Dear Chatty Cathy,

                   I get it. You want to relax. I see you have a friend there on the bench with you. Playdate, huh? It sure is a great day to be at the park. I’m sure you are catching up, aren’t ya? It’s great to have friends. We moms definitely need our friend time. You are so engrossed in conversation that you feel like a person again, because you’ve done nothing but play with kids since like…forever. I get it. But guess what? We have a wee bit of a problem here…your son is a dick and will most likely grow up to be a serial killer.

Did that sound mean? Well shit. I’m sorry. But it got your attention didn’t it? I’m glad it did, because the fact that your older and larger son just hit my toddler in the face and threw mulch in his eyes sure didn’t. So this here is where the problem lies, I want your kid to quit hurting mine. Is that too much to ask?

I’m sure you are exhausted. That little dandy of a child probably leaves you no down time. Guess what? I totally understand. He’s sure cute. But he’s mean as fuck. No no…I know how much you love him. I respect that and I’m sure he’s just having a bad day. All kids hit at some point, right? In fact, this is my youngest and I have two older boys. So m’lady…I know they can act like little psychopaths, especially in public. I’m sure that he is so sweet when you are at home alone and he gets all cuddly and says all kinds of cute shit. I know you probably dress him up in outfits and post pictures of him for all of your friends to “like” on Facebook. I’m also sure that while you are totally busy gabbing away, that I saw him put another kid in a choke hold and just FYI: he pushed your friend’s little girl off the slide and she’s crying. Yeah, he’s a doll. Just adorable.

Now that you know this keen information, I’d like to offer my advice. Please don’t mistake this for judgment. I am on your team. Moms have to stick together, ya know. Okay, are you ready? Here it goes:


See, I told you. I’m not judging. In fact, I’m pretty sure we could be pals. We could invite your friend and we could be a trio. The Three Amigos! We could set up play dates with the kids and go to terrible bounce-house places and we could all get the strep throat together. It’s just that before we can do that, you got to watch that kid of yours. I’m pretty sure my kid isn’t going to want to play with him. You know how I know that? Because my kid is crying and running for his life. Perhaps, if you’d, get off your ass and watch your fucking kid, then you could put a stop to his violence and my kid wouldn’t be terrified of yours. Maybe then, there’d be hope of them developing some sort of rapport, if you will.

If you aren’t interested in my offer of friendship, then no hard feelings. In that case, take this additional piece of advice. It’s okay to be socializing at the park, we all need a break. It’s okay to let our kids go play and be independent. However, glance up once in a while. If you let your kid kick everyone’s ass at the park, not only will innocent kids get hurt, but that lovey of yours isn’t going to learn how to be nice, and no one is going to want to play with him. Not much fun for the little Ted Bundy, now is it? If you have a hitter, or an aggressive child, it doesn’t mean that they will always be this way. Just get off your ass and make him be nice. Trust me, I’ve had a hitter, and it took some work, but now things are going quite swimmingly. Some kids just need a little help learning how to interact with other kids and that’s okay. That’s what you are there for. See how that works? So get up Buttercup. Don’t just do it for me and my kid. Do it for you and yours.

To All The Rockstar Moms…

Hey lady. What up? Your kids won’t sleep? That sucks. But it won’t stop you, will it? You work all day and party all night. This my friend, is because you…yes YOU…are an effing ROCK STAR!

You are serving up drinks all night (water at 1 a.m.), making booty calls (bathroom visits) and flashing your breastesses (nursing) all over the place. You are the badass that makes it rain with kisses and love and shit up in here, and let’s not forget how you’ve been known to drop a few beats. Your version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star is the stuff legends are made of. Especially how you put that bravado on the end, I mean please.

But that’s how you roll. You TCOB. Shit, you haven’t slept in months, maybe years, but that doesn’t stop you. You lay still as stiff as a board on that neglected bed with one ear open until you hear the wail on the monitor and you are up, up, on your feet for the third time in four hours. Go on with your bad self. Get that baby back to sleep so that you can get up again when the other kid needs you. You know damn good and well that you’re tired but you’re also a boss, applesauce. You know that dozing off is like breaking the seal and it’s best to just throw your hands up in the air and wave ‘em like you just don’t care. Sleep is for the weak and you…YOU. ARE. A. BEAST.

In the morning you look good enough already, so you don’t need a shower. Besides, being the VIP that you are, you have places to go and people to see. The other moms are counting on you to bring Goldfish to playgroup cuz you know how your posse gets the munchies, right? Look at you. Effing rockstar. You also have errands to run, and by errands, I mean who the hell else could get through the grocery store with a headbangin mosh pit like yours? Your kids want to party too. They want fruit snacks? Hook it up. They want Sun Chips? You got a coupon for that, so Hook. That. Shit. Up! Yeah, you take care of your entourage. You got their backs. You even have wet wipes in case someone gets too turnt. (I’m not exactly sure what that means)

The most amazing thing of all, is that you can put groceries away, make it to whatever practices or activities your kids have (fashionably late of course), have a kick-ass Lego party and get dinner on the table with NO sleep. What’s up now?! I said what’s up now?! That’s what I thought. Hells yeah. Once you clean that shit up, give baths and put the kids to bed, you’re so tired that you can’t see straight and feel like you’ve chugged a RedBull laced with Roofies. That my friend, is called adrenaline. That’s what’s running through your veins. That’s your fuel and that’s what’s gonna get you through another night of partying. So raise your glasses.

To all the mommies in the house come on, let me hear ya say, “Aww yeah”

“Aww yeah”

To all the daddies in the house come on, let me hear ya say, “My Wife Rocks”

……What? Where’s Daddy? Wait, he’s sleeping? Oh. Okay. That figures. Wake his ass up! Invite him to the party. The more the merrier. No I’m serious. It’s HIS effing turn. Get him up and you just lay down and get some sleep. I know. I know. But seriously girl, you gotta get some rest. I said, go to sleep. Shit. Quit arguing and go the hell to sleep. Give baby daddy the monitor and shut your eyes. I’m not messing around. You’ve been doing too much partying. Now Goodnight! I said Good NIGHT!

Rockstar primadonna mamas…think they know everything….

If you like this, then hit the like button. Thank ya kindly.

The Vada Diaries (Short Stories and Confessions of a Crazy Mother) is FREE Aug12th-15th on Amazon Kindle! Click here on this big giant book, because I can’t figure out how to make it smaller. Oh my that’s big!