Meaty Thighs Are OK.

We were getting ready to leave for Delgrosso’s yesterday morning when I decided to have one of my standard “Wah, I’m so fat” shit fits. I always figure that Chooch isn’t paying attention to this shit, because why would he? My whining is not that interesting nor is it even slightly relevant. But then from the other room, while playing some stupid game on Xbox, he piped up with, “You’re not fat. You’re like Nicki Minaj. She has a big butt and thighs like you, and she’s still skinny. Kim Kardashian, too.” That weird little pep talk was a better Mother’s Day gift than the Urban Decay Vice palette that he and Henry got me!

Chooch’s Oh Snap Moment

On our way home from Delgrosso’s, we stopped at the mother of all Sheetz in Altoona. “Is this the Sheetz we went to that one time when we were fighting?” I asked Henry, referring to the miserable drive home he and I had from Allentown, PA last Memorial Day weekend. Chooch chimed in from the backseat, “Well, mommy, that’s hard to say, because you guys are always fighting.” His tell-all is going to be something else. (Also, we are not ALWAYS fighting! It’s mostly just me fighting.)

Also, with the music I listen to and all of my mental issues, Chooch has heard A LOT of screaming over the years.

Pickle Spreadsheets

We stopped at Valley Dairy for dinner. At first, we thought it was going to be an issue because we had to wake Chooch up from a nap and he is a fucking beast when awakened, so before we were seated, things were pretty sketchy. But then the opposite personality won out and we ended up with Super Entertaining Giggle Fit Chooch. One of the things that made him lose his shit started with a pickle. “Don’t you like pickles?” he asked me, noting that I hadn’t eaten the pickle on my grilled cheese plate.

My mouth was full, so Chauvinistic Henry answered for me. “She likes pickles, but 98% of the time, she leaves them on her plate.” He was so eager to divulge these statistics about my pickle proclivity! I had no idea Henry had been keeping such close tabs on my gherkin grazing.

“What, are you keeping a spreadsheet?” I asked Henry snidely.

Chooch considered this for a statement and then asked, “What’s a spreadsheet? Is that what the doctor puts over a lady before she has a baby?”

I fucking lost it right there at that Valley Dairy table, over top of my grilled cheese and the pickle that had only 2% chance of exploring my digestive tract, next to Henry who for once was unable to keep a straight face, and then Chooch started choking because he was laughing so hard, too.

“What?” Chooch laughed, trying to play innocent. “I see those all the time on the shows daddy watches.”

“Oh, he’s watching A Baby Story again, then?” I asked, and Henry just frowned. He only lets himself laugh for so long, you know. Then it’s back on the red eye to Frown Town.

Chooch and his “clown” sundae.

Stickers Make Chooch Pretty

I kept hearing about some sticker book that Henry wouldn’t buy Chooch at the craft store Saturday night. I felt bad at first, because I was hugely into stickers when I was his age, and I fondly told them about all of the sticker books I had, and the one that was especially for scratch-n-sniff, and how I used to stuff them all in a big purple tote bag that started to rip in one corner because so many sticker books were sardined in there. I heard Chooch emit a disgusted sigh; he hates when I get nostalgic because the theme is almost always Erin’s Charmed Childhood Where She Got Everything She Wanted. EXCEPT THE UNCONDITIONAL LOVE OF MY MOM, CHOOCH. (He doesn’t care about that yet.)

“What kind of sticker book did you want?” I asked Chooch.

“It was Pokémon and—-”

“Oh,” I waved him off. “I wouldn’t have bought it for you either. That sounds dumb.”

He started to get real defensive and tried to explain all of the merits of this dumb sticker book, and Henry sighed heavily and dragged his hands down his face.

“This is what I went through all last night,” Henry said. “We left Michaels and he threw a fit in the middle of Ulta when I was trying to buy your Mother’s Day present.”

Chooch started giggling uncontrollably as Henry told the tale of the tantrum, because there’s little Chooch enjoys more in life than hearing about what a spoiled brat he is and how he embarrasses us. So while Henry told me about how Chooch LAYED IN  THE MIDDLE OF THE STORE WHINING and how Henry turned around just in time  to see him applying one of the tester lipsticks straight on his mouth, Chooch was nearly swallowing his tongue from laughing so hard.

Half the restaurant was staring at us because sometimes it’s hard to tell if he’s crying or laughing.

“This is what it’s like to be around you and Corey, by the way!” Henry said accusatorily.

“And then I was smearing eye shadow on my fingers like nail polish!” Chooch wailed, reaching the point of hiccups. He was laughing so hard that we could see the cherry from his clown sundae (made shoddily by our waitress Sarah who was having a really bad day so I made Henry leave her a nice tip but mostly because she reminded me of Lynn Gunn from PVRIS) resting precariously on his tongue, a choking hazard lying in wait.

Henry grumpily told me that he had to practically bathe Chooch in makeup remover before they left the store. This whole scene was hilarious to me, that the catalyst was a fucking Pokémon sticker book that he is STILL talking about! So now Chooch and I were both laughing our faces off and Henry was so uncomfortable.

These are the things that I want to remember the most about Mother’s Day.

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**Party Peeps**

• Zac
• Lucy
• Olivia & Sophia
• Owen
• Jolee
• Sharyn
• Harland
• Kara
• Chris and Monica
• Corey
• Janna

Chooch decided a while back that he wanted to have a laser tag birthday party, even though none of us have played before. Believe me, I was fine with this because it meant SMALL. As in: FEW KIDS. I’m not sure who was more excited the day of his party: Chooch or me.

Once everyone arrived, our personal party coordinator came in and led us to the laser tag holding cell, where she bumbled through the rules of the game and pretty much had us utterly confused. We split into two teams without hesitation: Awesome Adults vs. Dumb Kids. And then Janna “accidentally” gouged the back of my arm with her stupid laser gun and I was like “Bitch, best count your blessings that we’re on the same damn team.”

But then I noticed that after Henry was done helping all of the kids suit up, he stayed over on their side. “C’mon, Erin. They have to have at least one adult or it won’t be fair!”

Yeah, exactly! Why give them a chance!?

I was instantly nervous about this. Henry and I being on opposing teams means that Super Competitive Extreme Asshole Erin comes out. I was hoping that we could be on the same team so that I wouldn’t have to get stressed out and possibly risk eviction from Laser Storm and/or losing a friend. (I really think this is why my friend Stacey hasn’t come to one of my game nights since 2009. I get real ugly.) So look, I’m competitive in general, but as soon as the competition involves Henry as an opponent, I take it to new levels. Any old friends reading this remember the dreaded New Years Eve Trivial Pursuit debacle that resulted in me flipping over the game board (the table was too heavy to flip) and screaming about how everyone hates me all over some question about Yoshi? And then spending the next year constantly bringing up the fact that not a single person there that night cared enough to stop me from driving home drunk and psychotic?

O MEM’RIES.

My mantra is always, “I don’t care if I lose as long as Henry doesn’t win.” And the sad thing is that he genuinely always wants me to win!

I’m sorry, Henry fans, but as soon as our respective team doors opened to the laser tag arena, Henry went from being my loving life partner/father of my child/all-around Jeeves to motherfucking Bin Laden. I COULDN’T WAIT TO SHOOT THE SHIT OUT OF HIM!

One of the twins was smart and chose my team. She said she didn’t want to be on her sister’s team, and I understood. SHE WANTED TO WIN.

Once we were in the darkened room, a strange combination of panic and adrenaline melted over me and I realized I forgot everything we learned, all of the rules, all of the objectives. But then I remembered that I had but one mission: KILL HENRY. So I put my blinders on to everything but Henry’s dumb head and I shot that motherfucker every single chance I got. I even did the whole run-dive-shoot thing at one point and sincerely hurt my hip but I think my shot hit him so it was obviously worth it.

Oh, and no big deal, but my team won.

Because Henry is a cheap-ass, he only paid for ONE ROUND of laser tag. And apparently one round is only like 15 minutes! (Which apparently is long enough for my hair to stick to my neck with war-sweat.) Luckily, we had the party room for an hour and a half though, so we didn’t have to kick anyone out after the game was over.

Back in the party room, Party Warden passed out everyone’s score cards and I was pleased to see that I at least beat Janna. I don’t think any of the kids so much as glanced at their score cards, but us adults studied and compared ours obsessively for a good ten minutes. Monica was extremely disturbed by the inaccuracy of her score card and I think it came close to ruining her whole day. “Apparently, it doesn’t matter how many times you hit base, because it’s worth ZERO POINTS,” she announced bitterly.

Asshole Henry shot me one time more than I shot him, so that sucked. But the real victory was that Henry was NOT the MVP of the whole entire game—Corey was! SUCK IT, HENRY!

But then Corey kept bragging about being MVP and I was like, “UGH SUCK IT, COREY!”

I took this picture shortly after I burst Corey’s MVP bubble by snapping, “Whatever, at least I can see colors.” #mybrotheriscolorblind

In this picture, you will note Henry’s naturally-sour face looking even more acerbic. Apparently, he had taste-tested the Sierra Mist and was appalled. “IT HAS NO TASTE!” he said repeatedly until people eventually started looking around the room and saying, “Do you hear something? Is someone talking to us? Oh, it’s just Henry.”

He ended up sending back the Sierra Mist because it was “just carbonation.” He was a huge dick about it too. The party warden was like, “Shucks sir, I have no idea what you’re bitching about but sure, I’ll bring you another pitcher if it means you’ll stop twitching your molester ‘stach in my general direction.” That broad could not wait for our 90 minutes to expire.

If Henry had a blog, his version of this day would be all about how he saved the children from imbibing defective soft drinks, spent so much money in order to buy his son’s happiness, and probably some boring anecdote about when he was in THE SERVICE not fighting in a war. Laser tag was probably more dangerous and combative than anything he did while “SERVING.”

Included in the party package was a cake, and it was actually not as disgusting as I imagined it would be. We sang the weirdest version of Happy Birthday to Chooch, and I have no idea who set the tone, but it sounded like a fucking funeral dirge. (See also: Nick Cave singing Gregorian chants to a dead person.) I thought maybe it was just me, but afterward, everyone seemed to mutually agree that it was weird and the party warden looked nervous.

In this picture, Monica is using the calculator on her phone to work out what her actual score was since none of her base hits made it on her score card.

All of the kids got tokens for the game room afterward, and there were a bunch left over so the rest of us practically mauled Henry for some.

Monica was obsessed with this old broad with her nose in a Danielle Steele book who had the audacity to make disgusted scowls at all of the children running around making gleeful sounds. She was sitting so close to the skee ball row that it’s surprising that no one tried to roll one of the balls off her surly, disapproving face.

“Seriously? You expect to be able to read your book peacefully in a LASER TAG ARENA?!” Monica scoffed. “Please take a picture of her,” she whispered to me.

I don’t remember being so terrible at skee ball. I gave the rest of my tokens to some child.

Chris texted me before the party and said that one of the gifts she bought him might be a bit girlish, and should she wait until the other kids weren’t around before giving it to him? I said no, because I’m always up for watching my child being humiliated, but it turned out to be a “yummy crochet” kit and he could barely contain all of the stoked feelings. Chooch mentioned not too long, at dinner with Chris and Monica, that he wanted to learn how to crochet (specifically, the Japanese style of crocheting, amigurumi). Of course, this conversation turned weird, with the suggestion that Chris become possessed by the ghost of Henry’s late grandmother in order to teach Chooch how to crochet.

Hey, if you read the post about Chooch’s actual birthday, then you already know the spoon story. But here it is again, anyway, BECAUSE I LOVE TELLING IT! We had a small family party on Chooch’s real birthday, and by the end of the night, he was exhausted and cranky. Some might say his “inner Erin” was coming out. When he walked past Corey on his way to bed, he stopped and in this totally shitty, sarcastic tone, said, “Oh and thanks for much for the present, Corey.”

“Your mom said I could just bring your present to your laser tag party next week!” Corey cried defensively.

“Whatever, it’s probably just going to be a spoon,” Chooch spat in a spoiled tone. And as he began to walk away, he paused and added, “For me to shove up my ass!” He wasn’t even trying to be funny, but Corey, Janna and I all fucking lost it. It was late, we were slap-happy, and then that happened and it turned into A Thing.

Corey made a note in his phone that just said “Get spoon.”

And oh, he got a spoon, alright. Corey had it tucked in the gift bag with the actual presents he bought Chooch, but I suggested that we take the real presents out and hide them, so it looked like literally all he got Chooch was a spoon.

When Chooch pulled it out of the bag, he was so confused. I couldn’t believe he had forgotten in a week! His cousin Zac said, “Is that for your mom to beat you?” and all of his friends were just like, “Your parties are so weird.” It wasn’t until he read the card that he realized it was from Corey and then it all kind of clicked, so he stormed off to “have words” with him. Total highlight of the party.

The Spoon. It has become something of a phenomenon in our house. We take #spoonselfies now and Henry is making a plaque for it so that when Chooch isn’t toting it around, he’ll have a place to hang it for the night.

In this short video, you can see the tail end of Monica saving my face from acquiring a basketball imprint, laser tag sounds (that’s my dumb voice screaming “OH MY G—-” at the end), and the Unwrapping of the Spoon. I wish I had a video of the super-sad Zoloft commercial happy birthday serenade, but COREY deleted it because he didn’t like how his VOICE sounded! Ugh, the worst!

***

Chooch just strutted past in his underwear and I asked him if he had anything to add while I’m writing this. He said, “Yeah, thanks for the spoon, Corey.” And then as he ascended the staircase to his room, he mumbled, “I love it.”

I still have no idea how we managed to not get kicked out.

HAHA SIKE. This is just another post about Warped Tour and not actually the maniacal manifesto/illegible murder confession that I think some people (Henry) have been nervously expecting.

Every time I look at the Warped Tour lineup for 2015, I feel like I might have immaculately conceived. The only downside is that there is no way I’m going to be able to see every single band on my list; there are just too many and some are bound to overlap. #musicfestivalproblems

In all of my obsessive Warped Tour thinking/planning/daydreaming, I uncovered some photos of Chooch that I never posted from his first time at Warped Tour in 2013. They were lost in some random desktop folder, probably Henry’s fault.

Christofer Drew is offering 45-minute songwriting classes this summer and Chooch and I have been talking about whether he wants me to sign him up for that or not. It costs extra, and if he’s going to get all starstruck like the last time he met Christofer, then that’s kind of a waste.

Chooch was all pissed off a few weeks ago because he was waiting for the bus that takes him to the after school program, when some middle school girl walked past him, saw that he was wearing a Pierce the Veil shirt, and said, “You probably don’t even listen to Pierce the Veil.” Bitch, he was singing Isles and Glaciers songs when he was still sitting in a CAR SEAT, so shut your dumb face.

If she only knew that he was practically born into this scene! Last night, I was YouTubing live Dance Gavin Dance videos while Chooch was putting together some Minecraft Lego thing, when he said, “Put on something from when Kurt Travis was the singer.” And then we watched an entire A Lot Like Birds show.

Because clearly, Chooch is a poser.

I hope we see that girl at the Sleeping With Sirens show next month. You know, if she was able to get tickets before they sold out in less than 5 days.

I posted a picture of my Warped Tour ticket (it’s the special 3D collectors ticket with Choonimals artwork, duh) on Instagram and WARPED TOUR REGRAMMED ME!

^^^^ Totally the apogee of my Instagram tenure.

TWO MORE MONTHS. TWO MORE MONTHS. TWO MORE MOTHERFUCKING MONTHS!!!

Saturday was so chill in comparison to past birthday parties, where we rent a pavilion and stress over weather, food and decorations. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good birthday blowout, and I love getting to see everyone, but the “getting to there” part gives me gray hairs and then I’m usually not even able to hang out with everyone because I’m running around like an asshole and trying to make uncomfortable small talk with school parents. This time, we opted to just have family over for cake, and then a small, separate party for his school friends at a laser tag place next weekend.  My nerves are still thanking me profusely. Birthday parties are a lot of work!

Chooch looks like he’s smiling, but he was actually in the middle of making gritted-teeth demands and being a brat because his party hadn’t started yet, god forbid he had to sit with Janna and me any longer!

So then he was like, “Eff y’all, I’m doing my word search, which is more entertaining than either of you.”

But then Blake showed up with a present and believe me, Chooch’s love can 100% be bought. But then if you stop buying him shit, that love gets lost real fast.

Blake got him some kind of talking cat thing, so Chooch had it saying “Janna sucks” within seconds.

We invited the neighbor kid because he’s adorable and Chooch is always at his house, so we figured it might be time to return the sentiment. I don’t like kids in my house because of all of my Stuff and Breakables and also because it’s My House, plus you never know what will be going on in here, anything from making STD cookies to serial killer cards.  But I made an exception and within 2 seconds, the kid ogled the Devil rug and then put on a pig mask. It seemed to be OK.

“I just wanted to take a picture of you being a brother,” I said to Blake as I snapped this.

The guests:

• Janna
• Markie
• Blake
• Robbie & Nikki
• Corey
• Judy
• Kelly
• Zac
• Sam
• Steph and Kian

Then Henry’s sister Kelly and her crew arrived, so it was officially a party. And Sam is old enough to drink legally now, I can’t believe it!

The only annoying part of the whole thing was a cake. The laser tag place provides its own cake (which I’m sure is going to be “delicious”) so I only had to order one for the family soiree. Chooch said jokingly that he wanted a Teletubbies cake, and I was like YES I CAN MAKE THAT HAPPEN. I ordered a photo cake from my beloved Bethel Bakery, and submitted a picture of the Teletubbies onto which I had Photoshopped Chooch. But the next day they emailed me and said I would have to submit a different picture because of Copyright bullshit.

My response was a curt, “That’s fine,” which obviously is Bitch Code for You Just Fucking Ruined Everything, Including My Life.

I just had a “That’s fine” moment two days before, when we went to Sugar & Spice specifically so I could get a soft serve cone with crunchies, but then I had tha audacity to order one of the “designer” flavors instead of standard chocolate or vanilla, so the broad was like, “NOW THIS WILL BE TOO SOFT AND MELTY FOR THE CRUNCHIES.”

To which I replied with, “__________”

“Do you want me to try and blend them in instead?”

“No, just forget it. Forget the crunchies,” I said in pout-slur.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

IT WAS NOT FINE. THE CRUNCHIES WERE THE WHOLE REASON I CAME TO YOUR LAME ICE CREAM SHOP, BITCH, LEARN HOW TO USE YOUR DUMB MACHINE THEN!

Meanwhile, Henry was like, “Ooooh, I know THAT ‘it’s fine’!”

I didn’t have a plan B for the ice cream, but I had one for the cake. I told the bakery to just nix the photo aspect and give me an outdoors background. Then Henry printed out the Teletubbies and the photo I wanted to use of Chooch, and we just stuck them on the cake with popcicle sticks.

I was kind of angry at the half-assed cake decorating on the bakery’s end though. My family has used this bakery for as long as I have been alive and it has never let me down, except for being closed EVERY YEAR the week of my birthday. I mean, the cake itself was still delicious as fuck (it’s the best in the city), but it looked like it was some kid’s first time using an airbrush. The piping along the edges didn’t even connect!

They were apparently running behind and made Henry wait, but they apologized by letting Chooch pick a complimentary treat from the bakery store. At first, I was all fired up and ready to put my Hate Mail cape on, but I don’t know. I love Bethel Bakery. Maybe I should excuse them this one time.

(If the cake had tasted bad, then it would be WAR.)

This was a scary moment, but I need to put out that Chooch has better cake-cutting skills than me. I mean, a blind double-arm amputee probably does, as well.

My house was full of so many good people and it made me incredibly happy. Marcy would have hated this.

….and this.

I know, it looks like they’re engrossed in their phones, how cliche, but they were all actually playing some Xbox party game that you use your phone with. I think this particular one was a Pictionary-type game and one of the pictures was “surprise tape worm” which is the best thing ever and sounds like one of my old AIM screen names, to be honest.

JUDY.

Don’t think I forgot to treat myself on this sacred day. I celebrated the ninth year of my C-section incision phantom pains with a ticket to the Smashing Pumpkins acoustic show at the Library Music Hall in June. They’re only doing this in like 10 cities as a pre-tour thing, and surprisingly Pittsburgh was one. Tickets went on sale Saturday at noon, and I’m glad I (impulsively) bought mine then because it’s sold out already. I bought mine only an hour after they went on sale and the best available ticket was in the last row of the balcony. I’m fine with that. I was actually surprised that there were any left at all at that point!

Corey with the sprinkles that he made Henry buy him over ten years ago when he was sleeping over and had a “hankering for sprinkles.” I can’t believe we still have these in the kitchen?!

“What? They never go bad!” Henry said defensively.

Meanwhile, Corey and I were excited that we had a big audience to entertain with our Janna Tales, especially now that we have the Robitussin incident to add to the repertoire. The Silhouette Story in particular seemed to get a better response this time around. (At Marcy’s wake, it was met with a few unreadable reactions, like possibly we were being offensive.)

I think my favorite part was that Blake and Robbie stayed so long. And Robbie brought his new girlfriend, Nikki, and we all highly approve. She was so nice and cute! 

Sometime after 11, Henry’s family left and it was just me, Chooch, Janna and Corey. We promised Chooch that we would do the Tetris Dance on Just Dance with him, because he needed three more people. We had all been drinking, plus our natural giddiness exacerbates the drunkiness, so when it got to the part where we had to pick up Chooch horizontally, we totally dropped him. He was so mad, which only made us laugh harder because that’s what dicks do.

And we’re dicks.

Chooch reached his limit around midnight and declared that he was going to bed. He stopped as he was passing Corey and sarcastically said, “Oh, and thanks so much for the present.”

“Your mom said I can just bring it to the laser tag party next week!” Corey cried.

“Whatever. It’s probably going to be something dumb. Like a spoon,” Chooch grumbled. And then as an afterthought, he spat over his shoulder, “For me to shove up my ass!” before storming off to his room.

We fucking died. Can he be anymore like me? Nothing is ever good enough! Weee!

And so that is why Corey now has a “get spoon” reminder in his phone.

(Flashback to 4.)

Thank you to everyone who wished Chooch a happy birthday via text, Facebook, Twitter and Instagram—I showed him every single one of the birthday wishes and he ate it all up. Birthdays rule, man!

Henry took Chooch out shopping for “anything he wanted” and then successfully talked him out of 99% of the “anything.” He finally got Just Dance for Xbox and spent most of the day getting in accidental exercise*, stopping long enough to go to the Southside with me and Janna so I could take my Marcy portrait deposit to Kyklops (the girl doing the tattoo for me is married to an old friend of mine who was actually attacked numerous times by a young Marcy) and to get a late lunch at La Palapa, where we had a handsome waiter named Lester who was so handome that I had to tip him handsomely to match his handsome face. Sigh. Lester.

Then Janna had to use to the bathroom, which inspired Chooch to make hashtags with his fingers and loudly announce, “HASHTAG JANNA USES THE BATHROOM.” She was so pissed. His inner “Kelly” becomes more and more dominant by the day. He is TOTALLY related to me and Corey.

NO children allowed in Kyklops. Chooch didn’t give a fuck. He had a word search book.

*(Here’s a clip of Chooch dancing to You Spin Me Round, with cameos by me and Janna.)

The day culminated in a family cake gathering with a grand finale of Corey keeping us up late watching “ghetto fights” on YouTube.  Pretty sure that’s what gave me nightmares last night. 

Both of Henry’s sons came! And Corey! I can’t remember the last time all three of them were here at the same time. It was awesome.

I will write more about that later. Right now, I’m nursing a severe cinnamon horchata Blue Moon and confetti cake hangover. Devil Rug help me.  

I came home from work and started going through old pictures to re-edit, because it has been A Week, and playing with photos calms my nerves almost as much as wine. Obviously, I’ve been going through Chooch pictures because it’s his birthday on Saturday and I get so fucking weepy and nostalgic every year around this time. He’s almost old enough to be a latchkey kid! SOON HE WILL BE A TEENAGER AND THAT WILL MEAN I’M OLD TOO.

Haha, no it won’t. Peter Pan Syndrome 4 lyfe.

I don’t know. Enjoy some random photos of my kid.

2008 – I WONDER IF BLAKE STILL HAS THAT SHIRT. God, we used to drive Henry nuts with our constant need to listen to DGD in the car. I guess not much has changed, at least on my end.

2012

2006 – Cemeteries have always been his playground.

2011

2012 again.

Bonus: When Henry exhibited lightning-quick reflexes to catch Chooch before he pancaked across the ground, circa 2007.

Ugh, I can’t wait for the weeeeeeeekend.

Ugh, Chooch is going to be nine on Saturday. How does time go by so fast? I hate it! We’re not doing a big party this year. He wanted to have a small party at the laser tag place for his friends, and then we’re having some people over on Saturday for cake.Nice and simple, which will be a nice reprieve for my bulging nerves.

I don’t know what dumb Henry is getting him, but I bought him a ticket to the Sleeping With Sirens acoustic show in June, because The Summer Set is opening and they’re one of his favorite bands. I’m pretty meh about both bands, but I took one for the team and made sure I was on the SWS website at the exact moment tickets went on sale. It did eventually sell out too, and it’s at one of the smaller venues in Pittsburgh, so I really anticipate a night in a small room with hundreds of screaming teenage girls!

But, it’s worth it. Especially when he found out I bought tickets and then proceeded to scream like one of the aforementioned teenage girls.

(From last summer’s Warped Tour.)

I ordered his birthday cake last night (oh boy, it’s a good one) and wanted to order one for my C-section incision too (9 years of phantom pains!) but I took Henry’s frown as a no.

I was trying to call my dad, Henry on a payphone but I didn’t have change. Some girl behind us laughed and It was weird. Oh, and I was singing Payphone by: Maroon 5. Mommy said I was a mess and dirty so mommy kept yelling at me. Also before we went on the T a bee flew past my face and I got scared it was going to sting me like another dickhead bee did when I was walking home from school with my mom. And I went to Sunoco with Mark and his mom. Sunoco never had a Shake and Smoothie machine so I got a smoothie. It was a really good Strawberry Banana Smoothie. It was $3.05 and Daddy only gave me $2.21 for Sunoco. So Mark’s mom had to pay for the rest. When I got home, I told mommy that I didn’t have enough money for the smoothie so Mark’s mom had to pay the rest. Mommy gave me $2.00 to give to Mark’s mom. Because she didn’t want her to thing we are mooches. And on the T there was a little girl who couldn’t wait to sit next to me she was looking at my phone, too.

It was the Anime Convention in Pittsburgh, PA and Daddy probably had a CRUSHY on this girl in a PRETTY dress, O.O!  I was sort of bored and my legs were tired I felt like I  was going to collapse. When ever I walk for a long time my legs start to wobble.

Daddy is a misbehaved, and idiotic Dad. He goes to Ice Cream places and beer stores because he likes beer. I really don’t know what else to say about him  that’s really it.

One time on March 6, me and daddy went to Shop n’ Save  and daddy got a Pork loin and it looked like a Big Fat Cow P3n1s. I was sort of grossed out. But then he asked a guy to cut it 1 inch. The guy was like 0.0. And I was like );. So the guy cut it 1 inch. His shirt was clean but when he came out from cutting it. HE MUST OF CUT IT GOOOOOOD D:! Because he was all bloody. But we left after that and when we got home. I told mommy all about it. We laughed!

Today mommy showed me the rug she wants to get. It’s a rug that has a devil on a throne and two naked ladies. I don’t want to have it in our house but mommy does. I said what if grandma comes over. She’ll be like “Oh Joey do you approve of this! I said no B00bies until you’re 50! I’m going to spank your a$$!” That’s what grandma calls him Joey instead of Henry. Apparently because there’s already a Henry in the family so they call him Joey.

Lest anyone forget that I am a “Mommy Blogger” 1% of the time, here is an update on that male human I made with the help of sacrificial virgin blood, a full moon, and a Marilyn Manson CD 9 years ago.

1. Kitty Kat Playtime

I absolutely adore Chooch’s piano teacher for a myriad of reasons. Such as: She is adorable. She has played keyboard in various local punk bands. She has cool style. She’s an artist.

But my favorite thing about her is that she has a very laid back, non-traditional approach to teaching and somehow, someway, holds Chooch’s attention. Sure, she’s been teaching him from books here and there because it’s important for him to know the basics, but lately they’ve been branching off and doing their own things. Normally, when I come to pick him up, they’re jamming: Chooch on keyboard, Cheryl on drums. And she’s been helping him write his own songs, one of which is called Kitty Kat Playtime. (Natch.)

Please enjoy a video of Chooch practicing it and try not to cringe along at his mistakes. (This was his first run-thru at home!)

2. Chooch’s Quest For Love

Chooch always gets my old iPhones when I upgrade. He can’t really do much on it since he needs a password to download apps, etc, but he likes to use it to watch YouTube videos and play games. Kids his age having cell phones seems pretty common these days, really, and Henry and I monitor his activity. For instance, he has an email address, which is also linked to my phone so I can see what comes in and goes out. Mostly it’s just him harassing Janna when he forgets his Minecraft password (she’s the one who created his account and will forever live to rue that day),

But then Henry got a new phone. Chooch’s current phone has a shattered screen, so Henry was all, “I’m going to be nice and give you my old phone, so remember that the next time I forget to feed you or pick you up from school.”

Everything was just grand until I was checking my email on my phone and noticed that Chooch had a message in his account.

It was his “daily matches” from FilipinoCrush.com.

My immediate reaction was to freak out, of course. I asked him about it and he shrugged. “It’s probably just spam.”

I felt like this was probably a lie, but then The Real World came back on from commercial and that clearly takes precedence over investigating whether or not my son is leafing through some sordid Internet catalogue of mail order brides.

The next day brought with it a new “daily matches” email. This time, I scrolled all the way through and clicked on “sign in to your profile.”

SONOFABITCH.

He created a profile on FilipinoCupid.com!

Henry grabbed the phone and saw that he had downloaded the app for it because HENRY forgot to make sure these things couldn’t HAPPEN. Great fathering, HENRY!

Once we verified that he hadn’t actually made contact with any hot Filipino singles, Henry deleted the app and then we started cracking up because who knew Chooch had such specific tastes?!

He’s 28 and “willing to relocate,” y’all.

I’m still trying to get pictures together to be framed because it makes me sad knowing how many photos are just festering on the hard-drive.

I’m really enjoying how these look on the wall! The only problem is that I’m running out of room on our designated gallery wall and I don’t want every single wall in the house to be full of picture frames.

I fear that I’m on the verge of turning to….scrapbooking.

LOL, j/k. I don’t have the time or patience for that.

I’ll probably start making photo books again, but then I’ll just get distracted by making slogan t-shirts about obscure gospel aerobics instructors. Speaking of: I DID APPROXIMATELY 7 PAUL EUGENE WORKOUTS TODAY!  I should probably be medicated. Oh well. BACK TO WATCHING DIE HARD WITH A VENGEANCE! Henry went to bed because he was tired of me and Chooch asking a million questions about it. Action movies confuse me. I’m all WHO IS THAT NOW? and WAIT WHO HAS THE BOMB? and then BUT…WHY? and then I interrupt Henry’s long-winded explanation to state the obvious: BRUCE WILLIS IS SO FUCKING HOT.

1ST STORY: Walkin’ With My Taco and 1 Cupcake

Once upon a time, There was a Mythical Beast named Henry. He bought a taco and a Cupcake. Mommy and I saw this RARE beast. We followed him home. Once we were in the neighborhood. I screamed “Walkin’ with my taco!

” He didn’t care. I did it two more times. The 3rd time he looked Mommy and I laughed. But we kept following. I said “lets Catch Up I Will Run To Him!” Mommy said “It’s Icy!” But ME don’t CARE. Me RAN! I did not FALL! I walked beside this BEAST. I said “Walkin’ with my TACO!” He said back “Walkin’ with my taco and 1 cupcake. He got home we went in his house
he had a mask on it was HENRY! We Died! THE END

2ND STORY: YOUR SON KICKED MY SON IN THE BALLS!

Once upon a time, Me and JOSH were playing.

He was mad at me so we fought. He kicked me. So I kicked him in the balls. He started to cry like a wussy. His dad heard and said “WHY ARE YOU CRYING JOSH!” HIS MOM SAID “WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT MY SON!” JOSH SAID “RILEY KICKED ME IN THE BALLS!” JOSH SAID “*CRIES*” HIS MOM SAID “WHAT!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!” I ran home and I saw Josh’s mom running to my house. She said “Oh no you ain’t!” I tried to get in before her. But she BANGED so hard on the door. While mommy was listening to Emarosa and paiting her nails. And just heard *BANG BANG BANG* and mommy opened the door and she just started screaming like “YOUR SON KICKED MY SON IN THE BALLS!” @#!$#! So i just stood there crying. Mommy was mad at me. Even though I did it for a reason. He kicked me and So I kicked back.

Like daddy said! THE END

I think out of everything under the Christmas tree, the gift that elicited the most reaction from Chooch was the framed picture of Creepy Basement Grandma/#CookiePizza. He was like, “WHERE DID YOU GET THIS!?” and then I was all “I WENT THERE” and then we were both all, “HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA” and basically puking into our hands, because we are that obsessed with this stupid thing. Henry just sat there and tried to fit in but we were like, “Shut up, you don’t know.” DON’T ACT LIKE IT’S FUNNY NOW WHEN YOU REFUSED TO GET OUT OF BED TO WATCH THIS WITH US WHEN WE FIRST FOUND IT LAST MONTH.

God, can you imagine being in that house with all that weird doll reviewing going on?

This gift cost $1. It’s the simple things in life, you guys:

We had some people over on Friday and the fact that we have a framed picture of some random grandma just chilling on an end table for no reason made for a great conversation starter. And then over the weekend, I got the best text ever from my brother:

#CookiePizza never gets old. Never. I might get it tattooed inside my lip. But for now, I’ll just keep it as my Facebook profile picture a little longer.

Our Christmas tradition, ever since I was pregnant with Chooch, has been to have a picnic lunch in the cemetery. It started in 2005 when I was on the outs with my family (when am I not) and refused to sit around doing nothing on Christmas, crying into my hands like my mom probably hoped. I suggested that we go eat with the dead people at the cemetery, which is one of my favorite places in the world. I expected Henry to say no, but I was pregnant and he has no balls, so we packed a picnic lunch and by that I mean we swung by a CoGo’s on the way to the cemetery and bought disgusting pre-made egg salad sandwiches, plastic bottles of eggnog, and Moonpies. See? We’ve always been classy.

Then Chooch was born and it became a tradition to pack a small lunch and take some christmas portraits of Chooch before visiting whatever family hasn’t written us off that year.

Some years, the weather is decent enough that we can actually sit down for a little bit, but usually we’re speed-eating because it’s so damn cold. It was like, 60 degrees on Christmas Eve, but the temperature dropped by Christmas. Henry made Funfetti grilled cheese (Funfetti batter mixed with ricotta–might sound gross to less adventurous grilled cheese fans, but it was goddamn delicious), which we ate so quickly it was like we were trying to eliminate evidence of a drug crime.

At the last minute, we decided to buy Chooch a camcorder so that he can finally reach for the YouTube stars. I’m lucky I was able to get any shots of him without it fully obstructing his face.

Forcing him to pose for cemetery Christmas pictures is the most stressful part of the day, and always full of fights and hateful glares, with me crying, “THIS IS LITERALLY THE ONLY PART OF THE DAY THAT’S FOR ME AND YOU’RE RUINING IT!!!!!” but it’s worth it in the end. 

Something is wrong with me, I think. I’m EXCITED about Christmas. This rarely happens! Usually I’m ambivalent at best, or downright bitter and suicidal at worst. But today, the weather is really mild, almost early spring-ish, so I went for a walk on my break and stopped to pretend to care about that manger thing and then I even half-smiled at a kid. (OK, it was a grimace, but still.)

So fucking weird.

I think putting up a tree helped shoot a zephyr of Yuletide joy up my grinchy ass. We wound up snagging a surprisingly beautiful artificial at Target for 50% on Saturday, and I feel a lot better about that than pouring money into a live tree that’s only going to wind up on the curb after Christmas. Tree murder! I’m still hoping to find what I need to have my perfect Christmas tree before next Christmas, but this one will be nice to have on standby.

I think Willie (RIP) peed on our tree skirt last year, so I threw down my old Cure wall hanging. It’s better than a regular tree skirt, IMHO.

The extent of our decorations.

But I think what I’m most excited about this year is the fact that I’ve been incorporating some of Chooch’s and my inside jokes into the gifts. If you have ever had the (mis)fortune of hanging out with us, you know that we will take the smallest thing and turn it into a Kelly-Robbins Family Legend. (Please see: The Napkin Dispenser or Dawn from Eat n Park.) Two Octobers ago, we ate a diner and heard the cook call out, “FISH DINNNNNEEERRR!” and I designed an entire Valentine for Chooch out of that because we were so obsessed with mocking the poor Yankee Kitchen cook. (I have Henry, who was not impressed with our antics, on video barking, “And next time, you two can go by yourselves!”)

Our latest obsession that Henry just doesn’t understand is watching birthday party videos on YouTube (yes, still). One of our favorites is from the mother/daughter duo who review dolls and have really grating New Jersey-trash personalities. Actually, the mom is kind of Kate Gosselin-esque, which just makes the whole thing even worse. Chooch and I didn’t know it at first, but these bitches are evidently YouTube-famous somehow, and toy companies just send them shit for free. God, I hate this country sometimes.

So in this video, the annoying girl gets to have a cookie pizza for her birthday; basically just a large chocolate chip cookie baked on a pizza pan. The mom is so fucking excited about this, that she makes #cookiepizza appear on the video. This in itself makes Chooch and I cry every time we see it, but THEN the best part of the video happens: the camera pans over to the left just so, and out pops GRANDMA FROM THE BASEMENT DOOR! Oh holy fuck, our insides crumble EVERY TIME we see this, it is so fucking hilarious to us. Chooch has literally puked over this, and I usually wind up with mascara rivulets running down my cheeks. Henry gets really annoyed and leaves the room.

Sunday night, I was the last one to come up to bed. Henry asked if I turned everything off, because he knows I’m wont to leave the TV, heating pad, iron, and stove on. You know me and my penchant for nighttime chores! Anyway, I was like, “Yes, goddammit, everything is off” but then a few minutes later, Chooch came out of his room and asked, “Do you hear that?” Then he got down on all fours and placed his ear to our bedroom floor. “It sounds like the TV is on…”

“Ugh, ERIN!” Henry growled, rolling out of bed and going downstairs to shut it off. When he came back up, he said, “That fucking Mommy and Gracie show was on.” Chooch lost his shit, almost started crying, and yelled, “I PUT IT ON! I TROLLED YOU SO HARD!” I guess Chooch was controlling it from his phone, and this is just the funniest fucking thing in the world to me, knowing that Henry had to get out of bed to turn off the TV, only to see that it was on the MOMMY AND GRACIE SHOW.

Last night, after Chooch went to bed, I screenshot the moment where Creepy Basement Grandma (CBG for short) emerges from the basement (and #cookiepizza is still on the screen—best of both worlds!) and then I printed it, framed it, and wrapped it. Chooch is going to die laughing. Henry’s face became a marquee for disappointment and annoyance as he muttered, “It’s really not that funny.” BUT IT IS.

Since Chooch knows that Santa is really Erin and Henry, I’ve been having fun labeling the “from” part of his gift tags with ridiculous things, like Daddy’s Amish Beard and Summit Diner Choking Hazard.

Chase’s Slutty Grandma is from a different birthday video, you guys. Try to keep up. We call her “CSG” for short, and the really scary thing is that I referred to Creepy Basement Grandma as “CBG” last night and it only took Chooch a few seconds to figure out what it stood for.

“Creepy…Basement Grandma?!” he screamed, and then we were doubled over, in utter hysterics, while Henry sighed miserably.

And this was before we ever referred to her as Creepy Basement Grandma. We are on the same fucked up wavelength and Henry is so fucking jealous.

I can’t express enough how thankful I am to have spawned a child who finds humor in ordinary, mundane things. Being able to have inside jokes with him has made our relationship so ridiculous and I love it. AHHH, I’M SO EXCITED FOR CHRISTMAS!

***

While I was on my break today, I called Henry and said, “Remember when Chooch put the Mommy & Gracie Show on and trolled you so hard?”

“He didn’t troll me ‘so hard’,” Henry sighed.