chicken adventures

Being a mother was not my plan. Being  a housewife was not my plan. Being "domestic" was not my idea of fun. Ive made some interesting discoveries about myself, I enjoy all of these things.

I had planned on eating chinese take out and delivery pizzas for the bulk of my lifetime. 

In this domestic journey, Ive learned to cook things. It's cheap. It's easy. 

Just a few of the things I've made. Tuna helper. Hamburger helper. Spaghetti. 

Do you see a trend?

All of these dinner ideas are very easy, require very little effort, and are pretty fast.

The crock pot opened my world up to chili. Also easy. Put the shit in the crock pot. Turn it on. Let it cook all day. Dinner. Game over. I win. 

Then came the chicken. 

This chicken caused me nothing but grief. I shouldve known when the thousand year old lady in the grocery store fought me for it. I assumed she would want the larger chicken, I was wrong. She wanted the small chicken. She told me to repeat to myself "I will not fight old ladies for a roasting chicken". 


Moving on. Who knew it took two days for a damn chicken to dethaw??? WTF!!! Over it.


What the fuck does a "gizzard" look like?? I guilt tripped my mother into pulling this little gem out of the chicken's ass. I didnt even know which end WAS the ass. Be serious. Explaining to your mother how she DID NOT prepare you for life is the best way to get her to baby-sit, perform chores in your home, AND pull "gizzards" out of a chicken's ass. Classic.
 
After enlisting the help of my FACEBOOK FAMILY, I picked up a MILLION tips for cooking a chicken. I USED THEM ALL. You say shove a lemon in the chicken's ass. I did it. Buy a chicken injector?? GOT IT!! 


I shot my chicken up like a heroin addict. Butter, chicken broth, packets of chicken spices bought in the spice aisle, a lemon in his ass along with chopped onions.


F. U. food network. 


I then placed my lucky bird in the crock pot. I let it cook for 8 hours. 


Then I ate that mofo.


It. Was. Fantastic. The best chicken on this earth. The best in the world. 


I hope my family enjoyed it.


I'm never roasting a chicken again. 

preschool

Three days a week, three hours per day. A total of nine hours weekly. 

Needless to say, I have been STOKED for the girls to start preschool. My lazy blogging habits have been mostly due to this drama, getting everyone used to the schedule and preschool policies etc. Both my kids are supremely well adjusted so they just rolled with it, no tears (other than my own, which only lasted one day) All in all they are learning plenty of useful things, and I can ALWAYS use nine hours a week for cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping, tanning, pedicures etc etc. (Ahhh!!!!) However, preschool is an interesting place for parents, and not always very nice.

It all started in orientation when I wore my fave hippie flowy skirt, chic flops and peasant top. I love this. It's comfortable and makes me feel confident. I get that I'm young and that I have twins. Please dont underestimate me. Meanwhile these geniuses decided to ENCOURAGE people to bring their kids. My kids had already met their teachers, they make waste of many things, destroy entire rooms and generally fuck shit up. I left my kids with my parents. Not to mention, it's next to impossible to retain any information from a meeting when my husband and I are chasing these little rugrats. So during the meeting (that was ridiculously rushed because all these kids were raising hell) the head three year old teacher says to me, "You look nervous, are you new? you look new." In front of the whole gaggle of onlooking parents (who could barely contain their curiosity as is)  Hmm, so much for flying under the radar. Responding with "Yes I am, I have the twins in this classroom and I also have some questions" Bitchy? I didnt think so. Being the twenty five year old in a room of forty year olds CAN get become a little touchy though. I get insecurity, I get that my husband and I look young. But dammit, my kids are smart. My kids are sweet, sometimes they're messy but my kids require knowledge just like anyone else's kids do. Needless to say I've been a tad touchy with some of the teachers when they talk down to me or act like I'm a moron. 

Yes, I read the newsletter, you're inappropriate grammar and syntax threw me for a loop since you have the education of the world's three year olds in your hands. 

My children are not "the twins". They are Bug and Bear. They have totally different personalities, different loves, different dislikes. They LOOK DIFFERENT FOR GOD'S SAKE!!! They are each their own beautiful little personality with all kinds of bad habits, and cute aspects of themselves. Dont always refer to them as "THE TWINS" or "TWIN GIRLS". They are different people and one day they will be in different classes, different colleges, different sports and different careers. If they choose to do the same career or maybe go to the same college, so be it. If they do EVERYTHING THE SAME, forever, they are still different. Dont refer to them as two halves of a whole, or I'll be calling a parent-teacher conference, and it wont be over their behavior. It will be over YOURS. 

What's more, ANOTHER FUCKING FUND RAISER?? Seriously? Why the fuck am I paying tuition on two kids every month? Honestly?? I just tapped my relatives out in the fund raiser department with the pancake breakfast for the new playground and you want me to sell PASTA, funny shaped PASTA?? What the fuck? I wont be selling shit.

How about we have a "Color day" that my children actually wear?? Like pink and purple?? I really dislike buying specific colored clothing for one damn day. 

Snacks. Again. Where the fuck is my money going?? And how is it that my kids end up in the rotation every single month. Other kids dont. Convenient. 

If show and tell is every damn Tuesday, why didn't you mention that in your sacred "newsletter"? 

Oh yeah, and when you said the preschool drop off/pick up line would be "quick and convenient", I'm not sure you included the time allotted for you to jaw jack with your favorite class parents. I dont have time for this shit. I just raced here to get beat AGAIN by some old man in a white mini van and I WANT MY KIDS, so I can take them home and feed them LUNCH, since you guys dont do that........again, tuition??

Oh and by the way, I wont be a "class mom". I've got shit to do. And I'm not exactly sure I will be welcomed with open arms since all the "class moms", dont work, stay at home, discuss Oprah, and talk about their memebership to the YMCA (which they obviously arent using, since they're all ridiculously overweight and stuffing the snack I BOUGHT FOR THEIR KIDS into their mouths), not to mention they dont like me. It is truly juvenile bullshit all over again. If I try to strike up a conversation with you, please dont ask me how young I was when I had my daughters if they are already three years old. I was of consenting age, let's just say that much. And please dont act surprised when I talk about my husband. Yes!! Twenty five year olds ARE married nowadays. Thanks. Just because youre a tiny bit older, doesnt mean I wont bitch slap that grin right off you and your equally over-weight/ugly "bestie". And please dont act like I dont spend enough time with my daughters because I'm a working mom. I have a career!?!?!?! I really thought we'd left these stone-age ideas behind, but obviously I was mistaken. Officially, I believe I will proclaim this day, "Hug a working mommy day" . 

Next time, I will be less shocked and more angry. Choke slam.

the truth about pregnancy

this weekend while working, I came upon one of those people I really cant be around for long without opening my big mouth and offending them beyond reason. Fortunately, I didn't open my big mouth.

Pregnancy is an emotionally, physically, hormonally exhausting stage in a woman's life. You throw up repeatedly, battle nausea constantly, and begin retaining water. Not to mention, you get enormous. Like huge. No kidding.

So, while in nursing school, since I battled morning sickness for seven months. Seriously. Doctors lie. They LIE DAMMIT. First three months, my ASS!!! I apologize, tangent. I would sit in class with a trashcan nearby to avoid spewing vomit all over my neighboring classmates. Coincidentally, I also had about three or four class mates who were also expecting, (I lost count, all these bitches get knocked up in nursing school)

Anyway, so as I am vomiting up my spleen during a class break from lecture. One of these classmates corners me, explaining how she had NEVER felt better then when she was pregnant and what a BLESSING being pregnant is to her and how she would just be PREGNANT ALL THE TIME if she could!!!! 

Barf.


I responded, none too kindly, what pregnancy safe antidepressants were on the market for women that dont cause horrible birth defects in the unborn fetus. I then asked for her doctor's name and number so I could perhaps have these lovely pharmaceuticals prescribed to myself and maybe they would help with the one HUNDRED pounds I had gained, the GIANT bowling ball tumor that had grown in my uterus, the HUGE tree trunks that replaced my adorable ankles and my otherwise filthy ass attitude. 


fuck.off.


Please dont assume everyone has a lovely pregnancy. Some (as in myself) know that the tiny being inside their uterus is actually a little bitty parasite sucking the life out of their body for nine months. Causing them to vomit the first seven and then vomit the last month (simply because their  stomach is compressed into nothingness and they cant HOLD real people food.) Hopefully you like peanut butter off the spoon and whole milk. Welcome to the real world "mommy".


Every time I looked at my pregnant body, or threw up my saltine crackers (or wedding cake, as it was, that's another story, for another day), or envisioned labor pains, all I wanted to do was shake Eve until her teeth rattled for eating that forbidden fruit!!! DAMMIT!!!


And be thankful you were pregnant, or I might would've mistaken YOU for Eve!!! And really, lets be honest!! Dont hound a pregnant woman. She can thrill kill you in a minute and get by any jury. Really.

Halloween

Wanna have some fun??

Hit your Halloween store of choice with your two year old.

Put on a very scary mask. I'm talking really scary, not some stupid clown shit.

Hide in a designated location.

Instruct partner to record reaction.

Jump from behind display with scary mask on.

Watch child flip the fuck out.

Cruel? Maybe. Hilarious? Very.

And the best part....you can watch and rewatch repeatedly for laughs!!!!

Bahahahahaha

toddlers and tiaras

this blog has been a long time coming.....let me tell ya

however, I didn't want to write this blog based on the commercials, so I forced myself to watch every episode of the season up until this point. why, you ask? better question? are you hooked? yes, dammit. i am. its similar to watching a train wreck or rubber-necking on the highway. I cant make my eyes look away!!!! 

it's horrible in every sense of the word.

but what truly disturbed me was what one of the mothers said on the most recent episode. In summary she said "the popular people in school were not ugly, which is why Olivia's beauty is so important to me". Well, hate to break it to you "Mom", but Olivia is a little shit. Your kid is SWINGING AT YOU!! Lets focus on the INSIDE, rather then her outward appearance. "Mom", then states "I dont really mind Olivia hitting me, it's still cutesy, and it's her way of showing dominance." Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me? From my experience, the real assholes in high school were NOT very popular either. I dont care if you spray tan your kid, I dont care if you put them through hours and hours of hair and makeup (because trust me, i can see clearly that you are PAYING for it), and if they love it? then FUCK IT!!! do what they LOVE!!! my kids love playing dress up and putting on mommy's makeup!! I dont mind!


Story time!!! "the good, the bad, the ugly" has a friend. friend is a nutjob. friend puts 5 month old in a pageant. baby is not that cute. WTF PEOPLE. I refuse to talk to friend. I knew she was weird, but come on??? When you put an ugly kid in a pageant, you are setting up ugly kid for failure. I know what youre thinking, blahblahblah all babies are beautiful, gifts from God, blahblah. WRONG. All babies are not cute and beautiful. In fact most babies are wrinkly, red, screaming baby aliens when they arrive in this world. Their heads are all mis-shapen, they have scratches and bruises from hitting your pelvic girdle and rib cage for 9 months. Mom and Dad love them. Cool. Duh. But this is why "the good, the bad, the ugly" decided to coin a safe word (similar to the safe word in s and m). When your friends and loved ones reproduce, and baby is far from pretty, baby is not "cute" or "beautiful".......baby becomes "sweet", maybe baby will become cute and beautiful as he/she grows a little. who cares? 


The same goes for the toddler and tiaras kids. Except they can't fall back on sweet. Most of them are NOT even a LITTLE sweet. And a lot of them are just normal looking kids before the flippers, spray tan, hair, makeup and frilly dresses. The difference is they dont have manners, they dont respect their parents, their parents DONT demand respect and some are just downright RUDE. So, when you take away Olivia's beauty, her spray tan, hair, makeup and flipper.....WHAT is left over?? A disrespectful little girl. 


Why is this.......

and this....

better then this???

Ill take baby number three, any day. shes BEAUTIFUL without the madonna bra, or the OVERLY feathered dress. she looks like she could be a little bit of trouble....but she also looks like she is having ONE HELL OF A TIME!!! :)

mommy can do anything!!

my children have been feeling very yucky since friday night. 

fortunately for them, i have a very large store of compassion which should last them their entire lives if they dont use it up on stupid shit. 

they've both had colds and fevers since friday and unfortunately this means our weekend was far from fun. we had big plans. lots of fun. and those plans got cancelled.

so instead, we watched the windup for shark week (its this week), and ate mass amounts of junk food. during these lazy times, this conversation happened, i posted an short version on facebook.

Bear: Mama, those sharks is biting people.
Bug: Dont worry Bear!!! Mama wont let those sharks get you!! Mama will STAB those sharks in the HEAD
(at this time, im gaping at the conversation, im having trouble following because im laughing so hard, as they are both very animated and the thought of actually stabbing a shark in my lifetime is a little scary but very realistic, as im always getting into fucked up situations. now back to the conversation)
Bear: Mama, if those sharks try to bite me, you will stab them!! and then you can cook them because they look TASTY!!!
Bug: YES!! We will eat that shark cause our mommy will stab it and cook it!!
finally....
Me: Yes Bear and Bug, I would gladly save you from the hypothetical shark, I would stab the hypothetical shark in the head and then cook the hypothetical shark for our dinner, simply because you think it looks tasty. Oh, and by the way, YOU ARE WELCOME. for the said stabbing and cooking of hypothetical sharks.

(Mind you, I doubt my shark stabbing abilities after watching four hours of shark week)


BEAR AND BUG: CHEERS, HIGH FIVES, DANCING AND JUMPING ON THE COUCH while screaming "MY MAMA IS GREAT!!!"


Damn, sometimes being a mom is hard........and other times, its really easy. :)

Cue Jaws theme music......

working third shift.

Working third shift is not for vaginas.

I've worked third shift in various jobs since I was 19. I guess I love punishing myself.

Because I have kids and I like spending time with them without looking like a drooling  sleepless zombie, Im the type that rather than prolong the torture, I just do about five or six shifts in a row. BAM BAM BAM. Like rippin off a bandaid baby.

Night one: Having taken a sleeping pill the previous night. I have not taken a nap before this shift. I'm happy. I spend time with Bear and Bug, coloring or outside. I cook dinner and I am generally a pleasant person. I eat. Because it's the natural thing to do. My scrubs are pressed (just kidding, they've been thrown in the dryer), my socks perfectly match my scrubs, my shoes are clean. I drive my one hour commute and all my favorite songs come on the radio. I am dancing and singing. I smoke only about two cigarettes. The night at work is ok but not great because I have an entire group of patients that I need to get to know and fawn over. I answer emails and text messages in a timely manner. I also check my voicemail when I receive a missed call. This all makes me a trooper.

Night two: I have slept approximately 5 hours, I woke up only once during this extended nap. I take a shower, I very vaguely remember taking this shower,I eat a pack of crackers and a cup of hot tea, I pack my lunch, I play with Bug and Bear for about twenty minutes and make small talk with my sitter, who is also my grandmother. (The grandmother Im named after, and also the grandmother I frequently mirror in actions and words) Some of my favorite songs are on the radio but I either catch them in the middle of the song or my sirius is being a bastard and starts cutting out. Fuck you sirius. I stop at my gas station to obtain the nectar of the Gods, Sundrop. Tonight I buy two. My night is better but my patients expect me to spoil them again. This is not so. When I drive home from work in the morning, I am sleepy but not overly so. I answer texts and emails when I get in bed, at home. I do not check my voicemails.

Night three: I wake up after five hours. I dont know my name or where I am. I stare at my alarm clock and wish it evil. I close my eyes. Five minutes later, my grandmother opens the door and tells me it's time for me to get up. I give her the Vulcan death stare. I bury my head in my pillow and scream obscenities until she screams in my ear that she has heard all these words before and to stop because St. Peter will NOT allow me in heaven if I continue. I get up. I think I shower. I think I eat. I remember none of this. I kiss both my kids because even in my sleepless state, I think they are the cutest tiny humans ever hatched from an alien pod (Seriously, this is what Im thinking). I get in my car. At this stage every song on the radio is agitating me. I deal with it. If you are bum asking for change. Make sure you dont ask me, because I still have bad words I need to use before I get to heaven. I smoke approximately four cigs steady on this commute to work. My socks match, my scrubs are wrinkled. I'm ok when it comes to outer appearances, but I possess an angry ball of rage. Do not be a fool. Do not speak to me. I either completely ignore texts and emails or I delete them on site. I realize that it is unsafe for me to respond to these messages, because I will be hateful in my response. I stop at the gas station, I buy four Sundrops. I quickly chug an entire 20 oz before I leave the parking lot of the gas station. This will be all I eat til 2 in the morning. The night at work is mediocre. On the way home I turn the AC ALLLLLL the way up and keep all the windows down to discourage sleepy driving. The rumble strip only surprises me once.

Night four (last night unless I do overtime this week): My alarm wakes me up. Im not sure how long Ive been sleeping but my brain is telling me to trust no one, I kick my door down and stomp to the bathroom. My grandmother stares at me in horror OR already has both the children outdoors and away from me. I am speaking unintelligible gibberish, it makes sense to me, but I cant form appropriate vowel and consonant sounds. It's scary, even to myself. I may or may not have taken a shower. I know my hair is wet. I eat nothing because I'm nauseated. Obviously my grandmother tried to poison me while I was sleeping. I will get her. I refuse to pack my lunch because all food is contaminated. I stare at my children and try to telepathically explain that I will be home in the morning and to kill the old lady. My socks dont match, my shoes are dirty, and my hair is in a messy bun on the top of my head. I get in my car and every song enrages me. Meanwhile everyone driving on the road is attempting to kill me and I scream curse words and give obscene gestures. I stop at the gas station. I buy six Sundrops. A bum asks me for change. I cut his throat and hide his body in a back alley. I chug one Sundrop, while chain smoking cigarettes. I turn the radio off because the songs are taunting me. I answer all texts and emails with nonsensical dr. seuss and alice in wonderland quotes. I refuse to respond intelligently. I refuse to listen to voicemails. It is a good night at work but I spend much of it on careerbuilder.com and faxing resumes. When it's time to leave in the morning, I throw my report papers at the oncoming nurses, while screaming "SEE YA LATER BITCHES", and laughing hysterically. I call my nurse manager and tell her to expect my two weeks notice when I wake up that evening (she refuses to take me seriously, she is used to these idle threats). On the way home, the rumble strips save my life no less than three times. The AC is turned all the way up and all the windows are down. I dont care. Im fucking tired. I pull in my garage and take a five minute nap. I wake up and realize I need to go grocery shopping. I do this. I come home and sleep for a ridiculous amount of time. Approximately 13 hours. I wake up and my husband brings me food in bed, my children jump in my bed and share my food. I go to sleep again. I wake up at five am. I have 18 voicemails. I check them all and wonder why everyone is asking me if I'm "ok". My mother texts me at six am asking me if I'm awake and why I was tripping acid the previous day.

:)