A Disney Cruise: The truth, the whole truth and nuthin’ but the truth


Wahhhhhh, I am SO mad at Disney. Like seriously pissed off. They have made coming back to reality after our cruise crazy hard. But Mama’s gotta bring home the bacon to pay for things… like another cruise. Anyways, we were cruise virgins before this one, so I’d be an a-hole not to share what I learned in case you’re thinking about taking one yourself. And in case you can’t tell from words like a-hole and virgin, this is not sponsored, so it will be very truthful. Here goes. Ten things I learned about taking a Disney cruise:

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Why Newtown changed me forever

Doo doo doo doo doooooo, driving home from the library where I just dropped off eleven books that were just a few days late and one book that was due seventeen weeks ago but I didn’t know about it until the library called me to ask me where the F it was so I had to search around the house like a maniac and finally found it under Holden’s mattress. WTF, kid, it’s a book about ferrets, not a Playboy.

Hmmm, maybe I’ll take a longer route home. You know, because it’s the scenic route. Bwhahahahaha. There is no such thing as the scenic route in our town. Ohhhh, look at the beautiful sunset over DSW. Seriously, that’s as pretty as it gets. Not that I haven’t bought some seriously beautiful shoes there.

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A Letter to My Kids’ Teachers


Dear Mr. or Ms. Badass,

Yeah, I know that’s not really your name, but I’m calling you that. Because you, my friend, are amazing. Wait, that doesn’t do your amazingness justice. You, are SOOO F’ING AMAAAAAZINGGGGGG!!!!!!

Yeah, I know I probably shouldn’t curse to my kid’s teacher, so give me a detention or suspend me or whatever you want to do about it, but I’m done pussy-footing around. I mean I run into you at school or in the carpool line and I’m all tongue-tied like a love-struck pubescent boy and you probably think I don’t have vocal chords or something, but I actually do. I’m just a mom who is speechless with gratitude.

I mean let’s just talk about what you do for a minute. You watch other people’s crotchfruit allllllll day long. Yeah, like WE had sex, WE got knocked up, WE brought some little a-holes into this world, but YOU take care of them more hours in the day than WE do. Seriously, I just did the math. Unless you’re Michelle Duggar, taking care of TWENTY little kids all day is pretty much akin to Chinese water torture, only instead of drops of water dripping on your face over and over again until your forehead looks like a donut, you’re bombarded with snot and boogers and lice and drool and annoying questions and if their fingers aren’t up their nose to the second knuckle, their hands are up their shorts doing God knows what to some other orifice. And even after all that, you still love the little boogersnots and take care of them better than their own parents do half the time.

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My hubby and I probably don’t have sex enough

So please don’t tell anyone this (especially not my hubby) but there are like a million reasons I don’t want to have sex tonight. Wait, that’s not exactly what I mean. I mean I do want to have sex, but there are like a crapload of other things I’d rather do instead.

Like I’d rather go to bed early. I know that sounds ridiculously lame, but we didn’t get a full night’s sleep for like 5+ years, so I’m still catching up. And I lovvvve sleeping. Like if you gave me the chance to meet the Queen of England but it was at 11PM, I might pause to decide whether it’s worth it.

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ALL babies are beautiful, even the ones who look a little different

So when Zoey came out of me, she was gorrrrrgeous. I mean yeah, she was covered in blood and a disgusting cheese-like substance and her face was all swollen like all babies are when they are born, but once she was cleaned off I thought she was the most gorgeous, wonderful, beautiful sight I had ever laid my eyes on. See?


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Ten ways mediocre moms are changing the world!! (they just might not know it)

Okay, so if you’re anything like me, you’re not winning any mom-of-the-year trophies, and maybe you feel a little bad about that. But here’s the thing. Don’t. I know it’s hard when you see these overachieving moms doing all kinds of impressive things on Facebook and Pinterest every day. But mediocre moms are awesome too, and here’s why:

1. Mediocre moms don’t shower every day. And guess what that means? We’re using less water. And that, my friend, is good for a little something we call Mother Earth.

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An important message from Baby Sideburns

Hi. It’s me. Duhh, who else would be writing my blog? I mean yeah I guess there are plenty of pages that have lots of different writers but not here. Nope, here I pretty much do it all. I guess it all started because I like to write. And then when my audience started to grow, I found out writing is even more fun when you have people who like to read your shit. So thank you for reading my shit. Seriously, THANK YOU!!!!!! You make this writing gig so worth it.

Anyways, you probably know this already, but I wrote a new book. Like a NEW book. Not like a bunch of shit I’ve shared on here and then smashed into a book. We’re talking 95% new material that has never been seen by anyone. 320 hilarious pages. Wait, that’s a lie. Like 300 hilarious pages and about 20 serious ones. With fifty-five chapters (not a typo, as in 5-5), plus a bunch of hilarious pictures and funny quips like this one:

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Awww crap, someone in your kid’s class has strep

Ding! There it is. A new email sitting in your inbox. “Someone in your kid’s class has strep throat.” And one word goes through your head. F**K!!!!!!!!! The email just says some unnamed mystery kid in the class has strep and then it goes on and on and on about what strep is. And you’re like no shit Sherlock, I know what strep is. But who the hell has it? Is it someone my kid hangs out with? Has the kid been to my house in the past week? Basically you just told me to worry, watch and wait for the plague to show up. I am so sick of these vague, unhelpful letters. Because if I were a teacher and someone had strep throat in my class, here is the email I would send home to the parents:

Dear parent,

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Ten white lies I tell my kids that really aren’t white at all

1. I say things like, “No, honey, I have no idea where your xylophone is,” when really I know exactly where it is. In the bag of toys I just dropped off at Goodwill.

2. When they’re eating something yummy like ice cream or pizza, I tell them I need to check it and make sure it’s not poisonous before they take a bite. And sometimes I even need to double check it because I might have tasted a little poison and I need to make sure again.

3. My daughter used to suck her thumb until I told her the birthday police weren’t gonna let her turn six if she didn’t stop. She pulled it out right away.

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My four-year-old knows a bully when he sees one


Dear Unnamed Presidential Candidate,

So yesterday I had the news on in the kitchen when my four-year-old came into the room. Now since the news was talking about the presidential race and not something scary like war or murder or missing airplanes, I left it on. I like that my kids are learning a little about our democracy. Anyway, he was watching the TV when you came on stage. You spoke, he watched. You were passionate, he listened. And then suddenly you were interrupted by a protestor, and that’s when it got bad. You started calling the protestor a little guy and saying, “Go home to Mommy! Go home to Mommy! Tell her to tuck you in bed.” You had a roomful of people who were on your side, and yet you continued to mock him. And I saw my son’s face go from curiosity to being visibly upset. Like there were actual tears in his eyes when he looked at me and said, “He’s being mean.” Not tough. Not strong. Not presidential. Mean. Now my four-year-old son might not understand half of what goes on in this election (thank God), but he definitely understands something you don’t. How to treat other people. And more importantly, how NOT to.


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