messy house

Twas the night before Christmas, my house is a mess

My kids were up at 6AM, this Momma is stressed

There up my ass early with no time to spare

In hopes that a jolly fat man soon will be there

These children all sugared up like crack heads

I can’t picture a universe with them in their beds

My hubby still passed out, sawing some trees

No naps in my future, not sure when I’ll get some ZZZZ’s

When out in the road I heard such a clatter

Oh hell no, family already, such a distressing matter

Away to the vacuum, I turned it on with a flash

Straighten up pillows, blankets, and laundry real fast

I open the door to tons of family with gifts

Come in, please sit, time for spiked coffee, AHHH Yes

Nothing like day-drinking at 8AM with family and friends

After this holiday I may end up with The Bends

12 hours until I can attempt to put my little addicts to bed

I’ll spend today barking threats they’ll be filled full of dread

Who am I kidding they don’t fear me

We’ll be lucky to end the day without a series of fisticuff sprees

Soon it will be time for Church and then supper

By 5 PM eastern I’ll most likely need an upper

After bed it will be time to play the Jolly old soul

My husband better not ask to go for a bedroom roll

Then off to steal some sleep before the big day arrives

Relax and don’t stress, no need to get hives

Enjoy each minute, it’s fleeting and fast

I hope that your family has a wonderful Christmas blast!

We are quickly inching in on 2015. In this day and age I personally find it very difficult and demanding to be a wife, mother, and full time work at home employee. I wear several different hats and I am constantly juggling various activities.

Today I received a text from a friend with the following document in it. It is a scoring sheet on rating a woman on her ability to be a superior wife and mother. This way you can score her before you purchase the cow so to speak. Take a look at the chart. It was the standard in 1930. You can click on the chart to get a better view.


In the above chart it clearly states the duties that the wife is meant to perform. I will now give you my score and line by line ratings.

Demerits:                                                         My Score:

  1. Slow to come to bed—delays until husband is asleep. 1                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Yes, some nights I will wait his ass out until I know it is safe to enter the room without being mauled like poor Roy by Mantecore in 2003.
  2. Doesn’t like Children –                                                               0                                                                                                                                                                                                               I am potentially safe on this question. I am assuming it is referring to your own personal children. I love my children, but I hate other peoples kids. Let’s be honest, we all feel this way, right?
  3. Fails to sew on buttons or darn socks-                                1                                                                                                                                                                                                                 I have never sewed a button. I will never darn a sock. I will happily go to the store and buy a new pack of Hanes and call it a day.
  4. Wears soiled or ragged dresses or aprons-                        1                                                                                                                                                                                                       Guilty as charged. There are days I do not get out of my PJ’s. My pajama pants look like they were mauled by Mantecore. They are still my favorite pants, and I am not sure why that makes me a bad wife.
  5. Wears red nail polish—                                                             1                                                                                                                                                                                                             As we speak I am currently wearing glittery red nail polish that looks sweeeeeeeeeet. My though behind wearing red nail polish as a negative is that it infers the woman is a whore. Well, I guess you can call me Debbie and see if I head for Dallas.
  6. Often late for appointments–                                                 5                                                                                                                                                                                                   You’ve got me. I haven’t been on time for anything in at least 10 years. I have three kids. I will most likely be late for my funeral.
  7. Seams in hose often crooked–                                                1                                                                                                                                                                                                               I wouldn’t wear panty hose if you paid me. Plus they wouldn’t work with my flip flops.
  8. Goes to bed with curlers and face cream-                          0                                                                                                                                                                                                               I do not do this, but once I did get a really bad perm and my entire family called me Chester which was the name of a poodle we use to have.
  9. Puts her cold feet on her husband to warm them up-  1                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Damn straight I do that. My feet are cold, his legs are covered with think hair. Its like a sweater for my feet.
  10. Is a back seat driver-                                                                   1                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Guilty as charged. I am the worst back seat driver. I am also a pretty bad regular driver.
  11. Flirts with other men at parties-                                           0                                                                                                                                                                                                               I don’t think I am guilty of this one, but you would have to ask my husband. I am not interested in taking on another man, a wife on the other hand would be a welcomed addition to our family.
  12. Is suspicious and jealous-                                                         0                                                                                                                                                                                                            At the end of the evening I am so tired that my hair hurts. I do not have the time or energy to be jealous. Plus I am assuming he knows that I am handy with a shovel and am not afraid to dig a hole.


  1. A good hostess-                                                                           1                                                                                                                                                                                                                   I would say that I am an awesome hostess. I always have my fridge stocked with beer and wine, and I love throwing a party.
  2. Has meals on time-                                                                   1                                                                                                                                                                                                                   I do work from home so the majority of the time I have dinner ready and served on the table at 6:30. My husbands only complaint being that most of our meals could be served to nursing home patients because I have cooked them in the crock pot for about 12 hours. One year I only cooked food that I could cover in cream of mushroom soup.
  3. Can carry on an interesting conversation-                      1                                                                                                                                                                                                                  If you are reading this then you know I am pretty freaking interesting, however exceptionally inappropriate.
  4. Can play a musical instrument-                                          0                                                                                                                                                                                                                   I do not play any musical instruments, but I am attempting to teach my vagina to play the flute.
  5. Dresses for breakfast-                                                            0                                                                                                                                                                                                                   As stated before, I sometime never change out of my pajamas. Why on earth would I get dressed to hand you a granola bar?
  6. Neat housekeeper-tidy-                                                         1                                                                                                                                                                                                                    I am giving myself this point because I am at war with my children and house every single day. I do my best to keep maple syrup off of the furniture and fruit loops out of the couch. We own a dog. Her role is to eat anything that falls on the floor. That should count as vacuuming. This is however a daunting task and I am currently losing the battle.
  7. Personally puts children to bed-                                         1                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Bed time is usually sports center time at my house, which means I am the one putting their asses in bed. I do a lot of screaming and throwing of items as to disrupt his television watching, but it usually has no effect on him.
  8. Never goes to bed angry-                                                     1                                                                                                                                                                                                                       I try not to do this, however sometimes I am simply passing out. That doesn’t count right?
  9. Asks husbands opinion on important decisions and purchases- 1                                                                                                                                                                                            I say I do this all the time, however my husband would disagree. I do ask him what he think, I just don’t always do what he says. I am not sure why that is a problem.
  10. Good sense of humor—jolly and gay-                             1                                                                                                                                                                                                                    If I do say so myself…Yes I have a pretty good sense of humor. I think that is necessary if you want to stay married and have children. Otherwise you would find me on a bridge taking one last selfie before I jumped.
  11. Religious-sends children to church and also goes to church- 1                                                                                                                                                                                                   I do my very best with this one. Some Sundays are harder than others, especially after the Saturday drinking that occurred due to the week I had taking care of the demanding demons..AKA children.
  12. Let’s Husband sleep late on Sundays and Holidays- 1                                                                                                                                                                                                                 As soon as the three hemorrhoids march into our room on the weekend, he better be up and out of that bed. I am not a camp counselor. Time to rise and shine Baby.

My score….Drum roll please……………………………  -3

That’s right folks. I scored in the negative rage. Every day I get up, take the kids to school, do the laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, work from home, clean the pool, cut the grass, complete home projects, shuttle kids to sports and activities, cook dinner, provide the required services for my husband and then go to bed so I can get up and do it again the next day. And after all this I got a -3. I am greatful I was not a wife in the 1930’s. I would have never survived. So here’s to ringing in 2015. May your year be filled with good health, well behaved children, wealth, and a husband who knows better than to ask you to sew on a freaking button.


This morning was a knock down drag out fight as usual. It has gotten a bit chilly in the mornings and as I was getting the kids ready my daughter came out in shorts and a short sleeve shirt. I asked her to change into pants and grab her jacket. She immediately began to cry, scream and complain that she was not cold. Here is the interaction that followed. And yes, we sang it as though we live in a musical.

Daughter ——– Mother

I really don’t care — Baby it’s cold outside

I really want to wear — Baby it’s cold outside

Pants are so dumb – You’re not going to school like a bum

Shorts will be nice… — Go cover your legs, they’ll be like ice


I’m a big kid don’t you worry – -Beautiful, please we gotta hurry?

I’ll throw a fit here on the floor — I’m in charge please quiet your roar

Mom there’s not even a flurry — Beautiful please we gotta hurry.

Maybe just pack them for sure — Put them on or I’ll give you the cure


Don’t you care what I think? – No, please just do what I say

How about this skirt it’s pink?-Please, just do it my way

It will warm up soon — I don’t really care for your snarky tune

Weatherman said high temperatures by noon –- Your stressing me I will surely swoon


Mom this is so, so, very dumb –- Child you are making me glum?

At least let me pick the ones I want — Can’t we discuss a détente?

Mom can we go? — We can, just as soon as, you know…

Are you even listening to me ?


I’ve put em’ on, now let’s go – Oh, baby, yes but you move so slow

Let’s get outta here –Keep on your coat, or you’ll shed a tear…..

I really don’t care – You better not dare

Look..I took them off – Come now, you’ll get a cough


There’s bound to be kids in shorts –The teachers will glare and snort

At least I’ll be alone at school–What if you caught croup that wouldn’t be cool.

I really don’t care – You better not dare…..


It’s time to stop all the strife, cause baby I’m your Mom for life!


And off to school we went. I am sure at this point in the day she is on the playground with no jacket, and yes it did in fact warm up. Why do I even bother?

photo (12)

Facebook has been inundated with photos of playful elves. You know the photos that I am talking about. The elf is pooping out marshmallows, or leaving shaving cream messages. Those elves are so mischievous. What little scamps they are. Well this past weekend my families elf apparently took several selfies. I received these photos in my email this morning. I was not pleased to say the least. Below you will find the email that was sent to me from Elfie.

Dear Host Family,

I hope you had a great weekend. I am loving your pad. I had a blast meeting new people. I just wanted to send a few pics to show you what a wonderful time I am having. You’re kids are spoiled brats by the way, totally on the naughty list. Thanks for the hospitality.

photo (10)

Those Barbies are super slutty. Love those chicks.

photo (8)

Willie and I had a great time cruzin in the Chevy with Barbie riding bitch.

photo (7)

That Nutcracker is such a dick. He would not give me a straight answer.

photo (6)

Frosty was not frosty at all, if you know what I mean.

photo (5)

The Mistletoe worked like a charm, as if I needed any help.

photo (11)

I am positive I will bag that buck this season. Santa can kiss it. Let Dasher have a shot at a call up for once.

photo (4)

Barbie be like…Pizza for dinner. Cook a meal shorty or I will drop you like it’s hot.

photo (3)

Batman was PISSED! What a tool. I gave her the what-for…Three times.

photo (2)

It’s duck season. Enough said.

photo (1)

That fat waiter had no idea what his Friday night was going to turn out to be.


Freaking fox. He wouldn’t even give me a clue. If I hear that song one more time.

photo (9)

Three blondes and some booze. It was magical.

I am already calling dibs on your house next year.

Love, Elfie

So if you think your Elf is an inconvenient house guest this season, think again. You could have gotten Elfie, the beer drinking, Barbie defiling, buck hunting, snowman sodomite from the North Pole.


With December upon us, I have seen many pictures on Facebook of crying erratic children trying to get away from Santa Claus. I giggle and grin because I remember this same traumatic event occurring with each of my children. This caused me a pause and think about the legends that we tell our kids during the holiday season. First we have the Elf on the Shelf. He is a tiny magical man who flies to your home to watch your children and report back to Santa to compile a list of naughty and nice children. Next we have the big man, Santa. He is an elderly bearded fat man who breaks into your home at night to leave you gifts or perhaps coal, based on said list from above. Last we have several songs, movies, and various traditions that we perform each year that continue to amaze me.

Elfie has become a nationwide sensation. You can spot him in homes across the globe. His devilish grin and knack for high-jinks is second to none. Not only is the Elf a bona-fide snitch, but he is creepy and he hides each night when the kids go to bed. Is there any other time of the year that we would allow a small man to come into our homes and watch our children? I can’t think of a time when I have said to my husband, “We need a babysitter, how about that weird man who hangs out at the park? He looks like a bit of a scamp. I’ll see if he wants to babysit.”

Chris Cringle, the legend that is Santa. Don’t get me wrong, I love that jolly fat man. I just find it odd that we force our children each year to sit on the lap of a bearded, fat stranger, who we know nothing about. I am guessing he passed some type of background check, but what if Santa has a taste for the night life and still has a handful of ruffies in his pocket. We tell our children on a daily basis to watch for “Stranger Danger” but we push, pull and drag them up to Santa and beg them to sit on the “nice mans” lap. I am not throwing stones, I myself have paid an exorbitant amount of money to have my three-year old sit on Santa’s lap, only to tell me a few minutes later that he smelled like Mommy’s breath after I drank some Mommy juice, AKA wine.

Take a minute and think about all of the Christmas carols that we sing each year. The downtrodden bullied reindeer Rudolph has a solid moral plot. I am always a fan of an underdog, but what about the lyrics to Santa Claus is Coming to Town? Take a look below:

You better watch out
You better not cry
Better not pout
I’m telling you why
Santa Claus is coming to town

He’s making a list
And checking it twice;
He’s gonna find out
Who’s naughty and nice
Santa Claus is coming to town

He sees you when you’re sleeping
He knows when you’re awake
He knows if you’ve been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake!

Once again I have to wonder. Why can Santa see my children when they are sleeping and when they are awake? Should I be concerned enough to file a restraining order? I am positive that I don’t want an old creepy man lurking around my house at night checking to see if the children are behaving. I have a flip-flop for that. On a side note, what is Mommy doing kissing Santa Claus? Men, you better keep your women in check this year. I hear the UPS man is wearing a red hat during deliveries, and his package can be quite the load.

But I digress. I do love the holidays and I do love all of the traditions that give me a bit of leverage with my three children at this time of year. Greed is a very powerful driving force. If I have to use a fat man and a creepy dwarf to get my kids to behave in order to obtain a video game system, then by all means…..Merry Christmas.


It amazes me how telling a child not to touch something turns it into the most coveted object on the planet. This weekend our Elf on the Shelf returned to our home. I am positive that my 8 year old does not believe in this, but he is being a trooper and playing along for the other two. This morning while I was getting dressed I heard the kids talking in the living room. “Touch the Elf, go on, touch him” Said my daughter to my youngest son. “Throw an ornament from the tree and hit him, let’s see if he can really fly” she said. She is such a turd, always egging on one of the boys. About 30 seconds later I head a crash and they all come running into the bathroom. “Mom, he touched the Elf! I didn’t tell him to do it either” she stated. Little did they know, I had heard the entire conversation. I knew she was a filthy dirty liar and my son should be charged with misdemeanor assault charges.

We went back into the living room and I took a look at the Elf. He was hanging onto the wreath for dear life. “You know if you touch him he loses his magical powers, right?” I asked. “I only touched him with an ornament,” stated my youngest. So this left me with quite a dilemma. I packed them into the car and gave them a big dose of Mom guilt about being disappointed and why bad choices at this time of year can be detrimental to their Christmas loot. Below is my solution to the Elf touching issue. I left this note attached to said Elf.

Little Children BEWARE

Touching the Elf can cause disrepair

His magical powers and ability to fly

Will fall by the wayside and he will most definitely cry

Stop, look, and listen to your Mom and Dad

Making bad choices will make Elfie and Santa sad

Be sweet with your words and kinds with your hands

The season is upon us from far away magical lands

Be grateful and thoughtful this holiday season

Or coal in your stocking….And you’ll know the reason

*Here’s to hoping we can make it to Christmas without another assault charge.

It’s Thanksgiving Eve, there’s a crap ton to do.
Did you take the turkey out of the freezer? Oh hell no, I asked you!
Better get that bird in the tub, he’ll be frozen till June.
No one likes an arctic bird, I know we will call him Elsa, I bet he can sing quite a tune.
We have green-beans and cranberries, I see giblets galore.
Quick…5 second rule, I just dropped the stuffing on the floor.
The rolls are real sticky, the potatoes turned brown.
It’s OK, don’t sweat it, the family will be drunk as we pass them around.
The turkey is ready to be stuffed to the gills.
WTF is that his neck? Please pass me one of those pills.
This meal only happens just one day a year.
Why do we stress and pour alcohol to calm all the fear.
Its about being thankful so relax and decompress.
Pour the vodka, beer or Zin, perhaps a Xanax is best.
Sit with your family and relish this thought.
29 days till Christmas and I already can’t remember what I bought.
Happy Harvest to you and yours.
May your day be filled with cheer.
What’s that smell, oh shit the turkey. Can we do it at your house next year?


With the holidays quickly approaching I have had to spend more time than I like with my kids in retail stores and restaurants. I try very hard to run errands without my children. If I am planning to go out to a store with my kids, I need to add at least 1.5 hours to my total trip time. That time accounts for bathroom breaks, snack stops, public meltdowns, etc. The holidays only amplify the crazy that exists in my family. Anytime I go out with all three kids it’s like I am using a megaphone to tell the world “Watch out, here comes the Crazy Ape Shit out of Control family.” The glaring looks of fellow shoppers, can be as icy as the winter snow. Some shoppers offering a look of pity, others are staring at you shaming you for having such ill-behaved children.

Last week I was heading out of Home Depot with all of the kids. I made the mistake of walking past the Christmas decorations. My kids wanted to stop to look at all of the light up lawn ornaments, and push every button on the singing stuffed animals. When are the stores going to wise up and put those pieces of shit on a shelf that my demented “elf” children can’t reach? We spent about 15 minutes watching the blinking lights before I announced that we would be leaving. My youngest wanted to continue to push the buttons on the snowmen, reindeer, and the new and improved Christmas fox. We were on a tight schedule, so I said “No, it’s time to go.” I had my oldest holding my hand, the middle was in the basket, and my youngest was now dragging on the floor holding onto my leg screaming as though he was being tortured in the Spanish Inquisition. He desperately wanted to push the button one more time. My button however, had been pushed its final time.

As we passed the exit there was a greeter at the door. He looked and me and said, “I don’t miss those days.” I stopped and looked at him; not exactly sure what to say. Then it hit me. I said “Thank you.” He was one of the first people to be honest with me and agree that this shit sucks. Parenting isn’t all roses, and it’s OK to be honest. We talked for a few minutes. He told me that he much prefers his 30-year-old son, to the pain in the ass toddler that he raised over 26 years ago. It made me feel better about the rage I was feeling in the lawn ornament aisle five minutes earlier.

Everyone always says, “Don’t be stressed, you’re going to miss this.” I beg to differ. I am not going to miss running down the aisle of the grocery store to stop a kid from pulling down boxes of Cheerios. I will not miss public restroom breaks where my kids drop an F-7 shit that can scrape the paint off the walls. I will not miss leaving my basket full of items at the front of the store to go to the minivan to have a “chat.” I will not miss whisper screaming into my kid’s ear and raising my blood pressure 30 points. These are not the memories that people scrap-book. I have yet to see a photo album where someone puts pictures of them punishing their children, or a scrap-book kit for the “Time-Out” page.”Oh Stacy, look how cute Tommy is in the time out chair. What a beautiful memory.” Said no Mom ever.

There are plenty of things that I will miss. I will miss cuddle’s and hugs. I will miss butterfly kisses and hand holding. I will miss painting nails and coloring. Everyone misses the good shit. When was the last time you heard a parent say, “Man, I sure do miss the time when Bobby told his teacher to shut-up. That was a blast to deal with.” I think it’s OK to not miss the crappy hard times that we deal with as parents. I think it’s OK to call this period of time “survival mode.” I guarantee you that I will raise a glass to all fellow parenting survivors when I can go into a store and not worry that someone will call 911 because they see me slapping one of my kids with a flip-flop. It is OK to say, I will not miss those days.




Grocery shopping is a necessary evil. We need food to survive; therefore we must go out and purchase the food. While at Publix last week I began unloading my items onto the conveyor belt. The bag boy politely asked, “Paper or plastic?” As I answered his question I saw the cashier out of the corner of my eye. She had a somewhat shocked look on her face. I didn’t pay much attention to her due to the fact that I was battling with my children over who was going to place the items on the belt. One kid was under the basket, one was standing in the basket helping me unload, and the third was reading Soap Opera Digest.

When I go shopping, I don’t just pick up a few things. My cart usually looks like I am preparing for the Apocalypse. Living in a house with five people causes you to buy a variety of items. It is not uncommon to see all or some combination of the following items in my cart; diapers, beer, wine, panty liners, bathroom wipes, KY lubricant, Tums, Pepto Bismol, anti-itch cream, drain cleaner, batteries, lighters, rubbing alcohol, and sometimes Preperation H.

I have never paid much attention to how I unload the cart. I am usually trying to keep my kids from stealing candy or scanning the cart to remember what item I had forgotten. Before having children I would get embarrassed if the cashier saw me buying condoms and beer, or panty liners and bathroom wipes. I would  hide the items under other things, perhaps a magazine or spread them out as to look less conspicuous. When the cashier picks up the magazine and sees the condoms, I am pretty sure she doesn’t think you are going home to have a water balloon fight. I am at the point where I refuse to be embarrassed for buying personal items. If I am buying beer and condoms together, it just means I’m going to have a good time and I’m not stupid enough to drink without protection. I know what happens after I have a few beers, and I am in no way interested in having another child.

When I got home and began to unload the groceries I figured out the puzzled look on my cashiers face. I finished unloading everything and found one lonely brown paper bag . When I opened it I saw the following items; KY lubricant, batteries, and a bottle of wine. I assumed at that point that the cashier thought I would be using those items together. To be honest the batteries were for my son’s remote control car, however I give the girl points for imagination.

It made me stop and think about the judging eyes of my cashier. We have all had a cashier give us a dirty look  from time to time. Perhaps when you run into the store with your kids to buy beer and diapers. Why do they look at you with such disdain? I can’t have a beer while diapering my child? It’s not like I came into the store drunk with my children and bought more beer and forgot the diapers; now that is a reason to give a dirty look.

So from now on I will make sure and tell the cashier what I will be doing with all of the items from my cart. “The KY is for me and my husband. I need the panty liners because I gave birth to three kids and I pee my pants when I sneeze. I have children with allergies and need creams, ointment and disinfectants. We are very hairy people and the drains get clogged all the time, so Drano is a must have item. I have frequent heartburn and three children-sized hemorrhoids, so I need a lot of Tums and Preparation H. I need a lighter because I love to light candles, and I need the batteries for my vibrator.” Plastic bags will be fine, thanks.



I am not a crafty person. I am however a fan of the DIY network and anything on the HGTV. I love to watch people turn a piece of junk into something a gay antique collector would spend top dollar on. I have spent countless hours watching savvy home flipping couples as well as those Canadian hunks “The Property Brothers.” I am a bit confused with Canada as a result of their many home improvement shows. Every time I watch an episode I see some first time couple buying a $500,000 home. What do people in Canada do for a living? Are they drug runners? Who makes that kind of money at 25 years old? I can’t afford that type of house at 34. Please, if you read this and live in Canada, email me and tell me what you do for a living. I am dying to know. At this point I believe all Canadians to be lucrative drug dealers with a keen sense for DIY projects.

Last week after watching one of those ridiculous shows, my husband turned to me and said, “Let’s redo the kitchen cabinets.” I have wanted new cabinets since we moved into the house. I was thrilled. “Yes, what kind of cabinets do you want to buy” I asked. His reply, “No, we are going to re-finish them ourselves.” Was he kidding? What do we know about painting kitchen cabinets, or home renovations for that matter? We do watch a ton of HGTV, but I spend most of the time judging the people and making fun of them as they struggle with their projects. This did not seem like a great idea.

We decided to start with the bathroom vanity cabinets in case the project was a huge disaster. We went to Home Depot and bought a quart of paint, some brushes, sand paper, and counter top resurface product. We went home and watched a few U-Tube clips and decided to tackle the project. This was a great time to start because it was dinner time and I was positive that the three blessing would cooperate and help make this project a breeze. I set them up with some corn dogs and juice boxes so I could set up the tables in the garage.

As soon as I was ready to start sanding the cabinet doors, the tribe danced their way into the garage. “Can we ride bikes while you do this?” I opened the garage door and started throwing scooters and bikes into the yard. “Please stay outside while we sand the doors down” I requested. I put on my mask and started going to town on my hated oak doors. As I am sanding like a pro, my youngest rode his bike directly into the table knocking one of the doors onto the ground. “Get out of the garage” I yelled. I don’t remember seeing many children in the DIY shows. Perhaps I should have locked them in a closet so I could get the work finished. After an hour of scooters and bikes ramming into my cabinet doors, I ordered everyone into the living room to watch TV. I gave instructions on what to watch and explained that if they left the carpet, it was bedtime. Not five minutes later the three hemorrhoids were back in the garage asking to help paint the doors. I guarantee that those renovation savvy families give their children away to gypsies during project time. No work was going to get completed with the kids awake.

I took a break and went into the house to put the kids to bed. I then returned to the garage where we continued sanding, scraping, and prepping the doors. We were ready for the first coat of paint. It went on pretty good, but my husband decided that he wanted a different finish, so he ran to Walmart to buy a product to add to the paint. It was now 9:00pm and I was getting tired. While he was gone I decided to try the resurfacing product on the bathroom countertop. I read the directions. It was simple. Clean the counter, use a roller to apply. So I did just that. The paint was super sticky and smelled like gasoline. I was leaving drip lines and bubble all over the place. It looked like shit. I ran to get a rag to wipe it off, but it was too late. The countertop lost the battle. The $20 product I applied was now going to cost me $100 in purchasing a new countertop.

He returned with the plaster and we watched another video on how to make chalk paint. He went into the kitchen and got some of my Tupperware and a spoon to mix the plaster. I wasn’t paying enough attention to him so as he called me to mix in the paint I was about 15 seconds late and the plaster turned into concrete. “Is this how it looked in the video” I asked? Apparently that was not a funny question at 9:45pm. We began to exchange a few choice words and then quickly started mixing a second batch of paint. This batch seemed like it was going to work.

I looked around the garage and it was a mess. Paint on the floors, brushes soaking, bikes, scooters, corn dog sticks, and empty beer bottles were all over the garage floor. I bet this is what it looks like on those shows before the editing process. The house was quiet and it was close to midnight. We had gotten two cabinet doors painted in the course of 6 hours. Those fucking DIY people renovate an entire house in a 30 minute show.

Defeated I took a shower and decided to clean up in the morning. As I was washing my hair I could hear my husband screaming “What happened to the countertop?” This was not going to go over well. 6:30 AM rolled around pretty quickly. Three bright-eyed hemorrhoids were lined up in my room requesting breakfast. I was not in the mood to cook a weekend buffet. We went into the garage to check the cabinets. They didn’t look bad, but there was no way we could do this in the kitchen. We have over 20 doors and drawer faces to paint. At this rate it would take me six months to complete the project.

We decided to take a trip to a specialty paint store. We brought our two finished cabinet doors and shattered DIY dreams. The owner took a look at our door and explained the correct process to painting cabinets. We were out of the store in 15 minutes with another $200 worth of paint and supplies. We went home, put the kids to bed before starting the project and success was upon us. I am happy to inform you that with the correct paint and tools you can paint a cabinet door properly. I managed to paint my bathroom vanity in just a few hours and it looked like freaking Martha Stewart did the project herself.

So I offer you a few tips for those DIY projects that you are planning in your home. Send your kids to sleep away camp. Children and projects do not mix. Buy beer, or a ton of wine. It was helpful with easing the pain of the disaster that occurred on the first try. Don’t be naive and think that it is going to be cheap because you are doing it yourself. I managed to screw up $200 worth of product before we got it right. DIY can initiate divorce. It didn’t go that far for us, but the kitchen is still to be completed. Be strong. If Canadian drug runners can do it, so can we.