Mona Andrei's Blog

Hey there, awesome readers!

As I write this it’s just after 3 p.m. (in the afternoon, obviously) and I’ve decided to ditch the rest of my day and write.

Ditch the rest of my day? Who am I kidding?

I’ve been putting off cleaning the bathroom and it’s either write, or start day drinking. Either way, it’s procrastination.

But day drinking… Hmmm…

Wait!

Nope. I’m going to keep my skinny ass glued to this chair and WRITE, damn it. It doesn’t matter that I’m not even sure what I’m going to write about. Something will pop up. Eventually.

Give me a minute as I stare out my window…

Oh! My mind just went to a day job I used to have.

Some of you may know that I used to work in advertising. Yup. I was a copywriter for big brands. It was fun.

Let me rephrase that. It was fun on most days. It was fun when the ideas flowed (in the right direction), and the clients loved the ideas. It wasn’t so much fun when the clients didn’t love the ideas. That happens more often than you think.

I remember one time when my boss at the time said I wasn’t strategic. This was about 30 years ago but I think about it a lot. Like when I’m cleaning the bathroom and I put the shampoo and conditioner back in the exact same spots so that I can use them in the right order when I can’t see because I have soap in my eyes. How’s that for strategic, former boss?

Or when I buy toilet paper for the same said bathroom and store it IN the bathroom so that it’s where you need it, when you need it. Again. Strategic.

It’s only fair to say that this boss also had nice things to say to me. Like the time he said, “You have great ideas, Mona. They just need to make sense.”

And you know what happens when you feel appreciated, right? Well, let me tell you that after he said that I really went to town with ideas. The more he applauded my work, the more I wanted to work. (And the more I went back to the proverbial writing board.) That’s human nature. Or maybe science.

Well, here we are almost 400 words into this blog post. See? I told you something would pop up. I started with no idea what to write about and here I am proving that my creative process is 13% making myself stay seated at my desk and 97% avoidance. (And 100% broken math.)

Oh, and look at the time! It’s almost 4 o’clock. It’s happy hour! Guess it’s too late to clean the bathroom now.

There’s always tomorrow.

The post How I accidentally wrote a blog post when I was supposed to be cleaning the bathroom appeared first on Moxie-Dude.

Hey there, awesome readers!

When I first read the news that she was dead, I forgot how to breathe.

It was only for a nanosecond, but few things cause me to forget how to do something so natural as breathing. Yes, I’m talking about Diane Keaton’s passing. And, yes she was 79 and not 29. But still. Diane had this… je ne sais quoi… Her style. Her movie choices. Her perspective on life and her confidence. Perhaps it was this combination of all things “Diane Keaton” that made her my go-to actor whenever I was in the mood to watch something light yet enlightening.

She made me appreciate wisdom over youth and quirky over ordinary. She wasn’t just a celebrity. She was a permission slip. To own who you are. To age gracefully without trying to look like a 30-year-old Instragram filter. To live boldly, wear hats, and order wine for one without flinching.

She reminded me that self-confidence isn’t loud. It’s quietly showing up as yourself – tie, vest, hat, and whatever else you feel styles the mood. For me it’s usually sweatpants. Sorry, I’m not as chic as Diane was. But this is what made her “cool.”

(People still say cool, right? I mean its meaning hasn’t changed the way words like killer, sick, and wicked no longer mean killer, sick, and wicked, has it?)

And maybe that was part of her purpose here: to remind us that we’re not meant to chase youth. We’re meant to own our evolution… to accept who we are, where we are, when we are.

Maybe that’s what Diane gave us – not a lesson, but an example. That confidence isn’t something you’re born with. It’s something you grow into.

This, from a girl who just got her hair cut short after over 30 years of ponytails.

PS. If you need more proof that time is sailing forward (and that I’m learning to laugh about it) check out this post about not being 25 anymore.

The post Diane Keaton died, and I cut my hair (Coincidence? Probably.) appeared first on Moxie-Dude.

Hey there, awesome readers!

I recently got some exciting news – Moxie-Dude has been listed in FeedSpot’s 70 Best Single Mom Blogs AND 100 Best Humor Blogs for 2025. Yup. TWO lists.

I’m not gonna to lie…

I don’t know how I get on these list-maker’s radar. But when I get the news, I always need a paper bag. I take nothing for granted.

Also, it’s both flattering and confusing since my greatest achievement this week was remembering to take the garbage out. True story.

Writing and laughing about life’s chaos are two separate things I’ve been doing for a very long time (decades). At some point, combining them became my survival tactic.

It’s kinda like I learned how to make fun of life’s chaos before life made a fool out of me. (Note to self: Get that tattooed somewhere.)

Back to this blog post…

Many of you have been with me since I started this blog back in 2010.

OG readers and new readers alike: Thank you for surviving (and laughing) with me.

PS. A little something for my single mom readers.

If you’re a single mom and you’d like to receive my Single Moms with Moxie newsletter delivered straight to your inbox, you can subscribe here.

What you can expect:

Honest storiesPractical tipsA reminder that you’ve got this!

It’s your go-to for laughs, life hacks, and support – from someone who’s been there.

The post Moxie-Dude featured in TWO “best of” lists appeared first on Moxie-Dude.

Hey there, awesome readers!

Yesterday on Single Moms with Moxie, I wrote about having a bad day because… well, I was having a bad day.

It all started when my morning coffee tasted like disappointment (no coffee cream in the house), and it kinda rolled downhill from there.

I went to bed swearing that today would be better, OR ELSE. You know the kind of “or else” parents use to threaten their kids? Sounds lame, I know. Seriously. Threatening tomorrow?

But guess what?

It worked.

I woke up to this in my inbox:

Hi Mona,

Superwoman made me smile, nod, and sigh all at once. It’s sharp, relatable, and refreshingly unpolished in the best way, because motherhood never really is polished.

What makes Superwoman stand out is how you balance laughter with truth. The moments of self-deprecating humor keep the book accessible, while the reflections remind single mothers they’re not failing, they’re surviving and thriving, often in ways they don’t give themselves credit for.

Honestly, love notes from readers like this make my heart sing. Since reading it, my shoulders did this weird thing where they dropped two inches, and I remembered how to breathe.

What changed from yesterday?

Not the universe. Me. Here’s what I did differently today (even before I checked my emails):

Picked ONE must-do. (Everything else got promoted to nice-if-it-happens.)Water before coffee. (Then coffee. I’m not a monster.)Kicked guilt to the curb. (Because bad days = less productive = guilt.)

See what I did? Tiny moves, big vibe shift.

If you’re coming off a bad day too (and I know a lot of you are because you either commented or reached out), try this one little trick:

Write a letter to your future bad day.

Bad days belong to us all. Like pepper, they get sprinkled along our timeline and some days feel like there’s been too many turns with the grinder.

Dear Future Bad Day,

So here we are again. I’m not sure what’s going on… like are the planets misaligned? All good. I guess you need your moment too.

Well, here’s how this is going to go down. I see you. I feel you. Any mess you make will be handled tomorrow by “Different Me,” who is shockingly competent.

And before I move on, we’re limiting you to ONE turn of the grinder. I own the pepper.

Kindest regards,

Today Me (hydrated, caffeinated, and wearing clean-ish pants)

The post I threatened tomorrow and it listened. Here’s a three-step reset for the next time you have a bad day. appeared first on Moxie-Dude.

Hey there, awesome readers!

Hold on. I need to catch my breath…

Phew

Okay, thanks for waiting.

What. A. Week.

As some of you may know, I’m a competitive hip hop dancer.

EXCEPT…

I couldn’t dance last season due to a sciatica flare-up.

Couldn’t dance? Who am I kidding? I could barely vacuum.

If you’ve never suffered the hell that is sciatica, let me paint you a picture…

The pain starts somewhere at the bottom of your spine and goes down your leg. For me it started in my left ass cheek and went down to the bottom of my calf. There were days where if I was alone and didn’t have help putting on my shoes, it would take me close to 20 minutes if not longer. And then I had to somehow find a way to fold my body into my car.

There were a few days where after sweating and swearing through the pain of getting my clothes on, it was simply impossible for me to get in my car. Feeling defeated, I had to give up on my plans for the day and hobble my way back into my house.

In case you’re wondering, the answer is, “yes, I spent those days in bed, contemplating my life. Chronic pain makes you question EVERYTHING.

And now here we are. I’m finally on the healing side of this journey. I still feel it to an extent but NOTHING like it was four… six… nine months ago. It’s been a long and slow recovery but I’m back to dancing. Along with my regular team classes and practices, this year I decided to take two extra dance classes. The problem is the classes are all clumped together.

So, this is my dance calendar this season:

Mondays

Team Class/Practice: 6 p.m. – 8 p.m.

Tuesdays

Skills N’ Drills Class: 6 p.m. – 7:30 p.m.Hip Hop – 17+ years old: 7:30 p.m. – 8:30 p.m.

In case your math is as broken as mine, that’s four and half hours of intense dancing within a 24-hour period. And then there’s all the at-home practice that’s required because, as one of my dance teachers said last night, practice is evolution. (Totally love that. It’s my new motto and I may even get it tattooed on my body. Forehead probably.)

Fun fact: I’m 60 years old (until my next birthday).

SIXTY.

And the Tuesday Hip Hop class is 17+. Well, you don’t need a calculator to figure out that there’s a problem here. And it’s not a math problem.

When I walked out of the dance studio last night there were voices screaming at me from all parts of my body.

Left Knee:

YO! Do you even own a calendar! This is 2025, not 1995!!! What the hell are you doing to me???

Lower Back:

Ummm… Excuse me, but I think your birth certificate is laughing at you. Also, don’t bend down anymore today. If you have to pee, do it standing up. Begging over here.

Neck:

Why do I hear popcorn? Is someone making popcorn???

Thighs:

Who am I? Where are we? Has someone been chewing on me? I feel numb.

When I got home last night, I did what any sensible sixty-year-old would do: I went to bed.

My point is this: If you want to dance, go ahead. I encourage it at any age. Just remember that if you’re close to my age, you’ll soon discover that your body has some serious opinions.

Meanwhile, if you need any more inspiration, I’ll just be over here… lying down.

The post Not sure if this is inspiring… or just proof I’m not 25 anymore. appeared first on Moxie-Dude.

Hey there, awesome readers!

Before I get to the pictures from our walk through Angell Woods, let me tell you what’s been going on over here.

There are a lot of documents open on my laptop. And before you ask, the answer is no, that’s not a metaphor for how overwhelmed I feel. Although, to be fair, I’m ghostwriting two memoirs AND writing a novel about a vampire. That’s right. I’m writing THREE books at the same time. My brain is basically a crowded coffee shop where everyone’s talking too loud and nobody tips.

Despite the overwhelm, there’s also a little celebratory relief because I’ve just finished with the second edition of Superwoman and it’s now in the hands of my publisher. This edition is called “The Sh*t They Don’t Tell You Edition.”

Revising Superwoman was like…

You know that feeling when you stumble across an old picture of yourself and think, “Wow. Who let me leave the house with those bangs?”

It was a little like that. But that’s okay because I got to rewrite sections to make them even better, plus I’ve added six new chapters, including perspectives from adults who were raised by single moms. So, new chapters, new voices, and a new cover. (I’ll be sharing the new cover with you as we get closer to the release date, which is March 2026.)

With all that’s going on, sometimes a girl needs to take her fingers off the keyboard, eyes off the screen, and walk away from it all. So, last weekend we decided to go for a gentle hike through Angell Woods. (Gentle = just under an hour, no bears, and only one dramatic sigh from me about leaving my laptop behind.)

Proof that I do occasionally leave my laptop. (Nature was shocked.)

Just a couple of kids in the woods.

Just a pretty formation.

Just some rock art.

Just a closer look.

Just a few words about the rock art.

And what’s a walk in nature without a few abandoned cars on the trail?

And then there’s this guy. Jed didn’t come on the walk with us because he’s 82 in human years and was busy taking his third nap of the morning.

What else I’m working on…

I also write the (almost) weekly Single Moms with Moxie newsletter. Think of it as your survival guide to single parenting – with equal parts hard-won wisdom and confessions like, “Yes, I once fed my kids peanut butter sandwiches three nights in a row and called it theme weekend.”

https://moxiemona.substack.com

The post A few pics from our walk through Angell Woods appeared first on Moxie-Dude.

Hey there, awesome readers!

Some of you may know Jed because I share pictures of him on social. A lot. But in case you haven’t met him…

Say hello to Jed, the fur love of my life.

I still remember the first time I saw him. It was in a pet store (don’t judge me), and he was sitting with an eager look on his face in a cage the size of a dishwasher. I wasn’t looking to get a puppy that day. I was just picking up turtle food for my son. (To be clear, turtle food for my son’s turtle.)

But there he was, staring at me as though he was telepathically shouting, “Hey, you! Yes, you! Look how adorable I am! YOU NEED ME!”

And that was it. Within .0002 seconds, Jed managed to hijack my heart.

Here we are, 13 years later and according to the internet, Jed is now 82 years old in human years. So, you can imagine how much life we’ve been through together – from moves to breakups (mine, not his) and even celebrating a few milestones along the way. And I’ll say this about Jed: he’s the best listener I’ve ever had the pleasure of pouring my thoughts out to. In terms of personality, think momma’s boy in Akita/Lab clothing.

Old enough to be my dad, he’s basically a senior citizen still living at home. Try explaining that to people without sounding like a weirdo.

Sadly, I’m starting to see signs of aging – both his AND mine…

It takes him a little longer to lie down. I’m guessing his hips hurt. It takes me a little longer to stand up. No guessing there. It’s my knees.

Oh, but the mutual signs of aging don’t stop there.

We’re both a little greyer.

Our sleeping patterns have * cough * evolved. (He snores like a chainsaw. I get up to twinkle eleventy thousand times a night.)

We both walk into rooms carrying a big, fat question mark over our heads, thinking, “what did I come in here for again?”

These days, he’d rather watch the world from the back deck. I’d rather watch it from Netflix.

And we’ve both learned that comfort trumps fashion any day of the week. (Sweatpants, meet blankie on the floor by my bed.)

I never thought I’d say this but we’re basically aging like an old married couple. The only difference is he still thinks I’m perfect. As for him, his only fault is that he’s a professional shedder. (My vacuum cleaner does not feel neglected in the back of a closet corner. Instead, it’s always right there where I can trip over it.)

All that to say that love doesn’t always look like a grand gesture. Sometimes it’s just a furry shadow who insists on following you into the bathroom. Every. Single. Time.

And you know what?

I’m good with that.

The post When love looks like dog hair. On everything I own. appeared first on Moxie-Dude.

Hey there, awesome readers! Let me start by saying this: When something happens once, it’s a COINCIDENCE. But twice in the same week. NOPE. What’s the opposite of coincidence? CREEPY. So, here’s what happened… My bathroom window is in the shower, overlooking the backyard. It’s kinda nice. The steam goes straight outside, and I get […]

The post Shower. Spider. Scream. Repeat. appeared first on Moxie-Dude.

Hey there, awesome readers! It’s Saturday and I have to say that I just went through one of the best writing weeks I’ve had in… well, weeks. What did I work on? But jeez, Louise! Do you know how many words that is? Me neither and I’m not going back to count them. Let’s just […]

The post Dear Muse: Thanks for finally calling me back appeared first on Moxie-Dude.

Well, hello there, awesome readers! So, my publisher reached out recently and guess what? We’re officially working on a second edition of SUPERWOMAN: A Funny and Reflective Look at Single Motherhood. Cue all the feels. An updated cover. Brand new chapters. An accompanying workbook (working title, Dear Guilt, You’re Not the Boss of Me: The […]

The post I’ve got news! Or, as my Writer’s Clock says… it’s Cry O’clock over here appeared first on Moxie-Dude.