Reason #4356677 I dislike Legos.

I can’t make this stuff up. I swear!

This week, I recall the gold star moment of me fixing the dishwasher.

Our dishwasher, only a couple years old, started acting up. It kept throwing a draining error and not working. I, being the Handy Manny I am, took the dishwasher out, unplugged drain hose and investigated. Keep in mind, power tools and such skills are not in my wheelhouse…. just as I was about to reconnect and try again, I just happened to lift a little flap up that goes into the drain pump. The problem was solved. A Lego tire was lodged.

A damn Lego tire.


Tell me, how does a Lego tire get in the dishwasher? Not only in the Dishwasher, but all through the drain hose, and then stuck? Who was eating with Legos? Only a Mom of boys would and could sympathize, but probably not shocked. I was almost ready to trash the damn Dishwasher and buy a new one….Almost.

Old Socks = Swiffer Pad!


I’m all about saving money. My dad tells me I “squeak” when I walk because he thinks I am cheap. LOL.  None the less, I am always looking for a way to make things last longer, or get what I need cheaper.

One thing I HATE spending money on is cleaning supplies, but YOU NEED THEM. I mean, I don’t know what you do to clean the scuzzies off your toilet, or wash your clothes in, but I like clean and I like cheap. One thing I use A LOT of, is Swiffer Pads. I have hardwood floors and tile in the majority of my house, and I use these babies like hot cakes. They aren’t cheap either!

I found a nice little trick, that actually saved my sanity in the laundry room too! All my mis-mated socks that seem to NEVER find the other mate now have a purpose! I re-purposed them to be Swiffer pads! Easy peasy, and FREE! I just use my normal floor cleaner, slide on a sock, and I am good to go! When I am done, I just throw them in wash to use again!



The life of young boys. Warning. Things get graphic.

My son, whom LOVES building, taking apart, re-assembling, and creating things about gave me a heart attack.

This story starts with a nice fall afternoon…my BFF, Chanda, and myself were sitting on her front porch drinking a glass of wine, taking a break from moving her into a new house. My boys, Owen and Kaden, were playing with trucks and cars on the front porch with us. Owen LOVES the idea of anything that can hook up as a trailer and tow things. His brain is always looking for new ways to make things connect and build new things.

I was totally engulfed in this glass of wine (Villa M for those wondering), and telling Chanda all the latest gossip or life events, when she jumped up and yelled “Oh My God!” Naturally, I looked to my youngest, Kaden. He’s the crazy one. He’s the daredevil, the no fear, the try anything kid, the life of the party. I looked at him, and then looked at Chanda…”What? He is fine?”…Wondering what the fuss was about.

“No, its Owen” she yelled.

Holy batshit. Owen. Drill. Blood.


Yep. That happened.

Owen, looking for a way for a toy trailer to hook onto his toy pick up truck. In the matter of about 10 seconds, he picked up the drill we had been using, attempted to drill a hole in the bed of his truck, and instead took a finger.. We literally jumped up, picked Owen up in one sweep and got right in my car, drill attached and drove to the ER.

And the call to Kyle? Yeah….”I promise I was paying attention, but your kid just drilled through his finger”. I am pretty sure it went something like that.

I’m pretty proud of Owen, for a 7 year old at the time, he took this remarkably well. I don’t recall him freaking out, he was more worried about the shot he was gonna possibly get to get the drill bit out of his finger.


Doctor showed up, and removed drill bit. THIS KID IS BEYOND LUCKY! Not ONE single nerve, tendon, or bone was damaged! It literally made a clean cut right above his knuckle.

I promise I was parenting, but things happen. I’m not ashamed to admit that. We all aren’t perfect, but he had a hell of a show and tell for school that week.

Baby, Oh Baby 3? Naaaaa!


It took a hot minute. Literally, a hot minute sitting on our back porch in the middle of the summer to realize Baby #3 would never happen. It took a hot minute of watching our kids playing outside in the July heat that there was no way in hell we were starting over.

The next day I made a phone call to permanently stop the baby factory production for my husband.

Why does 3 seem so scary? Sure, I know TONS of people that have 3, 4, and yes, even FIVE children! They seem to still be sane, at least in public, and none of their children look like they just stepped off the banana boat from Africa malnourished and no shoes…but still, what is life really like when you’re outnumbered? I just think of all the scenarios in my head that never come out well when the parents are out numbered. Except one; when I am old and need help, there’s several benefits to having multiple slaves-I mean children, running around.

Don’t get me wrong, I do not think parents of three plus children are stupid or crazy…but maybe brave, but I feel like our society is built for a family of 4. Think about it….Most tables at a restaurant are set up for 4, cars and trucks comfortably seat 4. If you have more than 2 children, you are pretty much upgraded to mini-van status or gas hogging SUV. Bunk beds-Enough said. We recently took a cruise last summer and the majority of cabins on the ship accommodated 4 people…where the heck would have our 3rd child slept? Another room? Another EXPENSIVE room?

Do we even start with the thought of going to Disney and being outnumbered? I have 2 hands, and there are 2 adults. We can handle 2 children.

The other major idea of having another baby is money. You’d always adjust to that extra life, but is it an adjustment we wanted to take? We are comfortable with our life, and I don’t want to strain or add extra if not needed. Could we give 3 children the same life we can give 2? All these questions arise…I mean, heck…My dad comes from a family of 7! SEVEN!! My grandma is forever my hero.

To all those families that are a party of 5+… I salute you. I’ll never join you, but I’ll cheer you along and listen to your crazy stories on girls night out. With margaritas.

How to get sh*t done when you’re stressed to the max!


We’ve all been there. It happens at the grocery store when your toddle won’t just sit in the cart and play the iPad. It happens on a road trip when your husband doesn’t have a clue where he is going and the map isn’t an option. It happens at home when the house is a disaster and your in-laws will be over in an hour. Sh*t happens.

I have 5 great tips to help you soothe your soul and get sh*t done!


One of the biggest causes of stressing out or chaos, is being UNORGANIZED! If you don’t know where to start, where to end, or what to do, you’re already stressed out. Keep things organized, simple, sorted, and planned. You’ll feel more in control and less chaotic.

Perfection isn’t always the best route!

Sometimes it is EASY to get stressed out over being perfect, or making sure something is done a certain way. For example, letting my kids unload the dishwasher…yet I know they won’t put everything EXACTLY where it should go. Is that ok? You have to decide if you need the task done, or need it done perfectly. I’ve learned to let the small things go and chase the bigger picture.

Make a list and check it!

Part of being organized is making a list. If at the end of the day you feel completely drained and that you got nothing accomplished, go look at your list. Did you check off items? Did you get done what you listed out to do? If so, there is gratification and a way to alleviate some stress over knowing you got the job done.

Take a breather!

It is OK…stop and breathe. Take a few minutes to yourself and reevaluate. If you’re in a rush, a few minutes of planning, breathing, or quiet thinking can save yourself a lot of headache down the road. It is COMPLETELY OK to stop and check what has been done and what needs to be done.


If all else fails, this is my go to. Cheers!

The Browns

There are few things now as a mom, that either excite me, terrify me, surprise me, or flat our disgust me. I mean… I have been vomited on, touched blood, seen wild animals skinned, and witnessed my husband take one for the team and get a vasectomy. So there are few things in life that shock me anymore.

One of those items on my very short list, just happened to come to life a few days ago.

Let’s set the stage. I am sitting at our dining room table, enjoying quiet time with a tall glass of wine (maybe the whole bottle), a puzzle, and our patio door open with a soft breeze. My 6 year old, Kaden was taking a bath, and so like any mom, was cherishing the moment of peace while I could.

All of a sudden, I hear, “Mom!”. At first, I ignore it, because frankly, this kid will want me for anything, including helping him pick out his underwear, or making sure his favorite stuffed animal is tucked in. The “MOM!” continued. So I naturally yell back, “What?”… His response? “Come here, I need your help”.


I try to con my husband into tag teaming this one, but his recliner was superglued to his behind. So off I went. Upon entering the bathroom, the image, still engraved in my head, was complete shock. My 6 year old took a shit. Let me repeat. My 6 year old dropped the browns off…in the bathtub! That’s right folks, the big brown logs were floating in the bath with my son, and it was NOT logging season.

The inner woman wanted to scream “WTF”…but of course, I had to PG it for my kid. So, I kindly asked WTF in the best language a 6 year old would understand. His response is that it just came out so fast, there was no getting to the toilet.

Fantastic. Just fantastic. So how am I getting this out of the tub? A slotted spoon!

It was then wash, rinse, and repeat time for Kaden.

This was just one of those parenting moments that I will never forget. This will forever be in the back of my mind…and I am sure it  will come up  at a perfect moment. The first time I meet his wife, graduation. Or both.