Friday, September 30, 2011

Happy Birthday Mrs. President

Alright hookers.  It's not even 7am and I'm already on my second vodka soda.  Do you wanna know why?  Because it's my birthday!

So, while I wait for UPS to bring me my truck load of presents from you all (What can brown do for me?  He can get me another drink, that's what), I thought I'd countdown some memorable birthday moments.

5.  On my 30th birthday, my Mom managed to throw me a surprise party with the help of my bestie.  I had no idea whatsoever!  Plus, it was a great party and I was happy to leave my late twenties behind me because they sucked ass.

4.  Spending my 31st birthday with Dirty Daddy.  We had our own party that year (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

3.  Being gloriously and hugely pregnant on my 35th birthday, waiting for Bug's arrival (which turned out to be only 9 days later).

2.  Every birthday from 20 to 25.  Mostly because I was drunk.

1.  This year tops them all.  It's my first birthday with as a Mom of 3 (gush).  

I also want to share a little birthday love with you dirties.  So, for today and until whatever time I drag my hungover ass out of bed tomorrow, everything in my very favorite shop, The Spotted Monkey, is 20% off.  Simply use the code "DirtyMommyClub" upon checkout.

Enjoy your weekend!

Cheers Dirties.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011

I Heart Wieners

'Have you ever seen so many wieners in your life Mildred?'
'Why yes I have Ethel.'

For each of my pregnancies, I declined finding out the gender of the baby.  This proved to be incredibly frustrating for many people, but I loved not knowing.  The payoff at the end was having Dirty Daddy tell me if we welcomed a son or a daughter into our family.  

We were pretty typical expecting parents. Coming up with name lists, preparing rooms, buying clothes (albeit mostly yellow and green), taking baby classes.  If it was a girl, would we get her ears pierced as a baby?  If it was a boy, would we have him circumcised?  (It's not as big of a jump from ears to penises as you might think).

Circumcision is honestly something I have never spent anytime thinking about in my entire life.  Until I was pregnant.  And then I needed some information.  Not having a penis myself, I wasn't sure what the best choice would be should I have a son.  So I researched.  A lot.  Did you know that there is a support group for men who were circumcised as children but, as adults, feel that this is a problem?  Seriously.  I swear. 

There were as many pros for circumcision as there were cons.  So I went to the street.  I asked my girlfriends with sons if they had or hadn't and why.  I talked to my doctor.  I asked the husbands of my friends (turns out guys don't always like talking about their junk).  What it all boiled down to was what Dirty Daddy and I thought to be the best choice for our would be son.

And then I had a son.  My Monkey.  He was all little, and cute, and blue eyed, and perfect.  Now we really had to decide.  A little snip snip for his little bit?  There was a lot of penis talk.  And we went with what we thought worked best for us and for him.

Whether you take a little off the top or not, the choice has to be one that sits right by you. The topic of circumcision is definitely one that can create lively discussion.  I have learned that, much like politics and religion, a little dick can cause quite a ruckus.

Cheers Dirties

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

New Ink

Bean and I are sitting here at 12:44am dishing the dirt.  My littlest little had far too many naps today and has declared this evening to be a no sleep zone.  Which, honestly, is fine with me.  Gives us a little time to discuss her world domination plan (you don't take over the world without bringing your Mom).  And time for me to tell her some stories about Dirty Daddy. 

Dirty Daddy and I decided to host an international student this year.  Truthfully, I was more than a little skeptical of doing this. Having spent the past year with so little space due to the renovation, I wasn't sure I wanted to share it with anyone other than my family.  But I am oh so glad we did!  Our wonderful Eva arrived from China and has instantly become one of the family.  The kids adore her, she is a kind and amazing person, and at the tender age of sixteen, crossed the world for an opportunity to study abroad.  That makes her braver than I.

One of the prerequisites for hosting a student, other than being fabulous (check), is a police check.  So Dirty Daddy and I both had to get our tails down to HQ and fill out some forms.  I went on a morning with the kids when Dirty Daddy was at work. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of a police officer (for the kids), but we only got to see the front desk lady and some guy coming in to get finger printed (didn't know it was a voluntary thing).  Upon hearing 'finger printing', Bug immediately shouted out that she too wanted to 'do finger printing'.  I ran a lame interference and headed back to the parking lot, silently praying to the parenting gods that they do not descend a daughter upon me that was like myself.  The next day Dirty Daddy had his police check paperwork done and we waited to be called to pick them up.  

In a few weeks, there was a message on my answering machine stating that my check was ready for pick up.  Yup, squeaky clean.  Rather than rushing down to pick it up, I awaited a similar message regarding Dirty Daddy's police check.  And waited.  And waited.  Two weeks after mine was ready, Dirty Daddy received a call.  They would need to finger print him to complete the check.  What?!  

That says 'whorl'.  I know what you thought you read.  Dirty.

My husband, this man I've known for the past nine years, required printing!  Yes, he is married to Dirty Mommy, but that's about as bad as this guy has gotten.  But as Patsy Cline would say, stand by your man.  

The finger printing officer was kind enough to explain the need for the printing.  Turns out that back in the day, criminals who committed crimes against minors could change their names upon release (nice, huh?).  So any name in the system that raises suspicion requires finger printing.  Having the name Dirty Daddy is suspicious enough, and what the officer went on to explain was that a red flag on a name may only be that a criminal's name rhymes with your own.  So if you come across any Girty Maddy's out there, beware.

Dirty Daddy got inked and came back clean.  Or dirty.  Whatever.  

Cheers Dirties.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Chickens and Cigarettes

I've quit smoking, but I love that chicken too damn much to eat it.
Thursday, September 22, 2011

Hot Nurse Night

About six weeks ago, my youngest daughter had a seizure.  She was barely five months old.  Hands down the scariest moment of my parenting life.  

We arrived at the hospital via ambulance, Bean and I.  Dirty Daddy was at work, but came a short time later.  They ran a battery of tests on my baby and, thankfully, came back with the diagnosis of febrile seizure.  

As the nurses performed and booked tests, and checked in on all of us, I couldn't help but notice they were all super hot.  I'm not talking 'she's a pretty girl' kind of hot.  I'm talking 'please stand on the other side of the room because I'm a tired mother of three kids and haven't slept a night since 2007' kind of hot.

Dirty Daddy did his best not to notice.  And I noticed him not noticing.  And so the time passed.  Him not noticing and me noticing him not noticing.  I decide to cut him a little slack and said 'I think it's hot nurse night tonight in the ER'.  My wonderful husband replied that none were as hot as me (he's legally obliged to answer this way), but agreed with my observation.

As we were anxiously awaiting the results of Bean's xray, I peeked out of our curtained room to see if the doctor was around.  At the nurses desk sat a blonde, and on either side of her stood a brunette and a redhead.  I kid you not (chicka bow wow), this is the stuff porn is made of.  Each girl was no more than twenty-five years old and gorgeous. We even had an more experienced nurse stop in, who was at least fifty-five years old and unbelievably gorgeous.  Come on!  I disliked each one of them on principle.  Expect that they were ridiculously nice, apparently had a brain in their head as they became employed nurses, and were taking exceptional care of my Bean.  

Dirty Daddy had left work in a hurry and several of his coworkers were texting him to see how Bean and I were doing.  He informed them all the Bean had had a febrile seizure, and that I was shaken and tired, but otherwise we were both fine.  He then advised them to 'hurt yourself and get your ass down to emerg.  It's hot nurse night!!!!'  All I can do is assume that my local ER had an influx of middle aged men with bogus ailments that night.

Poor little hot nurses.  Nothing like peering into their futures through the 'hurts' of middle aged men in triage.

Cheers Dirties.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Coffee at the Cafe

It's the third Wednesday of the month, which means you'll find me here.  Come, visit and read about my Leave of Intelligence Absence.

These gals at the momcafe Network are ah-may-zing!  And they still let me stop by and throw in my two cents.  Which means they must be broke.  That, or my police check hasn't been reviewed yet.  Whichever.  But don't let me dirty up your thoughts.  These other girls, they know their stuff.

Cheers Dirties.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

What We Teach

By trade, I'm a teacher.  Scary, I know.  Dirty Mommy actually shaped young minds (cue mad scientist laugh).  Let me loose in front of twenty five kids with a lesson plan, and I have no concerns or anxieties.  Give me three little beings I grew myself and I am filled with concerns and anxieties.

How am I going to teach my littles all that they need to know?  There is so much to know in life.  How to change a tire, when to use which fork, how to make the perfect dirty martini.

Actually, I know how to do all of these things, so at least they're covered somewhat in the automobile and hospitality industries.  But everything else?

My oldest little will be four next month.  Four!  I can't believe this person walking around and talking and eating and going to school lived in my belly only four years ago.  Incredible.  And what's really incredible is that she knows stuff.  Stuff that I taught her.  She knows her alphabet, she can count to one hundred, she knows her address, name and phone number, she knows my real age and what age to tell other people I am, she knows dozens of songs off by heart (including Boom Boom Pow by the Black Eyed Peas), she can spell her name and the names of her siblings.  She's brilliant, no?

Each of these things I set out to teach her, figuring they may come in handy sometime (who knows when she'll be called upon to burst into a rendition of Boom Boom Pow in class).  Turns out, she knows some stuff I didn't set out to teach her too.

If you happen upon my kids playing house, you will probably find one of them fake puking into a bucket and then washing it out in their play sink.  This, of course, is compliments of my pregnancy with Bean, which had me kneeling at the porcelain throne a minimum of three times per day.

If you happen upon my kids playing veterinarian, it will more than likely involve a stethoscope and one of their Fisher Price puppies, Lucky or Lucy.  And they will likely be fake crying because one of their dogs died.  This would be because we had to have our dog put to sleep last year due to age and health complications.

If you happen upon my kids talking about parenting, you will note that Bug will speak about her membership to The Dirty Mommy Club because she is a 'Mommy' too.

If you happen upon my kids pretend cleaning, you may hear the Lord's name taken in vain.

And, if you happen upon my kids dancing, they will most likely be naked because you can't do the 'bum shaking dance' with your pants on.

I set out to teach my kids some fundamentals that would help pave the way to their future.  Foundations in which they could build their learning upon.

If I look at what my kids have unintentionally learned from me, I am a little concerned about the foundation for growth.

Because, really.  What kind of demand is there for a gastro-intestinal preaching veterinarian stripper?

Cheers Dirties

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Magical Moments

Things I Can't Say is hosting a picture link up.  And not just any pictures.  The magical moments that touch our hearts, define our beings and are beyond words.  Brilliant!  

Many of us have a whole host of these moments in our minds' eye.  But we are rarely given the chance to share them with the world.

My most unforgettable moments include my wedding day, seeing my babies on the ultrasound screen, watching first smiles, first steps.  All momentous snapshots in time.

This picture here.  Magical.  Not the first picture I saw of my baby.  But it is the first time I was able to see my babe's face.

That face changed my world.  That there face.  It made me a Mommy.

Cheers Dirties.
Monday, September 12, 2011


Today we walked hand in hand.  She and I, up the hill.

Today we walked hand in hand.  She and I, down the path.

Today we walked hand in hand.  She and I, across the lot.

To the place.

To the place where she will walk and I will not.

To the place that will become her world.  Where I will only be given glimpses of.

To the place that leads her further from me yet closer to herself.

Today's the day.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Something About Mary

The grocery store I shop at is a relatively small one.  Combine that with the fact that I'm there 27 times a week (the cookie club isn't just for kids you know), and it's pretty much guaranteed that I will encounter someone I know. Today, I encountered Mary (name changed to protect the innocent).

Mary has been working at this grocery store since I started shopping there over 6 years ago. She has seen me in a variety of shapes and states of mind over the years.  Mary also lives in my neighborhood, so the kids and I see her walking her dog from time to time.  

My day started ridiculously early thanks to my son's new sleeping patterns.  We had conquered breakfast, the park, a walk, snack, and coloring by 10am.  Next up, grocery shopping.  So off to the store we headed.  

It is inevitable that I end up buying more than intended (cue new chocolate Goldfish crackers) and thus spend more time at the grocery store than anticipated.  Today was no exception.

As we approached the check out, Mary was just starting her shift.  We chatted as I unloaded the groceries with Bug's help (announcement: Clean up at checkout 3. Cue packer to fetch new 18 pack of eggs).  Bean started to get fussy and Monkey was, well, monkeying around.  Mary was updating me on some goings on in her life when Bean started the all out wail.  This child half cried and half screamed so loudly that she garnered the attention of half the store.  Simultaneously, Monkey had had enough of sitting in the cart and started to yell his own bloody murder.  Me?  I walked away to the wine store across the aisle and bought a magnum of cheap chardonnay.  Oh wait, that's what I wished I could do.  Instead I furiously started cramming groceries into my bags.

Mary, being a mother herself of 2 grown boys, chose that moment to reflect on how quickly the time flies (it does) and how she would trade the problems of her son now to the crying boy he was many years ago.  I nodded and agreed with Mary, and continued to throw groceries into my cart while searching for my wallet.  

After totally up my bill, and waiting for me to find said wallet, Mary said to me "You look good".  I stopped for a moment, laughed and said thank you.  She then said "You don't think you do, but you do.  You look like a Mom".  I paused again, looked Mary in the eyes and thanked her again.  Mary handed me my receipt, told me to enjoy my weekend and that we'd see each other again soon.

I walked away in a somewhat baffled state.  What does "look like a Mom" mean?  Is it even a compliment?  Does it mean you look like a Mom because you have bags under your eyes, clothes with spit up on the shoulder, a bigger ass than ever in your whole life, and a harried look on your face as you search for something amid screaming kids?  Or does it mean that you have love in your eyes, dried slobber kisses on your cheeks, and  bigger boobs than ever before in your life?  

The comment still gave me pause as I contemplated the possibilities of meanings. And then I remembered.  I hadn't showered yet that morning.  Ahhhh.  I look like Dirty Mommy.

Cheers Dirties

Thursday, September 8, 2011

These Shoes Were Made For Walking

Thank you to Crocs for sponsoring this blog post. Please click here to learn more about Crocs’ new Back to School line. I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective. All opinions expressed here are my own.

All summer I have been asked 'is it September yet?'.  And not just by the Mommy's in my morning playgroups as we sipped chardonnay out of our travel mugs either.  Bug, my sweet-little-three-almost-four-year-old-about-to-start-school-for-the-first-time daughter, has been asking too.

This was as much my moment to shine as it was Bug's.  Proud Mom, taking eldest daughter out shopping to buy school clothes, her very first backpack, new shoes.  Spending time, just the two of us, talking about the upcoming year and what school would be like.  What more could I ask for?  Turns out, plenty.

Trying to keep new school items for use when school actually starts is like asking Santa to keep the whole Christmas thing on the down low.  It can't be done.

It's not that I don't want Bug to enjoy her new things.  It's just that I know what will happen to these items when she brings them home.  Bug and her two year old brother will make use out of whatever it is, having fun, shiny, happy times for about five minutes.  I will then spend the next two weeks trying to relocate said item.  I will then eventually give up and repurchase the necessary item, at which point I will find the original item in a conspicuous location such as the diaper genie.  I'm really just trying to avoid all of that.

This realization, the one where Bug has figured out that she does not get her new stuff right away, changes everything.  Shopping for school items now becomes a whiny, persistent 'can I have it now?', arm crossing, frowning, crying spectacle in the store.  Oh, the fun we had.

So.  Back to school shopping.  Necessary?  Yes.  Fun?  Not always.  All I hoped and dreamed it would be? No.  Still dreading those first steps away from me?  Nah.  And depending on the day, I may ask her to pick up her pace.

And now Bug can do her walking with Crocs' Back to School line.  These 13 new styles for K-8 boys and girls provide all of the comfort of crocs AND are school approved (closed heel and toe), which means no trips down to the principal's office.

You may not want your little to have a trip to the principal's office, but a trip to San Diego sounds pretty good, huh?  Enter for your chance to win a family getaway to San Diego (and no purchase necessary, how awesome is that!).

Now for your viewing pleasure.  Check out the video below.  If you see a pair of shoes you like, click on them.  It will take you to the Crocs site to get the 411 you're looking for.  But keep your eyes peeled for the hidden Easter Egg.  If you find that baby, click on it to see what happens.  Here's a little hint for you:

Good luck and enjoy the show.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Dirtying Up The Cafe

As you can see, I'm not here today.
But I am here.
So drop by.
The shenanigans are a lot fun.
Monday, September 5, 2011

Stop! Police!

This past year had to be one of the longest of my life.  Undergoing an entire home renovation while pregnant, and having two littles was trying to say the least.  When it was finished, we all began to adjust to our new space.  

The most obvious change for the kids was the amount of space they had to run around in.  While the reno was going on, we had only 3 bedrooms and a bathroom. No other space in the house was safe enough for them to play in, so all running around was done outside.  Now, the kids LOVE running in their own house.  They chase each other around and around the island, giggling the entire time.  And if Dirty Daddy or I happen to be in the kitchen, they run by and give us a smack on the butt, laughing their little asses off as they start another lap.

About a month ago, Dirty Daddy and I spent the day outside with some friends enjoying swimming, soccer and running around with our kids.  On our way home, we stopped for gas.  As Dirty Daddy was pumping (the gas.  He was pumping the gas. Get your mind out of the gutter!), we both noticed a man getting out of his car.  The reason we noticed is that he was shit faced drunk.  And this was at 5pm on a Saturday. 

Dirty Daddy and I decided to call the police to report him.  Dirty Daddy went into the gas station to get the number.  We called the police, gave them the information we had and then headed home.  Shortly after getting home, an officer called asking if he could come and get our statements as the individual had in fact been tracked down at his house.  

Officer Jim arrived minutes after his call.  He came into the house and the kids were in awestruck.  It was obvious that he had kids of his own as he got down on their level, offered them deputy stickers and answered the questions they had.  Officer Jim explained the paperwork we needed to complete and Dirty Daddy and I got down to the business of providing our statements.  The kids warmed to Officer Jim quickly.  In no time at all, they welcomed him in by playing and running around the house, no longer being attached to our legs.  

As Dirty Daddy and I sat at the island completing our forms, Officer Jim stood at the end of the island.  The kids began running around and around, no doubt putting on a little show for their important guest.  Laughter from the kids filled the room.  And then we heard it.  Smack.  The look on Officer Jim's face said it all.  As Bug ran past Officer Jim, she gave him a smack on the ass.  

Officer Jim took it in stride.  I couldn't help but smile.  After all, she is Dirty Mommy's daughter.

Cheers Dirties.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Captain M & M

Dirty Daddy works shift.  Not the 7-3/3-11 shifts.  Shifts that have him leaving at 5pm and coming home at 4am.  Thus, half the month Dirty Daddy isn't around for dinner, bath and bedtime.  The kids don't have any issues with this as it's all they've ever known.  But they still do miss their Daddy come bedtime.

To combat this, Bug gives Dirty Daddy a toy to take to work with him from time to time. The idea is he will take a picture of the toy at work and send it back to her throughout his shift.  Yesterday, Bug gave him a M&M figure to take with him.

Shortly after Dirty Daddy left, we got ourselves together to run some errands.  As I was buckling Bean up into her car seat in the kitchen, I hear Bug start to cry.  By the time she reaches me in the kitchen (which is 7 stairs away), she is crying like she lost her best friend.  Alas, the M&M was left behind. 

Bug was beside herself.  She wanted to call Dirty Daddy at work and have him come home to get it or have us drive to his work to drop it off to him.  Unfortunately neither were options as Dirty Daddy works in a car manufacturing plant and is neither allowed to leave or have visitors.

So, to calm her little broken heart, we decided to take the M&M with us on our doings.

First stop was my Mom's house to drop off a package.

Next up, shoe shopping.  

Then, off to the grocery store.  

As we went on our errands, we took pictures and sent them to Dirty Daddy to keep him up to date as Bug had asked to do.  He sent back messages that I shared with Bug and her heart was happy.

After the grocery store, we headed home.  Shoe and grocery shopping with 3 kids can shake your nerves a bit.  So when Dirty Daddy messaged me to ask what 'Captain M&M' was up to now, this is the picture I sent him.

His reply was 'Don't much like that little effer anymore'.

Ah, home for a rest.

Cheers Dirties.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Pretty Girls Vote

Alright dirties, I am in need of a little help.  All of you know me as Dirty Mommy.  That's obvious.  But what some of you may not know is that I am also the brains of another operation.  See that cool lookin' monkey to the right?  No, she's not a relative (well, maybe a very distant one).  That monkey is the logo for my online children's boutique.

And this little monkey has been nominated for a really big opportunity. is holding its 5th annual Mompreneur of the Year Award competition in conjunction with PayPal.  This is a huge opportunity for small businesses like mine to grow with professional guidance and mentoring without the big price tags.  

I would love you forever, to the moon and back, to infinity and beyond (no telling what bedtime stories I read to my kids tonight) if you would take some time to cast your vote for me.  Voting ends September 12th and the top 10 companies with the most votes become the semi finalists.  The winner will be selected by a panel of judges by the end of October.

If you're feeling particularly ambitious, please leave a comment in the 'show more support' section at the bottom of the page and be automatically entered to win a $25 gift certificate from The Spotted Monkey.  Up your chances by copying and pasting your comment under our review section on Facebook.

Oh, and you can vote once a day, so please stop by often.

Cheers dirties.

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