Batteries needed

I’m sorry for the delay in writing, it’s been a busy dog walkin week! I’ve had a lot of messages asking what happened with the cleaning after I spoke to the babysitter so this blog will cover her first week, my multiple face smashings, and why I’m a good mother.

So on the second day of babysitting I was going to tell her to clean up after herself, and there were other things I wanted to bring up to her. I made a list of everything I wanted to talk to her about just so I didn’t forget. When it came to the next morning I didn’t have the heart to ream her out on her second day, so I decided to say nothing and see if anything changed. I come home that day and her dishes are clean, baby’s are clean, AND mine are clean. I’m figuring she either saw my notes, or read my blog. I’m a dirty slob and I’m all about, do as I say, not as I do, so I felt really bad that she went that far from reading my notes. So being the good employer that I am I told her she only needed to clean up her stuff and baby’s… um no I didn’t. It’s a week later and she’s still cleaning my dishes, and today she tidied up the entire living room/kitchen area. She doesn’t go as far as a cleaning lady would so I feel I’m not entirely exploiting her. She’s starting to do a great job with my house, and the boy is still alive so all in all I think I’ll keep her. Unfortunately no crazy stories on that side other than I have a new babysitter and “house tidier”.

This week has taken a toll on my face however. Yesterday I was sitting down, yes peeing, and I bent over to pick up toilet paper and smashed my forehead coming up on the sink. Somehow I’m not bruised but it hurts to touch or to make any of my numerous hilarious facial expressions. And today I whacked my nose on something and I’m PRETTY sure it’s broken. If I were a doctor, and I think I am, I’d say it’s broken. My nose is bruised and painful as fuck; if my forehead were bruised too I’d be one messed up looking chick. Tomorrow I’ll probably break my arm at the rate I’m going.

Little sirs has a turtle animal light that shines stars on the ceiling that he just loves to go to sleep with and push the buttons before he falls asleep. It’s been weeks since the batteries have been dead, well who are we kidding, probably months. Once I finally decided to change the batteries for him it took me another week just to get the stupid lid to the batteries screwed off, and that didn’t even get finished. That only got done because my parents stopped in and finished the job. I was like, yes finally can get this thing working again, alas I had no batteries. Yes, I could have gone out and bought three AAA batteries but that seemed like WAY too much work. I only had one thing battery operated in my home that took AAA batteries, so I went to my underwear drawer and took my batteries out. Don’t ever think I’m not a good mom based on this blog, this proves that I’m a great mom, one who sacrifices her own happiness for her child’s. 🙂

Missed you guys, hope you enjoyed!
Mumma C

Good parent?

It’s 6:06 pm and I’m already laying my sweet ass down to bed, and yes this is normal for me. The baby’s bedtime has now become the parent’s bedtime, and I’m lovin it. So what’s my excuse since he’s not here… um, I’m lazy and I love bed? Although last night I actually left the house at 10pm to see the supermoon, which wasn’t very super, but then I got scared because it was dark out and ran back inside. I haven’t seen darkness around me in so long I forgot what it looked like. I’m also currently wearing my new Jaws shirt, and I don’t like it as much… maybe it’ll grow on me once I wear it in public and people tell me how awesome it is.

So I thought tonight I should steer a little towards the main purpose of my blog, and get back to parenting. I’ve been told, not very often mind you, by people that they think I’m a good mom and doing a good job with Cobain. I always say thank you and mumble something under my breathe like, how the hell would you know? People who aren’t with us 24 hours a day, or even for an hour out of a month aren’t very reliable sources on what makes me a good mom. For all they know I bring Cobain out of his closet when people visit, which is never, so technically he’s always in his closet. When friends or family see me with Cobain sure I feed him once in a while, give him some face squeezes, and change his diaper, if I remember, and I always think to myself, is that what they consider makes a good mom? I feel like the only person who could make an accurate statement of whether I’m a good mom or not is my husband because he’s the one who has to deal with our stupid ugly faces all day and night. I feel when people tell you you’re a good mother they think it’s the right thing to say, so they do, which just irritates me. It’s like when people tell you your baby is cute. You lyin’, you lyin’ to me, don’t fuckin lie. Cobain just happens to actually be cute, but other actual ugly babies. People think that’s what you should say when you meet a newborn or a child for the first time, but they’re all lying. I feel sorry for parents who think their child is cute, and everyone behind their backs are really saying, “good god, holy mother of mary that is one unfortunate looking child”. Hey, you want to know the truth about your kid on the ugly scale, and whether you’re a horrible mom or not, I’ll tell you! Don’t poop on my lawn and tell me it’s gold, or whatever the saying is, don’t just say the obligatory “you’re a good mom” cause I don’t want to hear it. Now, if you have something to back that statement up then please, shower me with compliments.

I know the truth hurts sometimes, but sometimes you have to hear it.
Mumma C