I don’t know about you, but this long break from school really is such a blessing. Just the other day I heard a group of moms complaining about it, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and cluck my tongue with pity. Not a day minute second goes by that I don’t reflect on how lucky I am to spend so much unlimited quality time with my love muffins.
Like this morning after my coffee kicked in and I was sitting in my bathroom taking care of business, Holden must have sensed my loneliness because he burst into the room and yelled surprise and scared the crap out of me. Literally!! I know some mommies relish their alone bathroom time because they get to read things like People magazine, but isn’t that kind of like spending time with strangers? I’d much rather spend my toilet time surrounded by loved ones, wouldn’t you?
So poor little Holden is finally feeling better after four days of the stomach bug. O…M…G… FOUR DAYS!!! Four days of catching puke in my hands, in the bucket, missing it and having to do ridiculous amounts of laundry, going through eighty-seven bottles of 409, etc etc etc. But finally he’s better!
Or so I thought.
Okay, so I guess I’m kind of an old-school parent. I under-schedule my rugrats, I make them eat all their non-organic veggies before they get their GMO-packed desserts, and I even yell things like, “GO TO YOUR ROOM!!”
TODAY’S PARENTING EXPERTS: Gasp!! But that’s supposed to be their safe place!
Well, I’ve decided enough living in the past. I can be a modern parent. So here goes, ten things I did today Continue reading
Dear God please help me not go insane. Dear God please help me not go insane. Dear God please help me not go insane. Because holy crap, I am about two seconds from going out of my F’ing mind and being strapped into a straightjacket and dumped into a padded cell. It started last week when I opened up the minivan door annnnnd…
HOLDEN: NOOOOOOOOO, MOMMY YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO LET ME DO IT!!!!!!!!
Dear stranger who disciplined my kiddo at the playground today,
Woah woah woah, lemme get this straight. So today your daughter was trying to do the monkey bars? Okay, got it. And my kid was trying to do the monkey bars too? Simple enough. But since your kiddo is new to the monkey bars and takes forever and sometimes gets scared and stops right in the middle, my son had no choice but to go past her and sometimes bump her a little and she would fall and be all sensitive and start crying? Hmmm. Alrighty then.
Now before I continue, I just want to say that yes, I know I should have been there when this all went down, but unfortunately I was on the other side of the playground with my son’s friend who was crying. So no, I wasn’t there, but does that give you a right to discipline my kiddo? Does that give you the right to talk to him sternly and tell him to knock it off? Does that give you the right to act like you are the person in charge when he is actually MY child?
Well, well, well, isn’t this interesting? Someone just sent me a very informative article about timeouts. Holy crap, did you know that a recent scientific study shows that giving timeouts to children mimics similar brain activity to children who are neglected and abused?!! Agghhh, I’ve been giving my rugrats timeouts for years and clearly F’ing them up in all kinds of ways!! The study suggests that instead of leaving children alone in isolation to calm down and learn to cope with their feelings, parents would be better off using the times that children misbehave and have tantrums to forge a bond with them and be there to hug them and soothe them during their time of need.
Results have yet to be concluded in this study because not enough time has passed, but it is believed that children who are rewarded with hugs and kisses during their tantrums and crying fits will grow up to become healthy, well-adjusted pussies who when accidentally jostled in a crowded place like on the street or public transportation will literally collapse into a pile of snot and tears because Mommy is not there to comfort them, and that they will not be able to go on job interviews by themselves because they will have trouble doing anything without Mommy’s constant attention, but that they will be hired anyway because bosses are having trouble finding any non-assholes in the pussified sea of candidates, but that even if they are hired they will soon lose their jobs because they don’t know how to do anything without their mommy holding their hand, but that’s okay because when they are fired they can call Mommy on their cell phone and she will drop everything and come running to them to hug them and kiss them and reward them for their shitty behavior by letting them move back in with her where they can lie in their twin-sized beds for the rest of their lives staring at all of the shiny trophies and medals they did not earn.
To the woman who just had her first baby last night,
Okay, so the first thing I want to say is, WELCOME TO THE CLUB!!!!!!!!!!! I mean it’s not like a super exclusive annoying club like the crappy stuff you dealt with in high school or anything, but it is a club. A club of people who know what it’s like to be so enamored with someone, you could literally stare at them for hours and not get bored. Awwww, her lip just twitched. Look how tiny her fingers are. OMG, I literally want to eat her toes. I’ve never wanted to eat someone’s toes before. This is crazy.
The second thing I want to say is whatever you are feeling right now is totally normal. Maybe you’re all hunky dory and euphoric (like I was because I was still on morphine, mmmmmm, sweet sweet morphiiiiine). Or maybe you’re like aggghhh, get all these F’ing people out of my hospital room!!! My vajayjay is torn to shreds and I’m topless and I don’t want to share this baby with anyone. Or maybe you can’t stop crying because you always knew you were going to breastfeed, but the baby’s not cooperating and people keep giving you suggestions like relax and stop tensing up and why don’t you try holding the baby like this or try holding her like a football and you’re like AGGGHHHH my baby is not a football and leave me the F alone because I’m figuring this shit out and stop staring at my nipples. Or maybe you’re constantly weeping and you don’t know whether it’s because you’re overwhelmed with happiness or fear or pain or hormones or more love than you’ve ever felt before.
ME: Agghhh, I have SOOO much to do today, I think my head might explode.
HUBBY: Want me to do the grocery shopping?
I know I should jump on this amazing offer immediately, but A. I’m waiting for the probe to fall out of his tush because clearly he was abducted by aliens and this is not my real husband, and B. Letting my husband do the grocery shopping is not exactly as blissful as you might envision it to be.
But alas, if I do not take my hubby up on his generous offer, the pantry and refrigerator will remain empty and my children will starve to death and I’ll feel like an even crappier mom than I already am.
Okay, so Mother’s Day is next weekend and I could totally buy my mom some fun earrings, or grab her a gift card at Tarjay, or pick out some pretty flowers to be delivered and then curse the company because they want to charge me an extra million dollars for delivery on Mother’s Day, but nope, none of that is good enough for my mom. Because my mom is so F’ing awesome, listen to what she did for me.
She delivered me feet-first without an epidural.
Okay so the other day we were at Toys R Us looking around when I stumbled upon the Barbie section and I did a double take. What’s this? Did you finally give Barbie’s body a makeover? And then I looked a little closer and realized nope, not really. The regular Barbie is still all over the place, but so are three new ones: Petite Barbie, Tall Barbie and Curvy Barbie. I kept looking for a Barbie that represented my type– Saggy Boobs with a FUPA Barbie– but alas, not yet.