Donated, Research.



No more assisted reproduction.
Future pregnancy by relaxation only.
Which we all know is the most reliable way to get pregnant anyway.

We got the official notice in the mail today.  My adventures in assisted reproduction have come to an end.  While we aren't 100% ready to close up shop on the ol' uterus of doom, we are 100% sure that we will not do fertility treatments of any kind. 
First, because I've had enough.  I did two fresh In Vitro Fertilization (IVF) cycles, and one Frozen Embryo Transfer (FET).  And two Intrauterine Inseminations (IUI).  And a Clomid cycle.  I've been poked and prodded and hormoned up and it was completely and totally worth it.  But now I'm done, which is really kind of the point of fertility treatments.  Get it done, hopefully get some babies, and get on with life.  I will limit my visits to the stirrups to once a year, and hopefully this will terminate permanently my relationship with the dildo cam internal ultrasound wand.

Second, I can not risk the chance of a twin pregnancy again.  I just...ugh.  I can't.  It was hard on my body, and it did not go well for my babies when I was pregnant with twins.  And sure, I could transfer one (not implant, in case you don't know the difference, please stop making that mistake kthxbai), but that doesn't even matter.  My twins were identical - the result of one splitting embryo.  I would be a total mental case if I got pregnant with twins again.

If we decide to try for a third (fifth?) it will be a game of regular old sexy sex and wait and see until we don't want to wait and see anymore.  I feel happy with the two we have and won't go through an angsty, woe infertility period again.  If it doesn't happen, it doesn't...if we even decide to try. 

Last night I was really in favor of a vasectomy as I listened to Adelle cry from 12 - 3 a.m.  Today I am too tired to drive Mark to get one so his vas deferens shall remain in tact for at least another day.

Anyway, opening that letter today felt like a big deal.  Even though I sent the request form over a month ago and knew it was coming, it still feels significant to know that that door is closed.  No more adventures in infertility. It's a good thing! 

Luckily, I feel like the phrase "Maybe If You Just Relax" is still applicable.  I may be guilty of saying that to Olivia several times a day.  That, and "BECAUSE I SAID SO."  And also, "don't eat your boogies."

(I know people fall all over the board on this, and some people have some really strong opinions about embryos and what should be done with them.  And whatever everyone decides to do with their embryos is fine by me.  We decided to donate ours to research.  Thanks in advance for not going bat shit bananas on me in the comments.)

A Griswold Friend Christmas

It has been a busy week or so and I feel like I've been running around like crazy.  The good kind of crazy, which makes me feel useful.  It does not leave much time for blogging.  So it is a picture post again, but at least the pictures make us look pretty much ridiculous.

Our friends host an annual Christmas party, and last year was the first year for dressing up.  Ugly sweater party.  Which was really fun.  This year we dressed up like characters from Christmas Vacation, which was perfect because the movie is always playing at the party and everyone throws out random quotes from the movie throughout the night. 

(Except for me, because I am apparently the only person in the whole world who is not crazy about Christmas Vacation.  I know, it is unAmerican of me.)

Eddie, The Shitter Was Full
Audrey, Bored at Christmas
(Eddie Inspiration)
(Audrey Inspiration)

This was a fun party!  I was already thinking it would be hard to come up with a theme that would top this one.  Here is a picture of everyone:

"And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down the chimney tonight,
he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes
this side of the
nuthouse."
(Group Inspiration)

One week until Christmas, you guys!  I hope you are ready!  I kind of am but I am sure it will all work out.

I am lucky.

Today, I took Olivia to see her first theater movie.  We saw Wreck It Ralph. 



She was SO excited.


Every night I have been picking the Elf on the Shelf/Christmas activity based on what was easiest for me.  Putting off the messy or laborious projects.  Sure, these memories are important but I've got another week to do this stuff so...meh.

I hate to personalize someone else's tragedy.  Make it about me.  But...man.  You just seriously never know what crazy shit is going to happen, do you?  It sounds so dramatic to say that any you could be making your last memory with your child but it is the truth, isn't it?

And the dumbest thing kept running through my mind: What if something horrible happened and I never took Olivia to see her first movie because I was too busy reading a stupid book or looking at Facebook or doing some pointless Pinterest project?

So today we went to see a movie.  We spent a ridiculous amount of money on popcorn and Reese's Pieces and fruit punch.  When Olivia wanted to talk during the movie, I listened.  When she wanted to get up and jump over the light strip in the aisle, I let her.  When she spun around in circles and danced to the music in the movie, I watched. 

I am not a patient person. I am often rushing to get to bedtime so that I can have a break. I am guilty of not always appreciating the little adorable maniacs who live in my house and make me laugh all day.  But not today. 

Today I fully appreciate how lucky I am. 

Studio Pictures

I always think I'm going to hate studio pictures but for some reason I always end up doing them.  Because I started doing them for Olivia, and now I want to have similar pictures for Adelle.  The props and backgrounds can get pretty ridiculous but I usually don't order the cheesy ones.  Except when I do order the cheesy ones because I love hypocrisy.

But then I get the pictures and I don't end up hating them.  At all.  I end up buying way too many of them.

Even the ones where they cut off half of my kid's body.

Given an unlimited budget, I would hire a photographer every time.  I like the more casual and natural result of having someone follow my family for an hour to capture real expressions.  Although, I'm not sure how "natural" it actually is.  Because we don't often coordinate outfits and frolic in the park for an hour.  "Natural" would be bed head, jammies, breakfast crumbs around our mouths.

These were supposed to be Adelle's six month pictures, but Olivia was cooperating.  Which never happens.  She hates to be photographed.  Adelle smiles at anything so she is easy, but Olivia has to be coaxed and fooled and encouraged to yell POOP and DADDY HAS STINKY FEET in order to get a decent smile.  Mom of The Year, every single day.

 I was tempted to bring the stupid 6 Month sticker with me but I figured that was lazy.  I hate those stupid monthly stickers.  Now that Adelle is huge and sitty and rolly, and put everything in her mouthy, they are impossible.  Plus they are allllll the way upstairs and I am too lazy to get them when there is a good photo opportunity.  Mother of the Year.  Every single day.

I have a preschooler, you guys.

Like, a for real, big looking, sassy preschooler.  See?

This is an Instagram picture of a picture.
Photo Credit: Lifetouch

There is a house that we pass on our way to school.  It is brown.  Like, all brown.  Kind of a wanna be log cabin, but it is just a house painted brown.

"Hey mom, look at that chocolate house!"

I love this kid.

I want ten babies!

Olivia came out of school last week, asking for ten babies. 

Me: Ten babies?  What?

Olivia: Noooo...ten sisters!  TEN SISTERS! 

Me: Oh, ten sisters, eh?

Olivia: NO MOM.  Jack has ten babies.  Ten sisters.  I want ten sisters, pleeeeeaaaaassssee?  I been a really good girl.

And then I realized what she was actually saying.  She wants twin babies.  Sisters.  She wants twin sisters.  Because they are making picture posters in class and talking about the pictures, and there is a little boy in her class who has adorable one year old twin sisters. 

Me: Yes, Olivia.  Twin sisters would be nice, wouldn't they?

Olivia doesn't know that Ainsley was a twin.  When I was pregnant, she was not even two.  We told her there were two babies in mommy's belly but she was so little that none of it made sense.  And then Evelyn was gone and everything revolved around Ainsley and we just told her that Ainsley was her sister and left it at that.

We will tell her someday.  At some point there will be a time when it fits into regular conversation and we will tell her and she will have a lot of questions.  Maybe all of the kids came out of preschool asking for twin sisters, who knows?  I have no idea how to explain stillbirth to a small child without freaking her the hell out.

All I know is that there is no way she is having ten sisters.  My uterus would absolutely revolt.  As would my husband. 

Mr. Worldwide

I was fixing my hair in the bathroom across the hall from my bedroom, where Mark and Olivia were playing.  She likes to jump on our bed while Mark throws pillows and stuffed animals at her.  Usually, there is much music and fly booty shaking included.  Today they were listening to Pandora when  a Pitbull song came on.  It doesn't matter which one because they all sound exactly the same. 

Perhaps you are not a Pitbull fan?  He is a...rapper?  I guess?  And he calls himself Mr. Worldwide.  According to his website, "You need to generate a lot of heat if you want to be Mr. Worldwide, but if there’s one thing Pitbull has — besides a way with rapid-fire rhymes, billion-dollar beats, and globally infectious hooks — it’s charm by the boatload."  Basically, his bio totally cracks me up.  But I am behind on sleep so you can't really count on my taste in hilarity.

Anyway, inspired by the rapid-fire rhymes, billion-dollar beats, and globally infectious hooks, this is what I heard coming from my bedroom:

Olivia: Daddy! Throw the duck at me!

Mark: I'm Mr. Worldwide!

Olivia: Daddy!  Throw the duck at me!

Mark: I'm Mr. Worldwide!

Olivia: Hey Mr. Worldwide, throw the duck at me!

I swear, Olivia and Mark need to start blogs.  They are some of the funniest people who live in my house.

Which one of you took my toddler?

And replaced her with this...this..CHILD?!  You know those times when you see a picture of your kid and think whoa, when did she grow up?  Because I've been watching this whole time and didn't notice until just.freaking.now.

 And don't even get me started on this enormous baybee that is drooling all over my house.

You know how everyone always says that the days are long but the years are short?  Yeah.  That.

Dog Shaming.

We have leather furniture.  It wasn't my choice.  It came from Mark's bachelor days, which also included a vibrating Cleveland Indians recliner. Seriously.  A vibrating sports chair.  As soon as I saw it I was all, "will you marry me?"  HA!  No.    The recliner never made it to our first shared apartment, but the furniture has been around for almost ten years.

It worked out well because leather is super easy to clean, and I'm not sure if you've heard?   But kids are messy.  I'm not getting rid of this furniture until the girls are old enough to hold all bodily functions/not covertly color things with markers/wipe all remnants of peanut butter off of their hands and faces.

Kids aren't really wrecking this furniture, though.  Our dogs are doing it for them.  A few months ago, we noticed that there was a tiny hole in the couch.  Annoying to us but not really noticeable.  Then one morning we came down to find a giant glob of couch stuffing hanging out.  Like Baxter tried to murder the couch or something.

Fine.  I was covering it with a pillow but Mark got the brilliant idea to cut a square from the bottom of the couch and super glue it over the hole.  Which...A, for effort?  A, for creativity?  I'm like one project away from just calling him MacGyver. 

This patch solved the problem for a few months but last week I came down to find another hole in the couch.  Fucking Baxter.



My failure to hyphenate ghetto-patched makes it seem like there may
be a human ghetto out there, just going around and patching up couches.
Don't worry.  Just Mark.



My second choice...the shame face in the other one is better.
But here is the patch.
Just in case you need a guide on how to fix your couch someday.

I bought a cable knit throw blanket to cover the holes.  And I found Baxter chewing on that, too.  Basically I should just give up and live in squalor.

It's almost over.

November, I mean.  I'm definitely not cut out for daily posting all the time.  Maybe when I have more time alone - mostly I'm wrangling tiny little Kneppers all day.

Today, the most interesting thing that happened was that I received my pillow covers from Etsy.

I got new pillows!
My life is exciting and glamorous!

Also took Adelle to her six month well visit - 50th percentile everything.  Healthy and cute and nomnom.  Got the OK to start solids and also was scolded like a school child for calling fruit "the good sweet stuff" when we talked about what to introduce.  I can't even be annoyed.  My almost 4 year old eats like shit and it is most certainly all our fault. 



Hopefully they will survive, somehow.



Egregious Facebook Offenses, Continued

If you missed part one, you can read it here: Most Obnoxious Facebook Offenders. 

The Offense: Grammar Suicide/Punctuation/Textspeak

Example: < 3***Im Go 2 Da BaR wIf My PeEpS.  R U going too be their *** < 3

You know, just trying to come up with that and then typing it caused my head to explode.  I am sitting in Starbucks right now typing this with only my hands and a bloody neck stump while my head stares up at me in horror from the floor.  Text speak!  No punctuation!  All that extra bullshit that doesn't look cute, GAH!  Misuse of Your/You're and To/Too!  It is enough to make me shake my bloody stump head.

Grammar is a serious issue on Facebook.  And guess what people - you can only blame auto correct so many times before we all begin to realize that you should not have advanced past 5th grade English.  I'm not saying that everyone needs to be the captain of the Grammar Police, but a basic grasp of your first language would be a nice touch.

Look, I know that sometimes it can be hard to admit that you are kind of a dumb ass.  If you need to practice, go bookmark this post at The Oatmeal  (10 Words You Need to Stop Misspelling) and use it for reference when you need to update your status.  Your, possessive.  Not You're, the contraction for you are.  See, it's easy! It's, the contraction for it is.  Not its, possessive.

The text speak and little decorations just make you look like a lazy asshole.  Knock it off.  Thanks.

(Unless you are typing "Kthxbai" because I love that.)

The Offense: Constant updates and check-ins.

Example:  Just took a giant, toilet-clogger of a dump!  Burned 275 calories pushing it out!  Going to drink a kale and brussels sprout smoothie and then maybe I'll watch Here Comes Honey Boo Boo!  And then I'll check in so that everyone knows I'm in the parking lot at the gynecologist!  And then I'll live tweet my pap smear and cross post on Facebook!  #vagina #lookatmelookatme

You know what they say about workouts: if it isn't posted on Facebook, it didn't happen!  I admittedly have posted my workouts on Facebook and so I can now officially claim presidency of Hypocrites 'R Us.  But the work outs and the calorie counts and the healthy food bragging and the check-ins?    It is exhausting. 

Just...save yourself the effort.  You win!  At life and at the eating healthy and being on the go and getting your vagina examined! 

The Offender: Passive Activism

Example: Like this picture of a super sad bald kid who clearly has cancer if you hate cancer...Ignore if you think it is hilar when kids have cancer or if you kick puppies on the reg.

Alternate Example: Post your bra color to support breast cancer and drive the boys crazy!  Tee hee!

Every single time I think I've blocked all of the people who do this, another one shows up.  Which I ignore.  Sealing my express trip to hell, or outing myself as a pediatric cancer-lover.  Or as an unsupportive uncaring human being who is stingy with her bra color at the expense of all of the poor people fighting breast cancer.  Filthy puppy-kicker!

The fact is that all of this ridiculous bullshit does nothing to support any cause.  Unless your cause is being a dick on Facebook.  Don't fool yourself into thinking that you are some sort of amazing philanthropist because you sat on your lazy ass and clicked a thumb-up or "fooled" those stupid boys with your sexually suggestive status update.

Oh, funny ecard!  Why you no have punctuation?

Gel Staining Cabinets: Six Steps

The first part of this project - including materials list and links - can be found by clicking here.  Here is a reminder pic of the before and after:

Here is how you do it:

Step 1: Remove hardware, put it somewhere safe (for me, that was a place where my kids couldn't eat it).  Also remove all drawers and doors.

Step 2:  Lightly sand the entire surface to be stained.  For my entire cabinet, with drawers and doors and everything, it probably took about 20 minutes.  Just enough to rough up the surface and help the stain stick to the wood.

Step 3: Clean everything.  I used flushable wipes because they were right beside me and I am a lazy whore.  Make sure you wipe every part of every surface you plan to stain so you don't have bumps of dust or toothpaste spit or whatever other grossness is flying around your cabinet.

Step 4: Cover anything that you don't want ruined!  This stuff is insane and stains fast.  I taped a big plastic drop cloth to the floor.  I also taped every edge, including the floor.  TAKE YOUR TIME WITH THIS.  It will pay off!  The stain is so dark that small mistakes look big.  I am very glad that I took my time when taping.

Step 5: Get to staining!   I applied four thin and even coats of stain with a 2 inch foam brush, letting each coat dry for 12-24 hours.  I just dipped the foam brush right into the can.  Don't glob this on!  A small amount goes a long way! 

I tried to use painters pyramids so that I could paint both sides of the doors at the same time, but they did not work for me at all and I kept getting scratches in the stain.  So it took me a little longer to do the doors because I did one coat on one side at a time.

Also, do not freak out after the first or second coats.  They look pretty terrible.  The third coat looks good but the fourth coat is clutch.  Do all four.

AND, you don't wipe it off.  You just brush the stain on like paint and then let it dry.

Step 6:  Apply the poly/acrylic topcoat.  Super easy, just paint it on in thin layers.  I did three coats of this, and I let them dry for at least 12 hours.  The can says it is dry in 3-4 but I didn't want to risk it. 

We let the top coat dry for 5 days before we added the hardware.  I have no idea if this is necessary but I was worried about scratching it up and plus we were busy and it was a convenient excuse. 

That's it!  This was so easy and I love it so much, I am going to stain our oak kitchen cabinets.  And then I may just make sweet love to them.  I don't care who knows it.

How To Gel Stain Your Cabinets

I am not handy.  At all.  Home improvements are not my thing.  We hire someone for everything, or we make our family come and help us like some wanna be Amish. 

I pinned a guide for staining oak cabinets and I read a few other tutorials by bloggers who did gel stain.  They all seemed like people who were good at DIY home improvements.  I was nervous but was also all hot and bothered over the before/after results they got.  We decided that I could experiment on our upstairs bathroom because we want to redo it eventually anyway, and all of our guests use our half bath downstairs so the upstairs bathroom rarely gets any traffic.  If it looked terrible we could cover it in Hello Kitty stickers or something.

As previously discussed, we have a lot of builder-grade stuff in our house.  We are also on a budget since I quit working.  This project, total, cost me just under $60 and made a big big difference. 

Here is where we started:

This is an old picture that is low resolution, because I forgot to take a before picture.  Best I can do.  And here is the after:


Also: new hardware and faucet.
To come: new mirror, new rugs, new shower curtain and rod.
And probably bye bye crappy over-the-toilet storage!

 This really, really was an easy project.  If you can paint, you can gel stain cabinets.  The gel stain was really easy to work with because it wasn't drippy like paint.

Here is what you need:

General Finishes Java Gel Stain (Buy It Here): I bought the quart because, if I liked the bathroom, I planned to do the kitchen.  For the bathroom, I only used a quarter of the can.  So if you have one cabinet to do you could just get the 1/2 pint for under $9.

General Finishes Poly/Acrylic Satin (Buy It Here): Same here - a little goes a long way.  I bought the quart but definitely could have done the 1/2 pint.

Foam Brushes (Like This): I bought a ton of two inch brushes.  It is a complete pain in the ass to clean the gel stain from the brushes, so I just used a new one for each coat.  The poly/acrylic is really easy to clean out of the brushes.  I probably bought 15 and used 10. 

(Some of the guides that I read recommended using a sock to stain, and I didn't try that.  The foam brushes worked great for me and were easy to put down when I had to wrangle my children.)

Angled Sanding Sponge, Fine Grit (Buy It Here): Or any fine sanding tool.  Just make sure you don't get a coarse grit.  The angles made it really easy to sand the panes on the doors and around the edges of the drawers.

Frog Tape (Buy It Here): This stuff was kind of an accidental miracle purchase.  I really only bought it to make a pumpkin project for my daughter's preschool Halloween party.  I will never use regular painter's tape again!!  This stuff is fantastic - it seals the paint and creates super crisp lines (and I am not being compensated at all for this!) just as promised.  It is more expensive but most definitely worth it!

Drop Cloth (Like This): Whatever kind you prefer.  I bought a big plastic drop cloth that I taped to the floor. 

Hardware  (Optional)


Instructions and tips to follow tomorrow morning!  I am out of time for tonight! 

Our creeper Elf on the Shelf is in this pic, too.
He likes to watch ladies pee, I guess.

You better come correct next time.

The biggest mistake I make when I'm trying to blog is waiting until bedtime.  The days are so busy lately and the only time I have to write is at night.  When all I really want to do is watch TV or go to sleep.  Or maybe eat something delicious. 

I think I mentioned that Olivia requires a "puppet show" every night before bed.  Which is really hand shadow puppets in her night light.  I'm not very good at it but Mark is hilarious.  He makes us belly laugh every night with his random puppet voices.  The white noise machine in Olivia's room has an underwater scene that shines onto the ceiling and has a bunch of sea life with ridiculous smiles on their faces.  Mark's shadow puppet hates the squid.

Tonight he told the squid, "You better come correct next time."

It probably isn't funny to anyone but me, but I felt like I might read this post 10 years from now and still find it incredibly funny.  I wonder if Olivia will remember this stuff?  I hope she at least remembers laughing every night before bed.

At least I neglected my blog for fun times with my favorite threenager and her funny dad.

Decorate the Tree

The activity for day two of the Christmas Countdown was to put up and decorate the tree.

Well, that looks phallic!
This is not helping the whole creepster elf image...

This is my first year with a kid who wants to help decorate the tree.  I mean, last year she wanted to help but she only wanted to help for 2 minutes and then she wanted to watch TV or whatever.  This year she wanted to put on every ornament where she wanted, which was in a little cluster at her eye level.  And I admittedly have tree issues because I need everything to match and do not allow kid ornaments or anything out of theme.

It was magical and adorable for about an hour, and then it was kind of exhausting.  How's that for good parenting?  It took us from 10 a.m. until about 5:30 p.m. to decorate this tree.

Bed head, Christmas jammas, concentration.
She also had a hot chocolate mustache.
The cuteness kills me.

In all fairness, we took a trip to buy more decorations and then go to the "pet store."  If you are looking for cheap toddler entertainment, don't forget to go to the pet supplies store.  Olivia thinks that seeing the five varieties of animals there store is about equal to going to the zoo.

I had both girls with me because Mark was watching a football game with his friends, and Adelle was a hot ass mess by the time we were ready to check out.  Which reminds me, what is up with people who freak the fuck out when a baby cries in public?  EVERYONE was looking at me, like, "are you going to do something about that?"  Um, no.  Babies cry, people.  Mama needs some pre-lit garland.  It is going to be fine.

Which also reminds me!  I was at a different store with just Adelle last week.  She was fussy and we were waiting in line to make a return.  I was totally not paying attention to her at all and was just rocking the stroller to pacify her, but apparently she was smiling at the old lady in line behind me.  This lady says to me, "honey, your baby is smiling and you are just totally missing it!"

OH MY GOD. 

Yes.  I should look at my baby every second of every day.  I should never do anything else just in case she might smile because otherwise I just simply do not appreciate the magic of infancy, or whatever.  So annoying.  She would shit her pants if she saw me at the playground dicking around on my iPhone while my kid plays.

(Because I go to the playground to let Olivia play so that I can have 17 minutes of peace to focus on something other than my kid.  Trust me, we see each other all the livelong day.  She wants the break as much as I do.)

But I digress.

We had a fun day over all and the house looks great.  I bought a smaller tree and pink and purple decorations that will be the kid tree, and we will put that up tomorrow.  But the living room looks sufficiently Christmassed for now!  And Olivia wanted to watch A Christmas Story four times, which I am really excited about because I love that movie.

Had to order Adelle's stocking today.

I still have to decide what day three of the Christmas countdown will be, and pick a new place for the creepster phallic elf.  Maybe I'll put him with the penis monkey!!

Zoey Is Stealing My Mom Glory

This morning was the introduction to the Elf on the Shelf. Olivia decided to name the elf Zoey.  Zoey has a little sticker that tells Olivia what kind of Christmas fun will happen for the day. 

It occurred to me that Zoey is going to get all of the credit for planning and executing the Christmas of super duper scheduled magical fun.

Zoey, the glory hog.

I don't think that Olivia really buys this whole, "the elf watches you all day and then visits Santa at night and then comes back in the morning" thing.   She wanted to know how Zoey sees in the dark and when Mark told her that he has a big flashlight (which, hello penis joke!) Olivia was like, "where does he keep it?"  Excellent question...better parents probably have an answer to that question but we just changed the subject.

We spent three hours at Lowe's picking out and buying all new appliances.  Which is like, giving me a total stainless steel-coated appliancegasm by the way.  (Being an adult is weird.) We were trying to use the elf to encourage good behavior but it turns out that a happy meal is more effective.  Maybe I'll scrap the elf and get a giant Ronald McDonald to move around my house on a daily basis.

We'll see how this goes! 

Day 1: Meet and name your elf. 
Day 2: Put up and decorate the Christmas tree.

Elf on the Shelf

I would like to know what my corner of the Internet thinks about this Elf on the Shelf business.

Here is my basic understanding of the whole thing: there is an Elf.  It comes out at some point before Christmas and is supposedly a spy for Santa.  As in, he tells Santa when your kid acts like an asshole, so Santa can decide if your asshole kid will be on the Naughty List or the Nice List.

So it is blackmail via stalker elf.

I love it.

We haven't done Elf on a Shelf before but we are definitely doing it this year.  We got a hand-me-down kit for free, which came with the book to explain the elf and the actual elf.  The elf is slightly creepy looking but not, like, murder you in your sleep creepy or anything.  So it should only freak Olivia out enough to make her bend to my every whim.  Hopefully.

I'm planning a Christmas countdown for Olivia.  One fun activity or small gift from the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas Eve.  The elf will move around each night (as explained in the book) and will have a small card for Olivia to open in the morning so she can find out what the activity is for that day.  Easy enough. 

What I don't understand is where the whole Naughty Elf on a Shelf came from.  I've seen so many blogs and Facebook posts with pictures of elves just fucking up shop every day.  Making messes, doing weird things, hanging from the ceiling, whatever.   

(Which reminds me that you HAVE TO look at Baby Rabies for all of the most hilarious inappropriate Elf on the Shelf ideas.)

Anyway.  What thinks you, Internet?  Is this cute?  Annoying?  Over-the-top?

Forgotten Drafts

I was grasping for a blog to write this morning.  I had one written and then found out I had an ad obligation and couldn't use it.  I thought maybe I would find something in my Drafts folder that was salvageable because I am a lazy whore and writing two posts for today would be, like, outrageous.

Instead of emailing myself, I used to just start a post and spew whatever randomness I could think of and then save it as a draft.  And then I never went back to finish them because I suck at life.  So, of course there was nothing written that I could use to cheat on this one month goal that I have made for myself.  Way to be a winner, Jen.  Way to really set a goal and go after it.   

But since I have to post this early today, here is what I found in drafts this morning:

Title: Sleep, By Any Means
Body:  Flashlight/velcro

(My poor family.)

Title: Point it Away From Your Face
Body: Because good God, you do not want that in your mouth.

(OMG WHAT THE HELL KNEPPER?!)

Title: Don't Forget...
Body: blank

(So helpful.)

Title: I have seventeen pizzas in my pants.
Body: I have to set a goal. If I don't, I will just end up eating a jar of Nutella every day and walking around with delectable hazelnut and cocoa on my chin and wondering why none of my clothes fit.


(I wonder if I actually published something else similar.  This sounds familiar.  Or maybe it is because I pretend I care that I am overweight but obviously do not because I keep not doing anything about my Nutella habit.)

Title: Rocking It So Hard, It Ripped
Body:  blank

(I really wish I knew what this was about because it sounds funny.)

Title: Sid The Science Kid
Body: Gerald is a douche.

(BAHAHAHAHA!  He is.  He drives me nuts.)

There are 32 of these gems.  I'm saving the rest for another day that I'm in a pinch.

Pinterest Projects: Thanksgiving Feast!

Somewhere, someone is posting on a blog or on Facebook or on Twitter about how they hate people who go on and on about their Pinterest projects and crafts and how those people should just STFU already GAH!

They are talking about me.  They are talking about me and I know it and yet here I am, about to post some more Pinterest projects on my blog and I am powerless to resist this urge. Moth to flame.  Here is some shit I made!  Ur gonna luv it!  A Pintervention is not out of the question, especially if it allows me to sleep somewhere without screaming babies. 

Here is some shit I made!
Do u luv it?

Today was the Thanksgiving Feast at Olivia's preschool.  I absolutely love her preschool teacher and I wanted to get her a small gift.  Another parent and I went in together and got her a book that she showed us at the book fair, and a Starbucks gift card because she loves her some mochas.

The card was really easy to make.  I got the free printable from a blog post on Skip to My Lou and all I had to do was download and print it out.  Then I got a coffee at Starbucks and saved the sleeve, cut it to size, and attached it to the card with double-sided tape.  Slid the gift card in, and tied some string around because it looked cute in the original post and also because I am not creative at all.  This whole thing probably took less than 10 minutes to make.

I made the cornucopia treats for party dessert, but there were way more delicious desserts to eat than mine so they ended up going home with the kids.  Olivia really loved hers though!

This idea came from Make Life Delicious, but I ended up doing it a little different because I am lazy.

I dipped the sugar cone in hot water (about half way up the cone) for about 30 seconds.
Microwaved for 30 seconds.
Bent the tip of the cone around a pencil and held for about 30 seconds.
Turned over and let dry for 10 minutes - this kept it from coming uncurled.
Filled with candy and wrapped in plastic wrap and a little string. 

This was easy but took some time...45 minutes, maybe?  It just took me a while to figure out how to wrap them so the candy didn't come out and fall right into my mouth.  Because I have no self control.

Did anyone do any cute Thanksgiving projects?  I love craft/project stalking!

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One Year Ago:  Three Is Two With Intent
Two Years Ago: Haters Be Gone!
Three Years Ago:  My Body Is A Wonderland. Ish.
Four Years Ago:  Cheers!  From My Uterus!
Five Years Ago:  PUPO!

Most Obnoxious Facebook Offenders

It seems like people all get annoyed by the same things on Facebook.  And yet there are still enough people being totally obnoxious that we can all sympathize with each other and celebrate the ever fantastic Hide function.

The problem is that you can't complain about it ON Facebook without offending the delicate little flowers who are the biggest offenders.  Who needs that drama?  (Some people live on that drama, but not you!  Definitely not you!)  So I am doing everyone a solid and making a list of shit that you need to immediately stop doing on Facebook.  Feel free to share with all of your obnoxious Facebook friends so that they can blame me for being bitchy instead of you.

Offender: The Cliche Whore

Example: I have the most amazing husband/wife/kids and I can't picture my perfect life without them, blah blah blah you compleeeeeete meeeeee.

I assumed that it was some deep character flaw that fed my pure hatred for the thankful November posts and other mushy love posts.  I mean, what kind of asshole is annoyed with people who are so deeply pleased with their lives that they feel the need to post cliches every day to prove that they are just ZOMG SO HAPPY?  Why do I care?

But I do care and I am not alone.  From the Maybe If You Just Relax Facebook page:

"Over the top fake happy my-life-is-perfect posting!"
"Thankful November.  WGAS!"
"When couples post 'I LOVE MY WIFE/HUSBAND/PERFECT LOVE BIG HEARTS' bc you totally know they boned someone else the night before."

These posts just seem so insincere.  Why do you need to kiss your significant other's ass on a Facebook status?  Do you think someday your kids are going to read your old status and think they are way super loved?  I mean, unless you are in the middle of a flood Facebooking from your phone and writing that you are thankful for your canoe and flask of whiskey, it is all pretty pointless and barftastic.

Offender: The Vaguebooker

Example: This is the worst day of my life ever I can't take dis shit no mo.

Vaguebooking is the worst.  THE WORST.  A person posts some really vague status to indicate that some sort of drama has transpired but does not provide any information as to what. Or it is a post totally bitching about someone, except the offender doesn't have the balls to call the person out.  Or, you know, confront them in real life like a functional adult. 

Please get a little dignity, mkay?  Please do not beg for attention via social media.  If you are too embarrassed to flat out say whatever it is, then you should probably not post it on Facebook at all. 

Also, hey you!  You, who posts in the comments asking what is wrong?  Yes, I'm looking at you.  Knock it off, asshole.  You are enabling this bullshit and I do not appreciate it at all.  If you know what the problem is and you don't post it in the comments, you do not appear to be a closer friend.  You appear to be a giant douche canoe.

Offender: Tragedy/Sympathy Whoring

Example:  My cousin's neighbor's uncle's mother was in a horrible accident and I didn't know that she even existed until just now but my heart is just broken and...etc.

The tragedy/sympathy whore jumps on to someone else's bad news in order to gain sympathy.  You know, that person who all of a sudden has some kind of connection to someone as soon as they have some horrible shit happen?  And then they post all over Facebook about it in an attempt to gain sympathy.

It is fine to be upset by some major thing going on the the world, but quit trying to ride the coat tails of someone else's misery just to get attention or look like you are such an amazing friend.

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This is going to be at least a three part series.  So many annoyances, so little time to blog.
Click here for Part Two: Most Egregious Facebook Offenses Continued

Glamorous little Sunday.

Last night I planned to blog after I got home from dinner with friends.  But then I didn't get home until 4 in the morning and hello!  It was Sunday all of a sudden!  And then I had to sleep because I was tired like whoa. 

Then I addressed my Christmas cards, made little cornucopia candy treats for Olivia's Thanksgiving Feast, typed out our Christmas countdown list, and went grocery shopping.

Glamorous.  Truly.  Now I'm watching It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia and hoping that some stroke of brilliance will bring me a blog topic. 

(Photo: Source)

I think you are enjoying this post much more now that you know what I'm watching on TV.   You gotta watch this Kitten Mitten video if you've never seen it.



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Earlier, Olivia was sitting in the living room with Mark and kept saying, "mommy! Your clothes are on fire!" And so I'm all, Stop Drop and Roll, right?  And then Olivia says, "No, that's only for kids.  You gotta take your clothes off."

Nice try, Mark.

It isn't weird. Because it just isn't.

I went to see Breaking Dawn Part II last night.  An hour away from home, to meet a friend half way so that we could be twihard geeky together.  Her plan was to wear a wolf shirt, mine was to howl the first time I saw Jacob and cry the first time I saw Edward.  Which didn't work out. Surprising because I had two Christmas Ales and was feeling mighty fine and howling was certainly not out of the question.

This particular friend has identical twin girls who were born five months after Ainsley and Evelyn. 

Five years ago, if you told me that I would get pregnant with identical twin girls and one would be stillborn and the other would die after sixteen months in the hospital because she was dependent on a ventilator?  I would have probably shit my pants.

If you told me that all of that would happen, and that I could still have friends with twins and friends with kids who overcame the NICU and friends with kids almost the exact age of my twins?  I would have probably shit my pants.

I for sure was not as graceful when I was dealing with infertility, that smelly pirate hooker.  I had a hard time with pregnant people and people who got pregnant easily and people who said the most ridiculous things like, "maybe if you just relax, you'll get pregnant!"  And I am not exactly a nice person, either.  I hold a mean grudge.  I'm easily annoyed.  I have no patience.  So it was natural for me to be a big (youge!) bitch.

I don't know what it is.  Maybe just that I'm a little older and slightly more mature (only slightly because poop fart penis = LOL ALWAYS).  Maybe I feel like we did everything the best way we could and so I have peace with what happened.  But I have no jealousy/what should have been type of feelings.  I don't mind when people bitch about how hard it is to have twins because holy shit, man.  I bet you it really is!  I can see kids that were born around the time of my twins and appreciate their cute without being jealous that it isn't my kid.  What happened doesn't make me resentful of other people and that, quite honestly, surprises me.

I feel bad sometimes, when people are talking to us about Ainsley and they bust out the classic, "I don't know how you do it...if my kid died, I wouldn't be able to go on..."  I mean, you can do anything when you have no choice.  And while I get the point in general - we've dealt with something really horrible that you can't fathom - it makes me wonder if people don't think that I am...upset enough?  Or something.  I don't know.  I'm probably being paranoid.

Anyway.  The point is that it isn't weird for me to be around families who, in whatever way, look the way that our family would have looked.  It just isn't.  I have no idea why or how but I am glad because I would be missing out on good friendships and cute kiddos.

And now I am going to sleep sitting up like the elephant man while holding Adelle.  Her adorable ass has been crying all day for the past three days and she is going to the pediatrician tomorrow because I suspect ear infection. I can god damn guarantee she doesn't have one and it will be a waste of a copay but futility completes me.  The end.

Come on, Obama!

Well, Barack Obama's threenager approval rating just dropped a point today as Olivia became distraught about his lack of concern over our broke ass Internet.  Like many Americans, Olivia was very concerned about what Barack Obama could do for her - namely, could he fix the Internet so that she could watch Beyonce on YouTube without interruption? 

Because a tax plan/health care/foreign policy/debate zingers = irrelevant if you can't shake your threenager booty to Single Ladies upon demand.

In the car, on the way home from school...

Olivia: who's coming to fix the Internet?

Me: the cable guy.

Olivia: what's his name?

Me: I don't know!

Olivia: BARACK OBAMA!!!!!!!!

Me: no, I really don't think his name is Barack Obama.

Olivia: well, yes it is.

The cable guy shows up....

Olivia: Hi HI HELLO HI!!!!

Cable guy: well hello!

Olivia: what's your name?

Cable guy: Allen.

Olivia: :::frown::: :::tears:::

Me: she was expecting Barack Obama.

Allen: huh. Sorry, kid!

But then it was all better because Allen became fast besties with Olivia even though he had to turn the cable off in the middle of Ratatouille OMG. 

Allen: 2016 hopeful?  We'll see!  All I know is, Allen can fix the Internet and therefore we all love him like bums love bologna sandwiches.

--

I'm going to see Breaking Dawn Part 2 tonight and I am excited and I don't care who knows it.  EXCITED.  Can't get enough of that sparkly vampire shit.

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One Year Ago:  Monday Perspective
Two Years Ago: The Rotund and the Nauseated
Three Years Ago:  Out Longer Than In
Four Years Ago: Kick Tease
Five Years Ago: PUPO

My Internet is Broken!

It will be fixed sometime tomorrow. Posting from my phone, which I hate.

So I get a bye day, I guess.

Lame.

Percentages

The whole time I was pregnant with Adelle, I swore I was done being pregnant.  I actually think that may have been what I was talking about in one of those mystery blog topic emails that I sent to myself (read here).  I wonder if I was yelling out VASECTOMY!!!! any time anyone talked to me about having more kids?  It is possible.  Entirely.  You know, between dry heaves.

Adelle still isn't "easy" yet.  She is happy and cute and everything, but homegirl does not sleep and is a crappy eater and some days still wants to be held all day long.  Sometimes it takes an hour to get her to go to bed. 

On those days, the percentages are decidedly vasectomy.  Adelle was up 3 times last night, and then Mark's percentages went from 60/40 vasectomy, to 75/25 PLZ SNIP THESE BASTARDS SO I CAN SLEEP, KTHXBAI.

And then some days she is so sweet and so fun and then I can't imagine that, for sure, this is it no more babies ever.  And then I'm all, 60/40 more smooshy baybees.

I'm still 50/50.  Or maybe 51/49, vasectomy.

All of this is very hilarious, considering that we required hard core science to even get pregnant.  Twice.  And now that I got pregnant by surprise I just assume that I have all of these options to even consider.  I'll guarantee one thing - I am 100 percent never, ever doing fertility treatments again.  Ever.  No more IVF, no more frozen embryo transfers. 

(Not to appear anti-science because I love science!  Science is my favorite.  Truthfully, I can not even deal with the prospect of getting pregnant with twins again.  I can't imagine the crazy in my head that would result.  So that's that.)

It would be so nice to get rid of all of the baby stuff in our house.  To know that every time there is a hard stage (like OMG RIGHT NOW), it is the last time we will have to deal with it.  That soon, we will have two functional little humans and the freedom associated with age 2+.  To know that my body is mine again, for good.

But then, boo.  No more fat cheek babies?  That's kind of...sad.

So, blog friends, I ask you: How do you decide?  Do you just "know" when you are done?  Or did some other circumstance make the decision for you?

Also, isn't it funny how hard it seems to have one baby, until you have two?  Hilar.  Yeah, I should totally have another baby.  What, with all of this attractive bitching and moaning. 

First World Problem

Seriously.  If you aren't watching Homeland you totally should.  I found it hard to follow at first, and you have to really pay attention because there is so much detail.  But after the first few episodes, they all feel like a finale. 

And also, for some reason, Claire Danes can do no wrong in my book.

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Hoping to do the Facebook etiquette post tomorrow - part one anyway.  It is too long, and the suggestions too amazeballs, to limit to one post.  If you didn't get to submit your grievance, go to the Maybe If You Just Relax Facebook Page and let me know what drives you crazy.

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One Year Ago:  Filling Cavities on the Reg
Two Years Ago:  All the Stuff That's Been Happening
Three Years Ago:  FET: Makes Me Feel All Stabby
Four Years Ago:  Anatomy of An Advertisement
Five Years Ago:  Jabba's Still in the House

Mystery Solved!

Last week, I asked for help unlocking the latest Olivia Song Request Mystery.  You guys are so smart.

"There's a human in the bed, there's a human in the bed" is, indeed, Last Friday Night.  Katy Perry.  And just so you can tell that I'm not making this shit up, here is Olivia asking for the song and acting totally depressed because I just don't understand.

(Which makes me feel like, someday, she will do a Will Smith-esque rap song about how Parents Just Don't Understand.)

(Also.  I had the Will Smith tape back in the day and he lies when he says he doesn't swear in his various rap masterpieces.  He had a song called, "You Saw My Blinker, Bitch" and I always felt so badass when I listened to it.  That's probably the cause of my horrible potty mouth.)

7 Year Itch: Front Door Refresher

I got a couple emails (literally, two) from people asking me to blog about my Pinterest projects. Since I am writing a blog every.single.day, I am going to go ahead and do that!

This was not my first project but it is my favorite completed project so far: my painted front door.

Our house was a new construction when we bought it.  We did not design/build the house - it was a spec home and was just built and then put up for sale.  It was (is) our first home and it seemed so shiny and beautiful and fabulous when we bought it just over 7 years ago.

Now...you know.  You can only look at the same stuff for so long before you start to itch for change.  I am having the 7 year itch, but instead of wanting to cheat on my husband, I just want to change everything about my house. 

I'd say that it is probably a better choice for our marriage but it is proving to be a lot more expensive. 

Being a spec house, everything in our house is the most basic, builder-grade.  It is well constructed but the carpet is getting yuck.  The faucets are ugly.  The lighting fixtures look like boobs.*  The doorknobs are shiny gold.  Everything is oak.**  I think this is all worse now because I am home all day.  And the annoyance is magnified as I stare at this stuff all day.

One day I just decided that I was going to paint the front door.  We have the most basic front door - white, no window.  Gold knobs and lock.  We bought a new storm door with brushed nickel, which started the Great $1,000 Debacle of 2012***  I kept looking at the storm door because it looked so nice and then I started to become annoyed at the state of our front door.  It was just kind of, blah.

So I decided to paint it red and then went to the store that same day to buy supplies.  I am horrible with impulse buying!  And with impulse Pinteresting apparently!

Of course I suck at blogging and never thought to take a before picture.  But here is one of Olivia on her first day of preschool, acting adorbs despite the fact that she has to live in a house with a white front door:

And I just noticed how ugly the doorbell looks.
::adds to list::

Here is what I did.  This guide from Young House Love**** was my inspiration, but our door is aluminum (I think?) and theirs is wood. 

Here's what I used:

A foam roller
Sand paper (fine grit, I think mine was 320?)
Quart of Valspar Duramax Paint (Color is vip)
Windex, Paper Towels

Here's what I did:

First, I picked up about 45 red paint samples and taped them over the door.  We looked at them in all different kinds of light and picked our favorite.  I almost didn't even bring our color home because in the store it almost looked orange, but with the way the light hits our door it looks bright red where all of the true reds looked more maroon.

Next, we removed all of the hardware.

Then, I sanded the entire door lightly.  This took me maybe 10 minutes total.  Then I wiped it down with Windex to get rid of all of the dust.

Finally, I painted!  I used a foam roller for the entire thing - even the panes!  The third coat looked good, but the fourth coat looked perfect.  I started at about 7 a.m. and by 8 p.m. everything was dry and we were able to put the doorknob and dead bolt back on. 

Voila!

It was incredibly easy to do, and that is coming from the least handy person in the whole world.  A new front door is not in the budget right now, but painting our existing door cost under $20 and has totally satisfied me for now!

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*We have two of these on the ceiling as you go upstairs, and I can't help but think "tits" every time I walk up there.  Because I am classy.

**I'm not an oak hater, but did you know that people really hate oak?  Like, really really.  Mostly I just covet all of these dark and sleek looking cabinets that everyone has now.  Don't worry, I'm not puking in my mouth over your oak or anything.

***Ever think to yourself, "lets change all of our doorknobs from gold to brushed nickel - it won't cost that much."  If you did, you are an idiot, as am I.  The purchase of a $300 storm door lead to the additional $300 purchase of doorknobs and locks, and then the ADDITIONAL purchase of a $300 kitchen faucet and then a new $100 half bath faucet because hey!  Why not at this point?!

****Do you read their blog?  Ewmahgod.  They are so adorable and handy it makes me want to cry and also be their best friend.

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Should you feel the need to indulge my attention whoring further, follow me on Pinterest: click here.


And, while I still don't "get it," I am trying to embrace Twitter: click here.

The Resemblance

These two seriously look so much alike.  The major difference between the two is that Adelle is bigger at this age than Olivia was.  At her 3 month visit, she weighed two pounds more than Olivia did at hers.  Which is fine because it is just more for my nibbling enjoyment.  I have these two pictures hanging side-by-side in frames:

They act the same, too.  All the same eating (crappy) and sleeping (occasionally crappy) habits, and working on all of the same skills at about the same time.  Happy and fun babies but also a little high maintenance.

I don't usually think that Ainsley looked just like Olivia and Adelle.  Resembled, yes.  But I always felt like Ainsley had a different look.  But I don't know...I think I just picture her in my mind at 16 months old, the way she was the last weeks we had together.  Her big blue eyes.  Her gap tooth smile.  Her ridiculously rowdy hair.

Since I was looking back through baby pictures I of course wanted to look back at Ainsley too.  It turns out that baby Ainsley looked just like her sisters at 3 months (adjusted, because she was two months premature).

I think it is safe to say that we produce kids with MAD CHEEKS.  And that same exact nose.  Cute ass little drama queens, all of 'em.

Ran out of time!

I had zero time to blog today, and I have dinner plans with friends at 6.

Which means that I will run out of here like I'm on fire so that I can get to the beer as fast as possible.

Adelle slept about 47 minutes total today and Olivia was perfectly behaved. Somehow I am bathed and my teeth are brushed, but Mark is on his own for dinner.

Sorry Mark. Better luck next marriage!

Stay At Home Sybil

I think we are all aware that I am a Stay At Home Mom now.  I'm not really sure how it happened. 

It first came up in July of 2011 when we were still hopeful that Ainsley would continue to improve and would get to come home.  And with her coming home would come the round-the-clock care requirement that comes with a ventilator dependent child.  The main plan was to cross our fingers that we would get enough nursing care through the state to allow us both to continue working.

But no matter how much you cross your fingers, you can never count on luck.  Especially our luck.  Our luck tends to suck. 

And so in July of 2011 I decided that I would make our lives work without my paycheck.  Just in case I couldn't keep working.  Mark and I made almost equal salaries, so the loss of one would definitely be noticeable.  Better to be prepared.  So I threw all of my paychecks toward paying off our cars and then building up our savings.

Then I got super surprise pregnant.  The optimistic side of me thought: hey.  No biggie.  We can afford a nanny.  I will keep working!

The realist side of me thought: this is the end of my career.  Or the beginning of my sabbatical.  Or, I think  this is piss.

Photo Credit: Click Here

Mourning the possible loss of your career can make you feel like a pretty big dick if your chronically ill child dies.  And then that's what happened.  Ainsley died, and then Adelle was born, and then I decided that I couldn't go back to work.  I just couldn't.

I never aspired to be a Stay at Home Mom.  I liked working.  But something changed after all of that drama and I just felt like I had to be with the girls for a bit.  I think they would have been fine if I went back to work but I don't know if I would have been fine.  And so, being fortunate to have the financial means and an agreeable husband, I quit my pretty decent job to try my hand at being home full time.

The truth is that I'm starting to feel more like a Stay at Home Sybil.

People ask all the time how I like being a Stay at Home Mom.  The acceptable answer goes like this, "I love it!  I am so blessed!  They are only little once!"  Right?  Isn't that what you expect to hear?  And all of that is true sometimes, but sometimes the days are incredibly long and I am exhausted and all I want to do is run down the street and shove my face under the soft serve machine at Dairy Queen until they call the police and have me arrested.

I feel like I have a better chance of getting some sleep in jail than I do at my house.

Today was a challenge.  Adelle is going through a sleepless crab ass phase and is difficult to please.  I spent all morning trying unsuccessfully to make her happy.  I resorted to carrying her around which worked pretty well except when I tried to hold her while I went pee and then bonked her head on the wall.  That did not go over well at all.

When I finally got her to nap, I searched for jobs online.  Contemplated child care.  Ate string cheese.

And then after her nap she was ZOMG HAPPY and super fun, and I felt like a crazy person for wanting to go back to work right now when everything was so perfect!  Sunshine!  Rainbows! Quick - someone ask me if I like being at home with the kids!

Adelle Sophia Knepper
Consistently Inconsistent

For now, I'm staying at home.  I've got two tiny little dictators for bosses, and they are equal parts demanding and cute. 

Some days, I am bad ass at being a Stay at Home Mom. I am showered and dressed, the house is clean, dinner is planned, and my kids are happy all day. 

Some days, I am a stinky unshowered pajama wearing hot ass mess who appears to live in the home of a dirty hoarder and who has maniacal screaming kids and a never ending case of PMS and I'm shoving the baby at Mark as soon as he walks in the door. 

Some days I fluctuate wildly between the two extremes.

Please tell me I am not alone in this.