At the end of kindergarten last year, my oldest daughter Anna (known around here as Anna Banana, or “AB”) brought home a biology project: a little plastic cup half-full of dirt with a few tiny leaves poking through. She told me she had planted a pumpkin seed and – to my shock and dismay – the damn thing had actually started to show signs of life. I dismissively told her we could plant it in our garden, fully expecting it to perish. When planting day finally arrived, AB lovingly transferred her little seedling to the far corner of the garden where it wouldn’t interfere with the real vegetables.
Let me tell you about My Fat Ass ($0.25). It follows me everywhere, I cannot escape it and it’s getting bigger By. The. Day. The other day I had a near-death experience on account of My Fat Ass. By the end I wished it was an actual-death experience. Continue reading →
People peruse my blog or my Facebook page, see the gaggle of children that call me mom, and seem genuinely befuddled as to how I manage such pandemonium. When I leave the house, kids in tow, folks always want to know “Are they all yours?”, “How do you do it?” and “Where is the man who got you into this mess?”.
Dinner time is a daily 30-minute window when I am compelled to straight-up punch my kids in the face. If only they knew the effort I put into meals, they would never sit at my table and frown, gag, whimper or otherwise bitch ($0.25) about my food, because my food is fucking ($0.25) delicious. I’m not serving them tripe soup or calf’s liver, people. I watch The Food Network, like, twenty-four-seven and I’m bringing that magic right back to my kitchen. Every. Damn. Night. Continue reading →
Not a day goes by that my kids don’t destroy something; sometimes it’s my shit ($0.25). More often, it’s my will to live. And they don’t just break things that need to be replaced. They break things that need to be repaired. Like drywall. Plumbing. Cars. Limbs. We spend twenty-five percent of our free time shopping for necessities and another twenty-five fixing things that our kids have trashed. Continue reading →
It didn’t take me long to figure out that pee and poop are a pretty big part of parenthood … at least early on. Changing diapers is just a part of my day and that’s okay … until it isn’t. At some point, these b-holes are going to have to stop pissing ($0.25) their pants. Continue reading →