Wow, so the title didn’t scare you away, huh?

I love you guys! Happy New Year to all you crazy muffintoppers. I hope 2013 brings you much peace, happiness, and prosperity.

Speaking of prosperity, or a lack of it, ahem, I have some fun stuff to share with you. During the holiday season, I got my DIY on.

Shizz to shine….all on a dime. 

I gots to save mah money…..for new shoes and wine. 

Or somethin’ like that. I also like feeding and clothing my kids. They are so demanding like that!

Quick backstory. When I got married and was all off with my bad self with a double income and no kids, I bought a traditional, pricey cherry dining room set. Which, I have grown to dislike over the past almost 13 years. Practically hate. I know it’s great quality furniture with dovetailed drawers and blabbity blah, but it’s not really my style anymore which is a gut punch because the planner in me thought I’d always like it because it would never go out of style. BURN! When I look at it now all I see is big and brown and… bor-ing. But at the same time, I feel kinda married to it because it cost a lot of money and because the practical part of me knows I can’t sell it for near what I paid for it. So, I decided if I can’t beat it, I’d join it. Or somethin’ like that……..I’mma show you some pics of my DIY but please forgive my craptastic iphone and pocket camera pics….I’m a writer not a photographer (definitely chose the wrong gig!).

I'D SHOW YOU THE TABLE BUT SHE'S CURRENTLY INDISPOSED.....WITH CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS ON TOP OF HER!

So the big Bertha china cabinet inspired this whole DIY kick. Enter Craigslist. I’ve been on enough blogs lately to know if you have an eye, you can score some nice pieces on the cheap and get your magic on. “Pfft! I can do that! I think?” , I huffed inside my head as I perused all the afters on blogs and Pinterest. So I decided I’d look for a sideboard to break up all the brown in the room and paint it a fun color. I also wanted a place to throw some lamps for extra lighting and a place to display some pics and other fun shenanigans.

I sniffed around and then boom, scored a cherry, dovetail, old school, sturdy as my muffin top, sideboard on Craiglist! FOR $25!!!!

TWENNY FIVE DOLLAH?

TWENNY FIVE US DOLLAHS! HO HO HOLLA!!!!!!!!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS TO MEEEEEE!!!!

ONE DAY IN CASA DE LA MUFFIN TOP GARAGE AND ALREADY, CLUNKITY JUNK ALL OVER IT. CAN YOU SEE THE SCRATCHES ON IT? SHE WAS A BANGED UP DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH....

You can see some damage here:

LITTLE SCRATCHY......

AND….

SCRATCHTABULOUS. AND NAKED--NO KNOB!

The top was a tiny bit sketchy:

A LITTLE SKETCHAROO BUT TWENNY FIVE DOLLAH!!!

Did I mention I politely asked made hubs drive an hour and fifteen minutes to east bumbleberg randomville (It’s not every day you get to drive by a nudist park! You’re welcome!) to meet a stranger at a barn to pick this up because I was skeered that this was too good to be true and that someone would stab me with a pitchfork and stuff me in a hayloft instead of selling me this thing of beauty for TWENNY FIVE DOLLAH! (Maybe I should write fiction!) The woman was a doll, turns out. WHOOPS!!! I mean, phew, because that really would have stunk if hubs was stabbed with a pitchfork and stuffed in a hayloft all because of Big Bertha! (I don’t even know what a hayloft is but I’m assuming it’s a loft with hay and a good place to hide a dead Craigslist shopper.)

After hubs got home, he was kind enough to A. wash the sideboard with Murphy Oil Soap because, hi, the kind lady bought it auction and who knows where it was and who had it and what they had in it and……eww and B. he took off all the hardware for me  and then he picked me up some special, magical paint called Annie Sloan chalk paint. (Not to be confused with chalkboard paint.)

Let me tell you something right now. I read about it online and wasn’t sure what to think. The fact that it’s $40 a quart (as in $15 bones more than the piece!) and the nearest place to get it is a cutesy boutique 45 minutes from my house did not help sway me! BUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

They said you could paint something without priming and without sanding. I liked the sound of THAT. They said it adheres to anything. Often with only one coat, but that you should probably wax it afterward because otherwise it would be a very flat, almost chalky texture. It’s known to make distressing easy, if you’re into that. And, they said, one quart goes a long way.

I had to try it—I thought if this beast could become a beauty with this paint, it was worth the price of admission.

So here’s my piece (minus drawers) after two coats of Annie Sloan chalk paint in Chateau Grey—I’d applied them both the night before. I personally thought it was too streaky with only one coat but it covered crazy, crazy well considering the condition and color of the piece and no sanding or priming. I’m a belieber now. Seriously. And after two coats, I still had over a half a can left!

I did distress it lightly with some 140 grit sandpaper–first time ever. It was pretty easy!

I LOVE THIS LITTLE DETAIL AND THOUGHT THE DISTRESSING WOULD HIGHLIGHT IT.

Now here is where things got a little ugly: waxing. It was twenty degrees the morning I hauled this out on the deck to wax it. The Annie Sloan Chalk Paint peeps recommend you buy their wax but I was a. skeptical and b. really skeptical and c. trying to stick to my DIY cheap theme and so I thought, “HA HA! I don’t need no fancy Annie Sloan wax for….twenny five dollah! I can get a sideboard for twenty five dollah! I will buy Minwax at Lowe’s for TEN dollah and save $15 dollah! for beer/shoes/Cheerios.”

Par-tayyy!

Except it wasn’t. I wasn’t sure if it was because it was TWENTY freaking degrees. (Dumbarse couldn’t have gone all DIY in August? I had to start this shizz in December?). The wax was hard, crumbly, not pliable. I thought I’d just “Wax on, wax off!” ala Mr. Miyagi. Apparently, I ain’t no Karate Kid. I knew it had been going too smoothy–and the kicker? It started to SNOW and I could not haul this thing in my house because the wax is SOO STANKY and would have for sure given 7 year old some kind of asthma attack. As an added bonus, I had major bed head, was clad in polka dot pajama pants, and we finally got new next door neighbors and they were moving in just as I was fighting with a yellow wax can, sputtering and yelling at a green sideboard on my deck, which happens to face their house.

“Welcome to the neighborhood!”

I haven’t seen them since.

Anyway, lesson learned on the wax. I threw a hat and legit pants on, screeched to Lowe’s and bought the cheapest buffer they had for $30 bones and went over the piece and it was like silk. But next time I have a rough piece like this, I won’t hesitate to spring for the fancypancy wax.

Anyway, enough of all this! I wanted to take you through the process in case you are on a budget and want something pretty and shiny!

Here she is now:

HERE SHE IS!!! AIN'T SHE GRAND?!!!!!

OH! Here’s a close up of the new bling knobs I got at Hobby Lobby (Hob to the Lob–where have you been all my life?!!)

THEY WERE SERIOUSLY LIKE $3 EACH. OMG!

And check this out:

AFTER I SCHLEPPED THEM HOME, I COULDN'T BELIEVE HOW MUCH THE SHAPE MIMICKED THE SHAPE OF MY FAVE ASPECT OF THE PIECE! I HAVE NO IDEA IF THAT WAS SUBCONSCIOUS OR A HAPPY ACCIDENT!

I think my new beauty will have a long and happy life here.

OOOH, MOOD LIGHTING! THANKS TO THE TARJAY LAMPS I SNATCHED OFF MY DRESSER!

Sorry for the long post, Muffintoppers! I know some of you might not be into DIYing and want to just stick to the funny biz, so I’m thinking of starting a little fun DIY blog on the side. I figure if I can do it, ANYONE can. I have some other projects up my sleeve. I’d love to hear what you guys think. Should I go for it?

Update:

Wait! A reader told me I forgot to tally what I spent on the whole shebang;

sideboard: $25

gas to get sideboard: I dunno. I stink at keeping track of stuff like that.

hubs not getting stabbed in a hayloft: Free. That makes the trip to get sideboard, and finding out where the nudist park is, a free joyride.

paint: $40

wax: $10 (but I can use it again–when hell freezes over or my new neighbors work up the courage to speak to me!)

buffer machine thingy: $30 (But I can use it again! To get hubs ready for the nudist park! Too much? I’m kidding, people!)

Hobby Lobby bling knobs: $6

So let’s see….25 plus free plus 40 plus 10 plus 30 plus 6 carry the 1 = $111? Yup. $111. Dude, you can’t get furniture at Tarjay for that! I’ll take it!

So, first things first.

I didn’t win the lottery.

LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSER!

THIEVING GOVERNMENT HACK DOUCHECANOES!

So it was back to reality.

FOLLOW THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD. FOLLOW THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD. FOLLOW...AHH, EFF IT. I'M NEVER GETTING THAT HOT TUB, AM I?

My hubs banged up his knee and is on crutches. That was timely since 5 year old is in his second above the elbow cast still. Hey, I know! Every time someone falls in my house and screams, “Owww!”, drink!

AWESOME! YOU AND 5 YEAR OLD CAN HAVE DADDY AND ME APPOINTMENTS WITH THE ORTHO DOC WHILE I GIVE ALL OUR HOT TUB FORTUNE TO THE STANKING HOSPITAL! FA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA-HA!

MOTHERFLUFFIN’ GIMPTASTIC!

Did my last picture caption sound a bit snarky? I didn’t mean it to be much. Hubs’ knee has been bugging him for a while. It buckled T-giving night while he was doing dishes, after cooking all day. (Totally true. Boy knows how to throw a shindig.) The next day he limped off to his 198? (not my biz to tell he’s MUCH older) reunion, where a little bird on Facebook (rhymes with “Shinda”)told me he was a “dancing fool” and quite limber (no comment). He came home looking like this:

YOU ARE RIGHT NOW WONDERING HOW A GAL LIKE ME GOT SO LUCKY, AREN'T YOU? WELL, I'LL TELL YOU. HE'S A LOTTERY WINNER. KIDDING!

Hey hubs, Belushi called and he wants his schtick back!

THESE AREN'T EVEN THE SHOES I DRESSED HIM IN FOR THE REUNION. AND WHERE IS HIS OTHER SOCK? I TOLD YOU I LIVE IN A FRAT HOUSE. FINALLY, I HAVE PROOF!

Meanwhile, at band camp, he winds up whimpering about his knee later that night, and the next AM hits the ER for the aforementioned gimptastic brace. Sing with me now, “SOLID GOLD!”

I can’t prove it, but context clues, y’all. And had the nerve to come home glowing, “The nurse was soooo nice. Hee hee hee. She asked me if I work out.” After being on solo parent ass wiping duty for the duration of the 18 hour Solid Gold reunion and listening to his howls of pain for 24 hours, I decided it was only fitting to kick him in the good knee.

Then I find out, grocery stores are hawking faux Twinkies. Golden Creme Cakes? WHO is doing your marketing, fools? Market Basket, shame on you! Stick to what you know—selling questionable produce to people who need need dental work/a bath/possibly an interpreter (I dunno….I just assume after I’ve shouted “EXCUSE ME, MA’AM!” 5 times in the crowded aisle and you don’t move your ass/cart/death scooter you don’t speak English. Or maybe you’re just a Sir. Oops. (I might have grocery store rage.)

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

LOW BROW TWINKERTUNISTIC SNACKSTERS!

To add to the fun, “Alfred”, our little rat bastard Christmas elf, is back.

THE KIDS HAVE BEEN GETTING UP AT 5 freakingfracking A.M. TO TRY TO FIND THIS EVIL LITTLE PUNK. SO I TRIED TO DROWN HIM IN MY BEER. DUDE LIVED TO TELL. FREAK!

ELFINSHAZAMALAMSHALOM, WHY CAN’T I BE JEWISH?!

And sadly, my muffin top has reached epic heights widths and I’ve resorted to outlandish behavior huffing on the treadmill.

HEY, WHO'S THE GENIUS WHO PUT PAVLOV'S TREADMILL FACING THE BEER SIGN? OH WAIT..... UMMMMM.

WHY CAN’T I JUST BE A SKIN-NAY, SOBER MORMON?!

I’m not going off the deep end. People, wake up! It’s ARMAGEDDON. Clearly!

I’m trying to bright side all this shiz, even as the full moon rages, and I swear if you even look at me wrong today I’ll go all me-owwwww on you.

But listen peeps, the sun will come out tomorrow. So stay gold! Solid Gold, that is.

And one more thing if I haven’t sufficiently stalked you on Facebook, I’m in a contest on Circle of Moms called Top 25 Author Moms and I would surely appreciate your vote. Graci-ass! (You can vote once per day until Dec. 7th!) MTM can’t buy publicity like that and hey, maybe if I hawk some books I can buy Belushi a new knee! OH YEAH! (Thanks for nothing, Powerball!!!) To vote, all you have to do is click on the “Circle of Moms” badge near the top right of my blog, underneath my book. It very subtley says, “Please rock mah vote.” *shameless self promotion *mama would not be proud *runs and hides under Belushi’s brace

Or you can click here!

Yesterday I woke up and it felt like Mickey Ward was trying to fight his way right out of my head. A migraine plus sinusy allergy fun relegated me to a heap in my bed until lunchtime. Fist bump to the hubs, because he took all three gremlins to do the weekly food shop, which is truly a fool’s errand. Taking one is easy, two, eh, not so bad, but for some reason just one more makes for menage a market madness.

Gogurts, and cookies, and candy! Oh my! 

You do what you gotta do, just to get by!

If you make it out in under one hour

Without knocking down an endcap tower,

Happy hour you do deserve

For you will be on your very last nerve!

I plodded down the stairs when I heard rattling below to find every square inch of countertop and part of the floor covered in bags. Hubs looked up sheepishly.

“I just spent $270. And I have no idea what I bought.”

Needless to say, my headache did not improve.

“I had $9 in coupons!” he beamed.

Oh good, that will pay for my second migraine pill!

THIS IS ONE SIDE. ONE SIDE!

Feeding a family of three boys, a grown man, and a muffin top ain’t cheap, so it wasn’t exactly ridiculous. And really, who can complain with a guy who left me to rest while he went into grocery combat with three little boys on Sunday before a Pat’s game? But I’m not gonna lie. For $270, I hoped maybe there’d be a filet or two in the bag? Some lobster?

There was no fancy protein.

Actually, there was no meat at all.

We are not vegetarians.

Oh Mickey Ward, you rat bastard! Meet me in the ring after Happy Hour you punk!

I’m sorry–I need to clarify–there was no dinner time meat. Technically, there was meat:  cold cuts, pepperoni, and two packs of turkey bacon. (Turkey bacon? That’s not even right.)

Don’t worry, the two pounds of salted butter will offset any arterial improvement from the faux bacon!

And the good news is, with four taco dinner kits, four boxes of rice pilaf, and three boxes of pasta, two loaves of bread, loaf of cinnamon bread, two bags of bagels, rolls, hot dog buns, and hamburger buns,we can carbo load for a marathon! But we won’t. Because we’re lazy. And, we’ll be in a coma after we wash it all down with our sixty beers.

He got booze! Things could be worse right?

Plus? This looks random fun.

I WANNA SAY THE KIDS BEGGED HIM FOR THESE, BUT NO, SORRY NO.

Bad week to start a diet…..Bon Appetit!

WHO NEEDS MEAT? I CAN'T EVEN COOK ANYWAY!

So last week my fabulous friend and neighbor, Miss Indeedy, and I hit the road to New York City for BlogHer12. (Side note: when you meet someone and they instantly approve of you plotting the road trip around yummy delis and old skool pizza places? It’s time to cue up Mr. James Taylor because you? You’ve got a friend, girl.)

THIS IS MISS INDEEDY AND ME AT THE BLOGHER CHEESEBURGHER MICKEY D'S PARTY THE LAST NIGHT. NOTE OUR EYES ARE STARTING TO GLAZE OVER FROM BEER AND SMALL TALK.

As the name implies, BlogHer is a huge blogging network that started with three women in their kitchen in 2005 and ballooned into a gigantic community of bloggers who write about anything and everything you could possibly imagine. The conference is a fantastic opportunity to learn more about the latest technologies, to connect with awesome people from all over the world–and those who live in your back yard–who knew, and… to scope out everyone’s outfits, hair, and shoes. Did I mention it was almost 5,000 women? (Can I get a woot, woot for ES-TRO-GEN!) What else would I be looking at besides shoes and clothes? Okay, maybe the swag.

There were tons and tons of sponsors talking up their services and giving out product samples. Everything from Lysol to Wholly Guacamole to Go Bowling! to…em, ergh, choke, cough, look down at mah banged up knee, seexxxxxay toys. There. I said it. There is no proof I visited that booth. At all. Ever. And if you happen to think you see a picture of someone who sort of looks like ME at that booth, Bearded Iris is full of shizizy and, I happen to know, is down with Photoshop. Bless her heart.

I actually contemplated rocking some sensational journalism and titling this post, “I WENT TO BLOGHER12 AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY VIBRATOR!” as a JOKE, people, a JOKE, but what if, God forbid, my 79 year old mother actually buys a computer and reads this shit!!!

Kidding aside, the week leading up to BlogHer coincided with the print release of my book—naturally! In between trying to prepare for my online book promo and actually getting to hold a copy of Mommy Mixology: A Cocktail For Every Calamity (Now available wherever books are sold—meep!) in hand hours before I left (whee!), coupled with falling down trying on shoes (when is it NOT about the shoes???) and making a mad dash for clothes that didn’t scream “carpool line”, things got kinda crizazy up in this frat house!

If you missed the update on my Muffintopmommy page on Facebook, just know the knee thing might have been the lowpoint of the week:

“Remember when I said I would fall on my head if I wore heels? Well, tonight, I kinda did! Yes, trying on some wedge thingys at Off Broadway, I lost my footing on my bad foot, shrieked like Bieber, fell in a drunken looking downward dog and slammed down on my knee. My knee looks like I’m 10 and got banged up racing on my Huffy Sweet Thunder–bloody, raw, etc. But the worst part was I had to do all this–even though the store is the size of Fenway freaking Park, in front of this 20ish couple, and the boy-man, was all, “Are you okay, ma’am?” Which was a sweet/horrifying/humiliating taco to swallow! SIng with me now, “I’m sexay and I know it!” VIVA LA FLIP FLOP!!! Viva.la.flip.flop!!!!!”

Actually, the low point was in the update, in my 97 mph haste, I typed “heals” instead of “heels”. That misspelling? As of my fun grammar friends who knows me well pointed out, well, it hurt more than my banged up knee. I know there are larger crimes against humanity so I dusted myself off and hobbled off with my dignity intact. I am a good person and people like me!!! (And if you don’t, respect my love for grammar. Respect.the.love!)

All this to say? This is why I schlumped along at BlogHer in sensible shoes. The end.

Okay, not really. There was way more to the BlogHer12 trip than just shoes. Though with a conference full of females, shoes were integral, talked about often, and noticed by moi. One of the absolute highlights of BlogHer for me was getting to visit the glorious 6pm.com booth — one of my fave places to shop for shoes (And purses! And clothes! Oh my!). I’ve blogged and tweeted about them before because the deals are crazy. They are the sister site to Zappos. (You get it now. My work here is done.)

Some other things I learned about my whirlwind, four day trip to New York City for BlogHer:

1. When two different people in one day tell you you look 26 and 28, you should just go home. It ain’t gonna get any better than that. Never you mind it was in a dimly lit ballroom. Never! You! Mind! (Chubby cheeks are starting to grow on me. Wrinkle hiders! Wrinkle hiders!)

2. When you and your friend, Miss Indeedy, are told by another blogger, “Wow, you ladies are really chic…..for New Hampshire!” turn and laugh, because the woman actually…seemed nice and sincere. Living a whole fifty miles north of Boston, we have running water here! And electricity! And a Banana Republic!

3. The best conversations and connections always happen in the ladies room. Fact.

4. No matter where I go in the world, my arse will always find its way to a bar stool at an Irish bar, and at that Irish bar, its success or failure will be judged on the temperature of the beer and the friendliness of the bartender. (Upstairs. McGee’s. 240 W. 55th. Go! Upstairs is where the hilarious female bartender from Chicago works the wood.) (Chicago=Good People. Another fact. So fun to find one in NY.)

5. I still don’t know how to fold a god dang fitted sheet! Lemme ‘splain. One of the lunchtime speakers was none other than Martha Stewart. By the time Miss Indeedy and I got to lunch, it looked like a communist bread line. I’m not kidding! Due to my arse being planted on the aforementioned bar stool too late the night before, I was getting a little hangry (Hungry+ Angry= Hangry) while in line and wanted to run away. But Mommy, I mean, Missy, wouldn’t let me. I don’t get hangry often because, let’s face it, if my muffin top was against the wall, I could live off my fat for three days, easily. But I was legit tired and slightly hanging and headaching so I maybe pouted in my espadrilles a bit. I admit it! Anyway, by the time we got our tuna on pumpernickel there were no seats left at the grand ballroom and I was SOL on hearing Martha. And worse, my dream to charge the stage demanding a sheet folding tutorial, died. Just like that. And now? My fitted sheets remain balled up in my linen closet. Le sigh.

6. The lunchtime speaker the next day was Katie Couric. Yes, she looks fabulous. Yes, she had on fab shoes that I would surely plunge to my death in. Yes, she is so engaging, but also, hilarious—really quick with the one liners and that is the way to my heart. Truly. Can’t wait for her new afternoon show (wait for it…it’s called, Katie..) to start in a matter of weeks. It will be the perfect format for her. She’s targeting smart women–even those of us who can’t even fold fitted sheets– so be sure to check it out! (After you read my book. What? Too much?)

7. BlogHer is so GINORMOUS that even an extroverted muffin top like ME can get overwhelmed (Hence: sniffing out the Irish bar!) and also? Be totally bummed that I didn’t get to connect with everyone I wanted to see and hang with. BOO!

8. Finally? Because I think I hear the music cueing me to exit stage left….Stopping at the famous Halal food cart….at 3PM….with your Irish belly full of adult beverages? No. When the dude asks you if you want hot sauce on your food? MIDDLE EASTERN HOT SAUCE, YO. This ain’t no NH Taco Bell! You say: NO. Thank you. Not, “Sure, let it rip!”

HALAL-AAAAHHHH!!!!

You should know, now that my taste buds and body have recuperated, that Halala! is my new go to word instead of Holla! I was over Holla anyway. I think I should talk to the Halal guys about my catchy new slogan. Maybe next time????

**Thank you to the lovely Amber Strocel for the wonderful interview/podcast she did with me about my book. Listen here if you’d like. (Yes, I do sound 12. Good thing I only look *twennyyyysix*!!! )(Ok, ok, I’m going now. Jeez.)

I need something to blame. My brain, well, it’s not functioning properly. Lack of sleep? Eh, that’s not new. Adult beverages? No. I survived college with brain cells intact so that ain’t it. I’m thinking this is just my brain…on summer?

I’m not sure if it’s the lack of routine that comes with summer, but ever since school got out I’m being kind of…a dummy? It’s gotta be too many unstructured days making me forget bills, pantry staples that need replacing, and other mundane tasks that seem to get taken care of seamlessly during the year. The good news is I haven’t lost any of my kids (Or my sanity–yet) when we’re out and about and so barring that, nothing I’ve done or not done really matters at the end of the day. BUT! When I talk to my friends who do things like….run businesses AND households simultaneously, it’s enough to crush a muffin top’s psyche! I need a consult with the tin man, stat.

It always starts out innocently enough. Yesterday, I had to run a few errands with the three gremlins in tow. Trying to run into TJMaxx to grab a small purse with three boys might be a fool’s errand, but I went for it anyway. The lure of the purse beckoned me, even as my brain got all shouty inside, “Look awaaaaay! How badly do you REALLY need this?”

Exactly. So! Soon, we were inside mama’s playland, 3 year old parading around balancing six different purses, 5 year old knocking down four pairs of sunglasses while simultaneously picking out ginormous, floppy hats for me, and 7 year old enjoying his fill of making funny faces in the mirror (he lost two teeth this week and is really having a fun time with his changing smile—but if he keeps this up Imma have to puree all his food AND take out a tooth fairy bank loan!). After everyone had their fun at the expense of the lovely TJMaxx merchandise, we made our way to the registers.

Oh TJMaxx, I know just what you and your sly marketing people are doing, forcing us to snake past the myriad of impulse purchases in the new feeder line to the registers. Soaps and cute gift bags and cushy socks, oh my! I could resist the pretty soaps and explain away the squeaky dog toys to 3 year old, I really could, but just as I thought we were in the clear, on the last shelf–right at the critical 3 foot eye level— the Nerf guns? Last straw! Soon I had a three year old convulsing on the not that clean floor. (Ok, it was probably cleaner than my floors. Your point?)

“IWANNNNNNNERFGUNNNNNN! I WANNNNNNERFGUNNNNNN! I WANNNNNNNNERFGUNNNNNN!”

Really TJMaxx? Really? You’re on my shit list. Top. In bold. And italics for good measure. If you think you had me at a $16.99 faux croc black clutch, you be sorely mistaken! (Hangs head—I still bought it.)

I would say you had to be there, but you probably heard him, his cries and stomps and screams reverberating around planet earth…and then back again. I mean, when the other shorties start covering their ears, you know it ain’t good. I did my best to stand tall and walk calmly to the register and by ignoring him, he eventually understood it was game over. Bless the kind cashier’s heart–she kept grinning and gave me the sister soldier head nod, saying, “I have three grown boys. I know. I’m not laughing at you–this just brings me back and I totally get it.”

Why does the underpaid, overworked cashier get it and not you mean corporate suits, TJ Maxx! You’re all up in your climate controlled offices plotting how to sell me more $hit and the poor cashiers and moms are left holding the bag at the checkout. Not coo!

Rant aside, I know these crap-tastrophes happen to all of us–and they always seem to get us when we’re doing that one quick errand. But isn’t it so nice when you’re down and out to get the person who gives you the look, the smile, the few sentences that say, “I totally get it—no big?” instead of the “other” looks—from the holier than thou-ers, the crabby abbys who apparently live charmed lives in glass houses where clean clothes are folded and put away right out of the dryer instead of lying in a wrinkled heap while you burn the dinner!

So for that, I am thankful. And 3 year old, as he always does with his impish grin and squishy hugs and doe eyes, redeemed himself shortly after. I was cruising out of the parking lot after a spin through Tarjay (imagine that!) and he starts squawking from the back, “Mooommm! The bears!” I didn’t think much of it and he persisted, “Mooom! The bears! You forgot the bears!” I said, “Bears? What bears? Huh?” And then I asked his brothers, “Wait, does he mean beers?” And it clicked. I drove back to the shopping cart I’d used, and sure enough, the 12 pack of Diet Cokes were still underneath!

Credit: SOMEECARDS

I have NO idea why 3 year old would assume all cans have beer in them!  I was really proud of what a little sharpie he was to notice I’d forgotten my beloved Diet Cokes. But the fact that my 3 year old has a better attention to detail is not lost on me. This morning I was driving the kids to the playground and there was a motorcycle policeman behind me. All I’m thinking is, “I’m not speeding and my tail light is fixed! I am soooo not getting pulled over like last month!” Sure enough, after trailing me for like two miles, he pulls me over.

OH.MY.GOD.

5 year old starts squealing, “Mama’s getting pulled over A-GAIN!”

So the officer comes to the window and asks me for my license and reg and I grab the reg out of the box, look at it, look at him, look at it and go, “OMG. It’s August, isn’t it?”

“Yup!”

So, Smarty McForgettypants had 31 days in July to renew her reg and totally spaced on getting it done. (If you must know I was clearly too busy at TJMaxx!)

After the grandma of one of 5 year old’s friends drove by (Hi!) and I sat wondering how much a ticket might be, the kindly cop gave me a break and I told him I’d go take care of it right away—which I did, before I could forget. Again.

Credit: SOMEECARDS

And when I drove away, 5 year old exclaimed with the authority of a passenger who has, in his words, “Been pulled over two times by the police”……”I knew you were going to get pulled over when I saw that policeman. You were driving WAY too fast!”

I’ll totally cop to a summer bout of muffintopforgetfuldumbassitis, but driving too fast with kids in the car, um no!

Last week my seven year old asked if we could get an indoor pool. I tried to give him a quick throwdown in economics that roughly amounted to we’re not rich, famous, rich and famous, richly famous or famously rich. This is the same dude who lost a tooth last month and when I asked him what I thought the tooth fairy might leave him, he responded, “I hope a thousand dollars!” Kid, for a grand, I’ll pull my own tooth and dance a jig by the Cheez Doodles at Walmart. Until then, it’s $5 per tooth and a blow up pool for you, mister!

After Hooked on Econ, I had to teach three year old about hierarchy when he tried to call me out in my own family room. “Why YOU get to drink in here, MA-MAAAA?” I get to drink in here because I pay the mortgage. And I’m an adult and I won’t spill much of it. Maybe I was being more dictator. Tomato, toma-toe. Sue me for wanting to wash down an adult bev during Fresh Beat Band. It gets me in a party mood.

Today? My five year old asked me with a straight face, “Mom, when can we go to Washington D.C. to meet the President?”

Well now you’re talking! Let’s talk democracy! I pretty much told him the prez and all the pols work for us, this is true, but! But! You’d have a better chance of landing a playdate with Suri and Curious George than meeting him.

He looked at me blankly.

“We can’t just roll on up to 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. and yell for Barack Obama to come out and play!”

He didn’t seem satisfied.

Credit: Someecards

I love that kids are not cynical. That they really think they can have indoor pools and meet and greets with the President. That they have little concept of money or wealth or power. Or lack of it. That a five year old thinks we can just waltz on up to 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. and ring for Barack has to be the very definition of ignorance being bliss.

“Baraaack?? Michelle??? We’re here! Got any juice boxes??? 95 was a bitch and I’mmmmm thirsty! Some stupid motorcade was in our way. Pfft!”

I’m fairly certain the Secret Service might flatten the muffo de toppo if I hopped the fence to try to make some casual introductions. (What other fun family outings can we plan that will get us on the FBI watch list? I do like to encourage some hands on summer learnin’ so we could start with an introduction to the judicial system—screw those boring childrens’ museums!)

I do like that five year old is aiming high though, I really do. I mean, we live in New Hampshire, where future presidents mingle amongst the masses of asses during primary season, and hey, we did meet a future Senator at the town dump one day! (She looked fabulous and even the eau de dump did not overshadow her brightness. I had on no makeup and a baseball hat. I suppose I should be grateful “Lisa the crappy photographer” was not at the ready this time!)

The questions never cease around here and I try to be prepared but sometimes? I’m caught sans make up with a beat up baseball hat and nothing intelligent to offer. (Please refer to Seth Meyers post.)

So having said that, don’t you want to try your luck? Next Tuesday night, the 31st, I’m having a video book chat to talk Mommy Mixology and other fun biz on Shindig from 8 PM to 9 PM eastern standard time. You can ask me anything you want and I may or may not answer intelligently–won’t it be fun to find out! I should qualify, I will answer almost anything. I will never reveal my pant size. Seven year old knows it because he busted in on me in the bathroom one day (imagine that!) and then shouted it out because the Gap (thanks for nothing!) had to print the size on the waistband of my shorts in like 32 point font. Why God why? In case I went shorts shopping and forgot my Sherlock Holmes magnifying glass??? Bad, Gap, bad. That’s what I get for straying from my bestie Land’s End with their tiny size tags. Anyway, don’t even dream of shaking it out of seven year old. He pinky promised not to tell anyone. He might have visions of grandeur and no concept of money, but he knows a promise is a promise and he knows who keeps him in ice cream and juice.

ON SECOND THOUGHT, MAYBE I CAN'T TRUST HIM. Credit: Someecards

Here are the deets if you want to Shindig it up with me–apparently you need to sign up to join in on the adventure:

http://mommymixology.eventbrite.com/

As an added bonus, Lisa the crappy photographer will be on hand to assist me and wrestle me to the ground if I try to wear my psychadelic Seth Meyers shirt! I am already giddy with delight at how super svelte and wonderful I will look under the glow of my laptop cam! Suhhweeet!!!

I cannot STAND when people leave me hanging!

Which is why I feel so flat out ter-ri-blaaaay that I had a contest on my blog, and then left six hours after the contest deadline for a destination where I had no wireless internet for two weeks. (You know what? At first I was all, “Whaaa??” when I sat down with my laptop and realized I was so shut out, but it did not suck. I had my phone to keep up with Facebookin’/TomKat’s divorce, etc, but overall, it was a great chance to disconnect and bond with the fam.) The fun, the sun, the sand, the tantrums, and…..the impending melanoma??? I’m sure I’ll be sending some dermatologist’s kid to college some day if my arteries don’t clog first, but for now, all good!

The really good news is I had full access to Real Housewives of New Jersey, Fifty Shades of Grey and Doc McStuffins, so I absolutely kept my brain active. (Bites lip vs. flips table. I’d love to see Teresa go wo-mano to wo-mano with Ana! Sweet Doc McStuffins could patch them up after the Brawl de Beatches and teach them a thing or two.)

Anyway, since I couldn’t blog and announce the winner while I was away, I put most of my energy into working the muffin top and honing my fourth chin. It went well. It really did.

The even better news is, there was no dishwasher OR washer and dryer on my witness protection getaway, so I got to watch my hubs do dishes by hand while I supervised (I really should thank my mother in law, shouldn’t I?) and kill the environment one paper plate at at time (hanging head in shame). Witness protection has its benefits though.

EVERYONE IN WITNESS PROTECTION NEEDS A BODYGUARD. THIS IS MUSCLES MAGOO. HE WILL FLATTEN YOU IF YOU TRY TO TAKE OUR LAST COOKIE. DON'T UNDERESTIMATE.

Yet another highlight? Visiting a laundromat that has remained untouched since the Carter administration:

I FORGOT MY STINKING ASH TRAY AGAIN! (AND MY COOLER. IT WAS LIKE 157 BILLION DEGREES IN THERE. IF I EVER OPEN A LAUNDROMAT, IT'S GONNA HAVE A BAR IN IT. DON'T STEAL MY IDEA OR IMMA SENDING MUSCLES MAGOO AFTER YOUR ASS.)

The only thing they seem to have updated in that laundry joint is the prices. I smell a racket!

Despite my groovy hot tub time machine trip, when I still came home with 473 loads of laundry, I truly felt grateful I have a washer and dryer and that I can save my quarters for tolls future casino trips.

I THINK THE MAKERS OF "ALL" LAUNDRY DETERGENT NEED TO BE SENDING ME A THANK YOU NOTE!

I have to tell you, your responses to the caption challenge truly made me laugh out loud—I thank every one of you who took a shot—I love and appreciate that you did. It was way harder than I thought to pick a winner, but ultimately I had to go with the caption that made hubs and me laugh the hardest. I will be having another contest in a few weeks so I do hope you stay tuned for another chance.

Sooooo, congrats to Keri, you are the big WINNAH! Email me your addy to janet at muffintopmommy.com with the title “Contest Winnah”. As soon as Mommy Mixology is out (the publication date just got pushed back to August, boo), your copy will be in the mail! You seriously had me at, “Provides hours of fun without any mouthy sarcasm.” Peed mah Hanes Her Way granny pants. Not an easy feat. (Ok, kind of an easy feat, but usually that happens on trampolines/overrated exercises and not from laughing.)

In the meantime, Thursday night I’m participating in a podcast with Amber at www.strocel.com and I’ll let you know when that’s available if you’d like to listen. There are other upcoming events for Mommy Mixology so stay tuned here and on my Muffintopmommy pages on Facebook if you’re up for it.

Until then, rock the top!