You’re probably going to find this hard to believe, but I have a hard time with the word “no.”

Not only do I hate to hear the word no… “No, you can’t buy a Maserati. What are you, out of your mind?… No, I will not watch your children for 2 months while you travel the globe to ‘find yourself,’ but thanks for asking… Ma’am, there’s no way I’m giving you George Clooney’s cell phone number. He says he’s never heard of ‘the adorable blogger chick who talks about vaginas and midget porn.’ Please stop calling” (click)… But I also (if history is any indication) have issues with saying no as well. And that’s why I’ve found myself in particularly pickling predicaments.

Like the one time I was asked to be the room mom in two of my daughters’ classrooms for the same school year. I didn’t want to be room mom for ONE of them, much less two! But we were new at the school, and thinking back now, I did have a rather large “kick me” sign stapled to my back. So really, there was no way I wasn’t doing it. I wanted to fit in, be a part of the larger school community. I was the new kid and all the other parents had formed friendships and cliques… and well, I wanted to join. So I thought what better way to do that than be room mother? EVERYONE will know who I am! The other moms would be all, “Who is that really cute new girl who’s always helping out at school?” And her friend would say, “I don’t know, but isn’t she cool?” And then they would invite me to sit at their table at lunch.

Well, my plan didn’t work out as I’d hoped. I didn’t get in with the “cool kids,” but I did end up super gluing my fingers together at one of the holiday parties where I was in charge of the craft. AND I ended up chaperoning more boring field trips than one person should be forced to endure in a lifetime. Who wants to visit a sign manufacturing company anyway? Not me!

So much for wanting to fit in. I’m like the lone square peg in a room full of round holes.

Not being able to say no has also had me babysitting other people’s animals for extended periods of time. Like in college when my friend Randy asked me to watch his SNAKE, Mephistopholes, for the summer. I’m not a huge fan of snakes (read: I have nightmares about them where I’m in fact surrounded by hundreds of them and they talk in really deep French accents and tell me they’re going to eat me) to begin with and well, I really liked Randy and didn’t want to say no. So I kept the snake. And then I lost the snake. Somehow it got out of its cage thingy and I never found it. Hey, here’s something I discovered about myself. I don’t sleep well at night knowing that at any moment I could be attacked by a snake… in my sleep. A person doesn’t find herself well rested keeping one eye open all night… every night… for an entire summer. And then, somehow I also ended up with a pet Beta fish. Who was clearly possessed. He would swim around his bowl and I would walk up to it and say, “hey there fishy fishy.” and it would bow up and flare up his fins at me. One day I came home from class to find Fishy Fishy flopping on the floor. I screeched, scooped him up as fast as I could, and plopped him back in the bowl. I couldn’t understand how he could have gotten out since there was a lid on his aquarium. So, being a super smart college student and all, I placed a book on top of the lid–to make sure he couldn’t get out again. I had been entrusted with Fishy Fishy, and didn’t want to let my roommate down. The very next day, I came home to FIND THE FISH FLOPPING ON THE FLOOR AGAIN! and I looked over at the aquarium and I swear to god the book was still on top of it! Just as I’d left it! well, clearly the fish was the devil, so i quickly grabbed a towel, scooped up Satan and promptly flushed him down the toilet. I was NOT going to die at the hands (fins) of a stupid looking girly fish. No-sir-ree. And clearly, the fish wanted me dead.

But I guess the times it’s really impossibly hard to say no is with my kids. I’ve ended up having sleepovers when I didn’t want to, sat through more dumb shows on TV when I really wanted to watch the Top Chef marathon, and gone to more stupid functions than even prison inmates are required to. And all of this I said with a resounding “YES” on the outside, while on the inside screaming “NO, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND MIGHTY… NOOOO.”

So. Starting today. My new word is no. No, I will not let you draw on my face with that Sharpie marker. No, you cannot drive to the grocery store–you’re 8! No, I will not allow you to get your nipples pierced–you’re not a porn star!

Hey, I think I’m getting the hang of this.

Should be a piece of cake… or a total disaster.

A few days ago a reader sent me a link and she was all, “this made me think of you.”

And of course, it had to do with wine.

So I clicked the link and this is what came up…

Naturally, I took the quiz. Here are the results…

Is anyone surprised at the outcome of this quiz?

Anyway, I applaud the Disney company and North America in general for embracing the value of squashed, fermented grapes. And parenting.

Just don’t get behind the wheel of a car if you’ve had some.

Cheers.

(Oh, come on. TAKE THE TEST. Share your results in the comments.)

We’ve already covered parents who give their kids homemade tattoos here at the Bad Moms Club, so let’s move right along, shall we, to parents who allow their children to be tattooed professionally in the name of beauty. Sophie Watson, a 14-year-old from Britain who has her sights firmly set on stardom, recently had several areas of her face tattooed. Since Sophie is too young to be tattooed legally, her mother stepped up and gave her consent.

Sophie didn’t have images tattooed on her; rather, she had certain features enhanced. Eyeliner and lip liner were added, along with a beauty mark, and her eyebrows were enhanced – work that will last for up to five years. Her mother, Joy, a (wait for it) beauty therapist, said the cosmetic tattoos were “the obvious next step” for Sophie, who has 22 pageant titles under her belt and is venturing in to the modeling world.

14-year-old Sophie shows off her new features

“I wasn’t overly worried and, once she’s got an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her,” said Joy of both the tattoo process, and her daughter.

Although Sophie found the seven-hour procedure painful (she cried because having a needle that close to her eye “really freaked her out”), she says she loves her new look, in part because the darker features hide her natural colouring (she already dyes her naturally red hair and eyebrows dark brown, and is thinking about laser treatments to remove her freckles).

So, what say you, folks? Do you find this as completely outrageous, in the ‘our daughters are beautiful enough without having their faces tattooed on’ sense, as I do? Would you give consent if your teenager wanted to get their facial features tattooed on?

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Things I know for sure:

1. If you have unprotected sex, you will get pregnant. All four times.

2. If you ask your husband to take the trash cans to the curb, he will do it, but not on your schedule — on his. And that’s usually after the trash men have already passed your house.

3. If you tell your kids you’re not kidding this time, that if they don’t stop fighting you’re going to sell them on Craig’s List, you should probably follow through with the threat. Because if you don’t, they’ll never believe you when you say something REALLY important.

4. If you leave your house without wearing shoes, this will also be the day you run out of gas or get a flat tire. And let me tell you, asphalt is HOT in the summer. Plus, you look like a redneck walking down the freeway without shoes.

5. If you’re driving down the road and your 4 year old son tells you he needs to go potty and you say, “can you wait?” and he says, “uh-huh,” don’t believe him. It’s a trick and you’ll end up wiping pee off your car seat with the bottom of your skirt.

6. If you walk into the kitchen to find a huge puddle of yogurt, lemonade, jello, and mustard on the floor, and just then your son walks up behind you holding the mustard bottle, and he insists he didn’t do it? He’s totally full of shit.

7. If you have large dogs who like people food and who also know how to get on the counter you shouldn’t leave your favorite turkey swiss sandwich (with extra pickles) laying there unattended. Unless you’re trying to diet.

8. If you enjoy arguing with teenagers then you should… Well, there’s no getting around this one. If you HAVE teenagers you’re going to argue with them, whether you want to or not.

9. If you have a splitting headache it’s not a good idea to beat your head against the kitchen counter. That will only make it worse.

10. If you’re worried that one day you’ll wake up and wonder how you got where you are, just remember you thought it was a good idea at the time to get drunk.

My six year old goes back to school in exactly two weeks. I’m not exactly thrilled. I’m actually kind of wishing I could go back to when the babe was too young for school.  Sadly, my time traveling skills are a little rusty at the moment. Instead, I choose to give the whole thing the nasty stink eye. I promise you, I have my reasons.

To me, back to school sucks the almighty lemon because it means I need to:

1. Brush my hair
2. Put on something other than pajama bottoms and a three day old tank top
3. Shave things

Doing all that before I even leave the house? That is just so wrong. Add to that, once I get to this particular school and see all the other mothers, most of whom have their very own entries in the snooty, boring or mute section of the dictionary, the real fun begins.

So now, I have to:

• Smile my best fake smile (which means that I should probably add – 4. Brush my teeth – to the above list).

• Stand up straight (Crap – now I need to add – 5. Wear my best brassiere – to that list too).

• Make safe small talk (Safe statements such as “How was your summer?” or “Did you have a good summer?” or “Wow, can you believe that summer?” are always safe bets and sure to be a joy to repeat over and over again.)

• Mention camping at some point, because evidently 99% of the population camp, and don’t actually realize how much camping sucks. (Let me let you in on a little secret – camping sucks).

Normally at this point, if the praying to the time dogs has worked, the bell has rung and the boy is safely in his classroom – Success.

Thankfully, this means I get to finally:

• Hit Starbucks – because, yes, all this misery has occurred before my first sip of latte.

• Worry about things like germs, lice, bullies, and other mothers while I drink said latte.

• Rejuvenate my stink eye by closing my eyes and meditating about kittens and pink things.

Back to school – it explains the grey hair.

My five year old son, Ethan: “Mama, I got a penis.”

Me: “You do indeed.”

Ethan: “You got a penis?”

Me: “No, mommy’s a girl and girls generally don’t have penises. Except for if that girl is born a ‘girl’ physically, but feels like a boy inside–-then THAT girl might have a penis added to her person–-if she has a lot of money and a supportive family. Although, the support of her family is not required to get a penis attachment–-it would just make the transition easier for the girl who feels like a boy. You understand what Mommy is saying?

Ethan: “You got a penis?”

Me: “Yes. I have a penis.”

Ethan: “Mommy. You’re teasing. You don’t have a penis. You have a big butt.”

Me: “Is that right? Well you were brought here by a pack of wild, smelly gophers. How do you like them apples?”

Ethan: “I don’t like apples. I like grapes.”

Me: “Ah.”

Ethan: “You got a penis?”

Me: “Yes, in fact I have two of them.”

Ethan: “I wanna see.”

Me: “Not now. Mommy’s penis is sleeping.”

Ethan: “You don’t have a penis. You have a big butt. TWO big butts.” And he adds dimension to his insult by holding up 5 fingers. Passive aggressive behavior? I think yes.

I get up from the table, pick up the phone and dial 4-1-1. Ethan gets up from the table and farts. And then starts laughing and farts again. I roll my eyes like I’m totally disgusted. But secretly, I adore his farts. His farts are the cutest sounding noises I’ve ever heard.

But I digress. I’m supposed to be irritated. I must keep in mind this sweet little farthead just told me I had TWO big butts.

Operator: “City and state, please.”

Me: “Fort Worth, Texas.”

Operator: “Go ahead.”

Me: “I need the name of the closest orphanage.”

Operator (sounding confused): “Ma’am, there are no orphanages in Fort Worth that I’m showing.”

Me: “Hmm. Well, who do you give your kids to when they tell you you have a big butt… repeatedly.”

Operator (without missing a beat): “You walk right up to the dad and punch him in the mouth. Because you know it’s somehow his fault.”

And then she starts laughing.

Interesting. Why hadn’t I thought of that before? Blame the dad? Why, it’s brilliant!

Wow. Information really IS helpful.

The thing that blows my mind about this story of three children who took off on their dream vacation without their parents realizing it isn’t so much that they took off without their parents realizing it – I mean, they’re probably of the free-range variety and who notices these things, anyway? – but where they took off to.

Not Disneyland. Not Disney World. Not the Harry Potter ride at the Universal Studios theme park. Dollywood.

Dollywood.

News reports covering the story are all worked up over the fact that three children made it through airport security on their own, without being questioned. This, I think, misses the whole point of the story: these children know who Dolly Parton is and they tried to visit her.

THAT’S the kind of thing that gives me, as a parent, nightmares.

The parents who named their son Adolph Hitler Campbell lost the custody over their three children who will remain wards of the state of New Jersey.  To be clear, they didn’t lose their kids because they gave them names like Adolph Hitler but I’m sure it didn’t help. And also to be clear: I don’t like to judge other parents and their parenting choices but come one, you don’t name your child Adolph Hitler because it flowed nicely with Campbell.

Any parent who names their child Adolph Hitler does so because they want to scream their beliefs as loudly as possible. These days I guess hate tattoos just don’t indicate enough commitment. For the record Adolph has two sisters: JoyceLynn Aryan Nation and Honszlynn Hinler Jeannie and I’ll safely bet that those name choices will never, ever make it into any mainstream baby name books.

So where do I stand on the issue of parents who give their kids totally whacked names? I’m torn but not over naming a child Adolph Hitler — that’s just an a**hole move — but do parents have the right to name their child just anything that they damn well want? If this family lived in Quebec, this situation would have probably never have happened because the Directeur de L’Etat Civil, aka Quebec’s baby-name police, would have most likely stamped REJECT across their applications. Which makes me wonder, which is better? The freedom to name your child anything or a government agency who has veto power in your family identity?

This baby name thing is complicated. The anarchist who sits on my shoulder screams a diatribe laden with f-words with a general gist of do not let the government dictate family decisions! The sane parent in me, however, says I would not join a playgroup if there was a kid named Adolph Hitler in circle time. But do I want the government to be able to say that family cannot give their child certain names? I’m leaning towards yes for names that are associated with hate or are demeaning, but I’d like to keep a close eye on the persons that make the call about what constitutes a rejected name.

What do you think: Should birth registries be able to reject names like that? To be clear: in this custody case the state claims that they did not remove these children just because of their names, there were other things going on but I’m sure that naming a child Hitler or Aryan Nation didn’t really help.

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You know what’s amazing? When you put a story out there, and more stories come back. It’s like that old saying, ‘if you love something, set it free…’ except that in this case, it would be ‘if something is eating at you, write about it on the Internet; if it comes back to you with hundreds of other people telling their own versions of that experience, then that proves that the Internet is full of frustrated people just bursting at the seams to vent their issues.’ Which was never really in doubt, I don’t think, but still.

That post of mine that went up at AOL’s Lemondrop? That I talked about here, the other day? Also ended up on AOL’s front page, which means that a whole bunch of insane people left psychotic comments, but also means that a whole bunch of perfectly sane people weighed in, and also came here, and also sent me tons and tons of mail, only some of which was mean. A common thread? EVERYBODY – or, ALMOST everybody – has in-law issues, and 99% of those everybodies wishes they could talk about it.

So. Expect a lot of in-law stories in the Basement in the coming weeks and months. I’ve received dozens, just in the last 12 hours. And if you have one of your own, please, feel free to send it in (anonymously, or as you like). Or, of course, just share it here. You know we’d love to hear it.

This, my friends, is a sad, sad, sign o’ the times: Laurence Fishburne’s daughter, Montana, 18, is putting out a sex tape in order to attain fame and fortune. She’s doing this, she says, because she wants to follow in Kim Kardashian’s footsteps.

“I’ve watched how successful Kim Kardashian became and I think a lot of it was due to the release of her sex tape,” Montana explained.

In the film, which is slated to be released later this month via Vivid Entertainment, Montana, who goes by the name Chippy D, mainly stars alongside her boyfriend, a kid who goes by the moniker J Pipes. (And I say ‘kid’ because that’s what we’re dealing with her, KIDS. I mean, this guy looks all of what, 17? 18, maybe?)

Montana, a.k.a. Chippy D., and her alleged co-star/boyfriend, J Pipes

Ugh, ugh, UGH. This is just sad, and I find it rather shocking. Not the sex tape part – is anyone really shocked by sex tapes anymore? – but that Montana is standing up and  telling it like it is: she’s doing porn to get famous, like Kim Kardashian before her. I mean, WOW. What does that say about Hollywood these days?

And what, if anything, will Kim say about this? Will she go on the record to dissuade Montana from putting it on tape, or will she keep quiet about the whole thing and thrive off of the publicity like a big ol’ plastic leech?

(Apologies to anyone who is a fan of Kim Kardashian. The woman does nothing for me; the more I read about her, the further my respect for her plummets.)

The fact that a beautiful young woman with real connections to Hollywood and the rest of her life ahead of her wants to put out a sex tape so she can make it like Kim Kardashian did is absolutely repulsive to me. What’s the old saying – you never get a second chance to make a first impression? I really wish Montana would re-think this career move.

And – need we even ask this? – WHERE ARE HER PARENTS? Or are we overstating this ‘kid’ angle? Is it a sign of bad – bad bad – parenting if your kid decides at 18 to make a sex tape? What do you think? BAD MOMS WANNA KNOW.

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