Date Night With Friends Gone Horribly Wrong

OMG. On Saturday night, my husband and I finally did something we’ve been talking about doing for years, but never actually got around to — until now. We synced up babysitters with two of our awesome couple friends and the six of us went out for drinks and dinner. And it was bad ass. Like a really, freakin’ awesome good time.

The night started off with this:


White cosmo & a stiff vodka.

And after God knows how many more rounds of cocktails, dinner, and getting kicked out of the bar twice (don’t ask) — we decided to call it a night and headed home — talking the entire way about how much fun we had and how we really need to go out and party with our friends more often.

Or at least that’s how I felt till I woke up Sunday morning, in an old Kappa Kappa Gamma t-shirt, none the less.


Ain't she a beauty?


I think it’s safe to say my partying days are over. The end.



Super Bowl Sunday: 10 Reasons It’s Just Another Conspiracy Against Parents

Yeah, so today is Super Bowl Sunday. Millions of people all over the U.S. are all fired up and ready to get their couch potato on to enjoy the one day out of the year that’s pretty much reserved for doing nothing, getting all kinds of shitty drunk, and enjoying copious amounts of artery-clogging food without one single ounce of guilt.

For many, today is pure awesomesauce. But for parents, it pretty much sucks a fat one.

You see, the Super Bowl is nothing but another huge conspiracy against parents, because it’s sole purpose is to remind us that we are in fact, parents, and our carefree days of enjoying the hall pass for partying that Super Bowl Sunday brings are O-V-E-R.

Not convinced that today totally blows? Here’s a little insight into my conspiracy theory.

1. It’s no longer an excuse to get drunk, because, well, you have kids and if you get drunk while the kids are home that’s just really freakin’ irresponsible. Of course, some of us do it anyway, which makes the Super Bowl another excuse for people who don’t approve of said drinking to give us “the look” and tell us we should probably “take it easy.” (Every party has a pooper…)

2. You can’t yell and scream. Because unless you’re on the west coast, the damn game doesn’t start till 6:30 p.m., which is only an hour or two away from bedtime for the kiddos, so pretty much as soon as the game gets going, you have to turn down the damn TV and sit there like a couple of mute senior citizens.

3. It’s one more reason for moms and dads to fight like moms and dads. Whether it be the noise level, one of you not giving a shit about the game in the first place, or one of you having to do bedtime while the other sits on his/her ass and watches the game, the Super Bowl is basically an open invitation for marital conflict.

4. You can’t have a party. See reasons 1 thru 3. (Unless you manage to ditch the kids for the night, of course.)

5. You can’t go to a party. Because it’s Super Bowl fu&%ing Sunday and there’s no way in hell you’re finding a babysitter who isn’t at some other Super Bowl party, getting drunk as hell like her kid-free ass should.

6. Stuffing your face is out of the question. Why? Because the whole “the diet starts Monday” thing is getting REALLY old, especially since you’ve been saying it since New Year’s. Get it together and eat a carrot, already.

7. Forget the kids’ bedtime, the damn game goes way past your bedtime, and if you want to be able to function tomorrow, you’d better hit the hay at a reasonable hour.

8. Um, Beyonce is the halftime show. Beyonce, as in Beyonce, the mother of a 1-year-old. Who the fu&% is watching her baby so she can perform at the fu&%ing Super Bowl?!? Oh yeah, that’s right. One of her ten-or-so nannies. And I’ll bet she’s attending some sort of swanky, 24-carat gold covered after party too. Must be nice. (Bitch.)

9. The cheerleaders. Ok, so I’m sure any dads reading this will disagree with me, but for the moms? Yeah, cheerleaders only serve as yet another reminder of the bangin’ bodies most of us can only dream of ever having again. They’re total self-esteem killers. And we hate ‘em.

10. No matter who wins, you lose. For parents, it’s still Sunday night, and most of us have to work tomorrow. And nobody’s going to present us with a friggin’ trophy, even though the game we play each and every day is a hell of a lot harder than whatever just went down on that field.

Do you have big plans for the Super Bowl? (Yeah, that’s what I thought.)

Tips For New Parents That I Couldn’t Say on Television

Right before the Christmas break, I had the opportunity to appear on Mass Appeal, WWLP Channel 22, once again…this time to give some survival tips for new moms and dads. Mass Appeal’s host, Ashley, is about to have her first child any day now, so it seemed fitting for me to go on the show and discuss this topic right before her maternity leave.

While I gave what I thought was some pretty good advice for new parents during my segment on the show, there was plenty more I wanted to say…but it’s kind of frowned upon to swear on TV. On that note, I came up with a list of 10 additional tips for brand new moms and dads that I could not say on television without being escorted out by security.

First and foremost, here is the video clip of my Mass Appeal appearance:



Advice for New Moms & Dads:


Aren’t I a freakin’ sweetie pie?

Ok…here are 10 other brutally honest tips that I have for new moms and dads, all of which may scare the shit out them and make them resent ever having read this blog.


1. Learn to become completely immune to receiving the middle finger or hearing random outbursts of “Go Fu&% Yourself!” from your spouse. He/she is totally and completely overwhelmed and sleep deprived, and he/she knows not what he/she says. Consider expletives as terms of endearment immediately upon bringing home a newborn.

2. Moms – At least for the first couple of months, either break all of the freakin’ mirrors in your house or cover them up with tinfoil…especially the big one in the bathroom. Trust me…you don’t want to see your naked reflection right after you’ve pushed a child out of your va-jay-jay, and while there are random fluids leaking from every orifice of your body. Your Mom Sexy will eventually return…but at the beginning? Looking in the mirror can be detrimental to your psychological health.

3. Dads – (I say this with complete and total respect): Find a nice, quiet, dark place in your house to jack off. Because chances are you aren’t getting laid for at least 3-6 months. Deal with it, and every time you are horny as hell and get all pissed off that your wife doesn’t want to fu%& you, just stop for a moment and take time to be thankful that you didn’t have to squeeze a human head out of your penis.

4. Just because you are completely and totally fascinated by the color, size, shape, and smell of your baby’s poop doesn’t mean that every single person you encounter will be as mesmerized by it. Consider your baby’s poop to be a secret, intimate conversation that is reserved for your spouse, the grandparents, your pediatrician, and for your good friends who have kids. Assume that anyone outside the scope of those particular individuals doesn’t give a shit…(no pun intended).

5. Ladies…take all of your sexy thong underwear and hide it in the back of your dresser somewhere for use at a later date. I’m sorry to break it to you…but the mesh panties you brought home from the hospital are about as close to lingerie as you’re going to get for at least a couple of months. Sad, but true.

6. Don’t expect too damn much the first time that you finally have sex again after getting the all-clear from the OBGYN. First-time sex after childbirth pretty much resembles regular first-time sex. It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and odds are good that you will have to fake the big “O”. The only difference between losing your virginity and having post-baby sex for the first time is that this time you’ll be hurrying things up not because you have no clue what you’re doing, but instead because you know that there is only a small window of time to get it on in between middle of the night feedings. Hump while you can…and hump FAST.

7. Before scheduling a girls or boys night out, always consult your spouse first to make sure that he/she knows you are planning on hitting the town without him or her. Gone are the days of calling on the way home from work to tell your spouse that you are stopping by your favorite local bar to have a couple cocktails. NOPE. You’ve gotta get that shit approved and scheduled on the calendar EACH AND EVERY TIME. Your days of spontaneity and flying by the seat of your pants are totally over. (For at least the next five years or more).

8. If you’re one of those people who is OCD either about having a perfectly clean house or having everything put in its place at all times or a combination of both of these things, then you’d better think about seeing a hypnotist immediately. Because you’re pretty much up shit creek.

9. Get yourself used to the idea of being pissed on, shit on, barfed on, or a random combination of the three. It’s inevitable that you will find yourself in a scenario like this sometime (if not more than once) in the next year or so. It’s important to learn to recognize the signs of being in a moment when you are about to be pissed on, shit on, or barfed on, and brace yourself accordingly. You also need to learn to part ways with whatever outfit you happen to be wearing when said situation occurs. The dumpster works way better than the washing machine in most cases.

10. Stop beating yourself up and asking whether or not this was the right time in your life to have kids, because the truth is that no time is ever the RIGHT time. Enjoy the good moments, support each other during the challenging ones, and on those days when you truly feel like you are at your wits end, repeat this phrase in your head, “THIS TOO SHALL PASS.” Trust me…in a few years…you’ll have your life back, so to speak…and then you’ll wonder where in the hell the time went. Life with a newborn is not easy…but it WILL get better. I PROMISE.

(And yes…MOST people eventually start having regular sex again. I figured that any dads reading this quit paying attention the minute I said that they probably wouldn’t get laid for 3-6 months, so I thought it was best to throw this disclaimer in).


A HUGE Surprise For My Wedding Anniversary!

So…today is kind of a special day for me and the hubster, because it happens to be our 8th wedding anniversary. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, eight years ago today, the hubster took me off the market and made an honest woman out of me…or something to that effect.

To this day, I’m still not sure which one of us got the better end of the deal, because we can both be a pretty big pain in the ass at times.

All pains in the ass aside, however, somehow we make this shit work, even though it’s far from perfect.

We both work hard, and honestly, 98% percent of the time we lead completely separate lives, and it’s tough to remember that we are in fact, husband and wife, and not just “little dude’s parents.”

This past weekend, the two of us went off to Newport, Rhode Island for a little anniversary getaway minus the kiddo. And it was AWESOME.

The weather was in the mid-80s. Did  I mention that this is freakin’ October?


Somewhere in Newport...


Yes…that’s me. In a tank top. In Rhode Island. In OCTOBER. I had this cute little breezy shirt on over it, but felt the need to strip down to that tank top to avoid looking like a sweaty mess. Because being a sweaty mess on your anniversary trip just isn’t Mom Sexy.

Anyhow…it was wonderful to get away and to reconnect and to somehow act like a real couple and remember why we got hitched in the first place.

And then we came home, absolutely elated to see little dude again, and to give him a couple of surprises that we picked up for him on our trip.

But since little dude often likes to remind us that he is most definitely running the freakin’ show around here, he came up with a little surprise of his own to give us later on that night.

Actually, it was a HUGE surprise…conveniently disguised as one GIGANTIC STUCK POOP. Have you ever had a kid with a GIGANTIC STUCK POOP?

Trust me…you’re missing the show of the century if you haven’t seen this phenomenon.

Little dude went to bed fine, but then he woke up about an hour later saying that his butt hurt and he didn’t know why. We got him up, sat him down on the toilet…and watched him proceed to turn a bright shade of purple, and produce a rock-hard turd about the size of the dime.

And that’s when it hit us that this was no ordinary shit. We were definitely dealing with a GIGANTIC STUCK POOP.

We went straight from an alone weekend on the beautiful coast of Rhode Island, to hanging out in the bathroom with our five year-old waiting in completely anticipation of him finally passing the GIGANTIC STUCK POOP.

And finally, the evening concluded with the hubster sitting on the floor, little dude sitting on the shitter, and me hovering over little dude sticking a suppository in his ass while he giggled and begged me to keep doing it because he said he could feel the poop finally breaking loose.

And this, of course, had the hubster and I laughing so hard that we were both practically in tears.

Marriage may have it’s shitty moments…but sometimes you just have to recognize the little things that make life so special. Like helping your kid push out a GIGANTIC STUCK POOP and in turn, realizing what a great team you are.

Happy Anniversary to me and the hubster…and best wishes for a shit-free year going forward.

Parenthood Puts You In Your Place Sometimes

My son is five-years old. And I have to admit, I’m totally digging this age. He’s smart. He’s funny. He is still sweet and loves to cuddle, yet he is very independent and confident, which is a TOTAL plus.

Quite a few times in the past year, I’ve caught myself telling family and friends that this whole parenting thing is just “so much easier” at this age than it was when he was an infant or even a toddler.

Raising a five-year old IS definitely easier…and I AM getting my life back, so to speak, but every now and then as a mom, you get a firm reminder that you are in fact, a PARENT.

Because sometimes your kid totally puts you in your place like mine did tonight.

Just before bedtime tonight, little dude produced a HUGE poop. And not too long after said poop, he started kind of walking all weird and grabbing at his bum every five seconds.

This has happened before after he drops a big load, so I knew that I needed to go grab some diaper cream to put in there to ease the itching or burning or whatever the hell that big turd left him with.

I figured little dude would follow me into the bathroom to have his cream applied…but I was wrong.

Instead, I walked out of the bathroom and found him lying face down on the bed with his hands on his ass, spreading his butt cheeks apart so that I could put the cream in there.

And as I applied diaper cream directly into my son’s bare bum, I was reminded that I am above everything else, A MOM.

Yep…sometimes parenthood really puts you in your place.




Five Things I Never Thought I’d Say Over Labor Day Weekend

As I sit here tonight and anxiously await the hubster to get little dude into bed so that we can watch Bachelor pad and take turns trying to imitate Kasey’s voice enjoy a couple more hours of quality time together before the long weekend ends, I can’t help but look back at Labor Day weekend 2011 and what a whirlwind it was.

And if you are wondering why I’m calling this Labor Day weekend a whirlwind, then take a couple minutes to read about how Hurricane Irene left SHIT in my basement. It’ll tell you all you need to know.

Without further ado, I give you five things I never thought I’d say over Labor Day weekend:


1. “Quit putting your feet all over the wine chiller!  I mean it! Leave it alone already!”- said to Little Dude. (Nobody messes with mama’s boyfriend a.k.a. Mr. Pinot Grigio).

2. “No problem at all! I’ll just add it to the shit soaked items in the garage and it will blend right in with the smell.” – said to my cousins after changing their 2-year old’s diaper.

3. “I’m not too worried about getting a sunroof. Sunroofs mess up my hair and I hate that.” – said to several car salesmen while checking out possible new rides. No weekend is complete without a little Mom Sexy.

4. “Yes honey, I know you heard that from Mommy, but if you yell ‘JESUS!’ at school, you’ll get sent to the principal’s office.”  (Guess I need to clean up my act a bit…)


I can't believe he's in kindergarten!!


5. “Honey, it really isn’t polite to hang your Angry Bird keychain on your wiener. Please take it off of there NOW.”  - WTF? (And yes, this was said to my kid, not the hubster thank GOD).

That’s all I’ve got folks. Hope your last weekend of summer was one to remember!

Vacations Have Changed: And So Have Vacation Hangovers

Good morning…my name is Mary, and I have a HUGE freakin’ vacation hangover. This past Saturday, I returned from a week spent in beautiful Cape Cod, in the picture perfect town of Chatham with my husband and son. It was wonderful, and I enjoyed every single solitary second…but I have to admit that getting back into a routine and trying to get off “beach time” this week is already kicking my ass.

Of course, the term “vacation hangover” means something totally different now than it did 10 years ago. Back in 2001, a vacation hangover meant EXACTLY that. It meant that I’d partied like a rock star on a tropical beach somewhere. It meant that I’d probably danced on a stage or a bar that I had no business dancing on. And it meant that I needed a good week of sitting on my ass on the couch to recuperate from whatever antics I engaged in on that vacation.

But now, in 2011, a vacation hangover means that I’m up to my ears in laundry, piles of missed work, and I’m pretty much exhausted from waking up at the butt crack of dawn with my kid and then walking up and down the beach each and every day looking for dead crabs. (Yes, looking for washed up crab parts is little dude’s favorite Cape Cod activity).

With that thought in mind, here are a few more ways that vacations have changed over the past 10 years.


2001: I was beyond pissed that I got my period the day before we left for vacation because…well…YOU KNOW. Vacation = Total Humpfest, right?

2011: I was totally psyched that I got my period the day before we left for vacation because when you have your period, you burn an extra 500 calories per day, which gave me extra justification to totally hog out.


Lobster Nachos!




2001: I laid on the beach in my bikini and couldn’t help but check out the cute lifeguard and wondered if he was checking me out too…(one can dream).

2011: I sat on the deck of the Beach House Grill at Chatham Bars Inn and watched MY FIVE YEAR OLD check out girls on the beach.


What a stud!


2001: I watched other girls on the beach prance around in their string bikinis with their huge boobs and contemplated whether or not I should get a boob job someday to bring my barely A-cups up to a good B.

2011: I got a boob job, and realized this is probably the only boob job I will EVER get.


Nice jugs!


2001: I spent my vacation days hoping to meet a really cute guy on the beach.

2011: I spent my vacation days WITH the cutest guy on the beach.


True love!


2001: I drank wine at lunch while on vacation. DUH.

2011: I drank wine at lunch while on vacation. DUH.




What can I say? I guess some things NEVER change. And if you don’t hear from me again this week, it’s because I’m just way too busy nursing my vacation hangover.