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 →

In honor of April fools I want to say something to you insolent chumps! For years I’ve been writing this blog, biding my time for this very moment: APRIL FOOLS!!!

Yes, all these years you’ve come here looking for my observations on the ironies of life … oh, I’ll give you irony.  I’ve completely duped you into thinking I’m just like you — a parent who can’t remember where I left my keys, nay, my kids … a quasi desperate housewife who may or may not make eyes at the pool guy, who can’t stand the way her husband leaves dishes by the sink, and who has ridiculous conversations with people while their nipples are showing (that happened more than once, hence the plurals).

You stupid saps. I am the best mother ever! I’m never frustrated or upset, sure, my kids are PERFECT so I don’t need to be, but even when people like you do annoying things, like make me wait in line to buy some overpriced latte or sick your snot ridden little kids on me, I don’t break a sweat. My husband is my BFFFFFFFFFF and Ever. He washes each dish before placing it in the sink and then runs the dishwasher with a separate hard water spot remover. In fact, he invented dishwashers, which is why we’re so rich and why I’m lying when I tell you that I consider the shampoo at hotels swag or how I’m obsessed with a good bargain. I insist on paying fulling price regardless of sales, always!  Yes,  I’ve written for little pay or recognition for many years simply to read your comments about how similar we are so that I make fun of you! (Oh and to waste the time of the trolls out there who like to tell me how untalented I am … who’s wasting their time now trolls???)

It’s taken hours of every day, maybe years off my life, and stopped me from making a real living, (which doesn’t really matter because my husband invented dishwashers), but regardless, it was all worth it to see the look on your face right now! Well, the look I imagine is on your face right now!!!

Consider yourself hoodwinked, hornswoggled, hoaxed (yes, I own a thesaurus). I know, good one, right?

PS I don’t own a thesaurus, I already knew those words, HA! Bamboozled twice in 6 years, you fools!!!!

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 →

My son has a case of IDWS (I Don Wanna-gota Skools). You know that illness that causes you to try any tactic to avoid the dreaded S-word?

Just today, he told me that he couldn’t go to school because his stomach hurt … and his leg … and his elbow … and he may have had a nasty hang nail …. REALLY? This is what you’re going with? The old stomach/leg/elbow ache? Listen kiddo, I invented the ‘sick’ ploy and frankly, I expected more from you. So much more.

Look kids, don’t act like you’re disappointed too. I’ve got your number and I’m pretty sure my kid isn’t the only one relying on such amateur techniques. Which is why I decided (as a seasoned pro) to give you youngsters some sound advice so you can stop embarrassing yourselves and make us proud.

Come closer and listen up. These tips will help you gain your parent’s sympathy and maybe even regain their respect. Good luck:

1. Complain about the appropriate body parts and stay focused. There is a general list of pains and woes we parents find acceptable to lend our sympathy to: stomachaches, headaches, sore throats, nausea. Pick one and don’t stray. Don’t lead in with a stomachache and think that adding a toothache, leg cramp, or shooting pain in the elbow is going to help your cause. That’s an insult to our intelligence. Stay the course … a thousand points of light …

2. NEVER fake a cold… READ MORE

These are a Quick Bytes, like a Wordless Wednesday, but with words … and no picture. So really, nothing like that … maybe more like tapas?

JUST BLEEP IT OUT CHILDREN

This was my convo in the car last night and it just reiterates that I’m constantly outsmarted by my children and also that sometimes I’m too lazy/tired/worn-down to care.

8yo Daughter: Mom, can you buy Thrift Shop for your iPhone, it’s the new Gangnam Style.

Me: Is it?

8yo: Well, it is for the older kids. The kids in my class still think Gangnam Style is the new Gangnam Style, but they all have YOUNGER sisters and brothers, so they don’t really know.

Me: Not like you who has an older brother to teach you what’s up?

8yo: Yep. Oh and don’t get the clean version, I’ll just say “bleep” through the f’words. It ruins the song when they just go silent during the bad words don’t you think?

Me: (I actually do) Um, well we wouldn’t want to ruin the integrity of the master piece. But, I’ll go with the clean version, you can say bleep through the silences.

8yo: Never mind, I’ll just take the one Jake has off his phone.

Well, another problem solved. Pat on the back for good parenting, Jenny.

THE THINGS MOMS DO FOR LOVE:

CARPOOL CHILD 1: Oh G-d what’s that smell?

MY 11YO SON: It’s my sister’s feet she took off her shoes. Her feet are rancid.

MY 8YO DAUGHTER: Stop stop, shut up stop (on verge of tears).

11 YO: FUN-GUS FEET! Get me oxygen

All other kids laughing with hands over their noses … (Oh, her feet were that bad.)

ME: Guys those aren’t her feet … I farted, now enough.

CARPOOL CHILD 2: Ewwww your mom farted.

11YO: No she didn’t it’s my sister’s feet.

ME: IF I SAY I FARTED THEN I FARTED end of discussion.

(Can we protect them forever?)

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