Preschool Orientation!

Lots of people told me that time would fly, but really. 3.5 years since I popped this kid out into the Knepper chaos and now I'm sending her to Preschool.





Adelle came with us for orientation and in true Adelle style, required constant holding and bouncing to avoid thermonuclear self destruction.

We all survived with only a little sweat rolling down my back and into my butt crack since there's no air conditioning at school and I was wrangling a 12 pound bag of hot lava cleverly disguised as my infant daughter while trying desperately to pay proper attention to my huge!giant!preschooler!

School starts Tuesday and I think we are all ready for some routine to our lives. It's been a summer of flying by the sweat-soaked seat of my pants.

(Seriously, though.  This super hot weather blows a big fat fatty fatterson.)

Crazy Crayon Kamikaze

You're sitting at the teeny tiny kid table coloring.  It's a real masterpiece, quite honestly.  You're just about to finish an expertly shaded portion of Hello Kitty's head when...



NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

 ...Your kid comes over like some sort of crazy crayon kamikaze and scribbles nonsense all over your beautiful coloring page.  It's a damn tragedy, is what it is.  And you have to be nice, because she's a 3 year old and that's how 3 year olds color.  Plus you're 32 and acting a fool isn't really acceptable in this situation because you're a grown ass woman talking to your 3 year old.  Plus also you're a 32 year old coloring a picture of Hello Kitty.  You lose no matter what.

What you actually say:  That looks so pretty!  Good job!

What you say in your head: What the hell you ruined my picture why do you hate meeeeeeee????!!!

Can't color a beautiful picture, can't pee in private, can't eat sweets without shoving them in your mouth as you hide in the laundry room.  Parenting can be a real sacrifice, ya know?

Jewelry Organization

I actually DID something that I pinned on Pinterest.  It doesn't matter what it is, the fact is that I am better than you now - a better wife, better mother, and better homemaker.  Better lady of leisure.  Please continue to strive to be as amazeballs as me no matter how unattainable it seems.

(Unless you make those Bento Boxes for your kids.  Then, you are better than me.  I admit it.)

One of my very favorite friends sells Premier jewelry.  So I had a party because that's what you do when your favorite friends sell things.  And I got a bunch of free stuff and do you know what happened?  I became addicted to the jewelry.  I know all the names of the pieces and if I didn't hate people and small talk I would probably be able to sell it because I really do love it so much.  It is nice. 

And now, when I go to other places I feel like the jewelry is kind of junky compared to my Premier stuff.  So then the new catalog came out and I had another party.  And then I went to all the parties of people who booked parties at my party (party party party - I've typed it so much it looks wrong). 

I officially had a shit ton of jewelry and I didn't really have anywhere to put it. 

That's not entirely true.  I had all my jewelry hanging from a hanger separated by little hair clips.  Like a middle school kid.

I decided that I should make use of the embarrassing amount of hours I spend pinning stuff.  I saved an idea forever ago but didn't have time to do it.  Then I bought the stuff and it sat on my dresser for weeks until Mark had to do it for me before his Mr. Clean head exploded because THAT HAS BEEN ON THE COUNTER FOR WEEKS, WOMAN!

So here it is.  My jewelry organization that makes me better than you (unless you make Bento Boxes):

Also pictured:
A lot of cute clothes that fit me 4 years ago.

Two towel bars + shower curtain hooks + exceptional charm and beauty = I am better than you.

(Unless you make Bento Boxes.)
(Seriously, though.  Do people do that shit?  I mean, everyone pins them, but do you actually make little lunches that look like Phineas and Ferb?)

How do you afford your rock 'n roll lifestyle?

Now that I'm a lady of leisure, there is the pesky inconvenience of my missing paycheck.  Not that I was pulling down six figures or anything, but my five figures were significant to our family.  And by significant, I mean, necessary for shopping biweekly at Target with wild abandon and buying $4 cups of delicious coffee.

I've already got the big stuff down - no credit card debt, no car payments - so I don't need some serious financial plan.  I've Dave Ramseyed my way into a pretty  nice financial position but I'm wondering what the little things are that people do to trim the budget.

(And don't say cancel HBO/Showtime because that, kind sirs, I simply cannot do.)

The reason I ask is because I've recently discovered the beauty of Aldi.  I would've never stepped foot in Aldi because I was a giant giant brand snob.  But then a bunch of people told me how fantastic and cheap everything was and now I am obsessed.  Everything I've had from there has been good and about half the price of what I would pay at the regular grocery store.

So...what else?  What little money-saving secrets do you have for me? 

Busted, Gramma. Busted.

"I have a belly ache because gramma gave me
hohos and chips and hohos and
two lollipops."

We have officially reached the Blabbermouth Phase.  Olivia tattles, hears everything, repeats everything, and wants an explanation about everything.  I was forced to abandon all of my very favorite words (swears and dirties alike) a long time ago.  I don't want her out there saying fuck as much as I don't want her out there calling people douchecanoe.

But it has escalated to a whole new level.  She tells stories and they are always the most horrible stories.  Like, she keeps telling people how Mark spilled his Mountain Dew and yelled, "DARNIT!"  And she never forgets.  I mean, this Mountain Dew incident was like two months ago and the story is still on heavy rotation.  If a kid doesn't share a toy with her, she will tell the tale over and over to anyone who will listen while waiting in anticipation for you to bust out the world tiniest violin.

And in addition to watching what I say, I have to watch cartoons all day every day to avoid things like Rhianna.  Olivia loves to watch Music On Demand and dance to the videos but she has started to actually imitate the dance moves and OMG RHIANNA.  I watched in horror as Olivia watched Rhianna use her hands to make a box around her...well, her box and then tap on it while singing, "Where have you been all my life?"

Awesome dance moves, Rhianna.  Patting your...box.  Really clever.

The sacrifices I make for these kids!  No dirty words, no dirty music videos.  It is such a harrowing experience.

Just when you think I've forgotten?
I'm going to pat my crotch.
In public.

Anything for a Smile.

Things are starting to (slowly) improve with Adelle Screamypants Knepper.

The happy periods are longer and more frequent; the screaming periods are shorter and less intense and slightly less frequent.

And, of course my kid likes fart jokes.

I will do anything ridiculous for a smile.  Occasionally I get a giggle and some serious story-telling but I'm never quick enough with the camera and I always miss it.

Sometimes I am quick enough, though.

I've had a busy weekend.  I'm going to watch Big Brother and probably stuff my face with something delicious.

BlogHer TV and PB&J

I am slightly obsessed with BlogHer TV.  I am admittedly an online video junkie and could get lost on YouTube for hours and hours.  I guess it isn't surprising that I'd love watching a bunch of bloggers talk about random topics.

So anyway, I have a strong belief that there is one way to make a PB&J sandwich. 

Two pieces of (wheat) bread.

Spread Peanut Butter (JIF only, smooth not chunky) on one piece.

Spread Jelly (grrrrrape!) on the other piece.

Put the Peanut Butter piece on top of the Jelly piece.

Let them make sweet love for a moment.

Cut in half diagonally.

Eat.  Quickly.  Before your kids can get their grubby little hands on your PB&J.

(Or, turn on the TV and eat the sandwich in the laundry room, which is what I usually do.)

Now, I can only be somewhat open minded on this topic.  I would consider a different brand of peanut butter, for example, or a different fruit jelly.  Try to give me white bread or chunky peanut butter?  I might slap you in the face, unless you are tall.  I am short so if you are tall I would possibly kick you in the shin or even step on your toes.  I'm unpredictable in my retaliation.

But then I saw this video about the world's best PB&J and now I am just super pissed that I don't have a waffle iron.  (I do have a quesadilla maker that is ah-mayze-ballz.)  And?  And!  AND!!!  She follows my method up until the cutting part which validates my belief that I am the best PB&J cook ever.

(PB&J is cooking at our house.  Obviously our meals are quality and I am a fantastic home maker.)

So anyway, check out BlogHer TV if you have time and feel like getting lost in a bunch of cool videos.  Right now, on my left sidebar, is a video of Katie Couric.  Click that and you can watch that video and all the new videos that were added this week.

Tomorrow?  I'm going to post a fart-related video.   Do I know how to keep my readers coming, or what?!

Help Kris Beat IBC

Cancer is an asshole.

One of Mark's coworkers is going through something completely and totally horrible.  While breastfeeding her five month old son, she found a lump.

You know where I'm going with this, right?  Maybe it's a clogged duct!  Oh, wait, no.  It is breast cancer. 

Her name is Kris.  Her husband's name is Mark.  They have two small children.  You can read about them by clicking here.

Do you know what else you can do?  You can donate.  You can give a little bit or a lot to their family.  Her particular form of breast cancer (Inflammatory Breast Cancer) is aggressive, and they have been told that The Place To Be For The Best Treatment is in Houston, TX. 

Except...they live in Ohio.  And they have insurance but...the bills are still piling up.

You don't know Kris.  I actually don't either.  And I've never had cancer.  But I have had a very critically ill child who needed constant care and I was lucky enough to not have to worry about money.  I can't imagine worrying about the money.  The fight should be for her life, and not with an insurance company or a billing department or a collection agency.

And I know.  There are a million of these stories and people are sick all over the world and times are tough, etc. infinity.  But, should you feel so inclined to donate even a small amount?  It would really help. 

And then?  If you posted this link on Facebook?  Or Twitter?  Or, if you have MySpace, you could delete it and join Facebook like everyone else and then post it on Facebook?  It would only take a second.  And then maybe a lot of people would hear their story and help a little and all those little donations could turn into something big for this family?

Cancer is an asshole.

Adelle The Giant

I finally got around to taking the 1 Month onesie sticker pictures...two weeks late.  As previously discussed, I suck at life and most other important things.  Most recently I discovered that I suck at not smelling like BO when I forget to wear deodorant.  Livin the dream, my friends.


She is six weeks old and already she is judging me.
In all fairness, I probably hadn't bathed in days and may have been wearing
mismatched pajama pieces.


It would appear that Adelle is a GIANT OMG.  All her one month stats are 70th percentile and up - in stark contrast to Olivia, who has always clocked in at 20th and below.

Fe Fi Fo Fum
I smell the stench of the Enfamil
Be it hot or be it cold
Shove it in my formula hole
Before I cry you all into oblivion.
(I am not good at tetrameter.)
(Yes, I googled it.)
(Shut up.)

And the giant-ness continues into two months.  She was 11 pounds, 4 ounces, and 23.3 inches.  All 75 percentile and up.  I managed to take these pictures at the two month mark exactly, which means that I am an excellent mother and amazeballs at parenting. 




This is either a smile, or a scream of terror.
"MOOOM!  I CAN'T SIT UP YET, MORON!"


I can't even believe that I am typing this but, Prevacid?  Bullshit.  Like Tylenol.  Prevacid actually makes Adelle WORSE.  Like, it seems to give her stomach cramps and a bad case of Cry All Motherfucking Day. 

We went to a pediatric gastroenterologist who...meh.  I heard his bedside manner was lacking so I was expecting the worst.  I don't know what I was hoping he would tell me but I was all Fix Mah Baybee.  And he was all, No.  He doesn't think that babies have acid reflux pain at all and that meds for it are pointless (the horror!) and that she has colic so good luck with that, Kneppers.  He was pretty nice while telling me what I didn't want to hear so that was the bright spot of the visit.

Do I look like a cry baby to you?

He is probably right.  She cries all the time for no reason.  This is Adelle's general schedule:

Sleep: 12 hours/day
Cry: 11 hours/day
Smile and Be Adorable: 1 hour/day

So that continues to be super fun and everything*.  The good news is that it goes away...eventually.  And until then there is beer, glorious beer.

*Also, obligatory - we are just so glad she is healthy!**
**Seriously.  This crying bullshit sucks.***
***But she is healthy!  Yay!

WHAT?! YEAH! OK!!!

I don't know why I hate everything.  I just do.  It is part of my...charm.

I've been working out because I'm super fat and I would like to not be super fat.  I can deal with being just a little bit fat but not super fat.  So I'm doing this 10k running program on my treadmill and then sometimes I walk at the park.

When I walk at the park, I walk 1.75 miles twice, around a lake.  This sounds peaceful and beautiful and all that wonderful shit that people say about nature or whatever, but I can't enjoy it because of the small talk.

First of all, I hate small talk and pointless interaction with the general public.  I feel like you probably already know that about me.  Second, I am not one of those people who is all, hey!  Let's work out together so we can chat and become closer as human beings!  No.  All I want is to listen to inappropriate music and sweat in peace.

I feel like I'm in the hateful minority and that most people love this whole, walk by the same people over and over and say hi every time routine.  Bonus hate for anyone who tries to actually talk to me (hello!  headphones!  sweat!  super fat!) or wants me to lift up the shade blanket to look at the baybee (hello! colic! newborn-ish! super fat!). 

On Monday, a dog kept wanting to walk with me and was pulling away from its owner to come near me.  I cannot explain why but I think that it probably was my smell of my two dogs and desperation to escape the situation that was so attractive. 

So I'm sounding exactly like Lil Jon when I'm dealing with this completely fulfilling social interaction at the park.  It goes like this:

*I smile, mouth the word hi.*

*They smile, peek into the stroller, say something I can't hear because hello! headphones!*

*I pull out an earbud*

Me: WHAT?!

They: blah blah blah baybee

Me: YEAH!  OK!

Except I'm  not regular Lil Jon.  I am Dave Chappelle Lil Jon. 

35 pounds to lose...I'll probably be a rapper by the time I reach that goal and then I will become an instant YouTube sensation for my rippety-rappings and then, I promise, I will use my fame for good:  to make cellulite totally desirable.  I promise.

--

One more thing.  I've gotten a couple Are You CrayCray comments about the BlogHer TV thing because I guess some people can't see it?  I don't know.  It's there, I swear.  You should watch it, subscribe to some of the channels.  If you can't see it in the top left of my blog then you can click on the ad at the top of this post. 

Lady of Leisure

Yes, that is correct.  I am done with work and now I shall relax all day every day.

(And then every stay at home mom everywhere banned together to set my house on fire and then we all died, the end.)

It seems that I was too vague the last time I posted about quitting work, with the whole Big Things Have Happened type wording.  The Big Things are all things you already know way too much about - I was pregnant with identical twins/one died/the other one lived for 17 months in intensive care at Akron Children's/I got pregnant by surprise/Ainsley died/I had another baby/oh, and also I have a three year old who thinks she is the boss OMG. 

So yeah.  Quitting my job seems pretty minor in the scheme of things.  The thing is this: I liked my job but was not necessarily happy there.  When it got to be the month of my scheduled return to work I started to rethink everything and I just...couldn't.  And we are fortunate enough to be able to live well on one income.  And while my butthole tightens every time I think of the money I'm giving up? It will be fine. 

And I'm already trying to line up some part time work that pays pretty well, so that would be nice.  If that doesn't work out, oh well.

I'm  not going to sit here and act like, "oh, I'm doing this for the kids because they need me at home."  They don't.  I think that they would be fine with or without me at home and actually I am kind of bitchy and stressed out when I am with kids all day and I'm sure a babysitter would be nicer to be around.  I do wish I could have done this while Ainsley was still here, because it would've been nice to soak up All of the Minutes with her. 

But then there were (literally) millions of dollars to be paid for all that wonderful care she received and would you believe me if I told you I don't make millions of dollars?  Shocking I know, because I have a Kardashian ass and a Jersey Shore vocabulary and someone should really be paying me for being so damned fabulous all the time.

Anyway.  That's it.  I'm off work.  For a little bit at least.  It will all be fine.  Nothing else crazy has happened just yet. 

However: fuck you, Pottery Barn Kids.  Fuck you, and all your adorable personalized shit that I can  no longer afford to buy because your sales suck and you never have coupons.  You are dead to me.

Serenity Now, Insanity Later

HEY-OOOOOOOOOO

Right now, I am positive that this is insanity.  However, I am having trouble remembering the serenity.

While I am bizzay trying to not smell like BO and desperation (for sleep, OMG), please watch some BlogHer TV.  These people are way more entertaining than me anyway.

I have really good intentions of posting tonight or tomorrow.  But my good intentions are basically worthless so.  Ya know.  TTYL KTHXBAI.  Or whatever.  I obviously cannot work, parent two children, and function.