Tag Archives: funny

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 , , , , , , , ,

Family Fight Night 3: Sibling Summer Slam

Posted on July 16, 2024 | Leave a comment

Hello, hello! And welcome everyone to what is sure to be the most legendary Family Fight Night yet. We’re your announcers for the evening, Stan Boomvoice and Tucker McThundercords. 

Legendary is right, Stan. It may be hot outside but it doesn’t come close to the temperature inside. Summer break is in full swing and tempers are flaring higher than the flames on Dad’s gas-soaked grill. 

Speaking of Daddy Doomed, he’s still at work and the Married Matron is looking pretty harried, Tucker. 

This muggy air has nothing on Mama’s mean mugging, Stan. I don’t know about you but I’d steer clear of this Miffed Missus. She’s already behind on dinner prep and potatoes aren’t all she’s ready to whip. 

Looks like she’s regretting the Tablet Time-Out she instituted after the Blanket Fort Fracas, Tucker. These Wilding Whelps haven’t given her a break since breakfast. 

And they are showing no signs of slowing down. Big Brother Bash is currently baiting Sister Seether with his infamous Toy Pile Driver, refusing to leggo those Legos even though he knows some of them are hers. 

Oh! And it looks like the Rising 3rd Grader is rising to the occasion. She’s going in hard with her patented Honeybadger Hurricanrana, Tucker. Just a feral flying mass of tangled hair and untrimmed nails. 

It’s not looking good for the Prepubescent Prince, Stan. I believe the Spare is ready to dethrone the Heir. 

Not looking good at all, Tucker. That growth spurt she had last month is really paying off here. He might be older but this youngest is ready to yeet him out into the yard. 

And it looks like the disturbance is dragging the Depleted Damsel into the drama, and she is clearly in distress. What do you think her play here should be, Stan?

Grounding is hardly groundbreaking, Tucker, but it might be Mama’s best move. Sometimes the classics are classic for a reason. 

Oh! I don’t believe it! I don’t believe it! A Hail Mary hailing from Hell’s Kitchen! In a surprise move, she’s busting out A Moment’s Peace, letting them play video games! I did NOT see that coming, Stan.

It’s a risky move, Tucker. Risky move. The Tween Titan has been on a hot streak during this heatwave, dominating the action on the Nintendo Switch. He’s already gotten several reprimands for trash talking. 

But it looks like the Sus Sweetie has something up her sleeve, Stan. She’s been secretly practicing while The Bruv of Shove was at camp last week and has managed to eke out a win! 

Oof! That’s gotta hurt. Unsurprisingly, the action is now spilling over from the screen into real life. The Super Smash Brothers have nothing on these Super Shriek Siblings! Oh, the humanity! 

And here comes all 15 pounds of the Round Mound of Pure Hellhound, always happy to add to the bedlam. This little doggy has a bone to pick and as you well know, Stan, the Chaos Canine rarely gives up easily. 

Talk about a tongue lashing, Tucker. His bark might be worse than his bite but his lick is far from lovable. 

Do you hear that, Stan? With her signature primal scream, it’s clear The Frazzled Femme Fatale has had it and is stomping out of the kitchen again, flinging F Bombs like a F5 tornado! Daughter Dearest at least has the decency to look demeaned but the Savage Son remains defiant. 

Oh and would you look at that timing! Father Fatigued is finally home, unwittingly headed right into the eye of the storm. There’s a lot to take in here, Tucker, but he immediately executes his go-to move, The Raised Eyebrow. 

The Pint-Sized People Producer is beyond peeved at this point and not afraid to project! She ain’t having none of it, gesturing wildly at everything! It’s clear she’s ready to tag him in, Stan.

But Daddio is coming in hot with the Decompression Defense! Looks like Bro-Dad just wants a brewski, Tucker. 

We might have a Sweaty Stare Down on our hands. Do you think his Killer Commute can compete with her Caretaker Collapse, Stan?

Not likely, Tucker. Not likely at all. But wait! What’s this? He’s busting out the Meatlovers and Movie Maneuver! 

And on a Tuesday! Unbelievable! Papa Peacemaker saving the day with Papa Johns! And will you look at that turnaround? They went from throwing hands to clapping hands.

What a bout, Tucker! What a bout. 

Indeed, Stan. Always nice to see a Happy (For Now) Ending here at Family Fight Night. Until next time, everybody! 

Leave a comment

Posted in Family, funny, Humor, Marriage, Parenting, Pets, Pop Culture, Sports

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

My Annual Spring Cleaning Motivational Speech to my Family

Posted on May 24, 2024 | Leave a comment

Hello, beloved family. You know how every year I deny having Seasonal Affective Disorder even though we all know I go into full on Goblin Mode for five months straight? Well, guess what…

*dramatically throws back window curtain*

Spring has finally arrived in New England! And not False Spring, where we get a couple of nice days and then it snows. And not False Spring Part Two: Hail to the Sleet. 

Oh no. Real spring. The sun is shining, the trees are green, and everywhere is the beautiful grunting sounds of people struggling to set up their air conditioning window units. 

And, of course, the official sign that summer is on its way…

*dramatically thrusts out one leg*

I’ve switched out of my sweatpants and into my leggings. 

Do you know, dearest family, what this means? I’ll take it from your groans that you do. Yes! It means that I will begin manically spring cleaning the house, dragging you all into chaos against your will! Because I finally have Vitamin D coursing through my veins and my brain has started producing dopamine and serotonin again. 

I can tell from your whimpers that you’re just as excited about this as I am. Excited to cast aside the resigned acceptance we have for our filth and clutter and cramped tenement-style conditions and eager to embrace no longer being garbage people. 

Yes, my loves! We don’t have to live like this! Just this morning, I finally cleaned out and organized that one cabinet in the kitchen that was driving me insane and suddenly it was like a whole new kitchen. So I cleaned out another cabinet. And then the fridge. And threw away all those frozen leftovers in the freezer that we were never, ever going to eat but thrust in there haphazardly because it’s wrong to waste food. 

As it turns out, 90 percent of my desire to burn everything down and start over is the fact we just have too much stupid crap. 

Just imagine the possibilities! All that stands between us and the house of our dreams is a little bit of deep cleaning! And by little bit I mean A LOT. We are super gross. 

Like, what if you kids actually had room in your rooms to play? Beautiful, clean, organized rooms! With a place for everything and everything in its place. And absolutely no place for the 300 or so dried out markers scattered around because we will finally throw them away. I’m so pumped by the idea of this I even wrote a song about it…

“We need room in our rooms

[Room in our rooms]

Room to roam, room to grow

[Room in our rooms]

So we stop being so embarrassed on Zoom”

OK, fine, I’ll stop singing. But you have to admit it was pretty catchy. And the point remains, we could take pride in where we live. I know we’ll never have nice things but we CAN make our crappy things slightly less crappy. We could be the kind of people who, instead of cramming more things into already overstuffed drawers, get rid of all the things in the drawers we don’t need. 

We could have drawers that close! Oh, dare I dream? 

And all those stains we’ve had so long that we just consider them part of the family now? We could DO something about them instead. We could finally get rid of that giant bag of old batteries we have because we know we’re not supposed to throw them in the trash but we’ve always been too lazy to actually google what to do with them. We could even, and honey, get ready to catch me in case I faint, put the NEW FILTER we bought eight months ago into the BRITA. 

A whole new better life awaits us!

So what do you say, gang! Who’s with me? Let’s do this!

…

I can tell from your resounding silence that you might not be as enthusiastic as I am about all this…

Anybody want to hear my Trash Can Song? It’s pretty inspiring…

*starts banging on lid like a drum*

“This is the trash can song 

[the trash can song]

Because who can? He can! The trash can can!

[the trash can song]

Ooooh, he can take your cans and take your old pans…”

No? I have also prepared a lovely candy wrapper rap. WITH explicit lyrics. 

OK, fine. Fine. For every bag of trash you gather I’ll give you $5 and I’ll give $10 for every box filled with clothes and toys we can donate. Yes, you too, Daddy. 

Now there’s the energy I was looking for! 

Leave a comment

Posted in Family, funny, Marriage, Parenting

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

Twas the Night Before Christmas: Parent Edition

Posted on December 24, 2023 | Leave a comment

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring…

…except for the children they had put to bed AN HOUR AGO

“I said go to sleep before I throw your presents OUT THE WINDOW!”

The stockings were hung by standing on a wobbly chair 

In the hopes that vertigo would not appear

The children were defiant, still not snug in their beds

“Yes, I see you, so help me I’ll throw a damned sugarplum at your head!”

And Mama in her sweatpants, fully done with everyone’s crap

Had just settled in with her very full nightcap 

When from out in the kitchen there arose such a clatter

Her dreams of a relaxing moment now utterly shattered

And what to her bleary eyes should appear 

But Daddy with the toolkit and an equally full beer

As he pulled out a screwdriver, her eye began to tic

She knew in a moment the rest would be no picnic

Oh dammit, oh bullshit, oh bloody stupid hell

“Oh come on, are you kidding me, I’mma need more zinfandel!”

So many toys that had to be assembled 

Their only comfort dark fantasies of elves being dismembered

So up until midnight the parents they toiled

Muttering to themselves about their offspring being too spoiled 

At one point poor dad had to pull ‘ol mom off the roof

Before handing her an eggnog that was 50 percent proof. 

Her bosom it shook like a bowlful of jelly

Filled as it was with rage and pork belly 

His face went all red, like an over-ripe cherry

That vein in his forehead throbbing until it was scary

They spoke not another word but went straight back to work

The nerves in their back and knees going completely berserk  

As the night wore on, the existential growing in their dread 

Their sanity began hanging on by a very thin thread 

By 3 a.m. they had finally reached their limit 

Not to mention they were out of the much needed liquid spirit

But the children they heard them, ‘ere they stumbled out of sight

“Happy Christmas to all and to all screw this shite!” 

Leave a comment

Posted in Family, funny, Holidays, Humor, Parenting

Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

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. 

4 Comments

Posted in Education, Family, Food, Humor

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 , , , , , , , , ,

A Love Letter to my Husband on our 13th Wedding Anniversary

Posted on March 1, 2023 | Leave a comment

Dearest husband, 

Where do I even begin? Where does one start with a love like ours? After 13 years of marriage it’s still as strong as ever. When I look into your eyes I still see the…wait, wait, come sit on my other side, I slept weird last night and my neck won’t turn that way now. 

As I was saying, when I look into your eyes, I still see the eyes of the young man I married. 

And some crazy long eyebrow hairs. Wow, those really went to seed over the years, eh? Oh, that reminds me, did I tell you I found another hair on my chin the other day? Black as night. I feel like a lady dwarf. 

Where was I? Right. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t change a thing (that blowout fight we had about whether the Hulk is actually a hero notwithstanding). I still remember our wedding day as though it was yesterday. And I remember the hangover the following day even better. The sight of champagne still makes me want to die. Remember when I lost my shoe? Heh. 

Seriously though, you’ve made me a better person. I always replace the toilet paper roll now, ever since The Great Toilet Paper Roll Argument of 2012. You are such a patient and gentle and kind person. And let’s be honest, I can be a ridiculous creature from time to time, so it can’t always be easy…OK, you don’t need to nod quite so vigorously… 

We’ve been through so much together. Moving across the country, not once but twice. Traveling the world. That time I got bangs. 

We even survived a pandemic together. And through it all we’ve only grown closer. Especially now that you’re back in the office three days a week and I’m able to swallow my intense rage at your VERY LOUD ZOOM VOICE. “HEY CHRISTINA, LET’S CIRCLE BACK TO…” Oh yes, you are that loud. I’m not exaggerating, buddy. Not even a little. 

But most importantly, you’ve given me two beautiful children and for that I can never thank you enough. Remembering the smell of their tiny heads and their soft breathing against my chest and their little baby giggles brings me such joy and helps me slog through this new phase of their childhood filled with endless eye rolling and getting called “dude” multiple times a day. 

We’ve built a beautiful life together in our beautiful home. And even though we still have to rent that home because house prices skyrocketed the second we started looking to buy, the memories we’ve made here can never be evicted. That reminds me, did you remember to call the bank? Or was I supposed to do that? We should really get on that. And that first time home buyer program thingie. Hang on, I’m going to make a note in my planner. Oh! I’ll make it right beside the note that says “buy anniversary card and gift.” Sorry about that. But hey, check out this marriage related meme I found yesterday. Hang on, hang on, where is it? There it is. Check it out. Your cheaters are on top of your head, babe. I know! Funny right? 

Look, I know things are always crazy now with the kids and the activities and work schedules and play dates and speaking of which I completely spaced on scheduling one of those so we could go out. Dammit. 

Well, how about tonight I cook us a homemade dinner? Steak, perhaps? Oh crap, what time is it? Nevermind, it’s too late to defrost them. OK, how about I order us a home cooked meal? Yeah? What’s the name of that place you like? Oh god no, I hate that place. The other place. Yes, the one I love. That’s the one. I’ll order us a nice meal and even call the restaurant myself this time when they’re late with the order and it arrives cold again. Oh! I do have that board meeting tonight at 6 pm, I just remembered, and our youngest has science club after school and the kids need a bath but then, maybe when the kids go to bed we could…oh wait, I haven’t shaved. It’s been like two weeks. Kidding. It’s three. And I already put on my good sweatpants (for YOU, of course). Are you still working from home Friday? Maybe after I take the kids to school and run to Target for a razor (I think the last one committed suicide) we can finally celebrate physically (WINK). Yeah, oh yeah, check your meeting schedule first and get back to me. 

But you know what? It doesn’t matter how we celebrate. Or when. The point is we’re still in this together and still in love and I look forward to spending 37 minutes picking out something to watch tonight and then pausing it so we can get the one kid a glass of water and tell the other kid that we can talk about which dinosaurs would win a fight against a hoard of zombies tomorrow and then falling asleep within 10 minutes after that on the couch and then growling like a feral coyote at you when you wake me up to go to bed because every time I sleep on the couch my neck gets all wonky. 

Happy anniversary, my love. There is no one else I’d rather embrace the suck with than you.

Leave a comment

Posted in Family, funny, Humor, Love, Marriage, Parenting

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

Airing our dirty dishes

Posted on February 16, 2023 | Leave a comment

It’s the tedium of the whole thing, is what it is. That’s what makes it so unbearable. Day after day after stupid dumb day. 

No. You know what? It’s the hopelessness. That’s it. That’s exactly it. The knowledge that no matter how much I do, there will always be more to do. More of the SAME to do. It will never end and someday they will find my body slumped over the sink, pruny hands still plunged deep into the dirty soapy water. 

And even THEN, it’s likely no one in my family will notice and still put a dirty dish on the counter beside my rotting corpse, casually waving the flies away from their face as they skip gaily out of the kitchen. 

I am living in a dystopian hellscape and it’s all because our dishwasher is broken. 

It has been exactly 11 calendar days since The Great Breakening and chaos is quickly descending. Already there is a new currency in my household; paper plates and plastic cups are more valuable than gold. I’m spreading peanut butter and jelly with my bare hands and drinking wine out of a Dixie cup. Dinner last night was just soup cans with a hole drilled in the top. One of my kids asked for a spoon and I just laughed and laughed as I handed them a biodegradable straw and the instruction to “suck fast before it disintegrates.”

This morning I actually asked my husband, “honey, do you think I could cook a whole chicken on a pile of disposable napkins instead of a roasting pan?”

And still, despite my efforts, the dishes, they come. Plates, pots, pans, cutlery, colanders, cups. OH THE NEVERENDING DIRTY CUPS. Prior to this I was under the assumption there were only four of us living here but based on the number of cups I clean every day, I have a baker’s dozen or so of other children and an additional spouse or three that I forgot about. 

You know, before this I had hopes. I had dreams. I had hands that weren’t wrinkled and withered like some sort of ancient cave dwelling swamp witch hag.  

But now… 

Oh now…

Now there is only me and the sponge and the tupperware permanently dyed orange from spaghetti no matter how much I scrub. Blobs of dried ketchup haunt my dreams. The sight of an abandoned spoon with half eaten peanut butter on it makes me burst into tears. 

Sometimes, to pass the time when I’m standing at the sink AGAIN, I stare out the window into the middle distance (the most dramatic of the distances to stare) and imagine that I am some beautiful and tragic 1950s housewife who will never reach her potential. Or I’m an Irish immigrant from the early 1900s who came here for a better life, only to find more dishes. Or even a medieval scullery maid who was forced into indentured servitude but longs for freedom. Freedom from an existence that is solely populated by other people’s dirty dishes.  

The thing is though, at least the 1950s housewife had a prescription for Valium that was washed down with a carton of cigarettes and the ability to kick her children outside for hours on end to help her cope. And in 1900, soda had cocaine in it. And medieval villagers got to start swilling mead at breakfast because the water would kill you.

See, that was their reward for doing dishes all day, every day. But now water is non-lethal, and our Coke is drugless, and cigarettes kill us, and apparently doctors these days don’t consider having a broken dishwasher a good enough reason to give me unlimited access to powerful pills. Not to mention, I can’t force my children to roam the streets until it gets dark, less because some nosy, terrible neighbor will call the cops on me for neglect than I am genuinely concerned my kids will actually do something illegal. 

So I’m stuck with drinking my weak ass wine from my Dixie cup while I slowly turn into a grizzled and hardened dishwasher from some greasy spoon diner. Seriously, a few days ago my daughter told me the fork I gave her was still dirty. I grabbed it and spit on it before drying it on my sweatpants and handed it back with a glare that would make flowers wilt. 

“Anything else look dirty to you?” I growled at her. 

“No ma’am,” she whispered. 

The good news is we should be getting a new dishwasher any day now. Once the plumber and the water heater guy figure out where that mystery water leak is coming from and how to stop it and if the entire kitchen wall needs to be torn out and rebuilt due to water damage from the burst pipe that happened during that recent cold snap. 

So…yeah…any day now…

*sounds of intense sobbing and slurping from a Dixie cup*

Leave a comment

Posted in cooking, Family, Humor, Parenting

Tagged , , , , , ,

A review of my 6-year-old’s hair salon

Posted on January 5, 2023 | 3 comments

Located in the vibrant heart of downtown Living Room, My Daughter’s Hair Salon is a small, female-owned business that recently opened 20 minutes ago. The owner’s name is “Stacy,” spelled with just a “y.” Wait. No, yeah. Not “ey.” 

Although I wasn’t looking to get my hair done, the salon’s convenient location and “Stacy’s” rather persistent attitude convinced me otherwise. As it turns out, I was lucky she was even able to squeeze me in.

“Everyone wants to look nice after the holidays so I’ve been SO busy,” “Stacy” told me as she assessed my admittedly neglected locks. “I’ve had 50 clients so far. You’re my 51st client today.”

“Wow,” I responded. “You must be really tired.”

“Oh, I am. Especially because I also have all my kids.”

At only the young age of 6, “Stacy” already has 10 children. Five boys and five girls. In fact, just that morning she gave birth, she told me, much to my astonishment.

“Wow,” I responded again. “Should you even be working?”

It’s alright, she said. Her husband is taking care of the baby now and all the other 10 children. 

“How do you do it all?” I asked her, as she enthusiastically attacked my curls. 

“I honestly don’t know,” she sighed. “It’s very loud at my house.”

As she continued to brush my hair, only getting the brush stuck twice, I asked “Stacy”…

Wait, it is “ey” on second thought…

…I asked “Stacey” where she learned hair styling. She studied in high school AND college, she informed me before, ever the professional, switching the subject back to my hair. 

“Do you normally have curly hair?”

“Yes.” 

“It’s really tangled.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna straighten it.”

“That’s probably not a good idea.”

“OK, well, then look through this magazine and let me know what hairstyle you want,” she said, handing me a Fancy Nancy book.

“Um…how about this one?” I said, pointing to a random illustration.

“I call that one The Teasey.”

“Perfect.”

“Except I think I’m just going to straighten your hair.”

The straightening process at My Daughter’s Hair Salon consists of vigorous brush work and an arsenal of rather pointy hair accessories. If there is one thing you can say about “Stacey” it’s that she is highly dedicated to the ideal of “beauty is pain.” At one point, I winced and let out a little cry. 

“Does that hurt?” “Stacey” asked me with something approaching a hint of possible sympathy.

“Oh, just a wee bit,” I answered as I looked for my chunk of missing scalp on the floor.

Luckily, like many of the best in the business, “Stacey” has mastered the art of Client Small Talk as a means of distraction. 

“So, how about you? You got kids?” she asked as she shoved a bobby pin deep into my cerebral cortex.

“I do,” I grunted. “A boy and a girl.”

“The girl sounds lovely.”

“She is.”

“She sounds really smart and pretty too.”

“She’s definitely strong!” I screamed as another bobby pin pushed into a hopefully not vital section of my brain.

“Hang on, I’m working really hard, I need a sip of my coffee,” she said, pausing to pick up her mug as I sobbed in relief. 

“Absolutely. Take your time,” I replied while wiping blood out of my eyes. 

“It’s definitely coffee in here. Not water.”

“I definitely believe you.”

During her coffee break, she confided to me that she was going on vacation to Florida soon. In fact, right after my appointment.

“What will you do in Florida?” I asked.

“Oh, all the Florida things,” Stacey answered. “Although my husband won’t let me go back to Johnny’s Store *whispers* it’s a pizza place because they put sauce on his pizza but I love the place but he was like we are NEVER coming back even though I love their pizza with mushroom *whispers* pretend I like mushrooms and last time I was in Florida I went to a salon and they messed up my hair like it wasn’t even in the magazine and I was like no way, never again.”

Fortunately, “Stacey” could never be accused of messing up someone’s hair. At least not while she has three more dozen weaponized bobby pins within arm’s reach. Her professionalism was rivaled only by her freakishly strong upper body strength. 

I was a bit surprised (albeit relieved), however, when she told me halfway through that she had to stop and finish my hair the next day. 

“Wait, what?” I asked, confused. 

“Yeah. My brother is playing on his tablet and now I want to play on mine,” she told me cheerily before scampering off. But she only charged me fifty-two-hundred-eleven, which I was informed was quite the deal. 

So all in all, I would rate My Daughter’s Hair Salon 13/10. Highly recommend. 

Although that could be the brain damage talking. 

3 Comments

Posted in Beauty, Family, funny, Humor, Parenting

Tagged , , , , , ,