It starts. Mother’s Day is around the corner and suddenly everyone feels the need to quantify what a mom is worth and to worship at her altar. I used to think that Mother’s Day is bunk and that we should be worshiped on a daily basis, but let’s be honest here. At least we get one day a year. So we are tortured because invariably the kids will get sick or be cranky or fight and no one will properly perform and no one will get the memo that if Mother’s Day is about mothers, then why the hell are we spending it with our children, like we do the other 364 days of the year.

And then there are my child-free friends. I don’t even like to bring Mother’s Day up because I know how annoying it can be for the people without kids. Either by choice or by circumstance, it’s still annoying. I remember when I was single and people would wish me “Happy Mother’s Day.” Personally, I thought it was odd. It didn’t really offend me. I thought it was just weird.

What do you think?

So, in honor of all my girls who will be tortured by Mother’s Day, I planned to give you the latest in hilarious tees from Baby Brewing…

Auntie Needs a Cocktail

I have them. I just can’t get them up on Baby Brewing due to technical problems whereby I am tortured. So if you want one and you just can’t wait, go over and order a MNAC shirt in the size you want (they are the same font in the same size) and put it in the comments that you want an AUNTIE shirt instead. Available in black or brown, s,m,l,xl,2xl and in women’s sizes in black (16-18, 20-22, 24-26, 28-30) and also in black and brown tanks in s,m,l,xl, 2xl. We are calling it the ghetto rollout. But you girls deserve a little something for the crappy weekend too. WOOHOO!!

I need you to just not ask my why I am doing buttons related to brides.  All I can say is that Kimberle and The Babysitter will be happy.  My husband?  Not so much.  And while I was making this one, The Boy stole my glue stick and dug all the glue out.  But isn’t it the cutest thing ever? 

While I made this one, The Baby decided to wash his hands in the toilet.  There was extensive discussion regarding what was actually in the bowl when he started his little bathing, but his brother swears he FLUSHED the poop before his brother went on in.  Then these came in the mail.  Can you even imagine placing your martini glass on this cute little napkin?  When I went outside to pick up these boxes, The Baby decided to walk down the stairs.  Except he can’t walk.  And certainly not down stairs.  When he hit the landing, he was pissed.  Thank God for carpet.  The Boy?  Downloading Go, Diego, Go videos from YouTube on my phone and sending them to all the people on my contact list.  That and he rearranged all the icons on the front page.  I would change them back but I have no idea how to do it.  He tried to explain it to me but it was too complicated. 

When these arrived, Michael from my new wireless merchant service place was trying to give me excellent customer service by visiting at my place of employment.  Which is my living room.  It used to just be the basement, but I am now trickling up the stairs.  As Michael discussed discount rates and fees, The Baby began to unload Michael’s briefcase.  He called him “Dad” and stole his pen.  The Boy began jumping from the crates of shirts onto the top of the back of my chair.  every once in a while he missed.  And landed on my head.  The Boy then began to push The Baby around in the Little Tikes car at about 40 miles per hour.  It was only a matter of time before the big wipeout occurred and everyone was crying.  Michael?  Still trying to explain the process.  Me?  Offering Michael hard alcohol.  He graciously refused.    I decided not to hold it against him.

And aren’t these the cutest little hostess gift?  I’m hoping I can keep them away from The Boy.  And his father.  Those boys are FA-reaks when it comes to post it notes.

This guy is annoyed because the XL Pink Mommy Needs a Cocktail shirt seems too small.  I am in the middle of my elaborate explanation of how I have designed a new tee because I want to have shirts for EVERYONE.  This guy is listening intently.  He’s holding up an XL.  He’s putting it down.  He’s holding it back up.  He puts it down. 

“I’ll take it.”

K:  Look, we have a very liberal return policy.  If it doesn’t fit her, just email me.

“Oh, it’s not for a “she.”

Well…..alrightly then.

Props to my friend Wendy who helped me sell everything not tied down today.  We’ll be living through day 2 tomorrow (me and The Cake Lady) at the DC International Wine and Food Festival.   Trish found us today. 

Tonight The Cake Lady and I were sitting on the couch, talking about, well, I can’t say it on the internet because I really don’t need those kinds of hits.  She paused for a moment.

CL:  Isn’t it SO nice that your husband is upstairs watching our boys?

What I love most about The Cake Lady?  Other than the fact that she was helping me put ribbon on the 9 million shirts I am taking to the DC International Wine and Food Festival this weekend?  Her naivete. 

K:  He’s not watching those kids.
CL:  But he is up there in that room with them.
K:  And the room is only 10 X 10.  Yet still, shockingly, he has no clue what is going on.
CL:  You are joking.  What is he doing up there?
K:  He has his earplugs in and he is listening to some ridiculousness that he purchased online.  Like Animal Farm. 

As a side note, I asked if he remembered that Animal Farm is like an 80 page book so that it was basically like buying an episode of Dora the Whora, but he said he didn’t realize that until AFTER he listened to all 27 minutes of it.

CL:  He’s listening to a book?
K:  And has NO idea what is going on.
CL:  In that small room?
K:  With the door closed.

Not three minutes later, we heard The Husband bounding down the stairs.

D:  Did you people leave in a nudist colony in California?
CL:  Oh, no.  Is he naked again?
D:  They both don’t have any pants on.  They were sitting on the end of the bed so all I could see was from the waist up.  Apparently they took their pants off.
K:  What did I tell you? 

The best part. They probably took their pants off 45 minutes before. For what reason? No one knows. Who wants to even go there?

(oh, and if you are still waiting for all your free stuff I’m supposed to send you from past contests (HI, MELISSA!!), I’m going to send out all that stuff on Friday. You kids are so nice for being so patient!)

I remember getting into the limo with The Husband after our wedding (okay, lifting The Husband’s legs into the limo) and thinking, “This was the BEST wedding I have EVER BEEN TO.”

Saturday night’s Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party?  It was so awesome, it just wasn’t right.  It was almost as fun as my wedding.

I showed up late because I was trying to find my car keys to give to The Husband.  I drove up the hill to the most gorgeous house with the most gorgeous view.  (I also saw a deer try to jump a fence and not clear the barbed wire, only to bounce back on the road.  That was odd).  We aren’t in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.  We are in Petroville.

I stepped into a Mommy Needs a Cocktail heaven.  MNAC was everywhere.  Kimberly is a mommy who needs a cocktail. And who knows how to create a pink Wonderland.
MNAC was on a cake, for heaven’s sake (which should now be mandatory for all MNAC parties–it was so cool).  I threw my crap on the table (sorry, Pache) and then Melissa, of Capitol Chocolate Fountain/Post Office fame arrived.  Tell me how often you send out a cheeky twitter and a month later 2 chocolate fountains are on the counter at your very first Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party.  Melissa kept telling people that she was sure I thought she was a stalker.  Let me just say that if you have a stalker, having a stalker who owns 38 chocolate fountains and makes homemade pink marshmallows to dip in the chocolate at your MNACP is the only kind of stalker to have.  We embraced as if we had known each other forever and then she proceeded to set up what became the focal point of the party.  The chocolate was so good I almost stuck my head in it.  She sells it online.  Go and buy some. 

Seriously.

Then the house was packed.  There were women everywhere.  DC Metro Moms?  Jazzercisers?  You name it.  People had brought tons of food and wine and there were cocktails everywhere.  Someone cracked open the Arbor Mist and it got a little crazy.  I’m just saying.  Lots of people brought stuff to give away and we had a raffle too.  I talked to so many fun women.  I ate too many items dipped in chocolate.  It was only when I looked at the clock on the microwave and read “11:38″ that my heart about stopped.  Kimberly was trudging past me and I grabbed her arm.

K:  How did you think this would go?
Kimberly:  To be honest?  I thought people would get bored at around 9:30. 
K: ME TOO!!!

Uh, no.  Because this party was a Mommy’s Night Out first and foremost, with kick ass stuff to buy.  It helped that Kimberly is the most amazing hostess ever.  And we had two chocolate fountains, for heaven’s sake. We raised $100 from sales to go to Vicky’s Avon Walk for Breast Cancer.  I sold “Underpaid Kept Woman” shirts, a creation of the original Underpaid Kept Woman herself, Susie Sunshine.  I sold “Mommy Needs a Latte” shirts and “Mommy Needs Chocolate” shirts and “Mommy Needs a Margarita” shirts.  I sold “Mommy Needs a Cocktail” Martini Toast tanks in cocktail shakers, just like the ones the celebrities got back at the Boom Boom Baby Room.   Hostess gift structuring went out the window because this party so exceeded anything I had ever imagined.  Kimberly ended up with practically one of every style (plus the Mommy Needs a Vacation tote for the hostess-only).  It was off the hook.  It was so much fun.

But the best part about it?  Everyone had carpooled.  Everyone was responsible.  I think everyone had a good time.  We talked about dreams and goals and travel and jobs.  We didn’t talk about kids and husbands.  It was refreshing.  Reinvigorating. 

It was just a really good time.  Wanna see how good? 

You should totally have a Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party.  Think about it.

The Virginia Wine Expo in Richmond was so incredibly off the hook, I can’t tell you. Sure I didn’t bring enough kids clothes (who knew) and Pache wanted to poke my eyes out every single time I sold something from the display (”If you keep selling the funny stuff from the DISPLAY, you won’t have any funny shirts LEFT!”) Which was utterly and completely true. But how can you deny a 7 month pregnant woman stuck with 5 drunks a little humor in the form of a designated driver shirt? Come on now. Girlfriend needs a little humor other than being stuck with the chick who yelled, “YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD BE AN AWESOME SHIRT? I’M HAVING TIGER WOODS BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Unless, of course, you are his wife. Oh, come on. It’s not even funny. But she said it right before she fell into the divider and almost took down a row of booths. That? Yeah, THAT was funny.

And the guy who came over and said, “Mommy needs a glass of wine? I don’t get it.”
You know, “Mommy Needs a Glass of Wine.”
“Nope. Don’t get it.”

Apparently he lives under a rock. And has no sisters with kids. Or female friends with kids. Or female coworkers with kids. Or neighbors with kids. Or has ever been to a Costco during suggestive-selling/taste-testing Saturday morning. Or has ever been to a mall. Or a post office. Or a grocery store. Dude has GOT to live in Clarendon.

Then there was the guy who said a) I had too many baby shirts and b) I needed a picture of a wine bottle opener and the words “I pull out.”  I tried to explain to him that since I sold maternity shirts, clearly the “pulling out” wasn’t effective.

My favorite has to be the girls who gushed on and on about the baby shirts to their boyfriends. It didn’t go over well. Actual conversation:

“Why are you talking about funny baby clothes? You don’t have a baby. We don’t have a baby. We aren’t married. We have only been dating for a month. Keep moving.”

About 10 times with only minor changes in wording.

I could NOT have done this without Pache on Saturday. We couldn’t sell the shirts fast enough. And then Rebecca was so cool that she offered to help me out on Sunday. It wasn’t as busy and it is a bit of a bummer being unable to drink at a wine fest because you are working, but it was still cool. Rebecca and I talked for hours and laughed so hard our sides hurt.  We ate a cheddar cheese ball.  It’s alway nice to hook up with fellow smart asses.

Next stop?  Think Pink.  Local and wanna come to Girls Night Out?  Email me and I’ll forward on the evite.

In two weeks, the Washington D.C. International Wine and Food Festival.  Come on by.  Or if you are local and want to help out at the booth, let me know.  I can always use an extra set of hands….