The Principal’s Office: Part 2

So yeah, it’s week four and my boys were back in the principal’s office. For fighting on the bus. For fighting on the bus with each other. Wtf? Like seriously, fight someone else.

Although this time, it was a fight over something serious. A pair of sunglasses. Yup, Vincent told Nicholas that he was taking Nicholas’ sunglasses and putting them in his room. <Gasp!> I know what you are thinking… dear God, how horrible.

So Nicholas started punching Vincent and Vincent scratched Nicholas. Needless to say both of them were bleeding by the end. It’s a fucking bus ride and they weren’t even sitting in the same seat. I don’t understand how this happens.

So this was on Monday and Tuesday morning they were called into the principal’s office. The second time in a week! The principal told them how they needed to act on the bus and if they didn’t act right and follow the rules, they weren’t allowed to sit together.

Newsflash principal… they weren’t sitting together.

Either way, I am glad the information sunk in to their dense heads because as they were leaving the principal’s office, Vincent put Nicholas into a headlock and gave him a noogie. As they were LEAVING the principal’s office. SERIOUSLY?! What. The. Fuck?

Until next time,

Stay tuned for mommy’s tough love lecture that went too far because she values education. Not in my house. Now come over here so I can put you in a headlock.


I Can’t See You

I need an escape. I clawl my way from the bottom, trying to get to the top and I can’t seem to get a grip. I slide down the sides of these walls because there is no solid ground. It’s like an avalanche all around me and the bottom is filling quickly. Soon I will run out of air but I don’t even know if that will bother me.

I see you above me; holding a rope. You are screaming at me to hold on. Your words fall on deaf ears. I see you and I understand what you are saying but I am not worth it. There are so many other people you can give your rope to; help them.

At the last moment I lunge for the rope. Too scared to go under. The rope feels good in my hands as you try to pull me out. I’m too heavy; too much borderline. The rope is slipping through my hands causing dust and dirt to fly through the air. Just as the dirt and dust go all around me, so do my thoughts. ‘How did I get to this point?,’ I think.

And just as quickly as the rope leaves my hands, I see you disappearing from my view. Everything is black.

Until next time,


Let’s at Least Try to Worship Jesus.

So it’s Sunday and that can only mean one thing for this family. This day is our attempt at being Catholic.

It started off with dropping all three children off at Sunday school. I have been waiting for Sunday all week because, let’s face it, no kids in the house meant crazy sex. But alas, I have been waiting all week only to be blue-ovaried by the head of Sunday school asking for our paperwork so Vincent could make his First Holy Communion.

No wonder people stop being catholic- it’s too much paperwork. Anyway, Joe and I don’t have our shit together so we had to go to Staples to print out paperwork and photocopy a baptismal record. Staples didn’t open till 10am and Joe literally waited at the door to photocopy shit.

Now it’s off to church. We had to pick the kids up from Sunday school at 10:15 am and church is in the same parking lot. Explain to me that we were still late for mass? Yup, it should be called the 10:35 am service. 

As we are in mass, we had to do the normal bathroom routine. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Then we are going up to communion and Vincent is screaming, loudly, if he can eat Jesus. Then onto the blood of Christ and he is asking for a sip. We get back to the pew and I said, ‘this is the time to say a prayer and talk to Jesus.’

The kid asked Jesus for a rollercoaster and thanked him for each Pokemon individually. ‘Thank you Jesus for charmander, piccachu, salmander… and I would really like a rollercoaster.’

I lean over and tell him that Jesus is ‘not a genie.’ 

Although, if he was a genie, I would ask for endless alcoholic milkshakes and to make my kids silent at church.

Until next time,

You have two wishes left

Talk Dirty to Me

‘I have a lot of phone calls to make today.’ -Joe

‘ Oh yeah? Like what?’ -me

‘Well, I have to call the cable company and the bank.’ -Joe

‘Well, you can call me and talk dirty to me…’ -me

‘But you’ll be at work -Joe

‘So…’ -me

‘ Oh yeah? ‘I love you. Uhh, mold.” -Joe

‘…..’ -me

Until next time,

Watch out. Mold is hot.

It’s Week Three

So yesterday I received a call from my kids principal, regarding an incident on the bus.

Like any mother, my natural instinct was ‘ what the fuck did they do now and I will kill them if they are not already dead.’

You know, the nurturing mother instinct. 

Anyway, I called the principal and he answered the phone and I said, 

‘Hi my name is Allison… what did they do?’ -me

‘Oh, well there was an incident on the bus and your boys were trying to bite each other.’ -Principal

I’m sorry. They were biting each other?’ -me

‘Yes, the boys were trying to bite each other and I called all three of your kids to my office because the boys walk your daughter to her class… and you know, that’s really sweet.’ -Principal

‘Yeah, it’s adorable.’ -me

‘Yeah… so when they got in there, the first thing Emily said was, ‘it wasn’t me and I wasn’t involved.’ -Principal

… I have taught my daughter to look out for herself and that you should always protect yourself. But man, way to throw your brothers under the bus. Good for you!…

‘Yeah, so, I just want to let you know that we had a talk with them and if you could have a talk about bus safety, that would be great.’ -Principal

So there you have it. It’s the third week of school and my kids are the ones biting each other. I guess it could have been worse… They could have bitten the bus driver.

Until next time,

Always feed your children

Dust Me Off and Hold Me Up.

So many of you know that I am in therapy. I go three times a week… it’s basically like I live there.

Once a week, I go to group therapy with five other amazing women. We are all different ages and come from different walks of life but there is one thing we all have in common- we are all a hot mess.

Honestly, I should adjust that phrase, we were all a hot mess. Our group of women have been together for well over a year and we have all made great strides together. We all have our moments but we pick each other up and support one another like a well fitted bra.

We have seen each other cry and rage but we have also seen each other take those important steps to become healthy. We have shared in each other’s joys and triumphs. Those joy and triumphs used to be few and far between but now, we are all within grasp of being healthy, normal women. Honestly, it’s the rest of you reading this that need to get their shit together. Our shit is so together that you would be amazed about where we once were.

So who do we thank for this? Well, first we thank each other, our two amazing and dedicated therapists and finally, we are learning to thank and love ourselves.

At the beginning of each session, we have a mindfulness activity to ground ourselves and to become aware of our own body sensations and our own thought process. On Wednesday, one of the women lead the mindfulness and this is what happened:

Mindfulness leader/client 1 holds up a ball and says, ‘we are going to pass this around the circle and say one descriptive word about this ball but we are not allowed to repeat any of the other words used by people before us.’

Client 2: ‘ok, whoa, this is heavy.’

Client 3: ‘yeah, this is solid.’

Client 4… aka: me: ‘umm, it has patterns.’

Therapist 1: ‘it’s a ball.’

Therapist 2: ‘it’s weighted.’

Client 5: ‘it’s round.’

Client 6: ‘it’s yellow and black.’

…back to the mindfulness leader/client 1: ‘this ball is ten pounds. Ten. You all described this ball as being heavy and weighted and that is all true. And it is also the exact amount of weight that Allison lost in these last two weeks.’

I was so dumbfounded because I wasn’t expecting to bring that up in our group. Not because I wasn’t proud but because I don’t like to be the center of attention. However, when client 1 brought this up to the group it was hard to take in because 1: I was flabbergasted and caught off guard and 2: I don’t celebrate my successes enough.

So think about this for a moment. When have we, especially as women, when have we celebrated our successes? When have we been proud of our accomplishments? When have we been proud of our hard work? I will tell you what… We aren’t. We don’t give ourselves enough credit or enough self love.

It takes true friends to show you off. It takes a true friend to celebrate your accomplishments even when you don’t feel like there is much to celebrate. It takes a true friend to show you the way and to help you take in what is good and decent about you. I am very thankful for client 1. I am thankful that she is a true friend that is going to pick me up, dust me off and show me off. I am thankful that she was so thoughtful and creative in this mindfulness exercise. It’s fantastic to surround yourself with people like client 1 and the rest of those wonderful women I surround myself with every week. 

So now it’s time. It’s wonderful to have those people in your life but it’s time to also be that friend to yourself.

Women, it is time to love yourself as much as we love others.

Until next time,

Dropping ten pounds like a boss and showing off one less fat roll.

This blog is dedicated to all the fabulous woman I surround myself with every Wednesday. Thank you J, D, S, and L. And R, thank you for picking me up, dusting me off and celebrating my small victory.

And to our two wonderful therapists, Colleen and Jess… Our lives wouldn’t be what they are right now without your love, guidance, patience and hard work. We know that we were hot messes when we started and you have helped us in ways we didn’t know were possible. We don’t owe you a drink, we owe you the whole damn liquor store for your hard work and dedication. Thank you for teaching us how to deal with life and how to deal with life’s idiots.

With love, client #4