...and here I am peddling my wares

Yep....I'm sellin something.  

Calm down, relax, don't go changing your numbers or removing me from Snapchat just yet.

 

I'm not asking you to host a party, or come try on my leggings or telling you you're fat so you should wrap some shit on those dimples. 

Well not yet...actually not ever.  

I don't plan on having parties or guilting anyone into buying a $600 dollar knife set (although I do have one and it's worth every penny and I can totally hook you up with a guy...) 

Really, there are only a few people who should feel obligated to buy whatever I chuck at their faces- only one really.  (If your name rhymes with Fawna, Lawna, Tawna....you know who you are...  Oh, to hell with it- SHAUNA this is you, but I'll get to you later.  In person, so it's harder to say no) 

Seriously though- that's totally not what this blog post is about.  Not really.

I did decide to jump into a new "business" and I will be the seller of some shit.  

Jeezus, I can feel your eyes rolling already- and my first response is to tell most of you to fuck off.  

Why? 

Well, Because I am the proud owner of leggings, vitamins, shakes, dildos, pizza stones, jewelry, and more candle wax than fucking yankee candle company; that's why.  

Also, because I'm not trying to sell you any shit- at least not yet.  (But I will SHAUNA and MIRIAM and HEATHER and JESSICA.and COURTNEY...oh, I know it's been a while for some of you ladies, but I haven't forgotten the purse parties or the time you laughed at my eyebrows Jessica.)

  

 

 
 

 

(I disguised the suspects but I'll totally take you off if you want me to) 

Back to my point....

I initially planned on becoming just a customer of my "cool-as-shit cousin Meg, but as usual I called an audible at the last minute and became a SB or a TP or a PPIQ or whatever letters they use to refer to "the chick that can get the shit and take your money".  (If your wondering.....no, those letters do not contain the letter c.  You know for consultant....but whatever.)

At this point I can pretty much feel Meg cringing (from 800 miles away)and telling me I'm a BP and for the love of all things holy please stop calling it shit. (She's my boss-ish but she can't actually fire me so I'll be calling it shit for the rest of this post if you're wondering)

 

Back to my elusive point:

Meg is a BP (or SP or PPIP or some shit) for Rodan and Fields.  That is the shit I keep referring to...although I don't really think it's shit.  (I would assume by now any of you reading this understand that shit is essentially my word for stuff or items. You know, just like terrorists and assholes are my words for children) 

Well anyway, Meg is my sponsor (we'll call her my dealer for now because it's more interesting) and she has asked me to write "my why" for joining R&F.  So that's the point of all this.  

You know the drill..... 

The dealer is the keeper of the shit, so you do what the dealer wants to get the shit.

....this means I'm gonna have to write an acceptable and mainly politically correct "why" for the people that don't know me.  

In order to offset the mental anguish of writing an entire paragraph without the word fuck I decided bring the real shit to my blog....where I can curse and call people dealers and make you laugh all while explaining why I decided to sell this. 

It's pretty simple - fucking zits and holy shit wrinkles that don't go away when I quit making the "for the love of god pick up the goddamn toys" face.  

Really that's it. You can quit reading now - you know the reason.  

But......If you're still paying attention I'll elaborate. 

I have the skin of a pubescent boy- AT ALMOST 40 FUCKING YEARS OLD!  Not the perks tho....I don't have the collagen of a pubescent boy.  I have the collagen of a 36 year old smoker which means I have fucking wrinkles under zits!  What in the actual fuck!?!?!

Know what else I have? 

-Baskets and drawers and bags full of shit to slather on my asshole skin. 

-Dermatologist appointments Coming  out of my ass....

-9,567,345 Walgreens points from all of the prescriptions for the slathering shit

And a standing Botox appointment to paralyze my face so it wont get any worse while I'm not paying attention

Check it out:

These are just a few pics of my stash:

 

 

Got a rare fungal infection from the jungles of Africa that causes boils?  I've prob got a steroid for that.... 

 

None of it really works completely and I'm losing my fucking patience. 

The tiny terrorist is still a dick and making things worse if you were wondering....She told me a few weeks ago that I needed to get on proactive for my "spots".  She even tried to sell me on their new face mask!!! (She has also reminded me about proactive no less than twice a week since.)

 

 I know she means well but she's 4 for fucks sake! 

That brings me to two weeks ago. 

I decided to go back to the only thing that has ever worked for me and gotten rid of my acne completely- Accutane. 

The side effects are pretty harsh: dry skin and lips, decreased night vision, ingrown toenails, giant headed fetuses, depression, suicide and liver damage.  (Yeah I totally said giant-headed fetuses....look that shit up) 

 I've survived them before.... there's also still the damn four year old counting my spots.  

So, off I went to the dermatologist. He agreed to write the script and I was on my way.  

Until I hit the Walgreens.  

$285 for a prescription that will cure my zits for 30 days and may or may not cause me to blow my head off even if the zits go away.  

Surprise!!! My insurance doesn't cover the cost because I'm too old for acne.  

Thanks Aetna!  I fucking think so too....maybe you could have a pep talk with my fucking face.  

$285 is a problem because .that totally eats up my $300 Botox budget (shut up- yes I have a Botox budget) 

Since I couldn't decide which was worse (zits or wrinkles) I just shit-canned both. 

That's where my dealer Meg comes in.  She's been using the same shit and her face looks AMAZING.  I asked her all about it and did no research and jumped right in.  

It was cheaper than the giant-fetus-head meds and lasts longer than the botox, plus there is a empty bottle refund guarantee.  

It def. can't be worse than my other 2 options right? 

(I've since done a little research and it actually looks really promising.)

So there's my why- vanity and my asshole kid (and I really hate having to wear make up to cover my skin...so laziness too) 

I'm supposed to put a pic of my why, but my skin is a shit show so I'm refusing for now. Instead here's a really cute picture of me with all kinds of flattering filters.  (I have taken a pic and will post it with my results later on when I'm talking you into buying my shit.... )

 

Until then check out my FB post for some of the amazing products and results that other people have had. 

That's  it for now. Wish me luck! 

   

https://ayaste.myrandf.com/

F#@$ You And Your Organic Tomatoes

So, I was reading some shit today about how you should leave your cell phone at home when you take your kids to the park because if you don't pay absolute attention to them at all times they're gonna become serial killers. 
Then I felt bad about my parenting skills. 
Then I scrolled past another article about how tomatoes are being genetically modified and if you don't feed your kids the organic kind your dooming them to a life of drug use and homelessness....or some shit. 

Then I realized that people are actually reading this and thinking that they need to do this shit to be good parents...and others are actually turning their noses up at those of us that don't make homemade gluten free, sugar-free, dye-free bread. 

Then I was offended
....then I felt stupid for actually being offended by the judgement of people who spend whole hours finding ways to sneak Kale into their kids food.  (Then I made a mental note to write a blog and bitch and got my ass back to work)

These kids have literally NEVER had Kale

I was gonna start this blog with "since when did everyone have the right to judge everyone else".

But today happened.... Maybe it's my shitty day or maybe it's the time I had to toss this whole blog idea around in my head.

Whatever the reason I've now decided that that opening line is total bullshit.  Since never.  No one really ever has the right or authority to judge anyone else....well maybe said judge-ee's shrink, but that's it.

That's beside the point.  Since when has that ever stopped anyone before?  Everyone's always judged everyone else- it makes the world go round.  It's why I paint my stupid ugly toenails even though no fucking color on earth will camouflage my long ass second alien toes.

What's new-ish is the self proclaimed right to judge whole groups of mothers based on the screen time and fucking kale consumption.  (Btw...screen time is my mommy Xanax and shitty toddler murder prevention and kale is just fucking gross.  I don't care what you dump on it or how you blend it- that shit is nasty! Just admit it - the rest of us already know it)

Even worse is the ability to post that shit on an open forum like you have some degree or some other quality that should make people stop and take notice of your bullshit.  (Pretty much what I'm doing here...)

But that's not what really got me today.  Crunchy Peggy in her sweat-stained Birkenstocks can blab all she wants about how she's superior because she was able to hide her kids kale by wrapping it in tofu and slathering it in coconut oil.

What I can't fathom is why that actually even registers on a regular moms radar.

First off....what happened to the good old days when we judged other women on their shoes and inability to keep their legs closed.  Why doesn't anyone care that Katie looks like a hooker today?!?!? How did eating organic and living like the Mennonite become somehow holier than thou?  These people are fucking hippies....they're cool, but no body really pays attention to their nonsense.  We all know that one day they'll grow up,  don a button-up shirt,  probably even invest in a sensible pair of tennis shoes and join the real world (over at the McDonalds drive-through -just trying to get a happy meal for the toddlers after a long day of real work)

Secondly, the bitch wears sweaty Birkenstocks, thinks tie dye is an acceptable pattern to wear and named her fucking kid Orphelia....since when do we take her serious??? And when did your figurative middle finger quit working?? 

When did we start bashing other moms over organic tomatoes and TV schedules.  We all know it's totally acceptable to talk shit if little Johnny is a dick and spits on your kids and mommy refuses to discipline him  - I mean that actually affects the rest of us. 
But organic food, the amount of red food dye you allow your kids to consume, that shit has no bearing on anyone but your kid and his butthole at the end of the day. 

This one eats boxed mac and chees almost

daily and she's freaking MAGIC!!

When did we forget that we're in this together...we're not in a competition! 
We're literally just trying to stay sane and not murder a member of our own family (and usually trying to cook dinner, bathe kids, work a job outside of the home and remember to keep that damn alien toe painted)

We might all be taking totally different approaches to this parenting thing, but we're literally just trying to keep a bunch of drunken midgets alive long enough to be independent adults who we can count on to wipe our asses when we're 90.

And how did we get so fucking sensitive.  We (moms - every single one of us) literally grew a fucking human in our body.  Whole teams of high paid engineers cant even build a car with out 15 recalls. 

We built a humans...WITH OUR LADY PARTS and no directions. 
We build them then go on to squeeze them out of a hole the size of a pea. 

I built this one 13 years ago and she's still alive....

Even after all of that we STILL love them  - we stay up nights on end being literally shit on, spit on, puked on, hit, scratched and pinched. 
We're like 3 water boardings shy of POW status (just stop - this is an exaggeration.  I know that's probably not even close to being real life tortured in a POW camp but this is my blog and I can delete your comments and call you a whiney twat whos missing the point)

After all that how the hell are we so fucking sensitive??

FUCK YOU PEGGY!  I built a baby...3 of them.  Ya know what else....all 3 are still alive!  I'm batting a-fucking-thousand over here!  (And using corn syrup and Sponge Bob Square pants to boot).  You can either cheer me on or fuck off but you cant make me feel bad for not buying the 12 dollar quinoa bread or hiding in the bathroom to eat my M&M's.

Maybe if more of us told Peggy to fuck off instead of trying to figure out how the hell to cook quinoa she'd decide to keep her super Mennonite mommy skills in her own house and just be a regular team player like the rest of us. 

As for me...none ones dead yet, they all know how to use the word fuck in it's proper context, sometimes we only bath 3 times a week, fairly often they spend whole hours on an iPad or in front of the TV just so I can maintain my composure or do bills.  I even hide candy in the shitter and tell them I'm pooping just so I don't have to share. 
On top of all of that they know they are loved, they know they have boundaries and consequences, they might not always have my undivided attention but they know that when they need me I'll be there.  Hell, I even have a 13 year old daughter that confides in me (like real shit confides...I don't have to read her diary)

This is what not baking quinoa bread looks like - and that's totally beer in my hand

So, fuck you Peggy -  and your organic kale flavored quinoa tofu bread.  You can waste all your time trying to tell us haggard moms how we're ruining our kids and coming up with new recipes that still taste like cardboard.  I'll be over here enjoying mine when they're tolerable and hiding in the shitter eating chocolate when they're being assholes. 

To my friends...(as long as yours is breathing and doesn't spit on my kids or steal my car) Way to fucking go! 

I'm sick and my kids are not fun....AT ALL

I usually share the funny stuff here and hope to make everyone laugh, the last two weeks haven't been all that funny.  I think it's because I've been sick.  Not sick enough to actually get my ass to the doctor or need sympathy but enough to make life miserable for all of us.

Anyway, I was reading a fellow mom's blog about how she felt overwhelmed and and some ways felt like she had failed (she is a stay at home mom).  I didn't enjoy the fact that someone else was having a shitty time, but it was nice to know I'm not the only one who feels like life is imploding sometimes.

Generally, I don't write this crap because even though I don't always feel "Lucky"  I know that I am.  I have  friends and family that have struggled to have children and would give anything to have the three healthy children that I have.  Don't get me wrong..I know exactly how blessed I am, but some days I would still like a vacation from my "Blessings"

I figured I'd share my comment for anyone that's been there before. 
Or for any of you that have teen daughters...go ahead and use it as birth control - or call me I'll let you borrow my kids.  I'll give them sugar and hand them over without naps.

So, here it is:

I'm on the opposite end of the spectrum in terms of work, but I feel exactly the same.  I work full time as a project engineer and have 3 kiddos (That I never really planned on having - if we're being honest)  My oldest is 12 (she was supposed to be my 1st and only)  #2 is a three year old boy  and #3 is a two year old diva baby.  (Daddy is awesome and has endless patience- thank god because he picks up the slack that I leave laying around.) 

Recently the whole routine of coming home from work, picking up 2 screaming toddlers, trying to cook dinner (with 2 screaming toddlers) and trying to get dishes and homework done has just been overwhelming.  
I want to scream at the kids to leave me alone for 2 damn minutes and I want to scream at my husband and remind him that those 2 kids were his idea (therefore I should go on vacation and he should raise them until they're normal at which time I'll come back and take all of the credit for raising 3 well adjusted children). Some days all I want is to actually run away and take that vacation alone and not have to wipe anyone's nose or ass or plead with anyone to eat their vegetables. 

 I just want one night without a tantrum and the idea of reading bedtime stories makes my eye twitch. 

By 10PM everyone is down for the night and replay all of the shitty things I said or the times I lost my patience or the moments I wished I wasn't a mother and this wasn't my life and I feel like a complete failure for  not "treasuring these moments".  

For a second I actually think about waking my babies just to hug them and tell them I love them.  I make a mental promise to do it better the next day and not scream or shoo them away, but the next day is a shit show just like the day before and the day before. I feel like I'm drowning in tantrums, dinners, homework and shitty diapers.

This hasn't always been the case and I'm trudging through hoping it's just the toddler phase that's making this all so damn hard (I actually enjoyed having two babies, but the toddlers are terrible).  I'm trying to learn to let go and enjoy the kids and not worry about the mess or the little things.  I try daily to remember that they are still just babies and find the fun in interacting with them instead of being annoyed at the shit that doesn't go as planned. 

I feel like I'm in over my head with work and a pre-teen and two babies.  But work is my vacation - it's a place where people can wait and I don't have to be at everyone's beck and call.  It's a place where all my shit is in order, I know what I'm doing and I'm in control.

Sometimes, I feel like total crap for working and missing "their formative years" and actually enjoying it, but I know I'm not cut out to be a stay at home mom.  I guess what I'm saying is thanks for letting me know it's shitty on both sides of the fence.

So there you have it.....
I have figured out the solution though - I need my mom.
If she lived here I could totally leave them with her for the night and have a mini vacation with my husband.

For all of you out there that know my mom let her know.  Shoot her an email, stop by and offer to pack her stuff, offer to rent her house.  Let her know how much better my quality of life would be if she's just move across the country and into my basement.