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Power Tool

13 Sep

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

Been So Long

21 Mar

Dude. You still there?

Didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that. You know, how like 9 months ago I kind of dropped off the planet, taking a totally unintended sabbatical-like thingy from blogging?

I could point fingers at my mother-in-law for selfishly taking care of one of Mr. Bee’s aunts, who is in dire need of aid during the day. How rude, amiright? Or I could accuse the crotch parasites of, well, you know, LIVING.

But really? I’m just a total lazy ass who has lacked all inspiration as of late. Oooh! That’s it! My stupid kids aren’t being funny enough! BINGO!

Anywho and whatnot, I suppose you probably would be interested in a quick crotch parasite update. To answer everyone’s burning question: will there be a THIRD Bee/Bug to grace this mad, mad world of ours?

To put it as eloquently as possible…HELLS TO THE FUCKING NO!

I lurv my babies but I swear to god if I ever have to fruitlessly struggle to get a baby out of my vagina again, I will throw myself off of a cliff.

Subtle, yes?

Can I tell you how hilarious my kiddos are? Bee is almost five (gasp) and cracks me up with her ever-growing vocabulary. Okay, so maaaaaaybe some of the words aren’t really something to brag about: lately, she has taken to gasping whenever she’s forgotten to do something followed with, “Dammit! I forgot to (fill in the blank)!”

I have NO idea where she got that from.

Probably her father.

And Bug? Lordy. He is so freakin’ hilarious. When they tell you that all kids are so different, I’ll admit, I thought “they” were full of shit. But these two kids? For example: Bee was spelling five letter words (luckily she skipped the FOUR letter ones! ::rim shot::) by the time she was Bug’s age. She, however, was still crawling.

Bug, on the other hand, is an Olympic athlete compared to Bee, but his vocabulary pretty much consists of “blerg” and “bah-ga”. Don’t even ask me what those mean. I usually interpret it to mean, “Mom, you look exhausted. Why don’t you go rest and/or surf Pinterest for a few hours.”

Bug is a very considerate little boy.

Everything at Casa de Bee is pretty much the norm. Mr. Bee is still chock full of ailments. I’m pretty sure the only thing he is missing at this point is leprosy (fingers crossed!). At some point, we need to start a Medical Bingo club because we’d have some blacked-out cards by now fer sure.

I have started yet another business. I might have whored myself out to you mentioned it at some point. It’s called 6433 creative and I’m having a blast creating graphic art and paintings. It occurred to me sometime last fall that it’d be super fun to actually get paid to do something I love. And since it didn’t look like the League of Stay-at-Home Mothers would be distributing any dividends any time soon, I decided to attend of few small craft shows. Those small craft shows led to the Starbucks Holiday Bazaar and then, a few weeks ago, I took the plunge and had a booth at the Northwest Women’s Show in Seattle. It was SO. MUCH. FUN. I met some awesome ladies and it’s really helped business (so far)!

So, that’s where I am now. Painting. Mommy-ing. Surfing Pinterest for more ways to clutter my house with crafts.

But hopefully soon I’ll get in a car accident or have plastic surgery or something so I have something to write about.

Just joking on the car accident.

Song title: Been So Long by Brian McKnight

My Daughter

16 Aug

Bee: Daddy, can you take Bug to another room so I can play?

Mr. Bee: Sure, honey. In just a minute.

Bug walks past Mr. Bee, trips and falls. Bug starts crying.

Bee: Aaaaaawkward…

Song title: My Daughter by Bermuda Mavericks

From Mouth Of Babes

6 Aug

Me: Hey, Mr. Bee. This is weird. This article says that the Seals that killed Osama Bin Laden died in a helicopter crash in Afghanistan.

Mr. Bee: Hmmm.

Bee: That IS weird! Seals shouldn’t be in a helicopter!! They should be in the water!

Me: ((laughing hysterically))

Song Title: From Mouth Of Babes by Old Californio


26 Jul

This last weekend, Mr. Bee and I celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary.

I’ll hold for your applause…

I totally thought, “Yay for us! We are so bad ass!” and then the waitress at dinner pointed out a couple who was celebrating their 44th anniversary.

Way to rain on my parade, lady.

Anywho, Mr. Bee and I had a totally awesome time. And also realized how ridiculously exhausted and parents-of-two-young-children we are.

First, we visited the newly-remodeled iPic (formerly Gold Class) Cinema in Redmond. After being a total bitch complaining about the business format changes, the VP of Marketing kindly offered to treat us on our first visit back post-makeover.

And, as if that wasn’t enough to make me feel horribly guilty about complaining on Facebook, then they (1) wished us a happy anniversary every 2.9 seconds, (2) treated us like fucking royalty, and (3) comped our entire bill!! Talk about best anniversary present ever!! (Sorry Mr. Bee)

Even better, it was a great opportunity to visit the new establishment, which, to be honest and in no way bias due to the super awesomeness of being comped, is not that different from the previous business model. Sure, there aren’t the call buttons which will be sorely missed. This leads to, I think, more interruptions during the first 20 minutes of the show when you can still order from the waitress. But besides that, if you are going to shell out the cash to be the premium plus VIP super awesome seat ticket holder or whatever they call it, I don’t see a huge difference in service or experience.

My one complaint, though, was something I don’t think I could forgive any company for, let alone my beloved Gold Class…

They switched popcorn vendors.

That’s right folks. Pull your jaw off the floor. The wonderful, fantastical, mouth-wateringly delicious white cheddar popcorn that I crave and look forward to every visit?

It’s. Gone.

I would’ve rather they kick me in my lady bits.

And the new popcorn is in this plastic bag that I stared at all movie thinking, “gawd, I want to eat that but if I open it now, everyone watching Ron and Hermoine play tonsil hockey will stone me to death in the public, albeit super fancy, town square.”

But I seriously digress.

After the movie, we checked in to our hotel because, guess what? My folks watched the crotch parasites overnight! Woooo to the mother fuckin whooooooo!

And when we got the hotel, did we make sweet love down by the fire? Did we whisper sweet nothings in to each other’s ears?

Nope. We took a nap.

Then we went out for a fantastic dinner, which we couldn’t really enjoy because we had each our weight in food at iPic. Once we got back to the hotel, we pondered the night’s options. Another movie? Stay in and get a movie on pay-per-view ($19 to rent Source Code?! You’ve got to be kidding me!)?

And then we fell asleep.

At like 9 pm.

It was the best anniversary weekend EVAR.

Song title: Anniversary by Tony!Toni!Tone!

Worst Critic

14 Mar

First of all, I totally apologize for the photo-heavy posts lately! I have to take this crawl out of the pit of sleep-deprivation and bloglessness slowly…

So last weekend, for my parent’s 40th wedding anniversary (which, wow, seriously. FORTY YEARS!?), the whole family got together for a professional photo shoot.

Yeah, I know. I’m a total photo whore. I can’t get enough of professional photos! It’s getting slightly ridiculous.

Anywho, we received a few sneak peeks from the photographer (Jessica Hamlin Photography = winning!). Upon viewing the photo, I realized that I have a photo checklist that I go through in my head to decide whether or not the photo, or more honestly ME in the photo, passes judgment.

Here is the photo:
The Family

Here is my mental checklist of myself:
My Neurosis

Final Judgment:
Babies are the best camouflage ever! Will now be carrying a baby in front of my stomach wherever I go.

Thank you Jessica Hamlin Photography for the awesome photos!

Song title: Worst Critic by Daize

The Old Bathing Beauty

31 Jan

I don’t want to be a braggart or anything, but you will be totally be jealous of my evening last night. I mean, not everyone gets to enjoy a home-cooked meal (*cough* nachos *cough*) and then enjoy a relaxing bath while being serenaded.

By a three year old.

Did I say jealous? I meant “entertained”.

As was I, by her trio of impromptu songs accompanied by her Little Tikes piano (“Little Tikes piano” being from the Old French “anoier” which roughly translates as “horribly loud and fucking annoying xylophone”.)

Please enjoy her Bee Ballads: (trademark! You’ll see why…)

Song One: “Mommy, I love you to the moon and baaaaack! I love you, Mom!”

Song Two: “Bug, I love you more than the moon and staaaaaars! I love you, Bug!”

Song Three: “Daddy, I love you more than a sheep and a cow and a horse! I love you, Dad!”

So apparently, in Bee’s world, things are ranked as follows:
(in order of importance)
*Farm Animals

Song title: The Old Bathing Beauty by Joel McKneely

Killed by Cuteness

20 Sep

While I attempt to remember and document my first night of boozahol-fueled debauchery in, oh, probably like a year and a half, please enjoy this hormone-spiking photo taken this weekend by Mr. Bee.


I can’t stop staring at this photo, even when the subjects are right in front of me. Kids are so much cuter on film than in person.

Song title: Killed by Cuteness by Almada

Blow Out

28 Jul

FYI: If you’d like to follow the “blow-by-blow” action that is my impending labor and delivery of Cletus the Fetus, you should “like” the Official Mom to Bee Facebook Fan page.

Join My Facebook Page!

Updates including, but not limited to, me cussing out anyone around me and blaming Mr. Bee for “doing this to me”.

Song title: Blow Out by Vell Rob

Einstein’s Daughter

12 Jul

Kids are awesome.

But as parents, we all know a little secret.

Our own kids are Full of the Awesome.

You know, more than your kids.

We try not to brag. Maybe we might mention that it only took 2 1/2 days for our kid to potty train, she might impress doctors and nurses at wellness checks (minus the physical milestones, of course!), and sure, maybe we video her every move.

But let me preface this post (too late!) with: Dude. Seriously. I’m not trying to brag. But dude.

Bee totally blew my infantile and, let’s be honest, only a few points away from mentally retarded brain yesterday.

See, yesterday was Mr. Bee’s birthday. (Happy Birthday, Mr. Bee!!) While I was busy signing my birthday card for Mr. (which may or may not said something along the lines of “holy shit, you are so old that you used to play pool with Jesus”), I gave Bee her card to sign.

Unsurprisingly, this is what she produced:

That apparently spells her name. What a dumbie.

Totally normal for a three year old, right? It was exactly what I expected, I had just hoped it would entertain for longer since I wasn’t done writing on Mr. Bee’s “What was it like having to run away from pterodactyls?” birthday card.

So I tossed the envelope for Bee’s card toward her and just said, “Here you go! Can you write ‘Dad’ on it?” expecting a whole bunch more lines and hopefully a few more seconds to finish my card.

A minute later, Bee says, “All done!” and pushes this my way:

What. The. Fuck?!

What. The. Fuck?!

I’m pretty sure I’ve solidified my running for Mother of the Year Award 2010 with my actual response to Bee being:


Seriously, people. She just WROTE “DAD”!!! WTF!!!

Needless to say, my mind is completely blown! Mr. Bee’s too, but he’s more curious how genius skipped a generation with us…

Okay, by “us” he means me.

Song title: Einstein’s Daughter by The Nields