Top 5 Things Mothers REALLY Do Better Than Fathers

The other day we read a post on titled Top 10 Things Mothers Do Better Than Fathers.  

To Mothers: I Salute the Crap Out of You

I’m not a mom yet. Soon, I hope to be. Most of the precious women in my life are mothers. I’ve learned so much from all of you. I watch closely (not creepily behind a bush - all the time) and I’m amazed by how you love and nurture your children while coping with the kind of stress that ends up creating Amanda Bynes’ at home YouTube videos.

I want all mothers to know that I salute the mother loving crap out of you. While this list is specific towards mothers of young children, I recognize parenting just gets weirder, not easier, and we’re all so thankful for the moms that pave the way towards Eye-twitch Crazyville. 

Here’s my quick shortlist of why you all amaze me.

Moms can hold a screaming toddler by their ankles without breaking stride.

You know that thing kids do when they’re having an epic meltdown and their bodies turn into some kind of wiggly, jelly type substance you can’t really get a handle on? Somehow, with just the slightest turn of hand, you all manage to catch slippery children at the last moment around their ankle, one handed. You complete your shopping list while carrying them screaming upside down and then sign for your receipt at checkout, all without breaking stride.

How you do it, I’ll never know. But I do know this - I salute you.

Moms are high functioning lack of sleep-aholics.

While staying in Pasadena with Jessi to work on HooHas business after a conference, we finally managed to get to bed. At approximately 3 am, I was awoken by her 5 year old son standing next to me.​

Arts & The Shaft

If you haven't downloaded the Artkive app, STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND DOWNLOAD IT RIGHT NOW!

Wondering what you're going to do with the 15 hand turkeys slapped up on your fridge without devastating your child or leaving them bankrupt with a mountain of therapy bills in the their 30s? You're not alone.

The Artkive app is the coolest way to organize our children's artwork and avoid having to keep the bandage industry in business at the same time.

Artkive App via @hahasforhoohas

When Killing a Praying Mantis Goes Wrong ... Real Wrong.

I have two major phobias. Balloons and bugs.

My poor children were deprived of birthday balloons and while they did do the usual childhood thing of finding and collecting bugs in peanut butter jars, their ‘catches of the day’ were always admired by me (because I am a good parent) from a kilometre away.
My youngest child, Thomas, is profoundly autistic. Anyone who knows anything about autism will surely know that they are extremely literal.

After a really long and busy day, I was in the kitchen organizing dinner (I was probably on the phone ordering take-out, not cooking..remember because it was one of those days.) Thomas came through to me in the kitchen, bouncing his little body (he was 12 but tiny) and at the top of his voice, repeatedly saying “Praying mantis on the door! Praying mantis on the door!”

I peed in my pants a little.

Envisioning a creepy green long stick like insect spread eagled on MY screen door, and calmly (well as calmly as a bug-phobe would) told him to get the bug spray and “Get rid of it NOW! Kill it! Kill It!”

Thomas bounced off armed with a keg sized can of bug spray and I could hear him spraying the bejeezuz out of the bug on my screen door. He came back screaming “The praying man still on the door!!”

Hemorrhoids *snap* And All That Jazz!

Earlier this week I had a nasty bug that caused some pretty disgusting symptoms. One was a massive headache that lasted a few days. The other, and I can’t believe I’m typing this but here goes: The other was some gut-wrenchingly painful stomach cramps and explosive gas and diarrhea.

A Little Crisco, A Lot Of Spandex

This post was originally published on Neon Fresh in March 2011.

I love evenings out and I hate evenings out.  I have a love/hate relationship with them.  I love the food, the music, the conversation, the dancing… the Cha-Cha slide.

I hate slathering myself in vegetable shortening just to squeeze my new, fuller mommy figure into a dress that’s bursting at the seams.

Being a Mom is the Best. It's Also Pretty Gross.

The number of times I’ve examined a substance on my person and wondered ‘Is this poop?’ is entirely too high. But it's all in a day's work as a mom. Motherhood is awesome. Raising little people and watching traces of you and the one you love most emerge in facial features and funny quirks is one of God’s most wonderful blessings. Sweet moments spent snuggling warm babies and feeling their soft skin against your cheek are precious. Sharing a laugh with an older child lights up my heart. Being a mom is the best.

I Take My Pizza By-The-Crust. I'm A Mother After All.

Ah, the coveted pizza night.

And Then the Easter Bunny Died. In my Heart.

Like so many children, I believed. Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Mr. Rogers ... all of them. And then, in the beginning of spring, a little blonde fire rocket in the third grade named Jennifer stole them all from my dreams. I remember it like yesterday.  I was so innocent, minding my own business on the playground ... then like a thief in the night she crawled up behind me on the weird metal monkey bar octagon thingie that breaks hundreds of body parts and leaves bruised crotches in it's wake, daily.

Remember Me as Hilarious, Sexy and Awesome At Least?

Remember me this way. Always and forever.

Dear friends,

Does Catching Vomit With My Bare Hands Count?

Dear Employer...From a skilled Mom.

Today I dropped off my youngest child at preschool. He will only be away for about 5 hours total in any given week. But the moment I left the school I realized that for the first time in almost 8 years, there will be regularly scheduled times that I will be alone.

Was I sad to leave my baby behind? Sure. But the overwhelming feeling was one that I had felt before... close to my college graduation. I had to answer a question I hadn’t even had time to ask myself in close to a decade...what am I going to do with my life?

Jen Was Almost Attacked By A Rabies Filled Pony Dog: This is Her Survival Story

A mother bear does anything to protect her den.

On that fateful Friday morning, I was the farthest thing from a mother bear.

In fact, I was more like this giraffe. (I'm not proud, people.)

Embarrassing My Teens is Sweet Revenge


My teenager's dream is of me morphing into an invisible valet that drives them around, keeps the fridge stocked with chocolate milk and, for God’s sake, doesn’t talk to their friends.

My kids say I embarrass them. I’m not sure why, on account of I try to be cool. Ya’ feel me?

My Computerus Goes Kablammy

Words of Wisdom

What A Bubble Bath Really Looks Like As A Mom

The only thing she wanted after a loooong day of volunteering, chauffeuring kids to and from school, hip hop dance class, basketball practice, 7 loads of laundry, dinner, dishes, cleaning, and just plain "bein a mom" was to slip into a nice HOT bubble bath and ease her throbbing, piercing headache away.

Surviving Wal-Mart and Child Tantrums: One Mother's Hilarious Story

I’ve had THAT kid. I’ve been THAT mom. It’s taken me five years to be able to put it down for all to read. Here it is.

March 31, 2006. Princess was a few weeks away from turning six. Buddy was still a few months away from being three. It was a nice spring day.

Princess had asked if we could get out the watercolors and paint. I thought that was a good idea, but, alas, we didn’t have any watercolors. I told them that if they behaved that morning, we’d go to Wal-Mart that afternoon and get some watercolors. They behaved.

The Rapture! Or a Busted Powerline. Whatever.

It all happened one glorious Tuesday around 8:00 am.

I went to bed Monday night excited because I would be taking my son to storytime for toddlers at the library the next morning. He was three, and now old enough to receive a library card and attend storytime. I couldn't wait to share my love of reading with him!

Fast forward thru to 8:00 am on Tuesday: I am awakened by a loud "BOOM!" and a glaringly-bright light. The rapture! Wait. What? I didn't hear any trumpets. And I am still here! Oh crap, I am hell-bound!

Post-Nursing Bra Shopping: Double The Torture



My husband told me I could do anything I wanted for Mother's Day. I could have done anything, ANYTHING I tell you! I chose to do something, alone, that I've been dreaming about for months:

The HooHas Top 15 Ridiculous Phrases From a Mother's Mouth