Category Archives: Kids

If these walls could talk

Standard

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

Sexy Back

Standard

Hi, it’s Cate. Remember me? From Craigslist? I sold you that Step 2 wagon last week? I’m not a psycho or anything, but I just felt that we had a connection and would really like for us to be friends. Wanna get together and meet at the park?

I wish. Then I wouldn’t feel like such a loser right now. Friendless and all. I don’t even know at what point it got to be so hard to make friends. In elementary school, you just blurted it out, you know? “Hey you, wanna be my friend?” And if that didn’t work out, you’d say, “You suck. You’re not my friend anymore.” It was so easy and simple. But maybe I’ve lost my mojo. My friendship juice. I do think that part of it has a lot to do with the way I pick my friends. I’m what you call a shallow person. But before you go all crazy on me, allow me to explain. I pick my friends initially according to how they appear physically. Much like I used to do back in my dating years. Don’t get me wrong, however. It’s still their character that ultimately determines their merit. But is that so wrong? I know we’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover, but isn’t it also true that “you are whom you frequent?” I want friends that would motivate me physically, someone I can share things with like, running and working out. I’m not a gym rat or a work-out-holic by any means, but I felt my best when I looked my best. And I just want to get back to feeling that way again. 

In the last four years, after having the kiddos, I have not been able to get back to my pre pregnancy weight. And it’s been a hell of a load (pun intended) on every aspect of my life. Just today, I was pushing both the kiddos in the stroller at Marshall’s and some lady says to me, “Wow! 2 and another on the way?” I was thinking, “What the fuck are you talking about?” but said instead, “No, I am all done with kids, thank you. This shirt just makes me look bloated.” Doesn’t that just make you wanna go home and starve yourself?

Yet somehow, in spite of being 30 elbees overweight, I’m still mentally fit. So in my mind, I still look for friends that are physically in shape, like I was before the pregnancies. So when I roam the gym or church or mall or meetup groups, I tend to have my blinders on, only looking in directions where my old self used to fit in, never even considering for a  moment that I too am being judged. Perhaps these physically attractive people are looking at me and seeing someone who is not a good fit for them. Maybe because of my current weight, they are unable to see what true beauty lies within me. Ironic, isn’t it?

With love,

Two Tons of Fun

a.k.a. Cate

More Shit Talk

Standard

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

Lady Gaga

Standard

Gotcha. Of course this has nothing to do with Lady Gaga. And if I were to write about Gaga, you have my permission to shoot me. Sorry Gaga fans. I’m just not one. I guess I’m biased having grown up in the 90’s! And since I’m older (for you young Gaga fans) let’s assume I know what I’m talking about. Madonna has already been done. By Madonna! Enough Gaga talk. It’s business time. Well, not really business, since I don’t have one. It’s just a metaphor for “I’m so tired of baby talks all day that I’m ready for some grown up like conversations.” My kids are my everything. Literally. I have no life outside of them. So here I am! A place where I can write about how I feel and have some kind of an adult conversation about my kids. With my computer. Pathetic. I know. If only this keyboard (KB) can talk! It would go like this.

Me: Fuck my life.

KB: Fuck your life? Imagine how I feel.

Me: What the fuck do you mean?

KB: You keep pounding on me like you’re Mike Tyson and I’m Robin Givens.

Me: Um, you’re a keyboard. I’m supposed to pound the shit out of you.

KB: Maybe if you went to typing school, you’d know that a backspace isn’t meant to be pounded. It’s not that kind of back space.

Me: At least you don’t have to clean up poop all day. And play the same game or sing the same song like I’m some kind of parrot.

KB: You talk about the same shit everyday. SAME SHIT.

Me: Fuck you. I’m getting off this computer.

KB: Fuck you too. I’ll see you in five minutes.

Five minutes later…

Me: I need a vacay.

KB: You ain’t lyin’.

Me: At least you get a reboot, an update and a weekly maintenance. I take care of you.

KB: What the fuck you talkin’ about? You are always shutting me down while I’m still running. That’s just not right.

ME: Well, that’s because you’re too slow.

KB: Bitch! I’m not taking this shit from you. Get out and find some real friends. I’m just sayin’.

ME: You mean, “I’m just typin’.” I kinda like our time together.

KB: I don’t. While you’re at it, you should probably see a shrink. I wasn’t made for this kind of shit.

Me: You ungrateful bastard. I should have bought a Mac.

KB: Mother Fu…

Signing off,

Cate

Date Nite

Standard

We have officially made Friday nights as our date nights, or so we thought. After spending too much cash this past Friday, we’ve decided it will probably be more like every other Friday, or maybe the first Friday of the month. Don’t get me wrong, it was nice. And the fact that we were kids free for an evening was even better. But part of me felt a bit guilty. There’s this chaos going on right now in the U.S. of A. Unemployment is something 9 percent and there’s all sorts of people occupying major cities, living in their tents (although that could very well be the waiting line for the Twilight movie. I’m not really sure.) According to the media, it’s rough out there. And guess what? I saw first hand the tragedy of these poor poor people on my date Friday evening. First, we hit the movie theater. I’m a penny pincher so I thought we’d go to the cheap theater, the one that plays movies about to come out on redbox like next week. I guess I wasn’t the only one trying to save money. It was evident by the long ass line we had to wait on. So it got me thinking, that perhaps the media was right. I also went to the Dollar store and stocked up on Coke and Raisinets so the only thing we had to buy other than the tickets was popcorn. $10! That’s all it cost. 2 tickets and a large popcorn. Take that Edwards Cinema!!!

I bet you’re wondering what movie we saw. “The Help.” It was great by the way. I will write a review another time though. So the movie ended and it left us feeling hungry. Apparently we’re not the only ones craving Indian food. It was rather packed in there with people who have no jobs and about to lose their homes. But that did not stop us from enjoying our meal! $30 later and we’re off to our next adventure. A new Hobby Lobby just opened in our area about a week ago and we just had to check it out! What I didn’t tell you is that we actually checked it out before the movie but couldn’t find a parking spot so we’ve decided to come and try the second time. It was still packed, but luckily enough we found one parking space. The people with no income were too busy looking at things they cannot afford and buying them for a house they are about to lose, mind you. I just felt so sorry for them. I mean, I would do the same thing if I didn’t have an income and my car is about to get repossessed and my house foreclosed. It’s called therapy right? I shop when I’m broke kind of attitude. And I do. So we browsed and bought nothing because you see, I’m not really a shopper. I’m a looker. I can look for hours and not buy shit. It’s just the way I’m made. Next stop. The Casino! That’s right. What’s the best and easiest way to make money? Playing the slots. Duh, winning!

This is where it starts to bug the shit out of me. This is also the part where my sarcasm ends. I can’t understand how the media hype up all the bad things that’s going on in this world, and yet there are people all over the place buying shit and spending money. I thought we’re in a fucking recession! It sure doesn’t seem like it, or maybe people just like to keep up with the Jones’. I don’t know. But from the looks of things, there’s no fucking recession going on here. At least not in my area. The casino was filled with people throwing away money, slots after slots. It was crazy in there. Easily, I spent $40 with the hope of winning 10 grand. The hubs played poker for fun! But you see. I’m not complaining. I’m not marching my ass in downtown San Diego blaming the corporations for my lack of money. Nor am I complaining that I live in a 4000 square feet house that I got for half off because the owners before us tried to be greedy by thinking they can buy a $600K house and it will just keep on going up. What were they thinking? Listen, in my previous life, I was a Realtor. I bought my first house when I was 25! All by myself, without having my parents and my other 10 siblings to live with me so I can afford my fucking mortgage. I did my due diligence and educated my self with the process of buying a house (this was before I went into real estate). So when it came time to go over my loan, I knew how much house I can afford. I didn’t look at my future earnings or the hopes that in a year I can sell my house for twice as much. I based it on my current situation. And I made sure it was in the lower end of my loan, just in case something awful happened and I lost my job. I’m not saying that banks and realtors and loan officers were not at fault. Part of their job is helping you and advising you on things that they are qualified to do. I know a lot of them took people for granted, but that’s why you have to watch out for yourself because in the end, it’s about you. So yes, I feel bad that people are losing their homes and jobs. But I think people also need to take responsibilities. We’re always pointing our fingers at others because we’re afraid to look at ourselves in the mirror. Be the solution. Be the change you want to see in the world. Man up. Or woman up. Admit you made a mistake. Admit that you took part in trying to scheme the system. Or at least say, “I should have educated myself. I should not have let anyone tell me otherwise.” You knew that with your $40K per year salary you couldn’t afford a $500K house. That’s not rocket science.

Until then,

Occupy Cate

Womb Mate

Standard

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

Standard

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: