Gloating like Whoa

Dear Diary,

Just wanted to point out, LOUDLY, that my time spent cribbing-it is working.  This kid slept 7.5 hours in here last night.  FACED.  Mom, one; Insolent Diary, ZERO.  Go on, keep sipping on that haterade.  I'm sleeping soundly tonight.

The End.

PS...   From my phrasing, you've probably gathered that I am currently blogging from inside my child's crib.  And to that point, I say-- SO?! Also, you are a diary.  So, take THAT.  (Mom two.)

RE: That Loud Snapping Sound

My younger one is eleven months old now.  When my older one was his age, I was already pregnant. My older one had finished his cosleeping phase and was giving his parents plenty of full nights of sleep.

Not this little monster. Not that he's a bad kid or anything, he's just a demon baby. He's completely evil and amazingly cute. Sounds like the work of Satan, IMO.

The kid hates me.  He shows no signs of being ready to sleep in his own crib. I try every night to get him into his crib, which never works and just PISSES THIS KID OFF.  Which, a lot of times, means I lose entire nights worth of sleep just trying to calm him down.

Something had to give. And you know what? I think it just did. Bye bye, last lingering shred of sanity-- may we meet again when I wake up tomorrow.

#InDaCrib #SelfieBehindBars #FuckThePolice #CrazyMommasDoItBetter

Grandma, NO!

Dear Diary,

Today I was barely able to disguise my shock as my mother-- grandmother of my children-- casually explained to my aunt that there is a furry convention in Pittsburgh this weekend.

Oh, do you not know what a furry is?  Well, fear not!  Grandma knows.  She can clue you in, with style, in front of her grandchildren.  My older one was seated in his high chair, directly between them, finger painting happily.  ...innocently.

The horror does not end there.  No.  Because my aunt had questions.  Technical ones.

Do they all take off their masks at some point?

How do they know who they're meeting?  

...But, if they're wearing costumes, how can they do anything?

Maybe their suits have slits in the pockets?



Make it stop, oh PLEASE make it stop.

The End.**





**But, not for Mommy.  Mommy will be having nightmares tonight.

The Dog with the Slipper

Dear Diary--

At 1 am, when the younger one was wide-the-hell-awake and having his nightly dance party, I tried to chill him out with some NetFlix.  I thought, what's the most boring shit I can think of right now?

OH.  Kipper.      (<----click that)

HAVE YOU SEEN THAT SHOW?!  I don't know what's up with it.  Truth be told, I haven't watched much.  When the older one puts it on, I try to pay attention, but I have problems hearing it over all the snoring.  Even its animators were freakin' bored with it-- there are no backgrounds, just the boring-ass characters on a field of white.  Ohhh, Kat, that's just the minimalist style of the show.  Shove it, Diary, I wasn't asking for your opinion.

I remember an episode where it's really hot outside, so Kipper wants to go swimming.  There's animation of him digging in his closet for the pool, then inflating the pool.  Then there's an extended scene where he unravels the hose and a scene where he eats ice cream.  Seriously.

The particular episode I put on last night was entitled Water Play, which I'm 100% sure is also the name of a really twisted type of porn I haven't had the pleasure of discovering.  I wouldn't recommend googling that title, is all I'm saying.

Well, the show begins with Kipper getting a phone call from a friend.  "Guess what I just got, Kipper," the friend blandly asks, while wielding a fishing pole and NOT EMOTING, EVEN SLIGHTLY.

Chlamydia?  I ask, out loud, to the iPad screen and no one in particular.

"No," the friend answers, leaving Kipper's guess a complete mystery to the viewer.

Then I laughed, maniacally, and woke up my husband. 

The End.

A non-introduction.

Quick quiz— what constitutes a salad?

You’re probably like, Ok, I’ve got this.  Lettuce, maybe some tomato, cucumbers, onion, whatever veggies you want… toss that ‘ish in a bowl, and voila!!  We have a salad.  Easy.  

No, it’s fucking not easy.  Prepare yourself, I'm about to destroy your life, or, at the very least, ruin your afternoon.

Because, no.  You’re forgetting about fruit salad.  That’s obviously a type of salad, it’s right there in the name.  Fruit SALAD.  And hey… no lettuce!  Unless you're trying to give me a freakin’ bizarre fruit salad, I guess, and that's weird and wrong.  It’s just different fruit, in a bowl, hanging out.  BAM, Salad!

So, ok.  Maybe a salad is just a mixture of various, cut up fruits or vegetables (or both— lookin’ at you, summer salads!)

Oh snap, then potato salad comes out of nowhere and fucks up your business.  Because that’s just potato and like, weird white substance.  No, I don’t know what it is, I’m not a doctor.  Also, whatever, shut up.

Point is… there’s no variety to the ingredients in a potato salad, yet it’s still a salad.  

So, is the binding agent what is making a potato salad so salad-y?  That unidentified white gunk?  Don’t tell me to google a recipe, there’s no time for that, and also I don't care.  But I mean, that’s the only thing separating potato salad from a bowl of potatoes, amiright?  And same goes for tuna salad and chicken salad.

So, if the binder is the key, is the bowl of lettuce and veggies not a salad until there’s dressing mixed in?  And what’s the binding agent in a fruit salad— the juice from the cut up fruit?   Does this definition make cereal with milk a salad???  

And does a salad need to be cold?  What about salads with warm grilled chicken or steak?  What what about the weirdos (read: culinary geniuses, because omg, love) in my area that put hot french fries on salads?

GUYS— IS SOUP A SALAD?!

Pause.  Because, now your mind is blown.  You either had no idea that this could be such a complex issue and are amazed!  Or you have no idea why anyone would care to argue such stupid semantics.  

WELL.  I’ve participated in this debate many times in my life.  Not even once or twice, like... many.  Do you know why?  ANSWER— Because my life is INCREDIBLY boring.