The hot mess nest gets hotter. It actually catches on fire.

I think sometimes, people don’t really believe me about what a horror shit show my life can be…. Like, as if I make it up for humor.  Listen people (listen, read? Idunno) you don’t make shit like this up unless you are craaayyyyy I mean like octomom, astronut, cray.

So I have been tied up this week (whoa, not literally, but you know, like busy, I’m not into that shit) in 2 huge projects.  One personal, one professional (wait, is it a project if it is personal? Or just like a thing? Idunno).  Both draining. Normally, I can take this shit and run with it.  The ex-husband formally known as Mr. Nara (Mr.Nara 1.0?) use to say I was the least emotional / sentimental person in the world.  Partially true (it is hard to be like “Yep, that’s me” because there has GOT to be someone who is less sentimental than I am).  Anyholla.

The combination of early mornings, late nights and not having a clear direction on where I am going in either of these “projects” may have totally fucking gotten to me just a teenie bit. Wednesday, I am driving peewee into school, and remember that I forgot something. Shit, what did I forget? Oh! His backpack…..  So, we turn around and head back to the ole homestead.  I leave the car running while I run inside and actually think to myself “Wow, self, that is LOUD.”  Then drive off into the sunset. There is no sunset in the morning, FYI, I made that up.

Then, well, then there was yesterday.  Again, dat bitch (my car) was totally fucking PMS’ing…. But, hello, I had places to go. I got through my normal daily routine, ja know, napping at work and surfing the interwebs until it is time to go home…… I can’t type express enough, HOW long of a week I have had at this point (Thursday).  I am just looking forward to going home and eating. And by “eating” I mean drinking.

So, I am jamming out, when all of the sudden, I realize something smells.  But imma like “Weird, smells like someone’s car is on fire.” BECAUSE CLEARLY IT ISN’T MINE. It actually was mine. So there I am in the middle of the road (road? Highway? What do we call it when there are four lanes, separated by those dividers? Rural Route?) when I realize it actually is, in fact, my car.

In my typical fashion of being JUST sedated enough, I freak the fuck out. I am in the middle of the Rural Route and don’t know what to do…. I am not a lot of things…. For example, I am not tall.  Likewise, I am NOT a fucking gearhead.  When I turned 16, my dad said “Pretty princess Nara do you know how to change a tire?” And Imma like “Fuck no”  “Nope” and he handed me a AAA card and said “That is how you change a tire.” And really, that is me…. I am not afraid to get dirty, to hammer shit out (omg, that actually sounds dirty, but I don’t mean it to be, I mean like, I am good with a hammer) but I just DON’T do cars.

So, I somehow get my smoking car (that has every light I knew about and a few bonus lights on at this point) into a parking lot.  Meanwhile, some dick gave me the finger as I almost hit him and I was ready to get out of my busted up SUV and be like “FUCK YOU SPARKLE TITS” but I didn’t.  I call AAA, it goes like this.

Me: Imma need someone to come get this car

AAA: What’s wrong?

Me: Yea, I have no fucking clue

AAA: Ok honey (legit) can you tell me what happened

Me: It made some really loud noises this week, I have been so busy, I just turned up Pitbull’s new song because that’s mah jam, then it smoked, not like smoked a cig, but had smoke coming out of it and then it died.  Bitch died.

AAA:  Ok, we will send a tow truck

So at that point, I couldn’t even help it, I started to cry.  Listen, I am NOT a crier.  I have been through things and seen things that have made me who I am and part of “me” is that I don’t do that shit.  Welp, there I was, at the corner of Highland and Swampscott Rural Route, sitting on the dirty sidewalk in all white, crying. I should mention, I am a fucking ugly crier.  I am not like a movie star crier, I am legit ugs. But this was the car that we throw little people through the sunroof when I lock myself out, and that we karaoke in while driving on the wrong side of the road, and sometimes the minis drive (only when I have had too much to drink, safety first).

Well, the tow truck guy showed up and offered me his sleeve to wipe my tears and started telling me how he would make $6.00 commission on my misfortune, and Imma like Sleeve, one more time “Six dollars? You should have left me on the side of the road.” And he was like “Wanna ride in my cab?” No dude. Just leave. Honestly. Go. Leave your sleeve though.

 

 

1
Move bitch, get out the way…. 

 

Advertisements

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

pie
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…

IMG_0073 (1)
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

nap
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

 

 

Why I will never online date, part 2. Right?2? No?

Here’s the gig.  I legit 100% slammed the brakes on online dating. Why? I already have enough fucking crazy in my life, I don’t need to be swiping to find the next Mr. Nara, when I could be at the shelter looking for cats. I dunno.  It just isn’t me…. I don’t want to go to a random bar, and meet some random guy, and assume shit is just going to work out.  Do you know who I am? I still can’t figure out how to make the lights on my car go back to “auto” you HONESTLY think a Tinder date is going to work out for me? Solid nope.   I am holding out for meeting in the produce aisle and someone being all like “Wow, you ALSO like cucumber, we are a 10 match.”  Oh shit. I grocery shop online.  Ha.  So much for a produce match. Anyhoo.

However, the hilarity of online dating lives through some of my BFF’s.  For example, can we talk about one of my GF’s who was “talking” to this guy, and all of the sudden, there is a question of height.  AND HE IS FIVE FOOT FUCKING 2 INCHES.  Listen people, that is how tall I am, and I am a very short person.  I was all like “Oh, so he wears those shoes that make you look taller, no, those are super cool. I mean, looka how well they work for Tom Cruise.

1

Seems like a match. Go for it, if, ya know, you are into little people

I am sorry, what the actual fuck.  There is a reason he is online dating. BECAUSE HE IS HOPING HE DOESN”T GET ASKED HOW SHORT TALL HE IS.  I bet he does get asked “So, how short are you?” like, slip of the tongue.  Womp.

Moving on to online date #2. GF shows me pictures of this guy, and it went something like a so…..

Me:  Yea, I don’t like him at all.  (I at the very least admit that I am judgy).

Friend: Why?

Me (judger): He is super fucking boring.

Friend: But that is just his picture, and he is nice.

Me (bitch): No, no he isn’t, he is boring. He makes me want to take a nap right now (ok, to be fair, I was so gassed after having a crayyy week, that anything made me want to nap, but this guys profile picture was like a “Contacts out, NAP.”)

Well, dontcha know, they go on a date…. So, the next morning, we are all laying making sure we do nothing productive….  chatting… When immma like “OMG, how was your date with the most boring person in the entire universe?” And then we went like a so:

Friend:  Um, it was good. He’s nice.

Me:  Uh-huh, did he look like his pictures (listen, “nice” means the same thing for men or women… Like, yea, he’s “nice” so boring I stabbed myself and jumped into the pizza wood burning fire for fun.”)

Friend:  He, um. No. No, he didn’t. He was…

Me: Oh, like the old “The pictures are from 5 years ago.”

Friend: Yep.

Apparently the worlds most boring person forgot to mention this.

1.png

 

See, see people, there are just TWO reasons that I want a million cats won’t online it.

Now, I did have a few superhot dates this weekend……. Areyouret?

One was for family taco night. Here’s how that date went.  Within 8 seconds I had locked my keys in my car (Legit, I should never be unsupervised).  Good news, I left the sunroof open and we tossed a few lil people (not midgets, and not date #1 from above, but I guess that would have worked too, actual young people) through the sunroof.  Yup. All class, all the time.

1.png

Next date, was with one of my BFF.  I took her to the dump……  Yup.  She is running Boston (right now, holla #30581) and such as it is, she had a bit of pre-run nerves (like how I say that as if I know?….. Clearly I don’t.  We were all actually discussing today how I would not run the .2 miles for anything less than genuine street tacos. And even then, .2 seems far).  Anyhoo, I had to hit up the dump, so off we go…. Right, lemme tell you people, this place is a HOT SPOT, because the line was down the street (I’m actually not kidding about that part)…. I’m not sure if it was the shot out, taped up windows (also not kidding) or the clientele of said dump, but the place was popping.  Lots of people from 01945 still had to dump their Christmas trees.  Truth. I was disappointed to only get hit on yelled at once, by the guy I hit with a rather large branch. Apparently you shouldn’t throw those.  I’ve never really been a “rules” person.

The last hot date of the weekend, was one that actually should have been video taped by E for my upcoming reality show  censored. You know, when you have that one friend who when you are together, basically everything is funny and someone pees their pants? Right, well, that is my 1.png

(did I forget that I also identify people with emojis.  Yea, true)…..

So, uni and I decide to go shopping for our kiddos panties.  I mean, why not? First things first, this weekend, likely because I did not have my own cherubs, screaming, crying children followed me.  Those fuckers had my number.  Let’s not act like this was any different.  There were many exchanges of “If that asshole follows me, I am taking out my flask leaving.” Well, dontcha know those dinks follow us to the skivvies.  So, in such, imma like “Unicorn, do you like this thong, or this thong.” CPS frowned upon that one.

So, as you can see, I am really crushing it in the world of dating. Hold on to your seats for more deets about my friends who are ok with super short people where that goes.

Apparently when I am super busy, I am still a hot ass mess….

My girlfriends have been all up in my chach, my greatest supporters of le blog (it could actually be because they are often times featured in it, and want to stay on my good side, but I think it is because they think I am pretty and funny and love me more than they love wine). I was thinking about writing all week, but once a year, we have our really important people from the world come visit us, and I have to work super hard, (I mean, not like I only work once a year, but I suppose, I work kind of harder that one time a year. Ish. Yearish).

However, because we hole up in a room for 15 hours a day then eat and drink for another 5  work essentially around the clock during this week, I have not had too many funny things happen. I mean, there was my dress being too tight yesterday and having to get unzipped, but that is just embarrassing and I would not want to write about it.  There is also the time that I said to my big BIG boss, in front of these global smarties, we are “black” when I meant “back” and he was like “Whoa, we are not black.” And i was like “Yea we are.” There was also that one  drunk conversation with these international experts, legit, experts, about my tattoos.  Here is a snapshot of my week, Legit (this is honestly from when I stepped away for like 2 hours).  If I acknowledged you this week, then you are wow.

taco2

And yes, again, everyone has names in my phone. If you are in there as like “Kevin” I don’t like you, just understand it. Every group has names, some of them are like “DON”T ANSWER THESE ASSHOLES” cuz, ya know.

So, my gentle reminders that things were still pretty a-ok.

Reminder #1

Remember, when I was making pasta last weekend for everyone, and after a few too many bottles glasses of wine, I thought this was funny.  FUNNY RIGHT?!!?!

blog 1

Reminder #2

There are only certain people who can call you slore, but when they do, you own that shit.

1

Reminder #3

My phone broke and I have no idea how. It isn’t because I dropped it in water then threw it at a wall when I lost a client at work. I am not positive.

However, when it broke, it would randomly text, message, email, FB respond, etc etc people.  And that was not annoying or embarrassing at all. See.

blog 3

and then the fix, that was not actually a fix…… annoying

 

As a side note, if anyone knows how to work an iphone, more than my “I can turn it on most of the time.” I will pay a hefty fee for you to make this new one work.

Reminders #4-784346

Listen, we like tacos. It is FACT.  But “taco night” isn’t about tacos. It is about being together, and being friends, and being outside, and having moments as your “framily” because that is the shit that rules.  And after a week like this one, when you have missed SO much, you just need taco night. So, there were about a million messages about taco night.  A small sampling of the best.

1

t2t2.png

45.png

Stay tuned for what I am sure will be an eventful taco night.  To call the 01945 FD or not? Next week, the minis and I pop down south for what I am sure will be a complete and total shit show and a miracle if we all make it back legit flawlessly executed vacay.  To blog or not to blog. Dumb question, have you seen the three of us together?????!!!!!

 

 

Weekend in review…. I think.

I thought that for today’s blog, I would do a recap of the weekend.  Then I was like “dear fuck, did I black the ENTIRE thing out?” wow.  What did I do anyway? So, I did what I do, and went through my pictures, and was like “Wow, my friends spend a LOT of time with me in either pajamas or Lulu.” That’s. Embarrassing.  So, a recap of the weekend.

Friday, peewee had his art show.  If you have never been to one before, this is when the parents have to pay $50 for a piece of “art” that they would normally pay zero for to throw out the minis get to display their art. The show is held in a hallway, and it is so claustrophobic that I want to be like “HERE IS MY FUCKING CHECKBOOK, IM OUT.”  There is music and the kids really like it.

Anyway, the mini one has been BEGGING for me to “give him swimming lessons.” Which is actually hysterical because I honest to god can’t swim. I don’t think I took a swimming lesson, I think I took a (literally, single) drowning prevention class.  It retrospect, it is weird, because I grew up on the water and spent summers on a lake. Anyhoo. Seemed like post art show was as good a time as ever.

So, off we go for me to give him “swimming lessons.”  Now, you need to understand that there was not a fucking shot I was going in that pubic (public?) pool?  Because yup.  Pubic.  Oh, and it opens to a mezzanine, that 100 people are sitting at and you think I am going to waddle around in my bathing suit. Nope. That is what I pay for.

Well, I needed to get the minis changed into their suits.  This always presents one of those “single mom” problems, because I don’t have a penis.  Oh, I mean, that should not be a shock to most of you, but what that means, is that I can’t go in the boys changing room.  OK, this is all coming out wrong. What it means is that we need to use the family changing room.   Well, as is par for the course, they were all full….. So, I sort of stand outside one, and brother starts to strip in front of the art show, because that’s how we roll.  When this single woman came out of the “family room.”  It takes everything I have when that shit happens to not be like “Honestly asshole?” And I would have, but I was immediately taken over by whatever just came out of her body.   She clearly eats from a dumpster really needed to go. So minis are changing, brother is like “Mom, she did a stinky, PEE YEW, MOMMY IT STINKS.” And I’m like “What brother, say it louder so everyone knows we didn’t do it.”

Off we go to the pool.  Peewee is so excited because he is like a dog in a car, and they just get so happy all the time this is his big swimming lesson. Bigs, on the other hand, has his period and was like “Whatever, swimming is not cool.”

Off peep goes to swim while bigs scopes for chicks at the pool.  No shit, the kid can SWIM.  There was Friday night after that.  I stopped taking pictures so I am not super clear on what happened.

peep
He doesn’t need a bubble, but I make him wear one because there is honestly not a shot I am going in pubic pool.

Saturday.  Now, this was the day that Peep has been waiting for his entire life.  He had a play date with TWIN GIRLS.  Can you even.  Legit though they are BFF and it was the cutest thing ever.  Of course, as this happened, Bigs wanted to go outside (cool) and I was like “Dude, I didn’t go see if pickles pooped out there yet, so just do a look around.”  Four seconds later “Mom, Pickles pooped and I stepped in it.” Like, did he not understand why I wanted him to look around? And that it was not actually to step in it?  The kid is honestly a shit magnet.

Moving on.  My unicorn and I now decide it is a good idea to take ALL of our boys bowling. Let me re-phrase that. I wanted to nap, she came and got me and was like “no, its cool to go out in pajamas, no one will know, people are totally fine with you not wearing pants” The only reason I went is because they serve beer and the old guy who works there is one of those people that when he is like “Yousobeautiful” you think he actually really means it, and LBH, I need every little bit of help.

So, we have the tres amigos at bowling….. Fast forward that my children think you throw the ball OVERHAND….. Right, so every time they pulled that arm back, I was like “JESUS CHRIST WHO FUCKING TAUGHT YOU TO BOWL.” And they were all like “Um, you.”  OK So at the time, it SEEMED like a good idea to let them all drink gigantic lemonades.  Then this happened.

2
They. Went. Nuts. 

They thought it would be funny to open the windows and yell to the people on the road.  Ok, TBH, it was actually funny for the first 3 minutes, the next 32 were. Fucking. Torture.  If I had pants on I would have walked home. So then this happened.

IMG_3677
Get. Out. 

We slowed down and kicked them out of the car and drove off with the doors open dropped them off at a friend’s house and left.  I mean, there are times it is you or the kids, and this was one of those times I was going to be like “open your mouth and take the Benadryl” “I am mom, I am in charge.”

So from there (and I received a gentle reminder of this today)……  We all have family dinner, time to go home, etc, etc…..  Quick stop for one of our epic sunsets…..

IMG_3681
Pretty princess.  The sunset, not me. Duh. 

Then this.  I challenge all those fuckers to a lip synch battle.  Never done that? Oh, I am a professional, partly because I honestly know every word to every song, and partly because, duh, I am awesome I make the rules so that I win.

So, those of you from 01945, as I was crushing them in the battle, we were jamming, it happened…… We decided all of those minis needed to go have a neck run.  Yup…. Windows down, singing, Saturday night.  It was a little weird when we turned around at the light house and there were all the 13 year olds getting hanky panky  cuz, ya know.

Then, well, then there was Champagne Sunday.  Lately, my weekend starts on Tuesday, and this week has been no exception.  I just have so freaking much going on and 2 days isn’t enough and starting four days early was the only logical solution. So getting drunk on Sunday rather than being productive champagne Sunday is always a nice way to wind down. Oh, and, because I had to take the minis to Target, which, if you remember, I hardly let them out of the house so this was fucking TORTURE…. The story is so much longer than that, but I think I have PTSD from it.  Not STD, the one that you are traumatized.  Yes. That is me.  Post Target. I think my text to the girls said “I am going to drink champagne so I don’t murder someone.” I mean, paraphrasing, but pretty close.  It might have actually been exactly that. Plus, I needed my girls to analyze something from me, because, duh, that is how I roll.

So, I know from here, it seems like the weekend is going pretty swell, right? Right?  Well, Sunday night = everyone has to get clean…. So, I gently remind my minis of that (read previous blog about why this is a problem here https://wordpress.com/post/naramitchell.wordpress.com/69

I somehow bribe Bigs into taking a shower with Mini (I really wish I could remember what my bribe was…. I bet I was like “Front row seats to a Warriors game.” I mean, I really would say something like that….)

So, they agree to the shower, and I hear mini “Kin, kinny, where are your boobies? Kin, kinny, you have a ding dong and balls too.” (Honestly, I have NO idea where he gets “Balls” from.  Ding dong is me, and there are tons of variations, but “balls” is something I can HONESTLY say never comes from my mouth.  I’m not all like “Bros, how are your balls?”)

And that is it, the weekend in review. I think. I am sure I am forgetting something else though.

Dear fucking lord, get I get some drugs in the GD house? This nest is a mess, 6.6? (maybe? 7?)

More often than not, I get emails, texts, etc that are like “Nooooo wayyy does this shit really happen in your life.”  Listen, I’d either have to be an idiot or a genius to tell these stories.  And I sure as shit am not a genius. So yes, this all happens.

My married friends bitch all the time, “Mr. Wonderful never helps out,  he is constantly jerking off, he won’t change a diaper, he is busy hanging up tapestries in his man cave etc.” and know what, I never would have done that did too.  Thing is, when times were really tough, I could call the former Mr. Nara and be like “Asshole, help out.” And at least there would be a 20% chance (being generous) that he would. Maybe, I mean, if he didn’t have something else going on, eh, ok, 10%. Well when you are single, that 10%, it’s gone.  I use to get so annoyed at people who brought their screaming snot nose kids to the grocery store, and now, well, now I shop online, bad example.  But you get it.

However, back to the 10% being gone.

I have had this cold for a solid 539 days now.  It finally got to the point that I needed to go to the doctor.  She was basically like “There is more snot in you than I have ever seen in anyone before, you are a medical miracle.”   “Time for a dose of heavy antibiotics.” Ok, that’s cool.  I’m down with drugs  getting better.

She calls it into the local pharmacy and I’m all like “Shit, I should get sick more often, I am NAILING this!”

I figure I will give the pharmacy a bit to count out the drugs et all (ever notice it takes like a day to count out those pills, am I the only one who thinks it is weird?). so, off I go to get the minis.  We take our standard 45 minutes or so to make it 100 feet to the car, baby brother only ALMOST gets hit by another car one time, but still, I decide I will give the pharmacy even more time (I am so fucking nice, huh).

So, the critters and I decide to go through the car wash.  Scratch that. I was too lazy to brush the snow off my car (because remember, we live in MA and it snows straight through July), so we decided to go through the car wash (side bar, that doesn’t work, at all).

Car
Don’t believe me that I drove this bitch through to try and clean her off?

We make it through the car wash without anyone opening a window and honest to god, I am like feeling like I am a GOOD FUCKING MOTHER.

We pull into the local pharmacy, and the drive through (because, I am THAT lazy) has at least 11 cars in line.  Because I don’t think ANYTHING through, there is not a moment that I think “Oh, it must be busy here.” I just think “OK, let’s go inside, because that will be easy.”

Minis and I load out of the car, and head into said pharmacy, which is fascinating, because I really don’t even like them leaving the house honestly, but, such is life. As we walk into the shit show that is about to be the next 2 hours of my life I realize that it might be slightly busier than I realized.  As in, it was a fucking shit show there were people crawling off the god damn walls for their Prilosec. I was waiting for a bar to roll out, strobe lights and “Mr. Boombostic” to start to play and OH MY GOD JUST I JUST REVEAL HOW FUCKING OLD I AM!?!??!?!

Fine, that’s fine.  We took our time getting here, there is no question my shit is reat – to – go.  Still, even still, we wander back to the pharmacy a little slowly, grabbing the essentials.  You know, Sour Cream and Cheddar Ruffles, a Kit Kat, a Reeses, some seltzer and 26 boxes of tissues.   OK, we are good!

As we round the corner to the pharmacy, I realize that the line BASICALLY WRAPS AROUND THE STORE but hey, there is no one giving me 10% help, so I need to suck it up and be a good lil soldier (side bar, I would be an absolutely AWFUL soldier) and get my shit so that I don’t end up on day #540 of this cold

It takes almost FOURTY minutes to get to the front of the line, but yet again, because I don’t think jack shit through, I’mmma like “Clearly my drugs will be ready all packaged up with a preeey lil bow.”

Nope.  At this point, my minis are playing sword fight with sleeves of saltine crackers that they found and I really don’t care because I can see the finish line. There is a guy SCREAMING at the pharmacy helper (does this every work? And he YELLS “This place fucking sucks” and Imma like “Right, THIS LONG to get a drink at the bar, is BS!”) This crabby old woman, says TO ME  (pointing to my sword fighters) “Those kids are acting like animals.” And, because I am a really good mother, I say “I know! I wonder where there parents are! This is awful!”  Mini one walks up to me as this is happening and is like “momma” and I am all like “I am NOT your momma.”

So as we make it to the sacred ground (front of the line) the lil gal is like “Oh, tee hee, there is nothing here in that name.”

I cried. I’m not kidding, I cried. And kept her sweet face as she was like “Um, do you mind moving over there.” Pointing to the side, and I look over and realize that is basically where the misfit prescription picker-uppers go.

Back forth, the pharmacist calls the doctor, they chat, mini one falls asleep on the floor (YOU CAN”T MAKE THIS SHIT UP PEOPLE – SEE)…..

IMG_3548
Him = tired after his cracker sword fight. See the cracker evidence

So we are now shuffled over to the OTHER side of the pharmacy,

At this point,  I am basically leaving a trail of tissues for my kids to find me, kind of like bread crumbs AND IT WORKS! I hear them like “OH, there is another tissue, mommy must be over THERE now.” Listen, gotta make shit fun for these guys when we are on hour like 19 of trying to get a fucking Z pack.

IMG_3549
The tissue trail!

Fast forward, fast forward, I finally get my shit. We go home. And immma all like “Either of you two know how to make dinner, I mean, you are 8 and 5, aren’t you men yet?” cereal for dinner? And hit the couch.  I realize I am EXHAUSTED. I send a token SUPER fucking ugly selfie to my Spirit Unicorn and don’t even care that I still have all of my work clothes on,  immma gunna rest for five minutes.

FIVE FUCKING MINUTES IS ALL THAT IT TOOK.  I hear the mini one saying something about going to go to the bathroom (fine).  He still prefers that I wipe his butt (can you blame him? Everyone likes a clean whistle).  He comes out telling me something about how he did pee pee on his socks, because his penis was pointing the wrong way, right, ok….  When I hear “GULP GULP GURGLE SPLASH.”

Oh, ok, apparently we are learning to wipe on our own, AND HE FUCKING FLOODED THE BATHROOM.

I dead sprint, ha, that’s funny let’s face it, I slow walk into the bathroom,  and realize he used THE toilet paper.  Not like SOME, or even A ROLL. I mean he used it all.  And, I am one of those people, who likes to keep 4 rolls in the bathroom at all times, because you never know when someone is going to come over and have raging diarrhea and they are NOT going to want to be like “Ah, got more TP?” What can I say, I’m a planner. So there I am, fishing this shit out of the toilet, trying to gently explain “Brother, when you wipe your ding dong, you just need a teenie bit, not four rolls.” (because remember, he still wants me to wipe his butt, this is a simple tinkle).  And he’s all like “But, momma, I want to make sure it is BERRY  BERRY clean.”

I find it VERY strange I can’t get a date.