Tamarah Rockwood

"I just can’t see Donald Trump on the ballot as being the most disgusting thing in the world. Right? I mean, there must be things out there that are actually more disgusting than Donald Trump."

You really, seriously wanted this week to be different!

I couldn’t listen to another puerile sales pitch in someone’s living room, promising the moon and then selling you something that “tastes just like sugar.” (It doesn’t. Not even sort of.)

Occasion: You are invited to your friend's wedding. YAY! WEDDINGS! You want to go. But then you can't. Bummer.

So, I ask myself: “Self, how much would you spend at Disneyland for a 3 day trip?” and then I would counter that with, “Self, how much could that money get you…anywhere else?”

Before I discovered I had celiac, I ate whatever I desired. Since discovering this autoimmune blessing (yes, blessing), I research what food I am, not only putting into my body, but into my family’s as well. I taught myself how to cook nutritious food from scratch that actually tastes amazing (these two do not always go hand-in-hand).

The truth is, my kids are not going to grow a deeper character thanks to perfect floors. Granted, it will make life easier for me, no doubt: there are few things that make my stomach drop than walking into a room that I just cleaned, and seeing a spoonful of peanut butter just sitting on the floor (I have an accomplished toddler). Peanut butter on the floor, or on the counter, or on the tablecloth — or anywhere other than on a piece of bread — is frustrating.

I don’t like my old friend Guilt very much. We are not BFFs. She smells funny, and I don’t appreciate her company.

The Mom Butt is a little wider, a little flatter and a little longer than the butts on the totally dedicated and amazing women on Pinterest (mad props to them, seriously).

"If I am holding an amber beer in my hand, I am not talking about naptimes. If I hear shop from your lips, I am ordering you three more martinis and getting you shitfaced..."