweet stuff.

Or not so sweet stuff as it would have it.exhibit1

We live in a pretty great neighborhood. Friendly families, lots of kids, quiet streets. However, neighbors seem to get pretty shifty when it comes to haunted candy. Pretty sure we were one of the few houses last year that actually handed out chocolate. You know, the GOOD SHIT. Kid’s bag was filled with stale gum and Jolly Ranchers and that shitty peanut butter taffy that no one eats.

So this year, I bought the good stuff again, kept out a sizable amount for myself so I wouldn’t have to eat the kid’s crummy haul, got the kids dressed, and out we went. Turns out, the neighbors stepped up their game and there was a fair amount of edible treats. There were, however, some true crimes against Halloween. We totes got TRICKED.

Exhibit A
Christmas Candy. Christmas candy that, based on looking up candy expiration codes that I decoded thinks to random candy blogs, had expired in 2009. TWO THOUSAND FUCKING NINE. Thanks for almost giving my kid the plague, asshat.

Exhibit B
More expired Christmas candy that was discovered after the first batch was thrown out. Kid chose to eat his Golden Oreos. As I cursed under my breath because I was going to eat those when he wasn’t looking, I happened to see the date. Aaaaaand those $^%$#! expired December of LAST YEAR. This is just getting rude.

Exhibit Cexhibit2
Apparently an elderly household (I mean, I can only assume it’s elderly because no other reasoning makes sense) thinks the little hooligans in the neighborhood need to be more regular and handed out Fiber One brownies. ARE YOU $%@# SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW?!

Exhibit D
This is more a rant on the candy industry than the neighbors, but the neighbors still bought and handed them out, so screw them both. Chocolate bars shrinking was horrific enough, but what in Sam Hill is this abomination?! I don’t even like Tootsie Pops and this offends me to the core. Shown in photo: Regular sized Tootsie Pop and the new teeny weeny sized one that would take way less than three licks to get to the center.

Bonus WTF
HOW CAN SOMETHING BE SMOOTH AND CRUNCHY?! THAT CAN’T BE A THING. I’m still going to eat it. For science.

Thanks for coming back! I hope I can once again live up to my not-even-that-high “funny” standards.

Did you find any weird/crazy/atrocious Halloween candy when you were taking your parental candy tax?

Things That Happened.

Last I left you, my dedicated @#%! friends, I was very pregnant and a little angry.

Rest assured, eight weeks later, I am no longer pregnant! Mini B

*throws confetti*

You may have already known that if you follow my instagram or facebook, and if you don’t, well you should be because then you wouldn’t have been waiting two months with bated breath for this press release.

Adding a tiny new member to the family was an easier transition than expected, although it helped immensely that Little A started part-time preschool so he’s out of the house three mornings a week.

*throws more confetti* holding

I also had a steady stream of help in the way of grandmas and paternity leave so I was rarely left unattended to deal with the two mini hell-raisers. But that’ll change next week

Please send bourbon.

The birth-by-induction was a wee bit harder than the first but I’ll tell you all about that someday. She’s here, she’s growing, she’s starting to smile for realsies and she’s pretty @$^$!@# awesome. I don’t even hate pink as much as I expected to.

I need to knock the dust of this old blog thing. Anything you’re interested in reading from me? I need ideas, otherwise you’ll get a whole lot of MY BABY IS CUTE SO SUCK ON THAT.

And I think I can be more interesting than that.




What’s the Deal Here, Guys?

Dear #%!# Mini B.

Is it because I didn’t write prenatal blogs about you like I did with your brother?

Is it because I threw caution to the wind this time and ate ham and drank coffee and soda and an occasional (late-term) beer with reckless abandon?

Is it because every kick, punch and cervix bounce over these last nine months didn’t earn you praise, recognition and squeals of WTF-induced excitement?

Is it because your room isn’t totally finished? Or that I can’t just say yes to the name?

WHAT’S THE DEAL, DUDE?! Continue reading

The Waiting Game

First, let’s discuss some missing details and catch up things because I’ve been absent from this blog, for the most part, for the last nine months.


That’s my Over It face.

I’m due tomorrow.

It’s a girl.

She is still not 100% named.

I have been calling her Mini B because she is baby #2 after Little A and she is showing signs of my bitchiness. Mini Bitch. Mini B. Get it?

I guess that’ll help fill in the gaps. On to business. Continue reading