I need to make my kids understand that I’m not staff, I’m management.
DO YOU WANT ME TO RAP?
I WILL RAP!– how I threaten my kids
Sorry I haven’t been able to get back to you, I’ve been pretty busy chasing this cherry tomato around my plate with a fork. Almost. Got. It.
On autopsy, instead of pumping my stomach to determine what I’ve eaten in the past 24 hours, a coroner need only look down my cleavage.
I will love you ’til the end of time, or until my blood alcohol level normalizes, whichever comes first.
A fun thing to do is sit on the couch with black buttons over your eyes while your kids watch Coraline, then wait for them to notice.
There’s a bird in the yard and she’s shaking her tail feathers in hope of attracting a mate. HE SHOULD LOVE YOU FOR YOUR BRAIN, I yell.
Trapped on a train in the snow, and honestly, none of these people look appetizing.
Whenever someone says they have “a thing” for me, I secretly hope it’s a pony.
Sure I named my black cat Blackie and my grey cat Grey, but you need to be a little less obvious with babies. Isn’t that right, Mistake?
Home is where the heart is, and hopefully it’s where all of the other vital organs reside too.
Until my sneezes have time to figure out their beliefs, please stop blessing them.
Kids, because why would you want to sleep on more than 6 inches of your king size bed?
Hell hath no fury like this woman attempting to type “scorned” and having it autocorrected to “scrotum” 13 times in a row.
Mommy, I wrote some notes down in my diarrhea.
Please let her mean diary.
Please let her mean diary.
Please let her mean diary.