Ode to a Redneck Shower

Some crazy burocracy in Canada thought it would be a good idea to give this nut job a child. (And honestly, I am applauding their decision.) So as a tribute, a bunch of bloggers are admitting their best “Redneck Mommy Moments”. Normally, I would have no problem recanting personal experiences…but there is just something about the ‘google is forever’ rule that scares me…

Here goes anyway!




The name “Bo” has stuck with you from years of Dukes of Hazard and yelling, “Get It Bo!” (But when you name your kid Beaux, you spell it different so no one will ever make the connection.)

You’ve taken soap and pajamas to the local pool.

You’ve bathed them in the front yard with a water hose; just for the fun of it.

You taught them ‘daddy likes his beer shaken’ cause your adorable husband thought it was cute to have the one year old get him a beer.

You have borrowed diapers from strangers on many, many occasions but have never been asked.

You potty trained them in the front yard. (Bonus points for watering the already dead plants!)

It took you 3 years to get the two-leggers to pee inside and the four-legger to pee outside. (Your rugs tell the story well.)

Your toddler calls himself “Pussy” because he can’t pronounce his name and you giggle. Every. Single. Time. (Then you tell perfect strangers about the time he was standing in the Catholic school parking lot and with arms raised high and biceps flexing he yelled, “Super Pussy!”; all while tears stream down your face.)


And that, my dear friends, is why I Pink-Puffy-Heart Tanis. She gets it.