30 Facebook Buttons We’d Rather See Than “Dislike”

Facebook dislike

Much ado was made yesterday about the possibility of a “Dislike” button popping up on Facebook. I can tell you that many of us wish so-oo-oo-oo many other buttons would be given priority. I’ve shared 30 ideas we’d all prefer to see on Facebook more than the “dislike” button below: 1. Shut your piehole already. 2. Oh, the humblebrag again? Yawn. 3. Your food looks disgusting. 4. That’s amazeballs (NOT). 5. Stop saying “amazeballs” 6. Your mom 7. The Internet called to say, “SHUT THE {Read More}

PMS Is Real (P.S. We’re Out of Wine)

glass of wine

Warning: This post is NSFM (Not Safe For Men) Yesterday, the unthinkable happened in our house. My legendarily bad PMS collided with both of my boys’ worst behavior EVER to form an epic tsunami of parenting shit. It was the perfect storm. From the beginning of the day to the end, both boys were completely off. I knew things were going to go badly when I had to put my six-year-old in timeout in the morning, as he is usually {Read More}

This Old House (A Love Letter)

finn_baby back wall

Home ownership hasn’t always been what it’s cracked up to be. Of course, it’s the goal. The be-all and end-all for new couples and even for singles looking for a solid investment. As we’ve all said before, paying rent, month after month, can feel like you’re throwing your hard earned cash out the window. But then something breaks. Or a lot of things break. And it doesn’t happen in threes. It happens in fucking tens, people … at least in {Read More}

Stages Of the Dreaded Parent Hangover

You get out of her gif Will Ferrell

Most of us parents know better than to tie one on these days, as the day after with kids just isn’t worth it. Every once in a while though, if you’re like me, you throw caution to the wind and your panties at the band (No? Just me?) and wake up with the dreaded parent hangover. This is not a hilarious movie starring dreamy Bradley Cooper but rather a real-life godforsaken shit show. Hangovers already suck giant donkey balls when {Read More}

Sorry, Paul Rudd, but THIS is 40

This is 40

Some of you may recall that I shared what I learned as I turned 40, but now I’m about seven months in, and it’s no Judd Apatow rom-com. Here are seven depressing ways I’ve come to realize that I’m all grownz up: 1. I was at the hair salon the other day, and I chose Redbook over Cosmo. “How to give a great blow job” vs. “How to create a great dessert in under ten minutes.” Blow jobs? People still give {Read More}

Family Dysfunction — A Tale of Funeral Vomit and More

rottenecards family

As often as you hear the term “holidays” you seem to hear the words “family” and “dysfunction” and sometimes even “dysfunctional family.” The truth is, I think there is at least a trace amount of dysfunction in every family, don’t you? But that’s what makes us family. And hey, it’s our dysfunction, and no one can take that away from us. I can talk about Great Aunt Mabel’s unsightly mustache, but should you dare broach the topic, I’ll gladly give {Read More}

Three Moms I Could Live Without

someecards baby names

Yesterday, I caught wind of some Mommy Wars going on over at one of my fave blogs, Mary Tyler Mom. Apparently, she posted a tongue-in-cheek e-card from another blog about the whole WAHM vs. SAHM mom thing, and the vitriol spread like wildfire. Can’t we all just get along? Ya know, it takes a village and all that. I’m not one to judge whether you should work or stay at home, and so many of us don’t have a choice {Read More}

Fred and Olive, This One’s For You (A Dog Tale)

pugs in a car

Some days I like my dogs better than my kids. Oh come on now — don’t get your panties in a bunch. I said “LIKE,” not “LOVE.” I’m not *that* crazy. But I’m definitely one of those dog owners who makes the cast from Best in Show look normal. It’s funny because, on a girls weekend a couple of years ago, we got talking about our dogs, and some of us declared our undying love for the pooches, while other {Read More}

Dear Target

footie pajamas

I want to hate/fuck you, Target. My parents have waged a serious non-swearing campaign when it comes to my blog, but how else do I explain my very extreme feelings for this giant retail chain? It’s no wonder their logo is a bullet, as that store has a direct line to my heart. And yet I hate it with every fiber of my being, too. It’s quite the conundrum. I feel I can only explain my feelings by directing them {Read More}

Shumtimes I Get Home and Talk to My Babyshitter Like Thish…

someecards Mom

I started babysitting when I was like six.  I’m telling you – that’s seriously what I remember. I think I had just mastered potty training when a neighbor down the street deemed me fit to care for her infant. And my parents thought it was just fine, too…bring home that bacon, baby. I was dead weight for five years at that point — time to cut those apron strings. I look back at how different the times were back then, {Read More}