Friday, October 17, 2014

Fly On The Wall In Party Town

Welcome to another group posting of Fly On The Wall! Thirteen brave bloggers are once again inviting you into their homes for a sneak peek at what goes on behind their closed doors.

This month the fly got dizzy trying to keep up with the Doyles. We've been celebrating lots of family  birthdays in October and having a wee bit too much fun. I'm enjoying a mini stay-at-home vacation while my editor finishes tackling my Spandex book. We're in the home stretch and things are about to get REAL. Did I mention that I'm scared to death? No worries---it's all good. Next month I'll be sharing some exciting news, so stay tuned, my friends.

In the meantime, I have some snippets of conversations that were heard by that nosey fly when he was buzzing around my house. Here is some of what he overheard:

"Zip Lining gives you the world's worst wedgie."

"I think there should be an Octoberfest every month. Novemberfest, Decemberfest, Januaryfest…."

"Whenever I take my laptop outside, I can't Wi-Fi.  All I get is the spinning wheel of death on my screen."

"You need to do something about that loose toenail. It looks like a tortilla chip on your foot."

"I hate dieting. My stomach is so hungry, it's eating itself."

"Who left that nasty turd bomb in the toilet bowl?"

"Pretending I'm a pleasant person all day is exhausting."

"If it walks out of the refrigerator, it's well past its expiration date."

"If God wanted me to touch my toes, He would have put them on my knee caps."

"You know that saying, 'When the shit hits the fan'? Why would anyone want to throw poop at a fan?"

"Of course, the garden looks great…..I'm the plant whisperer, after all."

"Note to self: Just because the zumba teacher is twerking in class does not mean that I have to. My back will never be the same."

"Stop rubbing my leg with your wolverine toes."

"This house runs on love, laughter and chilled bottles of wine."

***Want More Meno Mama? This week I was featured on Midlife Boulevard where I'm talking about the "vulture years."  You can read it here: I also have a post up this week at Humor Outcasts---more funny facts about being a mid lifer years. Get your chuckles here:

Buzz around, see what you think, then click on these links for a peek into some other homes:                          Baking In A Tornado                                  The Rowdy Baker                                Just A Little Nutty                                          The Momisodes                          Spatulas on Parade                                   The Sadder But Wiser Girl                          Follow me home                 Stacy Sews and Schools                          Menopausal Mother                             Battered Hope                         Dinosaur Superhero Mommy                 Someone Else’s Genius               Crumpets and Bollocks

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Wacky Wednesday Writer Guest Post by: Dim Sum and Doughnuts

     My new WWW guest today is Robyn Coden of Dim Sum and Doughnuts! Robyn's humorous blog focuses on her funny family life with a husband and two daughters at their summer camp in Northern Michigan.  What I love about her blog is that each post is written in a straight forward manner. Robyn isn't afraid to tell it like it is. When I read her blog, I feel like I'm right there with her---two friends meeting for coffee and chatting about our crazy, busy lives.

     While many of Robyn's blogs are on the humorous side, she has also tackled some controversial topics and written several posts that tug at the heart strings. I like that she hosts "Mailbag Mondays" with answers to questions that are sent in and opened for discussion on her blog. Very cool idea. I admire the versatility of her writing and I think you will, too. Please welcome Robyn to Meno Mama's site today with lots of comment love!


When I decided to do a guest post for Menopausal Mom back in July, Marcia said her first available slot would be October 15th. I thought to myself: “October?? That’s in 3 months! I’m ready now!” But then, maybe to make me feel better, she informed me that October 15th is not only my guest post day, but also her birthday.
I didn’t get Marcia a card, but if I did, this is what it would say:

Dear Marcia,

I’m super happy that you’re able to get a whole blog out of the menopause thing because from where I’m standing, so far it pretty much SUCKS.
Happy Birthday!!!

Ever since the day Marcia gave me my date, new and BAD things have been happening to my body. The changes are not life threatening, and they’re probably normal, but I wasn’t ready for them and they’re getting harder and harder to ignore. And it’s not just me. My friends are starting to complain that they, too, are going through the same things, and they insist it’s “Pre-Menopause.”

Here are some things about “Pre-Menopause” that I’m not loving so far:

The front runners, of course, are the slowing metabolism, the grey hair, the irregular periods, the sprouting of facial lines and wrinkles, and the aching joints. Then there's the HUGE and painful cystic zit that only shows up right before something important (and always in the same place), the waking up in the middle of the night, tossing and turning for at least 2 hours... and the embarrassingly elaborate routine that I must go through every morning in order to “make a poopie!”

Some of those things started in my late 30’s (now it’s just about damage control), but new stuff keeps coming! Here are some of the things I’ve noticed since I got into my 40‘s:

1. My eyebrows are thinning. It seems every magazine I read lately says something about how too-thin eyebrows make you look older. I, admittedly, was obsessed with plucking for many years, so my brow thinness is most likely my fault. I used to check my brows every day and if there was even one out of place, it was OUT.

I am now in “Plucking Recovery” (it’s been 3 weeks since my last pluck) and I’m kicking myself for all the damage I did. I wish I'd put the tweezers down awhile ago because at this point (and this age), they’re not filling in so fast, if ever.

2. I wake up sweating my ass off. Some mornings I wake up and my hair is all wet, matted and curly. I don’t even have curly hair! It’s crazy. During the summer, I was blaming it on the heat and yes, since the weather has gotten cooler, it hasn’t been happening as often. But a friend of mine told me the other day that it happens to her, so I have to wonder: Was it the summer heat or is my body starting to go through something? Is this a “THING” now? Please, no.

3. I’m always tired. In fact, a few weeks ago, I went to see an Endocrynologist (a hormone doctor) about it. I had never even heard of an Endocrynologist! I don‘t even know how to spell “Endocrynologist!” But I went, and while I was getting blood taken, I was telling the blood-taker lady that I have been so tired lately--- that it’s probably because I’m in my 40’s and I have little kids. She got all up in my face telling me that I’m probably perimenopausal. (I had never heard thatword before either, and I remember being annoyed when she used it because it sounded like she was trying to be fancy.)

She said, “You’re having night sweats? You need to get a fan, immediately!” I was right there with her, vehemently nodding my head because YES, she was so right!! I did need to get a fan!! But she wasn’t done. She went on to tell me that I should also get ready for unexplainable, emotional outbursts---that even though I’m a sugar addict, I shouldn’t eat ANY more sugar EVER because it only ignites the hormones. As if that wasn’t enough (it was), she told me that when I eventually DO go through actual menopause, I shouldn’t even CONSIDER hormone replacements because it can cause cancer…..her friend got cancer and I will get cancer. I thought, How in the hell did “Get a fan!” segue into“Don’t get hormone replacements because you will get cancer!!”

ARGH!!! Let me go, blood-taker!!

The thing is, even though many of the changes that come with age are rough, it’s not all bad. As I have gotten older, I have found that when some things get worse, other things get better. I no longer get bothered by things that would have, once upon a time, consumed me---and many, many things I used to care about are no longer a concern. There is something very “freeing” about that. I do believe that comes with age and I’m grateful for it.

It’s truly all about the balance, and on this day, Marcia Kester Doyle, your birthday, you should be recognized and acknowledged for finding that balance and sharing it with others. Getting older is hard on all of us, but you make it little less daunting and a lot more fun.

Happy, Happy Birthday!!

XOXO Robyn

Robyn Coden is a blogger, cake-eater and mistake-maker. Robyn is the author of Dim Sum and Doughnuts, a blog dedicated to her two young daughters. Dim Sum and Doughnuts focuses on parenting, growing up and Robyn’s life with her husband and children at their summer camp in Northern Michigan. You never know what you’re going to get with Robyn—sometimes controversial, sometimes comedic, but always a voice that’s powerfully honest and entertaining. She’s the real deal. Check her out and see for

Friday, October 10, 2014

Six Good Things About Raising Teenage Girls

As the mother of two daughters who are only two years apart, I've witnessed my share of teenage drama. While raising boys makes a mother's hair turn gray, daughters make us bald. Raising girls requires a few essential ingredients which I fondly refer to as The Three S's: Sensitivity, Security, and Shotgun Shells. You'll have to make certain sacrifices during this time period, like holding your bladder while your daughter and her besties confiscate the bathroom to take duck face selfies to post on Instagram. You'll need to take advantage of the latest sale on aspirin after listening to Bieber beats all day and One Direction (which will surely make you want to scream and run in the opposite direction).

If your daughters are prepubescent, here are six things you can look forward to as they greet the teen years:

1. You'll save money buying feminine hygiene products in bulk every twenty-eight days. Mothers and daughters often share the same menstruation time during their monthly cycles. This allows the father a free pass on alcohol consumption and spontaneous man cave time. He'll need it after dealing with a bathroom that resembles a hog slaughtering plant or Custer's Last Stand in the trash can. 

2. You'll have a free fashion consultant around the clock at your disposal. Teenage girls will convince you to ditch that sky blue eye shadow you've been wearing since the eighth grade and the eau de mothball parfum grandma gave you last Christmas. Your daughters will also trick you into spending your entire tax return on a new wardrobe which you will never see because they'll “borrow” every bit of it, down to your favorite pair of Jimmy Choos.

3. Forget spending extra money on cable channels featuring reality TV programs. You'll have your own live dramas similar to the cattiness of The Bachelor appearing nightly in your living room. Pour yourself a glass of wine and enjoy the show.

4. Teenage daughters will teach you how to twerk and drop it low with women half your age. You'll discover muscles you never knew existed, but keep a bottle of ibuprofen on the nightstand if you expect to get out of bed in the morning.

5. You'll learn to lock and load when the first boy comes calling.

6. As a child, your daughter will clomp around the house in your high-heeled shoes and pretend to be you. As an adult, she'll fill those shoes and become the woman you’re proud to call your best friend. 

Word of advice: Hide the Jimmy Choos and save the sky blue eye shadow for your granddaughters. You never know when shoulder pads and parachute pants might come back into fashion. 

***This week I was featured on The Sisterwives. One of my first serious posts on loss and grief. You can read it here:

*This post "Six Good Things About Raising Teenage Girls" originally appeared on In The Powder Room 2013*

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Wacky Wednesday Writer Guest Post By: Beth, Bad Beyond Blog

  I'm so happy to introduce you to today's WWW guest, Beth Rubin of  Beth, Bad Beyond ! We met last spring at the Erma Bombeck Writer's Workshop in Dayton, Ohio. Beth stayed at the same hotel, and on the same floor that I was on. We met in the hallway and ended up chatting for awhile. She is such a funny, talented, sweet woman! I liked her right away and got a real kick out of her sense of humor. We've been talking ever since and belong to many of the same Facebook groups. It's always fun to catch up with her there and on her humorous blog site. This award winning writer has published several books (both fiction and non-fiction), so it is truly an honor to be able to feature her.

Beth's post today on breast feeding ads is HILARIOUS, and one that I can certainly relate to. Please welcome her to Meno Mama's site with lots of comment love!

Online Media Marketing Misfires Again

We are so excited to let you know that today is the day ...” sucked me in. A poster child for adult ADHD, I am easy prey for those on fishing (and phishing) expeditions.

My keyboard began to pulsate, the keys rising and falling in anticipation.

Yoomi Bottle Hits Shelves Today in U.S.”

I read on. “Yoomi Bottle is a feeding system that warms expressed breast milk ...” Well, there’s good news! For some women, perhaps. For this grandmother, the news is decades late. I lost interest in babies, breast milk, pumps and self-warming mammary-produced nourishment when Tricky Dick was in the White House.

Gagging on the breast-pump hype, I spit up on my monitor. Still smarting from my recent mammogram, I declined the offer for images. My teats are still black and blue from the radiology department’s medieval crushing device. Why would I want full-color pictures?

I thought about ignoring the messenger (or shooting her). Then, taking the high road, I replied to her query.

Dear Publicist Trying to Make Your Quota:

I haven’t breastfed since the 1970s. My son and daughter are in their forties. Fortunately, they outgrew their love of breastfeeding well before leaving the nest for college.

Believe me, I wish I could produce milk. I’d have money in the bank, a steady supply of cheese, and I could star in my own (un)reality show.

In the future, please don’t send me messages pertaining to: breast milk (warm, cold, room temperature or anywhere in between), infantile seborrheic eczema, nursery art designed by Jeff Koons, projectile vomiting, prickly heat, recyclable stuffed animals, state-of-the-art nasal aspirators, banana recipes to combat loose poop, toys with moving parts, outlier pediatricians, infant carriers made of bamboo, family photographers, antidotes to lead paint ingestion, books on the joys of camping with your toddlers, probiotic cures for ear infections, $300 Ralph Lauren onesies, sterling teething rings, or undescended testicles. 

I want no further communiqués from your company, unless your clients also sell: adult diapers, gas busters, energy boosters, memory enhancers, varicose vein concealers, facial hair removers, cellulite zappers, mood menders, or low-calorie beer that tastes like the real thing, not tap water from rusty pipes.

Thank you for your time.


Beth Rubin began writing funny stories to avoid gym (she hated the uniforms)―also, babysitting her brother and helping with household chores. Eureka! She’d discovered a dodge that has served her well throughout her wanton life. A freelance journalist and author, she has won awards for fiction, non-fiction, and her killer brownies. Her steamy novel, Split Ends, won a first prize for fiction in 2002. A screenplay is in the works, and a second novel is in the oven. Fancying herself a spokeswoman for the prune juice generation, she mines her colorful family for material. She’s fashioning her humorous blogs (Beth, Bad and Beyond) into a book that will see the light of day before she sports tight blue curls. Her features and essays appear in lifestyle magazines and newspapers (the few still breathing), and on the Web. She is the author of Frommer's Washington, D. C. With Kids (all 11 editions―Oy!), The Complete Idiot's Guide to Washington, D.C., Washington, D.C. for Dummies, and Delaware Curiosities. Beth also edits, collaborates and ghostwrites; coaches new authors, generates content, and does media outreach for anyone who pays within 30 days.

facebook: beth.rubin1

twitter: @writenana

Friday, October 3, 2014


     If I don't clean out my SPAM folder regularly, it builds up like a mountain of junk mail. This triggers my OCD tendencies, forcing me to delete every item on the page until it's clutter free.

     Occasionally, a valid email accidentally ends up in the junk pile, which requires a slow scroll through each message to make sure I'm not erasing anything important.

    If my life would be pretty exciting if the special deals offered to me via SPAM were real. I'd have unlimited spending on a platinum card, life insurance for just a penny a day, an awesome credit score, the winning sweepstakes ticket and a reverse mortgage on my house. I'd also have a marriage proposal from a Russian bride named Svetlana, miracle pills for bigger breasts, access to a married dating service and a cure for erectile dysfunction.

     Lately, I've been noticing a disturbing trend in my junk emails. Whoever (or whatever) is sending me these daily notifications assumes that I need breakthrough diabetes medication, free Ray-Ban sunglasses, fungus removal and dates with all of the "HOT BRAZILIAN  MEN" trolling my online profile for a perfect match.

     Another thing I don't understand is why I'm receiving a multitude of penis enhancement ads. These messages include clever slogans such as, "Size Matters" and, "When Small Is A Dirty Word." The free pill samples promise to help "Get bigger, last longer, stay harder." Who wants genitalia the size of an elephant's? Anyone with an erection lasting longer than eight hours should be considered a human tripod.

     I'm also getting plenty of offers for toenail fungus removal. The last time I checked, no one in my family was growing a mushroom factory under their toenails. There's no fungus among us.

     Since I have a bladder the size of a kidney bean, it's no surprise that I receive emails from concerned medical professionals who want to send me a free, Do-It-Yourself catheter kit. Of course, their gift comes with a warning: "Please read directions carefully---do NOT insert catheter in the wrong area." Thankfully, they're offering me the self-lubricated brand, otherwise it would feel like sandpaper in my nether regions.

     According to my SPAM mail, I've also been invited to unlock Adriana's "naughty picture album." What the message doesn't reveal is that Adriana is ninety-four-year-old great grandma performing her pole dancing act on the geriatric ward.

     It's a good thing I check my notifications daily, otherwise I would have missed the news that I won a $5000 trip to Maui. The downside is that I didn't claim my prize within 24 hours, so I'm stuck with a three-day trip to Luckenback, Texas, via Greyhound Bus and a check for $12.50.

     Another interesting fact I learned from my SPAM page is that people are doing background checks on me through the criminal records archives. First of all, I don't have a criminal record. But if I did, the only thing I'd get busted for is stealing extra ketchup from the hot dog stand or nabbing several packets of sweetener off a table at The Olive Garden.  I wonder how much jail time I'd serve for that chicken drumstick I smuggled out for my dog from the all-you-can-eat buffet?

     If I ever need a new car, I know where to find one. I'm inundated with ads for affordable sports cars. They may look like Corvettes on the outside, but I'm betting these vehicles are missing their floorboards. How else could they be so cheap? I'd have to use my Fred Flintstone feet and run like a hamster on a wheel to get the car going. At least my family wouldn't have to worry about me drag racing down I-95.

     There's also some great weight loss deals advertised in my junk emails. For a low price, I can receive the secret Paleo diet that all the celebrities use. What? Eat steak every day and lose weight? Count me in!

     If the Paleo diet doesn't work, there's always the special fat buster offers that clog my inbox. Fat busters work like Ghost Busters---they zap unwanted cells until they shrink and disappear. "Who you gonna call? FAT BUSTERS!"

     My all-time favorite SPAM notifications are the ones that ask me if I'm interested in meeting "SINGLE SENIORS 50+ NEAR YOU."

     Please define "50 Plus." What if my blind date shows up with a walker and a urostomy bag? Will our date include a ride on the senior citizen's bus to the Early Bird Special at Denny's? Will I be required to wear compression socks and orthotic sandals? I might be more enticed by the ad if it included the slogan, "Where Seniors Meet to Nip Whiskey and Play Bocce Ball."

     And now if you'll please excuse me, I need to order my miracle breast enhancement pills, grab my free Ray-Bans and set a wedding date with Svetlana.

***Want more Meno Mama? This week I was featured on Better After 50 discussing my battle with body dysmorphic disorder and my eating disorder. You can read it here:

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Wacky Wednesday Writer Guest Post By: Outsmarted Mommy

  Welcome to another edition of Wacky Wednesday Writers! My hilarious guest today is Jennifer Lizza of Outsmarted Mommy. She writes an entertaining family blog that features funny slices of life along with some thought-provoking posts that I've enjoyed reading. Jennifer has two young boys and a husband who provide plenty of material for her blog. The stories she shares remind me of why I am so thankful to have grown children. Today's post is a perfect example---POTTY TRAING! Ohhhh how I loathed that phase of my children's life! Jennifer's experience is hysterical….because…..POOP BALLS. It just doesn't get any funnier than that.
     This talented writer is a contributing author featured in the upcoming book, Motherhood: May Cause Drowsiness. Please welcome Jennifer to Meno Mama's site today with lots of comment love and social media shares. Thanks every one!

Cloudy With a Chance of Poop Balls

I saw the commercials. I had it all planned out in my head. We would buy a cute little potty. We would buy exciting training pants. We would use M&M’s. We would jump up and down like idiots and in two days flat my child would be diaper free. Right? Wrong!

Do not let those commercials fool you. Potty training is not for the weak and it’s certainly not for the naïve. I thought I was going to be in control. I thought I would remain calm. I thought a lot of things until I realized that the only one in control of this was my two year old child. The moment I realized I had gotten myself into a situation being controlled by a TWO YEAR OLD I was looking for the rip cord. May Day, May Day: I’m in over my head trying to get a completely unreasonable two year old child to pee and poop on the potty instead of in their pants or on the floor. My desperate calls for help were met with laughter, well wishes and tips to stock up on wine.

I’ve always said parenthood is not for the weak but potty training is only for people who enjoy playing out their nightmares in real life. I mean I don’t want to scare you and I will say I don’t know anyone personally who graduated high school sporting a diaper so I have to assume at some point it clicks for everyone but out of all the things I have had to tackle thus far as a mom this was the worst.

It started out innocently enough. I had my son sit on the potty every thirty minutes. While he would sit there I would read him books about using the big boy potty and no more diapers for you and PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP POOPING IN A DIAPER. (okay I may have made that one up). It was going pretty well and in about a week my son was doing really well peeing on the potty. Poop, ugh poop was a whole other story. He wasn’t pooping in the potty. He wasn’t pooping in his diaper. The kid just wasn’t pooping. I swear it was his way of telling me he was driving this train no matter what I had thought up until that point.

I was afraid to leave the house. I had a child who had not pooped in two whole days and leaving the house with him was like leaving the house with a ticking time bomb. I found myself sniffing his butt in public more often than ever before. Every time I smelled anything somewhat questionable I assumed the worst had happened. No matter what I tried to bribe my son with if he would just poop on that damn potty it was a no go.

I was pregnant with our second son and my exhaustion was at an all-time high. I was determined to have my son out of diapers before the new baby arrived. It was the end of another unsuccessful day. I kissed him goodnight and asked him if he wanted a diaper because at that point I just wanted the kid to poop. “No thanks mommy. I fine.”

That night I went to check on him before I went to bed and there it was. I was smacked in the face with a smell that I could only compare to a garbage truck in August. I assumed he had pooped in his sleep. I slowly walked up to his bed and stuck my nose to his hiney and took a big whiff. I can tell you something with 100% certainty, before I had children if someone had told me I would one day stick my nose to another human’s ass without hesitation I would have laughed and laughed and then told them they were both crazy and disgusting, but I digress. As I stuck my nose down and took a big whiff I was met with the clean smell of baby powder. WHAT THE WHAT?! I was confused. Okay if there wasn’t poop in his pants where was there poop? And so began the panic. As my son slept ever so soundly I grabbed a flashlight and got my big pregnant self down on all fours and I started to search for shit, in my kid’s room. It was then that I briefly thought to myself what in the wide world of crap has happened to my life but then I pushed on and continued my search. Have you ever lost something and right before you are about to find it you get this amazing feeling that you are in fact about to find it? Well I had that feeling only it wasn’t amazing it was more cringe worthy than amazing. I inched my way towards my son’s dresser and I shined the flashlight under it and there they were. 1. 2. 3. Poop balls! Awesome. There are balls of poop on the floor In. My. House. I ran out of the room to catch some fresh air and barged into the bathroom where my husband was showering unaware of my treasure hunt. “HONEY!!!!” “Holy crap what? You scared me half to death.” “There are balls of poop on our son’s floor. Yes you heard me correctly our son must have pooped and then chucked said poop with his hands (oh god this is getting worse) under neath his dresser in order to hide them from me.” “Bwhahahahahahahahahahahahaha.” “IT’S NOT FUNNY!!!” “Oh yes it is! This is hilarious. You are telling me that right now there are balls of poop in our son’s room and he is just sleeping as if all is right in the world?” “Yes that is what I am saying.” And then we both started laughing. I laughed so hard I’m surprised I didn’t go into labor.

When we finally stopped laughing I looked at my husband and told him he was going to have to retrieve the balls of poop because there was no way that I was going to get them. He willingly agreed. I had the carpet cleaned the next day and can happily tell you my son pooped on the potty two days later. Potty training does not go as planned. I don’t know a single person who says that potty training was exactly like the commercials and if they do they are lying. Everyone has a story; luckily not everyone’s story contains poop balls. Happy training my friends. Godspeed.


Before having children Jennifer thought being a stay at home mom would be a walk in the park. Now that she's doing it she realizes it's more like a run in a zoo (without cages for the animals). She traded in her salary for sloppy kisses, corporate lunches for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and sales meetings for finger painting sessions. Her two boys outsmart her on a daily basis although in her defense it could be the lack of sleep. She writes to stay sane on her blog Outsmarted Mommy and has been featured on Mamapedia, Scary Mommy, LeftyPop and iVillage Australia. She is also a contributor for Felicity Huffman’s What The Flicka? Her children are not the least bit impressed they just want to know what's for dinner. You can follow Jennifer on Facebook, Twitter and Google +

Friday, September 26, 2014

Six Good Things About Raising Teenage Boys

I have four children, three of whom are adults and have (thankfully) flown the coop. I thought I had this whole, raising-teenagers-in-a-stress-free-zone thing down. Even patted myself on the back for getting them off to college without an arrest record or a shotgun wedding. And then came wild child number four, who could easily have been a poster child for birth control. This boy is the reason behind the industrial-size bucket of hair dye I use monthly to cover my gray and why I am a gold card carrying member of the local Wine-Mart. A typical morning with this kid involves matches, an aerosol can of cologne spray, and a plastic milk jug to set off the fire alarm … long before my coffee has kicked in.
Despite the gray hairs and minor heart attacks I suffer daily from my son, I've discovered the positive side to raising crazy-ass teenage boys:
  1. You'll no longer need to waste money on expensive theme parks with fast rides. Your teen will gladly attach your rolling office chair to his bike with a rope and pull his buddies down a busy highway. Like heart-stopping rides? This one's for you.

  2. Piss yellow will become your favorite bathroom tile shade because there isn't enough Clorox in the world to make those urine stains around the toilet disappear.
  3. Like exotic pets? Great, because small critters love to nest in the sour-smelling pile of laundry at the back of your son's closet. Dirty dishes and half eaten cheese sticks will also invite armies of cockroaches set up their vacation homes under his bed.

  4. If you failed science in high school, don't worry. You're going to get a hands-on education about fire, electricity, and how much damage a potato bomb can do to your neighbor's fence.

  5. You'll lose those last, stubborn ten pounds because all boys are born with noses like bloodhounds. They'll sniff out every hidden cookie, potato chip, and even the chocolates from Mother's Day that you tried to disguise in an empty Summer’s Eve douche box. Your grocery bill will triple during his teen years but your waistline will shrink. Just be sure to lock the liquor cabinet before he turns fifteen.

  6. Miss those nights of club hopping from your twenties? Relive your youth when your teenager hosts raves in his room while blasting techno and dubstep from subwoofers the size of refrigerators. Toss back some tequila shots chased by a few aspirin and you'll feel like you've time traveled back to the good ol' days at a fraternity house party.

Even though there will be days when you'll wish you could lobotomize your son or trade him in for a house-trained Labrador, just remember how much fun it'll be when he has sons of his own. Grab a lighter and load up the potato gun. Karma has a sense of humor, after all. 

WANT MORE MENO MAMA? This week I was featured on the Erma Bombeck Writer's Workshop where I discussed various ways on how to annoy your children. You can read it here:  I was also up at Humor Outcasts with a quiz on aging. Find out if you pass the test here:

***This post originally appeared in 2013 at In The Powder Room***

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