My Mother’s Day Gift Registry iDeas


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NEWS FLASH: This Sunday is Mother’s Day.

(So tag every husband, son, and male on the planet as a subtle reminder. You’re welcome, Honey!)

The truth is, I don’t care for fancy, lavish gifts. My Big J knows that! Still, I thought I’d make it easy on him with my own Mother’s Day Gift Registry… Just a few iDeas:

iNap App: I love when people tell me to nap when my babies nap. Firstly, by the time my babies go down for a nap… assuming they go down for a nap… I’m so jacked up on coffee having been awake since 4:30am playing Peek-a-friggin’-boo, that my eyeballs are ready to pop-a-friggin’-roo out of their sockets. Sleep ain’t happening!  The iNap App would instantly put me into a deep coma whenever and wherever, regardless of copious amounts of coffee consumed!

uNap App: No more of this picking and choosing when you Beasts want to nap. No sir! Mama is da’ boss now! The uNap App would be installed like a dogs’ microchip. I simply press “Nap” et Voila… Zzzzz! They are down for the count. Cocktails at naptime anyone?!?

Uppa Baby App: Forget the stroller. This app works in conjunction with the uNap App. I determine when baby naps, and when it’s time for them to get uppa baby! None of these shit 20-minute teaser naps… You on Mama’s clock now, kiddo!

iBrow App: The other day I was out (like in actual public “out”, not on my front lawn “out”) and I couldn’t figure out why people were staring at me like I was a freak of nature. I just assumed it was because I haven’t showered or changed my clothing since my kids’ were born. That is until I got home and looked in the mirror only to realize I’d only painted on one of my eyebrows that morning. ‘A’ for effort… ‘F’ for execution! The iBrow App would instantly paint on both eyebrows by 8am each morning. Seriously, I look like an albino ferret without them!

iZap App: This is a ‘must have’ for all of us mothers when we’re out at the park with our kids. Truth? I hate going to the park. There’s boring, and there’s park boring. But as much as I hate the park, I hate leaving it even more… because my children refuse to leave. It’s like negotiating with terrorists… The iZap App instantly zaps them into a trance-like state. They obediently follow me like little zombies away from the park… far, far away.

iV App: This, THIS app allows for a glorious, continuous flow of whatever liquid poison you need to fuel your tired ass up. For me, a heavenly, warm coffee will run through my tired veins all friggin’ day. And with the click of a button, the IV will change to a rich, desperately needed wine that tastes like a big sip of life before children.

Oh, and one last item on my Mother’s Day Gift Registry…

iDo App: I know it’s Mother’s Day, so it’s all about me, me, me… But the reality is, I am eternally grateful to my Big J for knocking me up, three times! So for the days that I fail to tell Big J how much I love him, the iDo App would send him daily reminders that I do... I really really do!

So no “diamonds are a girl’s best friend” for this Mama. Dads, you need not overthink it. ‘Cause it’s really quite simple. It’s inexpensive. And it’s doable. Simply and truly appreciate her. Give her time off. Let her kick up her feet. Let her read a book. Watch a show. Let her go pee… ALONE!

Trust me, all of the above, paired with a nice bottle of red wine, just might guarantee Dad a Happy Mother’s Day for himself too.

Cheers,

Red Whino

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Celebrate ALL moms here: https://redwhinediaries.com/2017/05/12/happy-mothers-day-to-u2-one-love/

This Too Shall Pass… So Enjoy It While You Can.


Since the day my children were born, they slept nuzzled up to me in bed. Skin to skin. Warm. Safe. And they never left. They still come to our bed every night. Skin to skin. Warm. Safe. Still.

And it’ll continue this way until the day (or night, I guess) when they no longer come to us. It might be one week, one year, or five years from now. I don’t know when, but I do know they eventually will stop coming. Just because. So until then, it certainly won’t be my husband or I who tell them otherwise. We want to hold on to these years as long as we can.

I’ve met many people who, like us, also have an open-policy family bedroom, no matter the age. And others for whom it simply doesn’t work for them as a family. Each to their own. No judgement is the best judgement. Word up!

Thing is, while it might not be kids in your bed, we all have a “thing” that we do with our kids that is “ours”, and ours’ alone. Be it a habit or a tradition of sorts, that brings comfort to each of you. Warm. Safe.

Another “thing” I had with my eldest was at school drop-off.  I’d always walk him directly into his class. We’d give eachother a big smooch on the lips and a big ole’ bear hug. I’d kiss his neck and say into his ear “be great today”.  He’d then run over to the window and we’d do a virtual hug, an exaggerated wink (which is our “I love you”) and wave goodbye. And we’d walk off in our separate directions. Warm. Safe.

Until today. Today when we walked in, his best friend was waving him over to the Lego table. A great big smile came across my boy’s face. He turned and gave me a quick kiss, and ran off. I waited for him to turn around… he didn’t. I passed by “our” window… he wasn’t there. But through the window, I could see my boy laughing with his best friend, as they built towers to the sky.  “Be great,” I said.

As I walked away, I felt heavy. A complicated, but proud, kind of heavy. My boy was spreading his little wings… he’d found his new warm and safe. His own. What’s more, he’s doing exactly what I told him to do… he’s being great.

A new chapter has begun. There is no going back. It took his innocently walking away from me to realize that those hugs and kisses and waves at the window were not only for him, but for me too. Maybe even more so for me. My boy was doing what we parents work tirelessly to teach them… and that’s to grow into their own. Independent. Confident. Great. And while I may not be quite ready to let old habits die, I do know it means that I too am doing my job, as his Mom, properly. I too am being great.

We often use the phrase “this too shall pass” as a reassurance that bad thing will soon end. But when it comes to parenting, good things also end. And while there’s undoubtedly more NEW good things yet to come, we truly need to enjoy the “now”…. because it too shall pass.

So tonight, when I hear those little footsteps coming down the hallway, and he slides into bed with me… you’d better believe I’m going to take every snuggle I can get. ‘Cause there’s no telling when these beautiful visits will end. So until he’s ready… because I’m certainly not… I’m going to welcome him with open arms.  Warm. Safe.

Cheers, Red Whino

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Dear Non-Parents


These days it seems like we’re all cheering for one team or another. Pepsi vs. Coke. Boob versus bottle. Aniston vs. Angelina (Still? Or have we all moved on?).  Trump versus, well almost everyone. And, of course, the ever-lasting feud… Team Parents vs. Non-Parents.

When it comes to the whole Parent vs. Non-Parent debacle, I’m totally a team player. When I’m with Non-Parents, I try very hard not to talk about my 3 Beasts… Just kidding, it’s actually quite easy to forget they even exist.  Instead, I happily sit back and listen to the Non-Parents complain about their perfect f*cking child-free lives. (Insert eye roll!)

Diagnosis Mom

But it seems Non-Parents have found yet another thing in their perfect child-free lives to complain about. Because apparently, we ‘Parents’ say hurtful things to them. Sniff! Sniff!  I came across the following article: Five Things Parents Need to Stop Saying to Non-Parents. I ever-so-patiently read through it only to come to the conclusion that Non-Parents are just a bunch of whiny-ass punks. I mean, by intentionally not bringing a child into the world, these Non-Parents are able to maintain their sanity, body shape, livelihood, and liver. Really, they have a golden horseshoe shoved so far up their you-know-whats, they aren’t even able to appreciate it. IgnorANUS! (Oh, envy is a terrible thing. Is it not?)

But what about us parents? What about the hurtful things Non-Parents shouldn’t say to US?

Here is MY list of the Five Things Non-Parents Should Stop Saying to Parents:

“Sorry my house is such a mess”

Ok. Fine. So you think because your pastel, silk throw pillows haven’t been ‘fluffed’ and because you have a spec of dusk beside your glistening toilet (that I would eat off of, by the way), that your house is a mess.

Here. Try this: Go home. Smear peanut butter, jam and Cheese Whiz all over your sofa. Then squeeze honey all over your carpet, and empty a tub of icecream over top (for good measure, of course!). Now spray about 30 grape juiceboxes all over your walls and windows (note: must be grape, apple juice simply doesn’t do enough damage). Now toss a couple of fish sticks and chicken nuggets behind your sofa and leave them there for 9 months. Last, but not least, grab a Sharpie and scribble all over your plasma screen. THEN tell me your house is a mess!

“I feel fat”

Here, try this one on for size… Put your perfectly-pedicured, callus-free feet in my fat-ass shoes for a second. Then strap a nap sack on backwards. Fill it with 60 pounds of soiled diapers. Then take 2 melons and shove them down your bra. (Note: If your bra is not touching the floor, your melons aren’t heavy enough. Try again!) Now take 2 loafs of bread, soak them in water and tape them to your outer thighs. Now take 1025 apples and scatter them around the room, and squat down and pick them all up while wearing your “mom suit”. THEN tell me you feel fat… I dare you!

“Sorry I’m late. I slept through my alarm”

The fact that after an uninterrupted sleep, you have the ability to sleep through your alarm indicates to me that you basically slept in! To which I reply: Screw you!

Try this instead: Right when you are about to sit down and relax for the evening… Don’t! Get up and go catch yourself a bird (must be alive). Now sit down, and attempt to keep the bird on your lap while you read the same story, over and over and over again. When the bird starts to squawk and peck at your face to the point of blood, smile and tell the bird that you love it to the moon and back again. Now for beddy bye bye BYE, grab a 30 pound cinder block. Slow dance with the chuck of cement for about 2 hours. Wake up at 12:30am. Repeat. Wake up at 2:30am. Repeat. Wake up at 4:30am and start your day… with a smile, of course! As I said… screw you and your alarm!

“I SO need a vacation”

Don’t we all! But you see, here’s the difference. Your vacation will be just that… a vacation. You will fly to the destination of your choosing. You will relax. You will drink. You will feast. You will REST.

For those of us who are serving a life sentence for one drunken night of unprotected sex, we then further suffer the consequences by having to go to f*cking Disney World… every year… for eternity!

“I’m so broke”

I hear ya’. Michael Kors bags don’t come cheap these days, do they?

How ’bout this instead… Every week, go to the grocery store and simply hand over your wallet. Then go to the bank and have them drain ALL your accounts, retirement savings and stocks and bonds, along with your dignity. Most likely this won’t be enough to cover your car payments, loans and mortgage. Oh well, what can you do? Nothing says I LOVE YOU like DEBT!  Simply go home and drink copious amounts of wine… because really it’s the only ‘liquid asset’ to your name at this point.

People, the reality is Parents and Non-Parents tend to drift apart in the post-baby-world. Only it’s NOT because they have little left in common, rather because their once stylish, fun, hygienic friends now smell like they’ve marinated themselves in vomit and peanut butter, wear sweat pants (with elastic ankles), have a blank look in their eyes and drive minivans. Trust me, I don’t want to hang out with myself either!

But really, I think we all just need to get over ourselves. In the end, whether you’re a Parents or a Non-Parents… we all still have one thing in common: WINE!

So let’s leave our sensitivities at the door… Let’s simply come together and agree to whine less, and wine more.

Cheers,

Red Whino

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PS. Please know that when I refer to “Non-Parents” in the above post, I am referring to those who intentionally chose not to have children, or want them eventually but just not yet. I am NOT referring to the ‘non-parents’ who are desperately trying to bring a wee one into their lives, whether via adoption, surrogacy, IVF or the good ole’ fashion way. I already consider you Team Parent… cause eventually your dream will come true and you’ll be driving a minivan in no time. Peace!

Do I make you horny, Baby?


Spring has sprung… finally! The days are getting warmer. Little birdies are a chirpin’. The smell of charcoaled carcass on the BBQ fills the air. Corpse-coloured legs are starting to get their stride on. Tankinis and Daisy Dukes’ are being dusted off. Flip flops are a flippin’. Love is in the air.

Everyone is coming out of hibernation after a long Canadian winter. Everyone’s feeling a little frisky… busy getting busy! (Did you know that next to Christmas, April is the most popular month to conceive? Well, now you do!)

Tis’ the Season for Spring Fever! Ladies throw on their little tank-tops and push-up bras, guys flex there biceps, and everyone is all like “Oh, baby baby”… Et Voila! A seed is planted. Also, it rains a lot in April, and well, what else is there to do when it rains, right? But apparently no one is wearing their protective rain gear.

Ahhh good ole’ Spring! What’s not to love…

I’ll tell you what… Horniness! And I’m not talking about the Spring Fever kind of horniness. No… I’m talking about horny f-cking yellow toe nails with crusty feet! Jeyzuz! If you’re going to impose opened-toed shoes on the world, make sure your feet don’t look like a dog’s breakfast!

Seriously, I was standing in line the other day, and the man’s feet in front of me looked like they were right out of Deliverance!

Every year it’s the same! Everyone strips down to their skivvies and flip flops. Fine…Great! But why can’t people objectively see what their feet really look like? And I’m not talking about genetically gross feet… like those who’s second toe is 3 times longer than their big toe! ‘Cause it’s not their fault. There is little to be done about genetically ugly feet.

I’m talking about maintenance… HYGIENE! This is within our control, and we owe it to each other to ensure our feet are presentable. Otherwise, put your feet away! And no, socks with sandals is NOT the solution!

Really, there’s no excuse for such atrocities. It’s such a simple fix… get a bloody pedicure!!!  I’ve done my due diligence and had my Spring pedi. Next I’m going to get Big J in there so they can attempt to rid him of his tribal, coal-walking, horny feet.

And who knows… once we’ve dealt with Big J’s horny feet, this Big Mama might just have a lil’ Spring Fever left in her after all…

Cheers,

Red Whino

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From Horny to Horny... $10... Me Love You Long Time...

From Horny to Horny…
$10… Me Love You Long Time…

‘Dem moms be smart asses… and pretty smart too!


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SMART…. the latest buzz word.  It seems to be all the rage these days. Smart phones. Smart books. Smart cars. Smart Food. Smart Serve. What about Smart Moms?  Or do they even exist?

Oh, stereotypes!  Gotta love ’em, right?! ‘Cause let me tell you, when it comes to  stay-at- home moms in particular… there are ALOT of them!  But let’s be honest, stereotypes have evolved for a reason. So yes, many of them are true… But definitely not all. Like, believe it or not, there ARE smart stay-at-home moms. True story! Because being a stay-at-home mom does not automatically make you lazy, boring, or stupid. I mean sure, there are some lazy, boring and stupid ones. No doubt. But guess what? There are also alot of lazy, boring and stupid people in the workforce. Again, true story! Just because a woman chooses to forgo her career path, does not mean she’s a few fries short of a happy meal.

Since I myself made the decision to give up my career to stay home, I have been subject to these stereotypes on many occasions. I have often been made to feel lesser, or that I’m not able to contribute to conversations as I am obviously too “simple” a woman. Funny thing is, I have far more education than most of the people who have tried to belittle me.

But here’s the thing, for me, being educated doesn’t automatically make you “smart”. It shows that you are dedicated and able to commit, of course. But I’ve met many professionals who have bad luck when it comes to, well, thinking. And others who are sooooo f-ing boring… Zzz! Just as I’ve met ALOT of brilliant and successful individuals who have studied at the University of Life!

I spent more years pounding the corporate pavement than I have negotiating with DicToddlers. So I am confident enough to say, they both have their challenges, both can be mentally draining and both require having a bit of, well, smarts. That said, for many (I’ll even go so far as to say “most”) work environments it’s really all about knowing how to play the game. Knowing how to talk the talk, and walk the walk. Being smart is somewhat of an acting skill acquired on the iSmart Shelf in the supply room.

It got me thinking (yeh, that’s right… thinking!) that if ever, as a stay-at-home mom, you are feeling undervalued or made to feel inadequate to the “stereotypers”, I’ve come up with a bullet proof list of ways to pull the wool over ‘dem Smart People’s eyes. So next time you’re at a dinner party (bahaha, I know right?! Past my bedtime too) try these.

List of how to NOT let people know how stupid you really are:

1. iSmart CREDENTIALS AFTER YOUR NAME
First and foremost! Because OMG ‘dem Smart People fall over themselves for those who are smart enough to have formal credentials. And I don’t just mean in written form. No no, you need to verbalize the shit out of your “letters”. Make them up if you need to… ‘dem Smart People won’t even know the difference. Introduce yourself using them… “Hi, I’m Red Whino, PhD AW, AK… It’s a pleasure to meet you”. (AW… ass wiping. AK… ass kissing). ‘Cause hell ya’ do you ever sound important!

2. USE iSmart MATH
Even if you suck ass at math, ‘dem Smart People luv big numbers. Speak in percentages or, ohhh, fractions to further impress. Even if your numbers are completely off, they won’t notice… you had ’em at “numerical value”.

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3. USE iSmart WORKPLACE BUZZ WORDS
By Jeezuz, they flock to this shit like flies on horse dung. And best part is, these words mean nothing… NOTHING!  Using corporate buzz words is the best way to appear smart when you have no clue what they’re talking about… and I bet your bottom dollar they too have no idea what anyone’s talking about. Try it… Throw a “Let’s park that idea” and they’ll all look to you nodding, and impressed as if you’d found the solution on how to impeach the Trumpanzee. It’s honestly like magic verbal diarrhea.

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4. FAKE AN iSmart PHONE CALL
In the middle of your conversation, have your phone ring. Answer with your full name AND credentials.  Look apologetically at ‘dem Smart People. Then revert to #3 and use those f-ing buzz words like a Boss, yo!  “I’d definitely like to discuss this more, maybe we can table this until tomorrow morning?” Honestly, they’ll think you’re in the FBI or some shit. Noone needs to know that it was your babysitter telling you that your offspring smeared feces on the wall, again.  Noone’s business!

5. WEAR iSmart GLASSES
The classic geeks chic… Because only smart people wear glasses, obviously. But we moms are tired… sooooo tired. So I came up with the perfect pair of Mom Glasses. They give the appearance of giving two shits, while letting you get some much-deserved zzz’s.

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6. PUT ON YOUR iSmart FACE
Stay-at-home moms don’t just wear yoga pants and high oily ponytails, nope… we also have a closet full of facial expressions. Remember, only 35% of what you actually say matters, the rest is non-verbal. So put on your Fake Oscar Face. Here are a few “go to” faces to make when trying to pretend that you’re smart.

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7. iSmart READING MATERIALS
Carry reading materials with you that shows you are relevant, oh, and able to read more than just a board book, or 50 Shades of Shit. Bonus: You can order this as a slip cover to cover up the unintelligible bubble gum mom garbage you really read, obviously.

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Truth is, we’re only as smart as we want to be. You don’t have to go to Harvard to know how to pick up a book or newspaper.  So at the end of the day, just be yourself. Because truly intelligent people tend to care less of what others think. Also, we are all “smart” in our own capacities… we all have our own vault of knowledge. Where an accountant may be better with numbers, than a lawyer is with words, than a mother is with project management. Also, as a stay-at-home mom you are responsible for raising the next generation, and during the most influencial and formative years of their little lives. That’s no small feat, so give yourself some credit. In the end… iSmart…uSmart… We all smart! We too are ‘dem Smart People.

The moms I know, whether working or home, tend to be the smartest, funniest, sassiest women I’ve ever met. They certainly don’t need to pull a Milli Vanilli and pretend to be anything other than themselves. They are survivors. They are not only smart… but also a bunch of smart asses. And they are not only pretty… but pretty smart too. And of that, I’m pretty sure!

Cheers,

Red Whino

 

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To my future daughter-in-laws


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Now I’m a pretty open person, and it’s not often I meet someone that I don’t really like. I have a fairly large repertoire of friends, because if I like you… I like you. Period. I don’t care if you’re white, black or blue (that goes for hair AND skin colour). I don’t care if you’re gay, straight or twisted. I don’t care if you’re Muslim, Jewish, Catholic or nothing in particular. I don’t care if you’re a granola crunching vegetarian or a blood sucking carnivor. I don’t care if you have a degree from Harvard or the School of Hard Knocks. I don’t care if you prefer red over white, beer over vodka, or just a mean green tea. If you are Good People and have a sense of humour, I’m gonna like you.  Even if you don’t have a great sense of humour, I’m still probably going to like you… just don’t come a callin’ on a Friday night, kapeesh?

So here I am thinking I’m a lover of everyone and anyone, until I see some jackass wearing this shirt.

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And a few days later, I come across this on my FB news’ feed.

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I realized that maybe I actually can’t tolerate everyone, after all. Because, I just want to punch these types of parents in the throat. They are bullies. Plain and simple.

But it did get me thinking… Before I know it, my boys will be teens venturing into the dating world. (If you want to read my views of how I’ll parent the teen years, click here.) And from there, I will eventually become a mother-in-law… three times over. So I decided to pen an open letter to my three future daughter-in-laws… or son-in-laws, cause, well, you just never know.

Using the above FB post as my guideline, here are my 10 Commandments for my future daughter-in-laws:

1. GET A JOB. KEEP IT.
If you love your job, great. Keep it. If you don’t, find another. If you’re in between jobs, it happens. If you chose not to work, that’s between you and my son. If you’re trying to find your passion, more power to you. Life is short. We can hang out. Figure out your next move over a coffee… with Bailey’s. I also have plenty of chores to keep you busy and motivated. Just kidding, or not.

2. UNDERSTAND I DON’T LIKE YOU AND NEVER WILL
Well, well, well, ain’t this a bitchy thing to say…  nevertheless so true. As mentioned, I befriend those from all walks of life. UNLESS… you have skin that tans like sweet caramel toffee sans les freckles. You have a chiseled body like Gisele’s without the gym. Or you can stuff your face with Cheetos à la Fromage Fondant, and still look like, well, Gisele. You see, envy is a terrible thing. So there IS a chance I may not like you, but only because I want to be you.

3. I’M EVERYWHERE
This is true. I am. I’m everywhere. I’m all over the map. I’m up. I’m down. I’m going. I’m staying. I can. I can’t. I will. I won’t. Not to say I’m unpredictable or unstable…. ’cause Whoa Nelly who needs an unstable mother-in-law?!? I’m just a colourful, at times tipsy, soul… but not in a “drive you crazy” kinda way. Unless you ask my husband, but what do they know, right daughter-in-law? Ha! See? We’ll have fun together, us.

4. YOU HURT HIM. I HURT YOU.
“He hit me. No he did. No he did. Did not. Did too.”… “Give it back. No. It’s mine. No mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.”  Childish shit, right? That’s how I feel about this statement. ‘Cause really unless you’re a mosquito or a fruit fly, I have no desire to crush you. Here’s the deal… You and my son will have your ups and downs. You’ll want to kill him at times (trust me, I’ve lived with him too. I know!). You may even break his heart. It happens.  My job raising my son is to instill in him the tools to cope. We’ve all had to… it’s part of life.

5. IF YOU AREN’T AFRAID OF THE DARK, BECOME AFRAID.
Yup, for your sake I hope you are afraid of the dark. And if you’re not, pretend to be. This will help get you out of nightime feedings. You’re welcome.

6. DON’T LIE TO HIM. OR TO ME.
Listen, I just told your future husband that if he eats enough broccoli it eventually starts to taste like chocolate. He fell for it. No seriously, he did! So who am I to judge? Trust me, nothing wrong with a little white lie… or a little white wine, but now I’m just being greedy! As for lying to him or to me… there’s really no need. And same applies to you, it’s a two-way street. Anyways, I’m your MIL, just omit when necessary.

7. MORE CLOTHES SCORE POINTS
As long as you’re not hopping into bed naked with me… I could care less what you choose to wear, or not. Here’s the thing, we “older” women have worked fucking hard to ensure you lovely young women get the respect you deserve… no matter your fashion choices. Also, my son will be raised to NEVER make assumptions about a woman based on what she’s wearing, or not wearing, so why would I? Be yourself. Wear whatever you want and don’t let anyone make you feel less than who you are for it.

8. HE WILL ALWAYS LOVE ME MORE.
Nope. He won’t. He may have entered this life from my vagina, but he will exit with yours. So, from my vagina to yours, I’m here to tell you that he will love you more. He SHOULD love you more. I’m Ok with that.

9. I DON’T MIND GOING BACK TO JAIL.
Ya. You read that right… BACK to jail. I too made some questionable decisions in my younger wild days. (Stupid really… I got caught peeing in a parking lot, and happened to be, errrr, a wee bit intoxicated, and well, under age. Triple whammy!). Point is, I’ve definitely “Been there. Done that.” I have a few good stories up my sleeve. They make for some good laughs. Join me.

10. WHATEVER YOU DO TO HIM, I WILL DO TO YOU
Ummm… no. For his sake, your sake, my sake and every therapist in the world’s sake… whatever you’re doing to him, don’t involve ‘dis Mama. But seriously, as I mentioned in #4, it’s your relationship. There are good days, and not so good days. It’s for you two to figure out. But it can make for some good reality TV type shit. So you’ll just find me on the sidelines sippin’ on gin n’ juice… laid back!

You see future daughter-in-law, if he chooses you, then I choose you. For better or for worse. So rather than intimidate you with shotguns and threats, or assume the worst of you, I will welcome you with open arms.

You will eventually be the one to kiss him goodnight. To hold his hand. To enjoy his laughter. To share his dreams. And I’m ok with that. Until then, I will do my very best to raise a strong, creative, loving and respectful human being. A boy who will grow into a beautiful young man. Your man. And you? You will be his heart, his life, his wife.  And me? Well, I’ll finally have my girl.

(Or, if my son marries a man, and “you” happen to be a son-in-law, well what’s another set of balls at this point?)

Until then, I’ll savour every little kiss and bedtime snuggle with my boys. That said, I look forward to many beverages and years of laughter between just us girls.

And so, from my vagina to yours… we got this, girl!

Cheers,

Red Whino

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Shit Happens… Oh Yes It Does!


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Today, I’m in a generous mood. So much so that I’m going to let you in on a little Red Whine Diaries’ story… one from the Vault Of Shame. I’ll probably regret sharing this one, but what the hell,  here goes nothing…

Be warned though, ’cause it could happen to you too! In fact, I bet it already has…

So not so very long ago, I was lucky enough to waste three precious hours of my sacred life in bumper-to-bumper Toronto traffic. The upside was that My 3 Beasts were sleeping peacefully in the back… it was a beautiful day out, so I was able to lower the windows and enjoy a nice, smoggy, nitrogen oxide-induced breeze… Tunes were blazin’. Really, it wasn’t all that bad. That is, until…

Rumble, rumble! An enchilada-induced bubble made its way across my lower abdomen.  I straighten my spine… OMG! OMG! OMG! No! No! No! Shit! Shit! Shit! (Literally!) Please do not let this happen to me… again! Think of something else! Anything else!

– 99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer!!!… Didn’t help!

– Kegel ass exercise… Didn’t help!

– Shove random pieces of gum in my mouth (not sure why, but seemed like the logical thing to do)… Didn’t help!

– Meditate! That’s right! I tried build a mental dam and block the flow of Mr. Poo… Didn’t help!

– Maybe it’s just a fart? I was too scared to find out.

No, this was the real deal… Coming at me like a freight train!  Keep in mind, I’m stuck in traffic… on a higway!!! There was no way to make a quick turn or exit anytime soon . I was stuck between a rock and a hard poo. My head was spinning around like the Exorcist, scouting out the neighbouring cars. Do they know what’s happening? Are they aware there is a 40 year old mother in the minivan next to them who is about to shit her pants?

Well, that time I was spared. Mr Poo retracted his head like a turtle in distress. I was able to effectively do my kegel ass clenches just in time to pull into a gas station at Mock 10.

However, there was another time, also not so very long ago, that I ended up having to frantically resort to a Glad Tupperware container… in my car. Yes, that’s right,  I am a grown woman and I took a shit… in Tupperware… in my car! Sigh…

They do advertise it as "TO GO"... Just sayin'...

Do they advertise it as “TO GO” for people like me? Or is it just a coincidental pun?

A humbling experience to say the least! One that has cost me hours of therapy.

You’re probably wondering why I feel the need to share this with you? Well, here’s the thing… My Little Orange Crush is fully shitter trained, although to my surprise, he too shit his pants the other day (the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree!). You see, he was playing a game of hockey, the score was tied, and he needed to score the winning goal… so naturally, one cannot call a time-out, but would rather drop a grenade in their pants. Naturally! Also My Agent Orange has been showing interest in torturing me with potty bootcamp.

So, seeing that I too shit myself in public… who am I to tell my sons to use the toilet? Or teach them any etiquette for that matter? Seriously, the Mom who succumbed to dropping a load into her LUNCH Glad Tupperware, in the car no less?!?

I’m thinking the whole potty training thing is so overrated anyways. I mean, there IS something to be said about wearing diapers! God only knows I wish I had been sporting them that fateful day… Plus, you only end up back in them later in life anyway, right? So why even bother?

With the exception of a lobotomy, the only way to get through life after an incident like that is to look at it from the bright side. What I do know is this… My incident has made me a better, more understanding mother. ‘Cause when My Beasts do have “accidents” in their tighty-whities, or Tupperware for that matter, I understand better than anyone that, yes oh yes indeed, shit does happen!

Cheers,

A Humble Red Whino