Hey, all! Today I’m a guest over on Super-Blogger Pregnant Chicken’s site. If you haven’t been over there yet, click here when you’re done hanging out with me. There’s a solid chance this post will go up before that one, so if you’re a member of the Association of Accidental Assclowns, give her a bit to wake up, get her Tim Horton’s on, drink some Molson Ice, meditate on Gretzky or whatever it is Canadians do to start their day. It’s a great site about real parenting and real pregnancy. You aren’t going to find any posts over there about the beauty of creating life or about how if you don’t devote 100% of your mind/body/spirit to your children you aren’t a good mom. Also there’s a lot of cussing. And inappropriate comments. And other things that make me feel like Amy and I are going to be like bffs for-ev-ah. She’s like a Canadian WTMother. Only she’s the super successful, well-established, and really, REALLY polite version. You know. Because, Canadian.
Dear Six-Weeks-to-Go-Before-the-Baby-Comes Angela,
This is WTMother. I’m you in a few years. I’m pretty sure if you met me in person, you’d think I was a total freak-show. I’m okay with that. I know you’ve read every book and talked to all of your new mommy friends. The nursery is in place. (It really is beautiful, by the way.) You’ve picked out an elegant, well-thought-out name for our baby girl, (You aren’t going to ever call her that, but good effort!) Your hospital bag is packed, and you are feeling great about this impending motherhood thing. But hear me out anyway, because there are some things I really want you to know so that my your life is a little easier. Continue Reading
A lot of people have told me I need to start a blog. Like, A LOT. This has been going on since Dooce was still slinging paper for the man. It’s incredibly flattering. I mean, who wouldn’t be flattered by being told that their ideas are interesting, their wisdom appreciated, their wit unparalleled… their modesty inspiring… (Shout out to WTGrandma for that. She’s my biggest fan.) Continue Reading
I just had a heart to heart with the daughter of a good friend. She’s about to go off to college, so I was telling her things that, if they came from her mom, she would ignore (yay for knowing everything at 18!) Things like don’t drink the punch, don’t do crack, don’t register for Friday labs… how college is basically like summer camp with alcohol… the important stuff… anywho. Continue Reading
The Professor: “Mommy! I get emenemenemenem?”
Me: “Yay! Professor! Did you go in the potty?!?!?”
Birdy from the other room: “NO! He did not GO in the potty. He peed on me! And in the hallway! No M&M’s! He IS NOT GOOD AT THIS, MOMMY! This is NOT a good idea!”
Me: Professor, did you pee on your sister?
The Professor: “Yeah! Yay Professor!!!! Emenemenemenem for Professor!!!! YAY PROFESSOR!”
Confession: My father-in-law bought my daughter a doll that plays peek a boo. It was totally adorable until it started going off randomly and scaring the piss out of me. And I swear it was demon possessed because it would go off beside me in the kitchen, then show up in the bathroom, then pop up under the baby’s crib. It TRAVELED, people.
It survived an “accidental” washing, an “accidental” overnight in the rain, and an “accidental” trip down the basement stairs. Well, this morning when I was taking clothes out of the hamper, it popped up again for. the. last. time. If it shows back up again after a trip in a garbage truck, you’ll find me huddled and rocking in some random church.
Little Mommy Hide & Peek Doll. Destroy on sight. Do not show mercy.
Birdy and her little friend are in the kitchen snacking on hard boiled eggs.
The Professor: Professor wants a egg! Professor egg too!
Birdy: Here, Professor , have an egg!
The Professor: Tank you, Birdy!
Me: **doing mental math, then yelling from living room** “Birdy! The eggs in the door aren’t hard-boiled. They’re raw.”
Birdy: “I know.”
Me: “Then why are you giving one to your brother?”
Birdy: “Because I can. **pause** And it’s funny.”
Birdy: But Daddy, I NEED this new pretty dress.
WTFather: No, Birdy. I think you have enough pretty dresses.
Birdy: No I don’t. I don’t have enough.
WTFather: How many do you have?
Birdy: One less than enough.
Well played, kiddo. Well played.