Don’t Show Me Your Homely Baby: Guest Blogger Cara

My third guest blogger for the week is Cara of BitchUJusMad. Best blog name ever? I think so. Cara is one of my newest bloggy friends and I’m happy to feature her here today. A word about this post: don’t read it if you’re easily offended, OR if you have ugly children. That is all.

It seems like every year in the late spring there is a flock of new children being pushed around in strollers or strung up in a Bjorn on an eager dad’s chest…but I have got to say this spring’s batch of babies has been the most visually unappealing group of children I’ve seen in a while. It used to be that when I would see new babies, I rarely had to choose my words carefully. Now it seems as if I have to bite my tongue every time someone shoves a kid in my face. What is really disturbing is that it seems like a lot of these new parents have fallen for the “every baby is beautiful” lie and have the utmost pride in little Alf Jr. I just want to tell people it’s ok to NOT show off your homely baby.

When I had my children, I wept. Mostly because a c-section is the most painful thing that has ever happened to me, but also because I thought that my twins would be born attractive. My husband is attractive. I think I am God’s Golden Brown Gift to the Earth (which is certainly debatable, but, that’s not the point) so why wouldn’t our offspring be instantly gorgeous? Well, as it turns out, amniotic fluid, baby acne, discoloration, and low birth weight all played their part, and my highly anticipated infant twins came out looking like almost totally hairless, pale gremlins. And I don’t mean the cute gremlins, I mean the angry ones. When I discovered this flaw in my genetic pool, I did what I thought any self respecting mother would: I utilized clever camera angles for minimal Facebook pictures, and didn’t hand out their birth announcements. Call me superficial, but I wanted to make sure they had time to “cuten up” before I showed them off. Fortunately for me, my ego, and the Target Portrait Studio, they did. Around 3 months old, the twins were adorable.

Every baby isn’t as lucky though, and I will be the first to firmly say out loud…or type in capital letters and bold font: EVERY BABY IS NOT A CUTE BABY. Especially this seasons babies. Yes season. I am referring to newborns in my area like a line of fashion or beauty products. Anyway, just because your baby isn’t attractive doesn’t mean that it isn’t special. Regardless of facial features, every baby is certainly cuddly and smells good thanks to various baby products. Also, couples with unattractive babies are just as happy as couples with those insanely Gerber-cute babies. I know from experience. Not showing off your funny looking baby doesn’t lessen your new parent pride. You can still have clever statuses about the fulfilling woes of new parenthood via every possible social network. You just don’t need to add a picture of the not quite adorable baby that goes along with the clever status. You can even quietly claim to want privacy in this new area of your life, you know?

Is it too much to ask that those couples blessed with less cute bundles be a little more considerate to other people who don’t *have to* love their child? I don’t want to have to lie to you, Excited-New-Mom-at-the-Playground. I really don’t. I don’t want to have to awkwardly compliment New-Weird-Looking-Baby’s clothes, or point out how “tiny” he or she is. Duh Captain Obvious. All babies are generally tiny. Now I look like the d-bag who didn’t call your new kid cute. But you KNOW that kid isn’t cute. Why would you confront me like that and force me to feel sad about your misfortune? That has to be some kind of weird, reverse Munchausen by proxy, right?

This past weekend was really tough because it was a holiday weekend. I went to 3 different backyard barbecues and saw like 35 babies that could have stayed under hats or blankets for the day. Instead eager, denial ridden parents passed their offspring around and talked about how adorable their kids were, as party goers gazed upon the homely babies with looks of confusion, despair, and in some cases, utter pity. Ok, maybe I made those emotions up, because most people have no problem lying about funny looking babies. I can’t live this way, though. So please, guys…stop showing off your unattractive babies. Just wait until they grow into that nose, or forehead, or entire facial structure, ok? Deal.

About the writer: Cara is a 28 year old abrasively honest SAHM living in Annapolis, Maryland with her husband and (fortunately) ridiculously adorable 4 year old twins. New to the blogging world Cara splits her time between writing, and doing a bunch of other things, except for knitting. Cara hates knitting.

Guest Blogger – The Grumbles

Hi again friends! By the time your eyeballs take in the words on this post, I will likely be in an airplane peeing my pants because I hate flying – on my way to Chicago. My second guest blogger for this week is Jamie from The Grumbles. She’s hilarious and takes amazing Instagram  pictures. If you’re not following her already, do it, or a tiger will eat you. In this post she talks about Jillian Michaels – who is Satan, punching her husband, and milkshakes. Just try not to laugh at this post.

Here’s Jamie.


Last night after the Jude went to bed Jon and I donned our crummiest unwashed workout gear and prepared for 20 minutes of eye rolling at Jillian Michael’s annoying voice while we sweated and hopped up and down. We’ve been doing this for a few weeks now and we’ve memorized the rote of stupid things that she says to try to motivate you*.

*to slap her in the princess taco.

My question is this, is she reading from a script of things other people thought she should say, or are these things she actually wanted to say? “You don’t get to the finish line and stop…” YES JILLIAN, YES YOU DO. THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT YOU DO. What you mean is that you don’t get within SIGHT of the finish line and stop. If I was at the fucking finish line I would stop, there’s no reason to be a goddamn show off. Go eat some pasta, horseface.

So we know the drill, better than I would like to at this point. We could probably mute her voice but then I would be deprived of reason to flip off the tv mid jumping jack while screaming nonsense and I really think that adds to the effectiveness of the workout. “GrNAH… UMPBAPA!” As I was lacing up my shoes I tried to get Jon in on a little challenge, because frankly, I’m getting less and less motivated by the day. When your goal is only a modicum of slightly more fitness… meh.

“If I win, I get a milkshake.”

“And if I win?”

“I don’t know, you get to decide that. What happens if you win?”

“700 blow jobs.”


(He was probably joking. Probably. Ha. Ha. Ha. No.)

I wanted the contest to be pretend jump rope, because I am QUEEN of pretend jump rope. I can hop up and down whilst twirling my arms until the end of time because that’s what I do in the bathroom at work as part of my secret plan towards bathroom office fitness. Don’t ask. Regardless, I am very good at pretend jump rope.

I should note at this time something about me you may not be aware of as your favorite internet columnist: I am not athletic. Well I guess you probably could have guessed at it, but let me not mislead you in any way. I have terrible balance, I’m inflexible, and I become winded at the drop of a hat. The only sport I ever played was volleyball, which I was good at, but it doesn’t exactly require a ton of stamina. Hence, I absolutely did not accept Jon’s terms. Even though I MOP THE FLOOR with jumping up and down in one spot and slightly wiggling it was not a risk I was willing to take based on my personal history. Hell, I have tendinitis in my wrist right now. From fucking push ups. I am a lost cause. More milkshakes!

The bet was definitely not on but this did inspire a certain competitive nature to rear its head during the evening’s workout. It displayed itself in a very adult manner, including but not limited to: doing jumping jacks in each other’s faces, swinging windmill arms while yelling, “I’m swinging my arms and standing by you but not hitting you!” and then punching each other and laughing. We have a baby. You’re welcome.

When we got to the part of the routine where it was time for punches there was only one logical conclusion: instead of punching forward towards the tv, per usual so that I can pretend I’m exploding Jillian Michael’s stupid head into a million pieces so that she’ll stop talking, we clearly had to face towards each other. For better competing. And punching. Just as you would expect, this did not go well. At one point my fist collided with something, possibly his fist, and I fell on the ground in a heap of laughing. Bizarrely, I think it was the most fun I’ve ever had working out and those are two things which normally don’t belong on the same plane.

Afterward when I was done laying in a crumpled sweaty heaving heap on the floor I iced my wrist, because well… tendinitis is actually pretty annoying. I kept moving the ice up… and up… and up… until finally I put two and two together and realized that my hand REALLY hurt for some mysterious reason. Oh wait, maybe it’s that giant black bruise on my swollen middle knuckle! From punching my husband and laughing and then breaking my hand.

If anyone asks, I’m telling them I fell down the stairs. Shhhh….


You can find her original post here on her blog – complete with pictures of her bruised knuckles.


Guest Blogger: Mommy Lost in Translation

Tomorrow, Nellie and I are headed to Chicago for a week. My mom’s memorial service is finally this coming weekend. I didn’t want my blog to be all empty and stuff, so while I’m gone I will be featuring some awesome guest bloggers for you all to enjoy. The first blogger is my real-life best friend Rachel, who blogs at Mommy, Lost in Translation. She’s hilarious and if you’re not reading her blog already, you need to. She has amazing stories and writes an awesome series about how she & her husband met and fell in love. Without further ado, here’s Rachel!


Well hello there, reader. So happy to be guest blogging at Mommy Boots today because it is ONLY MY FAVORITE BLOG EVER. I’m not just saying that because Mommy Boots is my real life BFF. Okay. My favorite blog is The But whatever, Mommy Boots is totally my second favorite.

I was told to write about a story that Natalie doesn’t know about. Being my best friend and all, this is somewhat hard, I mean she knows a whole hell of a lot. I think I actually ended up choosing a story that I have mentioned to her before, but I think it was something like, “Once my mom dug up a dead dog,” and that was kind of the end of it. You see, a lot of my stories are a little off the wall and sometimes people just give me that confused head tilt look and an awkward smile and don’t ask any questions.

So I’m gonna go ahead and tell the story anyway. Once my mom dug up our dead dog. That’s a good opener, yes?

Let me elaborate. My mother loves animals, all the animals always and forever. I grew up surrounded by about 10,000 animals. Seriously, we always had a pet, well, we never had “A” pet. We had multiple pets, hoards of them. Once we had like 30 cats. No exaggeration. I mean, they lived outside but they were still ours. We didn’t seek out the 30 cats, we lived on acres of land and people just kept dropping them off on our property and my mother being the loving person she is took care of them. This is pretty much the reason I only have one cat and when that cat dies…well I probably won’t get another one. Don’t get me wrong. I like animals and all that, I just grew surrounded dog puke and cat piss on the carpet and fleas and kittens that had some kind of weird condition where their intestines started sliding out of their butt holes. I don’t know what that condition is but it happened to us multiple times. We also had a litter of kittens that one of the other cats ATE. We think it was one of the male cats that wasn’t the father, I guess he was jealous that the whore female cat had someone else’s babies. Though, really, how could he TELL they weren’t his? I mean they totally could have been his babies. Anyway, there were a bunch of little half eaten kitten corpses lying all over the house. HOW PLEASANT.

I’m getting off track, but I thought you needed a little back story. Actually, I think you still might need some back story: right now my mom has this over bread puppy mill pomeranian named Foxy. Foxy is about 7 years old and has a collapsing trachea and brain damage and has frequent panic and anxiety attacks. My mom gives her breathing treatments with steam and a little sheet over Foxy’s head. This is the kind of patience and love my mother has for these animals, people. Now that I think you have enough information, I’ll get on with it.

Once, years ago, my mom had this ancient dog named Poko. She adopted him from an elderly old woman who was in the hospital and could no longer care for him. Poko was old as shit when we adopted him but he managed to live for several more years. He was this scraggly pomeranian/poodle mix but his hair and his teeth were falling out. He didn’t do much but limp around and sleep but I don’t think my mom has loved any of her pets the way she loved that damn dog. And then one day, ol’ Poko kicked the bucket. He died in his sleep in his little doggie bed and my mom buried him in the creepy pet cemetery in our front yard. (What? OF COURSE WE HAVE A PET CEMETERY.)

Anyway, Poko died while I was in college so I wasn’t living at home. I came home the weekend after to check on things. I walked into the house and my sister, who was in high school at the time, was sitting in the living room painting her nails and my dad was reading the paper. I was making small talk with them when I noticed a Ziploc bag of fur lying on a nearby desk. I picked it up and realized the bag was labeled with “Poko’s fur.” I asked them what that was all about and my sister said “Oh thats so Mom can clone him if she wins the lottery.” It was about then that mom entered the living room. My sister, being the snark shark that she most often is, said “By the way mom, I hope you ripped that hair out by the follicle.” My mom said, “What?” and my sister said, “The FOLLICLE. Otherwise you don’t have any of his DNA. You have to rip it out, you can’t just cut it off with scissors.” My mom stared at her for a minute and then stomped out the back door without saying a word. Without looking up from his paper my dad said, “She’s going to dig up that dog.”

My sister and I looked at each other dumbfounded, thinking “Surely not.” So we followed her out the back door and sure enough, there she was, heading toward the pet cemetery with a shovel.

We all sat in silence in the living room for about half an hour. My mother calmly reentered the house, picked up the Ziploc bag, emptied out Poko’s fur into the trash and replaced it with a new fistful of hair. She gave my sister a “Humph,” and went back to tidying up around the house.

Rest in Peace, Poko.

We’re still waiting on that winning lottery ticket.

I’m the Best Wife Ever

The Mama Kat Writer’s Workshop prompt that I chose is “list 10 things you’d like to get for your husband or dad for Father’s Day”.

Mama’s Losin’ It

At first I was like “well that’s a weird thing to write about. How the hell do I know what he’d like?” and then I was like “OK you’re his wife, you’ve been together for 8 years, you should know this”. And then I was like “hey remember that time you thought it’d be an awesome idea to get him a shaving cream warmer for a gift and he hated it? Yeah.”

I decided it can’t get much worse than a shaving cream warmer that makes your shaving cream 104 degrees and smell like feet, so I thought I’d give it a whirl. Here’s my list of Ten Gift Ideas for my Husband on Father’s Day.

1. A robot dog
2. A jet pack
3. A subscription to “women who are dressed up like female superheroes bringing him sandwiches” of the month club. Wait – does that exist? *scribbles down business idea* MILLIONAIRE.
4. A man-date with Will Smith, Ving Rhames, Christopher Meloni and Anthony Hopkins.
5. A giant cookie cake in the shape of the Millenium Falcon
6. A large ape or bear to battle
7. Nickleback to come to our house and play a personal concert just for him (this one is OBVIOUSLY a joke. Not only is it completely not feasible to get Nickleback to my house, but I wouldn’t subject my worst enemy to Nickleback. That’s just inhumane)
8. A complete viewing of the movie Alexander – uninterrupted by my rolling my eyes and snarky comments (I might have to be completely drunk for this)
9. A dragon
10. Four hundred and two sugar gliders

Looking back over this list, I can give myself a big ole’ nod of satisfaction. Clearly I am the best wife ever and deserve a trophy and all of the chocolate and vodka forever. Happy Father’s Day, honey!

Five Awesome FREE iPhone Apps: Shopping

I enjoyed writing my last iPhone post about apps for toddlers. I’m a relatively new iPhone user, but I’m a quick learner and am pretty much tethered to my iPhone 24/7. My husband calls it “Husband #1”.

Today, I’d like to share with you five apps for shopping/buying stuff. If you don’t get these apps, there’s a 95% chance that your life is going to be miserable, nothing good will happen to you ever, you will probably get some random horrible thing almost no one has ever heard of like the bends, and you will cry yourself to sleep at night until you download these apps.

5. Target (FREE) – This is pretty self-explanatory. I love Target, you probably love Target. You can shop around online, price-compare, and even order your products from your iPhone. Super easy.
4. GasBuddy (FREE) – So say you’re traveling in a city with which you are not familiar. You need to put gas in your car. Instead of wandering around and wasting more gas only to settle on the first station you find, simply start up this app and it will find you nearby gas stations with the current price they charge. Not only that, but it will navigate you there. Super convenient when you’re traveling.
3. Amazon (FREE) – I actually used this app a LOT during Christmastime. I bought several of Nellie’s presents with the Amazon app when I saw something that caught my eye. You don’t have to put in your payment & shipping information each time, either – you can save it for easy & quick future purchases. It also has a feature that you can price compare; if you’re in a store and want to know if you can get it cheaper via Amazon, simply scan the barcode and it’ll bring up the item if it’s got it in the database. Woot!
2. Starbucks (FREE) – I didn’t think I’d use this app at all when I first got it, but I actually use it at least once a week. When you buy a gift card, you register it on this app. You can then pay at Starbucks with your phone – you just hold it up and scan it and you’re done. You earn rewards for each cup you buy and when you get to a certain number (30 I think) you get a free cup! You can reload your gift card right on your phone, which is really easy. I don’t ever take my purse in to Starbucks with me anymore; I just hold up my phone, scan it and I’m out the door.
1. Grocery IQ (FREE) – I use this every. single. week. I use it to plan my grocery trips, to budget, and as a digital list while I’m in the store. I’ve used a few different grocery apps and this one is my favorite. You can separate your lists by store (I shop at multiple places in one trip). I have a bad habit of forgetting something in the produce section once I’ve reached the back of the store but this app keeps everything grouped together in categories for me, so it helps immensely with that. My favorite feature is that you can add the price to the item, so it gives you an “at-a-glance” idea of how much you will spend, how much you are spending, etc. Once you add an item to your list you can “favorite” it, so it’s super easy to add it to your next list if it’s a recurring item like milk, eggs, bread, etc.

I hope this helped you find some great new iPhone apps to download and try. The best part is that they are free!

What are some of your favorite shopping-related iPhone/iPad apps?

PrintRunner Business Card Giveaway!

Hey friends! It’s been a while since I’ve hosted a giveaway. I’ve been blogging more and have been thinking more about spreading the word about my blog – one of the things that I’ve been toying with is the idea of business cards; specifically something easy that I could do myself, like online business cards printing. I was browsing around for online printing services when contacted me and asked if I’d like to host a giveaway for business cards.

Uh, yeah. Of course.

Print Runner offers high-quality printing of business cards, postcards, banners & signs and so much more to promote your business/brand/blog. The best part? You can order online – easy peasy.

Giveaway Details
Here are the details of the giveaway! PrintRunner is giving away to one reader:

Business Card Size and Style Business Cards: 2×3.5 (Standard)
Quantity: 250
Colors: 4/4 Color Both Sides
Paper: 14 pt. UV Coating on Front, 14 pt. UV Coating on both sides,
Proof: NONE
Rounded Corners: NO
Ready To Ship In: 3 Business Days

BlogHer is just around the corner (and I’m totally jealous of all of you going), so this is perfect timing for all you bloggers who may be in need of some cards to hand out! Entry is easy, just fill out the Rafflecopter form below. Good luck!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

I will be compensated my own set of 250 business cards for hosting this giveaway for The opinions stated in this post are 100% honest, and 100% my own.



Shit My Toddler Says

So the “Shit my Blah Blah Blah Says” is still relevant, right? Right. Good, great, grand. Wonderful. Here’s some shit my toddler says.

Me: *walking on the treadmill after putting Nellie to bed*
Nellie’s Door: *knock knock knock*
Nellie: MAMA. MAMA!
Me: *gets off the treadmill. Opens her door* Yes, Nellie?
Nellie: Mama, you busy?

(I’m holding Nellie, crossing the street to take her to daycare)
Nellie: Mama, cars coming?
Me: No, Nellie, we made sure no cars were coming.
Nellie: …….. Batman coming?


Me: So I heard that the Avengers made like, over $200 million at the box office opening weekend.
Nellie: HO-LEE THIT!
Me & Josh: *muffled laughter and snorting*


Me: Nellie, you’re my sweet baboo.
Nellie: No. No, I not fweet baboon!
Me: You’re not my sweet baboo?
Nellie: No. I fweet chimpanzee.

Nellie: Daddy. I Frodo.
Josh: You’re Frodo?
Nellie: Yeah. And Bella {Nellie’s best friend} Sam.
Josh: Bella is Sam, huh? Who am I?
Nellie: Gollum.

(Nellie and I are in the grocery store. She has a cough.)
Nellie: *cough cough cough cough*
Me: You ok, baby?
Nellie *cough cough coughcough cough hack cough* GOLLUM! GOLLUM!
Me: *falls down laughing*


Me: Daddy, a boy kissed Nellie at school today.
Josh: What! Nellie, did a boy kiss you?
Nellie: Uh-huh. On forehead.
Josh: What! Who is this young man?
Nellie: Rocco.
Josh: Did you like when he kissed you on the forehead?
Nellie: Yah.
Josh: Are you going to let him do it again?
Nellie: Mmm hmm.
Josh: I need to know more about this young man. Does he have a job?
Nellie: Yeah.
Josh: Where does he work?
Nellie: Groceries.

What’s some funny shit that your toddler says?


So here’s the thing. I hate geese. I’m terrified of them. I think they’re horrible, evil creatures that want only one thing, and that’s my blood. Mine, personally. I’m not sure if I wronged geese as a species in a former life or what, but they hate me and I them.

I’m actually okay with geese – as long as there is a pane of glass, a cage, or a very large man separating me from them. Yesterday at work we noticed a whole family of geese waddling through our parking lot. There were several adults and a few cute fluffy little goslings. I gushed over how cute the geese were and took pictures of them – through the window, from the safety of my office.

I pulled up to work this morning and noticed the whole flock was out in the front yard. The little goslings were all eating some flesh some grass or something and the adult geese were there as well. I thought it was so darn adorable I snapped a picture.

I watched them for a while and then got bored, and collected my things getting ready to walk into work. It was then that it dawned on me that the tree they were all gathered around was directly in front of the front door, and that I’d have to walk by the whole damn bunch of them to get to it. Visions of screaming and feathers flying through the air while I was honked and bitten to death filled my head and I froze.

What was I going to do? Suddenly, I had an idea. I took what was left of my blueberry muffin, slowly opened the door and began throwing it at the geese. They stopped and looked at me. One hissed, and I might have peed my pants a little. They began waddling after my offering and I slowly made my way out of the car. I walked to the passenger side, one eye on the geese and the other on my destination. It was then that they ran out of muffin and all of their evil, horrible little heads turned to look at me. They started inching toward me and I freaked out. I threw more muffin at them. I think it mostly just made them mad because they sent this asshole to come get me.

I leaped back into the car, slamming the passenger door behind me. I frantically texted my husband, letting him know that geese were after me, that I loved him, and not to let Nellie forget me. The goose disappeared from sight for a moment until reappearing right outside the window.

I pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I was going to get eaten alive by geese when this one finally waddled away and I could actually plan my escape. I quickly gathered my belongings, exited the car and sprinted to our back door, where I prayed my key worked in the lock. Luckily for me, it did and I am alive and well enough to tell the tale of how I almost got killed by geese.

The moral of the story is: geese suck and I’m a big fucking wuss. The end.

Avengers Assemble

Josh is planning on taking Nellie to see The Avengers on Memorial Day. On Saturday, they got to talking about it. And I got it on camera. Enjoy.

Lessons in Motherhood


Mama’s Losin’ It

For this week’s Writer’s Workshop prompt I chose “Share a lesson you learned from your Mother that still sticks with you to this day”.

I struggled with this topic, because I didn’t glean many positive things from my mother. We didn’t share many Hallmark moments learning life lessons over a cup of tea or coffee. There was a lot of yelling, resentment, and dysfunction, but not so much with the touchy-feely learning.

I have felt compelled to write more about my feelings about my mother and Mother’s Day, since it is the first since she died.

I mostly learned the type of mother I don’t want to be. The kind of behavior I never want my daughter to see. The lessons my mother “taught” me weren’t so much taught with intention and thought as learned by me being witness to the person that she was.

From watching her, I learned to always stay on top of my mental health; there is a family history of mental illness and just like being proactive about a family history of breast cancer, I have learned I will have to be proactive about my mental health as well.

She taught me that yelling and rage don’t ever solve anything. All it teaches a child is how to fear confrontation, conflict, and how to feel ashamed and like everything is their fault.

It wasn’t all bad, I suppose. My mom also taught me to love and embrace being different. She exposed me to her generation’s music; the Beatles, The Who, The Mamas and the Papas and growing up, I was almost always the only kid in my class who even knew who those bands were.

She taught me how to love driving through back roads with no real destination, listening to music and enjoying the silent company of the person you are with.

I think one of the lessons I have taken most from my relationship with her is that just because I didn’t have a great mother doesn’t mean that I can’t be one myself. That just because I didn’t have a good example doesn’t mean I am destined to fail my daughter the way I was failed. I am learning to accept my life with her for what it was, not what I wished it would be. I’m working on finding the good lessons and good moments amidst the bad. In a way, I suppose that even now I am learning from her. Learning how to forgive, learning how to let go, learning how to accept. Hard lessons to learn – especially with no mother to guide me – but I’m working it out. And in the end, I know that it will help me be the mother to her that I never had for myself.