I Don't Usually Get Political, But...

When the shoe fits...
And, this show is awesome! They should cover the election, as it's something made of nightmares.
It's a scary time in our country right now...

~Tatted Mom

12 Things Overheard at Our House During Halloween

Halloween is a favorite holiday of most of the people in my house- me especially. We usually go all out, either all dressing up to take the kids trick-or-treating, or, as in recent years, setting up a home haunt to scare the trick-or-treaters. This year is no different, and as we have been planning for an Alice in Horrorland set up for the yard, many of the things that have been said would cause an outsider to raise an eyebrow.

These are actual things said at one point or another over the last few weeks! You know it's our favorite time of year!!

1. Me: A bag of flesh? Would that be good?
The Girl: That would be perfect!
Me: For only $19.95, too? Hells yeah... Wait. They are sold out. Dammit!

2. Me: Is this hedgehog okay, or does it need more blood?
Hubby: It looks bloody enough, babe.

3. Me: Be a boxer, please!

9am, Pre-Vacation Anxiety-Filled Ramblings

I have been a suck-ass blogger lately. I know this. I've been a suck-ass blogger because I've had to be a non-suck-ass business owner, homeschooler, wife, and mother lately. Which means something had to suck ass, and unfortunately, it was blogging. That's just been my reality lately.

I'm nervously typing this out because I'm anxious as hell right now. We leave for our vacation tomorrow, and while I'm super happy to see family we haven't seen in 3 years, I hate traveling. 6 hours of flights there, 6 hours of flights back, and I'm not a flying person. At all. Yes, I've acquired the necessary meds to help me fly, but it doesn't make the anxiety leading up to the flying any better, because I refuse to take the flying-anti-anxiety meds until we are actually flying. Fun how that works out.

I also have to leave my furbaby, Ariya for the first time since we got her 2 1/2 years ago. This dog is attached to my hip, and I have zero problems with that. That makes leaving her 1,000 times worse. She is getting to stay with some amazing people, who I know will treat her the way I do (like an actual child), but it doesn't make my heart hurt any less to not be around her. It's not even me I'm really worried about- it's her. Will she think we abandoned her? Will she understand we're coming back? Will she be okay? Just more to add to my *lovely* anxiety right now.

They say when it rains, it pours, and lately, you can tell it's been monsoon season here in Arizona, and can totally explain why I've been MIA lately. It started a little over a month ago when Etsy

5 Ways to Develop Your Psychic Mom Abilities

"Have you been playing in my office?"

The Ginger stared at me blankly. Slowly, he shook his head.

"Really? You haven't been playing in my office? At my desk, maybe?"

He took a huge swallow. Slowly shook his head again.

"Are you lying to me right now?"

At that moment, he broke. "Yes, Mom, I was in your office. I was just spinning around in the office chair. I didn't touch anything, I promise! How did you know? I did it when you were in the shower."

"Because I'm psychic. All moms are psychic. We know what our kids are doing at ALL times. Got it?"

The Ginger, eyes wide, hung his head and nodded that he understood. Then he ran off to his room.

This is probably one of my favorite parts of being a mom. How did I know The Ginger had been in my office, downstairs, in the front part of my house, when I was upstairs, taking a shower, in the back part of my house? Am I truly psychic?

That time I dreamed the Pick 3 winning lottery numbers would prove yes. And yes, I played them, but they came up in a different order than what I played, and I had played 'Exact Order' like a dumbass. The clerk at the gas station, however, when I told him my story of how I dreamed the numbers, played them 'Any Order' and won $500 bucks off me. Asshat.

Anyway, no, I'm not psychic. The seat height on my office chair is adjustable, so when I sat down on it, and was about 4 inches too high for my desk, I knew the spinning-chair-loving Ginger had been having quite a fun time while I was otherwise occupied.

Am I ever going to tell The Ginger my secret? Hell no. Kids thinking their moms are psychic has

The Killer Bunny Story

Last week, my Mom Skills were put to the test, and let me tell you, when you are facing down a ferocious beast, and your kids are near, you learn things about yourself that you never knew prior to that intense moment.

The point of entry for the intruder.

Or something like that...

We have a gap in our screen door. We need to put in a work order with the housing office to have someone come out and fix it, but let me tell you-  fixing a gap in my screen door is not a priority in my life right now, so it's been like that for months.

The kids and I were leaving the house one morning last week, and The Girl and I were both at the front door. She unlocked it, grabbed the knob, opened the door and stopped dead in her tracks. She was looking down at the floor. I followed her gaze, saw a small brown, furry thing curled up in between the screen door and our house door, and...

Took off running down the hallway, shrieking. No joke. Not my proudest moment, let me tell you that.

It took approximately 2.5 seconds (and 14 feet of hallway) for my brain to process the image, compare it to the different files in my head, and find a match- long ears, soft and furry, fluffy butt- a baby bunny.

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around. The Girl, still standing at the door, matter-of-factly

Not Prepared for Parenting Older Kids... Or the Zombie Apocalypse

When you become a mom of older kids, like I am (mine are 13 and 10), and you see a mom with younger kids, I'm sure the same thing goes through all of our minds...

"Oh, thank goodness I survived that section of parenthood."

Now THAT's Being Prepared...
Pic Courtesy

No more diaper changes, no more wordless temper tantrums (now they are silent altogether, except for the sound of marching off and a bedroom door slamming), no more mandated nap times screwing up schedules, no more bottle feedings/stopping to breastfeed, nothing. Just older kids who can express their thoughts and feelings (somewhat) coherently, who you can tell to disappear if they are angering you, and who can wipe their own asses.

Bliss, right?

Yeah, not exactly.

Yesterday, we went on a field trip with the homeschooling group we are members of, to a waste water treatment facility. The tour was supposed to start at 10, but as this place was very difficult to find (everyone's GPS had us doing some crazy u-turns in subdivisions and crap) and somewhere around 50 of us total showed up, it took a while to get things rolling.

I *thought* this was the field trip that was supposed to last between an hour to an hour and a half. Come to find out (the hard way, yes), the timed one was not this particular field trip, but the one we have in 2 weeks. Not knowing this when we left the house, the kids asked if we should bring anything with us.

Why? We'll only be gone like an hour and a half max, we'll be home in time for lunch and to spend time with Hubby before he goes to work. Easy peasy lemon squeezey.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

The guy heading the tour started his presentation (what? There's a presentation with this? Just thought

I'm Not Screwing Up My Kids for Life... I Think...

Every parent worries at some point if they are screwing up their kids for life.

When you start homeschooling, that fear and worry seems to triple.

Two and a half months now, the kids and I have been trying to find our place in the homeschooling world. At this point, I feel like Goldilocks:

We started out with an online school-at-home program "porridge"- Too Strict
We moved to unschooling- Too Relaxed (according to Hubby)
We started a more relaxed daily online curriculum program- Too Easy & Boring

At this point, I've thrown the homeschool porridge against the wall and am currently pouting in the corner, wondering if there's any porridge out there that's "just right" for my kids and I.

Two months now the consistency has been rather spotty. They do math at Khan Academy everyday, we've found literature and grammar curriculum that we've stuck with, and they write posts for their blog each week, but as far as science and history are concerned, we're just bouncing around.

I'm totally screwing up my kids' lives, aren't I? Why did I start homeschooling in the first place? Why did I think I was qualified to do this?

These thoughts stay in the back of my head like poison, seeping forward every once in a while to drive me bat shit crazy.

Needless to say, I've been stressed beyond belief lately.

My readers and my friends tell me that we'll figure it out. They say homeschooling takes adjustment

Regaining My Nerd Status

I was a nerd in high school.

Pic Courtesy

Ha! Who am I kidding? I'm still a nerd now.

I'm a nerd, though, with a pretty big secret that was revealed to my kids this week. While they didn't fully understand the scope of the secret, Hubby looked at me like I had grown a second head and said, "Seriously? Whoa."

I never read 2 of the books that are some of the top books on pretty much any required reading or greatest books ever written lists...

"Lord of the Flies" and "The Catcher in the Rye." Never read either book.

Yeah, yeah. I know. Every single conversation in the last 15 years or so where either one of these books has been brought up has gone something like this:

Person: You know, like in "Lord of the Flies"/ "The Catcher in the Rye."
Me: Oh, yeah, I understand, but I've never read it.
Person: (blank stare) What?
Me: Yeah. I've never read it. But I know the concept of the story and all.
Person: (continued blank stare) What do you mean you never read "Lord of the Flies"/ "The Catcher

Fifty Shades of... Give Me a Break

(This post is an opinion piece, but does contain extremely adult material and spoilers of the book "50 Shades of Grey." So, if you haven't read it and don't want it spoiled, or you haven't put your big girl panties on today, then I advise just clicking on, my friend. ~Tatted Mom)

Pic Courtesy

I can't pull up a website, open my Kindle (yes, I have the version with the ads still on it), or watch something on TV without being reminded that the 50 Shades of Grey movie comes out this weekend.

Yippee. Can you see me doing me Excited Dance? No? That's because I'm doing the Annoyed Eye Rolling Dance instead.

I confess now- I hated the book. I can't even say I hated the books (plural) because I didn't read them all. Naturally, I have this ingrained instinct to immediately reject the popular (had it since birth, I think), so when the book went crazy, I vowed never to read it- it was a reflex, sorry. Eventually, curiosity got the best of me (and I wanted to be included in the 5,477 conversations going on about it at any given moment) so I bought the first book.

I tried, Inklingers. I really did. I read the first 40 pages or so... and then skipped through and read all of the smutty parts.

I just didn't get it. The character development was pretty shotty, the characters themselves were aloof and pretty one-dimensional. And the smutty parts weren't even really good smutty parts. I've read better erotica in the fiction section of Penthouse magazine.

Now don't go thinking I hated the book because I'm sexually frustrated and a prude. That couldn't be

My Love Affair... With a Computer

I might be having a love affair with my kids' computer.

Yes, I have my own laptop. Hell, I even got a tablet for Christmas that I carry around with me pretty religiously... so much, in fact, that at the homeschooling group last week, I went to grab my phone, thinking it was my tablet, to show another mom a book I have downloaded on my tablet. First world problem, I know.

We bought the kids a desktop computer for Christmas because The Girl wanted to play The Sims, along with 37 of its expansion packs- something I did NOT want clogging up my laptop. The Ginger wanted to edit his stop-motion videos and research how to make more realistic ones, again, something I didn't want my laptop taken hostage for.

So Hubby and I bit the bullet and bought a desktop for the kids. We figured, a computer that stayed put in the kitchen desk area would be better than one that could disappear into the abyss that is each child's room, and would also teach the kids how to share. Meanwhile, I would have my laptop back to myself, and with my laptop, the freedom to do whatever I wanted, wherever I wanted.

Only... something strange happened between Christmas and now. I seem to have taken over the kids' computer.

There's something nostalgic about sitting in front of an actual computer, the clickety-clack of the

Offending Teachers, and Chocolate Pie

Apparently I offended one of The Girl's teachers today. Didn't mean to, didn't realize I would, but I did.

Chocolate Chess Pie- Yes please!!

Today I had to finish the last of the paperwork for the kids' online school registration. I figured, since they have 4 days of conventional schooling left, I'd go ahead and write a letter to each of their teachers, giving them a heads up that The Girl and The Ginger weren't returning in January.

One of The Girl's teachers was not happy at all with my letter. She told The Girl that I "was insulting the entire school program" in my letter.

Thanks for keeping your opinion about a 12 year old's mom to yourself, there, adult teacher of my child... (rolling eyes).

The damn letter was 3 sentences long. I must have perfected my skills of offending people, to get it down to 3 sentences.

Here's the letter; y'all can decide for yourselves:

This letter is to inform you that [The Girl] will not be returning to [school] in January. We have decided to homeschool her, and will be formally withdrawing her from [school] and TUSD
following the end of this semester. 

This decision took a great deal of time for us to make, but we feel that both of our children will be able to excel faster and access their full potentials in a school setting that is not part of TUSD.

Thank you,
Morgan Moss

When Hubby read it this morning, even he came back with an "Oh, damn."

So, I'm starting to wonder if I'm just such a bitch now that I don't even realize when I'm being a bitch, or if the letter really wasn't that offensive at all. I thought the letter was simple, straight forward, and was aimed at letting the teachers know that I wasn't unhappy with them, as teachers, but unhappy with TUSD (Tucson Unified School District).

Apparently, the letter was just taken as insulting to the entire school system.

Oops, my bad.

But, let's take a second to touch base on a few things here.

1. I'm southern. We don't hold much back. If I wanted to outright insult the school system, I would have. After reading over my letter, after Hubby's and the teacher's feedback, I can see how there's a little sting to it- an eloquent sting (that's what we southerners are known for), but nonetheless, a sting. She's lucky I didn't add Bless your heart instead of a Thank you at the end, but that wasn't the intent of my letter. 
2. Arizona schools are ranked #43 out of 51 (Washington, DC is counted as its own entity) in the nation. In Arizona, Tucson Unified District is ranked 228 out of 355. So, putting my letter aside, this school system is, in itself, insulting. Both of my kids are in the Gifted and Talented programs at their schools, but that only does so much, you know? The only way to fully describe what's going on in my head with this whole scenario is with an analogy... 

All the states in the US are in a pie baking competition. Apparently, New Jersey has the best pie right now, with, hell, I don't know, an amazing triple chocolate chess pie. Arizona is cooking up some liver and onion pie. Sure, it's not as horrible as the skunk meat and rotten potatoes pie that Mississippi is apparently cooking up, but it's not good either. But, of the minced meat pies, my kids' group cooked up the best liver and onion pie of all the liver and onion pies in this area. Still doesn't mean that liver and onion pie is gonna win the entire pie competition, nor does it mean the liver and onion pie is even edible some days. Will it sustain you? Sure. But overall, it stinks to high heaven. So, I'm supposed to be happy with my kids' liver and onion pie, when I know my kids are triple chocolate chess pie potential, and have access to the triple chocolate chess pie ingredients? Oh hell no. I want chocolate pie for my kids.

So, while I do feel bad I offended one of The Girl's teachers (still torn as to why I feel bad- I really shouldn't), I stand by my letter today. It may have been slightly bitchy, but it could have been much worse.

This is why I shouldn't write letters before my coffee in the morning...
Or why I should write more. The jury is still out on that one.

Found out just a few hours ago that my kids have been accepted to an online school, so our ingredients for triple chocolate chess pie are right around the corner. I can't wait!

I love chocolate pie...

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Game of War and Banana Smears

I just want to thank Kate Upton for stealing my husband from me.

Thanks to that damn commercial she did for the "Game of War" cell phone game, I haven't seen my husband's face in weeks. And all he talks about are alliances, battles and loyalty.

Pic Courtesy

I swear, he thinks this shit is real.

So this morning, the shit did get real- for him, when it comes to this game. I'll set the scene for you, before unleashing our conversation.

I had just woken Hubby up for the day, and was sitting on the bed, eating a banana beside him. He grabbed his phone, like he does the second he wakes up, and opened that damn game. I was trying to plan our day, but he was balls deep in his phone. I looked at his screen to see what he was reading that was so damn intense, and saw a long message (you can send messages in this game) with a drawing of a chick beside it.

Me: Who's the chick?
Hubby: (reading)
Me: Hello? Chick? Who is she? Chicks actually play this game?
Hubby: It's not a chick, it's a drawing of a chick.
Me: No shit, Sherlock. It's called an avatar. I might not play your nerd war game, but I know

Hell Week Post #2: The Day We Crushed The Ginger's Innocence

A few days ago, I posted the first of 3 in a series I'm calling "Hell Week", chronicling one of the craziest weeks I've ever had. Post #1, We Aren't Trying to Ruin Our Kids' Lives, I Swear was all about how last week, Hell Week, started out on Monday with Hubby and I making the biggest decision ever for our kids- the decision to homeschool them.

Now we're skedaddling on to Tuesday of last week, or the day that will forever be known as The Day We Crushed The Ginger's Innocence.

Yeah, we know why you are winking, big guy. We'll
keep your secret, until our kids are 10, apparently.

I was 10 when I asked my dad about the true existence of Santa Claus. I had done my research, presented him with evidence as we were wrapping presents one afternoon, and gave him a stern, "So, Dad, is Santa real?"

Without skipping a beat in the wrapping process, he said, "Nope. The idea of Santa is real, but as far as a fat guy with reindeer delivering presents, he's not real. We parents just keep the idea of Santa alive for kids." 

Fair enough, and props to my dad for an amazing explanation, right?

Hubby was 10 when he was told about Santa, as well. He had younger brothers, so his parents told him so he could help with the Christmas Eve shenanigans at night.

The Girl apparently figured everything out the Christmas she was 9 years old, but didn't mention it until the following Christmas, when she was 10. I guess Santa left a receipt for some Webkins laying around and she found it; forgetful Santa...

This year, The Ginger is 10. We're having to do a small Christmas, so the fact that half of our

Hell Week Post #1: We Aren't Trying to Ruin Our Kids' Lives, I Swear

I am officially labeling this week as "Hell Week," and it's only Thursday. It's been so amazingly, sweet-ass awesome (can you sense my sarcasm?), that it's going to warrant 3 posts from me.

My mantra right now...

Yes, 3 posts. I can't cram all of this week into one post. It would look a lot like a busted can of biscuits if I tried, and I don't like to make my readers' heads explode.

I will, however, give y'all a teaser of what my week has entailed, and then we'll just jump right into the first part of my week.

This week, Hell Week, started off with Hubby and I making one of the largest decisions we could possibly make for our kids- The Girl is still barely speaking to us because of it. Mid-week, we crushed The Ginger's innocence forever, and just after that, I contracted what can only be a precursor to the Zombie Virus. That's my Hell Week thus far, and please knock on some wood for me that the remainder of the week does NOT warrant a fourth post in this series.

So now that you have an overview of this week for me, let's just head right into one of the biggest decisions I've ever made as a parent, shall we?

Monday morning, as the kids were getting ready for school, The Ginger opened up his homework folder (keep in mind that last week was Thanksgiving, so the kids have been out of school since the Wednesday before this), and threw his head back. Tears started filling his eyes.

The Ginger: Mom, can I PLEASE stay home from school today?
Me: Nope. But why do you ask?
The Ginger: Because my state report is due today and I forgot all about it. I didn't work on it at all this weekend.
Me: Nope, sorry. You didn't do your homework, so you need to fully understand the consequences to

Friday Frenzy- I've Got Balls of Steel

(Today I'm very happy to welcome Mary from Outmanned here for Friday Frenzy. Being the only female in a house full of males (though she's pregnant with a girl now!), she writes her way through the hilarious happenings. Every one of her posts makes me laugh out loud, so definitely check her out!! ~Tatted Mom)

I've Got Balls Of Steel

Ever since 50 Shades of Grey took the stay at home mom market by the nipple clamps, Ben Wa balls have started popping up (hopefully not out!) everywhere. As an over-worked, under-rested, I-can't-remember-the-last-time-I-had-sex mother of two, I naturally assumed that I had about as much use for a pair of Ben Wa balls as I did an alarm clock or a bathroom door.

Surely, sex toys are for energetic sex-nymphs with delicate vaginas: the kind that should only be talked about in hushed, reverent tones, and inspire floral paintings. Mine, on the other hand, is gnarled and scarred like a war veteran. She is hard as nails. Don't get me wrong. I have the utmost respect for my vagina, but my overwhelming thought while reading 50 Shades was "Oh honey, my vagina could eat you for breakfast."

What use did I have for Ben Wa balls when the closest thing I was having to kinky sex was the time I fell asleep half-way through?

Ben Wa balls offer more than a smutty story to tell your friends. The muscles used to hold the marble-sized steel balls in your vagina are the same muscles responsible for stopping urinary

17 Controversial Parenting Topics, Covered in 1 Post

I get emails all the time about "controversial" parenting topics: What are your views on attachment parenting... Why haven't you ever jumped on the breast vs. bottle bandwagon... Do you even have opinions on the strong stuff?

Of course I have opinions on the controversial parenting topics; that's like asking if a bear sh*ts in the woods. I'm a very opinionated person; I just also carefully choose which topics I spout off about and which ones just aren't worth the effort for me.

But not today. You all have asked, I have (finally) answered, but I decided to do it my way. Instead of taking each topic and creating an entire blog post about it (which I totally could have done- seriously, I'm great at climbing up on a soap box), I've decided to get straight to the point on 17 different topics.

Please bear in mind a few things:

• This is my blog with my opinions. I'm just one person in this world. I feel I was respectful with my answers, so I would like the common courtesy in return when it comes to comments.
• I'm a firm believer in parenting your family the way that works for you, regardless of what others say or think, as long as your family is safe. It's something I preach over and over in my book, "Tatted Mom's Guide to NOT Screwing Up Your Kids." I have respect for all parenting styles, but I do have opinions on some of them. Just because I share my opinion below doesn't mean I don't support moms who parent that way; we are all on this parenting journey together.

Without further ado, let's get to it. 

17 Controversial Parenting Topics, Covered in 1 Post

1. A mom who makes baby food isn't any "better" than a mom who buys jars of baby food.

2. I will tell my kids "NO!!" and yell and scream, if necessary. Quietly whispering to a child that maybe they shouldn't run out into the street in front of that oncoming traffic doesn't achieve the desired results I'm looking for.

3. Children age in months up until 2. Then, it's years. Your kid is not 36 months old, it's 3.

4. I believe in competition; it helps children realize their strengths and interests, and show them what skills they need to work on. If everyone is given a participation trophy, and no one is deemed a winner because of the possible repercussions on the kids who didn't win, then maybe those kids aren't made for that sport or activity. If we never teach kids about competition, and winning vs. losing, they

If Only My Period Was a Super Power...

I'm normally not an overly sensitive person. It takes a lot to get my blood boiling or to incite anger from me.

Period Woman- My custom Super Hero
created by the Hero Machine.
This was too much fun!!!

Unless, of course, I'm PMSing or actually on my period. Then, a simple look can set me off on an angry onslaught of pure emotional babble.

So, how awesome is it that my monthly visitor has chosen its time to grace me with its presence when my kids are on Fall Break from school for a week, which also happens to be the same week I told Hubby I'd help him lose 5 pounds in a week (by fixing all of his meals and helping him with portion control) to get ready for his upcoming PT (physical training) test with waist measurement?

F*cking awesome, that's right.

In my defense (before I even get started, yes, that's how I roll), I think my family knows I'm highly sensitive and purposefully chooses that time to screw with me. I think it's a fun game of Mom's PMSing, How Close to Making Her Head Explode Can We Get?

Pretty damn close, that's for sure.

My kids aren't even the culprit this particular month- unless you count constantly asking me stupid questions from some poll app- seriously, I don't give a crap to think about whether I'd rather live with snakes under my bed or spiders on my ceiling, so stop asking (snakes... no, spiders... dammit! I've wasted too much brain power already...)

It's Hubby.

This morning's conversation is a prime example:

Me: You know I love rain, and yesterday it was awesome. Today, I really wish it wasn't raining.
Hubby: Why? You can live in rain.
Me: I understand I can, but I have stuff I need to do today.
Hubby: We lived in England for 3 years; you know how to do anything in rain that you could do

The Woes of a Sports Mom

Tonight, The Girl's volleyball team plays in the semi-finals of the district volleyball tournament. We're all really excited, here at the Tatted Mom house...

Except... well... there's that one... no, I can't say it.

Wait. I can. It's my blog. I'm here to talk about the good, the bad, and the ugly of parenting. So, (deep breath)...

There's a small part of me that hopes they lose.

(Breathe out) OMG, I can't believe I just said that.

When you become a Sports Mom, you sign on for everything sports-related; morning practices, weekend practices, chauffeur to places in the county (or state if it goes that far) that you didn't even know existed (I'm sure the section of town the school was in for the quarter-finals last night used to be amazing...). Your schedule revolves around the sport's schedule, and for the last few months, we have ate/slept/breathed volleyball.

I love volleyball. I played in high school. And now I know how my mom felt.

Touche, Karma, touche.

Of course I want my child and her team to succeed. They only lost 1 game during the regular season,

WTF Wednesday: Ryan Gosling- The Newest DILF on the Block

Now *that's* the dream- Ryan
bringing me coffee. Yes, please...

I've never kept my love for Ryan Gosling a secret.

He's only been mentioned a mere 13 times in various posts on my blog. That's not overkill, is it? (You can read my favorite posts mentioning Ryan Gosling here, here and here.)

So, imagine my surprise today when I found out that he is now a father!!

Yep, Eva Mendes hid her pregnancy for the last 9 months and gave birth to a baby girl Gosling last Friday.

I'm happy for the couple, I am. And excited to see how beautiful that baby has to be.

But I have to admit, my heart is a little broken today.

Thanks, sweetheart...

My blog has had ups, downs, reinvented itself several times over, has gained readers, lost readers, gone viral, sat dormant, been shared like a $2 whore, and has been a home to people who enjoy finding the craziness in motherhood, just like me.

Through all of that, Ryan Gosling has been an Inklings constant.

And now he's a father; one of the largest changes a person can go through. I fully welcome him into the craziness that is parenthood, and now label him as a DILF.

Yep, I just went there.

Ryan Gosling is now a father, and I'm not his baby's mama...

Definitely my biggest WTF moment of this week...



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7 "Rules" My Children Have Created to Live By

My kids never cease to amaze me. Some days, it's in awesome ways.

And some days, I wonder if they left their brains in bed when they woke up that morning.

I've been making a running list of things that seem to occur numerous times in my household; things I believe my children are slowly converting into personal truths or facts for themselves. That's the only reason I can think of that they repeatedly perform these acts- they are now gospel to them.

And I just shake my head. There's nothing else that can really be done at this point.


7 "Rules" My Children Have Created to Live By

1. The best time to ask Mom for something is when she's exhausted and just fell asleep on the couch. Yep, that's when she'll just answer Yes to anything, just to get us kids to go away. Whether it's asking for a bowl of ice cream 30 minutes before dinner, asking to bring the entire neighborhood into the house to play upstairs, or asking to go fly a helicopter, if you ask within the first 2.5 minutes after Mom falls asleep, you'll get what you want.

2. The bathroom floor is the only place dirty clothes should be. That basket-thingie Mom put in my room that she says is a hamper? That's a wicked cool basketball hoop to throw my stuffed animals in... or random books... toys... definitely not clothes. Oh, I can flip it upside down and sit on it, too, while I play video games. Where are my dirty clothes, you ask? Those are on the bathroom floor, where I took them off when I took a shower last night (and the night before, and the night before that). Duh...

3. "Clean the kitchen after dinner" means unload and load the dishwasher, and nothing else. Never mind the ketchup, butter, pitcher of iced tea and dirty napkins still out. Those aren't included in "cleaning the kitchen." Neither is wiping down the counter tops, picking up that pork chop bone that