Don’t you wish life were as clean and pretty as it is on Pinterest? I don’t know about yours, but mine’s more like Grey Gardens, except my mom gets mad when we feed the raccoons. And instead of 100 cats peeing everywhere, we have two dogs who pee everywhere. Which reminds me – you’ll never guess what I cleaned up yesterday. No, really, you won’t. Hold on to your hats: sh*t vomit. I kid you not. The Dachshund ate the Chihuahua’s poop and then vomited it up all over the kitchen floor. I’m not sure I could make this kind of sick stuff up if I tried. I stared at it for about 30 minutes in the hopes that it would magically disappear, but then realized the only way that was going to happen was if the dog ate it again. (Help me, sweet Jesus.) I thought about taking a picture of it so that you might share in my horror, but it would have been too cruel. I guarantee you won’t see that on Pinterest.
Yeah . . .
If I were to describe Pinterest to the blind, I would say it’s like a mecca for masochistic mommies, which is probably why I totally love it. Want to see how your lunch packing skills measure up? Feeling good about your star cut-out sandwich? Pshaw. You mean, you don’t serve your children bento boxes with origini bunny rabbits and Phineas and Ferb sammies?
Dude. I wasn’t kidding. And there are more.
Scarlett just looked over my shoulder and squealed with delight at the site of these twin Ferbs. She said, “Oh, I think we should make these! But I think we need Phineas. And Perry the Platypus.”
We do, don’t we?
Thank you, sir! May I have another?
When my eyes finally start bleeding from looking at too many immaculate and whimsical children’s bedroom pins, I like to turn on the Food Network to finish off any remaining feelings of good housekeeping. Those ladies always serve up a good reminder of my cooking repertoire’s total lacking. But I have found a way to make this more palatable. Go to the garage and get one of the PBRs your sister left last time she was here (no, she’s not a hipster), and every time Giada says, “Pop it in the fridge,” you drink. For extra classiness, be sure to use a straw. (Disclaimer: I advocate waiting until your kids are in bed and your husband is home to babysit you before drinking and DVRing.) And (almost) no one likes to drink alone, so call up some girlfriends and invite them over. Hey, you want to come over this weekend for some beers? I’ll go pop the PBRs in the fridge right now!
I’m totally serious. Call me.