Let’s play Never Have I Ever: Parent Version. For the uninitiated, Never Have I Ever is a drinking game where you make a statement like “never have I ever gotten drunk and arrested, possibly naked” and anyone who HAS done that thing has to drink. (I mean, who HASN’T?) The whole point is to say things that will call out all the dirty birdies in your midst or, conversely, show off what a dirty birdie you are so you can then drunkenly mock all the virgins. But I feel like playing with parents would be a whole new game. So let’s try it, shall we?

Never have I ever gone creeping like a ninja along the baseboards of my house to avoid creaky floors while the kids slept.


Never have I ever belted 80’s hairband songs while driving dangerously fast in my mom-car.


Never have I ever plopped the kids in front of the tv because I just wanted to check Facebook for a while. And Pinterest. And that funny site. And restart the cartoon because maybe someone else liked my Facebook post?


Never have I ever taken advantage of my child’s poor concept of time. (It’s totally been an hour- time to play by yourself. Nope, not an hour yet, stay in your room.)

Christmas Ale Bottle

Never have I ever eaten an entire box of Nutty Bars while making dinner an hour late.


Never have I ever sworn elaborately in front of my kid and then when he repeated it told him not to say those things… in public.


Never have I ever made the one conversation per day I get with my significant other be entirely about children’s poop.


Never have I ever licked food off my kid’s face to clean it.


Licked food off my kid’s face because I skipped lunch and it looked delicious.


Never have I ever worn my clothes to bed. And then the entire next day because they don’t look any worse than my clean clothes that have been sitting in the laundry basket all week.


Taken a baby wipe “bath” and put on clean clothes.


Never have I ever picked someone else’s nose.


And felt inappropriately accomplished when I dig out all the gold.


Never have I ever… we should stop. I might be drunk. But feel free to add yours in the comments! (hiccup)




Awkward Baby #2

Wednesday is officially Awkward Baby day here. It’s a new thing I just made up. So here is today’s Awkward Baby situation:

You know how sometimes you go to a soiree at someone’s house and everyone is thinner and better dressed than you, and they’re all nibbling on hors d’oeuvres (which spell check says should be “horseradish”- what kind of crappy parties are you going to, spellcheck?) and being terribly trendy and you’re starving because you thought there’d be real food so you didn’t eat and you’re about to get hangry so you load up a plate but there’s nowhere to covertly stuff your face so you go to sit on the couch where other potentially wall-flowery people might be and it’s a coushy couch with only one seat open so you have to try and lower yourself and your embarrassingly over-full plate really carefully to not spill and/or springboard the other couch occupants out of their seats like an episode of hipster Tom and Jerry so you kind of slouch/sit into the spot all awkward and uncomfortable while trying to look like you’re totally confident?

This is what that feels like:

I just came straight from work.

I just came straight from work.

Awkward Baby shares your discomfort.

Another first

Since we’re starting at the beginning here, let’s really start at the beginning. I have saved almost every single thing I’ve ever written. School work, diaries, stories, (really horrible) poems (seriously, I can NOT do poetry), doodles from the margins of class notes- everything. So I thought, why not share the very earliest thing I can find? I was going for something like an adorable diary entry from elementary school, but it turns out I was fairly insufferable as a child. I’ll spare everyone the details, but if you would like to know what wasn’t fair in the 80’s, I can give you a lengthy list.

So instead, I present to you some of my very first creations, from a little art book titled “starting art! For ages 3-6.”

It's my good side

It’s my good side

Featured next week on Cribz

Featured next week on Cribz

Let’s hope this wasn’t when I peaked as an artist.

The first one

So here it is, friends. My very first blog post. It was a long time coming. Quite a few people have told me I should do this, but they were all people who liked me and wanted me to be happy, so… grain of salt I suppose? I love to write, people tell me I should write, I have things in my head TO write, but there is tremendous fear and doubt about whether or not it will be worthwhile to anyone, including myself. I guess this is just a disclaimer in this first terror-filled post of this new endeavor, so I can get it out of the way and never mention it again. From here on in, there is no doubt, no second-guessing, and no going back. I’m bravely starting this public blog, and dammit- we’re all gonna love it.

Let’s discuss the page name, shall we? I have two disgustingly cute children, and I love them. But sometimes I take pictures of them that make them look like lumpy sacks of baby. And I think this is kind of a metaphor for life:

Sometimes our lives are disgustingly cute, and we should own those moments for all they’re worth. And sometimes, our lives are lumpy, awkward sacks. We gotta own those moments, too.

Here we go!

I make this face at life a lot.

I make this face at life a lot.