I’m trying my damnedest to be more Mommyfabulous. Its my new mission. My new motto. My new everything. BE MORE MOMMYFABULOUS. I’ve gotten into this mind set in part because of guilt. In part because of weight loss. And in part, because I always feel like I should be doing more than just nursing the Princess and sitting on my ass. While some of you might argue that nursing and sitting is just fine…and most days I agree…I can’t help but think that I can nurse and say, empty the dishwasher. OR, nurse and do a craft with the Count. Sure, I suck at crafts, but work with me here. So here goes. In my effort to be more Mommyfabulous I, the Queen of Spain, vow:

To try and actually brush my hair more than once a day. Even add a funky scarf or something.

To try and wear something other than sweatpants 4 times a week.

To try and turn OFF PBS kids and engage in play with the heirs to the throne.

To leave the house and play outside.

To only blog and goof around on the computer when the Princess is nursing.

To keep up with the dishes/laundry, etc. DAILY.

To get a pedicure and/or paint my toenails.

To read a book for myself instead of All Dr. Suess All the time.

Have more sex.

Today, for example, I actually pulled off to the side of the road after school to get out of the car and show the Count an actual, real life excavator. I’m feeling more Mommyfabulous already. Won’t you join me?

Ok, so yesterday was a little heavy. It started off innocently enough…then whammo with the perverts. Since that whole episode actually left me feeling rather dirty, I scrapped my HNT post and decided I’ll save it for another Thursday. The Kaiser says the only thing missing from my blog is boobies. So I was going to appease him today. He, and you, will just have to wait. Instead I give you this: Thanks to Stranded in Suburbia, another bad, bad girl. What can I say…we’re both from Detroit. I was laughing at the questions on this one. Because apparently I’m a horrible, horrible person. I’d still kiss your boyfriend, by the way. What kind of girl are you?

You Are a Bad Girl

You are 20% Good and 80% Bad You’re a total bad girl, from your wild hair to tattooed toes. But you’re too badass to even care if you’re labeled “bad”!

I’ve had to remove this photo of the Count at my Flickr site. Why? Because its gotten about 3 dozen more “views” than any other photo. Am I being paranoid? Maybe. But I also can’t think of a reason, other than SICK FUCKS, that its getting so many hits. I’m angry. I’m sad. I’m upset I can’t share a photo of my cute kid’s new undies while we potty train. Such is the way of the Internet. Now I know. And all you other parents should know too. Which is why I felt I had to post about this. Go take a look at your public photos, just in case. And to the BASTARDS, you’ll get yours. Every Mom will make sure of it. I got the Housewife Mafia with me now too. We’ll make sure of it. Watch your back asshole.

Go ahead. Say it. I’m the Man. I’m Big Brother. I’m Overprotective. I’m a prude. Tom & Jerry has been banished from the Royal Boob Tube. Add to that list Bugs Bunny, Wile E. & Road Runner, Yosemite Sam, Teen Titans, Batman, and Justice league.

So why the sudden Commie Censorship, you ask? Simple. Let a 2-and a half-year-old watch a mouse hit a cat with a frying pan and you are just asking for trouble. And nothing, I mean nothing, good comes from the Count watching Wile E. fall off a cliff. Case in point: playground diving. You heard me right. Playground diving. And its exactly what you think it is. Put one toddler on a tall, wooden playground structure and watch him run, full speed OFF THE EDGE, throw his legs parallel to the ground and land on his ass. In the 40 plus years the director of our nursery school has been watching kids, mine is the FIRST one to do this on her playground. Do I blame Warner Brothers? Of course not. But I’m certainly not going to encourage this behavior. Just like I’m also not going to cook with the the kids in the kitchen and be surprised when the Count whacks the Princess with the frying pan.

No one suffers more from this than the Kaiser. He loves these shows. He watches them when the kids are not around. So to him, I apologize. But Mamma’s gotta keep the peace. And I’m sure it will only last a few more years. You know, when the Count knows better. (editor’s note: I seriously can not breathe I’m laughing so hard after typing that last line.)

Picked up the Count from school today only to discover I’ve been labeled “Tattoo Mom” by the teachers. TATTOO MOM. Let that sink in a sec. I guess that’s better than Stripper Mom. Or Church Going Looking Mom. Or Generic Soccer Mom. Or Fatt Ass Mom.
Turns out they were referring to my battle with a temporary tattoo of a dinosaur that wouldn’t leave. I guess one of the teachers thought it was real. Because, you know, apparently I look like the type of person that tattoos cartoon-like dinosaurs on my flabby upper arm. Nevermind the nursery school teachers are obviously gossiping about the mothers (oh, come on…like you wouldn’t? bravo you) but I guess we’re getting labels as well. How very Seinfeld. And yes, I do have tattoos…but other than the temporary kids dino, the teachers will never see them.

He carries my big, overstuffed, hot pink diaper bag AND has conversations like this with me on a daily basis…
Queen to Kaiser
“How was the Count’s bath? He seemed to enjoy the squirting dinosaur?!”

“Ooooh yeah. Anything that squirts water out of its mouth that he can use to try and squirt water INTO his penis…is good.”

While watching the end of the Angels Yankees game (may the Evil Empire rot in hell, by the way) the Kaiser begins to sing…kinda…
“Vlad Vlad Vlad the Impaler!”

“Huh?”

“It’s a Gwar song. You know, for Vladimir Guerrero.”

HSRZQ
interjection
Definitions: expressing disapproval: used to express contempt, disbelief, disgust, or disappointment ( informal )
[Early 20th century. Partly
The Queen’s example: I say “HSRZQ!” to this new study crapping on all my parenting beliefs.

Temporary tattoos (the dinosaur variety) last exactly 3 weeks and 3 days on an adult arm (the Mom variety).

When your husband says “I’m not asking you, I’m telling you” to your toddler for the first time, you may be simultaneously impressed and kinda creeped out.

A rash decision to get bangs is ALWAYS a bad idea.

Toddlers eating all their meals under the kitchen table isn’t so bad, so long as they eat.

Bragging to friends and family that no, your baby has not bit your nipple with her new teeth is a surefire was to end up with a bitemark on your nipple.

And finally…your children will always behave like angels for their father when you, filled with guilt, steal away for a few hours on the weekend because you’re going crazy.

See you after my midterms!