Tag Archives: mom

For Those Who Need a Laugh on Valentine’s Day

I’m anti-gush, which makes the saccarine overtones of Valentine’s Day hard for me to stomach.

But last Thursday, I got my hair chopped so I’d look slightly more like my avatar. I saw this sign outside my salon.

Just the Ewok Once-Over, Please

Last Thursday was also the day my humor column appeared in The Calgary Herald. It’s not sappy. Promise.

The Sharp End of Cupid’s Arrow

The column begins:

Cupid needs an update, a 21st-century makeover courtesy of an exhausted mother. Instead of a bow and arrow, I’d equip him with a semi-automatic weapon…

Click the red link above to read the rest.

I hope you can find something to laugh at today. Or someone. I’m okay if I’m that someone.

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In the anti-gush spirit of this day,
what’s your worst (or most hilarious) Valentine’s Day story?
Alternatively, would you go for a Wookie wax?

Phrases That Make Every Mother Duck for Cover, Pause, or Drink

Last week, I overheard a few phrases from my twins that made me duck for cover,  pause, or drink.

One of these phrases was uttered by William. In a stage whisper, he asked his twin sister, “What’s something I can slingshot?” I closed my laptop and ducked.

Last Wednesday, I blogged about another phrase I overheard. In reference to me, Vivian bragged to William, “Well that got rid of her.” I paused my Words with Friends game momentarily.

Two days later, I wrote about a question I overheard while making lunches. William asked his dad, “Can we eat Jello like puppy dogs again?” I looked for Baileys in the pantry.

I’m almost afraid of what this week will bring, so I’m asking you to help prepare me.

What are some phrases that we parents should be afraid of overhearing from our children? What phrases indicate that we should raise the white flag and head to the whiter sanatorium?

 The comments are yours…

 

Headline from My House: Mom Locks Self in Bathroom

Pardon the third person. Blame Elmo. Regarding Vivian and William's desired name changes, blame them.

So I’m sitting on the floor of the bathroom playing Words with Friends. My spidey senses are tingling, not because I just figured out how to play my Q without a U, but because my twins are up to something.

I sense danger. Then I hear it.

It’s the unmistakeable sound of flesh on flesh, skulls on floorboards. It’s wrestling.

I do what any parent trying to maintain her sanity (and dignity) on the bathroom floor does.

I open the door and yell. ”Stop wrestling!”

As I sit there debating whether or not I should leave my foxhole and crawl to the front lines, I hear Vivian yell in reply, “We’re not wrestling!”

I opt not to engage in the “yes-you-are / no-we’re-not” battle; instead, I shut the door and re-lock it.

Then I hear it, faintly: the response, the one not intended for enemy ears.

Vivian tells William, “Well that got rid of her.”

Indeed.

Now if I could get rid of my three i’s.

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What are some headlines from your life?