HEY YOU GUYSSSSS

I have a nasty habit of catching falls with my face.

My face was first introduced to the floor when I was six. They've been besties ever since.

I was dicking around, swinging from the arm of our couch and rocking chair when I slipped and slammed my mouth into the floor. A couple buckets of blood later, my parents rushed me to the emergency room where the doctors slapped me into a straight jacket (apparently I was "too wiggly" while they were trying to get their hands all up in my grill. GO FIGURE) and informed us that the nerve in my front tooth had died, causing the tooth to turn a disturbing shade of gray. They assured us that this would be temporary and only affect my baby teeth. THEY WERE WRONG. Once those little suckers fell out, the adult teeth came in an equally disturbing yellowish color. VERY attractive.

The rocking chair crash was only the beginning of a long history of dental emergencies including (but not limited to), the time I was on a see-saw with my neighbor and the little bitch jumped off while I was on the upswing...causing me to crash to the ground and bash my poor, already damaged, gray front teeth into the handlebar. I've also fallen out of a school bus, tumbled down a couple hills, tripped running UP the DOWN escalator and slipped jumping rope...not once did it occur to me that I should probably extend my arms to soften the blow...instead of eating dirt. Literally.

I could have my own freaking montage on America's Funniest Home Videos.

As a result, I had some seriously jacked up teeth. I'm talking, pallet expander, six years of braces, multiple extractions, root canals, and a stray molar growing out of the roof of my mouth jacked up. If I hadn't followed the recommendations of my dentists, orthodontists and oral surgeons, I would probably look like Sloth from The Goonies right now:

"Heyyyy youuuuu guyyyyys"

(ALSO. I would have been the sexiest cave woman back in the day...when teeth of unusual colors, growing out of unexpected locations were all the rage. I was born in the wrong era.)

Anyway, when I was younger, trips to the dentist were easy. I was a total champ. During procedures that some would consider torture, I played it cool, not even breaking a sweat. Fast forward to 2013 and I'm singing a completely different tune. I had an appointment to have one of my wisdom teeth removed yesterday and by the way my anxiety was revved up (I almost "nervous crapped" my pants on the way there), you would think that I was signed up to have my arm amputated with a rusty saw.

I called my dentist to see what she could do for me to "take the edge off"  and she filled me in on a glorious solution to my problem. Nitrous Oxide. The way she described it sounded magical. "Inhale a couple deep breaths of the laughing gas and BAM...it's like you're drunk." I was sold. Drunk in the middle of the day? Just from breathing? Sign me up. The best part? It could be turned off once the procedure was finished. Being able to "turn off the drunk" would have come in handy on my twenty-first birthday while I was curled up in my bathtub with pillows and blankets crying because I "didn't want to be drunk anymore."

Armed with this knowledge, I waltzed in the dentist office ready to go! Wisdom tooth? Gimme the juice and get that bitch out of my face! Unfortunately, my hopes of being hammered in the middle of a workday were short lived. When I arrived, the dentist broke it to me that another patient would be utilizing the Nitrous Oxide since they worked on a "first come, first served" basis...I'd have to go through the procedure totally sober. Totally fucked up, right?

The procedure only took about fifteen minutes...but it was a LONG fifteen minutes of me deep throating my dentist's arm all the way up to her elbow while she reached in my mouth and assaulted my mandibular third molar. As if the mouth rape wasn't enough to throw my anxiety over the edge, throwing out words like "oozing" and "dry sockets" during the post-op discussion really did the trick. I was soaked in sweat and shaking like an abused chihuahua.

Once we left, I was THIS CLOSE to going over to the grocery store and buying 5 cans of whipped cream and getting some Nitrous Oxide on my own through a whippit binge...but decided to embrace the Vicodin prescription instead.

How we met.....

I am going to give you the story of how me and Lauren were introduced to each other.  I figured some people are probably questioning our relationship and wondering how the hell sister-in-laws get to be the way we are.

Now, most people that know me consider me to be a bitch.  Well as one of my friends would say, "I don't think you are a bitch, I just think you are really honest". (Thanks Jessica!)  I don't really like girls and most of my close friends were guys.  I can count on one hand how many close girl friends I have.  I just hate drama and I am a very honest person, which is not really accepted in the girl community.  So, I never had any lasting girl friendships.  This doesn't really bother me especially because I have two brothers and really had my hands full taking care of them.  Lauren's husband is the middle child and he was the nice guy.  And girls you know exactly what this means.  He always got burned and bitches walked all over him.  He was kinda chunky in high school but he had a great personality and could be a real charmer, but this is not what the girls wanted.  He was always "just the friend".  As you can imagine this really irritated me and any time Joey brought home a girl I was NEVER nice.  He always used to lecture me about being nice and how he really liked a girl and blah, blah, blah.  Well knowing my brother and how girls are, I really used to put his girlfriends through the ringer.  I was never nice and in fact I went out of my way to be mean.  No one was ever going to be good enough for him.  That was the bottom line.  Then came Lauren.  I was going to tell this story at their wedding when I made my toast, but of course the two of them decided to go off to the Dominican and have a destination wedding. Thanks.

I was visiting my brother for the weekend in MD when he was in the academy.  It was me, our Dad, and grandparents.  We just had a long day touring the academy and meeting a lot of people and watching a football game the academy put together for the families.  (It was family weekend for the police academy in MD.)  We were back at Joey's apartment and I just started bartending a few weeks ago and Joey bought some liquor for the weekend and he wanted me to make some drinks for us.  So a few hours have passed and the liquor is flowing pretty good and then Joey drops the bomb on me.  He informs me that the new girl is coming over in a few to meet us and I am to be nice!  I think he really had this planned the whole time.  Get his sister good and liquored up before the new girl comes over.  Great.  Joey's apartment was kinda small and I was sleeping on an air mattress in the living room for the weekend.  So, naturally that is what I am sitting on when Lauren comes over.  Do you know how hard it is to get off an air mattress when you are drunk?  Not to mention the farting noises it makes every time you move.  And to top it off when Lauren comes in she has her puppy with her that is licking me all over my face!  So, I am trying to get up to meet her and not look like such a retard but it is really not working out in my favor.  Again, I think Joey did this on purpose.  You can't really be intimidating when you're drunk, have a dog licking your face that probably just licked its butt, and you can't get off a freaking air mattress!  Mean while my Dad is in a comatose state in the recliner.  He wasn't feeling that great and popped some Nyquil on top of drinking for a few hours.  I am pretty sure he is seeing things that we are not and I probably should be worried, but he looks pretty happy, so I just let him be.  I finally manage to get up and ask Lauren if she would like a drink and of course she says yes.  So, me being me, I made a drink that I don't think even an alcoholic would touch.  I think I did a whole glass of Bacardi and a tiny splash of coke.  I guess at the time I thought this was funny and teach her a lesson, but the more I think about it, I don't really know what my plan was.  Get her drunk, poison her?  I have no idea.  And the poor girl actually drinks it and finishes it and does not complain once!  And thanks me on top of it!  Jeez...what an ass.  Lauren had me right then and there.  She was the nicest girl I have ever met and she was just so innocent and sweet.  I tried so hard to be mean but it just wasn't working out.  After a while I just felt like a bully.  She laughed at all my jokes and listened to all my drunken stories and just took everything in like a champ.  I could actually have a real conversation with her and enjoy it.  So, needless to say it has worked out and I love her like a sister and I am glad they found each other. 

Now, it is on to the next brother!

Is This Normal?

So, I normally don't like when parents constantly talk about their children and brag and all that crap, but I am dedicating this post to my daughter because sometimes I just don't know where she came from.  She really says and does the craziest things that I really question a lot of things that I may or may not have done during my pregnancy to create such a child.  She is 5 and will be starting Kindergarten full time this coming September.

We are sitting at the gas station one day while my husband was inside getting some stuff.  She is in the back seat and she is playing house like she usually does and talking to her pretend children.  She has two and they are Matthew and Sammy, which they are actual children in real life.  We have a couple that is good friends of ours and our children are close in age and naturally their children are Matthew and Samantha. The conversation goes like this:

 Lex:  Stop it you little BLASTARDS.  (Talking to her pretend children)  You guys are being little BLASTARDS.

Me:  Lex, what does BLASTARDS mean?

Lex:  You know Mom, it is the name that parents sometimes call their children,.

Me:  (Now it dawns on me)  You mean BASTARDS?

Lex:  Yeah Mom, that's the word...BASTARDS.

Me: (Silently laughing)  Ummm...I really don't think you should be using that word.  It is bad, please don't say it, especially at school.

Lex:  Ugghhh...ok Mom

And just to get one last one in, thinking I can't hear her, she says "Be quiet you little BASTARDS!"  At least she used the right word this time.


 She got into a fight with her toy box the other day and lost but it was pretty entertaining.  I was trying to read my 50 Shades of Grey trilogy, which I LOVE by the way, and I hear a big crash and some stuff hit the floor.  I was just getting into a naughty part of the book too and trying to focus when this interrupted my thoughts.  I look up from the book and the toy box some how got flipped over while she was in it and the toy box ended up on top of her with all the contents dumped out and on top of her.  I was waiting for the "Mom!" or the tears but much to my surprise I didn't hear either.  Instead I hear, "What the hell just happened?  How did I end up with the toy box on top of me?  Mom is going to be so mad!"  Now, I really should have yelled at her for the swearing and for all the noise because of course, I just got her baby brother to sleep in the swing, but I just can't bring myself to say anything.  I am too busy trying to hide my laughter with the book I was so into at the time.  And by laughter I mean tears rolling down my face because I am laughing so hard but I am trying very hard to not let her hear me.  She some how managed to get herself out and pick up all the toys.  Mean while, my sex scene was ruined in my book.

The other day we were walking around Lowe's.  Lowe's is like a shopping mall to my husband.  He could go there for hours and just walk around looking at crap.  I am lucky if he actually purchases something.  Well, like usual we are wandering around and I have my baby in my arms talking to him and Lex is dressed to impress.  By this I mean stretch pants, a short sleeve shirt that really doesn't fit her and high heeled princess shoes that I bought at the Disney store.  I used to care what she looked like in public and I attempted to try and get her to wear normal outfits, but it is just too much of a fight and I just don't care anymore.  I started taking pictures so I can blackmail her when she is a teenager and not cooperating with me.  I am trying to pay attention to something my husband is talking to me about when I see something not quite right out of the corner of my eye.  Lex is humping a pole in the middle of Lowe's.  And I am not just talking about a little rub here and there, I am talking full blown wrapping her legs around it and moving up and down and I am pretty sure there was a little tongue action.  Now, I know that kids are kids and they do stuff.  I mean when I played with Barbie's when I was younger I had them doing the hanky panky and making babies and all that, but I don't think I ever went public with my tendencies.  And of course we are not alone in the isle.  So, I casually walk over to Lex and say, "Please stop humping the pole.  We are in public and I really don't want anyone to see you doing that."  She stops and says something I can't really hear to the pole and walks away.  The crazy part, I am not really phased by this and I pretty much just say, don't hump poles in public,

Is that Normal?


She is constantly surprising me by the stuff she does and I really should write a book about it but I am sure every parent says that about their child.

I've Got A Fever. The Only Cure? BABIES.

I never wanted to get married and I never wanted to have kids.

Then I met Joe.

Before I met my husband, I was annoyingly independent. I left home at seventeen and never looked back. I became used to supporting myself and after a handful of horror-story-worthy roommates, I truly learned to appreciate my alone time. I never craved a royal wedding or a white picket fence or perfect stick figure family (you know, those irritating stickers that are plastered on mini-vans across the country? What's with those anyway? "Hey! I'm Sally! Tryna kidnap some kids? Follow me! I have three!" Am I right!?). Plus, the thought of packing on thirty pounds and possibly vomiting every morning just to pop out a screaming little nugget that would destroy my taint and sit in it's own feces gave me nightmares. No thank you.

Joe came around and suddenly I realized how awesome a diamond would look on my left hand and out of nowhere my loins were burning. Seriously. On fire. And I wasn't all burny just because we passed a yeast infection back and fourth that one time...I fell madly in love with this man and needed to make his babies. In my uterus...before it fell out (Google it. IT CAN HAPPEN).

It doesn't help matters that Joe's sister, Dana (you met her in the last couple posts), has the best freaking kids on the planet. Not only are they adorable, they are also HILARIOUS. Brett took a poo on my OCD husband's carpet for God's sake. And don't even get me started with Lexi...that girl is like a never ending episode of "Kids Say The Darndest Things" (the uncensored version). It was game-over the minute I met them. Kids? SIGN ME UP.

Joe and I talk about having babies ALL. THE. TIME. We talk about the kind of parents we would be and what our children would look like. Would they play sports like Dad or be giant nerds like Mom? It's only gotten worse now that we're actually married and own our first house. We have the space and we're legally bound to one another so procreating is the obvious next step. Our original plan was to go all "whatever happens, happens" as soon we said, "I do."'

The three main reasons it hasn't "happened" yet are as follows:

1. We're selfish (We have so much on our life to-do list that wouldn't be possible if we were constantly buying nursing pads, hemorrhoid cream and poop catchers. I think it's actually QUITE responsible of us to build a deck and redecorate and travel to the Virgin Islands...you know, get it out of our system before we surrender all of our income to the Huggie corporation.)
2. I'm still looking for a full-time job (Although I'm currently working a 40 hour work week, my job title is TECHNICALLY not considered full-time. It's the company I work for's way of saying, "We're a billion dollar organization and we really need you...but not enough to give you any benefits or sense of security. Take your college education and go make me some photocopies." Until I land a job with maternity leave, sick time, and a retirement plan...my loins will live to burn another day.)
3. We're totally broke (As a result of numbers 1 and 2.)

Although the stars haven't quite aligned for our baby makin' journey, I still think about it constantly. I look forward to the hemorrhoids and morning sickness and spit-up soaked clothing and poopy diapers. Plus, not bleeding and having to buy tampons for nine months sounds like a fabulous vacation for my vagina. If seventeen year old Lauren saw twenty-four year old Lauren, she would probably be disgusted....but she blew fifty grand on one year of college just to become a part-time receptionist so WHAT DOES SHE KNOW ANYWAY?

Once Upon a Time......

So, the other day my grandma was telling me about how back in the day she used to put the babies in laundry baskets in the back seat.  They didn't have car seats and all that jazz back in the day while our parents were growing up.  Well, one day while searching through some Mom blogs and info (Yes, this is Lauren's crazy Sister-in-Law again) I was reading up on how some of these freaking Moms are just plain crazy.  Yes, Google can be my best friend or my worst enemy.  I am one of those people that like to Google everything, especially when I was prego and now with the kids.  My family tells me to stay away...I tend to call them and tell them I have worms or some strange disease after I have been on Google for a while.
 So, I was researching some info on the baby swing on just purchased.  Now, I don't normally do this because if it is going to break, then it breaks.  But it was a little cheaper and it kinda seemed too good to be true so I did some research.  My previous swing had died and my son LOVES his swing...like won't take naps unless it is in his swing and if he is cranky, then swing time it is!  While I was doing some research, I came across a MOM BLOG that had different opinions of Moms and the swings they liked and all that.  Well, this one Mom decided it was OK to state that swings were completely wrong and children don't develop normally when they are stuck in a swing all the time. 
Ok, deep breath.  As my one college roommate would say, "I would like to slap her in the back of the head"
Is this what society has come down to these days?  We can't even put our babies in swings without some judgmental mother out there saying it is wrong.  Really?  I guess her babies were perfect and she doesn't know what colic is or having a child that can't poop!  Yes, sit in a bathtub with your child for an hour to try and get them to poop and let me know how your day goes!

What is happening with Mother's these days?  Come on...my grandmother's smoked and drank through their whole pregnancies and their kids turned out just fine.  I think society knows too much.  We all need to relax and let things be.  Oh, and by the way...my son started cereal when he was a month old!  OMG!  Now he is going to be fat and have allergies!!

By the way...the swing works great!

Once upon a time......

Real Housewives of What??!!

You want to know what a real freaking housewife is?  Try going out to dinner with the husband, 5 year old and 4 month old and the family sitting behind you stops you and says, I think you have spit up on your shoulder!  Oh, thanks, I was just in the middle of eating, it can wait until later.

Or, while you are washing the dishes, you notice some crud underneath your fingernail and after close inspection, you realize it is POOP.  Don't really know how long it has been there and the sad part is I don't really care.  It doesn't faze me at all, is that bad?

I love the all the Real Housewife shows, don't get me wrong, I am completely ADDICTED, but really girls, when is the last time you changed a poopy diaper?  Or licked Desitin off your fingers by accident one time?  That stuff is really hard to scrub off.  Anyone?

Maybe it is just me but how about we do a reality show and make a lot of money on REAL housewives.  You know the ones that really stay home all day long and take care of the crazy kids and clean and cook.  Yes, we don't have nannies and we know how to turn a stove on.  Yes, I know, CRAZY!

By the way, I am Lauren's crazy Sister-in-Law, Dana.  She kinda got stuck with me by force but she is taking it really well.  I am the only girl and the oldest of 3 children.  Yes, poor me, I have two younger brothers and they are both weenies!  Needless to say, I take care of things and keep the 3 of us together.  They would never admit that, but it is true.  I have a wonderful husband who is caring enough to let me stay home with our children and pay my bills.  Childcare is way too expensive these days and just like Lauren's previous post...student loans BLOW and I don't have much to show for my lovely Bachelor's Degree, but I did get knocked up by my lovely husband a few months after I graduated.  It could be worse right?

Just this past week I was with my brother and Lauren for the whole week with my kids and other brother.  Let me give an example of how the week went:  My 4 month old son decided to have a blow out in his diaper.  (Any one who is a mother and reading this, totally knows what I mean)  He crapped up the back of his diaper and all over his clothes and my brother's carpet. By the way my brother is a complete control freak and has OCD and crapping on the carpet is a no no.  While I was preparing the bathtub to give my poop covered son a bath, he decided that he would pee all over the bathroom floor while he was at it.  So, while my brother is trying to get the poop off the carpet, I have to break more bad news and inform him that now he has to pick up the pee on the bathroom floor.  Do you still want kids?  All the while my Sister-in-Law thinks her uterus is falling out!  Yes, I know..different story for a different day.

So, the trip went well I think all in all.

Real Housewives of where?  Yes, that's what I thought.  I don't go grocery shopping all dressed up and in stilettos.  I am as real as they get.  In fact I am lucky if I walk out of the house without spit up on me and my shoes on instead of my slippers. (Yes, I have done that before and my 5 year old informed me after the fact that my slippers were on)  We pay bills and have arguments over money and the children.  I clean, cook, and make sure my daughter attends her pre school and gymnastics every week.  And I don't use a limo or nanny.  I have upgraded from my awesome 1500 GMC Sierra to the Buick Enclave with the 3rd row seat.  Yes, I am a high roller now!

Real Housewife of Syracuse, NY!