So I’ve grown up…

I’m not talking about the usual… budgets, responsibilities, ect.  I’m referring to something even harder.

I have had to get disgusting animals out of my house… ALL BY MYSELF!!!!!

Everyone has their fears.  Mine happen to be frogs and lizards.  For all the Northern people, you’re probably thinking that lizards are only in the zoo 😂

Welcome to Florida… home of sun, fun, and lizards fucking everywhere!!!

So, a few days ago I had a baby curly tail in my house.  They are not like the normal baby tiny lizard… they are full grown at birth (like a giraffe… they come out running).  Anyways, I freak silently.  Silently because there is no way this repitle is getting in the way of a good nap!  I frantically scour the room for something to trap it with…

Hello last nights water… I grab it and chug the stale, warm water.

Now I need some sort of poker.  One that would be suitable for a lion, as I’m not trying to touch this slinking creature.  I reach for my scale (yes, stupid but it was the closest thing, and I’m deperate)… The lizard squirms quickly under my jewlery chest.

Well, we might as well burn the house down.  I mean seriously, I’m never going to get this full-grown baby nastiness out of my house.

I muster up every bit of courage I have and move the chest.


Where did it go?

I see a piece of cardboard that had fallen between the wall and the chest.  A perfect poker/scooper.   I grab it, and out wiggles the creepy crawly… OH fuck


Ok, not literally.  I literally held my breath and got the cup on top of him.

Oh thank god!!

I could literally drop to my knees to pray.

Godzilla has been captured in a cup!!!  Now, I just need to slide the cardboard under EVER SO GENTLY… I dont want any “cut off” wiggly tails in my house…

I pick it up my contraption, and fling it outside.

All in the kingdom is safe again!!!

FAST FORWARD (two days)

This morning… tiny human is in her high chair munching on raisin bread, and I spot a blob of sorts in the corner.

Being that my contacts are not in, and obviously glasses have not found their way to my nose… I squint hard to see what it is.  What if it’s an animal?  I make no sudden movement, as I’m cautious not to startle the creature.  I put all the lights on in the kitchen and return to squint at it again…

Could this be a raisin?  No, I haven’t fed her raisins in a few  days and the germaphobe inside me vacucums the kitchen like it’s going out of style.

What the fuck is it?

It hits me like a ton of bricks!!!! A BABY FROG?!?!?! How did this tiny jumping monster get in?

Oh fuck me…. seriously?  I just did the lizard thing a few days ago.  How could this be happening?  And it’s so close to my tiny human.

What if it gets her??? What do I do then??

With the “hot dog” song playing in the background, I move to grab a plastic cup.

Still the frog/raisin has not moved.

I slowly creep toward it, and unleash the fury of my plastic cage upon the tiny hopping creature.

CAUGHT IT!  I either caught a raisin or a frog.  If it’s a raisin, I’m going to be so embarressed by my blindness.

Again, I slide a thin piece of cardboard under the cup.

Once breakfast is over, I ask tiny human if she wants to see a frog jump.  She gets excited and I’m guessing that means yes.

I get my contraption, carefully bring it outside, and set it on the floor.



I lift the cup and the littlest frog takes the biggest leap.

My tiny human shreaks with delight.  I take the cardboard, and poke it again to hop.

She chants “more more more” as the ity bity frog hops into the mulch.

I know it has happened.  I’m offically an adult.  I did not run and scream when confronted with these baby monsters.  I quietly handled the situation like an adult.

I’ve grown up.  My mother would be proud.

Balls deep in pumpkin gooo…

yuck. Yuck YuCK!

Sorry about the disgusting title.  But this shit is nasty.  If you think, balls deep is just deep penetration, please do your “grown-up self” a favor and google the meaning.

Don’t worry, I’ll wait here.

So, like I was saying… nasty.

Normally, husband guts the pumpkins and harvests the seeds, but we have been traveling for the last 3 weekends.  Unfortunately for me, he didn’t accomplish his usual task.

Here we are Halloween night, and not one pumpkin in my house has been carved.

What will my tiny human think?  She’ll definitely think I’m a failure as a mother. She will know the shame of not having her own perfectly carved pumpkin.  She will wonder why mommy never made a jac-o-lantern out of her tiny baby hands…

Ha, just kidding.. she’s 1.  She has no fucking idea what’s supposed to happen.  All she knows is I keep dressing her in a furry suit in hot FL weather.

So, I decide to surprise husband and make the deseeding of the pumpkins a completed task.  I YouTube how to accomplish my mission.  I feel confident in my abilities despite the lack of any experience. #truemillennial

I go for it!

What a fucking mess I make…. uggghh

Seriously, those vagina monsters on YouTube lied to me.  I have pumpkin goop everywhere and water definitely does not help separate out the goo from the seeds.

Why did I scoop it all out??!?!?!?  Why did I get skin, slugdge, goo, and seeds????

I rinse it in the stainer and tirelessly pick out weird goopy chuncks.  Then I transfer to the rinse bowl… back to the strainer… back to the rinse bowl…. back to the strainer…

I’m literally making NO progress!!!

I’m up to my elbows in pumpkin… trying not to make a freaking mess in the house… praying that tiny human stays asleep just long enough for me to finish.

Round two

pumpkin – 1
mommy – 0

I grow smarter, being that I just failed completely the first time.

I gently ease my fingers up the pumpkin wall and scoop just seeds and small miniscual amounts of goo.

I complete pumpkin two in a much shorter amount of time; however one thing is certin…


mommy -1

Drunk on a random Tuesday

Again, spoiler alert... this has to do with a mom-over.  It’s not a hangover, because you cannot deal with a night of drinking in the same way pre-children.

Mom-OVER : Quite possibly the worst day of your life.  You know it is about to happen the second you open those over tired eyes, and wonder how you could possibly feel this bad.

Normally, most things ache when I get up in the morning.  I flop out of bed to get a crying tiny human from her crib.  I waddle back to my warm bed, and pray she wants to snuggle for a little while.


Today, I call for husband to grab her, because I was afraid I would drop her.  Being that the world was spinning so rapidly, I knew he was the right person for the job.

So, there are obvious struggles with caring for children when you’re Mom-over.

Thank god my mom is retired and answered my phone call as I begged her to come over, telling her I was sick.

Mommies will always run to their sick babies, and I was rather ill.

I confess when she walks in, and I tell her about my terrible hangover.  I tell her that I have been unable to contain the water I so desperately need, because my body is pressing the auto-reject button the second it hits my stomach.

She tells me to go to bed, and plays with the tiny human for a while as I sleep.

I know you’re thinking that this is unfair.  I agree.  I’m lucky my mother is able to come over and save me, but don’t worry there is a plot twist.

My daughter is at the stage where she hates her diaper being changed.  It’s always a lot of fun to tussle with a tiny human when her poop is out in the open and close to getting on  you.

I hear her screaming during a diaper change, and I feel capable of walking into her room.  My mom is frantically searching for diaper cream as her tiny hoo hoo is red.

I realize the “butt paste” has become old, but decide to throw some on anyway.

FAST FORWARD: Mom leaves, and I’m still fighting my mom-over.

Tiny human poops again.  Shocking.  I just wipe up shit all day.

I shuffle to her room, fight the good fight, and realize her little hoo hoo is bright red.

I blame the next chapter of events on my  mom-over because I’m not quite capable of thinking and trying to hold down a little bit of soda (pop) at the same time.

I figured I would put her in an Epsom salt bath to help sooth her little junk.

I place her in the water and she doesn’t being to play.  “Odd” I thought.  She just sits there for a little and then starts crying and saying mama.  I pull her out and hold her as she screams.

Still, I’m unaware of my foolish, horrible choice.

To the changer we go, and I realize her tiny parts are incredibly inflamed now.  I race with a naked, screaming baby to grab the oil I’ve been using on her face to clean up her drool rash.  I put some on with a layer of petroleum jelly  and begin to panic.


Ok for real…

I PANIC! aka I call husband, tell him of my stupidity, and ask for advice.

He tells me check it in 10 minutes to ensure it doesn’t get worse, and get diaper cream stat.

What do I do?

You guess it!  I CALL MY MOM!!!!!!!! HelP HeLp HELP!!!

My mom says she will grab it and be right over.

Once here, she asks “why would you put salt on a wound?”

OMG!  She’s right!!!!

What fucking mother puts salt on their child’s wound?  What kind of monster would subject their tiny human to that kind of torture?

Me.  Stupid hungover me!

OH fuck, I didn’t even think about it like that!!!!! I figured it would be a relaxing relief, not Chinese torture.

So now, tiny human is asleep for her nap, and I will nurse my mom-over with some Ramen soup.  Clearly, not my usual lunch choice, but I need to be back on point to take care of a tiny human properly.

Sometimes I wonder how they just let people take children home without proper education. FML.