And just like that, another school year is almost over. And now that I’m out of my pollen coma (*waves–remember me?), I realize I have tons of fun stuff to look forward to this summer with my three boys. Now that they’re getting older, I feel confident they can entertain themselves. Bon Bons here I come. FI-NALLY!

HANGING FROM CURTAIN RODS IS A FUN GAME! I THINK IT'S RATHER THOUGHTFUL THAT THEY DID IT ON BOTH SIDES SO THEY'D MATCH. I'M SURE HUBS WILL GET TO FIXING THAT WHEN THE STANLEY CUP IS OVER....OR IN 2014 SOMETIME. NO RUSH. NO RUSH.

Who needs educational games when we can just dump a family sized box of Cheez-It’s on the table and in the randy Christmas tree dish that’s most likely caked in dust. Bon appetit!

HO HO HO? WE DON'T NEED ANY FANCY CAMPS TO LEARN ABOUT SPACIAL RELATIONS!

We’ll be hitting the open road for sure. How lucky are we that 4 year old is totally qualified to run his own safety patrol? I mean, if he doesn’t come down with a rare dust induced botulism. Or the neighborhood kids don’t give him a wedgie—he did just shriek that a kid was riding his bike without a helmet on—on the movie Frankenweenie.

WIPE THAT SMILE OFF YOUR FACE BEAR. YOU'RE ALONG FOR THE RIDE BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN I'M BUYING YOU A DOUGHNUT TOO!

Freeloader!

Some people like to lounge pool side at a fancay club. Not us! We keepin’ it real in the hood.

GUNITE POOLS AND SNACK BARS ARE SO OVERRATED. WHEEEEEE!

WT, two sides painted shed with dead flowers in windowbox, optional.

(Not pictured: mom holding beer in a can with Lands’ End granny suit on reading trashy magazine. Hear no evil, see no evil!)

Party on, rockstars, it’s summahtime!

**I wrote this last year. However, I think it bears repeating because it ‘splains my absence from blogging over the past month—I’ve been hitting the sack every night not long after the gremlins, which is my prime writing time. I want mah life back!!!! #faceplant I wish you all a good day of healthy breathing!

Roses are red

Violets are blue

God damn you fracking pollen

I’ve had enough of you.

*

Old man winter has come and gone

I can finally see my lawn!

For sixth months I trudged through rain, sleet, and snow

So there’s something you really need to  know.

*

I want to fling open the house and get some fresh air

I want to run through the meadow and let down my hair

I want to be able to smell a beautiful flower

Without having to take a ten minute shower!

*

Oh pollen, you dirty rat bastard

You make my breathing all haphazard

Your very sight makes me sneeze

In your wake I do wheeze.

You’re nuthin’ but a textbook…. tease.

*

Everyone else gets to frolic and play

While inside sneezing I grudgingly stay

I rub and rub my sad eyes raw

It’s the ugliest sight you ever saw

Bloodshot eyes and a ruby red face

People must think I’m on a bender all over the damn place!

So desperate I am to cure my hay fever

I’d agree to be locked in a room with only Justin Bieber!

My blood I would give, my possessions I would sell

If you would only just go straight to hell!

*

Nose spray, eye drops, and two pills I do swallow.

But everywhere I go, you seem to taunt and follow.

Perhaps you missed the memo, status update and tweet?

It’s about time you beat a hasty retreat.

I’m not kidding. Not kidding at all.

If you don’t hit the bricks I’m gonna beat your pollen ass straight into fall!

For someone who loves to shop, decorate, and host parties, I got a Don Corleone offer that made my muffin top skip a beat. I couldn’t refuse! The offer was to receive $100 worth of groceries from Peapod.com and to choose five items from a list of adorable items from home decorating site Wayfair.com and get my spring on with some girlfriends for a little shindiggity. SOLD!

For those of you not familiar with these sites, Peapod is a grocery delivery service owned by the bricks and mortar supermarket Stop and Shop. Living in New Hampshire where the extent of delivery is dry cleaning and rubbery pizza, I was SO more than happy to try this service out. My sister used it a ton when she lived in Boston which made all kinds of sense because she lived in a walk up where parking was at a premium. For me, in suburbia, the benefits are different—-being able to skip dragging three kids to the store for party provisions felt like a real luxury, and no doubt kept me on task from making a myriad of pint sized inspired impulse purchases! (“Mooooom, I want, I want, I want! Canwecanwecanwecanwe puhhhllllleaaaaaase!”) Ordering on line was fast, painless, and easy—even never having done it before it only took me ten minutes at most. They came when they said they would, texted me when they were near, and bonus: the delivery guy was hot. (I cannot guarantee all the delivery guys are hot but thought it was worth noting? What? I’m a married hausfrau, I’m not dead! I thought it would have been a bit tacky/Desperate Hausfraus NH to ask for a pic for my blog. You’ll have to take my word.)

DID I MENTION PEAPOD CAME IN THE TORRENTIAL RAIN? INSIDE THAT TRUCK WERE ALL MY GROCERIES, THE HOT DELIVERY DUDE, AND I GOT TO JUST SIT IN MY FOYER AND WATCH. I ALMOST FELT LIKE I WAS COMMITTING A CRIME.

Peapod also takes coupons and will save your order for next time. You can see what items are on sale to keep costs in check too, and the computer tallies how much you’re spending as you’re shopping—another great feature that helps keep you on budget. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten to the checkout line and been unpleasantly surprised at the total. (Some of you might remember the hubs banner  $270 grocery trip where he was henceforth banned from food shopping!)

HEY! PAWS OFF MAMA'S STASH!

As an aside, I recently learned independent of this project, that Stop & Shop and its parent company, Ahold USA, have supported The One Fund Boston with a $500,000 donation to help victims affected by the tragic events from the Boston Marathon. I don’t know about you, but I like to patronize businesses who support the communities in which they do business and I am grateful they have chosen to donate to this fund and think it is worth noting.

The items I received from Wayfair did not disappoint either. Because I fear my amateur pictures do them justice, I’ve included the links to the website so you can get closer looks. Now Wayfair to me is like Homegoods meets Overstock.com….tons of cute stuff at fantastic prices (And they do also sell baby items, luggage, pet stuff, if that’s your thang…). Choosing just five items was hard because they all looked so awesome. Let’s take it from the top:

LOVING THIS VASE. IT WAS MUCH WIDER THAN I EXPECTED SO IT MADE FOR A BEAUTIFUL CENTERPIECE.

HERE'S ANOTHER SHOT. FLOWERS MAKE ME HAPPY! (YES, I'M SHOUTING. YES, I'M LOOKIN' AT YOU HUBS! IF YOU DON'T BRING ME SOME, I KNOW A HOT PEAPOD GUY WHO WILL. SO WHAT IF I HAVE TO PAY HIM!)

WHAT ARE YOU DOING? COME BACK IN MY DINING ROOM AND LOOK AT MY PRETTY FLOWERS AND PEAPOD FOOD! MARTHA? INA? ANYONE?

The next item I chose was this gorgeous mirrored tray which you can see here. I think it’s technically for your bedroom to put things like perfume on, but I decided it would be a pretty addition to the bathroom which is often a neglected little room, especially in a house full of men.

LOVE THIS TRAY! IT REALLY IS A TOUCH OF FEMININITY THAT MY BATHROOM, UH, LACKS. IT'S SOME BLINGY BLING FOR MAH BANO!

Markeritas anyone??

HOW SUNSHINE DAY IS THIS PITCHER? IT SCREAMS FUN. IT SCREAMS MARGARITAS. IT SPOKE TO ME. I HAVE NO PROOF. BUT IT DID.

You can find this vibrant pitcher here. Totally Mommy Mixology approved!

 

OKAY, GENIUS. THEY ARE WINE CORK CANDLES, AND EVEN HAVE THE WINE VARIETALS STAMPED ON EACH ONE. I WAS A REBEL AND USED PINOT IN A CHARD BOTTLE. ALL FUN. NO RULES!

 

AMBIANCE FOR DUMMIES. I LOVE IT! (PLEASE NOTE THE DESSERT PLATES IN THE BACKGROUND---WAYFAIR-IFFIC!)

Seriously, how cute would these be for a hostess gift? If you really wanted to make a splash, these plus a bottle of wine will make you a party guest to remember!

LET'S GIVE MERLOT A CHANCE, TOO!

Did you say dessert? I am, admittedly, no Betty Crocker, but these multicolored little plates make me smile and would highlight even the simplest desserts (like mine!). And if you’re thinking of a hostess gift or inexpensive gift for any occasion, this is a slam dunk. They come in a practical, yet pretty, box.

WHO WOULDN'T LOVE THIS?

 

STARE INTO THE LOVELY COLORED PLATES, AND THEN EAT. MY FAVORITE WRITER, ERMA BOMBECK, ONCE WROTE, "Seize the moment. Remember all those women on the 'Titanic' who waved off the dessert cart." GRANTED, I'VE BEEN DOING TOO MUCH SEIZING BUT THOSE PLATES, PEOPLE!

 

The best thing about these items from Wayfair? None of them cost more than $24 and most items on Wayfair come with free shipping. Whatwhatwhat! Yes!

You can have a party with flair for not a lot of money, with not a lot of running from store to store, when you have Peapod and Wayfair at your service. Now.We.Know! Happy spring, muffintoppers!

*I did receive $100 worth of groceries and these five free items from Wayfair to facilitate this review. All thoughts and opinions are my own, always.

There is likely nothing I can say about the horror show at the Boston Marathon yesterday that hasn’t been said already.

I was born in Boston. I grew up not twenty miles outside Boston. Raised by two Bostonians, one of whom was a Boston police detective, who was the son of a Boston Police Captain. I lived in the city as an adult. And so it has been for my family, and for me, our home for generations, even though I have since moved some fifty miles north.

Like so many, I have dear friends who ran the race yesterday. Who worked tirelessly to train for what was supposed to be a joyous event. And who are thankfully alive and well, as are their families.

Like so many, I have children of my own.

And so somehow, this all feels very personal. As it should. We should all take it personally, that someone would assault and terrorize our friends, families, fellow citizens, beloved guests from America and abroad, in our city, state, and country.

I don’t know what will happen in a minute, an hour, a day, a week, a month, a year, two years, five years, fifty years. And yes, that scares the hell out of me. But I do know this. You do not mess with a city like Boston. Boston is Paul Revere and a midnight ride. It’s six generations Brahmin. Four generation Irish. One generation Cape Verdean. And everything in between and back again. It’s Regina and Santarps– the best pizza in the world. (Sorry, New York.) It is cold tea in Chinatown at 2 AM. It’s college transplants who come, fall in love, and never leave. It’s doctors, cops, bartenders. It’s bad accents we love to hate and hate to love. And Dunkin’ Donuts. On ever corner. (Really.) It’s Filene’s Basement (RIP) and the Pru. Triple deckers and brownstones. Universities and hospitals. Boston is wicked smaht. Just asked Donnie Wahlberg.

Boston doesn’t bow to queens. Or crazies. And definitely not to terrorists.

Boston is grit and determination. Boston is courage. Boston is PRIDE.

Boston is the Marathon. It’s Uta Pippig. Bobby Orr. Larry Bird. Doug Flutie. “Manny Ortiz”. Ted Williams. Boston is The Garden. Fenway. The Red Sox.

It’s the ghosts of yesterday and the promise of today.

Boston was cursed once. It won’t be cursed twice.

That is one thing I do know.

I love that dirty water, don’t you?

PHOTO CREDIT: www.kimworld.com

**On a side note, Erin Gale Williams is the winner of the book pack, I Just Want To Pee Alone and Mommy Mixology: A Cocktail for Every Calamity. Please email me at janet@muffintopmommy.com so I can email you with details. Congrats.

Well.

Turns out I ain’t the only one who wants to pee alone!

Once upon a muffin top, I wrote a blog post called, “I Just Want to Tinkle Alone. Is That So Wrong?” Fast forward three years, 154 weeks, 1000+ days, and with this bladder? And me thinking the four food groups are coffee, Diet Coke, and beer (I know they are liquids and not food groups—and that they are three things and not four—don’t be nitpicking my diet and my mad math skillz!)??? I’m thinking, conservatively, I’ve tinkled over 10,000 times since I wrote the post,  maybe once alone at like 3 in the morning, and twice when I’ve pee pee’d on command into a cup at the doctor to make sure I don’t have some insidious disease that is, naturally, the result of drive thru peeing at warp speed while 3 foot shorties unravel the last roll of TP onto the sparkling vile (Call me Martha!) bathroom floor.

As Sweet Brown would say, “Ain’t nobody got time for dat!”

And so, when my dear friend Stacey Hatton, from the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop, and the Nurse Mommy Laughs blog funfest, told me she was a contributing writer to an anthology called, I Just Want To Pee Alone, of course I wanted to get me some of that! Especially when I found out the hilarious Kelley Nettles of Kelley’s Break Room and Jen “Try to pick me out of a line up because I’m an anonymous blogger” of People I Want to Punch In The Throat (get in line, Jen, get in line) as well as almost three dozen other bloggers who spin their own unique brand of funny, in their own voice, with their own tales to tell, would be featured. With over thirty essays, you are guaranteed to relate to something in this book.

Now, I’m not gonna spoil all the fun and tell you what happens in the book. BUT! One lucky winner will receive a copy of I Just Want To Pee Alone….

HERE IT IS!

AND! As an added bonus, and because I can, and just cuz I wanna, if you act now! Don’t delay! (Ok, by next Tuesday, the 16h of April…) as a bonus, you will win a copy of my book, Mommy Mixology: A Cocktail For Every Calamity.

ARE YOU THIRSTY YET? YOU KNOW YOU'LL HAVE TO PEE AFTER ONE MARKERITA!!! PLAN ACCORDINGLY!

Throwing a copy of my book in seemed like the right thing to do—after all, Stacey mentions mimosas in her essay and everything. Why leave you hanging like that? I’m thinking this will make a fabulous early Mother’s Day present for some lucky gal. I’m thinking parrrr-taaay. Girl’s Night In. All the booze and all the bathrooms to yourselves! Alert the spouses! Alert! Alert!

The only question is….ultimately….will you get to pee alone? Drink alone? Drink with a friend? Pee with a friend? (Oh stop. You know we’ve all done it. Don’t be all faux aghast at me!)

It’ll be fun?scrarrrrry?scandalous?otherAdLibwords? to find out!

*A copy of I Just Want To Pee Alone was given to me to facilitate this shout out/contest. All opinions are my own.

I Just Want To Pee Alone is available on Amazon.com and Mommy Mixology: A Cocktail for Every Calamity is available on Amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com, and other fine, fine retailers!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

First, let me confess I’m wearing an unmentionable right now. But I’ll mention it anyway. Because as one of my friends aptly said, “You are just living your life out loud!”

Yes.I.am.

And yet? You keep coming back! You had your chance to run from the muffintopmommy madness. But that is why I LOVE you!

So you know how hub’s just had his minor surgery, right? For a belly button hernia that went rogue—it was a baddie. I knew he’d be laid up for a few days so as a joke, and because Amazon makes it so easy for impulsive muffintops who might have had a few beers to click twice and BOOM, get some fun merch in a just few short days……I ordered hubs a recuperating gift. A bright blue, as seen on TV, FOREVER LAZY! Yes, yes I did. I know what you’re thinking. They really need to start installing breathalizers on computers, kind of like when people get arrested for DUI repeatedly and the authorities put that thingy on their car so the car won’t start because they are clearly bound to try to drink and drive again and thus eventually harm innocents? That’s what they need for computers, right?  I decided no one who would blow over a .08 on a breathalizer should be responsible for late night Amazon purchases or Facebook comments. Until vital societal changes are implemented, you got me again, Amazon, you got me!

LET THIS BE A LESSON TO YOU, KIDS--THIS TOO COULD HAPPEN TO YOU!

Anyway, can you believe the ingrate has not even worn it? He looked at it with utter disdain, touched the material, and muttered, “Gross.”

I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I married Queer Eye for the Straight Guy!

“Fine!” I huffed, “I’ll wear it! It even has a hood—in case a sudden gust of wind whips through the family room! I? Am always thinking of you!”

Meanwhile, I have listened impatiently to all his croaking about his “button”. Yes, it’s been shortened from belly button to “button”. The kids are all, “How’s your button, daddy?” “How are you feeling, daddy?” HEY KIDS, I pushed all of you out, one I swear with a fake Epidural bought on ebay, one after 4.5 hours of pushing, and one of you weighed almost ten pounds! I know, I know, old news, yada, yada. And we know I’m the sympathetic sort once a year. So as hubs lamented the day after his surgery, “I can’t believe they cut my tummy open yesterday. It really hurts!” I couldn’t help but reply, “They cut your tummy open, but the good news is, they didn’t hand you a baby immediately after and say, ‘You gotta take care of this little one now.’” Oh yeah. That was for you c-section mamas! *Pats self on the back of mah new Forever Lazy.*

It’s good that the surgery has brought us closer together as a couple though. Just the other day, I received this email from him:

Hubs: My belly button is stinging, but looks amazing.  All the crap is falling off

Me: Who says old married couples don’t still get love notes?

(Sorry if you just threw up in your mouth, but I figured if you made it past the Forever Lazy summary, you’re a hearty bunch!)

So today, I made good on my threat. I decided the FL would get some action. I wanted to paint a small chair I bought to reupholster (yeah I’m still up to that shitz–still planning to start my DIY blog!) and figured, HA!, the FL would be a kick ass painting suit to wear!

SNEAK PREVIEW!

The only problem is, when I went to put a quick coat of paint on the chair in my garage, I opened the door and 4 year old ran out with no shoes, no coat, and we had to get ready for a school event. I didn’t want him getting all wet and muddy. But of course he darted around the corner and I shouted for him to come back.

Again.

And again.

I poked my head around the side of the garage.

Nothing.

I stuck my paint stained slipper clad foot onto the driveway and yelled.

Nothing!

You know where this is going. I had to walk out of my house in broad daylight at 5 pm in my…..bright ass blue Forever Lazy. Now splattered with Annie Sloan duck egg blue, and cream spray paint, as sad accessories. I looked like a cross between a crazed inmate and Cookie Monster.

The best part? Is that when I bent over, I felt a draft. There is a zipper on this thang that goes across my arse –didn’t even know til 5 year old unzipped it when I bent over. (Always read the fine print when you shop late night! Never know when you might need to air out your arse!)

I don’t think I’m getting invited to the block party.

So, hubs found out last week that he needs to have surgery this week. Don’t bust out your rosary beads or your Buddha or call your Rabbi–it’s totally minor. (Which is why he’s feeling his pulse and pacing. But you need to know this IS the guy who turned ashen and shrieked, “What’s gonna happen to meeeee!?” when he realized I’d inadvertently given him a tuna sammie on a roll that had one TEENY, TINY, TEENY bit of mold on it. What? It wasn’t on purpose! Go to Burger King if you want it your way! I ain’t no Mrs. Patmore.)

WHAT IS SHE TRYING TO FEED ME NOW????

I know what you’re thinking. You. And You. AND you. What’s a little day surgery when he’s lived through almost 13 years of my culinary catastrophes. What’s a little day surgery when he’s survived at least a dozen common colds and three near misses with self diagnosed terminal Web-MD illnesses?

Right?

He’ll be fiiiine. I would be breaking HIPPA laws and probably marital ones too if I told you what he’s in for. Rhymes with kerplernia. 

Because I love him, I fully planned to see him through this. For better or worse. For poorer or poorer. In sickness breaking a collar bone racing a Razor scooter on Mother’s Day, blowing out a knee pretending to be a Solid Gold dancer at high school reunion, no hard feelings and in health. I have been there. I am there. I will be there. Like Lloyd Dobler from Say Anything. Only more. And better. (No offense, Peter Gabriel. This isn’t about you.) Instead of a boom box, I’ll have People mag. Trash tv. Ginger ale. I’ll make sure his TMZ app is working (Yes he has it. Would I EVEN make that up?!!) AND I’ll be keeping the kids from jumping on his recuperating kerplernia-ness. I won’t try to take advantage of him in his fragile state. (Just so we’re clear, slurred consent for me buying bling will hold up in court, yes? Any barristers in da house??)

YOUR WIFE WILL BE RIGHT IN TO SEE YOU. JUST AS SOON AS SHE'S BACK FROM THE JEWELRY STORE. MORE PERCS?

But seriously. I was all, “I got this!”

Then? He said something along the lines of—it’s all kind of hazy now—”By the way, I won’t be able to shower for like five days after the surgery. And, you’re going to need to change my dressings.”

WHACHUTALKINBOUTWILLIS!

Whatwhatwhatwhatwhat. Willis! Hubs! Soon to be Stinkyass! Whatever your name is!? What!?

I don’t remember much after that. I think I called my shrink. Oh wait, I don’t have a shrink. I mean, I opened my beer. And I said –to him–not the beer, “Now you are really taking this for better or worse chit a little too far lately. I am not yet 40–I have my whole half my life ahead of me! Can’t we save the Nurse Ratchet bit for Bingo time? If you want a dressing change, please, I am totally willing to go Italian to blue cheese–boom–just ask! I am here for you!” When I brought out the box of Elmo bandaids to be helpful, I do have to wonder—and I’m just throwing it out there—if he fleetingly wondered if maybe bringing English major flowers on a random Tuesday miiiight have helped my outlook?

I’m kidding.

Mostly.

But dude.

Five days of not showering? Changing dressings? While he’s laid up in bed surfing the net convinced he’s having kerplernia after shock complications that could cause blindness/ketosis/cirrhosis/deafness/impotence/male pattern baldness/typhoid/scarletfever/measles/sepsis/fungalungameningialcarpaltunnelness.

Who. Who’s busting me outta this joint?!!!