Momaical is a humorous look at trying not to raise a flock of assholes. Cursing & copious coffee involved.

Momaical: [mom-mahy-uh-kuhl] = (Hybrid of Mom and Maniacal.)


A Christmas Carol

I think the reason they have all these Christmas carols is to coax us into believing that the holidays are a joyous occasion. Family gets together around a fire and opens a bounty of gifts. People are thankful for what they receive and celebrate the love they have for each other. Awwwww....isn't that SO Norman Rockwell?

Well, Norman Rockwell does not live in my house. My family does. Christmas is one giant bundle of stress. The kids are pumped for the holiday and act like heathens. Hours of time and ridiculous money spent purchasing presents - yet there's always tears about something not being fair and "I wanted that even though it's a baby toy and I have never ever thought of it".  Epic meltdowns by the over holidayed, exhausted, excited children. Not to mention stress about the visitors coming to stay with you, knowing that criticism looms like a weighted blanket about how you didn't get the perfect gift for a nephew or that your appetizer doesn't cut the muster. As a result of all this stress is stress eating. Which means Happy Holiday Love Handles. Which makes me stressed about seeing people while feeling like the Michelin man -  which makes me eat more. It's a vortex of hideous.

And the CLEANING. Oh, the cleaning. The tree makes a mess daily, the dust from the heat is everywhere - regardless of how frequently you Swiffer. The toy room doubles as the guest room where your in-laws will be sleeping. This means your typical solution of shoving everything in the closet and closing the door as quickly possible to prevent their escape is no longer a valid method of cleaning.

I tried to get an early start on tackling the Mt Everest of laundry that has grown to epic proportions. As I emptied out Emmeline's laundry basket to sort, the clothes were all wet. Eau d'Urine wafted from the pile of dirty size 3T clothing. I realize the clothes are SOAKED in pee.

"Emmeline! Why is your entire laundry basket full of pee???????"

"Oh, dat's because me are a kitty cat and it is me yitter box."

I kid you not, this is everything she peed on - finally no longer being used as cat "yitter"

For the love of all that is holy. Someone please save me....

Here's my Christmas Carol about the 9 Days Til Christmas - it's on In the Powder Room. Please go check it out and share my joy of the holiday season....

Happy Holidays.....hopefully your dog leaves you a special treat under the tree.....


Elf on the Shelf - Your High Maintenance Guest

I have finally begun to see the light at the end of the pile of correcting - finals are next week. So last night began the joy of decorating the tree for Christmas. And the bottom 3' of the tree looks....shiny.  And very weighted down by every single ornament we own and even a few things that aren't traditionally considered ornaments. As I look on Pinterest and pretend that the stuff I pin would actually show up at our house - I see all these Elf on the Shelf overachievers.

Trash your house and blame it on the elf?

Switch all the clothing out of one closet and put it into another closet - Elf again.

Ate all the coconut chocolate dipped Oreos and blamed it on the elf? Fine, that was me.

Here's a more realistic look of my relationship with my Elf on the Shelf on In The Powder Room:

How about you? EOTS aficionado or Love/Hate Relationship?


Drums for Christmas? You are officially DEAD to me.

The loaded question during this time of year is always "What do the girls want for Christmas?"  Um, everything? Have you seen the informercial for the thing that you can use in your car or bedroom to put your shit in and then it fights off ninjas while whistling Dixie and sipping tea?  Well - two of those. Just not the "boy" ones.

Good God. Every freakin' commercial on TV is added to Santa's list. Because we don't have enough broken crap to impale ourselves on in the middle of the night whilst simultaneously being scared to wits end by some possessed toy.

This year I'm putting together a list of crap that my little ones DON'T need. It may be a shorter list than what they are asking for these days. Check it out on In The Powder Room. If you need to send a copy to your Mother In Law - go for it. I'll shoulder the responsibility....

I'm Caillou.
I'm a whiny little bastard that will rob you of your will to live! 
Can't wait to see you under the mistletoe...

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