You're Fired...

"Someday your boss is going to call you into his office and explain why you have to be fired. Here's how it's going to go: He will say,"As you know, there have been some budget cuts, and we've had to make some very difficult decisions."Then you'll start crying and begging for your job. You'll look pathetic as you try to argue for your own worth. You won't change his mind. But he'll sit and let you yammer on, just because he feels like he has to. Really, he's just dying to get you out of there." -Walter T. Pratt

I am no stranger to getting fired; big shock, right? I have worked many jobs, in many fields and almost all of them have ended in my termination. Though I've been "let go" many times (6 times to be exact, 7 if you count being fired from a volunteer job at the library) not one time has it been because I wasn't pulling my weight (except for the library thing; what a snooze fest). I remember vividly what it was like each time I was pulled into a small office and gently let down. Sometimes I would cry or beg for them to keep me, but most of the time I knew it was coming and had a new job lined up and waiting. After many years of feeling this rejection, it occurred to me that the only way to stay employed was to employ myself. Now at 26 I have a company that I share with my best friend "The Perpetual Bridesmaid", and though it doesn't make either one of us enough money to buy a stick of gum, it has presented us with the opportunity to hire someone to do work for us; a graphic designer. For the sake of this story and to protect his privacy we'll call him, Dopey.

Things started off well. Dopey had our logos perfect and to our specifications in a timely manner. He also handled my obsessive controlling nature and shear ignorance towards anything computer related with amazing finesse. There was never an issue with communication during the process and things were looking bright for this business relationship. That was until the logos were finished and it was time to move on to the big banana; our website. Suddenly dopey forgot how to use a phone and weeks would pass without a returned call, text message or e-mail. When I finally did hear from him there was always an excuse and never anything ready for viewing. Perpetual Bridesmaid and I knew what we had to do, but it was hard for me to put myself in the position to fire someone. One) because I knew how awkward and upsetting it was to be told you weren't good enough and two) because I just couldn't find a way around being unprofessional when doing it. Luckily, Perpetual Bridesmaid stepped in and took the reins on this one and has put together an e-mail (a modern day pink slip) for Dopey explaining that there will no longer be a need for his services. I'm not sure how he took it or if he has even read the e-mail yet. All I know is that I learned something in the process about how I want to run the Mouthy Mavens and now I would like to bounce my thoughts off of all of you.


I have decided to write a small employee handbook, this way future staff of the Mouthy Mavens will know what's expected of them. And when I say "them" I mean the one person who is willing to work for a few bottles of wine and a free meal at Arby's (No super sizing).

The Mouthy Mavens LLC employee handbook.

Congratulations on becoming a valued employee of the Mouthy Mavens LLC. We are so glad you were willing to sell yourself short and take this thankless, low paying job. Now that you've come aboard we would like you to take a moment and learn our policies. Everything you need to know can be found in this crappy thrown together brochure. If after reading this you find yourself with questions or comments, feel free to write them down and deposit them in your nearest waste receptacle. We have little tolerance for slow learners and could care less about what your opinions are when it comes to running our business. Just read the handbook and do your fucking job!

Chapter 1-Business attire.

Though there is no dress code Per Se, we do require that some form of clothing be worn during meetings with the Mavens and their clients. Please note that the Mavens have the right to mock and belittle your choice of attire at anytime or ask you to remove and hand over anything that would look better on one of us (ex; shinny shoes, engagement rings, stylish fedoras). However, if you are working virtually, feel free to work in your birthday suit or anything else that motivates you to be productive.

Chapter 2- Punctuality

While we do expect you to check in and be on time, we understand that shit happens. This is why we have developed the "look the other way" system. As long as you can provide an adequate excuse (see excuses in chapter 4) or an elaborate gift (Steve Madden Gift card, fine jewelry, ect) we will be happy to let Tardiness slide once in a while. There is only one exception and that is when it comes to deadlines. We will not tolerate any missed deadlines...Ever! Besides your death, no excuse will get you off the hook for not having your work turned in on the day we have agreed to. Capeesh? (Initial here if you capeesh:___)

Chapter 3- Appropriate language

We at Mouthy Mavens LLC, want you to feel free to express yourself in colorful ways and share with us what's on your mind. Foul language is not only accepted, but is also rewarded and celebrated here. We also feel that off colored jokes and sexual innuendos add a special something to a working environment and we strongly encourage the use of both during your time with us.

If you are sensitive to demeaning nick names like "busfucker" and "fruity nuts"(just to name a few) we recommend you rethink taking a position with the Mouthy Mavens. We will occasionally want to refer to you as such and will consider any offense taken as insubordination and grounds for termination.

Chapter 4- Acceptable excuses

As stated in chapter two, there are only a few excuses that will get you off the hook when you screw up at the Mouthy Mavens LLC. Here is a list of acceptable excuses. Though we are very adamant about sticking to these, we are always willing to give you the opportunity to "wow" us with your reasoning to why you are such a huge disappointment. All excuses must be submitted in writing with the assumption that you will one day have it thrown back in your face or that the MouthyMommy.com will use it as a form of public humiliation.

Mavens' Excuses:

1. You're Dead

2. Spent night in jail for something really funny; Ex, Banging Tranny hooker in police station parking lot, Fighting (only if you get your ass kicked and the person who kicked it is old, gay, short, of the opposite sex, or mentally inept), busted for use of truck stop "glory hole"

3. Dead dog/cat. I know originally only "your death" could get you out of a deadline, but after review we realized there was one other excuse that could work. While we have zero compassion for humans, animals are always a soft spot. If grandpa dies we will expect your work no later than midnight the day of the deadline. If mittens kicks the bucket you may have as much as a 1 week extension providing you show evidence of its recent demise.

4. Blindness/ Deafness. We have no patience for any of these things. We are a business centered on writing, listening and reviewing. If this is a temporary issue you may have 1 week to correct it. If it is permanent, it's been a pleasure-don't let the door hit you on the way out!

5. Funny illnesses/injury. Ex) The Clap, any venereal disease that ends in "ia", anything stuck in rectum (x-ray proof required), Anal fissures, ect.

**Again, you always have the opportunity to try a new excuse out. Just remember that we will never except " I slept in," "There was traffic," or anything else generic and not awe inspiring.

***We also determine what is considered funny.

Chapter 5- Drug use.

The founders of the Mouthy Mavens run on three substances, caffeine, nicotine and anti depressants. We personally do not partake in any recreational drug use, however, we do not judge or discourage if you choose too. We understand that sometimes it takes something extra to get motivated and inspired. As long as your work is turned in and meets all Mavens standards we will use the "look the other way" system. If at any point you fail to complete a task, turn in shoddy work or steal from us to get a fix, we will not hesitate to fire your sorry ass and have you arrested. Capeesh? (Initial here if you capeesh:__)

Chapter 6- This is not a democracy.

The Mouthy Mavens LLC is not a democracy. You do not get a "vote" on anything. Your opinion is much less valuable than ours and we reserve the right to ignore your better judgment and knowledge at anytime and do things our way.

Chapter 7- Benefits

There are no health benefits, Workman's comp, life insurance, 401K plans or anything like it. If you need a band aid, a Motrin, Tylenol Cold meds or an ice pack those can be provided by the Mavens. However, your paycheck will be docked for their expense. We are running a business, not a free clinic!

Chapter 8- The Mouthy Mommy

The Mouthy Mommy reserves the right to use you and anything stupid you say and/or do around her- in a blog, story , status update, tweet, and/or book. If you do not like this policy and prefer to be a private individual; tough shit. Either you agree or you find a new job.(Refer to Chapter 6)

~Now that you know the policies of Mouthy Mavens LLC and what is expected of you, it's time to get to work! We hope you'll enjoy working with us, but we also completely understand if you hate every minute of it.

Please sign, date and return the bottom of this form.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I _______________ have read and agree to follow all policies of Mouthy Mavens LLC.

Signed__________________________ Date__________________

And The Award For Worst Housewife Ever Goes To...

"Listen to that little voice in your head that says,"I don't have what it takes to do this job."-Walter T. Pratt

If you haven't figured it out, the "Worst Housewife Ever" award goes to yours truly. My husband kindly bestowed it upon me at about 6:30 this morning when he was getting himself dressed for work. Why you ask? Well, it seems that though I managed to do about 3 loads of laundry the day before, I somehow forgot to throw in any of his underwear. Which then left my husband to storm through the house like a drunk gorilla and shout that I am in fact, the worst housewife ever. Normally I would argue that there is no possible way that I could be the "worst" at anything (other than spelling), but the fact that he now must go "Indian" to his weekly office meeting, proves that in fact I am. Not that my husbands lack of underoos is the only thing that qualifies me to receive this prestigious title. There are plenty of things that are neglected, overlooked and shoved into closets by me on a daily basis that have allowed me to earn it. So instead of hiding the fact that I have found yet one more job that I am unqualified for, I have decided to own it and do what comes natural to me; punish myself through the written word.

I will break down my housewife duties and give you a glimpse into how I do things. I have to warn you, it's not pretty and if I had any self respect I would keep this to myself. Lucky for you I don't. Enjoy my crazy!

* Cooking

My cooking is terrible. I think it has something to do with the fact that I only know how to make four things and the recipes for all of them came off the back of soup cans. Sure, I could probably do better if I took the time to learn how to make things that didn't have the word helper or instant in the title, but no one is starving or overweight in my house. They're just slightly nauseated and possibly at risk of coronary disease.

*Cleaning

I only clean the things that are visible. Out of sight, not my problem is my motto. I do try to clean under the sofa once a month to keep the dog hair tumble weeds from rolling out when a draft blows in from the open front door, but bedrooms and closets that contain a working door leave me with little motivation to make or keep them tidy. That's why during parties and gatherings you will never be offered the "five cent" tour of my home. If you are super nosey and decided to ask for one, expect this response. "I have four bedrooms, they are all basically the same... Messy. Tour over. Now beat it!"

*Bathrooms

Bathrooms are cleaned for company or after a stomach virus rocks a family member...Oh, and when a tiny tree starts to grow in the shower.

*Nice Things

Most of the furniture in my home is only a few years old, but between the kid and the dog using it as their own personal jungle gym and in some cases- napkin, you may find it hard to believe once you see their condition. The coffee table is chipped and dented, the sofa in the family room has Cheetos stains, the sofa in the living room smells like dog and an inch of dust and dog hair covers everything else. I try to Fabreze and vacuum rugs once a day, but I have got to be honest, by Friday I have pretty much given up. This is why until the dog is dead and the kid is in college, we cannot have "nice" things.

*Laundry
Laundry is a huge thorn in my side and one of my husbands biggest disappointments in me. I have a routine, but it sucks and I'm learning to work around that. Here's what happens: I do the wash when I get tired of tripping over it in the bathroom. Then after a load is washed and dried I remove it, fold it and throw it in a basket where it will stay until it is worn and tossed back on the bathroom floor. I hate putting clothes away and mating socks, so I don't. Socks go under the clothes to the bottom of the basket. This is where they rest until my husband starts his daily treasure hunt. At this point it is up to him to find a pair of socks that are not only the same color, but also the same style. I'm a housewife (a really crappy one, remember?) not a maid. If he wants his stuff in the closet he can walk it there himself. Until then, happy hunting.

*Bill Paying and Scheduling
Paying bills and schedualing our family time is the only thing I am good at as a housewife. I can't say this is something I was always good at because after all, my credit score is 4 ( not 400... 4), but I find that most of my other shitty housewife tendencies can be overlooked by my husband as long as I stay on top of these two small task and for now I'm doing OK.

The Mouthy Mommy is the "Worst Housewife Ever" title holder of 2010 and after reading this blog can you think of anyone who deserves it more? If you can submit who and why on the Mouthy Mavens Facebook page or here in the comment section. I'll pick a winner Friday and that person will receive a Mouthy Housewife journal to record all of their own mouthy moments.

I'll show you a REAL DESPERATE HOUSEWIFE !

Hey Bravo! Hey ABC! Look over here! Mouthy Mommy fans you could learn something too, so pay attention.
I would like everyone to put their listening caps on and focus. I am going to start by giving a short vocabulary lesson.

Websters Dictionary defines these terms as follows:

Real-
•being or occurring in fact or actuality; having verified existence; not illusory.
Desperate-
•despairing: arising from or marked by despair or loss of hope.
Housewife-
•a wife who manages a household while her husband earns the family income.

**Now let's take a look at how Bravo and ABC define them.

Real-
• Any thing that contains a pulse and is capable of drawing in TV viewers.
Desperate-
• A term that describes someone who wants to be famous so badly that they will air their dirty laundry for all the world to see, regardless of how stupid, self absorbed, or arrogant it makes them look.
Housewife-
• A rich, middle aged, working woman.

As you can plainly see, there is a difference between the two sets of definitions. It's not that I don't enjoy watching a few episodes of Desperate Housewives and The Real Housewives of Who Gives a Sh#$ when I get the chance, because I do. I just feel that the titles are misleading and nothing more than a bait and switch. When I tell someone I'm a housewife, I don't want them comparing me to those women. I say call the show what it is, Middle Aged Woman Having Sex, Fighting and Seeking Fame. Don't name it after the people who watch it. It would have been like naming Star Trek, Geeky Virgins Living in Their Mother's Basement. See what I'm saying now? It's stupid!
Alright, enough ranting. It's time for me to put up or shut up; and you know what I'm choosing. I would like to give you a glimpse into a day in the life of a real desperate housewife. Though it is not as exciting as a bunch of Botoxed crypt keepers marching around in high priced couture and fighting over whose fashion line will bomb first or who gets to rape the pool boy; I feel the truly desperate real housewives deserve their 15 minutes too.

My day as a housewife.- by Jennie Nadler Milechman

I woke up this morning at 7 am. The baby was screaming in his room and my husband was already out the door for the day. I pulled the covers over my head and ignored the baby until his screams turned into sobs. I consider it my version of hitting the snooze button on the alarm clock. When I could no longer take the crying, I threw my feet on the floor and stumbled around looking for my robe. To my dismay, I found the robe balled up under my sleeping mutt. Feeling as though someone in my house should be allowed the luxury of sleeping in, I left her to snooze and marched across my house in my usual summer bed time attire; granny panties and a tattered tank-top. As I shuffled through the house I could see the morning sun glaring in through the open blinds. I know what you must be thinking... "Are you not worried about the neighbors seeing you through the window half naked?" And the answer is; who cares! As a general rule I try to never make friends or even casually associate with my neighbors. Neighbors are nosey, they always want to borrow crap and the only reason they want to hang out with you is so that they can see what the inside of your house looks like. I say F-em. Now let's get back to the story... I grabbed my snot covered kid from behind the gate in his doorway and placed him on my hip. His diaper was dry enough to last him at least one more hour, so I tossed him on the couch and let him watch cartoons, while I sprinted into the kitchen to fetch a cup of coffee. As I sat sipping my Folgers and jotting down a list of house work that I needed to finish before my husband came home, I spotted my pool geezer. Real housewives don't have sexy gardeners and young Latin pool boys. I have a 40 year old toothless workhorse mow my lawn and my Pool geezer is pushing 65. Pool geezer always shows up to my house shirtless. On this day the sunlight was reflecting off the sweat beading in his chest hair, and his cotton gym pants hung loosely on his hips, exposing just enough butt crack to make me want to jam my list writing pencil into my eye sockets. Seeing him working out in the yard, looking so unattractive, made me realize that it was time to throw on my valour track suit and get my day started.

Now dressed, I decided to challenge myself and surf the web for grocery bargains. After spotting that my local grocer was having a buy one get one extravaganza, it was time to dress my munchkin and do a little food shopping. It turns out that munchkin was ripe and in need of more than just a wardrobe change, which would have been fine except I had run out of baby wipes. I shuffled into the bathroom and grabbed a wet washcloth. I did this while calling loudly to him "Don't move or you'll fall off the changing table." Lucky for me he obeyed. Once he was clean we ran to the store and stocked up on condiments and minute rice. Oh, how I love buy one get one.There's nothing like buying double the crap you don't eat because half of it is free. Anyway, when we got back home and unloaded the groceries, it was time for lunch. I nuked a hot dog and chopped it into a million bite sized pieces. Good TV or not, there would be no choking deaths on my watch, I can promise you that.

With lunch time over and death free, it was time for a nap. As usual, I fell asleep before my kid and I'm guessing he was out a few minutes later. We both awoke at 4 pm, which left me just enough time to toss in a few loads of wash and sweep the dog hair off the floor before my husband arrived home. The most important part of being a housewife is creating the illusion that you are busy and working on the house all day long for your husband. That's why I always wait to finish up my work until he walks through the door. Then when he starts whining about how hard his day was I can combat it with "I know what you mean. I had so much going on I didn't get my work finished until just now. What a day!" NEVER, mention the nap. NEVER! I'm starting to think a TV show would screw me, because it will out my secrets..hmm...I guess this story will too. Oh wait, my husband doesn't read my blog and he hates reality TV. Crisis averted, back to the story.

When my hard working, bread winning husband enters our home for the night, it's time for dinner. Lucky for him Frosted Flakes were buy one get one. This housewife doesn't cook but maybe Bravo or ABC can cast me a friend that does. No matter what trash I feed my husband, I always make sure my kid has a nutritious meal. Mainly because he's not old enough to make the choice for himself to treat his body like a dumpster. I figure while I'm responsible for his well being, the least I can do is make sure he eats healthy. When dinner is done we have a little family time. We watch TV together, read books to the kid, play some kid games and sometimes play outside in the back yard. We stay away from the front yard. Neighbors like to use small children as conversation starters. Like I said before, I'm not interested. Look at how being neighborly screwed the Desperate Housewives. No thank you!

After family play time, it's time for the munchkin to get a bath. Because I have such a long day with him, baths are my husband's job. I use that time to smoke cigarettes and chat on the phone with my childless friends that live much more exciting lives than me. When bath time is over, I toss my kiddo into my bed for a night time movie. He watches quietly for an hour and a half and I get some quiet time with my husband. I mean "quiet time" literally. My husband and I keep talking to a minimum during that time. We find it helps to take a breather before we start dumping our day on one another. Also, it prevents our kid from hearing us argue. Trust me, there's nothing worse than hearing your two-year-old mimic your potty mouth.

When the movie ends, I round up my kid and put him to bed. I read him a short story and tuck him in while my husband flips through the channels on the big screen. Bed time is always my gig and that's fine with me. It's quicker than bath time. With munchkin drifting off into dreamland my husband and I rehash our day and watch a little cable programming. When 10 pm rolls around, we stumble to bed and debate on whether or not to "do it." Not always wins and we shut our eyes for the night, only to wake up the next morning and do it all again.

**So, What do you think? I tried to make it reality TV and instead it turned out like a short story. Can't teach an old housewife new tricks I guess. Just in case though, I want ABC and Bravo to know that my contact info can be found on the Mouthy Mavens Facebook page. Not that I want to pigeonhole myself, any of the other cable stations will do. In fact, I may just have someone follow me around with a camcorder and post it all on you tube. You never know what a real desperate housewife will do...

S.A.S Awareness Day

Have you ever done something for your child, with the best of intentions, just to wind up regretting your choice later on? If you have, you maybe suffering from S.A.S (Stupid @$$hole Syndrome).

I never realized that becoming a parent and being a stupid @$$hole were mutually exclusive. It wasn't until my most recent act of stupid @$$holeness that I made the connection. You see, as a mom there are certain things I do to make my child quiet, happy and/or entertained. While doing these things, I sometimes neglect to see how they will affect me in the long run. That's when S.A.S kicks in and takes over. It is a personality disorder that affects millions. One minute your a high functioning parent, the next you are a Stupid @$$hole. When my S.A.S flares up, I am no longer able to fix the problem at hand. Though I may attempt to, the outcome will only be a bigger problem and never a happy solution.

I would like to share my top four S.A.S moments. While you're reading, you may notice that there are different variations of the syndrome. It's a sliding scale disease and therefore changes based on the situation. Though I only list four types, there are many more that you may experience throughout your parenting career. At this time there is no cure for S.A.S, but it is manageable. Let's work together to raise awareness. The next Stupid @$$hole we save may be you....

1} The DVD incident.
My child loves watching videos and I love that he does. It's a sure way to indulge in some "me" time without having to pay someone to keep an eye on him. The problem with all the video watching is that we burn through DVD players at an alarming rate. Not because he's sitting watching videos all day, but because after he's done, it's much easier to leave the DVD spinning than to turn it off and have to go through all the preview B.S the next time he wants to watch. To a normal person, waiting for a movie to load is not a big deal. To someone suffering from S.A.S, it's agony. Recently my only surviving DVD player joined the mechanical spirit in the sky. It was late in the evening, and my kid was jonesing for some "Nemo". I had to do something fast because his whining was pushing me over the edge. I remembered suddenly that the portable DVD player he uses in the car had an adapter to make it play on the big TV. I ran to the car and retrieved it. When I got back inside I realized I would need to hook it to an AC adapter to make it play. Unfortunately, I missed placed the one that it came with, so I opted to use one I had lying around. It was at this point that the most prevalent type of S.A.S kicked in. I was no longer mommy; I was a Stupid @$$hole. I attached the cables from the TV to the DVD player and then plugged in the AC adapter. About three seconds later, I noticed that there was no picture on the screen and at the same time there was a strange electrical smell emanating from the Portable device. On closer inspection, I could see small burst of smoke exiting the exhaust holes on the DVD player. In my attempt to give my kid a fix, I murdered yet another innocent machine. Now I was screwed double time. Not only was there going to be no "Nemo" tonight, there was also going to be no video distraction in the car from now until next pay check. I thought about trying to warranty my now fried portable DVD player, but wouldn't you know it, there is no Stupid @$$hole clause in the paperwork...

2} Shoelaces
Normally, I try not to buy shoes for my kid that involves laces. My reasoning for this is that he is not old enough to tie them himself, they are always hard to get on fat toddler feet and I'm lazy. It's not worth the trouble when Velcro shoes (a lazy persons dream) are just as easily obtained. When my little monster started nursery school, I decided to give him a fighting chance at popularity, so I purchased some trendy running shoes for him to sport. The running shoes, while very cool, had one down fall; they were lace up. To ensure his safety, I double knotted the laces. My knots where so perfect and sturdy, they would have given any boy scout a run for his money. Looking fly, he headed off to school and had a great day without any shoe related incidents. After school was a different story of course. The second my kid got in the car he wanted his trend setters removed. I tried hard to undo the massive knots I had tied, but they wouldn't budge. I ripped them from his feet, still tied, and worked on undoing the knots after my kid was down for a nap. The second the unknotting process began, S.A.S kicked in. I was now a Determined Stupid @$$hole. When picking at the laces with my fingers got me nowhere, I used my teeth to tug at them. When that didn't help I grabbed a fork and started prying at the knots. When I slipped with the fork and stabbed myself for the third time, I chucked the shoes at the wall, cursed loudly and stumbled off to bandage my puncture wounds. After a quick smoke to calm my frustration, I returned to my project. With no other options left, I took a pair of scissors and cut the knots free. When my kid awoke from his nap we made a run to Walmart and purchased a new pair of shoes with Velcro straps. I find that S.A.S is best controlled if you try to cut out the things that trigger it.

3} Store Pacification
I am positive that I am not the only parent that allows my child to play with an unpurchased toy while walking through a store. I find it keeps the whining and tantrums to a minimum, allowing me to shop or browse peacefully. Not too long ago, my monster and I were on an outing to find a reasonably priced birthday gift for a friend. My kid was in a stroller and unhappy about being restrained. When we entered the store, he quickly spotted a children's book lying in the first aisle. To keep him quiet and my expedition peaceful, I gave him the book and continued on my mission to find a gift. After 15 minutes of wondering around clueless, I decided against a gift and settled on writing a check instead. We exited the store and made the long, hot journey out to our crummy parking space. I unlocked the car and started the engine before reaching to put my kid in the car. When I finally glanced down to remove him from the stroller, the third form of S.A.S came over me. In his little hands was the book he was looking at in the store; the book that we never paid for. It was so hot and such a long walk back to the store. I just didn't have the energy to walk all the way back and face the humiliation. Tanks to my S.A.S, I was now a Thieving Stupid @$$hole. To this day, I still feel guilty for what I allowed my two-year-old to do. DAMN YOU, S.A.S!!

4} Too much Ha, Ha! Pretty soon, Boohoo.
Having an energetic, young son, leaves me to constantly search for fun new activities. He loves to tumble and wrestle. And to be honest, it fun for me too. One day my little monster and I were wrestling on the couch. After a while, I got thirsty. To keep the excitement going, I snatched him up and carried him over my shoulder into the kitchen with me. I took a quick moment to rehydrate, then ran him back to the living room. He was laughing and kicking his legs. We were having a blast. But then the worst form of S.A.S kicked in. The moment I decided tossing him on the couch was a good idea, I became Child Endangering Stupid @$$hole. It took only a second for me to realize what was happening but it was too late. I had already tossed him. I cringed as I watched him bounce up and whack his eye on the back of the couch. Because we were goofing off he only cried for a second. I however, cried for a few days. He sported a black eye for a week and I felt horrible every time I looked at him. That day, I vowed to never allow my S.A.S to hurt anyone, other than myself, ever again. I fight hard every day to stick to that promise. I hope by sharing my stories, I can prevent you from allowing S.A.S hurt someone you love.



**Do you or someone you love suffer from S.A.S? Feel free to share your story with the Mouthy Mommy. The best stories will be posted on MouthyMommy.com next week. You may remain anonymous if you wish.. Send your entry to Mouthymavens (at) gmail.com.. Thanks in advance!