humor

Shower…Interrupted.

April 28, 2014 by amushro

Sometimes I’m shocked and, to be honest, a bit fascinated by the amount of dirt and grime I’m willing to leave on my body and hair and still go out in public. Now, I haven’t always had such poor hygiene. At one time I too enjoyed daily showers. In fact, I can actually pinpoint the exact moment the upkeep of my personal appearance took a severe nosedive. Let me see….Oh yes, when I had children. Admittedly, things have improved slightly now that my kids are two and four. But now, my showering rituals are minimal: just to get the grease off and no major primping really happens. That is why I take my Saturday Showers very seriously and may never fully recover from the tragic loss of my recent Saturday Shower. Let me explain…

Bright and early on Saturday mornings I lay down a decree in our home. “Family,” I tell them, “Mommy is going to get a shower. No one is allowed in my bathroom during this time. Just stay here with your father. Better, yet, don’t leave this floor of the house, OK?”

They all nod in agreeance, and I shoot a stern look at my husband to really solidify the point. In no uncertain terms, this look means “Keep them out of the bathroom until I come back or I’m coming after you, pal.”

And just like that, I’m off! I’m giddy like a school girl and almost fall running up the stairs for my Saturday Shower. Dancing into the bathroom I blast the Billy Joel Station on Pandora and sing along with my favorite Piano Man

“A bottle of white….”

“A bottle of red…”

Yes, Billy, perhaps a bottle of rose instead…

Cranking the temperature of the water to near scalding (it takes a lot to get rid of that Mom-grime, am I right?), I examine the assortment of shower products that have sadly collected soap scum during the week due to lack of use.

Pink body scrubs, girly smelling lotions, and fluffy loofahs, I give them all a little wink. Hello, friends. Good to see you again.

This is the Saturday Shower and I will use EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. In fact, shampoo and conditioner, I will even wash, rinse, AND repeat. Over my shoulder I give a little wave to the assortment of lotions and makeup I will luxuriously apply once the glorious and beloved shower is over.

Then my perfect little Saturday Shower bubble was burst when my four year old infiltrated my sanctuary.

“Hey Mommy!”

“Hey, buddy. What are you doing here? Where’s your dad?”

“I dunno.”

“Well, Mommy is taking a shower so….privacy please.. .“

“I’m just going to go potty”

“Well, we have three other potties in the house. Go use one of those. Where did you say your dad is?”

“Nope, I’ll just use this one.”

And before I could chase him out, the kid dropped trou. When he didn’t lift the seat, I knew what sort of “business” he intended to do.

I tried my best to ignore him and hoped he would just wrap up his “business” and get out quickly. But the kid added insult to injury when the steamy bathroom no longer smelled of vanilla sugar body scrub, but of my gross kid.

I turned up my nose and let out a yelp when he flushed the potty and froze me out.

Finally, I whimpered in defeat when he swiped my phone off the counter, switched off my tunes, and exited the bathroom playing a game on my phone

A little light headed from the smell, cold, and music-less, my Saturday shower was a complete bust.

My kids ruin a lot of things: my Saturday Shower, my flat stomach, my ability to run up the stairs without peeing myself. While I can’t fix most of these ruined things, I can lock the door next Saturday and run the dishwasher and washing machine as soon as my husband gets in the shower on Monday morning.

The Baby Blocker: Keeping New Siblings From Happening

November 20, 2013 by amushro

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you know that I’ve been grappling (check out that SAT word) with adding baby number three to our brood. I’ve written reasons why I really want to be knocked up again. And some really valid reasons why I would have to be out of my mind to let my Eggo get Preggo.

Here’s a little secret I’m going to let you in on: Hubby and I decided we are going to pull the trigger and try for another baby, but then it happened. The Baby Blocker. Not familiar with a Baby Blocker? Well, let me introduce you to her.

Remember being in your glory days single days of hitting the bar and party scene? I know, it’s been a while, but you remember those questionable fashion, hair and make out partner choices, right? Did you have that one friend that made it virtually impossible to capture a guy’s attention? Maybe a handsome fella caught your eye, you were having great conversation or he was impressed with the way you drop it like it’s hot on the dance floor. Then that one friend comes along and ruins it all by saying something lame or chasing him away with her Carlton Banks dance moves, or worse she starts to rub up on him in a really bad Pamela Anderson kinda way. Remember her? The “c@*k block”— I know, gross word but really that’s what she was.

Well imagine you and your main squeeze decide that more is merrier and you get ready to “pull the goalie” and BAM your two year old throws hourly tantrums, fights you on every single loved decision you need to make in a day, screams loud enough to break every window in the house, decides she doesn’t want to be cared for by anyone other than Mommy, but most days acts like she doesn’t even like Mommy, and is generally just, you know, a terrible two. Well friends, meet the Baby Blocker because under no circumstance would you DREAM of having another baby right now. No thanks. This shop is closed.

My son is still easy breezy other than the constant boo boos, wrestling, jumping off high places, refusal to wear pants, and finds bodily functions and fluids a hoot, the kid is pretty much a peach. But that little one is giving me a run for my money.

I’ve discussed this Baby Blocker phenomenon and turns out, they exist in lots of places outside of our home. It’s true! In fact, after a brief survey (OK I asked my friends), it seems that many second and third children only became a reality because the Baby Blocker went on a brief hiatus or reared it’s tantrum head a few months after conception.

It’s gotten so bad that Hubby will try to give me a back rub and I run away like a bat out of hell. From across the room I yell “Watch it, buddy. I know where your back rubs lead!”

While the Baby Blocker was serving another sentence in time out, I sent up a small prayer to help me make it to bedtime without diving headfirst into a bottle of Cabernet.

So where do we stand with bambino numero tres? No time soon. Hopefully the Baby Blocker drops the act before I hit menopause. There is hope; while I was writing this, the Baby Blocker snuggled up next to me, gave me the sweetest kisses and told me she “really loves Mommy.” Oh wait, she just threw her chocolate milk at her brother. She’s BACK!!!

She is Going to LOVE School…Until She Totally Doesn’t…

November 10, 2013 by amushro

On Mimi’s first day of “school” ( a one morning a week program for two year olds at a local church), I fully expected her to saunter up to the front door and kick it open with her purple sparkly sneakers. She’d throw her little hands up in the air and announce “Yo, bitches. I’m here!” And as if on cue, the tiny tikes in her classroom would create a tunnel, much like on Soul Train, which Mimi would dance through and high-five each classmate as she passed them. She would end this elaborate entrance with some sort of split. Probably with jazz hands… Maybe even glitter…

Yes, friends, this is what I expected and while I should have been surprised and shocked that my two year old was using the term “bitches” and using it in the correct context, what really happened knocked my socks off.

Miss Independent, Miss Self-Sufficient, Miss I-Will-Take-On-Any-Slide-At-The-Playground is going to rule that school….until she totally didn’t. The second we pulled into the parking lot she tried to everything to get the hell out of there. “Mimi go home with Mommy?” “Let’s call Daddy and go home?” “No school! No SCHOOL!”

“Come on, honey,” I told her “You are going to love school!” But the no school chant turned into sobs as I walked her down the hallway to her classroom. You would have thought I was walking her down the Green Mile not to a toy filled room with cookies and new friends. The teachers were able to distract her long enough for me to book it out the door; however, I bombarded the director by giving her every piece of contact info possible (for real, she wasn’t going to tweet me “come get your kid #sobbing”, but I just wanted to cover all of our bases). Sure enough, the call came: Mimi was still sobbing and wanted Mommy.

Rushing into the classroom, I scooped up a red eyed, snotty, sobbing Mimi and covered her with kisses and hugs. Feeling like the worst mother ever, I searched for the nearest blunt object to dig out my own heart. “Bring her back next week,” her teacher whispered. “We’ll try it again but maybe a shorter day.”

Grandmothers are always the worst to call in these sorts of situations.

Mom: “Oh well, guess we can try again next year.”

Me: “Next year? How about next week? We have to try again.

Mom: “Really? Well if that’s what you think is best.”

Me: (Takes a deep breath—remembers she is taking my family to Disney) “OK, Mom. Thanks for the talk”

My husband was no better. After convincing him that we needed to give it another try, I asked him to give Mimi a pep talk about school for next week. Clearly I confused him with my use of “pep” talk because he re-watched a few poignant coach to player speeches from Friday Night Lights. My concerns were validated when I eavesdropped happened upon their conversation and heard Mimi exclaim “Clear eyes. Full hearts. Can’t lose!”

The next week at school her new chant was “No crying at school” and “Mommy always comes back,” but this drop off was even worse. I think she may have yelled out “Traitor!” at one point. However, the teachers assured me the minute she hit the playground she was a happy lady.

If nothing else, I will think of this moment in retrospect, probably when she is 16, rolling her eyes at me, trying to wear inappropriate skirts that will reveal her who-ha with one wrong move and saying things like “You just don’t get it, Mom.” Instead of dragging her inside the house by her ponytail, I will remind her of the days she loved me, and missed me, and didn’t want to go to school because she couldn’t see me. Then I’ll burn that short skirt, drink wine straight out of the bottle, and wait for her to get out of her teens and become a Mamma’s girl again.

How Much Wine is in My Glass? A Science Experiment

September 23, 2013 by amushro

Do you drink wine? Shut up, me too!

Since it’s socially unacceptable to crack open a bottle of red at 8 AM, do you wait until your kids are asleep to booze? Yes! Come on, this is just too strange! Wanna be best friends and get a BFF necklace like this:

You know what else I really love, new best friend? I love science experiments. Maybe it’s because I really loved Mr. Wizard’s World as a kid. Remember that guy?

The other night I was pouring myself a glass of wine into my favorite Pottery Barn wine glass, and the Mr. Wizard in me started to think about volume. Not the volume that my daughter can reach while she is mid-tantrum, but the volume of wine that my HUGE wine glasses can actually hold.

Now I know these aren’t normal size glasses, but my days aren’t normal sized and they call for big, fancy wine glasses that can hold the amount of “Mommy Juice” needed to take the edge off the day’s tantrums, messes, clean-ups, butt wipes, nose wipes, school drop offs, school pick up… you get the idea.

So I decided to perform a little experiment. How much wine can my Pottery Barn wine glass hold and what do these findings mean for me?

Here is my list of equipment:

Pottery Barn red wine glass
Pottery Barn white wine glass
Water
Blue food coloring

Why blue food coloring? Well blue is the most scientific color, just ask the makers of maxi-pad commercials.

Now on to my methods: these are the wine glasses full of water that is pretending to be wine. I know the glasses are a little full, but just imagine Mamma had a really bad day and stop judging for the sake of science, OK?

So how much wine do these glasses hold?

Holy cannoli that’s a lot of grape juice! Just under three cups for the white wine glass and just over three cups for the red.

I decided to consult the most reliable online source, Wikipedia, and according to them, the average “pour” for wine is five to six ounces. That looks like this:

Ridiculous? Hand me that bottle. No one has time for you to be stingy with the booze.

Now somewhere in the article is stated that the wine glass should be double in size so the wine can “aerate,” but I can’t bothered with those sorts of details.

And now the most important part of the science experiment: what conclusions did I come to.

Clearly the designer of Pottery Barn’s wine glasses was a mother that needed a break at the end of the night
Why go out and deal with stingy “pours” at stuffy restaurants when you can just fill your glass right to the rim at home?
When it seems as if there isn’t enough wine in all of Napa to ease the sting of a really rough day try this combo: jar of peanut butter in the AM and wine after the kids’ bedtime.
In the end, many of my results are still inconclusive. The only thing I can do now is further testing. Care to join me on my next round of experiments, best buddy?

Mornings are hard, old stuff in the closet, and sounds to love and hate

September 20, 2013 by amushro

What is the oldest thing in your closet? Come on, you can tell me. Wanna see mine? Well then, you have to watch the vlog for my answers!

And here is the video that refused to go into the vlog. Proof that the white noise works!!

Now tell me your answers!

Finding “The Babysitter”

September 18, 2013 by amushro

Some people will tell you that as a parent the most significant moments in child rearing are the milestones like the first time your baby walks, says “Mamma”, or is old enough to wipe their own butt. I’m here to tell you that is crap. Sure, sure those are all important moments, epic moments. However, the most important moment of a parent’s life is stumbling across a great babysitter.

Not just any old babysitter but “the babysitter.” Your go-to-gal for date night. The one that your children (and you) leap into the air for joy upon her arrival. The one that probably takes better care of your kiddos than certain family members (uh-huh, you too?). The truth is “the babysitter” doesn’t just take care of your kids; they can save your life or at least your sanity.

I knew I had found “the one” when someone inquired about my babysitter and I got all Gollum on them and referred to her as “my precious”.

I spotted our Ashley on the playground while my son ran around like a wild man, my daughter was just a tiny newborn, and I was an exhausted and overwhelmed mess. On that day, the playground was full of the usual suspects:

the nanny chatting away on her cell phone and aimlessly pushing the tiny babe on the swing while her other charge pushes your kid down in the mulch
the intimidating gang of babysitters that huddle around the park bench—don’t make eye contact, don’t make eye contact
the overzealous babysitter acting out Beauty and the Beast for her small gang of minions

And then it was like the fog lifted when I saw a little girl I knew from the mommy and me gym class scene playing with a very attentive babysitter who spoke sweetly to the tiny lady and smiled the entire time.

Strategically I scooted my daughter’s stroller up to this vision on the playground and started chatting her up. She was kind, well spoken, experienced, and in 30 seconds I had bribed her to become my new babysitter. When she agreed to watch my kids once a week Rihanna’s “We Found Love in a Hopeless Place” started playing in my head.

After two blissful years my babysitter decided to ruin my life and is going back to school to become a teacher. How dare she try to better herself and the lives of other children and not sit around to be at my beck and call on the rando days I have something to do? I kid, I kid (sorta).

Even with her packed schedule, she still squeezes us in so I can take Hubby out for his birthday and helps me out in a pinch. She’s even coming early so I can shower and get ready in peace. See, I told you this one was a gem!

So here is my advice: if you find an Ashley, “the babysitter”, move her into your house and never let her go. Be sure to feed her, but just keep her close so that she doesn’t wander too far.

And don’t you ask for her number, unless you want me to look like this:

I’m Over at One Classy Motha with Helpful Tips

September 3, 2013 by amushro

Pacifier addiction is a real and very serious issue. It effects millions of families each year. That is why I am hanging out with Kim from One Classy Motha to share my story about paci addiction and how my latest invention can help those in your family suffering from pacifier addiction. Click here to find me.

After you read my post, click around and check out what is going on at One Classy Motha; seriously she is a HOOT and you will thank me later.

Guest Posting as the Mom of the Year During Natural Disasters

August 26, 2013 by amushro

This morning was just like every other morning: my children were awoken from their slumber by their loving mother singing perfectly tuned songs from The Sound of Music. Those lovely babes joined in for the chorus as we baked a wholesome breakfast together and rounded out the morning with a quick hot yoga session. Just kidding, one is still wearing dirty jammies, I forgot to brush the other’s teeth, and I may swing through McDonald’s for breakfast. Mornings like this are exactly why the funny, sweet, and hottie Meredith over at Mom of the Year has bestowed the honor of joining the ranks of her Mom of the Year on little ol’ hot mess me!

I started writing my acceptance speech and perfecting my pageant wave, but then she said I just needed to write a blog. So click right here to be magically transported to her page and imagine me waving and smiling while riding the Mom of the Year float, sigh…

Class reunions, what’s on my Kindle, what’s in my fridge, and what’s on my fridge: Mommy TMI vlog

August 23, 2013 by amushro

Friends, you may need to help me out because I’m a bit woozy from lack of food. You see, my class reunion is right around the corner and I am hoping that what “baby weight” (use this term loosely when the “baby” is two) that isn’t squeezed in by the almighty Spanx, will magically disappear if I eat a lot of Lean Cuisines this week. I was doing well until I baked cookies with the kids. DAM YOU CHOCOLATE CHIPS!!!

This week’s vlog is a magic bag of randomness, but I like it. Be sure to catch the giveaway, book selections, and my super secret recipe below!

Want to enter the giveaway? Then click right here!

fabsmile

Here are my book selections: