Short & Sweet

Twenty years ago I didn’t picture myself where I currently am in life.

Where exactly am I did you say??

I’ll tell you.

A thirty something mother of two who spends more time in pajamas than real clothes with no career to speak of that wraps up in a giant pink robe every night and drinks wine straight from the bottle while binge watching shit on her DVR when the kids go to bed.

The. End.


Cut. It. Out.

I love sitting and talking with people about anything and everything. I especially love hearing the childhood stories of others. I’m always amazed at how similar we all are in one way or another.

Last week I had a long conversation with a good friend about different things we remembered from our youth; we laughed until we cried. The following is a short list of objects from my childhood that always invoke the giggles. Or possibly an eye roll.

  • Orange Handled Scissors. Growing up my mom always had a pair of these scissors hanging in the kitchen. When I tell you she used them for everything, I mean she used them for everything. She would cut paper, plastic, cardboard, and wire with those things. Once I saw her use them as an ice pick. Need a haircut?? Grab the scissors. But wait: didn’t you just use those to clip that turd stuck in the dogs ass hair? “Have no fear”, she would say. “I washed them.” Famous last words.
  • Cookie Tins. Last week I was grocery shopping and there to the right  I see those delicious, buttery, danish cookies for sale. What stopped me from buying them? The fear that I would get home and upon opening them discover a sewing kit.
  • Cool Whip Bowls. This is actually a really broad category. Let’s throw in margarine tubs and sherbet bowls, too. Is what’s supposed to be in there really  in there? Or is it leftovers? One would only know upon opening.
  • Ridiculously Large Off-Brand Ice Cream Tubs. Anybody remember those? Did anybody else grow up with 5 gallon buckets full of ice cream in the freezer? Once they were empty, my parents would wash them out and use them to make ice. Yes, that’s right. The iceberg that destroyed the Titanic resided in my parent’s freezer and cooled your iced tea in the summer.


After talking with so many people about their own quirky childhoods, I now know these items weren’t just found in my house.

But one thing is for sure; those orange handled scissors really stuck with me and you won’t find one single pair in my house. Ever.

Always end your day with laughter,

Olive Oyl Momma

P.S. Did you have any of these things in your house growing up? Or something even better? Share it with me!

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!

This Can’t Be Right – The Mysteries of Mom Boobs

I know I’m not the only mom that has ever questioned: what happened to my boobs?

These are not the fun bags I remember from years past.

First of all let’s face it, they’re not “fun” anymore. These two fatty areas on our chests used to be perky. They resided where they were supposed to; up HIGH. Personally I like to refer to my breasts as rocks in socks. Tube socks if we’re being specific.

Yes, once upon a time, they were the wells of life that nourished my children. And it was a beautiful thing.

But now, now they more closely resemble a deflated balloon animal. A snake maybe.i-feel-deflated

I hate putting on a bra. It’s a cardio workout all of its own. And it’s not like I have been gifted with anything above average. It’s the simple fact that to make those puppies look halfway decent one must perform the tasks of lifting, tucking, squishing and popping to try and make those ‘ol things fit somewhat comfortably in the cups.

And what’s up with laying down? Please tell me dear reader that you know what I’m getting ready to say. You know that I’m going to talk about the way these pesky lumps of tissue fall to the sides upon laying down without a brassiere on. Somehow they magically find their way to our armpits. It’s almost like boobs are the female version of testicles and they’re withdrawing inward.

Funny story.

One night my husband and I had just gotten into bed. Another long day down, now it was time to sleep then repeat in the a.m. We are not cuddlers; in fact, both of us prefer to sleep without being touched at all. But on this particular night my husband was in a bit of a spooning mood so I humored him.

Picture this: I’m laying on my side, my back to his front. He snakes his right arm around me and wants to hold on to something if you catch my drift.

But there was nothing there.


Because they had receded to the recesses of the armpits. The left one at least. His hand was resting on the bones and skin of my chest. So I did what any woman who wants to humor her husband would do.

I guided his hand up, up, up and over to my underarm. Then I patted his hand and said, “there she is.”

It was a laugh out loud moment, and you know what I say: Always end your day with laughter.

Olive Oyl Momma

P.S. Do you have a funny boob moment you’d like to share? Please do and we can all laugh together!

9 Things You Need to Know About Raising Teenaged Boys

For some parents the teen years are a curse. A throw back to all things the teenage you did that were wrong. For each transgression committed,  you can see your mother’s predictions about karma coming true. But for me, parenting a teenaged boy is kinda fun. Most days. So I came up with a list of things we encounter on a daily basis around our house. A need to know for all of you entering the teen years with your boys. A guide so to speak that helps you remember, we’re all in this together.

  • They smell. It’s true. That lovely baby smell is forever gone, replaced instead with an essence that is indescribable. If I were to try to describe it, I would say sweat with a side of cat pee. And football cleats stay outside. Always. No amount of washing, Lysol, Febreze or foot powder can contain it, and if you try these methods you come up with a scent I like to call Shitrus.
  • Acne. I’m not exactly sure how many face washes, topical creams and gels and cleansing pads we’ve tried. Hell, we even went Holistic and used essential oils. Bottom line? You’re lucky if you can get them to wash their face everyday anyway.
  • Hair styles. They’ve all made their way through my house. We’ve had The Bieber, the Shaved Head, the Faux Hawk, the Mohawk, the Edge-Up, the High-and-Tight, and my personal favorite, the I Don’t Give A Fuck. The latter comes with a side of “No I didn’t brush it and I don’t care if it’s greasy.”
  • The Clothes Diva. Gone are the days of our precious little boys exercising their free will and demanding cowboy boots with every outfit. Now the demands are all things name-brand. Could someone please explain the fascination of “Joggers” ? Aren’t they the same thing as the ugly sweat pants we ourselves sported back in the 80’s? And if you want to see a complete and total melt down buy them pants from Wal-Mart. You’re welcome.


  • Shoes. No, their feet never stop growing. My fourteen year old son wears a mens 9 1/2. I think it’s safe to say he inherited his mothers giant flippers considering he has already surpassed his father’s shoe size. Still, I count my blessings considering my best friends son wears a mens 12. Fuck her life.
  • Food. Remember when a pound of ground beef actually fed your little family? Now kiss those days good-bye. They’re gone. Forever. Buy a cow and have it butchered. It may last you six months. Oh you’re a vegetarian? Then buy a soy bean farm. The whole thing.
  • Music. Some of the crap they listen to today is awful. You can’t understand any of it. It has no melody; just a bunch of rambling with a half-ass beat. But occasionally you may hear the sounds of Def Leopard or Metallica floating from their room. Pat yourself on the back, you’re doing something right.
  • Electronics. In our house we don’t let our kids have unlimited access to video games and smart phones. And we don’t rush out and buy the newest gaming systems either. But when so-and-so gets a new system that’s all we hear about. So we like to remind them about our lives at their age, and then hide their iPhones and replace them with an etch-a-sketch. Try it. It’s right up there with Wal-Mart pants.

Etch a Sketch

  • Hormones. They’re all over the place. Those little bastards are the main contributors to the odors and ravenous acne covered appetites. At least one night a week we have a conversation about body hair at the dinner table. Needless to say, we don’t get a lot of dinner guests.

Overall, teenage boys are pretty fun and quite often entertaining. Seriously. Even on those days that consist of melt downs and mood swings, that little boy who heard your heart beat from the inside is still there. And when they come up to you for a hug (and don’t want something), or say “I love you” on their way out the door in the mornings,  you may get a little sentimental. And that’s okay. They literally grow up in the blink of an eye. So cherish every moment, good and bad. (That sounded so cliché) Even the smelly, acne covered, vulture eating,  giant shoe sized ones. Because they are fleeting. Always end your day with laughter, Olive Oyl Momma