Thursday, March 5, 2015


Hear Ye! Hear Ye!

This blog is dedicated to all the Mamas out there, the ones taming foul beasts and saving the village people. Our positions require great bravery, loyalty, commitment, cunning, and most definitely sword fighting skills. It's just our villagers are diaper wearing, cheerio flinging, dirt clod eating, perfectly imperfect people gnomes and our round table is just kinda...sticky.

As this is my first post, why not give some deets? I am a looney mom of three young children, and one dog, and also there's a husband (Love him too). Sounds kind of boring when you say it flat like that. It certainly doesn't describe what we do or who we are. I would like to imagine myself as a heroic she-gladiator of justice with a smokin' hot bod. And why not? Why do us mothers feel so much pressure to be these majestic zen creatures of poise and propriety? I miss the ridiculous. I miss shenanigans, and not for the sake of enrichment activities for my kids or as a means to somehow improve their brain activity, but just for the fun of it! Motherhood is deep. ALL THE TIME. Every waking moment is spent thinking, researching, worrying, imagining, organizing, enriching, regretting. We collapse into bed at night and stare at the ceiling reliving every second of our day. 

"Oh no, I promised my baby that I would give her a fruit snack after I finished unloading clothes into a basket (not folding, let's be real here). Did I read the nutrition facts on those? Oh great I can't remember. Definitely not organic. They are probably made from the thyroid glands of poor poached baby beluga whales. God, I'm a monster! Maybe I should write a letter to the manufacturer. Or I could film my own documentary and sell it to Animal Planet. Wait, all I have are those faded jeans and that button up top from college. My boobs wont fit in that thing anymore. I can't film a scathing yet eye opening documentary in that! Plus, I'm having a bad hair year. Sorry baby belugas, I recycle. Fruit snacks. I forgot to give it to her. I broke a promise. I am a liar. She will never trust me again! Now when she's sixteen and I say 'no don't go to homecoming with that boy he's bad news and you deserve better I promise', she will remember this day and ignore my advice! Then she'll go to homecoming with that weird dark kid with eye liner, after which she'll dye her hair blue and pierce her eye brow. Bam! Just like that I'll end up as a woman who is clearly too young and sexy to be a grandmother. That's it! I'm just going to wake her up and give her the bludgeoned beluga fruit snacks so she knows Mommy isn't a liar and I won't be a cougar gram gram in a few years."

You see what I mean? Yeah, you do. My goal is to provide a break from that lunacy. Yes, parenting is serious and difficult at times, and blah blah blah. It is also hilarious. You can't tell me watching your infant scare themselves with a fart isn't some of the funniest crap (pun intended) you've ever seen! But that's the easy part, let's laugh at the rest too. Hell, let's make the mundane parts a little, dare I say, swashbuckling! 

Ok I admit, the whole Knights of the Round Table analogy is a little corny, but hey, pretending is fun. I'm like a hot unpaid Walt Disney understudy with ketchup smeared on my leg and a booger in my hair. I won't say whose. 

To Battle!

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