Time to say goodbye to Old Blue.

Listen, we are not going to talk about my six-week blog break. Mmm-kay? I mean, I will eventually, because I talk about pretty much everything except my personal sex life. Exception: I talk quite a bit about my personal sex life in The Place of Peace and Crickets, MY NEW BOOK, which as you know is available for sale in a variety of places. More accurately, we’re not going to talk right now about the past few weeks. I’ll just say peopleRead more

CONTROL THE RAGE, MUTHA. Try to, at least.

I haven’t worked out in three weeks plus two days. My back still hurts, although I think it’s on the mend. Well, it WAS on the mend before I did a few sprints on the beach, because sometimes I’m a big stubborn dumbster. A few hours after the sprints, my back whispered, “You are an idiot, and I will continue to cause you misery, and I will tell your ab muscles to cause you misery as well, and I’m goingRead more

Monday, (fucking) Monday….why you gotta be so lame?

Oh, dear. Where to begin. Friday night the kitchen sink clogged up. Apparently you are not supposed to pour bacon grease down the drain every day for six months. Where’s that in the manual? Huh? I swear, nobody tells me anything. I left all the dishes stacked up and went to bed, because what else was I supposed to do? The Diva had a sleepover buddy whose mother is Martha Damn Stewart of the South, except she’s cool and notRead more

The human zoo, or the state of the estate. Also, some booze.

Yesterday marked the start of National Zookeeper Week. Yeah, me! To celebrate, the children danced half-naked in a thunderstorm then used every clean towel in the house to not dry off. They left footprint puddles throughout the house. Later, the Pterodactyl excavated some treasures from the trash and created a sailboat, a flower, and a functional cowbell. He may or may not have been dressed as a Spanish flamenco dancer at the time. The Tyrant, meanwhile, has become obsessed with curling herRead more

Whew. That’s (mostly) over.

I rushed to Louisiana last week to be with my father, who had taken a bad turn while in the hospital being treated for injuries sustained in a terrible accident. The nights were long. I slept/didn’t sleep on the pleather couch while Dad struggled fruitlessly to find comfort from the 10 broken ribs stabbing his insides every which way. At one point, as I stared at the popcorn ceiling waiting for him to need a sip of water or simplyRead more

Target, Target, get out of my head.

Whew, boy, what a Friday afternoon we had. The Diva went for a playdate at a waterfront mansion and was all, Why can’t we live here? They are so lucky! I love mansions. Is this a mansion? and I was all, They have a septic tank, honey, so they have to drive past a mound of their own crap every day. HaHaHaHaHa!  While she was off pretending she was rich, Hot Firefighter Husband and I spent an hour convincing theRead more

Ah, to sleep, perchance to dream.

When I was a child, I thought grown-ups didn’t really sleep – that they just rested in bed with their eyes closed. My evidence was the fact that when I approached my mom in the middle of the night, all I had to do was whisper her name and she’d be instantly, groggily awake. I understand now that a special superpower bestowed on parents allows a child’s voice to penetrate the walls of slumber. I sleep through thunderstorms, howling wind,Read more

The threats that loom. In the pantry, and everywhere.

Dr. Dee has suggested we have a home visit from a therapist to determine how we’re ruining possibly improperly handling the Pterodactyl’s tantrums. Okay, that’s fine. We have nothing to hide. Except, you know, the abundance of scissors, glue sticks, and gummi worms. Also, dog hair. But come at your own risk, Supernanny. This here’s a rough crowd. I left the children alone for 15 minutes the other day, and when I came home the older two had duct-taped theRead more

Oh, Sweet Pink Balls! You’re gross, even sprinkled with coconut.

My children love to go to the gas station, and it’s my parental ace-in-the-hole. “Guys, if you let Mom take a nap, I’ll take you to the gas station.” “YEAH!! OF COURSE, MOM, WE’LL BE SO, SO QUIET.” “Okay, we need to run some errands – I’ll take you to the gas station first.” “WHERE ARE THE KEYS? I’LL START THE CAR!” They love the gas station because I buy them all sorts of crap. Because it’s cheap. And nothingRead more

Uh, Ms. President? Where were you born?

Every morning at the Tyrant’s preschool, the kids have a question to answer as they walk in the room, like What do you want to be when you grow up? (mermaid) or What’s your favorite food? (Velveeta). This morning’s question: Would you like to be president? And the Tyrant’s all UH, NO-OH! DUH! BORING! But I felt my heart sink a bit. I said quietly to the teacher, “You know she can never be president, right?” She thought I was joking because myRead more