Happy Places I Tend to Visit

You know that movie with Adam Sandler where he keeps imagining his happy place to control his anger? Happy Gilmore? Well as a mom, I find myself needing a happy place so that I may maintain a happy face. You really can't talk to your kids in a pissed off panic state of frustration because that will just make them do the same thing back to you, which then makes it a thousand times worse. So here's some places I go for my happy place, a 10 second break into Wonderland. Feel free to steal any one of these fantasies.



1. I imagine myself diving into a huge pool of water. No land. No edge. And I just swim freely, twisting, flipping, opening my arms out and soaking in the water, floating on top, or sliding through it like a dolphin. Basically the things I do at the swimming pool to adjust to the water's temperature.

2. I imagine Jesus on the Cross, and then he rips his right arm breaking that stem of the cross, and then his left arm doing the same, throws the cross pieces to the floor, and he does this like he's Terry Crews ripping through an Old Spice commercial, and then he walks right up to me and picks me up, sweeping me off my feet like a knight in shining armor, and carries me like a Footprints poem.

3. Spongebob and Jim Morrison dancing to F is the fun stuff we do together U is for you and me...

4. I find pleasure in thinking about what it would be like to be a millionaire who orchestrates giving all the kids at school silly string at the same time just so the school will know what a parent goes through for the first 4 hours after school, not that THAT would give them any empathy because they really just don't give a shit about you, which is why it's so much fun to think about.

5. I like to close my eyes, and think back to that exact moment I was giving birth with my first kid, and I was in so much pain I was turning purple, twitching, spitting out the Fuck word every 3 seconds, biting and sucking on the side of the bed rail... and then enter angels singing Handel's Messiah. The anesthesiologist walks in and gives me an epidural. I try to feel the needle in my spine again. And for a whole millisecond, my body tricks my mind into thinking it's numb from the waist down again. Ahhh good times. Sometimes I rub the spot on my back where it was just for luck.

6. I imagine being 6 years old sitting in a boring Sunday service in the sanctuary falling asleep with my head laying on my dad's tummy fat.

7. I know it's cheesier than anything mentioned thus far, as if that's possible, but I like to imagine that I'm dancing, badly, with either my father or Jesus. I'm always staring at my toes as we attempt to actual dance with spins and twirls and stuff. Sometimes when I'm with Jesus, I start to drop it like it's hot, and then he gives me that stern look and shakes his head no, and I stop and apologize, and then he's like, "this is how you do it," and starts dancing like Usher, in the white robe with sandals....

So now that I told you some of my happy places, what are some of yours? 

Comment below if you like Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain, or if you aren't into yoga, or if you have half a brain...

I've had Enough of This Shit

Life is way too short for...

Life is way too short for shit. Really it is. I know we all have to take a shit regularly, and I mean this metaphorically, but the people we shit on, their life is too short for it. My life is too short for other people's shit. Yet, I find myself spending endless hours trying to clean it up and disinfect enough to still get some ungodly flu as a result, which then makes me shit everywhere. Shit is contagious via shit. All of this is metaphorical for the school personnel who trolls my blog and Facebook, speaking of which, I'm talking about your shit too.

I wish I could tell you all the details of my week spent being shit on by various members of the community, but it would be unprofessional. But I tell you what, when it shits, it pours.

Instead of focusing on the negativity and mocking it like I usually do, I'm going to attempt to go the positive route. I'm just going to preach to you people about basic manners and professionalism and ethics when it comes to taking the metaphorical shit.

1. Don't shit on people

Just because you are having a bad day and need to unload the bull shit doesn't justify shitting it on others, or flinging it to others. If you need to unload your shit, take a dump in a corner like a civilized beast. Find a dark corner of the internet (like your own blog) and unload it there. This is what I do. If I have a bad day, it's a Facebook post, a blog post, or a rant to a friend. I don't ruin their days with it. I just simply unload my feelings with honesty. The point is, I find a place out of a way to take my shit. I don't do it on people, and I try to find places where I don't think anyone is going to step in it.

2. If you are going to shit on someone, shit on an asshole

Seriously, I know it's so tantalizing to shit on someone who is a good person. Nice people are the easiest target. I think people assume that they are stupid enough to forgive their asshattery. But the fact is, if you must shit on a person because you can't hold it in, assholes are used to shit. Shit on them. They deserve it anyway. Never fuck over the person who is helping you in order to hide your true feelings about those you perceive as an enemy. I see it happen all the time. People kiss ass to the assholes in their life, and they shit on those who truly care about them. Then they wonder why they are alone. I probably do this too.

3. People who have their shit together usually don't.

When you see someone with their ducks in a row, just know that the ducks they used to get those ducks in a row are not in a row. Be kind to everyone. Don't assume people are on a horse too high that you must tear them down. If they are on a low horse and you still feel the need to tear them down to your level, you are a pretty sad person. See I just shat on an asshole.

4. Bullying is shit.

Yes bullying is taking a shit on people. Don't bully people. This means don't take their lunch money and shove them in a locker. This also means, don't go on a random blog and call the blogger a fat ass. Don't abuse policy to fuck with people because you disagree with their facebook post and lack a sense of humor. Don't post memes saying you want to send Obama with a note to ISIS because you don't agree with his war strategy based on lies the media has told you. Don't be an asshole to my kid just because you don't like me. Don't call CPS on a person because you disagree with their blog post about breastfeeding.

However, it's totally ok to bully the bullies. The guy who stole 500 bucks from you and threatened to sick the mafia on you if you take him to court, yeah that guy, go ahead and sign him up for male enhancement products to be sent to his workplace.

5. Try not to fling the shit that people shat on you.

This one is a hard one for me. When people shit on me, I want to fling it back, but this week, I've been shat on by "bridges I don't want to burn." I almost fell into the abyss of gossip. People are messaging me about the drama, and I started off with good intentions. I kept to the topic. I only had good things to say about the person taking a metaphorical shit on me. But as it kept going, I started getting more negative. "She just did this. What the fuck?" Then I stopped myself. Stop in the name of love, it's Hammertime, stop drop shut em down open up shop, STOP collaborate, listen. I found my true feelings. I was hurt, not pissed off. Wounding the attacker isn't going to heal my wounds. I listed all the good things I liked about the person who was taking a metaphorical shit on me, and I reminded myself why I didn't want to end a friendship over this. I have to understand these people in my life may not resolve our issues. Their desire to keep the shit steaming is their problem. It becomes mine as well when it's my desire to stink up the place even more. The only thing I can do is spray the metaphorical Febreeze so it smells like Fresh Linen in my corner, even if there's a pile of shit under my shoe.

However, there's a shit level. Everyone has a shit level. When there's so much shit Febreeze can't cover, clean house. Get rid of the shit. Burn that fucking bridge and piss on the flames so the devil knows who sent it.

With all that said, if you are constantly being shit on like I have been this week, in the words of my daughter singing a song from a Yo Gabba Gabba Song... Keep Trying. Don't Give up. Never give up. She also sang that while Pink was singing on the radio, "You gotta get up and try try try." Yes God, I got your message loud and clear.


Read more Life's too short for... blogs on the linkup at Finding Ninee

Clash of the Couples Coming Soon (haha I said COMING)

I'm going to be in a book, and I'm very proud of this. I'm very excited too. I mean look at the cover...

Is that not genius?

Some more about the book (I helped write parts of it)....

Coupledom. Fact or fable, Adam and Eve birthed the perpetual relationship drama as seen on TV today. Despite the serpents, this couple HAD IT MADE. Luxury real estate, lush gardens, and privacy out the yin-yang. Life was glorious until the bare-bottomed babe could no longer resist temptation. Despite her better half’s warnings and threats to sleep in a tree, she tasted the forbidden fruit. One bite of that seductive, juicy contraband and the stage was set for eternity— a nibble that has blossomed into an endless supply of tiny tidbits that divide lovers to this day!

Taking a cue from the naked explorers of authentic sin, Clash of the Couples is a new anthology featuring a collection of completely absurd lovers’ squabbles and relationship spats. Think couples fight over kids, sex, and money? Think again! Furniture, the last beer, and where to store the placenta are what genuinely ignite our feuds. And no argument is off limits. This book has it all!

Inside you’ll find a gut-busting compilation of stories such as: “I Can’t Believe You Ate My Sandwich," "Never Assume Anything," "Only I Can Talk About Me," and "You Want Some College Boobs?" from forty-three fearless writers. Prepare to laugh, roll your eyes, and shiver in suspense. While Eve may have had the first bite, we ate the whole tree. And made pies.

Published by Blue Lobster Book Co., Clash of the Couples launches loudly and obnoxiously on November 3, 2014. You’ll hear us coming, but look for it on Amazon, B&N, Apple, and other places where you typically buy books. For instant updates, follow along on Facebook!

Just let it be known, I'm the one who came up with, "While Eve may have had the first bite, we ate the whole tree. And made pies." It was in a poem I wrote years ago and lost. It's the only part I remember of the poem.

We are also looking for people to review the book on the day it comes out on Amazon. If interested, fill out the google form in the contact me section of this blog. Mention you want to review the book, and we'll send an email to the email address you provide with a pdf before the book is released.

List of Contributors in the Book
(you'll want to scroll to the bottom to see the inside scoop of a contributor; hoo that sounds naughty)

Andrew S. Delfino of Almost Coherent Parent
Crystal Ponti of MommiFried
Camille DeFer Thompson of Camille DeFer Thompson
Kimberly Morand of Anchor Magazine: Navigating Depression, Bipolar, and Anxiety
Meredith Napolitano of From Meredith to Mommy
Chris Dean of pixie.c.d.
Linda Roy of elleroy was here
Kevin Zelenka of Double Trouble Daddy
Sarah Cottrell of Housewife Plus
R.C. Liley of Going Dad
Mary Widdicks of Outmanned
Marie Bollman of Make Your Own Damn Dinner
Ginny Marie of Lemon Drop Pie
Mike Reynolds of Puzzling Posts
Leigh-Mary Hoffmann of Happily Ever Laughter Blog
Lisa Petty of Lisa R. Petty
Lynn Shattuck of The Light Will Find You
Jeff Bogle of Out With The Kids
Stacey Gustafson of Are You Kidding Me?
Angela Godbout of FRaPS
Courtney Conover of The Brown Girl with Long Hair
Jenny Hills of Express Bus Mama
Marcia Kester Doyle of Menopausal Mother
Julia Arnold of Frantic Mama
Jessica Azar of Herd Management
Susan A. Black of I Like That
Dave Lesser of Amateur Idiot Professional Dad
Sarah del Rio of est. 1975
Nicole R. Wildhood of Naught Be All Else
Angela Keck of Writer Mom’s Blog
Alexa Bigwarfe of No Holding Back
Brian Sorrell of Dadding Full Time
Kathryn Leehane of Foxy Wine Pocket
April Grant of 100lb Countdown
Bev Feldman of Linkouture
Jodi Flaherty of The Noise of Boys
Scott Rigdon of Three Five Zero
Lydia Richmond of Cluttered Genius
Allie Burdick of VITA - Train for Life
Michelle Grewe of Crumpets and Bollocks
Barb Godshalk of Co-Author of Tall Tales and Short Stories from South Jersey
Jonathon Floyd of One Funny Daddy
Amanda Mushro of Questionable Choices in Parenting
Chris Carter of The Mom Cafe

And I want to add, some TMI inside scoop. I got One Funny Daddy to submit something to this book by showing him my boobs. It's ok. You will get to see them soon enough. I'm going to plaster them on merchandise for a charity in October. And why? More inside scoop, speaking of absurd relationship spats... I caught my husband's dick in a facebook group. He posted a dick pic for horny ladies, some of who were friends of mine. I told him I get a freebie now. No I wasn't mad. It's HARD to find a picture of a good penis on the web. Great, now all this talk about penises and boobs is probably going to attract porn websites and Freud's ghost.

You're Such a Troll

Annie, my 4 year old girl, will argue with you like this. "Mommy open this." You open it, and then she responds, "I wanted to open it. Now I don't want it. I'm never playing ever again because of you."

That has nothing to do with the post. It was just cute.

Trolls lurk under many bridges and in many dark corners of the internet. I, fortunately, haven't had too many trolls simply because I'm not famous enough to get them by the bulk (it's cheaper that way I hear), but some of my friends are.

The sad thing is, I hate to admit this here and now, I can be a troll, and the ugliest troll you've ever seen, with a puss seeping wart on my nose. You probably are too. It's ok. Think back to the moment of ironic hypocrisy you displayed somewhere, whether you were judging someone for being too judgmental, or you were calling someone an asshole in the most assholish way possible, or maybe you preached about Christ's love and charity for the world in the paragraph you wrote about how poor people don't deserve hand-outs. Somewhere along the way, I'm almost certain you exhibited troll like behavior. Why? Because underneath all the civilized, hairless human skin dwells a savage beast in all humans. We are still civilized, don't get me wrong. Instead of just peeing on top of someone else's pee like the alpha beast, we spew venom in the form of hateful words.

The reason I want you to admit that you have trolled through the park at some point in your life... Go ahead. I triple dog dare you. Say it. I was a troll once. It was a dark moment in my day, when I was at a 5-dollar-hooker level low, when the things I would have done for a Klondike Bar are things I did for pleasure... Admit it. The reason I want you to admit this is admitting is the first step toward recovery.

Now that you admitted to it, I triple dog dare you to infinity to challenge yourself to edit your posts. Every time you comment, whether you said, "LOL" or "You're suck a fucking cunt," (because you can't troll without a good old fashioned typo) go back and edit it so that you remove all insults. You remove all name calling. And you do one of the following...

Print out this image and Post It
(get it? Post it?) near your computer.

1. Does the person really deserve a good bollocking? Then replace the mainstream name calling with something much more creative and profound that will surely go over their head to where they might like your insult.

2. Does the person really deserve a good bollocking? Probably not. Ok. Just replace the negative shit with positive shit. Instead of dwelling on what they did wrong, dwell on something they did right. Remind yourself, we are all flawed and imperfect, and that's ok.

3. Is your post funny? Cmon now. Make it funny. Laughter is the best medicine for sadness and it can temporarily relieve asshattery.





Now that I challenged you to this, I challenge myself as well, but not until after I tell you about this post where I trolled the trolls in the name of public shaming and pimping out awesome blog posts with trolled negativity. Check out my examples of some awesome trolling at The Publishing Blogger's Network.

The Real Meaning of Back to School Christmas

At the end of summer, I always feel like...

At the end of summer, I always feel like a neutered dog. I have this overwhelming groggy feeling with a huge sense that I lost an important piece of me somewhere, and I'm just sitting here asking myself, "What the fuck just happened?" 

I don't remember what summers and falls were like before kids outside of the smell of popcorn lingering across the bleachers at a high school football game while my underwear was frozen to my ass, which gave one of those gushing "It's Christmas" feelings in my chest. I love football season. I love autumn.

But now that I have kids, this is a time of year where the glory of sending them back to school is supposed to be a time to celebrate. Summer was full of days where the kids either had cabin fever stuck at home while I got things done, or we were out everywhere blowing pay checks on the cost of going to a pool, or goofy golf, or some little trip designed to amuse the children enough to cure symptoms of cabin fever like blind rage toward each other, walking on the walls, and climbing curtains literally and hope they actually fall asleep before midnight. (Note: I still have the Dora Blanket pinned up to my living room window courtesy of the children's summer redecorating program).

Anticipating the start of the school year reminds me of those days as a child when I anticipated vacation at Disney World or Christmas.

I expected this...

But then the reality of school sets in. The government isn't going to give you free babysitting for free. No. That would be too easy. You have to give them your soul for this trade.

Every year school begins, the schools start demanding a bunch of horse shit tasks of a parent that reminds them why they looked forward to summer to begin with. This year, I had the pleasure of enrolling my youngest in Pre-School. While excited that all 3 kids will be in school, finally, for the first time in my life, I was still hopping on one foot and then dancing on the other while rubbing my head and patting my belly to turn in the necessary paperwork and get the shots up to date and all the jive that comes with enrolling into school. Any time I showed the slightest amount of objection, the schools threatened not to babysit my kids for me. We all know the hardest most demanding job out there is that of a mother, so extra unnecessary tasks is what we love to add to our plate.

I wrote this one myself. Can you tell?

Then school starts and every morning in order to obtain free babysitting services, I have to get my kids there on time. On time. You might as well say, "You have to do a handstand every day with a duck's penis." I know some people are like, "That's not that hard," and duck's penis is not, but when it comes to parenting, those people either don't have kids or they only have like one kid and a bunch of supportive adults helping them. That's ok if you do get help, but you lose the high horse with that. I assure you when it's one woman doing all the work to get 3 kids somewhere, anywhere, "on time" is just not an option. But the schools mandate that we grow this tail out of our ass and defy the basic laws of physics.

One of my infamous excuse reasons on the sign in sheet at school describes what happens every morning with these kids. I'm willing to bet it went over most educators' heads because irony... The centripetal force of my kids is so strong it increased earth's gravitational pull [at our location] thereby slowing down time for us. That's precisely what happens on a metaphorical level, and possibly on a physical literal one as well. Time is relative, meaning it depends on where you are. It's so possible this is what happened to that hour that time you were wiping a butt one minute and then you moved onto finding shoes and you know that did not just take an hour to do, but according to the clock, yes it did.

I honestly suggest looking up the science to what I just said so you can teach it to your kids since the schools won't. And if you didn't click on duck penis earlier, you should. That's biology your kid won't learn at school.

Time Dilation for Dummies
Gravitational Time Dilation on Wikipedia


Common morning experiences getting kids ready for school... At least for me...

• all 3 kids decide they can't dress themselves
• they want to wear different shirt
• they won't wear anything but the dirty pink dress with a gaping hole in the arm pit
• they want to pack a lunch last second
• they can't find their homework
• nobody can find a matching shoe for the life of them (it's usually in the car)
• you forgot to make them take a bath the night before and you can tell by smell they aren't wiping right
• 2 of 3 kids refuse to let you brush their hair, so you chase them like a game of tag tricking them for each hair brush swipe before saying "fuck it go with bed head." 
• There's a pile of mysterious ketchup on the backpack
• The PreK kid's folder is covered, inside and out, in sticky wetness which requires the use of Fantastick and you just read in the 1st grader's folder that you have to fill out this form and turn it in that day and the 3rd grader isn't sure if she even brought her folder home
• You see an advertisement for Picture day and have a mini-heart attack that today could be that day before you realize it was last month or it's not until next week. This happens every day.
• You realize how messy your house is and find yourself uncontrollably cleaning a little or throwing in a quick load of laundry on your way out the door 
• You realize, usually about the time you are looking for your car keys, that you are wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday and the school might notice. Then you ponder about the costs and benefits to brushing your teeth as you change your shirt and hope nobody pays attention to pants. 
• You give 3 kids a shower at once, dry them off at once, dress them at once, find clothes and shoes for 3 kids at once, brush hair at once while they are asking things like, "Why does the color blue look blue?" and "Solma won't stop looking at me!" and "I want to take my fluffy unicorn to school with me, where is it?" It's really the mindfuck of all mindfucks.
• After 25 minutes of looking, you found the spare keys (nevermind the actual set you usually use) in a toy box in the closet in the kids' room. 
• You get everyone to the car for the first time, and one of them has to pee, they forgot something in the house, all now have to pee, or someone pees their pants, or falls into a mud puddle, or sits on an old milkshake your husband left in the car. 
• The second time you get everyone back into the car, the seat belt buckle won't buckle. She's in the front seat it's my turn to sit in the front. The Pre-K kid now wants to sit in the front knowing she's not allowed to. Someone wants to go in through the window instead of the door. The 3rd grader leaves the car to look at the rocks because we are taking too long.
• We start driving to school, FINALLY, and oh shit, I forgot my purse. I need the ID to get into the school building to drop of Pre-K kid. Turn around.
• Run in the house to get ID, and put all 3 kids back into the car because I took too long, which is any time longer than it takes for them to unbuckle themselves and "make themselves comfortable." 
• Show up 5 minutes late and deal with all the dirty glares from teachers and secretaries like I obviously just tarred and feathered my kids in the name of bad parenting. They do look at my kids with pity like, "Those poor kids have such a fucked-up mother." 

Dear teachers, can we not make this deal?

No seriously, I won't care that you gave my Gabby Logan's artwork in her folder if you promise not to care that her homework is covered in pancake syrup. I won't care that you give me my Gabby all hyper at the end of the day because you had her sitting still for most of it following absurd rules you made up for a false sense of control if you don't care that I do the exact opposite for cognitive growth and healthy psychological sense of trust, especially since I have no choice because you hogged all the quiet sit still time she could possibly give in a day. 

So by the time I actually get to school and drop them off, it's like I just left my stomach and working brain behind because it goes from complete chaos to complete peace in point five. It's so extreme it leaves me a state of blah for most of the day, too much so that I can't actually enjoy the few hours without the kids. The blah even smothers out the guilt of being late, or leaving a head unbrushed, or sending a kid with a lunch box full of marshmallows and fruit snacks, or a kid wearing black sweatpants with a navy blue top and sparkling pink slippers over stained, unmatching white socks. It doesn't really go away until I sleep it off all night, and the next morning, between the first cup of caffeine and the moment I have to wake up the kids for school, I feel human.

Then on top of it, schools are a melting pot of cooties like a hospital nobody disinfected. Yes kids have cooties. Lots of fucking cooties. And we herd them all into a school environment where it is managed, at best, with the occasional use of Clorox Cleanup Wipes. Kids can handle most cooties as their immune systems are developing and battling the germs like no other, but my immune system is old and set in its ways. It doesn't know what the fuck to do with all these germs, so every school year, I get sick. Usually within the first week of school, I'm sick, and I continue to be sick all year round, catching something new about the time I'm getting over something else.

So everything I just described, I generally do it with a sinus-induced migraine, sneezes, snot running out of my nose into my mouth while I'm trying to squeeze a kid into the wrong pair of pants.

Basically, at the end of summer, I feel blah. Numbing blah where I'm identifying what I'm looking at consciously, you know, like computer. That's a computer. TV, the noise is the TV. Dinner, that's something I have to make isn't it?

P.S. If you really think kids go to school to get educated, LOL you are naive. It's been nothing more than a free babysitting service provided by the government for decades. Check America out in how well we compare, in education, with other countries. They are not getting "educated." They are getting "conformed." I'm also not a hippy. I'm just not a sheeple. I'm the type of person who throws away the science textbook so I can read Einstein's notes. I'm such a rebel. No actually I had good teachers who didn't follow curriculum when I was a kid.

P.P.S. This is a blog post about MY FEELINGS. If you decided it was an invite to knock my parenting because you're so perfect (which you are not, you probably suck that bad-parenting cock down better than I ever could), I'm probably going to publicly humiliate you in several places.

For more Finish the Sentence Friday, check out the link-up on Finding Ninee