Advice Under the Influence: Potty Training

Well, here we are again, at the mouth of that hellish beast we call Potty Training. I would literally rather cut my pinkie toe off with a pair of kiddie scissors than have to do this again, but done it must be lest my son go to college in a pair of Pull-ups. Which, I guess wouldn't be such a bad thing because he is totally destined to be a pro at college. He excels at things like chugging, looking innocent and making togas (see exhibit A), so Pull-ups might just prevent him from peeing on that sweet little sorority sister he slyly talks into spending the night after getting luring into his dorm room to"check out his sweet collection of vintage music posters".

Exhibit A

But back when he was even just a wee-er lass, we made a video giving tips on how to potty train. He was nowhere near ready, but he was cute as hell during the making. If you are about to take the plunge into potty training, make sure to watch this video so you can brush up on what it really take to conquer toilet training. Hint: copious amounts of booze and bleach...



Extra bonus points if you spot Fatty!

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7 things no one told you about your period

A period is more than just the end of a sentence. Shark Week, a visit from the Five-day Fairy, Riding the Red Sea, whatever you call it, from the day it makes its debut to the day the red curtain closes, a period is a part of life. 

From the time we are old enough to know periods exist, we ladies yearn to gain that right of feminine passage. Little did we know then, periods aren’t all prancing in a field of daisies in a long white skirt. Allow me to drop a few truths no one told you about you period 

1. It can be your best friend. 

Missing a period can be a bad sign. A very bad sign. Like when you had one-too-many martinis at the company Christmas party, slept with that sleazy guy from accounting and forgot to use a rubber. Or when you discover your long-term, live-in boyfriend has been boning your bestie for the last year and you are a week late. Or when you are 16 and just gave your V Card to your prom date in the back of his dad’s Suburban and believed him when he said he would “pull out”. Yeah, these types of situations basically make getting your period better than getting a pony on your 5^th birthday. And that pony is actually a unicorn. That poops candy.

2. It can also be your worst enemy.

But once you have gotten past the point in your life that you stop making terrible decisions with your vagina and actually want to use it for what it was intended, getting you period is worse than, well, getting punched in the vagina. Because one little wipe of a tissue can deliver the worst possible news: you aren’t pregnant. And that you have a long 28-day wait until you can hope to not get your period again. It’s enough to make a girl want to punch a kitten.

3. It will almost always come at the worst time possible. 

Preparing for your best friend’s epic birthday sleepover party? Heading for spring break so you can shake your tatas with your sorority sisters at Señor Tadpoles? Preparing to jet off with your new man for your romantic Tahitian getaway? Getting ready to don virginal white for the last time before you walk down the aisle? Not so fast, my friend. Aunt Flo may have forgotten to RSVP, but she will most definitely be attending your special event.

4. There will come a time when you need to borrow an unmentionable. 

There comes a time in every girl’s life when her monthly visitor pays her a visit and she is caught with her pants around her ankles—literally. Maybe you switched purses. Maybe you forgot to buy period party favors last time you were at Target. Maybe you lent your last pad to a friend. No matter what has left you up Menstruation Creek without a tampon, you are going to have to go on a reconnaissance mission to retrieve the supplies you require.

5. It will help you bond with other women.

Whether you spill the details of springing a leak in math class, drown your menstrual sorrows in wine and pizza together during a Sex and the City marathon or dry the tears of a friend who was trying to have a baby but instead got her period, menstruation has a way of bringing women together. Periods are a bond that only we women share and only we can understand. For better or worse, they give us a common ground to laugh, cry and occasionally hurl over.

6. It’s nothing like the commercials suggest.

Maybe it’s just me, but I don't think a lot of women are flipping off diving boards or dancing around a campfire in white shorts when their period rears its ugly head. Now don’t get me wrong, we’ve come a long way from when Roman women used wool tampons in 15^th century B.C., but there is still always the chance we will spring a leak at an inopportune time or discover that a string has gone rogue in our bikini bottoms.

7. One day, you will run dry. 

But the biggest thing that people forget to tell you about your period is that one day, it will go away. Forever. This seems like amazing news when you are 25 and curled up in bed with a heating pad, bottle of Midol and box of chocolate. But it ain’t such great news when you are looking over the edge of 40 and awaiting the dreaded hot flashes, low sex drive and…um…vaginal dryness. Because who doesn’t love a good case of flop sweats accompanied by an arid “area”?

This post was written by me and originally appeared on Healthline. Illustration by Simon Estrada 

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New year, new world challenge

I want to issue a challenge to the world this year: be nice. To yourself. To each other. To your children. To everyone.

Life is hard enough as it is. Maneuvering it being shitty to ourselves and others only makes it worse. So stop. 

Stop talking down to yourself. You are the only you you will ever have. So be nice to yourself. Talk yourself up, not down. 

Stop saying you're stupid. Because as Forrest Gump said, stupid is as stupid does. And we all make mistakes so don't let one foolish action direct the course of your life. Dust yourself off and move on. 

Stop saying you are fat. You're not fat. You may have fat but that is not all that you are. You have fingernails but you are not fingernails.

Stop being mean to others. Don't make snide remarks. Stop saying hateful things under the veil of the Internet. Stop making fun of people.

Start building people up-starting with yourself. Because it is easier to build someone up than it is to tear them down. I promise. It just takes practice. And the more you build people up, the better you both will feel. Being positive is addictive. And spreads faster than any disease out there.

Start small. Every time you say something bad about yourself or others, stop and immediately say two good things. And start complimenting people. On small things, like their shirt or they're here. That one small thing could be the difference between them having a good day or having a bad day.

In the end, just be nice. Remember the old adage of treating people how you want to be treated. If you wouldn't want someone to say it about you, don't say it about them. Same goes for yourself.

Did you do something nice for yourself or someone else today? Let me know about it. Let's start a chain reaction that is bigger than ourselves.

Happy New Year's Eve

Hope you are all getting ready to rock 'n' roll in the new year. We sure are. French 75s and homemade moonshine are about to flow like water up in this piece.

We are starting the night by having a kiddie countdown thanks to Netflix's King Julien New Year's Countdown. It lets the new year roll in on mommy and daddy's watch, not Time Square's. Your WELCOME!

I swear they are actually having fun.

Happy New Year, Boozehounds. May your blessings be many and your hangovers few.

First World Kid Problems: Christmas Edition

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How to survive Christmas Vacation

If you’re anything like me, you are both looking forward to and dreading the upcoming time that you will have off with your family during the holidays. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll drown yourself in copious amounts of cheap boxed wine to dull the pain. I absolutely love having the extended time off with my kids. Most of the time. After about five days, we all get a little stir crazy and start getting on each others’ nerves. 

One of the best ways for us all to calm the eff down when we get like this is to have a family movie night. I pop some popcorn, get out our comfy blankets, throw something on the TV and we all snuggle together and zone out for an our or so. 

We have a few favorites flicks to watch, so I thought I would share them to give you some inspiration for your Christmas Vacation. Most of these you can stream from Netflix.

Hotel Transylvania

This has to be my favorite kiddie movie ever. It has adult humor that is not vulgar, is ridiculously cute, has a great storyline and doesn’t have any scary or violent parts. My whole family loves it and we watch it all the time.

How to Train Your Dragon

My god the cuteness of this dragon slays me—pun intended. Just a great story and a really awesome lesson on how it is cool to be different.

The Nightmare Before Christmas

Love this Tim Burton flick. A total classic. I can sing all of the songs. They are actually some of my favorite Christmas tunes, I am weird, I know.

Turbo

Cute. Easy to watch. Harmless in the scary department.

And when you don’t have time for a full movie but want to zone the kids out so thou can make dinner in peace, here are some of our favorites:

Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends

My kids love action heroes but most of the cartoon are hella violent. This one isn’t because it was made in the ‘70s. They mainly turn people into drone bees to do their bidding and shit. Love.

Car Toons: Mater’s Tall Tales

I actually love this one. A bunch of cute and funny shorts staring Mater and Lightning McQueen from Cars. My son LOVES this.

LEGO: Marvel Super Heroes Maximum Overload

Adult humor that isn't inappropriate. The kids love it too.

So what about you? What are you family's favorite movies?

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Dear Santa, Suck it!

Dear Santa,

I think we need to talk. Your fat jolly ass is really becoming a pain in mine. In order to keep up the ruse of you existing and all, I am somewhat being held hostage to a toddler's demands. You see, whenever we enter the holy land that is Target nowadays, every awesome shiny thing up in there becomes something we should, "ask Santa for". And if I don't pony up said shiny things from "Santa" on Christmas day, my daughter's childhood will be ruined and she will be doomed to a life of working the pole. All because of you. Well, Santa, your ass owes me money. A lot of money. And I am booking a flight straight to the North Pole to collect.

You see, Santa, we both know that you are a deadbeat mythical figure, but my doe-eyed darling doesn't. She thinks that you are all magical and shit and that you can fart toy sewing machines and Lalaloopsy dolls. I, on the other hand, know that you are a just another way for our kids to milk us for even more plastic crap under the guise of "holiday spirit". I am just lucky that my kids don't know the wonder of the iPhone 6 Plus yet. Now that is some naughty shit, Santa.

Also, because you are too lazy to make an appearance more than one day a year (DIVA!), you hire alcoholic homeless men to sit in fancy chairs and act like they are you at malls all over the world. Seriously? You couldn't find a few guys with white beards who didn't smell like a mix of sewer water and Mad Dog 20/20 to play you? Every time my daughter sits on one of their laps I have to hose her off with a bath of penicillin when we are done. Gross.

And, it is so not cool that you sit at the North Pole all year, getting shitfaced with elves while I am stuck here at home doing your slave labor. Not only do you not make any lists, let alone check them twice, but you also don't shop for or pay for any of the items requested by the boys and girls on said list. But, come December 25, your overweight ass sure does shimmy down my chimney, eat all of my cookies and pop back out just so you can take all the credit.

What the fuck, Santa? I had to drive all over God's green earth and Toys "R" Us just to procure that limited edition doll house that my toddler just HAD to ask you for, and you can't even cough up the change to pay for it? But I have to say it was from you? That is some bullshit. You must have some kind of airtight union contract that allows you to sit back and reap all the benefits of gift giving while us drones at home do all the manual labor.

In closing: suck it, Santa. I want my money back. Oh yeah, and can I have a pony? I have always wanted one of those.


Smooches,


Mommy

This is an excerpt I wrote for Scary Mommy's Guide to Surviving the Holidays. It's $2.99 and makes a great gift for yourself or someone with a great sense of humor! Buy it, yo!

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Why I would suck at online dating

The concept of online dating has always intrigued me. I hitched my saddle to my husband’s pony before Match and eHarmony were even things, let alone Tinder and god knows whatever perverted shit there is on the market nowadays. 

Whenever I have a nightmare that my husband leaves me out of the blue, the first thing I think is, “Now I can finally try online dating!” Weird, right? I don’t even ask him why. I just accept it and get to work on creating my profile. 

Here is the raw, unfiltered truth of what dating me would be like:

Please note lack of upper lip.

User name: I like beer and boyfriends.

About me: I'm loud, annoying and always right. Even when I am wrong. I am a bleeding heart that will bring home strays (both animal and human) constantly. I love to cook. Sometimes. I like to drink. Most times. I run so I can eat what I want. I eat more than my running accounts for so there is some junk in my trunk (and frunk—can I make frunk a thing?).

Favorite Movie/Band/TV Show/Song/Color/Brand of toilet paper: Christmas Vacation, The Lumineers, Project Runway, Josh Turner Your Man, Green, Charmin

Six things I can't live without: 

Pandora, wine, running, my friends, my kids and my husband (is that weird since this is a dating site?).

What you're looking for: A woman with a take-charge attitude who can drink beer with the best of ‘em and make a lasagna like Paula Deen (minus the dash of racism). You want a girl with a wicked sense of humor who hasn’t missed a meal and doesn’t back down when confronted with a challenge. Otherwise known as a mouthy, southern bitch (minus the whole being-from-the-south thing).

Marital status: Well, I hope that if I am creating an online dating profile that it would be single. If not, I would probably search for a more specific website to cater to my swinger tendencies. I don’t want to waste my time courtin’ no better-than-though monogamists now, do I? Damn right I don’t.

Age: I stopped counting about 5 years ago. Around the same time I stopped keeping track of my weight. I think there might be a correlation…

Height and weight: Tallish. Getting wider/squishier by the minute (see age correlation above).

Body type: Is celery filled with mashed potatoes a body type? Because if so, that’s it. I have lanky limbs and a middle that resembles copious amounts of raw dough being contained in a rather unstable trash bag. Also, baby got back. Lots ‘o’ back. Sorry, I cannot lie.

Income: The question shouldn’t as much be about income but the amount of outcomes that I have. Target is a toothless slut that sings a siren song that I cannot resist. I have yet to meet a clearance end cap that I can wheel past without magnetically drawing half of the shelves’ contents into my cart.

Education: I went to college. I learned how to master the beer bong, puke and rally, find the cheapest food, tame unruly frat boys, and smoke without inhaling (cough, cough).

Occupation: Writer of words, wrangler of toddlers and maker of home. BOOM! It’s a three-fer.

Smoking/drinking/drugs: Yes, please. Except cigarettes, or crack, or Everclear, or heroin, or, hell, can I just have wine?

Children: No. I mean, I have kids that I generally tolerate pretty well most days, but I don’t want you to put any more in me and I for sure don’t want to create a whole Brady Bunch situation or anything. 

Pets: I have an obese cat who will cut you for a slice of turkey or a chocolate pudding cup. I have a rabbit, but all he really does is eat a lot and crap everywhere. I like dogs. If they aren’t annoying and don’t shed everywhere, hump legs, chew things or nudge my arm with their wet nose so I will keep petting them.

Medical issues: Hypothyroidism, acid reflux, PTSD and chronic depression. Sexy, right?

Sexual orientation: I’m a power bottom.

Likes: Wine, salt and vinegar chips, cake, picking my nose when I am alone, making sure things are lined up just the way I like them or else, seeing how long I can make it without showering, inviting people over on nights you want to just stay in and be alone.

Dislikes: Rascals Flatts, chest hair and black olives.

Who should message me: No one. I’m married you pervert!


If you share this post, I will buy you a pony. I suck at Twitter. I am OK at Facebook. Pinterest is my bitch. I am also on Bloglovin' and Instagram.