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Misery Loves Company

I’m a pretty open book.  Rarely do I censor myself.  I LIKE that I’m super relatable to people.  Often, when I post on social media, or even write this blog, I will get a ton of private messages, from friends and strangers alike, telling me how much they identified with what I’ve said.  And that makes me very happy.  I think often times, people think that their situation is something only they are going through and it can be very isolating to feel all those feels alone.  It super easy to get terminal tunnel vision when you’re swimming in unhappiness all alone.  So when you discover that there are others that are experiencing the same feelings, whether those feelings are hopelessness, loss, sadness, confusion, rage or whatever combination of above, it helps to know that someone else out there in the world is feeling it too.  Connection is an important way to heal a sadness.

 

So when I say that misery loves company, I don’t mean that we should spread that misery around like its fucking fairy dust.  What I mean is that yes, sometimes we are unhappy, sometimes we have sadness and pain, and sometimes its nice to know that someone else is going through the same thing and you have someone to commiserate with.

 

Recently, I’ve been posting a LOT on social media about moving on and releasing past shit to make room for the new, better, happier shit that I see coming down the road.  I’m finally in a place where, if I squint, I can see a light at the very, very end of the tunnel.   Its a good feeling.  So my social media consist mostly of bad ass bitch, mixed with a little ho bag just for fun.  I’m prepared to love every minute of this life.

 

Also recently, two separate friends messaged me privately to tell me that they too are dealing with the same fucking bullshit.  I swear, I don’t even know if its this damn lockdown or what. But I’ve discovered that there is a whole slew of women (and I’m sure some men too) who are REALLY STRUGGLING to co-exist with their quarantine partners.  And while these two friends and I are in vastly different spaces (I’m mostly at the end of my bullshit, while both of them seem to be a little more at the beginning of theirs), I suspect they are barreling down the same railroad track that I was.  I’m a fucking trainwreck… I KNOW I’m fucking a trainwreck.  But its nice to know that there is still folks out there who don’t mind the ride.

 

 

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There’s an age-old adage that assumes that you can stop an argument with any man at any time, you just need to show them your boobs and their brain will cease to focus on pretty much anything else.  I can’t say for certain that this works, because I NEVER used it to stop an argument, mostly because I didn’t want him to think I like him like that.  EWWW! Plus, my angry inside me LIKES to argue and WANTS to be heard.  But I will default to the fact that penis people are pretty easy to distract, especially with naked body parts.  So let’s just deduce that this is likely very true.

 

Truer still is the fact that women show one another their boobs A LOT!!!  I was discussing this with a male friend recently, and he seemed a little surprised how many of my friends have seen my lady bits…. I assured him its an absolute thing that women do pretty routinely. I’m always a little sad for penis people that they don’t generally have the ability to just do this without any apprehension with their male friends. Who do they show their penis too when they have concerns?  Who do they share a good penis day with?  Do penis people HAVE good penis days?

 

When I was stressing about one boob being lower hanging than the other… I texted a pic to a friend (who’s also seen them naked about AS MUCH as she’s seen them in a bra) and asked her to weigh in. She was happy to oblige. When you are nursing a child and need to know if that particular boob looks engorged, you text a trusted friend to advise after carefully considering the situation and the picture.  If you are just feeling particularly saucy and cute and want someone to notice, you can text your friends and they will certainly appreciate a good boob day.

 

To be honest, flashing your boobs can be a GREAT fucking way to end arguments even among a large group of kick ass women.  Back in the OG days of Moms Who Drink And Swear, when women would start to get all pissy bitch with one another, one of us moderators would post the word BOOBS!  Everyone understood that it was time to just fucking chill for a bit and suddenly the whole feed was jam packed with pics of glorious, beautiful boobs and suddenly…. no one could remember what the original beef was even about, much less care about bitching anymore.  That’s the magic of it all.  Its hard to stay mad at someone when you’ve seen their tits.

 

This past Saturday, me and some amazing girlfriends met up online for a ZOOM BOOZE party.  These are the same OG Moms Who Drink And Swear moms that I’ve known for the better part of 15+ years. But to be honest, we don’t get to “see” each other very often because we are spread out all over the country.  So to catch up via ZOOM was fucking EPIC and the drinks and smokes were flowing.  After a few hours and many cocktails, I was sending pics to a friend and … I started flashing my girls to the girls on ZOOM.  EVERYONE was getting to see naked boob Danielle.  Including other people that happened to be in the room with my friends at their homes.  Its pretty common knowledge that I’m NOT the fucking friend you put on speaker phone in front of people because there is LITERALLY no telling what foul shit will fall outta my mouth.  From my brain to my lips, there are NO PIT STOPS in between.  Apparently, it should as well be pretty common knowledge that I’m ALSO not the friend to put on a computer screen in view of any other people after a few REALLY strong cocktails.  Consider yourself warned.

 

I suppose that maybe the whole world could use a little more love right now, and I consider this my small part in brightening the days and nights of my friends.

 

 

 

Faking It…

I belong to several mom groups that have a myriad of purposes.  For anyone unfamiliar with “mom groups”.. you essentially find your fellow weirdos and embrace the SHIT out of them.  It all started when I joined a group called Moms Who Drink And Swear (who’s amazing blogs you can find on Facebook at Moms Who Drink and Swear or buy the shit outta her A-FUCKING-MAZING book based on her blog here at Moms Who Drink and Swear – Loving My Kids While Losing My Mind – shameless plug to my girl Nikki XOXO and booby chest bumps).  They were rough around the edges, but they didn’t judge when you were having a craptastic day and hating even one more minute of momming your fuck trophies.

 

From there, I’ve found my way to groups for moms with tattoos, hot mess moms and pretty much anything that had to do with any sort of mom debauchery.  Pearl-clutching bitches definitely need not apply.

 

So I wasn’t surprised when a question was posed to a group that I’m in about faking it… AND BOOM!  The idea for my next blog was born.  Let’s face it, this idea is nearly as old as the actual act of sex itself.  Makes you kinda wonder if, from time to time, Eve was just like “fuck…. this….. bullshit…” and faked it so that she could get on with her days of eating forbidden fruit and talking to snakes.

 

In order to get good, solid Intel, I did what I usually do when I want free info from people and when I know Google is NOT going to be my friend because, let’s face it, Googling “faking it during sex” is going to take you down some dark mother fucking rabbit holes.  So… I posed this question to my Facebook peeps.  While the overwhelming response was from people WITHOUT penises, there were a few fellas who were brave enough to venture into the conversation.   I always appreciate those types of penis people.

 

While it was a resounding NOPE for faking it to be a good idea…. some people gave all the right reasons for the WHY, and THAT part is REALLY important.  For instance, its OBVIOUSLY not a good idea because if he doesn’t know he’s doing it wrong, faking it like he IS will make it impossible for him to fix that shit.  Further, as one person with a penis pointed out, sometimes its not even that the guy isn’t good.  Its just that maybe HE’S not really in the mood and was really just trying to bring it on home for his lady.  One guy even offered that his goal has ALWAYS been ladies first when it comes to the big O and then he’ll worry about finishing up for himself AFTER.  Sorry ladies, he’s already married and off the market.  But his wife is a lucky, lucky girl!

 

The overwhelming and general consensus was that its much better to just simply acknowledge that its not a good time, recognize that there will be time to try again later and then move on to something more productive.   While it won’t REALLY feel like a win, it is.  Because NEXT time can be AWESOME because you…. won’t be faking it.

 

What I began to wonder is, when you are sometimes with the wrong person or you are in the wrong relationship, will you know that the relationship is broken when consistently your lady bits start to physically REJECT that person?  Like, how much of that is “he’s not doing a good job” and how much of that is “whatever, you’re doing it right, but I’m just not into you anymore”.  I think, by the end there, I was faking it so much simply because I felt a sort of obligation to wifely booty duties, but I also really didn’t like that person anymore. I was completely conflicted.  And so, I got so good at faking it that I even faked out MYSELF pretty damn good.  Finally, I realized that the only way to get OVER someone was to get OUT FROM UNDER THEM… like permanently.  It gave me clarity.  It gave me power and strength.  And it made it easier to start making the moves I needed to make to that happier road.

 

I look back now and realize… I owed myself MORE than to keep faking it.

So… we’re in deep with this on-going pandemic. Unless you’ve been living under a fucking rock, you probably already knew that. It legit feels like it is NEVER, EVER going to end. Like…. EVER. Many of us are still hunkered down with our families, trying our very, very best not to kill one another. Some of us, like myself, are considered essential workers and have to heave-ho out the door every day to battle cranky mother fuckers AND Covid19. Because I leave every day, and still find myself feeling like I’m missing out on important contact with the world, I can only IMAGINE how my home-bound friends are feeling. RIP to our social lives that probably never really were but now feel so lonely, simply because we CANNOT.

I miss human contact. Like REAL human CONTACT… wink wink. There are lots of women that I know who are currently quarantined with someone they don’t even remotely like very much. Booty calls have been put on proper fucking hold. And I can assure you, none of us are getting so desperate that we will even remotely consider bow-chicka-wow-wow sexy time with those we have the most access to. How much do you have to dislike someone to not even consider them for this task? Takes “not even if you were the last man left on fucking earth” to a WHOLE other level.

To be honest… this is the MOST penis I’ve seen in QUITE some time!

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Certainly, if you are with the one who makes you squishy in love and warm in your lady bits, this pandemic and the subsequent quarantine is probably not entirely an awful thing (its all about looking for those silver linings, ya know). Thanks to my girl T for reminding me that when you LOVE your spouse, you can put this one in the win column. Peace Love and Booty Calls are abounding in THAT house!!! Go T!

However, I’m starting to wonder if maybe having ALL the people in your house ALL the time is making it even harder to find some time alone. I have only two young penis people in my house, and trying to Netflix and chill with myself is COMPLICATED at best. Know what I’m sayin’? You KNOW you know what I’m saying.

Let me set the scene. First, I feel I must preface this by saying that I’m all about decent porn. Actually, I have almost zero standards. It doesn’t even have to be remotely decent. Just on is ok with me. I know I may very well be betraying my gender by ADMITTING that.. but fuck it. I’m half a dude anyway, might as well embrace that shit. To be honest, I actually enjoy it MORE when I’m alone. I don’t need someone yammering in my ear like “Oh, that looks fun”. Da fuck outta here!

So, there’s me, lights are low, I’m half ass in the mood (how are you only HALF ASS in the mood for YOURSELF?!?!?)

“MOM!!!!!”

Jesus, WHAT the FUCK are THEY STILL DOING UP????

**DISCLAIMER** I realize I should probably not use the word Jesus and fuck in the same sentence. I should also probably not use the word Jesus in a post that is also about porn. Whatever, if you know me, you should already know that you shouldn’t set the bar too high or you will be super disappointed like a mother fucker.

So once I was able to figure out who was bugging whom and get them to just go the fuck to sleep and give me some peace… the moment had passed. Its seems that even with MYSELF, that window of opportunity can open and then abruptly close at will. Pathetic… maybe a little. But the good news is… I’m not going anywhere so there will be lots of opportunity to try again later.

But for those of us on lockdown… OOOOPSY! I mean for those of us practicing responsible social distancing, while sheltering in place and trying our best to be respectful that a pandemic can fucking KILL you, you have to wonder how much this is putting quite the wrench in our sexy time plans. There’s a running joke that after this pandemic, in about, say nine months, there will be a shit ton of babies popping out into this world. But I digress. I suspect that maybe there WILL NOT be a buncha babies born of lust (and boredom). Because honestly, with all the excessive peopling that seems to be going on in so many homes, who can possibly find a quiet space to get it in?

I’d love to hear from you…. how is YOUR pandemic going? Care to share your experience? How are YOU making time for some serious booty duty? Feel free to drop a comment below.

Cuddle Alert

Here in Michigan, our local weather forecaster likes to announce “Cuddle Alerts” on cold and windy nights.  My teenager HATES them… because he knows that I will use it as an excuse to demand a minimal amount of cuddling to take place.  He hears “Cuddle Alert”, looks at me in horror, and then promptly runs screaming in the opposite direction.  But more about that in a minute….

 

When you find yourself knocked up, I’m pretty certain that no one fully prepares you for the moments in mommy-hood that will involve snuggling.  It is something you will be doing for the rest of your mom-ming life.  From the very moment that your wee one is placed on your chest.. you will be positively HOOKED on the snuggles.  There is no other form of euphoria that can compare to tiny little baby snuggles.  Cuddles are the momma version of CRACK!

 

I have two cousins, one a brand new momma and one who is a tad bit more entrenched in her mom-ness.  My cousin L had her precious not-penis person, baby R, just a few shorts months ago and I LOVE LOVE LOVE seeing pics of all the baby snuggling going on. It makes me very nostalgic. It makes my uterus LITERALLY have full on fucking conversations with me.  Shhhhh… uterus.  They are NOT always gonna be cute little shits who smell nice and cry softly.  They grow and they start to smell weird and they become louder by the nano second.  So pipe down and just enjoy the view from over…. here!  M’kay THANKS!

 

My other cousin, K, has this little ball of energetic penis person named L.  L is 15 months old and ready to GO! GO! GO!  Lil dude most decidely has NO TIME to stop for the snuggles and his mom, K is starting to cope with that idea.  K just posted the other day on social media that she knows he’s getting older and that these moments will grow fewer and fewer.  Myself and some of her friends tried our best to reassure her that boys LOVE their mommas like no other and that, while the cuddle time will often LOOK different than it did when he was just a wee one, it will be there.

 

While I’m by no means an expert in this momma-hood, I do have a few years (MORE than a few, to be honest) of experience.  Snuggle time will change so much from one year to the next.  My 10 year old penis person, my “baby”, is still ALLLL about the snuggle time. So much so that he will ask for it by name.  Often, snuggle time for him is mostly just him laying all over me.  Gone are the days of him snuggled up on my shoulder or in the crook of my arm.  But these snuggles fit us better at this stage.  He’s still just starting to test his wings of independence as a double-digit kid and he’s also comfortable knowing momma snuggles are still there on both the REALLY tough days AND the REALLY great days.

 

My 15 year old penis person….. well that’s a different story.  He’s on the precipice  of running head first into manhood and sometimes needs to be reminded that I’m his mom and I still need him to let me snuggle him sometimes.  Every so often, he’ll have a MOMENT.  I’m not sure what causes them because if I did, I’d find a way to duplicate it times one thousand.  In these moments, he’ll plop down next to me, with that PLOP that ONLY a teenager can pull off adequately, and he’ll lean against my shoulder.  Sometimes, he’ll even let me toss my arm over his shoulder if I do it casually, so as not to scare him away.  That’s his snuggle now.  And I’m ok with that.  Its all about taking these changes and embracing them to make them our own.

 

 

The point is, these little people that we’re given, we want them to grow and change.  We work hard to make them the very best people that they can be.  And part of that, the part that no one really tells you about, is that in raising them into amazing and strong people, you will ALSO have to learn to give them room to grow AWAY from you.  Its a delicate balance that most moms both work towards and fear.  But at the end of the day, if you’ve done that amazing job well, you will have yourself some equally amazing children who will toss you a complimentary snuggle from time to time…. simply because they love you so much.

Ahhhhh… its been a long while since I’ve had the chance to sit down and write this blog. So many changes…. so much heartache.  Blogging became overwhelming because I was so hurt and angry and it seeped into every word I wrote.  Even I was sick of listening to me complain all….. the…. time.

 

So I took a really long hiatus.  It was much needed and helpful.  To be certain, I’ve missed this, blogging.  I’d encounter something funny or irritating in life and think “now THAT would make a great fucking blog”.  And for awhile, I did keep those ideas tucked away in a neat and tidy little folder for “someday when I’d get my blog back up and writing”.  Then I started to worry that day might never come.

 

My first blog in awhile, here, today…. is a formal goodbye to my old self and to the Dick.  Because these days, my life is more about moving forward in the right direction and not for one second looking back.

 

Its been a tough few years….. and traumatically tough this last year.  I was thrilled to bid 2019 a not-so-fond farewell (two middle fingers in the air) and happily looked forward to an amazing 2020. There was shit to be done and so much promise for an amazing life on the horizon.  Then… a mother fucking pandemic hit and the WORLD is on what feels like a never-ending lockdown.  I’m left thinking maybe 2020 can suck my dick too.

 

But back to the part that I left behind to get me here now.  I buried J.  Not ACTUALLY, but in my brain, he’s gone.  I’d like to say it was very sudden and painless.  But it wasn’t.  It was long and drawn out and it hurt like HELL.  The Dick, that guy who was my ride or die for a really large chunk of my life.  We were on a collision course, going full speed  and we were most CERTAINLY going to crash and burn. I tried… I’d like to think he MAYBE tried.  But we were broken, quite possibly beyond repair. And then… pure, traumatic hell rocked those tiny sliver of the pieces of what was left of our world.  And instead of standing there, shoulder to shoulder with me… with his sons….  He completely disconnected himself from us and left us to navigate that trauma alone. We instead relied HEAVILY on the kindness of actual strangers and my close circle of friends.  And unfortunately, I’ve been left unable to forgive him that… EVER.   Its like he’s died and what’s been left to haunt me is Babydaddy.  And he is not someone I like, let alone could ever consider trying to love.  And so here we are… two people, quite literally quarantined together, tethered by nothing more than our children….. and the aforementioned fucking pandemic. Working REALLY hard to not kill one another.  Smiling through gritted teeth.

 

The penis people and I are in intense therapy.  They, mostly for this trauma that occurred but its been helpful in providing them with the coping skills they will need with the imminent end to our normal, regular family life on the horizon.  And me… to learn to start to heal that past trauma.  To finally cope with that pain and the many attempts to end my own life.  To learn to be a stronger, more capable me that will SURVIVE THIS and make an AMAZING fucking life for me and the penis people.  And part of that process will eventually mourn the loss of J.  I’m not there yet.  I’ve not quite conquered rage and anger.  But I know that grief is coming.  There will be no hiding from it, my therapist has assured me.

 

And so, with this blog, I will begin that process of stronger and more capable.  I fearlessly take back up the tools that helped me be happy once and I will make them my own once more.  I will be fucking FEARLESS and know that this is a piece of me I once abandoned and know that I can’t do that any longer.  This was always something that I did, just for me and I let that go for him, because of him.  But I’m back, bitches.

RIP to the girl I used to be.  RIP to J.

Due Diligence

Recently, I found myself the lucky recipient of what I can only assume was an accidental insult. The offender was all sorts of appropriate remorse and horrified by her inaccurate assumption.  I’m never usually offended by someone’s inaccurate assumptions about me. And I suppose out of all the inaccurate assumptions that stand to be made…. Knocked up is a fairly minor one. But it still kinda stung no matter how absolutely apologetic she was. Yep…. SHE! And a SHE should know better than HE that this question was not only inappropriate but also, quite frankly, rude.

Therefore, I feel compelled to offer the following (stupid simple) advice. Never….. Ever…. Ask a woman you don’t know really well when she’s due. DUE…. as in you assume she is expecting.  Clearly….. You have a 50/50 chance at being absolutely wrong. I know that this statement seems worthy of the regular common sense category. But according to what I’ve discovered on my Facebook page when I posted about it…… This seems to happen more often than not.

You know I’m seldom rendered speechless….. It’s just not coded into my DNA.  But my temporary mute moment allowed me an opportunity to ponder when it became OK to ask such intensely personal questions. Whack me with the stupid stick but I just assume that if someone is on the fluffy side and hasn’t expressed their joy of impending parenthood, there’s a pretty good chance they’re JUST PLEASANTLY FLUFFY and I should not be a dick and fuck up their PLEASANTLY FLUFFY mojo.

While I don’t generally have issues with negative body images, to know that you very much resemble a person growing another human….. All while YOUR “baby” just recently graduated preschool and is now kindergarten bound….. Sort of pissed me off. I mean…. Not enough for me to actually contemplate a diet or some such nonsense…. But pissed off none the less. I really wasn’t in the mood for the verbal drive-by.

While I’ve ALWAYS EMBRACED both my inner AND outer fat girl…. I seldom spend this much time contemplating my weight. Are my clothes often a wee bit snug….. SURE.  Do I sometimes start mulling over my thoughts about my lunch options WHILE EATING BREAKFAST…. Definitely. Do I sometimes eat my feelings….. For fucking certain.  And I’m OK with all of that.

Truly….. I think I was far more concerned pissed that I hadn’t had a killer comeback waiting in the wings of my evil brain at precisely the right moment. Seriously….. I might be losing my touch. Now THAT’S troubling.

Lucky for me….. My awesome friends are ALWAYS prepared to provide back up snark for the next time….. And I know there WILL be a next time because people suck and I really like food.

Several posted several variations of equal parts bitch and snark….while (let’s pretend) gently reminding them they ain’t so thin themselves. Some suggested using humor to diffuse the situation by noting that my kids live on the outside of my body now.  Loved the “yep….. I’m expecting…. An APOLOGY.” But that might be a little too passive for me in my general state of I don’t give a fuck.

But I think my favorite was from my Aussie friend Rach..who provided just the right balance of deranged lunacy and facetious retort….. who suggested fessing up to carrying triplets…. Then whispering “would you like to buy one”. Thanks Rach…. now I’m prepared.

Happy holidays from Life with Penis People!

While all of us are in the midst of the holiday madness, I thought I would supply a few simple steps that you can take to simplify your holiday experience.  Some things will work for everyone…some will work for no one but my evil ass.  Feel free to tailor them as needed for yourself.

  • Holiday Christmas Cards – First and foremost, stop sending them to motherfuckers that don’t send YOU one.  Think of all the hassle and postage you will save just with this simple step alone.  Unless the person you don’t receive one from is your elderly Grandmother.  You GOTTA send that bitch one whether you receive one or not.  But just look at it as an investment…into the inheritance you might receive one day.
  • Shop on-line – While I would normally say do ALL of your shopping on-line, I was recently involved in that huge Kmart debacle (read the full story here http://dailysavings.allyou.com/2014/12/17/kmart-layaway/), so I would suggest doing MOST of it online and NOT using Kmart layaway because Kmart can officially suck my pretend penis for all the hassle and stress they caused me.  Shopping on-line has its definite advantages.  You can stay home in your filthy pjs and messy hair, happily looking like a hobo, and no one is the wiser.  Plus, its saves you from having to deal with cranky bitches at the stores……and maybe even the bail money you would need when you pummel the cranky bitches.  Win-win-win!
  • Gift cards – If you MUST venture out into the stores and find yourself clueless about what to buy Uncle Touchy Feely, simply get a gift card and let him figure that shit out for himself.  Plus…..no one gives out extra creepy hugs for a fucking gift card.  This stellar plan of action works especially well for people you don’t really like enough to put thought into a gift for, but you are obligated to at least care A LITTLE.  The Gift Card convey EXACTLY that sentiment.
  • Teacher gifts – DO NOT MAKE teacher gifts.  I know Pinterest is REALLY quite popular right now and you can find about a BILLION things to make that seem SO EASY.  Forget it!  By the time you estimate the cost of materials and the amount of hassle that will inevitably ensue, you could’ve bought the bitch a nice bottle wine while you were picking up some for yourself.  Side note – Teacher friends tell me that Teachers HATE homemade gifts…..especially food related home-made gifts (think cookies, fudge, etc).  How do they know you don’t pick your nose…..or your ass.  They cannot blindly trust the cleanliness standards in any given home.  And trust me, after dealing with your kids, hopped up on excitement about the holidays and high on sugar from the class party, a nice chilled bottle of wine will let her know you understand her pain and appreciate her immensely.
  • The Holiday Menu – You know how EVERY family has that one fucking overachiever who wants to do EVERYTHING?!?!?!  For God’s sake….LET THEM!  Nothing makes them happier than to be in charge of everything…..and you can relax with that bottle of wine that you’ve previously purchased.  How can this go wrong??? Bonus points if they can cook moderately well.  If they cannot, just blame them for the food poisoning.
  • Over extending yourself for parties and gatherings – Sometimes, you just HAVE to say NO.  During this time of year, when holiday parties abound and everyone wants you to come to theirs, you MUST perfect the art of a pre-determined excuse. I’m graciously going to provide you one….. Just tell every single invite that you are feeding the homeless that day (doesn’t matter what day…..you can feed the homeless any day of the week).  No one can argue with such a noble thing.  And you get extra-attah boys for being so fucking good and kind.  Then park yourself in your previously mentioned filthy pjs and watch A Christmas Story (worry not, I promise you it WILL be on SOMEWHERE).  Just a friendly reminder…..stay the FUCK off Facebook if you’ve skipped a party to feed the homeless…..because you are far too busy to post and could effectively blow your own lazy ass cover if you’re not careful.
  • Being sober – Being sober is the number one reason that people find themselves stressed out during the holiday.  Holidays, and the annoying family that accompanies them, are not meant to be attempted sober.  There is a reason that liquor sales dramatically spike in December.  Take advantage of all the sales and specials on liquor right now.  Stock up…..Drink up!  You’ll be far more jolly and far less likely to stress about shit if you are slightly inebriated.

Hope that you find these tips helpful as you trudge through the final days of this holiday season.

Happy Holidays from the Dick, the penis people and myself!

Oh Christmas Tree

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** DISCLAIMER ** There are going to be a shit ton of grammatical errors in this post. I’m just being kind and preparing you for it.  The computer is positively fucked….. the Penis people’s tablets are only half ass working…. I’m typing this on my phone.  Do you have any idea what a pain in the absolute ASS typing a blog on your phone is? 

Recently,  my friend Joanna posted a photo of her holiday tree. As a momma of two wee penis people of her own,  she marveled at the notion that her tree was really no longer hers….. it belonged to her penis people, decorated entirely by their wonderful little imaginations. Complete with race car track beneath and even a giant hand written letter perched carefully on the tree branches, kindly warning Santa to beware of their killer dog (a small adorable pup that could literally fit in the palm of my hand).

I took a moment to reminisce about the trees of my Christmases past.  Those days before kids,  when the a Dick and I would carefully decorate the tree.  Color coordinating bulbs and ribbons. A new and different theme each holiday.

How positively BORING!

There was nary a hand made ornament….. not a single cluster of bulbs grouped together haphazardly.  Not a single paper chain or popsicle stick sled or clothes pin Rudolph. 

And somehow, thinking back on those trees decorated “just so”…..I can’t help but think how much better my trees and decorations are now.  There is so much life in each decoration.  So many memories.  And while those “before penis people” trees were most certainly pretty,  they weren’t NEARLY as magical as my “after penis people” trees.

Those trees….. spanning all those years….. are a lot like life. The “then” and the “now”.

I’m sure that Joanna and every other momma I know would agree… THEN was wonderful….. quiet and cozy and organized and coordinated. NOW is loud and chaotic and disorderly….. but NOW is wonderful too. In a very different, BETTER wonderful  kind of way.

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** DISCLAIMER ** There are going to be a shit ton of grammatical errors in this post. I’m just being kind and preparing you for it.  The computer is positively fucked….. the Penis people’s tablets are only half ass working…. I’m typing this on my phone.  Do you have any idea what a pain in the absolute ASS typing a blog on your phone is? 

Recently,  my friend Joanna posted a photo of her holiday tree. As a momma of two wee penis people of her own,  she marveled at the notion that her tree was really no longer hers….. it belonged to her penis people, decorated entirely by their wonderful little imaginations. Complete with race car track beneath and even a giant hand written letter perched carefully on the tree branches, kindly warning Santa to beware of their killer dog (a small adorable pup that could literally fit in the palm of my hand).

I took a moment to reminisce about the trees of my Christmases past.  Those days before kids,  when the a Dick and I would carefully decorate the tree.  Color coordinating bulbs and ribbons. A new and different theme each holiday.

How positively BORING!

There was nary a hand made ornament….. not a single cluster of bulbs grouped together haphazardly.  Not a single paper chain or popsicle stick sled or clothes pin Rudolph. 

And somehow, thinking back on those trees decorated “just so”…..I can’t help but think how much better my trees and decorations are now.  There is so much life in each decoration.  So many memories.  And while those “before penis people” trees were most certainly pretty,  they weren’t NEARLY as magical as my “after penis people” trees.

Those trees….. spanning all those years….. are a lot like life. The “then” and the “now”.

I’m sure that Joanna and every other momma I know would agree… THEN was wonderful….. quiet and cozy and organized and coordinated. NOW is loud and chaotic and disorderly….. but NOW is wonderful too. In a very different, BETTER wonderful  kind of way.