There’s no Wine in Patience… or is there?

When it came to writing this week’s blog post, my brain was giving me the silent treatment. Generally, my ideas on what to write about stem from the asshole things my kids (or husband) have done, or from fake news I see on my social media feeds… both usually recipes for some good laughs.

Only this week, some serendipitous shit happened at my house. Normally, on any given day that ends in ‘y’, my house is like a game of War-Craft.  Only this week, my Beasts were actually quite civilized. Like, there were no patches of hair missing from any given scalp. No one took a direct shit on the floor and walked through it. No one poured maple syrup over their head. No one shoved cat food down our vents. It was a good week. So yes, what I’m saying is that I secretly hope my kids give me just a wee snippet of their true asshole colours, because otherwise I don’t have a blog to piss on.

As for social media, with the recent events brought on by that 70 year old DicToddler, social media has now become a platform for the world to voice their political fears. Fine. But because I try to steer clear of politics on this blog, social media has given me no lemons from which to make proverbial lemonade.

Until finally, what should appear in my inbox?! An article about *cough * “How to be more patient with your kids”.  No really… I couldn’t even make this shit up if I tried! Et Voilà, a blog post was born.


So here are the tips on how to be more patient with your kids. And, of course, my deep thoughts on them.

Treat your kids like house guests

Would you yell at your guest to put their shoes away? By treating your kids like house guests, this will keep the peace and everyone will be more likely to get along.

OK.  So here’s the thing… if my house guests behaved anything like my children, I’d throw their asses out at “Hello”. That said, I expect very little when it comes to house guests. Because, like us, they tend to be grief-stricken parents in need of a lobotomy. I must say though, I am quite the hostess with the mostess when it comes to entertaining. Upon arrival, I graciously offer our house guests an iWarned U Package. Inside, our house guests will find a Hazmat suit to protect against the toxicity of my house, plastic grocery bags to wear over their feet as booties, cotton balls to shove up their nostrils to mask the smell, earplugs, 2 Valium and an unlimited supply of wine to render them into a much-needed coma.

Get enough rest

“If you aren’t getting enough sleep, you will be crabby.  Try getting 7 hours of sleep tonight and see what a difference it makes.  (Maybe even aim for 8 hours!)”

In theory, this sounds like sage advice… only in practice it’s fluffy BS.  Because sleep and children are about as compatible as wine and decision-making. I’m three kids deep, and still haven’t found the Holy Grail of Sleep. Until I do, it’s a whine for a wine. Big J and I enjoy a couple of romantic shots of wine, and we’re off to bed like two drunk peas in a pod. Now that’s compatibility for ya’!

Don’t argue with your children

“Make a rule and stick to it and there will be no arguing necessary because it won’t get them anywhere.  Instead, try being empathetic towards them.”

I too try not to argue with my kids. Instead, I simply ignore them. You see, I’m no child psychologist, but the evidence is pretty clear that children lack in the brain department. Since having kids, I believe “blow your brains out” has a whole new meaning to it. Here’s my theory: basically kids have runny noses from birth. And when they sneeze, a massive thick yellow worm of mucus exits from their nose, sticking to their lips, and dangles mid-air from their chin. They then promptly smear it horizontally across their face with their Neanderthal hands.  I am now convinced that when they sneeze, they are literally blowing their brains out, cell by cell. It’s the only explanation! So I agree, it’s not fair to argue with someone who has the IQ of a squirrel.

Be prepared

“The root of impatient behavior is always the same: you are unprepared… Causing you to lose your temper. Being prepared stops this.”

News flash!!! You can organize yourself until the cows come home, but that doesn’t guarantee the kids will go along with the plan. Simply putting socks on a toddler requires a PhD in Fuckery. So just STOP!  Really,  just stop. Stop wasting your imaginary time preparing for your imaginary well-behaved children. It’s a little game I play with myself called “Who F’ing Cares? Not Me”. Seriously, if you can’t beat ’em… join ’em!

Drink more water and eat better

“Yes, it is true.  You are what you eat. Also if you don’t drink water,  you aren’t going to be as happy.”

Well, when I’m not hiding in the pantry shoving Oreo’s down my throat, I tend to eat the leftovers that I scraped off the floor. So if I am what I eat, that makes me the family dog.  But I do agree with her about the importance of drinking more to stay happy. She means water, I mean wine. Po-tay-to… Po-tah-to!

Take a break

“After you lose your temper, it can take 1/2 an hour to calm back down. Have your whole family spend time reading in their bedrooms for 30 minutes until everyone feels better.”

Really, it just get better and better, non? If I were to shut my Beasts in their bedrooms alone for more than one minute, it’d turn into a scene from Lord of the Flies. And I’m almost positive they’d make me Roger! Pray/Prey!  I know I keep going back to the Valium and wine, but it really is like taking a break… a long, well-deserved cognitive brain-numbing break. Plus, the kids love it… they call it the “Mommy Is a Rock” game.


Listen. Reality is, there is no shortage of tips and resources when it comes to parenting. But at the end of the day, it comes down to parenting the way that works best for YOU. Kids are little people who are simply doing the best they can… You’re all they have. Remember, you don’t want rush something that you want to last forever. So yes, try to be patient. Be kind. Be understanding. Parenting is one of the hardest and least rewarding jobs ever. So if you do lose your patience (and you will!), forgive yourself for being, well, human. And rather than wanting to blow your own brains out, take a minute and go stand outside… ’cause you are outstanding. You really really are, Mamas!


Red Whino

P.S. If you don’t want to take my asshole parenting advice (I beg you, please don’t!), here’s the article.

Ladies, get blogging…like, NOW! You can thank me later!

OMG! I deserve a Nobel Peace Prize… or an Academy Award… or some shit!

Ladies, I have figured out the long-awaited mystery on how to get your man to actually do things around the house… And by that I mean do things your way – as in the right way, obviously!

Now I haven’t been married all that long, but I have been dating for more than 20 years (gulp!). Also, I grew up with brothers, and have had several dogs (somehow seems relevant)… So I know a thing or three about how to train a man! You see, asking them (politely) to do something… then telling them (a little less-politely) to do something… then nagging them (“polite” now being a foreign word) to do something… simply pushes them deeper into their “man cave”.

So forget the whole Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus crap! It’s all about blogging!

You see, at first Big J was not sold on the idea of my starting a blog. Hmmm, I thought… Does he think it will take time away from my Little Orange Crush? Is he worried I’ll be exposing myself to a bunch of online freaks (Yes, that would be you, my friends. YOU!)?

I quickly came to realize it was more of an “it’s not you, it’s me” kind of situation… By blogging, he was more worried that I’d be exposing him!

Here’s how it all went down. Lately I’ve been secretly worrying that I was slowly going blind. Things appeared to be getting darker and darker. My eyes were straining. Only it wasn’t my eyesight, rather every lightbulb in the house needed to be changed.

Now, I’m totally not opposed to doing things myself, but I am vertically challenged (horizontally too, but we’ll save that for another post!). I stand at a proud 5’2… and that’s with heels on! So some of the bulb-changing duties have to fall under Mr 5’11.

Now, I’m not here to throw my husband under the bus. He’s amazing at getting stuff done around the house. He’s just not so great at the whole putting-shit-away after getting stuff done around the house.

Anyways, so I asked, and he changed the bulbs. Great! But the old bulbs were left lying around, and chairs were sitting vacantly in the middle of most rooms. So I ever-so-sweetly (wink, wink) mentioned the whole concept of putting-things-away.

Me: “Hon’. I know chairs have legs, but they can’t walk themselves back to the kitchen table. And do you think the old bulbs lying around will all of a sudden get the bright idea to throw themselves out?”

(I know… sooo corny. And, to make matters worse, I laugh at my own jokes all the time!)

Big J (in a “I’m telling Mom!” kinda voice): “Oh. I’m sorry. What are you gonna do? Blog about it? ”

And that’s when it happened… Just as he said it, that he had a ‘Holy Shit’ moment in his brain.

Big J: “You are, aren’t you?”

Next thing I know, the bulbs are all cleaned up. Chairs put away.

And so Ladies, that is the power of blogging!

Since I launched Red Whine Diaries, my Big J has been a dreamy House Husband ever since! It’s basically like porn for women, really!

My only concern now is what if he starts his own retalliation blog? Then I might really find myself up shit creek without a paddle. You see, I don’t always like the taste of my own medicine… But until then, let’s get our blog on!


Half-assed chivalry at its best!

The other day, we had what they were calling Snowmageddon. In other words, we got hit with a shitload of snow! Not that bad really… Toronto just likes to make big deals over nothing. Take the Maple Leafs for example…

After 2 full days of what was starting to feel like a re-enactment of The Shinning, it was time to escape like a convict from Alcatraz. Knowing I had an appointment, before leaving for work Big J came in to tell me he’d cleared the snow off the van for me.

Translation: I scraped off just enough snow so you can get IN the van. You can do the rest!
Snowmageddon Chivalry

Oh, I get it. Apparently it’s a doing-things-the-half-ass-way kinda day. I guess I never got the memo!

So when Big J came home from work, I was my usual wifey self… eagerly awaiting his arrival, apron on, clean babe on hip, with dinner on the stove (all this, and a smile, of course). I handed him a beer… cause a dutiful wife should always offer her husband a cold refreshment at the end of the day*. I read all this in Housekeeping Magazine… circa 1940. I also read somewhere that a kind, loving wife should always sample her husband’s drink to make sure it’s suitable to his liking**.  Ok. Fine. I made that last rule up! Good rule though, non?

Big J: This beer is half empty.  (Hence, my devoted wife sampling!)

Me: It’s not empty, you pessimist. It’s half-assed full!

He stared at me with a perplexed, weary expression. Not entirely sure what he was up against, he smiled sweetly, slowly stepped away from the situation (closely watching me from the corner of his eye), sat on the couch, and decided to play-it-safe and just enjoy his half-ass beer.

I poured myself a full-ass glass of wine (cause a wife should never let her husband drink alone, or something like that!). And we both drank happily ever after…

* Please note, none of the above is true… There was no dinner. Babe was definitely in need of a bath. And I don’t even own an apron.

** This part is true. I drank half his beer… happily.