humor — Page 2

Stalking Your Kids = Parenting, you are doing it right

August 14, 2013 by amushro

Stalking is illegal in all fifty states, but to that I say felony-smelony. Let’s find the fun side of stalking! I mean I get the whole “illegal” and super creepy aspect if you’re stalking a celebrity or an ex. Although stalking someone like Ryan Gosling would really be more sport than stalking. And come on, I have no good reason to not stalk an ex because

My husband is adorable, has all of his hair, and for some unknown reason thinks I’m the cat’s pajamas.
All of my exs are big, fat losers—that’s why they’re an ex. If you happen to be one of my exs and you are reading this…. Hello, and not you. You were great. (But really him too, he was awful too)

While the penalties for stalking can be pretty dicey, there is one type of stalking I approve, condone and practice: stalking your children.

Stalking your kids is even better if you have an equally efficient and effective (read: cray cray) mom stalker just like you. This is where my fav gal pal Coco comes in handy; plus she is a lawyer in case we need any representation while stalking.

Right now our kids are young and the stalking is mainly to observe, swoon, and giggle at how our kids act and react when we aren’t around; however, polishing our stalking skills now will serve us well when they are tweens and teens (shudders at the thought).

If you are new to stalking, no worries! I have compiled five easy steps to make stalking your children easy and fun. Follow along!

1. Timing is everything: Angle your swagger wagon so that you can see them exiting the premise. Three busses on the field trip? No problem, feel free to pull in between those buses in order to “monitor” their speed and driving precision.

2. Spot the targets carefully: At no time do you want to be detected. Stay far away from them as they enter the new location and take your seat far enough away that your cover is not blown. Use human shields if necessary. Are you in the clear? Good! Now enjoy your subjects kids as they engage in fun under your watchful eye

3 Documentation: Secret stalker pictures like this are key. Save all pictures for research and prosperity.

4. Deny all allegations against you: Upon arrival of pickup, if one Miss Chatty Cathy tries to out you by saying “I saw you today” quickly answer “No, no, no silly girl,” knock over the rack of dress up clothes to distract her, and run away.

5. Reward Yourself on a Successful Mission: If all of the steps are successful, make a quick getaway to Starbucks for a grande, skinny caramel macchiato and a muffin. You’ve done well, lady.

Stalking is usually frowned upon in most circles, but it’s embraced around here. So until they have GPS devices installed in kids’ underwear…wait do they have GPS panties? Ohhhhh I am claiming this brilliant idea now: GPS undies ™ I’m going to make a fortune!

Let me revise, until GPS undies ™ are on the market, my secret stalking missions will continue. If we see each other out on our next “outing” just give me a little nod, I’ll know why you are hanging around the shadows.

About My Birthday Boy

August 8, 2013 by amushro

Four years ago the world became a better place and not just because the most miserable pregnant woman in the world no longer had a bun in the oven, but because my sweet boy came into this world and made it a little kinder and sweeter.

In celebration of my first born’s birthday, I’ve been thinking about the four short years he’s been hanging around this joint and how it seems like a lifetime of knowing him. After all, he is pretty awesome.

After the obvious announcement of “It’s a boy!” the doctor added “Wow! That is the cleanest baby I’ve ever seen!” Weird thing to say to a brand new Mamma, right? Somehow I thought these words would be some sort of prophesy and I would have the cleanest kid around. Nope, didn’t happen. We should have named that kid Pig-Pen because rarely is there a day when he doesn’t have a chocolate milk mustache or dirt covering some area of his body. Dirtball.

When the doctor laid a tiny, dark hair, dark eyed, olive skinned baby on my chest, I was instantly and madly in love with this little boy. He was perfection. Interesting, I thought, while gazing at his beautiful face, I produce middle eastern children. Hubby’s Lebanese heritage had clearly trumped my own genes.

Turns out the kid was just a little jaundice, and after a few feedings and a couple of good poops, this is who we ended up with. Handsome little devil, huh?

My boy is a hoot! He has a sharp sense of humor and the best comedic timing. His ability to make his Mamma laugh has saved his cute butt from many trips to time out. While it’s clear he is going to be a hit in college, I’m a little nervous about the reasons why. He’s smart, adorable, and funny, plus chicks dig him. But he’s really going to catch the eye of the ladies with his Frank the Tank tendencies.

The kid really loves being naked and rarely walks out of the potty with anything other than socks on his feet. To be honest, his balls have probably touched every surface of this house. Since I’ve already told you that I am a crap housekeeper, and if balls skeeve you out, well, just don’t sit on our couch, OK?

Naked antics aside, he really is the kindest little boy and has such a huge heart. He will cover your face with kisses, tell you he will love your forever 934 times a day (and mean it every. single. time), and gives the best hugs.Not that lame side hug or hugs with hands at his side, but real honest to goodness hugs. Hugs that melt my little black heart because he is a little gem and he is all mine! OK, I shall share him with Hubby (but he’s mostly mine).

He can’t bare to see people hurting or sad. Most Disney movies are banned from our viewing list because the sad parts wreck him for days. He is the first one to offer hugs to a friend in need.

He is a gentle boy with a good, good heart and I when I think about that good heart I just know that some horrible girl is going to break it into a million little pieces. My blood boils because I will be powerless to do anything. Well, I may scratch her eyes out, in my head anyway.

Sometimes I think I ended up with this gentle boy and his kind heart because I was a real creep to the guys I dated a million years ago. Is this karma’s idea of payback?

Maybe karma didn’t count on me being this crazy in love and obsessed with my boy. Is it possible to love your kids too much? Nope…no way. Not when they are this fabulous. So here’s to the most amazing four years with my lovebug and a lifetime more!

Breaking Up and Making Up with my Running Shoes: This Time It’s Serious

August 1, 2013 by amushro

My running shoes and I have had an on again/off again relationship for about fifteen years. Our relationship has been complicated and filled with angst, heartbreak, and infidelity. While my shoes have been true blue, I have a cheating heart. Sometimes it was with others that I thought were better for me: yoga, aerobics, and that short lived affair in college with Tae-Bo. But usually it was just lust that pulled me away: late night nachos, cold winter weather, more sleep. But no matter how long I strayed, I always come back to my running shoes. While she welcomes me back with open laces, she punishes me for leaving her behind. The longer I’ve been gone, the longer it takes me to get back to where we were.

Most days I don’t enjoy running.

I run against traffic rather than with it: rebel

I hate the idea of running in a group and only run alone: solo

I sing really loud while I run: tone deaf

I spit while I run: camel

Maybe my running shoes don’t like me either or we aren’t compatible because I’ve never felt that “runner’s high.” But for some reason running and I just work. We always have, always will.

I don’t aspire to run in a marathon or even the local 5K. No medals or time trials for this gal. I just want to be comfortable in my skin, my new skin. The skin that has been stretched and pulled. The hips that have spread. The body that has created, nourished, and carried my two greatest achievements. More than fitting into my jeans, I want my daughter to feel good in her skin. Better than I feel in my own.

My little girl has the most delicious kneecaps and bitable thighs. I adore her round arms and the belly that hangs over her diaper. While admiring my precious baby, I started to ponder when do we stop loving chunky thighs on girls and start to dislike them? It was then that I realized that my running shoes mean more than this skin. Because my skin is a reflection of how she will see her own. I would die a thousand deaths if I thought I contributed to an unhealthy body image for that sweet, sweet girl.

Enough of the excuses and hiding my running shoes in the back of my closet.

I’ve been on a diet since I was 18. That’s when I started college and stopped running the first time. I started packing on the pounds, and the breakups and makeups with my running shoes started. The scale would go up, the running shoes and I would have another go ’round. Then numbers of the scale would fall, and I would tell my running shoes we were “on a break”.

But this time it’s different. I think we are going to make it this time. This time it’s not just about the weight on the scale or my fear of saddlebags. This time it means a lot more.

So I will eat ice cream with my kids, but I will also put them in the jogging stroller with me while I count the miles under my feet. I will entertain them with lollipops and sing them songs to get more time on the road. And I will teach my daughter to love the skin she is in because I created that skin and it is perfection.

So let’s try this relationship again, running shoes. I thought about quoting a Taylor Swift song or maybe The Notebook to win you back, but you’ve never needed hearts and flowers, just me, my bad singing, and the road.

Love and Marriage Six Years Later

July 22, 2013 by amushro

This weekend Hubby and I celebrated six years of married bliss, or in reality, six years of love, passive aggressive fights, good times, awesome times, not so awesome times, and just simple life.

Every year I force him to watch our wedding video so I can ohhhh and awwww over every wedding detail I agonized over, my pretty dress, my tiny waist, can you believe he brought that horrible girl as his date, our first dance, my husband looking oh so dreamy in his tux, and those sweet vows. One part of the video that really caught my attention this year was not us cutting the cake to the silly song Adam Sandler sings at the end of The Wedding Singer, but the priest’s sermon about how a marriage changes through the years. So I got to thinking about the things that have already changed is six short years…

Lots of things change the longer you are married, but if the days you want to high five your husband or even kiss his face outweigh the days you want to punch him in the face, well now, that is some wedded bliss!

My Scary Mommy Repost: All I Need to Know I Learned on 90210

July 1, 2013 by amushro

This weekend I had the opportunity to wine and dine with the super hilarious and sweet Jill Smokler, aka Scary Mommy. Since I already had a bloggy crush on her before, my crush has exploded 100% after this weekend. I may become a Scary Mommy groupie. Today I am reposting the piece she featured on her site when I was a brand new blogger in February. Not only is this my favorite piece, but Jason Priestly even retweeted this post on Twitter. So one post on Scary Mommy and a retweet from Brandon Walsh—-drops mic and walks off stage.

If you are a Beverly Hills 90210 fan, here are the very important life lessons you probably learned from hours of watching the best show ever!

I have been highlighting my hair since I was in seventh grade. I really couldn’t even tell you what my real hair color should be. Here is my best guess: If you head out to your local drug store and walk down the aisle with boxes of hair color, take a look at “Blahhh” or “Meh” that would be the best description of my natural color.

Since I have been cursed with such lackluster hair, I have been forced to shell out big money every few months to make sure I remain a bouncy blonde and not some crazy lady pretending that her six inches of dark roots is her attempt at ombre.

A young gal was highlighting my hair this week and she was over sharing stories of her “bad boy” and “womanizing” boyfriend. I patiently listened to her story, nodded periodically, and even gave the shocked “No!” every so often. When she finished the sordid details of her love life, I decided to pass down some sage wisdom from a slightly older, wiser, been-there-done-that-lady. Here is what I told her:

“Honey, you date the Dylan, but you marry the Brandon.”

I knew I was in trouble when she got this dumfounded look that screamed “What the hell are you talking about?” Then I got the “Who?”

Dylan McKay and Brandon Walsh? 90210? The real 90210. Only one of the greatest shows ever! Really? No idea who I am talking about?

First, I felt old. Then, I felt sad for the wayward young girl that didn’t have 90210 during her formative years to guide her along her journey to maturity. Then, I got to thinking about my own Monkey and Mimi and all of the conversations I will have with them in the future and I shudder at the thought. What if I just lock the kids in a room and force them to watch all ten seasons of my favorite show? When they are done, they can come out and we can discuss what they have learned. I am confident all of those difficult conversations will be addressed in each hour of 90210, and I will simply just need to reiterate some of the most important…

1. Don’t get drunk at prom and pass out in front of the principal. While I am sure you are charming, no one is going to stage a walkout and chant “Mimi graduates, Mimi graduates.”

2. Don’t wear the same dress to the spring formal as your best friend, don’t date the edgy new girl that takes drugs, don’t dress slutty at Halloween parties, don’t date the broken hottie that has mommy issues, and don’t lose your virginity at the spring formal you wore the same dress as your friend — for reasons other than you are wearing the same dress as your BFF — Didn’t you learn anything from Brenda’s pregnancy scare?

3. Just because your friends have bigger houses, amazing clothes, a bitchin car, tons of money, and the super, cool, fun mom that is sometimes in and out of rehab, the grass is not always greener and your friends probably wish they had a snarky, sarcastic Mom like yours that can make a mean pepperoni roll. Boom!

4. Drugs are bad. So are diet pills, cults, gambling, plagiarizing your college papers, cheating on your girlfriend with her BFF, cheating on your boyfriend with his BFF, cheating on your girlfriend with a lame music executive —OK, let’s just generalize that with cheating — it’s bad – all bad.

6. Violence against a woman is never OK, and if some guy pushes you down the stairs, he does not love you. While I do not condone violence, I would kick a guy’s ass if he ever laid a finger on my Mimi.
7. When faced with two options and neither feels right, always choose yourself. While she made lots of bad choices during the course of the show, Kelly got this one right—“I choose me!”

So there you go, seven very important lessons that cover all things I need my children to know as they grow up to be functioning members of society. Trust me, I dated the Dylans but married the Brandon. Man, this child rearing is easy!

I Survived My Son’s First Field Trip

June 28, 2013 by amushro

When my son’s chi chi preschool informed me that in order for him to keep his spot in school for the fall he needed to attend the summer session, I was livid, furious, irate! How dare they take away precious summertime with my boy of long days at the pool, running wild at the splash park, and frequent trips to the beach. How dare………oh wait, they’re going to have pony rides and trips to a petting zoo. Dang, can I go?

The summer calendar the school’s activities looked way better than me filling up the water table 375 times in one morning. Plus the kid would probably be sick of my face by mid-June. So I conceited and sent him on his preschool way.

I knew the kids were going on field trips this summer, but Mommy Brain struck again because I never thought about the logistics of how the group of three and four year olds would actually get to the field trip destinations. Obviously they would load all of the munchkins on a HUGE yellow bus. You know the kind of bus that doesn’t have seat belts. The same buses that are involved in 26,000 accidents a year, but who’s counting?

My sweet little boy! How could I let my three year old on a bus? He won’t go! He will be terrified!

I need to prepare him because if I know anything, it’s my boy.

Days before the trip and all the way to school that day, I reminded him he would be riding the big yellow bus with his friends. They would go see a puppet show and have lunch at the theater. And when he gets off the bus, Mommy would be waiting for him. And I bet Mommy will have a treat. Yes, a treat.. ice cream. Lots of ice cream…

Walking to his classroom on the day of the field trip, I was still chanting over and over “you’re going to go on a big bus today! Won’t that be amazing?” Before we made it very far, a teacher told us to just head out to the buses because they were ready to leave.

I can’t do that! This boy is a man of routine and he doesn’t like when things change.

He will be terrified and burst into tears if I walk him over to the bus and then leave!

This isn’t how it was supposed to work. No, no, no!

I was supposed to drop him off in his class, like usual, and run out the front door.

This will be a disaster!

We walked up to the big yellow bus, he let go of my hand, and stood in line with his class. What the…? Wait, what just happened? That little traitor didn’t even look back. No tears. No hesitation. Just a big goofy grin and off he went to wait in line with his classmates all decked out in their blue school shirts.

If there is one thing I know. it’s my boy. And if there is one thing that will continue to surprise me, it’s my boy

Happy Birthday, Baby!

June 26, 2013 by amushro

I didn’t need a sonogram to tell me that I was having a girl. The pregnancy symptoms were clear indicators that the bun in my oven had lady bits. The minute the little test came back positive, my butt and hips got so big I could easily be mistaken for a Kardashian. The glowing skin of pregnancy, yeah, that was nowhere to be found on this lady. Oh, and for good measure, 14 weeks of being green from morning sickness made this particular pregnancy….memorable. But the worst was making it through 40 weeks of pregnancy with my son and my skin was unscathed, but at 36 weeks, I guess my girl thought it was time for me to earn my stripes–stretch marks. Traitor!

Big booty, vomiting, and tiger stripes aside, two years ago when the doctor placed my gal in my arms, I swear to you, friends, it was like Stevie Wonder was in the delivery room singing “Isn’t She Lovely,” because she really was. She was the most beautiful, mucus covered, gooey, messy baby girl I had ever laid eyes on, and I was immediately smitten with her. Good thing she was cute, because she was on my shit list in utero.

Today is her second birthday and she isn’t that gooey, stretch mark dealer, but a fireball of a little lady that skipped walking so she could run, Disney Princess loving, in a constant state of singing and dancing, scaling the back of the couch so she can ninja leap onto her brother, bossy pants and she is all mine!

Maybe it’s the English teacher in me, but I can’t think of a better way to describe my gal:

Fierce and fearless: At her Mommy and Me gym class she is the first to dive into the ball pit, will race up and down the slides, and when they need a volunteer for some crazy stunt, guess who they always look to first. I’m not sure I have the heart for my baby to be such a thrill seeker. If she ever sends me a video of her bungee jumping, I will die a million deaths.

This weekend we celebrated her birthday with her little friends. As long as I live, I will forever remember her sweet face as we sang to her, and after she blew out her candles, she looked at her dad and said “I did it!” Excuse me while I have a moment. My heart just exploded in my chest.

Sometimes I envision throwing her a lavish wedding, but in reality, in twenty-five years this wild child will probably call me on a Tuesday to tell her father and I she met someone and will be marrying him on a cliff in Santa Monica…on Wednesday.

Watch your step because this sugar and spice is FIRE when she is mean. I used to follow my son around making sure no one took toys from him or that older kids were too aggressive. I don’t worry too much about this one. Seriously, try to take a toy from her or steal her swing, I dare you.

Moms and daughters have interesting relationships. Fortunately for me, I’ve already started laying the groundwork for motherly guilt that will ensure she stays with me forever. She may be just a little girl now, but I have big plans for us. While I am young and vibrant she and I will go to New York, eat fabulous food, and sing along with Broadway shows. However, when I am old and grey, she will humor me and take her old mother to Atlantic City, push my wheelchair up to the slots, order me a few Captain and Diets, and kick back while I press my luck.

But in all seriousness, since she is officially two, at what point do I have to stop referring to the extra junk in my trunk as baby weight?

Dad Knows Best

June 21, 2013 by amushro

*OK, so this post is an ode to my Pops for Father’s Day. I know I am a few days late, but I’ve been super busy and this post is super funny, so keep reading!*

My Dad is a real pain the ass. He assumes his opinions are always right, his potty mouth would make a trucker blush, he is crabbier than my kids if he doesn’t stick to his schedule and misses his nap, and he is in better shape than most twenty year olds. So freaking annoying.

However, he is a gem of a man who has come to my rescue more times than I can count. He loves my kids in such a beautiful way that it melts my little black heart. Around every turn of my life when I have been afraid, he reminds me to be brave. And he has taught me some of the most simple but profound lessons in life.

Now in all honesty, a lot of this magical advice was plagiarized from my grandfather, and if I had to guess, taken from his father, but it doesn’t matter because I fully intend on stealing these morsels of knowledge and sharing them with my own bambinos.

People are stupid—this little tidbit is the gift that keeps on giving. Sure it seems a bit harsh, but I can’t tell you how many times a day I recite this line over and over. Watch the nightly news: people are stupid. Read asinine status updates on Facebook: people are stupid. Keyboard politicians: People are stupid. Naming your baby North: people are stupid.
Are they paying your bills? Then why are you worrying about them? I shutter at the thought of being a dad to an emotional basket case teenage girl. I was a freaking hormonal nightmare and cried All. The. Time. During any falling out with a friend, non-friend, or lame-o boyfriend, my dad would lay it on the line and ask:

Dad: Are they paying your bills?

Me: What? No? (insert whiny voice and a few extra tears, OK a lot of tears)

Dad: Then why are you worrying about them?

Me: Because I …(insert lame teenage response) You don’t know what you are talking about.*Storms off to pout in bedroom*

Ok, So it wasn’t the most well received piece of advice as a teen, but with most life lessons, it was lost on youth but invaluable to me today. It takes a lot to get my panties in a bunch, and if they do, I ask myself those questions. Usually if that doesn’t work, I refer to #1

3. Do the right thing- So simple and so true. It’s sorta like my Daddy-O is as enlightened as Dori and her “just keep swimming” line. The next time you find yourself at a crossroad in life, just do the right thing. Makes your decision a lot easier.

There is all sorts of research on the lasting effects a dad has on his daughter’s relationships throughout life and her sense of self-worth. That’s a lot of pressure for Dear Old Dad.! Clearly the big guy did a few things right (even if he failed at teaching me to parallel park). But here is the best part of having an awesome dad, watching him be an amazing grandfather to your kids. Do the right thing? I think so.

Identity Theft, Questionable Choices, and 50 Cent

June 13, 2013 by amushro

FTC DISCLOSURE REQUIREMENT:Questionable Choices in Parenting aims to provide unbiased editorials. However, I wish to disclose that from time to time I may receive free products or other compensation from companies for blogger reviews.

I write about my Questionable Choices in Parenting, but let’s be honest, my questionable choices started long before I birthed these two kids. One particular choice still worries me and it’s all 50 Cent’s fault.

Many moons ago, I was out for a night of dancing with my girlfriends when 50 Cent’s “In Da Club” started blaring through the speakers. I needed to be on that dance floor to bust a move because that was my JAM!

Are you singing it now? Don’t worry, I’ll wait.

Done? Good. When I heard the familiar beats of my favorite tune, I ditched my purse on a nearby table and was off to the dance floor. A couple of songs later, during a dance break, I went to grab my purse and realized it was gone!

Naively, I thought the worst part of a purse stolen would be replacing my driver’s license; however, it was my identity and credit that took the hit.

My wallet was a thief’s dream filled with unused credit cards that I never noted the account number or what bank they were attached to. Those cards were gone and I had no clue who to contact to cancel the cards. I should have just signed a bunch of blank checks and threw them out to people while I danced away like I was “Shorty” and it was my birthday.

If that isn’t enough to make your credit report panic, I also had my social security card in my wallet. Maybe I thought someone would need to verify my citizenship while clubbing? While 50 Cent was rapping about getting “a mill’ out the deal and I’m still on the grind,” I handed over magic numbers for someone to walk away with my identity.

Even though “you should love way more than you hate” it only took a few months for me to feel the impact of identity theft. It started with an angry collection agency demanding I pay for a cell phone in Utah. I tried to explain it was impossible for me to open a cellphone in a state that was across the country, let alone one I’ve never visited. But when they sent me a copy of a statement, there it was in black and white: someone used my information to open that cellphone account.

The cell phone was just the beginning of confusing and stressful process of trying to catch and clear up fraudulent charges and accounts . Even now, ten years later, I still worry about what could show up on my credit report from having my identity stolen.

Identify theft happened to me because of the contents of my stolen purse, but think about how much information we share and don’t even realize.

When I think about my frustration and anxiety over trying to figure out what steps I should take to protect myself, I really wish I had a trusted company like LifeLock to help me.

LifeLock is a suite of services that works together to protect your identity from various risks. With social media and technology being an integral part of our day-to-day life, it makes me feel better that LifeLock is so progressive and vigilant when offering assistance to people just like me. Having a trusted company like LifeLock to offer guidance, show me the right steps to protect my identity, and to offer authentic support would have been invaluable to me.

Interested?Then check out LifeLock right here.

So the next time you want to find me in “Da Club,” I’ll be on the dance floor holding my purse!