I’ve got major mommy skills….or not.

Okay, I’m digging in the archives to bring you a list of reasons why I should be Mom of the Year. Or, perhaps have DCFS called on me for a series of Epic Parenting Fails, depending on your perspective–and sense of humor.

And also because I have a bit of writer’s block. Personally, I think this whole middle-aged thing is to blame.

This was originally featured over on Mom of the Year, back in May, but I wanted to share it again here, in case anyone missed it! And of course because I think Meredith is the bestest and deserves a shout-out ūüôā ¬†


Unlike the other Moms of the Year, I wasn‚Äôt invited to the party ‚Ķ.I ASKED to be included. Fortunately, Meredith–the genius behind this collection of kick-ass moms– decided I was cool enough. Or else she thought,¬†‚ÄėWow, this gal is from the South? Seems like her manners have been replaced with giant, Hollywood-sized balls‚Äô¬†and that intimidated her enough to let me in the club. Whatever. I‚Äôve got the prize.

Hell to the Yeah!!

hell to the yeah!


Now I need to tell y’all why I think I deserve it. I’m the youngest of 7 kids, so you get 7 reasons:¬†

1. I discovered I was preggo after an 8 day vacay to the Sundance Festival, followed by Super Bowl weekend in Vegas in 1999, with my then boyfriend-now husband, The Man. Ironically, I was on BCP’s, and my cycle had always been like clockwork. However, upon our return from a glorious 10 day stint filled with lots of partying like celebrities and rock stars (and some tumbling down snow laden hills with a board strapped to my feet) I realized I was LATE. Took a test:¬†Positive.¬†Went to the doctor:¬†5 Weeks Positive.¬†So, clearly I was¬†Mom of THAT Year.¬†Mostly because I had been pregnant the entire time we¬†were there, but didn’t know it‚Ķ.and Sugar Bean¬†survived it all,¬†making her healthy entrance into the world 8 months later.¬†Cart before the horse? Check. But hey, when in Hollywood‚Ķ.¬†

2. Now, I must preface this one by saying The Man is an eighth Mexican, and I’m part Cherokee Indian, so we are not pale people. Therefore, Sugar Bean has beautiful olive-toned skin as a result–a natural, year-round tan. So imagine my surprise when I took her in to the¬†pediatrician for a check-up around 10 months old, and the doc asked about her eating habits.¬†“Does she eat green veggies?”¬†“Yes,”¬†I replied,¬†“but she prefers orange and yellow ones”.¬†“I can see that,”¬†she remarked.¬†“What do you mean?”¬†I said, puzzled.¬†“Nancy‚Ķlook at your child. She’s ORANGE. She has beta-carotenemia. Make her eat more greens before you have to change your last name to Oompa Loompa.” The only thing missing from the doc’s response is the word ‘DIPSHIT’ at the end, because that’s what I felt like.¬†Clearly this is Mom of the Year moment #2.¬†

3. In June 2007, just days after moving into a gated community, I found my 3-year-old Butter Bean¬†playing in¬†the backyard.¬†Buck nekid.¬†Despite my suspicion our neighbors might think The Clampetts had moved in, I just let her be. For all they knew, we were nudists. What’s worse is,¬†she¬†was apparently in a phase.‚Ķand preferred being naked, to wearing clothes. I decided not to fight it, and she played naked in the yard all summer. Can’t really say I blamed her‚Ķwe lived in the Valley, which if you know anything about Los Angeles‚Ķ.is hotter than two rats fucking in a wool sock in the summer.¬†So, allowing nakedness makes me Mom of the Year.¬†I did remember to apply sunscreen each day, in case you were thinking I deserved¬†WORST¬†Mom of the Year.¬†

4. When Sweet Pea was 3, she accompanied me to do some “day of” birthday shopping for my then, 9 year-old Sugar Bean. While standing in line at Justice, she announced she needed to potty. There were 2 women in line ahead of me, 3 in line behind me, and I had an armload of stuff I couldn’t just abandon to go in search of a mall bathroom, as I was short on time anyway and wouldn’t be able to come back. So I explained to the Tart-in-Charge, that she was currently potty-training, and couldn’t hold it, asking if they had a bathroom she could use.¬†No. Employees only.¬†Upon hearing that, Sweet Pea unleashed a flood and peed in the floor, as we continued to wait in line to pay. I had a few choice words for the cashier as she rung me up, and stared like a deer in headlights. Oh, and the women behind me applauded¬†my Mom of the Year skills¬†as I walked out. ¬†

5. As if we moms need anything else to make a big deal out of for our children, I came up with a whole new holiday deliverer of treats‚Ķ.The Valentine Fairy. She brings¬†gift bags¬†of goodies and small presents for The Beans to wake up to on Valentine’s morning. Sometimes she even leaves a trail of glitter from their bags to the window, depending on whether I want to clean the shit up or not. Of course, in their eyes, it makes me¬†Mom of the Year, while in the eyes of the moms of their friends who inevitably know she visits our house‚Ķ..I’m more like¬†Overachieving¬†Bitch of the Year.¬†But that’s okay, because it’s the only area I don’t slack in. Besides, it sets the bar very high for their future loves, because they will have always been celebrated on the one day of the year designed to be dedicated to love. Gag, right?

6.¬†Mom of the Year¬†reason number 6 can be directly attributed to the fact that on every birthday in our household,¬†we eat cake for breakfast. School day, weekend day, holiday‚Ķ.doesn’t matter. If it’s your birthday, you get dragged out of bed at 6am and have cake for breakfast. Or pie. Your choice. And you must endure having your early morning party documented with photos showing you looking EXACTLY like you do when you wake up. No primping allowed. Feel free to steal this awesome tradition and practice it in your own family. I stole the idea from my friend Sarah.¬†

7. I allow¬†Candy Saturdays¬†in our house.¬†What’s that, you ask?¬†No sugar AT ALL during the week, but The Beans can have as much as they want on Saturday. The word “NO”, as it relates to candy, is not uttered on Saturday in our family. It’s my way of making sure they gorge themselves almost to the point of sickness that day, so I don’t have to deal with the begging eyes, requests or tantrums in line at Target while they are standing by the candy displays. So far, it’s worked like a charm. They even FORGET about it from time to time, so they go several weeks without sugar. Oh, and our dentist‚Ķ.she thinks I’m a freaking hero! Or‚Ķ.Mom of the Year!

If this made you laugh, please leave a comment and let me know! And if you have moments like these to share….feel free!

I LOVE to know I’m not alone ūüôā


CalibamaMOM of the Year!!!

So…today I am being featured over on Mom of the Year!!!

The Mom of the Year

Oh, I know you must be thinking…“WTF? Why on earth would sweet Meredith allow that?”

Could be that I bullied her into it…or she finds my blog strangely appealing…OR perhaps she has a soft spot in her heart for moms who accidentally lock their toddlers in the car and have to call AAA. At this point…it’s a TOTAL MYSTERY.

Only ONE way to find out, huh?

It’s okay….go there


(and then come right back, k?)


When you gotta go…

when you gotta go


Today while participating in a rather tragically funny conversation on Facebook, I was reminded of an incident a couple of years back that was, in the words of my friend Alexandra, “a movie moment”.

Let me explain.

While doing some birthday shopping for my then, 9-year-old Sugar Bean–at Justice ¬†(I know, hold your judgements & vomit, please)–I had my 3-year-old Sweet Pea in tow. As usual, I was short on time, so when she said “Mommy, I need to potty” and began doing the “pee-pee dance” while standing in line to check out– abandoning the arm load¬†of goodies I had carefully selected, to venture out into the mall in search of a bathroom– was not an option. There were 2 women in line ahead of me, and 3 in line behind me. So I approached the teenaged cashier, and politely asked if there was a bathroom in back that my Sweet Pea could use. ¬†She curtly replied, “No. It’s for employees only.¬†A little irritated, I pressed on..¬†Really? She’s only 3, currently potty training and needs to go badly. I’d hate for you to miss the commission on this load¬†of stuff I’m holding when I leave the store to take her to the bathroom. Because I don’t have time to come back and get it.”

She gave me NOTHING.  Just a blank stare so riddled with silent subtext, I could have narrated it.


I resumed my place in line, and very audibly¬†¬†said ¬†shouted¬†to my precious little sprout, Sweetheart, the lady says you can’t use her bathroom, because it’s for big girls who work here, not for people who buy things to pay their salaries.” ¬†

With that, Sweet Pea promptly peed on the floor. The carpeted floor. With such force and gusto, it splashed as it puddled, creating a sound that resonated throughout the entire store.¬†That’s my girl!

By this time, it was my turn to pay for my purchases, and I approached the counter. Speechless, the Tart-in-Charge added things up. I forked over about $45 for at least $250 worth of clothing (those “Justice Bucks” really helped put the power in the punch). As I walked away from the counter, I turned and said “Perhaps it would have been a good idea to allow her use the bathroom. Now the carpet has to be sanitized, and I hope they make YOU pay for it. ¬†Have a great day!”¬†

The 3 women in line behind me applauded. One even said, “You go girl!¬†

The moral of the story? I’m a terrible mom for not taking her to the bathroom, instead, risking detainment/possible arrest by mall security for insubordination while accompanying a minor and allowing her to urinate in public. Oh well. It’s not the first time I’ve made a questionable choice, and likely will not be the last!¬†

The irony? Not taking her was sooooo much more entertaining for everyone ūüôā¬†

Plus, she got a new outfit complete with fresh undies, socks, and Converse hi-tops she had been asking for, along with some ice cream to soothe the trauma of peeing in public, and being applauded for it. Because when you are 3, that’s embarrassing. Boy is she in for a whole new kind of embarrassing in about 80 years!


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