March 30, 2012


Nothing like a little Pinterest to get your panties tightly wound into a little bunch over some glitter and modge podge.

Inspiration Pin
Easy enough right?

Oh, I got this!

everything is better when sung to an NKOTB song

Drum Roll Please...

Whah. Whah. Whahhhhhh.


March 29, 2012

yada yada

We all know my disdain for Miley, but dolls I have a new confession. I kinda hate January Jones too.

Doesn't she always look like she's shitting a sharp turd?

and no i don't watch mad men and i couldn't care less

 yada yada... great rack. yada yada, good skin... yada yada, skinny bitch...



March 28, 2012


There are benefits of having a good talker.  Sure, you can communicate with them when otherwise you'd just have to wrangle the crazies off the floor when you can't understand that they want to watch Elmo instead of Chuggington. Sometimes, it also proves challenging when you're walking through the appliances section at Target and your son yells "FUCK" at the top of his lungs. MOTY. Awesomespice. (I'll get to that in a second).

Toddlenglish is cute. And adorbs. And funny. And deserving of a medal and a big glass of sauce for managing to figure out that "EYESHH" means ice. But just in case you decide to, say, stop by for a glass of vino, I have detailed a list for you below that may be helpful.

Spoon - "PEWN"

Juice - "JOOOSH"

Truck - "TUCKAH"

 Butt - "BUTT" (awesome)

Crayons  - "KAH-OOORS"

Meatballs - "BOOBAAHS"

Bicycle - "SICKOL"

Boobs - "BOOBEESH" (don't ask)



Grandpa - "POO-PAH"

Smith - "MIT"

Kaylee - "KAYKAY"

 Milk - "MULK"

Phone - "FOHN"

Mailman - "MOOMAHN"

Old McDonald app on my iPhone - "DONALDSH"

Octopus - "OPPOPUSH"

French Fry - "FOOFYE"

Charlie - "CHAHYEE"

Yogurt - 'YOYO"

Wine - "MOMMY JOOOSH" (I'm so proud)

Fork - "FUCK" (yeah, and then there's that...)

the obligatory school photo, spring 2012. dammit he's cute

March 27, 2012

bath time giggles

I had the distinct honor to spend the day with my son on Sunday. Daddy was busy at a music conference in Miami, so the dude and I were able to enjoy some mommy & son bonding time. A time that we hadn't had together in a long while.

My boy is so damn delicious. I know I am bias, but he's (generally - despite the epic tantrums) the most mild mannered. smart, funny, and happy little guy I have ever known. Don't misunderstand... the kid can throw a fit with the best of 'em. But dammit if he's not generally smiley face and oh so cute. And funny! The kid is a damn ham. He knows just what to do to make me smile.

Daddy and I are always together for his bath time. Smurf really enjoys drawing on the side of the tub with his "kah-orrrs" (colors / bath crayons) and blowing bubbles in the water.

But Sunday night's bath was special. It was just baby and me and I took full advantage of our alone time and hopped in with him. We blew bubbles. We kah-orrred. We splashed. We stayed in the water until it was ice cold. our toes were every bit pruned, and it was 20 minutes past his bedtime. But, it was by far, one of my favorite moments with him in the past 20 months.

 I sure do love my boy.


March 26, 2012


I fruckin did it. I ran that goddamned 5k and I rocked that shit like it was a Saturday night booze fest. Okay, not really. I didn't do fabulous. I finished in 33.37 minutes - about an 11 minute mile. Smack dab in the middle of my age group, but considering I trained about as long as I go on a drinking hiatus, I am pretty tickled with myself.

I can't lie. That mess wasn't easy. The initial kick off? Fan effing tastic. The adrenaline kicked in and I was golden. Until the course split and my far more athletic friends took off for the 5 mile course, leaving my pathetic ass on the 5k solo.

I took a few walk breaks. Strategic ones, depending on the bend of the street or the sheer determination to not let the man with the DOG in the race beat me. Or that bat shit crazy girl that sang bits and pieces of Rhianna songs out loud.  Who does that?

As I rounded the corner and saw the finish line and my two boys cheering me on, I told the stomach cramp to suck my ass and just went with it. Stopping only long enough to pick up my Smurf and carry him across the finish line with me.

Bad ass.

I am not the fastest runner. Eff it. I'm not a runner at all. But I set my mind to it and I did it. And for that I am proud. I may have also had an all afternoon toast with some vino for my efforts too.


March 23, 2012

tacos and the run (its not quite like that)

Tomorrow is my first 5k. I am pretty sure my training lies somewhere between sucking a fat one and bitch please. I am not prepared. Like at all.

You know how I downloaded that fab little couch to 5k program? I have only gotten through 4 levels. Instead of 8. Yep.  I did manage to do some awesome heavy lifting (of a 30 lb toddler and my prized move - wine glass to mouth). But other than twice a week cardio while catching up on how that Blake Lively bitch is working her way into Ryan's heart or The Sitch's prescription pill addiction (gasp! like we didn't see that one coming) via Us Weekly, I  didn't do shit to justify a training.

I initially wanted Husband and Smith to cheer me on at the finish line. To be proud of my couch to fine ass self. But all their stuck with is a eating, breathing, drinking and running taco of a mom. Le sigh.

I'm certain I'll toast to my half-assed efforts with a beer after the death march though. Who needs a medal. I'll take mine with a little barley instead.


March 22, 2012


Occasionally you run across some goodness that makes you want to nah-knee nah-knee boo-boo all the asshats out there that judge or criticize you for being truthful about the ups and downs of parenthood.

Obviously the good in my life far outweighs the bad. Truthfully. My little piece of toddler goodness makes me happier than a pig in shit with a side of Bojangle's biscuits. But lets face it dolls. Shitting rainbows and sunshine out of my asshole isn't nearly as funny or entertaining as complaining about temper tantrums or inability to function without my box-o-delicious.

Most of you love me for this. But I have gotten my fair share of craptastic emails from readers who wish to rain on my pessimistic parade. Boo hiss on your boo hisses, bitches.

I received another "thank you for keeping it real" email yesterday and quite frankly it made my day. I don't blog for any other reason than it being a cheap form of therapy and not quite as dangerous as a bottle of pills. Although I have taken this little place up a notch with sponsors and giveaways, FNS is still and will always be just as real as my saggy boobs. 

Just a quick thank you to all of you who have sent me the positiveness on my negativity. You bitches are the best.


And just for a little goodness, hop on over to The Poop Whisperer to read my post today too...


March 21, 2012



That's how I would describe parenting a toddler. Of course, that's in the nicest way possible. I wouldn't dare use words like "seriously, this is my life?" or "you have got to be fucking kidding me!" or "Is 9am too early to start drinking?"

Smith's tantrums have reached epic proportions. We got home from school at 5:50 last night. And he screamed from 5:50 - 7:06 when we finally  laid him down. He screamed through dinner. He screamed through his bath. He screamed through books. He screamed. And screamed. And screamed.


He wanted to play in the car and "dive". We all know I'm not winning any parenting awards with this kid, considering my diversion tactics that usually consist of Oreo cookies and sips of my Coke.  But allowing my son to think that my SUV is a toy is a line that I am not crossing anymore. Hello dangerous! I'd prefer to not be arrested on account of my future 9 year old driving my car into a house. Kthanks.

Kid is going to break his toes into a thousand little bits if he continues to try to kick his way to China on the living room floor when we say that god forsaken NO word. You might as well have killed his dog and spit on his grave. Its apparently that tragic.

it my way or the mutha freakin highway

We have tried the ignoring method. Tantrum? What tantrum? The only thing I see is a Ryan Reynolds movie on FX and a BIG glass of wine. We've tried the calmly hugging devil toddler to reassure him that we love him method and I just get smacked in the face and bruised in the thighs from a 30lb toddler using me as his personal angry trampoline.  We have done the time out thing which seems to make the screams reach levels loud enough to shatter glass. I'm not one for hitting. Unless its spankin Ryan's toosh and then bring. it. on.

So, thoughts dolls? Before I check myself into Betty Ford, I figured someone may have a magical cure. Other than drugging him (I kid... kinda).

In other BITCH PLEASE news...

yeah okay... you don't have spanx under there... just like I 'quit drinking'...
UPDATE: my BFF just sent me this article... interesting!


March 20, 2012

shameless self promotion

Did I ever tell you what I do for a living? I am a slave to three Partners of an international landscape architecture firm. Okay, not really. I love them. I actually do.

All three of "my guys" travel quite frequently... China, the Middle East, Europe, Sri Lanka. It sounds pretty glamorous. Despite my best efforts to sneak into their suitcases and promises of being a personal beer bottle opener on their trips, they haven't yet managed to "need" me to come with them. I actually disagree. I think they need me more than they think or are willing to admit. If Bob hits the damn insert key once, he hits it a thousand times and never remembers how to stop erasing his text as he types. See, I am really important. I am also in charge of the "studio meeting beer supply list". Big things, people! We also have a guesthouse at work... with a pool. And an always stocked supply of beer in the kitchen(s). Don't feel to bad for me. And no we're not hiring. Besides, I like my anonymity (bah!).

I make a decent living. Husband does okay for himself as a Teacher. But, quite frankly with a garbage disposal for a toddler, it never seems to be enough. Boyfriend slurps down the Fruit Buddies with a quickness. I have never seen $1.50 be flushed down the toilet (both literally and figuratively speaking) as quickly as those things go.

Lets face it, having a kid is 'spensive. And how people manage to have two + ankle biters in daycare at the same time? Shut the fruck up. That's out of control. I'm glad to hear that moonlighting as a stripper is working for you because there's no way in fake tittied hell that I could ever afford two at once.

I started Little Laws Prints as a means to save money for Smith's college fund. I had (somewhat of a) talent and managed to garner a little support for my efforts. Primarily from the blog world because you guys rock my effing socks. Its been a great means for me to save some money for my little dude. Efforts that otherwise wouldn't be possible because we are, much to my dismay, paycheck to paycheck. You won't see me shopping at Nordstrom's or J. Crew. Or spending $300 on a pair of boots.You will find me at the clearance section at your local Target though. I love that shit. And I have no shame.

I don't talk a whole lot about my goodies, but figured I'd take a hot minute and pimp myself out. I am the master of cutesy kiddo invitations. True story. Purchases support Smith's college fund. Next time you need a cute party invitation or some really dope-tastic cupcake toppers, consider using little old me. You'll actually be buying Smurf a text book. Or a case of beer in 2031 if he's anything like his mama - lets be realistic.

Blogger friends get 10% off with the code "blogger" at checkout.


March 19, 2012


Do you ever have things that you wish you could blog about, but know that if you did, you'd subject yourself and your son to complete and utter ridicule for the remainder of your lives? I have an amazeBALLS picture that you guys would LOVE. But alas, you'll have to use your imagination on this one.

  1. reading
  2. completely naked (except for some well worn sneakers)
  3. laying on the floor
  4. twig and giggleberries displayed like a fine christmas ham
My god I love my kid. He's flippin hilarious.

We had such a great weekend. My good friend Colleen came to visit for a little Irish festivities. We ate, we drank, we slept, we talked, we snuggled with babies. We had some really heinous craft beer.

In other news, I am completely and utterly addicted to DrawSomething. I know, I know. How late am I to this game? I don't claim to be good at it, but damn if this shit isn't fun.  Husband, on the other hand, is ridiculous.

I am all over the place. Sorry dolls. Not prepared this morning at all. I promise to be back tomorrow with something legit. I feel like I need some ADD medication today.

Oh, look! A bug!


March 17, 2012

Are you the next Deep Clean Diva?

This post is sponsored by Pine-Sol® Clean & Disinfect with Pine-Sol®: The Powerful Scent of Clean." I was compensated for this post as a member of Clever Girls Collective, but the content is all my own.

I used to be a clean freak. I think all of my college roomates hated me because I spent more time picking up the red plastic solo cups off the ground at our epic college parties rather than sitting down, smoking my Marlboro Lights, getting cancer (not really), and drinking my face off (yes really).

I have always been a clean freak. Saturday mornings didn't typically consist of lounging around the house in my pajamas watching Real World Marathons (can you believe this show is still one? My God, how old am I?). I cleaned. And scrubbed. And wasted far too much of my early twenties caring about making perfect vacuum lines in my carpet.

But, when I became a mom, all bets were off. I can barely find time to scrub the crusted toothpaste particles off my sink anymore. And removing dust bunnies? Gah. I just now consider them a part of the insanely dysfunctional and messy family. Messy, yes. Dirty? No.

But Pine Sol is all fabulous and shit because they are offering incentive to get your asses off the couch (and away from the wine glass). They are looking to crown a Deep Clean Diva with a chance to win 5 grand. Did you hear that? 5 G's!! I am sure that I don't qualify for such a fabulous honor anymore; in 1998, I'm sure I would have rocked that shit hard. But I am absolutely certain that one of the fabulous readers of FNS would qualify!

Visit their facebook page for  more deets, yo!

Are you a little extreme when it comes to cleaning? Win the Pine-Sol® Deep Clean Diva Crown and $5000. Enter Now!


March 16, 2012

April Spons(ass)ers

Contact me for information...

I'm cheap. And easy. Especially after a box of wine. Booya.



I'm interrupting the regularly scheduled Firm Friday's post to miss on my dudes a little.

The  idea of having a few days to myself while this whole fumigation thing is going on sounds good in theory, but when it boils down to it, I'm missing my dudes. Hard. Granted, its nice to get out of shitty diaper duty and get ready for work in peace and quiet without a toddler kung fu gripping my face, but I  miss them. Like, a lot. 

It reminds me a lot about how much I take for granted.

Even in his worst tantrum moments, I can still touch Smith. I can feel him. I can wrap my arms tightly around his beautiful pale skin and feel the warmth of his body. I can grab his little hand and take him for a walk around the neighborhood, exploring all lizards and finding the coolest rocks. We can sit on the couch together eating snacks and watch the choo choos.  And I can take off his socks, sniff his tootsies, and let out a big "pee ewww!" and make him giggle so much that he gets the hiccups. I can ask for a kiss and he'll lean over, open mouthed, and smooch me right on the lips. I can touch his face and marvel at the beautiful, miraculous, and perfect little person that I created. He's MINE. I still can't believe that.

Some days we get home from work, Kent and I are both Captain Asshole; spitting venom and eff bombs out the ass. But at the end of the day, he's my boo. 10 years together this summer. A decade. And this man hasn't grown tired of me yet. One of my favorite moments of the day is when we crawl into bed at night. Always together. Its very rare that one of us will go to bed without the other in tow. Its just our routine. And when we pile in bed, the dog and two cats follow, snuggling at our feet. Kent always tries to "hold hands" with my toes. My God I hate feet, but it always elicits a laugh or two. The conversation reverts back to each others bed hogging or cover stealing performance from the night before. We'll talk about who gets to sleep in first over the weekend, each making our argument slightly more pathetic than the one before. We giggle and at some point, our eyes close and I find immense comfort in knowing that he's just inches away. I love that man.

Being away from my boys has been a vacation from responsibility, but not a vacation for my heart. It hurts. And I just want them home.


March 15, 2012

the sanity i found at the bottom of a wine glass

Sweet mother of god, this better be the last of the casa drama.

We were informed a few weeks ago that our townhouse needed to be tented for termites. If you've ever been on the receiving end of this kind of news, there are a few choice 4 letter bombs that fly out of your mouth and probably a 32 year old temper tantrum too.

We had the flood over Halloween. Followed by the new kitchen floor disaster. We had the washing machine disaster. And now we have this.  And we haven't even lived there a year yet.

Those little rat bastard termites have turned our world upside down. And having a toddler complicates things to the highest degree. Tenting requires you and all residents (including pets and dust bunnies) to evacuate the home for 72 hours. And the preparation? Its not just packing shit up and leaving. Its cleaning out every morsel of food from your cabinets. Every frozen item in your freezer and every drop of crap in your fridge.

Oh, and we can't forget about having to double bag any consumable items... medication, toothpaste, rogue peanut butter cups, or my treasured box-o-delicious. Luckily, I prepared for the latter by drinking my face off this week. Booya. No drops go to waste.

Kent took off this morning for his parents house. With a car filled with boxes of food, a cooler filled to the brim with ketchup, juice boxes, American cheese singles, and mayonnaise, a suitcase full of necessities, two cats, a dog, and a partridge in a pear tree. Meanwhile, I rolled up to work with a garbage bag full of frozen food to store at my office for the next couple of days.

I need a vacation. And a drink. Thankfully this doll is letting me camp out at her place for the next few days while daddy and the boys are up at grandma's for the rest of the week. Lots of wine on the menu. And good girl talk. Oh hey, there's my silver lining!

Be sure to pop on over to Miss Britt's spot for a really cute 31 gifts giveaway!!!


March 14, 2012

its like playing dress up!

Did you know that I am a fashionista? Okay, that's obviously  not true, but I am working my way up the fashion train by actually caring about what I look like when I leave the house. Gasp! This coming from the woman who wore baby vomit as an accessory for a few months. contacted me to see if I'd be interested in doing a little review. Um, hello? You had me at Hi. I love the way glasses have finally come to the forefront of fashion and aren't something to hide behind anymore.

The site is incredibly user friendly. And they offer this bad ass virtual try on tool so you can see what you'd look like sporting some different frames. Um. I am thinking the bottom right is my fav don't you? You can try on some too. Check it out!

But alas, I decided to spruce up my eyeglasses for the first time in oh, ten years, and finally get some new specs that would compliment my new wanna-be fashionista. And I chose these bad boys. Paired with a red lip (for the first time evah, yo! and btw, best red lip action from avon. true story), and it was a hit. I was called everything from Snow White to a 40's pinup model. Compliments out my asshole. I'll take it.

My Rx glasses are incredibly lightweight. Comfortable. and durable. Great for me with a Captain Destructo Toddler on the prowl.  But even if they weren't, they offer a 100% satisfaction guarantee on top of their 110% lowest price guarantee. If you refer a friend, you get $30 for each first purchase that friend makes to use toward your pair. Bomb.

They have prescription glasses and really cute sunnies too. But for a girl that is technologically challenged despite running this here little slice of heaven, I can't say enough good things about the process to buy glasses from them.

Because Glasses USA is awesome, they are giving all First Name Smith readers a special discount...

50% off store wide through St. Patrick's Day. 50 dolls! That's a lot of money off. Use the code "lucky50" at checkout. If you can't  make the purchase by March 17, take 10% off with the code "blog10" at checkout after.

Snow White / 40's Pinup Model?  Out.


March 13, 2012

yet another downfall to the contribution of life

Surprise! You're having a baby.

cue the oooohs and ahhhhs (or perhaps, maybe the oh shits and the fuck my life's depending on your situation).

You start dreaming of  all things baby. The sweet snugly kisses. Rocking ever so gently while breathing in the amazing aroma that only newborn babies heads can do. You envision soccer games, and first dances. Classroom plays, and movie nights at home. Sleepovers and baking cupcakes. Graduation day and sharing a dance on his wedding day.

Now, take off the rose colored glasses and listen to me, bitches.

Having a child is all of that. It's glorious. And beautiful. And miraculous. It's an amazing gift. But with it also comes cavities. Cavities in your ass, in your vagina. Cavities in your sex life. In your social life. In your ability to rationalize the need for basic fundamental life skills. Who needs a shower? Its only been 5 days and I can hardly smell the vomit in my hair anymore. Cavities also form in your brain. And in your short term memory. And then there's just plain cavities.

Before I had Smith I was in the One Cavity in My Life Club. In fact, I was president of that muthafrucka. Then I got all knocked up. And with the saggy boobs, 40" hips, and corroded liver thanks to box-o-delicious, these precious little babes also rob you of healthy teeth.

insert inappropriate caption here

My first checkup since having Smith (I KNOW MOM! STOP YELLING AT ME) and I have 4 cavities that need to be addressed immediately. Two questionable ones. And also required two deep cleanings. All for the low low introductory price of roughly $300 (with insurance). Effing fabulous.

You guys probably think I'm the biggest asshole. All I do is complain about the downside of motherhood.

Of course that's only 5% of it. The shitting of rainbows and puppy dogs out of my asshole isn't nearly as funny though.

So, yeah.


March 12, 2012

Sleep is for loser babies

Did you know that its possible for 19 month olds to have temper tantrums ON you? Like, kung fu gripping your face, while flailing their arms, and kicking their toes into the ground? Smith, I have to hand it to you dude, you manage to keep things interesting.

What a crazy weekend. St. Patrick's Day parade with bountiful green beers, plenty of DIY projects, and next no no sleep. Except for the time yesterday morning that I forgot that the time changed and thought that Smith actually slept until 7:30. Silly mommy. Sleep is for loser babies.

bestie and i have the best lookin kids this side of the Mississippi

well hello there handsome

When I finally get around to picking the sleepies out of my eyes and release the kung fu grip Smith has on my thigh, I'll be back with more details. Until then... Congrats to the two winners of the Fashionable Baby Boutique giveaway!

Heather! You won:
  1.  Petti Romper
  2. Matching Bow or Headband 
Britt! You won:
  1. 2 pair of leg warmers

Shoot me an email and I'll get you in touch with Ashley.


March 9, 2012

Firm(er) Friday

Well, THE bathing suit has arrived. You know. The one that I am using as motivation to kick my ass into gear. The one that I am bound and determined to rock with pride on the beach this summer. The one that will make my husband drool (just a little) and be proud call me his.

Listen, we all have our own issues and our own level of self loathing. I am not immune. Just as you aren't. There are so many things about myself that challenge the very existence of any self esteem that I have. What may look great to you, doesn't always apply to the person wearing that skin.  Be kind, people. Except for Miley Cyrus. Hate on that cray-cray as much as you want.

I do think that the gym is helping. I think that being more conscious of what I eat also has helped shed a few pounds. I can see that I'm getting my stomach back. But, my friends. I have a long way to go to be comfortable in my own skin again. And in this amazing little bikini.

Be kind to each other, people. Love what you have, but strive to make yourself better. There's no shame or fault in that. I encourage everyone to buy that one bathing suit that you aren't comfortable in and use it as motivation to get your ass up and the lbs down. I have mine hanging on the back on my bedroom door. And I think about it with every crunch and every mile ran.

nothing like a nursery for a little photo shoot

Good luck dolls and stay motivated!

(Don't forget to enter to win the Fashionable Baby Boutique Giveaway!


March 8, 2012

FBB giveaway for the wee fasionable ones

My dear sweet friend Ashley hosts this little shoppe called Fashionable Baby Boutique. Chalked full of amazing little accessories for your littlest ones. From leg warmers, to custom headbands, to rompers... she has everything a mama needs for little boys and little girls.

Check out Ashley's shoppe and bookmark her page for all your little fashionable goody needs.

Ashley is giving away some amazing deals to some FNS readers. Whether you're a new mom, an experienced one, or haven't gotten yourself knocked up yet, but know some friends who drank the kool-aid, this giveaway is for you.

One winner will receive:
  1.  Petti Romper
  2. Matching Bow or Headband 
And a second winner will receive:
  1. 2 pair of leg warmers (she has them for boys too!
What to do to win? Leave a comment for each.
  • Visit Fashionable Baby Boutique on Facebook and hit that old LIKE button
  • Visit their website and tell me your favorite piece in her collection
  • Spank my ass and call me Sally
  • Follow First Name Smith
  • Blog, Tweet, Facebook about it for a final entry.
Winner will be drawn on Monday! Good luck dolls.


March 7, 2012

this ain't no Esther shit

I was reading my mother in laws blog the other day. Lady is hilarious. She is in the process of raising her husband of 40 years to be a respectable, reasonable, and generous man. A woman, who like me, envisions the day when he can fend for himself and think to turn on the washing machine before we jam the overflowing hamper up their ass ask them to do it.

And as she has so eloquently eluded to me, I'm screwed because my husband is his father. But in Kent's defense, I am his mother. So, it kind of works out. It does give me faith in our marriage... + 40 years is a LONG time to be married. Let alone to a Lawlor man. And likewise for Kent. I am not exactly puppy dogs and rainbows up in this piece all the time. Ifthatgodforsakendogbarksonemoretimeimgoingtoshovemyfootsofarupherassthatsheshitsstevemaddensforaweek.

God. I get off topic so easily. My bad. How do you even put up with me?

My Mother In Law.

She blogs.

She's funny.

She posted about baby names the other day and I had to chuckle to myself. her version of "normal" names are far different than what we see today. We chose not to share our baby name when we were pregnant (why the f*ck do people say 'we were pregnant' - last I checked, Kent didn't have shit to do with it after the one faithful night in October after a cheap bottle of champagne and an Anthony Hamilton CD). We intentionally didn't tell people our choice in name because we didn't want anyone to tarnish or influence the one goddamned name that we could agree upon.  People are mean. And have opinions. And like to rain on other peoples parades. (GUILTY!)

Funny how our parents see names like Phineas, or Jackson, or Smith, or Finnea as weird names. Meanwhile, if any of my friends or family had a child and actually named her Esther, I'd think that was unusual. And probably ask if she came with a pack of moth balls and a side of 10 year old stale mint candies in a crystal dish.

Its in our generation. I'm sure all of the Smith's and Colton's and Thad's will be singing the same tune about their grandchildren one day.

The generation gap is funny in that way.

Whats the strangest one you've seen? And for godssake if someone else tries to tell me that their babymama's cousin's sisters boyfriend went to school with a girl that had a baby and named her Shithead, I might poke you in the ear with a spoon. How OLD is that story? Gah!

Oh, and if you want some more poop, I'm posting over here today too.


March 6, 2012


Memba that post I did about how all the SAHM's made me feel like one big piece of steaming cow's shit because of all their insane craftiness and over the top smushy mushies for their husbands?

Yeah. About that.

I was determined to make my son see sparkles and sunshine coming out of my ass this weekend. I was going to be the most bad ass mommy in the world and he was going to remember my creativity forever. And he would go to school and tell all his friends that his mama did some crazy ass shit and it would make all the other ankle biters jealous. This mama was going to rock the mama game.

And it went over like a lead balloon.

Boyfriend could have cared less about the hours (*cough, minutes, *cough) that I spent taping those godforsaken ziploc bags to the sliding glass doors. He didn't bat an eyelash at the gorgeous electric blue messless finger paint right in front of his own eyes. He definitely didn't marvel at the awesomeness that was ME!

You know what struck his fancy? What he kept repeating? What he insisted was the greatest thing on the planet next to "jaba joooosh" (Jamba Juice)?


Dog poop.

On his mat outside.

So, kid... as you're reading this when you're older, just know that your mama tried. But apparently steaming piles of dog shit make you smile way more than your mama getting her Pinterest inspired goodness on. I will not win any mother of the year awards, but my dear, if poop makes you laugh, then poop it is.

In unrelated news... look at this gem...

don't be jealous...


March 5, 2012

Mama's Boy Syndrome

Secretly, I love having a mama’s boy. I love that when he wakes in the morning, he yells out “mommy” on repeat like its 1988 and he just bought the new NKOTB cassette. Step by step, baby!

I love that he hugs me and says “yai yuh yooo”. I love that he hands me a book and wants me to read to him. I love that he lets me sneak in kisses and tummy tickles.

But forgodfuckinsakekidifyoudontletmeshowerbymyselfimightlosemyshit …

I feel bad for Husband. He’s definitely feeling the wrath of unapologetic Mama’s Boy Syndrome happening in our house. Husband looks completely defeated every time Smith reaches for me or refuses to eat oatmeal unless Mommy is within spitting distance. The tantrums are epic. And god forbid anyone other than Mommy reads him a book.

I know there will come a day that he prefers balls (husband’s and soccer ones) over his squishy, kissy face mama. The time will come when he’d rather go for a walk and kick rocks with daddy than bake cookies with mommy (who am I kidding? I buy mine at Publix… this aint no Leave It To Beaver shit). Smith will prefer watching baseball with dad than helping mom wash dishes.

I know this time will pass. And probably far too quickly for my taste, just as quickly as everything else has in the 19 months I have been a parent. But sometimes in the midst of a particularly stressful mama boy moment, I just want to say "dude, your oatmeal is going to taste exactly the same if daddy feeds it to you. I don't have magical mommy dust coming out of my ass that makes everything taste like rainbows."

Instead, I just say FUCK under my breath. To which Smith repeats with perfect pronunciation in his tiniest little voice. I giggle quietly, change topics and go about my business so he doesn't suspect how amazingly awesome, yet completely terrible it is that he said that word.

Only to make him repeat it at bathtime for daddy just so he can hear how silly it sounds.

I wish I were kidding.