Questionable Choices in Parenting
Laughing at life as a parent so they don't commit me
With just a few days left until Christmas, I’m over on TLC with a few Holiday Hacks to make giving DIY gifts super easy and sparkly! These glitter lanterns are so pretty and would be perfect as holiday decor or as part of a gift for everyone on your good list! Happy Holidays!
Since it’s back to school time, you can bet it’s also back to germs time. I’m looking at you, kid that keeps coughing and refuses to cover his mouth, and you, kid that keeps picking his nose behind a book. You’re not fooling anyone! As those big yellow buses pull away from the bus stop and you realize you didn’t put your kid’s PB&J into his superhero lunch box and your hoping no one sees you are still wearing your PJs during preschool dropoff, let’s all send up a silent prayer that all those coughs, colds, sniffles, goopey eyes, and other strange illnesses stay far-far-far away from our kids.
Even though we will try and try very hard, someone is going to get sick in your house this school year. But it’s all cool because you’re a mom that knows what your family needs when they’re sick: a little rest, a lot Mom TLC, and if they need medicine to help them feel better, you’ll find the right ones. But let’s talk about putting those reading skills to good use when it comes to choosing and dosing medicines for your family. Reading the drug labels before you give medicine is something that my friends at Know Your OTCs knows all about. Even if this isn’t your first rodeo, here are the key things to remember:
The other day I tried a really novel idea–I LOCKED the bathroom door. Crazy, I know, but we have these locks on the doors and apparently they do stuff like keep kids, dogs, and husbands out of the bathroom while it’s otherwise occupied. Fascinating!
It was about 30 seconds after lock implementation that I realized why those locks aren’t used by mothers very often. It might have been the banging on the door. Or the cries of “Mommy, something is wrong with this door. I can’t get it.” Or the sudden crash that came from the toy room that sent me running with yoga pants around my ankles.
While I may never pee alone again, I seem to be in good company, and I’m beyond thrilled to revel the cover of the new book that I’m going to be in I Still Just Want to Pee Alone. It’s available March 27, 2015!
This book is a sequel to the wildly successful book created by the hilarious Jen Mann of People I Want to Punch in the Throat. You’ll find essays about motherhood being the toughest and most absurd and hilarious job, and we can all relate to our deep desire to just PEE ALONE! If you were a fan of the first one, you are going to LOVE this book. Here’s the line up of fantastic writers in I Still Just Want to Pee Alone:
Bethany Kriger Thies of Bad Parenting Moments
Kim Bongiorno of Let Me Start By Saying
Alyson Herzig of The Shitastrophy
JD Bailey of Honest Mom
Kathryn Leehane of Foxy Wine Pocket
Suzanne Fleet of Toulouse and Tonic
Nicole Leigh Shaw of Nicole Leigh Shaw, Tyop Aretist
Meredith Spidel of The Mom of the Year
Rebecca Gallagher of Frugalista Blog
Rita Templeton of Fighting off Frumpy
Darcy Perdu of So Then Stories
Christine Burke of Keeper of The Fruit Loops
Amy Flory of Funny Is Family
Robyn Welling of Hollow Tree Ventures
Sarah del Rio of est. 1975
Amanda Mushro of Questionable Choices in Parenting
Jennifer Hicks of Real Life Parenting
Courtney Fitzgerald of Our Small Moments
Lola Lolita of Sammiches and Psych Meds
Victoria Fedden of Wide Lawns and Narrow Minds
Keesha Beckford of Mom’s New Stage
Stacia Ellermeier of Dried-on Milk
Ashley Allen of Big Top Family
Meredith Bland of Pile of Babies
Harmony Hobbs of Modern Mommy Madness
Janel Mills of 649.133: Girls, the Care and Maintenance Of
Kim Forde of The Fordeville Diaries
Stacey Gill of One Funny Motha
Beth Caldwell of The Cult of Perfect Motherhood
Sarah Cottrell of Housewife Plus
Michelle Back of Mommy Back Talk
Tracy Sano of Tracy on the Rocks
Linda Roy of elleroy was here
Michelle Poston Combs of Rubber Shoes In Hell
Susan Lee Maccarelli of Pecked To Death By Chickens
Vicki Lesage of Life, Love, and Sarcasm in Paris
Kris Amels of Why, Mommy?
Mackenzie Cheeseman of Is there cheese in it?
Tracy DeBlois of Orange & Silver
So on March 27, get the book, use those fancy locks, tell everyone you have “business” to attend to, and get ready to laugh out loud with everyone reading this book!
My to-do list has about 357 things for me to accomplish today. The only way I am going to get it all done is if I move at warp speed and drink three more cups of coffee. The problem is, I already know I will be slowed down by my boy.
I usually call him my Poky Little Puppy because even though I struggle every day to not eat his cute face, that man moves at a snail’s pace—-ridicilous. I wrote about me being a fast moving mamma and my boy taking his sweet time and it’s on Huff Post Parents today– I know, fancy right? Click here and be magically transported over to read How my Little Boy Has Slowed Me Down
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.
I’ve often said that if I can get my kids through adulthood not marrying someone I hate or doing crystal meth, I will call this parenting gig a success; however, I have to wait a long time for that payoff. So, I am going to take the little winning moments where I can get them.
These may be small victories, but I will take it. After all,
When it comes to the mom lottery, I am the Mega Millions, Powerball, Scratch-off winner. Not only is she my personal cheerleader, my kids’ favorite person in the world, and a fierce cook, she is smokin’ hot. 
It gives me hope that when I am her age, I won’t morph into the hunchback of Notre Dame. So in honor of Mother’s Day, I thought I would share my mom’s best pieces of advice. Now be advised, I usually rolled my eyes or ignored her pearls of wisdom, but inevitability something would happen and I realized, “Dang, she knows what she is talking about.” I just hate when that happens. So here you go, 10 of her best zingers:
Happy Mother’s Day! Now go do something nice for your mom. You are the reason she has stretch marks and pees herself when she runs up the steps.
Having kids has caused me a serious case of momnesia. This kid induced disease often has me searching endlessly for keys, failed attempts of looking for my lost cell phone while I am talking on that lost cell phone, and the dreaded walking into a room and thinking “What the hell did I come in here for?”
While momnesia and its nasty side effects has me walking around like a half wit, I never have to worry that I will lose my kids because one or both are always leaning on me, touching me, or sitting on me…always. Now I love a snugglefest with my babies, probably more than the average Mamma, but dang kids, give the lady some room!
This morning I was doing the normal multi-tasking: attempting to write a blog, drink coffee, pretend to watch Doc McStuffins and snuggle with two bed-headed kids. But I couldn’t even raise an elbow to click around on the computer because I was trapped between both leaners.
I moved to the floor, they followed me.
I scooted to the left, the scooted along with me.
I scooched to the right, the got even closer.
I can’t escape them!
During a break in the leaning, I ran off into the kitchen, but the little one followed me. Since this kid could stand, I haven’t cooked a meal without her standing on my feet or swinging between my legs chanting “Mamma, Mamma, Mamma” on repeat. This is enough to make the most patient of women insane, and I will only cook things that can be heated up in the microwave in 30 seconds so that I can be around long enough to see my kids graduate from high school.
I instituted a new rule in this house, a moratorium on leaning on Mommy for one hour a day. The no leaning policy happens from 1:30-2:30. This time also coincides with Mimi’s nap mostly because she is irrational and cannot be bargained with. Also, I am a little afraid of her wrath if I told her she has to move. However, the new rule has already failed and I have a mutiny on my hands. See!
The leaning doesn’t stop even when the kids go to bed. As if on cue, I get the kids to sleep and the dog, who has ignored us all day, comes racing down the stairs just to lean on me. It’s like she has an internal clock that goes off after bedtime alarming her to the fact no one is demanding anything from me and no one is touching me. The perfect time for her to lean that hot and hairy body on me.
After a full day of kids and a dog leaning on me, Hubby has the audacity to try his own version of leaning. No thanks, Dude. Keep on moving. After 12 straight hours of kid and canine leaning, ain’t no one got time for that.
So if you need me, find one of my kids. I will just be a lean away.
Today, Mimi has hit the ripe ol’ age of 22 months. According to some random baby website she should be able to:
Say at least 20 words
Sleep at least 12 hours uninterrupted
Has the ability to wrap her Daddy around her little finger
Can clear the room with her ear-piercing screams and tantrums
While we still have two months before this little lady is two, this particular month has really struck a chord with me because Monkey was 22 months when I had Mimi.
In preparation for her birth and when trying to wrap my brain around having “two under two,” I remember thinking “He is so big now and so independent.”
Ummmm aca-scue me? What the hell was I thinking?
I look at my sweet Mimi and even though she is not a baby-baby anymore, she is a baby and sure as hell not independent. Unless, of course, you count going down the slide by herself or when she screams “Beat it!” to our dog when Suggie has gotten too close to her Goldfish crackers.
Here is Monkey at the hospital meeting his sister for the first time. He is wearing a “Big Brother” shirt. Big Brother? He isn’t a big anything! He was just a tiny toddler that is freaked out about seeing his mom in some random hospital bed and can’t understand why his Nene is handing him some baby. Thanks, but no thanks, lady. Just give me a snack instead, OK.
I love when people ask me how he adjusted to having a sister. He was so little that he has no memory without her around to cry, mess up his toys, or to share my lap. So the transition for him was no biggie. Me on the other hand, well let’s just say it wasn’t as smooth.
When I was pregnant and exhausted from chasing a toddler that was full of energy, I would fret over how difficult it would be to have kids so close in age. How would I handle their sleep when they are on such different schedules? How would I get two kids in and out of car seats without losing one in traffic? Is it even possible to get them both dressed and out the door before nine AM?
Here is the part where you expect me to say that all of that worrying was pointless, right? WRONG!
All of the difficult scenarios that I could imagine happened and they were usually worse than I expected. I spent most of that first year sleep deprived and crying. Many mornings were spent kicking a soccer ball to the boy while I nursed the baby. Now THAT is multi-tasking!
I couldn’t understand why I thought it was so hard to shower with just one kid. With two it would be goodbye soap and water, hello perpetual ponytails
When the fog started to lift and we made it to her first birthday, her invitations said this:
Happy First Birthday, Mimi!
but it should have said
Thank God We Survived!
Now that time has passed, I have adopted that strange ailment that affects all mothers at some point. You start to forget how bad something sucked and your memories get all bury and wishy-washy, just enough for you to look back on a particularly hard time fondly. Try it on yourself.
Morning sickness? Eh, all that vomiting wasn’t so bad? I actually look very nice in green.
Labor and delivery? Tis’ but a scratch.
The first year with two under two? It was lovely. I cherished every moment.
Could this be a hallucinogenic side effect from pregnancy hormones?
Here’s the thing I know for sure, everything happens for a reason and our life is exactly where is should be. I wouldn’t trade my two under two for anything. Because if I even thought for a minute that life would be better or easier if we had waited a little longer before we had our second, I would be a fool because I wouldn’t have my Mimi and she is perfection and life is perfection with this little hurricane!
