Second Annual Powell Family Christmas Card

Well, we’re doing better this year. We actually had family pictures taken!  I know, I know.  It’s almost like we have our shit together. But don’t worry, we still don’t.  Another year has passed, my kids have grown, my husband has established himself in his job, and I’m still figuring out what I want to be when I grow up.  So from our ever growing, changing, moving, dysfunctional family to yours, Merry Christmas!!

Reed
Age: 8
Grade: 3 20181123_133357
In a matter of weeks my eldest child will be 9.  He looks like a 9 year-old, he smells like a 9 year-old, he has teeth 4 sizes too big for this face like a 9 year-old.  Despite being forced to take a shower every day, he still smells like the human equivalent of moldy drywall.   He wants nothing to do with girls, and will put more effort into not brushing his teeth than it would take to just brush his  teeth. He is still kicking ass in his art class.  And even though he’s not at the top of his class academically, he makes everyone in class laugh. And honestly, I couldn’t be more proud.
Greatest Accomplishment: Learning that you can, in fact, pee in the toilet without peeing all over the floor.

Claire
Age: 3
Grade: Preschool20180808_110844
Claire started preschool last January.  Thanks to a slight speech delay, she qualified for public preschool, which means it’s FREE!!!!  Her language has improved greatly and she now talks non-stop.  Non. Stop.  She has discovered that she gives zero fucks about what anyone thinks, and has continued to live her life as such.  Her hair looks like she should live at Grey Gardens, and she’s still doing her best to mess up the curve by rocking straight up size 6t clothes.  She got her room painted purple this year. And while she loves all things girly, she will still pile drive her brothers like she believes professional wrestling is real.
Greatest Accomplishment: Not shitting in her pants….as much.

Samuel
Age: 220180926_145941
This blogs namesake turned 2 this year. If I called him a whiny little bitch, I would be doing a disservice to whiny little bitches everywhere.  We have the terrible 2s coupled with severe separation anxiety, which makes for an expensive drinking habit for Mommy.  He is talking so much, busting out new words everything day like, “What the heck?” and “God Damnit!” He’s a regular chatty Cathy.  This year he also moved into a big boy bed, and really loves the whole not sleeping in a cage thing anymore. Most recently, he has started potty training and will tell us if he has to go potty to “make water.”
Greatest Accomplishment: Has mastered the art of Chinese water torture in the form of “Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama…”

 

Josh
Age: 4220180915_125004
Josh has been kicking ass and taking names at work.  He also discovered that he and his boss, also named Josh, are exactly the same person. So, that’s not weird or anything.  You know how most people get softer in their old age, not my man!  He still hates everyone as much if not more than ever before.  He still has the same protein shake every day for breakfast, he still puts a fried egg on his cheeseburger, and he still keeps a cleaner house than I do.  However, now he does all of that in dress pants that hug his ass and brown wing tips.
Greatest Accomplishment: Randomly joining Sam’s club while bored on his lunch hour one day.

Leah 
Age: Still none of your damn business. 20181020_183832
I have learned how to survive on little to no sleep each and every day.  I’m currently lobbying to be in a clinical trial for coffee that is distributed intravenously.  My current career path has me competing with 12 year-olds for babysitting jobs, in addition to some marketing consulting.  You know, because 3 kids of my own, one extra, a husband, and a house just isn’t enough. I’m learning to not care so much what people think. Turns out I can care less!  Who knew? Nothing get’s me more excited than when something is on sale, whether I need it or not. And I’m sickeningly aware of all the things that make me “basic;” for most of which, I feel no need to apologize.
Greatest Accomplishment: Recently bought the best pair of leggings at Aldi for $6.

 

Merry Christmas all you filthy animals!!

 

 

The Shit Remote…

Remember your friend from college who used to insist on taking a picture of his defecation and text to everyone in the group?  If you don’t, lucky you.  If you still have this friend, maybe you shouldn’t.  If you are this friend, stop it!  Now, imagine that giant shit that your friend is strangely proud of had a remote control right next to it.

Allow me to explain.  A little backstory: my daughter, now 2 and a half is recently potty trained.  We’ve got it pretty much down, but she still has this thing.  She always starts to shit in her pants.  She won’t finish in her pants, but she gets the turtle head out of the shell before she says she has to poop.  I think you get the picture.

John wayneOne day she started her daily shit in her Dory underwear per usual.  We ran to the bathroom, her doing her best John Wayne impression. Because walking with shit in your pants is really hard work.  We get to the bathroom with enough time for her to finish her shadoobie in the appropriate arena.  I peeled her underwear off of her, careful not to smear shit all over the front of the toilet…again.

Meanwhile, my 1-year-old is walking around chewing on the remote control for the TV because, well, I’ve just given up as a parent.  Keep in mind, he is obsessed with the toilet.  We’ve already lost a DVD to him taking it for a little swim in the porcelain kiddie pool.  Typically, he only keeps her company while she’s pinching one off.  He’s just sitting in wait for her to be done so he can go to town in the toilet water like God intended.

After my successful removal of the shit stained underwear, I ran upstairs to start a load of laundry, because….poop.  When I came back downstairs I noticed the 1-year-old didn’t have the remote anymore.  Not too strange as he usually leaves random stuff in random places all day long.  I walked into the bathroom to see the girl one still sitting with a look of pride on her face over the stench that was coming from the toilet.  “Good Girl!” she shouted as I asked her if she pooped.  Her legs were slightly separated, and as I looked into the potty, I see something shiny.

“What’s in there?” I asked.

“I poop!!” She replied.

I took her off the toilet to wipe her nasty ass when I see it.  A giant, grown man turd nestled next to our small, black television remote.  My 1-year-old had sneaked it between her legs, mid shit mind you, and then continued about his business as if nothing had happened.

What. In. All. The. Fuck?!?!?! I got a pair of latex gloves that I normally only use when I cut up jalapenos and plucked the shit covered remote out of the toilet. gag There was no question in my mind to throw it away, but I knew that if we were going to buy a new one, we would need to know what the old one looked like.  So, I kept it out to show my husband when he got home from work.

The minute he walked in the door was halfway through both a Bud Light and the story of what happened to our remote.  This sick bastard, says we should keep the remote.  I’m sorry.  Are you fucking kidding me?  There was literally nothing between it and shit.  He replied, “Literally everything in this house has got to be covered in shit at this point,” and threw it in a bowl of rice to dry out. While I can’t argue with his logic about shit in the house, at least 2 of our kids have straight up shit on the floor in the living room, it’s totally different to see it…in the toilet…touching something you hold in your hand every day.

Much to my chagrin, the remote works.  The rice worked, in case you were wondering.  The fucking thing is sitting in my living room.  While I have disinfected it with a bleach solution, I still refuse to use it.  My husband just laughs at me.  To which I simply reply, “You didn’t see it! You don’t know!”

 

You don't know

 

Potty Training: Now That’s How You Get Pink Eye

Who doesn’t love that scene from Knocked Up where we all learned you can give all your roommates pink eye by merely bare-assed farting on their pillow?  Classic.

Pink Eye

However, I am here to tell you that living in a house full of toddlers is waaaay worse than a house full of malicious stoners.

For those of you who do not have kids, trust me when I say, potty training is by far the WORST stage of child-rearing (“you hear that, he wants to rear your child.”  Sorry, I have Knocked Up on the brain).  There is literally piss and shit everywhere.  Kinda like in college, but much less funny.  When your drunk friend shits himself in white shorts in the middle of a bar, it’s hilarious!  When your 2-year-old drops heat all over your living room floor, and your 10-month old immediately thinks, “I must put that in my mouth;” still hilarious, but only after the fact. Allow me to present exhibits A thru C.

Exhibit A: While potty training my 2 and a half-year-old daughter, she decided to go commando.  As she had pissed herself all day, I thought, “Sure, we’ll let it air out for a bit.” BTW, whoever said girls are easier to train than boys is a fucking liar!  Anyway, as we sat down to enjoy a nice dinner with a single, childless friend (I’m really surprised she’s still our friend), my daughter takes it upon herself to squat down between the ottoman and the couch and drop a couple nugs, thinking no one would notice.  At first, she was right.  We went about our grown up business and were none the wiser.  That is until I noticed my 10-month old using her turds as soccer balls.  Oh, and the smell the shit.  Needless to say, each child was immediately bathed in bleach (not really), and the entire house underwent a Lysol exorcism. I need an old priest and a young priest!!

Exhibit B: A friend of mine has 3 little boys, 3 years old and under.  She’s insane.  Her middle son is only a few weeks older than my daughter so we are currently in a 2 person support group for potty training moms.  We just send SnapChats to each other of us drinking.  Her little guy is much more “helpful” than my daughter.  While she prefers a more stealthy approach, her son likes to squeeze out a meadow muffin and share it with the house.  That’s right.  He crapped on the floor in the basement, picked it up, carried it up the stairs, dropped in on the floor of his bedroom, with a healthy plop I’m sure, then hollers down the hall, “Mommy!  I made a poop.  Come change me!”  Silver lining: he didn’t smear it all over the wall.  So, that’s a win.

Exhibit C: This one requires a little back story.  If you’ve ever seen the movie The Shawshank Redemption, you will know what I’m talking about.  If you haven’t, Spoiler Alert, also, what the hell is wrong with you?!?!  Seriously, it’s one of the greatest movies of all time.  Get your shit together. Anyway, at the end of the movie, it is revealed the protagonist, Andy, has been slowly digging his way out of his cell, and collecting the pieces in his pockets and gradually dumping them in the courtyard by cutting a hole in his pockets and shaking the pieces down his pant leg.  Do you see where this is going?

Shawshank

One day I was watching a  neighbor’s potty training son.  Let’s just say this kid and a rabbit have a lot in common, and I don’t mean carrots.  After Tommy-gunning tiny turds in his pants, he proceeds to “Shawshank” his way up my stairs.  As he is standing in front of me, I notice a black ball by his feet.  I immediately run him to the bathroom, ass debris falling out of his pant leg the whole way.  Thanks to his apparently GI issues, the clean up was fairly easy.  That is until my germaphobic son comes upstairs with a handful of ‘marbles.” He still hasn’t stopped washing his hands.

When you have this much shit in your house, there are bound to be poo particles everywhere.  It would be a miracle if everyone made it out pink eye free. So, the next time you go to a 2-year-old’s birthday party, don’t waste your money at Toys-R-Us. Instead, might I suggest a Stanley Steamer gift card.

 

 

http://popkey.co/m/rzQYl-pink+eye-knocked+up
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