Question #15

I don’t watch much news on TV since leaving the business. It is partially due to the fact that my television is locked on cartoons. My days are spent with pigs that grunt mid sentence, rabbits who have no adult supervision and a fox struggling with Kleptomania. I DVR most of the shows I enjoy. I hope to watch them when my children go off to college. I read about current events on my phone. I actually prefer it to watching an hour long broadcast. It allows me to skip the depressing stories and scroll to headlines like this:

Former Shoe Salesman Arrested For Trying to Cut Off Ex-Girlfriend’s Toe

Curiosity got the best of me. I had to know the back story. It turns out this isn’t the first or second time this freak has attacked his ex’s feet. It is the third. In fact, he was charged with aggravated assault for biting off part of her toe. You know how bad it hurts when you stub a toe on a chair. You dance around in circles until the pain abates. Can you imagine what losing a toe feels like?

I will screen every guy who wants to date my daughter. I dated a few losers in my life. Those relationships didn’t last long. I broke up with a guy in college after the first date. He was in dental school. I am not going to lie, I fantasized about living in a mansion in L.A. paid for by LeAnn Rimes’ caps. He pulled up to my house in a souped up Monte Carlo. He was a tool on so many levels. Life in a trailer park flashed before my eyes. I barely made it through dinner. My daughter’s suitors will have to fill out a questionnaire. Question #15 – “Do you bite feet?”

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Recently, I wrote a piece voicing my opinion on the STFU Parents Blog. Blair Koenig, who operates the site, left a scathing comment and sent out a tweet. I expected it.  I did not  expect to receive offensive emails calling me a bad mother, crazy and even attacking my husband’s military service.  Apparently you are not allowed to disagree with Blair. I know I am not the only one.

It seemed the visitors coming to my site weren’t familiar with my sarcasm and sense of humor.   I should have taken the high road, but decided to respond to her comment like I often do.  Then, my supporters started getting involved.   I decided yesterday, before it got ugly, to remove the post and put out the fire.  I left my initial piece up.  This is Blair’s response:

I never wrote an email threatening anyone.  In fact, in my first post I stated that some of her stuff was “really funny.”  I blog about my life as a mother.  I often make fun of myself.  Regardless of whether pictures are submitted via email or found on google, there are people on STFU Parents who are being laughed at without realizing they are part of the joke.  Sure, some people post TMI on Facebook.  Perhaps they are looking for advice, to vent frustrations or even brag about their child.  I am not organizing a protest, but I won’t give her book as a baby shower gift.  It would only collect dust while the recipient is posting photos on Facebook of their new bundle of joy.


My Baby

My daughter isn’t a baby anymore. At least that is what she tells me every morning. I guess she wants to make sure I haven’t forgotten while she slept. It is like being punched in the gut. While cradling a doll in one arm and a blanket in another she will say, “Guess what?” I know what’s coming, but I don’t want to hear it. For her, it’s exciting to grow up. It breaks my heart. After two miscarriages I am pretty sure this is my last baby. I guess my dreams of becoming the next Kate Gosselin are over. Do you think Bravo’s Real Housewives franchise wants a woman who shops at The Dollar Store and colors her own hair?

My clock is ticking. I actually think it ticks, then stops and ticks again. Thus, my perimenopausal rage. Well, at least that is what Dr. Oz diagnosed it as in a 60 minute episode. I just thought I was a bitch. (No comment from the peanut gallery.)

In a few short weeks my daughter will turn three. Before you know it she will be five, 13 and off to college. Then, what the hell am I supposed to do with myself? I guess there is always BINGO. “I’m not a baby anymore,” she proudly declares. “I’m a big kid.” Little does she know, she will always be my baby.

Read More:

Dear Blair,

An open letter to Blair from STFU Parents,


I will respond to your comment since you attacked me for not responding. Then, please move on because I won’t give you anymore publicity.

Blair: Wow, you are so completely wrong about me. Did you actually do ANY research before you wrote this?

Me:Yes, I at the library now. Just went through the seven minute segment on the Today show. Pulling up microfiches of all your old posts. Blair, I wrote my opinion of your point of view. I find it to be vapid and vacuous of any sense or experience.

We get it. Some parents go overboard. You have a blog. You point it out. Don’t get all soft when people point out that it’s shallow and silly.

Next Slide.

BlairDid you read my site and watch my clips on Ricki Lake and The Today Show?

MeIf I had a nickel for every time someone established their credibility with “have you even watched my Ricki Lake clips” I would have… a nickel.

Blair:I love children, and at least half (if not more) of my “likes” and comments on Facebook are on my friends’ kids’ pictures or updates about their kids.

Me:Now Facebook liking is the barometer for judging a person’s point of view. Lookout, don’t tell the people at Bailey’s that I liked them only to get a buy one get one free coupon. Liking a Facebook photo is an absurd way to judge who you are.

Imagine if life worked like a facebook like.

Daughter in-law. Like

Cancer. Dislike

Jesus. Like

Firemen. Like

Sore throats and bug bites. Dislike

What does that prove? Eharmony has a more scientific system to determine personality through buttons. Facebook, not so much.

I write about OVERshare – like posting pictures of your C-section, your child’s diaper blowout, or complaining that the UPS man woke up your baby and you want to shoot him in the face. I don’t mind seeing pictures of my friends’ kids in my newsfeed; I actually anticipate them with joy.

Me:I wish you luck on your book coming out in 2013. Really. I do.

Obviously, you have a shtick. And as a parent, I think its stupid. I have the right to express my taste, you have the right to wear a Popeye tattoo on your arm. (Go Army, beat Navy… combat military wife, I am allowed)

Blair:You should go back and do some reading. All of that information can be found on my site in the About section, the FAQs, or just by reading my commentary. Unless you just prefer to complain with inaccuracy.

Me:Okay. Got me there. Usually if you need someone to do volumes of survey research on who you are as a person, the thing you have said or are saying probably were at best clumsy and at worse… stupid.

I said, you are not a mother. Check

I said, you may be a party girl. Check

I said, you have no idea what you are talking about. Check

I said, if you don’t want to see a c-section scar on a website, don’t look. Check

I also said, that you will meet a person someday soon and may decide to have a baby. At that moment you will love something so much more than yourself. You would literally die to bring it life. When they cry, you crumble. When they laugh, you want to empty your bank account.

And when they take a monster shit, you may, lost in the love you feel for that little one, want to post it on facebook. Who knows?

Then you will look back at this whole episode and realize how silly you sound now. Trust me, kiddo. We all go through it.

I hope you find that happiness someday. I really do.

I did not say, thank you btw. Thank you for reminding me that not only was RIcki Lake alive and well, but that she had a television show.

I always loved her.