Category Archives: Laugh

Stress Does Stuff To Your Awesomeness

6th March 2012

(Artwork Credit: I call it Warhol Stress)

I noticed something tonight.

I stress a lot.

I think about stress a lot. And read about it a lot. And write about it too.

I stress about stress.

Stress, stress, stressity, stress.

The fact that I am a stress case is purely a lovely coincidence.

And to fill the stress quota in this post, excuse me while I throw another one out there ……STRESS!!!


So, how do I deal with this knowledge?

Sometimes, I blame the children. <——— See how I did that? Links to a past post about stress and how I blame it on my kiddies. (This is purely a tactic to REDUCE MY STRESS).

I also look back and read old “gems” that offer some funny ways to handle stress. <——Ahem. I can feel the stress leaving my body as this very moment. Thank you for your understanding.

Stress sucks.

It ruins your awesomeness.

No, really.

Remember those days when there wasn’t hair on your face or even worse, your chin?? Bet those days were pretty relaxed.

Do you ever leave the house and realize once you’re standing next to one of those school moms, that you never brushed your hair, or worse, your teeth??

Blame stress.

Are you at Starbucks, ordering your coffee, only to realize that you have no handbag or money with you?


Ever send your five year old to kindergarten only to drive back home and see her knapsack in the front hall?


Dust, piles, laundry, bugs, boogers, bullies, meal times, laundry, bills, in-laws, calories, weather, traffic, money, laundry, cavities………..infinity.

Stress, Stress, STRESS. OY!

I think I should rename this post, “Why Mommies Drink”.


“Why Am I Old and Getting Acne Dammit!”


“Will My Mother Ever See Me As An Adult and Offer To Do My Laundry Until The End of Time.”


“Next Time My Husband Goes On A Business Trip, I’m Changng The Locks and Calling Colin.”

I’m partial to that last one.

Foodie, I Am Not

28th February 2012

I am weird about food.

I dislike more than I like, in every single food group.

To say that I am not an adventurous eater, is the understatement of the year.

I don’t eat most meats, except chicken and turkey, and I’m kind of meh about turkey if I’m totally honest. I eat red meat rarely, and mostly only when forced by my parents, for the iron.

I hate fish, and eggs, although I will force myself to eat eggs because every diet on the planet endorses egg whites.

I like most fruits – except blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, watermelon, red grapes, red apples, and those obscure fruits that are just weird.

Onions, mushrooms, greenbeans, cabbage, brussel sprouts, veggies that look funny, weird or require a special designation to peel or prepare – pass

I have never had cotton candy, jujubes, licorice, tootsie rolls, tootsie pops, toffy, and avoid chocolate with raisins and/or fruit like the plague.

I have an aversion to sauces, and toppings and dips and condiments and things.

I think I’ve had one cup of brewed coffee in my entire life, and that was because I needed to snap out of a bit of a lush to be honest.

I don’t like most cereals, I don’t eat jelly or jams, marmalade, peanut butter, honey or nutella.

I am a Greek that hates olives and onions and garlic and lamb and lentils and things that Greek people are supposed to eat, to keep up their Greekness.

I am food weird. Clearly.

Now to figure out how to translate food weird to tiny arse, and I’ll be set.

Top Ten Things I’m Sick Of At This Very Moment

17th January 2012

1. Those painfully painful MiniPops commercials. No tween needs to be singing anything on tv. EVER.

2. Winter. Cold things. Ice. Also, falling on my arse because of said ice, I could do without.

3. Homework. Ahem. If I wanted to go back to school, I WOULD.

4. Kim Kardashian. 72 days is NOT a marriage – it’s a rash.

5. Seeing Easter displays in JANUARY. Can we get past being disappointed with Valentine’s Day first, please?

6. The fact that they still haven’t come up with a way to translate doing nothing into weight loss. Y’all need to get on THAT asap.

7. Laundry – the dirty kind. Also, the clean kind that needs putting away is le suck.

8. Caffeine. Say it ain’t so, said Starbucks – if they suffer first quarter losses, you know who to blame.

9. Socks. So overrated. 

10. Snobs on the playground – yes, I mean the mothers.

What are you feeling rant-y about today??

Thanks to the lovely MamaKat and her fab writing prompt thingy for zee inspiration.

10 Things I Love About Motherhood

12th January 2012

  • It teaches and promotes life-long patience. (Exactly how many times in one’s lifetime can we really say, “Flush the toilet!” I’ll let you know!)
  • It gives me glimpses into what I looked like as a young child. (Yes, sadly there really aren’t that many pictures of me as a young girl, but then who really takes pictures of kid #4?)
  • It has allowed me the ability to perfect the art of baking a chicken nugget. (Birth two picky eaters – check!)
  • Because of Motherhood I know what a Zooble, GoGo, YugiOh, Pokemon, and Lalaloopsy is, and why the loss of any of them may result in screaming, crying, and whining.
  • Swear words are really funny when heard coming out of a five year old’s mouth. (I don’t promote it, I simply enjoy it.)
  • I became a body fluids NINJA – nothing phases me anymore. (I freak out on the INSIDE!)
  • The realization that you’re never too old to play. (I’m also not too old or clueless to beat my 8yo “video game master” at Wii Bowling thanks very much – I knew that University Psych degree would come in handy one day.)
  • The Starbucks coffee breaks are a real plus.
  • Getting hugged often by two cute, funny little people works really well as an anti-depressant. (Simultaneously cost effective and heart warming – double WIN.)
  • The giggles. Hands down

Thanks to MamaKat for the inspiration to write this post!

How To Break The Ice With Other Mothers

10th January 2012

I’m not a relationship expert, but I am willing to fake being one for you, here, now.

You’re welcome.

In my eyes, there are two types of Mothers at the playground – the ones that want to talk to you and the ones who don’t.

I won’t tell you what kind of Mom I am, but I’m never without my iPhone, book or imaginary friend so that should tell you something.

Actually, I really don’t have a problem talking with other people, and I can easily start a conversation with anyone about anything. It’s a gift. But for some reason, I find my kids’ school one of those places where the gift doesn’t apply. Also, the playground is all kinds of painful when it comes to trying to make conversation with total strangers.

But fear not, because I am here to offer my help to you so you are ready when approaching other Mommies.

First off, here are some things you should never say when trying to approach another mom on a playground (or anywhere really):

  •  “Hi, how are you? Pull my finger.”
  • “I noticed the sun reflecting off your facial hair, and thought I would come say hi!”
  • “I’m here to judge your choices. Let’s be friends.”
  • “I’m pretty sure we were besties in a past life, so I guess you’ve been waiting for me?”
And some examples of things you should never do:
  • Take a running start toward her screaming, “CHEST BUMP! BEST FRIENDS CHEST BUMP!”
  • Give them a purple nurple, without asking first. (Proper protocol: Ask first, purple nurple second).
  • Point out how dirty, out of control, annoying their kids are. (Amateur! That’s crap you do in the privacy of your own home!)
Now that we’ve cleared that up, some advice on successful Mommy ice breakage that is guaranteed to work. (Fyi: guaranteed in this instance means maybe, probably or who the hell knows but give it the ol’ college try dammit).
  • Offer them some of your Starbucks i.v.
  • Spare them stories about the last time you had a hemorrhoid.
  • Share your cardigan with them.
  • Let them take the first sip of your Diet Coke.
  • Smile until your face hurts.
  • Shake hands firmly – leave the limpy, dead fish handshake at home.
  • Oh, and don’t tell them you were just featured on Hoarders last week…..let them discover that for themselves.
Because you care.


Letters to Santa

13th December 2011

It’s that time again – the kids are making their painfully long lists and writing their letters to Santa.

This year, the five year old girly is especially excited about asking Santa for live animals evidently.


I told her that Santa probably doesn’t travel with pets, but she refused to change her letter.

I suppose learning to be disappointed at an early age, can only make her stronger.


The eight year old wasn’t really keen on writing a letter at all, despite being a fan of the big guy.

However, he was worried he might be forgotten so he threw something together in about 30 seconds and not surprisingly, it involves video games. Shocker.

He also asked Santa if he had a sibling because the kids are watching Fred Claus on a loop every time we’re in the car, so he needed to verify whether the movie was in fact a biography or just “something for kids to laugh at.”


I would also like to point out that I accidentally typed SATAN more often than SANTA while writing this wee post.

Read into it what you will.


P.S. Dear Santa, remind my man friend that the iPad is LONG overdue to be gifted to moi. Thanks.

I. Hate. Playdates.

22nd November 2011

I loathe playdates.

Hands down they are the worst thing about being a mom with kids in school. However, for the sake of my children, I suffer in silence. Sort of.

It’s one thing if you’re getting together with your girlfriends and having a coffee while the kids play – that’s fun for everyone involved. But the playdates where the kids are totally into it but the parents are all painful about making plans? So not the same thing.

For example, take this mother I know – we shall call her Snobby Sue. Snobby Sue is one of those moms who is extremely friendly if she is alone and without her group of uptight “sisters”. If her “sisters” are around, she doesn’t give you the time of day, but alone, she’s your best friend.

“Oh Maria, we should totally get the boys together. Why haven’t we gotten the boys together? We totally should arrange a playdate together soon.” You just KNOW that nothing will ever come of it. What’s the point? Know the type?

How about:

  • The mother who clearly has no interest in having a play date with your son because in her mind, her son is too much of a genius to play with a ” regular” kid. Yes, my son is the regular kid, and the genius kid BEGS his mom for playdates on a regular basis, which she ignores. She literally drags her socially awkward child away when she sees me. Clearly she can’t stand my aura of awesome.
  • The mother who is BEYOND ecstatic to set up a playdate and gives you all her contact information and wants the playdate to happen at that very moment, and when you tell her that you need a day’s notice to make your home less hoarders-like, she sulks away disappointed. Yup, true story.
  • The mother whose kid insists on all playdates at your house because that kid enjoys my son’s Lego enough to actually steal it from our house. (He took YODA, dammit – who steals YODA???)
  • The mother whose kid is SO out of control that she’s shocked when someone (unknowingly) agrees to a playdate with said child. In turn, I find him STANDING on my very expensive dining room table at one point during the playdate — seriously. I swear I was going to tell the mother what happened, but she brought cookies when she picked him up — a clear form of payment for giving her two hours of blissful silence.
  • The mother whose kid comes with a list of instructions — “He can’t eat this, play this, climb this, smile, or have fun for the next hour.” Yeah, that kid … I just hug a lot during the playdate. I may have also snuck him a Timbit, because Timbits make all things better. (Please note: Timbits are the Canadian version of the doughnut hole, because I know you’re probably wondering what the bleep a Timbit is at this very moment.)
  • The mother who insists on staying during the playdate (forced adult interaction – that’s not awkward AT ALL) and then proceeds to “compete” with you on everything involving the kids. You know those people: their goal in life is to outdo you no matter what it is, and no matter how much they have to lie to look better than you. PAINFUL.

Avoiding playdates — it’s what’s for dinner.

Can you relate to my hatred of playdates? Have any funny, awkward, painful stories to share??

Eleven Years – A Love Letter

2nd September 2011

The dude and I have officially been married ELEVEN years today.

I would like to share my official love letter to him, with you.


Happy Anniversary Husband!

We’ve made it ten years. Also, nine years. And next year will be twelve.

That my husband, is called COUNTING.

This beautiful love story started with a fancy date –

We dated for a few months –

We got engaged within six months –

We got married one year later –

We got honeymooned, Spain style (yes, beer tastes better in Madrid) –

We (ME) had a baby –

We (ME and my miraculous baby making lady parts) had another baby –

And here we are, eleven years later.

It’s been real – a real pain in the ass.

Insert hysterical laughter from me and blank stare from the husband HERE.

Here’s to my Mr. Darcy and the next eleven years – ‘cuz Colin is already married.



Fresh Paint. Big Headache.

23rd August 2011

I have a big headache.

I’ve had it for DAYS.

I blame the husband.

He wields the paint.

At some point this summer, we came up with the brainiac idea to paint almost the entire house, and do some house renos. I’m not sure you know this but summers here are HOT and so damn humid it’s unbearable. It was a dumb idea, but we were hoping to have a freshy fresh house by the beginning of the school year.

This may have been a realistic goal, had we hired PROFESSIONALS. Instead, the husband decided he was Bob Vila and would do all the work himself.

First, he decided to renovate our very outdated bathroom – I will admit, it looks a million times better than it did. He changed the vanity light and mirror, replaced the toilet and sink, painted, added new accessories, yada yada.

The plumber that is coming tomorrow to “fix” the toilet? – TOTALLY coincidental.

Then Bob painted our front foyer and powder room (including walls, ceiling, trim and all doors). Yes this is the slowest progress EVER.

Bob JUST finished the family room. New lighting fixture, new paint on the walls, ceiling and trim.

Woo Bob. Woo for progress. (Woo – Translation: Hurry the hell up BOB!)

So three rooms painted, five to go.

Oh, and you should probably imagine furniture and stuff that is EVERYWHERE. Also, add the piles and piles that are accumulating after a massive purge that is soon to be a garage sale that is supposed to happen this weekend, but short of a miracle, is not going to happen. Like I said, we is smart.

I would post pictures, but I haz a headache.

I blame the paint.

But also mainly Bob.

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