foodsmug, recaps

Kath Eats Real Food: Recaps, Day 96

Kathy, doesn’t work, has no difficulty in staying at home and doing fuck-all during her recent three-day period of having a cold and not sleeping well, had her husband stay home from the franchise fakery Wednesday morning to watch the kid so that she could cancel her run. Yes, in her world, these things lead one to the next to the next. No, I don’t understand it. Yes, Smugnom is now paying for the boxed wine that makes these recaps possible: I fear we may have an Oatism Spectrum Disorder and I so want to understand, Hamladies. I want to understand why Kath Eats Real Food is a “thing,” and why there are enough people who read it (apart from general what-the-fuckery interest) to pay the bills at the Younger-Smugsons. And I want to know why the hell she would post a video of her child nomming his poor little fist because he wants a tit, and using said video to promote her insatiable lust for scuffins, which are themselves as much of an abomination as not feeding a child for the sake of a pastry-promotion video.*

Well, here’s why. Because Kathy knows better. She knows what ails you (lack of superfoods!!!) and what will cure you:

I believe rest is always more important than exercise if you need it

So since Bath Matt stayed home, he made them both Kathy’s banana, nut butter, oat, granola concoction. Except his looked like the bowl of melted brown ice cream it is nutritionally equivalent to:

Apparently, the real purpose of him being home was so he could escort his family to the doctor’s office so Baby Carbz could get the shots babies get at 2 months old. Of course, Kathy’s concern is for her (“12 pounds, 3 ounces!!! 56th percentile”) child first. No, wait, it’s for herself.

Mom was definitely most traumatized, but baby didn’t like it much either. He cried hard for two solid minutes and then went back to nursing.

The doctor also relieved her biggest medical worry of recent years — whether she could use the jogging stroller. Thank goodness our long national teeth-gnashing nightmare is over and we have an answer.

The BOB manual says you can start walking at 8 weeks, and since we’re almost at 9 weeks with great head control, we’re going to try it out tomorrow. [Walking only on smooth surfaces for now.] We did a practice few minutes tonight and he seemed to really like being wheeled around the basement : )


Kathy was “starved” by the time the family was done with their parent-teacher visit with the Principal of Great Head Controlaversary and “errands,” and she ate a “salad with leftover salmon, avocado, cheddar cheese and olive oil” and what I call the Daycare Afternoon Snack Special — sliced pear and a piece of fakery bread that must have been like three weeks old because she toasted it, and girlfriend don’t toast her bread.

She then canceled the second workout she planned that day so she could “rest” and “snuggle,” because apparently she is a stunt coordinator and that is how much she needs to work out every day:

He was obviously not happy after his shots (I think his leg was throbbing). We took a snooze together and played on the bed for a long time.

Something tells me that “played” is about the equivalent of when she would poke her stomach and wait for him to kick back, or how she now takes videos of him sucking on his fist, but maybe she hasn’t learned the expression “fucking with someone” yet. Because that’s what she’s doing.

He was obviously not happy after his shots (I think his leg was throbbing). We took a snooze together and played on the bed for a long time.

Now, maybe I’m clueless, but in most of these cases of parenting, Mom isn’t supposed to be bothering the kid because SHE wants to play all the damn time, right?

For dinner, Mona Lisa Pasta gave away a pound of “extra thick and chewy” raw pasta to everyone with an “I Voted” sticker, which Kathy calls “a blip in the meal plan,” because she has apparently forgotten everything in her brief PR career that should have instructed her to, even on auto-pilot, say something like “it was a great opportunity to go to a beloved local gem that we’ve waited far too long to experience.” They bought meat sauce… but that wasn’t good enough, and the pasta was served on top of “spinach and white beans stirred in for more nutrition and bulk.”



* And look, not that anyone gives a shit, but I do not encourage, condone or pretend to be amused by anyone who voices their discontent on her videos, insurance nonsense, fakery Facebook page or blogs when they’ve been brought there by GOMI or Smugnom. The savviest citizens of Cville know what’s up and how to voice their own independent disdain — and so does Waldo.