Tag Archives: crazy

10 Great Things to Remember About 2013

With the dawning of 2014, we realize once again just how quickly time flies when you are riding the jet plane of fun known as parenthood. Looking in the rear view mirror, we are gratified that much of it was more than good, it was great. But lest we forget, we are recording for Auld Lang Syne:

1. We Partied Like Rock Stars

Well, that might be overstating it a bit, but we did have a darn good time every time we got together. Whether we were climbing mountains, kayaking down rivers, or squiring our girls to the theater, we really did know how to get our fun on. And we can throw a party like nobody’s business. But, we just miiiiiight be over baby showers at this point. Don’t hold it against us.

Taste Testers

But it wasn’t all fun and games. . .

2. We Gained Some Perspective

Blogging really does encourage us to slow down and appreciate our kids, ourselves, and our friends. Whether we were learning from the mouths of babes after a neighborhood fire, watching teens helping a friend with autism, or realizing that this whole Mom gig works much better when you rustle up a posse, we expanded our points of view. This helped us greatly come to grips with some of the thornier aspects of our lives.

3. We Called a Truce

We have a love/hate relationship with kids’ sports. We love the exercise and discipline, but we kinda hate the driving and the sideline politics. A fresh outlook gave us just the attitude adjustment needed to bury the hatchet with organized sports after some small travel team fiascoes. We were able to focus on all the positive things sports bring into our lives.

That's right, baby! A healthy diet of soccer's gonna make you a star!

Penalty! Illegal use of hands . . . and gums.

4. We Were Published!

We were so excited to be a part of the anthology, You Have Lipstick on Your Teeth. We got the thrill of seeing our names in print–in a for real book–and scored the cyber honor of our own Amazon authors’ pages. Here is Ellen’s and here is Erin’s. But what really made our hearts happy was meeting many of our co-authors and even going to our very first book signing! And then there was a second book signing! With cupcakes.

Beware the penguin. Respect The Sisterhood.

5. We Were a BlogHer Humor Voice of the Year!

We were beyond stoked when were chosen as a BlogHer Humor Voice of the Year for The Sensible Sisterhood Summer Camp. We just felt acknowledged. We even made a video so everyone could recognize us. (Good thing we had name tags.)

Imagine our level of metaphorical apoplexy when we ended up within teacup toasting distance with the Queen . . . Queen Latifah, that is. Our takeaway from the conference? Bloggers need to stop giving the blog juice away for free.

6. We skirmished in the Mommy Wars–Sort of

Judging women’s adequate appreciation of motherhood is a plague upon the internet. But instead of choosing sides, we picked humor because, well, to quote our own piece: “Kids can be narcissistic Napoleonic assholes.” We might not have been as playful when Ellen took a writer and mother to task for “pinkwashing” Harry Potter. Let’s all just be sensible, m’kay?

7. We Read A Ton!

Almost nothing brings us as much joy as a good book. Our families, Cheez-its, and Sour Patch Kids are pretty great too, but books, well, we girls have no words. Who are we kidding? We’re nothing if not verbose and here are all of the book lists we made to prove it:

5 Books We are Thankful For

5 Books For the Carpool Line

Better Books for the Botttom of Your Beach Bag

Mo’ Better Books for the Bottom of Your Beach Bag

10 Books for Your Teens and Tweens Summer Reading List

More Summer Books for your Tweens

Books by Our Blogger Friends

10 Books for Your Summer Reading List

8. We Discovered Blogging is Better by the Pool

This was the year Ellen’s family put in a pool. They saved and they planned ahead and it should have been been completed by the beginning of May. Should have been. Mother Nature didn’t understand that we wanted our water fun with a side of sun, NOT in the form of endless rain. (Are you now singing Purple Rain in your head? No? You are now.)

Track the progress from us trying to pass off the excavation as a “fun summer camp activity” to the “Ghetto Chic Stage” it was forever stuck in, to the big reveal. It even served as our blogging office. Bring a cooler full of drinks and food and Ellen might even unlock the gate for you.

9. We Sent Up a Flare For the Teen Years

By February, we will have five teenagers between the two of us. Before you start passing around a collection plate to pay for our Sour Patch Kids and chocolate therapy, listen to this: it’s not so bad on this side of the border. Sure, teens can remind you an awful lot of their tyrant two year old selves (it’s amazing how much they are alike). But they can also be sweet and funny and generous when they let their true spirits seep out from under the cloud of Axe and angst they tote around. And yes, the teen years can be scary, but we believe firmly that duct tape, kisses, and prayers really do help.

10. We Got By With a Little Help From Our Friends

We had fantastic fun imagining how great our lives would be if we could just rent a Sister Wife. Actually that is not entirely true because we know the joys of Sisterly help. Don’t go signing us up for a reality show (unless of course, you have actual connections because we have some ideas for you). We’re talking about the all mom/all kid Big Love Camping Trip we take every year with our three other friends. No really, it’s fun.

Our Sisterhood is what it’s all about.

We also doled out some helpful advice. We don’t do this from a pedestal of judgment, but rather from the trenches in the spirit of “We Step in the Doo So You Don’t Have To.” We gave helicopter parents, hand-wringing parents of adolescents , and perfect toddler parents a nudge to the ribs because we believe we’re all in this parenting thing together and we all can learn and lean on one another.

But one of our greatest joys was meeting the friends inside of our computer. Lines were blurred and blogging friends became real life friends. True friends, no matter where they live, make life more rich and joyous.

Here’s to another great year full of friendship, love, and good enough parenting!

(Ellen promises not to toast you with this monstrosity.)

Terrifying Ghost of New Year’s Eve Past

-Ellen and Erin

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Christmas Pintershizz: The Final Countdown

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Sing it with us! “It’s the most wonderful time of the year . . .” Hmmm, let’s not. How about we up the reality on this bad boy season and all download The Final Countdown?

Ellen: Is it crazy that I’m stewing in jealousy because my Jewish friends checked off their holidays in one epic swoop this year: Thanksgivukah? Sure it was a swirling dervish of exhausting festiveness at the time, but now they are done: D-O-N-E done.

Erin: Your spirit must be crushed to be envious of two holidays smashed together. Pushed up against the Shutterfly deadline again?

Ellen: Is it that obvious? I thought squeaking in under their free shipping cutoff was going to be the end of me . . . AGAIN.

Erin: We always poo poo pissin’ contests, BUT I have you beat. I am fighting the machine of the ACTUAL Shutterfly deadline. Like no-money-in-the-world-can-get-you-your-book if you miss this deadline.

Ellen: And the last day to order on most other sites is drawing near. I always feel carefree about shopping when the internet is my safety net . . .

Erin: Until BAM! That safety net is ripped away like Santa scratching your name off of the Nice List.

Ellen: Amazon Prime has lessened my stress considerably, but really, I think it may have exacerbated my procrastinating tendencies. You can’t wrap what you don’t have. I’m predicting my traditional Christmas Eve date with Scotch Tape and Pinot Noir in the unfinished side of my basement will be a “go” again this year.

Erin: I hate to burst your miniscule bubble of holiday cheer, but in a couple of days even Amazon Prime won’t be able to save you because there is no “Bend the Time Space Continuum” shipping option. You’ll have to resort to going into actual stores if you don’t pull yourself together.

Ellen: I feel myself shutting down. So what better way to cope than to avoid my Christmas list altogether and just make fun of stuff on Pinterest?

Erin: I’ll jump on your Procrastination Train! Its Caboose of Denial looks comfy. The stewards to stroke my hair and make shushing noises is a nice touch. Besides, I’m counting on elves this year to save me.

Ten Things Pintershit That Better Not Be Under Our Trees

Erin’s List

1. Godfather Gone Wrong

I love the classic movie “The Godfather”, but this pillowcase is taking fandom a bit too far and a little over the top. Fake gore on your pillow just seems so wrong. Plus it would be hard to explain to the six year old.

2. Handbag From Hades

I like a great bag as much as the next girl, but this one is only appropriate for your next party down by the River Styx. I feel like I would need to pack some extra biscuits in it for Cerberus, but it hardly seems big enough for the reed pipe I’d need to lull him to sleep. Save this little beauty for another day or another girl who doesn’t know her mythology like I do. Or for someone you don’t like.

3. Sucker!

My 13 year old’s classmate brought these to school for a birthday treat. Look closely. That’s right—there are scorpions, real scorpions– imbedded in these bad boys. Supposedly, some of the kids LOVED them. I don’t care if they are prepackaged and gluten-free, I can’t get over that scorpions are venomous creatures. I just shuddered. I repeat, “DO NOT buy this for me.” Unless you want an Erin-sized hole in your front door as I run screaming for my life.

4. Just Because You Can Doesn’t Mean You Should

This gives new meaning to the phrase “My dogs are tired.” Why would you make shoes like this?

Ellen: I don’t know, but your octogenarian catchphrases delight me every. single. time. They’re the bee’s knees.

Erin: There is no shame in being well read . . . and I can crash a bridge game like a boss.

Ellen: I have to agree, that is a skill that could come in mighty handy, as handy as hip pockets on a hog.

Erin: Now you’re just mocking me.

5. Sweater With a Side of Surgical Mask

There’s almost nothing I love more than turtlenecks and sweaters during the cold winter months; so I would normally welcome a gift like this. There is just something clinical about the weird way you’re supposed to wear it over your face. It says, “I take my fashion with a side of Ebola virus.” This would make Christmas dinner at the family homestead awkward, especially since I would have to consume my entire meal through a straw. Ham and potato smoothie, yuuummmmm.

Ellen’s List

6. Wonky Wookie

I like Stars Wars as much as the next person, but this is a little much. Dressing like Chewbacca would just make me feel like I forgot to wax. Don’t tell me it’s for Halloween because I already have a bevy of Hallo-Awkward-Ween choices lined up for next year.

But on second thought, if I wore this, could I get away with just wookie roaring at everyone? Hmmmm . . . or rather Arrrarroowwrrerr.

By the way, special thanks to infolinks for taking my query — “How to write Chewbacca sounds?” — as seriously as I take my writing. I got THE right information for THE right decision, yo. Integrity.

7. Christmas No

Don’t think that just because this sweater embraces more of a yuletide theme that it is appropriate. Just to be clear, this does not give me the warm and fuzzies. It gives me visions of Labradors peeing on my feet. You, know, because I would be a tree.

8. Heck No

Wellllllllllll, I think there is something obviously and freudian-ly amiss with a monstrous shark emerging from a crotch. But really, I don’t care to hate on Ariel or cause little wanna-be princesses angst; let alone inflict my daughters with that much mortification. Who, aside from a Victoria Secret model, can stand that much groin gawking during a simple day at the beach? Although . . . this would be hilarious on a Disney cruise, right? Mwahahahaha.

9. The Gift That Keeps On Drowning

Now that I have a complex about sharks eating mermaids, I would just consider this gift a blatant and aggressive threat on my well-being. Can you actually imagine swimming, I mean, not drowning in this??

But it does provide a nice set-up for the gift of laughter. What do you call a muffin top squeezed up by a mermaid tail? A tuna roll! I’m here all week, folks.

10. Just Take A Baseball Bat To My Knee

My knee is always just one twitch away from needing an MRI. Disability can even stalk me while walking in a straight line on level ground. These shoes would just seal the deal in a slow and tortuous way. Who am I kidding? It would be fast and epic. Regardless, the spikes would make it hard for you to remove my shoe from your arse when I shoved it there for giving me such an awful gift.

However if you insist on giving me that shoe, you know, for my own fashion good, then you’d better gift it with this AT-AT Walker walker. This is a Star Wars gift I can get behind. But now you’re confused, you say? I just dissed Chewbacca and now I’m embracing this? It’s really very simple. You just have to be discerning . . . and read my mind.

Here’s wishing that all your shipping deadlines are soft, your cards get sent out before President’s Day, and no one dumps Pintershizz under your tree!

xoxo

Ellen and Erin

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What Newtown Has Wrought

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So we had a regularly scheduled day off on the heel of two snow days. This meant one thing and one thing only: we needed an ironclad plan to get the heck out of the house. And quick. After getting the boys haircuts that will put me back in the good graces of my mother-in-law, we hatched the grand scheme—a good ole fashioned afternoon of sledding.

And it was exactly what we needed just when we needed it. The slope we picked was the perfect balance of physical exertion and thrill-inducing fun. All seven boys launching themselves over the crest were having a blast. If we were characters in a Hallmark film, we would all have been bathed in golden light with a beautiful melody playing over the montage. It was just that kind of day.

And then it wasn’t.

As we started to think about gathering boys and sleds and soggy mittens to head on back home, a park ranger came running up the slope.

“I need you to get your kids. Now. This is an urgent situation.”

My friend and I looked at each other. Our first collective thought was “Geez, did we really just get in trouble for sledding?” We have quite a history, the two of us. It could happen.

Then the park ranger said the phrase that caught my breath and changed the whole tenor of the day:

“There is a person with a gun in the parking lot. You need to get the kids and follow me now.”

I looked over at the hill still full of seven sweet, silly boys scrambling all over it and screamed,

“Boys, run! Here. Now.”

And God bless each and every one of those stubborn, rascally, cantankerous boys, they stopped, listened, and started running towards us.

The littlest ones were tripping as they tried to drag their sleds along with them.

“Drop the sleds. Just run.”

My friend ran back up the hill to get between whatever was happening in the parking lot and the boys as they scrambled down the hill towards us. I was just trying to keep calm and keep them coming.

“Come on, boys. Hurry up. You can do it.” They all kept coming towards my voice.

When we all reached the ranger, he immediately directed us to the back of a farm shed. Wanna know what fear looks like? Seven little boys tucked in behind tractor wheels and farm equipment.

The ranger gave us more specifics as he learned them. Apparently, a young woman in the middle of a divorce had come to this lovely park on this beautiful day to end her life.

We were probably not in any danger, but he was moving us to a more secure location, a nearby farmhouse the rangers used.

The nine of us sat around the table in the farmhouse waiting for another friend to come and pick us up because we couldn’t get to our cars. The boys all took little paper cones. They overfilled them with water. They spilled them on the table. They dropped mittens and hats and jackets all around like it was their own house. They were just boys. And they talked about what had just happened.

The whole incident was maybe half an hour. It’s hard to gauge time when your heart is beating that fast and your mind is clicking through a reel of scary could-have-beens. In any case, we were safely back at our other friend’s house in a short time. All 9 of us eating her snacks, playing her games, and taking over her afternoon as we waited for word from the rangers that we could go back to the park and pick up our cars.

On our return, the rangers met us in the parking lot with all of the hats, mittens, and sleds the boys had abandoned on the slopes. We chatted with the rangers about the young woman and our hopes that she would find peace. We talked about how relatively common it is for people in pain to come to the park for just this purpose. We complimented the boys for their quick response to our command, their quiet when we needed it, and their cooperation through all of it. And then the ranger said,

“Unfortunately, in our world today, they are all ready for moments just like this.”

Indeed.

There’s nothing really enlightening or uplifting or inspiring to say about what happened in Newtown a year ago. It was a senseless tragedy. But it did change something in all of us. We began to think these things could happen anywhere to anyone at any age. Our children learned— and are expressly taught— how to behave in crisis.

So with nothing to offer those grieving parents of Newtown on this sad and sacred anniversary, I just want to put this Christmas wish out there: Peace.

For those who are grieving, those who are hurting, those who are raising children in a crazy world, those who are growing up in it.

Peace. That is all.

We are all ready, deeply hopeful and wishing, for a moment just like this.

Peace and good will to all this holiday season!

-Erin

PS- I just wanted to add this year, on the second anniversary of that sad day, that I feel like there is something to offer those grieving parents. Nicole Hockley lost her son Dylan that day and there is a post she wants you to read. For all of those who lost their lives that day and all of those that still grieve them, please read this.

Peace and good will to all this holiday season!

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A Gazillion Easy Steps To Finding Holiday Exercise Time

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In addition to being sensible and funny, we really do try to be authentic around here. So after we wrote our post about keeping a time diary to find a magic hour to ~~indulge in~~ seek out stress relief, I did just that. I easily found my hour in the morning to get my exercise groove on, right after unloading the dishwasher and BEFORE being sucked into social media.

Let me share so that you too can make time to exercise, if that is your pathway to Holiday Zen like it is for me. Rest easy because finding the time is as easy as reciting the alphabet.

A. Wake up determined that THIS is the day you will jump back into the exercise rodeo ring due to a dream you had about your stomach paunch being bigger than Robert De Niro’s. (This is 100% true. How could I make this up? There may have been a couple or fifty cats in the dream too. Feel free to leave your dream analysis in the comments.)

B. Ignore the box of mantle decorations that is STILL sitting in the middle of the family room. Maybe if you wait one more hour, elves will put them up. Vacuum up the tree needles, though, in preparation for your post-workout stretch.

C. Turn the Facebook notifications off on your phone and lace up those shoes (after you spend 10 minutes looking for them.)

D. Go down to the basement to unfold the “Easy Fold” treadmill.

E. Attempt to unfold again.

F. Complain about the situation on Facebook, but feel proud because you only spent 20 extra minutes online. Besides, you found this hilarious pair of pedicure booties. Totally worth it.

G. Actually read the simple instructions on the label plastered at eye level on the treadmill.

H. Attempt to unfold again.

I. Kick the bejeezus out of the release bar because you’re pretty sure that is what the label implied for you to do.

J. Say forget it, you’ll just run outside because you like that better anyway.

K. Step into garage and remember it’s 30 degrees out with ice and snow.

L. Grab the rubber mallet instead.

M. Return downstairs and repeatedly whack release bar until realizing you have reached Handygal Level: Hypocrite. You would be all over your husband like cat hair on black pants for doing this.

N. Thought passes through your mind that maybe all of these trips up and down the steps count as your foray back into exercise.

O. Be strong and decide it would be quicker to use the ~~clothes rack~~ exercise bike in your bedroom instead since you have already used up your “magic hour.”

P. Start a load of laundry from what was found on and around the bike. Fold the clothes in the dryer. Stupid elves ignored this job too.

Q. Sit your fanny on the bike seat for 0.09 nanoseconds before the doorbell rings because the contractor is one hour early. WTH? Early?

R. Trudge around with him outside.

S. Feel re-energized by the sunshine and crisp air and resolve to beat the treadmill.

T. Snatch a wrench from the garage and storm down the stairs with renewed purpose to confront your nemesis.

U. Remove the @#$^*#& release bar and receive the full weight of the treadmill deck on your shoulders.

V. Acknowledge that you will indeed need a bladder support surgery by your 5th decade as you ever so gently lower the deck to the floor.

W. Realize you are starving because you had planned to exercise 2.5 hours ago.

X. Run upstairs to grab a vegetarian breakfast sandwich with a cookie chaser because, hey, you’re going to work out.

Y. Decide to write a blog post while you eat because the world deserves to join you in your journey.

Z. Return to the treadmill and attempt to turn on the TV, but there’s no signal. Spend minutes checking cables, but draw the line at calling DirectTV because dammit, you are going to run.

AA. Chest bump your reflection in the full length mirror you regret installing because the alphabet cannot contain you.

AB. Run! Rejoice that you avoid a face plant since you apparently forgot how to tie your shoelaces during your looooong break from running. Avoid celebrating with nachos.

AC. Be kind to yourself for your 15:32 minute mile because dang it, you have remembered that running does indeed create your happy space. Savor your stretch on your needle-free carpet.

AD. Realize that you don’t have time to shower before school pick-up, but try like hell to get those mantle decorations up. (Damn elves can’t be relied on for anything.) There is no way you and your glutes are managing a stepladder tomorrow.

AE. Promise yourself you will only repeat Step AB – AC tomorrow . . . in less than 6 hours.

Tada! Magic hour easily found and realized!

As easy as saying your ABCs if you were doing it standing on your head with coyotes gnawing at your toes while manic clowns pelt you with water balloons.

What will you do with your “magic hour?”

Finding exercise time is as easy as standing on your head while coyotes gnaw at your toes. #humor

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-Ellen

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Check out our books, “I Just Want to Be Alone” and “You Have Lipstick on Your Teeth.”

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Feeling Holiday Stress? #TalkEarly and The Sisterhood are Here to the Rescue!

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On Dasher and Dancer, it’s party time again!

Holiday cookie swap? We’re firing up the ol’ oven and rattling our cookie sheets.

Seasonal Open House? We’ve got a wheel of brie and some phyllo dough at the ready.

Ice Skating/Hot Cocoa/Gingerbread House-Making Extravaganza. Sharpen our skates, break out the marshmallows, and hit up the ATM for extra money for the dentist.

Elf on the Shelf Holiday Hoedown? Yikes! PASS!

Twitter party? We’ve got an open social media management tool and we’re not afraid to use it.

Sisterhood say what?

Twitter parties may not be your usual holiday fare, but this one hosted by The Century Council and The Motherhood was as welcomed as a peppermint stick in your mocha latte. You can check out some of the takeaways and impressions in the graphic below.

By far the most important takeaway was the realization that for EVERYONE the holidays are packed with love and memorable moments but also stress. And plenty of it. All of that merry-making and memory-crafting means less time doing other things that frankly don’t stop needing to be done just because it’s December. Sock Bag O’ Shame, we’re looking at you!

It’s a point of fact–the more stressed you are, the less efficient you’ll be. And less efficient doesn’t always look like a gas guzzling car, it looks like a hot mess with a little too many miles of road under her eyes, if you know what we mean. It’s most definitely NOT the look you want to be sporting at the office Christmas party–doesn’t really go well with your blow-out and Tory Burches.

None of the good stuff, most importantly your family creating memories with a loving, sane mother, will get done until you find your holiday zen. To which we have a great and sensible solution—a time diary. We all think we have no time. Here’s one way to find your stolen hour. You can even use it to learn to knit. Just stick to scarves and sweaters, PLEASE.

Think of the amount of time you spend on Pinterest or on the phone with someone you don’t even like or even matching socks. We guarantee, if you write down your day hour by hour, you will rediscover a little time for you. Time that you can spend at the gym, the mall, Starbucks, or hunkered down with a good book—whatever YOU want as long as it re-energizes you and keeps you steaming ahead through the season.

We’re wondering why it takes them over an hour to figure out tha heels were a bad idea. We usually realize it in the shoe store.

So Christmas is coming early to you all this year, because to demonstrate our great time diary idea, we thought we would give you. . .

A Day in the Life of Erin

6:00 am: Rise and SHINE!

Ellen: Oh, sweet Cheez-its! Do not start this off all peppy, Pollyanna.

Erin: It’s only peppy for about 5 minutes and then I have to get 5 kids to school. I could be in the army for all I get done before 8am.

6:05 am: Wake teen #1

6:10 am: Wake teen #2

6:15 am: Mediate teen argument over bathroom

6:20 am: Sign permission slip/check/birthright over to teens who forgot to show me the slip the night/week/month before

6:30 am: Mediate teen argument over bathroom/Say good morning to Boy #3 and Boy #4 who rise and shine like their Momma

6:40 am: Wake tween who hates mornings

6:45 am: Mediate teen argument over bathroom

6:50 am: Feed teens/ Remind them to make their lunches/Wake tween who hates mornings . . . again/Put Boy #4 in timeout for bodyslamming the cat

7:00 am: Mediate teen argument over bathroom/ Wake tween who hates mornings . . . Again/ Take Boy #4 out of timeout because I forgot about him

7:10 am: Wave goodbye to teens/ Wake tween who hates mornings . . . AGAIN/ tell Boy #3 and #4 to get dressed

7:20 am: Wake tween who hates mornings . . . (Help me)/ tell Boy #4 to get dressed

7:30 am: Wake tween who hates mornings . . . (HELP ME)/ tell Boy #4 to get dressed

7:40 am: Wake tween who hates mornings . . . WTH?/ tell Boy #4 to get dressed/ Give Boy #3 Cookies for Breakfast and tell him he’s my favorite because he is dressed, ready, AND has made lunches for his slacker brothers

7:45 am: Forcibly remove tween from bed/ Help Boy #4 get dressed

7:45 am-8:00 am: It’s a blur

8:05 am: Carpool to school

8:20 am: Home again drooling into my Diet Coke and Frosted Mini-Wheats

Ellen: I need a cookie for surviving reading that.

Erin: I’m dripping in sweat. And then it begins. . .

9:00 am: Phone call #1 from hubby: Can you pick up the dry cleaning? Shop for the office party?

9:15 am: Phone call #2 from long lost high school classmate: We haven’t talked in 15 years, but can you find the address of that guy who used to be my best friend?

9:30 am: Phone call #3 from school: Can you come in an hour early TODAY? We changed the day for mass.

9:45 am: Phone call #4 from friend: I’m starting a new business and want to go over the entire plan with you right now . . .

10:00 am: Phone call #5 from another friend: OMGeeeee, can you believe this? . . .

10:30 am: Shower

10:32 am: Ellen calls

Erin: You ALWAYS call during my shower. No matter what time I take it. I’m pretty sure I lose minutes of my life EVERY day looking for the hidden cameras.

Ellen: Melodramatic much? But you are missing the forest for the trees. WHAT do I tell you every time you get out of the shower to answer the phone?

Erin: That just because the phone rings, doesn’t mean I have to pick it up?

Ellen: You do listen to me! Just because someone invites you down a rabbit hole does not mean you have to tumble down it. If you want that hour, but really, if you NEED that hour, don’t let any summoning ringtone draw you away from it.

Erin: Noted. But pot, this kettle is calling you black.

Ellen: I know. Mine is even worse because it’s a silent Siren song: social media. I solemnly vow to put my money where my mouth is and record my time down the Facebook/Twitter/Pinterest/Instagram rabbit hole. I’ll probably find enough time to go to Starbucks, practice yoga, AND knit you a scarf.

Now go find your own hour and tell us what you’re going to do with it!

This post is part of our paid partnership with The Century Council’s #TalkEarly to your kids about alcohol campaign, but all opinions and time diaries are our own. We want you to find healthy ways to manage your stress because sighing, “It’s been a hard day, Mommy needs her wine,” could send the wrong message to your kids. Alcohol can be part of responsible celebrations, but it shouldn’t be the answer to stress.

-Ellen and Erin

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Who Reigns Supreme? Big or Small Families? WE decide.

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The Internet may seem full of adorable kittens and cherubic babies, but in case you are wrapped in a magical bubble, we’re here to tell you it’s not all rainbows and unicorn farts. There’s judgement. And it can be harsh. One of the more awesome topics rising again to the top of the primordial goo is family size. We’re not talking about Stouffer’s lasagna, we’re talking about people actually thinking you want to hear their opinions on the perfect number of family members for you.

You have 5 kids!?! They are doomed to feel like they have to fight for love and affection. And do you really feel like it’s your right to overpopulate the planet??

Insert eye roll. Now.

One kid!?! OMG! How can you subject them to such a lonely existence?

Insert disbelieving head shake.

Only two kids? How predictable.

Um, what?

Well, since we too are on the Internet, we thought you needed our opinions, no, more than that, you deserved them. Erin has 5 kids and Ellen has 2, therefore we proclaim ourselves experts. Erin will debate on the side of Super-Sized and by default, Ellen’s family will hereunto be known as Fun-Sized.

Super-Sized vs. Fun-Sized

Point #1: Decking the Halls

Let’s get this party rolling with a festive yuletide vibe.

Erin: Ready to adorn your abode with the bangles and baubles of the season? Go big or go home! You want my army when it’s time to haul boxes out from attics, basements, and from under beds. My troops can have you trimmed and hung with all the trappings in no time flat. In fact, my mom even borrows them to help decorate her house.

Ellen: You really just said “trimmed and hung.” Heh, heh.

Erin: You’re just jealous because my Christmas happens like the kids from Charlie Brown jacking up that pitiful tree.

Ellen: Point conceded. And if they’re for hire, feel free to send them my way.

Point #2: Seeing the Movies

Going to the movies. What a wonderful way to bond as a family.

Ellen: I win this hands down! We can all go for under $70. Woo! Hoo! In fact, we just splurged and saw Catching Fire at the IMAX.

Erin: Please don’t even tell my kids that exists. We almost never go out all together as that would constitute the GDP of a small developing nation. Plus, getting us all to agree to a time is a logistical nightmare with the teens. We tend to mobilize in small, quick units rather than descend en masse upon our poor local duplex. We are Netflix devotees.

Ellen: Always doomed to be one step behind popular culture. So sad.

Point #3: The Food

No matter what size your family is, they want dinner. Every. Single. Night. And this unfortunately requires grocery shopping.

Erin: I’ve got this! We can buy in bulk AND they haul in the groceries and unpack them.

Ellen: I don’t know if the word “bulk” applies to you. I think for your family it’s just ‘groceries’. But I counter. I can shop without a weight belt or a forklift. Or a second mortgage.

Erin: But my family is like a foolproof diet plan. Open a bag of chips? Gone like I live with locusts. Baking cookies? I don’t even have to remove them from the pans. And I don’t have the need for tons of pesky plasticware. Leftovers are not known in this dojo.

Ellen: My girls haul in groceries too AND they make the pies and help prep the meals.

Erin: Mine just eat. And eat. And eat. And eat. It never ends.

Ellen: Didn’t you have to buy another refrigerator just to hold your school lunches?

Erin: At least I have a place for beer in the summertime.

Ellen: Wow, it’s weird. I feel like you won AND lost this point.

Point #4: Travel

Whether by train, plane, or automobile, travel can be a way to rejuvenate your soul . . . if you can block out the are-we-there-yets.

Ellen: This is where being a fun-sized foursome is sheer perfection. We are an Expedia dream team—ready to pounce on any deal, able to fit into any accommodations, created for any discount dinner coupon.

Erin: We, on the other hand, inspire incredulous hotel staff to sputter things like “Just how many people are you thinking of cramming into that room?” And we’re barely mobile on wheels. Strapping, young sixteen year olds barely fit on a bench seat in a minivan and regress in maturity in direct correlation to the amount of time they are asked to do so. Yippe-freakin’-yay.

Ellen: But hey, your kids learn important lessons in spatial relations. I love how they have to rest their feet on their duffel bags and hold their pillow if they want to bring them.

Erin: I really feel like you just mocked me.

Point #5: Your Happy Place

Don’t you love those moments when all is right with the world and everyone is on the same page where the bluebirds are singing and the chipmunks are weaving flower garlands?

Erin: Well, with five kids, three of which are residing on Planet Teen, the odds are never EVER in my favor that everyone is going to be happy at once.

Ellen: Two many names in the proverbial fish bowl of hormones, huh? Would it make you feel better that I think I have one that can produce an epic meltdown worthy of a team of three?

Erin: Only if I didn’t have one just like her, but it’s a him. Double dose that mess with some testosterone.

Ellen: We’ll call it a draw.

See? We have solved the problem of the perfect family size. What’s that? You don’t feel like we tackled the big issues like cost, birth order, and fragile psyches? You don’t feel like we declared a winner? Well, not to go all Dr. Seuss on you, but maybe all it takes is to look into your heart and know what’s right for you. Or if that doesn’t flip your garbage can, how about some advice from Oscar the Grouch? Mind your own freakin’ business.

-Ellen and Erin

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Yarn Pintershizz is the Bomb

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You know what’s popular now? Knitting and crocheting. Know how we know? Well, the internet. Duh. When memes like this start popping up in your feed, it’s time to take notice or at least write another installment of Pintershizz.

Proper grammar is also sexy. “IT’S,” Ryan, “IT’S.”

Ellen: I fully acknowledge we could have gone in and made our own meme to correct the grammar, but “Ain’t Nobody Got Time For That.” See what I did there?

Erin: Funny. But the “its” is still making me twitchy.

Ellen: Well, move on, because this is more about making you itchy from bad knitting projects.

Erin: Please tell me this has nothing to do with the performance art lady knitting out of her vagina?

Ellen: Noooooooo! I am taking a MUCH higher road than that. This is just the fun wooly stuff that started popping up in our Pinterest feed. Like yarn bombing. Did you know that was a thing?

Yarn Bombing: Making Vandalism Cozy and Adorable.

Erin: I do now, but that is pretty charming. Not really Pintershizz.

Ellen: THAT is technically a form of graffiti and vandalism and it’s illegal. It’s also very badass — one of the more prominent artists went under the “graffiti knitting name”, Deadly Knitshade.

Erin: That. is. awesome. Are people really getting arrested for this?

Ellen: I don’t think so. Can you imagine the court scene?

Prosecutor: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present this rapscallion who had the audacity to put this hat on this bus stop and thus bring a smile to every person’s face who happened to pass its way . . .

Judge: I hate to interrupt, but what idiot called the police instead of just picking up some hedge clippers?

Prosecutor: Good point.

Judge: Case dismissed.

Erin: By the way, how do you know all of this?

Ellen: Shut up, but Wikipedia. I know I’m a Wikipedia snob, but I thought it was probably okay for graffiti knitting.

Erin: Probably. We won’t make you turn in your library card, but you seem to be dropping some stitches, where is the Pintershizz?

Ellen: Did you just try to use a knitting term to illustrate that I’m getting off track??

Erin: Sweet kittens with mittens, I’m damned if I get on board with you and damned if I don’t. Just show us what you found on Pinterest.

1. Throne Cozy

Ellen: What better way to kick off Pintershizz than with a crocheted toilet?

Erin: I did just finish two bathroom remodels in my house . . . but no. There are waaaaaaaay too many people who stand up to pee–with questionable aim, I might add–in my household.

Ellen: Stop right there! I can feel the bacteria crawling through the computer screen. But speaking of science experiments, what about this gem?

2. Trapped Like a Rat

Bonus genuine dissection tray. Only mildly used.

Erin: Now isn’t this something you would like? Seems like the perfect gift for that med student in your life.

Ellen: No! It’s not even anatomically correct! Where are the lungs? WHAT is that brown blob on the left? Is that green thing the heart? Everyone knows the gallbladder is green, but it most definitely is NOT in the center of the chest.

Erin: Wow. I think we just found your OCD trigger. At least the tray is authentic.

Ellen: I’ll be impressed only if it smells like formaldehyde and desperation. Moving on to less evil-scientist-type items . . .

3. Bad Yarn Decision Dude

Ellen: Now this one is just funny. Pretty sure it is from the 70s.

Erin: What a lovely decade that was: avocado green and harvest gold EVERYTHING, Vienna sausages on toothpicks as appetizers, and clothing like THIS.

Ellen: I can’t remember what that hat is called and it’s driving me nuts.

Erin: That’s a tam o’ shanter.

Ellen: HOW did you know that?

Erin: I have my niche. You’re full of knowledge everyone needs to know, but I know things no one ever wants to know . . .

Ellen: Don’t sell yourself short. You’re just like Google, except less profitable and user friendly.

4. Keeping Those Buns Warm

Ellen: I do NOT want to know what her secret sauce is.

Erin: If you ask me, she looks like she’s one french fry short of a Happy Meal. See? I’m hilarious.

Ellen: You have your moments. Keep the faith.

5. More Fashion WTH?

Ellen: What would this be for? Is it for those times you only want 50% of your limbs to be sexy and frostbitten??

Erin: Oooo. It’s like the woman who’s famous who had the leg sticking out of the dress.

Ellen: You mean Angelina Jolie? You came up with tam o’ shanter, but can’t remember Jolie? I’m getting you a People Magazine subscription for Christmas. You need to up your Google game.

Erin: I told you, I’m a niche.

6. Two Woolens Arses are Better Than One

Ellen: This is for those people who think Snuggies aren’t ugly enough.

Erin: Yes, because what would make you feel better about being hideous than knowing you spent eleventy gazillion hours creating that ugliness?

7. Earbud Time Suck

Erin: What’s so bad about these? They would actually be pretty useful in my family of seven. Someone is ALWAYS complaining that someone else is using their earbuds. Blah, blah, blah.

Ellen: It’s the TIME SUCK factor. In my family, someone is always losing their earbuds. I can’t imagine spending this much time on something that has such a short life span. By the way, you know you could just color the connectors with different colored Sharpies?

Erin: YOU know that would require a master chart that we would promptly lose, right? Ain’t nobody got time for that.

8. Here We Go A-Flaying

Ellen: I feel like I disappointed you with the last one, so back to the weird. Doesn’t this look like someone has been skinned? Wasn’t it St. Bartholomew who was flayed?

Erin: I don’t know. It seems like there were a bunch of them.

Ellen: Okay, not to keep spinning the same wheel (yeah, I did it), but how do you know something like tam o’ shanter, but you’re not sure which saint lost his hide? You’re a religion teacher.

Erin: Told you, I’m niche-y.

9. Because We Love Llamas

Ellen: I didn’t want to end being a complete knitting hater. If I had a llama, I would totally knit it a scarf. I don’t know why I love llamas so much–maybe it’s their long, sweeping eyelashes, their goofy expressions, or the way they spit like they just don’t care. There is nothing wrong with the textile arts, it’s just, I don’t have the time.

Erin: I wouldn’t mind learning to knit either. People have told me it’s great to do while sitting in car line or sitting on the sidelines . . . the only problem is, I already have things I’m catching up on during that “down-time.” My “down-time” is double-booked until three months past 2020.

And Sweetie, you can just buy a scarf at Target for nine bucks. The llama will never know.

-Ellen and Erin

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Sure That Baby Gift Is Cute, But Can You Bleach It?

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Oh, baby showers, it’s really nothing personal, you just offer up such good material.

Erin: First, we need to reiterate that we love babies, mothers-to-be, our families, our friends, and all uterus and non-uterus-bearing women.

Ellen: I think storks will be outraged because you forgot them in that disclaimer.

Erin: Whatever. Let the Audubon Society get in line because we are back to skewering baby showers.

Ellen: I really did enjoy our cathartic rant over baby shower games. I hate those games . . . except for the ones we made up.

Erin: “How Dilated is She?” has a touch of evil genius to it although you’re the only party guest I know who could win it.

Ellen: What’s the point of creating a game if you can’t win it? But just to be clear, we were joking. We know people freeze plastic babies in ice cubes, but it’s going way too far to pull out exam gloves at a shower.

Erin: Good advice, but I have bigger fish to fry than games. I say it is high time to give some traditional baby gifts the boot, too. I can no longer sit idly by–eating my quiche and sipping my punch served from a bowl with rubber duckies in it–and let the notion continue that these gifts are good ideas. I will be silent no more!

Ellen: Like you have ever been silent. Is this what you had in mind?

Favorite lovey or topic of future counseling?

Erin: Holy Cheez-Its, Woman! No! Burn it! WHY would you suggest that? I was thinking on a more subtle level.

Ellen: Maybe Dexter’s mom didn’t have enough sense to reject that gift, but you’re right, a gift doesn’t have to be terrifying to be bad. You know the gifts, the ones that seem all great, but once you’re in the thick of newborn parenting you realize they’re totally useless AND they’re a waste of a huge chunk of change?

Erin: Yes, those gifts take up nursery real estate and waste cash that could have padded the babysitting fund . . .

Ellen: Or the earplugs and caffeine fund. So you were thinking more along these lines?

Why is the myth of infant bedding still believed?

Erin: Yes! Exactly! The only thing these lovely bedding packages have of any worth is the crib sheet and that gets bleached to white no matter what color it started out in life. The rest ends up balled up in a closet because it’s too nice to be used as barf rags. What a waste!

Ellen: Well wasting closet space is the only place for it because, don’t forget, it is also a suffocation hazard.

Erin: This set should also come with a helmet because the canopy would make an awesome escape route when your baby suddenly learns to climb during nap time–the nap time where you finally get the nerve to take a shower AND shave your legs.

Ellen: You know what the true travesty is? It’s usually the grandmas who are buying this shizzle. They should totally know better.

Erin: To be fair, it DOES look pretty in the catalog. Which brings me to another cute gift that should never be purchased. . .

Ellen: Wait a minute. I know we have been down on baby showers, but why are you hatin’ on cute? Remember I made this for my sister-in-law’s shower.

Erin: Your diaper cake is adorable, but it is also practical. Those are DIAPERS. Babies need a crapload of those.

Ellen: You’re so punny. But the practicality goes even deeper than you know. Those diapers are wrapped around a bottle of red vino. A little gift for momma for when the breastfeeding is over.

Erin: See! Everything about that gift is absolutely useful. I’m talking about this kind of cute.

Really? Do you really think it was a good use of those 2 hours to stuff me in this sweater?

Really? It took my mom 2 hours to wrangle my melon through this neck hole. See my face? I’m a baby and even I know this sweater is redonkulous.

Erin: A $200 cashmere, yes cashmere, sweater for a baby screams “My parents are clueless. Please save me.”

Ellen: It should also shout “Disposable!” because when the inevitable spit-up. . .

Erin: and explosive poop. . .

Ellen: happen, even a hazmat team is never getting it cleaned. Never! Who has the time or the cash for that?

Erin: Exactly! That money would better be spent on a fleet of indestructible, bleachable, versatile onesies.

Ellen: Ones you can chuck without feeling like a mortgage payment was lit on fire.

Ellen: Alright, I have another gift. It wastes money and it’s not even cute: The Wipe Warmer.

Want to upcycle yours? Toulouse and Tonic has some hilarious ideas.

Erin: This present hits all the right buttons with the over-eager, ready-t0-dominate-the-game-of-motherhood-types. No lukewarm or chilly wipes will touch the fanny of their precious offspring. This gift sends a message that every detail of parenting is important. The fact of the matter is that you will be changing that baby on the sofa or the rug or your grandma’s antique tea cart, putting you miles away from that lovely plugged in wipe warmer. Good thing too because all that sucker does is dries them out.

Ellen: You know what, Pollyanna? I’m going to take your crown of sunshine and positivity and throw out a shower gift that is always right: books.

Erin: Perfect! There are always so many hours in the night that need to be filled while you’re feeding . . . and feeding again. And you can only watch so much crappy TV in between the feedings before you start to go a little crazy.

Ellen: Don’t forget the sleepless nights when you’re pregnant too.

Erin: Especially towards the end.

Ellen: I had never experienced insomnia in my life until my third trimester. Between sleeping with what felt liked a honey badger burrowing under my ribs, the heartburn eating through my chest, and the constant peeing, I felt like I slept 15 minutes at most. I wish I had these books to pass the time.

At Least My Belly Hides My Cankles

by Paige Kellerman

We’re not completely suggesting you toss out your “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” but you have to realize it lacks one important thing: HUMOR. “Cankles” gives pregnant women and all moms really, the satire they need. Let’s face it, being pregnant is ridiculous. From the morning sickness, to the epic peeing, to always being the designated driver, Paige lampoons them all in the most hilarious way possible. We are partial to her roast of the sexy Halloween costume.

THIS should be your next baby shower gift because the back of the book sums it up nicely: “This book is a must-read for any mother, or anyone who has a mother to whom they probably need to apologize.”

You can purchase it here:
At Least My Belly Hides My Cankles: Mostly-True Tales of An Impending Miracle

Ketchup is a Vegetable: And Other Lies Mothers Tell Themselves

by Robin O’Bryant

This New York Times Bestseller is the perfect blend of charm, humor, and nod-your-head-along truth. In our society where mothers are constantly encouraged to strive for perfection, Robin makes it clear that ‘Imperfectly Good’ is a high compliment. She will make you laugh until you cry when she talks about her family’s improbable visit from the FBI,her Big Berthas,and her faux cuss words. Her awkward naked moments are worth the price of admission into her world. This book is a nugget of comedy gold with a sweet center of tenderness.

You can purchase it here:

Ketchup Is A Vegetable: And Other Lies Moms Tell Themselves

Erin: You may not be able to bleach these either, but they make a fantastic gift. . .

Ellen: For the new Momma and all the Mommas throwing back the punch and cupcakes.

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We Would Travel the World for a Book Signing . . . Even to New Jersey

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We had our very first book signing for “You Have Lipstick On Your Teeth”! It was just such a great evening that we’re having a hard time deciding which was our favorite part.

Want to know about the penguin? Come to a book signing.

Ellen: Was the best part meeting and hanging with our talented co-authors Anna Sandler of Random Handprints, Kim Forde of Fordeville Diaries, and Kim Bongiorno of Let Me Start By Saying?

Anna, Kim Forde, Catharine Wilder, owner of Kidville in Westfield, NJ, Kim Bongiorno, Ellen, Erin

Erin: Yeah, we’re not gonna lie, that was pretty fabulous. Those ladies rocked the house with their readings. My abs totally got a work-out from laughing so hard.

Ellen: Was the best part having people line up for little ol’ US to sign their books?

Photo NOT staged. There are totally people on the side of the table. Really.

Photo NOT staged. There are totally people on the other side of the table. Really.

Erin: That was more than a little gratifying. Usually I’m reading to my cats or my kids. Very different atmosphere.

Ellen: Was the best part talking with the phenomenal ladies who came out to see us and share some laughs?

Erin: That definitely ranks up there. In the midst of a jam-packed fall schedule full of fun for our kids but not-so-much fun for the moms, this lively, lovely Girls Night Out was a bright spot.

Ellen: So basically they could all be labeled “The Best”. But we do have one UNEXPECTED “Bestest Best”:

We were made to feel like World Travelers!

Erin: People were so nice, and they wanted to know all about us.

Ellen: But we couldn’t believe their amazement when we told them where we were from.

Erin: You would think we had journeyed from a land far, far away. . . like the Midwest. They peppered us with questions.

“Did you take the train?”

“What TIME did you have to leave to make it here?”

“You’ve come so far. Are you making this into a long weekend?”

Ellen: We can understand the responses because we traveled from . . . wait for it . . . Maryland to New Jersey. Now granted, maybe our journey was made to feel like so much more because of the way Erin describes where we live . . .

“We’re in the eastern part of Maryland. You know, tucked into the northern corner. So if the Chesapeake Bay is here, we’re here.” All the while her hands are pinwheeling and she is pointing to the palm of her hand like it’s a map.

Incidentally, she performs the same hand motions no matter what the directions are, so take that with a grain of salt.

Ellen: About the time Erin starts contorting her hand into a topographical map of our region, I jump in to say, “We’re the first exit off of 95 in Maryland on your way south.”

Erin: I do have to admit understanding starts to dawn in their eyes when you say that, but the fact of the matter is, it took us 2 hours and 20 minutes to get there.

Ellen: Hardly a safari, but we began to comprehend their mentality once we started talking to the folks a little more.

Erin: One sweet lady shared that even though her town, Fabulous, NJ, abuts right up against Just-As-Fab, NJ . . .

Ellen: Think stone’s throw, spitting distance, over yonder . . .

Erin: Her neighbor in Fabulous had not ventured into Just-As-Fab for months. Just couldn’t be bothered to make the trip.

Ellen: The “trip” was down the street. Now it all made sense.

Erin: Maybe Northerners think we don’t travel. What they don’t understand is that Ellen and I are about 30 minutes from EACH OTHER.

Ellen: We are a rural community. We have to travel to get anywhere except Walmart. I may live next to a corn field and a horse farm, but dang it, I can get a jumbo can of nacho cheese and a bike pump in less than 15 minutes.

Erin: But we do have to keep it real and admit that the 2 hours and 20 minutes we were so blasé about did turn around and bite us in the butt the next morning. See, we spent the night, BUT just so we could have some post-book signing fun.

Ellen: Well, really it was just your arse that got nipped because I didn’t have to go to work at noon.

Erin: I was really feeling pretty groovy about it all too until I started to do some mental calculations based on our trusty Garmin’s feedback. Ellen had been reassuring me the whole trip that it was wrong because she had entered her home address and not the school address as our final destination.

Ellen: Oh, but when we stopped for your vat of Diet Coke and we entered the SCHOOL’s address. . .

Yep. At 11:30, we really grasped that this was our actual destination time and was not going to change. Gulp.

Erin: At this moment, sheer panic set in. Nothing says “cool under pressure” like screaming to your pilot to “Floor it!” on the interstate. Perhaps if we hadn’t lingered over muffins and our NJ host’s adorable offspring, we would have given ourselves the time cushion we truly needed.

Ellen: But what would’ve been the excitement in that because who doesn’t love a good adrenaline rush? Helps the carbs to sit like a lump in your stomach. But you know what? Regret is for suckers!

Erin: Exactly! We were now not just Erin and Ellen, Sensible Moms Extraordinaire. We were Ellen and Erin, intrepid travelers on our own amazing race.

Ellen: You are fully aware of the irony of the words “sensible” and “extraordinaire” in that last statement, right?

Ellen is definitely the girl you want driving your getaway car. She would probably be great helping to hide that body too. Just sayin’.

Erin: Well, we’re not changing our name now. We did pull into the parking lot of the school with a solid ten minutes to spare and no traffic violations. So I popped a couple of Sour Patch Kids in my mouth, grabbed the rest of the world’s largest travel soda, and set off to light some young minds on fire ’cause that’s how I roll.