Dont worry, this isn’t one of those “self-help” things.

Im talking about the shit no one tells you about… how 1/2 of your hair falls out like 6 months after having a baby.  I’m not fucking around.  1/2 of your hair will be gone.  It’s unbelievable.  You start thinking that you may go bald.

I mean its not bad enough that you have to stay sober, and eat healthy for 10 months, then your body is left in post-pregnancy awkwardness… THEN you lose your hair?  I mean, what the fuck?  And then I’m supposed to do this over and over again.

I now understand the “mom cut”.  Thats because your hair is gone and you have to cut it all off so you don’t cry daily about it.

I hated washing my hair, because I felt like I had murdered a doll with all the hair between my fingers.  After months of what people call “shedding”, it stopped.

One magical sunny, winter day, it stopped.

So now, here we are (almost a year later), and it’s growing out.  I look freaking insane.  I have an Angelic ring out hair that surrounds my face like a glowing halo.

It’s unbelievable.  Enjoy the picture of my “mom-growth”.  Another badge of weird honor.

Is there such thing as a 6 letter word?

If there is, it’s definitely budget.

I’ve been gone for over a month, because we are now on a crazy budget.  I say crazy because most people think getting completely out of debt in your 30’s in not doable.

Just a little background….

Husband graduated school with almost twice as much debt as our house.  You’re either thinking…

“wow, that’s a lot of student loans”
OR
“how cheap was that house?”

You’re right on both parts.  He had doctor loans… and I stole our house after the market crashed.   So, we threw crazy money at his loans the first couple years of our marriage… just to kill the predator of debt.

It was exhausting and stressful.  So, we added to the stress and had a baby.  Nothing makes things calmer… a baby will make things easier… haha no.  I’m just getting older and I figured “fuck it” the loans will always exist.

THEN I quit my job.  I told the retail to shove it by politely putting in my two weeks in, and I was on my way.

Nothing takes away stress like the loss of an income…. right?  I’m caring for the baby… that’s the stress… no?  Ok, obviously money is the source of most people’s stress.  Which brings me to the crazy budget.

Husband, being a true Virgo, has to get all his ducks in a row BEFORE making a decision.  I’m obviously not that way.  So for almost 2 months he researched Dave Ramsey, “get out of debt” guru to many.  He asked me about this dude, and after hearing a few things I liked… I JUMPED into it.

So, I haven’t posted shit in over a month because I have been twerkin’ for that money honey.  Ok, obviously no… I mean c’mon.  But setting up, managing, and coming up with extra cash is another full-time job.

I am the CHO (Chief Household Operator), baby butt wiper, budget master extraordinaire, and seller of old things.

Its been crazy.  I sold almost 4K in the month of December to go toward debt.  Debt is truly a four letter word.  It’s ugly and stressful and more terrible the anything my potty mouth can utter.  This crazy expeience is not only alieviating stress, but making my marriage stronger.  It’s something we are doing to further the life of our family.

So, have no fear… my insanity will return this month as I have learned to balance more tasks in my life.

If you’re interested in killing your debt with the atomic bomb… I would recommend this guy.  We are on track to be completely out of debt… car, student loans, house in about 2 more years.  Talk about freedom.  This isn’t one of those get rich pyramid schemes… this is actual work for just yourself.  You can listen to his pod casts for free, and if you want his book its like $10.

Good luck my friends… my the force be with you.  I hope you enjoy the new posts!

 

**update – we actually paid off all our debt (except the house) in 1yr not 2yrs**

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.

Nothing.
Nothing??
Nothing??!?!?!?

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

AND I DIVE FOR IT

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.

THE MOMENT OF TRUTH

Frog?
or
Raisin?

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.

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…

I NEVER WANT TO GUT A PUMPKIN EVER EVER EVER AGAIN

pumpkin-1
mommy -1

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.

SHE NEVER WANTS TO SNUGGLE.

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.

(Spoiler Alert)

Obviously, this post is about poop.

Motherhood is mainly about shit.  Did they poop?  How big?  Did it get on you?!

So we go to ikea… The monstrous place that I always get lost in…

She poops.

I know, shocking… As the blog is called “poop at ikea”

So I walk 15 miles to the exit…  go to the car…  sweat through my blow dried hair and makeup… and go back in to find husband.

Yes, makeup… I literally do it twice a week (Saturday and Sunday). This way I look decent for the majority of the day around the man of the house.

I find my way back through the haunted warehouse of household goods… Back to husband…

No progress has been made on choosing an appropriate wall unit for our home.

Tiny human begins tantrum.

Honestly, what does she want?  We are in a magical place where she can touch just about everything.  I don’t see the issue, but she has one.

Husband removes her from me and takes her on a walk, so I can design the wall unit.

After aging 10years at the design computer, we print out the paper needed to buy each individual piece and we are on our way.

Again, I make our way through the maze of never-ending household goods… to the warehouse..

Wouldn’t you know it?  She shits again! UHHHHH again?!? Why?  Why? WHY???

I make my way out to the car, so I can again wipe shit off a tiny ass.  Husband gathers parts that will later be an 8hr project.  (No joke, it was literally 8hrs).

Once more, I make my way back through the warehouse.  I find husband, and he proceeds to tell me that he can’t find the legs for the unit.  There are none in the section.

I find Ikea man… it is now well into the afternoon and Ikea is hopping like South Beach during a music festival.  He looks up the part and they will not have it again for 2 weeks… “But, Miami Ikea has a ton”.

FUCK

How do you build a wall unit without feet?  Fuck FUCK FuCK FUCK.

I find husband and break the bad news… he has 1/2 a ton sitting on the flat bed cart ready to purchase.

Looks like we are going to Miami. FML.

 

I know what all of you “non” stay-at-home moms are thinking.

This lucky bitch is home with her kid, and she has the nerve to complain about it.

Let me be real, it is rediculously hard to work full-time with children and I will never take that away from anyone… BUT now that I am full-time in the house…

SO…

Here is my top 10 reasons why being a stay-at-home mom blows

1. No one thinks you work
2. You never get any praise for doing anything… anything
3. You sometimes go almost a whole day without food or water
4. When was the last time you did anything for yourself?
5. Husband begins to expect more things, because you must have time
6. You never ever ever get time away from “work”
7. You have wiped up more shit then you ever hoped to do in a lifetime
8. People frown on drinking during the day
9. You have to hear “well, I worked all day” from husband
10. Nap time is never long enough