ME: Zoey, get dressed.
ZOEY: I don’t know what to wear.
ME: You have a closet full of clothes. Just pick something.
(I come back two minutes later and she’s standing in the exact same spot.)
ME: Zoey, please get dressed. And don’t forget to put on new underwear. Continue reading
Okay, so I have an awesome husband. Like he totally kicks ass, and if I ask him to do something like pack a lunch or toss the laundry into the dryer, he’ll do it without complaint. But that’s the problem. I have to ask him. Urrrggghhh, it is SOOOOOO annoying. And half the time I end up asking him in a super passive-aggressive way with a noticeable eye roll.
Husbands are clueless (gross generalization but I guarantee most of you are nodding your heads). Not because they’re genuinely stupid or anything. They’re just wired differently. It would never occur to my husband to ask for a gift receipt, or to pick up my daughter’s skating costume, or to dress Holden in a decent shirt because it’s picture day. It’s not his fault really. I’m pretty sure it’s a physiological difference between men and women. But I end up doing like 99% of the shit around here (I’m totally exaggerating, it’s more like 95%) just because lots of stuff occurs to me that never even occurs to him.
Dear person who is selling Rodan and Fields, Arbonne, Mary Kay, Botox, fillers, or any other miracle products,
So yesterday I got an email from one of you. An unsolicited message. I didn’t reach out to you and I’ve never bought products from you before. And this is what you said:
Your eyes are looking a little tired. I have a wonderful cream I’d like to share with you that could perk them up.
So every year I arrive at school for “meet the teacher” and it’s the same thing. A ton of moms show up with their giant Container Store bags full of fancy shit to decorate their daughter’s lockers. And this year was no different. I watched multiple moms deck out their kids’ lockers with wallpaper, carpeting, mirrors, twinkle lights, fancy magnets, white boards, magnetic pencil holders, chandeliers (that actually light up!!), etc etc etc etc. I mean come onnnnn, seriously, people??!! It’s the second grade!!!
This is actually one of the tamer ones.
Dear Amy Schumer,
So last week we went on vacation. Nothing fancy. Just a place that’s driving distance so I can over-pack twice as much crap as we need into my disgusting minivan, and avoid the TSA lines because TSA lines with kids is basically like traveling to hell to get an enema with tobasco sauce.
Anyways, here’s the thing. We were on this beach and all of these svelte moms were walking around in their teeny bikinis and looking all hot-to-trot and at first I was totally embarrassed and kept my cover-up on. Then all of the sudden as I’m standing there dreading taking off my cover-up (FYI, this happened BEFORE I had a piña colada so it was not the alcohol speaking), I had this random epiphany.
Play dates are AWESOME… if (and this is a BIG if) IF the kid plays nicely with your kid without too much intervention. Because some kids are super easy and you’re able to get shit done around the house while they play, but some kids make your life a living hell until they leave and you add one more name to the list of munchkins you’re never inviting over again. So without further ado, drum roll please, badadadadadadada, may I present ten different kinds of play dates your kid might have over:
1. The kid who constantly wants another snack
Ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding!!!
Holy crap, WHAT is going on? Why the heck is my phone going crazy and getting flooded with text messages? Seriously, I put it down for 14 seconds in the other room and now there are 74 messages. I wish I were kidding. And then I remember why. Awwwww shit, guess what just arrived in our mailboxes today? Teacher assignments.
Yup, today is the day that moms all across my neighborhood wait at their front doors drooling like Cujo and when their mail carrier arrives they charge out of their house and pounce on him like he’s been rubbed down in juicy meat.
So back in the day before I had kids, I used to read semi-intellectual stuff. The New York Times, JD Salinger books, other things that I can’t remember because my brain is fried. But nowadays, I read fun shit. Like People magazine.
Yup, pretty much every day I get a good case of the FIBS (Fake Irritable Bowel Syndrome) and I make the hubby watch the douchenuggets while I lock myself in the bathroom and fake poop for as long as I can while I dive into an outdated copy of People Magazine. It’s like total brain candy reading about the stars who look younger than me, dress cooler than me, and who have wayyyy more money than me.
And near the end of every issue, this is what I see. A page dedicated to one celebrity’s daily diet. I don’t mean like they’re on a diet. Apparently this is what they eat every day like normally. And I’m like WHAT??!!! Grilled salmon on a bed of chia seeds with dehydrated kale chips that are sprinkled in protein powder, followed by 94 ounces of water to flush out the toxins?
Okay little buddy. You know how you’re always saying you want to marry me? Well, if anything ever happens to your Daddy, I’m all about it. But let’s just say things go according to plan and your Daddy and I both grow old together until he has one of those saggy old men butts and my boobs rest on my feet when we walk slowly down the sidewalk together hand-in-hand, like those cute old couples I always admire.
That means you’re gonna need to meet someone besides me. Which means you’re gonna have to date a bunch of women (or guys if that’s what you’re into) to find the right person. And I know you don’t have to listen to me, but I’ve been around the block a few thousand times, so here’s a little advice for when you start dating:
Step right up, step right up and play the newest game on the market– The Mommy Game!! It’s fun, it’s therapeutic, and best of all, it’s free!!!
How to play…
Every time someone says Mommy, take a drink.
Every time you have to use someone’s middle name, take a drink.
Every time someone says wipe me, take a drink.