Inappropriate Couple Halloween Costume

The underage group had no idea who we even were. I guess if your birth year has two 9’s in it then you wouldn’t have any clue why we had a bloody bag of a human sex organ. The sex organ was fake and so was the blood. The kids in that group awkwardly laughed it off when we tried to clue ’em in with
1) the names of our costume inspiration (Nope)
2) the infamous headline story (Nope)
3) the actual story of who we were and why we looked like murderous homebodies. (Still NOPE)

The rest of the well-aged party knew and understood the genius behind the costume. Maybe next time I need to make myself more clear-cut in our next couple halloween costume ideas.

Do you know who we are?

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Date Night Idea: Pamper Partying

Being away from family really means that my husband and I can’t get up and go do something on a whim. I would have to run background checks, call references or worse, pay someone to watch my kids. Thankfully, GH’s parents are in town from North Carolina for a Seattle vacation and we got to do a date night. Our last night out was in March and I over stressed, over worried and we overspent. Not this time, no sirree.

The best date night highlight was GH’s thoughtful idea from our kid-free days in college. The original time we did it was when I brought him in to my favorite spot and the gals loved how he came and gave zero fucks. One shotgun wedding and two kids later, GH decided date night would be a throwback for a couple pedicure. Major sex points there, amirite? He was there for the calf massage and I was there to soften my mom hooves. This wasn’t even the best part of the night. We really dug into our former and current selves for the rest of the night because the best date nights are both fun and functional.

Pedicures done, we just stepped outside in our freshly de-scaled heels to see what we would do next. Nothing planned, nothing reserved, just spontaneous togetherness and shit. An important thing that I should mention is the unofficially agreed upon requirement that all date nights will, now and forever and always, involve alcohol. We try, we really do but parenthood and aging has caught up to us. It was so adult of us to be one-and-done after one drink. Each. E A C H! We were practically falling out our bar stools laughing while people watching after a margarita for me and an IPA for him. Who am I and who removed my binge drinking card?

Our current adulting roles then took us to run important domestic errands at Target afterward. You ever been to Target 1) drunk 2) without kids? It’s a world I had never imagined could exist in my lowly life. This magic has inspired me to unofficially hereby decree that all future Target trips require alcohol, period. Kids there or not. The -Noys will clear out the Dollar Spot cuz Mama won’t give a fuuuuuuuuu.

unique date night idea

Date Night: Couple Pedicure

What did you do on your last
date?

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Small Town Girl Probs: You Know Nothing About Breakup Etiquette, Jon Snow

How to not break up in a small town by @LaotianComotion
If I do not count my current husband, I have only had two ex-boyfriends with the official label. Like, boyfriend-girlfriend, Facebook-status official, and only three times have I been somewhat committed in such a relationship. Are exes and daters (I hate the word ‘lover’) mutually exclusive? In addition, these other ones were added to the body count but never a status-changer. No, I will not share my number. No, you do not get to make assumptions about me. No, you are not better than me because your body count is one and your husband is a lousy lay. This is just a little story about a small-town girl living in a prudey world and about the likelihood of running into an ex is more likely than anybody leaving the safe comforts of home.

I like to call my hometown Podunk-Bourg(eoisie), where it’s not small enough to have that old-timey flair nor is it large enough to be metro or cool at all. It’s a place where people think they are hotter shit than they really are is what I’m trying to say. A particular ex loved to always remind me for my sake, “Can’t turn a ho into a housewife.” A hometown full of exes, daters, flings, or whatever they’re called and I avoid visiting it like the STD pool the tri-town area that it is. Seriously, what do we call these people? Whatever you call them, I could not get away from them anytime I visited my folks. You especially don’t want to run into them after an awkward split-up: Shitty Wife was a Shitty Girlfriend too. No more awkward than Jon Snow’s reaction in Season 4, Episode 9 with Ygritte. You know you fucked up, right, Jon Snuh.

You know nothing about break-up etiquette, Jon Snow @LaotianComotion

My last official breakup with an Official Boyfriend was so unfriendly because GH became the man he is to me now. I left OB while we were trying to patch things up yet Gym Hottie did get his moniker for no reason at all. Get this: they have the same name and that just blew OB’s gasket and it was an unfriendly departure. Breakup meaning it was a lot of drunk calls to apologize and those apologies were never heard. One drunk run-in at a hometown bar and two years later, he somehow found out I was married and sent me a congratulatory text message and I was shocked. Why reach out now, you bastard? Why bring your petty small mind back into my life as I was 8 months pregnant? It took a good three years later to forget how awful a person that was. How a small baby  was the answer to change all of it. A now mundane, quiet life finally let me forget all about how shitty a partner I “was” when I look at my family, my husband, and my two kids. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a crazy ass ex-girlfriend and will stalk your ass on social media. Can’t turn a stalker into a housewife maybe.

What is proper break-up etiquette anyway?

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Working With A Photographubby

photographubby

GH’s masterpiece: unfiltered, unaltered withe exception of watermark

There is an unspoken rule of thumb when girlfriends take each others’ pictures: make sure the other one looks good. Us girls know how important it is to look good in the photos because it will go through the Delete-or-Keep Process regardless. I also will not post any unflattering photos of my friends either. Never have, never will. So, now that I do not have the access to like-minded girlfriends anymore, my default photog is my husband.

I thought the model was supposed to be the diva. Why is it that you’d think that asking GH to take some shots of me is like asking him to give up Starbucks for eternity and forever. Complete with an eye roll and an under-the-breath huff, he’s all “one and done.” Don’t he know I gotta get at least 20 snaps before even getting the Female Stamp of Approval? This request is obviously 19 times too demanding. GH has finally warmed up to the fact that I am insisting to be in front of the camera from now on. He just really has no choice but to hop along on the happy wife, happy life train of thought. I’m grateful I have someone who’s passed kindergarten to take these photos I want but I just can’t help but be a little annoyed. It’s an iPhone, sure, but he did such a nice job at the home birth. Come the fuck on.

My photography rules are simple:

1) Make sure I look good.

2) Nobody likes a blurry pic.

3) Make sure I look really good.

4) Don’t make me feel bad for wanting pics taken of me.

5) Make sure I look really damn good.

Is it the photographer or the equipment that’s at fault?

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How To Win A Practical Woman’s Heart

the real way to a woman's heart

I briefly pawed at them and then awkwardly stuffed the otherwise beautiful bouquet of flowers on the floorboard of my new boyfriend’s car. Poor guy thought I would like flowers but instead was in a car (and subsequent 3-year relationship) with a girl, who hates flowers. My current man knows me more than to pass off a vase of flowers as love for me. Gym Hottie knows the practical way to my heart and it doesn’t involve cut flower food.

Flowers Flowers die. They cost money and they eventually die. What kinda warped idea of love you tryin’ to sell me with flowers? From there, I’m also to preserve it. Flowers are kinda like puppies and puppies are, like, the worst thing to have. I have two little humans taunting me for sustenance so please don’t add flowers to that list.

Gifts I tell you what: turn around in the opposite direction of the flower shop and go down the candy aisle. Something, anything from this aisle will make me excited and not hate you for wasting it on (eventually) dead flowers. You really can’t go wrong with Rolos. To be clear, anything dark chocolate because that shit’s healthy. You know we’re always on a diet.

Dinner Nothing gets me all hot and bothered like not having to bother with a hot stove. GH surprised me to delivery pizza the other night so dinner was taken care of for once. It wasn’t Olive Garden fancy but it was dinner nonetheless. After that dinner rescue, he just seriously earned himself a “dessert” coupon, ifyouknowwhatimean.

Alone time Sometimes you don’t want to be chased or interrogated about your feelings or what the kids did to piss you off. Alone time means actually being alone without a child crying at your feet or that 5-minute bathroom venture. GH let me take a nap right before he surprised me with that ultra fancy pizza dinner while he stayed up with the no-nap toddler and cranky baby. I woke up refreshed, dinner, and didn’t want to choke anyone. We all win.

Sweet-nothings Complimenting a lady-gal goes a long way. Specific and genuine compliments are nice. I kinda like nice. Other times, I just wanna be told how good my ass looks in the second-day yoga pants I’m wearing. Tell me my hair looks good even with all the baby drool and toddler peanut butter offerings. GH is quite up to par with this and he makes me feel very special. My ass. I mean, my ass feels special.

If you have gotten this far then you really should seek alternate advice for relationships because I am the shitty wife. I’m practically immune to the romantic comedy idea of love and courtship. I was never sold on diamonds or boxed candy (except anything caramel/chocolate combo). If it doesn’t feed or energize me, I’m just not that into it.

Honorable mentions:
– Don’t forget her birthday. EVER.
– Don’t gift anything exercise- or-beauty-related. EVER.
– Don’t ask about her hygiene or lack thereof.
– Realize not all women are the same.

How did your partner win your heart?

You can find me tweeting my hatred for pants on twitter, filtering the shit outta mom lyfe on Instagram, pinning food I’ll never make on Pinterest, and being a SEO creep on Google+

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4 Painful Ways To Celebrate A Wedding Anniversary

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If GH were Lao.

I couldn’t wait to feel the hot wash over my routine’s aches and day’s pain. By the time I cleaned the bathtub (boo) during my solo shower (yayyy) and toweled off the important body parts, the baby was up. It’s really like any other late night/early morning for me except today’s a day that I figured the universe should’ve provided me a little of a break once a year. Today’s my wedding anniversary and, today of all days, it’s just been a literal pain.

1) Pain in my neck No, I’m not talking about GH here (yet). Lanoy slept in the sidecar crib and I fed her from the bed. The side car mattress is lower than our pillowtop so I had to get in this funky side-stroke position with my arm pressed up against my ear and dangling my nipple near her mouth. It was just a mess. My body is rigid and my insurance is lacking so no chiropractor suggestions please.

4 ways my wedding anniversary can just eff off | The Laotian Commotion

Das me.

2) Pain in my boob Somehow, some way I not only managed to twist my neck in the middle of the night, I also caused my breast milk to get clogged. A plugged milk duct is painful and annoying at best. Hot massaging is minor relief but any wrong toddler roundhouse and you buckle onto the floor, rocking back and forth cupping your precioussssss boob.

3) Pain in my ass If you thought GH was gonna get away scot-free in this angry post, you obviously haven’t been following along. The man forgot my birthday. The man, you guessed it, also forgot our wedding anniversary. How do I know? Beside the “oh, I never would’ve thought of it until you said it” blip, he also coordinated obligated hospitality with his hometown buddy’s visit and short stay with us during our wedding anniversary.

4) Pain in my side Thanks to points 1, 2, and 3 I was up until 3 am deep cleaning the apartment while my darling, supportive family snooze. Other than my day of my glorious presence into your mortal world, I am supposed to not do anything on this day. I’m supposed to sit in my fuzzy robe while someone else takes the kids to the store, to the playground, and give them baths and wipe their asses. I’m tir—- zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Happy anniversary to me!

How was your anniversary better than mine?

You can find me tweeting my hatred for pants on twitter, filtering the shit outta my kids’ mugs on Instagram, pinning food I’ll never make on Pinterest, and being a SEO creep on Google+

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How Much That Nudie Pic Actually Cost Me In My Marriage

The sequence of events after sending out a nudie picture to your husband is pretty predictable. I will spare you the deets of such generosity from my wife spontaneity but it starts the same: send pic, husband receives it, both wiggle eyebrows, vow to hump at next sighting. The following will then be one or both forget about it and sexy time happens at most random irrelevant time, if at all. Feeling struck with a bit of constructive criticism, I took the liberty of texting my husband at work to see if my blog post titled “3 Mistakes To Make To Not Get Laid By Your Wife” offended him in any way and if it did, I would gladly remove it even after the lively discussion here and on Instagram. Surprisingly he had yet to read it so my premature half-apology piqued his interest. I waited for that iMessage bubble pending his response but already knew how he would react. After all he’s my husband and it was just as I expected.

cooter cash

We don’t play.

How have you bartered sex with your partner? Have your own version of Cooter Ca$h?

You can find me tweeting my hatred for pants on twitter, filtering the shit outta my kids’ mugs on Instagram, pinning food I’ll never make on Pinterest, and being a SEO creep on Google+

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The 3 Mistakes To Make To Not Get Laid By Your Wife

Flanked by a lazy latched baby and her horizontal brother, I am then woken up by the feverish tap and sleazy face of my husband. I squint at my phone screen shining 2:50 pm and I ignore his advances because sleep when the babies sleep. Amirite? I shrug him off and pray that he’ll realize I’m not going to wake up for him right now. He persists because he’s after (day) sex. It usually isn’t a problem because I generally like to have sex with the father of my children (I mean, obviously) but I think he went about it the wrong way.

Our unofficial parent-sex quota is a definite once a week. Two times a week if I get a shower and those two times are back-to-back if we’re stressed out. I usually succumb to GH’s seduction but here’s what happened for me to wife-excuse my way out of it:

His first mistake He was all Captain Obvious about it as soon as I woke up. The kids and I had an early morning appointment and I rushed out the door 10 minutes after my appointment time. Obviously. Before we bolted out the door, GH was sorting out the clothes avalanche in our room. That was the first sign that my husband is looking to get lucky. I spotted it as soon as he lifted a finger without any prompt or nagging.

His second mistake This time, I really was tired and wasn’t just saying it. You do not ever, ever, EVER wake up a napping mother. Humnoy, the Child Who Needs An Entire Hour to Settle, finally is asleep and GH thinks it’s high time to wake me up. Ofttimes it’s when I’m in the middle of something important like drying off from a shower or Twitter. This time was during our household sacred activity: kid nap time. Just let the woman breathe before you’re already breathing in her hair.

His third mistake Nagging can go both ways in a marriage. He wouldn’t back down until I was all, “Babe. I’m sleep” for what seemed like the 83rd time. If he had given up 82 attempts ago, I would have straddled him myself. Desperation has a far stronger scent than obviousness and that can be a turn-off. Cool it with the overt heat-seeking missile there, bud.

Once he finally went away, I woke up from fake sleeping because I could not fall back asleep. See: “second mistake.” Once he left me alone and eventually left for the day, I took the time to reconsider and make amends with my dear husband. I didn’t want to seem distant or inconsiderate so I came up with a brilliant idea I haven’t done since our boyfriend-girlfriend phase. I spontaneously sent him a nudey pic. Spontaneous meaning I took a few to get the right angle away from disproportionate lactating boobs and selected the winning photo that had the most thigh gap. He either appreciated it or cursed it but all’s fair in love and parent sex.

when husbands clean

One does not simply make sure the top rack gets any water.

How does parent sex go for you?

You can find me tweeting my hatred for pants on twitter, filtering the shit outta my kids’ mugs on Instagram, pinning food I’ll never make on Pinterest, and being a SEO creep on Google+

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Even Shitty Wives Get Love Poems

photo courtesy Melissa Reagan of Seattle, WA

My shitty wife life began well before my peaceful parenting journey. I also wasn’t the most pleasant of girlfriends either but we somehow managed to stay together through drunken fights and major egos. My once-again doting husband went above and beyond and offered to take most of his morning before work to try and fix my MacBook from its serious injury that cleared out the first year and a half of Humnoy’s life. I rummaged through a very neglected craft drawer to look for the installation CD. Rather than scoring jackpot with my years-old MacBook product, I ran into past mementos that were stuffed in the drawers. Mixed in between college documents and middle school pictures, I found a love poem by my baby daddy and I fell in lust all over again. The sweet-nothings was written while I was still pregnant with Humnoy and craved all the food.

Today, we exchange love gifts in the form of trading favors for whoever switches wet laundry or does ass-wipe duty for the toddler. GH and I aren’t love-dovey. We don’t hold hands or kiss everyday. Our common interests are our beautiful children and most of our discussions are about our beautiful children. We rarely have 100% nice things to say to each other but we share a love for very bad-for-you food and surprising each other with it even until this day. A pre-kid life inspires the poet in all of us.

I noticed you forgot your purse
Forgetting things can be such a curse
Im sure your tummy & [Humnoy] are hungry
And your probably tired & Angry
So I hope you enjoy the wonderful smell
Because I got you an XXL Chalupa from Taco Bell!

taco bell love poem

Aren’t the grammar mistakes so presh?

What is your favorite love memento between you and your partner?

I’m A Peaceful Parent But A Shitty Wife

I wracked my brain and finally remembered but my retort was too late to take back. I told Gym Hottie that I “don’t listen to you anyway” when he confronted my wispy memory for his overnight bike trip planned this weekend with a buddy. I was half-joking because I really don’t listen to most of anything anyway. You try to form an idea of what to make dinner when you have a hungry infant and a toddler hanging off your leg channelling his favorite curious monkey character. I also realized my half-joke wasn’t that off-base because I’m kinda a shitty wife.

shotgun wedding marriage troubles.jpg

Photo credit: Josh Tofsrud and Shane Olson of Spokane, WA

I generally do not like to air our dirty laundry but this isn’t a call for marriage counseling. I actually am addressing some of my own personal issues as a life partner and, in turn, a mama. You know me: peaceful parent to my beautiful and angelic, perfect little children. The only truth to that is that my kids are beautiful, no around that, duh. My mantra is I will try to always do right by my kids. I only have one shot at this. I’ve been bestowed the hardest task in the world to raise other humans and I follow their leads, which is what peaceful parenting means to me. I have so much trouble cultivating half of this energy toward my partnership with GH.

I’m mean. I’m crass. I have strategically attacked known weaknesses. I pent up my feelings waiting for a mind-reading. I have perfected the short, snarky replies and the colder-than-cold shoulder. I can’t pinpoint the reason why I am gentle and loving toward our kids but can’t spare any of it to my husband. I was extra sweet in the following days of his near-death experience but it took just one look at the toothbrush sitting in front of the toothbrush holder to make my heart go back to cold. “The toothbrush holder is right there!”

I love my husband. I love how he is the best father to our kids. I love how hard he works for me to stay home in these early days with our littles. He’s not a shitty husband to me, maybe a shitty roommate though. It takes a lot more time and clarity to be more peaceful with him. If I can be a peaceful mama to two little kids then I can with a grown ass man, who is amazing in so many ways by dealing with his shitty wife.

What is the most annoying thing about your partner? What is the best thing?

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