Mom, Are We Poor?

Poor

What. In. The. Hell.  Not quite the question I expected to get from my eleven year old as I conducted my normal post school day interrogation   Upon further questioning it came to light that a classmate had asked her if we were poor because she didn’t have any school pictures to bring home like some of the others.   If there ever was a time in which I ever wanted to suggest to my child to tell someone to fuck off and mind their own business, this was it.  Um…have you seen school pictures lately?  Horrendous.  Besides, the condition of my checkbook is no business of a fifth grader.  Not even my own.

After drying her tears and reassuring her that we are in fact not poor,  I  felt it the opportune time to inform her that we are not what many would consider rich either.  While we are not financially strapped and are able to provide our kids with the things that they need, it takes some planning on our part to be able to give them the things that they want.  More importantly I  wanted to stress to her that while we may not be monetarily rolling in the dough, we are rich in so many other ways.  Ways that she may not understand at this exact moment.  Ways that don’t agree with her “cater to me right now” mentality.  Ways that maybe some of her friends don’t get to enjoy.

We live in a ninety-year-old house.  Not just any old house mind you, Farmer Bob grew up in this house.  While it doesn’t have sparkly new fixtures, cable TV and brand new carpet, it has things that are so much better.  It has character and memories and an outhouse.  We have a fort in the trees and hay in the barn to play hide and seek in.  We have open space to play baseball in the yard and plenty of room to get away from each other if we need to.   We have food on the table and clothes on our backs.  We have fun together, we fight, we argue, we love.  We are a family.  

Being rich in the monetary sense would be fantastic don’t get me wrong.  To not have to worry about how to cover this bill or that bill, to be able to give our kids a few of the things that are wanted whenever desired would be an amazing feeling.  The question I have to keep asking myself is would I be willing to sacrifice so many wonderful moments  in order to have the financial stability to satisfy what would undoubtedly become insatiable appetites for shit that serves no other purpose than to allow our family to slowly disintegrate into seven separate entities instead of one strong familial unit?  The answer to that…HELL NO.

It is never easy to tell our kids no, you don’t need that.  As parents we have this primordial desire to provide for them, to satisfy their every desire.  We feel as if we are failing them if we can’t serve them everything that they want and need on a silver platter.  Maybe we are actually failing them if we do throw all their earthly desires at their feet with no request for repayment.  Are we raising a generation of entitled assholes?  I hear how kids talk to their parents, my own included.  I see the look of fear in a mother’s eyes of what might happen if she says no to that toy, my own included.   It scares the shit out of me.  Scares me that as parents we allow it.   That it seems that we really are raising the kind of adults that we ourselves can’t stand to be around.

What scares me even more is the thought that these kids won’t grow up to appreciate the things that don’t cost a fortune.  That they won’t understand that you don’t have to be rich in the financial sense to be rich in so many other ways.  That family comes first and the rest of it is just “stuff”.  That we have riches that far exceed anything that money can buy.  That in fact, some of the best things in life truly are free and can’t be captured in some stupid school picture.

Parenting Skills I Picked Up Playing Those Pesky Board Games

We play a ton of board games around here.   “Mom, can you play a board game with me?” is one of the most popular questions around here.  Sometimes it is the same game for a few days in a row and at times, with a little prodding, we can switch it up to something a little more exciting.  As I was returning lost pieces to the game closet, I perused our selection of games and started thinking (which is always dangerous) about how playing these games as a kid myself unknowingly prepared me for parenthood.  You with me so far?  Here we go:

Games

Guess Who:  You know the crime, but who did it?  Do they have blonde hair?  Do they still poop their pants? Do they have a vagina or a penis?  Can they read?  Wipe their own butts?  Speak in full sentences? Are they clothed? Do they have food in their hair?

Clue:  Very similar to Guess Who with the added stress of discovering the crime and the weapon of choice.  I suspect it was the five-year-old, in the living room, with the permanent marker.  No?  How about the eight-year-old, in the closet, with the scissors?

Chutes and Ladders: You bust your ass to get all the way up to the top only to slip-up and have to slide all the way back to the beginning.  Relevant for things like potty training, eating with utensils, turning laundry right-side out, and of course proper table manners.  Didn’t we just have the discussion last night about not farting at the table?

Memory:  Who has practice tonight?  Where is that concert?  What cookies?  How many kids do I have again? Where is my grocery list?  Why did I walk into this room?

Operation: The one game you see as pointless until you need to remove that splinter or that bean from someone’s nose.  How in the hell did you get rocks in your butt? Is that a Lego in your ear?  If you don’t poop soon I’m going to have to help you out. I promise, this will only hurt for a second.

Monopoly: You bust your ass to save money and in the blink of an eye some asshole has taken it all.  This game also taught us the fine art of patience because it.  never. ends.

Perfection: Working under pressure seems to work pretty well until you run out of time and all hell breaks loose.  You scream, you yell, you pee just a little.

Risk:  Logistics.  Trying to decide if you really want to head into the tween’s bedroom for a surprise cleaning? Do you have big enough balls to attempt to overtake the enemy that is the shithole they live in? Once you conquer one enemy you have to re-evaluate your troops (AKA, your caffeine intake) to see if you have the supplies to attempt an attack on the next.  If you go in unprepared, make sure to have an ample supply of reinforcements for afterwards (AKA, wine).

Hungry Hungry Hippos: Quick, shove all the food in your mouth.  Meal time really is a race to see who can get done first.

Mousetrap:  Chase them around  all day long, but you aren’t going to catch them unless you construct some high-falootin contraption…that works.  All else fails, offer cheese.

Don’t Break the Ice:  You can tiptoe around all day in an effort to keep everyone safe and happy, but one wrong move and you are screwed.

Battleship:  You have to ask around in order to find that permission slip for the field trip or that one missing shoe.  Where is the TV remote? I know I had that secret stash of chocolate somewhere. You never know where it is, but with the right questions and the use of the fine art of elimination, hopefully you can find what you were looking for.

Trivial Pursuit:  You think you know everything that your kids are doing but in reality, you know JACK. SQUAT.

Who wants to play with me?

 

Are you in the Kansas City area?  Clear your schedule for Saturday, April 27 and come join myself, Jen from People I Want to Punch in the Throat, and Stacey from Nurse Mommy Laughs for an I Just Want to Pee Alone book signing event from 10:00-12:00 at The Mommy Shop, 14870 Metcalf Ave, Overland Park, KS.  There will be snacks and more importantly mimosas.  We would love to see you there!

Mother’s Day is quickly approaching.  You know what would make great gifts?  These books right here.  You need them. Your mom needs them.  Your mother-in-law/aunt/grandmother/teacher/neighbor/best friend need them.  You won’t be disappointed, I promise.

                             

 

In the Blink of an Eye

In the blink of an eye you are no longer just a couple.

In the blink of an eye your life is no longer just about you.

In the blink of an eye you become a parent.

In the blink of an eye your munchkin is sitting up, feeding herself, interacting with you.

In the blink of an eye your baby is a walking, talking human.

In the blink of an eye you aren’t changing diapers and wiping  little butts.

In the blink of an eye they can color inside the lines and write their own name.

In the blink of an eye they are getting their own cereal and pouring their own milk.

In the blink of an eye Chutes and Ladders is replaced by Monopoly.

In the blink of an eye they stop asking for apple juice and start asking for pop.

In the blink of an eye they no longer want to snuggle on the couch, but want to be left alone.

In the blink of an eye they are smarter than you.

In the blink of an eye your girls are fixing their own hair and asking for makeup.

In the blink of an eye your boys are talking about their balls and the smell of their farts.

In the blink of an eye your kids don’t need you to read them stories.  They can do it on their own.

In the blink of an eye the boys don’t want to kiss their mother anymore.

In the blink of an eye your little girl is asking for bras and talking about her uterus.  And boys.

In the blink of an eye the pants that fit them yesterday are two inches too short.

In the blink of an eye they can make their own decisions and learn from their mistakes.

In the blink of an eye you are no longer mommy and daddy.  You are now just mom and dad.

In the blink of an eye they start Kindergarten.  In the next blink, middle school.  In the next…you are afraid to blink again.

In the blink of an eye you realize they are growing up and there is nothing you can do to stop it.

In the blink of an eye it could be gone.

What are you doing in-between blinks?

In the Blink of an Eye

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You Might Be a Parent IF…

The other day I lost it.  Not in a I went bat-shit crazy kind of way, but in a this is so absurd I can’t help but laugh at myself kind of way.  When we become parents we seem to make an instant transformation.  Sort of like Superman in the phone booth;  Average Joe going in, superhero when we come out.  Only difference being that it seems that we never take off our capes.   Bear with me as  I delve into parenthood and some ways we seem to transform into real-life grown-ups, Jeff Foxworthy style.

You Might  Be a Parent IF...

You might be a parent if….

You can brush your teeth and hold your 3 year olds wiener while he pees.

You can brown up some hamburger, fix someone a drink, and cut up some veggies all with a baby on your hip and a toddler or two flailing on the floor because you aren’t fast enough with the milk.

You can stop mid-bite to go wipe someone’s ass only to come right back and resume business as usual.

You can whip up six dozen cookies at the last-minute when your kid tells you they forgot that they needed to take snacks for the school program….which happens to be tomorrow.

You aren’t afraid to catch vomit in your bare hands.

You can lay down on the couch and still know exactly what your kids are doing. With your eyes closed.

You take your kids out to dinner and you spend more time in the bathroom than you do at your table.

You can answer all their questions with movie quotes.  ”Mom, what’s cannibalism?”    ”Mom, what’s a hazmat suit?”

You schedule all well child checks months in advance so that you are guaranteed an on-time appointment but you can’t remember to schedule your yearly hoo-ha check.

You can’t remember to take your grocery list when you go shopping but you know exactly where Sally’s red sparkly headband is that she wore three weeks ago.

You can play two different board games at the same time while catching up on your Words With Friends matches, and you manage to win them all.

Your most popular phrases are “get your finger out of your butt”, “we don’t eat boogers for lunch”, and “no, I don’t want to smell your fart”.

Your living room decor no longer consists of beer can pyramids and wine bottle trees.  Instead you discover non-commissioned works of art using mediums that you are certain should be removed by men in hazmat suits.

You can change a diaper in the dark and not leave any residue behind.

You can tiptoe through a bedroom at three in the morning and not step on a single Lego, but attempt it in the daylight and you are damning them all to the depths of hell.

You aren’t against taking a glass of wine and your tablet or smart phone into the bathroom and locking the door, whether you have to poop or not,  just for a few minutes of alone time.

You do laundry because hampers are full, not because you have a shirt that is dirty that you want to wear to the bar tonight.

Parenthood has changed me in ways that I never thought possible.  While we may not be huge fans of some of the things we do now (I for one am not a lover of vomit), we wouldn’t change any of it.  Except maybe the poo on the walls.

How have YOU changed, for the better, since becoming a parent?

If you aren’t reading these books, you aren’t the people I thought you were. Click on them. Order them. Put on a Poise. Read them. Laugh. I promise you will.

                             

Don’t Let the Guilt Get You

I screwed up.  Not in a “I used salt instead of sugar in those cookies” kind of screwed up.  More like a  ”I now feel like a total asshole mother” kind of screwed up.  It wasn’t over anything major, but to my fifth grade daughter it was kind of a big deal.  Now I have this immense feeling of guilt.  Mom guilt.  Different from any other guilt you will ever feel and it sucks.

This isn’t the first time I have dropped the ball on something.  I have forgotten to take someone to a birthday party, or missed that meeting about an activity.  I have forgotten to call little Susie’s mom to see if Susie can come over for a sleepover.  As parents we have unlimited opportunity for failure.  Every second of every day presents us with an opportunity to fuck something up.  There is no other job on the planet that you can enter into with absolutely no training whatsoever and then be left to deal with the pressure, the guilt, and the repercussions of not doing something right.

When I took that first job flipping hamburgers, I wasn’t allowed to start cooking the hamburgers right away. Hell no.  I had to master the potato peeling and onion chopping first. I had to be able to make perfect patties and golden brown french fries before I could be trusted with the spatula and a hot grill.  I received on the job training before being entrusted with the important tasks.  There is no on the job training that comes along with parenthood.  Sure, there are thousands of parenting books that you can peruse.  There are millions upon millions of magazine and internet articles that you can sort through and read.  Most likely you have friends or acquaintances that you can ask for advice.  The thing is, your parenting skills will be completely different from everyone else’s.  Don’t fall for the ideal of being the “perfect” parent.  You are just setting yourself up for disappointment.  You will be a GREAT parent, but there is no such thing as the “perfect” one.

At some point we have all royally screwed up something for our kids.  Maybe we have that day that we didn’t make the time to play that board game.  Maybe we forgot to write that letter of encouragement for them to read before their state assessment tests.  Maybe we were taking a few seconds to read an email instead of watching them go down the slide.  Maybe we were busy writing a piece for a book and didn’t spend the afternoon giving our kids scissors and glue guns. It doesn’t mean we love them any less or that we wish that they didn’t exist, it just means that we as parents are so consumed with trying to prove to everyone else that we can do everything when in reality we are drowning in our own sea of over scheduling and pressure to overachieve, present company included.

Am I a failure as a mother because my kids are currently parked in front of the television long enough for me to finish this post? No I’m not.   Do I feel a slight twinge of guilt that I am doing that?  Absolutely.  Does it mean that I am lazy parent who only focuses on her needs instead of the needs of her children?  No effing way.  It means that I deserve to take some time for myself.  To do the things that I enjoy and that make me a better mother.  It means that I have things that I  like to make time for besides wiping butts and playing Chutes and Ladders for the five millionth time.  It means that in order for me to be the parent that I need to be I have to take the time to tend to myself, even if that means locking the door just so I can poop in peace.

If you can honestly look in the mirror and say to yourself that you don’t have needs.  That you are the ideal parent.  That your sole purpose in life is to be the beck and call girl for your kids.  That you don’t ever make mistakes and suffer from mom guilt.  You are full of shit.  I mean, you have it oozing out of every orifice.  Instead of filling yourself with these unrealistic expectations, why not tell yourself that it is OK that you forgot to make that phone call.  That you aren’t ruining your kids if you let them have pop for lunch.  That it is OK that you forgot to do something.  That they won’t be traumatized for life if they have to go out into the backyard and play by themselves for fifteen minutes while you switch the laundry or eat that bag of M & M’s that you’ve been hiding in the cabinet.

We all make mistakes.  We all have the guilt.  We all have those days where we want to pack our bags and run away to the Bahamas with Johnny Depp.  Well, I do at least.  We can’t sit around criticizing each other and ourselves for the choices that we make for our own children.  We can’t constantly attack each other because we do things differently.  We can’t look in that proverbial mirror and beat ourselves up because we have those moments of doubt.  Because we forgot something.  Because we made a mistake. Because we just wanted to take a few minutes for ourselves.  Guilt will eat you alive if you let it.  We need to support each other despite our differences.  We must have the belief in ourselves that we are doing something right.  That we have one, or two, or five little people who think we are better than sliced bread.  That these kids will turn out just fine.  Have faith in YOURSELF.  You’ve got this.  WE’ve got this.

Faith

Have you bought the book yet?  NO??  WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR????  Talk about a good way to remind yourself that we aren’t perfect.  Go ahead and get a copy for yourself and feel free to get a copy for all of your mom friends too.  You will laugh, you may cry from laughter, you will definitely no longer feel alone.  All positive reviews will be sprinkled with glitter in celebration.  Get all the details right HERE. 

I’m Not a Medical Professional, but I Play One in This Post

Treadmill

Today I re-started my workout regimen.   Never fear, it isn’t a hardcore heavy-duty workout that will take away from my precious writing time, but it’s a workout nonetheless.   I  have been on a hiatus and ever since that break started all I have done is watch my middle rise like a batch of yeasty bread.  Since I am pretty sure it has risen until double in size, it is time to punch it back down, only this time I don’t plan on letting it rise again.  It’s only flat-breads from here on out.

I have missed running.  I never thought those words would come out of my mouth, but I miss the way it makes me feel afterwards.  You know, having energy.  Tight-ish abs.  Less junk in my trunk.  Less jiggle in the thighs.  You get what I’m sayin’.   I also miss those few minutes with just me and my music and my thoughts.  Whatever I want to listen to without having to skip a few songs due to their explicit nature.  Sorting out the various thoughts swimming about in my brain.

I think Mr. Nordic Track has forgiven me for taking such a long break from our relationship as he was remarkably kind to me this morning.  Too bad the kids were not as supportive of my endeavor, attention seeking little animals that they are.   As I was plugging along trying to ignore them, I came up with this list of suggested things to do before/during/after your workout.  I can only hope that it helps at least one of you.

Before the workout begins:

  • Decide you are going to actually workout
  • Have another cup of coffee
  • Answer a couple of phone calls while catching up on Facebook
  • Have a bowl of cereal
  • Pee
  • Have another cup of coffee
  • Switch the laundry
  • Read a blog or two
  • Pee again
  • Put your workout clothes on
  • Ask three-year old if they have to pee before you get started
  • Pee again (next time  consume less coffee)
  • Lock the fridge so that kids can’t sneak up and help themselves to a snack mid-workout
  • Answer another phone call
  • Pee again
  • Dig out treadmill from under pile of toys/clothes/junk
  • Try to remember how to turn on the treadmill

During the workout:

  • Make sure you turn on the treadmill.  This is very helpful.
  • Make sure you set treadmill on the right speed.  It is painful when you eat shit on a fast-moving belt.
  • Don’t forget to jump over the toys that the kids send down the belt. They like to test your cat-like reflexes.
  • Turn up your music.  It drowns out the screams.
  • Remember that dance-walking burns more calories.  This will also cause your children to shoot you odd looks and most likely cause uncontrollable laughter.
  • Don’t forget to stop the treadmill when you have to get off to take the three-year old pee because he didn’t go before you started like you asked him to.
  • Don’t forget to go pee when you take the toddler pee.  Your pants will thank you later.
  • Smile and clap for the four-year-old’s musical performance, which thanks to the headphones you didn’t have to endure since it involved a tambourine, jingle bells, and maracas.
  • Don’t push yourself too hard,  you will be required to move tomorrow.  As in your body.  Out of the bed.

After the workout:

  • Stretch.  This will help the movement that will be required later in the day.  While most likely this will be painful, especially to your psyche as you attempt to bend down and touch your toes and decide that your thighs are close enough.
  • Hydrate.  Preferably with water, but depending on the time of day of your workout your beverage of choice is totally up to you.
  • Take tea-party breaks in-between stretches.  This serves two purposes; 1.  you interact with your kids that you have been ignoring for the last thirty minutes, and 2.  it gives you extra time to get up from the previous stretch before moving on to the next one.
  • Give yourself a pat on the back for surviving another workout and try to fight the urge to stuff a couple of cookies in your pie-hole.

These are only some suggestions derived from my own personal experiences.  I do not claim to be a medical professional and can only say that I cannot accept any responsibility for injuries that may occur if you choose not to take these suggestions to heart.  I will also not accept any responsibility for any wet pants that occur due to either the ignoring of these suggestions, or from the laughter that you just enjoyed from reading this post.  I have enough laundry, next time invest in some Poise.

 

Every Girl Needs One of These

HairAs you all know by now, I have three girls.  Three girls with long hair.  I’m not talking kind-of long hair.  When I say long, I mean LONG.   Mini-me has decided to grow hers out for locks of love, and the other ones just refuse to cut theirs.  I don’t want them to feel awkward, so of course I have long hair too.  I suppose what I am trying to tell you is that we are a house filled with spider monkeys.  Hair.  Hair everywhere.  Even the boys are hairy.  Except for Farmer Bob…poor guy.

Anywho, when Alana from A Girl and Her Band approached me for a potential collaboration, I was immediately intrigued.  You all know that I don’t do a lot of reviews and giveaways here.  It just isn’t my schtick, but I was drawn to this new company.  I am not bragging or complaining here, but I am “well-endowed” in the hair department.  I am always looking for something to help keep it under control so I  spent A LOT of time on A Girl and Her Band reading and investigating. Once I read their motto I knew I had to give them a try.

I march to my own beat.. I smile because it’s contagious,
I take chances, I follow my heart and chase my dreams.

I live for today and plan for tomorrow, I lay down and make snow angels,
I stand up for what I believe in.

I climb trees when I need a new perspective, I’m a risk taker,
I do my homework because I love to learn.

I play night games with the neighbors, I jump in puddles,
I love breakfast for dinner and ice cream for breakfast.

I explore the world asking questions along the way, I speak up and I listen.

I love hanging with my grandparents, I volunteer,
I am not afraid to make mistakes.. they’ve proven to be great teachers.

I respect those around me, and I respect myself, if I don’t have anything nice to say I don’t say anything at all.
I clean my room, I work hard and play harder, I belly laugh, I cry, and I am honest with myself.

I wear my hair back so people can see my face, showing the world that I am confident and enthusiastic about where this adventure called life will take me.

I am inspired, and I will continue to March to My Own Beat!

I noticed at the bottom of their website that they had a spot about giving back.  You all know that I’m a fan of helping others so I checked it out…

A Girl and Her Band believes in empowering girls of all ages, and is proud to announce our 12 months of giving program. We proudly support 12 different non-profit organizations, including ChildHelp, and Girls On The Run. We believe that we can all change the world a little bit everyday in our own special way.
 

Each month, a different non-profit organization will be featured. A percentage of each and every band sold will go to the featured non-profit of the month. Check back each month, and join us in supporting and empowering girls and women around the world.

OK…I was in.  Then I realized that they are four moms just like me.  Like us.  Trying to make a difference and make a fabulous product to make our lives just a little bit easier.   I got back in touch with Alana and she sent me a few bands for myself and my girls to try out.

At first I was skeptical, but once we wore them I was sold.  I have never had a headband stay in place.  I could put one of these bands on in the morning and it was in the exact same spot in the evening.  My girls wore them out in the snow, to school, and even changed their clothes with their bands on.  Nothing.  They love them and the fight over which one they get to wear everyday.  I am not a fan of glitter so I was worried about the glitter bands.  NOT GLITTER!!!!!  I rejoiced when I opened them and felt them.  AMAZING.   The hair ties worked amazingly well and the girls love wearing them as bracelets in-between pony-tails.      These bands are moisture wicking, antimicrobial, and MACHINE WASHABLE!!!  There are so many adorable choices and they can even customize a band just for you or your group!

PicMonkey Collage2

 

You are probably wanting to know where I’m going with this.  Well, you know I like to do things for you besides just giving you words to read. I like to occasionally offer you something nice as a huge THANK YOU for all you guys do for me.  The group at A Girl and Her Band have given me the all clear to offer one lucky reader a $50.00 gift card to A Girl and Her Band.  They have also been generous enough to offer ALL of you 10% off your entire order if you use the code  ”yourhouse” when you check-out.   You know I would not lead you astray.  The girls here at casa de YKIHAYHT are in LOVE with these bands I can see another order in our near future!  These will be perfect for softball season!

agahb120-800x800

To enter you have options.  You can do one or all of the entries.  Follow both of us on Facebook?  BOOM, two entries.  Follow both of us on Twitter?  BOOM, two more entries.  Tweet out telling your friends to enter?  BOOM.  Entry. Visit their website, look around, then come back here and leave me a comment telling me your favorite band.  BOOM, entry.  SO EASY!

This giveaway will be open to entries until 11:59 PM EST on March 7.  The Winner will be randomly chosen via Rafflecopter and announced on the Blog and on Facebook on March 8, 2013 and will have 24 hours to contact me at ithappensatyourhousetoo@gmail.com to claim your prize.  If I don’t hear from the winner, we will rinse and repeat the process.   Good luck to you all and HAPPY SHOPPING, just remember to use the code “yourhouse” when you check out!!!  xo

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Long Hairs and Snow Days

Long Hairs and Snow Days

The other day I found a hair.  A long one.  On my knee.  At first I thought it was just a hair from my head that stuck to my leg in the shower. Nope, that thing was attached.    Be aware that when I say a long one, I mean that sucker could have been braided if only it would have had friends close by.  This one hair made my mind start to wonder; How in the hell does one miss the same hair for months?  How?  The same reason I can’t take a good poop without having to stop halfway through.  The same reason my hair needs to be colored, but isn’t. The same reason my house looks like a colony of monkeys live here.  Because I have kids and they’ve been home for days, that’s why.

I have been trapped in a snowy hell for days.  DAYS.  I am sure that somewhere around here I have some funny lying around, but in all honesty I think my kids have sucked that well dry, kind of like my boobs.  I can’t possibly stomach another game of Guess Who or another episode of Dinosaur Train.  I also cannot bear to listen to myself tell my kids to stop fighting with each other.  To keep their hands to themselves.  To say excuse me when they rip a big burp or gag me with a fart.  These unexpected long breaks are painful.  So much so that the government could use it as a form of torture.  You want someone to talk, lock them in a house with young children for days with minimal provisions.  They would break in a matter of hours.  It is so different from a scheduled break because of the lack of preparation time, the scramble to stock up on “provisions”, or maybe it is just the fact that there is. no. escape.

The first day, everyone is so excited.  HEY LOOK!  SNOW!  Get out the gloves/boots/hats/scarves/five-hundred pairs of pants, and listen to the squeals of delight.  It fills your heart with rainbows and unicorns  and you are so glad that they got a few extra hours to play in it.  You don’t mind the piles of wet gloves and the constant requests for hot chocolate.

Snow

Until that first snowball is thrown.

Day two brings constant snowfall.  Trapped.  Here is where things go downhill, and quickly.  See if any of this sounds familiar:

  • MOM!  He took my blanket!
  • MOOOOOOMMMMMM, she farted on me!
  • But MOOOOOMMMMM, I don’t WANT to watch that!
  • But MOM!  He touched me!
  • Can we have a snack?  I’m still hungry, can I have something else to eat?  I’m HONGRY MOM!
  • Mom, can we go outside?  <10 minutes later>  Man! It’s cold outside,  we are coming in!
  • Hey PITA, put down that frozen milk jug and put some clothes on before you freeze your wiener off! (What?  You’ve never said that?)

One would think that living in the middle of Kansas in the winter that I would be better prepared for such occurrences.  Well, one would be wrong.  I don’t keep a file of lesson plans for snowy days.  I don’t keep a well-stocked craft closet.  I suppose that would be because I don’t enjoy “crafting”, but it is mainly because the thought of giving young kids scissors and glue gives me heart palpitations.  ”Hey MOM, look at my pretty new haircut!”  .  ”Hey Mom, why do they call it a HOT glue gun?  AHHHHHHHHHH MY EYE!!!!!”    ”Don’t you love our new wallpaper mom?  I used all the colors that you love!”

I’m not afraid to be honest with you all.  The wine helps.  I’m not talking about dousing myself in it every night, just a glass or two (some days three).  It doesn’t make me a bad mom nor does it make me an alcoholic.  It makes me real.  For some it may not be wine, it may be food or pharmaceuticals or vodka or a nice hot bath mixed with wine and cookies or running away to Mexico to enjoy sunshine and drinks served by a handsome cabana boy by the pool.  Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do to help you relax at the end of the day.  It doesn’t make us bad parents to enjoy a glass of wine or a couple of cookies or a nice hot bath. Running away to Mexico, maybe, but only if you never return.

I don’t really know where the long knee hair and snow days are connected, hell I don’t really know where I was going with this entire post, but I do know that sometimes we screw up and we miss things.  Things that we may look back on and laugh about later, but also some things that we don’t want to look back on and be sad that we overlooked.  We bitch and moan about having our kids home for extended periods of time.  In all reality though, somewhere deep down (WAAAAY deep down) we enjoy these moments.  While at the time we don’t enjoy the puddles of melted snow in the dining room and the endless games of tag in the house.  We cuss under our breath about the extra loads of laundry and the constant requests to play on some sort of electronic device while munching on handfuls of popcorn. We know that these moments are passing ever so quickly.  That we should treasure them.  That we should enjoy them.  That someday we will miss them.  For now though we will laugh at our long hairs, poop when we can, and enjoy that glass of wine while watching our kids play in the cold.  While working on our passports from the window.

 

Before you leave, do two things for me please:

1. Don’t forget to subscribe to email updates up there on the very top left. It really is the best way to ensure that you don’t miss anything and I promise I won’t spam you.

2.  Don’t forget to RSVP for the free parenting webinar on Thursday night.  You can do that here and I look forward to chatting with you all!

Are You REALLY Gonna Eat That?

My friend Ninja Mom asked me to jump on the Character Assassination Carousel.  I thought about it for about two seconds and quickly agreed. Well, I agreed to give it a shot but I get motion sickness so I won’t actually jump ON the carousel.  Hell, I can’t even watch it go around and around without having to suppress the urge to revisit my lunch.  If you don’t mind, I’ll just sit here in my recliner while you all go around and around and around.

It was after I agreed to this that I started to poo my pants.  What book will I choose?  Can I really take apart a beloved children’s book?  What if the people (AKA, YOU)  hate me afterwards?  What book will I choose?  How in the frickity-frack am I going to do this without looking like a total toad?  So like any sub-par writer would do, I went looking for things I could borrow inspiration from some past riders/writers on the carousel.  I read Frugalista Blog’s assassination of Rumplestiltskin,  The Underachiever’s Guide to Being a Domestic Goddess’ deconstruction of Walter the Farting Dog,  and of course I had to go back to the very beginning and read Ninja Mom’s own take on The Giving Tree.   Well shit, that was a huge mistake.  Not because I don’t love them all, but now I realize that there are so many great bloggers that went before me and blew it out of the water and now here I sit feeling the pressure.  Oops, sorry.  Excuse me, that one slipped.  Pressure makes me gassy.  *Deep breath, you can do this*    Alright, here we go,  jump aboard the Character Assassination Carousel kids, I’ll watch you from over here while sipping my drink.

After some serious combing through the littles’ bookcases (yes, that is plural because just one bookcase would not suffice), I decided to go with the one book that drives me crazy.  The one book that I love to hate.  The one book that really makes absolutely no sense to me whatsoever.  I think it is time for “There Was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly” to bite off more than she can chew.    When I made this decision, I immediately went to Amazon to read the reviews.  I thought surely someone else on the planet had a deep-seeded hatred for this book.  Nope.  Every review I read was about how much they LOVED this book and WONDERFUL it is to read to their kids.  Crap.  I’m in the minority….again.  Par for the course I guess.  Let me  just fill you in on exactly WHY I would love to bury this poor woman in a really big box.

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Nice dress Granny.

There was an old lady who swallowed a fly. I don’t know why she swallowed a fly. Perhaps she’ll die

Does anyone really know why they swallowed a fly?  I suppose some people in the jungle, or contestants on Survivor,  may eat them for a snack, but I have really been trying to cut back on my fly intake.  I’m sure they are high in protein or something, but I’m not a big fan of wings and legs  and those creepy little eyes that they have.  Not to mention I don’t imagine that they are very filling.  Wait just one minute… Eating flies could KILL me? Guess I better adjust our summer menu. Bummer, flies are so cost-effective.  Dime a dozen round here thanks to the cows and their poo.

There was an old lady who swallowed a spider that wriggled and wriggled and jiggled inside her.  She swallowed the spider to catch the fly.  I don’t know why she swallowed a fly. Perhaps she’ll die.

 Um…yeah.  You lost me at spider and wriggling inside her.  That’s just gross and repulsive and wrong and did I say gross?  I know the average person eats a spider at least once in their lifetime,  but at least that occurs without our knowledge.  Why would anyone in their right mind knowingly eat a damn spider?  Who gives a flying rip about the stupid little fly that you just ate, they don’t live that long anyway, but a SPIDER?  ARE YOU NUTS?

Next she eats a bird in order to catch the spider.  Well, if she wouldn’t have been off her rocker to begin with and eaten a nasty ass spider, she wouldn’t need to be eating a bird now would she?  I’m all for eating a little yard-bird.  Fried up with some mashed potatoes and gravy, but this crazy lady is eating a whole bird.  Legs, feathers, beak and all.    How in the hell is she doing this?  Does she have a jaw like a snake?  Is she a sword swallower?  My gag meter is on high alert.  This is just redonk-a-donk.

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See the foreshadowing? Can you guess what is up next?

As if a fly, spider, and a bird aren’t filling enough the old woman decides that she needs to eat a cat.  A freaking CAT.  What they forgot to mention is that immediately after eating said cat, the old woman had to be rushed to the ER to have a ginormous hairball removed from her esophagus.  A cat.  This is the dumbest book ever.  But wait…there’s more!

After the hairball removal, the woman regains her appetite and resorts to eating a dog.  It doesn’t specify the size of the dog, but does it really matter?  Who in the hell eats a dog?  As if there is room enough in her gut for the dog to chase the cat.  I want to know how in the hell this woman isn’t dead yet.  The fly and the spider I can see.  They are small and easily swallowed.  A whole bird, followed by a whole cat with a dog chaser?  This lady is a freak of nature and has got to have the worst case of indigestion on the planet.

Just when you think it can’t get any worse, the woman swallows a cow.  Not a steak, not a juicy hamburger, not a little bit of stew meat.  A whole cow.  I know many people don’t like to waste any part of the animal, but seriously.  I can barely eat an entire steak on my own yet this old woman ingests an entire cow without even chewing it.  Not even an inkling of steak sauce or ketchup first.  Does she die from this?  Of course not.  Here are my issues with this: 1.  Cows don’t eat dogs, they eat grass and grains.  Herbivores, not carnivores. Very poor judgement on part of our dear old lady.  2.  A WHOLE COW?  This is just asinine.

Let’s not forget the piece de resistance…a horse.  She swallows a horse to catch the cow.  As if she shouldn’t already be dead from intestinal over-extension, she swallows an entire horse.   This just in…eating an entire horse will kill you.  I could buy into death by getting thrown from a horse, or being caught in a wild horse stampede, or even death by hoof to the forehead, but eating an entire horse? Cheese and rice this is has got to be the most overrated book in my bookcase.

 I get that these books are for entertainment purposes, but this is just over the top for me.  ”Mommy, you can’t really eat a horse.”  No kids, you can’t.  That’s why dear granny is dead.  Moral of this story?  I really don’t have a damn clue.  Don’t eat yourself to death?  Don’t get started eating bugs because it only leads to bigger things?  If you are going to eat large animals whole make sure to wear a tacky dress?   That’s the best I got.  Go away Granny, you are dead.

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I suppose she looks happy. I would think she would be a tad uncomfortable.

Thanks to Ninja Mom for letting me play along.  I hope you enjoyed this spin on the Carousel and will share me with all of your friends.  You never know, you may just find that we all share a mutual disdain for this adored children’s book.  Don’t miss the next ride on the Carousel when the always hilarious Kelley’s Breakroom assassinates yet another beloved character.

 

 

A Letter to My Youngest

To my dear youngest child,

I know that at this moment in your somewhat short life, you think your life is pretty fantastic.  You can pick your nose and it is still considered cute, it is totally appropriate for you to eat with your hands, and you don’t mind sitting in your own poop.  As my youngest spawn of satan  offspring, I feel it necessary to go ahead and write this for you now, because as I get older and you children suck any semblance of sanity from my brain, I may not have the mental capacity to write this for you later.  I know you can’t read yet, hell you can’t even speak in complete sentences, but I promise to save this for you so that you can hopefully realize that you are not getting the short end of the stick.  In fact, it is quite the opposite.Some would say that as the youngest child, you could get away with murder.  I would have to say that without a doubt, this is probably true.  Due to sheer exhaustion and the realization that I only have one pair of eyes to supervise five children, (No, we do not need to discuss how I have too many kids, we’ve already covered this) you will most likely always be able to get away with a ridiculous amount of shenanigans.   Luckily for you, you will have had four other children before you to perform things so incredibly stupid, it will make your indiscretions look insignificant.  There will be many a moment in which you will be busted for doing things so ridiculous that we will have no choice but to be left standing there shaking our heads, trying not to bust out laughing at your level of stupidity. As a youngest child myself, might I offer you this one suggestion; watch and learn.  Watch your siblings and learn everything NOT to do from them.  Trust me, it will pay off for you in the long run.  Observe the incorrect ways to do things and figure out a smarter way.  There is always a smarter way.  Just be aware though, while I may not always witness your indiscretions first hand, I am your mother and I possess the crazy ability to find shit out.  I have been in your shoes, which may end up working against you since I perfected the art of observation and execution. Just be sure to always remember that around here the punishment will always fit the crime, so keep that thought in the back of your mind when making your decisions.It has also recently been brought to my attention that Legos and Nerf darts are not really meant to be edible. Just when I started thinking that if it is small enough to be swallowed or malleable enough to be chewed it must be safe for ingestion, someone has to drop this bomb.  ”Why don’t you keep those things picked up if you know that you have younger children around?” someone once asked me.  Well, let me tell you this, I spend my entire day picking up little pieces of this and piles of that.   It seriously impossible to find every single little nugget of inedible items lying around this house.  It isn’t because I don’t care about your safety, so I don’t want to hear about how you shit a Nerf dart when you were two because your mom never supervised you and how it is a miracle you even survived.  If I followed you around all day long watching your every move, how would you learn that Polly Pockets hurt if you shove them too far up your nose?  If I followed you around all day attempting to keep you from swallowing those Barbie shoes, how would I be able to clean the kitchen floor so that when you pick up that chip that you dropped at lunch I don’t have to worry about you picking up a hairball or some strange intestinal disease?  While I have been working extra hard to teach everyone how to pick up their own crap and put it away, I feel as if I am fighting a losing battle.  You will understand someday when you have your own kids and feel like you have shoved ten pounds of shit (toys) in a five pound sack (your house).

Lastly, I feel that we should address your wardrobe.  I don’t want you to worry about what the “cool kids” are wearing. As long as you know that you are the cool kid, don’t worry about what the others say behind your back.  I swear to you that it is all the style to wear shirts with a big stain on the front, or pants with a big hole in the knee. You are setting the standard when it comes to fashion, so be confident. It doesn’t matter that those clothes have been in the attic for the past six years, they are still in style and look great on you.  Don’t worry, it is totally cool to wear the same underwear that your brother once wore.  I am sure that those streaks spots are just a part of the fabric and that elastic is supposed to be extra stretchy like that.

In the end, it will be good to remember that it isn’t the clothes that make you an individual.  It really won’t matter that you used to shove your finger so far up your nose it is a miracle you didn’t pull out brain matter.  It isn’t a big deal that you possibly could have eaten week old Cheerios out of your car seat after picking the grass off of it.  These are all things that not only did not kill you, but will help make you the person you are to become.  While I have never been accused of being a “perfect” parent, the one thing  I am guilty of is loving you so much it hurts.  So while you may be pissed off that you didn’t get that new coat that you wanted because the one your brother wore was just fine, you can just remember that we adore you just as much as your older siblings.  In fact, there could be a chance that you may have access to that super soft spot in my heart.  After all, you are my baby.

With all my love you little pain in the ass,
Yo Momma