Tag Archives: kids

Unexplained Mysteries of My Universe

15 May
  • The closer I get to menopause → the angrier I get → the more I pluck my eyebrows → the angrier I look → the angrier I feel → the more I pluck my eyebrows → the more I resemble Uncle Leo from Seinfeld.
Good god, these hot flashes are a bitch!

Good god, these hot flashes are a bitch!

  • The older I get → the more chin hairs I get → the worse my vision gets → the less chance I have of spotting stray chin hairs → the better chance I have at landing the coveted Bearded Lady position at the local circus → the circus never comes to my town.
  • The later I am for an appointment → the tinier the toy my daughter wants me to find → the bigger the pile of crap it’s buried in.

    But Mom! I need Polly's purple shoe right now or I'll JUST DIE! WAAAAHH!

    But Mom! I really REALLY need Polly’s purple shoe RIGHT NOW or I’ll JUST DIE! WAAAAHH!

  • My husband loses 20 pounds after going on a ‘diet’.
    Old breakfast : two donuts + two Yoo-hoos + a bagel with extra cream cheese
    New breakfast: two donuts + two Yoo-hoos + a bagel with a moderate amount of cream cheese
  • I inhale my kid’s chocolate glazed donut fumes too deeply = 20 pound gain.
    All of it in my ass.
    Never in my boobs.
  • Empty bathroom = infinity # of hours
    Empty bathroom + me = suddenly everyone has to go pee simultaneously
  • The older my son gets → the cooler he seems → the more I want to hang out with him → the less he wants to have anything to do with me.
  • The increase in the amount of my son’s armpit hair = the increase in his ability to roll his eyes at everything I say

    Right back 'atcha, kid.

    Right back ‘atcha, kid.

  • # of tasks I have to do in the shortest amount of time = # of  times my kids need me to get them something every 2 seconds.
  • The more I try to get my kid’s attention → the louder my voice gets > likelihood they’ll ever respond.
  • The more secret the conversation + the more you whisper + the more curse words you use → my kids’ hearing is suddenly better than a German Shepherd’s.
  • 10 minutes = average time it takes to have sex
    1.5 seconds =average time it takes for kids to realize you’re having sex and decide to start banging on your bedroom door.

Care to add any other mysteries of your universe?

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This Mom’s Wish

9 May

Dear Kids,

This is all I want for Mother’s Day (and beyond):

  • That you realize half-eaten tuna sandwiches don’t belong in the far corner of your closet buried under three tons of toys.
  • You learn to fight less and love more.
  • Hands are not for hurting but for helping — also for helping Mom by picking up all your stuff off the floor. Here’s a tip: open your hand, pick something up, put it away.
  • R – E – S – P – E – C – T Find out what it means to me. And to anyone else you’ll meet for the rest of your life. I’ll give you a big hint: it’s probably the single most important thing, other than love, you can feel for another human being.  It will carry you throughout life and help you learn from others, shaping you into a positive force that can move mountains.  If you give it, others will return it to you.
  • Silence. Just ten minutes will do.
    OK, five is fine too.
    One minute?
  • A hug. A real one. Not the kind where you wiggle away in horror like I’m trying to pull the teeth out of your head.
  • That you help one another. Always.
  • If you ever see someone down, try to help them. If someone needs a hand, help them. If someone is struggling, help them.
  • Did I mention you should always help one another? Yeah, do that. Always.
  • That you realize what you put out there in the universe, positive or negative, will come back to you times ten. It’s the hardest lesson of all, but one worth remembering.
  • That you know love is all you need.
    And chocolate.
    I need some right now.
    Did you buy me any?

By the way, you both have already given me the above gifts.  All I ask is that you keep it up. I’m proud to be your mom.

39110_460976272872_2787705_n

Happy Mother’s Day

Words of Wisdom from the Wee Ones

22 Mar

While grocery shopping with my six-year-old daughter, little Miss J:

Miss J: Mommy, y’know what?198481_10150183247247873_525857_n

Me: What?

J (yelling): When you drink milk, it makes your boobs big!

Me: Excuse me?

J: The more milk you drink, the bigger your boobs!

Me: What?!

J: It’s true. Gabriel told me. (Gabriel is a five year old boy in her class)

Me: Um….no. Just no.

J: Can I have some milk?

Me: No.

J: (tries to lift my shirt)

Me: What are you doing?

J: C’mon! Lemme see yours!

Me: No, stop that! (she tries to stick her head underneath my shirt, old lady buying produce glares at me)

J: Hmm…

Me: Get outta there!

J: (walks slowly away, tapping her finger to her lips) Hmm…
How much milk do you drink, Mommy?

Me: What? Why?

J: Nothing.

Me: What are you trying to say?

J: It’s just that…well…I’ve seen worse.

(still not sure if I should take that as a compliment)______________________________________

Miss J wanders into the kitchen, tears streaming down her face.

Me: What’s wrong, sweetie?483644_10151380954547873_1466432138_n

Miss J: I want a baby sister.

Me: Oh ha ha! Well, now! No…sorry, you can’t have one.

Miss J: Why? I want one!

Me: I’m afraid that’s impossible, mommy can’t have more babies.

Miss J: (looking horrified) You mean, I can only have the ONE BROTHER?

Me: Yup. Just the one brother.

Miss J: You mean to tell me….that I (pointing finger in the air with each word) am STUCK…with THIS KID
in THIS HOUSE….for the REST OF MY LIFE?

Me: Yup. Well, until you move out, go to college or get married one day, so it won’t be for the rest of your life–

Miss J: I’m marrying Daddy.
__________________________________________________________________

My husband and I had a rare day off together and my daughter asked us what we were planning to do all day. We informed her we would be spending it having some “alone time”, like grown-ups sometimes like to do. So we dropped the kids off at school in the morning. As she was walking away into a huge crowd of kids, parents and teachers she stopped, turned around and yelled, “Have fun kissing and getting married today, guys!”

From my ten-year-old son:

CJ: I really, really, really want to go to the chorus concert tonight at school!IMG_2331

Me: You don’t sing.

CJ: So?

Me: You’re not in chorus.

CJ: I just wanna go.

Me: You hate music.

CJ: I just really wanna go, that’s all.

Me: Who is she?

CJ: Huh?

Me: What’s the girl’s name?

CJ: I don’t know.

Me: Is it Jessica?

CJ: Whatever.

Me: Matilda?

CJ: It’s Courtney! Not Matilda!

Me: Ohhhhhh. So your girlfriend’s name is Courtney!

(His sister starts dancing around him while singing, “He loves Courtney! He wants to kiss her!”)

CJ: She is NOT my girlfriend. Just a friend. But she is girl.
(pause) That’s a friend. And stop singing that mom, it’s not funny.

Me: What do you think having a girlfriend means?

CJ: Well, first you ask her to date you. Then you date for like…three weeks. But only after three weeks, can you kiss her. Then, if she doesn’t dump you, you keep dating and kissing until you’re, like, in college. Then you get your degree in engineering, buy her a house so you can give her a ring and ask her to marry you.

Me: Yup. That’s pretty much it.

CJ: So Courtney is NOT my girlfriend. I don’t want a girlfriend, like ever. Never ever.

Me: My work here is done.

What enlightening or embarrassing things have your kids said to you lately? Please, tell me, I need to feel I’m not alone.

The Curse of Being a Mom

22 Feb

My sweet and loving ten year old son has made me many cute little drawings over the years.

But lately, I’ve noticed a very disturbing trend.

Age 5:

Kudos to him for getting my teeth and eyes just right...

(Kudos to him for getting my teeth and eyes just right…)

Age 7:

241381_10150253863747873_1317940_o

Age 10.5 (today): This is what he left taped to his bedroom door:

zip

I get this feeling he’s trying to tell me something….

Things My Daughter Taught Me During School Vacation

1 Jan 483644_10151380954547873_1466432138_n

Ruminations on life, uncut and unfiltered, straight from the mind of my six year old daughter.IMG_2024

“Uh, mom? Your butt is big.”

(pause)

“Oh, I mean lovely. Yeah! Your butt is lovely!”

(pause)

“Also big.”

(scratches head)

“Actually…very big.”

___________________________________________________________

483644_10151380954547873_1466432138_n

“Well, I think peeing is dumb.

It’s just dumb and stupid and I don’t like it!

Why do we always have to stop playing to go pee all the time?

I won’t do it anymore. I won’t!”

____________________________________________________________

“Watcha doin’ Mom and Dad? Getting all snuggly?

You guys gettin’ all snuggly-wuggly and cuddly? All kissy? Kissy-poo?73150_10150090052562873_3801046_n

Well, that’s just SO GROSS!  I don’t wanna see that!EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!”

______________________________________________________

“I have a new boyfriend now,  Mommy.

His name is Gabriel and he sits next to me at the triangle table.

He’s nice but he breaks all the crayons so from now on I’m going to have to call him Gary.”

______________________________________________________

198481_10150183247247873_525857_n“I am so excited to go back to school tomorrow, because I have P.E. class!

Yeah! And I LOOOOOOOVE P.E.!

Well, actually, I hate it….we run, we jump, we do stuff. I do get SO tired.

(sighs and looks wearily off into the distance)

But I really, REALLY love the part when we get to drink water from the fountain!”

______________________________________________________

(Over the past two weeks of vacation, I also learned Little Miss J’s new favorite catchphrase.
This is her response to almost everything I do or say:)

284689_10151222955417873_2133117492_n“Seriously? Be serious!

Are you serious?

Because…

seriously?

SERIOUSLY!
______________________________________________________

And so kids, tomorrow? It’s back to school! Seriously!

The Dude with the ‘Tude

23 Dec

d683481ca6a6199831799f7b4b19178a

If you’re a parent, you’ve heard of the Elf on the Shelf. Or as I like to refer to him–
The Brilliant Yet Creepy Spawn of Marketing Execs Gone Mad.

Until this Christmas, for years I had managed to live in complete denial this thing even existed, effectively putting blinders on every time I saw his clever little escapades plastered all over my friends’ Facebook feeds. Ooh, look! He’s in Barbie’s swimming pool hanging out with the peeps! Oh, wow! Now he’s zipping across the living room curtains wearing cute little candy canes as skis! Adorable!

The Elf’s supposed purpose? To mesmerize and enchant kids far and wide with the endless possibilities of Santa’s magic.

The Elf’s real more sinister goal? To drive every mom and dad up the fracking wall every night until Christmas.
And boy howdy! Does the jolly lil’ buggah succeed at that one!

As the story goes, (I’m not really clear on details as I rolled my eyes the entire time my son read the Elf on a Shelf book to me) the Elf runs off to see Santa every night.  If your child has been ‘good’, the Elf will return.

But here’s the kicker, he only magically comes back during the night (i.e. when moms and dads should be in a deep sleep) and inevitably ends up getting into some kind of amusing shenanigans. Usually involving things like swimming in a bathtub overflowing with flour and glitter or building a huge replica of the Eiffel Tower in the center of your kitchen floor using peanut butter and pretzels, or messing up your almost completed 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle of brown mice eating chocolate chip cookies in a sandstorm.

Oh, that Elf is a pure delight!

So I’ve decided to jump on this freaky-deaky Elf bandwagon. Because, as we all know, you can’t put a price on a child’s dreams. Or a mom’s nightmares. Just a few of my ideas:
(some may be hallucination-based due to my inability to get a good night’s rest knowing I might wake up to find him very much alive, sitting on my pillow and watching me sleep)

Steve on your sleeve

sleeve

AH! Dear lord! Get if off! GET IT OFF!

Max in the Flax

Tasty! And keeps hot flashes at bay!

Tasty! And keeps hot flashes at bay!

Phil on the Sill

Sweet dreams!MWA HA HAAA! (constant cackling ensues)

Sweet dreams!
MWA HA HAAA! (nonstop cackling ensues)

John on the John

Just try an' flush me! I double dog dare ya!

Just try an’ flush me! I double dog dare ya!

Todd on the Schrod

schrod

…and finally, after Christmas is over and you can kiss that blasted Elf goodbye until next year:

Flynn on the Gin

It's all right. I see them too.

It’s all right. I see them too.

Merry Christmas to all and to all the elves a goodbye!

You Know You’re a Parent When….

1 Dec What? So I'll be living in your basement eating bologna sandwiches and playing Nintendo until I'm 30. You signed up for this, remember?
  1. The nurse hands you a baby and says with a sneer, “Good luck, suckers!”
  2. You get home with baby and after a few days realize–the baby isn’t going anywhere.
    Probably for the next 30 years.
    If you’re lucky.

    What? So I’ll be living in your basement eating bologna sandwiches and playing Nintendo until I’m 30. You signed up for this, remember?

  3. You never go by your own first name anymore.
    “Hi! I’m Christian’s Mom!” or “Hello! I’m Julia’s full-time domestic slave who lost her name along with her identity about 10 years ago, nice to meet you! Please, help me remember who the hell I am! For the love of God, please!”
  4. You openly discuss puke stories over lunch with friends.
    “Hey….by the way, have you ever seen puke drop from three feet high before? No? well, let me tell you it was epic. I had to hold the bucket up over my head like I was offering up a sacrifice at the fiery altar of vomit volcano hell. I didn’t even flinch. I just turned my head to the side, squeezed my eyes shut to block the spray, and he kept hurling over the side of the top bunk like nobody’s business.
    Now please pass me the guacamole.”
  5. You alternate between serene calmness and explosive fire-breathing rage with ease.
    “Please, you guys really need to start calming down now, okay? Huh? Please?
    I SAID CALM DOWN! RIGHT NOW! OR I WILL DRIVE THIS CAR INTO A TREE SO HELP ME GOD!
    ….thank you.”
  6. You get so beaten down by the constant barrage of questions, “Mom, can I have a cookie? Mom, can I have a piece of candy? Mom, can I have some chocolate milk?” that you finally snap and start screaming, “YES! YES!! FINE! GO AHEAD! YOU CAN HAVE EVERYTHING! ALL OF IT! I DON’T CARE ANYMORE! HAVE AT IT!” only to realize you’ve agreed to letting them drink beer and take the car out for a spin.
  7. You start to schedule meetings with your husband to discuss when to schedule in sex.
  8. This year’s vacation hot-spot?
    Any place you and your spouse don’t have the kids for a few minutes so you can get a tiny shred of sanity back.
    Maybe eat an entire meal uninterrupted for once.
    Listen to your own inner thoughts for a change.
    Could be simply going out for the early-bird special at the local Cracker Barrel, it’s all good.

    Whoa! What sweet bliss is this? Rockers! Everywhere! HOT DAMN!!!

  9. Your go-to emotion is feigned apathy.
    Whenever you have childless friends over for dinner, they’ll have this look of terror on their faces as your kids run around screaming and throwing things like monkeys fresh from a coke binge. And the whole time you’ll  just sit on the couch with a shell-shocked blank look on your face, completely oblivious to the chaos–their loud antics only barely registering as a distant low-buzzing hum. This is a coping mechanism that only comes from years of practice.
  10. You’ve learned society’s acceptable term for your constantly hyped-up, out-of-control kid is ‘spirited’.
    So you use it all the time now as an excuse.
    “Oh, so he dumped an entire bottle of chocolate syrup in your toilet?  He’s spirited!”
    “So you’re telling me he head-butted the gym teacher because he felt like it? Well, now! He sure is spirited!”
  11. You often interrupt important phone calls to yell:
    “Hey! You wipe your OWN butt!”
  12. On any given day you find yourself quoting the best quote ever uttered by a parent:

              “I brought you into this world, I can take you out.” –Bill Cosby

***If any of you weary and worn-down parents out there have any other insights as to when you know you’re a parent, feel free to write them in the comments below so I can laugh at you while offering up my deepest sincerest pity as only a seasoned mom can do.***

Dear Daughter

24 Nov IMG_2024

As your sixth birthday approaches, I see the telltale signs. I know my sweet chubby-faced baby girl is melting away before my eyes.

Sometimes when we hug, I catch a faint glimpse of her still–your warm soft cheek pressed up against mine, silky eyelashes fluttering shut as you gently sigh–innocence refusing to budge. Nestling into my heart.

I breathe it in with the hope I will always remember.

And that you will, too.

**************************************

But for now, let’s get down to business.

Dude. Living life is just like….soooo exhausting.

This is Your Life

Listen up. I need to let you know a few things about the rest of your life.
Things my own mother never told me. Things I hope you understand one day.
Hopefully, sooner than I did.

  • Laugh. All the time. Giggle like a maniac. Chortle. Snort. Guffaw. Don’t be shy. Let the giddy tears flow. Make a fool of yourself. There is nothing else like it.
    I’m surprisingly very good at it.
  • Cry if you want to cry. Never let anyone tell you it’s ‘weak’.
    It can be very lucrative. I can cry at a drop of a hat. It’s gotten me pretty far in life.
  • When a bully pushes you down on the playground, stand right back up and get up in his/her grill. Don’t be afraid.  If the tears flow, it’s all right. Get mad. Get sad. But stand back up to them. Understand that maybe they don’t know what they’re doing.  You need to let them know it’s not right. Then tell a teacher.
    Maybe hire your older brother to be your bodyguard, pay him in Twinkies.
    Worked for me.
  • No one will ever remember the day in second grade when you puked all over the lunch table because Jimmy Libby shoved mac-n-cheese up his nose.
    Except maybe Jimmy Libby.
  • When your older brother tells you it’s a good idea to jump off the garage roof into the swimming pool,
    it isn’t.
  • When your older brother wants to play ‘target practice’ using  a slingshot, some marbles and your head,
    run away.
  • Thanks to your dad and your older brother, you will never go on a single date until you’re 21. They mean well, they just know it will take a special person to earn your heart.
    And a strong man who can disarm a dad with a 20 gauge shotgun.
  • You will hurt others one day. Tell them you’re sorry while you still have the chance.
    We all make mistakes, all the time.
    Like the time I held my curling iron in my best friend’s hair until I smelled burnt flesh. Note: hairspray only helps fuel the flames.
  • We are always learning. No one has all the answers.
    Except your mother.
  • If you feel anger, feel it. It’s okay to be mad sometimes. Don’t wish it away or bury it deep down. Face it. Never feel guilty about how you’re feeling. Accept it, transform it. It’s there to teach you.
    Then after you’ve had enough– make sure you release it and move on.
    I also find screaming into a pillow, and consuming a gallon of chocolate ice cream while watching a Nora Ephron movie marathon helps calm me as well.
  • Make new friends, but keep the old.
    One is silver and more likely to lend you money.
  • The only thing anyone ever wants is for someone to understand them, to accept them for exactly who they are deep down inside.
    The stuff we see on the outside? Doesn’t matter even the tiniest bit.
    Remember this when your mother is wearing her bra on the outside of her clothes.
  • Genius is 1% inspiration, 98% perspiration,
    and 1% Extra Strength jasmine-scented deodorant.
  • Dance like no one is watching.
    Fart like no one is around.
    No, really. Make sure no one is around when you fart. Men don’t think women fart, it’s a huge top secret conspiracy and I’d like to keep it that way.
  • Learn how to deal with spiders on your own. Be brave. Scoop them up carefully with a newspaper and shoo them out the door because they have families too.
    Or squash them into bug juice while hyperventilating and screaming–your choice.
  • Unclog your own sinks/toilets, hook-up your own stereo/DVR, change your car’s oil–by yourself.  Don’t rely on a man to do it for you.
    Rely on a man to be there when you need to bitch about doing everything around the house.
  • Stay away from any boy who starts his sentences with, “Duuuuude….”
  • Learn how to cook.
    Hot Pockets don’t count.
    Lean Pockets do.
  • Don’t bother separating whites from colors, just wash everything in cold, make sure you fold right away or things will get all wrinkly, and never, ever under any circumstances,
    bring home your laundry on the weekends.
  • Get a job.
    I’m kidding. You’re only six.
    No, seriously, get a job. Sell some Girl Scout Cookies, something.
  • Nature is free and it’s better than HDTV.
    Now get out of the house.
  • All things must pass.
    Don’t worry, all this lame advice I’m giving you right now is almost over. But I’m gonna leave you with a little more, so pay close attention to the next three, okay?
    (Try very hard not to roll your eyes.)
  • Trust that your sorrow–all those tears, the heavy ache you might feel in your heart–will dissolve someday. The darkness isn’t forever. The sheer light of hope and love will crush it to dust. It will. Grab onto that little ray of light and never let go of it no matter how much you want to. If you can’t find it, come to me and I’ll shine it on you.
  • Smile. It feels pretty dang good, doesn’t it?
  • I love you.

***************************************

Happy birthday, my sweet pea,  Little Miss J

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Behold, the Power of Free Candy

21 Oct

Kids today have it so easy. My son gets a complete Luigi costume at Target, slaps on a fake mustache, has us drive him around a few minutes, then comes home with enough candy to put Willy Wonka in a ten year coma. Halloween is just a blip between summer and Christmas to my kids. There’s no magic, no sense of adventure anymore.

Back in the 1970s, when I was a kid, times were hard and we didn’t mess around—Halloween was Go-Time. The rest of the year, my brothers and I rarely got candy (unless you count the Sucrets we stole out of my mom’s purse), so we prepared for this holiday weeks in advance.

Plus, we were entirely on our own. Mom and Dad rarely bought us a costume. We had to cough up our own spooky designs from whatever was lying around the house. And trick-or-treating? Completely unsupervised and lasted until way past bedtime, even on a school night, just like God intended.

We’d spend weeks brainstorming wacky homemade costume ideas: “Hey! I know! We can have Dad cut up some of the foam insulation from the attic and make a giant Pac-Man!” We’d analyze which houses would score the biggest payload: “Okay, rumor has it Mrs. Stevens doles out jumbo-sized Snickers so be sure to hit her up first… but steer clear of Old Mr. Pitts, he throws nothing but moldy popcorn balls or crayons at your head and he smells like cheese.”

Once darkness fell, we’d fan out by ourselves and bravely trek the streets, clutching our garbage bag costumes, our sad Hobo faces covered in whatever we could scrape out of my dad’s ashtray, and beg perfect strangers for a Charleston Chew.

Whenever I tell my kids about the hardships we faced back then, they interrupt me and say, “Yeah, yeah…whatever, Mom. By the way, that is the dumbest idea for a costume, like, ever, and can you give me back my Kit Kat now? That’s your third one!”

Let’s travel back in time to my childhood Halloweens, shall we?

I’m not sure what I was trying to be here, I’d guess a gypsy, or maybe Laura Ingall’s long-lost Spanish cousin. Either way, it looks like I’m thinking, OH DEAR GOD, please don’t let me be seen in public with these two freakshows! He used up all my Noxzema for this?

I was a witch this year (again) and my brothers were hobos (again). Strangely enough, they didn’t even have to alter their appearance at all. And the hobo sticks came in handy when my brothers threatened to beat me over the head if I didn’t give them my Skittles. Just look into the cold, dark eyes of my younger brother and tell me he didn’t intend to mug me later on for all my Pixy Stix.

This year we were all lucky to have ‘store-bought’ costumes. Still, I felt bad for my younger brother, having to trick or treat with Yul Brynner and the freaky-deakiest Raggedy Anne I’ve ever seen.

I’m not sure what’s scarier about this photo, the giant fork and spoon on the wall my brother used to chase me around the house with… the illusion that the entire room is invisible due to my mom’s horrible paint job or the fact that I chose to go trick or treating at the age of 11 dressed up like an Amish hooker.

Finally, my favorite Halloween photo of all-time. You thought I was kidding about the foam insulation Pac Man? It is a sheer miracle my poor brother didn’t suffocate after five minutes in that thing. Oh, and you thought I was joking about the garbage bag? Behold, my genius idea for a costume. Any guess what we were? We had to wear a SIGN to let people know. Probably a good sign it’s not a very good costume. If you can guess what we were in the comments below, I’ll ship you a truckload of Twix.

UPDATE: The mystery of the trash bag costume has been revealed by the too-brilliant-for-her-own-good

Speaker7

She correctly guessed we were:

The Fruit of the Loom Grapes!! Congrats, Speaker7!

**********

Happy Halloween! Care to share any really horrible and lame costumes you once had as a kid?

Momglish Dictionary

1 Oct

The Maineiac Edition

crackatoan adjective–the moment when a mama starts to completely lose her cool after listening to her five year old daughter whine, “But I want a puppy RIGHT NOW!” for six straight hours. Telltale warning signs: extreme twitchiness, clenched jaw, low guttural groans, flames shooting out of eye sockets.

mamacure noun–a typical mom’s fingernail condition approximately three minutes after painting her nails. Usually chipped, ragged, stained with crayola markers, Kool-aid and reeking of ‘why do I even bother?’

petite dejeumalaise noun–general bitchy mood of a mother in a rush to make everyone breakfast. May or may not lead to crackatoan mood.

Example: When you can’t open the bread no matter which direction you twist or untwist the stupid, frickin tie so you end up shredding the bag open with your teeth then throwing mutilated gobs of Wonder bread at your husband’s head while yelling, “You want toast? Here’s your ****ing toast!”

javaticulitis noun–the state of desperation you feel at 5 am when you suddenly realize you’re out of coffee after getting only 3 hours total sleep the night before. May attempt to remedy situation by ingesting anything in the house with slightest trace of caffeine. Usually wind up either chugging chocolate syrup straight from bottle, choking down half a can of decade-old unsweetened cocoa baking powder, or slurping up yesterday’s grinds fresh from the trash. If necessary caffeine intake isn’t achieved, petite dejeumalaise will result.

strainbrain noun–when you realize you have no coffee filters so you panic and decide to brew your coffee using toilet paper and your bra.

bittering verb–seemingly innocent tweets on Twitter that underneath stink of the crankiness you feel now that you have no life as a parent.





meloncholy adjective–the sadness you feel after realizing you have to pick up your boobs in order to put them inside your bra.

lactose-incensed verb–simmering anger caused by never being able to sit down for any length of time to eat a single bite of your meal due to nonstop requests from your kids for more milk.

rationale noun–when you convince yourself a diet of three Fritos, half a pizza crust and a spoonful of cold mac-n-cheese constitutes a complete meal. Usually brought on by lactose-incense.

Wait, wait! Let me guess! You want….um….milk! Right? Again with the milk! Even though I just poured you and your sister some two seconds ago! Sure! I’ll be happy to get up yet again and get it for you while your father sits there like a lump! No problem! I don’t need to eat at all! It’s okay, really!

Caesarean Salad Diet noun–when you eat like a rabbit for years and years only to realize nothing will ever get rid of your flabby Shar Pei belly other than serious liposuction or simply laying flat on back for all eternity.

whaturation noun–the frantic state a mom feels after responding to an endless barrage of “Hey, Mom?” requests. With each, “what?” she utters, her blood pressure increases 20 points.  Once the systolic hits 160, she may become severely crackatoan. You are advised to throw either coffee or chocolate at her, then run and take cover.

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