Tatiana the Documom has posted a picture on Facebook that’s so grim, it makes me physically shudder. The above conversation is a pretty apt description of her kid’s “barely there” toenail, but it still doesn’t fully prepare you for the quality of photo Tatiana managed to take of the dead, weighty keratin that’s “hanging on by a little piece of skin" off her son’s big toe. If her intention was to inform AND frighten, well, she’s done a great job of conveying the message.

I considered editing this picture, but there wasn’t any need. Tatiana just naturally succeeds at documom terror-photography. She could win some kind of demented award for this perspective-driven, specimen-like study of a child’s big toe losing its nail. Throw in a bouquet of dead flowers and a bowl of dried fruit and you’ve got yourself a 16th century still life composition.

Way to turn something that’s — once again — “hanging on by a little piece of skin” into evocative art, Tatiana. Good luck with your budding keepsake "stash." I can only imagine the horrors that will fill it as the years go by.

(submitted by Anonymous)

Fright Fest 2013: Happy Halloween! 

After a couple of long and disgusting weeks of Fright Fest, the big day is finally here. And you guys know what means: EVEN MORE GROSS STUFF. Yes, today will be gore-filled and disturbing, including one post that’s absolutely revolting. (Just to give you something to look forward to.) As is tradition, I’ll be posting “scary” posts all day (and perhaps into tomorrow), beginning with this one. Sure, it’s no Poop Skating, but in a way this could be worse? Or maybe what makes this so gross is that ever since posting Poop Skating, I’ve had to create a whole Poop Leg folder for pictures like the one above (which was posted on Instagram, of course). So, so many pooplegs.

What possesses a person to zoom in on her child’s mustardy-shit-covered leg? What compels an upstanding citizen to go from adding a Valencia filter to a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge to Hefe’ing the fuck out of a picture of her baby’s diarrhea? And exactly what reaction does she hope to receive from her Instagram community?

Lols and lols for dayz. We’re nearing End Times when a picture like this is greeted with comments like, “This is amazing!” and, “Haha!” When the final hours of civilization have inescapably arrived, cackles of delight in response to pictures of dripping poop will echo throughout the land, and we’ll know why the apocalypse is near. 

Related: Happy Halloween 2009, 2010, 2011, & 2012

(submitted by Anonymous)

This is more a case of “STFU, Cousins” than “STFU, Parents,” and yet it’s terrifying and wrong all the same. From what I can gather based on Shianna’s “explanation,” her not-so-smart younger cousin jumped from the top of a shed onto a trampoline, but then thought he might land on the springs surrounding the trampoline, so he avoided them by jumping elsewhere? I don’t know. But here’s what I do know: It doesn’t really matter, because whatever this kid did, the frighteningly mind-boggling results looked like THIS:

I do not know this kid’s name or age (although the submitter estimated he was around 13 when this happened last year). All I know is that he has a GIANT FUCKING HEEL BONE sticking out of his foot, and it’s one of the craziest things I’ve ever seen. It’s hard to say whether this kid comes from a long line of mindless idiots, considering Cousin Shianna thought it was wise to document this for Facebook and comment nonsensically about his accident, but I’m gonna go with “probably.”

I sincerely hope he’s since given up shed-diving, but hey, can you blame a kid for trying to have a little fun? Who knew that massive bones could pierce through the skin like that, anyway? Not me! Well, until Shianna clued in all her friends by posting this picture online, prompting someone to send it to me with the email subject: “Not usually squeamish, but this is a fucking bone protruding from a foot!” Thanks for the nightmarish education, Shianna!

Related: "Graffic" Photos and the Toenail Edition

(submitted by Anonymous)

Something I’ve been meaning to post about that I’ll probably do a more in-depth investigative report on is diaper Facebook pages and the crazy stuff that happens on them. See, normally I would say, “Let the diaper people have their fun! So what if moms like having deep, meaningful conversations about diaper preferences on certain Facebook pages? That’s what those pages are for!!” Normally, I wouldn’t even mock those pages, because they’re as close as it gets to a legit forum outside of Facebook while still technically being on Facebook, and I know some people like participating in that kind of thing. They’re “safe” places whose members respect each other enough to not turn each other in for saying something a little gross. Normally.

But in the case of a diaper company posting something extremely disgusting in a direct attempt to shun people who use disposable diapers, page members begin to lose sympathy — as do I.

The tone of this thread is much more “WTF” than it is “rah, rah, cloth diapers!”, and there’s a reason for that. This unnamed cloth diaper company is abusing its page members eyes to assert a claim that isn’t even true. The company posted a picture of a kid with a blow-out in a disposable diaper, yes, but like Barb said (in so many words), there is noooo fucking way a baby’s cloth diaper would look much different if the child’s ass had done this:

This is an Eye Crime. This picture should not exist, but more importantly, it shouldn’t be shared by a diaper company just because its owners feel superior for offering a “superior” product. Not everyone can use cloth diapers. Not everyone wants to use cloth diapers. But for those folks who DO use cloth diapers and follow their favorite brand on Facebook, this is quite the undeserving shit reward. “Hey, everyone, thanks for following our page! Here’s some eruptive baby poop, chunky style!” 

That being said, there are other offenders on diaper Facebook pages — the members themselves.

Um, cool? This mom took the time to post a picture of her kid’s dirty diaper just to brag on a cloth diaper company’s Facebook page. And not only does she clearly have a bloated sense of self, but she actually believes on some level that the diaper company’s admin(s) will be thrilled to see its product being put to good use. Earth to R.: No one wants to see this digestive slop:

Cloth diaper sanctimommies just landed at the top of my Shit List. 

Related: Diaper Bomb Edition

(submitted by Anonymous)

Some people have been asking if Fright Fest is officially over — like really FOR REAL over — and the answer is OF COURSE IT’S NOT. It will be soon — so soon!! — but sadly I still have a few more horrifying posts that need to go up, as Halloween and Fright Fest are the biggest “holiday” on the blog, and you guys don’t want to be terrorized by a placenta round-up in, say, March, do you? I’m not saying there won’t be any placentas posted on the blog between now and Fright Fest ‘14, but the fact is, I got a little behind in my plethora of unholy posts and now I am going to torture the loyal readers of this site until the posts run out. Which is to say, by Wednesday or Thursday, the site should be back to normal. 

With that said, this post isn’t gross! It’s just a collection of Halloween-themed submissions that have to do with the holiday itself. Not poop, or snot, or bones jutting out of kids’ feet. Just some good old-fashioned status updates to commemorate the day, because every year parents talk about Halloween on Facebook in the most ridiculous of ways, and those updates deserve to be mocked celebrated. I also wrote a column with more examples on Mommyish, if you want to check that out. There are close to 200 impassioned comments, because some people take Halloween seriously. Dead seriously. Which is the opposite of how I feel about it.

Let’s take a look at the various types of Halloween updates posted by parents and keep this belated and played-out Fright Fest party rolling, y’all!

1. Dressing Up Like a Father

Hey, all you biznatches and mother truckers, I wanna give a shout out to all the bum dads out there who don’t parent for shit! Here’s a costume idea for you broke-ass chumps: Go as a “father” and you won’t even get recognized by your friends and family! Ha ha, because everyone knows you suck at being a dad. Here’s how you do it: Get a jacket and stick stuff on it that you would give your kid if you didn’t suck at being a dad: teddy bears, money, birthday cards, bank bonds for college, Children’s Tylenol because you’re never there to help when the kid is sick, and maybe O YEAH some condoms, because you should’ve been wearing one when you created a baby!! bwahahahahaha and yes this costume is 100% free from Jennifer to all the deadbeat dad mother truckers.

2. Pregnant Trick-or-Treaters

Oh, pregnant ladies. Is there anything they can’t do? Talk their way out of speeding tickets, pee on command, beg for free candy for their unborn babies…the list goes on and on. Maybe it’s a little tacky to ask for candy for a fetus, but hey, whatever scores you an extra Kit Kat, right? That’s my motto!

In all seriousness, though, any pregnant woman who’s wearing something like this is welcome to ask me for candy any day of the year:

That baby doll looks hangry for some mini-Snickers.

3. Halloween Daddyjacking Non-Sequitur

HAY, Stephen, what the hell are you talking about?! You sound oddly robotic, like you might throw in a coupon code for prenatal vitamins at the end of your comment, and it’s kinda weird. What does your “first born, a female” have to do with Sherry’s Halloween doggy greeting? And why did you spend three days in the airport? Are you a real person or a spambot from the mountains of West Virginia? Also: does your newborn baby already have a cell phone?? Please advise, thanks.

4. SUPER MOM!

Wow, K., you really, REALLY went there. You took it all the way to the finish. Brava, madam. You are truly a caricature of a sanctimommyjackingsuper mom. If this comment was written by you in character, I would award you a massive trophy. I would be impressed beyond belief that someone so accurately nailed her character and even went so far as to behave like a parody on Facebook. I’d be like, “Way to turn Halloween into an online spectacle, in which your “costume” extends to the internet.” BUT, typically enough that isn’t the case here, and K. should probably get herself a journal or a blog. 

PS: Wavy Gravy. Nice one, T.

5. Best Mom Ever

Haaaa, Molly sent her crazed, sugared-up child to daycare for the “daycare lady” to deal with! SO funny. She just plain RULES! Plus, who doesn’t like playing tricks on their daycare ladies from time to time? It keeps them on their toes! Ha ha, daycare ladies. Molly’s probably got some “bonus exercise” by chasing after a certain little toddler on Halloween!

6. “Those” Parents

You know who sucks? Parents like this. I know sugar is bad and organic snacks are good and blah blah blah, but when else can a kid indulge in a basket or pillow case crammed with bad-for-you candy than on Halloween? If my parents told me now that they’d replaced my shitty (i.e. awesome) candy with Clif Bars and an avocado when I was too dumb to know any better, I would pity them. Resistance is futile, is it not?

I speak from experience, too. A close friend and neighbor growing up used to get her candy confiscated by her ultra-healthy dad every Halloween, and she and her siblings had all kinds of tricks that still allowed them to partake in the gateway drugs known as “candy bars.” They were grounded for several weeks once when he discovered their stash, and I ate several Krackels in solidarity. Seriously, parents, it’s one thing to ration your kid’s candy, and it’s another to swap their entire load out “like a ninja.” I’m not even sure if real ninjas would support that maneuver. It’s almost too easy.

7. Scarring Children At The Halloween Store

I appreciate Tony’s “lol” here. How many of us know parents who lose their minds when Halloween displays are “too scary”? Probably a lot. And here’s the thing: If the produce section at the grocery store included a masked dummy holding a bloody doll head in one hand, and a chainsaw in the other, I could understand why a few parents would be upset. But at an actual Halloween store, I don’t feel much sympathy.

While I’m all for costumes that aren’t super gory, Halloween stores don’t tend to specialize in displays that are toddler-friendly. Sure, Halloween is about carving pumpkins and bobbing for apples, but it’s also about zombies and serial killers and the video for "Thriller," which, in my opinion, every toddler should see. I’m guessing Marion doesn’t like that too much, either. 

8. Y So Scary?

Okay, REALLY though, why can’t Halloween just be about smiling skeletons and pumpkins with missing teeth and black cats wearing cute little devil ears? Why must this holiday be drenched in fake blood, and why can’t the people who treat the holiday as such get their houses egged, repeatedly, in the middle of the night?! If anyone deserves to get their trees covered in toilet paper or their lawns set on fire, it’s those jerks! 

9. Actual WTF?

I’ve spent this whole post talking about how fun it is to celebrate the gore of Halloween and embrace crazy decorations and whatnot — but I’m not entirely sure I wholeheartedly endorse this:

The set-up is what gets me. As much as I endorse a kid dressing up as something scary, I’m not sure that Showtime serial killer “Dexter” is the character to channel. Particularly if the channeling includes strapping Mickey Mouse down with plastic wrap to avoid impending blood splatters. Either this kid has a great sense of humor and knows the difference between fantasy and reality, OR he’s going to bring that knife to school and get expelled when he tries to attack his classmates. One or the other!

10. Mom’s Gold Star

I’m taking the submission bait here, because Kaelyn’s kid’s Halloween decoration happens to be aligned with my exceedinglyimmaturepersonality.

Thumbs up, kiddo. You decorated the hell out of that wall outlet. Those skeletons were missing a spooky accessory. And congrats on your GoldStar, Kaelyn! While everyone else was posting about deadbeat dads and candy raids, you opted to post this. I raise my bag of Reese’s pieces in your honor.

Related: The Devil’s Christmas, The Devil Is Tricky, Wrong Costume

To read even moreexamples of the ways parents talk about Halloween on social media, here’s my column over on Mommyish!

(submitted by Anonymous)

I held off posting this for as long as I could, but here we are. The moment of placenta truth. I think the thing that’s both fascinating and horrifying about placenta posts is that, much like snowflakes, all placentas appear to be a little different. This is a fun fact that I’ve come to understand only through voluntary eyeball torture (aka going through submissions), and it’s something I want to, er, emphasize in today’s post. Placentas can take on so many forms and colors! They’re the “chameleon” of organs! Sort of. And yet, despite their individual differences, they all equally disgust me. Funny how that works.

I’m not saying that I don’t have my favorites or anything. I dole out awards from time to time. Remember the ugliest placenta I’d ever seen? Or the placenta we’ve all affectionately come to know as Seal’s Meat? And who could forget mommy’s first placenta shake, which looked and apparently tasted “like heaven”? Each of these posts has touched me — and all of us — in ways we never could have predicted. I’ve dropped snacks on my lap. I’ve winced and shuddered (wuddered? shinced?) at the same time. And now it’s time for me to introduce you guys to six more unforgettable placentas in their various “spotlights.” It’s their time to shine!

1. Dehydrating Placenta

Mmmm, slip another piece of placenta on the barbie! Yum yum yum. And I love the way Pamela politely introduces Hettie to her placenta. “Hettie, this is my placenta & 34 inch cord. I’ve already told them both all about you. :-)” 

2. Frozen Waste Placenta

Ha ha ha, you know what’s more fun than playing in the ocean? Dropping bio-hazardous waste into the ocean! Okay, technically the ocean has plenty of crazy shit in it, from sunken ships and dead bodies to chemical dumps and oil spills, but really, was that the best place for Melissa to deposit her placenta? And was it necessary to tell everyone about it on Facebook? Now I’ll never be able to bodyboard without imagining Melissa and her bucket o’ blood.

This is what sharks tend to refer to as “a little afternoon delight.” Nothing like sleep swimming on empty for 20 hours straight before coming upon a bag of human filet mignon. To a shark, this is like going to the grocery store and picking up a cut of meat that’s already been de-boned and prepared for consumption. No muss, no fuss. Truly the finest in remains fare.

3. Instagram Placenta

Heavily filtered, meticulously styled, and I can tell just by looking at her, this placenta’s got some stories to tell, am I right?! You know the line in “Mean Girls” about a girl keeping secrets in her hair? Well, this placenta has some major secrets hidden in its fleshy mass. And talk about a little showoff. This charmer is real “belle of the ball” material. 

4. Cover Photo Placenta

You might be thinking, “Well, she IS a doula…” but guess what? She’s not. At least, she wasn’t at the time this submission was sent in. According to the submitter, the proud owner of this placenta has aspirations of becoming a doula, which is why she has “Doula” listed as part of her last name, but she’s not actually a doula. Kind of like if I started signing my name “B., M.D.” or “B., Esq.” without being trained in medicine or law, and my Facebook cover photo was a picture of a stethoscope or the scales of justice. Except in this case, the token “industry” symbol is a grey, slimy pouch of bloody skin vessels. 

5. Super-Sized Placenta

"Seriously. I don’t deserve to have such awesome friends." This sentence would be barf-worthy on its own, but in reference to the largest placenta I’ve yet to see — seemingly the size of a Volkswagon Bug, or at least a small dog — and coupled with the phrase "nom nom," it’s truly stomach-turning.

And then Katie, bless her heart, is all, “What does it weigh? (or it that asking TMI?),” like the placenta has self-esteem issues about its size and weight. No, Katie, asking how much a GINORMOUS placenta weighs when it looks like it came from a mother whale isn’t “TMI.” Especially when Charlotte was bold enough to post a picture of it in the first place:

Seriously. No, SERIOUSLY. (as Charlotte would say) Here are some things that are smaller than Charlotte’s placenta:

• that bucket (and sink, frankly)
• Andre the Giant’s head
• the state of Rhode Island

6. Scariest Placenta Picture Ever OMG 

Are you ready to see the grossest placenta of this year’s Fright Fest? Ask yourself if you’re prepared to see something that only a mother and your average zombie could love before proceeding, because there’s no way to properly cushion this blow. 

YEAH, what Simone said, I whole-heartedly fucking concur. 

And there you have it. It’s a brain-like, lumpy, horror movie prop of a placenta, and no amount of puppies in fields or kittens in teacups or chicks wearing miniature hats can mitigate the effects of having seen it. It’s like unwrapping the most disgusting gift “sac” one could possibly receive. Thanks for the nightmares, Samantha. My card is in the mail.

(submitted by Anonymous)

With only two posts remaining, we’re scarily close to the end of Fright Fest, but technically this post might be the grossest one of the season. For me, anyway, though people tend to have somewhat personal aversions to Fright Fest. Between the snot, poop, bones, placentas, and vomit, there’s usually something for everyone. Unless you’re the type who doesn’t get freaked out by ANYTHING, which I guess would mean you win Fright Fest.

But as far as I know, everyone who reads this site has a breaking point, and for me, that point is today’s post. It’s so disgusting, I can’t believe a real person posted it. Candace should lose all Facebook privileges and possibly have her internet access revoked entirely. She certainly hasn’t earned the right to shorten “before” to “b4,” not after posting a prohibitively vile picture. Huh-uh. No ma’am. And what’s up with the bullshit “warning” she wrote at the beginning of her status update? As if a two-word warning could distract a person’s eyes from wandering down and regrettably seeing this:

Carrot. Cantaloupe. Pumpkin. Chef Boyardee. I don’t care WHAT “Corbs” ate that caused him to puke up this mess; the results are terrifyingly orange, and chunky, and congealing in the sink which means the bathroom probably reeked of hours-old barf. And THEN just imagine Candace checking out the odious scene and consciously deciding to leave the vomit sitting there, because she “doesn’t do puke.” Except, of course, when she’s photographing it and posting it on Facebook. Clearly.

(submitted by Anonymous)

Well, this is it. I’m queuing up Boyz II Men, curling up by the fire, and sipping swilling bourbon straight from the bottle, because Fright Fest is really, truly over. How it took us this long to get here, I do not know, but at last the time has arrived to resume regular posts and avoid puke and snot for a while. It’s as much a relief to me as it is to you, believe me. 

HOWEVER, I didn’t post ye olde traditional Birth PicsRound-Up for Fright Fest this year, and I still plan to put that up closer to Christmas as a special holiday gift. I won’t tell you anymore about it now so as to not ruin the joy of surprise, but let’s just say it’ll be a festive delight. 

As for wrapping up this year’s Fright Fest, what can eye say? This year’s posts have been disturbingly memorable. I know I won’t ever forget certainposts, and I’m looking forward to not editing another picture of something gooey for a bit. Unless it’s in honor ofThanksgiving which is just around the corner. Does anyone remember Cranberry Sauce??? Yeahh. Of course you do. 

I’ll be back tomorrow with a post about one of my favorite subjects: Baby VisitationRules! Who doesn’t like being told what to do (and what not to do) by new parents? It’s one of the best things about a friend or family member having a baby. I also wrote a column about visitation rules over on Mommyish that you can read right here. No placentas were harmed in the making of the column, I swear. 

Related: "That’s All, Folks!", Curtain Call, and Eye Won

(submitted by Anonymous)

At last, it’s time to talk about the latest ‘n greatest Facebook fad-turned-custom: The posting of a list of visitation rules or “light suggestions” by parents when they have a new baby, which is sort of like the “open letter” of parent overshare. To some, these lists are an easy way to communicate information to people who might want to visit the baby or lend a hand. To others, the lists are a narcissistic and passive-aggressive approach to telling family and friends what, and what not, to do. You can probably guess which side of the debate I’m on.

Every now and then, new comments appear on old visitation rulesblog posts that attempt to justify them. Usually the argument is that some parents have morons for friends and their relatives are all assholes who chain smoke over bassinets, so those people need instruction, they’re going to drop by unannounced, etc. But my feeling is, the majority of people aren’t that stupid, so why not just email or text the ones who are and politely ask them not to come over after a three-day bender with a raging cold? Why post a list of obvious rules on Facebook when you could address a small handful of people more privately? 

What it comes down to is this: The notes and “tips” are tools that parents use to remind everyone what time it is — Baby Time. They want the meal train, the organic baby merch, and, if it’s not too much trouble, they wouldn’t mind if you cleaned their house, too. Sure, some people are just trying to ensure that the folks who visit are healthy and their hands are clean, but even then, there’s a sense of, “We know how much you’ve been dying to meet our perfect creation, but first you’re going to have to follow a few basic orders.” Sometimes it’s not only the parents who are annoying, but their friends who are in charge of helping, too. We already know "it takes a village" (more on that in my Mommyish column), but a lot of the requests seem to translate to “Mr. and Mrs. Obnoxious seek your money and attention,” rather than, “If you can help out, great! If not, they’d still love to see you if you want to meet the baby.” I’m not saying these lists or requests are completely ineffective and rude; I’ve just never once heard someone say, “My friend/co-worker/relative’s list of ‘new baby rules’ was SUPER helpful.” In fact, since the column ran, I received this email:

To that end, let’s check out some examples of the ways that people talk about newborn visitation online:

1. Dinner Time

This closed group memo isn’t necessarily out of line, but something about it makes me want to leave a casserole made of pizza dough, steak, golden raisins, and green peppers sitting in the new parents’ mailbox. The way “please” is used in the last line of the note is akin to your boss saying, “Please don’t be offended if I don’t ask you to come back to work ever again,” or the bank saying, “Please don’t be offended if we foreclose on your house.” I understand it’s a “polite suggestion” to dumbfucks who come over and never leave, but it also implies that people WANT to come over and never leave. It’s the Catch-22 of visitation note demands suggestions.

2. Germ Jerks

I hope people are more considerate around newborns, too, Mel. Thankfully, folks like you and Mandy are members of the National Germs Conspiracy Coalition, which prevents evil germs from spreading by educating all of the un-well idiots who just don’t friggin’ think !!!! Can you believe some people have no idea there they’re capable of spreading illness until someone on Facebook lectures them? Sad, but true! 

3. Offers To Help and So On

Much like I can’t pick a favorite line from "Kindergarten Cop," I’d be hard-pressed to pick a favorite request, or even word/phrase, from Nate’s extensive list of charmers (a few lines of which the submitter accidentally cut off, but are mostly understood). Upon first reflection, I’m inclined to say that using the word “fetch” in any context as it refers to voluntary human assistance is the most fucked up thing a person could include in a list like this. But then there’s Nate’s request that a friend physically GO TO IKEA — which, despite its eye-candy interiors and free Swedish meatballs, is hell on earth — to purchase Nate some fucking bookshelves (the one with the "Swedish-sounding name"), and then maybe come over and help assemble them in-between holding the baby, cooking a veggie lasagna, and braiding Nate’s back hair. No thanks.

I think I’ll just (eventually) fetch a middle finger and wave it in Nate and Angelica’s direction. Also: “language-ness” is hipster douchebag for “culture.” Since this submission is so old, I’m curious how Nate and Angelica’s plan to be “quite anxious parents” has held up. Something tells me they’re still deeply committed to that pretentious parenting model.

4. NOT a Joke

Come over! Clean our shit! Bake us stuff! Take the “Rules” Challenge and see how much you can get done in a mere 45 minutes! We, The Asshole Clan, are hoping that everyone who comes over for the first two weeks of our baby’s life will be able to accomplish the following in the allotted visitation window:

1. Meet and greet with the baby. This should take 2-4 minutes TOPS because we don’t want to take away from your chores time.

2. Hand us the food you made! Is it nachos? Is it banana bread like your grandma used to make? Did you lace some chowder with rat poison to play a dirty trick on us for writing this offensive list of demands? Haha! We won’t know until we eat it, will we?

3. Choose a task on the refrigerator. As you’re cooking, cleaning, or changing our precious angel’s dirty diaper, we will openly critique you. This isn’t because we’re super picky, it’s because we think it’s fun. This is OUR TIME to make a slave out of YOU!

4. Complete as many tasks as you can until our timer goes off and you leave. The timer ringing is your cue to quickly gather your belongings (not all of the thoughtful gifts you brought us, but everything else! :), and quietly exit our home without causing a scene. Silently wave goodbye or offer a respectful salute. Please don’t be offended if you run into any car troubles on the way home and we don’t answer the phone or provide any assistance. We are nesting!

5. So Get Over It.

I was with Orange (in an eye-roll sort of way) until I got to “Braydan.” After that, my brain exploded and I continued on with Maury-like delight. Sure, this list is full of mostly reasonable requests, but by the time I got to Green’s winning comment, I just felt disappointed that I couldn’t witness the fallout from someone breaking one of Orange’s rules. I can only imagine it would contain more awesome lines like, “I’m the parent, so get over it.”

Funny how before a person has a baby, lines like that sound absurdly high-handed, but immediately after, they roll right off the tongue and are met with ardent praise from other parents. Fellow ‘rents say stuff like, “That’s right, you TELL your family how it’s going to be now that you have a BABY!”, or, “If your relatives don’t like your rules, then TOUGH! That’s their problem!" Kudos to Green for boldly posting an acerbic two-sentence reply, and with a smiley no less. That’s sass.

6. A Thousand Times Yes

Now we’ve arrived at the most crucial, yet increasingly irrelevant, question surrounding visitation rules: Which came first: the Facebook status update or the blog post? Who were the original geniuses that inspired thousands of parents to think this was a good idea? Can they stop now? Nothing against Scary Mommy — this was a guest post that went viral, and I think Jill Smokler is hilarious — but we’re talking about a list of rules that includes “tips” like:

• "I hate to say it, but if you can’t afford to buy her a decent lunch, then you need to consider whether you can really afford to hold this baby."
• "Does Mama have some pulled pork or a rack of short ribs simmering in the crock-pot when you arrive? Don’t you dare accept any of it if she offers. She is being polite and you are not actually a guest. You are an intruder."
• “The hallmark of a truly excellent friend is one who will knock quietly, put the food on the front porch, then get in the car and drive away.”
• "You can have some water if you get it yourself."
• “Don’t make Mama waste a stamp graciously thanking you for some random thing you dug up at Tuesday Morning that she never wanted in the first place.”
• “Load them smart because you know how much we hate it when the dishwasher is loaded wrong.”
• "Babies grow fast. Use your brain."

This exercise in “humor etiquette” hurts our chances of ever escaping demanding visitation lists from showing up in our newsfeeds or inboxes. It is a blight on the internet, despite being shared by 346K people women who agree with it. And, in fact, it’s those 346K sanctimommies to whom I dedicate this website. Them, and the thousands of people who shared this next example (the response to which is so long I had to divide it into two images):

7. “Societal Expectations”

Matt appears to have a problem with the CAPS lock button, among about a billion other things. Why is he acting so hostile toward Jacqueline? All she expressed was what ‘the other half’ is thinking, which is that lists that offer advice like “Remember that the purpose of the visit is for you to help the family, not for you to spend time with the baby.” are bullshit. And even though it may seem like parents are conquering the proverbial battle between sidewalk and stroller, some of us are willing to get our feet trampled to make ourselves heard. Johanna’s colorful remark that her friends “are welcome to say congratulations from the porch” makes me feel like dumping a pan of chicken and dumplings on her face, and in the future, if a friend ever says something similar to me, I may do just that. 

It must be stated for the record that not all parents are like this, obviously. But those who are should recognize one very important thing: No one cares about your baby as much as you do. Stop telling everyone what to do. We will wash our hands. We will take our cold and flu medications. We will stop playing with knives around young children. Just please stop sending visitation rules memos. We’ve already gotten them. All of them.

To read even more examples of visitation rules and requests, check out my column on Mommyish! I tackle tough questions like, “WTF constitutes a “village” anymore?” and, “Are some demands are more acceptable than others?” Groundbreaking stuff.

Related: Baby Shower Gift, Hospital Gift, After-Home Baby Gift

(submitted by Anonymous)

Over the past few years, the holidays have exploded with various online bonanzas, the reasons for which are so irritatingly “internet generation,” I’m almost hate-posting this entry right now. Aside from the typical Cyber Monday sales explosions, other explosions rooted directly in social media have paved the way for certain holiday trends to flourish for years to come. Probably the best example of this type of trend is the growing popularity (somehow) of the Motherfucking Elf on the Shelf. Without Facebook, Instagram, Flickr, or Pinterest, the Elf on the Shelf would’ve had a decent enough shelf life (heh), but he wouldn’t necessarily be competing on the Santa Claus level. He wouldn’t be up there with Rudolph, or Charlie Brown’s dinky tree, or even Elmo in the ’90s. He’d just be another dumb gimmick that gets passively trotted out during the holidays like a piece of mistletoe. 

Let’s face it: If parents didn’t have hundreds of online friends to impress every day, setting up that stupid Elf to look like he’d drawn all over a child’s head would be utterly pointless (i.e. even more pointless than it already is). Staging elaborate scenes in the bathroom or on the kitchen table would be a waste of time. Sure, parents might still stage something funny for their kids — I’m not saying that parents who obsess over the Elf are doing it ALL for their adult friends — but the fact is, the Elf’s popularity has been egregiously catapulted by the internet’s interest. Or rather, by parents’ interest to show off their “creativity” to their friends and other Elf-loving parents, many of whom really don’t care. For every social platform that experiences a surge in popularity (like Pinterest), a product like Elf on the Shelf will follow (and never go away).

With that in mind, this year I wasn’t sure I wanted to be another cog in the Elf’s giant, soul-crushing machine. What am I, if not part of the problem? Is the Elf not already poised to win the 2016 election? At this point, even a blog post that talks shit about the Elf is an advertisement for the Elf. And yet despite that, the grinning little bastard is still worth reflecting on for a few seasonable reasons:

1. The Elf Is Inspiring Gold Star Parents

As with any annoying internet trend, the Elf’s powerful influence has given rise to many an amusing parody. This is like God saying, “Let light shine out of darkness.” Some parents, like Ashley, plainly recognize a void that needs to filled and dutifully oblige. Others don’t oblige at all — and by rejecting the Elf’s mere existence, become unlikely folk heroes for a new generation.

My favorite type of Elf on the Shelf submission is the kind that’s just a picture of an air vent. Imagination is already key to buying into the Elf’s “magic,” but it’s even more inventive to lie to kids and convince them to “imagine” that they have elves hanging out in their walls. Genius. 

2. The Elf Is Emotionally Scarring Children

I’m inclined to say that a child’s deeply-rooted fears should be the primary reason to eliminate an Elf from any current or future holiday celebrations, but the truth is, I form a strong hatred for an Elf just by knowing his “family-given” name. Before I even hear about what kind of antics the Elf is up to — be they of the frightening uneven bangs-trimming variety, or of the harmless “purple milk” variety — I’ve got an opinion about little LSU, or Peekaboo unicorn, or "Frisbee." And that opinion is they need to get tossed in an incinerator, each and every one of ‘em. When parents not only post about an Elf’s (mis)adventures, but also call him by a stupid name one wouldn’t give to any human, pet, car, stuffed animal, or designer purse, they’ve officially crossed over to the dark side. 

It doesn’t surprise me that Savannah wanted her parents to banish LSU from their home and purge his name from all forthcoming festivities. He has a terrible name (I say this as an alumna of UGA), and he essentially serves as a terrorist for the month of December, as other Elf on the Shelf dolls do, not only in the eyes of innocent children but in the eyes of social media users, as well.

“He sees you when you’re sleeping
He knows when you’re awake
He knows if you’ve been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake!”

The lyrics to ‘Santa Claus Is Coming To Town’ suddenly seem far more appropriate for the narc-like Elf on the Shelf than they do for Santa. That damn Elf finds his way into adults’ photo streams and little kids’ nightmares for two-dozen long days a year, and no matter how hard parents try to jazz up his presence, he will never be anything but a creepy bum.

3. The Elf “Grew Up” 

The most striking Elf on the Shelf trend in 2013 is the number of "inappropriate Elf" pictures being created. While stripper pictures like the above started floating around last year, this year includes a new swath of vices— everything from drugs and partying to sex and violence. The Elf is really making the most of the season! But…as fun as some of the galleries are that are making the rounds online, it strikes me as completely fucked up that the majority of the pictures that involved the Elf and a female doll (usually Barbie, who I think we can all agree is sort of a lady) were sexist and objectifying. Not that there’s no such thing, conceptually, as Stripper Barbie, but the vast collection of stripper/Elf pictures rubbed me the wrong way, so to speak.

And did I mention the mirthful violence? There’s plenty of that, too.

Who doesn’t like a little twisted humor around the holidays, right? Normally I’m all about sickhumor, but in this case, if there was a toy I’d want to see tied up and laying in a shallow grave, it would be the Elf himself, not a victim of his “mischief.” I wrote a column on Mommyish about pictures like this (all found on Instagram and Pinterest), because really, I don’t understand why "drunk Elf on the Shelf" or "pooping Elf on the Shelf" is being passed off as the same type of humor as "serial killermisogynist Elf on the Shelf.” As much as I love serial killers and misogyny, I’m skeptical about pictures like this:

The craziest thing is that after the column went up last week, I received an email from a reader who’d taken a closer look at the above image. Whereas I had simply focused on the head and foreboding sign, she’d noticed something else: 

Whoa. Where the hell can the Elf go from here? It’s only December 10th. Anything can happen! There’s plenty of time for at least a half dozen new Elf on the Shelf trends before Christmas, and I’ve got faith that enthusiastic parents will try their hardest to make that happen. Maybe in the next round of viral photos, parents can incorporate a gang rape, or the Elf can be depicted as one of the child murderers from Law & Order: SVU. Whatever it is, it’ll be hilarious. Unless it’s not. Can’t everyone just stop posting Elf on the Shelf pictures and call it a day month?

To read more about why the Elf on the Shelf hates women, check out my column on Mommyish! Some are calling me “the feminist killjoy who ruined Christmas.” Okay, I made that up, but really, check it out!

(submitted by Anonymous)

A recent annoying parenting trend has become so all-encompassing, it has quite literally (okay, not literally) taken Facebook by storm. One day the trend didn’t exist, and the next, POOF!, everyone on Facebook knew a hundred-million more “pregnancy facts” about their friends than they’d ever dreamed of knowing (in their nightmares).

It all stemmed from a generic “facts about me” self-survey going around, through which people can conveniently learn that a friend broke his arm in the fourth grade and that his first CD was N.W.A.’s 'Straight Outta Compton.' This chain game of fun and friend-ly facts that’s been winding its way through newsfeeds lately has been a dazzling display of narcissism, but honestly, most of the time they’re pretty enjoyable to read. 

Cue the Facebook Moms siren: As soon as the inclusive “facts about me” fad peaked, moms took the reins by spreading a more niche gospel in the form of “facts about my pregnancy.” Over the course of just a few days, dozens of blog submissions were sent in due to moms being so excited about this “new and improved” game, which involves assigning friends a pregnancy facts number when they comment on a post. It’s not that I don’t understand why so many moms have participated in the game; it’s just that the reason people are irked by these lists happens to be the same reason that compels moms to write them. The universal similarities as well as the “fascinating” differences that women experience during pregnancy and childbirth are what provoke them to share their facts, but for the average Facebook user, if you’ve read one list, you’ve read ‘em all. They’re basically spam.

I wrote a column about this trend on Mommyish last week, which I recommend reading for some classic examples, but first check out the below cross-section of submissions to learn more about why the “Pregnancy Facts” trend is so irritating.

1. Keep Going On and On

Whoa, it’s hard to know where to begin with Brittany (who was assigned her number by another Brittany), now that Faith’s stepped into the “facts” ring with that garbled paragraph of nonsense. I mean, yes, I get what she’s talking about, but which part(s) did she "loose," exactly? Did her spleen go somewhere during labor and delivery? Her comment is like body-shaming poetry that I can’t fully decipher. Very different from Brittany’s straightforward status update, which ends with the unfortunate bit about severe hypertension followed by the upbeat “And I could keep going on and on!!! :)” Thankfully, she didn’t.

2. All Kinds of Real Talk

This is quite the list. Ashley ticks every fun fact box in her retrospective about little Lindsey Trinity Sabrina. Plus, everyone should live it up at an amusement park before taking a pregnancy test. That’s what my Mema used to say. I can’t hate on Ashley for relaying that information, but her friends still probably didn’t need to know about the status of her period (before, after, or during her pregnancy). If you are the type of person who actually wants to get updates about a friend’s menstrual cycle, you may want to consider talking that out. Which further begs the question: Why did Ashley even include that part?

3. Totally Not As Serious, Lol

Haha, this good-time gal totally didn’t make the “pregnancy facts” game as serious as everyone else did. She just talked about fun funny fun stuff like shitting her bed…Twice! :), pissing her bed (HAHA that dumb nurse had to clean that pee up and change the sheets!), and gawking in pure amazement that a hole as small as her vagina could stretch to the ends of the earth and back, even with a 3rd degree episiotomy, lol. What a world. What a ride! Even better than the rides you go on at Disneyland before you take a pregnancy test.

4. You May Or May Not Want To Know

My favorite thing about Tracee’s list is the unintentional irony of some of her descriptions. She tells us about literally (for real literally) hurling her guts up while in full blown labor just before describing her ultimate pregnancy diet of slushies, Doritos, and “the little chocolate cupcakes with the swirly icing across the top.” She says she experienced the feeling of being constipated for “about 6 years” just before remarking that it was the "hardest" day of her life. Hers is the breakout comedy birth story no one saw coming — not even her doctor! I can’t wait to watch the movie version.

5. Level 4 WTF

When I first read this, I thought Stacy was just fucking with her friends and wrote some “pregnancy facts” satire. I mean, baby Ted was a triplet who “ate the other 2,” which led to his developing muscular thighs, breaking (and re-breaking) Stacy’s ribs as well as her pelvis,”sprawling” during delivery to escape being born, and ultimately contributing to the “flooding” of the delivery room during a “level 4 C-section”? Isn’t that what happens when you give birth to Peter Parker or something?

Alas, I then received some follow-up comments to reinforce the idea that Stacy is being completely serious:

The doctor was up to her shoulders inside of Stacy’s uterus. And you think YOU had a hard day? No. Tell that to Stacy. Better yet, tell that to Stacy’s doctor. She came thisclose to breaking (the rest of) Stacy’s ribs in order to delivery a human baby that may or may not have actually been a horse. Talk about #scaringtheshit out of Jessica. With stories like this one, it’s going to be a long time before Stacy cooks for Jessica, Jennifer, Robin, or Caroline again. Luckily, she still has Ted, who can apparently eat twice his body weight.

6. Things About My… Baby Daddy’s?

Like any trend with staying power, the “facts about me” game will continue to evolve. How about a “facts about my baby daddy” version? Seems like a great way to vaguely paint a picture of the father of your child. And if you have multiple baby daddy’s daddies, you can contrast and compare them! They say we always fall in love with the same type of person, but that doesn’t mean we always procreate with the same type of person. One baby daddy might have dreads and an attitude problem, while the other has dreads and is a family man! Life is crazy like that.

Tiffany is on the cusp of the next great incarnation of the “things about me” trend, and she’s getting her friends on-board, too:

Okay, how is Jasmine’s baby daddy a father of “6 n a half" kids? And why does she tolerate his horseshit? The man described in this "fun" facts list doesn’t sound like a blessing. He sounds like a douchebag who should stop having both full-sized and half-sized babies with women he’s either cheated with or on. Not to get all Beyoncé about it, but Jasmine, he ain’t worth your time!

7. Mom’s Dad’s Gold Star

Hopefully there will be more lists like Chad’s in the future, because I’ve had about all the pregnancy facts sincerity I can handle. Thanks for keeping it light, Chad. Good luck with your baby bump. I hear it grows steadily when you incorporate more Frito pie and cronuts into your diet, though tacos and cheesecake are a great start.

Don’t forget to read about even more “Pregnancy Facts” in my column over on Mommyish!

(submitted by Anonymous)

Christmas 2013

Yeah, yeah, Christmas is already over, but NOT ON THIS BLOG IT’S NOT. I’ve been going through holiday submissions, and let me just say, the Lord hath given this most festive season. My stocking/inbox overflowed with cheery greetings with subjects like ‘Christmas Eve limerick with vomit pic’ and ‘Merry Christmas?’ (You know that something’s amiss when holiday greetings come with question marks.) For the next several days, I’ll be posting these submissions in all of their Glory. Each post is a belated Christmas gift from me… to you. I hope you will enjoy them with a tall glass of bourbon and possibly an oversized nitrous tank.

In the meantime, I had to keep tradition alive by posting the two “holiday sonogram” submissions I received this year. For those of you who don’t know, expecting parents often use the Christmas holiday as an opportunity to bedazzle their little bundles of cells joy, either by decorating ultrasound pictures for Facebook or by turning their baby’s grainy visage into a memorable ornament. Sometimes people even turn their pee sticks into ornaments. How festive is that?!?! (SUPER FESTIVE.) And who could forget little Squeaker, who made his/her introduction in 2012? When parents turn their “works of art” into actual worksof art, my heart just sings. 

For some reason the first thing I thought when I saw this was, “Well, they DO only have five weeks to go,” as if being under the two-month mark makes sonogram ornaments less creepy or more appropriate. Haha, nope. Not that I think that all sonograms are creepy, especially to expecting parents, but if I was at a friend’s tree-trimming party several years from now and pulled this dusty bad boy (or girl) out of the decorations box, I might let out a small yelp and/or drop my eggnog. Somehow I’m guessing the manufacturers didn’t have this particular photo in mind when they made the frame, but hey, the more the merrier, right? Besides, I couldn’t expect everyone to put a picture of Mariah Carey in that frame just because that’s what I would do. We are each our own special snowflake, and our decorations should reflect as much. 

Stay tuned for several Christmas-themed posts and round-ups, and I hope everyone’s been having a great holiday so far! 

Related: ChristmasBellies and Season’sGreetings

(submitted by Anonymous)

We already know how much some parents hate parking far from a store’s entrance, especially with the kid(s) in tow. But having to park farther than 3 feet from the door AND tolerate inconsiderate asshole drivers who park too close? Fuck. That. Noise.

Parents have STROLLERS. They have CAR SEAT CARRIERS. They have HUMAN CHILDREN, and guess what, Mr. and Mrs. Park-Too-Close-Inconsiderate-Assholes, Meghan doesn’t give a shit if Santa doesn’t bring her any gifts this year. She doesn’t want gifts; she wants revenge. And she’s more than happy to spread her own version of "yuletide cheer" all over your car door handles if that’s what the situation calls for.

Haha haha haha WHUT? We are living in an age where it’s not only funny and so awesome to smear a dirty diaper on a stranger’s car door handles, but it’s also appropriate to brag about it on Facebook and expect a resounding chorus of “lol”s and “love it!”s in the comments. Seriously, guys, I’m not trying to get all doomsday in the final days of the year, but this is not a good sign for the future of the human race. Or the future of the automotive industry, for that matter, since apparently most cars are going to be covered in shit within a matter of years. Just imagine if you’d smeared a baby’s nasty diaper contents onto the door handles of every single car that’s ever parked too closely to yours. I’m talking about a major shit bonanza, and that’s not even including all the years that Hummers and Suburbans were popular (although technically those cars would qualify as my Top 2 shit-victims).

Do we as a people have a shred of common decency left, if not for our fellow parking lot neighbors, then for ourselves? Not to sound elitist, but if I ever wiped my proverbial baby’s shit all over someone else’s car’s door handles, it wouldn’t exactly register as a peak moment in my life. It’s almost as though Meghan translated the expression “Revenge is a dish best served cold,” to mean, “Throw poop at stuff in the wintertime!” Which… no. That’s what chimps do. Chimps and people who define karma as “Exerting maximum spitefulness upon individuals who mildly cramp your style at the mall.” Way to keep civilization moving forward, Meghan.

(submitted by Anonymous)

The lead-up to Christmas is almost as much a cause for celebration as the big day itself. People begin casting “Christmas” and “Santa” as central characters in their Facebook updates as early as mid-November, and by the end of December, you better believe they’re keeping the holidays top-of-mind when they’re posting online (with or without an Elf on the Shelf obsession). Let’s check out some of the ways Christmas made an appearance in this year’s pre-December 25th submissions:

1. Mid-Labor Wish List

One of the best things about the myth of Santa is the way Santa’s got everything covered. Anything you want, Santa’s got. A particular toy, a gold watch, perhaps a mid-labor epidural— they’re all within Santa’s reach. Naturally, it makes sense for Lisa to take a minute out from laboring to make her request formally known on Facebook. Back in the day, a pregnant woman had to hand-write letters to Santa weeks in advance to request an epidural, but in 2013 she can just send a quick status update using her cell phone from a hospital bed. Technology + Santa makes epidural wishes come true. 

2. Holiday Grandmajacking

Okay, here’s the thing: It’s great when grandparents are excited about their grandkids, especially when a new baby is going to be born “any day!” However, I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen this exact type of grandmajacking, and honestly, enough is enough. We get it, Lorie, you’ve been blessed with four grandchildren and can’t help sharing your excitement. But, how about waiting until the little guy has actually arrived to start grandmajacking everyone you know? “A tactful grandmajacker must exercise patience.” That’s an old Chinese proverb.

UPDATE! This submission has since come in:

Give it a rest, grandmas. 

3. Festive Mama Drama

Daaaaamn, Santa better update his naughty or nice list, ’cause Vanessa’s about to score a stocking full of coal. Lauren really should mind her own business, considering Gabby’s biological father is a piece of shit and a sorry excuse for a dad, but Vanessa might want to learn this neat little trick called “deleting a friend’s comment off your page and messaging her privately about why her comment sucked.” Otherwise a Facebook brawl might break out, and no one needs that shit around Christmas. 

4. Prepping For Santa

What’s worst worse, being “passed out” or “past out”? I’m not even sure what being ‘past out’ is, but I’m guessing it’s when you stay up looking through old photos and get unexpectedly sentimental and basically overdose on reminiscing about the past, possibly after drinking too much wine. That to me sounds worse than being customarily ‘passed out’, UNLESS you were supposed to put together a 100-pound Thomas table and train set before passing out and a little boy’s Christmas joy hangs in the balance. If those were the options, I think I’d choose to be past out instead.

5. Sanctimommy Drive-Thru Rant

Red doesn’t yell at all the able-bodied, childless fuckfaces who sit on their lazy asses in their carbon-spewing cars in drive-thru lines because she’s a woman of Christ and she’s gotta show the love of Jesus. BUT, if Red wasn’t the good Christian woman that she is, she would be PLENTY happy to give all the selfish, well-rested, non-handicapped, kid-free douchecanoes a real piece of her mind. As it happens, Jesus wouldn’t have done that, so Red doesn’t do it either.

Alas, the society in which we live is so full of arrogant people willing to sit in drive-thru lines without having any disabilities or small children to tend to — as though that’s even remotely logical or acceptable — that Red’s faith gets tested literally every time she gets a hankering for a quarter-pounder with cheese. Especially on a day like Christmas Eve! Lol! It’s a good thing she avoids fast food restaurants. :) End Rant!

(submitted by Anonymous)

How charming is this satire of "A Visit From St. Nicholas," written by an adorable dad named Noah? His daughter’s festive barf not only inspired rhymes like “PJ’s / holidays” and “Christmas Eve / dry heave,” but it inspired a little barf photography, as well. No poem about vomit is complete without a picture. Sure, part of what makes poetry great is that it’s visually evocative by design, and most of the time no image is necessary. But when a clever guy like Noah takes the time to pair a finely-crafted (and FUNNY) puke poem with an aerial puke picture, it’s like all of a sudden you can’t imagine experiencing one without the other. He knew just what his puke poem needed: a smattering of his kid’s chunky Mac and Cheese barf. ‘Twas the final flourish.

Now, if only parents like Noah and Melinda would stop intentionally misspelling their kids’ first names to be different. “Brooklynn”? Because it’s a combination of the city “Brooklyn” and the name “Lynn”? How does Noah expect his friends to read his metred verses of barf poetry in good humor when he gave his daughter a name like “Brooklynn”? Unless, of course, he and Melinda gave Brooklynn her name as a nod to Mary J. Blige’s alter ego, at which point I apologize and offer my sincere respect.

Related: The Sink vs. The Toilet

(submitted by Anonymous)

Happy New Year, everyone! The rest of this week is dedicated to holiday posts, and then next week we can truly begin ANEW. First up: more Christmas. We’ve seen the pre-Christmas submissions, and now it’s time to talk about some Christmas DAY submissions. All of that other stuff was just leading up to THIS stuff! Or something. Okay, this post is really more of a generic Christmas Round-Up, Part II, but most of these updates were posted on Christmas Day. Let’s take a moment to review another cross-section of merry social media delights and celebrate the (end of the) season:

1. Adoorable Christmas Baby

Jennifer has an all-access backstage VIP pass to her accessively cute baby, and on a holiday like Christmas, who could ask for anything more? It’s like words loose all meaning when a kid is as accessively cute as DJ is. ♥ 

2. Best Christmas Present #1

Vanessa got a positive home pregnancy test for Christmas! And not just one of those pregnancy tests that was purchased off of Craigslist— this is a real one with HER pee on it. Totally worth sharing on Instagram. That’s what Instagram is for. I just wonder if Vanessa took video of the pregnancy test, too? I mean since Instagram has the option to film, why ;wouldn’t she record a short mini-doc of the stick doing its thang with the pee on it? Chemical reactions’n shit. Then everyone could witness the precise moment that Vanessa saw the plus sign. :) Living in the moment means sharing in the moment, all the time, with everyone, forever!! #merryxmaseveryone #xmasmomentsofInstagram

3. Best Christmas Present #2

Every year, some very lucky parents (and their kids) join the Poop In The Potty Christmas Club. This is not unlike saying, “Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings,” except it’s more like, “Every time a bell rings, a kid takes a crap in the toilet for the first time.”

I understand, as always, that a child’s first potty training success is a momentous occasion often preceded by much prayer and hardship. And when a kid just so happens to christen a potty the same day that Christ was born, well, it’s a blessing to say the least. But no one wants to associate “reading through Christmas updates on Facebook” with reading about people shitting. Toddler or not, Christmas poop is a gift I don’t recommend giving online.

4. Organic Christmas Brunch

It makes sense that this post is about a brunch buffet, because to me, it’s the picture of self-serving. Baby Liam is serving himself some homemade breast milk, and Stephanie is serving herself a few scoops of eye-roll-inducing ego. Everyone gets what they wanted for Christmas! All-natural self-righteousness for breakfast does a body good.

5. Girl Talk 

It’s not Christmas without a little labor talk on Facebook, am I right? SO apropos. Some people post about drinking eggnog, others post about losing their mucus plug. Some people talk about unwrapping their presents, others discuss stripping their membranes. It’s all relative, really. But wait — there’s more:

Bethany has something gross to tell Kiley — so gross that it requires AN ALL CAPS WARNING and a private message — and Jenna’s taking home the trophy for Most TMI Comment This Holiday Season. It’s one thing to publicly recommend that a friend get her membranes stripped, but it’s a whoooole other thing to refer to mucus plug regeneration and tack on a sad/pained smiley emoji. Does Jenna not know what comes to most people’s minds when they hear “regenerate”? This, this, and this. No.

6. Mom’s Gold Star: Holiday Edition

Sherri’s update cracks me up because A) It’s true, and B) What could be more annoying than checking lists more than twice? Pretty much nothing. Santa is already diligently making his lists and checking them twice, but now that modern day parents give their kids such yoonique names, Santa is forced to go back and check those lists yet again. He could be doing something way more constructive with his time, like washing his beard or fulfilling the Christmas wishes of cancer patients, but instead he has to make sure he’s correctly organized gifts for Brayden, Braeden, and Brädûn. 

Speaking of gifts…

Jen calls it like she sees it. And what she sees here is a picture of her daughter’s floating head hole-punched and glued on an angel’s body, except the whole body is comprised of baby handprints and footprints. Maybe the daycare teacher was high when she came up with this craft project? Some people get weird around the holidays, especially when it comes to DIY decorations and greetings.

7. Virtual Christmas Card 

Finally, we have Julie’s family’s “twisted” virtual Christmas card. On the pro side, there’s creative execution and well-defined baby abs, but on the con side, I’m not totally sold on the concept. Like the submitter wrote, “If they’d left it at the flying superhero baby, I would have thought it was cute. Why they felt the need to make it look like he was flying out of her vagina is beyond me.” Alas, we all celebrate the holidays in our own special ways. That’s why it’s the most wonderful time of the year. If Julie wants to depict herself as giving birth to a superhero baby that came shooting out of her vagina, so be it. May we all be so fortunate.

(submitted by Anonymous)

For the final installment of this last year’s holiday posts, I’m sticking with the timeless tradition of examining the real meaning of Christmas: presents. Over the years, Christmas has gone from a holiday about togetherness and goodwill to a pricey gift bonanza comprised of miniature ponies and the latest tech accessories. Or worse — a gift bonanza primarily consisting of plastic gifts that were made by tiny children (for tiny children!) and cost under $10 apiece. Some parents (and grandparents) are determined to buy so much cheap shit for their kids/grandkids, they’ve essentially filled their homes with massive piles of garbage toys. Many suburban houses are just privately owned landfills festooned with mountains of disposable, brightly colored junk.

Forget about the fact that kids usually get bored of their toys within 72 hours of playing with them (particularly when they have 300 other toys to play with). The types of parents who freak out about not purchasing a popular item by December 24th or who relish in showering their kids with several sleighs’ worth of gifts are the same types who frequently document their lives on Facebook and Instagram. Every Christmas is another opportunity to prove how “blessed” or devoted to their children they are (i.e. “Did you see how much awesome crap my kids got? Even more than last year!”). The thing I really don’t understand is the 'Wall of Toys'photos some parents post, either to humbly say ‘thank you’ (to gift-giving friends, relatives, and the big man upstairs for making this Christmas a super phat one), OR to say ‘HAHA BITCHES!! You WISH your kids got this much shit for Christmas!’, which, one could argue, is more often than not the case. It’s weird, and sometimes you can’t find their children in the pictures. Baby Raiden may be a toddler now, but that only means his parents probably buy bigger (and more) stuff! That’s just how some people roll.

Let’s check out some examples:

1. Toy Stress

Sorry, Lauren. That feeling you’re experiencing is not death, it’s a suffocating form of consumerism that causes parents to believe their kids won’t love them if they don’t buy them expensive gaming consoles for Christmas. Unfortunately, the only way to shake this feeling is by volunteering at a soup kitchen, homeless shelter, or food bank, preferably with the kid(s) in tow. That sounds VERY un-Christmas-y and extremely boring, but it’s true. Selflessness is the cure for PS4-induced panic attacks, because that is how this cruel and fucked-up world works. It’s practically torture. It’s worse than Craigslist, MAYBE even worse than paying hundreds of dollars for expensive headphones and getting tuna cans instead. But the trade-off is that you’ll probably avoid getting a knife pulled on you when your kid doesn’t get what he wants for Christmas several years down the road, so in that sense it’s kinda worth it.

2. Hilarious Toddler Christmas

You know what they say: Toddlers are nature’s divas! Lolololol J.’s daughter is such an adorable little queen. “Get the hell out of here.” “Aww, it’s almost a baby toy ;(” Lmao, SO funny and cute. When little kids start sassing everyone at such a young age, all you can do is laugh! Haha. Merry Christmas everyone.

3. Toy-Coma Humblebraggery

Pshhhhh, Holly, no one needs any of your preachy bullshit. Holli-with-an-‘i’ is just trying to get her house cleaned top to bottom, and she was merely pointing out the 100 or so presents her kids received in order to substantiate requiring one maid or two child slaves ASAP. Unwrapping 100 or so items results in a LOT of torn paper and ribbon and general messiness, so what Holli really needs right now isn’t advice about being charitable, it’s Christine’s “friend’s” cell phone number! 

When Holli posts a smiley face, she’s basically telling you to fuck yourself. Multiple smiley faces in a row = multiple ‘fuck you’s in a row. Soo, with that in mind, Holly-with-a-‘y’, Y don’t you just go take your pretty red coat and your pretty red boots and your long, stupid hair and your straight, white teeth and donate THOSE things to someone in need, huh? I can think of plenty of people who could use a new set of teeth! Or better yet, an apartment of their own! How about donating your condo, eh, Holly? Or are you just good at pressuring friends to donate their kids’ treasured $.99 toy cars?! Here’s a tip: If you don’t have the number to a reliable, hard-working, and extremely affordable friend maid, don’t bother commenting.

4. Getting a Toy Store For Christmas

Haha, Red, that depends on your definition of “enough”!! Sure, this impenetrable wall of presents appears to be enough, but in this day and age, asking if a Christmas haul is really enough is certainly a worthwhile question. Personally, I think it’s all about context. Compared to other kids today, this butt-load of gifts looks pretty decent, but compared to Christmases throughout time, it’s phenomenal!

Think about it: If a child received a dead frog for Christmas in 1841, a single bicycle wheel in 1905, half a piece of bread in 1934, and a Cabbage Patch doll and Mr. T puzzle in 1984, Red’s kids are doing great. But compared to Valerie’s kids’ haul from last year, Red’s kids almost look impoverished:

Gifts, gifts everywhere! Gift-a-palooza! It’s an explosion of love and money and toys! Did you know that there are live human children sitting in this sea of luxury? They’re nearly unrecognizable and are having the time of their lives! They are blessed beyond belief and can’t wait to go “shopping” in their own living room every other week until they leave for college. Lord, let us rejoice in the splendid joy that is Christmas. Amen.

Related: Hayley’s Xmas Disney Wish List

(submitted by Anonymous)

Continuing with my new tradition of posting about holidays anywhere from 1-4 weeks after they occur, let’s finally talk about the New Year in what will surely go down as one of the longest, most delayed, and most pointless posts of all time!

Celebrating on New Year’s Eve and posting on social media go together like Vagena Tamphen Pohtaytar and Vadgesty Foxi Maiden. You almost can’t have one without the other. But as we’ve seen on the blog over the years, New Year’s Eve is one of those holidays that’s often met with wide-ranging emotions depending on whether a person has small children or not. When a person has no babies or toddlers, updates generally read as “people celebrating the New Year.” But if a person does have a baby or toddler (or both), status updates can fall into a completely different set of brackets. Let’s check out what parents were posting about on New Year’s Eve 2013:

1. Fucking. Fireworks.

The number of parents who post on the internet and “address” their neighbors who are shooting off fireworks increases every year. I’m not discounting that some of these neighbors might actually be Facebook friends, but even then, only one party appears to be online while the other is apparently busy shooting off fireworks. So really, what’s the point of posting about it? 

I’m not saying Facebook isn’t the place to commiserate, but on New Year’s Eve, I’m not too quick to dole out sympathy. Yes, some people are total imbeciles and shouldn’t be able to get their hands on explosives — we know this— but if you woke up on December 31st assuming that you and your baby would peacefully hit the hay around 9:15pm, you should probably recalibrate your expectations.

Part of the reason fireworks enrage some parents is because they want to be able to go outside and yell, “GET OFF MY LAWN!”, except the nimrods who are setting off the fireworks are technically on their own property. You’d think that, much like local sex offenders, these jerks would be legally forced to register themselves as “Fireworks Steve” or “Nimrod Bob With The Pyrotechnics” so that neighbors would know precisely who to blame on New Year’s Eve, but nope. Somehow they’re not. It’s almost like these explosives-loving monsters are trying to taunt parents and their children for no reason other than to celebrate a worldwide holiday. 

Chin up, Mary. Lots of people have spent at least one New Year’s Eve puking, screaming, and gassy. Your family’s not alone!

Ah yes, the “check out my latest problem, this annoying thing is totally annoying me, and oh yeah HAPPY FREAKIN’ NEW YEAR!” status update. Usually this type of Facebook complaint is reserved for after midnight, but Kim opted to kick things off early this NYE. Why squander those final hours of the year when there’s still whining to be had?!

I don’t typically shoot off fireworks on New Year’s Eve myself, but I do feel that someone should speak for the “stupid ass’s” in this scenario. Rebecca, here is a lesson on how to pluralize words correctly. YOUR WELCOME. #burn

It is now late January 2014. Who’s going to make me a t-shirt that says "I have a sleep baby people!" in big block letters??!? Someone, I hope. If that someone is you, please email me for my physical address so I can start wearing the shirt around Brooklyn ASAP. Preesh.

I don’t know what you were thinking either, Amy, because it sounds like a large stick (possibly a Roman Candle) has been lodged up your ass for the past decade. Yeah yeah, New Year’s Day with a baby isn’t always fun, but hey, you wouldn’t have that baby without indulging in a few cheap thrills of your own, right? Sure, Roman Candles are annoying sometimes, but bullhorns are annoying all the time. If you can’t resolve to be nicer this year, you can at least resolve not to be unbearable.

2. New Year-jacking

"Hey, you overzealous travel braggart, guess what you know nothing about? ADVENTURES. Guess what parents know everything about? EVERYTHING. Congratulations, Geoff, you piddled around Europe. How awesome-sauce. But what did you really learn from your travels? That you’re “globally selfish”? That you “appreciate other cultures”? LOL. Have some babies and then we’ll talk about culture! Enjoy your “adventures” until you finally figure it all out stateside.”

I “wonder” if Sarah has ever read a friend’s parenting update on social media and not hijacked it with a comment about her own kid’s behaviors and achievements? Why allow a fellow mother go on feeling optimistic about her baby sleeping through the night when she could preemptively anticipate future growth spurts and agonize over future sleepless nights? Everyone knows the possibility of having mom friends who don’t consistently burst their friends’ bubbles is just a myth!

Oh, Helena. You’ve got the mind of a nagging grandmother in the body of a young Gen Xer. You must be “The Mom” in your group of friends — the one who always carries extra hand sanitizer in her purse and can’t stop talking about her friends’ viable eggs. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that they enjoy the subtle tips.

3. Poop and Puke Celebrations

Carey’s grammar aside, I can understand the impulse to start the new year by pooping in an actual toilet, so kudos to little Landon. HOWEVER, as much as Landon and his parents are thrilled that he deposited his turds in a big boy potty, Regan’s friends probably weren’t scrolling through their newsfeeds on NYE hoping to catch any breaking news about his pooping habits. 

Celebrating poop in the potty? Okay. But on New Year’s Eve, most people are celebrating the marking of a new year, sometimes by consuming too much alcohol. And in that sense, we’re ALL celebrating keeping our underwear dry on NYE, you know? Not saying it isn’t an impressive feat for a toddler, just that if she crapped her pants on New Year’s, I wouldn’t really hold it against her. Either way, thanks for the informative rundown, Amanda.

Haha, that Ryker. He’s SUCH a Ryker, literally raining down on 2014 before 2014 even had a chance to start. You know what they say: How you spend New Year’s Eve will dictate how the rest of the year will play out. By that logic, baby Ryker will continue peeing all over his parents, and they will continue posting about it on Facebook. Seems about right.

Cool, Michelle, thanks for posting a screenshot of your “puke texture” exchange on Facebook so everyone could accurately picture the consistency. Whenever a friend tells me she got sick on New Year’s Eve, I’m always yearning for more specifics. Was the barf watery or chunky? Did it happen in a toilet, a sink, or in the back of a cab? Details, please!!!

tl;dr: Joy finds actualjoy in mopping up her kid’s vomit; her friend Judy tells a quaint tale about the time her son threw up “directly” in her face, so like…; then Joy confirms that puke often comes out of suspicious-looking, wide open children’s mouths. The End.

4. How Sanctimommies Celebrate NYE

If Heather planned to put her phone on airplane mode, why did she write that initial status update? To express the extent of her New Year’s cheer? To say to the world, “New Year, Old Me!”? Or simply to scare her friends into saying “Happy New Year in advance!”? Maybe it’s a little of all of the above. But hey, at least she’s still got a sense of humor about these things. :) 

Ugh, is anything worse than a childless bimbo who doesn’t want to hang out with babies and toddlers on New Year’s Eve? Talk about small-minded. If there’s one “type” of person on this planet that’s living an empty and meaningless life, it’s The Childless Woman. Those single bar-hoppers spend all of their time partying and clubbing in their stupid fucking size S sequin halter tops with their freshly-manicured nails, and worst of all, they don’t even know what unconditional love means. Pathetic.

Luckily, awesome moms can count on their totally awesome friends for support after eavesdropping on encountering a pair of dumb bitches:

It’s a good thing these moms know what life is all about and don’t have to stoop to the level of two bitchy bimbos without kids. Maybe one day those girls will finally “get it”!

5. Fetus Parties

Last but never least, a couple of fetuses spoke from the womb and embraced 2014 via festive Facebook messages. Just look at li’l Mizeph Xander waving to us from inside his mom! That wacky lump of cells sure knows how to party. But can he compete with other fetuses that are dancing the night away? Mizeph doesn’t even have a party hat, much less a bunch of bling:

Sarah’s little party animal wears every single chain even when he’s in the house, and he stays up past his bedtime to celebrate the New Year. Out of everyone featured in this insanely long and boring post, I think I’d want to hang out with this fetus the most.

Happy Late January New Year, everyone! To read my Top 6 Overshare Tips For Parents in 2014, click over to my Mommyish column right here!

Related: New Year’s Eve Round-Up 2013

(submitted by Anonymous)

Last week on Mommyish, I referenced a PostSecret entry that said: "I always park in spots reserved for expectant moms but I’ve never been pregnant… I just stick out my stomach & waddle into the store." This shameful, naughty disclosure got me thinking about the many mythologies that surround parent parking, despite it being a pretty new phenomenon. For one thing, parents who get enraged by the Others who take up “their” parking spaces act like these spaces have always existed — like they’ve been sanctioned off in every parking lot throughout history. Either that, or hostile parents are like, “Hey, my ancestors didn’t fight for my right to occupy this parking space just so some asshole who’s shopping alone could come through and take it!” Parking equality be damned; it’s 2014, and it’s time we showed all the parents and expectant mothers out there the parking lot respect they so richly deserve.

Granted, I’m not one of those people who thinks that parent parking (which boasts a variety of official titles including ‘Parent and Child,’ ‘Expectant Mother,’ ‘Family Parking,’ and ‘Entitled Minivans’) is that big of a deal. I don’t care either way. If I saw a space, I wouldn’t race to it, nor would I outright dismiss it. I suppose that’s because even though parents may be the Chosen People for whom the spaces are intended, the only designated parking spaces that are legally recognized are the disabled spaces. (And sanctimommies would really appreciate a vote on that parking lot ratio.) Sure, it’s nice when drivers leave the parent spaces available, but is it a crime not to? No. In fact, some people even park in them on principle, simply because they can.

It is this unmerciful loophole that absolutely infuriates parent parking crusaders and causes them to lash out both in real life and online with nary a shred of dignity to be found. Let’s check out several new examples:

1. Stoopid Bitches

Daaaaamn, Trish, way to reduce Steve to an overly aggressive-yet-exceedingly sensitive wad of twisted up underwear. He may be chock full of character flaws, but there’s no real reason for him to “need” to park in those suggested spaces, as Steven (a person with a similar name but an actual disability) so helpfully pointed out. 

And yet, Steve still felt every bit as entitled to scold, shame, and “cuss out” a random stranger whom he’d apparently expected to do him a favor. This is the failed logic that angry parent parking crusaders use to justify screaming at people in parking lots in front of their kids. “You didn’t do me a favor by parking elsewhere, so now you must SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES, you ignorant bitch! FEEL THE WRATH OF MY WORDS AND THE HEATED GLANCES OF MY INNOCENT CHILDREN, you stupid childless idiot!”

2. Disabled Spaces > Parent and Child Spaces :(

Jen’s problem isn’t that Sainsbury’s doesn’t have enough parent and child parking spaces. It’s that she considers herself disabled just because she has a baby. Despite being an able-bodied mother, she genuinely doesn’t believe she should be fined for illegally parking in a disabled space, and now she’s taken to social media to get some answers!

But the truth is, the number of parent parking spaces is irrelevant. Big box retailers and grocery stores could dedicate 75% of their parking lots to those spaces, and they would still be occupied in the same way they are now — on a first come, first serve basis. Does Jen really think she was the only parent shopping at Sainbury’s that day who didn’t get a parent and child parking space? And why does her comment have 20 Likes compared to Sainsbury’s 10? This is horseshit.

3. Parking Police Mamas

Here are the rules for talking about selfish people who park in parent parking spaces:

1. Make sure to call out any big-haired, over-accessorized women on their appearance, because parking rudely opens a person up to full-body criticism. If a woman looks old, use that.

2. Carefully note that old, big-haired bitches do not walk across parking lots. They strut.

3. Do not, under any circumstances, witness a person committing parking fraud and stay silent. You must tell your story, either to a store manager (since you can describe firsthand the person’s hair and accessories that were stolen from 1991), or to friends and family on Facebook. In order to make a real difference, we must rise up and use our voices and our Facebook apps. Be the change you hope to see in that hellscape battlefield commonly known as the Lawrence Park parking lot. Be the sanctimommy version of Towanda that everyone knows and hates loves. Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Oh, and speaking of Panera, check out the random email I got this morning:

Good Morning,

My friend was traveling for work and had not gotten a chance to eat all day. When she finally ordered food and sat down at a Panera Bread, the plaque in the attached picture was in her booth.

Nothing like eating lunch and thinking about the woman whose water broke probably right where you are sitting!

I thought about blocking Gabrielle’s last name, but I mean…this is a plaque in a booth in a New Jersey Panera. It’s meant to be seen and appreciated. It also picks up where the story about the big-haired, over-accessorized woman drops off. Just imagine how nice it would’ve been for Gabrielle’s mom to park in a designated parent parking space on August 12, 2002, Before Parent Parking (B.P.P.). The woman’s water broke in this very booth. Let this be a lesson to us all when we eat at Panera Bread franchises. You just never know.

4. Arrogant Aresholes

At some point, every parent experiences that fateful rite of passage in which a baby’s dirty diaper goes from 'smelly garbage' to ‘handy vehicular weapon.’ Poop is all the rage in parent parking theatrics, so drivers, beware. The next time you innocently, or even perhaps greedily, saddle up to a pram parking space sans baby or stroller, you can expect to have human shit flung in your direction and/or smeared across your car. Aunt Sammy and her mommy crew will not be bullied or oppressed by arrogant arseholes any longer. You want to take up a space that belongs to mommies and strut across the parking lot? Fine. Just don’t be surprised when someone brings a soggy bag of baby shit to the shit show.

5. Generation Smackdown

Finallyyy, Sue and Jacqui, who are like a sanctimommy crime-fighting duo, say what fleets of drivers are really thinking. Parent parking, while helpful and courteous, is not all that important. In fact, it’s beyond unimportant — it’s precious and, dare I say, slightly offensive to prior generations of parents who didn’t always have the luxury of walking 3 feet to the entrance of a store after bravely excavating their children from the depths of their houses on wheels SUVs and minivans and prying stacks of electronics from their children’s cold, sticky hands. And it’s not just Sue, who’s reppin’ the older generation of moms, who feels this way. Jacqui, too, has gone on the record as a traitor to her generation, dispelling the myth once and for all that young parents should be treated as though they’re handicapped.

Personally, I’d much rather hang out with Sue and Jacqui in the back of a parking lot with a pair of megaphones, mocking the parents who scream at strangers for “parking wrong,” than police people and act like a jerk over something so trivial. Remember the time I posted about the drama surrounding cart depot etiquette? Life is too short, you guys. How about we just agree not to run each other over? (Or do stuff like this.)

For even more parent parking histrionics and rage-filled sanctimony, head over to Mommyish to read my column!

Related: Shopping Exceptions and Angry Parents

UNrelated, in honor of the XXII Olympic Winter Games: Olympics Marathon Round-Up, Part I and Part II, + Parents Go For The Gold

(submitted by Anonymous)

Valentine’s Day 2014 

Ladies and gents, it’s that special time of year again. Love is in the air, and I’ve never caught a whiff of something so sweet. So…oddly fragrant. Er, wait a second — is that…bacon?

OHHHH RIIIGHHHHTTTT IT’S THE UMBILICAL CORD, OF COURSE IT IS. Casey wins the award for best suggested use of a flattened, glistening, and what appears to be lightly torched heart-shaped umbilical cord with her idea for the best “surprise bookmark” EVAR. Who wouldn’t want that candy-coated blood-soaked, jerky-smooth piece of birth memorabilia to come sliding out from between the pages of what’s sure to be a frighteningly comprehensive baby book? Just imagine yourself surrounded by placenta prints in Rachel’s living room, haphazardly flipping through her baby tome, and then discovering this meaty curio after it swiftly falls into your lap.

What’s super fun about ‘birth heart art’ (a burgeoning underground mom-art scene) is that it has so many artistic interpretations. To help celebrate Valentine’s Day, I’ve put together a display of these fine works. A small gallery show, if you will. Unfortunately, none of these pieces are currently for sale. They’re just for admiring.

Heart Cords

Ahh, curly cord keepsake, you temptress! New mothers are increasingly embracing that instinctual, maternal urge to twist their baby’s umbilical cord into a heart shape, and really, who can blame them? These one-of-a-kind keepsakes make excellent keychains, Christmas ornaments, and — in my novice opinion — bases for DIY dreamcatchers (just add string + feathers!!). Bonus: They fall on the “Beginner” scale on the Pinterest Moms Difficulty Spectrum. They’re like lanyards for the parent set!

Placenta Heart Cord

Mmmm, break me off a piece of that. I’m absolutely shocked that this example of primitive art (arranged in the Classic style) has only received 1 Like. The only explanation that makes sense is that everyone else is just J-E-A-L-O-U-S. Haters to the left! Meat lovers and temporary organ enthusiasts to the kitchen.

Heart-Shaped Placenta

I don’t know who’s responsible for this birth masterpiece (birthsterpiece?) — God? Cupid? Some sort of cosmic force? — but a heart-shaped placenta is a bloody beautiful thing. (Remember this hunk of burning love from last year?) Also, doesn’t it kind of look like someone took a meat-tenderizer to this bad boy? All it needs now is a thin egg coating, a quick dip in some breadcrumbs, and a flash fry! 

You said it, Grace. Way 2 awesome not 2 share.

Placenta Heart Cord In a Colander 

And now for the pièce de résistance of today’s birth heart art exhibit. It’s a mixed media presentation that expresses the literal rawness of fresh human expulsion in an industrial setting as contrasted by the reciprocal beauty of Mother Nature. And as is everything in nature, this placenta will be harvested, recycled, and consumed, much like eating your own composted waste. The carbon footprint will be deliciously insignificant. Simone and her doula are in for one heck of a night.

I’m with you, Patricia. And I do love you for saying that. Danielle and Paige: Your enthusiasm is an echo chamber nightmare, but technically you two match the niche demographic that might actually attend and enjoy a real life birth heart art show. So… I guess this Valentine’s Day post is for you? Happy Day, ladies. Heck yes.

(submitted by Anonymous)