Tag Archives: parenting


So, I have IGBTSS, if you’re wondering what that is and survival rates and such let me just expain,

I Gave Birth To Satan Syndrome is a medical anomaly occurring in mothers who are typically over-worked and under-paid. The symptoms include one or more children that are too smart for their own damn good, wreck hell upon your home, and ALWAYS use their powers exclusively for evil, furthering the devils cause.

It has a -000000.00000% survival rate, so I’m sorry guys, but the terrible two’s are nigh upon us and I fear that I shan’t last much longer.

Ugh >.< somebody put me out of my misery now?

On top of the satan baby Josh is working nights every day through monday so I get to see him for maybeeee 10 minutes a day because he has to sleep when he’s home.

And chasifer’s moped died so I’m driving his dumb ass to and from work every day until he can afford to get his license back, and buy a car. Good news is that he no longer works at the labor finder place because he got a job that’s like a mile from where we live. So at least the risk of me passing the fuck out while I’m driving isn’t too bad.

Now that the roommates at work and the child’s in bed(FINALLY) I get to go clean out the fridge and figure out what’s making it smell like rotting flesh.

Soooooooooooo I’ll catch you all later depending on whether or not I’ve survived.




Josh and I’s lease got approved with the condition we pay the first few months rent up front. Which we were already planning on so we have way more than that saved up.


Just had to get that out of my system, sorry. Um yes. When Josh moved in last Christmas (when I was all fat and it was getting hard to tie my shoes) because I was pregnant it was with the understanding that we would try to have our own place in two years, but we were welcome for up to four. It has been about 10 months. Ten long, evil months of hell.

I can notttttt wait to get the fuck out of here. The longer I live in my parents house the harder it is to keep my mouth shut when my mom acts like a fucking psychopath. I don’t hate my parents, I just hate living with them.

It’s extremely frustrating when my mom grabs my baby from me with out asking and acts like my daughter is her kid. Sorry, but um no. I could understand if I was out partying every night or getting high or whatever, but I take care of my Smidgey. I’m the one changing diapers, driving her to get her vaccines, making her bottles, and putting her to bed every night. My husband is the one paying for said diapers and vaccines. You do not own my child. You will also not be coming over everyday to steal her either.

So far I have yet to scream any of this in her face, so I think all in all I’m doing pretty okay at this being a polite and respectful daughter thing. I have a lot of left over hurt and resentment towards her. I think getting some space will help me get over it. Having my own place where my husband and I can be our own family, and not an just an extension of my parents will be awesome.

So I hope and pray everything goes well on Saturday, when we go to review paperwork and potentially sign the lease. *Fingers Crossed*

My Daughter’s Favorite (Non)Toys

One of those things that I didn’t know about babies before I had my daughter, is that babies (at least mine) hate toys. My six month old has probably over $100 worth of totally-safe, baby proof, toys in a variety of colors, textures, whatevers. So what does she like to play with? Anything but said totally-safe, baby proof toys.

She usually ends up playing with:

10. Hangers. Preferably the dirty, ancient, wire kind that I like to keep away from her. The small, plastic, pink, baby-sized ones are an acceptable substitute though.

9. Empty soda bottles that I was to lazy to get out of bed and actually throw away. I am well aware of the fact that I’m a lazy slob. Please keep your judginess to yourself.

8. Empty rice cereal boxes that I set beside the trash can until I take it out. If I actually put them in the trash can right away I’d go through twice as many trash bags (because they take up so much space) so I have a semi-legitimate reason on that one.

7. Dryer Sheets. You know the fabric softener things you through in the drier and then they get stuck to your clean clothes and live in the bottom of laundry baskets? Unless they end up stuck to the outside of your pant leg and you didn’t notice because you were in a hurry? Yes, my daughter is perpetually trying to eat them. I usually manage to intercept them before they make it to her mouth, but not always. *sighs*

6. Envelopes. Preferably the unopened, still important, kind; but any will suffice.

5. The wipes/wipe-container. Her favorite thing to do when I change her diaper is roll over and try to eat the entire box of wipes. It is extremely frustrating trying to flip her back over, without hitting her head, while pulling a wipe out of her mouth, while keeping her feet out of her own shit. I’ve recently gotten fairly talented at this.

4. Napkins. *shivers*

3. Metal utensils. Preferably sharp knives, but forks or spoons will work in a pinch.

2. Socks. Better if fuzzy, best if fuzzy and dirty, and covered in dog hair and dirt for her to try to pick off and eat. Dog hair is the bane of my existence.

1. Plastic bags. From Walmart, target, random groceries stores, as long as they have the required “this is not a toy, choking hazard, keep away from children” logo on the bottom. I swear I have to steal at least three of these away from her everyday. I don’t even know where they come from! She has some evil baby not-a-toy radar built into her little demon-mastermind brain.

Now to be fair she does play with some of her toys. Out of the hundred plus pieces of baby-crap laying around she likes two rattles, and one stuffed monkey that she picked out of a store because it was fuzzy and brown.

Things You Probably Don’t Know About Babies If You Are A Teenager Who Quit Babysitting Over A Year Ago #1

Why number 1? Because there will probably be a lot of these in the future, seeing as I have know fucking clue what I’m doing with this drool-covered bundle of smiles and fat-rolls.

So what I learned on Thursday: Shots make babies evil, evil assholes. If I’m being completely honest though, this was just a reminder as the smidge had her first round of shots three months ago. This was just a refresher course. Let me do a less than brief re-cap of the day:

I get up two hours earlier than usual because I need to make sure I have EVERYTHING I could possibly need to survive an outing with just me and my daughter. (I already packed her bag the night before.)

I drive the HOUR to the pediatricians. (I wasn’t being snobby when I picked my doctor, I just live in the middle of nowhere.)

I arrive right on time to sign us in after I sit shaking in the parking lot for fifteen minutes. (I got my license two days before, so this is the longest I’ve ever driven by myself.)

I realize I forgot to specify which Dr., So I’m stuck with the condescending Oh, you’re a teen mommm doctor >.< again.

I finally get into the back room and am forced to watch as my cute, happy, baby is mercilessly stabbed repeatedly by those (actually nice) evil nurse ladies, for her health.

I pick her up and hold her as she goes from screaming to sobbing to sniffling.

I get her back in her clothes and listen to the condescending doctor lady explain what being in the 75th percentile means, because the fact that I am 18 means that I am obviously incompetent. (I graduated my college statistics class with a B when I was 17 you asshole. I know what percentiles are.)

I go to Walmart to fill the thirty minutes tops prescription…… and leave two hours later, with extra strength buttrash cream.

I finally make it home.

And ALLLLL of that was just the beginning. The next three days were a blur of hellacious screaming, crying, fussy, high maintenance-ness. I’m not bragging when I say my baby is usually pretty chill. As long as you let her roll on the floor and don’t take away that dirty sock she found she will be content for hours on end. ($100+ dollars on fancy baby toys wasted but oh well) They casually mentioned on the way out of the office that she might be “a bit tired or fussy”. Um no. six hour naps followed by eight hour scream sessions do not fall in to the “a bit” category. I was not allowed to set down that six month old tyrant for three days. (which conveniently overlapped with my husband coming home for the weekend, as it allowed her to be a mini cock-blocker as well.) Saturday night she screamed from 7pm to midnight. Her crib is in our room. I seriously contemplated getting a 5th trimester abortion. *cough cough southpark reference * So now on the forth day after that wonderrrrrful little outing my tiny little mr hyde cute baby is starting to return. in between long bouts of why-the-fuck-aren’t-you-holding-me-at-an-angle-that-allows-for-better-television-viewing-monkey-slave?!?!?!? *sighs* I would write more but I’m currently being summoned to grab my baby for a marathon of our favorite anime (anime=sanity salvation)


Oh and I did all of this with a cold/sinus infection. Yes, I know, I’m a super hero.