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Dora The Explorer: Live

3 Dec

Dora, Beer Me.

Three weeks ago:

DADDY: I got us “Dora the Explorer: Live” tickets.

MOMMY: Cute! Memories for a lifetime!

DADDY: With the upgraded “meet Dora backstage” passes!

MOMMY: This will be so fun!

During the concert:

DADDY: Good thing we paid extra for backstage passes. So many lines! And screaming! And airborne illnesses! Yay!

MOMMY: Our child knows all the words to these songs. He watches too much TV. We are terrible parents.

DADDY: The venue parking alone cost more than we put in his RESP this month.

MOMMY: Is apple juice and half a churro a balanced dinner…?

DADDY: Oh good. It’s over. OHMYGODIT’SONLYINTERMISSION.

MOMMY: I’m so tired. I might die of tired. Please play an acoustic version of “I’m the map” at my funeral. What time is it? Like 4am?

DADDY: It’s 6:45pm.

MOMMY: Let’s never do this again.

The next day:

DADDY: Sesame Street Live is coming next month.

MOMMY: Cute! Let’s do it.

DRINK:   The School of Rock. Remember your pre-kid concert days and pour a warm domestic beer into a red Solo cup. Turn up the Weezer and sing along with these parental advisory lyrics: “If you want to destroy my sweater / draw on it with permanent marker / puke organic cranberry juice on it / leave your crayons in the dryer / pull this thread and just walk away…”

Bargaining

19 Nov

letsmakeadeal01mLately, Mommy’s parenting style has consisted of one technique: making deals. Ever since you became an actual person, with opinions and ideas about things, like wanting to eat poison or not wear shoes, every interaction is like she’s in 1998’s The Negotiator.

CRACK OF STUPID O’CLOCK: If Mommy lets you watch Diego on the iPad, will you let her close her eyes for another 17 minutes? Mommy knows this means the Baby Jaguar will haunt her dreams but she’s willing to make this sacrifice.

GETTING DRESSED: Put on pants and Mommy will let you have Corn Puffs for breakfast instead of the healthy quinoa berry organic yogurt she slaved over last night. Fine, yes, your Halloween costume counts as pants.

GOING TO DAYCARE: You can walk on your own. Use your feet. Walk this way. Ahhhhhh not into traffic! Alright, you’ve made your point. Mommy will carry you the whole way there, sciatica be damned.

PLAYTIME: Banging the metal radiator cover with a serving spoon  is not cool! That is not a musical instrument! Fine, fine, it is a drum set, but only stop screaming the Ozzy Osbourne lyrics Daddy taught you (“Babe, come on, this is hilarious. We’ll be famous on Vine!”) while Mommy digs through the drawers for the expired Tylenol 3s from her C-section.

WHILE SHOPPING: We are not buying that toy / unhealthy food item / sharp thing. Okay okay okay! We are buying it! Stop the five alarm tantrum and Mommy will buy anything to avoid the judgmental stares from the entire store.  Damn you, people who put candy in the checkout aisle.

DANGER: Don’t touch! Poke! Jump on! Lick! Swallow! Grab! Point! Run with! Drink! Play with! Yell at! Pull! Throw! Push! Carry! Tease! Chew! Use Magic Marker on! Provoke! Climb on! In exchange, Mommy will give you her iPhone to play with and pray it doesn’t end up in the toilet. Again.

BEDTIME: If you stop escaping from your big kid bed, demanding water in the middle of the night, emotionally blackmailing Mommy for another rendition of Twinkle Twinkle, asking for “one more story!” which actually means seven more stories, and you give Mommy 12 hours of sleep, in your own bed, without waking up, Mommy will buy you a Porsche. She’s that desperate for a solid night’s sleep.

DRINK: Let’s Make a Deal. 1 oz Cognac, splash of Chambord, splash of pineapple juice, and top with cranberry juice. Serve over ice and add freshly squeezed lime to taste. Use your sharply honed negotiating skills to get your husband to make it for you.

Hannah Montana

5 Nov

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Look Miley, we get it. You’re growing into your Victoria’s Secrets and you want to be like the raunchy cone bra Madonna of the 90s and Express Yourself. You can’t be the girl-next-door forever, so now’s the time to pull your V-card and do super weird stuff like molest a teddy bear, soil a foam finger and blur some lines by grinding up on Mr. Seaver’s son in front of The Fresh Prince Jr. Every big child star has to have their Britney breakdown. Remember when she broke up with J.T. (cry me a river!) shaved her head and walked barefoot through a gas station, then married that weird trailer park dancer guy, ya’ll? But now BritBrit has got it together with classy, family-friendly songs like “Work Bitch” so we know you’ll be okay. Heck, even Mommy went through a phase in her youth where she wore nothing but backless pleather snakeskin tops and a whole lot of glitter. Then again, she was never a child idol, so she wasn’t shattering the innocence of millions of tweens with her shenanigans. We know you’re “Just Being Miley”, so keep on experimenting with Molly, tonguing things, and doing soft-core porn and calling it art. Mommy looks forward to following your 2015 stint in rehab through tearful quotes from Billy Ray cobbled together on the pages of InTouch.

DRINK:  The Wrecking Highball.  2 oz white rum, 1oz simple syrup, dash of Angostura Bitters over crushed ice in a highball glass. Add fresh mint leaves and stir gently. It’s a Party In The USA!

BUY: Reasons Mommy Drinks, the book. On sale now.

McDonald’s

1 Oct
grubgrade.com

grubgrade.com

Previous to having a child, Mommy’s main interaction with The Golden Arches was scrambling to make the Egg McHangoverMuffin happen before they turned off the breakfast griddle. Now, especially that the weather is turning, McDonald’s has a new appeal: the indoor PlayPlace. Sure, there are other playlands she could take you to, but those cost money. McDonald’s PlayPlace is open at the crack of stupid and it’s FREE*! (*not actually free, please don’t kick Mommy out, Mr. Teenage Manager). Her steady resolve not to let you ever taste the evil of fast food is quickly eroding. Confession time: she broke down and purchased you a Happy Meal. Mommy Angst is at an all-time high about this slip in Perfect Nutritional Parenting, but as least she chose apple slices and milk to go with the Chicken McGuiltTrips. Plus, you loved your Transformer® Generic Change-y Toy Car for a good seven minutes.  Mommy makes a grimace (McJokes!) as you run around the padded jungle gym covered in influenza, rancid Big Mac sauce and pee, and are bashed around by tweens who are way too old to be here and are probably going to second base in the slide. Despite all this, you’re having the time of your life. Mommy is comforted by the fond memories of Granddad bringing her to McD’s as a child and the baked apple pie she totally did not just purchase and is eating right now.

DRINK: Anything from the McCafé. Sip on a delicious, steamy cup of 100% Arabica jet fuel, and enjoy not sleeping until sometime next week.

BUY: Reasons Mommy Drinks. On sale at your bookstore.  Ba da ba ba baaahhh you’ll be lovin’ it.

SOCIAL: Join us on Instagram @reasonsmommydrinks and on twitter @mommyreasons

 

“Why?”

27 Aug

why

The following conversation actually went down this morning.

MOMMY: Please put your shoes on.

YOU: Why? 

MOMMY: So we can walk to daycare.

YOU: Why?

MOMMY: So Mommy can go to work… riddled with guilt.

YOU: Why?

MOMMY: Because, well, she wishes she could stay home with you, but she also truly loves her job.  Well, not last Thursday, but most days, she enjoys it—

YOU: Why?

MOMMY: Because she’s fulfilled, spiritually and intellectually! Nah, jokes, it’s because she gets paid.

YOU: Why?

MOMMY: Because she studied hard, then worked hard, and gave up things like traveling to Asia for a year or being a snowburnout in Whistler or finding herself through “art” or whatever.

YOU: Why?

MOMMY: So she could climb the corporate ladder and buy a house and pay for things like organic goat yogurt and educational soaps and tiny ironic fedoras–

YOU: WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?

MOMMY: Oh. Oh, hey. You’re kind of right. Are you saying I should quit the career I’ve spent the better part of two decades clawing my way to the top of, because it’s all soulless, working for The Man, and I should start my own thing? Use my skills, expertise and industry know-how to my advantage? Do something with meaning, with heart, with its own risk and ultimate reward?!

(pause)

YOU: I want Cheerios.

Mommy has an existential crisis, making everybody late, making her boss freak out, making her yell WHYYYY in the woman’s bathroom, scaring the interns, who are still fresh and keen and not yet punch drunk from the PBS show theme song “Super Why” echoing in their heads.   

DRINK:  Vodka. Why? Because at least it’s clear, unlike your career path, that’s why.

Tell us your @mommyreasons. We want to hear your tales from the mommy trenches! Join the convo on twitter  #reasonsmommydrinks

BUY: The book. Enjoy the previously unpublished, utterly hilarious (and utterly delicious because it comes with cocktail recipes) Reasons Mommy Drinks. Buy online now or pick it up on shelves September 10.

Water

13 Aug

david-hasselhoff-baywatch-photograph-c10103337

Hooray for this gorgeous weather, the kind of soaring temperatures that inspire Mommy to take the Nestea plunge.  Unfortunately, nothing makes her sweat buckets more than seeing you toddle around bodies of water. Doesn’t matter if it’s one of the Great Lakes or some spilled tears  in the Bikini Village change-room, Mommy is terrified ever since she read that only an inch of water is more dangerous than fire-breathing land sharks.  She re-certified her CPR and bought you a fluorescent orange lifejacket, but no longer can she enjoy the beer and BBQ that accompany water-related revelry. And she pretty much has to give up her fantasy of one day owning a house with an infinity pool. Unless… (ding!) maybe she can still make this delusion work if she also imagines up a team of Baywatch-esq, Red Cross certified, totally responsible while shirtless pool boys to lifeguard!  Safety just got sexy.

DRINK: Water, Ironically.

The Local Fair

30 Jul

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Nothing says summer like a traveling carnival. Those twinkly lights, the smell of cotton candy, the sound of teenagers getting pregnant on the Ferris wheel. Of course now that she’s a Mommy, she realizes the whole thing is a giant death trap. As if she’s going to trust a recovering addict with provocative tattoos of Tweety Bird to operate The Teacup Ride. It looks like it’s held together with little more than duct tape and Hubba Bubba. Then there’s the midway. Mommy feels likes she’s in the red light district of a derelict Toys R Us. She tries not to make eye contact, but a tween pimp straight out of juvie pushes the Ring Toss hard by taunting you with a plush toy from The Snorks. You cry when Mommy drags you passed their cat calls, you cry when you’re too short to ride The Scrambler, you cry when Mommy won’t let you burn one down with the tranny working the deep fried Mars Bar booth. $30 in ride coupons and confectionary later, Mommy at least manages to Instagram a happy shot of you on the Merry Go Round. For a moment it does feel like the fun fairs of her youth! Then you toddle through a puddle of someone else’s vomit. She hopes this whole afternoon serves as a teachable moment called Scared Straight: Carnie Edition.

DRINK:  Tilt-a-Whirl.  You must have given birth to ride. Combine 1oz lychee liquer and 1oz vodka over ice. Top glass with equal parts gingerale and apple juice. Garnish with fresh raspberries and note the delicate aroma of gasoline, menthol cigarettes and regret on your skin.

BUY THE BOOK: Pre-order your copy online with your favourite bookstore today. Makes the ideal baby shower gift. Or drink coaster. Or birth control reminder.

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