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

What’s next on my agenda: Not another dog

What? Oh, hi! I didn’t see you there waiting. I’ve been busy looking for ways to upend my life. Because that’s what I do when I’m nervous. I’ve got some Guillot in me – Guillot was my grandmother’s name – and thus am a direct descendent of the Nerveenas, a group of women like my mother who worry with equal fervor about constipation, burnt roux, uneven fingernails and nuclear proliferation. Cymbalta helps temper the Nerveena in me, but still sometimesRead 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

After the Cruise. Or, back to real life.

We came home from The Cruise to an immaculate house. But my children descend on a space like a tropical storm. So by yesterday I was picking up branches and mopping up water. Seriously, they do the same kind of damage. As I straightened the kitchen, I started washing a measuring cup that was full of a thick, congealed white substance. The more I washed it, the more the stuff stuck to my hands in a slippery gross mess. FinallyRead more

In which I succumb to the lures of the (anti)aging process

My trainer Son of Sam is out of town on a much-needed vacation. I knew it was much-needed because last week he made me do 1-minute sets of 180-degree squat jumps followed by double suicide sprints across the gym. I only threw up a little bit. “Take your time,” he said. But not on the sprints. So he’s gone this week, and next week I’m ON A CARIBBEAN CRUISE¬† in case you forgot, which means two weeks without the manRead more

When the cat’s away, the mouse…watches the NBA playoffs, I guess.

I left this nest for barely 48 hours. When I returned, one remote control was broken, one was missing, the Pterodactyl was finishing off a 600-calorie bag of sour gummy worms, the Diva was sitting on the couch with a 1-lb bag of M&Ms, the children’s bathrooms had no toilet paper, the dog’s water dish was empty, no teeth had been brushed since I left, and….TEDDY WAS MISSING so the Tyrant was dragging around an assortment of poor substitutes whileRead more

Tropical Storm Beryl’s catastrophic damage

Oh, poor underdeveloped, overrated Tropical Storm Beryl. Worry not, for judging by the amount of damage inflicted in my home, you had the strength of a hurricane. Furniture upended, strips of paper strewn about, Sharpie streaks on the counter, every clean sheet unfolded, Dorito chips in the bathroom. Who eats Doritos in the bathroom? My kids, that’s who. My kids, who Beryl forced inside for two whole days. Hence the damage. BWAH! Other casualties of the storm: – Two rats.Read 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

Things I’ve Learned…

Children are like martinis – one is too many, two is not enough, three is too many. Still, they’ve taught me some valuable lessons. Here’s the first installment of Things I’ve Learned, a new occasional feature in which I chronicle my parental learning curve. Things I’ve learned by being a mother: 1. A large spoonful of peanut butter can be considered a meal. 2. If the dog jumps up on the couch often enough, eventually you’ll just say fuck itRead more