mom humor

Upon glancing at my still-unsheathed breast I saw that it too, was covered in baby Grey Poupon. Until this point, the closest I'd ever come to a Cleveland Steamer was seeing reports of hot, humid Ohio temperatures on TV. Yet there I stood. It. Was. Too. Much
Alzheimer's care had begun to take its toll. Exhausted, a light bulb finally turned on in my head: If something doesn't change
These tips and tricks seem to be working swimmingly for my daughter, so without a shadow of a doubt, they'll work for you, too!
As my Mom's Alzheimer's advanced, my personal goals grew simpler. I was determined to hang on to at least a shred of my sense of humor. This proved challenging when my mother Peg refused to take her meds or when I stayed awake through the night to prevent her from wandering in a nearby park.
That's right, you heard me. Instead of Thanksgiving, I'm calling it Momsgiving because, well, I don't see anybody else in this damn kitchen. Anyway, think about it: Mom's giving you turkey. Mom's giving you stuffing. Mom's giving you yams, potatoes and pie.
It always happens when you least expect it. It can happen in broad daylight. It can happen in the darkness of night, which always makes it scarier. But the excruciating pain is always the same. Each and every freaking time.
I've been parenting for 24 years now... and I still have a kid in elementary school. In fact, we are in year 18 of 20 consecutive years at the local elementary school.
Good news, friends! When you have a large family, there will always be someone else to play dress-up. There's always a teenager or a toddler to throw unsuspectingly at your little Aurora or Belle or Elsa. Let the siblings bear the brunt of Maleficent's wrath.
If you want to capture someone's attention, walk into Target and ask the clerk, "On what aisle would I find products to kill..." then whisper the rest in her ear. Ten people will follow you around the store.
Week 22: So, I guess this is the point where black is no longer slimming. Week 23: More gas than Exxon.
I found him precariously balanced with one foot on a chair and one on the bookshelf. We made eye contact from across the room: Me with a look of horror and forbidding, and him with a mischievous grin. He grabbed hold of the bookshelf and peed full-force.
Everyone is cheerful, that is, except that small but highly medicated population of parents who will soon be in the midst of the single most horrible science experiment in child-rearing that could ever exist.
Basically, as a mom, your day-to-day involves comfy clothes, resting and playing with your (well-behaved, of course) kiddos. No wonder people keep having children... easiest job EVER!
My children are all of the age where they should know better. SHOULD. They're also all of an age where they're getting sneakier -- or at least they think they are.
My life and ambitions: I just want to make it out of here alive. That and get someone else to pick up the check occasionally. Oh, and I write stories, so let's get that out in the open. You are technically fair game.