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Friday Advice, a Day Early

November 10th, 2005

My lovely, talented in-laws arrive today, so in honor of their visit, I’ve purchased a half-gallon of Tanqueray and a half-gallon of Absolut. Wacky Daddy, even though he was the one who sent me to the liquor store, knowing that I would have both kids with me, knowing that this makes me look like the biggest losingest DRUNK IN LIFE, “Nice influence on your kids, Lady!” did the same. Yes, we now have a gallon of gin and a gallon of vodka in the house. He even bought maraschino cherries, so Wacky Girl and Wacky Boy can have Kiddie Cocktails.

Get ’em started early, that’s our motto. “Mixed nuts with those cocktails, kids? Stuffed olives?” So I’d better write the advice column early, before I’m too drunk to type…

And now, without further ado, The Friday Advice Column for Wacky Mothers & Others…

Dearest Wacky Mommy:

Help! I’ve lost my husband. First there was the goatee. Then there was the mustache that sort of morphed into the goatee. Then the mustache took on a life of its own — sprouting these “handlebar” things –giant curly wisps of hezz hezz hezz. And now…it’s the beard. Not so much a beard as patchy clumps of hez-short and hez-long scattered carelessly about what used to be a very adorable, soft, baby-smooth face.

Hezz! Everywhere! It’s in my mouth and up my nostrils when we kiss. “Stuff” gets in it. Food. Beverage. Lint. Legos. Small animals. My own personal bodily fluid…

The horror. The horror.

It’s gotta go. My husband has turned into some sort of urban Grizzly Adams. We were having sex the other day and I kept getting distracted, thinking he looked like he had a Tribble on his face. The thing is — he knows how I feel about it, and he refuses to…compromise. I’m normally a shaver, but I’m seriously considering letting my dark Slavic genes get their fuzz on. What’s a gal to do?


Grizzly’s Wife

Dear GW:

Sounds sexy. Aroooooooooooga! Really, WM is with you. I do not care for the facial hair on guys (or gals) other than the sweet little soul patch, or occasionally the soul patch plus the NEATLY TRIMMED moustache combo. When I was younger I liked it when the rockabilly guys did the way long sideburns, and nothing else. I thought that was hep, as the kids say.

Like your spouse, Grizzly Adams, my spouse likes to grow the big sexy food-gathering beard and ‘stache. Are they worried about food or something and want to stash away an extra meal? It is disgusting, okay? Even when it’s clean, it gets damp (as you have learned), it gets prickly, small animals could be hiding in there, God only knows what could be going on. (Does your husband happen to be losing hair on top of his head? WD is. So I’m thinking WD is growing it on his face cuz he’s not growing it on top.)

Charge up his clipper, hand him the scissors, and push him into the bathroom. Then tell him to readjust things a bit or you’re going to be forced to get a boyfriend. That should do it.




Dear Wacky Mommy:

If you live in a different state than a lot of your family, and your MIL decides that having a baby shower in her area is too inconvenient (even if someone else is throwing it), is it inappropriate to send invites to all of your family to your local baby shower?

Okay, so not really a mommy advice, but kinda!


Don’t Rain on My Parade

Dear Parade Girl:

Okay, you’re carrying around her sweet little adorable grandchild for ten months (yes, 40 weeks of pregnancy equals ten months, not nine. Liars! Liars who say “Nine months goes by sooooooooooo fast, doesn’t it?”), eating right, taking care of yourself and the baby, plus you’re in love with her own precious flesh-and-blood, and (I’m assuming) looking out for him and being Doting Wife and all that, and she’s the one who’s inconvenienced? And someone else offered to throw it?

Mommy jealousy, I’m tagging this one. Yep, she may be jealous that you’re pregnant and getting attention and she’s not. I mean, you don’t cancel someone else’s shower, that’s a big no-no. Also, mothers and sons? Sometimes the dynamics get a little, uh, icky. Norman Bates is an extreme example.

Yes, invite all the out-of-towners to your local baby shower. It’s her idea to stifle the shower, not theirs. Spread the love, baby girl. Don’t postpone joy. Scribble little notes into the invites, after the hostess fills them out, saying, “I know it’s out-of-state and you might not be able to join us, but I wanted to let you know about my shower. It would be lovely if you could join us!” etc.

They’ll send gifts. And they’ll be glad to be invited. Make sure to send pictures from the shower with the thank you’s, so they can see how happy and huge and loved you are.

Best wishes and much love for the rest of your pregnancy. It just is flying by, I bet! Ha. Go put your feet up, Wacky Mommy-to-be.




  1. WD says

    First off, 1 month =~ 4.35 weeks, so 40 weeks =~ 9.2 months. 10 months =~ 43.5 weeks. If you go 10 months, you’re very seriously overdue, given a normal gestational period of 38-42 weeks.

    Secondly, I don’t grow facial hair to make up for my fivehead (used to be a forehead, get it?!?). I just don’t like to shave.

    Tit, meet tat.

    November 10th, 2005 | #

  2. Wacky Mommy says

    I think that message was from my husband. He thinks he knows how to do math. Two half-gallons + two half-gallons equals how much booze in my house, big guy? $160 worth. That is American and obscene, my friends. Also, his facial hair? Now nicely trimmed, after I flipped out for like, two months. Ask RockStar Mommy, she’ll tell you — It’s all about hair.

    November 10th, 2005 | #

  3. WD says

    Hey, you don’t have to drink it, sweetheart. All the more for me and the kids.

    November 10th, 2005 | #

  4. zipdodah says

    Line the cocktail glasses with facial hair instead of salt and call it good……..

    November 13th, 2005 | #

  5. Wacky Mommy says

    blech! hee hee.

    November 13th, 2005 | #

  6. WD says

    Cocktail glasses? Nah… Us hirsute dudes just drink it straight out of the bottle… Party on, dude!

    November 13th, 2005 | #

  7. Wacky Mommy says

    Killer Dave’s Bread, speaking of “Party on, Dude!” is, like, totally completely my new favorite bread. He’s a former jailbird, looking a lot like Sawyer from “Lost,” and he bakes yumskamy bread. Buy some today, or ask for it at the store nearest you!

    I’m writing the PTA newsletter and drinking chardonnay. Dreamt last night that someone wanted to share my vodka and I said, “No, I don’t have enough,” even though there were two half-gallons sitting right on the table. Heh. Heh. No time to blog, writing other shit. In-laws are napping at their hotel (yes, they stay at a hotel so as to not inconvenience WM), then coming by later to take us out for dinner. And I’m skipping writers’ group. Does it get any better than this?



    November 13th, 2005 | #

  8. zipdodah says

    Killer Dave’s Bread IS killer! Here is his website and a great “comeback” story……Go Dave!

    November 15th, 2005 | #

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