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No more eff bombs

7 May

27468496Mommy wishes she was able to fully max out her vocabulary to appropriately colour how much being bashed in the head by a Mega Block REALLY FUCKING HURTS. But now that you’re repeating everything she says, she’s got to pull back the profanity full stop, even when it’s super warranted like when she can’t find her Starbucks card or Daddy forgets to put the seat down. Mommy now finds herself spelling out words at work, this meeting about a meeting is b-u-l-l-s-h-i-t. However, it’s not just Mommy’s potty mouth that needs a bar of Ivory soap. On the last car ride, Mommy cranked the Kiss FM and thought it was cute how you were rocking out along with her. Until you announced your arrival at Nana’s house by yelling “It’s Britney, bitch.”

DRINK:  The Bleeped Out.  1oz Limoncello, 1oz vodka, teaspoon of sugar, a few raspberries and a basil leaf. Combine all ingredients in a highball glass and let sit in the fridge for 30 minutes or more. Add ice cubes and top with sparkling wine. Garnish with a slice of lemon, which you may need to suck on to stop you from saying holy fucking shit this is delicious.

Working from home

23 May

Sometimes the basement floods or the nanny gets deported and suddenly Mommy has to work from home. This coincides with the worst possible day ever to not be at the office. You’re happily playing on the floor so she orchestrates a conference call.

MOMMY:  Thanks everyone for dialing in. As you can see on page four—

YOU:  DUCKA DUCKA DUCKAAAAAAAAAA!

CLIENT: Is there a fire alarm at your end?

JUNIOR ACCOUNT GUY: I think I hear a cat dying.

Mommy quickly turns on Sesame Street’s YouTube channel, even though it might give you epilepsy, and goes off the cuff because she can’t see her Excel file.

MOMMY: —as you’ll see on page six—

CLIENT: What happened to page four?

Sippy cup spills organic goat milk all over laptop. Sad Mac face appears. 

MACBOOK AIR: BLEEEEEERRRRRRR!

YOU:  BLEEEEEERRRRRRR!

JUNIOR ACCOUNT GUY:  Seriously is that cat okay?

Mommy tries to hit mute but instead hangs up on the call. Now she can’t find the passcode. When she finally dials back in, she has no idea what anyone is talking about. It’s probably about her.

CLIENT:  …clear out the dead weight, we’ll be in a great place. What do you think on your end?

MOMMY: Well… (fuuuuck!)… let’s circle back EOD with some below the line ideas to maximize share of dollar (that sounds like Mommy has this under control, right?).

Total silence.

YOU:  PPPFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTWRRRAAAAAAAAAPPPFFFTTTTTTTT!

Mercifully, someone has a hard stop so the call ends. Your diaper has leaked all over the sofa. Mommy lies down on it anyway. You pick up her company-owned Blackberry and toss it in the toilet, which is a good metaphor for where Mommy’s career is headed.

DRINK:  Career Suicide. 1 oz Jack Daniels. 1 oz Tequila. Top with 7up, OJ and a splash of grenadine. Enjoy while updating your Linked In profile.

The Babysitter

1 Mar

Mommy can’t believe she’s going to pay a teenager $40 to sit in her living room for three hours (texting her boyfriend and eating Mommy’s cappuccino frozen yogurt directly from the tub) while you lie sleeping in your crib upstairs the entire time. But Mommy and Daddy figured that to avoid becoming a statistic, they should spend the occasional Saturday night doing something other than eating take-out thai food in front of Grey’s Anatomy, only to doze off before the latest iteration of “Doctor rips off nurse’s clothes in the medical supply room.” Dressed in her standby LBD and rocking her volumizing mascara, Mommy’s actually feeling pretty hot, until the sitter with Angelina legs sprouting from a skirt the size of a Bella Band greets her at the front door with a “Hi Mrs….”  At least Mommy gets to enjoy a fancy dinner at the trendy new Italian eatery on the west west side of town that the single crew keeps checking into on Facebook. Until she does the mental math on the evening’s expenses and realizes that this ravioli dish (that she could “totally make at home” slash buy in the frozen food aisle) is costing her $18 per mouthful. Making conversation is challenging when Mommy and Daddy are both sleep deprived and checking their phones every two minutes to make sure you haven’t catapulted out of your crib or started a fire. And downing a bottle of red wine isn’t an option when someone has to drive the babysitter home at the end of the night to avoid blowing another $20 on cab fare.  At these rates, Mommy and Daddy are going to have to crack some serious social whip. No more Jennifer Aniston movies or double dates with B-list couples until your 13th birthday.

DRINK: A $12 merlot and a pizza delivery menu. Sometimes it pays to be boring.

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