Yesterday, my bestie texted to alert me that I should stop by because there was a hot guy in her yard.  Like he was some majestic animal that had just wandered in, and I should see the glory of nature. I imagined him grazing … and flexing (there was lots of flexing).

What is it about being married over a decade that makes seeing a hot guy something worth notifying others about?

Susan:… Continue reading →

Yesterday, as I dropped the carpool off at Susan’s house, she ran to the car in a flurry (and trust me, Susan doesn’t usually flurry).

Me:  What’s up, did I run over your dog?

Susan all air traffic control arms swinging.

Susan: You have to look at something.

Now the last time she said that all arm swingy it was to watch ducks having non-consensual sex (and I’m not kidding about that, it’s one of my favorite pieces).

Me: No duck sex!

Susan: What? No, it’s not even mating season, duh! You have to look at my eyes, holy shit they don’t match! Stare at them and tell me what is different.

So I stared at them like I was looking at a Highlights magazine and found the differences between the two. Continue reading →

After seeing this pic of the night, I’m thinkin’ she’s a wise wise 8 year old!

I was getting ready to go out for my birthday, a night I think we can all agree warrants a little more bling than the other 364 days of the year, when my 8-year-old daughter walked into my closet.

“Mommy, you look snazzy!”

“Snazzy, huh? That’s a good word. I feel snazzy.”

G-d, that kid is cute, I thought to myself, as I slipped on my snazzy stilettos.

“Yeah, Mom, you look like a hooker!”

Here’s where you should insert the sound effect of a record being scratched to a halt, in the middle of a beautiful ballad.

“I’m sorry, what?” Continue reading →

I recently flew an airline with “open seating.” Which basically means you get an assigned boarding number (like at a deli counter), and you must fend for yourself and your family from there.

As I walked the aisle, I quickly assessed my potential row-mates. Had they recently showered? Would they take initiative in an emergency? Are they so young that they’re in diapers? Are they so old that I may need to resuscitate them during the flight? These are important observations, and because there’s not enough time for a formal interview, they need to be assessed on the fly (pun intended).

When I finally picked my seat, the look on my new neighbor’s face was one of total disdain. What I wanted to say was, “Look at me lady, it could be worse — the woman behind me has a colicky infant and the guy behind her has something that sounds like the plague!” You did OK here.

As a nervous flyer, I’m easily annoyed about things that happen on planes (clearly). So I thought I’d “air” some of my grievances about flying.

1. Flight attendants who are too calm. There’s turbulence that’s got me in “prayer mode” and you’re serving freakin’ coffee? If you’re so calm, how do I look to you to see if I should start worrying?
2. Flight attendants who aren’t calm enough. I know you’re trained to keep your cards close. They tell you to seem unfazed, even if we’re heading for certain death. So, if I see the slightest bit of fear on your face, I may try to break down the cockpit door for more information.
3. Airplanes with ashtrays. Hasn’t the “No Smoking” on planes rule been in effect for like 30 years? If I see an ashtray on an armrest, I know this plane is old as fuck, whether the seats are reupholstered or not. Continue reading →

Said in a rest stop bathroom in front of one of those machines that has all things useful from Tylenol to wine openers…

8yo Daugher: “Mom, why do they sell candy in the bathroom?”

Me: “That’s not candy, it’s a tampon”

8yo: “What’s a tampon?”

Me: (I always said, if my kids asked a question I would do my best to answer honestly.) “It’s when insert uncomfortable conversation here how blood flows from your body … once a month etc. ”

8yo: (After cringing and informing me that she may rethink being a girl because girls “get all the sucky stuff like boobies and blood that comes out when you don’t even have a cut,” she noticed a row of rainbow colored condoms in clear packaging,) “what’s that purple balloon thing?”

Me: “Candy, now let’s go.”

(To hell with honesty!) Continue reading →

No matter how much you try to fancy it up (notice top hat ears) you still look like the guy on the right.

Me and about 200,000 other people had this brilliant idea to spend Spring Break at Walt Disney World. Sure, we could’ve done something more relaxing — like sky diving, but we chose this destination because we like lines. Love lines. Love the way that by simply roping off lines into a maze like snake shape so one could walk nearly a mile without ever leaving a room.

OK, lines make me insane, I can truly only half pay attention to anyone as I’m busily trying to assess how fast we’re moving and how much time we have left. While standing in the first line of the day, my daughter asked who played Mickey Mouse. “I don’t know. I guess Walt Disney was the first Mickey, but not anymore, he’s dead.” Maybe I should’ve thought out my response because my daughter’s reaction was to scream, O M G, MICKEY MOUSE IS DEAD??!! There are no rules in Disney about what you can and cannot say, but I’m gonna guess if there were that would literally top the chart. Holy crap. I’ve never seen so many chipper little happy faces fall into frowns and tears so quickly, as moms struggled to do damage control while intermittently giving me the stink eye.

Sadly, it went down hill from there.  I began to suffer what I call “line dementia,” that’s when crazy shit comes out of your mouth simply to fill time and to mess with your children for your personal amusement — it’s somewhat of a survival tactic.  Continue reading →

Many many things change after becoming a parent: Your outlook on life, your obsession with the application of sanitizer and sunblock, the intimacy of your marriage…

We still adore our men but our alone time has little resemblance to the hot dates we once had.  Wow, did we take those nights for granted!

Want proof?  Behold: Date Night Before Kids vs Date Night After

Before – Your nights out were dependent on no one else. You never waited around the house to see if someone would show up to watch your plants, your pets, or your furniture while you were gone.

After – Cancellation is always a strong possibility. It remains that way until the moment the actual babysitter arrives (even then it may be iffy).  At the very least you are never guaranteed to finish anything you start: dinner, a movie, a show … (Don’t check your coat.)

Before – You had time to put together the perfect outfit, blow out your hair and apply a glaze of pristine makeup, which you really didn’t need in the first place. Continue reading →

AKA The Story of One of My Most Awkward Moments EVER! …

Here in South Florida many of us have pool boys. I’m not sure what the PC term is: “pool men,” “pool attendants,” “stewardesses?” Frankly, I think “pool boy” is a compliment, as the term implies — hot, strapping, and young, like the ones in movies (I imagine that’s what they’re like out in LA). For the most part our “pool boys” are not the rippling tan cliche that’ll turn you into a Mrs. Robinson, no, Continue reading →

At a party last weekend, I got stuck with “That Mom.” You know, the mom you dread seeing at school functions, birthday parties, playdates, or park outings? So I decided to make a list of the most common types of “That Mom” I’ve come across. This way you can avoid her before she traps you!

Know it all Nicole – This mom is like Kris Jenner, but she won’t take your family to Hawaii. She will, however, advise you how to be a better mom and wife, because frankly, who doesn’t like unsolicited advice on parenting and marriage? She’ll tell you whether you should or shouldn’t vaccinate, how to get whites their whitest, and why you can never go to a drive-thru. If you want her to impart her wisdom elsewhere, bring up a blush-worthy topic like blow jobs. If she doesn’t run for the hills, hear her out — you can never know too much about blow jobs — then bring up vibrators.

PMS Pam – Continue reading →