Category Archives: Women

Family Fight Night IV: Dog Days of Summer Smackdown

Posted on August 13, 2025 | 1 comment

Hello, hello and welcome everyone to what is shaping up to be our biggest battle of the year so far here at Family Fight Night! We’re your announcers for the evening, Stan Boomvoice and Tucker McThundercords. 

Big is right, Stan. It’s the dog days of summer and this family of four has spent entirely too much time together. The seasonal strain is showing and it’s clear that the Dogged Dame of Daytime Daycare is done. 

And don’t forget, Tucker, school is still a few weeks away. August may be hot but the temperature outside is not nearly as scorching as the flaring tempers inside. 

And it looks like things are about to take a turn for the worse. It’s getting close to bedtime and we all know what that means, Stan. Pure. Utter. Pandemonium. The Savage Siblings have had free reign for months but now this Miffed Mama is desperately trying to get them back on some sort of schedule. 

They’re not liking that, Tucker. 

No, they are not, Stan. Oh! And we’re off! Meanie Mumsy is making the first move, starting out strong and throwing down the hammer with her dreaded Clean Your Rooms Reminder. 

But here comes the Pre-Pubescent Prince, aka The Elevenator, coming in hot with his classic countermove, the Proclamation Indignation Dispensation. You know she had to be expecting this, Tucker. It’s been his go-to move ever since he cleaned his room back in early June. 

Oh! But would you look at that! Bet the Missus of Mayhem didn’t see this coming, Stan! In a rare show of alliance, Little Sister Seether, fresh off a Talking To after lunch time’s Tit for Tater Tot Tiff, is joining Belligerent Big Brother with some Defiance Drama of her own.

But it looks like the Maligned Matriarch is not backing down, busting out The Cutthroat Countdown! It’s surprisingly early in the fight for this move, Tucker. Which just goes to show, she’s as over summer as the overdue library books she can never find.  

What happens when she gets to three, Stan?

No one knows, Tucker. No one knows. And it looks like the mystery will remain, with the Chaos Kiddos tromping in retreat to their rooms. Which begs the question, she won the battle, but can she win the war?

I think we’re about to find out, Stan. It appears her victory is short-lived and a Sibling Squirmish has surfaced over a shared spirograph kit, which is swifting spiraling out of control. 

A completely unexpected turn of events, considering neither of these Juvie Jackals has played with it in years. Do you think Mom can count on an assist from Dad here, Tucker?

It’s not looking good, Stan. Daddy Dearest is already deep in a Dissociation Doomscroll Dodge after another day of drudgery at work. 

And it looks like the Primary Caretaker is stepping in before she becomes the Primary Undertaker. It’s all fun and games until these Feral Fledglings gain the upper body strength to actually kill each other, Tucker, and after yet another growth spurt, it looks like they just might this time. Lil Miss Nine, who is anything but benign, is ready to end the bloodline, while the Minor Macho Man with the Overworked Glands is throwing hands!

Oh! But would you look at that! This Wine Mom is unleashing some candid Cabernet Savagery, her patience dissipating faster than the morning dew on a sun scorched lawn, Stan.

She may have started imbibing at 4 pm, but this Put Upon Parent has definitely earned those glasses of wine. The Tedious Teenybopper Trash Talking began early this morning and hasn’t abated since, Tucker.

Oh! Oh! But would you look at that? Her Bitchin’ & Twitchin’ Eye combo is met with a perfectly executed one-two Whatever/Eye Roll from the Bruh of Duh, followed by the Femme Fatale Fourth Grader’s Flared Nostrils of Annihilation. Oh, the humanity! These Wilding Whelps are pulling out all the stops! 

They’ve got her on the ropes, Tucker. It’s clear she’s already depleted after dealing with the back-to-back Leggo My Lego and Spilled Kinetic Sand Scream Storm earlier today. 

My ears are still ringing from the Twin Kin Keening, Stan. Oh-ho! But what’s this? It looks like the Slouchy Grouch is off the couch and ready to cause some major ouch. Father Fatigued is finally stepping in and stepping up as the Harbinger of Hygiene, heralding that it’s time for the habitual ritual of teethbrushing. 

Wow! Truly a Hail Mary Hall Pass! You can visibly see a sigh of relief from the Sapped Senora but Sister Sloth is still deadset, coming out swinging with the Sun Is Still Out Excuse. 

The Elementary Eldest is chiming in as well, with his Maturity Manifesto, Stan. Looks like we have us a Dynamic Duo Dual Dramatic Dialogue Drop! 

But the proof is in the pudding, which no one got tonight after the classic parental maneuver of Just Desserts Means No Desserts, doled out after dinner’s French Fry Fracas. The Pissed Off Patriarch is having none of it and executes the Slightly Raised Voice power move! 

And would you look at those scamps scramble! He hasn’t even hit wonky refrigerator decibel levels yet and they’re already tucking themselves in. Looks like we can chalk up another win for the Tired Tyrants tag team!

But wait, Tucker, isn’t it bath night tonight?

Sshhhh, I think Mama Maim just heard you. She’s staring right at us with her patented Glare-N-Growl. I’m scared, Stan.

Well, that’s all for us here at Family Fight Night, folks! Until next time, everybody! …Go, Tucker, go, go, go, go…

1 Comment

Posted in Family, funny, Humor, Marriage, Parenting, Pop Culture, Sports, Women, Writing

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Honestly, 18 summers together sounds like A LOT

Posted on August 9, 2024 | 3 comments

As the golden light of an August afternoon sun filters in through my window, I can’t help but feel it’s all slipping away. Another summer with my children is almost over. We only get eighteen with them, I’m repeatedly and aggressively told by my social media algorithms. 

Eighteen summers. 

It’s a stark reminder. And so I pause as I unload the dishwasher yet again, swallowing my rage and staring wistfully off into the middle distance. Reminding myself that I’ll miss this eventually. That someday there won’t be 167 half full cups littering every room in the house. That years from now, I’ll look back through the hazy, nostalgic-filled, choking mist of sunscreen and bug spray and realize what a blessing it was to constantly clean the pee off the toilet seat and army crawl my way under beds looking for yet another missing library book. 

But it’s not over yet. So, for now, I will hold on tightly to that unique summer feeling of warm, sun-kissed skin against a cool, wet bathing suit. Of pools and lakes and long stretches of ocean. Of giggles and splashes and squeals that turn into screams because one of my kids is attempting what looks like incompetent manslaughter. Of the beautiful, neverending chorus of “Mom, I’m cold!” and “Mom, I have to pee again!” and  “Hey mom, watch this!” over and over and over again, even though all they’re doing is holding their nose and dipping their faces chin deep into the water. 

There will come a day when I yell for the last time “Where the hell did all this sand come from? We got back from vacation a week ago!” I just hope I’m present enough to remember it. 

Because one day there will be no one to feed 11 times a day. No light switches covered in Doritos dust. No house full of blanket forts and entire Lego cities and a baker’s dozen of abandoned board games and what looks like a Barbie and Monster High Doll civil war in which no one was the winner. A messy house full of beautiful memories that I am ready to burn down because it will be easier than trying to clean all this crap up. 

Someday I will miss meticulously planning a picnic that is abandoned early because there are apparently bugs outside. And the barbecue we tried to have but my kids don’t eat hotdogs or hamburgers or potato salad or corn or watermelon and why can’t we make chicken nuggets on the grill and can we eat inside because there are bugs outside? And the beautiful hike that ended in tears (mine) because I cannot explain again why there are bugs outside. 

How many more days are left where both my children accuse me of not listening because they are talking to me at the same time? How many more eyerolls and puking noises will I get to enjoy as their response to the dinner I just spent over an hour making? How many more times will they beg me to watch them play Minecraft? 

Five thousand? A million? That’s it. 

What I would give to have them call me ‘bruh” forever. To freeze this remarkable age where they wake me up at 6 am by jumping on my most sensitive bits asking if they can play Nintendo, and yet also wake me up at midnight to tell me all about their nightmare that somehow divulges into an hour long monologue about why Roblox is, like, really awesome. 

So these last few weeks, I am going to revel in the long lazy mornings watching cartoons, and the long lazy afternoons watching movies, and the long lazy evenings of them watching whatever it is they watch on their tablets that I really hope is child appropriate, because it’s been an unrelenting heat wave since mid-July. At this moment, right now, I am wholeheartedly embracing the simple joy of Googling the symptoms of rickets because I honestly can’t remember the last time I took them outside. 

I know it’s coming. As sure as the seasons change, that moment will come when I’m sitting in my clean, quiet home, with a full bank account and a well-stocked fridge with a gallon of milk that isn’t missing its lid, and I will long for the days when I walked around the house in a blind rage because every surface was covered with those little plastic thingies from juice box straws. That moment when I can leave my house without hollering at someone to get their damned shoes on, we’re already running late. 

And when that moment comes, I suppose I’ll have to take solace in the fact that during our 35th summer together, I will get to watch, giant margarita in hand, as my beautiful children scream at their own children. And I will laugh and laugh as I skip from room to room, throwing the plastic straw thingies I’ve hoarded in my pockets like so much confetti. 

3 Comments

Posted in Family, Food, funny, Humor, Parenting, Pop Culture, Travel, Vacation, Women

Tagged , , , , , , , ,

A birthing story worthy of Hollywood

Posted on February 17, 2024 | 1 comment

My son, my baby boy, is turning 10 tomorrow. Hitting the double digits. It’s a big milestone and not just because this means puberty is lurking dangerously on the horizon, ready to attack and destroy our lives as we know it. Time, that mean ‘ol fickle thing, is moving much too fast. 

It’s enough to make one nostalgic. To think back on how this all started, on how he came into this world. 

It was just like you see in the movies…

****flashback wavy lines flashback wavy lines flashback wavy lines****

It was the middle of the night. I burst through the bedroom door suddenly, breathing hard. 

“Honey! It’s time!” I yelled. 

My husband woke up in a panic before glancing at the time, groaning, and rolling back over. 

“Calm down,” came his muffled reply from underneath the blankets. “You aren’t set to be induced for another five hours.”

“This baby is a week late. Get up so we can get this little bastard out of me.”

“Technically he’s not a bastard.”

“I will eat you,” I growled. “Now, get the hell up and let’s go.”

He drove like a madman. All the way out of the driveway and around the corner before we immediately hit Greater Boston traffic. As we sped along at 5mph, I winced and let out a little groan. He grabbed my hand.

“Are you ok?” he asked, concerned.

“Yeah, I just really have to fart.”

“Again?” he asked, now extremely concerned. 

“Yup.”

He frantically rolled down the window. 

An aromatic 30 minutes later, we finally arrived at the hospital. While my husband fell out of the car, gasping for air, I promptly walked up to the front desk, asking for my wheelchair. 

“Do you need a wheelchair, ma’am?” asked the very confused receptionist. 

“I mean, I thought it was included with the whole deal,” I said, gesturing to the planet I had under my shirt. “Gratis-like.”

“We don’t really do that anymore.”

Soon after WALKING to my hospital room and settling in, my doctor arrived and examined me. After soaking her hands in dry ice, of course, as is custom. 

“Still not dilated, I see. We’ll get you started on the pitocin,” she told me before rushing off to give some other poor woman freezer burn in her nethers. 

A few hours later, I felt my first tiny pang of a contraction. 

“GIMME THE DRUGS!” I roared, grabbing my husband by his lapels. 

“Is the pain bad already?” he asked, staring deeply into my eyes and brushing an errant hair gently off my forehead. 

“Oh no. But I’m doing this for all the women who had to give birth before epidurals were invented. I want to feel zero pain. For them. They would want it this way.”

A brusque man came in, followed by a pixie I was informed was a nurse. She was so slight I had a fairly legitimate concern she would get pulled into my rotund stomach’s gravitational pull, unable to escape. As he prepared the world’s largest needle, she told me to “lean your head into my chest and squeeze my hands when the pain hits.” I laughed and laughed and replied “I will break you,” in my best Dolph Lundgren voice.  

But then the pain hit. I gasped and squeezed as a needle penetrated where no needle had ever dared penetrate before. And suddenly Nurse Itty McLittle turned into pure steel. A tiny mountain made of diamond and graphene. She was like if Henry Cavill’s abs were a person.  

What followed next was a blur. Watching movies on my laptop. Complaining about being bored. Complaining about being hungry. Complaining about the movies I personally had picked out to watch.

Thirty-three hours later, I was still barely dilated. After wrestling away a plastic knife from me, the doctor, in her infinite wisdom, decided a cesarean might be in order. I emphatically agreed. As did my husband. As did the orderly I stabbed. 

I couldn’t see what happened during the actual procedure, courtesy of a lovely blue tarp placed directly against my chin. Which was for the best. Because while I did not feel any pain thanks to drugs I’m assuming were made out of unicorns and the souls of teacup piglets, I did feel a bunch of tugging and pulling and generally horrific rootin’ around. 

And then suddenly there he was. A raging red-haired angry ball of perfection. 

A few days later, I walked out of the hospital (casting a long, lingering glance at all the unused wheelchairs) and the three of us drove away. Slowly. And not just because of traffic this time (although also because of traffic this time).

We got him home. Set him down. I looked lovingly down into his face and he immediately started crying. I turned to the newly minted daddy beside me with panicked eyes and asked “now what?”

Now what indeed. A decade later I can confidently say I still ask that same question every day. In various tones and with a fun assortment of punctuation. 

And the answer has always been an adventure I can’t wait to continue (looming puberty notwithstanding). 

1 Comment

Posted in Family, funny, Health, Humor, Parenting, Pregnancy, Women

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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. 

Leave a comment

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

Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

An Ode to my Fellow Carriers of the Mental Load

Posted on June 1, 2023 | 1 comment

Two weeks and two days. That’s it. That’s all that stands between me and an entire golden-hued summer of memory-making freedom. The last day of school is so close now I can almost taste it and it tastes like cheap popsicles and the still drying glue on 14 comically large art projects handed to me in an awkward, sticky pile. 

The best part is we have an epic summer family road trip planned immediately after. We’re gonna pick them babies up from school, hurl them into the back of the van, burn those hazardous waste dumps they call backpacks in a ceremonial fire and then BAM! We are hitting the road for two and a half weeks, starting from our home in Boston and heading west, halfway across this majestic country of ours. 

All that’s left to do is a mere few small minor end-of-the-school-year tasks. Volunteering at Cultural Heritage Night, chaperoning a field trip, attending the PTA meeting, creating a Galileo costume, making something for the Family Breakfast event, meeting to discuss a possible IEP for next year, attending the ice cream fundraiser, buying the teacher gifts and finding and returning all the books from the school library that are currently missing, which I’ve just been informed number in the lower double digits. 

And then BOOM! The best summer ever can begin! Did I tell you the first stop of our road trip is Ontario, Canada? I found this quaint little resort right on the shores of a crystal clear lake. There’s even a fire pit. It’s exactly what we need after a long school year. And once I find our passports, swim shoes, floaties, water guns, water gun bucket, beach towels and goggles, and buy everyone new swimsuits and those swimming kickboards the kids requested and a vat of super strong sunscreen and bug spray for the inevitably friendly but nonetheless still very much there Canadian bugs, we are good to go! Oh, and firewood and starter logs for the firepit. Which I can pick up when I buy the store-bought muffins for the Family Breakfast because, let’s be honest, I was never going to really make something from scratch anyway. All of which I can do right after downloading the ArriveCAN app that makes crossing the border easier and then filling out all the required information. 

And then. BADA BING, baby. It is Relax City. 

And after Canada, it’s off to Ohio to visit my family. And let me tell you, I cannot wait. So many people to see, so many things to do! People and things I have missed so much. And after a quick two dozen emails back and forth and roughly 67 text threads and ten or so group chats to try and coordinate everyone’s schedules so we can squeeze a month’s worth of visits into 72 hours, we are all set. BADA BOOM. Simple. Barely even worth mentioning. 

Next up is Kansas, off to see Grandma and Pop-pop and the rest of the in-laws. It’s going to be a beautiful drive straight through the heartland. Albeit a long drive. But as soon as I find the best routes and coordinate drive times with hotel pool times to make sure the kids can swim before they close and gather all the confirmation emails and map out good places for potty breaks and buy more children’s dramamine and allergy meds and gather together activity kits for the kids to do in the van, I can focus on what really matters and that’s spending time together with family. 

And, I mean, just think of the wonderful memories we’re going to make. The kids will remember this trip forever. I’m not the kind of person to use the word “magical” to describe things, but I think this trip might come pretty close. 

And it’s all almost within my grasp. 

So yeah, all that’s really left to do now is a few small housekeeping items (including actual housekeeping) and sending out the rent check, prepaying all the bills, putting the mail and newspaper on hold, rescheduling the occupational therapist appointments, canceling the regular therapist appointments, moving the dentist appointment, attending that Zoom meeting next Wednesday, following up with the doctor, going to the block party, juggling three playdates, buying a gift and attending that birthday party we were invited to, finishing up that freelancing gig, sending out the W9 form, making an appearance at the end-of-the-year Girl Scout event, and WHOOSH! Off we go on our adventure. Yup, just gotta do all the laundry, pack, have the kids pack, repack everything they packed, get the van to the mechanic for a checkup, check the bank account, buy all my daughter’s birthday gifts and pre-plan her party since we don’t get home until the day before her birthday, get road snacks everyone will actually eat, buy more hand sanitizer, get more Tylenol and Ibuprofen in case anyone gets sick while we’re gone, pick up more shampoo and conditioner, respond back to the flurry of last minute emails sitting in my inbox, let the board of directors know I can’t make next month’s meeting…

And for all of you out there who have made it this far because you can relate on some level to this madness, just know I see you. And I salute you. With this wine I am drinking straight out of the bottle because I cannot stand the idea of doing one more thing, namely the handwashing of a wine glass because the dishwasher always breaks them. 

Here’s to all the carriers of the mental load. 

And to the best summer ever. 

Eventually. 

1 Comment

Posted in Family, Humor, Parenting, Travel, Vacation, Women

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

There’s no place like home alone

Posted on August 17, 2022 | Leave a comment

So…here we are.

Hey. 

Hi, I guess. 

Sorry. This just feels so awkward. It’s been so long since we’ve been…alone. As I’m sure you’ve heard (or actually not heard by the silence that has blissfully descended), the family is gone. Off visiting the in-laws. It’s just you and me, house. 

You and me for an entire week. 

I know, I can’t quite believe it either. You can thank the airlines and their ridiculous ticket prices. 

Wow, I can’t even remember the last time it was simply us. It’s been, what, years? Between having small children and then the pandemic with all its remote work and school. You look good, by the way. Although you’ve changed a bit. Though I suppose I have too. We both look older. And after the pregnancies, we both have things that were never put back the way they were. We definitely both creak and groan more. Now if only I could pass mine off as “it’s just my body settling,” eh?

Again, I apologize. I tend to make bad jokes when I’m nervous (and also pretty much during every other emotion, but I digress). 

This is silly though. Back in the day, we spent plenty of time alone together. You’ve seen me naked, for god’s sake. Like A LOT. And you’re still the only one who knows about the weird thing I do in the shower. 

Speaking of bathrooms, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the idea that whenever I go in there it will still be in the same state I left it in. No towels on the floor. No giant mystery mounds of toothpaste in the sink that everyone SWEARS they didn’t do. And, oh my god, this week all pee will actually end up in the toilet where it’s supposed to be! 

We’re LIVING THE DREAM, dear house. 

So, what should we do? Do we reenact “Home Alone” or “Risky Business” first? Or eat? On the couch? While binge watching all the old “Sex in the City” episodes so I can say “wow, this has not held up well” every seven minutes? Or NAP! Oooo…should we nap? Just a nice little 14-hour nap? Or maybe light a bunch of candles and write all my very deep emo thoughts in a journal, straight up college style?

Even better, I could work on the truly terrible first draft of my novel without stopping mid-sentence to scream “turn off the kitchen light!” or “stop murdering each other, you’ll get blood on the floor!” 

Or…do you want to maybe get a bit naughty? Perhaps break open a bottle of wine, turn on some music and FINALLY go through the kids’ toy boxes? We can actually throw crap away! Without tiny humans wailing their keening songs on your floor. (And maybe then I’ll stop having that nightmare where I die under an avalanche of dismembered Mr. Potato Head body parts and what I hope are chocolate-stained stuffies). 

Or, even naughtier, let’s order an irresponsible amount of Chinese food even though we have a fridge full of healthy groceries and spend two hours complaining to my mom on the phone about my ungrateful children. Oof, I got goosebumps just thinking about that one. 

Man, I tell you what, house, I am so happy right now. 

Oh, don’t look at me like that. It’s not like I don’t love my family. They are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Truly. 

The best thing that happens day after day after day after middle of the night after before dawn after day to me. 

I can’t wait to miss them.

Leave a comment

Posted in Family, funny, Humor, Marriage, Parenting, Pregnancy, Women, Writing

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,

Geez, why is mom so angry?

Posted on August 4, 2022 | 1 comment

A Poem

Stop

Please stop 

I said stop it

Oh, come on!

Why would you do that?

No

Knock it off

Are you listening to me?

Why? 

Get that out of your mouth

I’ve asked you three times

You need to apologize 

Are you listening? 

No. 

Seriously, WHY? 

Not there!

No, you go get it

That’s why we don’t do that

No! 

WHY?

Do NOT talk to me like that

Go get a towel please

What were you thinking? 

Absolutely not

Don’t make me say it again

Gross 

Stop!

What did I just say? 

Nope

NOOOOOOOOOO

Did you hear me?

STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP

Do that again and you’re grounded until you die

Yes, I am a big meanie

Go to bed

Did. You. Hear. What. I. Said?

Please

Seriously

Come on

I feel like you’re not listening

GO TO BED

I used to be fun, you know. 

One more time or so help me…

Yes, I love you too 

…

GET YOUR LITTLE ASS TO BED BEFORE I…

1 Comment

Posted in Family, funny, Humor, Parenting, Women, Writing

Tagged , , , , , , , ,

What I really want for Mother’s Day

Posted on May 5, 2022 | Leave a comment

What I really want for Mother’s Day:

A standing ovation every time I put all the laundry away. And while we’re at it, roses thrown at my feet every time I clean the bathroom. Which you then scurry about and pick up so I don’t have to.

Acknowledgement in the form of a shiny trophy or perhaps a gift card to the snooty fancy wine shop for being the Carrier of the Mental and Emotional Load for the family. Complete with a heartfelt speech about how stoically I carry this burden and ask for nothing in return. 

A legally binding contract, signed and notarized, that any and all sibling fights from henceforth shall occur out of my direct eyesight and earshot. 

Gasps of wonderment on a regular basis at my mastery of taking ordinary ingredients from the kitchen and transforming them into a meal, NAY! a feast! every. single. day. A feast where every dish is overflowing with love (and butter) no matter how meager the contents of my fridge. I want you so in awe at this otherworldly power of mine that you are tempted to point at me and shout “WITCH!” because how could anyone take something as simple and common as a potato and turn it into a towering mound of pure comforting flavor using merely heat (and butter) if they weren’t the bride of Satan? 

For you to bend the knee like I am Khaleesi, Mother of Ungrateful Dragons. I want you to cower in awe at my ability to rip apart my own body so that you could be freed from the captivity of the womb. I want you to gaze in reverence at my tireless efforts to then help you gain independence even though you curse me and call me a she-devil, and marvel at my self control in continuing to rule benignly and not fall into the easy trap of tyranny because you refuse to brush your teeth every morning. 

And then! Then I want you to straighten the knee so I can pull these godforsaken ballet tights up because putting on ballet tights is a life skill you refuse to learn. 

Piggybacking on that former request, I would also like a dragon. 

Or three. 

And a fur-lined cape. 

And lastly, the ability to summon from my very cells, from my very core, the pure, staggering, unconditional love I feel for you until I am so overwhelmed by the power of this deep affection that I transform into a fearsome goddess-like entity, with eyes ablaze and lightning crackling between my fingertips. And I will rise into the air, a terrifying and beautiful manifestation of pure maternal being, and in a reverberant voice I will declare “BEHOLD!” as I place my hands upon your brow so that you, for a brief moment, can see yourself as I see you. As the most perfect creature to ever grace this plane of existence despite your inability to ever pick up your socks and put them in the hamper.

What I will actually get for Mother’s Day:

A breakfast at 6:30 a.m. consisting of PopTarts and a questionable looking banana, two homemade cards with adorably misspelled words, and a macaroni necklace held together by glue that is still wet. 

What I will say:

I love it. It’s just what I wanted. 

What I will mean: 

I love it. It’s just what I wanted. 

Leave a comment

Posted in Family, funny, Holidays, Humor, Parenting, Women, Writing

Tagged , , , , , , ,

Packing for spring break when you’re 20 vs when you’re 40

Posted on March 23, 2022 | Leave a comment

When you’re 20:

Bikini that requires extensive de-hairing techniques

Giant bottle of baby oil 

1 sundress, 2 tank tops, shorts with university logo 

Impractical wedge sandal

Makeup box that holds approximately 37 pounds of makeup

Cute purse that is big enough to hold 4 wine coolers

Toothbrush

When you’re 40:

1920’s-style swimsuit so you can do the “lazy” shave

4 kinds of sunscreen

3 giant old lady hats, because you now have a sun allergy

3 Morticia-level beach coverups because you now have to get your moles checked out twice a year by a dermatologist

Giant tub of soothing lotion for when you DO break out into your sun allergy rash even though the lotion really doesn’t do anything

Flip flops you bought 7(?) years ago

Sunglasses that cover two-thirds of your face

1 bottle of Aleve

1 bottle of Ibuprofen

1 bottle of Tylenol

Claritin for seasonal allergies

Benadryl in case the Claritin needs backup

Pepto because any sip of water that is not from your specific area code now gives you diarrhea for some reason 

Tums in case the Pepto needs back up

1 tube of that long-lasting red lipstick that you have to reapply every day because you have yet to find a makeup remover that can actually remove it

Giant purse that can hold four bottles of wine, two bottles of the medium affordable whiskey and a wide variety of snacks in case anyone gets hungry (also holds bandaids, giant tub of hand sanitizer and three sticks your 5-year-old asked you to carry for her last time you went to the park)

Extra plastic baggies because you never know when they could come in handy

Expensive electric toothbrush, regular floss, waterpiks, mouthwash, tongue scraper, dry mouth lozenges recommended by your dentist 

Leave a comment

Posted in funny, Humor, Vacation, Women

Tagged , , , , , ,

When that false spring hits hard

Posted on March 7, 2022 | 1 comment

1 Comment

Posted in funny, Health, Humor, Women

Tagged , , , , ,