Scary Baby Buys - Part II

Its been over a year since I wrote Scary Baby Buys and since then I've come across a few more products that make me laugh, gag, or shake my head in wonder - I hope you do the same. Enjoy!

1. The Snot Sucker

I love my children and will do anything to help them when they're sick, but I draw the line at sucking their snot out with a straw. Um, gross. Plus, I'm pretty sure no child is going to sit so serenely while something is shoved up his/her nose. The baby below is clearly drugged...that lady is stoned - her modeling career didn't exactly go as planned. 

2. Sleep Sack

How old is this kid?? Twelve? What in the world is he still doing in a sleep sack??? If your kid can walk and is still in a sleep sack, you might have gone wrong somewhere in the sleep training process...maybe time to review and see if you missed a step.

3. Sucker Dust
Guess what this is? Give up? It's personalized fairy dust. Guess how much it cost? $68. Really....there are no words.

5. Birthing Gown

This isn't just an ugly maternity dress. It is a designer hospital gown. Yep, because you can't just give birth and bleed all over the gown that's provided - that would be be unsightly. For $60 you can bleed all over this one.

6. Hmmmm 
I got a catalog in the mail yesterday pedaling mismatched socks. I have to admit it took me a few minutes to figure it out...but the gist is this: You give them $16 - they give you three socks that don't match! Apparently there is a market for such a thing. Why is it that I always miss out on those million dollar ideas?

7. Probably My Mother's Day Present

I'm a breast-feeding advocate. I breast-fed all three of my children with varying degrees of success. However, this necklace is just every degree of wrong...

8. Baby Cadaver Pajamas 

This is gross Old Navy! My son is made of frogs, snail and puppy dog tails  - not grody organs. Who wants to see their sweet little baby laying in his crib with his internal organs  drawn on the outside. I don't want to imagine my baby as a cadaver!

9. The Suggestive Baby Book

Jack got this book for Christmas, and I know it's supposed to be a finger puppet baby  - but COME ON - that thing looks like a creepy penis. We don't really like wiggling this "baby" at our son.

Mountain Doo-Doo

I love to shop for the kids. I'll shop for them anywhere - whether I'm browsing through racks at a high-end department store or digging through tubs at a garage sale - if I'm shopping for the kids, I'm in my element. 

One of my favorite shopping activities includes taking myself to the GAP  - filling my arms with as much as I can carry, sitting in a corner - huddled in the back of the store - and sorting through my finds as I decide what to purchase. This is obviously done sans kids as this process can be quite time consuming - and heavenly. 


Call me a junky, but babyGAP is like a shot of the good stuff in my veins. But like I said, I'm not all that picky - I'll take a cheap hit from a garage sale whenever I can find it....and that is where I recently picked up a new T-Shirt for Hadley.

Hadley is a messy girl. I'm pretty sure that if I didn't insist, she would still eat all foods - including her favorites (mac & cheese and yogurt) with her hands. There aren't a whole lot of hand-me-downs for Cameron because Hadley manages to stain nearly everything she wears. I like to get T-shirts at garage sales so she can bask in all her messy glory without me having a stroke.

My latest yard sale find for Hadley was a green T-Shirt that said Mountain Dew across the front. I paid fifty cents for it, and I thought she'd love it because her favorite color is green. Now, while I don't relish the idea of using my daughter to promote a sugary, calorie-latent, teeth-rotting soft drink, I do relish the idea of her having an inexpensive play shirt that she'll like wearing because it is her favorite color.

I showed her my yard sale find to which she exclaimed, "Mountain Dew? I'm never wearing that!"

"Why?" I asked. "It's your favorite color."

"Mountain Dew?" she relied. "Like Mountain Doo-Doo? You want me to wear a shirt that says Mountain Poop?"

"Hadley," I said in an exasperated tone. "Dew is like the wet stuff on the grass in the morning. This is like dew on a mountain. Its nature - its kind of a pretty thought."

"Mom," she said. "Its Mountain Doo-Doo like Poop."

I gave up. If she didn't want to wear the fifty cent T-shirt, I certainly wasn't going to fight that battle.

A few days later, however, we were going to the park and then to Rural King (a farming superstore) to look at the baby chickens, and I handed her her Mountain Doo-Doo T-Shirt to wear. She put it on but told me that it was an ugly shirt and that she never wanted to wear it again.

Fine. Fine. And off we went to Rural King. Yes, my red-neck daughter was wearing a Mountain Dew T-Shirt at the Rural King.

However, as we were leaving it became apparent that she fit right in.  We walked across the parking lot only to find an older man with a big belly wearing the EXACT same Mountain Doo-Doo T-Shirt. 

Perfect.

Hadley's face grew red and her eyes blazed at me. 

"YOU HAVE DRESSED LIKE THAT OLD GUY!!!!!!!" she screamed quite loud enough for him to hear.

"Okay, okay," I whispered to her. "You never have to wear it again. Just be quiet."

She wasn't quiet. 

The poor man in his Mountain Doo-Doo T-Shirt made his way over to us, and I wanted to make a run for it to the mini-van, but I stood politely and smiled.

He said to Hadley, "Mountain Dew - huh? That's some good stuff."

To which Hadley replied, "Its disgusting. Like poop."

I politely smiled at the man and then took their picture together. Hadley and her Mountain-Doo Doo Twin. 

For taking this picture - I owe Hadley one goldfish.

Jack Update

Jack is now 18 months old and I couldn't be more proud of him. He's a super sweet little boy and doesn't make anything all that difficult - aside from going anywhere or doing much of anything of course.


That being said, he's a bit of a brute. I'm pretty sure he could tackle and kill a wild boar with his bare hands, and I'm also quite certain that if thrown into a Hunger Games arena the kid would emerge the victor. He's a bulldozer.


However, he doesn't speak. He doesn't have time. He has shit to destroy - such as our home and everything in it.


Although I can't be certain as to why my child isn't speaking. I do have some ideas. Remember this? 

If you need a reminder - Click Here: Baby 101

While I'm proud that he can nearly climb a tree, I would appreciate if he could ask for milk rather than screeching while I guess what he needs.


True to his inner-neandrathal he primarily communicates through a grunting and pointing. And when very frustrated, he screams until my ears are bleeding and my eyes are crying.


"Jack - what do you want? Do you want that toy? A bow and arrow to shoot that squirrel? Another bat to beat your sister with? No? Oh!! Oh!!! Milk....You just want milk. Fine. Okay - Here. Please stop screaming now. Go back to hitting your sister."


Because his speaking skills aren't quite up to par with his physical skills, Jack will begin working with a speech therapist today....That is if she can lure him down from the roof.

Jack at his first Speech Therapy Session. 

My Greatest Dream.

Well this time I've really done it. I've rubbed my face off. My upper lip and chin look like my son's skinned knees.

If you recall, I'm a hairy beast. Maintaining a hair-free face takes nearly as much work as raising my kids. As referenced in this post [Curse You Sally Hansen], I've spent most of my life in a futile pursuit to rid myself of unsightly facial hair. I've waxed, plucked and dyed, but when I saw this - I thought, "Hey - Let's give give rubbing a try!"

This "works" by essentially rubbing an emory board over your face.
Clearly desperation has clouded my judgment in regards to reasonable ideas.

BAD BAD move. Shouldn't FDA approval be required to sell such things? Apparently this is a "let the buyer beware" type product.  Well, I now have skid marks on my aching face. Let the eyes of any poor beholder now beware - I look like raw meat.

I've had enough. I need a permanent hair removal solution. I also need cash to pay for it. Make no mistake, I'm hairy AND poor. Since my husband doesn't see the necessity for a permanent hair removal solution (I know, I know, the necessity is all over my face) - I told him not to worry about it. I'll find my own money. 

So, I've set up an Electrolysis Scholarship Fund, of which I will be the first recipient.  I think approximately 20 or so people regularly read this blog, and based on my superior mathematical skills, I figure if they all donate 25 cents…I'll have a $5 to put in my electrolysis fund....well on my way to a hair-free future. 

My greatest dream is that the electrolysis scholarship fund will grow and grow until I can offer permanent hair removal for other discouraged women who have also found themselves disfigured by creams, waxes, and dyes.

Let's all work together and we can put an end to the plight and struggles of hairy women everywhere.