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¿Cómo Se Dice “Rooster Sperm” en Español?

4 Mar

I had a- I don’t know- um…. interesting conversation with my neighbor Maria yesterday. She’s a lovely woman who is very vibrant and I always enjoy speaking with her. I use the term “speaking” loosely, as she speaks only Spanish and I probably have the vocabulary of a two year old Hispanic toddler. This is how the conversation went:

Maria: Oh, I see you have some chickens.

Me: Yes.

Maria: How many?

Me: Four.

Maria: Any roosters?

Me: No.

Maria: You don’t need a rooster anyway. Let the hens sit on the eggs so you can have babies. Don’t take the eggs out of the coop and eat them. The hens need to sit on them.

Me: No, no babies. Need rooster daddy for to make the babies.

Maria: No you don’t. You just have to let the hens sit on the eggs for a long time. The warmth from their bodies will make the babies come.

Me: No. The Rooster is the “papa”. You need the “papa” for to make the babies. “Mama” is of the lady chicken and “Papa” is of the rooster chicken.

Maria: I think you are wrong. My mother has chickens, tons of them actually, and they have babies.

Me: Is her chicken house one of the rooster?

Maria: Yes, but only because he is beautiful. He doesn’t make the babies.

Me: Oh, ok. It’s possible.

It’s times like these I wish my tenth grade Spanish teacher Mr. Merril had covered terms such as, “immaculate conception”, “fertilization”, and “chicken sex.” I so would have aced that class.

Top Ten Worst Valentine’s Day Gifts

11 Feb
  1. Lingerie. We both know who this is really for, don’t we?
  2. A Puppy. Thanks Jerk-face. You basically just got me another baby. Except this one will never grow up. I guess that makes both of you.
  3. A box of chocolates from the drug store. Although, they might give me such a bad headache that I will actually have a legitimate reason to withhold sex.
  4. Anything intended for exercise (this includes yoga pants). This is a no-win situation.
  5. A gift certificate for a massage. Unless it comes with a gift certificate for a babysitter too.
  6. A romantic Facebook icon left on my wall. We’re not 13, ok?
  7. A stuffed animal. Like I need another one of those dust-collectors sitting around the house.
  8. Appliances. Unless it’s a robotic maid.
  9. Something that requires assembly (by me). Do I really need to explain this one?
  10. Nothing. Consider yourself warned.

What’s on your wish list this Valentine’s Day?

Top 3 Conversations Overheard at the Emergency Room Wednesday Night

28 Jan

I had to take Annie to the emergency room on Wednesday night. She’s been sick for a few days, kind of lethargic, and not eating that well. Plus, she’d been having a low grade fever on and off for a few days.  I called the doctor, and after consulting a nurse on the phone, it seemed she was just suffering from a bad cold.

Well, around 9pm she started hysterically screaming and had a temperature of almost 104 degrees. So, off to Children’s Hospital we went. Turns out she has a double ear infection and a punctured ear drum. Ouch. She’s on antibiotics now (much to my dismay as another round of thrush is on its way) and her spirits are back up.

This wasn’t my first time at the rodeo, and I fully knew what to expect when I got there: a combination of people that either a) I feel sorry for and hope they get seen within a minute of checking in, b) totally gross me out, and c) bug the living shit out of me. I’m happy to say that this little trip to the ER didn’t disappoint.

Scene 1:

Nurse: Why are you here?
Mother: My daughter has a cough.
Nurse: Any fever?
Mother: No.
Nurse: Any runny nose or mucus coming up with the cough?
Mother: No.
Nurse: Any vomiting, diarrhea, or other symptoms?
Mother: No. She’s just coughing.
Nurse: Fill these out and take a seat.

Scene 2

Mother: Excuse me nurse.
Nurse: Yes.
Mother: We’re going to go home now.
Nurse: Why?
Mother: Well, the Motrin you gave my son while we were waiting seems to have taken away his fever.
Nurse: You were just here for the fever?
Mother: Yes. It’s gone now so we are going to go home.

Scene 3 (I promise you this is 100% true)

Nurse: Well, it appears your daughter had an allergic reaction to the penicillin she was taking. Is anyone else in your family allergic to penicillin?
Mother: Yes, my ex-husband is.
Nurse: But that’s not the father of your child, am I correct?
Mother: No, he’s not.
Nurse: So he wouldn’t really apply to this situation, would he.
Mother: Oh really? I guess not then.

What are some of your favorite emergency room moments?

Top Ten Reasons Gwyneth Paltrow Will Never Be Like Me

17 Jan

Dearest Gwynnie,

I know you’ve been taking a lot of heat lately for certain statements you’ve made in the press regarding motherhood and your general thoughts on most aspects of life. I will admit that I have not been a supporter of yours. In fact, some of the things you have said really bug the crap out of me. But then you made your little cameo on Glee and, as much as it pains me to say this, you killed it. Like shot it six times and ran over it twice with your car. Murdered. You were good girlfriend.

And then I kind of started to like you. Until this came out: “Gwyneth Paltrow’s Time Saving Tips for Moms!” After reading the article my first thought was, “Does your publicist secretly hate you?”

I’m not going to pick apart everything you said (too bad my local fishmonger doesn’t deliver- my life would be SO much easier!), but here’s my general feeling: You are not like me and never will be, so stop trying to act like you can relate to even a fraction of what my daily life is like and please stop trying to advise me on how I can live a better life.

You know what would be awesome? If you would just come out and say something like, “I’m super rich, I have loads of help, I have been granted every opportunity in this world, and I still think being a mom is really hard. I have so much respect for mothers, whether they are working, at home, or something in between.” Or you could even say, “I make a lot of money and have really expensive taste. I know that most of what I wear, eat, rent, buy, use, and covet cannot be purchased by the average person.” You know, something like that.

Please Gwyneth, for your own sake, stop trying to act like you are just like the rest of us. Because really? You aren’t. Just go back to acting and stop trying to give the rest of us, most of whom are just trying to make it through the day without overdrawing our checking accounts, a break. Ok?

Here are ten reasons why you will never be like the rest of us (or at least me):

  1. You were born into Hollywood royalty, which means you basically never even had a fair shot of being a normal person.
  2. You have never been photographed with even 1/8 of an inch of roots.
  3. You have Madonna, Stella McCartney, Jay Z, and Steven Spielberg on your speed dial.
  4. You think it is acceptable to name your daughter “Apple”.
  5. You are saving your Chanel dresses for your daughter’s clothing collection. Do you think my Target tank tops are worth keeping?
  6. To quote you: “Life is good because I am not passive about it.” Bite me.
  7. Your perfect “cleanse” consists of miso soup all day and 2 tb spoons of olive oil at night. FYI- Some people call that “anorexia.”
  8. You use a $52 leather fly swatter.
  9. Insert any one of these seven quotes here.
  10. You know what Brad Pitt’s wiener looks like.


Mama's Losin' It

Family Fun Where Everyone is a Loser

28 Dec

My extended family has a tradition of playing the “White Elephant ” gift exchange game every Christmas Eve, and this year was no exception.

I’m sure you all know this game. The short version of the rules is that everyone participating buys a gift, all the gifts are all pooled together and each person draws a number that determines in what order they take a turn. When a turn is taken, a gift is either selected from the pile, or stolen from a previous participant.

The goal, I believe, is to try to crush the hopes and dreams of someone who really had their heart set on walking away with a $20 Starbucks gift card.

This may be a little known fact, but I have a bit of a competitive streak in me. I’d like to think it’s well within the normal range though. Just don’t ask Becky Brunswich, the third grade hopscotch champion, her opinion about that. But I digress.

As much as I love getting together with my family on Christmas Eve, especially because this is the one day I see most of them all year, this game is really starting to get on my nerves.

Here’s the issue: Does anyone really ever come out on top?

What is the point of this game exactly? I mean, besides trying to get your hands on a ceramic mug or popcorn maker. It is really that much fun?

Last Christmas Eve, as our White Elephant game was coming to a close, I took a good look around the room. Everyone was clutching their votive candles, wine bottle stoppers, and desk calendars. Not to sound like a total beyotch (I find myself saying that a lot…), but we were a sorry bunch. What exactly were we all walking away with?

I know exactly what: A bunch of crap.

Next year I say we just all cut each other checks and call it a day.

Talking About a Revolution

18 Nov

Hi Everyone!

I’m guest posting over at Diary of a Mad Woman today.

I’m talking about money and blogging and working for free. Stop by and give me a holler!

Dear Santa, All I Want for Christmas Is…

12 Nov

1. A sippy cup that doesn’t leak. But it can’t be too hard to drink from either. Oh, and it can’t get smelly. It also needs to have a lid without any parts or straws and it has to be made from safe, non-toxic materials. One last thing- if it could be free of any Dora or Disney motifs that would be great.

2. A double stroller that doesn’t weigh a million pounds, has a huge undercarriage, fully reclines in both seats, has massive sunshades, a parent console, a one-hand fold, stands upright when collapsed, fits in my trunk, has an easy to operate brake, can be steered with one hand, navigates the doctor’s office and the mall like a ninja, tires that don’t deflate overnight, and looks cool. Is that too much to ask?

3. A highchair that is compact, a breeze to clean, easy on the eyes, tall enough for my bar-height countertop, and it can’t cost a million dollars either. Got it?

4. An infant seat that isn’t awkward to carry. I know there are some that have those groovy handles that make it appear to be easier, but it’s a sham. My. Back. Can’t. Take. It. Anymore.

5. And finally, a baby monitor. This one sounds simple, but it’s not. It needs to have the clearest of sound, a mile long range, movement and breath detection, night vision, lullabies, white noise, a temperature reading, at least two bases and two parent units, two-way chat, a night light, be battery operated on both ends, and compact. Good luck with that one.

Lots of Love,


PS- If I’m really good, eat all my vegetables, and promise not to curse (as much) can I also get ten hours of uninterrupted sleep? Pretty please?

Moms- What are you hoping Santa brings you this holiday season?

You can also see this post here at Rated by Mom.

The Time of My Life

3 Nov

I just got back from ten fabulous days at my parent’s house in the San Juan Islands. I’m bringing home so many memories and I wanted to share some of them with you.

Here is the view of the sunrise from my parent’s deck. Isn’t it amazing? I woke up to this image for ten glorious mornings:

I took the girls on several nature walks. The deciduous trees were all loosing their leaves. It’s a novelty for Southern Californians to see the trees changing:



We picked mushrooms along the side of the road:

We finally got some good use out of those Hello Kitty rain boots:

We did a little pumpkin carving:

And we even had a surprise visitor:

Meet the newest member of the family: Enterobius vermicularis. Otherwise known as the Pinworm.

You know, there’s nothing like a family vacation (11 people visisting in all) and an intestinal parasite to bring you all a little closer together because:

Sharing is sitting down at the breakfast table and informing everyone that you may have infected them with a parasitic worm.

Teamwork is helping hold down the children so you can perform a tap water enema on them in hopes to flush some of the worms from their colon.

Bonding is everyone raising their glasses to toast just before downing a dose of Pin-X in unison.

Closeness is sharing a singular toilet with an unknown number of people that may or may not have a pinworm infestation.

Laughter is listening in on the phone call to my husband in which I ask him if he’s itched his anus lately.

And finally, seeing a pinworm crawl out of your daughter’s rectum, bob its head around like a dancing cobra, and then slip back in? Well, that’s the stuff memories are made of.


Editor’s note: The icing on the cake was coming home to a broken washing machine. Those of you who are familiar with pinworms know that everything, including linens, must be washed daily. I may as well just burn the house down.

Fellow writers: I just came across a contest titled, “That stinks! But the Arm and Hammer diaper pail by Munchkin doesn’t!” I’m submitting this piece in hopes to win. Because loosing your washer in the middle of a pinworm infestation really, really stinks. No voting is necessary. Check out their Facebook page if you want to submit your own stinky story.

If you submit a story, you are entering a contest for a Arm and Hammer diaper pail by Munchkin. A winner is picked every day. Additionally, the grand prize winner receives free housecleaning for a year! If that doesn’t get your creative juices flowing, then I don’t know what will.

BTW- if you win and I loose, a kitten doesn’t make it to heaven. Good luck!

Dear Tickle Me Elmo, You Seriously Bug

11 Oct

Dear Tickle Me Elmo,

I’m just going to come out and say it: I don’t get what the big deal is.

First, I have yet to meet a child that isn’t completely terrified of you. For the first two years of her life, Big Chick clung to me like a baby monkey every time she caught a glimpse of you. Why do you have to be so scary?

Also, you tell really, really bad jokes. You may think you are funny because everyone is laughing along. Well, let me be the first to tell you: We are laughing at you, not with you. You know that whole “Jack and the Bean Stalk” bit? It’s got to go.

I’m sure this is a sensitive topic for you, but I’ve have to bring it up. Why is your voice so high? By my calculations, you are about 14 years old. How have you not hit puberty yet? I’ll give you another couple of years to catch up to the other boys your age before I get seriously worried for you.

And your laugh? It’s the stuff nightmares are made of.

You do have a few redeeming qualities though. I will admit that you’ve got some pretty sweet dance moves. And you have really nice manners. Every time Big Chick knocks you down (ok, maybe I did it a few times too), you are really gracious about it. Way to take the high road.

Despite your few positive traits, I’m sorry to say that I’m giving you the boot. You know that big garage sale I’ve been preparing for all week? Well, that’s the day we part ways. I’m going to give you a nice wipe down and mark you at a price that can’t be beat. I’m sure some unsuspecting grandparent will fall for your charming ways.

It’s been really nice knowing you. Not.



This post can also be seen here at Rated by Mom

Who Are You Calling “Mom”?

7 Oct

Emma’s about to turn three, she just started “school” and I’ve been noticing some changes in her. She’s no longer my sweet, innocent, lovey girl. Well- she still is all those things, but she’s also started to give me a heavy dose of “The Sass”. I’ve been waiting for this. If there is one thing I learned from my career as a nanny: It’s that three is way worse than two.

So, the other day I was starting to get Emma ready for her nap. There were toys everywhere, her lunch was all over her table (uneaten, of course), and the house was in a general state of chaos.

Because bribery is the greatest weapon against a three year old’s will, I told her, “If you want to read books with Mommy before you take a nap, I need you to help clean up your toys. Otherwise, you will have to go straight to bed. And Mommy really loves to cuddle and read with you, so let’s clean up! Yaaayyy!” Everything must be said with enthusiasm so she doesn’t realize that I’m asking her to do an actual chore.

She turned, raised the palm of her hand to me, and said, “Hold on. I’m busy Mom.” I spun around. “What did you just say?” I asked her. She said, “I’m busy Mom.” There it was again, that word- Mom.

“That’s Mommy to you”, I felt like telling her. Instead, I stood there, speechless.

When did she decide that it was time to start calling me “Mom”? Isn’t it a little soon for that? I know it doesn’t sound like a big deal, but here is why it bugs me so much.

It’s one thing to get sassed by my three year old when she still addresses me as “Mommy”. I can kind of convince myself that it’s cute. But when she calls me “Mom”, she basically sounds like a teenager with a bad attitude. A teenager who also has a very limited vocabulary and cannot correctly pronounce the letter “R”. You know what I’m saying.

I lucked out though, because a few days later she was back to calling me “Mommy”. Phew! That little “Mom” episode gave me a glimpse of my not-so-distant future as a mother to a teenage girl and I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

So, please, if you ever address me in front of my children- you better keep the name “Mom” out of your mouth. Or else in I’ll send both of my teenage girls to live with you for the summer.

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