Back and ready to blog like a motherfucker

I know. It's been two years since I last wrote for this blog. Well, a lot of awful shit has happened in those two years. This blog is going to be taking on a whole new purpose. See, THREE years ago, I was diagnosed with an incurable, rare autoimmune disease called Behcet's (look it up, fuckers). This disease has turned my world upside down, almost killed me, gave me a vast knowledge of my local ER, and changed me in positive ways that I never could have expected.

Well, I'm now going to share that experience with you. You're welcome.

I'm going to share hospital experiences, doctor visits, daily struggles, not only with being sick, but being a sick mother. All in a completely hilarious and sarcastic way, of course. I'll also being sharing notorious Layla incidents. She's the first kid I've ever know to get suspended in Kindergarten, but we'll get to that story later.

This is my way to see my illness in a whole new light, and to make fun of it, myself, life, and my kid as much as possible. :D

I'll be changing the subheading of the blog "Brutally honest motherhood" to possibly "Brutally honest motherhood; without a cure." If anyone has a better suggestion, please share.

Now Share the shit out of this entry, so I can get the word out that SASMA is back! (Well, I'm excited about it.)

Oooh! Shiny! AGAIN (damn it)

So, blogger did maintenance last night. And now the last post I made about the new, sparkly banner was deleted. Thanks Blogger! (fucking assholes) So here's a brand new version of that post.

As you may have noticed, the blog has a new, sparkly banner! Yay! You should totally comment and tell me how awesome it is. Or how you're astounded by my creative abilities. Or how you want to have, like, 10,000,000 of my babies. Whatever. I'd like to customize other things on the blog, but my patience has run out for the day. To customize anything on blogger you have to give a pint of blood, sacrifice a virgin, chant for 20 minutes, and stand naked in a field covered in peanut butter under a full moon. Jesus.

Hopefully I'll have a new post to go under the new banner in a few days. My brain is currently not cooperating with me, and my artistic abilities have gone retarded. So, please be patient and don't start leaving me in droves. I promise there shall be a new post very soon.

And tell your motherfucking friends about my blog. I need more followers to feed my ego. :D

Take 2

Hello. First post after renovation. If you're in any doubt about what this blog is now about, I shall clarify for you. This blog is about motherhood. REAL motherhood. Not the kind you see in paper towel commercials, where little Timmy makes a hideous mess, and the mom smiles indulgently about it, as if she's saying "Oh, you little TYKE. Now you clean that mess up. Hehe." *shoots her in the face*

Real motherhood is not blissful. And if that kid in the commercials were my kid, I'd be yelling and throwing paper towels at him until he cried. Real motherhood will make you feel like you're going fucking insane. And then your little cherub will turn around and do something sweet. And then you turn around again and there are M&Ms in the VCR, and there's shit in the hallway, and there's a brand new crayon mural in the kid's room, and there's toys strewn all over the house, and the phone is ringing, and someone's at the door, and your kid is currently trying to bathe in the toilet. And then the day ends, and you start all over again the next day.

Real motherhood will make you cry, scream, pull your hair out, and wish your child had a mute button.

I'm not one of those moms that acts like their kid was shat out of god's ass, and is the perfect little angel. Nor am I one of those mothers who feels "fulfilled" and "rewarded" by being a stay-at-home mom. I'm real. I fully admit my kid is a pain in the fucking ass. And being a stay-at-home mom is slowly sucking out my soul. So, if your another June Cleaver, you should probably leave. This blog isn't for you.

And now, to introduce you to the little princess.



This is Layla. She may look cute and sweet and innocent, but it's just a clever disguise to lull you into a false sense of security before she punches you in the eye, and runs your foot over with her bike.

Now, just to be clear, I love my daughter more than anything, but some days I want to loan her out to some unhappy, barren couple, so they won't feel so bad about not having kids. She'll cure you of that unhappiness in less than five minutes.

So I'll be bitching, ranting, sharing advice, drawing stupid pictures, and other stuff. And that's all I've got for now.