It’s pajama day at my son’s school. That is a fun idea if you live in a Hanna Andersson catalog. Unfortunately, we do not. My son has outgrown most of his pjs. He looks like Madonna in the 1980’s when he lifts his arm. I rocked the half-tops in high school. Now, I wear layers to keep my muffin top contained. As for his pj bottoms, he could wade through flood waters and come out dry.

I was holding out for Christmas pajamas. My mother-in-law gives my children the best pjs every year. This dress-up day foiled my plan. I had to make an emergency trip to the store last night to get a new pair. I returned and my inquisitive son asked, “How come moms don’t wear pajamas?” Let me explain, I do not walk around naked when the sun sets. I just don’t have cute, matching tops and bottoms. I wear whatever I can find. I wear whatever comfortable clothes I can find. I am not wearing carpenter jeans and a blazer to bed. I’ve said it before and I will say it again. I don’t care if you are hammering in the morning, evening or all over this land nobody should wear carpenter jeans. It’s not that I wouldn’t like a nice pair of pajamas, but it’s not a priority. That money can be spent on other things. Besides, I don’t have anyone to impress. In my dreams, Ryan Gosling loves me just the way I am.

I do not own a single pair of “Mom Jeans,” but I have a drawer of “Mom Jammies.” If my nighttime attire were listed in a Victoria’s Secret catalog it would probably be described like this:

Softball Player PajamasStay cool in comfort. These cotton draw string shorts make you feel 10 pounds lighter, even when you are bloated. You can slide from your down comforter to shortstop without changing your clothes.

Charity Walk PajamasFeel good about yourself as you drift off into dreamland. It is comfortable and a good reminder about what really matters in life. This cotton t-shirt is brought to you by the local Rotary Club.

The Painter PajamasSlip into these pants and feel like Monet; if Monet lived on a cul-de-sac. Splattered with paint from projects gone wrong, these pajamas are one of a kind.

The Wannabe Yoga Instructor Pajamas - You don’t have to do Yoga to rest comfortably in these pants. The elastic waistband stretches on those nights you want to eat your feelings.

Was His Pajama Set -Your husband’s t-shirt that “shrunk” in the dryer will work just fine when everything else is dirty. You don’t need a headache. This gives off the “Don’t even think about it” vibe.


I got in the shower tonight, tripped and nearly knocked myself out. That would have been a memorable 911 call for the EMTs. “Yeah, we have a naked, middle aged mother unconscious in the shower.”
I stepped on Princess Belle. Let me tell you, that broad has some claws. Cinderella and Ariel were stuck, feet first in a thin bar of soap. There are toys everywhere. I know someday I will miss seeing Spider-Man hanging from a light fixture. The day will come when the house will be tidy and I will hate it. I will never miss picking Lego pieces out of a dirt filled vacuum. Most parents have gone through trash for their children. I have sifted through food scraps, coffee grounds, etc. looking for a toy my daughter thought she threw away. My hands were covered in slimy lettuce and ketchup when she stopped crying and declared, “Oh, I remember where I put it!”

I recently attempted to get rid of some toys. Unfortunately, I made the rookie mistake of going through the stash while the children were home. Instead of decluttering it turned into Christmas morning. “I forgot I had that!” Really? You forgot about the toy you bitched and moaned for a year to have? You forgot about the toy I bought from eBay at an inflated price? I think there is a special place in hell for professional eBay sellers.

My children suddenly wanted to play with everything. They also pleaded with me to keep the misfit toys.

“I love that doll missing all her limbs.”

“That car, without any wheels, is my favorite.”

“I play with that broken slinky all the time.”

They are a bunch of liars when the Goodwill box comes out. I have to do something before I end up on “Hoarders.” That show is bad, but “My Strange Addiction” is even worse. How the hell does one become addicted to chewing on dirty diapers or their couch? Nancy Reagan needs to launch a new campaign. “Just Say No to Eating Your Mattress. .

We celebrated my daughter’s birthday this weekend. Pet Shop Barbie is shaking in her boots. She may be voted off the island to make room for all of these gifts. My daughter did not get a “Breaking Bad” action figure. Do you want to know why? Because they aren’t meant for kids. I am sure you heard the story about the Florida mother petitioning to have them removed from store shelves. I am disappointed Toys R Us caved to the pressure. No, I won’t allow my kindergartner to play with toy bags of meth. That’s the beauty of living in America. You don’t have to buy them.


They are collectors items for fans of the show. I am not a collector. I don’t have spoons from each of the 50 states or a curio cabinet with Precious Moments figurines. However, I don’t think one uptight woman should dictate what is sold in any store.

My mother got my daughter a talking toy bird. It was her favorite gift. The toy bird even beat out the Elsa doll I sold my soul to buy. I think talking toys are made by Satan in a factory in China. Do you know what else is made by the devil?

1.) Glitter – unless you are a hooker there is never a good reason to give a child a toy with glitter. It is impossible to clean up which is why I have a retraining order against Ke$ha.

2.) Sprinkles – sprinkles are great until your child tries to eat something with sprinkles. Unless you are decorating cookies with superglue, those suckers will fall everywhere.

3.) Feathers – I bought my daughter a pink feather boa to play dress up. One of her favorite books features a sassy duck wearing a boa. Now, it looks like a duck exploded in my house. Every time I turn around I am finding feathers.

4.) Playdough

My kids love it. They also love dropping it on the ground and stepping on it. My daughter is constantly mixing all the colors. That could be the one thing that sends me to the mad house. OCD + brown Playdough = nervous breakdown.

5.) Sandboxes – Who do we think we are? God put sand on the beach for a reason.

6.) Teddy bears – they multiply like rabbits and are rarely played with.

7.) Caillou – That little f*cker will make the list every time.

I could go on and on. Unfortunately, the sun has set and the children are asleep. I have a mission to complete. Not even GI Joe can’t save you now Polly Pocket.

Rock, paper, scissors…shoot

My children have been playing rock, paper, scissors all week; the winner gets to wake up several times a night.

A few nights ago my son must have had scissors over paper and had a nightmare. Did he dream that he forgot to save his progress after playing Minecraft? Was a monster, zombie or Gloria Estefan in his dream? Maybe he was running from the rhythm so it didn’t get him tonight. He doesn’t remember what happened.

The next day my 4-year-old daughter obviously got paper over rock because she woke up at 3 a.m. to go to a rave. Why else would she be wide awake at that hour? She isn’t work overnights at the factory. She wasn’t sick. I woke up that early when I was pregnant with her, had a full meal and went back to bed. That is the only thing I miss about pregnancy. You can eat like a pig, lick your plate and people think it’s adorable. Please don’t ever say “adorbs.” Did you save that much time by not saying “-able?” What about “totes” instead of totally? Were you cast in the remake of “Fast Times at Ridgemont High?” Then, cut the sh*t.

In the days that followed, my daughter came down with the “Forget about sleeping because this night is going to suck virus.” It’s not listed on WebMD, but it’s very real. There are no symptoms during the day. In fact, the coughing doesn’t start until you fall asleep. The moment you get up to check on your child it stops. Lay your head back down on the pillow and she starts hacking louder than ladies at a Bingo Hall on a Friday night. Rinse and repeat until you are so tired you want to cry. That sums up why I have looked like Steve Buscemi all week. Shoot.

In recognition of your service

I have a friend who just celebrated his ten year anniversary at his place of employment. To show their appreciation for his years of service the company is allowing him to pick one item out of a provided catalog. Here are a few of the options:


Nothing says thank you for your hard work better than an uncomfortable folding chair. Now, settle down champ. The lounge chair with the attached cup holder is reserved for employees who have worked twenty years at the company. Until then, you and the other valued long term employees can sit together and hold your drinks in your hands like the b*tches you are.


For ten long years you have walked around wearing wrinkled clothing. The shame was almost too much to bear. Passersby turned up their noses in disgust at the uneven pleats in your pants. Housewives giggled at the sight of your wrinkled blouse. You could have purchased this at Walmart for $9.99, but you were determined to earn it by working eight hours a day, five days a week, for a decade.


A triple pack of cookie sheets? F*ck yeah! The years of longing to bake cookies are over. You are no fool. You knew it would pay off to be belittled by a manager who wears short sleeve dress shirts and rubber overshoes year round. Now, your free time will be spent doing what you love most; putting fork marks in peanut butter cookies.


Finally, you can use the crockpot recipes your relative posts on Facebook every other day. You can whip up a stew for the company party. It will go great with the dishes prepared by the lady in the front office who allows her cats to walk on the kitchen counter while she cooks.


This is my favorite item in the catalog.

“Spark excitement at your next dinner party with these vividly designed porcelain plates.”

Who hasn’t been to a party and said “This dinner party is great, but it would be more exciting if they served food on dishes designed by a bleach blonde reality star who chews like an absolute slob and wears sunglasses on the back of his head .” You’ve helped made this company what it is today. Who needs a cash bonus when you can have tattoo appetizer plates? …. and just in time for the holidays.

Tickets please

I got a second mortgage on my house and took the entire family to the movies. Do you remember when a matinee was a few dollars? Now, it’s $10 no matter what time of the day you buy a ticket. I used to sneak in popcorn and treats. I would put the snacks in my pocket book. Then, I almost got busted. I have enough enemies. I don’t need to be blacklisted at the local movie theater. So, I have to buy popcorn and soda, too and that costs $9 million. My kids won’t be able to go to college, but we had extra butter.

I did a little more research this time before choosing what film we would see. I learned my lesson after taking a teenager to see “Gone Girl.” Is there anything worse than watching a sex scene where Ben Affleck goes downtown on his lady friend while your firstborn child is sitting beside you?

I took the younger lads to see “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.” The oldest went to see a scary movie with his cousin. I hate scary movies. I hate previews of scary movies. I can’t even watch Dateline. It’s like television network executives want to punish people for staying home on a Friday night. They will make you laugh with sitcoms Monday thru Thursday, but scare the hell out of you on the weekend.

We made it through the entire movie with the children only asking seven times “Is it almost over?” Then, made a pit stop at the bathroom before piling back into the minivan. That is when my daughter embarrassed me. It is impossible to have a giant ego when you are a parent. Children are in the meanest clique of all. They just don’t know it. “Heathers” has nuthin’ on a kindergartener. My daughter will tell me how beautiful I am while pushing on my squishy belly and giggling. She will look at me lovingly while counting the pimples on my face.

She went into one stall. I was in another directly beside her when she asked loudly, “Mom, are you pooping?” I tried to ignore her question. There was a line of people in the bathroom. “Mom, are you pooping again? It stinks!” I could hear teenage girls chuckling outside the door. The stench wasn’t coming from me, but nobody would believe it. I flushed my dignity down the toilet and gave her a brief lecture on bathroom etiquette on the way home. Perhaps we should just stick to renting movies at home.

Conversations in the minivan

My daughter was watching over my shoulder as I posted this and said “Your nose looks really big in that video. It doesn’t look that big in real life.” Children really know how to boost your confidence.   I don’t know why I am frantically looking from side to side like I am driving a getaway car. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this edition of “Conversations in the Minivan.” I am still waiting to interview Ryan Gosling in the third row. Call me!