My Mother’s Day Gift Registry iDeas


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.


Red Whino

Feel free to SHARE the love and laughter this blog has to offer.

And follow me on FB here:


Celebrate ALL moms here:

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.

Let the Potty Mouth Training begin… F*ck!

Warning: This post contains several ‘bad’ words… If you are prudishly sensitive or otherwise just live under a rock, my advice to you is to skip it! If you choose to read it, find yourself offended, and then feel the need to send me hate mail… Please do! I so enjoy reading them!

For the rest of you…

Our Beasts have gone from being sweet lumps on the couch to masterful mimicking clowns. They observes everything we do, and everything we say.  In other words… they are very influential right now. Which, well, is somewhat worrisome considering they have me for a mother and Big J for a father. So to avoid raising  2.0 versions of *cough* ourselves… Big J and I have embarked on the daunting task of potty training our filthy mouths.

I, Red Whino, do solemnly swear… ummm, not to swear! Is that an oxymoron?!?

I never realized just how often I drop the F-bomb… until it came time to stop!  It’s second nature for me. You see, I am fluently educated in 4 languages… English, French, Sarcasm, and Swearing. For me, it takes so much pre-emptive thought just to string together a child-proof sentence that sometimes it’s easier to just say nothing at all.

I hesitate to ask Big J how his day was… because how does one describe a day at the office without a pint-size ‘f*ck’? And he certainly won’t ask me how my day was… because how does one spend a day with a threesome of babbling monkeys without a keg sized ‘f*ck’? So while our our Beasts are around, Big J and I basically just stare at one another like a pair of stunned blowfish. Because without swear words, what we’ve got here is failure to communicate!

I mean seriously, how does one effectively express themselves otherwise? ‘Poopie pants’ and ‘meanie head’ just don’t cut it. And I refuse to become one of those douche bags who use ‘friggin’… Ugh! So friggin’ lame, right?

But alas, Big J and I have pledged to clean-up our daytime red neck potty-mouths… If only for the sake of our sweet savage children, of course. Also, and more importantly, for the sake of my reputation. ‘Cause if I’m anything… I’m one classy lady!


But when our little monkeys go to bed? Ah, well, the gloves come off… Big J and I get our f*ck on!

Together, in perfect synchronized harmony, we f*ck! It’s like we’re newlyweds all over again…  f*cking as much as possible.  Ahhh, the sweet language of love.

And when it’s time for Mommy and Daddy to go to bed, we snuggle up and succumb to our sweet f*cking dreams, knowing we’ll wake up on mute for yet another day of responsible-parenting.

Really it’s the best f*cking we’ve had in a long time… and we didn’t even have to get under the covers to enjoy it!


Red Whino

Monkey see. Monkey say.

Being the responsible mother I am, I diligently drag my three kids to their swim lessons every week… regardless of the ironic fact that I would like to drown myself in the process. That is until…

I realized the gossip that happens in the change room is good… actually, better than good. Like, highschool-locker room kinda good.  So, after I’ve learned those who are having affairs and polishing off bottles of wine by 9am, and allowing their kids to watch more than 23.4 minutes of screentime a day, I also overhear the “cute” gossip.

Anonymous Mom: Jacob, when you’re finished getting dressed, we’ll go get some lunch. Are you hungry, Honey? Mommy is very hungry.

Totally normal, right? Waaaait for it…

Jacob: Is that why you were eating Daddy’s penis last night, Mommy?

OH-NO-HE-DIDN’T!!!! (Snap! Snap!)

I tried so hard to pretend I didn’t hear. I really did! But I was right next to them. Like, right next to them. I frantically tried to appear too busy to have noticed… diapering then re-diapering, diapering then re-diapering my child’s dry, clean diaper.  But I ain’t no Academy Award winning actress! I couldn’t help but burst into a hyena-like laughter.

Only Anonymous Mom wasn’t really as amused by it all as I was. In fact, she was quickly turning a deep shade of purple. This (for obvious reasons) made me laugh even more. Seriously, this mom could write her own 50 Shades of Embarrassed.

I mean, what do you say in that situation? Seriously?

“Sucks to be you?” Pun TOTALLY intended!

She clearly wasn’t impressed by her son’s unfiltered verbatim. But wouldn’t you just laugh if off? I mean, woman to woman, we can joke about these things, non?

Anyways, she wasn’t having any of it. So I just shrugged and said “Ha! Kids will say the darndest things, eh?”

But it did get me thinking… Big J and I have a little intruders of our own who roam the house at night. So we, as responsible and horny parents, must take the necessary precautions to prevent such run-ins.

But when I told Big J about it, we had different perspectives on how best to handle such a run-in. His thinking was we simply invest in some child-proof door handles. Me? Well, I was thinking it’d be safer if Mama simply goes on a “hunger strike”. I even tried to convince him that it might result in a slimmer, sexier me… Right?

So the question I put forth to you is: how does one keep the fire burnin’ when the little rug rats have descended from the womb?

Cheers, Red Whino

Please “Share” the love and laughter this blog has to offer. Also make sure to “follow” me on FaceBook at