Top 10 Movie Titles That Describe Parenthood

Movies! You remember–those things you used to watch before you became a parent. I’m lucky if I get to watch A movie a year these days. I’m not talking about all the children’s movies I have to listen to while doing dishes or folding laundry or picking up toys everywhere. I’m talking about movies with real actors, dialogue instead of sound effects, and an actual plot line. In parenthood, it’s always too late to start a movie, and someone always falls asleep (depending on who got to choose it). Since I haven’t seen anything new, I’ve made a list of my favorites where the titles describe parenthood perfectly.

  1. Dazed & Confused — cause that’s how you wake up every day as a parent.
  2. Reality Bites — cause the reality of parenthood bites compared to what you’d thought it’d be.
  3. Misery — cause even when you’re sick and miserable, you still have to parent.
  4. Groundhog Day — cause every single day you do the exact same thing over and over and over.
  5. There Will Be Blood — cause kids are insane and fall down just standing still.
  6. Clueless — cause that’s how you’ll feel about your parenting skills.
  7. Sleepless in Seattle (or whichever city you live in) — cause you never sleep again.
  8. Fight Club — cause you break up more fights than a referee in a boxing match.
  9. From Dusk till Dawn — cause that’s the only time you get to yourself but you have to spend it trying to sleep.
  10. The Neverending Story — cause anytime your kids tell a story, it’s neverending.

    These are called dvds in case you don’t know


The Big Book of Parenting Tweets

I refuse to believe that Twitter is a complete waste of time. I mean, it is, but it did lead to something as awesome as The Big Book of Parenting Tweets.


When I first started Twitter, my husband would jokingly ask, “Are you making money doing that yet?” To which my response was always an exaggerated eye roll. Like anyone would ever pay me for my rantings on motherhood. Well, never say never.

For me, Twitter has always been an outlet, a distraction from the monotony of life. As a mom, my life is ALL about monotony, so between the playdates, the runny noses, the diaper changes, and the meltdowns, I look to Twitter to make me laugh, to inspire me, to make me think about anything other than my children, which is ironic because they are all I tweet about. I started tweeting one year ago in January of 2014, and had no idea what I was doing including using the dreaded hashtag in my first dozen tweets, wondering how anyone ever received one star let alone thousands of them. Slowly, I got the hang of it, and now it’s not so much an outlet, but a full-blown addiction.

As a writer, I’ve dreamed about being published and now thanks to The Big Book of Parenting Tweets, I can say that I am, even though my name is not on the front cover, it’s listed on the back among all the amazing contributors, and it’s not so much my name as my Twitter handle, but you get the point. Something I wrote is in a book, therefore I’m published.

Find my @

Find my @

Needless to say, I’ll be riding this high for quite awhile. The best part of being published is that I didn’t even have to do all the hard work, a talented writer and fellow funny mummy, Kate “Whine” Hall , along with Science of Parenthood’s, Jessica Ziegler and Norine Dworkin-McDaniel, worked tirelessly for weeks curating the best parenting tweets and chose some of mine. I’m honored and so proud to be a part of this project.

It’s the perfect book because you can read a couple pages, then set it down to do one of the hundred things your children need you to do, then pick it right back up and be laughing again in seconds before you have to do the next hundred things for your children. There are even amazing, hysterical illustrations that really bring the tweets to life.

Of course mine is about poop, of course.

Of course mine is about poop, of course.

The Big Book of Parenting Tweets isn’t just for parents, it’s for anyone who loves to laugh. I’m always surprised that someone who doesn’t have children finds anything I say about being a parent as funny or entertaining but somehow they do, so I’m sure everyone will find something to laugh at in this book. It’s just THAT great! So go get a copy now!

It’ll make you laugh, I promise!

Welcome to Parenthood, Check Your Life at the Door

At times, the first year of parenthood is a literal shitstorm. And on top of that, it’s a shitstorm of emotions.

Our lives change overnight. One minute we’re just a couple of normal, carefree people and the next we’re mothers and fathers in charge of a tiny infant who we want to have the very best life. But we’ve never done anything like this before, so we feel as though we’re screwing them up no matter what we do.

Now that my kids are toddlers, it’s hard for me to even remember the first year of parenthood. It’s all such a blur of random memories. Thank god for pictures because a lot of it has been lost to sleepless nights and crazy chaotic days or just my own self-preservation.

And speaking of pictures, #NewDad, is an awesome new picture book for adults.  A first time dad documents his journey into parenthood with humorous photographs and funny anecdotes that we, as parents, can all relate to. When I say “picture book” it’s almost like his Instagram account has jumped off the screen and into your hands. The opening page is a photograph of the author, Josh Gloer, resting his head on the steering wheel of his car while the caption reads, “Just took a nap…at a stoplight.”

newdadBeing a new parent is utterly exhausting and this sums up every parent’s life well beyond the newborn stage. You think  you’re just going to close your eyes for a brief respite, and the next thing you know, you’re drooling and a police officer is shaking you awake.

From being sprayed with spit-up, to “nailing” a work presentation with poop on his arm, to being in bed on a Friday night by 9 o’clock, Gloer captures the quintessential milestones in the life of a parent perfectly. Never do we feel more unprepared and more unsure of what to do when we become parents, but the best thing to remember is that we’ve all been there, it’s normal, and as Gloer puts it, “If you’re a #NewDad…you get it.”

Tuesdays with Snooki

The moment you realize you have more in common with Snooki than Michelle Obama do you:

A) Call your mom and apologize
B) Sign up for etiquette  classes
C) Do 10 shots of Jager and say screw it right before getting up on that tabletop to dance
D) All of the above


The other day I realized I had more in common with Snooki than I cared to admit. When writing a tweet that said something like, “I hate when people who can’t read go on to write a book,”I was referring to the pint-sized self-appointed “meatball” from MTV’s Jersey Shore and her book, Baby Bumps.

Snooki book

After tweeting it, I realized I was just hating on Snooki for doing something that I dream about doing –getting published– not achieving the world’s deepest tan or highest pouf. In the midst of my hating, I had to take a hard look at myself and that’s when I realized I was more like Snooki than I thought.

And here are the top 10 ways:

1) I used to be addicted to tanning. Me with my freckly German/Irish skin used to “fake bake” in a cancer box my senior year of high school. Back then in ’99, spray-tanning wasn’t what it is today. It was just a can of orange spray paint but similar to the effect seen below.

snooki tan

2) Have thrown up in my share of parking lots. I used to have a life before I had kids and that included going out and drinking way too much. I finally learned that shots were to be done at the beginning of the evening and not at the end after you’ve already had one too many. And Flip Cup should never be played with Lemon Drops.

3) I’m kind of Italian. My grandmother was 100% Sicilian and 200% crazy so by that logic–I’m 1/4 Italian and 1/2 insane. Apparently Snooki was adopted from Chile by Italian American parents so she’s basically Italian by osmosis.

4) I’m short. Still taller than Snooki, but short all the same.


5) I used to be a vet assistant. Apparently Snooki went to vet school to be a vet tech. I can’t imagine she’d be good at expressing anal glands, however she might have had her finger in worse places than a dog’s butthole when she lived at the Shore.

6) I’m a mom. No one ever predicted that Snooki would settle down and have a baby. While I can’t say the same for me because I was never a true party girl, some days I’m still surprised that I’m somebody’s mom.

snooki mom

7) I’d sleep all day if allowed to. I’d give anything to be able to sleep like a teenager again. Any.Thing.

8) I have awful tattoos. There are only 2 small ones on my back but one is technically a tramp stamp and the other is often misconstrued as the wrong initial. Here are just a couple of Snooki’s.

snooki tattoo

9) Have lived with a relative as a grown-ass adult. But at least it was a long time ago and way before I ever had kids.

10) Had a tiny crush on Vinny. What can I say–it’s hard to resist a babyface.

In conclusion, I can see why Snooki became America’s Guidette–there’s something about her IDGAF attitude that is infectious–or wait, maybe that was just another one of her UTIs. Who knows!

Look forward to the top 10 ways I’m NOT like Snooki, coming soon!

To Spank or Not to Spank? A Squirrel Satire

tree squirrel

Once upon a time there lived frazzled Mama Squirrel who, one day, took her two baby squirrels to the nearby playground to get out their chitters and squeaks in the fresh air so she wouldn’t be a complete nutcase by dinnertime.

Turned out all the other Mamas had the same idea and the playground was packed with skittering feet darting all around.

Mama Squirrel’s two little ones were playing well with the others until a bossy chipmunk wanted to use the counting toy and forcefully moved Sister Squirrel out of the way.

“No, Chippy Chipmunk,” her mother squeaked angrily. “You need to play together!”

Chippy huffed and continued on. Sister Squirrel was very understanding, swelling Mama Squirrel’s heart with pride…for once.

Meanwhile, Chippy’s mom proceeded to tell Mama Squirrel all about her dilemma just getting to the playground. First, her best jumping branch broke and she had to wait over an hour for the handyman to come fix it, then she had to nurse Chippy’s baby brother for a half hour only to be rewarded with a blowout on their journey over, but not before almost getting creamed by a guy riding a bicycle and texting at the same time. Mrs. Chipmunk was obviously distraught and Mama Squirrel knew exactly how she felt. That easily could have been her morning.

Out of nowhere, Chippy, still upset from being reprimanded by her mother, took out her revenge on Baby Squirrel, extending both arms and forcefully pushing her down. Poor Baby Squirrel didn’t do a thing!

Watch out, Baby!

Watch out, Baby!

Mama Squirrel swooped in, rescuing Baby Squirrel before Chippy stamped on her tail or gave her rabies.

Looked something like this.

Looked something like this.

Mrs. Chipmunk, with Baby Brother, strapped to her chest, didn’t miss a beat. She grabbed Chippy by the arm and swatted her behind three times and said, “We do not push anyone. We’re going home.” And off they went, Chippy’s mom pulling her by the arm while Baby Brother slept peacefully in his pouch, oblivious to what his future held.

Mama Squirrel felt badly for Mrs. Chipmunk, they’d only just gotten there and what an ordeal it was to do that! At the same time, Mama Squirrel was happy that Mrs. Chipmunk had no qualms about spanking her beloved little Chippy in front of a playground full of other mothers. Not only did she see what happened (because there’s nothing more annoying than when a mother doesn’t see her offspring behaving badly) but she took matters into her own hands, literally, and showed Chippy that pushing was not acceptable behavior. Now, if it had been Mama Squirrel, she wouldn’t have spanked because what does that teach them? It’s confusing to their wee chipmunk-sized brains. Yet, if Mama Squirrel was being honest, there was a tiny part of her that reveled in the punishment because who has the acorns to that these days? Apparently, Mrs. Chipmunk does, that’s who!

One Funny Mummy Goes Viral…Not Really, But it’s a Start!

This morning I was shocked to find an email from an editor at BlogHer in my inbox saying they were going to publish my most recent Mom Code post on their Family blog page. Immediately I felt like I’d won the Pulitzer Prize, wait did I say Pulitzer? I meant Publisher’s Clearing House and that dude with the ginormous check and balloons was knocking on my door ready to hand it over. I’m pretty sure the feeling would be the same…total elation!



This came at just the right time to give me a small piece of validation to keep going because lately I’ve been questioning if I’m even a writer anymore because I don’t have a spare moment to reflect or observe or do writerly things and it’s starting to mess with my mind and, no doubt, my mood.

I was so excited and beside myself that I immediately went to BlogHer’s website so I could see my post, but it wasn’t there. So I thought maybe it would be published sometime this week. So I went back to my inbox to reread the email and only then did I notice the date, December 26th…four days ago. The day after Christmas. Who checks their email the day after Christmas? Certainly not me! Isn’t the whole world on pause from the 25th until January 1st because it sure seems that way according to the amount of tourists walking around the tourist trap of a town next to us and also according to the TV as absolutely f*ck all has been on. Plus, I normally wouldn’t have even checked that email if it weren’t for that Target debacle. (Man, Target has really been letting me down lately.)

So I was bummed I missed seeing my post on the front page of their Family section, but completely unbummed that they selected my post in the first place. There is no monetary compensation (although that would’ve been icing on the cake) but there is a profound sense of accomplishment especially for someone who deals with poop all day. I’m super proud and thrilled. Hopefully, there will be more to come!

Mom Code

My sister and I think we’re hilarious. It’s probably a “you have to be there” kind of hilarity, but it’s ours and it’s one of the things I love most about her. Every time we get together we’re brainstorming about our newest venture whether it be a taco shop where we sell delicious tacos and silk-screened tees, a book store/jungle gym for kids, a dessert/champagne bar, an eclectic home furnishings boutique, or a reality show about our comical conversations in dressing rooms. Yeah I know, we’d be the only viewers, but if that Ryan Lochte had a show and only half a brain then surely they’re just giving them away to anyone. A gold medal and rock-hard abs are totally overrated and will only get you so far.

We think it’s a brilliant idea inspired by that one time I got stuck in a sweater or that other time we went bra shopping schnockered off our asses and I ended up buying a massively padded bra that sits stuffed in the back of my delicates drawer despite having been measured and trying on fifty different bras. In my drunken stupor I grabbed the wrong one because what do I need with a push-up bra anymore? I have enough to worry about. Tucking my boobs back into my bra while chasing my two maniacs at the playground is just one more hassle this Mummy has no time for.

Our newest idea/fantasy is to have a TV show called Mom Code modeled after MTV’s Girl Code.

girl code

Since we’re no longer the shiny, young thangs we used to be but mentally and physically exhausted moms who need a glass or four of Chardonnay as a reward after a particularly hard day, we know that Mom Code is more suited to us than what these twenty-something millennials are talking about. These gals discuss things like the timeline for farting in front of your boyfriend or girls who can’t walk in high heels or how a porn star’s va-jay-jay resembles a walrus patty. My favorite comedienne is Nicole Byer whose catch phrase is “I can’t!” Everything she says cracks me up!


“People don’t want to hear about your diet. Just shut up, eat your lettuce, and be sad. #ICan’t”

Mom Code moments happen every single day and when they do, I yell, Mom Code! and then text my sister cause I know she will sympathize, probably already having gone through it. So I’ve decided to put a little list together so that one day I might look back and laugh. I apologize in advance for all the poop references…it just goes with the territory. Oh hey, that’s one #MomCode

You look out the window and see the sunrise and your first thought isn’t, “Oh how beautiful” but “Ah crap, how early is too early to start drinking?” Mom Code

You don’t care if your toddler plays with matches and locks her baby sister outside, you will sneak away to take a dump in private if it’s the only thing you accomplish all day. Mom Code

You are now the proud owner of  yo-yo boobs…push them up and they just yo-yo back to their new southern location. Mom Code

It’s weird to see your actual name or initials cause now you’re just Mom. Mom Code

While furiously scrubbing your skid-marked toilet you unknowingly step in the fresh dog poop hidden on your poop-brown bathroom mat. Mom Code

You’re unsure if the booger crusted to your cheek is your own or your toddler’s and then you wonder how long it’s been there and who all has seen it. Mom Code

After changing a bajillion poopy diapers, you suffer from PPS…Phantom Poop Smell where you randomly catch a whiff just sitting on the couch then search tirelessly for the source of the stink yielding no results. Mom Code

You could feed a small African village with the amount of Cheerios, Goldfish, and raisins from under your two car seats. Mom Code

Any job sounds better and a million times easier than taking care of two demanding whiny-pants day in and day out. Mom Code

You give your fellow mom a knowing smile when her little one is going ballistic in the middle of the store (and feel smug as shit that it’s not yours this time). Mom Code

Silence means one of two things: they were finally successful in killing each other or one of them is happily drawing poo hieroglyphics all over the hallway while the other one eats handfuls of sugar directly from the bag. Mom Code

You eat every meal standing over the sink or the kitchen counter or sometimes even over the toilet. Mom Code

Mom Code like Girl Code is universal. How would we ever survive without it? Yeah ok, with a lot of wine. While it doesn’t seem particularly funny when you’re going through it, I try to tell myself that someday I’ll look back and laugh and even miss it.

Get Cancer or Save a Quarter?

Such a toss up.

I buy the Target brand Up & Up shave gel cause everyone’s always saying generic is the same stuff as the name brand only cheaper.

cheap assPlus, the bottle is bigger than the others and being the mini-Sasquatch that I am, I go through it pretty quickly. (Funny though cause I rarely have time to shave my legs anymore, but I’m still blazing through the shave gel…go figure.)

This morning as I lathered up, I noticed a disclaimer staring back at me.



How had I never noticed this sentence before? Details are my thing. And you would think that the word “CANCER” would have caught my eye at some point. How long have I even been using this shit, I wondered. Ah, feck.

How could Target and the state of California knowingly sell this to me and many other unsuspecting customers who don’t have time to read labels?!

Those A-holes!

Maybe it was the work of Skintimate or Gillette trying to sabotage their competitors?

I picked up my husband’s name-brand Gillette shave gel and turned it over and over in my hands, trying to find the disclaimer that his might possibly maybe somehow give him cancer. Nope, didn’t find it!

I’m appalled, Target. How can you state that you make “good products at good prices for good people” when right next to it is a warning that it might give me cancer?

Promises, shmomises

Promises, shmomises

Cancer is not a good price. I’m pretty sure the last time I checked, cancer was at the top of the list of things I never want (along with a Backstreet Boys reunion and a third child.)

I’m aware that in this day and age it seems like everything has the potential to cause cancer–breathing, walking in the sunshine, goddamn genetics–but you can bet your ass that if I see the C word on something that I slather all over my body on a daily basis then that shit’s going in the trash.


Living Under a Rock

It’s a sad, sad day when your own mother is hipper than you. When she knows more about what’s current and trending than you do. Makes me want to get a facelift or better yet, some Botox. Not really, but sheesh, it’s alarming. Give the old woman an iPhone and she’s Queen of Social Media spouting off words like YouTube and Yelp. I’m surprised she doesn’t have her own Twitter handle before me.

About a month ago, my sister sent me a video called, “What Does the Fox Say” and ever since then I’ve wanted to shoot, skin, and wear that fox to a Sunday brunch. Not really as I could never harm a fly, seriously, I apologize to a fly before I smack the crap out of it with a dish towel. Who does that? It’s a FLY!


The fox song is a catchy tune that Auntie played while my daughter was staying at her house one weekend so I never had a chance. It was funny the first hundred times listening to it and watching my girls bounce up and down to the music. The fact that the big one knows the words and sings along makes me laugh, but now it’s just gotta go. We’ve probably added 20,000 views alone.

Well, come to find out that this video is quite popular. Here I was thinking it was a kid thing. Apparently the group Ylvis was on MTV at the VMAs and the song was used on DWTS (not that I watch either of those things). Then my own mother asked me if I’d seen the latest spoof from SNL with Kerry Washington, “What Does My Girl Say.” That was the moment I knew my mother was more relevant than me and I just wanted to crawl back under my rock and pretend that the outside world didn’t exist, like I do 99% of the time.

I wish I had the brain power and the energy to make my own video called, “What Does the Mummy Say?” so my daughter could sing it in her adorable little voice. She’d say, “Go to, Go to, Go to Sleep” “Eat your, Eat your, Eat your peas” and “Time-out, Time-out, Time-out, NOW!” “What does the Mummy say?” It’s an instant classic, a bajillion views…in my head.

Miley Cyrus Ain’t No Shirley Temple

I grew up watching black and white Shirley Temple movies, instantly falling in love with her perfect ringlets and undeniable dimples.

shirleyOf course I saw myself as Heidi living in the Swiss Alps with my gruff German grandfather learning how to milk goats and wear clogs. And as the adorable little orphan in Curly Top singing about animal crackers in my soup and also as the feisty little southern belle dancing down the stairs with Bojangles Robinson himself in The Little Colonel.

dancing with Uncle Billy

Whether it was intentional on her part or not, my mother made me a huge nerd. She’s the one who introduced me to Shirley in the first place. She deemed her a worthy role model, letting me dress up as her in third grade complete with a top hat, cane, and the best ringlets my straight hair would hold. She helped me with my book report on her that same year and it was my proudest accomplishment of third grade, next to my kick-ass volcano.

When I think of the role models my daughters might have, I get a little worried to put it mildly. Remember cute little Hannah Montana?hannah montana

Well, I don’t know if she was ever cute or innocent, but I’m sure a lot of young girls watched her with the same adoration I had when I watched Shirley. And we all know how that ended…a twerking nightmare.

I can just imagine if Shirley Temple was a child-star today. How she’d grow up to shed her “nice girl” image claiming that performing half-naked with her tongue hanging out of her head was staying true to herself as a performer. She’d sing “On the Good Ship Lollipop” wearing assless chaps humping a giant foam sucker and twerking till the cows came home cause that’s what entertainment is these days.

Forgive me, Shirley. You would never stoop so low. Plus, you had real talent. You were, and still are, America’s Sweetheart for a reason, not because your daddy had an Achy Breaky hit in the early 90’s. I know my daughters will see the same magic in you that I saw and I can’t wait to share your movies with them.

To sum up, the nerdification of my daughters will definitely be intentional. They will wear glasses whether they need to or not. They will idolize Shirley Temple and play with horses until they’re eighteen. They will never listen to pop music and will never leave the house. Only now as mother do I understand why I couldn’t watch Dirty Dancing when I was nine and was twenty the first time I watched Pretty Woman. Like I said…total nerd.