2011 March »

Cloudy with a chance of afros

Posted by Domestic Diva at 9:12 pm Uncategorized

Mar 312011

I have an opportunity to cross an item off my Bucket List. Blake, my favorite stylist, and one of the only people talented and qualified enough to attempt to style my hair, has offered to make me a blonde. Holy shit. I’ve had high lights, but never sported anything lighter than a chestnut brown.

Changing hair color is probably nothing for some people; I have tons of friends who do it both freely and fabulously. My fear, my hesitation is because I already hate my hair. My naturally curly, angry friggin hair. When I keep up on my cuts with Blake my hair tends to stay slightly tamed and subdued. When I get busy, the kids get sick, we have our usual plans, and life keeps happening then my hair tends to let loose and go natural. I am approximately 5 weeks overdue for a cut. Check this nonsense out. This is what happens when I don’t put product in on a humid day.

My Nut House Application Photo

So Saturday I will be getting at the very least a haircut, and maybe even a new color. Let’s just hope I don’t end up looking like a Q-Tip.

It might not make my hair pretty, but it will make me feel better. Click the link below to cast an automatic vote for me:

Green with envy

Posted by Domestic Diva at 2:51 pm Uncategorized

Mar 302011

When you become someone’s mother your entire world changes. You feel things you never thought possible and you do things you never dreamed that you would do before…but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Have I ever told you that green is one of my favorite colors? Well, it’s one of them. My two favorites being red and green even though I have an borderline obsession with wearing black and white. Anyway, green is everywhere this time of year.

It’s in the grass….

It’s in the trees…

In the animals who slowly awake from their winter’s slumber…

So when Joey called me to come “look at the green,” my mind was focused on the color of the season. Did he draw a Spring Landscape? Was he admiring the greening grass? Perhaps our tree buds had burst open into leaves?

As I skipped, with a “spring” in my step, and rounded the corner, all hopes of a desirable Spring scene were shattered as I saw Joey, not peering out the window or coloring in his room, but standing bare-assed in the bathroom grinning at the toilet. I sighed a terrible sigh and swiftly made my way towards the boy.

“Are you sick, Joey? Do you feel okay? Do you have diarrhea?” I quickly question.

“No, Mom. I’m totally fine. It’s just a regular poop, buuuuuut look, Mom! Look how green it is! It looks like a group of green snakes sleeping in the toilet.” Joey giggled.

Almost afraid to look, I peered cautiously over the bowl and saw the greenest bunch of turds ever. Think neon green…

Actual green snakes

You didn’t think I’d post poop pictures did you? Come on! Give me a little credit!

Anyway, this is when I share one of those motherhood lessons I’ve learned that not too many people know. When I saw Joey’s otherwise normal turds,(and here’s where you do things as a Mom you never dreamed of doing) and saw the bright green neon color I didn’t panic. In fact, I told Joey to wipe, flush and wash his hands. The I went down stairs and finished some emails. Did I do that because I’m a bad Mom? Because I don’t care about my child’s health?

The simple answer is I’ve seen it before…panicked once before….called the doctor once before….and knew we had the same situation as before. You see, Joey had recently celebrated a friend’s birthday. In honor of the celebration they ate cake. Delicious chocolate and vanilla cake with blue icing (at least the Batman part of the cake). So Joey joyfully celebrated, ate and digested the birthday cake with blue icing. The blue icing, once it goes through the digestive system, actually comes out green. Really, really green.

So, Mamas, if your child ever poops a neon green poop that glows ominously at you from the toilet, and as your heart thumps anxiously and your mind races through different ailments to reach a diagnosis, try to think of any blue or purple food coloring/dye they may have consumed. It just might save you a panic attack, and don’t worry, they most like are not radioactive.

You’re welcome.

(And because some people actually need me to write this: This post and my opinion about your child’s crap is not a substitute for real medical advice. I am not now, nor have I ever been, a licensed physician. Sometimes poopy problems can be attributed to viruses, digestive conditions, allergies and more things I am not qualified to talk to you about. If you child has a poop which concerns you, please contact your pediatrician to discuss your shitty situation.)

But before you call your child’s pediatrician, take a moment to vote for me on Top Mommy Blogs. Just click the link below to cast an automatic vote for me:

The End

Posted by Domestic Diva at 10:41 am Uncategorized

Mar 282011

There is almost a rhythm to the pounding in my head. The constant thumping in sync with the beat of my heart might almost lull me to sleep if it wasn’t accompanied by pain.

My face hurts. Yeah, yeah and it’s killing you, right? Seriously. My face hurts. My sinuses are under attack, and there is pain and pressure in my forehead, eyes and cheeks.

My nose is congested, and at the best of times I can breathe through one of my nostrils. There is sneezing, blowing and now redness despite the lotion covered tissues.

The post nasal drip irritates my already sore throat and is causing a significant drop in appetite. It is also causing a persistent, dry cough.

Sleep eludes me. Just as I begin dozing off a coughing fit comes or I gag from the all of the nasal congestion.

So what’s the diagnosis? A drug resistant flu strain? Pneumonia? Whooping Cough? Tuberculosis?

No. Far worse. I’m not sure how this happened and I’m left wondering why this happened to me. Something is amiss in the universe, you see, I think I’ve caught a “man cold.”

By all accounts, this is just an ordinary cold. There was a slight fever on the first day, but four days later my temperature is normal. So why do I feel like this is the end? Why do I just want to curl up under a blanket and die? Why do I feel like I want to cry and moan and have someone take care of me? All signs point to a man cold. I just don’t know how this happened.

Unfortunately, since women are not known to contract “man colds,” I got up and showered. Still feeling terrible I dressed myself and my kids, fed them breakfast, made lunch, dropped Joey off at school, came home and did the dishes and a load of laundry. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to have a “man cold” but until then I’ll have to suffer through a “Mom cold” which comes with no sympathy, no one doing stuff for you, and no time off.

Shit.

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Still a blushing bride

Posted by Domestic Diva at 3:28 pm Uncategorized

Mar 262011

My husband and I have known each other for over a decade. We met through work, dated for about a year and a half, got engaged and then were married another year and a half later. So after knowing each other over ten years, nearly eight years of marriage, having had three children, two homes, two dogs, and more goldfish than I’d care to admit ~~murdering~~ owning, I realized today that my darling husband, even after all this time, can still make me blush.

So as I stood there today in my PJ pants and pink fuzzy socks, the refrigerator light illuminating behind me, I was caught off guard not only by the sound of my husband entering the kitchen, but also by the immediate warmth I felt in my cheeks. With just one glance, just one look from this man, even after all this time and I was blushing.

Slowly, I lowered the bottle of Ranch dressing, swallowed ~~what remained of my pride~~ the mouthful of Ranch I had just squirted into my mouth, and just stood there ~~totally caught Ranch-Handed~~ blushing like a bride even after eight years.

Don’t judge me. It was nearing the expiration date and before I made a whole salad I just wanted to make sure it was still good…at least that’s what I told my husband.

In other unrelated news, my daughter, once she saw her dino-disaster gone viral, tried to explain away my last post. If you didn’t see the last post you can View the photos here before seeing the video below:

One last thing, thank you so much for everyone who’s voted for me at Circle of Moms, Top 25 Funny Mom Blogs! Voting ends in just two days, so please keep those votes coming! All you need to do is click the following link and then the “thumbs up” sign next to my name. Thanks again! Vote here: http://www.circleofmoms.com/top25/funny-moms

That’s not Barney

Posted by Domestic Diva at 12:52 pm Uncategorized

Mar 242011

As I approached the edge of the devastation, I could see the bodies lying everywhere. It seems the creatures had not spared anyone. The dead lay out in the open, in the trees, and really, just about everywhere I looked. The young, the old, and even the animals had all been decimated. It was like a scene straight out of a movie (Jurassic Park IV?), and I instinctively covered my mouth with my hand as I found a group of the monsters still “feeding” on one of the victims. Oh, the horror!

As I looked around, I wondered if the Little People, Little Einsteins or their friends could ever recover. If it was up to my 20 month old daughter and her army of dinosaurs, probably not. I worry about this kid sometimes. I hope that this is just what comes from having two older brothers, but after the “Bad Baby Cook” incident and now this, well, I’m beginning to worry that we might have an evil genius on our hands.

See for yourself:

: Here’s an airel view of the carnage

This human didn't stand a chance against T-Rex

Poor Leo from Little Einsteins. I bet he wishes he had a Rocket now.

June had a similar fate...

: This one, of the dead unicorn and the three dino’s still feasting, gave me chills

And perhaps worst of all, St. Batman, as I'm sure he'll be called after the Pope sees this, gave his life to save the baby Jesus.

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Toddlers vs. Assholes…Continued.

Posted by Domestic Diva at 6:44 pm Uncategorized

Mar 222011

I ran a post last month titled “Toddlers vs. Assholes” where we explored how some behaviors, when exhibited by a toddler or young child (we’ll say under 8yrs old), are considered appropriate because of the age of the person acting out the behaviors. When you take these same behaviors and imagine an adult doing these same things, you’d probably agree and say they were a real asshole.

Am I saying all toddlers are assholes? No.

Am I saying just because someone is four years old they can’t sometimes act like an asshole regardless of whether their actions are considered age appropriate? Oh, I think anyone can be an asshole….

Many of you gave some really great additions to my first list that included announcing the need to have a bowel movement loudly while eating at a restaurant, bending over while bare assed after pooping and asking if they were “good” in front of company, and just yelling words like “Boobies” without cause and while in public to name just a few.

Now, as many of you know, I live with three ~~assholes~~ small children. Whether it be for emotional support or to feel better about my own situation, I tend to hang out with other people that have ~~assholes~~ small children. With so much interaction with little people, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that my list has doubled since my last post. This concept, I have a feeling, will be an ongoing feature.

This list has the newest items first with the older post’s items included as numbers 11-20. As with the original list I’d like to you to take a moment and imagine each behavior acted out by a small child as well as by an adult….what would you say? Typical toddler? Just an asshole? You’re the judge.

I give you Toddlers vs Assholes, Part II.

1. Someone who spits chewed food into your hand

2. Someone who picks their nose and puts it on a wall/school bus seat/friend

3. Someone who coughs in your mouth while you are talking

4. Someone who participates in a “farting contest” until they poop in their pants

5. Someone with uncontrollable legs that kick your car seat for the duration of the ride

6. Someone who unfolds or dumps clean folded laundry

7. Someone who touches/fingers food on your plate without invitation to do so

8. Someone who draws with crayons/markers/pens all over tables/desks/walls/doors/floors/self

9. Someone who pees in the backyard rather than take two minutes to use an indoor toilet

10. Someone who fills up a watering can in the toilet and calls it “helping”

11. Someone comes in your room at 6am, on a Saturday, wakes you up by jumping on your bed and demands that you immediately get up and make them breakfast.

12. Someone starts screaming at the top of their lungs in the middle of the night. You frantically go to find out what’s happened only to be told they are thirsty and want a cup of juice.

13. Someone goes to the bathroom and calls you to come wipe their ass when they’ve finished pooping.

14. You try to take someone by the hand to guide them in a particular direction and they instantaneously lose all muscle control and become totally limp. You must now drag said person to the place you were trying to go.

15. Someone, even though they can use utensils, throws forks and spoons on the floor and eats with their bare hands. This includes foods like cereal with milk and macaroni & cheese.

16. This same person will often rub their food into the table and chair, throw some on the floor, rub some in their hair, and occasionally on anyone sitting within arm’s reach.

17. Inside voice? What’s an inside voice? The quieter the place, the louder this person talks.

18. You are in a public place such as a restaurant. The time comes to leave and this person throws an epic fit. They scream, they yell, they cry. They demand you stay and refuse to listen, quiet down, oh, and they go limp…again.

19. Someone takes their personal belongings and randomly dumps it all over the floor all around your house. When you ask them to pick up their stuff they ignore you, say something “smart,” or begin crying. You end up picking up their personal belongings.

20. Someone tells secrets, lies, or personal information about you to total strangers. For example, they could answer your door and tell the UPS man that you are unable to come to the door because you are currently busy pooping. There’s no good reason for that.

As I said, this list will surely grow with time…anything you feel should be added? Agree? Disagree? Leave me a comment, I love hearing from you!
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As much help as I “can”

Posted by Domestic Diva at 11:04 am Uncategorized

Mar 192011

I must suffer from some degree of amnesia. It first showed itself between childbirths when I would tell myself, “Passing a human being wasn’t so bad. Nothing to worry about.” WTF? Anyone who has given birth knows this is just crazy talk. Really, I think it’s the brain’s way of protecting itself from a total meltdown. Maybe one day I’ll tell you what kind of pregnant woman I was and what childbirth was like…think Godzilla only not as cute and cuddly.

Anyway, when it comes to home projects whether indoors or out, I think I must suffer from this same form of amnesia to some extent. Last year we had 5 yards of mulch, 5 yards of mushroom/topsoil, and 4 tons of river rock delivered. When I say we had it delivered I mean they dump it in your driveway and you then get to scoop, shovel, and wheel barrel it into place. My back aches just thinking about it. Now, last year we needed the soil for my raised garden, the river rock to line our gardens and for a runoff of water in the back of a yard, and the mulch covered all our gardens- front and back.

So this year, when I happily ordered 5 more yards of mulch, in a different color than last year, I thought, “this shouldn’t be hard at all; in fact, this should be a piece of cake compared to last year.” So, as you may have seen on my St. Patty’s Day post, we had a dump truck full of mulch delivered to our driveway. Thursday I got to work during nap time and completed as much of the old mulch removal and the new mulch application as I could on my own (which didn’t amount to much), and Friday my husband took off so we could complete the job.

Despite my two younger children’s best efforts we were making progress, and once the baby was down for a nap we were really on a roll…that is until Jake, age three, started on his way to a meltdown. “Mooooooom! I want you to push me on the swing!!” and “Mooooom, I want you to stay out back so you can watch me play in the sandbox (which he can totally do whether I’m out front or out back)” and “Mooooom!! What happens if I eat a bug?” and “Mooooom!! I got sand in my mouth! HEEEELLLLP!!”

So as I handed Jake a water bottle for him to rinse the sand out of his mouth, I had (another) idea. He had tired of the sidewalk chalk, riding his scooter, bike, and playing with his stomp rocket, so maybe he could help. I asked Jake to go find his garden shovel and rake so he could help me put the mulch in place. Of course, the shovel and rake were misplaced and I was too dirty to search indoors, but luckily Jake found his elephant watering can. He could help water the new flowers I put in last week.

Now, yesterday reached 77 degrees, but it was not nearly hot enough that I would let my three year old man the hose himself. So for twenty minutes or so, I got up and down 400 times so I could fill the damn elephant watering can. At this rate I was never going to get anything done, so I had yet another brilliant idea. “Jake, I really need to get this work done while your sister is sleeping. Why don’t you go inside and fill up the elephant watering can in the bathroom?” I instructed thinking the worst that could happen was that I’d be wiping up some water later.

I didn’t have to tell Jake twice; he was off, happily filling his elephant watering can and helping me water the dozens and dozens of flowers, shrubs and plants around my house. With Jake the happy helper seemingly harmlessly preoccupied, I was able to get back to work with my husband and the mountain of mulch that was slowly shrinking in the driveway. As we mulched, Jake watered and we’d stop only for a moment to thank him for his helping. At least forty-five minutes had passed and after making some real progress I went to grab some water for myself.

I kicked my shoes off on the deck and could already see a trail of water inside the breakfast room that extended as far as my field of vision into the kitchen (and I was sure well beyond). I stepped over a puddle just inside the slider door and took a detour to the garage for an old towel or two. At the time, it was no big deal. A little water on linoleum wouldn’t hurt anything, and even if it was on the carpet outside the bathroom and down the hallway that leads to the kitchen who cares? It was only water, and it was keeping him occupied, happy and best of all, quiet.

So on my hands and knees I quickly wiped the water from the door through the breakfast room and all around the kitchen floor. When I made it to the carpet, I went and grabbed a ShamWow! to soak up the water from the carpet. Down the hall and all the way to the bathroom door I soaked the water up. I wondered how much was in the bathroom, but wasn’t really worried about it. Then I opened the door.

Jake, being a clever boy of three, found that hoping up on the stool to the sink, stretching to turn on the water to fill his can was just not efficient when you have so many plants to water and so much helping to do. No, no the sink just wasn’t the best option….not when you have a toilet bowl, full of water just sitting there at the perfect height for dipping.

So the water I just bare handed and crawled through to wipe up across most of my down stairs was mostly comprised mostly of toilet water. The silver lining here is that the water in the bowl was not yellow and was empty. It could have been worse. And of course, when one tells a three year old to fill up a watering can in the bathroom, a veteran mother of three, such as myself, should already know to be very specific on where and how to complete the task…and which “can” to avoid.

At least the mulching is done…

The can on the can.

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Pot-O-Nothing

Posted by Domestic Diva at 12:52 pm Uncategorized

Mar 172011

You know you’re old and lame when you big plans on St. Patrick’s Day include having a truck load of new mulch delivered. I know my 22 year old self would be disappointed, but this is about as good as it gets when you’re 32 and you have three little kids. So now that it’s nap time, I’ve got to get scooping the mulch. Hope you all have a great (and hopefully more exciting) St. Patty’s Day & here’s a limerick to commemorate the occasion:

There once was a busy mother of three

Who tried to be the best housewife she could be

So as the laundry kept pilin’

She kept right on smilin’

and said, “It’s not like they can fire me!”

Happy St. Patty’s Day!

It's me big lame pot-o-gold...I mean truck load-o-mulch

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Butt Fingers

Posted by Domestic Diva at 10:46 am Uncategorized

Mar 152011

I didn’t just wake up one morning a total germ freak. I’m a product of my environment. I developed my chronic hand washing/sanitizing as a result of seeing some really disgusting and foul things over the years. Now that I’m a Mom, and my kids are still young, I’m battling to keep them healthy in a dirty, disgusting world.

Just so you understand, and don’t judge me too harshly, here are some of the reasons I am why I am:

If you’re new, you may have missed the incident last year where I was trapped in a car and forced to pee in a Huggies Size 6 diaper (you can read that one here). Now, had I just used a public rest stop bathroom, I wouldn’t have had this problem. My issues with public toilets had been building for quite some time, but one incident that occurred when I was twenty really sticks out and was probably one of the biggest contributors to my public toilet phobia.

I went on Spring Break with three of my roommates to Cancun, Mexico. On the next to last day of the trip, I was so drunk and dehydrated that I drank melted ice water from a beer cooler at a bar. Genius right? The last day of our trip (and for another three weeks after) Montezuma had his revenge. Long story short, our plane was delayed going home and the airport was under renovations. When I finally located an open bathroom, there were only two stalls. The first door slowly creaked open to reveal a clogged poo and pee filled bowl that made me gag instantly. I stumbled backwards and felt a shift in my own bowels that was the only thing propelling me forward to the next stall. I bargained with God, swearing never to drink again of this next toilet was workable, and cautiously approached the door. After the door opened far enough for me to see the only other available toilet, it revealed a horror my brain could have never comprehended before. The seat…the seat….I’m sorry this is hard for me even now….the seat was COVERED in pubic hair. And just so we’re clear, I mean the entire seat was covered in HUNDREDS of short, dark and curlies.

I remember standing there just totally sick, hungover, and tired staring at the seat for a minute. Then I began to cry. My mind couldn’t comprehend what could have taken place in that stall. It was one of the worst things I had ever seen, and if you’re a believer in post traumatic stress, I’m telling you I had it after that. I’ve never looked at a public toilet the same way again. So what did I do? I cried a while and I stood in the bathroom holding my stomach and wishing I was back in the States. A friend said she’d stand guard and I could go in the sink, and then a stranger came in with the same travel related illness. This girl was either crazy or a super hero, but either way she braved the pubes and the crabs I was sure were there too, and wiped the seat down. After she cleaned and used the toilet, I layered about 7″ of toilet paper on the seat but still hovered, praying my ass wouldn’t catch anything from being within 3 feet of that previously furry seat.

That was just one incident in a foreign country’s airport. Surely, my experiences here would be better? Or not. I worked for years in a corporate setting, with various levels of management, and I can’t even begin to count how many times while using the bathroom at work, that I would hear a toilet flush and then the door open and close. These people just wipe, flush and walk right out of the bathroom without washing their hands. These nasty people, many times slipped in and out without revealing their identity. Who were they? Who knows…was it the person using the copy machine or fax ahead of me? Maybe. Were their shitty hands punching the same buttons I would be using? Were they hitting the elevator buttons and then heading to the cafeteria? Were they handling the cups and sticking their poop-ridden hands in the ice (don’t even get me started why someone’s bare hand need be in the ice machine)? Perhaps. Were they someone in a meeting who would shake my hand? Could be. So when coworkers would tease and joke with me about my hand sanitizers and Clorox wipes, I would always smile and laugh too, but who knows, maybe they were the ones not washing and then carrying on with their day happily spreading shit (literally) around.

Bad news for some folks was if I caught them trying to leave without washing, I would say something. Not embarrassing for me; they’re the nasty ones. Anyway, my point is, I’m like this because of the things I’ve seen time and time again. I’m like this because every time I see something I thought was the worst possible thing I could see (like the pube toilet), someone does something worse.

Without further delay, I give you the worst possible thing I could see someone do in public. I’m pretty sure I would go postal on this lady if I saw this. (If you watch Tosh.0, you probably saw this on last week’s episode. If you don’t watch Tosh, and you are easily grossed out, don’t watch this nasty ass-digging lady who could live in your town, pump from the same gas pumps, shop (and handle) the same produce, share the same library books, etc, etc, etc).

Tosh.0

Tuesdays 10pm / 9c

20 Seconds on the Clock – Dingleberry Season

tosh.comedycentral.com

Tosh.0 Videos

Daniel Tosh

Web Redemption

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