My Relationship Status…With Legos

Hoe-lee-moe-lee-wut-in-the-hay-ell was that??? Damn Lego. We’ve all been there. We’ve all cussed out a Lego in our minds or maybe even out loud after stepping on one. But what we must remember is that these little plastic bricks of wonder have also saved many ‘o mother from losing their shiz-nit. That is because Legos are like a party that never ends. The opportunities are truly endless and the kids love it. If you are anything like me, your relationship status with Legos…well ~ it’s complicated.

For example:

My three boys were playing Legos at the table last night while I was making a craptastic dinner. It kept them all busy and away from the stove. Love that. But then, well this happened…



So, he’s basically gonna shit a brick. Fortunately, it was a fluorescent green brick, so it should be easy to spot. It baffles me though, because he ate it on purpose! And it happened so fast, I couldn’t stop it. Granted, he is three and many people may gasp at my letting him play with these, but he has two older brothers and has NEVER put a Lego in his mouth before. He had every intention of swallowing that little sucker before he popped it in his food trap. I even heard him say “yummy” afterwards, so apparently they are tasty too. Who knew?

Then, there is the price. These are expensive as hell. You pay a fortune for a set, your child puts it together and then up in a “safe place.” All is well in Lego-land, at least until one of these completed masterpieces gets knocked the fuck out. My minion’s Batcave took a tumble off what we call the “forever shelf” one day and golly gee-whilickers, he cried so hard, you’d have thought he had just shot Old Yeller. I mean it was bad. I know he had worked hard on it and it was one of the first ones he ever got, so I could sympathize. But to be honest I was more traumatized because I was literally staring at a broken pile of 70 bucks. And I do NOT save instructions, which may be my own fault, but at that point it was too late. We were left with pieces that just got thrown into the “Lego drawer.” It’s a hard pill to swallow, or in our case I guess a hard Lego to swallow.

And then there’s the mess. When not finishing Lego sets in one sitting, there are piles of pieces that have to remain untouched, so the whole family has to basically work around a construction zone. That’s a pain in the ass, but do-able. But free play Lego building is when shit gets real. And by real, I mean if you turn your back for one millisecond, the room can look like El Nino tore through it and that ain’t good. Those little plastic bastards can take a LONG time to clean up. And who gets that job? The kids of course. But sometimes, you can’t handle situations like this…



You want that shit picked up, like right now. So you pitch in and tag team it, and then when you are finally done…they want to play Legos again.

Aah…the catch here is that even though they are messy, expensive, and swallowed, there are many benefits. They don’t have a screen (even though I don’t mind a little screen time). They don’t wear out or get old. My kids even play with a lot of ours from when we were little, and there is something about them that feels right, maybe nostalgic even.  I still love trying to make houses with the little flowers that you stick in the grass, and my front doors that end up backwards every damn time. The best part though, is that it keeps them busy. So I guess taking the good with the bad is part of the game.

There are a lot of feelings I have when it comes to these colorful sons o’ bitches. And don’t even get me started on when I see a stray piece on the floor while vacuuming, ’cause I suck that shit up. Even though they are pricey, I’m too lazy to bend down when one’s left behind. It really is a twisted relationship.

One thing’s for sure, I won’t be getting away from Legos anytime soon. That’s because A. I have to keep an eye out for the fluorescent green one that should soon depart from my son’s colon, and B. My 7 year-old just got a new Minecraft Lego set for his birthday. Looks like these will remain a part of my life as the new construction zone is currently being set up. I just have to be sure to keep a close eye on my 3 year-old in case he gets another craving for plastic. And Good Golly Miss Molly, there’s a shit ton of pieces in this mo’ fo’ and the directions are LONG …because well ~ it’s complicated.

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My Mother of the Year Acceptance Speech…I’m Shocked!

I just don’t know what to say. Where do I start? It is truly an honor to be The Mother of the Year. It wasn’t easy. It took a lot of tears and a lot of Xanax, but this proves that dreams can come true. I did it! But I didn’t do it alone. I hate long award speeches, so I’ll try to make this quick.

First of all, a BIG thank you to my family. Without my husband and three amazing boys, I wouldn’t be here in the bathroom…pretending to be using it so that I can hide out and accept this magnificent award. In fact…I’m just going to lock this door really fast so that they can’t come in here.

*locks door*

Alrighty then…sorry about that…but fucking hell they are loud! They all talk at the same goddam time, so I can’t even hear myself think. I mean WTF? Do they think it’s a volume competition and the winner gets a free cruise? Damn! Okay, where was I? Oh yes…my family. One of the most valuable things they have taught me on this journey called motherhood, is to keep my cool. I pride myself in keeping calm in even the most stressful situat-WAIT! What the hell was that? Something just crashed..hold on.

Is everyone alright? (yes) Oh thank God. Alright fellas…let’s try to NOT end up in the E.R tonight okay??? I mean twice in one week is too much. Now please turn on an electronic device of your choice and sit still until Mommy’s done. Do NOT be jumping on the bunkbed again!And (husband) would you PLEASE keep things under control for like five freaking minutes while I’m doing something…or do I have to hire a babysitter every time I take a crap?

Geesh. Sorry about that. Anyways, a huge thank you to that guy I married and my adorable offspring. I love you with all of my heart.

Next, I’d like to thank my children’s teachers for always putting up with my turning in their permission slips and library books late. My little guy’s teacher didn’t judge me when I walked in at the tail-end of the class party that I had forgotten was taking place and said “Oh bloody shit!” out loud in front of the entire preschool class and all their parents. Teachers…you have seen me cry, you’ve seen me laugh. Hell, I think one of you even heard that little fart that I slipped out during our 2nd quarter parent-teacher conferences. It didn’t even phase you. You just kept going on about my child’s achievements. You are my rocks.

Next, I’d like to thank my parents and my in-laws. To my mother-in-law who always buys me cooking stuff on birthdays and holidays in hopes that I will one day learn how to use it all…you haven’t given up on me yet. To my mother who knows how much is on my plate, so she calls me every morning just to make sure I remember that the kids have school…you are a treasure. I couldn’t do this without you. Hell, how many times have I called and been like, “oh I have the flu,” or “I have a doctor’s appointment,” and you all just jump at the chance to watch the kids and I only have to leave like six or seven voicemails before you will finally call me back. You are the wind beneath my yoga pants.

To my AMAZING friends who get me…Thanks for still inviting me to girls’ nights even though I occasionally drink a little too much and say stupid shit. You guys know that it’s only because I’m SO excited to get out and talk to other adults, that words just spill from my lips, like the vomit that soon follows. Really you guys, I know it must be hard to see me always “doing it all” and keeping such a great balance in my life. I mean let’s face it, I’m on so much medication, how could I NOT be balanced, right? I mean…right???

*starts to sob uncontrollably*

Sorry…I told myself I wasn’t going to get emotional. But this is such an honor. I just can’t believe it. Whoa….okay…I have to wrap it up. Lastly, I wanna thank the guy at McDonald’s for my morning Diet Coke, my amazing team of pharmacists at CVS, the mommy-blogging community, and my next-door neighbor who always has vodka, an extra egg, and Band-Aids when I need them.

It takes a village as you can see. That is why I would like to share this amazing award with each and every mother out there. At the end of the day, after we have given everything we have and then somedays…only like 50%…it comes down to one thing: our children. They are our reason for everything. It’s the love we share for our kids that connects us. They are our joy and our…oh crap. Someone’s crying… Oh piss and vinegar, it sounds like someone fell off the bunkbed. Shit.

*tries to open door*

Stupid door is stuck. Fuck you door. Come the hell on. My kids are out there running amuck, someone’s crying and I’ve managed to lock myself in the bathroom.

Can somebody get me outta here???

Yep, that’s me…Mother of the friggin Year.

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Bringing Sexy Back

Hey you…in the yoga pants with your hair all a mess and that mystery stain on your shirt. I bet you feel super sexy right now, huh? Don’t worry. After we have kids, sexy often takes a backseat to motherhood and that’s perfectly normal, so don’t freak out. The fact of the matter is, that it’s not always easy to keep things spicy in your marriage, or to even feel desirable. You may feel like you left your sexy somewhere in your minivan, or wonder if perhaps it was removed during childbirth. But you still got it and I’m ’bout to give you some tips on how to get it back into your relationship.

  • Take a booby picture and send it to your honey out of nowhere. I’m not a selfie person in general, but trust me…one quick snapshot of the lady-tots and your fella will be strutting in the door with a bottle of wine and a plastic-wrapped rose from the gas station.
  • Ask him to rub your back. Yeah, it may sound self-serving…but what he hears is “I need your hands on me right now and you have a big ding dong.” I know it’s irrational, but that’s how their minds work. This one’s a bonus because he wants your body and you get a back rub..
  • When you kiss goodbye in the morning, hold the smooch. That little peck thing becomes so common that if you keep it going for a good five seconds and add a little lip smacking, he’ll be so surprised that body parts are going to start responding. It’s just nature.
  • Groom the kitty cat. A change of scenery never hurt anyone. You don’t have to shave it all the way, or do the whole, rip-off-the-labia-and-scream-like-a-donkey-in-labor-waxing-bit. Just clean up the front yard a little bit. If nothing else, it will be a nice surprise.
  • Bend at the waist while doing chores. Keep those knees locked while unloading the bottom rack of the dishwasher. Downward facing dog while you sweep those goldfish cracker crumbs into the dustpan. He’ll notice that sexy you have going on, and if he doesn’t…well, there’s no shame in twerking in the kitchen.
  • Utilize your closet space. Doing the nasty is down right difficult if you have rugrats that wake up a gazillion billion times a night because they need to pee, get thirsty, projectile vomit, and so on and so forth. So before bedtime, whisper in his ear an invitation for a late night game of poke-her in the closet. Why the closet you ask? It has a DOOR!! Be sure to do it swiftly, as they will eventually find you…
  • Buy yourself a pretty little night gown. It doesn’t have to pair nicely with a pole, or a pair of 6-inch platform heels or anything like that, but just something pretty that makes you feel good about yourself will do the trick. I mean hell, it’s gotta make you feel sexier than that shirt with the mystery stain, right? And you deserve something new anyways.
  • “Forget” your towel when you take a shower. Sometimes, they just fail to remember what they’re missing. So yelling, “honey…can you please bring me a towel?” followed by your back arched and your hands running slowly through your hair while dripping wet is a pretty strong reminder that you’ve got private parts that he hasn’t seen in a while (just be careful not to throw your back out while trying for the right pose, trust me on this).

Feeling like a sexy mother may sound far fetched when you basically wear spit-up as perfume and to you the word “naughty” means finding a kiddo coloring on the wall. Trust me, I get it. I’m right there with you. But once in a while it’s okay to be a little naughty yourself. You may be a mom, but you are still a woman for crying out loud and there’s nothing wrong with making him want a piece of what you’re serving up. And sometimes we have to take the initiative. So go on ladies…get your sexy back.

And Gentlemen,

You’re Welcome

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Asking Grandma to Babysit

(phone call)

G-ma: Hello?

Me: Hi mom, what are you doing?

G-ma: Not much. Just folding some laundry.

Me: Oh that sounds like fun.

G-ma: Oh yeah, I am just living the dream.

Me: Yep

G-ma: Uhh-huh…

Me: Well…everything okay? You have anything on your agenda this weekend?

G-ma: Not really, I may go shopping on Sunday with (my aunt).

Me: Well you two are about as fun as Kathie Lee and Hoda

G-ma: Who the hell is Yoda?

Me: No mom, you know the ladies that drink wine on The Today Show?

G-ma: Oh yeah, I know who you’re talking about.

Me: Yeah…well…any big plans for Saturday night?

G-ma: Oh…I’m probably just going to hit the strip clubs like I normally do, then get some drugs.

Me: Oh wow. You are fun.

G-ma: Yeah, no I don’t have anything going on.

Me: Oh well that’s nice. You can have a nice relaxing evening. Just reeee-lax. Relax the night away. Some R&R…yep, I hear ya. Relaxation. Sounds nice.

G-ma: Well, how about you?

Me: Me? Oh not really. Husband and I were talking about maybe doing something but we don’t have to. It’s really not a big a deal. I mean we probably shouldn’t spend the money and I think we’ll be tired. Besides, we really don’t care if we do anything or not…I mean it may just be good to stay home. In the house. In this house. That I’m always in. But yeah…no…we don’t have any plans…

G-ma: Would you like me to keep the kids so you can go out?


G-ma: You are an idiot. I’ll just keep them overnight. Just bring them whenever.

Me: Are you sure?? You don’t have to. Really it’s no big deal. We don’t have to go…

G-ma: Shut the hell up.

Me: Okay….I will! I will shut up…you sweet little angel disguised as a grandmother!

*now I do the happy dance all over the house and even attempt the splits which is NOT a good idea if you haven’t done them since the 6th grade.

And THAT my friends is how you land the Grandma sitter! SCORE!

Take My Toddler To the Store? I’d Rather….

I don’t think I can be the only one who loathes grocery shopping with my toddler. Regardless of the advice, that we should take them and the fact that many times we have to take them, it doesn’t change the fact that it can be a dreadful experience. Now now…I know there are some people who have little shopping cart angels that sit perfectly and don’t make a peep and that’s great. I’m not being a smart-ass either. I’m very happy for those who love it. But I’m going to be honest. I hate it. So, I made a list of things I would actually rather do than take my beloved toddler to the grocery store:

  1. French kiss Mike Tyson
  2. Squat down behind a horse and wait for it to kick me in the face
  3. Get a sledge hammer and shatter both my knee caps
  4. Strip naked and run head first into a rose bush
  5. Eat a dead possum with a spoon
  6. Do a hard 48 hours in San Quentin
  7. Place my hand in a blender and turn it on “frappe”
  8. Get a “butterfly kiss” from someone with a nasty case of pink eye
  9. Run the Chicago Marathon backwards
  10. Sit all the way down with both buttcheeks to pee (no hovering) and with no protective paper…on a port-a-potty in the summer heat at a carnival…while eating cotton candy
  11. Take a huge gulp of the dirty water from my carpet cleaner
  12. Snuggle lovingly with a porcupine
  13. Go through airport security with a migraine and a bottle of liquid over 3.4 oz.
  14. Cut carbs
  15. Find out that Charles Manson is actually my biological father and he wants to establish a relationship
  16. Get a colonoscopy
  17. Try and survive “the fireswamp” from the movie, The Princess Bride
  18. Talk about politics with someone who actually likes to talk about politics
  19. Get a Brazilian wax
  20. Lick the finger holes in one of the balls at the local bowling alley
  21. Reverse Cowgirl…while sober…with the lights on
  22. Dehydrate myself to the point of medical intervention and then have the nurses repeatedly “try for a vein”
  23. Put leeches on my nipples and let ’em chill for about an hour
  24. Place my pinky finger in the crack of the door and let someone slam that shit, HARD
  25. Get a pap smear in front of a group of eager-to-learn medical students
  26. Go on a paranormal investigation overnight, without a flashlight, and all by myself
  27. Play the effing Thomas the Train song on repeat during a 4-hour road trip
  28. Pour lemon juice and salt in both of my eyes
  29. Paint my toenails a pretty pink and then put cotton balls on top and let them dry that way
  30. Place my lips gently around a wasp’s nest and blow
  31. Only have one glass of wine
  32. Volunteer as tribute in The Hunger Games

Well, there’s my list. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m currently out of milk and bread, and even toilet paper which is just a must-have. So, if you’re like me and must face the grocery store with toddler in tow…good luck my friends. May the odds be ever in your favor…

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In Their Eyes…(while you are losing your sh*t)

You know that feeling you get when everything is going completely down the shitter and you want to throw in the towel, but then you realize there aren’t even any clean towels to throw in?! Been there, done that, just bought the motherfuckin’ t-shirt and guess what? It doesn’t fit.

You may be at your breaking point. You may have had bad news, one thing after the other and it never seems to end. Then, while pacing around trying to calm yourself down, you may hit your hip against the corner of the counter where it hurts like hell and leaves a dreadful looking bruise, and you mentally scream who the fuck put that counter there?!? Maybe that last part was just a personal experience, but we all get to a point now and then where we want to call it quits. Give up. Ride away into the sunset on a horse while sippin’ a canteen full of whiskey and singing “Let it Go” at the top of our lungs, but with cuss words in place of the real words.

Only then, you see those eyes…their eyes; following you from across the room, needing you, and depending on you. The world around you may seem like it’s falling apart. You may not know the answers…to basically anything. You may doubt yourself. You may question whether you are even good enough for them and think that they deserve better. How in the hell are you going to get through this? The heavy feeling in your chest makes you question whether you accidentally swallowed an apple seed and a Granny Smith Tree is growing rapidly in the warm, moist environment of your esophagus (I’ve always wondered about this). But really, it’s that same ol’ sonofabitch called “worry” messing with you. You try and breathe. You try and keep your cool, because their eyes…they are watching you. To escape, you could throw back shot glasses full of M&M’s, or say screw the chocolate and go straight to vodka. You could hide in the barrel of the dryer, because you know no one would find you there. You could fade away within yourself and go through the day without speaking a word unless it’s necessary, and typically only perk up around people who can’t tell that it’s fake.

This last week has kicked my ass. If I have a child who is struggling and I don’t know how to help them, it consumes me. It consumes me to the point where it’s not healthy. I worry to where I can’t sleep, I can’t think, I can’t function. I constantly criticize myself for things I could be doing better or things I haven’t done. I am so far from “the perfect mom” that it’s no longer even on my radar. So last night, when I was walking around in tears because the only warm weather pajamas I could find for my first grader’s pajama day today were so small that they looked like Richard Simmons’ workout clothes, it triggered a lot of emotions. My eyes filled up with tears. I can’t find anything! I am so disorganized! I started asking myself, if you can’t even handle freaking pajama day, how are you going to handle the big problems in your life? Because pajamas seriously, are the least of my worries. Then I looked over and saw my first grader sitting on the stair looking at me with those precious eyes.

“Mom,” he said.

“What buddy?”

“You’re pretty and I love you.”

After a power-hug and teeth brushing, all my littles were ready for bed. I told my husband I would be right back. I ran up to Target and bought some summer pajamas and a bag of M&M’s that I tore through on the ride home, like a lion ripping through a zebra carcass. Then I thought to myself, I have three little sets of eyes watching me at home. If I crumble, what will they do? I can’t let this worry take me…at least not while they are watching, so there, on the road, going 35 mph down the middle of suburbia, I cried. I cried my eyes out. Then I came home, got my shit together, and kissed my boys goodnight.

I sent my older two to school today, one in brand new pajamas. Only, wait! Mom fail! I didn’t wash them before he wore them. But guess what? It was because my washer and dryer were both full. This is because, instead of throwing in the towel…I decided to wash the fuckers…all of them. And after I’m done writing this, I will go and fold them and put them away and I will probably mentally cuss a lot while I do it. Everything is going to be alright, because it has to be. Besides, I can’t find a horse to ride away on that can hold five people…and I can’t give up because they all need me. Looking at those little faces gives me strength to get through it…and I’m not going to lie, a little Xanax doesn’t hurt either.

So if you are hiding in the pantry or the closet, or in your own mind, go ahead and come on out. They need you, and in their eyes, you are perfect…and pretty, and they love you.

Just watch out for that damn corner of the counter, because that REALLY freaking hurts.

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My “Go EFF Yourself” List

There are so many things to love about life; the joys of motherhood, snuggling with the little ones, a great song, a great book, Netflix, and wine…but there are also a few things that I’m kind of pissed about. So here is my Go EFF Yourself List. Oh and husband, if you are reading this, don’t worry. You aren’t on it…yet.

Hey laundry:

Go fuck yourself. I’m sick of looking at you. You are always there, just lying around waiting to be washed, dried, folded and put away. You are not fun for me at all. I’ve tried to ignore you, but when I do that, you only get worse! On top of that, you keep showing up all around the house in every corner; a sock here, a t-shirt there. I hate you.

Hey periods:

Screw you. You are a vicious cycle. Literally. The monthly invasion of hormones, bloating, fatigue, headaches, cramps, and mood swings is getting quite old. I don’t need anymore bad moods around here, I’m quite bitchy enough without you. Move it or lose it sister.

Hey nasty and cloudy weather:

Take a hike. When the sunny and beautiful days come to kick your ass out of here, all while delightfully filling my family’s brains with a heaping helping of Vitamin D, I’m going to sit back with a smirk and say…Bye Felicia!

Hey judgy people:

Suck a fatty. The ones who make sly remarks like, “that doesn’t happen in my house.” or those judgers who hide in the shadows and throw out ‘holier than thou’ opinions like they are SO much better than the rest of us. Listen, I’m not perfect and neither are you. And hey, judger…you have a booger in your nose. See…I told you, you aren’t perfect.

Hey bills:

Yeah, I’m talking to you electric, gas, mortgage, cell phone, credit card, and student loans…what’s your freaking problem? You just keep showing up every single month like a bunch of relentless stalkers. Don’t make me have to consolidate your asses into one low monthly payment. ‘Cause I’ll do it, don’t test me.

Hey calories:

After I take the last bite of this burrito, you are gonna take a long walk (down my colon) and I don’t want to see you back anytime soon, (well it’s a burrito, so that may be impossible) but you get the point. I may make some exceptions with some of you calories…like the ones found in wine and chocolate, and so on and so forth. But for the most part, walk away calories. That’s right…keep walking.

Hey Kanye:

Just…well…read what kind of list this is.

Hey alarm clock:

Shut your big fat mouth. I heard you the first seven times before I hit snooze and if you continue to harass me with these horrible sounds, I will personally take you out to the driveway and set you behind the tire of my minivan and I will reverse it over you with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. Not only will I get to crush you, but I will be so happy about destroying you, that I’ll be bright-eyed bushy tailed. Two birds, one stone…not kidding.

Hey “Quick and Easy” Recipes:

Eat me. I follow your instructions. I do all the things I’m supposed to do…and you NEVER turn out right. Most importantly, no one in my family eats you. You have wasted my time, money, and effort. You are a homewrecking, misleading, liar and I’m done with you. You have been replaced, by PB&J. Get the hell out of my sight.

Hey jeans:

Beat it. You are expensive, uncomfortable, and unfortunately (sometimes) necessary. I love my yoga pants, but can’t wear them ALL of the time. So jeans…why no give? Why no stretchiness? Why you gotta be such an asshole? Why is there always that ONE pair of jeans that I feel like I have to fit into? I’m so sick and tired of squatting and crawling to loosen you up. Get back in with the rest of the laundry and go fuck yourself.

Well that’s my current “Go F Yourself List.”

It feels freeing to get this off my chest! Now, I can focus more on the things that I love…like my wonderful family, my amazing friends, my poorly behaved dogs, and of course…wine and Netflix.

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