Monthly Archives: September 2012

The Dessert Let Down…

And just like that my dreams of whether to give half a package of Oreo’s, a ginormous bowl of cookies and cream ice cream, a bag of peanut M & M’s or a couple of Hostess cupcakes a home inside my belly crumbled. Soon after, a tear fell from my eye.


Mommy Epiphany #768,325:

After much consideration over the past seven years, there is officially no doubt in my mind that the local icream truck driver has a CTS (child tracking system) in his mobile freezer of sugary treats that has the extraordinary ability to locate my kids no matter where there are in town which then prompts him to drive up along side them blasting his obnoxious brain-washing jingles which then reults in him tempting them with his ice creamy goodness and finally, cause category 5 tantrums when Mommy ultimately denies the kids a digustingly gross artificially flavored Dora ice pop with black gumball eyes that stain the children’s mouths for at least four days afterwards.
<plots Mommy revenge while deciding if tire slashing or sugar in the gas tank will be her weapon of choice>

Ready, Set…SCHOOL!

Dear Children,
Another school year has officially begun. I hope you have an amazing first day of school and fully enjoy your crust-trimmed pb & j sandwiches made with Mommy love at lunch today. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have 5 hours and 32 minutes of silence to bask in. See you soon.
With Love,
PS: Those were tears of sadness you saw falling from my eyes as you walked through the school doors. And in case you were also wondering, I sometimes do a dance and cheer when I cry.

Telephone Trouble…

Without Fail.
Every f#*king time I pick up the phone.
True story.

15,000+ and Counting…(What the What?!)

Once upon a time I bought a notebook to document all the hysterically funny, unbelievable, shocking, tear-jerking, and insane things my kids did and said. Then, I decided to turn that notebook into a blog. Next, I paid a visit to Facebook and created Where’s the f#*king mommy manual?. When I realized I had 100 fans, I was shocked. When I reached 500, I was blown away. When I hit 1,000, I was in complete awe that so many people would take the time to read about my Mommy tantrums. Fast foward nine months to today…there are 15,000+ of you here and I want to take a moment to thank you all for being here, for your sarcasm, your wit, your honesty and your kind words. Thank you all for proving to me I am not alone on this crazy roller coaster ride called parenthood.
And to all those pages out there I love to read, have shown me love and keep me laughing on a daily basis…a big thank you to all of you as well. Scary Mommy, PaRANThood, Holdin’ Holden, Mary Tyler Mom, I Want a Dumpster Baby, Joy of Mom, Ninja Mom, Inside the Mind of a Ghetto Genius, ~My Inner Child Is a Drunken Whore~


Mommy: “Camryn, I have some sad news. Your great-great-uncle Hal died. So, tomorrow we will be going over Grandma and Grandpa’s house to spend time with the whole family.

Camryn, 6: (dramatic silent pause) “Oh. That’s really sad. Hey Mom…actually, would it be okay if I made a rip sign to bring over?”

Daddy: “What the heck’s a rip sign?”

Mommy: (shakes head) “Uh, Cam, are we talking rip as in a sign that says R.I.P on it?

Camryn, 6: “Okay, okay, forget it.”

Mommy and Daddy: “Forgotten.”

Dear Mrs. Know-It-All Mom…

Yep. I’m talking to you Mrs. Know-It-All Mom with the out of control kid telling me how to raise my kid. Now, zip it and carry on. Ain’t nobody got time for your bullshit up in here…

We Need a Mommy Timeout Over Here…STAT!

When the act of dragging my fat ass to the gym to sweat like a pig all over the treadmill rates up there with a two week vacation to a secluded tropical island it clearly means one thing…this mommy is in desperate need of a timeout.
<stuffs the girls into sports bra and heads for the hills…>

This one goes out to my daughter, Camryn…

To the three-year-old girl who simply wouldn’t hear of standing next to a bar to learn first position, so instead breakdanced her way through her first and last ballet lesson. To the four-year-old girl who came across a wombat stuffed animal in the toy store and chose to buy him over all the cute, fuzzy teddy bears and floppy eared puppy stuffed animals. To the five-year-old girl who prefers to draw pictures of stingrays, the life cycle of seeds and pygmy marmosets over princesses, unicorns and hearts. To the six-year-old girl I am damn proud to call my daughter. May she always sparkle, follow her heart and chase her dreams…

An Open Letter To Playground Bullies…

Dear playground bullies…
Consider yourself warned.
Yours truly,

Let’s Be Honest…

Because let’s be honest here…no matter what you post, the only way I’m running a marathon is if a mass murderer is chasing me with an ax in his hand, someone is dangling a bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter cups in front of me or the prize for crossing the finish line is a trip to a secluded tropical island where children are not permitted, bottomless margaritas are served 24/7 and getting up before 10:00 am is unheard of. How’s that for inspiration?

Mommy Boot Camp In Full Effect…

I am almost certain that the extremely pregnant woman we encountered in aisle eight of Target glanced down at her huge belly and proceeded to say a prayer upon bearing witness to one of four-year-old Olivia’s infamous category five temper tantrums. That poor lady came in to Target with her mom-to-be glow and her main priority being to shop for a bottle of shampoo. Thanks to her sneak preview into the world of the tantrums, she ended up leaving frazzled, weary, shocked and empty-handed. Thanks to Olivia’s sneak preview into motherhood, the woman was last seen running, at full speed, towards the nearest library on a mission to get her desperate hands on a copy of the F#*king Mommy Manual…

Parenthood. Simply stated.

Here’s to hoping I succeed in doing my part to make society a better place. <crosses fingers>

Not-So-Proud Mommy Moment #786,458:

Today I meticulously vacuumed every single floor in my house…not because the floors were actually in need of being cleaned, but to temporarily drown out the whining, bickering and never-ending flow of demands coming from the children.

Yep. True story.
<hangs head in shame while admiring the spotless floors>

A Saturday Night Toast to Successful Bedtimes… (For Miracles Truly Do Happen)

And tonight, the joy of not having to endure four-year-old Olivia having multiple bedroom exits for a glass of water, to use the potty for the sixth time in the last five minutes, to request another glass of water, to give one last hug, to tell me she finally remembered that really important thing she wanted to tell me but forgot before which is that I forgot to put “air conditioner” in her hair at bathtime today because my first attempt at putting her to bed was a success…well, that just takes joy to a whole new level. Bottoms up!

Mommy Tantrum #99,846:

I will never truly comprehend and completely loathe the power and skill that a four-year-old possesses to smuggle 99.9% of the sand from the beach to the inside of my home by way of her hair, the crotch of her bathing suit, her shoes, her towel, both of her ears and her left nostril. Without fail. Every f#*king time.
<fires up the vacuum>

Mommy’s Teetering on the Ledge…of Sanity.

Mommy: “Wow! I can’t freaking take it anymore today. I am so done! How much longer til school starts?!”
Olivia, 4: “What you say?”
Mommy: “I said Mommy loves you, dear. Now carry on and go continue to do your job of making a complete mess of everything I just cleaned in this house so I can freak out again about fifteen minutes from now.”
Olivia, 4: “Um, ok.”

Cupcakes in a Bottle…

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any easier for us moms who consider baking to be making cupcakes that come from a box…somewhere out there a fellow mommy gave birth to this ingenious idea and has now made life that much easier for moms around the globe. And for that, I would like to present to her the Mommy Inspired Invention Award of the Year. Hats off to you wise lady and next time I “bake” you get the first cupcake.

What Mommy Says vs. What Kid Hears…

And some of my own personal faves which include, but are not limited to…
What Mommy Says: “Go brush your teeth.”
What Kid Hears: “Go fill the sink with soap bubbles and flood the entire bathroom floor.”
What Mommy Says: “Go pick out an outfit to wear for today.”
What Kid Hears: “Rip apart every single drawer in your dresser and scatter the contents of them across your bedroom floor.”
What Mommy Says: “Go clean your room.”
What Kid Hears: “Scoop everything up from the floor and  forcefully shove it under your bed, into drawers and in your closet.”
*Now, it’s your turn. What do you say and what do they actually hear? GO!

Mommy Epiphany #45,685:

Stealing fifteen minutes of extra sleep time for yourself after your kids have awoken and are galloping and yelling around the house in the morning is guaranteed to  bring you at least double that amount of time in disaster clean up. Epic mommy fail. Lesson learned.

Don’t Mess With Mommy’s Pedicure Time…

That infuriating moment when you try to recapture your piece of Mommy zen after the nail technician doing your pedicure yells out something in another language while pointing at your toes which results in every other worker in the salon pointing and staring at you while laughing uncontrollably.
*Note to self: Put learning to speak their language on the top of the to-do list. Beware nail people…Mommy’s coming to get ya.

Do As I Say, Not As I Do…

That moment when you are completely appalled and rendered speechless at how obnoxious your child is being to you and the sting that follows soon after as you come to realize they learned it by watching you during one of your infamous Mommy tantrums. Yeah, that shameful moment…at least once a day around these parts.
<hangs head in shame and slips into a “I kinda suck at this whole Mom thing” self pity party>

Let the Countdown Begin…

There are approximately 186 hours, 48 minutes and 56 seconds until the joyous sound of school bells chiming will fill the air, but I mean, who’s counting? This. Gal. Right. Here. That’s who.

186 hours, 48 minutes and 12 seconds…

Mommy’s Lesson of the Day:

Before deciding to kick back, enjoy the silence and mindlessly browse Pinterest when your children run off upstairs to “play with dress up clothes,” be sure to ask them whose clothes they have in mind for their latest activity. My closet will never be the same. And that, my fellow mommies…is one to grow on.