Oh, don’t mind me — I’ll be livin’ in a box down by the river.


Our mid-winter school vacation has ended. I spent 11 days trapped inside a small apartment with my kids. We had four snowstorms last week alone.

Coincidentally, our electronic “human-ignorer” gadgets decided to collectively shit the bed. My laptop froze. The tablet became possessed. Netflix was toast.

My toaster still worked. Thank god.


So we were forced to be together. In each other’s presence. Communicating and using eye contact and stuff. I had deep convos with my 11-year-old son.

“Go Fish, grandma.”

“Hey! I’m not that old!”

“Yes you are.”

“I’m still young!”

“Well…you’re kinda young…”

“Thank you.”

“Kinda, but not really at all.” [hard stare] “Because you’re old.”

So when my son told me he didn’t want to go back to school this morning, the words, “If you don’t go, I’ll be arrested and thrown in jail” just flew out of my mouth.

But thank god our dryer broke.

When your clothes dryer shuts down and you have two little kids, it’s panic time.  In order to keep my constant mountain of laundry at a manageable amount, I have to do about 382 loads every single day. Within two hours of the dryer breaking down I had to rent storage space just for my son’s dirty socks and underwear.

Thankfully, we had enough money to buy another crappy one and made good use out of the best toy any kid could ever want.

The box.


They quickly settled in their new home — hung some curtains,  set up the Wii, installed shag carpeting.

They even posted some solid rules:


And by the end of school vacation, there was only one place the kids could find me.

In the box out on our front lawn.


Please, feel free to drop by and visit me. I’ll be serving up some delish Toaster Scrambles with semi-real bacon and eggs.

Just remember: Don’t be mad and under no circumstances are you allowed to fart.


How did you survive school vacation? “Just barely” like me?

Family · inspiration · reflections

The Breakthrough


The helicopter overhead was distant–the propeller’s thumps a low murmur seeping into my mind, stirring up dread, thick and suffocating.

I stood inside my grandmother’s old house and gazed at the peeling yellowed paint on the walls and the layers upon layers of dusty photographs covering every inch. In one black and white photo, a young pig-tailed girl’s face beamed, sitting on her father’s knee, her face forever frozen in mid-laugh. In another– a girl in her teens, blowing out the candles on the cake, her father resting his hand on her shoulder.

A splintered mirror on the wall reflected an older woman. A woman now startled by the creases circling her hollowed eyes and the raw bleeding wounds dotting her scalp.  The wounds my mother gave me.

Hot red anger flashed as my fingers frantically tried to cover them with tufts of matted hair– but there were too many, they just grew and grew, and bled and bled.


A soft breeze blew the front door open, rustling the photos about like leaves.  I shuddered as the leak of fear dripping in my mind ran cold. A rush of wind swelled and the hardwood floor beneath me groaned, each floorboard lifting one by one, rippling like waves. I turned to look out the window.

It was coming.

Lazers of red light pierced through the tiny holes and cracks in the floor, casting blood-orange spots around the room; the thundering pulse of the propeller almost on top of me now.

I opened my mouth to scream, but only a raspy gasp escaped my lips.  The photographs began to flutter and fall to the floor, forming tiny swirling tornados that danced and circled around the room; the blackened edges of each photo curling unto itself until each one disintegrated into a thin gray dust.  Vibrations rippled through me, my body nothing more than an empty shell as the helicopter’s relentless chant filled my ears.


Bracing for impact, I shut my eyes and turned away, the taste of choking dust filling my mouth. It was outside the window now–a spinning black steel spider hanging from an unseen web growing bigger and bigger until it was inches from breaking through the glass.

Suddenly, it stopped to hover, frozen in mid-flight; as if the web’s sinewy thread was pulled taut. I felt a hand on my shoulder. My breath stopped.

It was my father.

Dad. Dad!


I searched his face, unbelieving. He was young again; his face smooth, his smile warm and knowing. A sparkling white light radiated from his eyes.

Don’t be afraid, he said without moving his lips.

I will help you.

Watch me. I’ll show you.

Churning back to life, the helicopter continued its path toward the window. I closed my eyes, imagining it tearing through the house, shards of exploding glass, wood and metal showering down, consuming me in flames.

Look, my dad said. Here, look.

I opened my eyes.

He stepped in front of me and raised one arm, his hand shielding me from the spider. In response, it reversed, the broken shards of wood and glass flying backwards with it.  The thundering pulse of the propeller a soft murmur again as the helicopter vanished into a small black dot swallowed whole by bright blue sky.

I sucked in the air and a sweet coolness spread across my face, into my lungs and down my spine.


I was standing on the precipice of the tallest mountain. Below me, an endless sea of jewels, sparkling blue and green.  I drank in the beauty as it flowed through my veins.

I floated. I was free.

My dad grabbed my hand and smiled. We were back in my grandmother’s house again.

Do you see?

I looked down, wisps of my hair were swirling to the floor like feathers. I tenderly touched my head. My wounds were gone, replaced with pink skin–warm, soft and new.

I do, Dad.  I see.

Thank you.

I looked out the window and into the bright light.

Family · Humor · Motherhood

Thufferin’ Thuccotash Thursday

June is coming at me full speed now and this can only mean one thing:

Countdown to End of Days = T minus 2

Two school days until both kids are home with me all day.

Both of them.

Every day.

For almost three months.

Serenity now! Serenity now! SERENITY NOW!!!! I can do this! Stay cool! Everything’s going to be all right! Deep breaths! Deeeeep breaths. There! Much, much better! I need to appreciate these days with my kids! That’s right! Cherish them! They won’t last forever! It will all be okay! I just need to appreciate it! Appreciate!!   Dammit, I will appreciate this time I have with my kids while they’re still young.   Because that’s what they tell me to do….deep breaths……serenity….now…whew! I feel better.

Just had to get that out of my system, sorry.

That’s right, kids! Summer’s here! Time to break out the bug spray! Slather on the sunscreen! Slap on your water wings! Moms and Dads, put the lawnchair inside the kiddie pool, crack open a cold one, and inhale the chlorine fumes! Let the summa begin, hellions! (and when I say hellions, I mean it in the sweetest, most motherly way possible, of course…)

Something happens to kids right before school gets out. Their nervous systems short circuit, they start running around at top speed, babbling nonsense, bouncing off each other like they’re in a pinball machine. Take the excitement kids feel on Christmas Eve and then multiply it by a million, then subtract the number of brain cells mom will lose by the end of August and you’ll have zero, because it all evens out, doesn’t it?


My son was so excited to have Field Day at school last week, it was all he talked about. Yesterday my daughter ran over to me and hugged me tight. Then she looked up at me with worried eyes and said, “Mom, I don’t want to go to Field Day! Please, don’t make me go! Why is the teacher taking us to a field?  I don’t like fields. They’re boring and there’s bugs and I won’t go to Field Day, I just won’t. Please, Mommy, don’t make me go to The Field!”

Yeah. I’m not big on fields either. Pfffttt. Who needs ’em?


With summer comes the start of endless boredom and with that the
Endless Questions. So far this week I’ve been asked about tons of things and I didn’t have any inkling as to what might be the correct answer to any of them.

Mom, who invented math?

Well, you see, kids. Back in the caveman days of….yore….(ahem) there once lived a caveman and a cavewoman. They owned one cave. They got married and combined their rocks and sticks into one big pile to share. One day the cavewoman saw her cavehusband riding around town in his convertible with the top down with another much younger, more attractive cavewoman. When he came home, she threw the sticks and rocks in his face and told him half of everything was hers, including the cave and convertible.  Then she handed him a huge lawyer bill. And so math was invented. End of story.

Mommy, who invented words and sentences?

Oh, great question! Let’s see…um…. Once upon a time there was a caveman. He lived alone. Caveman made fire. Caveman hunted and gathered. Caveman grunted a lot to himself. Caveman lived in harmony with nature. Caveman’s life was good, real good. One day, cavewoman moved in. And never stopped talking. Words were invented. End of story.

Grrr! Gah! Ugh! Ooga-booga-ooga!!!

[grunting, groaning]

(translation: Why me let woman in? Why woman don’t stop talk now? I ask her how her day was and she go on and on and on. Me very angry now!  Me head gonna explode!  Someone please kill me now with rock!)

I pray my kids never ask me where babies come from.


My daughter lost two of her front bottom teeth recently. She has this lovely gap and looks like she’s been roughed up in a hockey game. Today she informed me her top front tooth was about to fall out and the one next to it was “super wiggly”. At this rate, she might end up needing dentures soon or start drinking her hamburgers through a straw. The only plus side is now she can pronounce everything with a TH sound and maybe even whistle while she talks.

Hey, Mom? Can you pleath get me thome goldfith crackerth and thome Fixodent? Thankth!

Happy Summer everyone…May your days be hazy, lazy, and a little less crazy than mine.

Family · Humor · Motherhood

Things that make you go ‘hmm…’ Thursday

Food Edition

**Loafs of bread. Why are they shaped like that? Can’t these companies figure out a way to make them come in little perfect triangles with no crusts shaped like a butterfly so my daughter will eat it?

**Chip bags. I opened one up the other day and found two chips on the bottom. The rest was chip-flavored air. So I put the bag over my head, took a few deep breaths and was strangely satisfied yet ticked off that I was out five bucks.

**Pizza. Why round? Why not square like the box? Why so hot? Why do I insist on eating a slice when I know I’ll get that bubble burn on the roof of my mouth? Why am I then forced to drink a gallon of Pepsi to put out the flames? Are the pizza companies in cahoots with the soda companies? Do they make the cheese 10,000 degrees fahrenheit so they can sell more Pepsi?

**Soda. Why does it taste like battery acid? Why do we drink it?

**Pancake batter. Why does it turn into cement if you leave it out for a few minutes? Why didn’t Tom Hanks bring a box of Bisquick on the ill-fated trip to the moon when he could’ve just dumped some pancake batter on the space-oxygen-module thingy and they all would’ve saved themselves a lot of panic and duct tape?

**Milk. Why do my kids drink some milk, then hide the cup underneath the bed, way over in the corner under some toys so I won’t find it for three weeks? Why does the milk turn to cement? Again, why didn’t Tom Hanks think of using curdled milk when he was in space?

Dammit! I knew I should’ve brought the pancakes. And syrup.

**Capri Suns. Why do they give you a tiny little straw that will only drive you stark raving mad as you continue to stab the hell out of the drink because the hole is microscopic until you use so much force you stab right through both sides and then the juice starts spraying out in all directions and you start screaming, “DIE CAPRI SUN! DIE!” and your kids cry, “Mommy! You’re scaring me!”?

**Crumbs. Why is it that you can give your kids a bowl of shredded cheese, instructing them to only eat it at the kitchen table, then a few minutes later you go downstairs and find shredded cheese in every single nook and cranny and they didn’t even go downstairs yet?

**Packaging. Why do I always fall for it when it says on the package of cheese: To Open–Tear here? Why do I end up opening it with a pair of garden shears?

**Sugar. Why is it that when I ask my five year old daughter, “How much sugar have you had today?” and she answers, “Two”, I don’t quite believe her?

**Summer. Everyone knows summer for moms means two things: a kiddie pool and popsicles. Why hasn’t anyone invented a garden hose that dispenses sticky popsicle juice? It would really save a lot of time and money on my part.

That’s right, kids. Swimming in grape popsicle juice! It’s your dream come true.


Enjoy the long holiday weekend, everyone!  See you all next week, I’m outta here…..

Family · Motherhood

Don’t Eat the Dandelions

This is what greeted me last weekend.

My kids picked me some flowers, and both of them made me the sweetest homemade cards.  They told me they were too excited to wait. And who am I to complain? I’ve always thought Mother’s Day should be more of a week-long event. Besides, every mom out there knows nothing beats a crayon drawing and fresh-picked dandelions for a gift.

“Smell them!” my daughter insisted.  “They’re just like honey!  Yummy, yellow honey! Mmm…mmm!” she said, rubbing her stomach and licking her lips.

“You didn’t try to eat any of them did you?” I asked and her brother shot me a worried look. I gave my kids a quick hug and off they ran, leaving huge clumps of wet grass all over the house.  I spent the next half hour googling poisonous weeds, popped another Benedryl and got out the vacuum. Nothing says ‘motherhood’ more than obsessively worrying about your child’s health or cleaning.

This was my son’s card. I especially loved the “sign here” and “thanks” part. Also, it’s good to know I’m their greatest mom ever and they included my name–like maybe they have someone else to compare me to. Although I appreciated the excessive use of exclamations points, I wondered if he was laying it on a bit too thick. I’ll have to see how many exclamation points they come up with for the Father’s Day card to figure out if he’s really sincere that I’m the greatest.

In honor of Mother’s Day, (and because I’m feeling incredibly lazy) I am linking a past post of mine, Mom for Hire, for all you moms out there: stay-at-home, work-at-home, work-out-of-home, work-while-staying-at-home, never-stay-at-home-because-you’re-constantly-driving-them-around…you get the idea.

We all are amazing and we all work incredibly hard. We should give ourselves kudos for being there for our kids when it counts, no matter the stupid label society tries to categorize us with.  You love your kids and they love you and that’s pretty much all that matters.

And to those dear readers without kids, (warning: sap alert) I want to thank your mom, for bringing you into this world and brightening up my bloggy days just by being your amazing, sweet self (you know who you are!) Now stop cringing, it isn’t polite.  And for heaven’s sake! sit up straight!  Wipe that ketchup off your face, go wash your hands and mind your manners! And would it kill you to call me sometime?

Hey, you know what? Screw it. Call up Papa John’s pizza. And bring me a beer while you’re at it. Mama’s Day Off has officially begun!


The phrase “working mother” is redundant. -Jane Sellman

Do you know what you call those who use towels and never wash them, eat meals and never do the dishes, sit in rooms they never clean, and are entertained till they drop? If you have just answered, “A house guest,” you’re wrong because I have just described my kids. -Erma Bombeck.

A suburban mother’s role is to deliver children obstretrically once, and by car forever after. -Peter De Vries

Insanity is hereditary; you get if from your children. -Sam Levenson

I’d like to be the ideal mother, but I’m too busy raising my kids.-Anon

Mother Nature, in her infinite wisdom, has instilled within each of us a powerful biological instinct to reproduce: this is her way of assuring that the human race, come what may, will never have any disposable income. -Dave Barry

Humans are the only animals that have children on purpose with the exception of guppies, who like to eat theirs. -P.J. O’Rourke

My mother’s menu consisted of two choices: Take it or leave it. -Buddy Hackett

I want my children to have all the things I couldn’t afford. Then I want to move in with them. -Phyllis Diller

When my kids become wild and unruly, I use a nice, safe playpen. When they’re finished, I climb out. -Erma Bombeck

If you kids are giving you a headache, follow the directions on the aspirin bottle, especially the part that says ‘keep away from children’.-Susan Savannah

I love to play hide and seek with my kid, but some days my goal is to find a hiding place where he can’t find me until after high school. -Anon

I love my kids and they love me and I know that this will forever be. -She’s a Maineiac


Now make sure you enjoy this weekend. Maybe go sit down and rest for a few minutes, kick back with a good book and a glass of wine. You deserve it!

Family · Motherhood

Kindergarten Daze

Will you hold my hand? Please? Because I don’t think I can do this without you. I am very scared and kinda nervous. It’s a big change. Huge. And I’m not sure I’m gonna like it very much. Will you still be there waiting for me when it’s over? Will you hold my hand at the bus stop? Will everything be okay? Promise me it will. Promise! Pinky-swear!

Okay.  I’m ready.

I think.


My daughter had her kindergarten screening yesterday. I watched as they snapped her picture, her big hazel eyes watering, her mouth quivering as she was trying to stand up straight and be a big girl. A teacher draped a star-shaped name tag around her neck and guided her off to a room for testing.

Without me.

I sat in my little chair in the hallway with a couple of other parents. All of us thinking the same thing.  I can’t believe it’s time. I’m not ready…I’m not ready…I’m not ready for this!

One of my earliest memories was my own kindergarten screening. It was 1975 and my father brought me. I remember starting to cry and having to take off my glasses the second the teacher asked me to hop across the room. What if I fell down? What if I couldn’t do it?  There were bright lights and big adults with clipboards asking me all kinds of questions, the room was noisy and echoed too much. When I had to walk the balance beam, I think I almost passed out. It was a lot of pressure for a little kid. My dad was great though, he kept smiling at me, giving me little hugs to let me know it would be all right, this big transition into school.

Now I sat at my own daughter’s screening and I wondered if my dad had felt that same terrible tug at his heart as I did now.

As my daughter was led away, I was interviewed by another teacher. She asked me if I was familiar with the school. I told her I had an older son who was in third grade. She put her hand on her heart and smiled at me, “Oh, so this must be your last one?” I could only nod. “Oh! It’s so hard! You will cry, trust me. The moment she gets on that bus, you will cry. I know I bawled when my last one left for school. Now he’s in college, left home and his room is empty.” I sighed, fighting back a tear. This wasn’t helping me any.

After an hour and a half I caught a glimpse of my sweet baby girl, down the hall, sitting stoically next to another boy, twirling her little name tag necklace. I kept willing her to turn around and look at me, so I could wave or smile to let her know I was there.  Look, Julia! Look at mommy! Mommy’s right here! I thought, as I tried to get her attention, waving at her like an idiot, just another sappy parent on the brink of losing it. She turned slightly and saw me, gave me a quick wave then turned back toward the teacher.

And I was left sitting there alone in the hall, trying to sit up straight, not cry and be a big girl.

My first day of kindergarten. My brother is right behind me, trying to look cool and also like he doesn’t know me.
Family · Humor

I’m So Glad We Had This Talk, Mom

The following is a recent phone conversation with my 78 year old mother:

Phone rings forever, finally picks up

My mom: (long pause) Hello! HELLO!

Me: Hey–


Hey, Mom. Me and the kids are gonna-

Whaddya want!

I’m heading out to pick up some pizza so-



Pizza! Oh, god, no! I had some pork chops last night. Fried it up with some olive oil…no buttah, you know how I’m tryin to lose weight…a little onion…some peppers…some Mrs. Dash. Oh! GOD! It was too spicy. Too spicy. You know I can’t have spicy. Well, maybe you don’t know, you never come over or talk to me these days. I’m just here all night. All alone. I could have died last night and no one would have known for days. Maybe weeks. But here I was last night, wide awake because of that damn Mrs. Dash I had.  Stomach was all upset…


…worst pain I’ve had in all my life…


…bowels were all tied up in knots…


Mrs. Dash! Oh, I dashed all right. Dashed to the bathroom all friggin night long is what I did. Oh gawd! It was terrible!

Oh, god….jeez, Mom!

It was 3 am before my stomach settled down….

Mom, look, I’m in a rush so I need to know if you–

…so I made myself a pot of coffee, cuz coffee helps me sleep ya know, I don’t care what they say…

Uh huh.

…and I watched a little TV, some of that Kenny Chesney. Oh, jeez! He’s awful. Always wearing that stupid hat. What is he trying to hide under there? But I love that other guy, the other country singer. Whats-his-face. You know the one!


Oh, come on! You know that guy! The other guy! 

Listen, Mom, I–

Keith Urban! That’s the one! He’s a good young man. Good looking, too. Married to that gawd-awful tall and skinny actress with the big chest. Pbbstt. She is so ugly!


And then I watched the CNN and OH MY GOD! That Mitt Rumney is gonna be president!

Oh, no, I don’t think so. I think–

Oh, yes HE IS! People always vote for the handsome guy. The good looking guy always wins and Rumney’s very good looking. Gah! I can’t stand that man! Thank the good lord above it’s not gonna be Newt the toot! God, he’s just terrible. Horrible, horrible man. He just runs around, cheats on his wife, his wives, his floozies, whoever or whatever god-forsaken poor pathetic woman who will actually sleep with him. God!

Yeah, I’m happy he’s–

But it’s just not right! Obama is the best president we’ve had in a long time! Well, maybe not, but he’s a helluva lot better than that idiot Bush. Gawd! And they’re sayin Obama should fix the gas prices! It’s near FOUR DOLLARS A GALLON! Did you know that? Oh, you probably did. Is that why you don’t take me anywhere? I am going stir crazy here. I need to get out. I’m going crazier than a squirrel trapped in a coffee can. Can you take me to the dollar store?  Then I have to stop at the doctor’s so she can tell me this chest pain is all in my head and charge me more money! Jezum-crow! I’m just an old lady! I am broke! And she tells me she wants me to sign a living will. Yes! Well, of course I will, you moron. I want to die. Give me the damn pen, where do I sign? Can I put that in writing at the bottom? P.S. Don’t bring me back, whatever you do, doc. Just let me go! I don’t have much longer ya know, Darla. Could be days for all I know. Do you remember where my safe deposit box is?

Yeah. Look Ma, about the pizza–

And the key to it?

Uh huh.

And I don’t want any fancy-schmancy funeral. Just throw me in a box and dump me in the river down the road.

Ah, no, Mom, I don’t think they’d let me do that…

No? Hmm…


So the gas is four dollars a gallon! So they blame, who else, Obama! Gawd! The poor man! He can’t fix everything for chrissake!

Ma! Did you want some piz–

…so now he’s to blame for the gas! Can I blame him for my weight gain too? Oh, I know! it’s HIS fault I ate those potato chips the other day! It’s just not right. Country is too busy pumping a giant handcart to hell. Same people always getting rich while the rest of us can’t afford a damn pot to piss in…


…did you know what I saw on Dr. Oz the other day?


WHAT! What do you want anyway!


Pizza? Oh, god, no–you know I can’t have gluten.

phone clicks, dial tone

Humor · Motherhood

Let’s pretend we’re pretending

This past week has been hectic. The kids were home for school vacation. We had a great time doing things like: visiting the library, looking longingly out the window while sighing we were bored, and going sledding on the sheet of ice on our little hill in our yard. And I didn’t end up in traction, so all in all, it was fabulous spending time with them  even while suffering with a severe case of cabin fever.

What a long winter does to a kid

My daughter was so bored last week, she was forced to use her imagination. “What’s that?” she asked me. “It’s when you use only your mind to do something fun,” I said. “It’s like this magical world where you can create things, a game, a story or a song or a dance and then you have fun doing it.”  She was convinced. (Her brother looked up from his Nintendo 3DS for three seconds and smirked.)

Right away she decided that she wants to pretend to celebrate a birthday. Every day.
(I have a feeling she thought cupcakes would be involved.) So every morning last week she’d jump up and down and yell, “Mommy! Let’s make birthday hats out of paper and I’ll color them with crayons! Please! Please! Let’s say it’s my birthday today and we can pretend to eat cake and ice cream! We can dress up in heels and put makeup on! Then we can run around the house and sing Adele songs!”

Well, who could resist that idea. So we did a little birthday/tea/dance party every day. After fake singing “Happy birthday” to her for the 10th time in my best Adele voice, I asked her why it was always her birthday we were celebrating and not mine. She frowned and said, “It’s never fun on your birthday. Sorry, Mommy, but you really shouldn’t celebrate birthdays. You’re too old.” Truer words were never spoken.

But now that I let her pretend it was her birthday party, she’s decided to take this pretending thing to a whole new level. This is the calendar we have posted in her bedroom.

Looks like I’ve got some serious shopping to do.

Humor · She's A Maineiac Greeting Cards

She’s a Maineiac Greeting Cards

For your kid:  

The day you were born
Was the most blessed day

I cherished you then
In every single way

But now I have to tell you
Something that may sound cold

Get the hell out of our basement
For God’s sake, you’re 30 years old

For your spouse

The day we were married
My heart grew without end

I knew right from the start
I had married my best friend

We’ve been through many trials
Our love still lighting the way

                                                                                  But the economy is pretty bad

So I sold my wedding band on eBay


For your ex-boyfriend

Once we were an item
We thought our love would be enough

But then you cheated on me with that girl
I broke it off– things were rough

Years have passed and now I find
Life for you have been less than stellar

Your Facebook profile says it all:
Lives with 15 cats in my mom’s cellar’

For your treadmill: 

The day I brought you home
You were filled with such potential

I used you nearly every day
In my life you became essential

But now you’re a symbol of regret
I’m no longer a happy camper

Because I paid nearly 600 bucks
For a glorified laundry hamper

Humor · Motherhood

Mom for Hire

OBJECTIVE            To prove that when you notice the huge 10 year gap on my résumé, snicker and ask, “What were you doing all that time?!” I wasn’t merely sitting around twiddling my thumbs and eating bon bons.  (Although some days I did take a few breaks and did just that.)


2000-2002              Fertility Specialist

  • Managed  and supervised an in-depth  and labor-intensive fertility project overseeing one disgruntled employee.
  • Daily progress was tracked with temperature readings, charts, graphs and my husband whining, “Do we have to do this AGAIN?!”
  • Goal was achieved after attending several meetings with various nurses, OB-GYNs and finally one prayer-filled seminar with The Big Guy in the Sky.
  • Assisted in creating an entire human being using only my body.
  •  Increased members of family by one healthy baby boy, increased household grocery consumption by 50%, decreased maternal brain cells by 30%.

2002-2003                Newborn Coordinator

  • Directed various sleep studies involving the length of time it takes for a subject to start hallucinating giant gummy bears dancing in the kitchen in relation to the few minutes of choppy haze-induced slumber one has per night.
  • Involved in product evaluations. Determined diaper wipe warmers are about as useful as another a hole in the head.  Also, breast pumps are not more effective if you crank the setting up to maximum and grit your teeth to get through the searing pain.
  • Managed one colicky baby every night for three months and implemented several tactics such as, walking baby around in circles while shushing, driving baby around neighborhood at 2 am and sobbing hysterically along with baby.

2003-2006                   Developmental Therapist/Lead Teacher

  • Lead instructor for a toddler child with sensory issues and more energy than an Energizer Bunny on speed fighting with the Tazmanian Devi in the midst of a hurricane..
  • Taught child how to count, how to recite the alphabet. Instructed child on proper hygiene, sleep habits, eating habits, social decorum. Lessons included: Hot Wheels are not for the toilet. Crayons are not edible. The cat is not a giant fuzzy doll that hisses. Addressed behavioral issues. For example, how not to hit, bite, kick another human being.
  • Subjects included: Respect, Kindness, Love, Curiosity, Imagination
  • Daily therapy provided:  giggling hysterically, dancing like everyone was watching, and running around the outdoors with wild abandon. Seeing the simple beauty, magic and joy in everyday things.
  • Goals achieved: 1) Raised one loving, caring, sweet, happy boy  2) Increased heart capacity by 1000%.

2006 to present             Mom Extraordinaire

  • Aided and assisted in creating and maintaining another human being using only my body.
  • Supervised two active, clever, bordering on maniacal children on a daily basis.
  • Provided safe, loving, nurturing home.
  • Taught subjects such as: sharing, caring, taking turns, being respectful of others, loving oneself
  • Goals Achieved: 1) Raised one sweet, loving, caring, happy girl. 2) Increased heart capacity by infinity.
  • Other Duties as Assigned: Chef, referee, maid, chauffeur, coach, dish washer, singer, dancer, party planner, counselor, public relations, nurse, doctor, teacher, professional hugger, boo-boo kisser, hand-holder, tear-wiper, confidence-builder and self-esteem engineer


    • Time Management  Able to flip pancakes, clean ketchup off ceiling, figure out an algebraic equation, unclog toilet filled with Polly Pockets, do 10 loads of laundry, drive kids to various practices, classes and play dates simultaneously.
    • Debating  Successfully presented and defended stance that Halloween candy consumed in large quantities for breakfast is a bad idea; flinging a Barbie at your brother’s head is a bad idea; jumping off the roof of the house into a snowbank wearing only underwear is a bad idea.
    • Patience  Able to withstand endless hours of ‘Why?’ questions, followed by listening to relentless whining, Spongebob episodes and sibling games of “But I’m Not Really Touching You!”  and “Stinky Feet”.
    • Love  Provided endless quantities on an as-needed basis until my heart hurt.

References Available Upon Maturity of Children.
Ask them how I did in 15 years. My guess is not too shabby.