Thursday, July 28, 2011

Letter to Myself at 18

Dear Abbie - 

Wait!! Stop!! This might not be the best idea you've ever had. 

Yes, I realize that you think a giant tattoo above your ass is cool and sexy now, but your 32 year-old self might think differently when this question is put before you:

"Hey Mom - Why do you got that big tattoo above your butt?" 

If that's not enough to give you pause - consider that trends also change and what is "in" one day is out the next, and that sexy piece of ink you so desperately desire will tomorrow be referred to as a tramp-stamp or a white-trash license plate.

Trends come and go - a big tattoo on your lower back is FOREVER. 

Yes, removal is an option but paying for school clothes, lunches and the mortgage trumps tattoo removal for mommy.

Ah, nevermind. You're not listening. 

You're young - you're future is bright and you believe a big piece of meaningless ink above your ass is the best idea in the world. 

Trust me, you will have many great ideas, but this is not one of them.

However, when your precious daughter asks:

"Hey Mom - Why do you got that big tattoo above your butt?" 

You can tell them....well, nevermind - they aren't listening either.

Warmest Regards,

PS. You might also want to re-consider some of those boyfriends

ME: Did you read my blog post?

JUSTIN: No. What's it about?

ME: It was a letter to myself at 18 regarding my tattoo.

JUSTIN: Oh yeah, um, bad move.

ME: What?!?!?!?!? What do you mean bad move??

JUSTIN: What are you getting upset about? I'm assuming the post is about how you don't like your tattoo.

ME: Well, of course it is, but that doesn't me that you can not like it!!!

JUSTIN: What?? How come you can call it a mistake but I can't?

ME: If you don't understand that then, well, you just don't get anything. Not anything at all.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Half Baked

"Mom, I want French toast sticks with a cold middle."

Hadley asks for this culinary delight every morning. Her breakfast of choice is Eggo Cinnamon French Toast Sticks that I apparently never leave in the toaster long enough.

I know I've done a bang-up job raising this kid when she appreciates half-cooked frozen goods from the toaster.

What's going to ruin the whole charade is when she grows up, has a few meals in the real world realizes that food should be cooked - all the way through.

But for now, I will relish the days when my precious 6 year-old regards French toast sticks with a cold middle as Mom's good ole home cooking.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

From the Road....A Breakdown of Order

We were at the end of a thirteen hour journey to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan when there was a complete breakdown of order, bladders and bowels. 

I had to pee so bad that I thought a real accident was imminent, but there was no way in hell I was stopping as I'd rather piss my pants than risk waking the baby. We were about 20 minutes from paradise but apparently to get there, we'd have to go through hell.

Brevort Lake Cabin where we spent the week.
We were almost there when we got word that the cabin wasn't yet ready. The cleaning lady was still cleaning. Hmmmmm - were they kidding? Hell, we'd trash the place in about 30 minutes but anyways.....

We would need to occupy ourselves for an hour. In this area, there is just one restaurant, and Justin and I were pretty certain we could find it as we had eaten there a few times years ago. Except early onset Alzheimers has apparently set in, and we couldn't find it. 

We drove and drove in circles - just long country place to stop and cell phone was like a scary movie. 

Now if you will remember - I had to pee - BAD. So there was no other option - I pulled over and squatted on the side of the road. 

The girls and Justin were laughing so loudly at me that they woke the baby and in my panic to tell them to be quiet, I lost good squatter form and pretty much peed down my leg. Awesome.

So with urine down my leg, I got back in the minivan only to be met with the smell of - you guessed it - poop. The baby had awaken and went about his business. 

So we continued in the minivan (which I'm pretty sure could be classified as a bio-hazard at this point) in search of a restaurant.

We drove back to a small town another 20 minutes away and found a place to eat lunch although I'm pretty sure at this point the cabin was ready. Regardless, we unloaded the kids and I picked the baby up out of his car seat. Something was wet on my hand. I looked down and yes, the baby had blown out his diaper. His business was up to his neck, all down my shirt and his car seat was like a lake of poo. I couldn't carry him into the restaurant as he was - so I got down to business in the parking lot.

Justin was kind enough to help out, I mean, snap this picture while I was
cleaning up the sh*t storm....

Eventually, with me covered in urine and poop, we arrived at the cabin. Yes, this was the life. This was really living.


Dear Luvs Diapers:

You totally suck. 

I took a chance on you and you let me down.

I thought I'd stray from Pampers and save a few bucks but have since concluded that you should not legally be allowed to sell diapers. 

I could sew together some toilet paper and make a better diaper than you. 

Have you ever seen a real baby? Those must be stunt-robot babies in your commercials because you obviously have no idea that real babies shit and the job of the diaper is to contain it.

For putting my baby through the stress and shame of being naked in a parking lot with shit up to his ears, I think you should apologize and maybe think about manufacturing something less complicated than a diaper - maybe something like, um, paperclips. You can sell all of your stunt robot-babies on Ebay - you won't need them for your paperclip commercials.

Abbie Rumbach

Monday, July 18, 2011

From the Road....Fireworks.

In order to vacation, I must spend hours laundering, organizing, packing and readying the house for our departure. Vacationing requires Justin to pack one bag and get in the car.

One week prior to departure...

Justin: I spent $75 on fireworks. I'm bringing them to Michigan. 

Me: What the hell Justin?!?! Do you think you make so much money that we have enough to just set it on fire? 

Justin: It will all be worth it to see their faces. 

He is referring, not to the faces of our children, but rather to the faces of Angie & Ryan Wood, who live in Michigan - where fireworks are illegal. However, the way Justin justifies spending the money, youd think he was delivering food to the starving. 

Two hours into our trip.... 

Justin: Damn it!!! Oh no!! 

Me: What??? What's wrong???? 

Justin: I forgot the fireworks. We HAVE to stop and buy more. 

Then my head exploded.  Ka-f#cking-Boom.

Justin and Jack outside a fireworks store in Martinsville, In.
Shortly after this photo was taken, Jack puked all over Justin - so he was forced to strip down to his white tank top (where I come from, this is called a wife-beater). While shopping in the fireworks store with my husband wearing his wife-beater, the girls started whining for food....And that is how we found ourselves sitting in a Long John Silvers with Justin in a wife-beater holding his bag of fireworks....God Bless America. 

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Vacation and Vaginas

Vacation time!!!! Which means I'll spend the next 13 hrs in the swagger wagon with the kids. We sure know how to party.

We're headed here:

Those parts are limited in terms of Internet access so I doubt I'll be posting this week. So, dear readers, I leave you with this - Grandmothers vagina purse:

Be well - 

Peace out Indiana - Word to my Grandmother.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Vodka and The App Malfunction

My iPhone apps like to f@#k with me. Yesterday, I got this alert:

I laughed, nervously, out loud.

Was it kidding?

What in the world? Did we even have sex? 

Oh yeah, there was that night with the vodka sunrises....

I looked back at the calendar - no, according to the app, conception wasn't possible then - unless of course, the app malfunctioned. Can I sue the app? Is there a disclaimer somewhere? Can I sue for child support?  

Or what if the app was right on and it was me that malfunctioned and I ovulated early or something?? What if I really malfunctioned released like 3 eggs and am now having triplets. Damn app. Damn vodka sunrises. 

Worry not. The fact that I'm alive and can write this post is evidence that I am not pregnant. 

If I were pregnant, I could be found at the bottom of the river - as my grandmother told me last week,  "Abbie, you get pregnant again you might as well walk out into the river till your hat floats." 

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Was She High?

I recently ran into a girl that I knew in high school who was also a stay at home mom.

The conversation was nice - until this.

Me: Its tough with just one paycheck

Her (in ALL seriousness): Yeah, but we get paid in hugs and kisses.

Me: Uh, huh.

I've heard this said before but never in real life and never by someone who was sincere. I appreciate hugs and kisses as much as the next schmuck but I would also appreciate some cold hard cash.

Though her attitude is sweet, I suspect she is heavily medicated and I think the only reason we might ever hang out again is so I can steal some of her pills.