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?



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.


throwing fit


I remember being a kid and my Mom telling me that she was going to run away so she could be left alone. She also told us that she was going to change her name to a four letter word so we could no longer scream for her. She would say “My name is now shit, so if you call my name you will be smacked in the mouth for cursing.”  I remember thinking how awful that was and why on earth she would say such horrible things to her loving children. 25 years later I now know why she said them and I find myself doing the same thing. My key phrase to my children is “I’m Done!” I find that I say this several times a day, and the frequency increases throughout the week. I was talking with a friend of mine in front of our kid’s school today and she is also a card carrying member of the I’m Done Club. I have a feeling that there are millions of us out there. Saturday, marked the 50th time I said “I’m Done” this week.

I woke up to the television blaring an awful cartoon theme song and asked the kids to turn it down. After six requests I jumped up and went into the living room to turn it down myself. I found a blanket and pillow fort that could rival the pyramids. They had moved all of the kitchen chairs into the living room and gotten every piece of fabric we owned to build this monstrosity. It wasn’t even 8:00 A.M. and I was already done. “Are you guys serious?” I asked. “What? We didn’t want to wake you up to ask” was the response. I turned and walked back into my bedroom to try and center myself, as to avoid beginning the day with a series of flip flop beatings.

Later that afternoon we went out to run some errands. We went from Wal-Mart to Target where we made three separate stops to use the public restroom. We then proceeded to the grocery store to pick up something for dinner. I asked number two and number three to sit in the cart so I could move quickly through the store. They did not want to sit next to each other in the cart and as I went to pick up my daughter she pretended to be a limp noodle. If playing dead was an Olympic sport she would be wearing gold.  She instantaneously becomes 65 lbs. of pure pain in the ass. As I was standing there cursing under my breath I quietly whispered to her, “I’m Done, get in the cart.”

We left Publix and stopped at Subway to pick up lunch. Once again I find myself in a public restroom with the kids. I asked each to wash their hands but the youngest one kept pushing the soap dispenser until there was a pool of soap on the floor. I grabbed his hand and rinsed it. I pulled a piece of paper towel and handed it to him so he could clean up the mess. Once he was finished I took the paper towel to throw it out. “I want to throw it out!” He shouted. My reply, “Let me do it please we need to go.” That was the beginning of the end. He threw himself to the floor, in the public bathroom mind you and began to scream as though I was poking him with scalding hot iron rods. I picked him up and walked him through Subway to order the sandwiches. He began to whale and moan like he was being scalped. I knelt down and whispered “You need to stop. I’m Done.”

We made it home and started the bed time routine. I sent all three kids into the shower at the same time because I was prepping for dinner. I heard the water turn on and for about five minutes it was relatively quiet, then the screaming began. I ran in to see who had been attacked by a bear and found all three covered in bubble bath spraying each other with the shower head. WTF! There were bubbles everywhere and the bathroom floor was soaked. This marked the 50th time I WAS DONE this week. This event proved to me that my kids know that I am full of shit. They know by my current track record that even though I say “I’m Done”, I continue to live here and take care of them. They continue to be fed and clothed each day, and I continue to drive the Mom-mobile to school each morning.

So from this point on I think I’m going to leave when I’m done. I am going to walk out of the house, start the car, and drive away. I have no idea where I will go or what I will do, but when I’m done, I will be done. I am going to peace the fuck out and hit the bricks. It’s going to be an epic event.

I wonder if they would be upset. I wonder if they would cry and call for me to come home. My guess is that they would sit and stare out the window calling my bluff as I drive around the neighborhood aimlessly cursing and crying. “You think the bitch is gonna come back?” One kid would ask to the other. “I hope so, Dad isn’t going to feed us or wipe our asses.” That conversation would go on for about five minutes until I returned home because as a Mom I don’t get to ever be done. Done is a mythical universe that only exists in books and movies. Done is like Disney World, most likely the happiest place on earth. Done is nowhere near my zip code. So from this point forward I am working on a new phrase. When I am at the edge and I can go no further I will quietly recite “Get over it Bitch, you don’t get to be done.”


How many times have you asked, or been asked the question, “Can I ask you a favor?”  Sometimes it is a very small errand, other times it’s a life changer. You can tell the kind of favor by the way the person asks. If the person asks the favor quickly and does not change their tone, it is most likely an easy favor that will not put too much stress on your life. “Can you drop me off at the mechanics after work?” That is a simple favor. We are both already at the same place and I will in fact be passing the mechanic, so the answer is yes. If the person is slow to ask the favor, their voice gets higher, or they say can you sit down, we need to talk before they ask; it is most likely a rough one.  “I don’t want to bother you but, are you using both kidneys? If not I could use one.” That in fact would be a big favor, a game changer.

I am guilty of asking for both easy and difficult favors. I hate asking people to help me out, but sometimes my hot mess express of a life requires an interventional response team. What makes me a bad person is that I will ask a favor, but I do not want to return that favor when it is requested. Last week a friend of mine watched two of my kids so my husband and I could spend the day together. It was so nice to be out in public and go to the places we wanted to go.  We ate breakfast without taking anyone to the bathroom, we walked around an outdoor shopping center and I didn’t have to scream ‘Don’t run into the parking lot you’re going to get smashed by a car.” It was peaceful and more fun than I remembered. We shopped and bought items for ourselves, played grab-ass in the clothing racks, and I even giggled as my husband crop dusted fellow shoppers and then ran like a child. I was grateful for the time, but unaware that a return favor was coming quickly.

My friend called panicked the other day asking if I could help her out, her voice was seven octaves higher than normal. Alarm bells should have gone off in my head. “Warning! She wants something. Hang up before it’s too late.”  She “forgot” that she was going out-of-town for the evening and needed me to watch her dog. I have three kids and a dog of my own. The last thing I want in my house is another thing that shits and pisses. I did not want to say yes. I very frankly wanted to say “Hell no, and go fuck yourself.” However, she is a good friend and had just done me a big favor. So I hesitantly said yes and she brought the dog over.

The dog was dropped with a kennel, food bag, and dish. As soon as she placed in the kennel the barking began. It was the kind of barking that makes nails on a chalk board seem like a welcoming sound. I was not able to keep her in the kennel, so I brought her inside. My dog was livid. She had that “Bitch you better get the fuck out my crib” look on her face. She began to follow around the other dog, sniffing and barking at her. Both dogs walked into the kitchen, circled the floor and shit simultaneously.  Shit-fest 2014 had officially begun.  After picking up the heaping pile of shit from both dogs, I took them outside and left them on the patio. As I was working in my office I look out to see them running across the patio to the corner and both squat to pee. Awesome. I love doing favors. Favors are the best!

That night I couldn’t lock the dog in the kennel because she barked as though she was being skinned. I figured she would sleep on the dog bed in our room, which is how the night started out. My dog was not happy with her being in the room but they both fell asleep and so did I. Unfortunately I woke up the next morning to my husband screaming at the dog who was mid-shit in our closet. There is nothing like jumping out of bed at 5:00 A.M. to clean up a hot pile of dog feces. Favors rock!

That morning I had to drop the kids at school so I mistakenly put the dog in the bathroom. I figured I could lock her in there since I do that with my dog. I was wrong. When I got home to let the dog out I found a river of urine, a pile of shredded towels, and the towel rack pulled off of the bathroom door. This 16 pound Terrier Mutt was like the ravenous beast “Cudjo” on steroids. I could not believe that this dog had survived for so long. If it were my animal I would have done the humane things years ago and “Driven it to the farm up-state.” Don’t get me wrong, I am a dog person, but what the fuck!!!! Favors are my favorite.

After cleaning up the bathroom mess, I gave the dog a bath. She was soaked in piss and I was not going to let her walk around my house with wet urine paws. I then put both dogs back on the patio where they played another round of “Who is going to shit on that first.” Later on I decided to go for a run and I was smart enough to put the dog in the crate. She was barking but I wasn’t going to be home so who cared. When I returned I opened the garage door and found the dog once again covered in urine in the cage with her dog bed torn up in a million pieces. I had to hose out the kennel, throw out the dog bed, and hose the dog down again. My friend called about 20 minutes later and said she was on her way. I had only had the dog for 24 hours but it seemed like a fucking week. I packed up her shit and sat it outside by the curb. Favors are the best when they are finished.

When my friend arrived we sat and talked for a few minutes. I was blunt about the dog’s behavior and she apologized and explained that the dog has anxiety and separation issues. The anxiety the dog was feeling should be real, I wanted to kill it. I did my best to bite my tongue, because as I stated this is a fiend and she did take care of my kids last week. Although, I don’t think either of my kids shit on her floor repeatedly, or pissed on her bathroom towels. I will have to ask them what they did to her for her to repay me with this favor. Either way favors suck if they involve a breathing, shitting mammal.

So I urge you to be mindful when asking people to do favors. I really do want to be a good friend and help people out, but not if it requires that I pick up ten pounds of animal shit. I do not want to be a wildlife biologist or a veterinarian. I have plenty of organisms that shit at my house; I do not need another one. Here is a list of favors that you can ask me. Ask me for a small amount of money, or perhaps to pick you up a coffee. Ask me to iron a shirt or drop you at the doctors. Ask me to do your grocery shopping or even pick up your mail, but please do not ask me to watch your fucking dog.