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Summer break with kids is the number one leading cause of alcoholism.

A week before school gets out, Mom's are like, "We are going to have SO MUCH FUN this summer!", "I have so many fun activities planned!", "Can't wait for vacation!", "It will be so nice to sleep in for a change!", "We have to hit every zoo and museum in our state." And then you go on your first outing with your sweet peas, and 5 minutes in, your hopes and dreams come crashing down with your demon possessed child, who decides to fall on the ground at the gorilla exhibit because a piece of bark got in his shoe.

I admit it, I had false hopes for this summer. I was giving my insane children the benefit of the doubt. With each new school year comes new found maturity, right? They are suppose to be able to handle situations better than the year before. At least that's how things should go. But clearly, that's not how the world works. At least not in this house.

When I plan an adventure out with my children, I pack for any and…
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School projects will be the death of me.

Never underestimate two weeks left of school. You may think you're on cruise control to the end, but then your kindergartner's teacher will send an email bomb that shoots you into flashbacks of the time you were up until 3am trying to build a mini Golden Gate Bridge with dowels and tiny rope. Or that one time you had to make an invention and ghetto rigged a fly swatter to a pillow, so when a bug landed on your head when you slept, you wouldn't have to get up to kill the damn thing. It worked better in theory.

"Dear parents, your child has an end of the year project due in a week. They can pick any non-fiction topic to share. (Ex: Outer space, food, an animal, an insect) There needs to be 3 facts attached to the project, and please let your child do most of the work. They feel very accomplished when they can take ownership on what they are presenting. May the odds be ever in your favor." The email went something like that. I sat there blinking for a good 5 minutes…

Traveling with offspring.

I am 99.9 percent positive that the preparation it takes to travel on a plane with kids causes ulcers in most parents. Ok, moms. Let’s be real. And that’s just the damage BEFORE the actual trip. The voyage after the holes attack your innards cause a brand new medical condition that varies depending on the ages of these little joys we are so blessed to bring along with us.

This past weekend my husband and I flew back to my home town in California to celebrate my grandpa’s amazing life. He was truly the sweetest human being I’ve ever known. There was nothing you could do to make him angry. He was a living angel. And what’s even crazier about that is that he had 2 daughters. He went through every stage and phase of 2 kids and yet remained solid, consistent and loving at all times. I am ashamed to announce that his insane gift of eternal patience did not pass down to his granddaughter. Truth be told, I lose my cool in a day more than the amount of hairs I have on my head. I am fine one mi…

It never frickin’ fails.

Kids are disgusting. They have no regaurd for cleanliness. Touching them alone is the exact same thing as licking the door of a stall in a public bathroom. You either survive or you’re hospitalized for some unknown virus that could potentially take your life. The audacity of these tiny people.

A week and a half ago, pink eye plagued our home.
 I’ll spare the details, but it started with one son and quickly spread to the other. I kept baby sister as far away from them as possible, and luckily it left just as fast as it came. But that’s not all. That isn’t my story. That’s just the intro. Follow me into Wednesday of this week. Life was great. In the afternoon I threw dinner in my Insta pot: chicken artichoke soup, (So good) kids were happily playing together, baby was napping. It was grand. Until about 5 O’clock when Charlie came down stairs to inform me that he threw up hot Cheetos all over his bed. I used to love hot Cheetos. They were my weakness. But things change when you see it in…

I quit.

3 am is a ridiculous hour. My parents used to say, "Nothing good happens after 11 pm. And what do you know? That statement is totally true. I mean, really. The only time anyone is ever awake at 3 am is because

a) you're stuffing your face with a greasy Jack in the Box burger after a crazy night you'll most likely never remember, or pray you forget.
b) You're evil children set their internal time clocks to make sure they're adding new wrinkles to your already jacked up face, nightly. I'm a walking "Mombie" today. (Mom zombie....use it.)

You never truly understand the power of sleep-deprivation-torture until you have kids. When you're literally being woken up every 15 minutes, in the only 6 hour period allotted for sleep, you're on your way to crazy town. I work part time as a hair stylist outside of the home. So, whether I sleep or not, I have the super fun challenge of trying to turn my swamp momster look into a well-rested fashioni…

Valentine’s, shmalentine’s.

When I was a little girl, I loved Valentine’s Day. That day meant my dad would surprise me with flowers, candy and a present that made me feel like royalty. But between the ages of 16 to 26, when the dreaded love holiday came around, me and my single friends would refuse to acknowledge it’s existence. On the contrary, if I had a love interest at the time, there was nothing better than to receive those stale chocolates in a cardboard, heart shaped box, and a rose or 12.

Just admit it. Its a fun day to celebrate, when you have someone to celebrate it with. And strangely enough, after having kids, it becomes more of a holiday for them than for my husband and I. This past week I found myself strolling the aisles of Walmart looking for Valentine pressies for my kids. No, I didn’t forget my husband. I typically get him something creative for Valentine’s Day, and lucky for him, this year was a pair of custom made socks with my face all over them. You’re welcome, Darling.

Back to Walmart. Can…

Things I said I would NEVER do as a parent, before I was one.

We can all admit saying "I would never" at some point in our lives. There are even those occasional moments where our judgey eyes shoot lasers at the moms who are doing things a bit different than we do. It's human. Let's face it. We're all jerks.

In my early 20's, before my actual husband or children were even a twinkle in my eye, I had motherhood down. I could tell you what you were doing wrong, why your kids were so god-awful, and how to fix it. In watching parents, I was able to figure out what my life as a mother would look like. And here was my list of "Nevers".

First off, I was never going to co-sleep. Co-sleeping was the worst possible thing you could do to your marriage and your child. Reasons: It creates bad habits, you won't be able to sleep, your children end up dropping out of college because they can't twirl their mom's hair in their hands as they fall asleep in their dorm rooms, and you and your husband lose intimacy. Then…