Monthly Archives: October 2011

Sticky Can Be Good.

Final Thought:

Sometimes it Sticks.  

Parenting, as you know, is in many ways, a thankless job.  

If we’re not battling some kind of physical obstacles, with our children (growing pains, teething,sickness, a billion booboos, even potty training) we’re dealing with behavioral challenges (discipline, manners, nightmares, tantrums, etc.) and to make matters worse, we have NEVER DONE THIS SHIT BEFORE! 

In fact, even if you have a second, third, or fourth child, they each have their own “individualities” so, it’s practically like starting from scratch anyway.  

It’s daunting and exhausting and at moments seemingly impossible and unending.  

I can’t tell you how many times I have questioned and second guessed MYSELF.  

“Am I doing the right thing?” 

“Damn, I think I made a mistake..” 

“What the fuck do I do NOW????”  

And then… it happens.  

A stranger compliments your toddler’s shoes and BEFORE you get out the standard line: 

“What do you saaaay???” 

He looks up and says: 

“Tank you!”  

Did he just fucking say “thank you” on his OWN????  

Holy shit.  

Was that a fluke?  

Who IS this little person??  

I can’t believe it actually STUCK.  

And then (just for a second or two) all the scary stuff goes away, and your past mistakes don’t seem so bad after all.

Today my little one lost a doll.  She was so upset, and I was just about to go in to my:
“You gotta take better care of your stuff..” schtick, the big one turns around and says:

“It’s okay, you can have mine….”  

“Dafuq you just said?!?”

I can’t really explain to you my feelings at that exact moment….It was sort of a solace in the thought that maybe, just maybe I’m doing something RIGHT.  I subsequently paid them each a dollar to hug and kiss each other after that…. fuck it, it was a nice cap off, and you all know how I feel about briber …. uh, I mean “The Reward System”… lol.

Soooo, even if they HATE each other tomorrow, and she were to renege on her doll offer, there’s still that little piece of pride that STICKS with YOU and what you’re doing that helps you to get up tomorrow, and do it ALL OVER AGAIN.

Good Night.

Mommy Brain.

Mommy Brain.  

It’s a deceptive term because it really starts with pregnancy, before you are officially inducted into “Momhood”, and continues until.. well, not too sure cause I still have it more than 8 years later.  

People may think it’s an excuse for being disorganized but WE all know how REAL it is.  Mommy Brain is basically the act of being extremely forgetful, but really, only about bullshit.  

It’s our brain’s way of  weeding out what’s worth remembering and what’s not.  

Yes, house keys ARE important, but not necessarily on the *Survivalist Mommy Brain’s* list.  

Motherhood is so brutal that Mommy Brain really cuts down to the bare bones of basically, just keeping you and your baby ALIVE.  I am also willing to assume, from experience, that Mommy Brain serves as a mechanism to hone in and sharpen our OTHER senses, not dissimilar to how someone hard of hearing might have a more developed olfactory sense. Although it mainly affects the memory part of the brain, it also enhances the instinctive part — the “Eyes In The Back Of Our Head” part.   

Below are some examples of how Mommy Brain works:

You may not be able to complete a sentence without forgetting what the first part wasbut you sure as hell know that your baby will only eat the light brown part of that banana.

You have NO IDEA what date it isbut without a clock in sight, you’re absolutely SURE it’s 5 minutes to nap time.

You can’t touch the tip of your nose with your finger in the morning before coffeebut you can catch that milk cup left handed as it’s swiped off the highchair.

You have no shampoo left in the shower for three days nowbut you’ll be dammed if you run out of diaper cream.

You are clueless as to what this bitches’ name in the playground isbut you KNOW her kid is a *biter*.

You forget to pack an extra tampon for yourselfbut you got three sets of pants for your potty training kid.

You’ve lost track of your own wedding anniversarybut remember the exact hour and minute your baby was born (as well as the height and the weight).

You’ve had to request a new e-mail password three times but know by heart, the password to your kid’s club house.

You totally missed what your husband just said to you at the dinner tablebut can hear from across the house that your kid is choking on something, and furthermore, you’ve never taken a CPR class, but somehow know just where to slap their back so whatever it was, flies out.

You get tipsy at a holiday partybut you still manage to gently and safety transport your sleeping child from the car to the bed without so much as a stir…

Your poor high heels stand neglected in the closet, remembering the days they used to hit the dance floor furiously bringing many a smile to your face in to the wee hours of the nightyou have the same smile, just a bit wider, as you lay in your bed at 8:30 watching your baby sleep.

I could write more, but my Mommy Brain could really use a break…and a glass of wine.

Cheers Mommies!

Polly Want a Cracker?

Hello girlies! And all you handsome devils too
Here’s a Final Thought for ya!

Deny it or not, we’ve all done it, and you know why? ‘Cause it FUCKING WORKS. 

Personally, I don’t like the term ‘bribery’, to me, that insinuates black mail or racketeering or some other mob related reference.. No, I like the term ‘reward system’

When you train a dog and you entice him with a treat as encouragement to do a trick, do we call it BRIBERY??? 

NO!!  We call it a REWARD. So why is it a “bribe” with our kids??

wait for it…… wait…..wait for it motherfucker…..

Let me expand: Whatever the ‘bribe’ may be, it is something we have figured out is our child’s “currency”

It could be candy, a TV show, a bubble bath even — whatever it is we choose to ENTICE our little ones with is their CURRENCY..

 (and I snatched this fucking term straight from Dr. Phil’s mustached mouth BTW in case you’re questioning my references) 

meaning, it’s their MONEY. Therefore, if a piece of candy to him is say, like a 5 spot to us, then why can’t we all agree that he is just being ‘hired out’ by us to do a simple job? 

I got a five on it you little turd, but you gotta play by MY rules mmmmk?

In fact, I’d go as far as saying, ‘bribery’ is, in essence an early form of ALLOWANCE… We are ‘paying’ them to do something that needs to be done, and since a toddler can’t wash the dishes, what ‘needs to be done’ that he actually CAN do is just not act like a turd.

Now what job could be easier then that?? 

And what ‘REWARD SYSTEM’ could be easier for a child to understand? 

Act like a turd, no 5 spot. Cut that shit out, 5 spot. 

And I’m not really convinced that if you ‘pay’ him to do what you need him to do, he will always act BAD UNLESS you pay him.

Eventually, he will grow out of his terrible twos, threes, and/or fours and his passion to embarrass you will fade

My 6 year old does shit just to hear the words “Good Job!!” 

(She’s not quite smart enough yet to ask for an allowance..) 

So I say, bribe them with bullshit now, before they grow pubes and their ‘currency’ actually IS MONEY, and instead of thanking you with cute little hugs and kisses, they just snatch it rolling their eyes and sucking their teeth that you’re trying desperately not to knock out of their obnoxious teenager heads.

OH. MILEY. GOD.    That looks like a face that needs some slappin’.

Well, I dunno know about YOU, but I have adequately justified that whole issue for MYSELF.
Good Night

Control Yourself!


I was thinking about why I feel so INTENSE all the time. 

Why do kids *Rock Our World* so HARD?  

I think, it’s because they are so fucking EXTREME about EVERYTHING. 

For example, how many times has your baby gone on an eating strike for like, three days??  You’re going crazy, crying, trying to feed them ANYTHING, but NOOooOoOO, for some reason they have absolutely made up their little minds and they could give a SHIT if your nipple was dipped in motherfucking chocolate — no way, NO HOW are they going to eat a goddamn crumb…. maybe you could get in a drop of water if you’re lucky….

And then, what happens…? 

The Catch Up Game”. 

They suddenly, outta nowhere, start devouring so much, so fast, for so long, it’s not uncommon for them to BARF all over you from just being ridiculous “Greedy Grabbers“! 

Why do they do this??


The more you try, the more they fight.  

How about when your baby learns *pulling up to stand*. They MUST try it on EVERYTHING CONSTANTLY

Your leg, the toilet, the cat, the curtains, the fucking broomstick that’s leaning against the wall which obviously falls on them as they attempt to use it as some kind of precarious leverage device…. and it doesn’t stop just because their bodies are telling them they have a basic need, like say… I dunno…. SLEEP?!? 

You put them in the crib only to find them pulling up and cruising around and around and around for two hours like a goddamn zoo animal. It’s so over the top you have bolted every item in your house to the fucking floor so they don’t pull it down on themselves. (These are the days of the 30 second shower btw) 

Aren’t I cute?  Well, I’m about to make your life a living HELL.

Then there’s the *Starting-To-Talk-Thing*… 

Oh. My. GOD. 


They barely make sense half the time, but does that stop them from chewing your ear off from 6 in the morning ’till bedtime??


How many times have you said at the dinner table 

Stop talking start eating or The only time I want to see your mouth moving is because you’re CHEWING!! or even BEGGED after hours of non-stop chattering: 

PLEASE, just please. Stop. Talking…. please?” 

And even after you put them to bed, there they go, talking to their stuffed animals, imaginary friends, themselves… 


Here ya go… tell someone who cares.

It’s hard to not become extreme yourself…. 

But that’s why we’re the *grown-ups*. 

We have, throughout the years, practiced the LEARNED skill of RESTRAINT. 

It’s an advanced and complicated skill that requires up-keep and practice to maintain, and that’s true even when you’re NOT responsible for a little person who is the epitome of ID. 

So, if your little one is becoming so EXTREME that you’re about to get EXTREME on THEM, go to the EXTREME other side of the house, take some EXTREMELY deep breaths, count backwards from 10 EXTREMELY slow, and regain the one thing that separates you from them… 


Yeah, not a good fucking look.


Remember, practicing restraint

Being carried out IN restraints


ATTENTION!! Yes, attention.


We all crave it, we all want it, but yet, we find it so hard to give it to the ones who crave it most of all, our kids. 

Now, before you get all Mama Bear on me, let me clarify. 

We find it hard because the level of attention kids need (or want) on a regular basis is practically insurmountable. Of course, in the very beginning, our almost constant attention is needed just for survivals sake, and it is a super intense time because it is usually our first experience of being so tightly tethered to someone.. 

BUT, as our babies grow, there is a shift. A shift from them ‘needing’ us to them just plain old ‘wanting’ us…. and that’s when we begin to walk that wobbly line. ‘Should I get her out of the crib?’ ‘Should I let her cry?’ ‘But she NEEDS me…’ ‘Grrr she’s just pissed I’m not running in there again goddamn it!!!’ and that’s just the beginning. 

We then enter in to the mommymommymommymommy zone where we can’t cook a meal without a million ‘Look at me’s!!!’ , don’t even THINK about talking on the phone, and you’d be lucky to get one sentence out to any mom friend you’ve arranged to meet up with. (I have many times greeted my mom friends at playgrounds by saying “HI!! *kid running off* BYE!”) 

I think the reason it’s so fucking frustrating is because we ALREADY dedicate endless hours to them reading books, playing with blocks, answering questions, playing peek-a-boo, etc., and so this sort of guilty resentment grows where we can’t help but to have those ‘You little greedy jerk..’ thoughts and even blurt out ridiculous things like “ME ME ME!!! It’s ALL ABOUT ME isn’t it???!!!!” to a fucking three year old. derrrrr

Additionally, just to compound things, many of us now have to deal with our men who are still adjusting to getting bumped down on the totem pole and who are now suddenly fighting for our attention as well! (usually in even brattier ways then the toddler but that’s another RANT..) 

But here’s the kick in the ass, when the time comes where you say ‘Fuck it, I’m just not going to stop what I’m doing right now!’ what happens? They do some naughty ass destruct-o type shit completely on purpose like dumping every fucking book out of the book shelf, or emptying the toilet paper roll in to the toilet — and why? That’s right, because bad attention is still ATTENTION.

Now, my oldest will be turning 7 and I can tell you, it hasn’t gone away so far … in fact I’m betting that teenagers are probably the biggest and most worrisome attention mongers of them all (green hair and pot smoke anyone?) So what to do? Well, you know I’m not huge on advice giving but what I tell MYSELF is that I give all the attention I CAN and when I see even a glint of independence on their part, I jump on it, and if I need a break, I jump on that too, and if I’m ‘On break’ and either of them do some stupid shit for bad attention, I jump on their asses and throw ’em in the naughty corner! WORD. 

It’s okay to not be available ALL the time. Before you’re a mother or a wife, you’re a human — so, when you get a moment, after you put the kids to bed, have a glass of wine, put on some heels, lipstick, and your favorite song and give yourself a smooch in the mirror because what you did when you decided to make the ultimate commitment of becoming a mom, the most selfless job in the world, it automatically made you one sexy bitch and I guaRANTee, YOU’LL probably get some attention yourself for a change! And if you still don’t get it from your man…

get a goddamn jackrabbit. 

What can I say? If you want something done right……

Sisters in the Trenches

Parental advice. 

We all ask for it, we all need it, but seriously, do we ever really take it? You know as well as I do, especially if you have more than one, that each child is completely unique like a little fingerprint (who also happens to leave fingerprints on everything but that’s another story). 

So why do we think that asking another mother what to do in any given situation is going to work for US? 

And how many times have you asked for advice only to shoot down every suggestion claiming:

“Nah, he/she would never do that” or 

“I already tried that and it totally didn’t work..” 

BUT WE’RE ALWAYS ASKING. Why do we do this? 

Is it because this experience is so daunting, so unpredictable that we can’t bring ourselves to trust our own gut? 

Is it that we secretly want to compare our parenting styles to the styles of our friends in order to gain some kind of reassurance that we’re not the only one struggling? 

And moreover, why the FUCK do we ask OUR mothers?? 

Time and time again, I have asked her advice only to receive some completely outdated shit (yeah mom, probably not gonna give her brandy for the teething…) OR the oh so common mother answer: 

“You think I can remember??” 

I’ve found doctors to also be pretty useless .. unless your child is super sick, but for most common illnesses, I take their advice with a grain of salt too

What I DO believe is that we use these ‘what should I do?!’ statements in order to belong. Asking for advice is really just a way of letting another mom know: 

“Hey, I’m in this barrel of shit too and since these kids are completely consuming our lives, it’s nice to have a comrade in the trenches.. I may not believe that what you’re doing will work for ME but just knowing you’ve SHARED the same experience is enough.” 

Why we just don’t SAY that, I have no fucking idea. 

Now, I’m not saying that I haven’t read many a parenting magazine or googled various things like TODDLER+HOLDING+POOP or SLEEP+TRAINING (we all have our shit) but even in doing so I’ve been left more times then not dissatisfied with the results.

Now, with two kids under my belt (I’ll skip the ten million jokes I could make on that statement) I feel somewhat confident in my parenting — not claiming to be a war veteran over here — but I have found that in going through the whole ‘asking for advice’ thing there is one gem I can actually offer:

It’s a diamond in the rough really…

 It’s sufficient for, I’d say 4-5 years old and younger, and I will offer it to all of you whether you’re asking or not. 

Whatever living hell your kid is putting you through right now from eating strikes, to sudden and frequent night wakings, to stubborn potty trainers, to late walkers, to biters, to not-wanting-to-weaners (heheh I said wienersNOTHING LASTS FOREVER. 

By the time you think you’ve got it figured out, they’re on to the next asshole thing that will drive you to the edge, and in a year from now, you’ll be laughing at the thought of yourself crying over some long gone bullshit. 

Oh, and btw, that goes for anything GOOD they’re doing right now too  

Soooooo, just survive, have a glass of wine, and think of the day that hopefully you can advise your OWN child on ridding THEIR child’s fever by simply dousing them in rubbing alcohol.


Leave Me Alone!

Being alone. 

Being alone is totally underrated. 

In fact, not only is it underrated, it has negative connotations attached to it in a single descriptive termlonely. 

As I walk through this city, either pushing a stroller, holding a little hand, or both, I see people everywhere just minding their own. Sitting, reading, contemplating… and I think … 

“You fucking selfish bastards!”. 

Now of course these innocent people are by no means really being selfish nor are they bastards (that I know of), it is just me being jealous with a wicked case of sour grapes. 

What I REALLY want to say to them is, “RELISH IT!!” 

because, as you all know, even with children sleeping, 


And as with everything else, you never appreciate something until it’s gone(Kinda like that nice long hair of yours you cut off when you had the baby ’cause it seemed ‘easier’)

Getting in alone time as a mother IS possible, it’s just ELUSIVE…. almost as elusive as date-night. 

Sometimes you have to plan it and sometimes you’re just plain lucky, but for the most part, even if you’re counting on it, here comes that jerkoff Murphy’s Law and suddenly — poof… gone. 

It’s a hard feeling to explain, this wanting to be by one’s self

it’s not that we don’t want to be with our children nor is it that we want to go crazy and dance on top of some friggin bar somewhere (although……..? nahhhh). 

I think it’s just a yearning to belong to ourselves once again

A recharge. 

A small moment of time when we are who WE are — not a mother, a wife, a worker. 

I know this accompaniment is not forever, and one day my kids will grow up, go to school, and eventually be on their own, affording me all the alone time I could ever possibly dream of. 

And I’m sure when THAT happens, I’ll be wishing for these hectic days back — but for now, I’m going to go cling on to my:




Seeing Double

So my Mom is one of those people who never UNCHECKS the “Would you like to receive updates on blah blah blah??” box 

and never CHECKS the “To STOP receiving updates on blah blah blah” box either. 

Needless to say she is always getting miscellaneous  catalogs in the mail and it’ll be anything from Chadwick’s to Highlights. 

I benefit in her carelessness by getting all the kids stuff to pass along to my 6 year old daughter. 

Well, I see my mom yesterday and she hands me this catalog called ‘My Twinn’. 

At first it appears to be an American Girl type thing but as I look closer, I notice a striking resemblance between the little girl on the cover and her ‘Twinn’ doll… 

First thing out of my mouth? “Creepy.” 

Second thing? “What the fuck???” 

Now, I sort of knew such a thing existed but to see page after page of these little girls holding dolls with matching hair color, hairstyle, even the face shape matched (down to the last fucking freckle!!) was a bit unnerving. 

They advertise the doll as a BFF and of course you can buy matching EVERYTHING for your real kid. Now I’m not gonna go in to the whole thing about dolls and girls and gender roles and all that shit because frankly, I will be writing a fucking novel over here and besides, dolls and girls have gone hand in hand since the beginning of time.

What I DO want to go in to is why are we promoting the notion that your “BFF” should look like your fucking TWIN?!?!? 

Are we asking little girls (who are already PUMMELED with notions on how they should look ) to look for friendship based solely in the outward likeness of others to themselves?? 

That it is unlikely they will find friendship in diversity? 

I sat and stared at this catalog for a while…..

“Maybe I’m taking this whole thing out to lunch..” I thought, and I tried to consider the other side of the coin… 

Could it be innocent after all? 

Could this ploy be in fact a reaffirmation for young girls to 

love themselves freckles, no freckles, carrot tops or curly girlies, blue eyed or not? 

Maybe this was a great way to show a young girl that being confident and loving yourself was ‘like totally cool’. 

Soooo I decided to ask the expert. 

The target audience. 

The demographic in question… 

My very own 6 year old daughter. 

“Hey,” I said, 

“Take a look at this catalog and tell me what you think.” 

Lifting her head up from her snack, she looked quickly at the cover and began to thumb through it, stopping momentarily to study the girl/doll similarities. 

“I’ve seen these Twinn dolls before” she says. 

“SOOO?” I say, “What do you think??” 

She popped the last pretzel in her mouth, looked at me and said:


“Totally creepy mom”. 

My Effing Philosophy

We all fuck up. 

Fucking up is good because fucking up is normal. 

Children need to know that it’s normal ’cause guess what? 

They’re gonna fuck up too.


It won’t be because YOU fucked up, it’ll be because they’re NORMAL. 

If your kids think that YOU’VE never fucked up, then when THEY fuck up, (and they will) they’ll think they’re abnormal, and THAT’S fucked up. 

So remember, fucking up when it comes to your kids is OK. 

As long as they KNOW you’ve fucked up, when they GROW UP they’ll think you’re normal and feel more comfortable coming to you when THEY fuck up…

and then at that point, you can go ahead and fuck them up.. 

…I mean, you ARE still MOM after all. 

Now I’m gonna shut the fuck up and go get wacked with my very normal Mom! 

Good Evening!!

Isn’t it IRONIC? Dontcha Think?

Hipsters. I’m sure you’ve heard of ’em. 

They’re a group of youngish people who have gained a lot of notoriety lately for being… um….. well….

lame? … or weird? Dressing in frumpy clothes? Wearing Ray Bans?

I guess I’m really not quite sure WHY they’re gaining notoriety but they ARE and although there are many adjectives in MY mind that could be put next to the word “hipster”, the one I see most often connected to this bunch is the word IRONIC. 

THIS I don’t understand. I mean if there’s one word I know a lot about since becoming a parent, it’s IRONIC. 

They say hipsters have “ironic facial hair” — well unless it’s NOT on your FACE how the fuck is it ironic? 

They wear “ironic clothing” … well, unless it’s not covering their fucking body, I don’t see the irony in that either.

Seriously? What the fuck are you doing guy?

You say ironic, I sat idiotic…

Et tu Brute?!  Bitch pleeeeease.

It’s time to set the record straight.

When you gave birth, or welcomed a child in to your life in anyway, you also unwittingly welcomed two other things right along with them: IRONY, and her wretched big brother MURPHY’S LAW.


I’ll address Murphy’s Law another time 

(the two are quite similar anyway) but for now, let me tell you 

MY goddamn definition of IRONY.

is when your baby won’t take more than a 30 minute nap but the day you schedule a doctors appointment, the little turd takes a THREE FUCKING HOUR NAP which in turn makes you miss your appointment…. ironic.

is when you and your family are all dressed-up for a holiday outing to see extended family and your kid suddenly comes down with a stomach bug which compels him to PUKE all over his holiday outfit and YOURS TOO on the way OUT of the house….ironic.

is waiting for a month to arrange a babysitter so you and your man can finally get in a romantic dinner sans kid(s) and YOU suddenly come down with that SAME FUCKING STOMACH BUG….ironic.

is when you look away for one minute only to turn and see your toddler climbing down from the highest playground structure with her eyes closed completely UNSCATHED, but on the walk home (with you no more than a foot away of course) she falls flat on her face and needs 10 fucking STITCHES in her chin! ….. ironic.

I could go on and on, and I’m sure you could too, but my POINT is, use whatever fucking adjective you want to describe yourself hipsters, but leave IRONIC out of it because to me, 

your fucking mustache is just plain old LAME.