This nest is a hot mess… 2.2 What. Thefuck. Just. Happened.

So anyway, along with divorce, comes a shit ton bit of paperwork, something I generally would pat-pat myself on the back and say I am pretty good at.  HOW CUTE AM I?!?!???!!

Insert me getting hit by the pizza delivery guy, having to call the police, while the police are running my registration (holla – neva had a ticket, you guys run whatever you want!) watching said pizza delivery guy air hump the police while they are not looking.   And then this…

Police: “Is your last name Scheibleve”

Me: “That is my ex-husbands name, yes.”

Police: “Ah, miss, this car has a revoked registration, we are going TO NEED TO TAKE YOUR PLATES.”

Me: “Ah, the sticker is still right there, and that piece of paper is in my little glove box, and I have never had a ticket, duh.”  Guess that is not how it works.

Pause.  Pause and remember that pizza guy is now making blow job face while simultaneously air humping and I am discussing my revoked registration, while my sweet baby pug looks at me like “Um, we go home?” WHO KNEW THAT I HAD TO TAKE CARE OF THIS?!?!!?  IT WAS ALWAYS “MY” CAR.  At any rate, apparently you can’t drive your car when it doesn’t have plates.  Rules, rules, rules.

Fast forward to today (there is a LOAD of other nonsense, but let’s focus on today).

Today, I had to go to this place of bliss.


Yup, that’s right, jellyarentcha?  Now, understand something….. As a parent, you really get limited time to yourself.  As a single parent, there is not a god damn fucking second that someone isn’t trying to climb back in the womb. Sometimes I lock myself in the bathroom at work just to think alone.  you get quite a bit less.  So there was a part of me, that was a lil excited to have a coffee, some Panera and this, Smat.jpgsome smut to make me feel smarter than Kim K light reading.

When all of the sudden, I see the exact opposite mother than I am in a dead sprint with her “mommy hook” swinging in the breeze from the handlebar of her stroller, heading right toward me.  (Insert what I mean by “exact opposite.” What I mean, is she WAS wearing Tevas, was NOT wearing a bra and had one of these.


You need to understand, that it is a legit god damn miracle my children have made it this far, and that can only be emphasized by the fact that I did not even CONSIDER ever putting that god forsaken sex repellant  sticker on my stroller.

I tried to do everything I could, look busy, act like I was reading some very important financial documents, burp, peed in my pants, anything.  And, low and behold, she sits.  DOESN’T SHE EVER HAVE TO HIDE IN THE OFFICE BATHROOM????? I can’t possibly be the only one.

There was about 5 minutes of this: “We didn’t plan him but love him, I like walking, do you like walking, he is so advanced, he pulls himself up.”  Can’t.  Legit fucking can’t.  When this happens.


Yup, apparently, because we both have boobs, we should talk about breastfeeding.  It didn’t stop. It actually got worse. She used words like “suckle.” IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RMV.  How could she not understand I was here for some peace and quiet?!? This is basically a fucking vacation for me. I even self served a mimosa.

I somehow manage to escape her mommy la leache league cult  grip and move seats.  She follows me.  She 100% follows me.   And then this:


SHE HANDED ME HER CHILD.  I had never hated that air humping pizza delivery guy more than that moment.  You need to understand, I love MY children.  MINE.  I don’t really care for others, and the ones that still projectile vomit and shit themselves, I honestly want nothing to do with. I don’t even want to deal with MY projectile vomit and shit.  Not that it happens, but IF it did…..  She was saying things like “She’s a mommy, she loves you.”  No.  I actually don’t. I am hardly even tolerating you.

I was 100% pitting just sitting there, holding some stranger on my lap, waiting for A106 to flash on the screen, while she said things like “He loves to bounca bounca bounce, isn’t he SO good at bouncing.” Yes teva wearing, braless lady. Best god damn bouncer eva.  I don’t think she realized I was about to bounce her ass to Delaware when A106 finally flashed and I said “Thank you sweet fucking baby Christmas Jesus I will always pray and go to church and I am not even lying this time.”  “Here IT is.”

Her: “IT?”

It took everything I had in me to not respond, “Oh, I am sorry, your little suckeler” (is that a word?).

I hate that fucking pizza guy.


This nest is a hot mess…. 1.1 – Is this thing on?

My life is a total shit show.  No honestly, it really is.  That is actually an understatement.  For example, yesterday, I pick up the minis from their after school program, take a totally graceful 45 minutes to get them into the car.  Drive home, feeling pretty proud that baby brother only opened his door and tried to escape once.  Crank into the driveway, when, fuck.  I don’t have keys to the house. So, like the graceful, eloquent, really beautiful, very smart and humble mother that I am, I did what anyone would do.  Sent the big guy through the doggy door.  Some people may call that bad parenting, I call that “Tuesday.”  For reals.

I had blogged a while back, and then, well, I went through a fucking shit show of a divorce, lost my best friend, cried on the floor a lot and had not a single fucking nice thing to say about anyone my career really took off and I needed to focus, focus, focus.

The 30 second recap of me.  I am a hot wreck of a single mom of the greatest challenges loves of my life. I was married for 10 years.  The end.  No really, no one wants a blog about a divorce, they want a book. Be patient.   Every day that I make it to work, I legit congratulate myself. You could actually insert anything there, Every time I get out of bed, every time I wash my hair, every time I don’t set the kitchen on fire…. See, they all fit.

I am proud beyond belief of my small ones, there is nothing in the world that I love more than them, but I have realized through single mom-dome that I have a hard time answering the question “Mom, why does my ding dong get big?” with a straight face.  Or any face at all, actually. I assume that makes me a “bad” mom.  Eh, whatevs.   I get unreasonably excited when I check the school lunch calendar and it is pizza day.  Fuck yes. No making lunches for 24 hours. I still believe in love.  Oh, not for me, but in theory, I suppose it could exist.

My bullet points (if you can’t bullet point your life, you need to reassess):

  • Obsessed with:
    • My boys
    • Their goodbyes (“Mommy, hugs, hugs, more, more, kisses, kisses. No mommy, sit so we can kiss you.” Every. Single. Morning.)
    • Mexican food. In particular, tacos. If you are looking to date me (that’s right fellas, bring me tacos not flowers.
    • My friends and family who picked me up off the floor numerous times, brushed me off and were like “God, you are fucking ugly when you cry, clean that shit up, STAT.”
    • My career. I changed. It is awesome. You are jelly.
    • Music and dance parties. If you are not, just leave.
    • My dog. I went on one date with someone who didn’t like dogs.  One date. The end. Exit.
  • Things I am not good at:
    • Online dating (more to come), but I would honestly rather be a cat lady who looks for coupon deals on Meow Mix.   alone.
    • Swimming. Ask my cousins and siblings. I should NOT be left unassisted.
    • Anything technology related. I actually sent an email the other day that said “As (name withheld because it is embarrassing for everyone) can attest to, I am not very good with technology.”  My phone went black last week, I cried, because that will show that god damn phone who is boss.
    • Making dinner. Honestly, they want to eat EVERY night? Who the fuck does that?
    • Second grade math.
  • Things I excel at:
    • Jesus Christ, I am drawing a total blank? I AM GOOD AT NOTHING? Ahh, being the friend who is like “Be there in 5 with wine.” Wow, this is embarrassing.

Stay tuned for more blogs about my crazy life, how I would make a small fortune if I just agreed with E TV and let them video tape my life for a reality show, and of course, my opinions (which are actually facts).


Here we are…. Just the three of us…. Someone is always pissed at me, looks like it was BB this day.

Do you love how annoyed brother is at me? Like, bitch, ENOUGH.