As seen at TargetMommy Needs A Cocktail at Baby Brewing buttonBuy the original here

Mommy Needs to Tweet

It's real time updates about who's trying to burn down my house now. Find and follow Mommy4Cocktails.

As seen on Good Morning America

Baby Brewing Button

Where is Mommy Needs a Cocktail




Contact Me


    trena b designs button

    If you drive a pink cadillac, feel free to ignore this post

    April 26, 2008

    I know I am supposed to write about that place I went the other day but I didn’t anticipate how feisty people would be about me twittering it.  Not in a conspiracy theory kinda way but more in a “everyone knows you aren’t supposed to take pictures in the Sistine Chapel” kinda way.  So out of respect for my peeps, I shall remain silent about my Vegetable Fajitas and my Freedom Chocolate Dessert.  If it makes you feel better, the halls are mostly single file room only and the government is not spending any extra money on carpeting.  Even remotely.  I will no longer complain about the carpeting in my living room because it is in much better shape than your average executive office.

    Instead I will regale you with one of my latest adventures.  I was at Panera the other day because, well, my kids freak out if I try to sneak down to the basement when Maribel comes over. And I had to start the taxes. I mean, it was the 10th. It was about time to flip out about not being able to find closing documents.

    I’m perched on the chair in front of the fireplace because when I went in at 8:20, it was 45 degrees out. Some nice guy asks to sit in the armchair beside me and we enjoy our comfortable coexistence until THEY arrived.

    It appears that the Panera nearest to my house is the Mary Kay Ra-Ra-You-Can-Do-It-If-You-Can’t-Do-It-Nobody-Can weekly pep talks/indoctrination meetings. It took me 20 minutes to figure it out. I’m hunting through 365 days of two email accounts trying to figure out what exactly I bought this year that is write-offable and I overhear this craziness coming from the 12 year old Mary Kay girl.

    MKGoddess:  OK, Kelly. Why don’t we do some role playing?

    Seriously?  Seriously.

    Kelly:  Oh-kay.

    MKGoddess:   You are standing in line at the bank.  There is a woman in front of you.  You get her attention by saying, “I really like your blouse.”

    Seriously?  Now I’m crying into my coffee and the guy beside me has a look on his face that suggests he would rather be getting a root canal that sitting in between me and the Mary Kay Goddess.

    MKGoddess:  After give her a compliment her on her blouse, you tell her that you want to invite her to a Mary Kay party.

    People, I am not lying.  We used to have this saying back when I worked in the government. “You cannot make this stuff up.”  Except we swore, of course.  Because that’s what working for the government makes you want to do.  But back to the show.

    MKGoddess:  And don’t give up if she doesn’t act interested.  She wants to come.  She just might not know it yet.

    1 hour of this.  I had to listen to one hour of convincing strangers, family and friends that they DO want to come to Mary Kay parties.  Don’t get me wrong.  This girl LOVES the Mary Kay lip gloss she had 10 years ago but browbeating strangers in line at the bank?  I want you to know.  The only conversation I want to have in line at the bank is the “my, what well-behaved children you have” conversation (which is yet to happen) and the “I just love your Mommy Needs a Cocktail shirt.  I must have 20.  Where can I buy them?” (which is yet to happen as well).  Otherwise?  I don’t want to talk.  I want to watch the financial news ticker on the flat screen t.v. with everyone else while I balance one fat toddler on my hip and keep a pressure-point hold on a preschooler so he isn’t off applying for a car loan if I turn my back.  And I haven’t worn a “blouse” in at least 15 years.

    I couldn’t move from my spot since my ass was glued to the comfy chair.  In front of the fire.  Even though it was now 78 outside.  So I just listened and judged her in my head.  I mean, who pushes parties?

    Kelly finally passed her “how to encourage strangers to take other strangers into their house all in the name of eyeliner” test right about the time my boyfriend in the comfy chair beside me and I had to leave.  The man turned to the Mary Kay Goddess to ask her how long she had been doing this gig.  Did her mom know she was skipping school to be working the crowd at Panera?  (he didn’t say that but we were all thinking it!)  He joked about her one day getting the car.

    MKGoddess:  I already have it.

    With that, she turned to the window and pointed out at the palest pink Cadillac you have ever seen.  She re-glossed and headed out the door. You can only wonder how MANY people she has turned in the bank line, right?

    Share on Facebook add to sk*rt

    Mommy Needs a Glass of Wine and a Valium Party

    March 31, 2008

    Friday night Kimberly picked me up for the Wild Wine Party that was at Sarah’s house. It took The Boy of all two seconds to smell a rat.

    TB: Where are you going, Mom?
    K: I’m going to a meeting, buddy. I’ll see you later.
    Kimberly: DAMN. That’s a good one. I just told my kids I was going to a Mommy Party.
    TB: Mom, are you going to a Mommy Party.
    K: Technically, yes. But really it’s a meeting (glaring at Kimberly).
    TB: I wanna go with you to the Mommy Party. But it’s just for moms?

    Because everything in my house is a discussion. Fastforward to 2 minutes later in the car when I started to bring up the directions to Sarah’s house on my I-Phone. Crap. I remembered a conversation I had with Sarah about the location of her house. Four doors down from my ex-boyfriend. The jilted one. The mean, jilted one. The creepy, mean, jilted one.

    Kimberly: We’re driving by.

    That’s why I love this woman.

    Moments later we are driving down the street. Except I can’t remember the address. And frankly, all the houses were looking the same. On the second driveby, I’m positive that wherever he is in that house, he knows I’m driving by. Even though we haven’t spoken in 5 years.

    So we head to Sarah’s house, right around the corner, and we consume lovely wine courtesy of Rony. Kimberly took a picture of all three of my chins and now we aren’t on speaking terms. The entire world would have photoshopped at least one, if not two chins out, but no. If it makes you feel any better, I have gone 2 days without beer and I’m down to two chins.

    Then I’m talking to Susan and she points out her sunburn to me. I ask her where she went to get it, bitch, and she says “radiation.” And laughs her ass off. Who’s the bitch now, bitch? She then suggests that we ALL go over to the ex’s house and heckle him from the front yard. Sarah mentions that she knows who he is and she has seen my dog that I never actually had in my possession. I ask how he looked. It was weird.

    We then decide, because it is at the END of the wine tasting and now we have tried 7 or 11 wines, that we should do a drive by. We rule out the Petroville Land Cruiser with the blacked out windows because, well, that’s how you get your ass shot in suburbia. Jessica decides that a nice minivan is the way to go. Luckily we have more minivans to choose from than a Chevy lot on Labor Day weekend. We get into the minivan and I tell Leticia that she needs to cover Susan’s body with her own because if Susan has survived cancer and a double mastectomy only to be shot by my ex, well then won’t we all feel bad? Jess mentions that she practically killed Susan on the way over with her driving so we pause to think about how horrible it would be if ANY of us got Susan killed.

    Susan? Laughing her ass off.

    This happens to be the first time that Stimey has gotten the memo about possible firearms. She lives in Montgomery County (a.k.a. MO CO), also known as the People’s Republic of Montgomery County. She’s trying to graciously figure out a way to head back into the house but now the undercover posse is ready to roll.

    Except if you drive down the street in a minivan with the door open, all the lights stay on and you get the hum of the “ding, ding, ding.” Stealth, we spit on you.

    I jumped out of the van at the appointed house and ran up to the lamp post I had put in and suddenly the motion detector light that I had installed lit up. Had I known that I was going to be committing a possible misdemeanor at this VERY MOMENT 10 years past installation, I may not have done such a good job.

    The girls are heckling me from the car and I start to get a little closer. I whispered, hoping the dog would hear me…”Beau, it’s Mommy. Come to Mommy.”

    I didn’t really. That’s what Sarah said I should have said as I was peeing in my pants in the front yard of my crazy ex-boyfriend’s house with the sound of the ‘ding, ding, ding’ of the open minivan door and the cackling of my friends. I freaked out, ran back to the minivan, envisioning a Little Miss Sunshine moment of jumping in the moving van. Except Jess is a mom and she was driving the minivan so we had to close the door, properly do our seatbelts, ect., before she started to move. We drove away, screaming out the windows, “she married up, her husband is SO much cuter than you.”

    Those DC Metro Moms? Those girls sure do know how to party. And Sarah? I would hang out with her in the hood any old time.

    Share on Facebook add to sk*rt

    Mommy Needs a Glass of Wine. Or Chocolate. Whatever.

    March 24, 2008

    Chocolate for parties

    Bad things happen when you hang out with the Chocolate Fountain Fairy Godmother (hereinafter referred to as the CFFG).  She has these hairbrained IDEAS and then you find yourself at the shop, making Mommy Needs a Glass of Wine chocolate bars and Mommy Needs Chocolate chocolate bars and Mommy Needs a Cocktail chocolate bars.  And did I mention the girl?  The martini girl?  She is TOO CUTE for words.  At a whopping 3 oz. of chocolate, you just want to lie down and die after eating her.  These little numbers.  Better.  It is too crazy.  Then you look at the clock and you realize you have 20 minutes to get home and it is gonna take you at least 25 minutes.  And her latest get-rich-quick-scheme?  I don’t even want to tell you.  I’ll tell you what.  If I end up on Oprah for that hairbrained scheme instead of the MNAC party scheme….I’ll be just fine with it. 

    But back to these chocolate bars.  You can buy them wherever you find Mommy Needs a Cocktail (looking at your house, SATGS!!! and hell, you people in Richmond at the Bizarre Bazaar the week after next).  AND…..if you have a MNAC party (or any variation thereof–for all you non-drinkers having the chocolate parties!!).  I know.  I KNOW!!!  Sky, you said to make Mama proud.  I can’t do any better than this….

    On a lighter note, my children are insane.  Remember when I said they were working together and using their collective powers for evil?  Oh, it’s getting worse.  The Baby’s skill level in walking is directly proportional to the amount of trouble the two of them get into these days.  Someone got the crazy idea to get the Cheerio’s down from the top of the cabinet in the dining room.  I don’t know why they were there, but needless to say, they are now all over the living room floor.  It seems that after The Boy took his handful, he graciously gave the rest of the COSTCO-SIZED bag to his brother.  His brother proceeded to take large handfuls out and put them in the seat of his highchair.  Apparently saving them for later.  Then he got bored with putting his hand in the bag (what with it being so exhausting) and he just began to shake the 50 oz. bag until the Cheerios got enough velocity going to fly out the top of the bag.  His father?  Thought it was brilliant.  While not his first (or second or even 10th choice), the dog appears somewhat grateful.  Sadly, I was on the couch watching the entire thing.  Yelling “NO SIR” with my outside voice but lacking the energy/conviction to, would it be “punish” him for his dastardly behavior?  All while he is laughing maniacally.  That one is smart.  Keep mom up all night and she’ll be too tired to rip that huge ass bag of Cheerios out of your hand while you send them cascading over furniture. 

    Oh, and Tony brought home some Jersey eclairs.  I have to roll to bed now.  Thank you very much. 

    Share on Facebook add to sk*rt

    Of course, Internet, I could be 8 months pregnant and not tell anyone

    March 20, 2008

    God love you, Marelle, for calling me today and asking if I was the pregnant person in the photograph.  Because after our 900 phone calls over the last 8 months, you think I would have told you if I were with child.  Because I am so good at keeping secrets.  HELLO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I don’t THINK SO.  Were it to ever happen again, you all would be the first to know.  Then I could actually find out how frequently The Husband reads my blog.  It could be MONTHS before he found out.  I might have THE BABY before he ever read my blog.  And how cute is the hostess swag for Mommy Needs a Cocktail Parties?  Huh????  Gotta have a party to get this cute little combo….Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party swag    Still trying to decide if this is hostess swag or if I should sell these.  What do you think?  Mommy Needs a Cocktail

    Share on Facebook add to sk*rt

    Somebody do me a favor and hide the Amex card again

    March 13, 2008


    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? 

    Matron of Honor

    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. 

    Mommy Needs a Cocktail Napkins

    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.

    Mommy Needs a Cocktail Postit Notes

    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.

    Share on Facebook add to sk*rt

    Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party, will travel, and 2XL is now here

    March 10, 2008

    Oh, every single one of you that said, “I would have a party if I lived closer”–your ass is getting an email about hosting a party.  I just stick the party in a box and send it to your house.  Even to Alabama.  Which has surprisingly enough, made MANY queries about throwing parties.  You southern girls.  You know what’s going on.  Have a party now before I end up on Oprah and then you have to get on my list.  Now wouldn’t THAT suck?  Don’t you want to be the person who had the Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party BEFORE the rest of the cool kids catch on.

    OK, I don’t actually put the party in a box.  I put the shirts in the box and YOU have to make the party.  You can do it.  I have faith in you.   Mommy needs Daddy to do the damn dishes

    And now all those short sleeve shirts and tank tops available at Baby BrewingMommy Needs a CocktailMommy Needs a BeerMommy Needs a Glass of Wine?  And all those shirts only available at the Mommy Needs a Cocktail Party?  Available in 2XL.  Still that clingy style, but now with more room.  Roomier styles coming soon.

    Share on Facebook add to sk*rt