Bye Bye Bye Blogger

Well blogger isn't working out for us, Wifezilla HTML incompetents, so we're moving to our own domain. Gonna get some nerds to do the work for us. Come visit us y'all. Peace out.

http://thewifezilladiaries.com

SAHW: Diarrhea or Constipation?

I am in the middle of a shit storm right now.

I will be the happiest person on earth after Mr. and Mrs. Pibb get married. You think they'll be happy? Au contraire. I'LL BE HAPPY! Their happiness won't compare to mine. At the end of the night, they'll be man and wife BUT I'll be done with this bridesmaid bullshit!

Latest update: bachelorette party.

Maid of honor MIA. Bridesmaid#2 backed out. Bridesmaid#1 (me) needs a straitjacket.

Will there be diarrhea of the mouth or do I plug up and not say a word?

(Actually let's be real. It would be more than just one word. It will probably be many words that start with f and end in -uck or some other various colorful FUCKING counterpart. Oops did I forget to say "ear muffs"?)

Kill me now.

SMILF: Thank You Rhythm Nation

Last night Sydney came busting in the front door.

“We were just listening to Rhythm Nation!”

After I busted out my oh-so-cool Rhythm Nation moves in my head I said, “You mean the old Rhythm Nation, like Janet Jackson?”

She looked at me like I had just spoken Greek to her – “Who??”

Thanks. I feel old now.

But when Robert came in I knew I could make myself feel young again.

“So, I heard you guys were listening to Rhythm Nation on the way here – I totally used to rock out to that.”

He laughed and said, “Yeah, me too!”

I said, “The only difference is that you were probably rocking out to it in your car while driving while I was merely rocking out to my lavender Barbie “boombox” in my bedroom filled with stuffed animals.”

“Yup, a new 1988 red Beretta…I was so cool.”

“I was so eight years old.”

Thanks. I feel much younger again now.

SMILF: Awkward Situation

Yesterday afternoon my friend and I went for a walk (we took a “smoke break” – how about THEM apples?) We got all caught up on each other’s crazy lives as well as the latest company gossip. But when the following conversation occurred it left me with a “shit, wish I wouldn’t have heard that” feeling.

“So, if you knew that one of your friend’s husband’s was…um…unhappy or talking about stuff….”

“Like what are you trying to say here? Like talking about divorce, another woman, what??”

“Yeah, so let’s say that I heard that Robert was talking to someone about how you guys were having problems and he was offering himself up to go out with other women….would you want to know about that?”

After she confirmed for me that this was NOT my husband (geez bitch, can you get to that point early on in the conversation please…thaaaanks) she went on to tell me that a friend of hers had overheard a coworker of hers saying, “Yeah, my ex-fiancé told me the other day that he is having lots of problems with his family and his wife right now and he told me that if I ever wanted to hang out to let him know.” As it turns out, this woman is the ex-fiancée of our friend’s husband. This woman had no reason to just spout that off as she had no idea it would get back to anyone who knows our friend.

My point was that we shouldn’t tell our friend we heard this unless we had cold hard evidence that he was cheating on her or was for sure doing something that we felt was disrespectful to her. I am a big believer in normally not getting involved in other people’s relationships because you do not know the circumstances and I don’t feel like it’s my business. However, if I am out somewhere and I see one of my friends being cheated on or something, damn straight I am going to pick up my phone at that very moment (right after I go and kick him hard in the junk with my 4 inch stilettos). I’ve had it happen to me before (not Robert obviously) and I was glad that my friend called me and told me.

So now basically we have this awkward feeling around our friend (who has been acting weird lately anyway…hmm….) because we feel like we know something we shouldn’t know but don’t have enough evidence to say something to her. What do you do in these situations? Do you tell, do you not tell, do you wait like I am until I know 100% sure something is going on? We are just weirded out now.

I need to take “smoke breaks” more often. No wonder people do it so much if they get this good of gossip!

SAHW: That's not in my job description

You wanna know the single most reason why I AM OVER WEDDINGS...?

I can't get away from them!!!

My friends, soon-to-be Mr. and Mrs. Pibb are getting married this summer and I am in their wedding. Don't get me wrong. It's a complete honor (at least that's what I keep telling myself) but remember what I said about weddings before? Something happens. The world stops for the bride and she lives in a bubble. Within that bubble is her own reality and she has no FREAKING CLUE what is going on in the outside world. Sensibility and manners just go out the window!

Her bachelorette party is quickly approaching and for some reason I am the one who got stuck with planning this shit. Uh excuse me?? I am not the Maid of Honor. I am the bridesmaid. This isn't in my job description. Isn't this the Maid of Honor's job? Isn't that why she got the coveted title, she gets to wear something different than the other bridesmaids, why she gets to stand next to the bride on her wedding day?

You know what really makes me cringe? When brides "expect" things from their bridesmaids. I booked Mrs. Pibb's massage and emailed her to let her know that it was all taken care of. Isn't that what good little bridesmaids do? She promptly emails me, directs me to the website and the most expensive massage as the one she wants. WHAT.THE.FUCK?? Do I look like I am made of money? You're the one that got the 1 carat engagement ring, not me!

I realize that being a bridesmaid costs money. I get that. I was a bride before but maybe my expectations of my bridesmaids were a little lower: buy the dress, buy the shoes, celebrate my last night of singleness with me affording what you can (Shit I even paid for my Matron of Honor's spa day because she didn't have the fundage) and stand by me on my wedding day. I NEVER MADE DEMANDS! After reading her email I didn't know what to say.

And the cherry on top is that the Maid of Honor never returned my phone call.

2x.

BOTB: Marriage is all about give and take

Before I get to the meat of this story, the part that will have you rolling on the floor pissing your pants let me first tell you about Stink and I the early years ...

We were best friends before we started dating. He was an anal retentive clean freak and in return for him cleaning my room, I made him dinner. I also got paid in weed every week to do his laundry. It was the good life. I love to cook, but hate to clean and laundry isn't so bad when you're stoned out of your mind. This perfect, happy way of life continued after our relationship started, but then, it stopped.

Fast forward to today. We're married. We no longer give a shit about impressing each other and worst of all, I broke my top of the line husband aka maid. We now play little games to see who will gave first as the mountain of dishes takes over our sink and our apartment is in a perpetual state of looking like a tornado just swept through. I never thought I would say this, but I'm tired of the mess and I want my cleaner bee husband back.

Enter in the 3am deal. Stink wants more sex, I want more cleaning. So what does any good couple capable of reaching a compromise do? We make a deal. In exchange for an pristine apartment and a sink full of nothing but shine, I, in turn, am required to provide sex twice a week and one BJ. I'm pretty sure Stink got the short end of the stick because while I'm often too lazy to have sex at least I enjoy it. If you enjoy cleaning you're certifiably crazy.

Enter our Mid Day Gchat
Left unedited for your viewing pleasure

Stink: so im guessing you were serious about our little deal last night?
im surprised you broke down so soon, only 1 year of me not cleaning and your
ready to give up the jewels eh?
looks like my plan worked perfectly!
im so pumped to start cleaning when i get home
you have no idea

me: asshole

Stink: ?
i just joking around
no need to be offended
..
?
hello?

me: sorry
i was doing something

Stink: oh
i thought you were super pissed
:)

me: no
i need to have all dishes done and the bedroom picked up before you start getting any nookie though

Stink: ic
me: you already got some once this week

Stink: did I now

me: and frankly i don't trust you

Stink: that was last week sweetie
:)
ha you dont trust me says the woman of broken promises

me: it was in the last 7 days sweetie

Stink: i think you owe me like 30 bjs

me: um those few you got a couple weeks ago more than make up for those
each one was easily worth 10 bjs

Stink: ?
you mean the new position? I will give you credit for that
it was hot
ok ok we are even for now
but you better bet your ass im getting you naked and doing dirty things to you by the end of the week
i think you forget how much of a motivator my penis is

me: lmao
hey you clean you'll get some sweet loving

Stink: ive been telling you for months if you want me to clean, give my crotch some
attention
its not rocket science, didn't they teach you that in "How to handle men 101"

me: I guess I forgot that part

Stink: ha

me: then again most men are like me ... they don't clean

Stink: study harder next time
yeah
well you bought one that used to
and then you broke him

me: i think that part wasn't really in the class

Stink: orly
i was pretty sure it was under "how to use sex to get what you want" on the syllabus

me: i know my fucking husband is a defective model ... you think I can get my money
back?

Stink: nope
all sales are final

me: ahhhh ok I remember that part

Stink: you can just dispose of him
no special permit required
just get your stamp from family court
aka divorce
:P

me: you think you'd make good fertilizer for my veggies if i disposed of you in the back
yard?

Stink: alimony not guaranteed
um nope
human body has too much acid in it

me: wtf of course I get alimony
i have to put up with your shit

Stink: you need to wait until i dry out a bit

me: i deserve millions for that

Stink: ha
lets not get started on what i deserve......

SMILF: String Cheese and Pinwheels...and My Workday

I was reading BOTB’s post about her friends who hate their jobs. Surely she wasn’t speaking of me. Okay, so I know that I was one of the first people that she thought of when she wrote that. It’s not that I hate THIS job per se, I just hate any job. Probably because I still don’t know what I want to do when I “grow up”. Actually, I take that back. I know what I want to do. I want to sleep in, get up and read trashy chick lit novels all day, and play online. Can someone pay me to do all of this please?

But, you know what? I’m in a good mood today so instead of focusing on the fact that I am staring at this dingy gray wall in front of me, I am going to think about the things that make me happy throughout the workday – yes, there are actually some things that make me happy. Such as….

….Being able to add rubber bands to my rubber band ball that is starting to resemble a small cantaloupe. I’m pretty sure I could injure someone with it. (Remember that nasty co-worker)
….Eating my string cheese string by string just to kill time
….Looking at the goofy pictures of my friends and family scattered across my desk
….When I hear “Don’t Stop Believin’” come on the otherwise cheesy music playing station that my boss insists on listening to
….When random dirty old men walk by my picture window and give a dirty old man smile
….When my boss is in meetings for a long amount of time
….When a co-worker sends me a particularly funny article from Perez or TMZ (Nothing like pulling up a picture of some celeb showing her Britney to make your day better)
…..Using my pen that has a big pink pinwheel on the end of it. It doesn’t get much happier than that folks
….When co-worker #1 gets busted sleeping with co-worker #2 and a companywide gossip fest occurs
…..Getting a sweet email from hubby
….When a co-worker brings in doughnuts unexpectedly and I know that I shouldn’t eat one but I do anyway. They make my teeth hurt but I do it anyway –why? Because it’s fun.
….When I look at the clock and realize that it’s much later than I thought it was

See? Get some string cheese and a pinwheel pencil and maybe your days won’t be so bad either. That is what I plan on continuing to tell myself anyway.

SMILF: Say It Isn't So...

Okay, look. If you ARE a pageant mom or strive to be a pageant mom (you poor soul) then stop reading now. Just stop. Move on. Go curl some poor little girls hair or put lipstick on a child that doesn't even know her left from her right.

First of all, I was never in any sort of pageant. I never wanted to be and thank the Lord, my mother never pushed me to be. It is not a world that I want my child in - at all, period. Jon Benet Ramsey anyone??

So when a couple of weeks ago E tells us that Sydney is going to be in a pageant, I almost spit out my lovely piece of pizza I was chewing on. Excuse me? Sydney. Like, our Sydney? The little girl who hates to get dressed up and wants to wear sweats all of the time? The girl who hates to get her hair brushed? I'm confused. But much to my dismay it was true. Sydney was going to be in pageant for her county's fair where her mother lives. This seemed extremely out of character to me.

When Sydney next came to our house I asked her about this pageant (I want to gag when I say this word...why is this?!). She seemed semi-excited about it - and at that point I thought, okay, as long as she is having fun with this, then I will be excited for her. But honestly, she is way more Little Miss Sunshine than Jon Benet. Cute, smart, funny, but definitely not the stereotypical pageant girl. I then find out that E was in pageants when she was little and how convenient for her to push Sydney to be in one considering she wants Sydney to be just like her. Shudder at the thought. I launch into the speech about, "You know, it's better to be pretty on the inside than it is the outside so please remember that you are both and you need to be both during this pageant okay?" She says that her mom told her that when she was in pageants when she was little that she often won Miss Congeniality (bad judges of character pageant judges...shame) and she tells this impressionable, naive, self-conscious 8 year old, "I never wanted to be the nice one though, I was always upset because I wanted to be pretty, not nice." The joke is on her - she never got either.

Robert and I would have rather cut each others fingernails out one by one than go to a pageant, but of course we did because we go to everything of the kids and we support them fully. This pageant was THE most awkward thing I have ever been to. The kids live in a small, country town - absolutely nothing wrong with that. I am from a similar place, so I knew some things to expect. We get there (to a middle school) and the stage has zero decorations on it. Nothing. It has a podium for the announcer (we'll get to her later) and a table with trophies on it covered in this hideous black sparkly piece of material. That is it. It looked like someone woke up that morning and said, "Huh, let's have a pageant here today, nothing else going on." The announcer...I really felt sorry for her. She either was smoking a crack pipe or was sneaking drinks from a nearby flask. She couldn't speak straight, kept dropping things, etc. which made it awkward for the little girls smiling on stage.

The girls came out one by one and said their name, where they would go to school, their age, and their contestant number. Then they would walk across the stage in their gowns (who the fuck makes prom dresses for 8 year olds?! Someone help me please...) while the announcer did her best to tell the girls hobbies, their wishes, etc. Once all of the girls were finished with this portion, they all came back out and stood in a row in front of the judges. No music, no nothing, just them standing there. For like 5 minutes. And finally the announcer realizes they are waiting on her cue and she is all, "Oh, let's give these ladies another hand..." and lets them leave the stage. Pay attention lady. They are your disciples at this point. That was it. No talent, no nothing, just parading them around on stage like little fairies in a snowglobe to be judged on their looks. Fantastic way to raise a child.

After deliberation by the judges they brought the girls all back out and the announcer says, "We don't have sashes for the girls because they are up in a box in the attic so I apologize for that." Um...maybe they really DID just get up this morning and decide to have a pageant?!

Sydney ended up getting 2nd runner up - I was excited for her because I know she wanted it but part of me was thinking, "Oh fuck. She is going to want to do this again now." Honestly, if this was her personality and something I felt she truly enjoyed, then I would be positive about it, but it just seems like (as usual) something that she was mind warped into doing.

Oh yes, let's not forget that E and her entire insane family was there. Tyler was with us that weekend and was sitting with us and E made sure and come up when she got there and make sure that he sat with her instead of us. Because after all, it's all how she looks and to those who don't know her she needs to look like the model parent. After the pageant (keep in mind, this is our time with the kids) she kept trying to get Sydney to stay to watch all of the older girls do their pageant when we really had to go as we had other plans. Sydney was torn but her mom kept on and finally Robert said, "We have to go." Um...please stop trying to get your children to do things that you want them to do. Please stop trying to make them feel guilty about doing things that aren't what YOU want. Do you realize how bad you are screwing them up?!

Yeah, so I hate pageants. I really do. I am a pretty damn girly girl as well - I love makeup, purses, clothes, shoes, etc. but there is something about getting your small child into that world that I just can't agree with. If it's one for fun, then okay, but if you are really trying to make them into something that they aren't? Then get a fucking grip.

BOTB: The Devil You Know

I admit it; I have a few internet friends and quite a few internet acquaintances. What I find interesting is that there is one thing in common for most people who I meet online. They're either stay at home parents/ husbands/wives OR they fucking hate their job and do everything in their power to avoid work. A few people like their jobs, but most of us spend 90% of the day avoiding the work we’re supposed to do.

Is it just me? Are my friends pathetic? Or does everyone hate their job?

I know I hate my job. I can't stand it. I dred Sunday afternoons because I know Monday is close at hand so really I can only truly enjoy one day a week. Not cool. What pisses me off most is that I'm pretty damn sure that if I got another job I would hate it just as much so pretty much I'm screwed and stuck being miserable. I’d rather stick with the devil I know, but he’s still the fucking devil.

I have just under fifty years left of the torture that is get up, go to work, come home, eat, go to bed. Talk about a depressing life. Someone shoot me now. Please.

SMILF: The "Big Blue Thing"

Saturday night the kids wanted to play with Tyler’s walkie talkies – the kids took one walkie talkie and Robert and I took the other. They were so excited to be playing this game as it tends to get pretty funny since Tyler hasn’t yet figured out that you don’t actually wrap your mouth AROUND the walkie talkie like you are trying to eat it, you just put your mouth next to the speaker. Anyway, the kids ran off and Robert and I stayed on the couch half watching TV, half paying attention to where they were going.

The game started and the kids were being goofy and singing songs and saying silly things to us and we were being equally as silly back. As I said, we weren’t sure exactly where they went to hide to play this game, but I wasn’t too worried about it. Until I get this come through from Sydney –

::static from walkie talkie:: “Hey guys – what is this big blue thing in your closet?”

::SHIT:: “Oh, that is for daddy to do his physical therapy on.” (Robert has had some back and neck issues recently so this isn’t SO farfetched). Damn. I’m still impressed with my quick thinking. Maybe wine is good for the mind.

“Oh, okay, because Tyler is playing on it. He’s slow dancing with it like it’s a girl that he likes or something.”

At this point I was about 3 drinks in for the evening so all I could do was laugh hysterically about this. What is so funny you ask? The “big blue thing” was not for back exercises at all. It was our Liberator. As in that sex toy that you can buy that is like a big foam wedge for all kinds of kinky-licious positions? It was hidden in our closet because no one besides us ever goes in there so we figured it was a safe place right? Apparently not.

The kids proceeded to be way too interested in the “big blue thing” and then brought it out into the living room floor to play with it. At this point, it was late, the kids were slap happy, Robert and I could only laugh at this point because really….what else are you going to do? Your kids are playing on your sex toy like it is some sort of jungle gym. Laying on it, jumping on it, pulling each other around on it – we did what any normal parents would do – we laughed our asses off and took a picture of it so we could laugh at this night for years to come. Robert did delete a couple because Sydney looked way too comfortable in sex positions in some of them (not meaning to of course...the innocence of children...ah....) Don’t worry – we aren’t totally sick. We only let this go on for about 10 minutes before we put the kibosh on the fun night with the Liberator.

I only hope that someday when they are old enough to know what things like Liberator’s are that they have long forgotten about this night. How traumatizing would that be knowing that you had rolled all over your dad and stepmom‘s sex jungle gym? No answer necessary.

RHONY: I'd like to introduce you to my friend...

...Single Jealous Female. You know the one. My SJF broke up with her boyfriend of over six years just a few weeks before my wedding. That was fun. Ever since, SJF has been trying to one up me in every aspect of my life. But not with her swinging single escapades.... with her other married friends. Sound strange? Observe:

SJF: How much did you wedding cost?
RHWONY: Eeeehhh I don't really like to talk about that stuff.
SJF: Come on, I'm one of your best friends!
RHWONY: Eeerrr, I'm not really sure of an exact figure.
SJF: More than $20,000?
RHWONY: Yeah
SJF: More than $40,000?
RHWONY: Probably...um bartender, can I get a refill please? Thaaaaaaaaanks.
SJF: More than $50,000?
RHWONY: That's probably the ballpark...weddings are crazy and cost lots of money and I don't like to talk about it.
SJF: Well yeah I mean my friend Betty's wedding cost over $100,000, so I know. I mean..... [insert random ramble about how super-de-duper Betty's wedding was].
RHWONY: Hmmm... so....

SJF: How many carats is your engagement ring?
RHWONY: Oooh, I dunno somewhere around 2.
SJF: Yeah that's a good size - definitely not too big. It's not extravagant. I mean my cousin's was like $30,000 and is 3 carats. Wouldn't you just feel unsafe walking around with a rock like that on your hand?
RHWONY: Yeah, I'm glad I just have my chip. Thanks.

SJF: So are you guys doing anything special for your first anniversary?
RHWONY: Well, we were planning on going to Italy for a vacay, but then Uncle Sam raped us in the butt and took all our money. So something low key. Maybe we'll go to dinner at the restaurant where we got engaged or do a weekend in the Hamptons or go to a casino.
SJF: That'll be nice for you guys, Susie and Jake are going to the Greek Isles. Isn't that where you originally wanted to honeymoon?
RHWONY: Yup...that's the place.

RHWONY: So I'm really excited...three jobs opened up at this school where I'd love to work!
SJF: Oh I know people in that district.
RHWONY: OMG. Hook a sista up!
SJF: Oh yeah, those positions are already filled.
RHWONY: Really? I called personnel yesterday and they said they haven't started interviewing yet.
SJF: Well who did you speak to? Marcia? Because I spoke to Marcia Jr. today and she told me they were filled.
RHWONY: oh.

Now, bearing all of this in mind, she has a good heart and has stuck by me through some tough times. She's got major issues, clearly. But seriously. WTF?
Stay tuned for more.

SMILF: My Husband's Nuts

In an effort to be more healthy Robert has changed his eating habits quite a bit over the past 6 months. Around bedtime he always thinks he is wasting away to nothing and needs a snack. Let me take this opportunity to mention that he isn't the best at liking healthy snacks. He claims it's a texture thing - anything "cold and crunchy" he can't put into his mouth without wanting to gag. I get it. I can't eat mushrooms for the same reason.

One snack that he loves right before bed is mixed nuts. You would think this would be easy to pick up at the store, but they have to be a certain kind of mixed nuts. They have to be the "kind in the purple can...the generic ones. The ones that you buy at WalMart. They don't have peanuts in them." Apparently peanuts shouldn't be in mixed nuts. Who knew. So, the other night he gets out of bed around 10:30pm, goes to the cabinet to get his nuts, and comes back in the bedroom.

"These are in a black can. I like the ones in the purple can. The ones in the black can say, "Less than 50% peanuts" and the ones in the purple can don't have peanuts."

"Yeah, I didn't go there this week so I had to get those."

He then gets back up out of bed and he comes back with the can of mixed nuts and a pizza pan. In bed. At 10:30 at night. I look up from reading my trashy chick lit book and say, "What are you doing with a pizza pan in bed?" He then dumps the entire can of peanutty mixed nuts onto the pizza pan. I kept reading and I noticed that he is now sitting up in bed seperating these nuts onto two seperate portions of the pizza pan. He does this for about 20 minutes. I asked him what he was doing again and he says, "Seperating these nuts." He continues for a little while longer, looks up at the can again and shakes his head and says in disbelief, "They SAY "less than 50%" peanuts" on this can but judging by this (pointing at the pizza pan of nuts in my bed), that isn't true. Why do you think they say that? Maybe they don't think anyone will actually count."

REALLY? You think? Who does that?! I'm sure they weren't worried about lawsuits from people claiming false advertising on these cans of mixed nuts because really there might be more like 70% peanuts instead of the 50% that they say are in there. I married a man who counts nuts in bed on a pizza pan. I am one lucky woman. (No really, I am a lucky woman, but things like this are just funny).

SMILF: Friday WTF?

I see so many things daily that just make me stop and think, "What the fuck?," or in today's texting/IM'ing world, "WTF?" I think I'll start sharing these with you on Fridays. Seems like a good WTF day.

Today's WTF brought to you by MSNBC:

Wouldn't this suck? Or would it?

Discuss. I personally don't want to sit around and remember things instantly like, "Oh yes, July 13, 2002 - that is the night that my best friend and I got incredibly drunk and I puked twice at this bar. When we got home she was so mad at me and I didn't know why but she said if I choked on my own vomit that night she wouldn't care. Yup, July 13, 2002. I remember it vividly."

WTF???

BOTB: Wildebeasts aka Men

What is it with husbands errr make that guys thinking women like being treated like a dead carcass waiting in the jungle to be taken advantage of? First, I’m not dead. I’m alive, kicking and screaming with maybe a quick stop to breath on the side. Second, when I want some sweet loving I’ll let you know. I am perfectly capable of flexing my very own sexual muscle and no, as much fun as it may be, I’m not talking about working on my Kegels.

My poor husband just can’t seem to get it. If he didn’t paw at me like a lion trying to eat his kill his chances might be just a wee bit better. I tell him this. He doesn’t listen. What is it about guys that makes them dumber than rocks? Scientific-like people say colorblindness is more common in men. Frankly, I’m starting to have my doubts. Could it just be that they’re too dumb to recognize the difference in color? That the problem isn’t just in their eyes and that its the larger problem of them just being men? I think it might.

This is how a typical convo with Stink goes.

Stink - Why won’t you ever fuck me?
Me - Because you treat me like a peace of meat and my vibrator doesn’t.
Stink - I’m sorry I’ll stop

Next Day
I’m sitting on the couch watching TV. Stink waggles over sticks his cock in my face and wiggles it around and starts groping me.

Me - Go away!
Stink - Why won’t you ever fuck me?

repeat previous days convo
Sigh … they never learn

SMILF: I Have Addictions Too You Know

I get it. Smoking is an addiction. Being addicted to cigarettes is like having an illness. Very hard habit to break. That is why you should never start to begin with. What I need to know, is how is it acceptable for smokers to take several breaks throughout the work day to go stand around together in a group and gossip for 15-20 minutes at a time about who is screwing who in what department while puffing away on a Cancer stick? I see people take seven or eight of these breaks a day. I have addictions too you know. Celebrity gossip rags, trashy TV, online shopping – what if I went outside in the fresh air 7 times a day for 20 minutes apiece and read People magazine? I somehow think that would be frowned upon.

(And you know as I’m typing this someone has just gotten up, grabbed a crossword puzzle book and his pack of cigarettes and is heading outside.)

I’m just cranky today. PMS has gotten the best of me. But really? I feel a twitch coming on. Can I go read People now please? I promise I’ll be back in 15 minutes.

SMILF: Snot Rockets and Knock-Knock Jokes

Saying that I am not a morning person is the understatement of the century. Last week we were in the car early in the morning and Tyler was still asleep. He woke up when the sun started beating in the windows – he promptly gave the sun a look that could kill and pulled a big blanket over his head. That is how I feel every morning. I want to pull a big blanket over my head and hide.

My normal weekday morning routine consists of me going to pee when Robert gets up for work at 6:30 and then I go back to sleep until 7:27. 3 snoozes for those who are counting. I get up, brush my teeth, wash my face, throw on some clothes, brush my hair, grab my breakfast to eat at work and I am out the door by 7:50.

This week as I mentioned we have the little people so my routine is all out of whack. Since Robert has to be at work way earlier than me, my job is to take the kids to the babysitter before work. The normal 6:30am pee break this week is the time I have to roll out of bed and be ready to be super SMILF. No time to lie in bed and listen to my body saying, “Wait, I just peed, why are we getting up?!” The kids are up, ready for breakfast ,and ready to talk. Let’s recall…normally I’m not even up until an hour after this.

I stumble in and the kids are sitting on the couch already watching Spiderman or whatever happens to be on. I make my way into the kitchen and pull out of the cabinets my favorite invention of the week…ready? Pop-Tarts with knock-knock jokes on them. GENIUS! Some of you probably know that little kids LOVE knock-knock jokes. The more ridiculous the better. These are pretty ridiculous. (knock knock….who’s there?....Hawaii….Hawaii who?...I’m fine, Hawaii you?....Cue the giggles). BUT. Two kids, two pop-tarts, and they are entertained for at least 15 minutes telling each other the same jokes over and over. Thank you Mr. Pop-Tart man. During those 15 minutes I can have the discussion with my body that we are going to be adult today and we will NOT crawl back under the covers like we want to.

Our kids are sneezers in the mornings. I am fairly positive that they have seasonal allergies, but their mother says they do not, so that is what goes. Because after all, she is an MD. (Oh wait, no she isn’t, she just claims to know everything without gathering real information. That’s right. I forgot for a minute.) Anyway, these aren’t little dainty sneezes. When these kids sneeze, I am talking full on messy, gooey sneezes that if you told me 5 years ago I would be wiping up I would have thrown up on your shoes. I am used to this now. This morning though, I was getting Tyler’s shoes on him and I hear Sydney walk into their bathroom and sneeze really loud. I figured she was okay since she was by a box of Kleenex so I thought nothing of it. This is the
conversation that follows:

Sydney: ::giggling:: Wow, that was a really big snot rocket!
SMILF: ::gagging:: (okay, I didn’t really gag, but I considered it. Snot rocket? Before 7:30am?) Wow, great, did you get to a Kleenex?
Sydney: ::giggling:: Nope! I didn’t need to! I sneezed right over the trash can and since the trash bag has nothing in it, when the snot rocket fell into it, it made this really cool noise. I heard it go into the trash can!
SMILF: ::laughing now:: Okay, please wash your hands and go get dressed now.

The rest of the morning consisted of getting kids dressed, brushing tangles the size of small animals out of Sydney’s hair, cleaning up Cranberry juice that Tyler spilled on the couch, blanket, and floor, getting Sydney’s softball items ready, and managing to remember to grab my breakfast. We left our house around 7:12am to head to the babysitter. Target time was 7:10 so not bad.

Both kids were in a good mood this morning thank goodness so that means Sydney was extra talkative the whole 30 minute car ride. Have you ever seen that Volvo commercial? The one where the dad is putting the little girl in the car after school and she keep talking the entire time even when he shuts the door and walks around to get in the car and he can’t hear her…she is still talking. I think that commercial is adorable. That is how it was this morning for us. I learned during that drive (among other things) about how the kids at the U-shaped table never really learned how to work together as a team, how “Johnny” was the only kid who always had to go to principal’s office and he even had to go visit the 3rd grade teacher so she could tell him, “Johnny, next year, I will not put up with this kind of behavior”, and how the boy we are currently crushing on “T” pulled someone’s chair out from under them (this was followed by a fit of giggles and repeatedly telling me how funny he is).

I pulled into the baby-sitters around 7:40. I thought to myself, wow. I am normally at this point just rubbing crusty unknown crap out of my eyes and trying to figure out what excuse I can use to NOT have to go to work. I’ve already had a full morning!

Some of you full time mom’s are probably thinking, “That morning sounds like a cake walk”, but to me, it is very out of my routine and so surviving it is a small victory for me. I thank God for having good stepkids. And for knock-knock joke Pop-Tarts.

SAHW: I am so over it!

I think something crazy happens when you get that engagement ring on your finger. It's like an automatic hazy bubble surrounds you and your whole life is put on hold while you plan for 3 months, 6 months, 12 months, 24 months for the perfect wedding. Mine took me 18 months. I can't quite put my finger on it but there is something about weddings that bring out the best and worst in people.

I have lost friends and gained friends, cried, bawled, laughed, screamed, jumped, tripped, twirled and eventually got my day. I remember thinking after the wedding that I was so glad that "it" was finally over. Don't get me wrong! I loved my wedding day but planning...? Eh not so much.

But just when you think that your wedding has come and gone, you realize that the wedding isn't over that pivotal day that you said "I do". Now the bubble has burst, the world stops moving in slow motion and I am thrown back into the reality of life BUT I am still dealing with wedding related shit. Unlike my sappy wedding wifezilla counterpart, I AM SO OVER WEDDINGS!

(Do it. Call me snarky. I'll fucking wear it as a badge of honor.)

SMILF: The Silver Lining

I feel it necessary to go ahead and say that a lot of the time being a SMILF isn't so bad. I talk a lot about how stressful things are and how I basically want to lock myself up in a closet never to be found on many occasions, however, it's not always like that. I have had some less than fun days lately as it relates to my SMILF status, but then I have good days and it really does make it all worth it. I'll try to keep the cheese to a minimum here.

Last night the kids came to stay with us for a week. I was stressed all day at the thought. Really? I have to take care of two little people for a whole week? I am not sure I am programmed for this mentally. But, they arrived at our house and it was the best night we have had in a long time. Both kids were in good moods, both went to bed fine (no tears or "I miss mommy"), and then this morning both kids were again in really good moods. I took them to the babysitter and we had a great morning. Sydney and I talked the whole way there about random funny things and Tyler was being his usual goofy self. It's almost like the buildup to the thought of having little people for a week was worse than when it actually started.

So I have to say - being a SMILF is not always as one might think it is. I don't think anyone knows how it is until you walk in these shoes. You can act like you love it all you want, but honestly, most people I think do not love it 100% of the time. But the good days like I just had keep me going and make it worth it. Days like these save me from my drunkorexic thoughts that might have taken over even just a few days ago. Thank goodness for good days. Swimsuit season is here - I can't have tons of extra calories. Thank you kids. You didn't even know that you contribute to my status as a SMILF, but you do.

SMILF: Now You See Me, Now You Don't

Recently I stumbled across several "stepmom" blogs that are out there and I have to say, I am in heaven reading them. It is so good for me to realize that I am not the only one in the situation that I am, think the things I think (good or bad), and that other people are there to vent to who actually understand both the shitty and the great things that we go through as stepmoms. I mean, being a stepmom is honestly great a lot of the time, but I am not going to lie - it's not all roses and butterflies. Maybe in the beginning I had some warped view of how things would be, but once you are in it, things change and you often times wonder, "What was I thinking? Really? Am I really a stepmom? Am I really relying on some other crazy woman to rule part of my life?" But yes, I did it. I can think "what was I thinking?" all I want, but I fell in love with this man and then what was I going to do? Not marry this amazing man because of his kids? Some people might not. I did. And I am thankful every day for my life even on the bad days. Some days it takes several martinis for me to be sane. I won't lie.

Situations arise all the time that just push me over the edge. For example, let's discuss what I like to call, "Now you see me, now you don't" situation. Maybe not all of you stepmoms have been here but I'm sure some have.

When having small children, there are several events in which both sets of parents will be in the same vicinity. In our situation, it's not pleasant. For example, yesterday at Tyler's T-ball game, Robert handed me a baseball bat as he walked away and said, "Here, in case you need it." He left me with a weapon in the presence of E?! Bad idea Robert. I'm not afraid to use it. Okay, so I wouldn't use it, but in one of those fantastic Ally McBeal fantasies (remember those? Where in her fantasies it would show exactly what she WANTED to do no matter how insane? Loved that.) I walk right up to HER and whack her over the head hard for all of the things that she puts us all through on a daily basis due to her selfishness. In reality, I put a smile on my face and pretend that she doesn't make me want to puke just looking at her. They really should allow alcohol at T-ball games in my opinion. I digress...

With our kids, they are constantly having to baby E because she is a very needy person. She is the mom who has to call all of the time when the kids are at our house and I hear them tell her "I love you too" at least 4 times during a 5 minute conversation when really you can tell they just want to be watching Disney channel and not talking to her. She wants the kids to rely on her for everything and gives them guilt trips on any occasion that she possibly can. Therefore, when we are all in the same place, the kids sometimes get to where they are scared to talk to us or show affection to us because she is there and they don't want to upset her.

I will take this opportunity to tell you that under normal circumstances when the kids are with us, it's like they love us and can't get enough of us. WE are the parents and they love us to death and we have such a good time together. It's not as if though we have a bad relationship with the kids - quite the opposite. This being the case, when we are at events where their mother is also there and the kids act like they don't even know us, it hurts. Badly. They will walk right by us without even saying "hi" if E is around. It's like, okay, so last week I was good enough to wipe your nose, hold the bag while you threw up, brush your hair, tuck you in, play in the pool with you, take you to that party, and buy you a new outfit, but now all of the sudden you don't even see me here?? Now you see me, now you don't. As much as it hurts me, it hurts Robert 10 times more. Here he is, there to see his kids and they barely acknowledge him? But yet tomorrow when we see them, it will be like nothing was ever wrong and like they never even ignored us. Other people must see this go on and think, "wow, I bet that dad never even sees his kids" or "wow, he must not have a good relationship with his kids". NO! Not the case!!!

I understand that in these types of situations, it is not the kids fault. It is her fault for making them feel like they can't speak to two people who they love because it will hurt her. After all, let's not forget, it IS all about her, not the kids. (Gag) That is how she lives her life. Whatever will please her is what goes. All I can do is pray that as the kids get older they will realize how crazy she is and they will realize who were the good parents when they were younger and will continue to be throughout their lives. That doesn't make things easier right now. It pains me greatly to see Robert go through these situations. It also sucks for me - I am their "part time" mother and some days I'm nothing more than a person there at the ballpark I guess. Fun, huh? Hardly.

Stay tuned for more adventures in the world of being the "perfect" SMILF...thanks for listening.

SAHW: Rewind

Please spare me any pyscho-babble you have to try to diagnose why I do not want children. I already know why. Its really quite simple. I am a selfish bitch. And its not the motherly dog persuasion either. I am talking B-I-T-C-H. Bitch.

I fully admit that I am selfish with my time, my husband and my money. All of which gets sucked up by children *IF* you are a good parent. Please do not be disillusioned that nothing changes after you have children. Everything changes. As it should. If you don't accept that your ability to stay out all night or being able to continue indulging your Manolo shoe addiction won't change, you are delusional unless you are Angelina Jolie and have the benjamins to do all of the above.

I know my anti-children decision makes my mother sad but if we're gonna be honest, my worst fear is actually becoming my mother. Think about it? Where do you learn your parenting skills? You learn by mimicking your own parents and how they raised you. You think I am wrong? Stop reading and pick a situation with your kid(s) from memory. Did your mother do the same thing with you? BINGO.

Even though we have a steady relationship now we are far from close. When I was younger we butted heads all the time and to this day I do not agree with her parental decisions on more than one occasion. I know I wasn't the easiest child either so I willingly take 1/2 the blame but sometimes I wonder if she resented having me and that shaped her parenting skills. If we do the math my parents got married in July and I was born in February... July, August, September, October, November, December, January, February. I know I was a preemie but I am not stupid.

Maybe deep down it is more complicated than just being selfish but I can tell you this much... I know I do not want children and at the very least, you should want them. Enough said.