Sunday, May 12, 2019

What Mom Said vs. What Mom Meant

I think one of the main parts of a Mom’s job is to be a good liar.  You need to be able to keep a straight face while saying things like “Yes! You ARE very good at breakdancing!” or “Of COURSE I like reading the same book 17 times in a row!”  

There are many times throughout the day when I find myself saying something I don’t really mean just to survive…too many to count actually.  I’ve come up with a few examples.  Here is a list of some things that moms say and the translation to what moms really mean:

Mom says: “I’m not going to say it again!”

Mom means: I’m going to say it exactly 57 more times.

Mom says: “I’ve had it with all the yelling.” 

Mom means: I’m going to add my own yelling into the mix in an attempt to solve the problem.

Mom says: “Sorry, that shirt is in the laundry.”

Mom means: I threw that stained piece of crap out and I’m going to just keep telling you it’s in the laundry until you forget it exists. 

Mom says: “I’m not your maid.” 

Mom means: I’m going to insist that I’m not your maid while picking up after you because I can’t stand the mess…thus proving that the opposite of this statement is true.

Mom says: "It's ok, you don't have to finish that mac and cheese. You're probably full."

Mom means: I got my eye on those last few bites.

Mom says: “Why don’t you go ahead and explain to me what’s happening in this beautiful picture!” 

Mom means:  I have no god damn clue what that’s supposed to be a picture of.

Mom says: “I’m throwing away any toys that are left out on the floor!”

Mom means: I’m going to pack them up in a trash bag to scare you but probably not actually toss them because I paid good money for those F’ing things!

Mom says: “You’re big enough to get dressed yourself and I’m not helping you.” 

Mom means: I’m going to keep up the charade that I’m not going to help you until I realize we actually do have to be somewhere and have exactly five minutes left before we have to leave the house.

Mom says: “That’s it! I’m gonna…”

Mom means: I’m about to come up with some outrageous punishment that I cannot possibly follow through with…

Mom says: “Can you guys go into the playroom and find me five of the coolest cars we have?” 

Mom means: I’m sneaking cookies and I don’t want you bastards to catch me.

Mom says: “Sorry that toy with the loud siren is broken.” 

Mom means: I took the batteries out. 

Mom says: “Sorry, iTunes isn’t working.” 

Mom means: I don’t want to listen to your shitty music about unicorns and tacos right now.

 Mom says: “Mommy just needs a little break.” 

Mom means: Can someone bring me a corkscrew?

Mom says: “You people are driving me crazy!” 

Mom means: You people are driving me crazy!

Huh…so I guess they aren’t all lies after all.

Tuesday, April 30, 2019

Pants Are Hard. Do Not Recommend.

You know that saying ¨We all put our pants on one leg at a time¨? It's supposed to promote the idea that no matter our differences as humans at least we all have this one thing in common. This one ridiculously mundane thing that we all have the ability to do.

Are you aware, however, that there exists a certain percentage of the population for whom this task presents some unique challenges? I know! Its shocking right? Who in the world cannot manage this process?

*Slowly raises hand*

Apparently when it comes to getting dressed I still have some things to learn. Today was a complete fail for me in the putting on pants department. Here's how it went down...

I was staring at the clock and attempting to do math.  I should have known right then and there that nothing good was going to follow. I needed to run to Target. I also had to pick my kids up from school. Did I have enough time to do both of these things? In addition, I needed to shower. God, I was feeling ambitious!

So ten minutes of debating with myself later I decided I could have it all!

Cue Narrator: ¨Little did she know where her poor decision making skills were about to lead her...¨

So I jumped in the shower and was out in record time. Score one for me. (Spoiler...the score ends up being Me: 1 Life: 7,509)

I patted myself dry-ish and picked up the leggings I was previously wearing. Since I was in such a rush I obviously wanted to get dressed and out the door quickly. My legs were still a little damp but I stepped into my leg at a time, mind you...and started to pull them up. Here's the chain of events that followed:

-Get leggings over feet and up to ankles.

-Realize I'm still a pretty damp person.

-Decide it's too late to turn back now and continue to try and pull leggings further up legs.

-Immediately regret decision.

-Know I am in too deep but press on hoping things will turn around.

-Reach the tipping point. The literal tipping point. As in...I start to fall over.

-See my life flash before my eyes as the spandex claws of death wrap themselves ever tighter around my calves.

-Foolishly hop around bathroom for a few seconds before realizing resistance is futile and succumb to my fate.

-Hit ground. Angrily cry out. Actually cry.

-Rip pants off in fit of rage and frustration.

-Sit pantless on the floor, exhausted and out of breath and begin questioning all of my life decisions thus far.

-Realize that I am currently 10 minutes further behind schedule than if I had just allowed my legs to fully dry.

-Wonder why I'm like this.

So there it is. My brush with death due to pants. Ok, maybe that’s a little dramatic but those clingy little muthas were definitely the reason I didn’t make it to Target and that’s pretty depressing. Anyway, the important lesson and overall takeaway from the whole story should really be:

For a happier life stay home and avoid pants whenever possible.

Saturday, April 20, 2019

Marry The One Who...


Ok, now that I have your attention let’s talk about something important...and it’s not romance.

Well, I mean, it kind of is. But not in the traditional sense. I’m talking about real life, everyday situations in your relationships that may not present themselves as romantic but in reality are super romantic-y.

When we’re little girls movies indoctrinate us to the idea that romantic situations can only arise from grand gestures: The prince fighting a dragon or scaling the walls of the highest tower to rescue his love. But, honestly, those people knew each other for 5 whole seconds before declaring their undying love. I bet after the dragon was slayed and the tower crumbled they had some awkward conversations and discovered that the other person is, like, a terrible conversationalist, or doesn’t like dogs or...even a Yankees fan.

That’s not true love. Roses, candles, champagne. It’s all fine. But dinners at a fancy restaurants aren’t going to be the norm. Don’t focus on the one who’s going to sweep your off your feet and woo you with elaborate dates and fancy gifts but then never do a load of laundry.

I’m 17 (YIKES!) years into this crazy little thing called love so please allow me to give you a little advice on the subject...

Marry the one who gives you the better cut of meat:

A year ago my husband was making steaks for us and after we had eaten he told me: “While I was preparing them I noticed one piece felt like it might have a little gristle in the middle. So I made sure to take that piece for myself and save the better steak for you.”

Dude. That’s love.

Marry the one you can be gross in front of:

I know a couple of women who swear they have never “passed gas” use the polite expression for it... in front of their significant other. Constantly having to worry about this would be a total deal breaker for me. Sometimes life is yucky and your partner should be able to handle it. This one is especially important if you ever plan on becoming pregnant. Pregnancy is super gross.

Marry the one who will go to the post office for you:

OK, this one is specific to me but you’ll get the point, hold on. I hate the post office. I hate the smell and I hate the parking situation and I’m always confused about where to put certain packages and everyone is grumpy there. I do a lot of online shopping so I also do a lot of online returning. When I package up my returns they have to eventually be the post office. My husband will always take my packages in for me even though I am perfectly capable of doing so myself. It’s a stupid little mundane thing that he does for me, not out of necessity, but out of love. And I appreciate the heck out of it.

Marry the one who always get two:

Going to the freezer for some ice cream? Get two. Going out to grab a coffee? Get two. Going to adopt a new puppy? Get three or four.

Marry the one who makes a fool out of himself for you:

When we first starting dating my husband and I decided to forgo the traditional Valentine’s Day celebration for a unique dinner of our own. Every year he cooks a four course theme dinner for me complete with skits and costumes. Past themes have included Harry Potter, Presidential Candidates and Celebrity Chefs. This man dressed up as Paula Deen to entertain me. Marry the man who will dress up as Paula Deen to entertain you.

I could go on because there are a million everyday examples showing how the little things matter most in a relationship. Remember, the flowers will die, the candles will burn out...but the friggin post office will always be there!

Thursday, August 2, 2018

Tomorrow I Shall Be Perfect...

Yesterday I said “tomorrow”. 

Tomorrow I will be a better parent…a perfect parent.  I will engage more. I will take a day trip with my kids. I will do a craft.  I will read them a book. I will take them on a walk. I will feed them a vegetable.  I will do all this tomorrow…because today has passed and I have done none of those things.

It’s August and the summer is coming to a close. I can feel the lump of anxiety in my throat as I think back and wonder if I’ve done enough to make summer memories for my children. It’s the same feeling I get on Sunday nights when I look at my schedule for the coming week and wonder where the weekend has gone.  August is the Sunday of Summer. 

Everywhere I look I see pictures of families having storybook summer adventures.  Kids in coordinating outfits eating ice cream on the beach.  The kind of “eating ice cream” photograph that shows the kid getting a little messy but not too messy.  Just messy enough to show that they’re having THE BEST SUMMER EVER!

Meanwhile, my kids are on their ipads because I let them stay up too late last night and they are now unable to do anything besides whine and complain.  I allow this lapse in screen time rules because I have a lot of stuff to do around the house.  This is probably horrible parenting. This will not happen tomorrow.  Because tomorrow I shall be perfect.

So, I lay in bed and think about all the memories I’m going to make with my kids the next day.  I will make up for my lackluster parenting today.  I will wow them with fun and excitement. I will relieve my guilty conscience by being perfect. New day, fresh start, I can do this. Summer isn’t over…yet.

I’m panicking about my missed opportunities for parental perfection to the point where I can’t even sleep because I’m too busy beating myself up. But…like…why? I have to stop and think: why do I feel all this pressure? Why do I have to be perfect?

Maybe it’s all the articles and blog posts out there reminding me how quickly time passes. “Parents! ACT NOW! Your kids are growing up and soon they won’t even remember you exist! YOU MUST ENJOY EVERY SECOND!!”

I shouldn’t read these anymore because, hi, I’m an adult and I get how time works. I do enjoy my children…most of the time. Stop reminding me of what I’m going to lose if I don’t spend every waking second making memories.

And yet…

I want to cry just thinking about that.  About how I “only have this moment with my children once”. Do I want my children to grow up without ALL THE MOMENTS?!?! I have to make these moments.  I have to be perfect. Tommorrow.

My rational side kicks in and reminds me that I just took my kids on a two-week vacation to a beautiful lake. Doesn’t that count for something? So what if it’s 11am and I haven’t done anything with them today besides make them clean their rooms to earn Playstation time?

But then my guilt ridden “the internet told me I’m a bad mother” side reminds me that I have to enjoy EVERY moment. It doesn’t matter what we did last week. What have we done today?  I have to be present and accountable 24/7 or my kids are going to be robbing lemonade stands by the time they’re 10. 

I definitely don’t want that to happen.  So tomorrow I shall be perfect.

Here’s the thing, though: Not every moment can be magical and filled with lifelong memories.  You know that “dust if you must” poem? Ok, I get it.  But if I don’t dust then my child with severe allergies will not be able to breathe.  That’s not a sugar-coated childhood memory.  And, yes, I know the laundry will still be there tomorrow. But we can’t go out and make super nifty memories if we’re all naked. 

Maybe the answer is moderation.  Maybe we can make the memories when the opportunity is there but maybe we can also sit around in our pjs and have a lazy non-memory filled day if we need it.

Tomorrow I will probably not be perfect in spite of all my intentions. 

Maybe tomorrow I’ll simply be enough instead.  And my kids will most likely survive.

Tuesday, July 31, 2018

Vacationing has changed...

It’s summer! Sweet, beautiful summer. Hello, gorgeous! 

Summer means it’s time to kick back and enjoy some down time. It’s also prime vacation season which used to mean I would grab a book, a towel and a bathing suit and hit the road. Lake, beach, pool...whatever the occasion that would pretty much cover it for my twenty something year old self. 

Wasn’t I cute and clueless? Oh, girl how your life is about to change...

After having kids of course you still vacation but the post kid vacation bears strikingly little resemblance to the pre kid vacation. When the post kid vacation looks in the mirror it doesn’t even recognize itself (then it pours a glass of wine, eats a pint of rocky road and SWEARS one day it’ll get back to its former shape).

In the spirit of the season I’m going to share  with you the ways vacationing has changed since kids have entered the picture. If you have kids you’ll probably have a few to add yourself and if you don’t have kids...well...consider it free birth control! 

So here we go! 

Top five vacationy things that have changed post kids:

Number 1: Everything. 

All of it. I could probably stop the list right there but I promised you four more. So onward we go...

Number 2: The amount of stuff you pack. 

This one seems obvious because you added people so naturally you need to add more stuff but hear me out...

You might figure that your packing is going to double when you’re packing for another person. Especially a kid. They’re, like, SO small! How much room can their stuff take up? 

Answer: OMG A LOT!

Little kids need all their seats and strollers and other gear. Big kids need every toy you have in your house, especially the ones they haven’t touched in 8 months and suddenly CAN’T LEAVE BEHIND! 

Trust me. For every additional kid sized human you add to your trip plan for 74x more stuff per person than you previously brought. 

Number 3: The variety of sunscreen you need to bring borders on obscene. 

Seriously. Sunscreen is sunscreen, right? WRONG! 

Back in the day I’d bring, like, two tubes of different SPF sunscreen (one for when I wanted to burn and one for when I wanted to burn a little less). 

Now? Spray sunscreen, stick sunscreen for the face (cause “DON’T SPRAY MY FACE!”), cream sunscreen for when I wanna know what it would be like to wrestle a greased up octopus (dude, I swear they grow additional arms to fight you off while you try to rub it in). You need every SPF over 50 and specialized ones based on age and body part. Face is different than legs for some reason because...who knows why, just take my money. 

Number 4: The food. Oooooooh the food...

Did you know that an average sized toddler who usually only needs 5 goldfish and an 8th of a grape to get him from breakfast to lunch will suddenly grow four extra stomachs once you take them on vacation?

 The amount of snacks they need to get through an average day is astronomical. Put “S#*^load of goldfish, popsicles and cookies” on your shopping list. Then underline and highlight it. 

Never mind the amount of absolute crap they will consume. There is no "too early for sugar" rule anymore.

I never knew “breakfast dessert” was a thing until we were on vacation and my then 5 year old finished his cereal and asked my mother for dessert. And she gave it to him. Cause “It’s vacation!” 

Ummmmm...what? Well, ok then, all control that I had over your diet just went out the window. 

Meh. I'll fix it when we get home.

Number 5: The relaxing. 

Vacation is typically considered a time to “take a load off” or “escape from reality”. But not so much when you bring your loads of reality with you. 

I love my kids. Loooooove them! And I enjoy that they enjoy their time. But bringing them on vacation is like a doctor packing up his patients and letting them tag along on his trip to the Hamptons. It’s work. 

Every year we go to the lake for a couple weeks in July. And every year I pack a beach chair. And every year it’s a lonely, lonely little chair. But it gets to leave the basement for those weeks. So it’s kind of a vacation for the chair. How nice for the chair! 

Honestly though, if you pack kids you don’t have to pack anything that facilitates sitting. Look at all the space in the car I just saved you have room for more toys! You’re welcome. 

Happy summering! 

Wednesday, December 23, 2015

The Official Worst Christmas Songs Ever


There, now that I have your attention...we're two days away from Christmas!

Besides me just sitting around waiting for everything I've busted my ass to accomplish over the past month backfire and explode in my face...which it inevitably will, by the way, because there's always some last minute shit that didn't get done and someone's gonna be bull about it and blame me...anyway, besides that I've also been listening to a lot of Christmas music.  And know what I've discovered?  There are a lot of really shitty holiday songs! Like, bad. Really bad. 

And I'm not just talking bad as in they put Jingle Bells to reggae music or bad because they let Rod Stewart sing something (honestly, don't you just feel like he's molesting you with his voice?)

I'm talking bad as in just plain disturbing and wrong.  So here is my list of a few Christmas songs I'd like to see not exist:

1. Baby It's Cold Outside:

I'm starting out with the obvious. I've talked about this creep show of a song before because, after all, it is my favorite Christmas song about date rape. AND THEY LET ROD STEWART SING IT! After I hear his version I immediately have to go take a hot shower and try to erase the memory of that experience.

Seriously, let's celebrate the season of over imbibing and making bad decisions by trapping this poor woman in a snow storm with the pushiest asshole ever.

Baby: "Say, what's in this drink?"

It's Rufies,woman. Get the F out of there.

2. Santa Baby:

Ah! The story of the greedy selfish tramp with the pouty sex kitten voice.  Yeah, she deserves a yacht and she's not afraid to do what she has to do to get it.  Santa is married, you little ho ho ho. If I were Mrs. Clause I'd kick your ass for talking to my husband like that!

You'll get the same thing you got last year...herpes.  Hope you enjoy it.

3. I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus:

Um...HELLO!! You don't think that would totally freak a kid out? And any song that involves the word "tickle" should just be outlawed to begin with anyway. I'm surprised there's not a verse where the kid tears his eyes out because he can't un-see any of that.

That song should be renamed "I saw mommy having an affair and it has forever ruined my ability to be in a committed, caring relationship".

4. I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas:

WTF! Don't give my kid ideas. Your parents hate you. So do I. Ask for a doll like everyone else you little freak.

Also, your voice is one of the most annoying sounds of the season. There's probably something wrong with your nasal passage. You should get that checked out. Tell your parents you want an ENT appointment for Christmas instead.

5. There's Something Stuck Up in the Chimney:

This is the one where Santa is dead up the little girl's chimney.  Like, what thought process went into the creation of this song?

Songwriter 1: "We need to come up with a new Christmas song. Wanna do one where Santa's dead?"

Songwriter 2: "Ohmigod! That's, like, the BEST idea I've ever heard. We should totally do that. And we should probably get a cute little girl to sing it too."

Songwriter 1: "Jesus! We're gonna win a grammy!"

And then Santa's rotting corpse starts to stink up the house and the adorable little girl singing just doesn't know what it is! And to top it all off she's up all night waiting for Santa but she never gets her presents because, ya know, they bumped him off. What a fantastic premise for a holiday tune!

Are you people serious? THIS is an f'ing CHRISTMAS theme? Way to kill my merry and jolly along with Old St. Nick.

Perhaps you tool bags should have thought of all of the parents driving around with their kids when this song comes on the radio.

"What's up her chimney?"

"Ummmm...soot.  It's not dead Santa AT ALL. Don't even worry about it. MERRY CHRISTMAS HONEY!"

So there ya have it, my list. I could add more (like Annie Lenox's bone chillingly, scary as hell version of "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" for example) but I'd be here all day. Feel free to add to this list if I missed any of your most hated seasonal tunes!

Wishing you all happy holidays, merry Christmas and the ability to block Rod Stewart's voice out of your head should you be so unfortunate as to hear it!

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

What Not to Wear

You guys, I’m angry. 

Angry enough to finally sit down and actually write something after taking a little (5 months is considered little, right?) break.

I’ve been super busy lately but today pissed off trumps busy.  So here we go…

I’ve recently read two separate but equally stupid articles written about…you guessed it…mistakes made by moms. And more specifically, mom fashion faux pas (ßOooh! I spelled that correctly on the first try! I’m amazed by myself right now…but I digress).

The first horrendous article I read was all like “Oh hey, moms? Don’t drop your kids off to school in your pajamas ok?  Cause, like, other parents and teachers totally shouldn’t have to look at you dressed like that.”

The second crap-tastic post was all like “Moms, here are the things you should NOT be wearing…ever.  Why? Because some random person out here in internet-land-ville told you not to.”

Now, I am an adult so I’d like to say to both of these writers with all due respect and utmost maturity:

FUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOUUUUUUUU!!!!!! (With SO MANY exclamation points.)

Is this serious?  Is this actually happening? Did mothers who write blogs run out of other ways to bash each other? Isn’t that breastfeeding issue still a thing? Can’t we focus on being guilty about that for a little bit longer before we move on?

Do you really, I mean reeeeeeallly, care how people look when they pull their car up in front of school and their kids hop out and then they pull away? The whole interaction takes about 15 seconds.  If someone’s clothing is that offensive to you in that short amount of time then maybe the problem is…oh, I don’t know…WITH  YOU!

I realize that there are plenty of parents who go directly to work after drop off or who just like to be dressed and ready for the day early in the morning.  And that is awesome, they are amazing.  But there are other parents whose lifestyle does not require them to be showered and pretty at 7 am.  They come home and clean, or they take care of other kids, or they go to the gym, or they who the F cares…

I have never ever read a progress report that says “Jimmy is doing awesome in school, however, mom could really use to run a brush through her hair in the morning”.

Is the kid there, dressed, fed and ready to go? Then high five, sister! Nailed it!

I can just picture the author of this ridiculous article sitting around with her little douche patrol friends going “Oh my GAWD! Did you see what Mrs. So and So was wearing this morning?  I almost couldn’t finish my mocha double soy flax seed half calf latte because I was so DISGUSTED by it!”

There are a lot of serious issues in this world: homelessness, war, famine, Ebola, gender inequality, world friggin’ peace.  How about you focus your small minded judgmental energy on something just a touch more important than flannel plaid sleepwear?

Oh, and YOU! You Miss don’t wear maxi dresses.  Or capris.  Or shorts. Or crocs…ok, fine, I agree with crocs.  I personally don’t like them but if YOU do then go ahead and rock on with your awkward shoe choices…I will not tell you no!

The biggest issue I take with this particular article is that it focused on what MOMS should not be wearing.  Personally I feel there are several fashion choices that are just not appealing on anyone and my option does not change based on whether you’ve birthed a human or not.  Why you gotta hate on moms?

Moms take care of other people.  That’s what we do.  But we don’t have to lose our personal tastes and styles in the process.  We wear what makes us comfortable or happy.  And we don’t give any shits what you THINK we should look like.  Some days I wear yoga pants and a sweatshirt cause I felt like being comfy.  And some days I put on jeans and a cute shirt because I feel like looking a little dressier.  Know who makes that decision?  ME!

“Oh you so CAN NOT chase after children if you’re wearing a maxi dress”.  Um…yes you can.  Wanna know how I know?  Cause I’ve done it.  Maybe YOU can’t chase after children if you’re wearing a maxi dress but that’s not my problem. 

Unless E! is paying you to tell people to stop tight rolling their jeans then I don’t know who you think you are writing a what not to wear post.  And also, is tight rolling back yet?  Cause I feel like if you just stick with one style long enough eventually it’ll come back around…and then look how fashion forward you’ve been for the past 20 years!


Do not tell me how to dress.  Do not tell me what not to wear.  Do not tell me to put on a specific type of clothing.  My choices don’t have to be your choices.  Go ahead and make fun of me behind my back.  I make fun of PLENTY of people behind their backs…I call my sister and we have a good laugh and then I return to being a normal non-douchey human being.  And I don’t write about you on the internet unless you really deserve right now for instance.  You deserved this.

P.S.  God protect anyone who ever, in any way, comes at my yoga pants.  Cause I’ll burn this whole city to the ground, so help me!