Lauren Wellbank

One mom and her struggle to survive until bedtime

Tag: satire

How to enjoy St. Paddy’s day like you don’t have kids when you actually have a couple kids

Seven steps for enjoying St. Paddy’s Day like you did before you had kids.


Step one: Dress your kids up in their St. Paddy’s Day finest. I am talking head to toe green, orange, and white. You’re going to need a gigantic green bow for their hair. This works for girls, boys, and patient dogs alike. Put giant green bows on everyone, you won’t regret it. Take pictures because OMG how cute are your kids in matching/themed/clean outfits? Immediately post said pictures to Facebook and Instagram (#littleleprachauns #luckyAF), and tell your husband that maybe you should have another baby #luckynumber3. Spend the next half hour changing a blown out diaper, navigate a meltdown over what socks to wear, and repack the diaper bag three times because SOMEONE keeps pulling the diapers out and throwing them around the kitchen. Tell your husband it’s time for that vasectomy. Load up the car with everything anyone could possibly need for the next 24-hours, for your ten-minute ride to your parent’s house. Continue reading

#turkeyday – How millennials are ruining Thanksgiving


It’s me, your 12 pound turkey, with a very important message about Thanksgiving.  I know a letter seems a little formal, especially since you are about to be wrist deep inside of me, but it’s pretty hard to get your attention any other way.  

Remember the other day when you thought you heard a noise coming from your trunk on your way home from the grocery store? That was me, trying to get your attention.

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To the woman who made fun of me today at Target

To the woman who made fun of me today at Target,

I saw you…

You were openly mocking me.  I don’t think you knew I was watching, I was in the back of the store, a few rows away tucked almost out of sight.

I get it, I really do, I make an easy target with my unnaturally slow gait, my arms always lifted just so, the slack jawed look on my face. You’re not the first person to make fun of me. You’re not even the first person to do it in front of me. It has happened for as long as I can remember. Continue reading

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