Monday Mom Fails: Boys and Bathrooms

When my four sons were little, I used to think they all had hearing problems because they were so freaking loud. But they didn’t. They were just LOUD.


Almost everything was shouted and I found myself saying, “Use your inside voice.” on an hourly basis. Sometimes I would say it not using my own inside voice, which the boys loved to point out.

Now that they’re all in high school and college, they’ve learned to modulate their volume, most of the time. However, they have a new form of deafness. Well, it’s actually more like blindness.

My boys are bathroom blind.

Every single time I go into their disgusting lavatory, I find myself muttering the following…

Do they not see it?

How on earth can they be in here and not throw up?

Seriously? What is wrong with them?

Do they need their eyes checked?

Nobody did it, of course. The elves came in and grossed up the whole place while they were sleeping.



When I ask them to clean it….


But too bad because this mom has gone on permanent boy bathroom strike.


I will no longer clean it. It’s their mess and their bathroom.

We were at a stalemate for a quite a while and I finally caved and offered $20 to whoever cleaned it…properly.

Enter my son, Jack.


I consider it a compromise. The bathroom gets cleaned and he earns money.

I’m not sure if this is a mom-fail or a mom-win. I’m sure there will be differing opinions but you know what they say…

Opinions are like assholes. Everyone as them and most of them stink.

Kind of like bathrooms and boys.


Monday Mom Fails: Cooking

The road to hell may be paved with good intentions, but in my case it’s paved with the remnants of burnt pancakes, cookies and sad attempts at anything au gratin.

I am a mom and a wife. I am supposed to enjoy cooking for my family. At least, that’s the unwritten rule, right?  Well, I don’t. I mean, I try. I’ve always had to cook because  I have a household full of dudes who need to be fed. I tend to burn stuff. When I make cookies, the boys look at the bottom first to see if it has “mom’s burnt touch”. For real.


When my four sons were little, I wasn’t one of those moms who made four different dinners. I made one and you ate it or you didn’t–there’s always cereal for the naysayers. Truth be told, that’s still my food philosophy, especially since they’re all old enough to fend for themselves. I’ve even instituted a weekly “Fend for yourself night” and it’s saved my sanity.


I have struggled with guilt over this personal weakness for years.  I’m not good at it. Not even a little bit. However, despite my handicap, I try. I torture myself (and my family) and keep trying. I Pinterest stuff all the time. I save recipes and tell myself lies about how I’m going to be so much better at it this time. I’m not. I follow the recipes but it never ever comes out like the pictures on my damn Pinterest boards. My food is usually edible but it isn’t awesome by any stretch of the imagination and much of the time it’s flat-out ugly.

When-youre-so-bad-at-cooking-funny-fails_1I could be the poster-mom for Pinterest food fails. If you’re like me and you want some reassurance that you aren’t the only one who makes a pancake bunny that looks like Satan’s little helper, check out this BuzzFeed article and you’ll feel much better.

There are many of us.

I’ve asked my sons, who are now in high school and college, if they are bummed out their mom isn’t a good cook. To my surprise, they started to list the food I make that they love. “Your Homemade meatballs are awesome and my friends love those too. The peanut chicken and rice, and that burger-crescent-ring-thing. Oh, and the white bread that you make from scratch at Christmastime is the best!”

I was dumbfounded. I thought for sure they’d mention numerous times I’ve filled the kitchen with smoke or burnt the cookies beyond recognition. They didn’t.

So for all of you moms out there who feel less than or somehow not as awesome because you can’t cook or decoupage a desk to look like your kid’s favorite cartoon animal, take heart. When your kids grow up they’ll remember the stuff you did well.

More importantly, they’ll know that you tried. You took care of them. They were fed and they were loved. The meals you crafted may not have been gourmet style or fit for Pinterest–except the FAIL board–but you made it for them and that’s what they’ll remember.

Being loved makes everything better.