One guy just straw-stabbed and shot-gunned an entire Capri Sun in ten seconds. Another dude is sloppy swallowing cupcakes way past his personal capacity. Someone tells him he’s had enough and he throws a fit like a total baby. There’s always that certain point past which each burp threatens to become barf. Some girl dances to… Continue reading Rugrat Rager & The Half-Pint Heathens
Along the way I stumbled upon an enticing promise of a flat belly, drank cabbage soup for three days, watched my pooch deflate, and then gained three pounds when I sniffed near an Arby’s. Enough is enough, Internets. These fast-fix tales are false. You whispered sweet nothings in my lazy ear for far too long. I threw down a plastic tarp, strapped on my rubber gloves, and set out to do the dirtywork. I mean bathroom business.
When people learn that my son was over 10 pounds at birth, they usually get this horrified and empathetic face about them. They speak consolatory words while inadvertently staring at my crotch. I never understood this because a push is a push. A hole is a hole, and a head is a head. But… Continue reading Oh, The Places You’ll Go! : Straight to Hell Edition
The boy was perfectly well behaved. Mama got chocolate wasted. How did you spend Halloween?
My kid is better than all kids. This thought, stuffed full of ego and superiority and such, has kept me sane throughout my first year-and-then-some as a mother. I’ve secretly delighted in the whoop-ass shaming local toddlers cast upon their frazzled mamas in parking lots and sandwich shops, public restrooms and detergent aisles.… Continue reading blame it on the juice