parenting humor

A Parking Spot Only A Parent Could Love

June 11, 2014 by amushro

Because kids tend to eat food and inevitably that food will run out, you’re gonna need to go back to the grocery store at some point. Sigh, here we go again.

Even though you swore you would NEVER be the mother that feeds her kids while shopping, by the time the cashier is asking you “paper or plastic,” 40% of your food has already been nibbled or sampled by the tiny humans in your cart. Just surviving the grocery store with kids in tow is hard enough, and if you’ve successfully navigated the Big Bad Grocery Store, the parking lot should be a piece of cake. But we know that’s not the case. So let me make your trip to grab some grub a little easier with…

The parking spot deemed for “new and expectant moms” seems like a gem in the jungle known as the grocery store parking lot, but that light dims out for most of us pretty quickly when we are no longer expectant or new at this gig. Oh yes, there are moms that push the limits and lay claim to this spot even when they no longer look like they should be in the delivery room or are carting the infant carrier that weights 10 times the infant inside. I’m looking at you lady with the teenagers!

While I cannot even begin to imagine the trials and tribulations you are going through with your hormonal, eye rolling, One Direction lovin’ babe on the brink of puberty, unless you are going to strap that tween into an Ergo and wear her through the store, get out of that spot.

But for those of us whose time has passed in the coveted spot near the door but still have to deal with the wide load, double car cart, come on over to my side and let me show you my “sweet spot.”

Sometimes I can hear my Dad barking at me “Don’t park next to the cart corral because some idiot is going to hit you.” Well, Dad, I’m sure those cart wielding idiots will do a lot less damage to my car than my children do weekly to my sanity while grocery shopping.

Dings and dents are aplenty on my sweet ride but it’s no skin off my back because I was able to easily load up the kids and rush to the deli section where free samples of cheese and ham will keep the kids entertained just long enough for me to sprint through the bread and milk aisle.

Grocery shopping is hard enough with kids, your parking spot shouldn’t be. So enjoy my sweet spot. Unless I’m at the store. In that case…beat it!

The Washington Monument, Earthquakes, and Me!

May 13, 2014 by amushro

After three years of being closed, the Washington Monument has finally reopened and tourist everywhere can cheer “Hooray!” and “Let me take a selfie!” The earthquake that hit the DC metro almost three years ago shook up the monument enough that renovations were needed to fix the cracks. However, the timing of this reopening couldn’t be more perfect since my reading in Listen to Your Mother was inspired by my poor parenting skills during that earthquake. Since the videos from Listen to Your Mother Washington DC won’t be available until July (big sad face), here is what I read during this amazing show where I was honored to be in the presence of some of the most fantastic women I have ever met! So until the videos are ready, enjoy my parenting fail as Emergency Mom

Emergency Mom

We’ve all seen the stories of mothers that react in times of peril and can perform super human feats when their children need them the most. Like the petite mother that morphs into the Incredible Hulk and lifts up her Honda Odyssey to free her toddler that is trapped underneath, or the woman who truly becomes faster than a speeding bullet and can outrun a wild animal ready to pounce on her child. When I see stories like this I often think, “Man, I really hope a lion never chases one of my kids,” because the truth is, I suck in emergencies.

It’s good to know what your strengths are. Mine: Beverly Hills 90210 trivia, playing for hours at the playground with my kids, and drinking wine.

It’s also good to know what you suck at. For me: housekeeping, self-control around chocolate, and emergencies.

When you have two kids under two years old, you sort of go into survival mode, and one key factor of surviving is getting the kids to nap at the same time. At first I thought this was an urban legend maintained by exhausted mothers hoping for some rest of their own. Since sleep is essential for things like playing Candy Land 300 times a day and nursing your baby 300 times a day, I held out hope that I too would enjoy two children on the same nap schedule. After months of thwarted efforts by the tiny humans in my care, the napping Gods smiled down upon me and one day a beautiful thing happened, a miracle even: my infant and my toddler were sleeping soundly AT THE SAME TIME!

When I heard their soft snores and the sounds of their white noise machines playing in unison, I danced down the hall to my bedroom and performed what can only be described as a perfect swan dive into my bed. It was time for Mamma to nap!

As soon as my weary head hit that pillow, I knew something wasn’t right. Is that ceiling fan swinging back and forth? Was I delusional from lack of sleep? Was this it? Had I really dropped my basket?

When a picture frame slid off the wall and crashed on the floor, I realized I wasn’t losing my mind. This was an EARTHQUAKE!

Are you kidding me? An earthquake? I’m originally from Pittsburgh; what the hell do I know about earthquakes? Snow that starts on Halloween and ends on Easter, yes. The world shaking around you, no.

Jumping out of bed, I scrambled to scoop both sleeping kids out of their beds, but I tripped and fell over my dog who was planning her own escape. Wait, aren’t dogs supposed to be man’s best friend and warn their masters of impending disasters? “Traitor,” I yelled as she fled to safer ground and left me in her dust.

Within seconds, I had rushed into two small bedrooms, one pink and one blue, and scooped up two sleeping, now awake and puzzled, children. While performing my best balancing act with one child on each hip, I started to pace the hall because, quite frankly, I didn’t know what to do next. What did we learn in elementary school during disaster drills? Is it earthquake stand in a doorway or is it earthquake head for the basement. Doorway, basement, doorway, basement?

Instead of deciding, I just ran in circles crying with both kids staring wide-eyed at their frazzled and sobbing mother.

And then as quickly as it had started, it was done. There was no need for the basement or the doorway, the earthquake was over,

With my babies still clutched to my sides, I dropped to the floor and all three of us wept and wept. I cried because I was terrified and shaken that I wasn’t able to jump into action when my kids needed to me to. I cried because I love my kids more than life itself and if one hair on their heads had been harmed because I couldn’t do my job as their mamma, I would die a thousand deaths. And I cried because I was so tired and a God dam earthquake hit the DC metro during naptime.

When we were all cried out, I carried my son and daughter downstairs. I plopped them in front of the TV. I stood in front of the pantry and ate half a jar of peanut butter right out of the container. I Goggled “what do you do in an earthquake” (the answer was doorway), and then I started to gain a little perspective. We all made it out of our first earthquake unscathed (except the beloved nap). And while my follow through could use a little work, my first instincts were right—to protect my kids.

So Mother Nature, give it your best shot and try it again.

But between mother to mother, can you not do it during naptime?

What Should I Get My Wife For Mother’s Day? Let Me Help You

May 9, 2014 by amushro

I used to be a huge fan of my birthday and make my loved ones celebrate it for days and days. Then I became a mother and realized that birthdays really don’t take a lot of work. You know, all you have to do is be born to get that day as your own. However, Mother’s Day is a different story. I earned this day. I earn this holiday EVERY SINGLE DAY. And since I’ve earned this day, I am going to make sure my day and your day are fabulous. Check me out on What the Flicka? and my list of things your husband should be buying you for Mother’s Day. (Click right here!) When you are done reading and sharing this list with him. Tell me what you want this Mother’s Day!

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.

Check Out the March Mommy TMI Vlog!

March 13, 2014 by amushro

Hey, Spring! Is that you? I can’t tell because I’ve been buried in winter for too, too long. Let me break out my short sleeve shirts, take my usual spot on the playground, and enjoy a little Vitamin D. Isn’t it amazing what a little bit of sunshine can do for the soul? For real, I feel like a new woman after a few days of sunny. warm weather. It also motivated me to get my March Mommy TMI vlog ready to share with you. Even better, I have my main man to help me this month. So check out my thoughts on luck, spring forward, and what you must watch on Netflix right now!

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February Mommy TMI–Best and Worst Valentine’s Day, Superstitions, and Mom Gold Medals

February 28, 2014 by amushro

Holy cannoli this month has flown by! I almost ran out of days to put together my Mommy TMI for the month, but I made it before March comes in like a lion because apparently more snow is headed our way. NOOOOOOOOOO!

Sigh, so here’s to spring coming fast and the awesome More Than Mommies for another great round of questions for the Mommy TMI!

How My Poky Little Boy Has Slowed Me Down

February 18, 2014 by amushro

If I’m moving, I’m moving fast. Fast, fast, fast. I talk fast, walk fast, think fast. Before my feet hit where I’m going, my mind has already been there and is movin’ on to my next destination. Fast, fast, fast.

So when I was blessed with a little boy to have in tow every day, it just seems fitting that the universe decided to give me not a fast mover and shaker like myself. Nope, my main man moves a little slower. Try Poky Little Puppy slow.

While he reserves this tortoise like speed for our walks to the car in a parking lot, down the long hallways to his preschool class, and his usual morning routines, he isn’t always slow. He feels the need for speed when it serves him best: beating his sister down the stairs to get his little hands on the iPad first, if I offer up a dessert (super-fast if it’s ice cream), or if I’m yelling STOP as he runs into the ocean or a pool. He already has that selective hearing thing down.

His snail’s pace wasn’t noticeable until his sister came along and he lost my hip as his major mode of transportation. When he moved up to the big brother role, he had to hoof it next to me and I’ve been slowed down ever since.

If you see me moving towards you at lightning speed, take a look a few yards behind me, that’s where you find my boy. Just strolling along, no sense of urgency, taking it all in.

Daily I plead with him to pick up the pace; however, my pleas fall upon those little ears with selective hearing. When I’m on the move, he’s behind me hop, hop, hopping on just the blue floor tiles at school because the white are full of “hot lava.” If I’m darting down the mall, he will be dragging his feet and trailing his hands down the wall making sure to touch every crack and crevice.

“Buddy, come on! Hurry up! You are killing Mommy!”

“But Mommy, I’m just a little boy and my legs don’t move that fast.”

“Look alive, pal. LOOK ALIVE!”

“Mommy, I am ALIVE. Wanna play I spy?”

If there is one thing I’ve learned as a mother (besides my amazing abilities to pass back juice and Goldfish crackers to my backseat passengers while never taking my eyes off the road and that no one tells you that your feet get bigger with each pregnancy), if you can’t beat them, join them. So goodbye fast, fast,fast days. You can find me strolling alongside my guy, playing I Spy, and checking out the view from his perspective.

Now someone tell me what we do about this selective hearing.

Do You Know Your School Kid?

January 21, 2014 by amushro

School days, school days, something…something..something about golden rules, but really it’s just the days when kids prove their parents have no idea whom they have been raising.

Remember when I told you how my little gal was having a hard time starting “school” (really it’s just one day a week not real, real school)? Well if you missed it, here it is.

After a few weeks of tears (both hers and mine), the last few drop-offs have gone beautifully! As she saunters down the hallway (the same hallway she spent weeks crying and screaming as if we were headed down the green mile), she turns to me and says “Bye Mommy! See you soon! I’ll miss you.” She jumps into the arms of her teacher and there I stand: proud, shocked, relieved, weepy, and pretty stoked to have a few kid free hours on my hands.

But it wasn’t until I went to pick her up from school that I learned I really have no idea who this kid is outside of the house. Oh, I KNOW who she is when she is home ruling the roost, but little did I know kids come in two varieties: the kid you know and your school kid.

When it was time to bust her out of school, I was actually greeted in the hallway by her teacher.Excited to see how my daughter’s craft, play, and snack filled day went, I became “that” mom and bombarded her teacher to give me every single stinkin’ detail. Here is how the convo went down:

Me: How did she do today!?!

Teacher: Well, today was not such a good day. (insert big sad face)

Me: Yikes! What happened? (Crap)

Teacher: Well she had a really hard time sharing toys with her friends.

Me: Really? (yeah, tell me about it. You’d think the second kid would be good at sharing)

Teacher: And she really didn’t listen to directions or what we were saying to her.

Me: Oh no! (Oh yes…fun, right?)

Teacher: And she just wanted to do what she wanted to do.

Me: Uh-huh…. (Yup, sounds about right and any second she is going to say she threw a HUGE tantrum)

Teacher: Then she had a very big tantrum.

Me: No! (Right on cue…)

Teacher: And she has a really bad runny nose

Me: Wait, what? Mimi has a runny nose? She didn’t have one when she left the house today.

Teacher: Oh, no! Oh wait! You aren’t….. oh, you are Mimi’s mommy. No, no, no I confused you with another Mommy. Oh no, Mimi was an angel. Good as gold…Good as gold. She is such a joy and such a good listener.

Me: Good as gold? (Are we talking about the same kid? The one with the wild blonde curly hair and the high pitch deafening screams. That kid was good as gold?).

I must have looked totally shell-shocked because her teacher had to lead me into the classroom by the elbow. There I saw my little lady sitting nicely at a round, yellow table with a few friends coloring. COLORING!! Who is this kid and what have they done with my daughter?

I scooped up that “Good as Gold” girl and we danced out of the classroom–no reason to blow her cover now. I may have no idea who she is at school, but I do know that she and I both love Starbucks after school. And she always wants a chocolate milk and a cakepop. At least I think she does…

Has this happened to you? Does your kid have a home personality and a school personality?

Terrible Twos are No Big Deal and Other Lies I Tell Myself

July 16, 2013 by amushro

We are just a few weeks into the “terrible twos” and let me tell you, friends, one of us isn’t going to make it to three. If I were you, I’d put my money on the little one.

I used to think the term “terrible two” was a gross exaggeration. Simply put, this was a term created by someone who liked alliteration and innocently wanted a funny phrase for the little ups and downs of their child’s second year of life. Come on, I already had a two year old, and we sailed through that year pretty much unscathed. Sure there were some rough patches, but all in all, two was a good year with my boy.

But those of us who mock, roll our eyes, and refuse to heed the warnings of other mothers will get a swift kick in the uterus from Mommy Karma, a testy and unforgiving biotch.

Some of the confusion may have been in the name “terrible twos.” Let me offer some more descriptive and effective terms for this stage of life. How about “Dear-God-why-is-she-screaming-again-I-think-the-windows-are-going-to-burst two. Or “Don’t-make-eye-contact-just-give-her-whatever-the-hell-she-wants-and-run two.” No? How about “If-my-husband-thinks-I-am-having-another-baby-anytime-soon-he-is-as-crazy-as-this-child-that –has-thrown-herself-on-the-floor-and-is-losing-her-shizz-right-now two”.

Every morning I hear the same little voice calling for me from her crib, “Mommy, where are you?” But I never know who I am going to get when I pop my head into her room. Sweet Mimi, sleepy Mimi, silly Mimi, grumpy Mimi, shepard for the devil Mimi. Even if you get one Mimi out of bed, there is no telling who she will be when you get downstairs. When her dad says good morning to her, any of the following can happen:

She leaps into his arms and sings a song of job to entertain her dad
She bursts into tears and yells that no one is allowed to look at her
She screams for chocolate milk and throws the cup at you if it isn’t pink, doesn’t have enough chocolate, or if you looked at her when warned not to do so
She quietly sits on the couch and watches TV
All of the above in a five-minute span

I’m exhausted and the magic light that is the age of three is so far away. I’m assuming that when she wakes up on her third birthday (in 345 days) she will be normal again, right? RIGHT?

You never know when and where she will unleash the terrible. A few days ago while at the beach, Monkey was catching a few waves with his boogie board. Mimi marched down to the water and morphed into an out of control screaming banshee. She was in full on major meltdown and I tried everything in my mommy bag of tricks—snacks, drinks, toys, a million dollars—just please stop screaming. I tried to give her another boogie board– she didn’t want it. I traded with Monkey and tried to give her his board–she didn’t want it. Turns out, she didn’t want to “boogie”; she was mad that her brother was having fun, and she, apparently being a part of the fun police, needed to put a stop to his fun.

Is there a terrible two rehab facility? Somewhere where Dr. Drew sits down with two year olds and talks them through these trying times. Now that would make an interesting reality show. Maybe this is a two part therapy and the mommies attend some sort of spa to relieve our tension or receive a lobotomy, whichever is needed most. If this sort of place doesn’t exist, I am creating one today.

Who’s coming with me?