My kids are drunk zombies

Sunday is Mother’s Day, and the people who made me a mother, commonly known around here as the Wee Frat Boys, are the subject of my guest post today over on one of my favorite blogs, Things I Can’t Say. The Wee Frat Boys are referred to as drunk zombies in that post. Because that’s what it feels

That time I was on national TV. No biggie.

Today my sassy mouth, whose brain happens to constantly be scheming a trip, was on America Now discussing ways to save money on travel. What is most impressive is that I had pink eye when I went in to talk with Maureen O’Boyle, and I didn’t drop any eff bombs. Told you I have some sense. Huge thanks to

On swag whoring and mommy blogging

I keep reading and rereading the Wall Street Journal‘s article about Mommy Blogger Conferences. I read all of the follow up blog posts where irate bloggers, some of whom are friends, trash the author and her snarky attitude. The overall gist of the article is that a bunch of silly women who have jumped on the

Processing fear. It takes me a minute.

I’m envious of people who can write eloquently and quickly after things happen like the bombings at the Boston Marathon a few days ago. It always takes me a little more time to process things like this. While I was glued to the news on Monday, I was scared that there would be more explosions.

Perfectly Pinnable: Zoloft Vodka Cocktails

I’m in love with my gynecologist. OK, so maybe it’s not love, but I do want to be friends with her. So much that I look forward to seeing her every year. She has cared for me through both of my pregnancies and told me I could have c-sections if I wanted to. I did,

My boobs are bigger than yours

I got my first bra when I was nine. I didn’t need one, and wouldn’t for another four years or so, but I was in a  class with girls who were older and significantly more physically developed than I and I wanted to fit in. Family members joked with me that I just needed “two

Tales from the Frat House

Today I’m guest posting over at my friend Fawn’s blog, Instead of the Dishes , about life in the Frat House. (You may remember Fawn from her guest post here.) As soon I sent the post over to Fawn, I discovered that Frat Boy The Younger had emptied my vacuum canister all over the high-pile shag rug I’d just spent