in honor of mother’s day i’ve decided to share a few things i’ve put my poor mother through or experienced with her. a list of events that she would cringe, laugh, cry, and kick my ass for telling the world about. but i wouldn’t be me if i didn’t share and well that’s why my momma loves me! first off about my momma: she is literally the sweetest, nicest, caring, funniest (not intentionally), coolest (thanks to my younger sister), purest and angelic woman. but don’t get me wrong she’s a tough cookie too (she’ll have you know) her pretty blue eyes and freckled face grew up in the tough streets of nyc and she never forgets where she came from you can hear it in her bad ass bronx accent.

my mother is truly heaven sent. she has the heart of angel, the patience of a saint, and she deals with me and my sister's ridiculous ways. trust me anyone who can deal with me and my sister, claim us as their own, and not only love us but really appreciate us for the obnoxious girls we are deserves a prize!

growing up it would drive me nuts when people would say you’re just like your mother (being the bratty rebellious child i was, granted i haven’t changed that much) but when i hear that now i thank god because if i don’t start taking after my momma i will for sure end up in hell.

top 5 mommy and me experiences:

1) i swore my mother was reading my diary in high school (turns out she has crazy mother intuition) so i wrote a fake diary entry about sex (thinking of it now is hysterical because it made no sense) but whatever i left the diary open on my bed to that page to “test” my mom. go figure she read it and came out to the living room and attempted to kick my ass but before she got a good hit in i jumped up “a ha you see i cant trust you, you read my diary!!” and i ran to the room to and turned to a random page of the diary that was dated and read “dear mom i will never trust you again for reading my diary. this was a test. you failed. i can’t believe you!” me, dramatic? never!

2) one of the biggest wars me and my mom had was over fake nails! yup! acrylic tips! yup! when i was 13 years old all my girl friends who were little skanks in the making but i didn't know better and they were always getting fake nails but my mother wouldn't let me so i hated her for it and raised hell at home. but to my defense it was my mother's fault that i was hanging out with those skanks in training! see i was the ultimate tomboy (still kind of am) and i just wanted to hang out with the boys playing basketball, tag, having water fights, and just be boys. but my mother was afraid that at 13 years old their hormones were in full swing and they would try to make a move on me. little did she know that the boys were not trying to hit on me; i wasn't like the other girls i had the same size boobs as the boys and i didn't even have my period...i was just one of the guys! but regardless i had to hang out with girls and well the girls were boy crazy skanks and with that i become a rebellious teenage girl and asexual!

3) back in the day my nickname was olive oyl because i was so tall and skinny with no ass, yup i was skinny like really skinny...give me a moment to reflect on that time in my life....::sigh:: okay i'm back. well since i was so skinny and i was hanging out with the future skanks of america it was only right that i got my belly button pierced but yet again my mother said no. but being the bad ass that i was and as hot as i was "no" was obviously not an option (no, still doesn't really work for me) so i went and got it pierced. i did a really good job hiding it for the first 4 hours then i got home and put on my biggest t shirt, but when you are a tiny hot teenager big shirts don't really exist in your wardrobe so after 10 minutes of being home i heard j lo come on the radio and like any girl does when her song comes on: both hands went straight in the air, my hips began to shake, and i yelled "omg that's my song"...hands up = shirt up = my little sister "what's that on your belly button jacqueline" fucking traitor i hated her for a good month for calling me out on that. my mother chased me around the dining room table for a good 10 minutes before my father stepped in grabbed my behind and made me take it out. lucky for me i was hot and skinny for a few more years and was finally able to get it pierced again, but i got bored with it after a week. it was a lot more fun when i wasn't supposed to do it.

4) growing up my dad did most of the cooking because he loved to cook and was freaking awesome at it (dear god please find me a guy like that because if you don't i will either be an anorexic wife because my ass cannot cook or a broke wife because my ass will order every meal) but one day my mom was feeling nostalgic and wanted to make a meal from her childhood a traditional irish tomato stew. she was so cute and excited as she prepped the meal; she was playing irish music and telling us stories of her childhood (that might not have really happened but it flowed really nice with). me and my siter took our first bite of irish stew and.... my sister: mom i know you really are a good cook and that you tried hard with this meal and i really appreciate it but can you please make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich