Life Got In The Way

The last few weeks of my life have been R.I.D.I.C.U.L.O.U.S. I’ve been busier than a one-armed paper hanger and apologize for not blogging my friends!!

Never fear, I have a funny story for you today. I mean, a lot of funny shit has went down these last few weeks, I just haven’t had time to write about it. But I am  a woman, and we don’t forget shit, so here we go.

Took the offspring to a BBQ at a friends a few weekends ago. The weather was perfect. Perfect sun, perfect breeze and good company. The younger kids played basketball and tag, the older kids showed off their skills and tricks with their scooters.

As the night progressed, things slowed down and the music turned up. Offspring 2 loves to sing and dance. I’ve told ya’ll before I’m not exactly sure what he’ll be when he grows up, but I know he’ll be great at it and  do it with pizazz. I’m also sure that when he hits high school I’ll spend way too much money on theater.

Anyway, the music turned up and suddenly my child was more interested in dancing than playing basketball. You know that Lil’ Jon song “Turn down for what”? That  came on and  shit. got. real.

It started out as a bit of a twerk. Then his hips started to gyrate and his body became a spasm to the beat of the music. I knew then that it was  about to go down.

I tried to stop it from happening. I really did. But you just can’t stop the beat apparently.

And that’s when my kid  ran and hit the basketball pole, wrapping his legs around it like a  professional.  As my jaw hit my chest, he swung around like money was about to be stuffed into the waist band of his shorts. If he had long hair, it would have caught the wind like he was  making it rain.  In my mind I was hearing Def Leopard sing “love is like a bomb….” and for once in my life I was speechless. Where the hell did he learn to do that?? And why was I impressed?? I mean, let’s be honest: it takes superior  upper body strength to work a pole.


When I finally found my voice, I convinced him to take it down 77 levels and just groove and jive to the beat like normal ten year old boys do. Obviously, normal is boring.

So in conclusion, that’s the day Champagne Sparkles was born.

Always end your day with laughter,

Olive Oyl Momma


Excuse Me, Your Underpants Are Showing

Night before last, offspring 2 came home crying because he had ripped his pants. When I say he had ripped his pants, oh he ripped them real good. One entire side of his britches was exposing his underpants.

Keeping in mind the story of my life is laundry, my first question to him was, “Did you scratch up your butt cheeks?”, whilst thinking: Hell yes! One less thing to wash!!!!

How exactly did the ripping of the pants occur? Jumping fences of course. And that is something that does not  make me happy. I have told my kids a hundred times not to jump a fence.


Forget the fact that I myself was a professional fence jumper back in the day. Forget that my long ass frog legs could leap a fence like a Copperhead snake was about to eat me for lunch. Forget all of that but remember this: the first time you snag a thigh on chain link fencing, you won’t forget it.

And that is precisely why I strongly discourage jumping fences.

Am I surprised that offspring 2 came home with a pants blowout the size of Rhode Island? Not really. Because this isn’t the first time it’s happened. He is definitely the one that has had the most mishaps. This is the kid that while playing hide-n-seek decided a trash can was a good place to lay low. It was also a good place to seriously F something up. Six staples later:

Cody's Staples

So, back to the beginning. Offspring 2 came home crying over his ripped pants. Why was he crying? Because he thought he would be in trouble. Did he get in trouble for it? No. Pants are replaceable;  butt cheeks, not so much.

And the bonus?? One less article of clothing to wash.

Keep your kids from climbing fences and then  end your day with laughter,

Olive Oyl Momma

My Dog Just Gave Me The Stink Eye

And if my dog is giving me the stink eye, that means he did something naughty. Most likely he got into the bathroom trash and dug out q-tips. He really digs ear wax.


Do you ever sit around chit chatting with friends and ponder what exactly your children might do when they’re grown up? I do. I often tell people when it comes to offspring 2 that I’m not exactly sure what he’ll do later in life, but I do know he’ll be great at it.

Here’s why.

When he was seven or eight years old he announced he wanted a job so that he could earn his own money.

I told him I admired his ambition, however, he was a bit young to become gainfully employed. And that’s when he informed me that if he was too young to work for someone else, then he would just have to be the boss.

Surprised-CatOkay, let’s clear something up really quick. Offspring 2 may be a kid, but he acts like a forty year old man trapped in a child’s body.

So me being that mom who actually likes  for her kiddos to have an opinion wanted to know, what exactly do you propose?

He says a lemonade stand.

So we talked it through. I told him, “Here’s the deal kid. Your clientele would most likely be the other neighborhood kids and you know most of them. So the expectation that friends should get free lemonade would be high. In the long run, you would have more money invested in product than you would actually be making in profit. So in summary, you need to do something that appeals to adults because that’s where the money is at.”

He was hanging on every word and practically taking notes and then proceeds to ask, “so what do you suggest?”

And as God is my witness, I forgot that I was brainstorming with a child and blurted out, “You’re gonna have to spike your lemonade with Vodka.”


Then he, also without missing a beat yells, ” YOU GO BUY IT AND I’LL CALL IT LIQUORNADE!”


And that’s the story of how I went into the spiked lemonade business with my kid.

Just kidding! But seriously though, where do they come up with these ideas?

Have your kids ever surprised you with a business venture? Let me know!

Always end your day with laughter,

Olive Oyl Momma

Let Me Play For You The Sounds Of My People – Yes It’s My Washer

Some days I swear laundry is the story of my life.

Just when you think you’re caught up the kids get home from school and start to strip. Game. Over.

I imagine that when I die, laundry will be a part of my eulogy.

“She could wash and fold towels like a boss.”


Someone reading this is smirking because they think they’re caught up on laundry. Take a look at your dusty ass curtains. You’re welcome.

There is always something to wash; For example, I could wash sheets today. But I won’t. I bought a one way ticket to Laundry-Ain’t-Us Ville and my train just left the station.

Show of hands: I know I’m not the only mom that’s ever been woken up in the middle of the night by a puking kid. It’ s a sound that will make your hair stand on end. Even worse is when you wake up because you feel someone staring at you while you sleep and it’s your kid announcing they think they’re gonna hurl. For the love of all that is holy get the hell out of here then!

Another show of hands: Who else has ever tossed the puke sheets in the trash and said not today Satan. There are some things that I’ll just replace. Fuck it.

Knock on wood and pass me the salt shaker, I haven’t had a puker in a while. I think my kids are getting to that age where things like that don’t happen as often anymore. Thank. God.

When offspring 1 was a wee baby, he had a nasty little stomach bug. So I had him laying next to me in my bed because he looked and felt so pitiful.

And that’s when he vomits in my ear.


Have you ever had puke in your ear?? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. Pretty sure there’s still a bit of something blocking my tubes.


For those of you that have yet to have kids and are now second guessing the possibility, hear me; I have also had puke in my bra, and hair and once offspring 1 puked in my hands because it was the only receptacle I had available at the time.

Parenting is not for the faint of heart or weak of stomach. But it is a wild ride, so if you fancy yourself a thrill seeker, bust you out a baby then.

In a nutshell, you wash a lot of shit after you have kids. Literally. Not sure how a cat turd made its way to the washer, but it happened.

If any of you have a good puke story, or even turd story about your kids that you want to share with me, please do. I’m feeling a bit shittastic today so let’s keep this party going!

Always end your day with laughter,

Olive Oyl Momma

I Wish It Was Friday; Also, I Wish I Had An Elephant

This was the morning breakfast conversation I had with offspring 2 today.

He announced he wished it was Friday. I said ugh, hold up. It has to be at least Wednesday to wish for Friday. Let’s wish for an elephant in the backyard instead.

Conversations with kids are fun.

Anywho, let’s recap the weekend. I took a brief reprieve from blogging; it was starting to consume me. Every thought that flits through my head I want to blog about. Apparently it has affected my husband, too, as he said more than once this past weekend, “you should blog about that.” Which had me wondering, is there an echo in here??

Saturday gave us beautiful weather so the husband took the offspring fishing at a creek. They brought home a friend which I promptly informed them we wouldn’t be keeping. Meet Muddy Buddy:

Muddy Buddy

Thanks to one of my brilliant, genius friends that knows all things turtle, we found out this little dude is a common Musk or Mud Turtle. Years ago, we had a tiny baby red eared slider. Turtles are really cool but they also are really stinky. So on that note, I didn’t want to add to my zoo. As you can see, I made him a little mud box and after a few hours of observation, we released him back into the creek. Good times!

In our house we are HUGE Walking Dead fans. If you’re not, leave. now.

Just kidding.

The season finale was last night. I won’t give any spoilers but I will say it wasn’t as exciting as we were hoping. Bottom line: Daryl is still with us and that’s all that matters.


You’re welcome ladies.

So I guess that about sums it up.

It’s Monday, my alarm went off at WTF o’clock, and here I am.

I’ll be seeing all of you tomorrow!

Always end your day with laughter,

Olive Oyl Momma

P.S. What did all of you do with your weekend? Let me know in the comments!

Britches &Twitches – Things That Make Mom’s Drink Wine in the Closet

It’s spring picture day at the elementary school and I’m typing this one-handed because I have a death grip on my wine bottle with the other. It’s not quite 9 a.m.

Not really but, I’m on the verge.

You would think that offspring number 2 at the ripe old age of ten would no longer argue about what he will and will not wear on any given day.

Think again.

I swear my youngest was born in the wrong era. He would have been much happier fashion-wise as a child of the 70’s; obscenely short shorts and t-shirts everyday. Peace & Love dude.


It’s my fault really. Apparently I passed on the OCD gene and he was the lucky recipient. You know what they say, if it’s not one thing it’s the mother.

Let’s take it back to his toddler years so you can gain a clearer understanding here:

Cowboy boots, diaper and t-shirt. Done. Dressed for the day so obviously we stayed home a lot.

A bit older and it became shorts and flip-flops. Everyday.

When he started kindergarten and found out he would need to wear actual pants quite a bit, the meltdowns came. Eventually (now don’t laugh), we had to confiscate and hide all of his shorts. No joke. No matter the weather or reasoning, he always wanted to wear shorts.

Imagine our surprise when one day we said to the offspring, “get dressed, we’re going out to dinner”, and out he comes wearing a knit polo with swim trunks and tennis shoes.

It never occurred to us that we needed to take the swimming apparel, too.

In more recent years it has become somewhat better. We incorporated his help with clothing purchases and found out that he’ll only wear thin cotton plaid shorts (they feel the best), he prefers v-neck t’s to crew, he has one pair of jeans that “don’t make him sweat”, ankle socks ONLY but they MUST be a specific style in the toe so as not to bunch up when wearing tennis shoes, and don’t get me started on the whole underwear thing. I’ll save that for another day.

To top it all off, we also had to reach an agreement about when he can and cannot wear shorts. So, three seasons out of four he checks the weather religiously. If the temps are supposed to reach at least 60 degrees, he can wear shorts.

The only clothing he never complains about are his school uniforms. Why, we’ll never know.

Okay, so back to this morning. Spring pictures = the kids can wear whatever they want. I had visions of him wearing a plaid button-up looking spring-like and shit. That’s not what happened.

After a lot of huffing, eye rolling and a foot stomp or two (all of these were my actions), he left the house in a v-neck and plaid cotton shorts.

Go. Figure.


Always end your day with laughter,

Olive Oyl Momma

P.S. Do your kids have any funny quirks? Share them with me! And then we’ll have wine!

Rodent on the Run – A Mouse Tail

A few years ago I was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and hammering it out on my laptop (much as I am today), and out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a mouse.


“No”, I said to myself. No way, no how. Must have been a shadow.

Until it happened again the next morning.

Double gross.

So I called the husband and told him I thought we had a mouse. He told me I was seeing shadows.


Morning three gave me a clear view of the little bastard. It was one of those surreal moments where you know you just saw a mouse run under your dishwasher but you’re the only one home and the dog can’t talk so there goes your eye witness.

This time I called my mom. She tells me they have mouse traps if I want to borrow them. (don’t you just love how mom will always give you the benefit of the doubt?) But I was hesitant. I knew my kids wouldn’t bother them but my dog probably would and I really didn’t want him popping his nose. She also told me where there’s one there’s usually two.

Well shit.

Later in the week I get a call from my kids.

“Ugh mom? Charmin killed a mouse in our room.”

Meet Charmin

Charmin and his boy

Well way to go Charmin! One down. One to go?

Fast forward a few weeks.

It’s that wonderful time of night where the parents are relaxing in the living room watching the ‘ol boob-tube and the kiddies are showered and brushed, quietly entertaining themselves until bedtime.

Offspring number 2 informs me that he will be building Lego’s until bed.

From the living room I hear the unmistakable, cringe worthy sound of a GIANT box of Lego’s being dumped on his floor.

And then a blood curdling scream.

It was actually more of a blood curdling scream with a squeal thrown in for good measure.

So I went running.

And there my friends, was mouse number two laying amongst the Lego’s.


Here’s what we think happened upon inspection of Stuart Little:

The evidence showed heart failure with a side of cat-got-your-throat. Too, graphic?

And we think that after being slung into the air by our wonderful Charmin, mouse managed to escape the clutches of the ruthless cat villain where he then crawled into the haven of the Lego box and breathed his last.

So there you have it folks. My mom was right; where there is one there will probably be two.

Old Charmin earned his keep that summer and we haven’t seen a mouse in the house since.

Always end you day with laughter my friends,

Olive Oyl Momma