An original sketch of Jenny Lawson by TMP 
So I'll say it. I'm completely and utterly jealous of Jenny Lawson, a.k.a. The Bloggess. It's odd, because I don't know Jenny personally(yet). But based on her blog I've surmised that she's is wickedly funny and totally wacky. I was introduced to Jenny's blog by a post with a picture of a TARDIS in her yard and read how she had ordered one to amuse herself. I was green with envy.

 "Hello!", I'm thinking, "of course, this is total genius and I almost could have thought of doing this exact same thing, but now she's already gone and done it and posted it on the internet, so what's the point really."

She's got her book out now and is wildly successful. I wanted to hate her. I wanted to label her "main stream"" and a "sell out" and just stop reading because it "didn't feel personal". I tried to fool myself into thinking that it wasn't really that funny. But, of course, that was the jealousy talking. I am ready to admit that now so we all (and by we all, I mean me, obviously) can move forward.

Open apology to Jenny Lawson:

Dear Jenny,
If you happen to be reading my potentially fabulous but still extremely obscure blog, please accept my most sincere apology for letting my jealousy get in the way of, well, nothing really. By the way, next time you're in Dallas, like maybe for your book tour, please go ahead and look me up. I am a pretty boring homebody, but I do have a lot of spatulas and I'm fairly certain there is some twine lying around here somewhere. 
Your friend in blogging,
 -The Mommy Patient

ps- If you stare over your screen and blur or cross your eyes, that sketch looks just like you, I swear!


4G LTE++

Trifextra: Week Five

For this weekend's Trifextra Challenge, we are asking for a 33-word response to the picture below.  Make what you will of it; there are no rules.  Poetry, prose, comedy, drama--just give us 33 words, on the button.  Have fun with it.

"It's the coolest thing ever. An App that turns your phone into a bone fragment. And here I thought it would be difficult to find a mandible to complete my broken human skull."


My Mini Spa Vacation

I know I'm making you all jealous out there, but I am bragging about my mini spa vacation anyway. It took a lot of planning on my part. I had to rearrange my schedule, but in the end, it was all worth it. I got the kid to school (late, as usual), the husband off to work, and then the house was mine, all mine. It's true, I do get the house to myself on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays for a brief spell. But today was different. Today, I decided to throw caution to the wind and enjoy doing nothing. And I did. And then, I took a bath all alone in the house, and shaved my legs. That would be the "spa" part of my vacation. But, as with all vacations, long or short, there is the whiplash effect of being thrust back to the reality of the day to day. So, it is with that sentiment that I grab my car keys and a couple of after school snacks and rush to pick up the kiddo from school (late, as usual).


"Why I Love Other Moms" Tuesdays

It makes me smile to know that hundreds, even thousands, of other Moms out there are having the exact same conversation with themselves this morning.

Me (to myself): Why are there Fruit Loops at the bottom of my purse??? ..... Oh. Yeah.

Me (to myself): Okay. Why am I tempted to eat them.



Yep. I don't just write, I'm crafty, too. Some people are just blessed with multiple talents. It's not fair, I know. But to show my sympathy for those of you who are artistically challenged, I am going to provide a material list and instructions for my DIY "Puss in Boots" hat and sword project. This is guaranteed to impress your small child and facilitate hours upon hours of imaginative play, and all it is going to cost you is time and materials, because I am going to provide the instructions for free, right now! Set aside some time because this project will take you a good 5 minutes....maybe 10 if someone is actually climbing on you while you are constructing this lovely costume for them.


  • construction paper
  • scissors
  • tape
Instructions (hat)

  1. Fold a piece of black construction paper so it marginally resembles a hat.
  2. Tape it together.
  3. Fold a piece of yellow construction paper in half and cut out a shape that looks like half of a feather, then cut slits diagonally along the side that is not folded.
  4. Open the piece of folded, cut up construction paper. It is a feather. Now tape it to the hat.
Instructions (sword)

  1. Fold a piece of brown construction paper into a sword.
  2. Apply tape where necessary.
  3. (Sorry, my hubby did the sword, so that's all I've got.)
The beauty of this design is that this costume is built to last. If the sword gets torn whilst sword fighting, apply more tape. If the hat gets torn, tape. The feather falls into pieces, tape. 

note: If properly constructed, you can safely ignore the advice on repairs as the recipient of these items will remind you with great frequency that she needs some tape.


Atlas Shrugged

Socialism is bad. If people insist that you owe them something just because you are capable of providing it, stop contributing immediately and teach them a lesson. That way, you'll prove your point.


Trifextra: Week Four

This weekend we're interested in your ability to stand on the shoulders of giants.  We want you to take a famous story, poem, book, or fable, and retell it in exactly 33 words.


Chunk on Tough Love

Chunk and Zurg are back by popular demand. If you missed their introduction, you can find out more by clicking here.

Chunk is a bit shell shocked from today's couch session. But Zurg is clever. She would never give Chunk more than he could handle. 

Dinner with Friends

The small space was basically a box; three feet wide, six feet deep, and eight feet high. She reluctantly stepped inside. The floor was cold and hard. As she crouched down, she could smell urine and noticed the offending yellow stain. Her thighs burned as she held the awkward position. Seconds turned into minutes. She lowered her knees to the floor, surrendering to her physical discomfort. Nothing in her past had prepared her for this. She tried to visualize a serene beach with the radiant sun beating down on her, warming her core. "Go to your safe place," she told herself. Suddenly, reality came piercing through her mantra.

"Mommy, tell me a story," said the small child perched on the toilet in front of her.

"After you pee in the potty," she said pleading with the girl. That prompt had worked magic just two days ago. Lydia desperately clung to the hope that the bribe was enough to free her from the germ infested stall.

"I'm all done," the girl protested.

Lydia sighed in resignation. "Okay, let's get you down," she said. She began the laborious task of reassembling her willful child without touching a single surface in the public restroom. "Let me get these tights up. Becka, please stay still. Please help me with these tights. Honey, we've got to get your leotard on."

"Look, Mommy, the toilet is talking."

"Great. Please, honey, arms through sleeves. Okay, let's get your sweater on. Let's not put hands in the toilet," Lydia suggested.

Dazed and shaky, she rejoined her dining companion. High pitched screams echoed in the stark play area. Smiling, Lydia wondered how her friend managed it with five kids and a husband deployed overseas.

"I forgot that we came directly from ballet class. The leotard adds a whole new dimension," Lydia explained, settling in to her dinner.

"Mommy, I need to go potty right now."

"Go to your safe place," thought Lydia, meekly prodding herself.


Trifecta - Week Fourteen

safe adj \ˈsāf\ 

1   free from harm or risk : unhurt

2   a: secure from threat of danger, harm, or loss 
     b: successful at getting to a base in baseball without being put out

3   affording safety or security from danger, risk, or difficulty 


Parents' Night Out

A restored, 1984 Porsche 928, pulls around the back alley and into the garage of a two-story, nondescript house. 

MARGHERITA JONES, 30 something, sits at a cheaply made, mass-produced vanity applying copious amounts of mascara.

SFX: A door SLAMS. FOOTSTEPS on stairs.

Honey, I'm home.

Margherita checks her make up in the mirror and hurriedly sweeps the arsenal of beauty products that cover the vanity into a drawer as Dwayne enters the bedroom.

What the...you're not even dressed.

Margherita turns to face him.

(flutters eyelashes)
I thought we might (lowers voice) stay in tonight.

(raises eyebrows)
Oh really? (loosens tie)

(swaggers to the bed)
Well, I mean, it has been two weeks since our last
(draws chin to chest and coyly glances up)
parents' night out.

(clumsily removes clothes)
Oh yeah, baby.

Oh, my darling.

They hop into the unmade bed and dive beneath the covers.

How did it go at the...

Shhhh. No talking shop. Talk dirty to me.

(pulls covers over their heads)
Oh yeah, baby.

SFX: Cell phone RINGS

SFX: Cell phone RINGS again

Margherita and Dwayne emerge from covers. Margherita grabs a cell phone.

Okay, we'll be right there.

Margherita hangs up and throws off the covers.

Honey, she puked. Sorry.

(pulls on pants)
Hey, at least we weren't the ones who had to clean it up this time.


Margherita stands and walks to the bedroom door. Dwayne follows.

That was hot.

Oh yeah, baby.

Trifextra: Week Three



Larissa stood naked in front of her bathroom mirror. She had heard the expression, "beauty is only skin deep," dozens of times, but she was beginning to doubt the validity of such a statement. She considered those who could usually be heard preaching this colloquialism. Often she saw sadness behind their eyes, insecurity in their posture, and envy in their actions. "If these people really believed what they were saying, why would they care what anyone else thought?" she whispered softly.

Larissa's gaze moved slowly from her asymmetric, blemished face; to her broad shoulders; to her smallish breasts; down to her boyish hips with no real waistline; and rested on her athletic thighs. She felt no particular emotion. "Just a means to an end," she thought, shrugging. She hung her wet towel, pulled on her pajamas, and went back to her room.

"Ah-ha,"she exclaimed, "if I use a recursive function to implement the sorting algorithm, it will cut the cpu cycles in half!" She ran to her bed and grabbed her laptop to redesign her last object class. Solving puzzles of deep complexity had always brought Larissa a sense of triumph. She completed testing her latest code changes and closed her laptop.

Her mind drifted back to the subject of beauty. Larissa had always felt most beautiful in her own mind when she was looking for the beauty in others. "There is real beauty in almost everyone," she thought. "The puzzle is figuring out where to look for it."

Trifecta - Week Thirteen

Use the word, deep adj \ˈdēp\, as in
3:  difficult to penetrate or comprehend : recondite

"Why I Love Other Moms" Tuesdays

Since I became a mom, I have had a lot of learning to do and still do. I make mistakes. Many, many mistakes. And that's okay. That is one of the things I have had to relearn. "Everybody makes mistakes. It is okay to make mistakes." I have had to go further than just making mistakes. I have begun to welcome mistakes. I have had to learn to not judge my mistakes. I have had to learn not to be afraid of making mistakes. And I am learning to say, "yep, doing it that way was probably a mistake". So in the midst of making daily mistakes while raising my daughter, I am comforted by other moms who have been there, done that, got the t-shirt, and don't judge.

"Potty training" are two words that I never anticipated would cause me to hang my head in shame and admit utter defeat. But they do and I am. It is not that potty training is really that important to me or that I fear my daughter will never use the potty by herself (although, secretly I do fear that). It is just getting really weird now. She does not want to use the potty. She wants to wear diapers. And more than anything, she loves to announce to everyone within a 5 mile radius that she just went pee-pee and poopy in her diaper when we are out in public. Now, this could be me being naive, but I don't think she is just trying to embarrass me. This is mostly because I have gotten the stares, the gaping mouths, the flat out questions "what's wrong with her?" and for the most part it doesn't phase me. I have been given infinite advice on the subject. I have tried pretty much every thing I can think of. I have to believe there is some mom out there that can understand me when I say that she will hold in the pee and poo for days on end before she will do it in the potty. She literally holds it all day at school???

I am sure I have made countless mistakes on the potty training front. I can accept that. I can change. But sometimes it just feels good to hear those little reassurances from other compassionate moms.

Thanks, other moms. When I grow up I want to be just like you.


To my adoring fans...

...a.k.a., me.
"Do you people understand the pressure I am under?"! That thought just keeps circling incessantly as my fingers are poised over this keyboard to no avail. As the seconds tick by, these precious moments to myself evaporate and are irretrievable. Sensing that this quiet time is limited and yet, nebulously defined; I am practically incapacitated by fear. She is going to wake up any second.

Hey, I get that I am really the only one who cares about this little blog of mine. No, really, you don't have to pretend. I am fine with that. But the thing is, I do care. In my own mind, okay, I have a huge audience that are feverishly anticipating my next post. (Whatever. It gets me through the day, alright.) This is my job; my art. I am passionate about it. (If you knew me, you'd understand. I have an overdeveloped sense of passion for pursuing things that just don't really matter.)

Ah, the subtle breath of awakening from the next room, which means my own little world will be imploding in about 3 minutes. Yes, you're right. That is probably a good thing.


Hey, I wanna play, too!

Ah, sweet solitude: okay, I wanted to get three things done today, what were they. 
Oh  never mind.

Trifextra: Week Two

"For this week's challenge, we are asking you to give us a complete story in three sentences."
Okay, so I stretched the first sentence a bit. I think I should get a little leeway. I did just write the story of my life.

10 minutes later:
Okay, this could be bad. How many of you playing this game can not stop thinking in three sentence stories now?
Me: "Oh Dora sticker book, where are you?"
Me: "Ah-ha! I found it."
Her: "That's not the right one."

I call this one "Chasing Clara":
Wait. Stop. FREEZE!

And this one is not for the faint of heart:

Me: "Oh my gosh, what the....(trails off)?"
Me: "Clara, come back here and let me finishing wiping the poop off of your back!"
Me (to myself): What's that on my pants, peanut butter or.....(trails off).

I think they should have issued a warning with this particular challenge:
Trying this at home may seriously impair your ability to think coherently henceforth, especially if you are being treated for anxiety, depression, bi polar disorder, ADHD, or are a SAHM.