Random Thoughts in the School Pick-Up Line

  1. Why am I always at the end of this freaking line?

  2. My phone’s almost out of batteries. Cool.

  3. What the hell am I going to make for dinner tonight?

  4. Ooh, look at that lady’s cute short haircut.

  5. Maybe I should cut my hair like that.

  6. Nah, I’d probably look like The Karate Kid.

  7. Maybe I’ll make spaghetti tonight.

  8. Oh there’s that sexy dad. How you doin?

  9. I wonder if he’d mind if I just sat on his lap for a minute.

  10. Ugh…I’ve only got 3% battery left on this stupid phone.

  11. I hate this damn phone.

  12. I hate spaghetti.

  13. Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there.

  14. Okay bell…ring. Ring muthafucka ring muthafucka ring!

  15. I’m never going to get out of here.

  16. Ooh…that lady’s dress is SO cute!

  17. I should wear dresses.

  18. I wish I had some chocolate.

  19. Maybe instead of spaghetti, I’ll make tacos tonight…from Taco Bell.

  20. Oh man, I need to pluck my eyebrows. I look like Chewbacca.

  21. My pores are huge, you could play putt putt golf in these things.

  22. Okay seriously, either my clock is wrong, or the bell is not ringing on time.

  23. What is that smell?

  24. Did we leave leftovers in here somewhere?

  25. Ooh, look…The Robinson’s got a new car.

  26. My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard…

  27. Okay seriously, this bell needs to ring because I have to pee.

  28. That lady over there looks just like Star Jones.

  29. Whatever happened to Star Jones?

  30. Thank God. The bell’s ringing.

  31. And here comes the stampede.

  32. I mean would it hurt these people to scoot up just a teeny tiny bit to make room for us at the end?

  33. Good Lord, I can’t imagine letting my daughter wear shorts that short. What is she, one of The Junior Pussycat Dolls?

  34. Okay guys, let’s move.

  35. Move your asses!

  36. What in the ever loving hell is that smell?

  37. Okay, like 200 kids have passed by me and none of them are mine.

  38. I think I see one of mine.

  39. Nope, not him.

  40. Hey there’s my friend Lori…hi there! (wave)

  41. Oh crap that wasn’t her.

  42. I’m going to pretend I’m swatting a fly so that woman won’t think I’m crazy.

  43. Too late. She thinks I’m crazy.

  44. Where are my freaking kids?

  45. I have to pee so bad.

  46. There’s one of mine.

  47. I hope their teachers don’t need to come talk to me, because I don’t want them to catch a whiff of whatever died in the back of this minivan.

  48. Okay…my phone is now completely dead. Awesome.

  49. There’s my other kid.

  50. That little boy over there looks like that cute little kid from Jerry Maguire.

  51. Alright, hurry up dude.

  52. Everything is awesome, everything is cool when you’re part of a team.

  53. Come on guys, sometime today…

  54. I think they purposely walk slow to annoy me.

  55. Slow as mol-ass-es…

  56. Okay, no teachers are coming…so that’s good.

  57. O.M.G. This dude in front of me is going to have scoot up or I’m going to have to tap that ass of his Ford Focus, 30 day tags or not. I don’t give a f*ck.

  58. I’m literally going to piss myself.

  59. Here they are.

  60. I missed them today.

  61. I see two kids, but only one backpack.

  62. I’m going to pretend like that’s not happening.

  63. Now let’s get the hell out of here before they notice its missing and my bladder explodes.

And that concludes my thoughts while waiting in the pick-up line. I’ll be there again tomorrow, same time, same place in the dirty minivan, in the back of the line. I just hope I can figure out what the hell that smell is by then.

Like it if you like it, and thanks for reading my posts because you are the sh*t!

Dear Chatty Cathy,

                   I get it. You want to relax. I see you have a friend there on the bench with you. Playdate, huh? It sure is a great day to be at the park. I’m sure you are catching up, aren’t ya? It’s great to have friends. We moms definitely need our friend time. You are so engrossed in conversation that you feel like a person again, because you’ve done nothing but play with kids since like…forever. I get it. But guess what? We have a wee bit of a problem here…your son is a dick and will most likely grow up to be a serial killer.

Did that sound mean? Well shit. I’m sorry. But it got your attention didn’t it? I’m glad it did, because the fact that your older and larger son just hit my toddler in the face and threw mulch in his eyes sure didn’t. So this here is where the problem lies, I want your kid to quit hurting mine. Is that too much to ask?

I’m sure you are exhausted. That little dandy of a child probably leaves you no down time. Guess what? I totally understand. He’s sure cute. But he’s mean as fuck. No no…I know how much you love him. I respect that and I’m sure he’s just having a bad day. All kids hit at some point, right? In fact, this is my youngest and I have two older boys. So m’lady…I know they can act like little psychopaths, especially in public. I’m sure that he is so sweet when you are at home alone and he gets all cuddly and says all kinds of cute shit. I know you probably dress him up in outfits and post pictures of him for all of your friends to “like” on Facebook. I’m also sure that while you are totally busy gabbing away, that I saw him put another kid in a choke hold and just FYI: he pushed your friend’s little girl off the slide and she’s crying. Yeah, he’s a doll. Just adorable.

Now that you know this keen information, I’d like to offer my advice. Please don’t mistake this for judgment. I am on your team. Moms have to stick together, ya know. Okay, are you ready? Here it goes:


See, I told you. I’m not judging. In fact, I’m pretty sure we could be pals. We could invite your friend and we could be a trio. The Three Amigos! We could set up play dates with the kids and go to terrible bounce-house places and we could all get the strep throat together. It’s just that before we can do that, you got to watch that kid of yours. I’m pretty sure my kid isn’t going to want to play with him. You know how I know that? Because my kid is crying and running for his life. Perhaps, if you’d, get off your ass and watch your fucking kid, then you could put a stop to his violence and my kid wouldn’t be terrified of yours. Maybe then, there’d be hope of them developing some sort of rapport, if you will.

If you aren’t interested in my offer of friendship, then no hard feelings. In that case, take this additional piece of advice. It’s okay to be socializing at the park, we all need a break. It’s okay to let our kids go play and be independent. However, glance up once in a while. If you let your kid kick everyone’s ass at the park, not only will innocent kids get hurt, but that lovey of yours isn’t going to learn how to be nice, and no one is going to want to play with him. Not much fun for the little Ted Bundy, now is it? If you have a hitter, or an aggressive child, it doesn’t mean that they will always be this way. Just get off your ass and make him be nice. Trust me, I’ve had a hitter, and it took some work, but now things are going quite swimmingly. Some kids just need a little help learning how to interact with other kids and that’s okay. That’s what you are there for. See how that works? So get up Buttercup. Don’t just do it for me and my kid. Do it for you and yours.

To All The Rockstar Moms…

Hey lady. What up? Your kids won’t sleep? That sucks. But it won’t stop you, will it? You work all day and party all night. This my friend, is because you…yes YOU…are an effing ROCK STAR!

You are serving up drinks all night (water at 1 a.m.), making booty calls (bathroom visits) and flashing your breastesses (nursing) all over the place. You are the badass that makes it rain with kisses and love and shit up in here, and let’s not forget how you’ve been known to drop a few beats. Your version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star is the stuff legends are made of. Especially how you put that bravado on the end, I mean please.

But that’s how you roll. You TCOB. Shit, you haven’t slept in months, maybe years, but that doesn’t stop you. You lay still as stiff as a board on that neglected bed with one ear open until you hear the wail on the monitor and you are up, up, on your feet for the third time in four hours. Go on with your bad self. Get that baby back to sleep so that you can get up again when the other kid needs you. You know damn good and well that you’re tired but you’re also a boss, applesauce. You know that dozing off is like breaking the seal and it’s best to just throw your hands up in the air and wave ‘em like you just don’t care. Sleep is for the weak and you…YOU. ARE. A. BEAST.

In the morning you look good enough already, so you don’t need a shower. Besides, being the VIP that you are, you have places to go and people to see. The other moms are counting on you to bring Goldfish to playgroup cuz you know how your posse gets the munchies, right? Look at you. Effing rockstar. You also have errands to run, and by errands, I mean who the hell else could get through the grocery store with a headbangin mosh pit like yours? Your kids want to party too. They want fruit snacks? Hook it up. They want Sun Chips? You got a coupon for that, so Hook. That. Shit. Up! Yeah, you take care of your entourage. You got their backs. You even have wet wipes in case someone gets too turnt. (I’m not exactly sure what that means)

The most amazing thing of all, is that you can put groceries away, make it to whatever practices or activities your kids have (fashionably late of course), have a kick-ass Lego party and get dinner on the table with NO sleep. What’s up now?! I said what’s up now?! That’s what I thought. Hells yeah. Once you clean that shit up, give baths and put the kids to bed, you’re so tired that you can’t see straight and feel like you’ve chugged a RedBull laced with Roofies. That my friend, is called adrenaline. That’s what’s running through your veins. That’s your fuel and that’s what’s gonna get you through another night of partying. So raise your glasses.

To all the mommies in the house come on, let me hear ya say, “Aww yeah”

“Aww yeah”

To all the daddies in the house come on, let me hear ya say, “My Wife Rocks”

……What? Where’s Daddy? Wait, he’s sleeping? Oh. Okay. That figures. Wake his ass up! Invite him to the party. The more the merrier. No I’m serious. It’s HIS effing turn. Get him up and you just lay down and get some sleep. I know. I know. But seriously girl, you gotta get some rest. I said, go to sleep. Shit. Quit arguing and go the hell to sleep. Give baby daddy the monitor and shut your eyes. I’m not messing around. You’ve been doing too much partying. Now Goodnight! I said Good NIGHT!

Rockstar primadonna mamas…think they know everything….

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The Vada Diaries (Short Stories and Confessions of a Crazy Mother) is FREE Aug12th-15th on Amazon Kindle! Click here on this big giant book, because I can’t figure out how to make it smaller. Oh my that’s big!


10 Things That Make You Go Hmm…

  1. The piss that gets down on the sides and by the bolts of the toilet and you know it wasn’t you because you are a female and your lady bits cannot physically export urine down and around the sides of the toilet like that…but you still clean it up.

  2. When you take a sip of your kid’s drink and you can actually chew the contents.

  3. In a movie theater when you are there with your kids and super tall-man-giraffe sits right in front of your small child even though you are the only two families in the entire theater.

  4. When you step on a wet spot on your carpet and shiver.

  5. Smart cars.

  6. Looking at pics of people’s family vacations on Facebook and seeing how happy they are, but on your family trip it was miserable because one of your kids had fever and you and your hubby weren’t speaking because he can’t focus.

  7. The temperature at your “women’s visits.” It always so sweaty hot that by the time the doctor comes in that he has to peel you open as you’ve melted together.

  8. When people post something on Facebook like this, “Paulina is feeling-enraged.” And you are like, why? Wouldn’t Paulina say why she’s enraged? If I ask, would that be rude? Maybe she wants to keep her rage private?! But then why would she post it? 


  9. The fact that people willingly run for office.

  10. When there is a bike lane, yet the bicyclists still use the car lane…in traffic…causing all the cars to almost crash because they are avoiding the dude in the tight shorts who is NOT using the bike lane.

Hmm….that’s all I can say. If you like it then bitch-slap that button down there! Thanks! 

What I’d Really Say If I Had Any Balls

These Are Not The Kind I’m Talking About

The random lady at the grocery store:

Did you actually name your son Rowdy?

Me: Yep, (smile) I sure did.

Real response: Yes, and I will actually kick you in your twat. Btw, write down your number for me, because if I ever decide to carry another child for nine months and then give birth to them, I wanna give you a call and see if you approve of the name I choose, Miss Random Lady at the Grocery Store.

The (first time) pregnant lady at the pool laying out:

Aww…your kids are so cute!

Me: Oh thank you. You are so cute pregnant!

Real response: Oh lovey. Oh sweet precious girl. First of all, thank you, but more importantly, you need to stop looking at these kids. Just focus on your tan. This is the last time you will be able to do this for YEARS! No kids now. Just sun. Shhh…lay down. Hush now….that’s it. Shh….sun. Good girl.

The employee at Sonic happy hour:

Would you like any mozzarella sticks to go with your Diet Coke today?

Me: No thanks, not today.

Real response: Yes I would, actually. I’d like them in my mouth hole. I’d also like a chocolate shake, a corndog, and any thing else in that little hut of yours that is fried and can give me a heart attack…but see, I have to get this ass into a swimsuit girl. So unless I ask for any of it by name, then shut your face and bring me my goddam Diet Coke!

 Judgy person I barely know who overheard my story about the casino:

I just don’t understand throwing money away like that. I couldn’t do it.

Me: Well, I have problems. (chuckle chuckle)

Real response: Well it’s a good thing you don’t go to casinos bitch, because with my luck I would probably get stuck at a machine right next to you and you would want to “chat.” Walk away fun-hater. Walk away. That’s right…loser.

Everyone of the people at Target staring as my toddler throws a gigantic ridiculous fit because he doesn’t want to sit down in the cart:

Stares and glares and a few loud gasps.

Me: Oh…he just needs a nap. (forced smile)

Real response: Fuck you all! Quit looking at me! What is wrong with you people, haven’t you ever seen a baby do a back handspring in a shopping cart before? Why don’t you get out score cards and rate his performance you critical pieces of horse shit!

The nurse at the doctor’s office:

Okay, why don’t you hop up there on the scale…

Me: Okay sure, should I set down my purse?

Real response: Why don’t you? I’ll tell you what…you hop on up there, and I’ll do it after you. Only you can “hop up” and on my turn, I’ll scowl and hunch over in a pissy-like fashion and we’ll see if hopping proves to make it a more enjoyable experience. Oh, and I’ll write your results down on a piece of paper for my records. Btw, I am not mad at you, I am mad at me.

 The creepy guy at the stoplight who winks and won’t stop staring:

Me: Awkward smile, pretend to mess with my phone

Real response: Oh yeah, you like this? You want it, huh? You sure about that? I haven’t showered in two days and I got a car full of kids. You wanna be their daddy do ya? Well good, start by giving me money to feed them and then sleep down on the bunkbed with my husband. My bed’s been taken over by minions. Ya asshole.

 It’s probably a good thing I’m a medicated piece of chicken shit. Come to think of it, there is a reason we have internal dialogues, or none of us would have any friends. In fact, several of us would definitely be in jail. ;)

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Mommy Broke the Law

I ripped through the paper wrapper like a mad dog and jammed the straw into the plastic lid. Slurp…perfection. I had felt the start of a caffeine headache coming on and that Diet Coke was just what the doctor ordered. My three little wee ones (let’s call them Numbers 1, 2 , and 3 in birth order, not favoritism I swear) were all happily strapped in behind me in my Town and Country sipping their morning beverages. All was well. We were headed back home.

Blue and red lights began blinking in my rear view mirror. Oh motherfucker I thought. Is he pulling me over? Why yes he is. I found a patch of gravel by the lake off to the right and pulled my vehicle safely to the side.



“What’s happening Mommy?” asked Number 2.

“Oh honey, it’s okay, I think I was speeding,” I replied.

1 and 2 looked behind us and see the policeman sitting in his car.

“Oh no!” cried Number 2, “Are you going to go to jail?”

“Just drive off! Go Mom…Go!” yelled Number 1.

“Boys, it’s fine,” I said calmly. “I’m not going to jail. I was probably going a bit too fast.”

I looked and in the side view mirror and saw a stout little man from the city police department. He was slightly waddling and fidgeting with his waistband. How cliché. I put on my sweetest grin.

“Ma’am, I got you at 42 at the top of the hill and by the bottom you were up to 47. The speed limit here is 35.”

“Oh darn it,” I said sincerely. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize it. That hill is tricky,” I chuckled merrily.

“Okay, I’m gonna need your license and insurance.”

I pulled out my insurance slip that had been stained with some sort of cola or coffee-like substance. He reached out his sausage link fingers and snatched them up, walking back to his car. He hadn’t been exactly “friendly” however I was sure he would come back, tell me to slow down a bit and to have a great day. A simple warning was all.

“I swear you are going to jail!” said Number 1.

“What’s going to happen to us? He is so mean!” yelled Number 2.

Number 3 (who is just a little squirt) was blissfully unaware. He sat and looked around with a binky in his mouth. I turned around and faced the kids.

“You see boys, I was speeding, Mommy broke the law. The police officer has every right to pull me over because this is what happens when grown-ups break the law. He is just doing his job. He has to remind people to slow down. I will have to make sure I watch my speed from now on. This is all my fault.”

I was still smiling all while teaching the kids a very important lesson. Talk about keeping my cool. Besides, I knew the boy in blue would come back and pat my windshield, like a soft pat to the ass and tell me to scoot on down the road. A friendly vocal reminder is all that was going to happen. I watched my side mirror and saw him toddle himself out of the car. He came back up to my window and handed me a slip along with my license and insurance crap.

“You can pay the fine by mail or show up to court, either way I’m going to need you to slow down. Do you have any questions?”

(In my head) Uhh…yeah…what the fuck is wrong with you, you sad little fuck from hell? You donkey dick eating fungus that has nothing better to do with their time then pull over sweet little moms going down hills. You lazy cheating shithead!! It was a hill! I bet your wife hates sleeping with you! In fact…I bet she sleeps hanging off the bed with her legs crossed! I bet you have saggy balls. That’s probably why you waddle asshole! It’s because your balls get stuck in your crack when you sit in that stupid car. I’d like to wear a rubber glove and pull those droopy danglers out and stick them in your mouth so you’d shut the hell up you little troll.

“Umm, no questions officer. Thank you,” I said and rolled up the window. I looked at the ticket. That fucker!


“What’s that Mom?” asked Number 1.

“That’s a ticket that stupid jerk gave me,” I said.

“I thought he was just doing his job. I thought you broke the law,” said Number 2.

“Well he didn’t have to give me a ticket. He could have just giving me a warning. Seriously, that guy was a giant butthead,” I said. I realized that my face was scrunched into a ball and I was speeding off in a fury. Oh crap. I was speeding again. I looked in the distance and saw the red and blue lights flashing. Oh give me break you dick! As I slowed my speed, I realized it was some other poor asshole he was already pulling over. What an effing turd. Phew…at least it wasn’t me this time.

“Yeah, that guy was a total bad word face!” said Number 1.

“Yeah, I’m going to speed when I grow up!” yelled Number 2.

Well, that whole teaching-moment went to hell. But I will say that I learned two things that day. One is that my kids listen to me, way more than I think they do. They pick up on every emotion, every bit of body language, and every fit I throw. The second thing is that cops that sit at the bottom of hills are just hateful little creatures, because the only person I know who doesn’t accelerate on an effing hill is someone who is going UP the fucking thing.

 The End

By the way, even though this is a true story. I like cops, I really do. Just not that particular one. So don’t get mad. The rest of you are cool as shit  :)

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5 Half-Ass Recipes That Your Family Will Love!

People love great recipes! I’m not one of them. Okay, that’s not entirely true. I love eating things that are made from great recipes, however, when it comes to food, I’m more of a consumer rather than a supplier (minus when I was breastfeeding). I have gone out on a limb here to try something new, a blog post about FOOD! So, for all the half-ass cookers, or moms who just fall short of the culinary badge of excellence, (I think I made that up) but anyways, here are some recipes that even the suckiest of us can manage. Let’s do this!




This can be made when you have hotdogs, but only have hamburger buns. Its pretty effing good if I do say so myself. Directions: put the wiener (haha! I said wiener) between the burger buns (haha! I said buns) and add mustard and ketchup. Masterpiece.




Do your kids need more calcium? Not sure how to get that extra dose? Let them dip shit in yogurt.  If you’re of the health-conscious variety, this could be done with an apple. But I’m out of apples at the moment. That’s why this is perfect. Just find whatever shit you got laying around, and you have yourself a dipshit. Brilliant.




Tired of that same old PB&J? It gets boring doesn’t it? And you’re still hungry once its over, aren’t ya? Never fear! Here’s a new spin on an old favorite! Directions: Make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as per usual, but wait! You’re not done. Spread some peanut butter and jelly on top of that SOB, throw on another piece of bread, and you’ve just made a triple-decker sandwich. Cut it in to fourths for the sake of being fancy, call it a club and enjoy!




We’ve all been there. It’s been over a week since you’ve been to the store and the pickings are downright slim. The thought of going to the store with hungry kids sounds as delightful as getting a rectal exam by a smokin hot doctor with a mouth-watering accent. Hell no. I gotcha covered. Directions: Call your favorite pizza place, order, enjoy!




This is one of my specialties. This is not only simple, but you literally can throw this together and then throw it all away. You basically take everything you can find in your fridge and pantry that has a wrapper and throw it on a paper plate. You’ll be surprised at what a well-balanced situation you can come up with. Eff the stove. Eff the dishes. Your kids will be happy and so will you.

You don’t have to be one of the Pinterest Pot Roast Pinners to serve your family great food. Remember, those ladies may rock it out in the kitchen, but they will be also be busy scrubbing dishes all night, while you have already moved on to your after-dinner cocktail! So cheers to you and your time management! You are still a Supermom!

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And check out my both of my books on Amazon!

The Unbalancing Act (crazy humorous fiction unlike anything you’ve ever read before)

The Vada Diaries (Short Stories, about that crazy mother from The Unbalancing Act)