Motherhood Uncensored

For Halloween I Decided to Dress Up Like a Vaginally Challenged Mother in Denial About Moving to Little Rock for Five Months. You?

Apparently I'm still suppressing all my emotions regarding this very closely impending temporary move (t-move? temp-ove?) to Little Rock. I realized this the other day when I found myself bawling on the couch, about halfway through a bag of 100 Grands.

[Note to self: Do not think you're being extra smart by purchasing large bags of halloween candy that you looooove because then you won't mind having "leftovers" because duh you'll just eat them all before the actual Halloween night because with your luck you'll get your period back and have to move again]

Oh and so much for that pants size thing.

The longer I'm in my wonderful house, the more I reaaaaaaally don't want to leave for an old transitional furnished house on a base in Little Rock.

Plus it doesn't help that all two of my very friendly and well meaning Arkansas readers have emailed me to say "the area near the base, is um, well, interesting so if you need a place to go..."

Um. Thanks, guys.

Actually, they've been cool. I just reaaaaaaaaalllllly like it here.

And so, when the huz broke the news that he will indeed go on orders November 12 to Little Rock, not Dobbins, that nice base up the street from us, I thought, for an extremely lengthy moment, that perhaps I could really just stay here.

But then that preschool already took all my money. And we'd be alone.

A lot.

And that just doesn't bode will for my bowels, amongst other things.

So I'm going. We're all going.

After Thanksgiving is over, I will pack up our suitcases, toys, and anything else I can fit into my truck and we will drive due West for eight hours to our next destination on this seemingly long ass journey.

You will come with me, right?

Don't cry for meeeeeee Atlanta! I do enough for all of us, particularly at 3am when Mommy is fast asleep.

So Really, What ARE You Doing About Lead in Toys?

Just when you thought it was safe to buy 14 battery operated no-off button heinously loud Dora toys, yet another recall list drops.

I'm kidding. I have never purchased ONE battery operated toy.

Um, well, at least for my kids.

[ahem]

But honestly, it's more my in-laws that I worry about. We've spent Christmas with them every year since my daughter was born and I'm not one to say they have to "run" their toy choices by me because I would just leave them all there (heh). But this year, I'm afraid.

Not only due to the recalls, but also because I have my own house now. And I don't want that crap in my house.

I've got two boxes FULL of crappy little toys that I have yet to give away or *gulp* Freecycle. And I don't want any more. I've got a big wonderful list of fantastic toys that I want to get for them.

And I've emailed it to them, trying to subtly beg them to purchase those and not the lifesized plush Dora and Diego doll.

But seriously, what are you guys doing this year when it comes to the recalls? And check out this awesome page at Cafemom!

Big is Not Always Better

*Clearly my readers leave the best comments. If you need a laugh, please read them*

I've shared my innermost secrets here, without shame or embarrassment.

I'm stupid open like that.

The prairie dog sized hemorrhoids, the pubic gnomes, and my marriage have all been scrutinized in great detail by my faithful readers, wayward Googlers, and God only knows who else.

So, why would my tampon sliding right out of my "personal purse" be any different?

Um, because I've never heard one person, no not one never ever ever, talk about their big old post-partum vagina. But apparently, that's exactly what I'm sporting these days. Except in this case, big is clearly not better.

Amidst my costume sewing fest that then became a stinky and terror-plotting glue situation, I got my period back -- which in itself is incredibly annoying since I have not one feminine product in my house.

Okay, that's a lie. I found two tampons in my teeeeeny tiny "I'm so cute and young and only need to carry lipstick and a credit card and apparently tampons" purse from a bazillion years ago. Like that's not depressing enough as it is. But other than those too sexy and single tampons, I'm walking around with toilet paper in my underpants until I can get to a Target.

And so, I bought my regular old Tampax, now with an extra handy applicator gripper by the way (amazing the developments that happen in a couple of years!), and went about my business.

That was until I went to the bathroom later that day because I felt something very odd and noticed my not totally used up yet tampon was not where it should be.

And that would be sliding halfway out of me.

Without me pushing it out or pulling the string, of course.

And then I thought the dreaded, terrible, and worst thought ever.

I'm all stretched out.

Ugh. Ack. Ptthhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh dfhdofjdalfjaldkjflkdfje9ijflsdfdkjfdk. (That would be the sound of me barfing 1000 barfs)

Yep. There's just no other explanation. Just me and my old stretched out vagina, shooting out tampons at any random moment of the day.

Dare I ask if there is any solution to this problem, you know, like a new tampon brand or a vagina lift?

Do You Want to Know a Secret?

When I'm extremely bored here, alone in my house and the kids are sleeping (shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh), I'm a Googler.

I Google everyone.

People I know. People I knew. Old annoying ex-boyfriends. Bitchy friends from college.

You name it. I google them.

I'm not so sure exactly what motivates me to dredge up the past, but I do it anyway, and quite frankly, I've never found anything of great interest. But it is bizarre to think about how connected we can all still be thanks to the internet.

With Facebook and Linkedin alone, I've found a TON of people I would never have talked to again (some good, some not so good).

So, do you Google?  Seriously. Admit it right here.

And separately, if you could tell me exactly when the "threes" get easier, that would be great. I mean, one was hard, two was hard, and now three. THREE!

She told me that she didn't like the way I was talking to her when I told her to clean up. She said I had to be nicer. She said if I make bad choices (i.e. use a tone of voice that is not nice) that I'm going to have to sit in the corner.

I nearly caught myself arguing about my tone of voice. With a THREE YEAR OLD.

Cripey. And she's throwing huge tantrums when she gets frustrated. And she misses her grandparents. YES, the freaking in-laws. Apparently we have to go visit them next week. And the week after. And every week.

Oy.

You Do Know How I Was Dying to Respond, Don't You?

[D-CountyFreecycle] WANTED; LOOKING FOR ALLTYPES OF FLUTES.

IM AIMING TO START A COLLECTION OF THEM. THANK YOU IF YOU COULD HELP OUT.