'Sup boo thangs.

Ok so check it. The other day I woke up extra super early, like nine in the morning, and I've learned enough in my four short years not to wake the beast, so I tiptoed downstairs, quiet as a mouse and made myself a bowl of cereal: one bag of M&Ms I mean two and a half bags of M&Ms plus a little splash of milk and there you have it a breakfast of champions.

After I eated all my cereal, I decided I had to pee. So I went outside and let her fly off the deck patio. It was a nice morning, relaxing, the view was a'ight and for once, the neighbors weren't staring at me like I was some reject boxcar child or somefing. 

After I did my bidness, I decided I wanted to watch some cartoons, so I turned on South Park. Cartman is my fave, obviously, because of this episode, but also because he's extremely politically incorrect. I'm not even sure what that means, I've just heard mommy say it's what pays the bills around here and I love me some dolla dolla bills -- holla! -- so by default he's my favoritist.

After my morning slash afternoon cartoons, I decided I wanted a mommy, so I reluctantly shimmied the padlock on her bedroom door, bracing myself with my plastic Batman shield and face mask. I slowly pandered up to her bed, shaking like a leaf, thinking, "damn Gina! If something goes wrong, I can claim 'child prop!' and hopefully get sent to a non-mommy blogger home."

Except, no. Mommies who don't blog are weird. They are like, ashamed of their kids or somefing. I pooped three times today and wiped my own butt. And you better believe that is newsworthy!

But what happened next is the clincher. See, as I was inching closer and closer to mommy's side of the bed, I was just about to wang chung her ass when I spotted it.

It.

The cheetos. 

The cheetos!?! Under mommy's bed?! But! But! She said they were all gone! Blasphemy! The shame! The lies, all the lies, and the hurt and anger and disappointment that is now my life.

All those times I asked if I could have some cheetos with my flamin' hot cheeto puffs…

My life

has

been

one

big

lie.

That's it, I'm moving to grannies.

Me: Gunner you need to stop eating so much crap. It will make you throw up. Remember that one time on the boat when you ate too much crap and threw up all over daddy?

Gunner: No. Can you show me a picture of me throwing up all over daddy?

Me: I didn't take a picture of that.

Gunner: What?!?! You take pictures of everything!!

::After I picked Gunner up from school, and his teacher took me aside and said how Gunner had declared he was "going to work" and then walked over to her and...ahem...popped her ass.::

Me: Gunner. It is very inappropriate to pop your teachers ass. You can pop ass at home, but that's it. Everywhere else is off limits. Do you understand?

Gunner: Well what if teacher comes to our house? Can I pop her ass then?

Me: No.

Colt: Mom I want to play a game on your phone.

Me: No, not right now.

Colt: But mom I want to. You're playing a game on your phone.

Me: It's not a game it's Candy Crush and if you make me lose one more time I will orphan you.

Me: So Gunner tell me, what did you learn in school today?

Gunner: Nothing.

Me: Oh. Wow. Sounds pretty interesting.

Gunner: It wasn't interesting! I hate school!

Me: Ok then.

Gunner: I didn't learn about the planets and the earth and the solar system and teacher would only let me have one snack and I'm mad!

Me: I'm mad too. Starbucks was out of their spinach feta wraps. 

Colt: Mom I want some juice-y.

Me: No honey you've had enough juice-y for today.

Colt: Mommy I! Said! I! Want! Some! JUICE-Y!!!

Me: Then get a job and go buy your own juice-y!

Colt: No mom! I can't get a job 'cause I'm still a baby... {whimpers}

Me: Yes my little angel, you're right. Here. Drink the whole juice-y.

Gunner: Sometimes I don't like sharing my toys.

Me: Well, then you won't have many friends in life.

{short silence}

Gunner: Is that why-

Me: Go to your room! You're in timeout.

::When I was in a pinch to get Gunner dressed and out the door as we were way late for school::
Gunner: I hate this shirt! This is a girl shirt.
Me: No it's not, it's a unisex shirt.
Gunner: What is a unisex shirt?
Me: It means it's appropriate for both girls and boys.
Gunner: But it has a princess on it.
Me: That's not a princess. It's just a really pretty boy who grew his hair out long.
Gunner: He has boobs.

gunner: I hate these pink pants.
me: they aren't pink, they are light maroon.
gunner: huh? what is maroon?
me: maroon is an offset of pink. a distant cousin of sorts.
gunner: I hate these pink pants!

me: before I met daddy I lived in a house by myself.

gunner: you lived by yourself? you didn't have any friends?

me: I had friends but I lived alone.

gunner: oh. that's really sad.

as I was styling gunner's hair before school:

gunner: I don't want a mohawk.

me: too bad. you have to make yourself look presentable before you go places.

gunner: but you never make yourself look pretty before we go places?

colt: werkjdsf lfdv lzdfkgjubfdgh dkjebzx
me: what?
colt: oisdfb wiu fkjhsdbwe vkjzsd
me: what??
gunner: he said he wants some juice and a waffle.
me: oh. ok. thanks.

gunner: can we fly my kite today?

me: no, it's too windy.

the next day...

gunner: can we fly my kite today?

me: no, it's not windy enough.

gunner: mom now I think you are just being lazy.

colt: I'm mad at you!
me: that's ok.
colt: I don't like you!
me: that's ok too.
colt: I don't want you to be my mom!
me: haaaaaa!!! sucka you go boy! you go find someone else who wants to be your mom and tend to your snot nose and wipe your butt. good luck!

me: so gunner, what did you learn in school today?
gunner: I'm not telling you.
me: ok. so what was your snack today?
gunner: I'm not telling you.
me: ok. so we have to stop by Target and I don't want to hear a word out of you.
gunner: we learned about the republic of Mississippi and how many stars there are in the sky and I chose chocolate pudding as my snack now do I get to pick out at a toy?



Just a day in the life.

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Seriously. It seems like just yesterday I pushed this little tadpole out of my fish whistle (sorry had to) and now dude is five. Five! It's so bizarre to me, as I still feel like the 21-year old who wants to go out and have fun (minus the DUI on my 21st birthday part) yet I also have this overwhelming desire to be a total momma bear. As in, this is my kid and if you mess with him? Push him around on the playground? Exclude him?

I will bust your ass. 

Usually I use asterisks for such words but when it comes to my children, no asterisks allowed! I feel a super fierce protectiveness over them, and if you never knew before what it would feel like to give your life for another, you will know once you have children of your own. 

A few reasons that make my first born extra special:

- His heart. I swear that his main goal in life is to make others happy. 

- The way he loves. He can't go to bed without his nightly hugs and kisses.

- The way he makes friends. He can meet someone for three minutes and suddenly, they are his "best best friend."

- When we are driving in the car, and I hear him talking to his stuffed animals. He has full-on conversations with them, telling them how much he loves them, how he will protect them, how he won't let anything bad happen to them. Be still my heart!

- The way he runs to me, hugging and kissing on me, telling me how much he missed me...even if I have just been gone for two hours getting my hair done.

- Whenever we walk into my sisters house, he goes directly to the hand sanitizer and cleans his hands so he can go straight to the baby and check her out. He knows the drill.

- The way he loves to cuddle. I know it won't be long until he wants nothing to do with me, so I try to soak it in and take advantage of the times he says "momma? will you lay with me?" Everything else in the world can wait.

- The ways he says things like "you've gotta be kidding me, baby!" and "well hellfire, save matches, f--- a duck and see what hatches!"

Ok ok, so maybe he doesn't say that last one (side eye Steven Tyler) but his little sayings pretty much melt my heart. Gunner James Smith is precious. He really does have a heart of gold and he loves his mommy, daddy, brother, granny, poppa, aunties, uncles, cousins, doggies and anyone else really who has a living heartbeat.

So today I wish a very happy birthday to my first born angel baby, Mr. Gunner Smith.

And when we go to the toy store and he gets to pick out any toy he wants, I won't be surprised when he chooses a tinkerbell doll, and I'll love him extra hard because of it.

My five year old is amazing.

************

ps. I am part of an amazing giveaway (the LAST ONE I will be participating in for a while) and this one is a goodie: $400 to Tiffany's! Check it out HERE!

Ok so here's the deal. I'm only four, obviously not old enough to get in a car and drive away forever from this madness that is my life, (but apparently old enough to know what a hangover is, side eye mom) however, I do have a few years of wisdom under my belt. I know my mom has come here a few times with her "I confess sesh" malarky, but now it's my turn. And I have a few confessions I would like to get off my back. 

Forgive me father for I have sinned*. 

I confess: I'm having major mommy issues. These days, I can't even recognize her. I go to bed with a blonde haired mommy and wake up to a black haired one. That shit is scary for a tyke my age! Bangs, no bangs, Snooki tan one day and Casper the next? Wtf mom? Can we say identity crisis? For the love...

I confess: Mommy tries to trick me into eating healthy by mixing spinach into my pusghetti. Who does she think I am anyway? I'm a little smarter then that, lady. How about I "trick" you into putting lemonade in your drink instead of vodka? See how well that works?

I confess: Listen up fellow four year olds, this one's for you: never, ever, under any circumstances, admit fault. If you have a dog? Blame the dog. A younger brother? Better yet. Even if she saw you? Blame it on the invisible friend you have been forced to create as a result of mommy's extreme insanity. Trust me, if your mommy is anything like mine? She'll give you a kiss and smile at your imaginary friend on the way out. 

I confess: Skittles are not m&m's. I repeat, skittles are not m&m's!

I confess: I'm really a bleeding heart liberal. I mean, free toys? Sign a half-pint up! But please, please don't tell my mommy. I'm scared that she will erase all my tivoed South Park episodes to make more room for Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew. You know how them republicans can be greedy selfish &#$^@%*#.

I confess: I honestly think that Dr. Phil is my real dad.

*and by sinned, I mean I ate one too many double 

stuff oreos and throwed up in my bed. Twice.

One more quick I confess: Mommy had to clean it all up. Twice! lol!

Someone was feeling left out. He wanted in on his own "if you really knew me" post.

So here it is. In his own words.

If You Really Knew Me... By Gunner James Smith.

* You would know that the only reason I'm always naked is because my mom is too lazy to do the laundry.

* You would know that I'm scared of eggs, only because my mom used to throw raw eggs at my face and tell me to "catch."

* You would know that my little brother thinks I'm Superman. Which would make him right.

* You would know that I love snakes.


* You would know that I'm scared of vacuum salespersons.

* And sled dogs.

* And my mom. *side eye*

If you really knew me...

* You would know that my mom has forced me to sport this fauxhawk thingy since as far back as I can remember, which isn't that far, considering I'm only four...


...but still, I hate it.

* You would know that my mom is a hypocrite. She gets me in trouble for saying the same words that she says all. the. time. Hypomom is what she is. Call her that. She likes it.

* You would know that my mom owns, and wears, at least four different cardigans. BAM! there I said it.

* You would know that I know more about Dr. Phil than I wish to. Btw, who was that Dina Lohan chick that was on the other day? She seemed nice. And hot.

* You would know that when my mom asks me how many cookies I had, I always say "only one." Kind of like when daddy comes home from work and asks mommy how many drinks she has had. Hey, I learn from the best.

* You would know that I'm a daredevil. Fun is my middle name and badass-ery is my game.

And finally, if you really knew me, like, really really really knew me...

* You would know that I secretly plan to vote for Obama. 'Cause I want me some free candy.

So after Gunner guest posted last week, and after all the positive comments he received, he has been walking around the house with his chest out and nose upturned, kinda like he owns the place. Of course, he has been incessantly bragging to his brother about how "all mommys friends like him best" and how "better" he is now that he has a book deal in the works.

So Colt came to me and demanded to write a guest post of his own.

Apparently, second children have something to say also...

******************************************************

Hi. My name is Colt.


As you can see, I have no pants on, and I'm soooooo cold right now. Someone call CPS!

You may recognize my little legs in the above picture, seeing as how mommy tweets and instagrams a billion pictures of me without clothes on. She says I like being naked. Let me ask: do you like being naked? Outside? In the cold? It's not the best feeling in the world. I can't talk much yet, but if I could, I would say "the hell, woman? Put some damn pants on me!"

I mean, really. Too much to ask?

It probably is. Considering the social status I currently hold in the house. Talk about being second rate. It's always "Gunner this" and Gunner that," and then when or if she does remember that she birthed a second child, I might get a few leftover scraps of macaroni and cheese.

I loooooooooooove macaroni and cheese.

Back to my brother.

Why does the oldest have to act like that? Like he's all high and mighty, and that his shit don't stink. I've smelt it, and trust me, it stanks. It doesn't matter what toy I had first, if he wants it, he's gonna get it. It has to be alllllllll about him or he will make my life hell. His way or the highway. Selfish, that's what firstborns are.

I think that mommy is a firstborn.

Explains a lot.

Oh, and by the way mom? I hated my long curls. I'm glad granny cut it off when you and daddy went on vacation. I know you have plans to grow it long again, but make no mistake...as soon as I learn how to use the scissors? Your precious curls are going down.

Boo-yah.

Oh, and one more thing? When you hear me in the monitor at 6 am? I'm ready to get up. I know you like to brag to all your girlfriends how "both your kids like to sleep 'til 9," but I only sleep 'til 9 because I get bored after 2 hours of doing nothing in my crib, so I drift back to sleep.

You just wait 'til I can crawl out of my crib.

I'll wake you up by smacking you with the pancake paddle.

Get up sugart*ts and make me some breakfast!

Like daddy says...maybe instead of drinking half a fifth and staying up late watching "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant," you could get up with my early cries and sweat it out on that dust machine aka the Treadmill.

That ass ain't gonna work itself out...

................................

It's late.

I gots to go to bed.

My mom is MIA so can one of you sweet sugar britches adopt me?

Please?

I'll reward you with long walks in the park and a few sips of my juice box.

Not to be mistaken with my macaroni and cheese.

Don't touch that.

Or I'll go all firstborn on your ass.