I braved Winco brand Diapers

We are trying to scrimp to save for Halloween. Which, in case you don’t know me, is my Christmas. Seriously. I cry from joy when I see the decorations going up.

But I digress. Part of that is scrimping on diapers. My Granola mom friend gave me her supply of GDiapers, liners, and inserts. If you don’t know what these are, in a financial point, it was like $500 worth of diapers. I love them, but sometimes I just hate washing things with poop. I’m a lazy mom, I have accepted this about myself.

So into the cost saving world of Diapers. Now, I am a mom of three. I went through the first round, where you research and you have  preference and IT MEANS SOMETHING THAT YOU BUY PAMPERS SWADDLERS! Second time mom, it was whatever was on sale except Target- those things leaked repeatedly for me. Third time around, it has been Costco. But sometimes I don’t have the near $40 price tag to buy in bulk. Winco’s diapers were $5 and change and as a mom who has used nearly every brand of diaper available, here is my opinion.

The Good:

PURPLE! I love the unconventional color splashes.

They work. Not joking. No leaks so far. And we took that puppy on a test drive to the park and soccer practice.

The Neutral:

Thin. We are talking Maxi-pad thin

The Bad:

Sometimes you have to rip them apart at the seam because somehow they got stuck. Not all of them are like that, but I have had to.

Will I buy them again? Possibly. As of now I am very happy  but we haven’t put them through the full trial. So far I would say for the budget conscious mom, it’s a supreme buy and give it a try. Just remember, each baby’s wiggles, squirms, and tooshies are different so what works for one, may not work for another.

And in case it begs to be said, no, Winco did not give me free diapers to do this. As a mom who had struggled, I like to pass on savings because sometimes, you don’t have the money to risk trying.

And now for something completely different

I think it’s really important to reach a respect with the role of “mom”.

Like really important.

Sometimes I slide one way and then another. Sometimes I am all mom, all the booger wiper, butt wiping, lego stepping time. Other times I can throw back a fancy fruity neon colored drink with a laugh that would make a Hilton envious and say, “What children? Such small annoying things.”

Lately, walking that line has been difficult. Any parent in the stay at home role can attest to that. But that’s for another blog post.

This is to make a public declaration about my finding this balance.

I am writing a book.

Wow. After over 25,000 words, those five were really the most painful.

I have been writing with the goal of writing a full book since I was 7.

I’m not even lying, I can show you three file cabinets full of my need to write. I’m that annoying Facebook friend who makes you click “Read More”. But I have never actually gotten this far.

I am writing a book because I can.

Not because I am good. (That’s subjective) Or because I can make money.  (Wouldn’t that be the dream)

But because my friend, the Author, has inspired me to “just write”

I have just written 25,000 of things strictly from my brain.

So why am I writing this post? Am I trying to brag? No no dear fellow parents, I just want to throw my voice out there. The advice I see over and over and over given is some form of “Writers write because they have to. They must. It spills forth within them.”

I cry bullshit. Fiction writers write because we have a lot of voices in our brains and if we put them down on paper, they stop. Non-fiction writers write because they have a lot of knowledge to share with the world and want to make a difference. Writers are no different. So if you are sitting down asking why can’t you write, let me tell you a secret.

Just write.

Maybe it’s complete shit- it’s probably not. Maybe no one will read it- this is bullshit. Someone wrote an erotic fiction about the Loch Ness Monster shacking up with visitor women. Don’t believe me? Goggle it. I would but putting “Loch Ness Erotica Book Amazon” into my Goggle bar with young children around is not advised.

Maybe you’ll never finish it. But I am here, at 29 years old to say, maybe you will.

Just write.

I hate whoever invented jack and Jill doors

I especially hate the one who thought that a bathroom was a genius location for such an adventure.

I don’t know the name of the architect that did it.
I like to assume it was a well-meaning father. Someone who had more children than bathrooms and in the midst of a potty training power hug said “EUREKA! Two doors to one bathroom. Speed and efficiency.”

They were stupid.

Because as a mom, the one time I know that with utmost certainty that I will be needed the most, is when I am trying to use the bathroom.

Maybe I am doing a number using the loo, contemplating life, waxing my mustache which I tell my children does not exist, scrubbing a sink, or any number of wondrous things the bathroom holds.

Most usually it includes doing a number.

And without a doubt is the time the children feel they are their most inventive. I like to imagine they grow long whiskered mustaches to stroke and top hats of black.

“Perhaps we should take mothers phone and throw it- like a dog toy. Teaching the dog to fetch. Mayhaps we should turn the water on in the sink and put a hot wheel track under the spout. No. No no no. Let us jump like monkeys upon the bed.”

I’ve read the story enough fucking times that they know the next part.

Sounds that follow:
*death destruction mayhem the apocalypse*

“MOM! WAHHHHH!”

And thus the power poop was born. You swipe, wipe, wash and run out fast enough to dry your hands faster than Dyson powered air.

“What’s WRONG?! What HAPPENED?!”

Mom’s should be able to skip pooping. Honest.

The Week to End all Weeks

I really think that things are in balance. When one thing happens, others things must move to meet that.

Occasionally, it’s a load of bullshit. And everything just falls to pieces. Like this week.

Captain and I bought our first car. Like, our first time in a lot with a payment and a large sum of money for a hunk of metal that uses old dinosaurs and explosions to propel itself down melted rock pathways. We should be celebrating.

We didn’t.

Because Loki popped out with a fever of 101.

And then mini-Thor started to develop weird cuts along his skin.

Then the dealer needed our car back for a warranty service.

Then Comcast dropped our promotional rate tripling our bill, which is EXACTLY what you want to hear after you commit to a large car payment.

Back to back doctor appointments led us to a positive Strep infection across the board for the littles. Yay insurance!

Then I fell down with a 101 fever, muscle aches and a doctor that refused to see me for a week and refused to treat me for strep over the phone because she needed to see me. Next week.

So then an urgent care bill.

And then the animules got fleas.

And then the animules ate the steak dinner I tried to cook to show Captain how thankful I was for him surviving this week with me.

And then I gave up and came here to write about it. Because maybe others laughing with and at me will heave this bad juju somewhere else. Like on someone who doesn’t take their grocery carts back.

Who needs an iPhone?

Why

Whyyyyyy?
I shouldn’t even be surprised.  No supriso. At this point anything is possible.
My two week old iPhone 6 Plus joined the electronic graveyard. It is connected to heavens wifi. It’s charging in the great beyond. 
I love my phone, not because it’s a phone but because of EVERYTHING else it does. It ceased being a phone when it was a 3G. 
That said, it’s an expensive toy! And I am grateful (privilege check) to be able to own one. I even have waited two weeks to open it AFTER FedEx dropped of my package in fear of hurting it. 
And then Loki drops it. 
I had a back case and a front protector on it. And we were talking to maternal grandma, and he was SO excited to show her his shoes he picked up the phone and slip! It banged the ground. 
I’m not even phased.I dropped so much money on this case and the warranty and then the AT&T warranty that nothing can goooooooooo. Holy Shit.
Shattered. 
Shattered and putting pieces of glass in my thumb. I lost the ability to English and Loki hugged me and breathed in like he just ate a hot pepper. “I’m so sorry mom.” And patted my head. 
I wasn’t mad, I was mourning. 
And I fought with the Husband Thor about fixing it. I didn’t want to fix it, it was my fault and I shouldn’t have upgraded and FMLFMLFMLFML. 
But he won. $129 later my phone is fixed and under the correct warranty now. I have an Otterbox coming, and no that’s not a plug for them it’s just I only have ever used them, this was my first and last venture into half cases thank you very much. I wanted to see the gold so much I got a clear one. Well I’ll spray paint then Otterbox gold then because never again. 
But really Raw Parents, is anyone at all surprised Loki did it?
I wasn’t. 
Do you have a mischief spirit child? 
Signing off, on my newly repaired phone! 

The Solved Case of the Missing Cinnamon Roll


Every other weekend it seems I make cinnamon rolls to celebrate making it through another week. It’s hard on all of us when Thor works 13+ hour days and we miss him so when he comes home on Saturday is a real treat. This weekend however, is my birthday weekend and as such I went out with the Author, my dear friend to go to a psychic convention. We made cinnamon rolls for lunch. We always make 8 so everyone can have two. Yes, I will have to bump this up to 10 but since Aba only has 7 teeth, I think I am safe for a little longer. 
I ate one, deciding to save mine for later.
During bath time, I thought, was the perfect time to sneak off and eat my final cinnamon roll. I plopped the kids in the bath, asked Thor to watch them for a minute and made a mad dash to a sad empty pan with only leftover icing dribbles. 
My walk back to the bath was slow as I started doing math. 
“How many cinnamon rolls did you have?” I asked Thor.
“One. I was saving mine for bedtime, why?”
“There isn’t any left.”
“WHAT? I only got one!” My Lone, cried out. 
We all turned to look at Loki who just smiled.
“How many did you have!?” Thor asked Loki. 
He held up two fingers, and slowly added one more. And then one more. Lone started his math.
“If mom had one, and I had one, and dad had one, that means you had…FIVE! You ate FIVE!?”
Loki says: 
“I HAD HOW MANY?! OH MAN.” and smacks him hand on his forehead.

*face palm* Me too son. Me too. 

Leave it to Loki.

I have a feeling this will be a saying I use a lot as we meet more years. The padawans have been really cooked up in the house with the Pacific Northwest doing it’s Spring rendition of Do it or Don’t it, (rain, no rain, rain, sprinkle, clouds, freezing sunshine). So on our way to Easter shop, (aka buy all the Reese’s Eggs possible), Lone asked if we could go to the park. The sun peeked through the clouds as he asked at a stop light and looking in the review mirror I had no power to say no against their smiles.

At the park, they played and I met another mom of three. It was a good example of buildup instead of cut down as her middle appeared to be throwing an epic tantrum and she couldn’t get her youngest away from the stream. I asked the kids to go check on the tantruming boy while she was trying to navigate her youngest. Instantly with new playmates, the tantrum quoted and the visibly stressed mom breathed deep.

“Three?” I asked.

“Yeah. All three. It’s hard.”

“Don’t I know it.” I looked at the monkey Belle in my arms.

“Well. I have three boys so it’s a little different.” And then she walked off, grabbing her kids, and leaving.

I get it. Parenting is hard and isolating and no matter the books or blogs you CANNOT possible know until you have your kids. Maybe it was passed time for her to go, and it wasn’t directly related to our interaction. Maybe I rubbed her the wrong way. I will never know but don’t be an asshat.

Thankfully, with no playmates, the kids wanted to walk the stream. As we walked along the small path, we saw four baby ducklings. Cutest little fluffy things. I asked if they could, which duck would they pick and Loki and Lone pick out their own. Three of the ducking’s listened to their mom’s quacks and honks. Kept close to her, navigated land to water quickly.

But Loki’s ducky.

Oh man.

I don’t know if it was because HE picked it, it was already predisposition but what a trouble maker. He walked with speed, away from the group. He’s go so fast he would trip and tumble on himself. His mom would have to come behind him and quack at his butt to get him moving. He stray from the group both behind and in front and was just in general probably very taxing to his duck mom and dad.

I feel you mom.

Quack, honk.