What do you do all day?

“What do you do all day?” all stay at home Mom’s or Dad’s have heard this, and bitched about this, and blogged about all the shit they DO do. Yet I have to ask the question to myself “What do I do all day?”, honestly nothing. Well I should say I complete NOTHING. Literally NOTHING. I am not saying there is a lack of effort, effort is there (most days). What I am trying to say is laundry is NEVER done, dishes are NEVER complete, bathrooms are NEVER clean, nothing is EVER organized and Pinterest moms LIE. Ok the Pinterest comment was a bit of a low blow, but COME ON, NO ONE is THAT organized, at least not being a stay at home mom and having 3 kids. I call BULL SHIT. I barely have time to take a shit or write this blog (like the months in between my posts weren’t a clue) seriously, you aren’t making origami napkins in your kids lunches or fucking Elmo pancakes every morning before school and if are you don’t have kids or you have a nanny. So stop posting bull shit on Pinterest and blogs that no one will EVER DO. Except all you cleaning ladies with sharpie removal tricks, that shit works and I NEED YOU in my life. I am not shitting you when I say I have literally 5 things I am doing at one time. Either my washer, dryer or dishwasher is on AT ALL times, someone has to pee or poop at any given moment, so that means when I am washing dishes I have to either have to chase then hold down an 18 month old as she screams and fights with all her might so I can wipe the smashed up pieces of caca all over her bottom or I have to chase a 3 year old that likes to sit on the toilet for 25 to 35 minutes as she serenades me to every song she knows.  Or when I am folding laundry and one of them decides it’s a good time to take everything we own out of the pantry and pretend to cook with it, also one will drop the heaviest thing in there on their foot and I will then call my husband or mother or both and ask if a Dr appointment is needed. After I am NOT done folding the clothes and the whole family decides a Dr appointment is NOT needed, someone is now hungry. So I have to then ask or beg my 6 year old what she would like to eat and it will most likely be something with cheese, or she won’t be hungry.  So I give them 3 choices and of course they all want something different. I will then makes all these choices and they will either not eat them or switch or change their minds.  If by chance they do like what they are eating, I will sit down in just enough time to have them get up and I will be able to finish what they didn’t eat and put the dishes in the sink. I better hurry up, because someone has to shit again or the hair pulling will soon ensue. After my relaxing and healthy meal I made for myself, (that was sarcasm) it’s nap time, which would be awesome if baby love would go to sleep on her own, but she doesn’t so Frozen gets put on for the 45th time this week and FINALLY at about the the time when Elsa is about to sing her solo “Let it go”, she is asleep, so I can TRY to finish my coffee I warmed up 4 times since making it at 8 am. As I warm it up for the 5th time I start the dishes that piled up during breakfast and lunch, I get about 4 done when screaming comes from the living room. “SHE BIT ME” screams my 6 year old, GOD DAMNNIT, and now the baby is up SCREAMING, the microwave is beeping the water is running, MMA style fighting is going on in the living room, and the door bell rings, and enters my husband saying “what did you do all day?”


Mother CC


My life is shit

  • Let me clarify as my life is not shit or shitty but rather it revolves around shit, poop, caca, poo, turds, yacca (in our house), etc. I suppose now looking back being a mother poo would be apart of my daily routine with changing diapers and all, but never would I never think I would become a POOP EXPERT. I know all colors, textures, styles, and forms. I know what is normal, what is not, when it happens and even if I didn’t know when my children will promptly announce it TO ANYONE AT ANYTIME.  I am some what of a mutant in the fact that I can smell a load within a quarter mile radius (up to a mile if pregnant) and can distinguish between baby, animal or adult feces. Professor X would be impressed. Besides my mutant supermom powers, I also have a husband that thinks it’s hilarious to send me pictures of his fresh deuce through text messages. He also announces to me when he is going and how much or how many flushes it took to get it down.  I hear the awesome sounds of my dear husband yelling “Why is baby’s poop black?”, “God damn it, I got shit on again!” “What the hell did you eat kid?” “Why is it my turn to change her?” All. The. Time. We even have silly names for the types such as “Mega turd”, “rabbit turds”, “baby turdies”, or “the Rhea”. I guess what shocks me most is that we all accept this as normal in our house. Without hesitation my kids will talk about how large their turd was or if they have a hard time getting it out or “Mom Dada has diarrhea again!” Wait! What?! How do you know this? Oh I know, because they hover outside the bathroom door as if Disney World were on the other side, but that is only when someone is in it. I can eat a cookie and change a butt without fail or dry heaving. I can eat dinner and talk about shit as if it were proper/appropriate dinner conversation.  I don’t know how, why, or when all of this became our normal, I suppose it doesn’t matter, but I guess being a poop expert, in some weird way, is an important life “skill” to have, but sometimes it’s just plain shitty.


Mother CC