Category Archives: Farts

Not that you asked…

What did I get for Christmas? You see those 4 beautiful people right there? The ones smiling while waiting for me to take that picture? THAT is what I got for Christmas. Smiles, from my children and my husband.
Lots of smiles.
And love.
OH, the LOVE! I took that picture at 5:45am on Christmas day, just before we headed out to the living room to watch our children began unwrapping their gifts. There, in my bed, was my entire family and I thought to myself “I’m looking at my entire life right there, how lucky am I?”.
I will never forget that moment.
Of course, 20 minutes later, there was crying and arguing and fighting and farting and more farting. And still, I said “I’m the luckiest woman I know” And I wasn’t just saying that because my farts NEVER stink. I was saying it because I have been blessed with three beautiful children who are healthy, happy and who love me.
It was a special Christmas, the first one with our daughter.
The daughter we thought we’d never have.
The daughter who has brought each and every member of our family infinite amounts of joy, laughter, pride and love.
The daughter who makes me swell with pride (and not just because she farts just as loud as I do.)
I never could have imagined the delight I’d get out of dressing a little girl. Hello? I get to put dresses on, with socks and shoes that match the dress and? I can put BOWS IN A LITTLE PERSONS HAIR! It’s, like, totally awesome, man.
I refrained from buying all things girl for Gabby because I realise at this age she has no clue what is going on. Instead, I got her one big toy that I knew she’d enjoy. Do you have any idea how hard it was to NOT buy here all kinds of pretty girl things?
Next year, Oh yes, next year indeed.
Both of the boys were extremely happy with their gifts (although, clearly one of them has a WEE bit more enthusiasm than the other).
I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day, although, it would have been nice if Christmas could have been the day I could have declared “The Kegals have finally done their job! My ‘little problem’ is cured and I no longer pee a little when I laugh a lot.”
Oh well, one can’t get EVERYTHING they wish for in one day now, can they?
I’ll leave you with what I believe is my favorite picture of my daughter yet. Remember when I told you that she loves to look at herself?” Just look…

See? Precious, I tell you.

I’ll rip your piece off

Anyone watch The Apprentice finale last night?
I was out shopping during the beginning of it and came home just in time to see REGIS PHILBIN all up in the audience with a mic in his hand.
What in the shit was that about?
And Donald was all “Ask all of the great people in the audience who should I vote for”
And Regis was all “Who should The Donald vote for, people?”
And I was all “Why doesn’t The Donald make up his own damn mind and quit acting like a spineless dick about it?”
That was just… STUPID?
And don’t even get me started on the “live band” singing the “Money” song. If I ever hear that song again, someone’s getting a round house kick to the ribs.
I thought it was highly fitting that, while watching that piece of crap finale last night, Gabby lifted her legs and ripped a horrific “wet” fart in the direction of the TV. It was as if she was saying “This is a piece of crap, but since all I’ve got is a fart laced with crap, I’ll go ahead and send a “shout out” to your piece of crap show, you pieces of crap.”
That said, I’m glad that Kelly won. I freaking HATED Jen.
Alrighty, then. That was special, wasn’t it?

fizarts are funny

My daughter thinks I’m funny and this makes me happy because there aren’t too many people think I’m funny.
Sure, people love to laugh AT me, but that’s not the same thing as thinking I’m funny. I mean, who wouldn’t laugh at a grown woman who didn’t know a pickle was a CUCUMBER?
My boys used to think I was funny. Now they think I’m just “annoying.”
Tony thinks I’m funny sometimes. Especially when we’re watching TV because of my commentary. But then I’ll go and rip a killer and suddenly, “I’m not funny” anymore. Excuuuuuse me for being human.
Lately, I’ve noticed when I write things that I THINK are funny, I always end up clarifying that in the comments “I was trying to BE FUNNY”. That leads me to believe… I might not be funny.
Funny is important. I love funny people. That’s why I love Melly so much. She knows how to bring on the funny. Trust me, even our “first fight” was funny because SHE is so funny. (ok and because it happened in a cheap motel which had a plastic donkey and a Jesus in the lobby) People who make me laugh are always my favorite people. So, excuse me for wishing I WAS FUNNY.
But, hey, Gabby think I’m funny and even if she is the only person in the world who thinks I’m funny, I’d be ok with that and I’m not just saying that because she farts when she laughs, which in turn makes me laugh so hard, I make peepee. I’m saying it because she has the most beautiful smile AND the greatest laugh I’ve ever heard.


I’m sick.
Sick of mean people.
But you know what I’m not sick of?
My daughters farts.
Sure, they stink REALLY BAD, but do you have any idea how much fun it is to watch this sweet, beautiful little girl rip ’em like she just don’t care?
It’s even funnier when we rip ’em together. In unison.
I love that I have a little partner in crime in the gas department.
What I do NOT love is when she rips them in public, stinking up the general area where I am standing with her stroller and people think it was ME. I’ve thought about pointing at her and saying “DON’T BLAME ME, IT WAS HER!” But seriously? How horrible would I look trying to pin the stank on my almost 3 month old infant daughter? So I just smile and let the public believe I have no manners and had some bad mexican the night before.
That’s what a good mother does.


A few minutes after Gabriella was born, the nurse handed her to me. I kissed her and decided to try to feed her. I unbuttoned my hospital gown and brought her to my breast. She latched on immediately. I’ll never forget that moment. There in my arms was my daughter and she looked right at me while she began to eat for the first time in her life from my breast, the milk that would sustain her for the first few months of her life. I couldn’t believe how easily she took to the breast. Both of my boys had trouble in the beginning, learning how to latch on and it was very frustrating. But not with my daughter, she figured it out right away and feeding her has never been frustrating.
Infact, words can not describe what an amazing and fufilling experience it is everytime I sit down to nurse her.

I love how her beautiful little eyes will focus on me while she’s eating and drifting off to sleep. I love the sounds she makes, the coos, the grunts, the gulping, hell, I even love the way she farts while she’s sucking away. It’s the funniest thing in the world.

The love, the sense of importance, the bond I feel when I’m nursing my daughter is one of the most precious gifts in my life.
And let’s be honest here, the fact that I can get out of the shower, run out of the bathroom and start squirting Tony with MILK is pretty damn cool too.

Yeah, riiiiiiiiight…

I was talking to my friend right now and somehow we started talking about farts.
She swears that she has never once farted in front of her husband. They’ve been married for 14 years.
I said “BULLSHIT.”
She says she just can’t do it.
Ok, what the fuck, seriously? It’s completely and totally natural. I mean, I know I take farting to new extremes, I have gas every other hour, but how the fuck does one control her ass muscles that well for FOURTEEN YEARS? And furthermore, why the hell would you want to? It’s a fricken’ fart, who cares? Of course, no one wants to fart in public, but at home, in the comfort of your own home? I am not holding back for shit if I have to fart, it feels good to just let go.
Infact, in our house, we comment on each fart made, like, “that one sounded like a machine gun” or “that sounded like a frog” Or the most used one “someone stepped on a duck.”
I just don’t believe her that she’s never farted in front of him.

Take that, miss priss.