I’m Moving to Mexico

We are 60 hours post-surgery on my kid, and I’ve officially lost all the the poo there is to lose. Which is a complete and utter lie. There is always more poo to lose, and I haven’t begun to hit the mother load because, let’s be honest, the mother load is a LOT of poo. There is a LOT of poo to lose. All the Poo. There is All the Poo to lose and I’ve but lost a tiny fraction of it. But I’ve been awake every hour on the hour for the last 60 hours straight, dispensing opiates and turning on the ice machine and comforting the teenager who’s all WHAT DID YOU LET THEM DO TO ME even though we’ve had her foot surgery planned for, like, ever, and I’m a little done in. A little fried. A teeny, tiny bit at the end of my rope. And the barest bit Yell All the Things I’m Thinking at Greg. Hold Nothing Back! Which would be nice if I was thinking about roses and puppies, but I’m not. I’m not. I’m really, really not.
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My Last Words on Earth Will Be…

I’m sporting an enormous bruise on my right butt cheek after gracefully slipping in my bunny slippers down the stairs on Sunday. Of course, I yelled, “OH, SHIT” during the THUMP BOOM CRASH, and of course all my children heard me, even the littles, and of course they all thought I was HILARIOUS except the lone child who wanted to know if I was OK and who is now my Official Favorite. I’d like to get t-shirts made for occasions like these – Official Favorite Child t-shirts – which I can distribute with pomp and circumstance and a huge ceremony and cake so I can mock the rest of my children better, since they never, ever believe me when I make mere verbal pronouncements of favoritism. “He’s not your favorite, Mom,” they say, sing-songy and puffed up with misplaced confidence. “We’re all your favorites,” they insist. Which… whatever. ...  read more

5 Probably Totally Scientific Reasons Boys MUST Clutch Their Penises

I asked my nephew to get his hand out of his pants, and he replied with ill-disguised disdain, “Not yet, Auntie Beth. I’m playing hide and seek.” So, you know. My bad.

Look. Boys hold on to their penises, folks, starting at age zero, and you can complain about it all you want, but they have to do it. There’s a biological imperative at play, obviously, because no matter how many times you tell a boy child to get his hand out of his pants, it ends up back in there. And if the boy is naked? Well, then penis-holding is essential, really. Crucial. A sacred responsibility.  ...  read more

On Being an Aunt (And How to Make a Penis Out of Marshmallows)

My nephew, who’s 3, keeps asking me when we get to play with booze outside. “Want to go outside, Auntie Beff! Want to play wiff booze,” he says, his face twisted pathetically – and effectively – to incite pity. My niece, 5, insists he means balls, but I’m pretty sure she’s wrong, ’cause every time I ask, “Booze or balls? Which one do you want to play?” he yells, “BOOZE,” which are my sentiments, exactly, since neither of us gets to have any these days; him because he’s 3, and me because I’m in charge of children by myself and, if anything happens, I don’t want it to be because Auntie Beff was all liquored up. ...  read more

Everything You Need to Know About Big Sisters and Little Brothers

I’m a big sister with a little brother, and I could write a treatise on the subject.

  • About how we boss leadership you because we love you (and because you’re pathetic and you need us.)
  • About how we use words to torture you because a) words are superior weapons and do longer term damage, and b) words cause you to lash out with your fists which is how we most reliably get you into trouble.
  • And about how much it sucks when you grow old enough and large enough to answer our leadershippy words by picking us up, tossing us over a shoulder, carrying us to the front lawn, dumping our asses in the grass, calmly strolling back inside, and locking us out of the house.

Instead of all of that, though, everything you need to know about big sisters and little brothers is summed up in this picture of my niece tackling her little brother to her princess bed and holding him down while she buttons up the pretty pink dress she talked him into wearing. ...  read more

Practically Pinterest: New Ways to Use Golden Books

In the 70’s and 80’s – you know, back when spanking was a thing – my brother used to shove Golden Books down his pants when he got in trouble. That way, he was ready for any consequences, no matter how dire. Just like a Boy Scout, my brother. Always prepared.

It was a good strategy, overall, except that Golden Books are square, of course, and butts are round, but whatever. It was still a pretty quick move for a 4 year old. ...  read more

On Playing Life Like a Beast

“Mom, I just played that game like a BEAST,” said the 7 year old, high on video games and higher on a bone-weary mommy who was just as interested in giving him extra screen time as he was in having it. “Sometimes I win and sometimes I just DIE, Mom, you know? But I played like a BEAST, and that’s the thing that feels good, Mom. That’s the thing.” ...  read more