Category Archives: Baby

If these walls could talk

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It’s Monday, right? Our entire household is sick, or has been sick for the last two weeks, which means our house has turned into a Museum of Germs. As soon as I start to feel better, I’ll need to disinfect and sanitize so I can feel like a normal human being again. Prior to the attack of the killer cooties, I was in the process of making some home improvements, Weekend Warriors style, except, it has been going on since Christmas break. Yikes right? And by the looks of it, it’s probably going to take me two more months to finish this stupid project(s). I don’t know what I was thinking. It started out with the built-in cabinets, leading me to switching the kids rooms around, to the next bright idea of repainting AND redecorating their room. Now I’m stuck with half-finished cabinets, almost finished boy’s room, and sucks to be you Em’s room. I’ll let the pictures do the talking. Please. Do not judge me. It’s a work in progress and as soon as I am done, I will post the finished products, whenever that may be. Oh, I forgot to mention. I also went on a tangent about organizing. So now I have all kinds of paperwork lying around my bedroom floor waiting to be filed and shredded. Mutherfudgeme.

So this is what we started with (we bought a total of 5 pieces) :

Then I stained it with Dark Walnut

And then:

This is taken from my iPhone just now. I can’t find my camera because I’m sure my little rugrats hid it from me.

As you can see, I also painted the inside of the recessed wall. Martha Stewart Cement Gray. What you’re not seeing is that we have recessed wall on opposite sides of the wall and in the middle is a fireplace. I promise, once it’s all done, it will all be revealed. And that’s that. Maybe a granite on top, and some shelving units. You’ll have to come back to see. Isn’t the suspense just killing ya?

Now, Tee’s room! Used to be Em’s room.

So I decided to keep the yellow as to not give myself more work…

Yup, if you haven’t guessed already, this one below I stole from Pinterest.

Of course all of these pictures would have looked even more amazing had I taken them with a Nikon D5100. I’m just saying. And lastly….

No, no room pictures for Em. It’s too embarrasing right now. We’ll have to wait til we at least start on it 🙂 Sorry baby girl!

Bubbles you later!

Cate

More Shit Talk

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The other day, while changing Tee’s poopy diaper, the hubs says, “I should start my own cologne line and call it Poopay. Eau de Toilette.” Mocking some random stranger coming to ask him about the new cologne, “Oh my god dude, is that Poopay you’re wearing? It’s the shit man!” That’s how things happen in our household. Nothing but shit talk. It’s the norm for us. Most of the time we are high on shit and we don’t even know it, especially when we’re in the car, like yesterday. It wasn’t until the hubs got out to go pick up a book at the library (yup, we still go to the library. It’s the eco thing to do.) and he opened the car door to get back in and says, “It’s smell like shit in here. And it’s the explosion shit smell honey.” Don’t ask us how we know the severity of the shit, but we just do because we’re shit connoisseurs. The beautiful thing about having an SUV is that the trunk serves a dual purpose, in this case, also a diaper changing station. My husband takes off Tee’s pants and says, “Oh Shit! Babe. You need to come here. I need your help. There’s no way I can clean this up by myself.” Shaking my head and thinking, “Amateur.” So I go to help him and the little man has shit all over his pants and by that I mean like down to his leg and all over his butt. But to tell you that it’s the worse shit he’s ever had would be a lie. Currently we have a tie in the number one spot, but perhaps you can help us decide the true winner of “The Worst Shit” award.

The first incident also occurred while driving. I was 7 moths pregnant with Em and as you guessed it, the husband was on deployment. Tristan and I was on our way back from San Diego. I made the mistake of changing his diaper before we left San Diego and didn’t bother putting his pants back on. So we’re singing “Twinkle Twinkle” when I smelled the explosion. But, I ignored it. I figured we’re only 25 minutes from home so I’ll just keep on driving. A few minutes later I looked at my rear view mirror and saw my son’s face covered with shit. The thought of him eating his own poop made me nauseous and I had to pull over on the side of the road to vomit. After vomiting, I decided to inspect the damage and there it was. Shit everywhere. Down his legs, all over his back (I don’t even how that’s possible). His car seat soaked with shit. It was like a volcanic eruption and lava was just flowing out of the butt hole. We didn’t have the SUV yet so I was in a car and trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to change his diaper and clean all the poop while on the side of the freeway with my big ass belly getting in the way. I used one and a half pack of wipes and it wasn’t enough. But that’s all I had left! Luckily I had a towel in the car and used that as a cover for his car seat. When we got home, I had to run inside immediately to give us both a shower. When I was done with that, I had to hose down the car seat completely and sanitize the car. And I had to take two more showers afterwards. It was disgusting. 5 Shit Stars deserving.

The second incident happened while shopping at Lowe’s. Fortunately, we were still in the Outdoor Garden area. Em was sleeping in her car seat inside the cart and Tee was sitting on the upper cart area. My husband was pushing the cart so he was facing Tee. I was in the front of the cart checking out plants and happened to turn my head to show the hubs something and saw an eruption exploding from Tee’s butt. I mean, I saw diarrhea pushing itself up his back! Then down to his legs and started dripping all over.  Husband was freaking out (amateur) and had to rush the cart outside to go back to the SUV (but not before asking one of the associates if he can have some plastic bags to use as a changing pad) so he can clean up our son. He left diarrhea trail on his way out all the way to the SUV. He had to tell one of the Lowe’s workers to sanitize the cart. We never came back to that Lowe’s again.

Sadly I know that this will not be the last of the poopy adventures. But I’m waiting for the day that I will no longer have to look at another diaper again. Quite frankly, it’s also a romance killer. I change so much shit throughout the day that one evening, when the kids were finally both asleep and the hubs and I were spending some much-needed QT, with the anticipation of eventual love-making, when I thought I smelled shit. I turned to my husband and asked him, in my most serious face, “Do you have shit in your pants?” I think it’s time for potty training. One day when the hubs and I are old and are wearing Depends, these little turds better show us their gratitude by changing our shit. They have no idea what’s coming for them. Karma’s a bitch.

Laters Stinkers,

Cate

Womb Mate

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Awww, look at that face.

She looks like an angel, doesn’t she?

How can anyone ever be mad at her?

She is perfection in every way.

What a blessing!

But guess what?

Looks can be deceiving!!!

This little beauty is really…..

A

WITCH!

Don’t let her fool you. That’s exactly what she wants you to think.

A witch for Halloween. Once a year. NOT!

What she doesn’t want you to know is that this is her every day.

Clever though right?

To be yourself for Halloween and no one will ever know.

Guess what kiddo? The joke’s on you! Your secret’s out!!!

Here’s what really happens behind the scenes.

***WARNING! MAY CAUSE NIGHTMARES***

You don’t intimidate me.

That’s all you got?

Oh yeah! Who’s scared now huh?

Cry all you want.

Yell all you want.

Do the scream of death.

You’ve been warned, Ms. Em the Diva!

Next time you have your “babytude,” remember, there’s plenty more where these came from.

I’m just sayin’.

It’s on!!!

In. Your. Face.

Love,

Your ex-womb mate

Fite Club

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No, I’m not stupid. I know how to spell, thank you very much. But for the sake of this blog, I had to find a creative way to express today’s post in, dum dum dum, four letter word(s).

I know that there are rules to follow and the first and most important one is to not talk about “Fight Club.” But in order to keep my sanity I just have to break the code of silence. The other day, actually more like everyday, I witnessed a fight going on where I’m always the referee. I hate getting in the middle of a fight and this one just felt wrong from the moment it began. I know how and why the fight started but considering one of the fighter was twice as big just didn’t seem fair. That’s like putting Brad Pitt in the ring with Tom Cruise. He’s way taller than Tom. Well, everyone’s taller than Tom. But I still love him, short or not! What’s that? You want to know what my definition of fair is? Vin Diesel vs The Rock. Just saw Fast Five last night and felt a fantasy come true, but I was disappointed with the Vin Diesel/The Rock fight scene. I guess I was expecting a hard on, but sadly, I stayed limp the whole time. Now back to the story.

So I’m in my living room and all of a sudden I hear a loud thump. Then the most annoying screeching irritating sound you can ever imagine happened. My eardrums are busted and will never recover. If you haven’t figured this out by now, I’m talking about my rug rats. The 3 year old and the 1 year old were going at it like they are in the Fight Club movie. Currently, my son hates his little sister. He can’t stand the sight of her. It used to be only when she burst out with her screams that he’d come up to her, tilts his head, gives her the stare of death and then pushes her. Now her mere existence makes him turn from Edward Norton into Brad Pitt’s character. This is also how I know for a fact my son is not deaf. He can be upstairs in his room playing and she will be downstairs with her, “I want what I want and if you don’t give it to me, I’m going to scream you to death” scream and he’ll stop whatever he’s doing, walks downstairs just to push her. Then to make matters worse, she’ll come up to his face just to do her scream and it’s all hell from there.

I don’t get it. I mean, I know there’s going to be sibling fights, but for the last year, it was never really an issue. He tolerated her until now. I remember when she was born and my husband brought Tee to the hospital to meet his little sister and he ran in the corner sobbing. He was confused, but I think in his mind, she was just a visitor. So everyday when he wakes up, he’d be so happy and then he walks downstairs and sees his little sister and he would have this look on his face like, “You’re still here?” And then they became, “When are you leaving?” And now it’s come to, “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE? IT’S BEEN OVER A YEAR! GET YOUR SHIT AND GET OUT!!

To be fair, it’s also partly her fault. She provokes him. He’s playing with something, she has to take it from him. If he refuses, she does the scream of death. She sees him doing something, she does it. She follows him around everywhere. She is suffocating the shit out of him. But now Tee has this mind set of, “If I can’t make you leave, I’m going to put an end to you.” Just yesterday we were playing with play dough. Let me tell you how smart this little guy who can’t talk for shit is. He pretended to eat the play dough so she’ll eat it. I’m telling her, “No Em, not in the mouth. That’s yucky. Dangerous.” And he just kept doing it. Shoving the play dough in his closed mouth.

I turned my back for a minute and he breaks a drinking glass (I think we’re down to 4 now from 12!). I turned my head around and he’s nowhere to be found. I see my little girl with eyes so big probably trying to figure out how she can tell me her big brother is “The Good Son.” The other evening he took everything out of the kitchen cabinets, and I mean everything. I saw the whole thing happened but I thought they were playing together so I left them alone. Then I realized I have to clean all that shit up later and walked over there to find only Em playing by herself, with all the mess on the floor. He ran in the living room, pretended he was there the whole time, walked over to the kitchen and looked at me as if to say, “See mom. I told you she’s a trouble maker. Just drop her ass off at the fire station. Better yet, lets put her on craigslist. I’m sure someone out there will take her for free. You’ll thank me later.

So what do I do? How do other mommies deal with crazy kids? I put both of them on time outs. I make them kiss each other after every fight. I thought maybe the thought of kissing his little sister would make him stop, but no. I can’t take them in the car, or shopping together like we used to. It’s always bickering and scratching and pinching and pushing and screaming. I’m embarrassed to go out in public. If my life were a movie, it would be “Fight Club” and “The Good Son” mixed with “Look Who’s Talking” and “American Psycho” and that movie with Sigourney Weaver where she was traumatized about almost being killed by a serial killer causing her to not go outside. Oh, also “The Net” with Sandra Bullock. Everyday I’m reminded of how far I’ve come from my old movie life of “Bridget Jones Diary” and “Serendipity” and “The Notebook” with a hint of “Clueless” and “Dirty Dancing.” Time sure have changed.

How about you? What’s your movie life like?

Til next time,

C to the A to the T to the E.

This is Tee before little sister:

And Tee after:

Poop. Poop. And More Poop.

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Let me start by saying that I love my son to pieces! Let’s call him Tee. I love him with all my heart and would take him however I can have him. I know that every child goes through a phase. Not long ago he was taking off his pants and diaper and thinks it’s okay to run around butt naked, in private or not. And now, we are in the anus phase. He just likes to get in there. Perhaps it’s a sensory thing. But either way, I really hope in time he will get over it. But everyday, twice, three times and sometimes four times a day, he picks his butt when there is shit in there! And it’s not like, he can say to me, “hey mom, I’ve got shit brewing so you might have to change me here in like, let’s say, thirty minutes?”

***If you’ve read my other post, you’d know that my child has no language at the moment, well, none that I speak anyway. I don’t wanna sound like I’m complaining and I hope I don’t offend anyone out there, especially parents that go through what my husband and I go through on a daily basis. Like I’ve mentioned before, it’s hard enough raising a typically developing child, and it’s even harder with a special needs child. ***Disclaimer***

Like I was saying, he is in there like a thong swimwear. So he picks his shitty anus, and he doesn’t yet understand that when you have shit on your hands, you oughta wash them in soap and hot water. So he ends up painting his room in brown because he picks his butt, then forgets he has shit on his hand, and touches everything else in the room. Needless to say, I have to sanitize my house at least three times, but if I’m lucky, just twice a day. I’ve tried googling things like, “why is toddler picking his poopy butt,” and most say, “give him a cold shower right after to teach him a lesson.” The funny or sad part is that my son happened to love cold water. So I can’t punish him that way because he would think it’s a reward. I’ve asked his teachers, his occupational therapist, neighbors, random people in line in front of me at the grocery store, because I’m thinking I can’t be the only one going through this crap. His OT said to get him one of those shorts for sensory seeking kids, but they’re like $80 for 1! I’m gonna need 7! Others say maybe it’s time to potty train him. Maybe he is trying to tell you to change his poopy diaper (duh, I’ve been trying since he was 15 months old). Or just let it be. He’ll get over it (easy for you to say because you’re not the one cleaning up the mess). I also read somewhere that I can buy one of those sleepwear where the zipper’s in the back, then he can’t get it off, thus eliminating his ability to dig in his poop. They too, were pricey. And then one day, after my fourth poopy cleaning for the day, I’ve had it! I just couldn’t take it anymore and went right into Amazon.com and ordered him 7 of the full body sleepwear for everyday of the week. I was so excited because you see I’m a Prime Member and I get the shit delivered to me in 2 days. So they get here and viola! Totally useless. I bought the flannel ones! In the middle of summer. I have yet to use them. So until it gets cold enough here in Southern California, I am stuck wiping shit on the carpet, the wall, the bed, the closet, the toys, just shit everywhere. And then I go in my bathroom, and cry for five minutes, just to realize that I left my son alone in his room to play with his poop yet again. Effing shoot me is the thought that comes to mind, except I use the actual effing word!

How about you? Have you had similar experience? If so, do you have any suggestions for me besides alcohol and medications? Holla atchagurl, hopefully before I volunteer myself to the loony bin. Piss and shit homey! Happy Monday.

Lies.

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I really wanna sue Lifetime. They have misled me. They created an image in my head that getting pregnant and having babies is a wonderful joyous event. You too TLC. Your day is coming. But for now, I’m gonna stick with LTFW. Yes they show you the throwing up part and the getting up in the middle of night for some ice cream and your baby daddy has no choice but to drive in the middle of the night to satisfy your craving, which by the way, never happens. I think it was just invented by some pregnant lady because she was too pissed off she had to be the one to carry the child for nine months and somehow push that watermelon out of her Pek-Pek (Vagina). I say good for her. But I was unlucky enough to not have taken those days for granted. Probably because my husband was deployed during my pregnancies, yes you heard right. Both pregnancies. If I didn’t know any better he planned that shit so he doesn’t have to be around his hormonal loco wife. I guess I don’t blame him. I would have done the same if given the opportunity.

Yesterday after hitting the gym so hard, I decided to look at myself (body) in the mirror to see if there’s any hope to getting back to what I used to look like. And as it turns out, there isn’t. I mean, even if I get back to my old little self, there’s all these excess skin on my belly. It’s almost like that episode of Jon & Kate Plus Eight, where they showed her belly from carrying a total of 8 babies, except mine is minus 6 babies. I have stretch marks that not even Strivectin SD can get rid off. It seems like my only option would be to do what Kate with a K did. Surgery. But I’m in a predicament because my husband has only committed himself financially for a boob job. It looks like I might have to hit the streets to make some extra moola but who would want to have sex with someone that has a beer belly and doesn’t even drink beer? I also thought of maybe starting a foundation, charging $200 a plate. But considering I really don’t have many friends or connections, I won’t make enough to cover the whole procedure.

So I’m left with only one option. The American way. This is after all, the land of opportunity and since I’m an opportunist, I am going to sue someone. I can’t sue my kids because well, that’s like stealing from my self. The same goes for the husband. Maybe my Primary Care doctor for not warning me about the side effects of children. I mean, if I were a doctor and some lady walked into my office telling me she and her husband are thinking of having a baby, I would be like, “Well, Some Lady, kids are cute when they are babies. They also make for great excuses, but my job is to inform you of all the plus and negatives of babies. Since I’ve mentioned the pluses, here are the side effects. Insomnia, Wrinkles, Hemorrhoids, Migraines, Weight gain, Stretch Marks, Loose Skin & Pek-Pek, Hormonal Imbalance, Stress, and that’s only the beginning, should I go on?” Then I would have been like, “Oh hell to the no Doctor! Say no more! I’m keeping my bad ass body and my sanity.” But she didn’t warn me about any of that. And I’m positive she knew of all the side effects. I think I might have a case. Suing her would probably get me a little fortune but I always aim high and I am going for the big one! Lifetime TV. So what do you all think? Do you think I can win? Any suggestions? And just in case you’re wondering, here’s exhibit A. Before and After pics. You be the judge.

Ciao.

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So, what brings you here? Looking for an exciting read? Or are you just bored? To tell you the truth, my life is not all that exciting either. I just make it seem like it is. I puff it up. Really. I do. Sooo, what do you want to know about me? I’ll start off by telling you all the cool, nice things about me. If this were a dating site, this would technically be our first date, so I must represent myself in a manner that would make you want to come back for more. Yes, I am expecting a second date. I am not going to divulge everything about me right now, that would require some wining and dining on your part.  But to sum it up, I’m pretty awesome and quite attractive. I’m not joking. Go ask my husband. You may not see my cheek or collar bones at the moment, but I am in there somewhere. But, I am a work in progress, contrary to popular belief of my being perfect. Everyday is a struggle to lose weight. If I can sue my kids for ruining my nice boobs and “baddaaww” body, I would totally do it. They have completely ruined me. So on top of having to clean up poops and throw ups and making meals and cleaning house all day, I also have to hit the gym so I that I may see a glimpse of the old hotness I used to be. I’m sure my husband is eagerly awaiting for her return. I’m gonna have to keep it short for now. You’ll have to come back if you want to know more. Ciao. That’s Italian for hello or goodbye. You know, like Aloha.