How pitiful is this face? Seriously?!?!?! Poor sweet Quinn. Just wants to glue her school project together. Here she is at a crossroads though. Mod Podge or Gorilla Glue? One screams..."I won't hold ANY of your shit together" while the other one requires a safety mask.
You might be saying to yourselves..."Why not good ole Elmer's school glue, Quinn?" Ohhhhhhhhh...that's just because 85% of ALL 6-13 year olds in the United Effing States are cranking out 15 bottles at a time trying to create the most revolting shit of all time. SLIME!!!
Let's talk real quick about how SLIME has taken over my life...
My God damned cabinets! Contact solution and shaving cream bottles ERRRRRRRWHERE!!! Need to shave your legs? Not fucking today you don't!!! Better go slide your ass into another pair of Lularoes because the next "Pacific Rush" you'll be getting will be the "backsplash" from your toilet bowl after a hot night at Taco Bell.
Let's go over some of the ways my children have silently said "FUCK YOU" with SLIME...
Want a sure fire way to jack up your carpet? Here you go...SLIME!!!
Not even sure HOW SLIME got on my Ove-glove, but it fucking did. And guess what? The washer was basically like..."Yeeeeeeeeah...I'm not getting you out, and my friend "Dryer" over there will REALLY fuck your shit up!"
This is our SLIME basket. Everything contained to THIS basket, is infected with bullshit SLIME.
This might have slime...might have pee...we're not sure exactly.
Want coffee? NOPE! Fuck you, you've been SLIMED!!!
This is what my kids tell me to do in this situation. See how all of that SLIME shit is stuck to my fat fingers?
"MOM!!! Just poke it!!! Poke it really fast! Just poke. It'll come off. UGHHHHHHH!!! You're doing it all wrong!!! POKE IT!!!"
The next time one of them tells me to poke it, I'm shoving it square up their ass.
Check out their sweet collection? Tupperware? Nah!!! Leftovers have been going into fucking baggies!!! No joke. I legitimately put an entire Stovetop chicken and corn bake into a fucking freezer bag. Thank God we've found a place to "home" our SLIME. See that one on the left? Ella put my coffee into that one. MY COFFEE!!! That shit that keeps me alive is now suffocating in a wad of brown gooey shit that looks close to something that Harper "dropped off at the pool" that morning. The one on the right? Full of teeny tiny beads. You might ask where does one GET such beads? Ohhhhhh, just my super cool iPhone holder from the Sharper Image. Just a Christmas gift that my little SLIME loving turds decided to cut up for their own stupid SLIMEY pleasure. Jerk bags.
Here's some more SLIME...just chillin' on my Norwex mop. Byeeeeeeeeee Norwex mop!!!
You guys...they've created an Instagram account...FOR SLIME!!! 57 people have NOTHING better to do than follow an account containing NOTHING but Stupid. Ass. SLIME.
Can I talk about how many times in a day I hear this...
"Mom...listen to it. It's popping. Do you hear it?"
"This is so satisfying!"
"This is life!"
"Mom, look...I can make a cinnamon swirl."
"Mom...this one looks like Unicorn Poo."
"I can blow bubbles."
"Look at how far I can stretch it."
"Mom, that'll TOTALLY come out."
"Just feel it."
"MOM! Just feel it real quick."
"I wish I could sleep in this."
"They should make mattresses out of this."
Not only that, but I'm pretty certain that my kids have become "dealers." If your kids are coming home with a wad of rolled up dollar bills...you have yourself a SLIME pusher...A Potions Merchant. Like Pineapple express and shit. It's serious.
Let's be real though...this is an expensive habit. Oh, and it's NO WHERE to be found. It's also now being said that Borax, which is also Boric acid...is proven unsafe for kids. Apparently it can affect fertility and brain development. Listen ya'll...I want like HUNDREDS of grandkids, so that shit's gotsta GO!!! Kev and I found a way around this...
Ummmmm...a gallon? I'd rather step on 478 Shopkins than clean up more SLIME, but...whatever!!! It keeps them BUSY!!! Seriously though...wood glue and shaving cream. That's it. Done and done.
Moral of the story though...
After a little more research, I've come to the conclusion that Borax (unless inhaled) is 900x safer than this shit that will likely sprout a 3rd arm on any given child...
Everyone's all FREAKING out about Borax? Jesus! Have you checked what's in your kids' toothpaste? Detergent? Shampoo? Hand soap? Household cleaners? Lotions? Perfumes? I could go on and on. Borax is the LEAST of your problems!
Moral of the story...
Where do I start?
I seriously...truly...and honestly believe that I have the GREATEST Husband EVER!!! No joke. Let me break it down real quick...
Reasons Kev is AWESOME:
1. He's MEGA smart.
I mentioned something tonight about it being a "small world." He proceeded to tell me something like..."Blah blah blah...that's just a fabrication of your mind. Blah blah blah...Your world is as small as you make it, given the people you surround yourself with. Blah blah."
Something along those lines.
My brain started to hurt.
Could've been Malibu brain freeze.
We'll never know.
2. He works his ASS off!
When he's done working, he comes home and works some more. When he's done with that, his brain is thinking about what to work on next.
This is when I'm usually drinking, or telling tiny humans to brush their teeth, and pre-treating skid marked underwear stains.
When people ask me what I do, I'm all like..."I release poo stains from underwears." Real Super Woman Shit.
3. He DESTROYS that whole "DAD" gig.
He has 5 girls. FIVE. Need I say more?
4. He's dead sexy.
He may mow the lawn in Dad shorts, white socks, and gym shoes...but he can OWN a see thru V-neck with exposed chest hair like no other!
He even makes sleeping look good...
Here's where he's kind of not the coolest...
No. It wasn't even like that. It was for SURE all caps yelling...
"MEEEEEEEEEEGGGGG!!! Where's my chapstick?"
"Kevin, I don't have your Chapstick. I actually NEVER have your Chapstick."
"No! I know you took it. It just doesn't jump out of my cooler."
"Kevin, I realize that Chapstick is unable to jump, but I also know that I have not touched your Chapstick. Would you like to check my purse, pockets, and...or, possibly the hidden compartment in my Joan? Would you like to do a full cavity search?"
"No. You stole it, and you are HIDING it!!!"
"I assure you, my love...I did NOT hide your stupid Chapstick. Let me tell you why. I hate your Chapstick. I truly believe that it is 100% the shittiest Chapstick on the market. You have some ridiculously weird hard on for ORIGINAL flavored Chapstick. It's possibly the most revolting smell ever. One that I can only describe as 45 year old sunscreen that has been carefully applied onto a gorilla's nut sack on a Chicago's hot August afternoon. It's THAT bad. And then, once the shitty ass flavor starts to dissipate, you have to go ahead and reapply the shitty shit because now your dumb lips are dryer than before you decided to use it. Maybe if it was Cherry flavored, or Burt's Bees anything...you might have a problem...and I may have taken it. Let me reiterate though...if it's your disgustingly awful ORIGINAL flavored tasting like old ass popcorn Chapstick...I'm not your girl."
Picture of said shitty Chapstick...
Wait a minute...
But WHY do I have a picture of said shitty Chapstick?
OHHHHHHHHHHH...because I found it!!!
Where you ask? Only the same F*CKING place that I ALWAYS find it!!!
Balance a checkbook in 3.5 seconds?
Empty his pockets before he throws them in the dirty clothes?
It gets better!!!
Since he only had a few things to wash, and I'm weird about the washer not being JAM PACKED full of shit, I decided to fill it up...
With my GLORIOUS LulaRoe!!!
It doesn't stop there either...
All over the coveted black and heather grey leggings.
And just to give you an idea of how awesome these shitty Chapstick stains look on...
Perfect nipple placement. Awesome.
So , naturally, I left him a love note...
What's the moral of the story?
Don't do laundry. It's stupid.
How cute are they? These completely adorable smaller than adult human beings qualified for STATE a few weeks ago!!!
So, off to Springfield we go!!!
And since we're basically 110% all about comfort, we made sure to hit up our local Dunkin Donuts in our very best casual Saturday wear.
This was basically about 4.5 minutes into our drive. And, Dear Helicopter Mommas...You can't tell from the pic, but they're COMPLETELY buckled properly into their hidden high back boosters. I also made SURE to remove ANY and ALL puffy coats prior to departure.
No falling asleep on an Oeser Road Trip. #4hourprotection
This just made me giggle like a 14 year old.
Maybe she's hungry? Best Friends are the BEST!
Dear tables 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, and 11,
Sorry we're not sorry.
How stinking cute are they? The coaches surprised the girls by decorating their hotel room. Bailey made her way to the mini mart in the lobby with every last penny that I had in my purse. She thought it'd be a good idea to treat the whole team to Starbucks Frappuccinos. It WAS super sweet and all, only...she spent all of my money. Like...ALL OF IT. If I were desperate for a sanitary napkin out of the bathroom vending machine, I'd be screwed.
It was a great night, up until my 12 year old began a story with..."Remember when so and so queefed?"
I about shit myself.
"WHAT did you just say? Did you seriously just say QUEEFED? Where on EARTH did you hear that?
I knew it wasn't from me!!! I use the term "front butt farting."
I then, casually had to explain what a QUEEF was. That wasn't weird or anything.
"Ladies, listen...please don't say the word QUEEF. It sounds disgusting. Maybe just don't talk about it at all. It happens. It happens to ALL of us. Sometimes when you're sitting down, you might have to pass gas. And sometimes when sitting down and maybe having to pass gas, that gas may have NO room to shoot backwards out of your butt cheeks, so instead...it "reroutes." Hence...Front Butt Fart. Let's just never talk about this again. OK? OK."
I bet you're all wondering where Kev is during all of this?
Not only was he one of the very few Dads that decided to suffer through State competition...
He was also the ONLY one to come down with the stomach flu. I seriously felt SO bad. Like...freezing, shaking, river ass SICK.
I told him to just stay at the hotel. He was MISERABLE. NOPE. He strapped on some MEGA giant man pants, and got us all to the convention center. He sat directly in front of 800 screaming cheerleaders who did NOTHING but try to perfect their harmonization to "Hotline Bling." I think I saw him throw up in his mouth a few times, and then just swallow it.
Not only were the girls BLOWN away just to get a bid to state, but out of 15 teams, they only call the top 9 back to the mat. I wish I could've witnessed their coach's face when their team got called, but from what I heard, it was nothing short of a small amount of diarrhea excitement that some small breeds of puppies experience when they meet a new friend. And out of those FIFTEEN teams, they brought home a 6th place trophy.
I, naturally...cried like ANY human being that just watched the first episode of "This Is Us."
I then took a quick potty break, only to come to this conclusion...
Of COURSE my dress was tucked into my leggings all day. And of COURSE nobody told me. I mean...It wouldn't be an average Meg day if I didn't make a total dick of myself.
The girls did great and all, but the best part of my night was yet to come.
I'm not one to get all stupid excited when I see someone famous. I'm pretty confident that if I saw Ryan Reynolds at a cheer competition, I'd be all..."Oh, there's Ryan Reynolds. That's cool." Probably not the case, but I couldn't see myself getting all starstruck stupid.
You guys...I fangirled! HARD!!! Like, sweating like a Gorilla's sack at Brookfield Zoo in August fangirled.
Next to Betty White and Ellen...she's my fave...
If you ask me who she is, we're breaking up.
And to end the perfect evening (with the exception of Kev puking in his mouth and stuff), we began our 3 hour journey home. About an hour into the drive, Ella goes...
"Are we back in Illinois yet?"
You guys...no joke...I've been staring at a screen, trying to address this subject for MONTHS! It's something that's SO difficult to talk about, but SO important to me. Let me try to break it down...
Here's Kev and I, last weekend. I was laughing my ass off because he left the house that night thinking he was sporting an ugly Christmas sweater. Turns out, everyone just thought he was trying to be trendy. Kev and I wouldn't know "trendy" if it bit us in the ass. Anywho...I look happy as shit, right?
What you can't see is how awful I actually felt inside. It took EVERYTHING in me to get ready that night. Getting ready BLEW, with the physical act of showering being the most difficult of tasks. I had zero energy, and wanted to do nothing more but throw on my chubbiest pair of sweatpants and binge on some Netflix. And by Netflix...I mean...salt and vinegar chips. I hated getting dressed. I lived in Lularoe leggings. It was the only thing I could wear without realizing how fat I was actually getting. NOTHING fit!!! Sour cream and I had become BFF's, with her Sister cream cheese as a close second. Trying to get my "skinny" jeans on was like wrestling a rubbery baby seal into a non-lubricated wet suit. My FUPA started making the rules, and my armpit boobs wanted in on ALL of that action. I felt disgusting!!!
Making plans was just downright painful. If I make plans, that means I have to shower, put on clothes, makeup, hair, and worst of all...socialize with people. Can you HONESTLY believe that I would physically start to sweat profusely over the thought of being around people and talking? Crazy, right? I mean, I'm stuck with tiny spawns of Satan all day. Why WOULDN'T I long for a little adult interaction?
It sucks, you guys. That shit creeps up on me like ANY one of my children when I'm trying to poop. It's mean. It's nasty, and it doesn't give a care.
The week before Christmas it all came full circle for me.
This is where Young Living steps in. In 2013, after I had Penny, I was in a BAD place. Like...REAL bad. I'll make a long story short here, but postpartum is NO JOKE. I was sad. I was mean. I was disinterested...in EVERYTHING and EVERYONE. I had TERRIBLE thoughts. I was irrational, and believed things to be true that were not. I lost friends. I neglected my kids. I was a jerk face to my Husband. I was worse to the people I loved the most. I told my doc...was put on some crap...and carried on. I felt a bit better, but side effects like anal leakage, excessive sweating, and dry mouth just sounded like not so much fun. And lets be real..."loss of interest in sex" wasn't on Kev's list of top 10 things to happen in 2013.
I started noticing Young Living ALL over the place. People were all..."My head doesn't hurt...I'm losing weight...I'm not blowing snot all over my customers anymore...AND..."I'm happier!!!"
Ummmmmm....SOLD. Sign me up please!
So there I was. Got my oils...loved my oils...started sharing my love for oils.
In comes friends loving oils...and then friends of friends loving oils...and then random people that I've never met loving oils. I've met SO many new people, and I've made SO many new friends. Simply by just sharing something I loved.
Fast forward to last week...
Here's my girl Jen. I introduced her to Young Living the same year I was, and here she is knowing SOMETHING was not right with me.
And then Jodie, who I signed up late 2014.
2 people that I had never interacted with prior to Young Living. 2 people that I helped WITH Young Living. 2 people that have lives of their own, along with worries of their own, but here they were...worried about me.
Sadness brought me oils...brought me people...brought them oils...brought me happiness.
They both came over on the Thursday morning before Christmas, and did ALL OF THIS!!! They brought coffee, donuts, birthday cake pops, cupcake frappuccinos, and FANTASTIC attitudes. JUST what I needed. I cannot even begin to explain to anyone how much this meant to me. I was able to get more done, and in return, spend more quality time with my Family for Christmas. It was these 2 girls that helped me realize that I was falling into a funk again, and it was these 2 girls that made me realize that I needed my happy oils to get my ass through the winter.
Depression is scary, ya'll. It's debilitating and relentless. Wether it be a friend, a Family member, your local grocery store bagger, or the Family dog...REACH OUT!!! If you notice ANYTHING off at ALL, just ask. It's that easy. A simple question, a quick talk, or a little help...from even a stranger, can pull someone out of a serious dung pile. I've been there. I know!!! I still get there. What you see on the outside...or on social media, is NOT always what's happening on the inside. Depression does not discriminate against race, religion, sexual orientation. It can attach itself to ANYONE. Thousands of us suffer from it, but with it comes an ugly stigma. The only way to remove this stigma completely, is to TALK ABOUT IT...openly...without shame.
I'm an open book, guys. If any of you feel this way, and need someone to talk to...PLEASE reach out. I'll lock myself in the bathroom with a burrito bowl and a glass of wine...and I'll LISTEN.
On a lighter note...
I tried Ripsticking again.
Can somebody PLEASE remind me that I'm 37 years old, can hardly shave my legs properly, and cannot...I repeat CANNOT Ripstick?
You guys...for real...I mess up on the REGULAR. Like...daily. We all know this, and we all know that I have ZERO problem talking about it. But TODAY. Today was the fuck up of ALL fuck ups. I'm almost to the point where I think..."Ooooooooh...Meg, let's maybe keep this one to yourself. NOTHING good can possibly come from this. People are going to start to wonder how it's even possible that you keep 6 children alive, let alone brush your teeth or use the washroom. It's. That. Bad.
Let's have a little refresher on my previous Mom Fails...
That time, in the summer, when I was heading to Nikkita's for coffee and girl talk, but I forgot that there was still a kid sleeping upstairs.
That time the kids were all..."My popsicle tastes like toofpaste!" And I was all..."Shut up! You're all just a bunch of stupid children."
When in reality...Their popsicles had been floating in Grandpa's Sambuca.
I'm just tossing this one in because I suck at dishes, and I think they're stupid.
That time I let Quinn play with an EXTREMELY venomous caterpillar because I'm stupid, and should've FOR SURE failed Biology.
That time I had to go pick up Quinn, but couldn't find my car keys...because my dumb ass left my car running for 4.5 hours at the end of the block after I dropped her off at the bus stop that morning.
Thought to myself..."It's the beginning of the school year...you'll get your shit together soon, I'm SURE."
That time I had to drive Quinn to school because, NATURALLY...we missed the bus. Only problem is...that's not Quinn's fucking school!!!
Oh, this day just sucked a GIANT one!!! You can read about it here
Here I am...at Quinn's bustop. Been waiting here a while. Maybe 10 minutes. I hear Penny...
"Mommy, can me get out of my buckle?"
"No sweetie...let's wait for Quinn."
And then I hear it...
"Mom! I'm right here!"
Mother FUCK!!! Quinn stayed home today!!! I kept her home because of a shitty cough. I...legit...put this child into the car...buckled her...and tried to pick her up from her own damned bus stop. Does the story get better? Sure the fuck does. The lights were on. You know...on the bus. He saw me. He was preparing to stop. WTF was I to do? I had to get out of the car and somehow explain myself. He already knew. This poor man literally STOPPED his bus to tell the batshit, dumb as rocks Mom...that her child was ALREADY in her car. I wish I had gotten a picture of his face. He already thinks I have the brains of a small field mouse given the "I left my car running" story. He just laughed his ass off and shook his head.
So...to all of the parents out there who think they're COMPLETELY failing at this thing called life, just remember...it could be worse. You could be ME. Being a parent is the most rewarding thing in this world, but at the same time...it DESTROYS brain cells. No joke.
I want to hear all of your Mom/Dad fail stories!!! Let's all laugh our asses off, and embrace it...instead of judging and tearing each other down.
Ya'll know what I'm talkin' about.
Can't even SAY the word, can ya?
There!!! You scratching' yet?
Lemme go ahead and tell ya'll a little story, mmmmmmmm kay???
Awwwwww...here we are!!! How sweet, right? Just one of the TWO family photos we actually have together. I love how easily noticeable it is that I'm sucking in SO blatantly hard. My body looks like it's in FULL ON physical pain. That, or, I'm holding in a DOOZY of a fart. I look like a stand-in Mom that wasn't meant to be in the picture. Anywhooooooo...here we are in January of 2016, on a family cruise.
This is the photo that was used in mostly EVERY article written about us. This was the photo broadcasted on the Steve Harvey Show. This is the photo that will be printed in a French magazine.
THIS is the photo that will FOREVER remind me that we were...
INFESTED WITH LICE!!!
Yup!!! All of us girls. Loaded. Disgusting, right? Let's discuss...
Here I am...just chillin' in Kev's suitcase. Probably transferring LICE all over his underwears. NO idea about the poo bugs on my nugget.
Here we are...in the airport...about to get on a plane to Florida. Penny clearly VERY excited. All I can think about is how close our heads were. NO idea we have LICE.
Here I am with Opa...probably passin' bugs into his ears. NO IDEA I have LICE.
Look at these two cuties frolicking around, having NO IDEA tiny bugs are shitting all over their heads.
Oh, here's a favorite of mine. "Let's get ALL of the girls' hair braided by some poor unsuspecting women on the beach. Again...NO IDEA they have LICE. Is that lice...is that sand? We'll never know.
NBD...just touchin' heads...with our killer Monica braids, and NO IDEA of the LICE all up in our asinine amount of hair.
So there we were...on our AWESOME vacation, and NO idea about the poo bugs multiplying by the thousands.
Wanna know WHY we didn't know?
Because NOBODY f*cking talks about it!!!
Schools "say" they check, but that's basically like asking a 15 year old to check their underwears for skid marks. NOT happening. I get it. 300 some heads? I'd be doin' a half ass job too!
When I FINALLY figured it out, I rushed them all to Midwest Lice Specialists. They told me our infection started in December!!! UGHHHHHHH!!! Seriously?
She asked me SO many times..."Do you want me to check you?"
I'm all..."Nahhhhhh...I'm good. There's NO way those little poo slingers could survive the amount of dry shampoo I saturate this dome with. Let's just do it for FUN though."
I wanted to DIE. Right there...DIE!
But, GREAT news!!! To the small tune of a MORTGAGE payment...they treated us. They were 100% guaranteed GONE!!! Did that matter ONE bit? NOPE!!! Kids went back to school, and every other kid was STILL infested...because nobody looks...and nobody cares...and nobody THINKS their kids could POSSIBLY get it. So we continued to get it...again...and again...and again.
Let me break it down for you this way...
LICE love ERRRRRRRRRONE!!!
LICE love dirty hair.
LICE love clean hair.
LICE love unicorn hair.
LICE love white people hair.
LICE love black people hair.
LICE love Asian and Mexican hair.
LICE love girl hair
LICE love boy hair
LICE love straight, Bi, gay, transexual, and transgender hair.
LICE love Hillary supporters' hair
LICE love Trump supporters' hair
LICE love the people that would've preferred to vote for Bernie hair
In some CRAZY way...we should ALL be like LICE, right?
But seriously...they're f*cking gross.
CHECK YOUR KIDS' HEADS!!! Weekly!!!
We check EVERY Friday. We also preventatively TREAT every Friday. I'm not talking about the chemical shit storm boxes at your local drug store that could quite possibly cause your child to grow a third arm, all the while not killing the little shits anyways. I'm talking a LICE comb off of Amazon, a bottle of ANY type of oil in your home (coconut, olive, grapeseed, almond), some Tea Tree EO, and a shower cap. This method suffocates the CRAP out of them.
Listen guys...it's EVERYWHERE!!! Don't think it can't happen to you or your Family. And if it does, quit being so damned embarrassed!!! TALK about it!!! Tell your friends. Tell your kids' friends' parents. Quit hiding behind some damned bugs that do nothing but LOVE everyone. But, let's get rid of that shit...for real.
Me: Hey Quinn...real quick...did you draw on the table?
Me: You sure?
(I love how kids have NO idea what "Are you sure" means)
Me: You wanna come take a look...because I'm pretty sure this is your work?
Quinn: Nope. Not me Mom. I draw on paper.
Me: Really though...because...last I checked, you're the only Oeser (at this moment) that draws arms and legs that protrude DIRECTLY from an oversized head, that's usually accompanied by a fancy mohawk. I mean...you wanna double check here?
Quinn: Yeah, no...not me Mom. I think Penny.
Me: Weird. Penny has a difficult time with so much as a circle, but if you say so.
Quinn: Can you buy me my Frozen Fever Elsa dress tomorrow for Halloween?
Me: *18 long, dry blinks*
So this is the TABLE...
In ALL of her glory...there she is. The homeliest table you've EVER seen. 8 of us live in this house, and here's our table for 5. 4 matching chairs, and 1 shitty garage sale find. But...MAN...I love this table!
Most every night, I'll find a few Shopkins chilling on our table (if you don't know what a Shopkin is, go ahead and thank Baby Jesus). They're always covered with a blanket, and always only 2 (a toilet and a watermelon today.) Don't EVER move these lover Shopkins...EVER...unless you'd prefer the wrath of Penny and Quinn before your morning cup of Joe. You don't want this. Trust me.
How cute is this though? I like to think it's their way of demonstrating a Mother and Father's love for one another. Whatever the case...it makes me smile...and wanna love up on my man.
There is SO much CRAP on this table. Marker, paint, pencil, Sharpie, NAIL POLISH, Easter egg coloring stains, sticky Mailbu puddles...you name it!
This is where Harper practiced her vowels.
That, or...Ella was working on her Spanish "Hellos." I can't be too sure.
This is just a Hello Kitty sticker on a chair. It's been there for YEARS!!! I don't have the heart to remove it because it's Penny's kitty chair. That, or I'm just lazy. I'll never tell.
Awwwwwwww...here's a heart that Jack drew for me when he was little.
Yeah. No. That's pizza sauce.
Seriously though...this table. It's so ugly. It's so run down. Kev hates it!!! Talks about sanding it down and revarnishing it...or just tossing it...because it's THAT hideous.
He's kidding NO ONE!!! We LOVE this table!!! It's everything! It's our kids. It's their drawings. It's their thoughts. It's their messes. It's this house. It's our memories. It's our lives. It's our EVERYTHING!!! This table means the WORLD to me!!!
So much, in fact, that I just took close to 85 professional pictures of the damned thing!
What does your Family have? What is the one thing that you'll take with you forever? The one thing that makes you tear up just thinking about it?
Mine? The "Table." OUR Table.
Guess who dressed herself today?
Guess who also learned the "Trick or Treat, Smell My Feet" song?
How is it that one tiny human can make me smile ear to ear, and COMPLETELY make my day, but at the same time...
100%...drive me to the bottle?
There it is.
That was it.
My Young Living EO's.
That viral letter to my Husband revolved 100% around these little bottles of heaven.
My experience on the Steve Harvey Show was nothing short of amazing, don't get me wrong, but as you'll see in the video...they cut out one VERY important piece.
I ONLY began to type that letter to explain to my Husband how to get the diffuser up and running because THAT is how important it is to me...and the sanity of others...including my Husband.
Who likes sleep? (slowly raises hand). Guess who thinks it's completely unnecessary? God damned PENNY!!!
So, WHY again did my Husband only get 4 hours of sleep that entire weekend?
Dude didn't read the letter.
Use the oils, people. Use ALL of the OILS!!!
To see the original post of my letter, click here. To see it on Facebook, click here.
To order your glorious Premium Starter Kit, click the pic!!!
To see our episode on Steve Harvey, click THAT pic!
And thank you ALL SO MUCH for all of the love and support!!!
Ohhhhhh...how I've missed this! I haven't blogged in a good 2.5 weeks, and it's been killing me! I always wonder if I'll have enough to talk about...until tonight.
I posted a photo on Facebook earlier today, with this caption...
Today's going to be a real sh*t show with this one. Decided, once again, that it was not in her best interest to sleep last night. I've decided to document her completely ridiculous and unnecessary meltdowns. I'll start with 7am.
Her pee was too hot 😒
Here's the pic that went along with it...
I received tons of comments, likes, hearts, support, and overall "Thank You for making my life seem normal" comments. Let me real quick add my favorite...
"Pro tip: Just randomly go in their room at start screaming at 3am. This is especially effective when they've started to enjoy sleep."
Everything was fine and dandy UNTIL...I got the dreaded "NOT cool. Huge violation of this sweet girl's privacy. I'm hurting for her something fierce right now. These things...once out there...can be there FOREVER!!!" Not in so many words, but you get the idea. I immediately started to question myself. I actually felt TERRIBLE!!! Am I a huge D*ck Bag that does nothing but shames her child? Is she going to resent me? How much therapy will she need? And just then I had a HUGE epiphany! I just HAD to take to my blog.
I didn't start there though. I, for the next TWO hours, tirelessly searched for any and all pictures I had of myself growing up. You'll see where I'm going with this...I think.
I'll start with this one...
This is a photo of me as a newborn. I think. I actually have no f*cking idea if this IS, in fact, even me. Better question...WTF is that holding me? My Mom? I dunno. Nothing was stated on the back of the photo. THIS is something I would've loved to have...on the internet... FOREVER!
"Momma holding her new baby girl!!!"
But I don't.
I'll keep going.
Here I am again...
3, 4, 6 months? Hell if I know!!! Am I pissed? Do I hate the person I'm looking at? Did I just sh*t myself? No clue. THIS is something that I would've loved to have...on the internet...FOREVER.
"Here's Meg...digesting her sh*tty peas and carrot dinner."
But I don't.
Ummmmmm..."I'm sorry. Does your baby have a giant black eye?" YUP!!! Sure does! How the F*CK did that even get there? I've heard a few conflicting stories, but I'm not sure I'll ever know. THIS is something that I would've loved to have...on the internet...FOREVER.
"Here's Meg!!! Still smiling...even though she just launched her dumb ass down the stairs in her walker."
But I don't.
A favorite of mine...
I actually DO love this one!!! I don't know much about WTF I was doing here, or...if indeed... I had AGAIN shit myself. I do know one thing though...My Dad took this one. He loved photography, and he's who inspired me to love taking photos myself. He's a pretty rad dude. And since I DID manage to take a pretty decent picture of a picture, I WILL have it FOREVER...on the internet.
"Here's Ghanni...just sh*tting again...loving up on her giraffe...with questionable eyebrows."
Here I am again...from what looks to be the same night. Is it though? WTF knows. Why am I so pissed off? Do I absolutely HATE Mickey Mouse AND Miss Piggy equally? Do I hate life? Do I have to sh*t, but I'm afraid to tell anyone? I'LL NEVER KNOW!!! I look like a miserable little TWAT! I'd love to know what the hell was going through my head at this very moment. THIS is something that I would've loved to have...on the internet...FOREVER.
"Just Meg again...Not interested in Mickey's trapeze skills, and pissed that she got the pig b*tch when Mom knew DAMNED well she's more of a Kermit kind of gal."
But I don't.
The only pic I have with my Gram. God...I loved the crap out of her! I wish I had more of these...on the internet...FOREVER.
But I don't.
Funny story...I liked babies.
I dunno...some might consider this one a bit inappropriate. Who's to say I wanted the whole world to know about my FUPA at such a young age? I mean...I'm walking the beach half naked. AGAIN...it looks like I have a giant TURD in my drawers, and there's about to be a left nip slip from that busted bikini top. Would this photo EVER upset me? HELL NO!!! What am I eating? Who was with me that day? UGHHHHHH!!! There's nothing on the back of this photo!!! I see my Dad's shoes. Was he with me? I see his camera bag. Of course he was! Was my Mom there? Were they together at that time? Were they happy? Is that a popsicle stick or a french fry? I wish I knew more. I wish there WAS more! I know my parents loved me. I know they had great times with me. I know they wish they had more to show...more to document...more to save. More to have...on the internet...FOREVER.
But they don't.
Would I ever get upset about a picture of me, screaming my face off, on the toilet? NO WAY!!! It's a memory. It's something I could look back on. It's something that would make me feel human...almost normal. My kids do this sh*t, and holy balls...I did it too!!! Kids lose their sh*t, right? OF COURSE they do! I want other Moms to know that this is REAL. This sh*t happens!!! I want MY kids to know (when I broadcast their slideshow at their wedding) that this is LIFE. Kids are buttfaces sometimes, and that's okay...because Guess what??? They were buttfaces too, and they actually turned out F*CKING AWESOME!!! And their kids will too.
So, post it! Document it! The good AND the bad. They'll appreciate it, I can almost guarantee that. I wish I had this sh*t...on the internet...FOREVER.
But I don't.
Bottom line is...
It's YOUR life, it's YOUR family, it's YOUR choice.
You do you. I'll do me.