I’ve have now crossed another Mommy Milestone and, unfortunately for you, I have to share it with everyone! Have you ever watched your child consume massive amounts of sugary substances at a party or gathering and wondered ,with dread, how it would present itself later? Because you know… what goes in…must come out. I have crossed that line. Or more like, my daughter has crossed a line that I believe no parent should ever have to tip toe over.

Not that I’m in the habit of sharing such personal information with you, nor do I ever really want to again, but I can’t resist sharing with you “The End Results!” (Imagine this line being said in a deep, thundering, dramatic voice.) Because “The End Results” had me twisting in agony, and intermittently laughing my head off all while gagging. And “The End Results” had my daughter twisting herself into a pretzil so she could see what was so funny at her other end.

Have I given you enough details yet to make you curious enough to be willing to see what I have to share with you?

Well, hold your proverbal breath ya’ll cuz I’ve got a treat for you!

Apparently when you feed your offspring enough of this…

Then they will eventully give you this…

Yes indeed. My child did shit shamrocks.

Did you really think I’d give you a clear shot of the unfortunate diaper gift? I’m not that cruel.
I mean really, do I need to elaborate further? Are you signifigantly grosed out while simutainiously laughing your asses off? Then you know how I felt. Please also use your imaginations to picture a cute little hiney stained green. Yes, my daughter has a green arse. I know there’s a joke in there somewhere but I just can’t find it. Yep, another Mommy Milestone crossed and another Mommy Milestone that really didn’t need to be turned over. Please, please, please daughter!! Learn to use the potty before you start shitting rainbows! I don’t think I could handle that.

After taking my daughter to the potty for what seemed like the umpteenth time today I noticed a little spec of what appeared to be a foreign object in the potty.  Not that I really want to pay that close attention to whats in a potty on a normal basis but, since we are currently up to our eyeballs in potty training, I get excited about dark objects* shadowing the pale porcelain.  Just as I was gearing up to do a potty dance for my daughter I did an all stop chin drop.  To my dismay it was not a natural biological remnant* but….Money! A dime to be more precise.

WTFreak is THAT doing in there?!?

After taking a deep breath, since I knew at that point it was safe to do so without the aid of a haz-mat suit I allowed myself a brief moment of cataloguing all the ways money could end up in my potty.  I’ll even admit to a moment of delusional day dreaming where I imagined that our house was built on a hidden bounty of dimes, nickels, and quarters and they decided to find the quickest way to the earths surface by swelling out of my potty making me rich beyond my wildest dreams. I even pictured an image of taking this particular porcelain font of legal tender with me and installing it into a bathroom the size of my current house, since that’s the treatment it would deserve after flowing forth with its bounty.

But then I looked at my daughter and watched all my wild dreams of swimming in dimes flush right down the pot. Because I knew, standing in front of me, wearing her halo held up by horns, was the culprit. Now the question at hand is how? And let’s also not forget about when? Did she, in a moment of shear glee decide to see what would happen if she tossed it in there??  Did she stick her hand in with it???  Did she then touch anything else????  Did she touch the counters, the chairs, the couch, the tables, the…..????? Did she touch me???????

Gasp!  Urp!  ARRRRRGGGGG!

Did she at least make a wish first?

Another deep breath taken as I gather my wits which were swishing around me like a swirly**.

I’m fairly certain she didn’t produce the coin, ummm, naturally*. She’s never been one for sticking things in her mouth. So I’m thinking that’s one subject I can stop worrying about. Well, at least I’d like to believe it wouldn’t happen. I guess I’ll find out in the next few days if she starts spiting out change for a dollar.

So. Um. Ya. Chalk it up to another mommy milestone as I use our bar-b-cue tongs to fish out the offending change.  All the while EJ, sweet little girl that she is, is laughing her halo right off her pretty head.

Twerp.

Ps.  Please note the below “dictionary of terms”. I realize that most of you were not born in a barn like I was so you may need a guide to decipher some of the more colorful terms I used.

* In other words… Poop!

** The evil act of one arsehole adolescent sticking the head of another arsehole adolescent in the toilet and flushing.

“Slurp, slurp, slurp…”

“Uh oh! I think I’m busted for drinking my yogurt again.” says the internal voice of an imp.

“Maybe if I smile pretty for Momma she’ll think that I’m just too cute to use my spoon and that half of the cup landed in my lap and is oozing down my leg and about to drip on the carpeted floor.”

…Little Stinker

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Love and Kisses!

Imagine… 6 layers… 6 boxes of cream cheese for the frosting… 6 different colors.  Have I grabbed your attention yet?

About 6 months ago I was reading another woman’s website whom many of you probably already read or have at least checked out, My Charming Kids, and she was describing this cake that her friend brought to their lady bloggers gathering.   When I saw the pictures she had of this cake I book marked the page and told myself that one day I would have the chance.

And then bam! My friend is pregnant! (Just like that!) (BAM!) And now I have the excuse to make it! Yay!

Wait….

What?

That will mean a baby shower…..

Oh CRAP! Did I just offer to host a baby shower just so I could make a stupid cake? I think I did!

(note* I love my friend and would go to the ends of the earth for her but I DON’T DO baby showers! Unless no one else was throwing one and then of course I would do it because she’s my friend and every momma needs a showering of love and diapers. But I wasn’t the only one hosting so WHY? WHY? Why did I do this to myself… ARG!)

And many times that entire day and a half it took to make this thing did I say I’d make this cake?

Oh ya!

BECAUSE IT’S AWESOME!!

Check it out…

And just so you can get the true idea of how tall this thing was…

LOOK! One slice is bigger than my hand. (note* purple bottom layer is not on the knife because they don’t make cake knifes big enough for this monster!)

This is what I used to make it…. Except for the vanilla…. I forgot to add the vanilla!… To the picture that is.

And then all those ingredients turned into these yummy looking bowls of sweet sugary cake goo.

Which then turned into 6 lovely rainbow colored layers that are almost impossible to resist for a toddler with a stool to stand on.

“Look behind you Mom! It’s a young Kurt Russell naked!!”

She didn’t fool me just in case you were wondering.  Even when she tried to distract me with a momentary shirt stuck on head problem.

All in all I had a blast making this cake and I would do it again.  However I will also find out where the location is BEFORE I try to travel with this cake.  One of the other hostess’s of the party offered up her house and little did I know that she lived on the curviest road in the state.  I had the plate locked down so it wouldn’t move but the mass of cake on top was shimmering like jello all the way there.

If you would like the recipe please go here for that. And if you would like some advice on how to make it please feel free to ask away!

OH! I forgot to add that EVERY LAST BITE WAS EATEN OR TAKEN HOME!!  That’s not bad for a cake that size!  I think I did good!

AND EJ finally did get a slice of heaven too.

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But now she has started to call my husband by his first name. I haven’t heard her utter the words Dada alone in a couple weeks. She will say Dada a couple times then she will say his first name. “Dada! Dada! Shaa? Shaa?” And please note my use in punctuation (exclamation points and questions marks) because she will first scream “Dada” and then start asking for “Shaa” with the cutest change in tone. But then she will keep asking for “Shaa” “Shaa” “Shaa” over and over until his attention is fully focused on her. It hilarious to hear her scream his first name over and over when he comes into the room. Or my top favorite “Hi Shaa”. Can you tell she’s daddy’s little girl? The only time she says, Mama with a sweet little voice, is when I’m mad at her and she’s sucking up. Yes, my quirky little she devil does that too. When she see’s I’m getting mad or starting to lose my cool she will walk up to me and hug my legs. Or if I’m sitting she will crawl up on my lap and give me a big hug. She knows this will melt me.

Stinker.

She really is great with first names too. One of her first words was her aunts name whom in think she thinks of as her second MaMa since she’s around so much. But to hear her call her dad by his first name really solidifies the fact that my quirky baaayy-bee is growing up and turning into a snotty teenager right before my very eyes! Next thing I know she will be sneaking out of her room to meet up with some snotty boy named Snot! Arrg! Why have all my recent posts about my daughter ended with a minor freak out about my daughter growing up!!!! That’s it! Time to have another just so I have a wee little one that will still call me Mama because next thing you know EJ will be calling me “(sigh) Mooomm” and rolling her eyes at me! Oh! Wait! There are already times she calls me Mom. “Mama. Mama. Mom!!! Mom!!!” (Please note my punctuation again, as if she is already blaming me for losing her car keys.) (Sigh)

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Since I’ve been so slow at posting I thought I’d give a little treat to everyone, and a healthy dose of future embarrasment for my daughter, by showing you a nice picture montage of her toe picking entertainment!

This is going to knock your socks off!!

Can you see the look of concentration on her face? Mouth hanging wide open like a mascara applying woman.

The need to check between each toe thoroughly is great!

“What? Can’t a girl pick in peace around here?”

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“Fine! Watch if you must! But this lint has got…to…go!”

“Ahhh, lets see… I think I just spotted one more little speck…”

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“DONE! Now I can amaze you with my brilliant sock putting on skills!”

“Cuz if you put them on your hands you won’t get lint between your toes!”

“Excuse me… I just got a new text and I have a tweet to reply to.”

As you can see my little one is a busy girl.  So much lint to pick and so little time!

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Pictures you ask? I gotz them!

First a little history with this set. Before I start thinking about pie again.  My wonderful geeky/tennis pro husband has done something that every child who loves shiny things and loves to press buttons only can dream about.  He has pieced together with magic and some other various mind trickery methods an I-phone for our daughter. Made from spare parts from the several phones we’ve had and, ahem, screens I’ve we’ve cracked, yes world, believe it.  My 18 month old officially has her own I-phone.  Do we spoil or what?!  Beat that Grandma and Grandpa!  It really works too.  It doesn’t have reach out and touch someone phone capabilities, but when it’s on our own home network it can go online.  And let us not forget about e-mail. Since she was born she has had her own e-mail address. Set up by yours truly.  I mean, if she is going to be the star of my website she HAS to have her own address too right?  Mainly this was set up so she could slap out some fun letters to family members and occasionally respond to her various fan letters that she gets.  But every child star needs an outlet. Am I right?

But along with some fun technological capabilities that should be way beyond a child’s scope right now she also has at her little finger tips all the music on daddy’s I-pod play list.  She knows how to turn it on too.  Let me tell you this. It’s a really strange thing to see your little toddler toddling around with an I-phone in her hand.  She’s just doing what all toddlers do, checking out things, picking up this or that, testing limits.  Oh and lets not forget, stopping at various moments to bust a wiggle for a dance move.  It’s a riot for sure.

The trouble is, one day her little music maker started playing some rap music. I, being more of a classic Chili Peppers type of girl, of course couldn’t identify what exactly she was listening to but I do believe it was Satan chanting at her.  It had to be, because one minute my sweet, innocent, adorable, BABY is just listening to some music and the next ….this…

She’s gone all Hoochie Mama on me!  Shirt flipped up, skirt tucked into her waist band showing off her butt. Belly all hangin’ out. Arms crossed, frowning at the world. “What cho’ lookin’ at man? I ain’t gotz nothin’ fo you fool.”

“I’z a hottie. I’z noz it.”  Meanwhile her mommas eyes are burning with tears. My little girl! What’s happened to my little girl.  She’s gone all…..Hoochie!

Ok, get a grip mom. And don’t rub it in baby doll!  You don’t even know what hot stuff is let alone have any of it to show off.  Quit it before momma is forced to dress you in a potato sack.

STOP IT! Stop shaking those baby hips!  You have no idea how you are aging me right now!  First it’s dressing like a Hoochie then it’s dancing like one.  What’s next?

Wait! What just happened?  My cute baby just went from Hoochie to sittin’ around smokin’ stogies! I’m telling you. That’s what’s wrong with music these days. It can take the cutest baby and turn her into a exhibitionist with a smoking habit. Satan! Leave my daughter now!

BAM! YOU ARE HEALED!

And all cute again! Whew! That was a close call.  No more rap for you my dear until you’re 30.

Note-  I’m sure you’re wondering how her shirt get all Hoochie-fied. She shoved her arm up the bottom of it and then out the neck line, thus slipping it off her shoulder and revealing more than too much skinny baby belly.

Note about the note- I do feed my child well.  She’s just skinny and I’m just jealous.

Another note after the note about the note- How and why she kept pulling her skirt up and then shoving it down her waist line is a mystery I prefer not to solve. I will ask her when she is an old married woman. Until then I don’t want to know.

Oh, and one more note after the note after the note about the note- The stogie is a giant pretzel. What? Did you think I was going to let me my kid light up this early on? Naw!  Redneck Hoochies have to be at least 5 years old to smoke and must have a solid Mountain Dew habit in place first.

Picture this. The minute we take her socks off or bare her feet in anyway she grabs her foot, hunches over, and gets to pickin’ and diggin’. The look on her face is priceless too. She looks like she is really concentrating hard.
Making sure she checks every crack for the offending fuzz. And it’s not like she just tosses the lint away like any normal person does. Oh no! See, she’s not a normal person. She a toddler with a toe lint obsession. When she digs out her prize she wads it up and rolls it back and forth between her fingers until it either is forgotten or it disintegrates into the same abyss that last Cheerio ends up. (I really do think, in an alternate universe somewhere, that there is a giant mountain of missing socks from my dryer and underneath it, wound like veins of gold, are the missing Cheerio crumbs.)  I just hope her mission isn’t to weave a rug or a rope ladder to escape from her bedroom at night.

I know this is probably just a momentary obsession like many of the things that kids cross paths with such as feeling the need to collect all the acorns in the yard or Oh look! A little shred of paper on the floor. It’s the prettiest shred of paper EVER!!! But what if it doesn’t flit away with the sight of the next shiny object?  What if it becomes a life long obsession?  What if when she’s older and meets the man of her dreams he finds her hunched over in the bathroom one night digging for gold?  What if he is so offended by this less than lady like action that he leaves her for someone more Stepford?  Or, even worse, what if the “man of her dreams” is also a fellow toe lint picker who’s gotten fired from every fast food job he’s ever had because his fingers always smell like feet?  What if they have a whole passel of toe lint picking children?  My grandchildren will also smell like feet!!!!!  AAARRRRGGGG!

Ok, so I went off the deep end there for a moment.  But no really… toe lint.  Maybe I’ll just try to distract her next time by showing her how her finger fits nicely in her nose hole.  Yep, that’ll work!

Unknowingly, on this day, on this particular playscape that we plopped our daughter on, would also harbor a boy sized germ… ahem… bully.  (She’s not really able to haul herself up the ladders to reach these particular heights yet, so we “plop”.) On one of the levels there is a steering wheel that spins and some wooden levers to imitate a boats drivers seat. My little girl was really only interested in looking at it because she’s not quite into the function of things yet, but this germ… ahem… bully wouldn’t let her even get near it.  Any time she got close to that level he would jump over and block her.  When she would drift somewhere else on the playscape he would go about his infection of the other toys… ahem… I mean playing, meanwhile keeping a very intense close watch on the steering wheel.  Ej is still slow on the playscape, moving carefully and deliberately from one area to the other so she was easy target for this steering wheel stalking bug…ahem…boy. The other kids, a little older and more aware of themselves, would only give the germ…ahem…boy an odd look when he would start trying to shove his way onto the steering wheel when they were playing with it. Because of this, the little bully would only stand, hovering over them instead, I’m assuming giving instructions on how to drive his boat.  Because, you know, he must have peed on it or something to claim his territory before we got to the playground.  (Can you hear my teeth gnashing?)

But instead of crying and getting upset, my little girl would just give him the look you would give a dysfunctional lunatic, she’s good at that one, and would turn around and go a different direction.  She didn’t quite understand what was happening or why this turd… I mean germ… AHEM… boy was being mean and not letting her play.  But she wasn’t going to let it ruin her fun time.  She is apparently older and wiser than her mother and has more control over her emotions.  That or she’s just biding her time.  Not sure which.  I guess I’ll find out later when she’s a teenager.

Taking a deep cleansing breath now.  Gaining my self control back….

Today, Ej never got her chance. And I held my fangs at bay, barely.  Today she wasn’t fast enough or big enough to shove her way in, but one day little germ… ahem… boy she’s going to eat your lunch and tell you that you’re going to like watching her do it.  She is silent now….Waiting, watching for the day to step on your foot you big bully. And I’ll be a proud momma on that day.

Thanks for letting me vent…

Germs……

Funny, the only thing I’m nervous about today, besides my friend going through a major surgery of course (did you think I was that uncaring) is that I’m hoping all the new baby smell doesn’t wear off on me and jump start my hormones.  Cuz you know it can do that.  One sniff of a new babies bald head and suddenly you find yourself 70 pounds heavier, well I do at least, eating grapes like they are your life blood, and praying the blessed event could hurry up so you can pee normally again.  And then there is this…  Cute, adorable, little sweet smelling babies turn into TODDLERS!  The little hell beasts that were put into our care by Mother Nature who apparently has a very dry sense of humor.  These things move so fast and can leave a wake of destruction behind so quickly that you start wondering if it might be better to just leave everything they tossed around all in its place on the floor. It’s going to end up there anyways.  And the NOISES these creatures can make!!! Ever heard a pissed off banshie mixed with a howling hound dog?  Anything can and will set them off and once they start you’d better have their favorite foods/books/blankies ready or your in for a concert of screaming that will leave you praying for earplugs and a really large glass of wine.  A beautiful glass of shear relaxation bliss… that you won’t be able to drink because they are moving too fast for you to catch them.  And if you do happen to snag one on the run they turn to Jello in your arms and slither away continuing to leave a path of destruction behind that an F5 tornado would be proud of.   AND… Deep breath in, deep breath out… Yep, that’s what I need to keep remember as I feel the maternal rush today.  ”Back demon hormones! BACK!”

That’s what I’m doing today.  How about you?

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