April 3, 2014
by admin

Car-versations: I’m sure she meant well…

(For those of you who are new, I tend to have the most bizarre conversations with my kids while we are in the car. Thus, my series of Car-versations.)

My daughter’s kindergarten class is having a poetry reading on Friday. Here is the car-versation we had about it.


Daughter: “Mom, I wrote you a poem for our poetry thing on Friday, but my teacher won’t let me read it.”

Me: “Aw. Why not?”

Daughter: “She said she said part of it wasn’t nice, but I didn’t mean for it not to be nice.”

Me: “Oh, honey. I’m sure you didn’t. Can you tell me how it went?”

Daughter: “Okay –

Loved as a lovebird

Heavy as a log

I love you, Mom.”

Me: “…Hm…it was the ‘heavy as a log’ part she didn’t like, right?”

Daughter: “Yeah.”

Me: “Yeah. Well, I think it’s very sweet and strangely descriptive.”

Daughter: “Thanks, Mommy.”

Me: “You bet.”



I have decided to title her poem, “Love Song For Fatty.” I might put it on a pillow. Or a coffee mug. But probably not a tee shirt.

If any of you have had an unintentionally unflattering poem written about you, or your child drew a picture at school that made you question everything you thought you knew about yourself, AND I KNOW YOU DO, I’d love to hear about it in the comments.


OH! And a big huge sloppy thanks to Parenting.com, who included me in their list of their favorite mom blog posts this week! I’m really flattered and amazed (I mean, I use the F-word in there!) to be included. So thanks to all, and go check out the other “get real” posts they loved this week.


April 1, 2014
by admin

“Goodnight, Nanny-Cam” AND an awesome “10 Things” comment

I’ve never done a giveaway on the blog before. Nothing ever seemed so incredibly awesome that I was willing to go through a trip to the UPS store to ship it to someone.

But a week or so ago I got an opportunity to hold a giveaway for an extremely worthy cause. That cause?  Ridiculing modern parenting in a book that spoofs Goodnight Moon. I could not possibly wish for anything more.

It’s called Goodnight, Nanny-Cam. I’ve read it, and it’s hilarious. If you enjoyed Go the F**k to Sleep, you will love this one.

Goodnight nc1

One of my favorite lines is: “Goodnight wipes warmer and yoga mat, defibrillator and sun hat.” Love. It.

I am holding a raffle for the book, and the winner will be chosen randomly on Monday (not by me, by the computer). I will then announce who it is in next Tuesday’s blog post. I really wanted to make this raffle fun: fun for me, fun for you. Fun fun fun. So I have made up three thought-provoking, deep, meaningful questions for you to answer (actually, scratch everything but “thought-provoking”). You can answer one of them or all of them, and you can enter once a day.

I am so, SO excited to see what people come up with. This is going to be a hoot and a holler.

a Rafflecopter giveaway


The comments keep coming in for my “10 surprises from the first few days after delivery” post. There are over 500 in there now! If you get a chance, you HAVE to read them. They are INCREDIBLE. Just when I thought I’d heard it all, then I read a story about a woman farting directly into her husband’s face (bravo, Noelle).

But among all of the hundreds of comments, there was one that stood out. In case you missed it, here is Sarah talking about her birth experience in Brazil. I put my favorite parts in bullet points.

  • “I gave birth in Brasil, where i grew up. During labor, i forgot that i spoke fluent portuguese, so i had to rely on a translator.”
  • “I asked for pain killers, but her [the nurse's] solution was prayer.”
  • “At night, the nurses wouldn’t turn off the lights ‘so you will wake up if someone tries to steal your baby.’”

Thanks for all the comments, folks!!  They are a treat to read.

March 27, 2014
by admin

I review Divergent using a Theo James’ lips-based rating system.

On Sunday, some of my friends and I saw Divergent in a 21-and-over movie theater here in Seattle that has comfy seats and tables for your snacks and beers. It was nothing short of delightful.

I wasn’t expecting much from this movie. I’d read the book about a year ago and discovered that other than The Hunger Games, I have a hard time getting into books about teenagers. I guess it’s because they care about things like love and the future, whereas a cold, hollow, broken-down adult like me just can’t relate to that stuff anymore.


I mean…

In the end, it turned out that Divergent the movie was nowhere near as terrible as I thought it was going to be. That is as close to a rave review for this movie that I am going to get. HOWEVER — I was entranced thoughout the film and would watch it 100 more times. Why? The acting? Eh. The writing? Not so much. Theo James?


Now, I am not a swooner. I have not had a Hollywood crush since George Clooney (and I’d still ditch it all for a week in Lake Como with him.) But I am in my mid-thirties now. Swooning over actors is only cute when you’re six and when you’re eighty. When you’re nineteen, it’s expected. But when you’re thirty-six…well, you have to tread carefully. One wrong move and you’re one of those Twilight moms holding up signs for a teenaged Robert Pattinson with your daughter and her friends. The difference here is that 1) I am not very crazy, and 2) Theo James is almost 30. Not 18, 30. THIS IS TOTALLY LEGIT AND I AM NOT A WEIRDO (that, by the way, is what I am going to put on my sign if he ever comes to town.)

Yes, the true stars of Divergent are Theo James’ lips, who assist James in playing the role of Four. They are cultured, thoughtful, and possess keen analytical skills. So I decided to review the movie based on how many pairs of Theo James’ lips the different parts deserve. I’m not saying those lips are fair or impartial, but they are pillowy.

Here are my ratings, on a scale of zero to four lips.

(PS –  Spoilers, ahoy!)


1. The Beginning: We meet Tris, learn about the different factions, and she and the other sixteen-year-olds pick their factions.

Rating: Zero lips.

Reason: No Theo James. Can’t give lips to no lips.








2. Tris chooses the Dauntless faction, jumps off a building, and meets Four.

Rating: Four lips.






Reason: Welcome to our movie, Theo James’ lips. We have been waiting for you.


3. Tris fights and proves herself to be a worthy member of her new faction.

Rating: Two lips.




Reason: There are scenes without Theo James. His lips feel this was a poor decision on the part of the director.


4. Kissing scene. Raaaaaaaarrr. 

Rating: Three and a half lips.






Reason: This would all be goodness, if it weren’t for the fact that while he looks like a grown man, she looks like she has to get home to study for a biology quiz. It’s a little off.


5. The big battle scene, also Tris’s parents die.

Rating: Two lips.


Reason: A surprise rating by the lips. Their reason is that while the loss of her parent’s was unfortunate, it was necessary in order to move the plot forward. You just can’t argue with those lips.


6. The good guys fight back, beat up Kate Winslet, and skip town for the great unknown.



Reason: One of the final shots of the film is a close-up of Tris’s face, and Four’s lips. That’s right — the last few minutes of the movie are all about them lips. Which is no more than they deserve, say Theo James’ lips.


Overall rating:


Four lips.

Theo James’ lips say, “Run, don’t walk, to see Divergent. We are magnificent.”

March 25, 2014
by admin

Paging Dr. Ruth, and a Thank You

Ruth, I need you to giggle incomprehensibly with my children about penises, please.

Ruth, I need you to giggle incomprehensibly with my children about penises, please.

I wrote back in October about a talk I went to where an educator gave advice to parents on how to talk to their kids about the birds and the bees. At this talk, I learned first and foremost that I am an incredible prude. I also learned that my approach of “wait till they ask” was not the best idea now that my twins are six, and it was time for me to drop the hammer (“dropping the hammer” is also, coincidentally, how I refer to sex.)

Well, a couple of months after the presentation I decided to sit one of my twins down and have the “big talk” with them. I had been cautioned not to go into any extra, unnecessary detail, so I just gave her the basic mechanics: A goes into B where C happens which creates D which leads to E and there’s your baby.

My child went quiet, then looked at me and said, “Boy, Mom…you’re lucky you only had that gross thing happen to you twice.”


I almost got into the fact that because she’s a twin, that gross thing really only had to happen to me once. But that just leaves us at a whole different level of wrong and confused, so I just said, “Yeah…ha ha…yeeeeeeeaaaaaaah. Hey, let’s go have some yogurt.”

One step at a time, right?


I want to thank everyone who took the time to read and comment on my “10 Things” post. WOWZAH. That’s a whole lot of people with a whole lot of terrible hospital stories. I salute you all, my sisters in shamelessness. Whether you pooped, or you farted, or you did way too much of both, every one of you deserves a fist bump and an ice pack to put wherever you damn well please.

March 20, 2014
by admin

Want to shun friends or avoid nemeses? There’s an app for that.

Passive-aggressiveness goes high tech, y’all!

There was an article in the L.A. Times yesterday about a new “antisocial app” called Cloak. Here’s how it works:

The way Cloak works is users connect the app to their Foursquare and Instagram accounts. The app then pulls geo-location data from their friends on those social networks. Cloak then displays where a users’ friends are on a map, based on those users’ latest check-ins.

Users can also flag specific people. When a flagged person gets within a certain range from the user, Cloak will send the user a notification.

If I can't see you, you're not there. That's how it works. (image via SXC)

If I can’t see you, you’re not there. That’s how it works. (image via SXC)

Fantastic. I can’t think of a single person in my life that I would devote that much energy to avoiding unless they were trying to murder me. And if someone was trying to murder me, I would probably stop following them on Instagram.


It could be pretty entertaining, though, because my would-be murderer couldn’t be that bright if they kept checking in on Four Square all day.

Going To Murder You just checked in at Your Drycleaners. Comment: I’m looking for you.”

Going To murder You just checked in at Best Little Animal Hospital. Comment: I’m going to find you.

Going To Murder You just checked in at Your Neighbor’s Bedroom. Comment: “Wait, who…? Oh damn it.”

But for someone like me, who is terrible with people and has bad social skills, Cloak and I would undoubtedly have conversations like the following:

“Hey, Cloak — warn me if Phyllis is in the area. I can’t stand her.”

“Okay, Meredith. Have you considered un-friending her?”

“Yes, Cloak, thank you. But that would just lead to a lot of awkwardness on Bunko night. I’d rather add her to a list of people I hate on this app.”

“Understood. Is this the Phyllis with blond hair? Her daughter’s name is Swan, and her son is Root?”

“Oh yeah, that’s the one. What a moron.”

“She’s behind you.”

“…Thank you, Cloak. And keep up the good work.”

%d bloggers like this: