Lady and the Tramp Stamp

6 Ways my Kids are like my Shitty Tattoos

Sometimes I look at them and I’m like why? I looked way better in a bikini before I got them. Oh well! Too late now! I am talking about kids and tattoos: both permanently disfiguring and not exactly like you imagined…You guys were right, that last one did come out kinda weird.

FullSizeRender (8)
My baby  and my tramp stamp. Aww.

1) Great Idea when You are Drunk: You know how after 4 margaritas at Senor Frogs somewhere between 1999-2004, you thought that a tattoo of Tinkerbelle perched on your hip was like the BEST idea ever? Well, girl. I feel you. That’s the same kind of decision-making that turned a lot of us into parents in the first place. Fast forward about 10 months and you might wish Tink was the only thing perched on your (now stretched-marked) hip. Whoops!

2)Hurt Like Hell: Much like your sweet tramp stamp of the (incorrect) Chinese symbol for peace that you thought couldn’t hurt that much because people get tattoos every day, having a baby hurts like hell. Like being set on fire and eaten alive by a shark and then pushed off a cliff.

3)Does Not Look like you Expected: Before I actually got it, I daydreamed about what the owl tattoo on my arm would look like. (p.s OBVIOUSLY I have a bird tattoo on my arm. I mean O B V I O U S L Y). As the tattoo was finished, I was like WTF. Not what I pictured. Having a baby is basically the same. I thought I was getting a little doll miniature of me and my man. What I actually got was a screaming bright red baked bean that looked like my dad?? Um. Refund? Time machine?

4)Expensive: This shit was $400!! Even though it looks like something a fellow inmate gave me in exchange for some contraband smokes. And don’t even get me started on what the baby has cost us. Every last penny. Every one.

5)Permanent: In moments of regret, I have looked in to having my tattoos removed. Likewise, I have been in the aisles of the grocery store with three screaming kids and wondered…can I somehow throw them off my scent? Turns out tattoos and kids are both   F O R E V E R. But strangely…

6)You Want One More. Despite being the expensive, painful, permanent, and not instantly good-looking idea of a drunk chick….I still want just one more. Even though people are probably talking about how crappy the ones I already have are. Just one little Russian nesting doll on my shoulder and I will be done. And fine, just one more little beet red infant to scream at me while I try to keep it alive. Last one. Promise.

F*ck the Swear Jar

5 Reasons I don’t Give an Eff about Swearing in front of my Kids

by Kate Levkoff

FCK
Artwork by Wylder Levkoff, Age 8

Three years ago, my husband made a unilateral promise to our kids: each time he or I swore, we would put a quarter in the Swear Jar. If and when the jar filled up, the money would be theirs. First of all: WTF. And second of all: are you f*cking kidding me.

I dropped $10 into the jar and explained that I was paying ahead for the summer.  The kids were confused but they don’t understand human currency yet, and they think that all paper money = $1million, so they were excited.

My husband was truer to the spirit of the exercise and had almost wiped out our savings by the time the first leaves fell from the trees.

So after the kids cashed out, we reversed our policy decision.  It was back to saying whatever the f*ck we wanted.  And here are 5 reasons why:

1)    Because I am grownup. Okay, so being a grownup has fewer perks than my 11 year old self imagined that it would (I sort of saw myself settling down with Zach Morris and finally acting blasé about menstruation while I drove a golf cart on the beach, but whatever). But one of the true benefits of adulthood is being totally free to say whatever the eff I want, whenever I want, without getting grounded.  Boom! Soft benefits, baby!!

2)    Because they are kids. Look, I get that I need to be setting a good example. That is why I wear pants to drop them off at school even though under my winter coat, it is not *strictly* necessary.  But while I am on board with showing them the ropes as they grow up: they are not grownups yet and until further notice, it is ‘do as I say and not as I do.’ So they are not allowed to swear, but nor are they allowed to drive, use the toaster, cross the road alone, or drink watermelon martinis. Thems the breaks! I like to give them some sh*t to look forward to!

3)    Because with kids, everything is  baby talk, euphemisms, and indecipherable kiddie code.  Making a tinkle, doing a doodie, eating our trees, going night-night, minding our p’s and q’s, going bye-bye, using our words, ETC. I mean who knows what the hell I am even talking about half the time. I’ve lost track.  The benefit to (strategic) cursing is that it cuts through this gobbledygook. When our normally chill 8 yr. old son made his sister cry out of spite, I sat him down, looked him in the eye and told him straight: quit acting like a little sh*t to your sister.  A couple of big blinks told me he got my point: I was not effing around.

4)    Because parenting is a series of inscrutable WTF moments.  I need to give true voice to my feelings as I dig the embedded Lego Batman from my heel (ahhhgain), remove the sock from the toilet bowl (“but mom! It looked like a paper towel”), bake and frost 24 cupcakes at 1am for the class party at 8am, try to make sense of 3rdgrade math (just no), or switch lanes on the BQE while three kids argue to the death about which of them likes cheese the most (srsly. And it’s me). I need everyone to shut the f*ck up and calm the f*ck down, so mommy can figure this out.

5)    Because I have given up so.much.sh*t. already. At the altar of motherhood, I have already sacrificed sleeping, sanity, perky boobs, a knowledge of popular music, career opportunities, manicured nails, all of our money, fashion, an understanding of current events, the energy to complete even a TV marathon, slim fit jeans, I could go on.  Must I also give up my communication style and my preferred mode of self-expression? Oh, f*ck no, babies, no f*cking  way.

So if you, Mom, somehow managed to bring your sweet child(ren) into this world without howling/panting/shrieking every expletive that you know and have been able to maintain that decorum through sleepless nights, potty training, and the youthful revolts of elementary school, then congratufuckinglations. You might want to remind your little angel to put his earmuffs on before a playdate at my house, though, because he’s likely to hear some big girl words.

Netflix and Chill vs. Netflix and Children

by Kate Levkoff

Netflix and Children

Okay, I admit it: For the last year or so, I thought I was doing “Netflix and Chill,” when all I was doing was queueing up endless episodes of Caillou so that I could take a shit and/or have a totally silent Falling Down moment a sink of two-day-old dishes.

Turns out, I was actually doing “Netflix and Children,” which is a totally different thing.A totally different thing.

Netflix and Chill means you lure someone to your couch by coyly suggesting you watch a movie together, and then you instead have sex. Or at least intentionally touch each other in a mutually pleasurable way.

I mean wow. Wow. Netflix and Children means basically the total opposite.

Netflix and Chill is all about being together. Netflix and Children is all about being alone at fucking last. It’s about letting Peppa Pig, or those weird H20 Mako Mermaids, or the Ninjago Lego toys deal with this mess for 20 minutes (or half an hour, or fine, the whole first season of Lab Rats!) so that I can get some work done, or take a shower, or lie on a pile of unfolded laundry and try to figure out how to put a flag on my Facebook profile picture for, like, an hour and a half. All while my kids are being lobotomized by something rated TV-Y, or TV-G, or (emergencies only) TV-14.

And I’m sorry, but Netflix and Children is way better than Netflix and Chill! Consider: I don’t need to shave my legs, stay awake, smell pretty much clean, or be likeable for Netflix and Children to be a huge hit! Actually, I have been married for 10 years, so the same rules would apply for Netflix and Chill, but you get my point: It takes absolutely no effort.

Thank God I have Netflix and Children to help me sidestep my parenting responsibilities when it is truly essential that my children and I take a break from one another and not touch or talk for as many seasons of Pingu as possible.

Lastly, a warning to all those sensually streaming lovebirds: Some variation of Netflix and Chill is what got me to where I am today. My children are probably a product of the bygone “DVR and Hit Dat” era. Watch responsibly.

Scary Mommy

 

Mommy Mad Libs: Christine

Mommy Mad Libs

I always thought that having a baby would be HEAVEN ON EARTH___, from what I had seen from my friend’s profiles, I figured it was a lot of__LOVIN AND BLISS__. I was totally__IN OVER MY HEAD_____. First of all my _asshole______ felt like it had been ripped open_____and I couldn’t tell if I would ever_have a solid poop__ again.  After labor I really wanted a CRISPY RICE SPICY TUNA ROLL____an it felt so good to finally _EAT TUNA WITH WILD ABANDON____.  

I took a lot of _PICTURES____ and put them on _INSTAGRAM____. I got a lot of _LOVE____from people, and they said that _LEVI___looked _LIKE ME AND G___.  My body was _BLOWN OUT_____!  I loved how I had_BELLY FAT___ now! It took a while but I finally  BRUSHED___my __TEETH___.

I looked at my husband with new  ADORATION______and felt more LOVE ____toward him than ever before.  He was so _HELPFUL____, it  was amazing.  (2 months later, i hated him for ANYTHING. helpful or not).

If I could tell a __YOUNG__lady anything, it would be to __wait till you’re at least 32__and don’t believe the  SEEMINGLY PERPETUAL BLISS__you __SEE_on SOCIAL MEDIA____! (it’s all amazing and worth it, but the hardest job you’ll ever have ever ever ever !)

Mommy Mad Libs: Ali

Mommy Mad Libs

I always thought that having a baby would be_amazing___, from what I had seen from my friend’s profiles, I figured it was a lot of playing hipster dress-up____. I was totally____wrong___. First of all my existence______ felt like it had a purpose_____and I couldn’t tell if I would ever go to Ross___ again.  After labor I really wanted a chocolate cake___an it felt so good to finally __binge on sugar___.  

I took a lot of magnesium pills _____ and put them on my bedside table _____. I got a lot of _shit____from people, and they said that _my tits___looked huge ____.  My body was _hilarious_____!  I loved how I had no control over my bowels____ now! It took a while but I finally gained___my  control back_____.

I looked at my husband with new _perspective_____and felt more _bitchy___toward him than ever before.  He was so  well rested____, it  was amazing.  

If I could tell a pregnant____lady anything, it would be to breathe___and don’t believe the negativity___you read___on __anything__!