Toot! Toot! All aboard the crazy train! Be prepared for a serious train wreck because this week…

THE BACHELOR IS BACK!!!

This season’s Bachelor is Sean. You might remember Sean from falling in love with Emily last year on the Bachelorette. He is 29 years old, from Dallas, Texas and apparently loves (1) being shirtless, and (2) v-neck tee shirts.

Seriously, this guy must buy them in bulk from the Gap.

To be honest, I was kind of drifting off until what to my wondering eyes should appear but my old television boyfriend, Arie, also from Emily’s season!

Be still my heart!

Oh delicious Arie. God, he was gorgeous. Like sweet jesus smoking hot. He apparently gave him a lot of good/hilarious advice to Sean during his visit, including how to kiss with your whole body, but to be honest, I was too busy licking my television screen to pay attention.

Since this episode is chock full of crazy ladies, so I’ll do my best to introduce you to this season’s “contestants” (and, of course, our lovely Bachelor, too):

This season on The Bachelor: Ambulances and crying are always a good sign.

As a staple of of a child’s library, I’m sure you are all familiar with Eric Carle’s infamous “The Very Hungry Caterpillar”. Or as I refer to it: “The Very Hungry Diabetic.”

Recently, this has become one of Bug’s bedtime favorite and I am forced get to read this wondrous story at least twice a day.

As with everything, I tend to be completely inappropriate think outside the box, and that doesn’t stop when it comes to children’s literature.

This is how I read “The Very Hungry Caterpillar”:

(Blah blah a caterpillar hatches out egg in the moonlight. By this time our hero has taken a week to eat through an entire fruit basket.)

On Saturday, he ate through one piece of chocolate cake, one ice cream cone, one pickle, one slice of Swiss cheese, one slice of salami, one lollipop, one piece of cherry pie, one sausage, one cupcake, and one slice of watermelon. And that night, he had a stomachache.*

And diabetes with a side of heart disease.

On Sunday, the caterpillar ate through one nice green leaf and two packages of Pepcid and after that he felt much better.

Now he wasn’t hungry anymore – and he wasn’t a tiny caterpillar anymore. He was a big FAT GROSSLY OBESE caterpillar.

He built a small house, called a cocoon, around himself. But not really. Because moths make cocoons. What the caterpillar really built was a chrysalis. But apparently entomology is not one of Eric Carle’s strengths, despite, you know, all his fucking books being written about insects.

He stayed in the “cocoon” for more than two weeks which sounds like a fucking vacation to me. Then he nibbled a hole in the “cocoon” (isn’t there a show on TLC about eating your house and laundry detergent and shit for people like this?), pushed his way out and…

He was a beautiful butterfly. He had a heart attack from his lifetime of unhealthy eating and lethargy.

Sweet dreams!

*I am so proud and yet so ashamed that I wrote that entire sentence from memory. Kill me now.
Song title: Caterpillar to Butterfly by Omicron

yeah, so, um, get ready for some crazy bitch mom antics from over here.

((waves))

Not only did Bee get separated from all of her friends (I know she will make more friends – we just LOVE these ones), but she also got the “playtime” kindergarten teacher.

Not the one I specifically requested a few months ago from the principal.

Yes, I AM that mom.

And now I get to be THAT MOM who marches in to the school office and demands that my kid get put in the class that I want her in.

Or I could just be engulfed by my vagina.

Get it? I could be a huge pussy?

((rim shot))

Most likely I will force Mr. Bee over to the school to discuss things with the principal since I’ve already done a bunch and I super suck at confrontation (see as reference: my life). Any suggestions from parents who have been in my position before and/or teachers who could suggest a way to not completely insult everyone and still get what I want?

Oh, and my name is totally going on that “moms who suck” list in the teachers’ lounge now.

Song title: Crazy Bitch by Buckcherry

I have no idea who Bee’s kindergarten teacher is.

NO, I’m not an absent parent.

I prefer OBLIVIOUS parent.

See, Bee’s school operates a little differently. There is not one, but two full day kindergarten classes and for the first week of school, the teachers switch off teaching different groups of children. They switch and mix and mix and switch and then finally, TODAY, they choose who will teach which students.

Can you say nerve wracking?!

I won’t lie, I definitely have a favorite teacher. And yes, I am THAT parent who emails the principal declaring the giftedness of my child and my request for a particular teacher.

I’m assuming that email got me put on some “watch out for this nutcase” list posted in the teachers’ lounge. Probably with photos, doctored with mustaches and pirate eye patches.

So now today I’m sitting nervously wondering if Bee will be in the same class with her new beasties or not (because you know that her little 5-year-old world will collapse in a heap of what-the-fuck if she is not in the same class as her little Musketeers) and hoping and wishing and praying (as much as an atheist can pray, anyway) for my dream kindergarten teacher to snag my “gifted” Bee.

I wonder if her photo is up in the lounge too. She looks really good in eye patches.

Song title: Waiting Game by Van Morrison

Am I the only woman who goes bonkers for power tools?

I swear, it only takes a measly rotary tool to turn me from Elle Woods in to a bra-burning Rosie the Riveter.

And don’t even get me started on IKEA furniture. I am drawn to putting together furniture like a druggie fly is drawn to a meth kitchen.

Yeah, I lost myself with that last analogy too.

The only problem is that Mr. Bee likes doing the “manly” work of assembling furniture as much as I do. That’s when our house turns in to an IKEA Thunderdome.

Two people enter. Only one LACK table leaves…

Song title: Power Tool by 40 Below Summer

Oh mah gawd, you guys. You seriously have to try this kid at school thing.

IT’S SO FUCKING AWESOME!!

Yesterday, I did dishes,

what?!

2 1/2 loads of laundry,

I’m only counting half of the load that I forgot about and is still sitting in the washer gathering mildew.

and…wait for it…I cooked dinner!!

((crickets))

Fer reals, guys, the last time I cooked dinner for my family was…well, let’s just say the kids may or may not have been in the womb.

And today, I was showered, dressed, and went on a 2 mile walk with Bug after dropping Bee off at school. And it’s barely 11 am!

In the name of full disclosure, my walk was to Starbucks where I ate and drank about eleventy billion calories to make up for my exercise. I wouldn’t walk to accidentally lose those extra 20 pounds that I blame on Bug. And, you know, brownies and shit.

I know I’m beating a dead horse here, but I’m seriously in denial that I get so much extra time each day to get shit done. AND this is like an every day thing!

Needless to say, when I daydream about two years from now when both crotch parasites are in full-time school, I wet myself a little lot.

Song title: Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me by Gladys Knight and the Pips

Right now, Bee is beginning her first full week of Kindergarten (full day, thankyouverymuch) and Bug just went down for a nap that should last for a good two or three hours.

So this is what heaven feels like.

I’m now sitting on my couch, watching TiVo’d episodes of Leverage and eating an ice cream cone for lunch. You know why? Because I fucking can, that’s why! And no one is gonna ask for one or try to eat mine!!

I seriously can’t believe I get this every single day now! I’ve even done two loads of laundry. And without Bee around interrupting me nonstop, I remembered to add detergent!

Ahh, life’s little joys.

Song title: These Are The Days by Sugarland

They’re back…

But, you know, if “they’re” really just means me.

And “back” really means “no promises.”

Shit, maybe I just should’ve posted this:

Song title: Sometime in September by Citizen K

If you must know, I am not a fan of taking off your shoes at other people’s houses. Especially at the house of someone you are not very close with. If you are my BFF or family, I could give a rat’s ass if you see my janky snaggle feet.

So imagine my surprise when I received this invitation:

Has it come to this?! Hosts can actually dictate what kind of shoes guests can wear now?!

Please discuss.

Side note: all guests to the Bee Haus shall now be required to wear wooden Dutch shoes.

I’m pretty sure you can find them on Zappos.com.

Song title: The Shoes You’re Wearing by Clint Black

Bug attempts to crab walk for the first time. I *might* have accidentally peed myself watching this on repeat.

UPDATED TO NOW FEATURE…wait for it…A VIDEO!!

UPDATE #2: This fucking autocorrect makes me sound like I’m blogging while having a stroke. I apologize.

Song title: Crab Man by Magni Wentzel

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