Buying Shoes And Kicking Ass

Someone once told me the 3 most stressful things in life are divorce, a death in the family and purchasing a new home. I disagree entirely. This person has never gone shoe shopping with my 5 year-old. Allie was furious because I refused to allow her to ride her bike with high heels and insisted she pick out a pair of tennis shoes. I f’ing gave birth to Kim Kardashian. By the time we left Stride Rite yesterday I was mumbling incoherently and had developed a nervous tic. She said to me “I thought you were nice!” Oh please. At this point I declared her platform as being entirely irrelevant since wearing high heels and wiping your own ass are amalgamated. I then glanced at my watch and realized we were having this discussion 7 years too early, consequently reaffirming my fear that karma does prevail. My ass is going to be delivered to me on a silver platter with a fork sticking out the side. Excuse me for a moment….. Mom-I am so sorry for every bit of trouble and worry I caused you. Forgive me for my ignorance. Th

Eye Candi

A couple months ago Mike received a resume from a young, graduating dentist in the mail. She wisely put her hot picture on it and Mike, who had never voiced any interest whatsoever in hiring an associate, called her. He made arrangements for her to fly out, see the office, meet the staff, fall in love etc. Okay. Whatever. I have options too you know. That mechanic that frequents Chuck E. Cheese sans child on his lunch hour gave me like 150 tickets last time I was there with Allie so suck it. Now on the very same day that “Candi” came to visit, I was grappling with the death of the baby chick from Allie’s class that I spent $400 trying to save after one of the little tykes dropped a block on its head. I spent all afternoon in deep mourning and informed Mike that I would just meet him and Candi at the restaurant later that evening. I pulled myself together and requested that Mike refrain from ordering any poultry out of respect for my little “Pecker” whose tragic, untimely passing was still painfully fresh.

Fascinating Womanhood

This past weekend I decided to shut down my personal facebook account. Hi my n-n-n-ame is Erin and I am addicted to social networking. (Hang head) I have been sober for almost 2 days now and let-me-tell-you this is not easy. I am sooooooooo glad I never smoked crack, I heard that shit is even worse if you could possibly imagine. And because I am like way too poor to check myself into that swanky rehab center in Utah like famous celebs I have just had to deal with the cold sweats and shakes all on my own. It is agonizing not knowing who went grocery shopping, has the flu or can answer 20 questions about me! Ahhhhhhh! Mike has expressed his disdain for facebook on numerous occasions, so to appease his yearning for a conscientious wife I decided to sacrifice my need for happiness rendered by social interaction and have resumed all “none-invasive” wifely duties to date. Fortunately, I found a book in the clearance section at the grocery store titled Fascinating Womanhood to assist me with any questions that might arise durin

Heal The World

I went to the doctor yesterday because I have another sinus infection. My doctor informed me I need CAT scan of my head, gave me some prescriptions and told me to go get a “Netti Pot” with the promise that I would “see boogers from sixth grade.” Okay. This all seemed reasonable and agreeable to me with the exception of potential sinus surgery. Oooooh No. At this point in my life and hereafter, the only surgeries I plan to have are for physical enhancement purposes. Like hi, who cares how a sinus cavity looks? I went to the store and purchased said “Netti Pot”. Conveniently my friend Kristen stopped to assist me with this arduous task of irrigating my nose. I can safely say that I have now completed Navy SEAL boot camp since I successfully drowned and resuscitated myself. Seriously, who thinks this shit up? Simply water board yourself to eradicate your sinus problem. I can actually see why this method of terrorist interrogation might be taking it just a little bit too far. Perhaps a session of Hippocrate’s

Who Nose?

This morning I woke up much to my dismay. Just kidding, I say that every day. It was actually one of those mornings I have had scorching, passionate, unbridled fantasies about. The girls woke up on their own, in their own beds, dressed themselves and were in pleasant moods. I had made lunches the night before. I was not out of cream for my coffee. The dogs did not run away when I opened the door to let them out. No one told me they hated me. We were going to be on time and I had not raised my voice even once. Our fireplace has been broken most of winter and with summer right around the corner, I needed to get it fixed ASAP. I called the fireplace repair guy and told him to let himself in. The front door would be unlocked and I would be right back once I dropped the little darlings off at school. I was just thinking that maybe just maybe I could cut down on my dosage of anti-anxiety medication when it happened….

AloHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Highlights of Our Hawaiian Vacation *Let’s get this party started!!!!! My mom used the bathroom at the airport. She came out laughing and informed us that 2 Hawaiian dudes were in there cleaning the Women’s Restroom while all these chicks and transvestites were using the bathroom. Their mops kept slopping up against her feet while she peeing. When she stood up she accidentally dropped her expensive tube of lipstick down the crapper where it automatically flushed despite her frantic attempts to salvage it. *Bella and Allie realized they could fit in the bedroom drawers at the hotel. This is where they spent the majority of our vacation because it was “more fun than the ocean.”

Predators and Flight Attendants

Since this country currently has a asinine law titled “You cannot get married because you are gay and your sexual preference is clearly wrong whereas mine is right despite my reputable habits of employing call-girls and soliciting sex from airport bathrooms unbeknownst to my wife,” I have decided to write my own law. It is called “If you are an over the age of fifty, burnt out flight attendant you will automatically be transferred to prisons housing the world’s most dangerous criminals and/or convicted terrorists where you will be granted tenure for your stoic ability to remain bitchy and unmoved in even the most adverse of conditions.”

M Is For Muffin

I love me a good joke. A week ago God played a great one on me. He arranged for me to have laryngitis on the same as Daylight Savings. It was a real knee slapper! It was so funny trying to raise my children from the dead, get them dressed, fed and off to school while not yelling at them. Yep, I pretty much f’ing loathe Daylight Savings. But a few hours later God and I were on speaking terms again because he arranged for our other house to go under contract. Anyway…… Now without any proper transition or apologies, I am switching topics because I also recently saw my funny friend Traci. She told me she had just returned from getting her muffin waxed. “Like all of it?” I asked in horror. “Yes, you don’t? I think it feels kind of good.” OMG. Fuck. Do you reap pleasure from passing kidney stones too? I went home to ponder this peculiar phenomenon.

Ruuuuun Giiiirrrl Ruuuunn

The other night I was sitting up in bed watching Breaking Dawn on my laptop while Mike was snoring next to me. For those of you who have not heard of the Twilight series and are just now joining planet Earth: Welcome. I was at the part in the movie when Edward (the controlling vampire), sneaks into Bella’s (the dumb teenage human) room the night before they were getting married. Edward says “Bella, I have something to tell you…..I have killed lots of people.” And Bella says “It’s okay, I trust you.” Seriously? WTF.

I Love All My Peeps

I am ready to talk about it. In accordance with the Kubler-Ross Model of the 5 Stages of Grief, I am currently residing in Stage 4, Depression. On Tuesday, I went to pick my daughter up from pre-school. Her class is currently tortur-raising baby chicks. Allie informed me that one of the chicks “got hurt bad cause a block dropped on its head but it was just an accident and it is the circle of life and it is still alive but things don’t look too good and it will soon be with Baby Jesus and so don’t feel that bad for it.” Um what? I went inside and sure enough there was a teeny tiny itty bitty baby chick lying on its side shaking. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH NNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I did NOT just f'ing see this.

If You Love Something

Gather round boys and girls, it is story time! Once upon a time there was a gorgeous, kind, charming, loving, magical princess we will call………. Erin. She was married to handsome dentist named Mike. They had 3 beautiful daughters that liked to fight. 4 years ago they were living out in the middle of nowhere because Mike thought it would be a peaceful place to raise a family. Erin was exhausted from being up all night every night with a baby and a toddler, her nipples were sore and she was filled with bitterness and resentment because it took her twenty minutes to drive to the grocery store every goddamn day of her life. One day, which happened to fall on Mike’s fortieth birthday, Erin loaded the children in the car to go to the store to pick up her birth control pills. Her 2 year old pooped and Erin dashed back into the house to take a swig of vodka and grab a diaper. When she came back out, there was a beautiful white dove perched on the top of her giant mom car. Erin quickly unloaded all the children from their car

Leave It to Beav

Sorry. I have been busy, I have not forgotten about you guys. First, I got stuck in a car wash without my cell phone. It just kept washing and washing and washing and washing me but would not let me out. A half an hour later, the kids were like “Just Get Out Mommy.” Hi YOU get out, it is f’ing winter time in Colorado. I tried to pull forward. Nothing. I tried it again. Nothing. Finally the back of the car wash opened and I backed out. Bubbles were all over the place, I could not see very well and I scraped my car on the side of the car wash.

I Am A Yes Person

Whenever I laugh, I cry. I cannot help it; this has been a problem for awhile. Right now I am sobbing. I was looking at my sister’s fb wall and she posted a positive affirmation for herself saying “I am yes person. I am a yes person. I am yes person.” Clearly she did not think this out. So underneath I typed:

Grunt Grunt

Cavemen/women divorce rates were exactly the same as they are today. I reached this startling conclusion when I woke up this morning to 7 piles of Shih Tzu puke and 2 pissy children. I called Mike to thank him for leaving the barf for me. He said he knew nothing about it. I told him I already sent a sample to the lab to have it carbon dated and I can pretty much GUARANTEE the results are going to state “we verify with 99.99% accuracy this vomit is older than 6:30 am.” I then fought with my children for the next forty-five minutes to accomplish the challenging tasks of getting dressed and eating breakfast. I was so frustrated that I started to cry but turned my head as not to show any signs of weakness to my captors. Annnnnnd this is precisely what brings me back to cavepeople.

The Secret To Mike's Success

A couple days ago Mike went and met with our accountants to discuss something called taxes (?). Whatever. I refused to go because last year I was so bored I kept stabbing myself in the leg under the table with a fork and counting spilled sugar granules to stay awake. I also told Mike I was going to tell those dudes to figure out how to get my boob job written off. He said I could stay home. By the time Mike got home that night, the girls were asleep and I was in the bathtub learning about Heidi Klum and Seal. OMG. Now THAT is some serious shit. “I love you! I want to make 9,000 babies with you! (Stop. Make-out at Whole Foods) I cannot quit having sex with you! We put our marriage before our children. (Stop. Make-out in a Taxi.) Our hearts beat as one! Oh yes, annnnnnnnd we are separating.” WTF? Anyway, Mike strode in the bathroom super wound up like he just came home from a dental seminar rather than a tax meeting. I peeked my eyes over the top of my magazine in curiosity.

Suppositories and Negotiations

Do NOT underestimate the wrath of a tonsil or an adenoid. Those seemingly harmless protuberances of tissue have stealthily developed nuclear weapons, created an army of Kim Jong’s North Korean clones complete with weird flag ceremonies and then sit there, waiting, planning, collecting tiny bits of bacteria….. And then with the fury of an ex-wife trying to get the coffee table back you bought while honeymooning in Acapulco, THEY WAGE A VICIOUS, UNSUSPECTING ATTACK….. I have heard that the United States is in the midst of a “health-care” crisis. No shit. I blame tonsils and their little bitch friends: adenoids. These notoriously useless flaps of slime have allied themselves with tonsils to make themselves appear to be tougher, cooler body parts like the LIVER or the PANCREAS or the great almighty HEART. Frankly, I am surprised that George Bush has not drafted all ear, nose, and throats docs and waged a war on pharynx terrorism. Anyway……..

I Can't Get No Satisfaction

I just took Allie to a birthday party at a jumpy castle place. Allie managed to jump about 3 inches of gum in her hair. I just cut it out. It should grow back by Christmas pictures next year. My mom friends and I were cracking up. Allie tried to get me to go down “Camel Toe” slide with her but I learned my lesson at previous birthday party, hence the name. Um, that smarted. Oh yeah, and I needed to get new brakes today. Mike drove my car somewhere, came home and said in a serious voice “How long have your brakes been squeaking like that?” I said “Don’t know. I always turn the radio up so I can’t hear them because that sound annoys me.” Mike said “Your maintenance light was also on, did you notice that?” Honestly, no. I am busy during the day. B-U-S-Y. Last week I f’ing forgot to register Allie for kindergarten because I was preoccupied with Bella’s imploding adenoids.

An Adenoid, A Lizard and A Cirumcision

5 days until Bella gets her tonsils and adenoids removed. Before I became a mother, I never thought an adenoid could evoke this much emotion in me. Truthfully, I didn’t even know what that particular part of the body was until I googled it and then formed an attachment. However, these said adenoids grew in my womb. Bella is totally chill about it. I sort of feel like throwing up every time I think of her being out of my supervision, unconscious for 30 minutes. Clearly, I have latent control issues that surface whenever adenoids are involved. If my therapist is reading this, she is thinking “Cha-Ching.” I used to find anything and everything to feel guilty about. Old Erin: You probably fucked up Bella’s adenoids when you forgot to take your prenatal vitamins on the day you were getting fitted for your wedding dress which ironically corresponded with the day adenoids were being formed in utero. Which brings up another point called: You were knocked up before you were married. THE SHAME! THE SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMM

Mothers On Men

Today my friend Steph dyed my hair darker and cut bangs. I loved it. I left the salon feeling sexy and revived, ready to take on another fascinating day of cooking dinner. I went to pick up my 5 year-old who said “I want my old mom back. Why did you do that to yourself?” I told her I owned my head and that I could do whatever I wanted with it. We then went to pick up my 7 year-old from school. Allie saw her sister and ran down to meet her, whispering something in her ear. My eyes narrowed at the co-conspirators. They walked over to me and I asked Bella how her day was. Then they both started running away from me screaming “THAT’S NOT MY MOTHER! WHERE IS OUR MOM?! HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLP US!” with a bunch of parents crowding around. Okay. Stop. Before I proceed with my story, I have a theory. It is called M.O.M. or Mothers On Men. As previously discussed, the ferocity of a mother is similar to that of a whore greedily describing her sexual liaison with a married star to a tabloid. It.Is.Unfreakingstoppable. Take

The Best of Both Worlds

A few years ago, I was not sleeping. I was restless and agitated. I had birthed adorable children, ensnarled a sexy Italian husband, was the proud owner of a pet Yorkie and carried a totally chic Burberry purse. Yet something was still missing in my life and it wasn’t just my left breast…...it occurred to me I didn’t have a gay male best friend! I immediately went out and made one. And I was right……it is pretty much AWESOOOOOOME. Finally I had someone in my life that connects with me on a more mature emotional level and can also lift heavy shit. Trevor is undoubtedly a more evolved species, encapsulating the perfect concoction of testosterone and estrogen and yes, he is prettier than me.