Secret Mommy-hood Confession Saturday

I ate cold pancakes.

I volunteered for “Breakfast With Santa”.

I had no idea what exactly that entailed

Perhaps I’d cut up pancakes.

Squirt some ketchup on eggs.

Clean up inevitable spills.

But mostly, I figured that it would be a nice social adventure. You know, meeting Chunky’s friends and connecting with other Moms.

Oh no.

I’m dreaming of a Christmas fucking no.

I have never seen so many children in one place…

Aside from Duggar’s vagina…

I’ve never seen the inside of her vagina…

But I’m sure that its walls are decked with the same shitty hand painted artwork…

All those bodies.


Who the fuck gave you bingo dabbers?

No don’t eat the poinsettia.

No. No dog piles on Santa’s chair! Who owns that little shit in the blue stripped old man sweater?

Why are you under the table?

Put your dress down.

No, I don’t want to see your princess underwear.

Don’t wipe your booger on the chair get a tissue.

Not on your coat.

Now go wash your God damned hands before you desecrate baby Jesus in that manger with your booger fingers.

Press pause kids. PRESS PAUSE MEANS STOP

Did you just lick that orange and put it back in the cornucopia?


I know the basket isn’t made of fucking corn. It’s called cornuco-find-your-Mom.

Sausages are not markers.

I’m pretty sure that putting your scrambled eggs in your juice will taste like a lumpy asshole.

Told you.

No, you clean that shit up.

That was just in the first 20 minutes.

I’m serious. Who owns that kid?

Where were the teachers you ask?


Having a grand old time in a table way over in the corner.

I was thinking of running over there and punching Chunky’s teacher in the festive Christmas vest but I like her.

And she deals with this every day.

I’m buying her booze for Christmas.

After a while I just gave up and plopped next to a Mom of triplets.

“Want some pancakes?” she asked and pushed a plate towards me.

We both laughed as we choked down some cold soggy pancakes that we had no idea where they came from.

And you know what?

I’d probably do it again.

Because this face?

So worth it.

Secret Mommy-hood Confession Saturday

To all of you who said that I’d enjoy the peace and quiet when my son started school, you are all a bunch of liars.

I am loving the loud.

I jam the fuck out to loud kicking ass tunes ALL. DAY. LONG.

Yea, that just happened

They’re called Christmas songs and yes, I’ve been listening to them since our local radio station started playing them the day after Halloween.

Do you love Bing Crosby?


Well then you probably should expect coal from Santa because clearly you don’t love Christmas.

Or Jesus.

Kidding on the Jesus part.

It sounded funny.

Secret Mommy-hood Confession Saturday

All I’m saying is, if I spend my time chiseling off dried up pee on the toilet,  I would like to be the first person to take a victory poo.

Perhaps there is some sort of pheromone in the cleaning solutions that I use that stimulates my boys bowels.

Perhaps they have some sort of built in poo-dar.

Perhaps they have snooty asses that needs pristine toilets to sit on in order to have a good poo.

Perhaps they are just like me and want to be the first to take a trophy poo after a good cleaning.

Perhaps I’m writing this post so that I can set some sort of record for mentioning the word poo a lot.




Whatever the reason is, my boys will poop on cue after I snap off my rubber gloves.

I cleaned it.

I should be the first to have a trophy poo.

That’s my goal for 2013.






Secret Mommy-hood Confession Saturday

I can’t take you seriously if you have your family represented by stick figures plastered on your car’s rear window.



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