Category Archives: Thrilled to Pieces



Check it out — we’re in the Urban Dictionary, Baybee! Right next door to DOOCED.

We’ve been accepted. We’re officially legit.

Now, click on the link, and vote to keep it in! And if you’re not a fan of the Doogage, just hang out here. Mkay?

I’m tellin’ ya, it’s gonna be a thing. You heard it here first.

Pass it on, Doogs …


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Help Me Doogs!

I have some exciting news I’ve been dying to share — the folks over at Capessa have invited me to join the team as their single mom blogger!

In case you haven’t heard of it yet, Capessa is a new women’s social network owned by Procter and Gamble Productions. (The guys responsible for The People’s Choice Awards. And Guiding Light. Cool, huh?) Specifically, they have asked me to blog about “maintaining my sanity and social life while cherishing single parenthood.”

More blogging??!? Yippee!! (Sleep, shmeep.)

Of course, I had to make sure I would be allowed to jack up perfectly good photos. (They said yes.)

Here’s where I need your help, doogs. I have to come up with a catchy name for the blog. And fairly quickly. It should probably have something about being a single parent in it. Of course, my creativity chooses NOW to go on strike.

I figure you all are the most creative, witty folks I know, and a bunch ‘o heads are better than one.




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Spring, You Are A Tease

Either put out or get out. I mean it.

You’re undependable, and I’m tired of it.

You can’t commit, and I’m tired of it.

You break my heart, and I’m tired of it.

But most of all, you’re controlling — even going so far as dictating what I wear …



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It’s Orange and Gives You Superhero Eyesight

mpcarrothd_opt.jpgWhile in the produce section at the grocery store this past weekend, I grabbed some squash and made the mistake of thinking out loud, saying we should get some for dinner.

“No, no, no, no, no …” MP says, waving her hands in protest. “No squash!”

“You don’t have to eat it – you can eat carrots instead.”


“Mommy, what’s a carrot?”

A nearby shopper glances my way.

“What’s a carrot? You’re silly,” I chuckle a bit self-consciously, loud enough for said shopper to hear. “You know what a carrot is.”

MP grins just enough for me and no one else to see. BALLS.* She knows she has an audience.

“Mommy, what’s a carrrr-ot?” (Volume UP.) I swear she SMELLS the sweat beading under my hairline.

Three additional shoppers look disapprovingly our way. One actually sneers. SNEERS. I’m fully aware how disgusted they are to hear that a four-year-old child has never seen a carrot.

“Is THAT a carrrr-ot?” she says, pointing to a head of cauliflower.

I smile. And look for the nearest exit.

“Hey, can I have some Froola Hoops? Pleeeeeese? Grammy let me have them for dinner the other night when you were worrrrking.”



Skip ahead to dinner last night. Without ceremony, I place a side of squash in front of her, hoping to slide that one right on by with the main course. (Because we always eat seven. Courses.)

“No, no, NO! No squash! How many times have I told you?” Gesticulating dramatically.

“I don’t know. How many?”


And there it is. Expertly executed role reversal.

Impressive, but here’s the real talent. Out of nowhere, a plastic food product is produced and thrust at me.

“I COMMAND YOU to eat this sausage.”

The Amazing MP, ladies and gentlemen. Comedian. Magician. Master of Misdirection.

*BALLS. My new favorite expression. Somehow, it’s perfect in every way. And it makes me laugh. So, you’ve been warned. Expect to see BALLS flying around from here on out. (See what I mean? How funny is that image? BAHAHA! There’s that 11-year-old boy again …)


Filed under Party Piece, Thrilled to Pieces

And … We Have Snow. Again.



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Hoober Bloob

My brother thinks it hilarious to give MP loud toys that scream UGLY and take up valuable real estate inside my house.

Like this.


My dad (aka Bobo) thought he’d get in on the fun with this little gem.

Because who wouldn’t want a giant Rainbow Trout?


(Okay, I have to admit I’m not 100 percent sure this was a joke – there’s a good chance he may have sincerely thought this was cool. In which case … I still hate it.)

Which is why I was elated to find THIS on clearance for just $12.99 (regularly $57.99).


I like to call it … Sweet Revenge.

Come September when my nephew turns two, I may actually have to fly back to the city just to see my brother’s face when Auntie MommyPie’s gift is unveiled. I’m sitting here giggling, I’m so excited.

Adding to the perfection is that it’s going to irritate him so much more than it would me. Because I actually think the rocket’s kind of cute, whereas he’ll HATE it. This should fit beautifully in his Victorian dining room.

With five more months left to shop, by the time I’m done with it, that house is gonna look like the Hoober Bloob Highway, Baby.

Welcome to parenthood, Sucka.


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Cue the Banjos

Wednesday Morning Exchange

(MP shrieks, bolts across the room.)

Me: It’s just a moth, Honey.

MP: I don’t like MOPS.

Me: I know. I don’t like mops either.

(Still cowering behind my legs )

Me: It’s okay. It’s just starting to get warmer outside, and when it gets warmer outside, the bugs start to come out.

MP: Yeah, AND gophers.

Me: Yep, and gophers.

MP: We don’t like GO-phers.

Me: No, we don’t like gophers.

MP: Pretty soon Poppy has to start shooting them.

Me: Mm huh.

MP: (Gleefully) And Grammy and me will pick them up!

Me: (Not gleefully) Mm huh.

MP: I like picking up gophers.

Ah, summertime. Flowers in bloom, the smell of freshly mown grass, and Poppy on the porch, pickin’ off gophers with his .22.

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Day of Destruction

I’ve started the washer three times since Monday night, and forgotten about it each time. Same load. Twice it sat overnight. I swear, it’s gotten moldier each run. Maddening. That, combined with the Sick House smell here is … gross.

Stayed home today with Asthma Baby. She woke up with a cold, so we spent the day on the nebulizer.

Back Story: MP was diagnosed at about 18 months, when she was hospitalized with breathing difficulties and pneumonia. She takes a host of meds every day to control things, but the common cold quickly throws everything out of whack.

The high winds that kicked up overnight didn’t help the breathing situation. The fever didn’t hit until about 1:30.

However, with all that …

… she apparently felt well enough to destroy the house.


I just got her to sleep.

And now I have to clean up.

And I haven’t even shown you the kitchen.



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My Daughter Is A Little Shaggy

“Like, can I watch cartoons, Mommy?”

“Like, do we have gymnastics today?”

“Like, Grammy says I can have dinner at her house tonight …”

Sooo, exactly when did my daughter start channeling Shaggy? The origin of this disturbing (not to mention mildly annoying) new development has me stumped.

I’m hoping it’s just like, a phase she’ll grow out of.

Scooby-Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed (2004)
Daphne: Guys, come on, remember what I told you?
Shaggy: Like, never pick your nose in public?
Daphne: No, but that’s … good too.

Scooby-Doo: Rimage ris everything.
Daphne: Yes, image is everything. Okay, the whole city is watching, so try to keep a brave face.

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