kids — Page 5

Oh Christmas Card, Oh Christmas Card

December 21, 2012 by amushro

Stop complaining about how much you hate sending out Christmas cards. I know you are lying. OK, it can be a pain trying to get the entire family (kids and/or dogs) to look at the camera at the same time. Maybe you have a family member with the Chandler Bing picture smile? I do, but I refuse to reveal his identity (it may or may not be the man that I married, shhhhh….) Maybe you have one of those kids that will inevitably be dirty two seconds before you need them to say “ccchhheeessseee”? Yes, addressing the envelopes is time consuming. Just drink wine while you work. Do you fear of envelope licking poison? Stop watching Seinfeld.

And who the hell knows how much a freaking stamp is these days? All of these things combined can make the Christmas card quite the ordeal.

Well tough because everyone loves the dang cards. Especially me! Who doesn’t love to show off your adorable family in a festive card?It makes my day to get a Merry Christmas from a friend I haven’t seen all year. Those pain in the ass cards give me the warm fuzzies, but can I share a little secret with you? Sometimes when I look into the future, I get a little nervous about the card. Here’s why: I am really afraid I will have nothing to add to the card. Let me explain. One of my favorite types of cards is the family update newsletter. The entire family has a little paragraph that updates everyone on the accomplishments and goings on in their life that year. If our family had a newsletter, hubby’s paragraph would talk about his dedication to his job and the 372,384,926 football games he attended this fall. Monkey’s paragraph would discuss his love of preschool and his favorite classes, yoga and science–yoga in preschool, ridic, right? He is also taking piano lessons that his mother fears he will later use this talent to pick up chicks. Mimi’s would need to discuss her love of gym and music class and focus on her famed Mimi booty shake dance. Imagine an 18-month-old dropping it like it is hot—it’s pretty hilar. Then there is me. My paragraph would go something like this,” Ummm… well, uh. Hmmm.” What could I share with the world? I was used as a human tissue eight times today. Some days I am amazed at how long it has been since my last shower. I can name that kid’s show in three notes and I am a wiz at getting chocolate milk out of the laundry. Nothing ground breaking there. Maybe my day-to-day life isn’t paragraph worthy. I could just share what I contribute to our little world. How could that go over? Here is what I would share: I make dam cute kids that are kind and well mannered (most times) in public. I entertain my husband daily with my antics and my lack of housekeeping abilities. I am a great daughter that now worries more about her parents staying out too late and drinking too much at parties. I am an awesome sister that is always willing to call her brother out on his ridiculous need to play remote control commando during holidays. I am a good friend that is willing to drink wine with you and tell you exactly what you need to hear in your times of need. I will also judge other people on the playground harshly to make you feel better about your parenting and expect the same in return. Also, I write a pretty funny Mommy blog that is about to go viral (if it is in writing it must be true, right?) So enough of this nonsense! I don’t need a stinking Christmas card to show my worth. I will just go for the funny! Here is this year’s card:

This card was made by the amazing Alisa at Creatively Engaged check her out! http://www.creativelyengaged.com/

The Christmas Blow Off List

December 18, 2012 by amushro

Who do I speak to about adding an extra week to the month of December? Seriously, let’s just take the oddball months with 31 days and tell them they are good to go with just 30 days each year. We could even borrow a few from February. It’s already shorter and probably wouldn’t mind sparing a few more days if it meant we could all slllloooowwww things down during the holiday season.

I’m sorta like Buddy the Elf because Christmas is my favorite holiday and I love, love, love everything that goes along with this magical time of year. I really don’t mind when stores play Christmas music before Thanksgiving, and I do a little Christmas jig when I see lights and ornaments on sale the same time as Halloween candy. It’s just that I need to start marathon training for the actual month of December. I’ve been shopping since October, the tree has been up since November, and the multiple holiday parties have been going on all December. I will even let you in on a secret, I start planning my Christmas card in August. I mean, it doesn’t go out until the week before Christmas because that would take planning in June, but I start the hunt when we are still putting our toes in the summer sand.

Even though Hanukkah is a celebration that lasts “eight crazy nights,” it seems like our Christmas is lasting just as long.

By the time we celebrate with my husband’s family, then start the trek three hours to celebrate with my family, fit in a few visits with other family and friends, it’s time to watch Ryan Secreast countdown to New Years. Oh wait, did I forget about Santa? Well lucky for us, Monkey and Mimi are so young they have no idea when Santa is supposed to slide down the chimney. So this year, the big guy is coming on Saturday so we can pace them with endless toys, wrapping paper, and stocking stuffers. Eight crazy nights, yeah we got this!

In order for this all to work, some things have to go. Here is my Christmas blow off list. Feel free to add your own:

Homemade cookies. Sorry Martha Stewart, if we were supposed to slave away in the kitchen for hours, God wouldn’t have made Pillsbury slice and bake. Add a few M&Ms and pretzels and boom—reindeer cookies!
The creepy Elf on the Shelf. So you’re telling me I have to commit to placing this little dude throughout my house for a month? You do realize my kids will still act up and I will be stuck trying to find new and funny places to put this guy? Try this site out instead http://www.portablenorthpole.com/home. You make a free, personalized video where Santa calls your kid by name, age, and where they live. You can even pick if your little elf was naughty or nice this year. Monkey was scared straight after the first view of his video. His face was a mixture of terrified and amazed—a parent’s dream.
The painful Santa picture. I am NOT forcing my kids to sit on Santa’s lap just so I can have an overpriced picture to document this occasion.We went, we waited in line, and waited, and waited. Monkey waved to Santa and after a while he said he didn’t want to talk to Santa and wanted to ride the train instead. Sounds good to me because I am sure both kids would have lost it the minute it was their turn. Later, creepy mall Santa. Maybe we will try again next year…maybe not.
Pinterest holiday crafts. I may pin and pin until my fingers go numb, but I am not feeling bad about abandoning the clay handprint Santa and the toilet paper roll reindeer. I pay good money for Monkey to go to preschool. His teachers can get all crafty there. I will however continue to pin cocktails and enjoy them this holiday season.

So Fa-la-la-la-la there it is; I highly recommend you create a list as well. You can do it (you just read that in Rob Schneider’s voice from Waterboy, right?) Now I really have to go. I have a half a dozen Christmas movies I still haven’t watched!

The War on Naps

December 13, 2012 by amushro

If you ask any good mother which of her children is her favorite, she will vehemently say, “they are all my favorite.” Ask me who is my favorite kid, and I will tell you it is the one that naps with the least resistance that day. If we are talking this week, my favorite would be neither of them.

When my brother and I were acting a fool as kids, my grandmother would threaten to “sell us to the gypsies” if we didn’t shape up. Well where is the traveling band of gypsies now because I have two little blonde babies to send their way.

Somehow I have angered the Baby Sleep Gods and they are punishing me. Was I bragging in my circle of friends about my dream sleepers a little too loudly? Were the bags under my eyes starting to fade just a little too much to their liking? Was it the fact that I watched a Giuliana and Bill marathon on the Style Network this weekend and started getting weepy over their new baby? I started whining to Hubby that I needed another baby, mine were too old and planning on leaving me soon. Was this the wakeup call or a kick to the uterus that I needed to remind me that I really need a few more years of sleep before another go round?

The showdowns this week have been epic and one sided, and each time I am the big loser. I have rocked the kids, sang sweet songs to them, tickled and rubbed their sweet faces and chubby arms. Then after an hour of this nonsense, my blood starts to boil, and, let me tell you, nothing says slumber like your crazed mother screaming “GO TO SLEEP BEFORE MOMMY LOSES IT.” Sorry, Mommy, it sounds like you already lost it.

Monkey is almost three and a half, and most of his friends have already dropped their naps. My mommy friends have told me that I should just be happy that I had three and a half good years of napping out of him, but I don’t want to, dammit! I need that kid to nap and his sister, who, by the way, has been a champion sleeper until this week. She has decided to get in on the action and scream like a mad woman in her crib instead of sleeping. All I can do is dive head first into a jar of peanut butter to calm my nerves and keep me from boozing mid-day. I won’t even begin to ponder the age old question of why do kids fight naps when as a grown ups, we would love for someone to tell us to nap.

I have lost all control this week without the kids napping, and I fear for my own sanity if I don’t get the sweet relief of naptime tomorrow. I even have a song that I sing once both kids are asleep. It goes like this :

Naptime is my favorite time. Yes, naptime is my favorite time.

OK, so it isn’t original, but it is the truth. I could be wrong, but I think I heard Monkey and Mimi singing in unison from their rooms:

“You got bags under your eyes and I feel bad for you son. I got 99 problems but a nap ain’t one.”

Again, I’m really exhausted and I could be hearing things.

The only concession to these non nappers is that tomorrow is another day. I promise to be a better mother. A more kind and patient mother. Oh forget that, the only concession to the non nappers is the fact they go to bed at 6:30.

Babba Booey!

December 3, 2012 by amushro

When my dear friend told me she was expecting her first baby I was filled with joy and slightly amused when she said, “I just don’t want to be one of those moms that entire life changes when they have a baby.”

I sorta wanted to say “Awww, that’s cute, but it ain’t happening, sista.” Instead, I was a good friend and decided to let her stay in the dark for a few months. She will see soon enough, soon enough

You know those commercials that say “everything changes when you have a baby.” That isn’t just marketing geniuses tugging at your heartstrings sending you out to buy some random baby product. Nope, that is the stone cold truth. Even if someone told me before Monkey and Mimi came along how different life would be, I would have punched them in the neck and told them they were crazy.

So I got to thinking about the things that really changed. Of course the obvi: no sleeping in, stretch marks, my inability to run up the stairs without peeing myself, but then I thought of what I was really missing: Howard Stern.

My love for Howard Stern started when I was sixteen and my guy friend that took me to school would take the long way through town just so we could catch a few extra minutes of Stern in the mornings. In college, I awoke every day to the sounds of his voice on my alarm clock, and when he made the move to satellite radio, I signed up immediately.

The rauch, antics, and laughs were a huge part of my life for so long, but pretty soon little ears that took in EVERYTHING were perched in a car seat in my vehicle. Rather than singing Zippity do da, I was LOLing at Robin’s news or Howard’s rants. It became evident to me (OK it became evident when hubby put his foot down—hater) that this was not appropriate easy listening with kids in the car. Our new swagger wagon came with XM, and adding Howard‘s channel was an extra cost. It was a perfect time to break things off with Howard.

It’s me, Howard. It’s not you. I’ve changed. I’ve grown. I will always look fondly on our time together. Beetlejuice, Jeff the Drunk, and Eric the Midget are all important to me. It’s just that I am worried my kids will start saying things like “Who’s High Pitch?” and ask their grandma about porn and breast implants. So sadly, it is time for me to move on. Can we still be friends?

It hasn’t been a clean break from Howard and the gang. I still listen to clips online from time to time and my gal pal keeps me in the loop on all things Stern news worthy, but it just isn’t the same, sigh. However, if I ever pass a news truck and the reporter is standing in front of a camera, I’m still tempted to shout “Babba Booey Babba Booey!” And in the end, I think that is what Howard would want too.

Breaking in Christmas

November 30, 2012 by amushro

I find analogies to be helpful. How about you?

Try this one on for size.

Darla is to fish:

As my kids are to Christmas decorations:

The Christmas season has barely started and this pile is looking like the place Christmas decorations go to die. Except this stash of decor has seen their unfortunate end by the hands of my children.

Honestly, it’s bad enough that I suspect my Hubby has left several bins in attic and is pretending “No, Honey, that’s it. We don’t have any more Christmas decorations up here.” He’s a sneaky one. I think he skims off the top every year so that I don’t suspect how much Christmas cheer he is leaving in our dark, cold attic. If I wasn’t afraid that seventeen bins full of kids clothes and toys would fall on me and I would be trapped in the attic forever, I would totally go upstairs and sort through the bins myself. That’s a lie—that attic is a deathtrap. I’ll just buy more décor at the after season sales.

Back to Santa’s destructive elves, yes we put the fancy decorations up high and the bottom half of the tree is empty (saddest tree ever), but somehow they have gotten their hands on a few too many ornaments and a singing bear. Now they are goners. Maybe it was the fact that we left the Christmas bins lying around for four days. Questionable Choices in Parenting? OK, you got me, but in my defense I was really tired after laying the foundation for the BEST CHRISTMAS EVER.

Listen, I get it, kids break stuff, a lot, but dang when does the destruction end? How long before I can bring my prized Pottery Barn Reindeer Dishes out of storage without fear of my Rudolf cookie serving plate being smashed to smithereens? Oh yeah, that was a BK (before kids) purchase. When can my tree live up to its full potential and actually hold ornaments all the way to the bottom branches?

Really, I could get really frustrated and lose it because my kids keep breaking my Christmas crap, or I could use this as a life lesson. Yes, I choose the lesson because I choose to just go shopping to replace everything with kid friendly and even more fabulous Christmas style. Yes, friends, I choose the life lesson.

Cripes, I have actually lost Mimi while I was writing. Oh wait here she is:

A for Effort?

November 27, 2012 by amushro

Last week Monkey’s preschool held a Thanksgiving program. Because I am “That Mom” I was there with camera, video camera, Hubby, Mimi, and Grandma in tow.

Let me start by saying he was a phenomenal Native American (umm we don’t say Indian anymore, get with it). Every kid wore their handmade Native American and Pilgrim costumes while they sang their festive songs; however, Monkey’s butcher paper get-up was sliding down his body mid tune and his teacher was wearing his construction paper headdress. None the less, he was the proudest monkey and I was grinning like a fool that was in awe of her boy.

When we were leaving the school, I noticed this lovely display.

Even though the teacher went to the trouble of putting the kids’ names on their paintings, I could have spotted my kid’s a mile away.

Yup, there it is.

To be fair this could have went another way: drowned in so much paint that the paper would have disintegrated. I would have known that was his handy work too

Even as his mother, I had to wonder “Really, Miss Preschool teacher? There weren’t any other kids’ pictures you could have put up?”

I had to wonder what had Monkey so distracted. Were you looking to explain yourself through a different medium? Were you bothered by the tools they gave you? Was it too close to snack time?

Ridiculous, yes.

Is this going to be displayed on my fridge, you betcha.

Aspiring painter, meh.

Adorable butcher paper Indian Native American, hell yeah!

Irreconcilable Holiday Differences

November 25, 2012 by amushro

Let’s start with a visual.

This is my husband’s idea of Christmas decorating:

And here is mine:

Before we had kids, he would totally indulge in my Christmas decorating extravagance. He thought it was cute and charming, and was willing to dangle from the roof to hang twinkle lights for me. The man even let me put up a hot pink and lime green tree in his house. Now that is love.

Since Monkey and Mimi have come along, and our house slowly morphed into Toys R’ Us, the hubby’s patience has worn thin with my love of all things Christmas and my excessive need to show holiday joy through lights, glitter, and tinsel. *cough, cough* Ebenezer Scrooge, anyone?

Since marriage is all about compromise (sham), we have a new tradition, the “Christmas Bargaining”. Here is why this went down, last year I made the whole family drive out to a tree farm where we dragged a newborn Mimi and an exhausted Monkey through fields of trees. I read somewhere that huge Husky dogs would happily carry your tree to your car. Amazing, right? Imagine the holiday cheer! We needed to do this! The only thing is that you cut down your own tree….I sorta left that part out when telling Hubby we NEEDED to do this.

As always, he was the doting husband, and we arrived at the tree farm where we quickly learned that the Husky dogs were taking a break and we (and by we, I mean Hubby) would have to cut down the tree, drag it back several hundred yards to our car, and attach it to our roof—-All. By. Himself. Hilarity did not ensue, he was not thrilled with this idea, and some may say, he even turned a shade that resembled the Grinch. But I had two babies, a video camera, and my best Christmas face on. Who could ever say no to that sweet image? Not that adorable boy I married so long ago J

Long story even longer, shit hit the Christmas fan and I was banned from ever suggesting such a ridiculous idea when all I was willing to do was sit in the car and feed Goldfish to the kids.

So this year I agreed to getting the tree from the place that all you do is point and pay and they do the rest. And my hubby agreed to this:

Peace has been restored in the universe and the Christmas season. Now if only I could get him to agree to an inflatable Santa and Rudolph…

Where did you sleep last night?

November 24, 2012 by amushro

So this happened last night…

Yes that would be my three-year-old passed out on his ottoman in the bedroom he trashed in the dark. So where were you, Mamma, while your sweet boy was running around his bedroom, tearing the place apart? Oh, just reading a romance novel, and by romance novel I mean the really dirty kind. Where was your husband, you might add? Watching football. Questionable Choices in Parenting–man this blog can write itself in this house!

After hours in the car to and from our multiple Thanksgiving destinations, we all needed a break from one another. Mimi decided to sleep (she was my favorite last night), but Monkey was all jazzed up from missed naps, interrupted sleep, and too many hours on the Ipad. He was strangely quiet while he stealthily disassembled his room and finally lost his battle with the Sandman. So is this a new phase we have entered? I showed him the picture this morning and asked him happened. He said “I fell out of my bed.” Seems logical…

Will my nightly check-ins of the boy become sort of a Where’s Waldo? If so, this could be a new section of the blog (until it isn’t funny and sorta annoying). So tell me, where is the strangest place you have found your kids sleeping?

The Dog Becomes a Dog

November 20, 2012 by amushro

You know all of that annoying awesome, unsolicited advice that random people share with you while you’re pregnant? Like the time the old lady in Target saw me carrying a then 18 month old Monkey and I was sporting a pretty big belly with #2, and well, here is how the convo went down in the checkout line:

Random stranger: “You’re pregnant already!”

Me: “Yes, it would appear as though I am with child.”

Random Stranger: “Well, I’m sure that (pointing to my bumb) was a mistake!”

Me: “Uhhhhh… nope. She was planned.”

Random Stranger: “Oh a she. Well that is good. Now you can be done having kids.”

Me: “Actually, we are going Dugger Style and popping out about 20 more, but thanks for asking.”

OK, that last part totally didn’t happen, but I wish I was quicker with the whit that day. Cut me some slack, I was pregnant, tired from chasing a toddler, and SHOCKED that some random lady would be so insane at Target. Wal-Mart maybe, but Target? REALLY?

Whether it is your first baby or you are Michelle Dugger and working on #21, random people will offer their well-intentioned, but mostly useless, advice. I’m going to throw my hat in the ring of things you would rather not know, but I’m gonna tell you anyway. Here is one foreshadowed tidbit that actually comes true, your dog becomes a dog.

I know, I know, all of my dog loving, non-mommy readers just gasped in horror. “Girl, you cray cray.” It is a thought too painful to bare; however, it will happen. The animal that you love and adore as if you had birthed her hairy little face yourself, simply becomes the family dog when kids bust up your pooches happy home.

This is my beloved Suggie, my first real baby. The Hubbster and I rescued her from the pound when we were just two crazy kids dating. We adored her, thought she was the smartest, cutest, and well-mannered canine to ever walk the earth. We would lay in bed on weekends and snuggle this sweet pooch and laugh at everyone who thought their dog was the best. Fools, ha!

She was the center of our universe, the star of our Christmas card, and unbeknownst to any of us, her days at the top dog were numbered.

When Monkey came along, it got harder and harder to take her for runs and let’s be honest, feed her twice a day. “Did you feed the dog today or yesterday?” Once Mimi came into our world, Suggie was on suicide watch.

It’s heartbreaking and believe me, I have enough guilt over neglecting the dog (note: by neglect I mean she is not the only child anymore). At night she sleeps in our bed, hogs the blankets, snores in my face and makes me hot all night. I consider this my penance for being a crap doggie-mommy.

As I look at my sleeping pup taking up most of the couch, I have to remember that the days Suggie may look back on as “the good old days” aren’t forgotten. All I can do to assuage my guilt over my Questionable Choices in Parenting is turn a blind eye when she eats yet another toy, let her lick my Lean Cuisine containers, and take funny pictures of her like this: