Ahh, I see, going on troll patrol are we…..

Well, well, well….. Lookie what trash the old blog dragged in….. I figured it would be best for me to say my peace here, since, it clearly originated here….. So, dear readers who find it necessary to reach out to the old “wazband” about my blog, a few notes to you….

  1. It’s called humor, fucking learn it
  2. It’s all true, he is annoyed because he was, in fact, caught
  3. Step back, breathe, close your eyes, and realize what a god damn fucking troll you are for “reporting to him” he knows it all, he fucking created it. If you think you know more about my marriage than I do (which, hey, you might) please feel free to email me, I am always looking for new material
  4. Question my BLOG all you want, forward it to him, read it to him because he is a questionable at best reader, but know one thing…. There is only ONE parent involved here. There is one parent making my boys do homework, making sure they have dinner, showers, shoes, that they learn how to ride a bike.  There is one parent taking them to Disney, to Maine, teaching them how to waterski.  There is one parent laying in bed with them at night when they have a sore throat or a nightmare.  There is one parent praying with them and reminding them to be thankful for what they have, though it might not be much. There is one parent who gets them to school, picks them up from school, meets with teachers and works through the night to make up for the time they missed at work.  There is one parent who sits at the counter night after night googling “third grade math” and going over the sound that “F” makes, who cries with pride when the youngest mini writes his name.  There is one parent helping to perfect the dunk shot, or the trick shot from the stairs. There is one parent who sacrifices everything, there are no fancy dinners, no manicures, no nights on the town, so that they can play basketball or have swim lessons, so that they don’t see how hard it really is. There is one parent, who lays awake every night, scared that she will never be enough, because she is only one person.  One parent. There is only one parent. There has always only been one parent.  So if I WRITE about it, as an outlet, as humor, know, that I am the ONE parent.
  5. Keep reading my blog, forward it to him, send it to him, I am paid by the click. It went viral last week.  Who’s winning now?
  6. Now fuck off and de-friend me you douche bags
  7. .a8bdaa8feccf9e55e87a0b3e37d45b2f

10 minutes, Oh, excuse me, 100. NBD.

peep.pngThis April, I was blessed enough (I had to put that in there, because I can’t stand when people #blessed) took the minis to sunny FLA.  More on all of the deets of the trip, our doings, getting yelled at, the one time bigs almost drown (well, one time I saw), flooding the kitchen, etc etc, but first, lemme tell you about a trip we took to the ole Animal Kingdom.

It was day 2 of what shall be known as our “Disney Excursion.”  Listen, I am NOT a Disney person (not saying they are weird, but they are, I have never seen so many adults dressed up in fucking costumes when it is 98 degrees, except for that one time I went to a drag show and that actually seemed more approp than these people just walking around with ears on their heads and matching “family vacation” T shirts  it is just not my gig). Again, more on all of that later, but, let’s just start with a lil safari we took.

Apparently there are “do’s” and “don’ts” to the Disney parks. I have no idea what any of them are, because I am a pretty bad parent and didn’t read about any of this stuff, but seems like this “Safari” is on the solid “Yep” list.

My general “order” to these parks (and, my life in general TBH) is “Ohhh, let’s just go in, and we will see what we find, I bet we will like something, and if we see a monkey, roarsome.”  Ok, ok, I suppose when you are dropping some serious Disney dollahas on this, you may want to, oh, idunno, see if there is an app for that or something, but again, I didn’t.  (Sidebar, it is more like I can’t, I can’t plan every second of my life, and to plan even a single second of vacation, is just everything I am not, interesting fact, Disney parks average 52,000+ people a day.  Ever stood in line with that many people? Right.).

So, as we are wondering around aimlessly, trying to find a tiger to pet (did you know that is frowned upon? What the fuck are they there for then? To “look” at? Lame.). I stumble on this safari (literally, one too many AM sangria).   Oh! I totally have a déjà vu moment and am like “I think this is on the heeellllyep list.”

Now, you need to understand, that the parks put up these signs (for us assholes who don’t fastpass because they just can’t deal) and it tells you your wait time.  I would say they are pretty accurate….. I see a sign that looks EXACTLY like this for the Safari.1

There is only a 10 minute wait for someone to take me on a Safari and drive me around Africa for 22 minutes.  Done. Sign me up.

OK, I am not very smart, totally on board with that, but when 41,000 of the 52,000 people at the park are in the same fucking line, it is not a 10 minute wait.  I literally see people coming in with coolers and imma like “huh? 10 minutes you say?”  But the thing is, once you are in these lines, you are kind of locked in. And by “kind of” I mean “totally fucking”  And I am still thinking 10 minutes…  Dudes, I have no fucking clue. Disney V card right here.  So we are in line for about 20 minutes (which I feel like is longer than 10, but again, I am not very smart) when I send Pie this text.

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THEY RAN OUT OF FUCKING ZEROS??????  How for fucks sake does that actually happen????? Can we sidebar how patient Pie is that I send him like 86 of these a day, AS IF HE CAN FIX IT?!?!?!?  I hate myself.

Fast forward, fast forward, we get on what seems like a standard safari vehicle (because obvi I know). And I’m all like “Can we get a bartender here? I just waited for ten minutes one hundred minutes.”

OK, so imma tell you a lil Disney secret.  When you finally make it on the truck, you know, for the Safari, there is a “good” side and a “bad” side.  Guess which one I picked.

So the mini one and I saw a ton of awesome stuff.  Like this:

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Giant piles of shit. Lots of them.

 

This was pretty fantastic too.  A giant pile of heeeeyyyyyyyyyy……

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There may have been some animals on the left side, but I could not see past this guys hat, which was fine, because,  I only waited 100 minutes.  I should note too, that at this point, every “animal” that the driver “points out” MJ yells (and I mean YELLS)  “DOGGIE, WOOF” or “IS DAT A REINDEER? WHERE IS SANTAS FAT BELLY?” So people were less than impressed with us. Shocking.

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Good news is, they got this sign correct. Which is awesome. And I had a bangin view of it.

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So, as you can imagine, I was already pretty fucking jazzed with this hot spots we had seen on safari, when the driver was like “PEOPLE ON THE RIGHT, THIS IS THE BEST THING YOU ARE GOING TO SEE!!!!!”

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A fucking termite hill.  You can’t make this shit up.  At this point I jumped up and was like “WOOOOFUCKINGHOO, I LOVE TERMITES.” Because, ya know.

As we rounded the corner to end our 22 minute drive that we did not wait in line 10 minutes for, the driver is like “People on the right, people on the right, there is an animal on your side!”

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You can’t even make this stuff up people.  You really can’t.

 

 

Flawless Execution, 1.1

windiwSo the minis and I took off for our first solo adventure via aero-plane together.  Wait, I think? There may have been more that I blacked out forgot. This is embarrassing. I actually have no idea if we have done this before.  All I can remember right now is that one flight I took with the former Mr. Nara, when I was like 85 months pregnant with peewee and had a 2 year old Quinn, and got upgraded to first class and HE TOOK MY FUCKING UPGRADE.  We got off the plane in Phoenix and he was HAMMERED, and I legit was like “Yea, peace.” I still find it strange sometimes things didn’t work out with us.

Anywoot, I am up and at em at like 4am….. Thank goodness brother had a solid nights sleep like a so

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He sleeps ACROSS me…. No, Pie, no.

(I texted Pie at like 5am like “Listen, super into you, but if you do this, straight to the trundle, pick your poison.”) That makes exactly one of us (no joke, when I woke up bigs, he was like “no, 5 more minutes”)…. DUDE, I AM TAKING YOU ON VACATION!?!???!  Anyholla. Off we go to the airport.

Right now, you are like “wha-wha-wait, Pie?” No pausing people, this is about me. And there are some things I don’t share. Not saying Pie is one of them, just saying. Wait, I don’t share Pie…. Or share about. This is all coming out wrong, what I am saying is I won’t share Pie or share details about Pie. #inphoneaspie

It is standard April vacation crowded, however, interesting fact, when you travel as a legit frazzled single mom of two mini boys, people feel so bad for you they let you cut them and are all like “GET THE FUCK THROUGH THE LINE AND AWAY FROM ME” are generally a bit more understanding.  Case in point….  Getting through security was like this:

Security: Are you traveling alone with those two animals? Are you being held hostage? Exactly how sedated are you

Me: Yep.

Security: (Literally, as they take down those rope barriers) “Oh, I am so sorry, you can go right through the center of the line to the front” (there was honest to god another person waving me down, like “OVER HERE, WE WILL SAVE YOU”)

Me: OK.  I would almost like rent a child if I was traveling alone just to get to the front of 9000 people.

Things were going oddly smoothly until I got the token full search (every time, every fucking time, and this time it was not even a full size bottle of shampoo or drugs that did it). Even when I travel solo with like a laptop and a chapstick, for the day, they are like “Stop right there lady.”

Once we make it through my strip search, the minis are hangry.  Fair enough.  Oh, and this is happening…

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Don’t let us stop you, just getting strip searched.

Honest to god, NOTHING can interfere with this child when he is in the zone. I get it dude, I do…… So, we hop into the 45 minute dunkin donuts line to get them bagels, and obvi, they don’t have them…… Brother is now crying because apparently that is the only food he will eat and if he doesn’t have it now is likely going to starve (listen, I get this too, he is my mini and must be fed every 4-5 minutes). Make it to the gate, and honest to god, I am in shock that things are sort of going ok, when both minis give the standard “I have to poop.” You know how some people will only poop at home, I swear, the minis will only poop in public….. I am all like “welp, gunna have to learn how to hold it because we are boarding in 14 seconds.” They tell me they can’t so I am all like “welp, go in your Spidy undies” because I KNOW there is not a shot they will shit in those (Paw Patrol, sure, Spiderman, fuck nope).

We line up to load onto the plane, and I am all like “Oh, who is going to sit next to the window” (Sidebar, I am HONESTLY so fuckin dumb sometimes that it actually hurts me, why can’t I just keep my mouth shut?)…. And at the same time they are like “MEEEE!!!! And mommy, I need to be next to you.” Both of them. Samsies.  Literally samsies. This wouldn’t normally be a problem, because they generally can’t wait to get away from me, but this time, the guy behind us, was like “Oh, you know that this plane is 2 and 2 seats.”  HA. I already see where this is going…. I am leaving one child with a stranger, that is where.  This is also the time that I find out that this bird doesn’t have wi-fi, and I am like “So, ah, littles, want to go to Mobile, Alabama, I mean, I have no idea what is there, but they have wifi.”

I bribe the big guy to go sit with another family across from me, (honestly, he is such a teenager now, that I think he wanted the chicks on the plane to think he was traveling alone, at age 8.  Yup.).  Brother is emptying the ENTIRE contents of his “Fyida” bag out and Bigs is watching ESPN (come on) and I’m like “So, what time does the bar on this thing open?”. The stranger woman I dropped bigs off with is like “They are BOTH yours, wow you are so brave to travel alone.” Like as if I could be like “Little one, you didn’t make the cut, back to 01945, I am sure you will be fine fending for yourself.”

So, upon landing, we hit go on a search and rescue to find the car, nap

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Don’t poke the bear.

(them, notta me) hit up the pool and then the local “Publix.”  OK, for those of you peasants like me, at this place, they walk you out to your car (amirite?) and the guy walking us was like “You got three kids” (because ya know, one is invisible except to Publix guy)…. And Imma like “nope, just dos” To which he says “THEY MUST DRIVE YOU FUCKING CRAZY.” Honestly, can’t make this up.  Cuz everything is bigger in the south.

windiw