Stuff that Jeanne says

There is no rhyme or reason…

Archive for the tag “humor”

Just a few things..



that I’ve learned so far from being a parent!

I only have one, that’s all I ever want and need. I love him to death, but I know my limits and  I have cut myself off from the baby bearing world for good. He’s only 5  and  this is just the beginning.  I don’t know what’s in store for me, but this is what I DO know!


Sleep  This goes without saying..

My bed  My bed will never be that cozy, dreamy place that I long for at the end of the night. Well, I still do after an exhausting day, but it will be full of cookie crumbs. I don’t bother  making the bed when I get up. It will just be a mess by the end of the day from my child jumping on it when I’m not looking. A queen size bed was suffice for just me and my husband, but since our child wakes up in the middle of the night and crawls into our bed, we might just upgrade to a King size. (It’s easier than getting up at 3am to put him back in his room) This will avoid me having to wake up with a foot in my rib and an elbow to the head.

My TV.Forget about coming home and watching the episode of Ellen that I dvr’d while at work. Nope, instead I watch things like  Spongebob squarepants, Pokemon, Fairly Oddparents & Power Rangers. And I’ve seen every episode 10 times!  ( I can hear Spongebob maniacally laughing at me while he monopolizes my TV on the daily!)

Best Day Ever

Shove it Spongebob!

A clean house  I don’t know why i bother. Not long after I have straightened up the house, I find empty juice boxes, and candy and gummy wrappers everywhere. There are enough crumbs under the sofa cushions to feed half the ant population. I never invite people over because I am ashamed of the amount of dust caked up on my ceiling fans, and picture frames on the walls. Honestly, I don’t have time for that nonsense! Once it starts falling on my head, THEN I will dust!

A clean car  The backseat of my car looks like squatters live there. I swear they sneak out at 6:30 every morning. There are unidentified substances encrusted into the interior. The backside of my front seats have toddler sized footprints all over them, there are juice and milk stains on the seats,  and the windows are covered in fingerprints and smudges!

A night out  Everyone’s “Busy that night”, when you ask them to watch your child so that maybe we could go to the Christmas party we were invited to.  And if by chance we do get a babysitter, I feel so haggard these days  that I am  home by 10!

Things I have gained!

Stretch marks  yea, that’s right! Those creepy little bastards that don’t go away! You will either get them, or you won’t.  If you do, you  might as well start naming them, because they do not leave! And if its in your fabulous genes to not get stretchmarks, I hate you.

It doesn't work!

Bags under my eyes  I  have enough baggage to pack for a 2 week trip to Paris. From waking up every night removing the foot from my rib. From staying up late watching every show I dvr’d. And as they say, once you have a child, you will never sleep the same again. Aint that the truth!

Grey hairs  Of course from the stress of raising a child, but also because I don’t  have the time or money to go to the salon and get my hair done!

An extra large grocery bill. My son is only 5 years old, but he eats like an obese 40 year old man.

But most importantly, I have gained an unconditional love that cannot be matched. An endless supply of hugs and kisses (until he’s a teenager I’m guessing), the excitement that only a child can bring when learning and seeing new things, and the miracle of life.

Mommy loves you Michael..

With every stretch mark on her body

every crumb she has to wipe off her bed,

every juice box that she has to throw away

and with every elbow to the head!

My Love!

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For the love of God, stay out of my kitchen!!

I couldn’t think of a better day than a brisk December Sunday, to make a homemade banana bread! Why not, I had bananas rotting in my window for over a week now. I buy them with full intentions of bringing them to work for breakfast or a snack, but the bacon, egg and cheese bagel sandwich from my neighborhood coffee shop wins every time. This is probably my second time making one, and it’s a fairly painless process.  I just googled the recipe from (For you banana bread lovers who have never made one yourself, here is the recipe

So I cream the butter and the sugar and low and behold, my husband walks in. He says “is that all butter??’ “i’m not eating THAT!) I proceed to give him the look of (you better go or your going to find a fork in your eye). All is well and i return back to my Sunday project (yes, everything is a project for me). I am a Virgo, and if you’re into horoscopes, you will know that Virgos are perfectionists. This doesn’t mean that we do everything perfectly, it just means torturing ourselves with ALL the details to get it right. I had the recipe on my phone (i have no ink to print it, and my computer is in the other room) so it just made sense. After each step, I had to go back and read the next, after reading the previous step just to make sure I did it right.

The husband comes in again. “do you need me to help with anything?” I realize that when I do something, i’m not much of a team player. Maybe because I don’t like working with other people, or maybe so I can just take all the credit for when something comes out good! Well, I decided to let him join in after all. Bless his heart for wanting to help. I ask him to grab two eggs and add them to the mix. (I had to go back to my phone again to read the recipe). He then precedes to tell me that “there is a tiny little piece of egg shell, and maybe you can get it out because you have fingernails”. When I go over to look, he practically shoved me to the ground with his elbow yelling at me to get out of the light so he can show me where it is! What the?? How the heck am I supposed to see it then?? So, very nicely I told him to remove himself (because I was holding the fork, and as much I wanted to poke it in his eye, Sunday does NOT sound like a good day to go to jail)

After a few minutes passes, and the threat of death is over, he walks by to ask if I got the eggshell out. And yes, I did, after noticing that he used a clean bowl to put the egg shells in!!

Finally, the banana bread is in the oven and we are all alive. I’m not sure how many of you out there can tolerate an extra hand in the kitchen, but I obviously can not. So please, for the love of God, Allah, Lady Gaga or whatever you hold sacred, stay out my kitchen!

Walnut-Bourbon Banana Bread - recipe.

Image via Wikipedia

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