Dear tiny gramma,

the moosh is just like me. Go ahead and gloat.

Need examples?

Well first there was the “I want a new mom.” debacle of May 2009. Apparently asking her to get dressed was not in the mother/daughter manifesto leaving her to fire me only to rehire me after she realized she couldn’t pick her new mom up at the airport without the aid of her old mom.

So apparently I get to stay the mom by circumstance.

Which is to say as soon as she can make eyes at some boy who can drive her to the airport where they keep the new moms who don’t ask their kids to get dressed? I’m out of a job.

She also fired Cody the other night because she didn’t get any mail. But that’s beside the point, because Cody is ruining my child and when I say Cody is ruining my child I mean that the bar is ruining my Cody which in turn is ruining my child.

He leaves early and stays late to study. the moosh claims she cannot fall asleep without a hug from her dad (tender right? IT’S ALL A PLOY, I’m onto her little game) which in turn leaves her hysterically sobbing into the phone to Cody while she squeaks out,

DaaDaadddy…I…*hiccup*…miii*hiccup*sssss…*gasp*…yooouuu. sob.

Last night I had the brilliant! idea of giving her a picture of Cody to hold while she fell asleep.

But the only one I could find was a leftover engagement picture.

From 2000.

Nothing really says “go to sleep little darling” like a picture of your parents when they were 18 and 21.

I gave her the picture anyway since we still do resemble our previous selves (uh, enough.)



“You can deal with looking at me, I’m not cutting it up. Good night, go to sleep, I love you, no bedbugs and all that jazz.”

This morning?


Yeah. There you have it. My existence in my daughters world can be negated with a well placed Barbie sticker.

Enjoy the quiet satisfaction that she is only four and is already stabbing tiny hot pokers of teenage angst into my weary heart.


Your youngest and most favorite daughter that could have never possibly caused you this much heartache and grief,



  1. holy ****, this is the funniest thing i’ve read in a long time. i mean, i don’t MEAN to laugh but i can’t help it.

  2. All of this reminds me of a few months ago when I was snuggling with Alexandra in her rocking chair. I was telling her a story with my cheek against her head and she was patting my back. The I heard the words EVERY mommy wants to hear at such a precious moment “Awwwwwwwwwwww Jody” Jody is the daycare provider. The blade of the knife is still deep.

  3. I just gasped audibly, and then cried a little after a silent, shaking laughter.

    Hilarious post!

    My co-workers thank you for giving them something to gossip about this AM–the crazy mom who is laughing at her computer again.

  4. So far I haven’t been fired by either one of my kids, but the 4yo regularly tells me that I just need to stop talking when I have driven him sufficiently crazy by trying to get something through his thick skull. And that’s always charming.

  5. I have had the same drama from my 4 yr old son wanting his mom to give him another hug before bed. One day the usual 30 min getting ready for bed routine took 2 HOURS! Of course my patience wore thin and he was with his mom saying ” I don’t want dada anymore!” That definitely stung and I let his mom handle from there on so I can sit and reflect. Ouch! I love your blog! Your family is beautiful!

  6. This is SO effing hilarious, I am STILL laughing out loud. DOOD I can’t believe she did it…oh wait, she is your baby…so I can. Sounds EXACTLY like something Memms would do. I heart you. Can you cut you out and send me just YOU? Loves.

  7. Tiny Gramma says:

    I have it on good authority that when I was about five, I told my grandmother that “I wish I had a decent mother”. But in my case, I think you can understand where I was coming from. I think you are aware that there are many years between four and twenty-four. They will pass and miracles do happen. Just look at you. Mwah. I love you madly.

  8. You poor thing. You and my husband should get together and swap war stories. My son is this way – but with mommy as the hero and daddy as the villain.

  9. Dude, I am NOT looking forward to when they start doing that kind of stuff to me- bec they will. Its a matter of when.

  10. Ouch, indeed. My heart would be broken, too. They grow out of this, right? I hope?