Sometimes, I get sick of being such an asshole. I start to feel, like maybe I am missing out something, not being the perfect Mom, who all the kids wish was theirs. Ill get this wild hair, that I am gonna be the best mom ever. Like super triditional, and be all Martha, or June Cleaver, or some crap like that. I put on an apron, and get out all my baking stuff. And I make a bunch of cookies, and get out all the decorating supplies, and round up the kids, and prepare for this really wholesome rainy afternoon of cookie decoration with mom.




Reid made Batman!




Finn made Spiderman!

Arent they creative!!! Ahhhh, I get a nice warm fuzzy feeling fostering their creativity like this. A feeling that I am really buliding some memories here, that are not going to send them into therapy. Memories that might stick with them for the rest for their lives, and when they grow up, they will tell their kids, "Grandma used to make gingerbread cookies with us, Its my favorite childhood memory!"



And that dream just turns into a big puff of smoke, and flys out the fucking window.






Shes White Trash, see her clevage, and her belly shirt?




I made her a red headed whore, because, I have always wanted to be a redheaded whore








Oh yea, these memories will last alright.