Category Archives: Food

Mom, am I fat?

Posted on February 7, 2024 | Leave a comment

“Mom, am I fat?”

My body freezes while my distracted mind chokes and sputters into high gear. I knew this moment was coming but I didn’t think it’d come so soon. I look down at you, with your tutu and pirate eye patch, your sword in one hand, magic wand in the other. Your one visible and crystal clear eye looking back up at me. 

I stumble over all the things I’m supposed to say, hands still dripping with soapy water from the sink. Body positivity. All bodies are good bodies. This is how the body works; bones, ligaments, muscles. 

I quickly lose you and you kindly say “ok mama!” before skipping off to slay some princes and make the dragon your pet. 

But you, my little girl, deserve a better answer. 

So here it is. 

Are you fat? 

When you were born, I had no idea how much you weighed. I’m sure someone told me. I’m sure it’s written down somewhere. But I was too busy staring into your face to care. Even though it was so small, I couldn’t take it all in at once. Each tiny, perfectly sculpted detail had to be admired individually. A whole human being suddenly there, in arms that were empty just a moment before. I was in awe. I still am. 

Are you fat?

The first time you saw the ocean, you ran straight for it. On still wobbly legs. A force of nature meeting a force of nature. 

I took you to a rock climbing gym when you were three. You made it to the top of the wall before I even had both feet off the ground.  

Each night, you make us check for monsters in your room. One night, after checking yet again, I went to take off your socks and found a toy knife stuffed into one of them. Those monsters don’t stand a chance. 

Are you fat?

Some people don’t believe time travel exists. To that I say those people have never tried my grandma’s fudge. She made it every year at Christmas and it tasted like everything right in the world. She died before you were born but a few years ago, my aunt Joan sent me a batch of fudge she laboriously made using the same recipe. Suddenly I was right back there, in my grandma’s living room on Christmas Eve, surrounded by family, everything loud, chaotic, bright. Happy. 

It was one of the best gifts I ever received. 

Are you fat? 

Speaking of food, the three best meals I’ve ever had are, in no particular order: 

An authentic Irish breakfast at a tiny table outside a tiny cafe in Dublin two years ago

Fried chicken and warm bread from some small, nameless place in Panama when I was 16

Cold leftovers from our wedding dinner at midnight, eaten in bed with my new husband

I don’t know if the food was actually that good. But the memories they are connected to are priceless. 

Are you fat? 

There will come a day when your heart will break. It’s not just a saying. When it happens you will feel it actually break. Your hands will go to your chest as you try to catch the pieces until you look down and realize you can’t. 

There will also come a day when that same heart will swell with joy until you are certain it will burst. You cannot believe how much a heart can hold until this moment. You will bring your hands to your chest again, so as to make sure you can catch it should your body be unable to contain its power.  

This is what it means to be alive. So far, in my experience, it’s all been worth it. 

But are you fat? 

By now you’re probably wondering why I’m refusing to answer this question. Or perhaps you’re beginning to suspect I don’t understand what you’re asking. 

But I know this question. I know this question intimately. And I refuse to let another one of us fall victim to it. I refuse to watch as yet someone else allows herself to get so hungry that the salt from her tears tastes delicious. 

When I die this question dies with me. I will drag it, screaming and raging, to my grave, clutching it tightly to my decomposing body until I am finally the bones it always told me to be. Bones that are now a cage of its own making. 

And you. You, my beautiful summer-scented tangled freckly wilding daughter, will never have to waste a moment of your big, beautiful life with it haunting you. 

Are you fat? 

We aren’t asking that question anymore. Are you kind? Are you adventurous? Do you feel loved? Safe? What are you capable of? What do you want? Are you afraid but doing the damn thing anyway? These are questions that are worthy of you. 

The only thing I want you to worry about is if you are full. Full of life, full of laughter, full of joy, full of experience, full of wonder. And yes, full of mouthwatering, flavorful, fragrant food. You deserve nourishment in every form. Let me say that again because you’ll forget. So many of us forget, myself included. 

You deserve nourishment in every form. 

So, are you fat?

There are few titles more powerful than that of cycle-breaker. That’s us. You and me. It ends with us. The only thing you have to be in this world is yourself. Unabridged. Unabashed. Unencumbered. 

In a world that makes you ask if you are fat, defy them all and simply be overflowing with everything you are. 

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Posted in Beauty, Food, Health, Parenting, Weight Loss, Women

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Family Fight Night II: Hardcore Holiday Havoc

Posted on November 22, 2023 | Leave a comment

Hello and welcome to another epic battle here on Family Fight Night! And what a historical evening it’s shaping up to be. We’re your announcers for the evening, Stan Boomvoice and Tucker McThundercords. 

Historical is right, Stan. If you remember our last brawl, Mom and Dad came out on top with their expertly executed tag-team move, Just Desserts Means No Desserts, but tonight we’ve got the perfect storm brewing. It’s the holiday season and you know what that means.

Big Feelings, Tucker. Big Feelings all around. 

Right you are, Stan. It’s anyone’s fight tonight. I mean, just look at this lineup! You’ve got the Fourth Grader Dictator, the eldest with the edicts, who’s been dealing with fractions AND infractions all year long. Then there’s Little Sister Savage, that baby beast in baby pink, who is going through a fierce independent streak right now. And to top it off, here comes Daddy, the Big Bad Bacon Bringer himself, just coming off an excruciating three weeks of overtime. 

He can bring home the bacon but can he bring the pain? And let’s not forget the Matriarch of the Madhouse, Tucker. She’s taken on the full brunt of the domestic duties these past three weeks while also elbow deep in holiday prep and you can tell she’s starting to feel the effects. 

Elbow deep is right, Stan. Just ask the Thanksgiving turkey. Stress levels are at an all-time high on the whole, but particularly for Mumsy Mayhem today.

Just don’t let her hear you call her that, Tucker. Or she’ll be elbow deep in you.

Ha ha! She truly is terrifying, Stan. And speaking of Mommy Dearest, here she comes, straight outta the kitchen, wielding a ladle and lecture!

And we’re off! She’s coming out strong with the Why Is No One Helping Guilt Trip. What a power move! And it looks like it’s working. The kids are already looking to Daddy for help. What do you think is the right defense here, Tucker?

He could always try the Sincere Apology or the ever popular Play Dumb Gambit. But no! He’s going with The Gentle Reminder, telling her that not even 20 minutes ago she kicked them all out of the kitchen because they were getting in her way. Talk about risky, Stan!

Risky indeed. If it doesn’t diffuse the situation it’s bound to act as a powderkeg. And I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it! He got away with it! Receiving only a Glare-and-Growl from the Matriarch. They don’t call him The Stable Stallion for nothing, Tucker.

If you can’t stand the heat, get back into the kitchen! But this Proactive Progenitor isn’t off the hook yet, Stan. It appears a Sibling Skirmish has broken out, resulting in a full-on Remote Control Rough And Tumble. Oh, the humanity! 

I’m not surprised, Tucker. The rivalry between them has been simmering harder than mom’s gravy ever since this morning. The dynamics of The Dynamite Duo have changed over the past few months and it looks like The Sassy Lassie is ready to light a match! She is straight up dropping taunts like they’re baby teeth. 

Brother Bash isn’t liking that. Stan. 

No he is not, Tucker. Oh! They are really going at it! There’s a lot of moves Dad can pull here but remember, it’s a holiday, so it’s highly likely both Grounding and Go To Your Rooms are off the table. 

Do you think he can expect an assist from Mom here, Stan? 

Unlikely. She’s too busy whipping potatoes to whip some ass right now, Tucker. 

And would you look at that! It appears Papa Penalty has had enough after several failed Compromise Attempts and is coming in hot with the You Know What!? followed by the Power Off Flex. There’ll be retribution for this, for sure, Stan.

Oh, I can almost guarantee it, Tucker. And there it is! The Shrieks of Self-Righteousness. In stereo, no less! Oof! That’s gotta hurt. He’s getting it from all sides. 

But wait! What’s this? Saved by the dinner bell! Unbelievable!  

And just in time too! I don’t know how much longer Dad would have been able to hold out. But the kids aren’t done with him yet, Tucker. Looks like they’re teaming up to pull a Sulk & Pout at the table.

It’s a clever maneuver, Stan. Mom isn’t going to want to deal with that now that she’s finally got a chance to sit down. They’re likely hoping she’ll take their side and put the blame fully on Dad. 

Any other night it might have worked but the Sibling Squad forgot to factor in Mama’s Holiday Pour. 

Yes, they did. She’s three glasses of wine in already and using the Big Glass, Stan. She’s ignoring the whole dramatic display! Which can’t be easy, considering she cooked for 16 hours only to watch her kids eat rolls and mac-and-cheese while scowling. 

But these Chaos Kiddos refuse to give up. The Fun-Sized Femme Fatale is going straight into Fake Tears while The Son of Slam immediately goes on the defensive with his favorite go-to move, She Started It. Mom easily deflects it with I Don’t Care, I’m Ending It.

Sensing an opportunity and looking to gain favor, The Mischievous Maven switches effortlessly from Fake Tears to Full-On Fawning, giving Mom a gentle chokehold.

I believe that’s called a hug, Tucker. Oh-ho, but it appears there’s an ulterior motive! A Very Pointed Smirk thrown directly her brother’s way and behind Mom’s back! This Disney princess must have a death wish.

But what’s this! From out of nowhere! An Illegal Roll Throw from across the table! Hitting his sister right in the kisser! It’s well known that he doesn’t like to lose and he’s willing to risk it all to prove it. And here comes Mom, flying off the ropes with the expletives! It looks like The Mental Load Carrier has finally gone mental! Oh, I tell you, Stan, I’ve never seen the vein in Mom’s forehead throbbing this hard before.

Looks like in an act of desperation, her current opponent has decided to double down with The No One Understands Me Storm Off! We haven’t seen this move since Tuesday’s spaghetti night, Tucker. 

Mama certainly does not look happy. And if mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy and she is willing to throw hands to make it happen. But what’s this now? Hold up! The unthinkable has happened! It looks like Mom is waving the white flag, using the only weapon left in her arsenal, The Tears Of The Unappreciated. 

And just look at that! Talk about an emotional gusher! Actual Crocodile Tears! And at her age, still able to do it! One has to wonder, Tucker, where is Daddy in all of this? 

Regardless, it looks like it’s working, Stan. Both kids are executing a perfect Head Hung In Shame followed by a Mumbled But Still Fairly Sincere Apology. We haven’t seen this kind of turnaround since her Disastrous Birthday Dinner of 2020. 

It’s not over yet, Tucker. Because here comes Dad, from his mysterious doings in the kitchen, walking in with the rarely used I’ve Got Something Hidden Behind My Back Gimmick. Whatever it is, it better be good. Things are looking pretty bleak. 

He’s starting with a powerful left swing and it’s…a cheesecake! With cherries AND a chocolate crust! Good start, good start, but Mom is still giving her Fake But I Appreciate The Effort Smile. Yet to be deterred, he’s now swinging in hard with the right, revealing …Another Bottle Of Wine! 

OH! I think I might go blind from that pearly-white-from-ear-to-ear grin Mom just whipped out of nowhere! And can you believe it, the children are actually applauding!

It is quite the anti-climatic ending, Stan, but a heartwarming one nonetheless. 

Looks like everyone’s a winner here tonight, Tucker. That is until the Who Has To Help Clean Up Fracas that is looming, but unfortunately that’s all the time we have. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! 

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There’s always that one week in September

Posted on September 7, 2023 | 4 comments

Listen. You didn’t mean to be that person who was flipping off the sun while screaming a few choice words in the middle of your kids’ elementary school playground at 2:30 in the afternoon (much to the horror of the teachers and the utter delight of the students).  

But in your defense, that wasn’t really you. You’re not That Person. It was the heat that made you do it. The unrelenting heat. Standing out there on the endless blacktop as it beat down while you waited for the kids to get out of school. Sweat in your eyes, a swamp developing in the rear, a lake forming in your bra. 

It’s enough to drive anyone insane. 

Welcome to That One Week In September. When a heat dome has settled over Your Area, making it 97 degrees with the humidity of hot garbage. Despite the fact the calendar clearly says September and you’ve been having semi-erotic dreams about cute beanie hats for weeks already. 

It happens every year. Summer refusing to leave, clinging like a cranky toddler and smacking you in the face with your flip flops that have been on their last legs since the middle of August.

And this is always a particularly evil weather development because what else happens every year? That Week Before That Week In September. When there is a hint of a whiff of the promise of fall in the air. A cool breeze that flirts shamelessly with you. Humidity so beautifully low you want to try to limbo under it. 

In fact, it gets cool enough that you can look at a blanket. Not use it yet, of course. But cool enough to at least look longingly at it and contemplate using it sometime in the near future. 

“Absolutely picture perfect day, Kate,” smiles the cute meteorologist from the local news that you definitely don’t have a weird crush on. “So make sure you get out there and enjoy it.”

But just as quickly as the meteorologists giveth, they taketh away. 

“This week will be warming up, with potential record breaking heat hitting the area,” he says with his stupid handsome face the next week. “In some places the heat index could reach into the triple digits.”

You sink to your knees in despair. “No! NO!” you cry out. It can’t be. You’ve already done your time! Summer is OVER. You run outside, sure it has to be some kind of mistake. Some cruel, cruel hunky weatherman mistake. 

But as air the consistency and temperature of soup envelops your body, you realize with horror that Zack Green of WBZ is actually good at his job. 

Stupid, stupid Zack. 

No! You can’t do this anymore! The only reason you survived summer was because of the promise of fall at the end of it! Your hair has been in a messy bun on top of your head since the middle of May! Your pores are exhausted from non-stop sweating! And you can’t even look inside your closet, with all your oversized sweatshirts in there looking sad and unslouched because you can’t wrap them around your incredibly poor posture yet. 

All the swimsuits and beach towels have already been organized and put away for the season in a still slightly damp pile in the back of the van. Not that you could go swimming even if you wanted to. The pools are closed and all the lifeguards have gone back to wherever really tan and fit people go when summer is over. CrossFit maybe. Or meteorology school. I don’t know! It’s too hot to think! 

It can’t last forever, you tell yourself as a small comfort. But then there he is again, standing in front of a map with a dangerously deep color of red splashed across it. 

“Well, looks like today will be even hotter,” stupid Zack says. “And tomorrow a heat advisory has been issued. It sure doesn’t feel like fall out there, Kate. Ha ha!”

“Oh, laugh it up, Chuckles, with your stupid perfectly white and straight teeth,” you scream at the TV as your children look on concerned. But you don’t care. You’ve already moved on to researching how much jail time you’ll get for kidnapping someone and forcing them to change the weather forecast. 

On and on it continues, each day more miserable than the last. By day five, your family finds you in the kitchen sobbing while cradling your crock pot, mourning your dead dreams of making chili. You can’t make chili when the heat index is 103! It’s wrong! It’s downright unholy! 

Your children risk asking you when you’re all going apple picking, which only makes you sob harder. They slowly slink out of the room. 

This too shall pass, your stupid reasonable husband tells you, gently removing a ladle from your iron grip. You know he’s right. It will. You allow him to help you off the kitchen floor. Someday the sun won’t shine again. Someday, the clouds will come and people will begin using the word “brisk” again. 

Someday stupid attractive Zack will say those three little words you’ve always wanted to hear from him.

“A cold front.”

And all will be right with the world. 

That is, until That One Day In October where it’s unseasonably cold and you find yourself sinking to your knees in despair again as you remember winter is on its way. 

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How to have the perfect apple picking experience

Posted on September 21, 2022 | 2 comments

The sky is a perfect cerulean blue, there is a hint of chilliness in the air and if you listen hard enough you can almost hear the screeching death wail of summer. It’s finally time. Time to go apple picking! Because you promised yourself you would give the kids less stuff and more experiences. Which you didn’t actually mean but then made the mistake of mentioning it to them after your second glass of wine last night and they have NOT forgotten. 

The first thing you’ll want to do is get an early start. Because everyone else has also decided today is the perfect day for apple picking. And no, it doesn’t matter what day you pick. It’s always that day. 

Of course, this means gently herding everyone out of the house. And when that fails three times, screaming at everyone to hurry the hell up and get into the goddamn van. Which they will absolutely do after three trips to the bathroom, a meltdown over a weird sock bump and a fruitless argument about how many stuffies everyone is allowed to bring (in theory none, in practice three each). 

Now, no family-friendly fun-filled trip to the apple orchard is complete without a scenic drive down some picturesque roads. Try to remember this beauty and wholesome moment together as you finally arrive and immediately get into the Parental Parking Lot Fight. Because the driveway is right there. Right THER…well, you passed it. No, that’s the exit. Turn LEFT! Right THERE. See the sign! No, to the LEFT. Not that parking lot, it clearly says birthday party parking, the OTHER one. 

Don’t worry though. Any lingering anger over parking (and then getting out and then getting back in and parking again because you were wrong, it WAS the birthday party parking lot you were supposed to go to, not that you’ll ever admit you were wrong, the signs are stupid and confusing), will eventually dissipate when you head to the cashier and the Sticker Shock sets in. Because it IS that much. And no, it doesn’t include that. Or that. Those are separate tickets. 

But hey, you made it! It’s important to note here that the first ten minutes of apple picking is the Actual Genuine Fun Window. Savor this. Even when something in a hay bale bites your butt, ignore it because the kids are literally full of joy right now and running around in nature, squealing with delight in the fresh air. It’s downright magical. This is the time to take 600 almost identical photos. 

Soon however, you’ll notice how hot it is. It’s really hot. Stupid hot. Because every year you think September will feel like fall but it never does. Why did you wear a sweater? And why is this orchard so big? Oh, and look, somehow your youngest pulled off an entire branch of an apple tree even though she is the size of a pixie and you could yeet her over to the pear tree section if so inclined. And you don’t even know where your other kid is. 

This is when you’ll remember you saw a hard cider tent on the brochure. 

In total, there will be no less than five sibling fights, three tantrums and one dramatic storming off (before said stormer realizes there is nowhere to storm off to in this godforsaken Land of Endless Apples). Feel free to get creative with your hissed threats. As in “I swear to god if you little gobshites don’t knock it off we will sell you to the farmer and he will use you as scarecrows.” And don’t worry if anyone else hears you. They will be too busy threatening their own kids. 

After lugging a gigantic bag of apples around (one bushel being the equivalent of 780 apples) there is nothing you’ll want to do more than rest and have a hard cider. Which is why next on your agenda is going through the mazes! All three of them! None of which are anywhere close to you or close to each other.  

The first maze will take forever, which is why when you end up coming out the entrance you accept victory because at one point you did have a fairly legitimate fear you would die in there. 

Luckily the second maze is kids-only. Make sure to stand in the hot sun next to the super chill parents that use phrases like “it’s such luxury garbage” so that you and your partner can bond over how much you hate these other parents while you wait. 

Time for an apple cider donut break! Which you’ll awkwardly eat standing up on exhausted legs after standing in a 20 minute line because one of the kids saw a bee over by the picnic tables and refuses to get within ten feet of them now. But the good news is the hard cider tent is also nowhere near the apple cider donut stand. 

After fighting over caramel apples (because you are NOT getting back in that line) and pulling the youngest out of the goat pen that she somehow managed to get inside of, you will be ready to pack it up and call it a day. Once you find your other kid. 

Oop, but you forgot about the third maze and you PROMISED. And yes, the third maze is in the complete opposite direction of the parking lot. On the plus side, you will be only the second loudest arguing family in the maze, the first being the one led by Nate, as in “Dammit Nate, how do you keep finding every single dead end!?” If you make it out alive, you’ll hope to befriend these people who are just as miserable as you. 

It goes without saying but the hard cider tent is also not inside this maze. 

Finally it’s time to head home. After buying two gigantic pumpkins PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE that you’ll have to lug all the away across the parking lot because you just don’t have any fight left in you. 

As you drive away, you will finally see the hard cider tent. You give it a sad little wave and head off into the sunset, on your way back home where you will look up apple pie recipes that you never actually intend to make. 

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Welcome to summer school, kiddos

Posted on June 15, 2022 | 1 comment

Well friends, we almost made it. Just a few more days left of school! Who is ready for summer!?

Summer school, that is! Yay! Oh yes, I know you kids were looking forward to a carefree summer full of sun and fun but learning never stops. Especially when you will be home for the next three months, wreaking havoc on my home and sanity. So welcome to Mama’s Summer School for Wayward (and Slightly Feral) Children! Get ready for exciting learning opportunities, such as: 

Are These Socks Dirty or Clean? A Symposium On Hampers

When Pants Attack! A Lecture Series On When Pants Are Optional & When They Are Mandatory

This Is Called A Dishwasher 

Proper Aluminum Foil Application On Leftovers

There Is Pee All Over The Floor: Who Should Do Something About It (YOU!) & When (IMMEDIATELY!)

Nutrition 101: If You Were Really Hungry, You’d Eat The Apple I Already Offered

Nutrition 102: No, You Cannot Have Another Snack

The Planet Is Boiling Alive & You Have Irish Peasant DNA: Sunscreen Basics For Genetic RedHeads

This Is Called A Broom 

Wet Towel Math: How To Calculate How Many More Times I Need To Yell At You To Pick Up Your Wet Towel Before You Are Grounded

You Scream, I Scream, We All Scream About Screen Time: A Seminar On How To Earn Back Your Tablet

And later this summer, we’re going to take some refresher courses before you head back to actual school, such as:

Why We Don’t Wait Until The Second-To-Last Day Of School To Tell Mom About All The Missing Library Books

Where Is Your Snack Bag From Last Year: Fun With Hazardous Materials

You Need How Many Cupcakes!? When!? Son Of A…: School Fundraiser FUNdamentals 

Curse Words Belong In The Home, Not In The Classroom

Please Learn To Tie Your Shoes, People Are Going To Start Judging Me

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Welcome to Family Fight Night!

Posted on April 20, 2022 | 3 comments

Hello everybody! And welcome to what is bound to be another epic Family Fight Night! We’re your announcers for the evening, Stan Boomvoice and Tucker McThundercords. 

It’s going to be hard to top last night’s bout, with its triple battle royale over the bathroom light, the Nintendo Switch AND Mom’s meatloaf, Tucker. 

It is indeed, Stan. Oh! And speak of a certain devil, here she comes, ‘ol El Diablo herself, aka The Cleaner, aka The Diva of Devastation, aka The Salty Witch with a Wine Glass. Trust us, you don’t want to mess with this mama. She’s coming out strong from the kitchen, carrying what appears to be…is that…a homemade casserole, Stan?

I believe it is, Tucker. You can definitely smell what she’s cooking. Gutsy move, that’s a gutsy move. Especially in light of her big finish last night, The Maternal Flex. I mean throwing the entire dinner into the trash can after everyone complained! I tell ya, Tucker, no one saw that coming! At this point one has to wonder if she’s simply just taunting her family with these meals made from scratch when they clearly prefer Burger King every single time. 

I’m inclined to agree, Stan. Oh-ho, and what do we have here? Looks like it’s Daddy, straight from the bathroom, aka The Pillar, aka The Keyboard Smasher, aka the Zoom of Doom. Standing tall at 6’2” and weighing in at a respectable post-pandemic weight of 180, he is every inch the mild-mannered father at the moment but when he whips out his famous Dad Voice Stunner, look out! 

Wait, wait, wait! Do you hear that? Sounds like the Second Grader Crusader, aka Doomfist, aka The Silent Fart Assassin, is making quite the stomping entrance from his room, fresh off a punishment for unsanctioned brawling with his sister before dinner. Look at his face, Tucker. You can tell he’s just itching for a fight tonight. If there is one thing The Crusader believes in, it’s extreme fairness and something in his expression makes me think he feels he’s been wronged. 

And from the corner, literally, it’s the Kindergarten Killer, aka the Cutthroat Cutie, aka Princess Black Heart. Don’t let the abundance of pink and glitter fool you, folks. She’s mini but mighty. That’s not the pitter patter of little feet you’re hearing. That’s the thump of war drums. 

And we’re off! The Crusader is coming out strong with his patented Fairness Doctrine, which is deflected easily by Mom. You know she had to be expecting this, Tucker. I talked with her before dinner about her strategy for tonight and she said, in no uncertain terms, “Who the hell are you? Get out of my kitchen!”

Those are strong words, Stan. Strong words from a strong lady. Oh! But The Crusader isn’t done yet. He’s gearing up for the Guilt Powerbomb, accusing her of not even caring about him! I can’t believe he went there!

Looks like Princess Black Heart is seeing an opportunity and might be hoping for a tag team here, Tucker. Despite the fact that she was also disciplined for her part in the earlier melee, she’s pulling out The Unexpected Apology followed by Siding With Mom! Talk about gutsy. She must get it from her mama, oh my! What do you think Mom will do next, Tucker? 

She’s in a tricky position alright, Stan. Even just being perceived as using the illegal Playing Favorites move can bring her down and bring her down quick. …Oh! But what’s this? I can’t believe it! The Crusader just executed the perfect Subtle Elbow right into his sister’s ribs! Oof, that’s gotta hurt! 

But he wasn’t quick enough, Tucker! Looks like Daddy saw and is now entering the ring. And he is NOT happy. 

No he is not, Stan. He only uses the What Did You Just Do Repeater on rare occasions. And it’s clear Princess Black Heart knows her role here, playing up her apparently extensive injuries to the audience. 

Wow, they are really going at it! The Crusader with the Moral Outrage and The Pillar with the Moral High Ground. Do you think Mom will step in here, Tucker?

She’s on her second glass of wine, it’s not looking good, Stan. 

Looks like Dad is getting ready to throw the hammer down with the Reality Check…except wait…what’s this? OH! The Crusader, out of nowhere, with the Tattle Tale! Princess Black Heart has been stealing flowers from the neighbor’s garden to make a witches brew in a hidden bucket full of water under her bed. Which is where the weird smell permeating through the entire house is coming from! Oh, I tell ya, Tucker, now the Diva of Devastation is paying attention!

I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it! Princess Black Heart, in a desperate move, is pulling out the ‘ol Play the Parents Off Each Other Hail Mary. OH! It’s a high risk move, but one with high rewards if she can pull it off, Stan. …BUT NO! NO! It backfired spectacularly! Oh, the humanity! 

And it looks like Mom and Dad are gonna tag team it for the final blows of the night, Just Desserts Means No Dessert followed by the crushingly effective Brush Your Teeth, It’s BedTime!  

Wow! I mean wow. What a fight, Stan! What a fight. Truly a bout for the ages. 

At least until tomorrow night, Tucker!

Right you are, Stan. Right you are. Goodnight everybody! 

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2022 Family Performance Review

Posted on January 11, 2022 | 8 comments

First off, let me begin by thanking you all for making time in your busy schedules to attend this Family Meeting. I know that since the acquisition of the Nintendo Switch last quarter, many of us have been swamped with Mario Kart and the subsequent onslaught of Mario Kart trash talking.

However, with a new year upon us, I thought it would be a good time for the four of us to sit down and assess, as a family, how we’re doing. Especially as we enter, let’s see… *checks clipboard* …yup, year three of this godforsaken pandemic. 

Now, we’ve pushed this off for far too long, so to help keep us on track, I will be using this free employee performance review template I found online. I think we can all agree we don’t want this meeting to devolve into the Good Winners & Losers Discussion/Tater Tot Dodgeball Disaster of 2020. 

Alright, let’s see, let’s see. How about we start with something easy? Ah, here we are…

Attendance. Well, pffft. I mean, I think it’s fair to say we’ve all excelled at that. What with all the remote schooling you two did last year, and Daddy working from home since…forever? With his office just RIGHT HERE in the living room. Always typing. And talking with his ZOOM VOICE. When are you going back to the office again, sweetie? Not until spring now? Ah. Awesome. Awesome. Well, it’s a good thing that constantly being around each other in a somehow eternally shrinking house makes the heart grow fonder then. 

Okey-dokey, moving on…

Demonstration of core values: Hmm. Do we have core values as a family? Honesty? Meh, I suppose. Cheese? Is that a core value? We did expand to two cheese drawers in the fridge last year. One for fancy cheese and one for peasant cheese. That counts, right? 

Communicates clearly: Oh, well, overall I’d say we’ve done pretty well with this one. We are definitely loud. In fact, it’s hard not to hear all the communicating, as our neighbors have informed us many, many times. …What’s that? Ah, yeah, I suppose I could growl less at you. It just gets the point across so effectively, you know? Can I at least hiss? Yes, you can hiss back. 

Requires minimum supervision: Nope. Fail. You all fail. Moving on. 

Responsiveness in a timely manner: FAIL. Moving on. …Oh, you disagree? Really? Remember when I asked you to clean all the comic books out from under your bed? Three months ago? MOVING. ON. 

Works to full potential: Ugh. Who has the time? Next…

Problem solving: This one I feel we actually did pretty decently. We fixed the off-balance dishwasher with the sugar canister and those two menus from Pini’s. The duct tape is holding up the towel rack quite nicely and you can hardly notice the big hole in the ceiling since we glued that piece of cardboard up there. 

Takes initiative: I’d like to give a special shoutout to our kindergartner on this one. She definitely took the lead in demonstrating that you can both figuratively AND literally climb the walls if you have a wanton disregard for any and all household items. AND that swinging from the chandelier is not just a fun expression for having a good time. Yes, you’re still grounded. 

Deals with conflict: I’ll be honest, we could all use less swords in this area. And Nerf crossbows. Speaking of which, how did we amass so many crossbows? Eighteen seems a bit excessive. 

Listens and shows respect toward fellow group members: Again, this is an area that could use significantly fewer weapons.

Suggested areas of improvement: All? Probably starting with pants. We should definitely be wearing them. Oh, and how about screen time? I’m told there should be limits. And our eating habits could use some tweaking. You guys call cherry tomatoes those gross red grapes. Well, yes, I agree, they are super gross but the point is to at least make the effort. I mean, haha, we can’t always behave like we’re living through a pandemic. 

What’s that? The numbers are going up? Oh, record high numbers, in fact. Everything is in danger of shutting down again? Hospitals overflowing because of the Omicron variant? Wait, what? Now there is talk of a fused “deltacron” strain?

Ah. 

Well.

BIG CURSE WORD.

No, you can’t repeat that. 

Alright everyone. Pants back off. Who wants a brick of cheese for dinner? Brick of cheese? Brick of cheese? Maybe with a side of box o’ wine for mama? Of course we can play Mario Kart while we eat. I look forward to crushing all you losers. But first, has anyone seen my sword? 

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20 Things To Be Thankful For in 2020

Posted on November 24, 2020 | Leave a comment

I’ve been reading a lot of pretty mom blogs lately. You know, those blogs written by moms with shiny hair and actual fruit bowls on their tables? (Filled with fruit they actually eat.) The moms who have probably never told their preschooler “oh, bite me” as a rebuttal during an argument. (She won, by the way.) The moms who actually earn money from their writing? (Dirty accusing glare to all the people not reading this.) 

And right now, all the pretty mom blogs are doing a “what I’m thankful for” post. All of which have some version of this sentence: “This year, perhaps more than any other year, it’s important to focus on what matters most in life and remember that we should be thankful for these things, not just on Thanksgiving day, but every day.” 

Pfft. LAME. 

However, they’re not wrong. This has been a rough year for all of us. So maybe it couldn’t hurt to focus on what really matters, even though it goes against the very most basic core of my entire personality. 

And thus, I present, the 20 things I’m thankful for in 2020.

  1. My health. Which is good. Despite my body being composed mostly of coffee and whiskey.
  2. My husband and our two wonderful children. They mean everything to me. It’s so nice to have everyone home all the time, working and learning remotely. And I mean, all the time. All the time. ALL. THE. TIME. And even though the little one threatened to kill me the other day (it was veiled but it was definitely a death threat) we couldn’t be closer. So close. All the close. 
  3. A roof over my head. And it doesn’t even leak. And below that roof are walls and floors. Filled with mice. City mice. Who will never leave because nothing scares them and they are much, much smarter than we are. Although I haven’t ruled out making them chip in for rent.
  4. My dog, Buffy. Who at 15 is alive and healthy(-ish) and still loves to go on walks. I know you’re expecting me to say something snarky here about him but honestly, what kind of monster makes fun of a beloved elderly dog that has been a constant companion and who has farts so rancid they make rotten eggs smell appetizing. 
  5. Nature. Majestic, beautiful nature. So majestic and beautiful that I don’t even mind the mountains of Claritin I have to snort like cocaine every morning in order to step outside.
  6. Technology. For all it has done, especially during this pandemic, but mostly because it has allowed me to lock myself in the attic and have happy hour over Zoom with my friends while my children wail and bang on the door. 
  7. Speaking of which, my friends, both near and far. All of whom don’t bat an eye when my humor goes to a dark, dark place. 
  8. The sound of my children’s laughter. 
  9. The sound of my children sleeping.
  10. The sound of my husband yelling at my children because they won’t listen to me.  
  11. Wine.
  12. Did I say coffee yet?
  13. Food. Because it’s good. I don’t know. I’m losing steam. Twenty is a big number. 
  14. Oh! Peace. That’s a thing that’s always on these lists, right?
  15. Deep fried stuffing balls. They are the best thing I’ve ever created in my life (my kids coming in at a really close second though). 
  16. Alton Brown’s Thanksgiving turkey recipe. 
  17. Alton Brown.
  18. Oceans. They’re super cool. 
  19. That 2020 is slowly marching toward its death. 
  20. All y’all. The ones who read these ridiculous things week after week. And on purpose, no less. Thank you, truly, from the bottom of the pit where my heart should be. 

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Where’s My Coffee? A Remote Schooling Pop Quiz

Posted on November 2, 2020 | Leave a comment

Q: If I wake up at 7 a.m. and remote schooling starts at 8:30 a.m. for my first grader and 8:45 a.m. for my preschooler, at what time will I take my first sip of coffee? Please show your work.

A: 9:07 a.m. Because the children got up at 6:59 a.m. and began immediately fighting and demanding things and the dog pooped all over the only carpeted area in the house and everyone wanted something different for breakfast. Carry the one nerve I had left over.  

Q: If I am helping one child with a math assignment in the dining room and then the other one yells for my help during her small group live instruction in the bedroom, where will I eventually find my coffee after a frantic search?

A: On top of the bookshelf in the hallway.

Extra credit question: Will it still be hot?

A: Nope. 

Q: What is my favorite brand of coffee to make at home?

a. Starbucks

b. Dunkin

c. That fancy one I can’t pronounce 

d. Any that finally finds its way into my hands. 

Q: Where do I most often find my coffee?

A: In the microwave. Where I warmed it up 40 minutes ago.

True or False: Whoever finishes the pot of coffee has to make a new pot.

True. RYAN. 

Q: If my preschooler is having a meltdown because she can’t cut out her shapes perfectly and my first grader is going on another angry rant about how he hates school and he knows everything already so why does he even have to get on Zoom, will I slip out to the front porch or the back porch to enjoy five minutes of peace with my cup of coffee?

A: Trick question. They discovered that’s where I hide last week. The answer is now the basement. 

Q: During the afternoon, if I scour the entire house for 20 minutes for my coffee but still cannot find it, where is my coffee?

a. The coffee never existed in the first place because I am going insane. 

b. An interdimensional portal that opened up because it’s 2020.

c. Does it even matter? It’s just easier to get a new cup and find the old one six months later when it has grown fur and possibly consciousness. 

d. In the bathroom where I optimistically brought it an hour ago in the vain hope of finding two minutes to brush my teeth.

True or False: Some people don’t drink coffee. 

False. Probably. Who are these people? And what mystical elixir do they drink to prevent familial homicides? 

Q: If it’s a half day Wednesday and both kids have different schedules and extra long Zoom sessions, what will you find in my coffee mug?

A: Correct. The answer is indeed whiskey.

Q: What is an appropriate amount of coffee to drink in the year of our Lord 2020?

A: ALL OF IT. 

Essay Question: How is coffee made?

Little caffeine fairies collect the magic beans in the enchanted forest and give them to dragons, who roast them. They are then collected by really hip dressed baristas and distributed to the masses, who mix it with hot water to make that bewitching hot bean potion that keeps the world running with its life-giving and slightly addictive properties. 

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When the future seems too cucumbersome

Posted on September 29, 2020 | Leave a comment

The other day, my 4-year-old daughter came tearing through the house, her tangled hair flying wildly all around. She slammed to a stop in front of me, her eyes wide and bright, and promptly shoved two strange green objects directly into my face. 

“MOM! We got gherkins!”

“Wow, that’s amazing, baby,” I said while internally giggling because gherkin has always sounded like a dirty word to me since it rhymes with merkin and deep down I am forever 13-years-old.

“We’re going to eat like cakes tonight!” she proudly declared.  

“Or maybe like kings,” her 6-year-old brother deadpanned. 

“EAT LIKE CAKES!” she bellowed excitedly again while running manically around in circles with the gherkins held high above her head.

The point of this adorably heartwarming story? My family has successfully gardened. Like some kind of coven of dirt wizards. We took a bunch of tiny seeds and stuffed them haphazardly into the ground and remembered to water them like three times but mostly ignored them and BEHOLD. We have grown our own food! Well, gherkins. And cucumbers, which are technically food even though they taste like water that is whispering the word “lawn.” We also successfully grew some sunflowers, so if you are ever in the mood for a pickle and cucumber salad sprinkled with sunflower seeds, come on over. But hurry. I only have enough for like three of you. Maybe two and a half. Also the lettuce never sprouted, or the tomatoes. Or the dozen other seeds we stuck into our much too small gardening box so they had to fight for survival Mad Max-style. The pumpkins thrived for awhile but then got a fungus or something according to the half-hearted Googling I did. 

Anyway, back to the point. 

There is one. 

I’m assuming. 

We’ll see.

Anyway, all in all, it weren’t too shabby for our first time gardening, if I do say so myself. (You can read about how it all began here). In fact, all this successful mastery over the land makes me wonder what else I could learn to do for myself. You know, if civilization eventually collapses or something (not that it will *hysterical laughter hysterical laughter hysterical laughter tiny sob*). I mean, I read “Little House on the Prairie” as a kid. And “Hatchet.” And spent an entire summer obsessed with “The Island of Blue Dolphins.” AND I’ve seen the 1985 Canadian made-for-TV-movie “Anne of Green Gables” starring the inimitable Megan Follows no less than 140 times. I’m practically a pioneer woman already.

All you really need are the basics. And there’s, what, like only four or five of them, right? 

For instance, food. BOOM. Done. Pretty much mastered. 

Oxygen? Already know how to use it. Next. 

Shelter? This one does seem a bit more involved. And possibly out of my league. Mostly because of the paperwork involved. I can likely figure out four walls and a roof and a massive walk-in closet. But I’ll probably have to get a permit or something. Something will likely have to be notarized. Which sounds like a whole thing. Also I don’t have money. Maybe I’ll just keep renting for the moment.  

Now clothes on the other hand, that I know I can handle. I’m old enough that I was forced to learn to sew by public educators. Of course, I only learned how to sew one thing so my family will all be wearing ill-fitting shorts that fall unflattering just below the knee. But they WILL be clothed. Partially. 

And, perhaps most importantly of all, alcohol. Because if the apocalypse does come, and I somehow manage to survive, I cannot make small talk with a bunch of smug doomsday preppers while sober. So, let’s see, I’d need grapes for wine, potatoes for vodka, hops and barley(?) and wheat(?) and organic carbonization(?) for some craft beer. All of which I assume you just mash up together and wait a hot minute and it magically turns into quality libations. 

So, see? We’re all going to be fine. FINE. Just fine. If my family can make it, so can yours. 

But, just as a back-up plan, please vote this November.  

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