Heather Balog's Blog, page 24

What I Want

I was talking with an old friend the other night and she jokingly told me “you have it all.” I laughed it off, but later I started thinking, do I really have it all? It might seem that way to someone who is just looking from the outside in. But I live with too many “Wants” to have it all. And then turning on the news, yet again, this morning, I realized, no, I truly don’t “have it all”. Because what I want, what I want for my CHILDREN, is not obtainable in the world we live in.

I want: my kids to get up in the morning and throw on their clothes and not worry about being bullied for their choices.

I want: my kids to get on the bus and go into their school and not worry about shelter in place drills and lockdowns and lockouts.

I want: my kids to enjoy their lives, go to concerts and movies and malls without having to worry about a madmad ending their lives because of that enjoyment.

I want: my kids to go on vacation and travel the world without having to fear people hurting them just because they can.

I want: my kids to be able to speak their mind without fear of retaliation.

I want: my kids to live in a world where they are able to respect the people put in charge of them, police officers, teachers, even the government.

I want: my kids to live in a world where every tragedy doesn’t end up an agenda, an argument, a reason to point fingers.

I want: my kids to know Everyone’s lives matter—THEIR lives matter.

I want: my kids to be able to respect people for differences and opinions…they don’t have to like them, just tolerate them.

I want: people to just freaking be nice to each other. I want everyone to stop arguing about everything. I want what everyone else wants. I just want happiness for me and everyone around me.

And the worst part is, every time a tragedy occurs, we use it to fuel our hatred even more. Why???? Why can’t we say, “Wow, that’s horrible that happened. Let me reflect on/ send prayers/give thanks it wasn’t my family”????? There are bad people in this world that are going to do bad things…let’s not let them destroy us all in the process. I’m not saying let’s join hands and sing Kumbayah. I’m just saying, can we just take that energy that we waste on anger and hatred and just use it for love and tolerance? Stop criticizing and denouncing and build someone up instead? How hard is that? Why can’t we have that? When I was a kid, it didn’t seem that hard. Why is it so hard now? It’s bad enough we have tragic accidents, cancer and other diseases killing us off before our time…why are we living in a world where the hatred is killing us off too? Tomorrow isn’t promised to us. Happiness isn’t promised to us. It can all be destroyed in an instant. So no, I don’t have it all. None of us do.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: alllivesmatter, bullying, crazy world, hatred, lockdowns

Cooking for Dum(me)

Dinnertime in our house sucks. I have about five meals I make decently enough to not hear complaints, but that gets old really fast. I’ve tried branching out and collecting recipes on Pinterest, but honestly, I’m pretty fed up with the “eww, I don’t want that” and “yuck, that’s gross” that I hear practically every single time I cook something new. And that’s only my husband.

“How NOT to Review Books”

Filed under: novels Tagged: bad reviewers, Book reviews, reviewing books

Gross Little Kids

The other day I took my 3 year old nephew to the water park. Now, it’s been nearly a decade since I’ve had a child of that age (okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration…7 years) and in that brief encounter at the water park, I was reminded of the extreme grossness of having little kids. Here are my top ten grossest moments of having little kids.

1. They wear Pull ups. A pull up is not really a regular diaper. It’s worse because it’s actually more of a “hey, don’t pee yourself! But if you do, I’m here for you, buddy! But DEFINITELY don’t poop yourself. That won’t be good because your mom/dad/grandma/aunt will have to figure out how to wriggle your dirty butt out of that underwear like diaper without getting it all over their hands and your legs.

2. They lick everything. Nothing is off limits; hands, feet, boogers, banisters electrical cords. I watched my nephew lick a blow up pool the other day. I wonder if it tastes salty. Maybe this is where Miley Cirus got her start.

3. We eat their scraps. By scraps, I’m referring to food. How many moms go around cleaning up the dishes after their toddler has long abandoned the table and spoon that last bit of Mac and cheese in their mouth? Admit it. Everyone did it. And it’s really gross if you think about it and refer to number 2. But at some point in time, this becomes off limits because there is no amount of money you could give me to eat the pizza crusts my teenager has left on his plate. God knows where HIS mouth has been.

4. We wipe their snot off with our hands and don’t even flinch. They wipe their snot on our shirts and we don’t even change until the next day. I can actually recall picking the dried and crusty boogers out of my sick kid’s nose on several occasion. As a school nurse I can tell you that there’s no way in hell I’m doing that for any other kid but my own.

5. They pee and poop in the bath. And they don’t seem to care. They sit there and continue to play. I’m pretty sure if a poop was floating by me in the tub…well, I’d probably crap my pants.

6. They are fascinated with toilet bowls. They will stick anything in there to see if it flushes, floats, whatever. Nobody’s tooth brush is safe from a toddler.

7. They never, ever want to get clean. My son used to practically hover above the bathtub when I broke out the shampoo. It was easier to give the cat a bath than to wash the inch of hair that he had on top of his head. I admit, there were times that I just sniffed his head and determined that it didn’t smell toobad and that we could just skip the hair washing for the time being.

8. They touch EVERYTHING. The walls of a bathroom stall, the floor of the bathroom stall. And they put their hands down their pants All. The. Time. And in their mouths. And most of the time, in that order.

9. They want to come in the bathroom with you. I recall on more than one occasion I was on the toilet and one of the kids wandered in and sat on the floor with a book or crayons and carried on like it was the most normal thing in the world. Notice that most of this list is about bathroom habits?

10. They let you kiss them. Their cheeks, their arms, their chubby little bellies. And they don’t even wipe the kisses off or turn their heads. Which might just make them the sweetest, grossest kids :).

Filed under: parenting humor Tagged: gross kids, gross things toddlers do, toddlers, toddlers and potty training, toddlers sticking their hands in their mouths

FaceTime Is Ruining My Life

Okay, maybe the title is a tad bit dramatic. I’m not totally adverse to technological advances. I admit, technology can be a wonderful thing…the advances we’ve seen in just my lifetime are mind boggling. Who would have thought twenty years ago that would have a way to talk to people via social media on the other side of the earth…people we have never even met but call “friends”? Who would have ever thought I could have been sitting at my daughter’s basketball game writing a blog post on a tablet instead of watching while she stops to tie her shoe for the hundredth time during the game? Who could have imagined that you could send your husband to the store for bread and milk and send him a text while he was there to pick up chocolate and tampons? And seriously, when you were stretching the telephone cord from your parents’ kitchen all the way to the hallway so you could have a little peace and quiet while you giggled with your friends about the cutest boy in school, did you ever once imagine your own children would be talking face to face to their own friends on their cell phones or tablets…no phone cord needed?

I’m sure that you could argue that the benefits of technology are overwhelming. Texting is an awesome concept for quick messages when you don’t have time to talk to people. Facebook is a great way to keep in touch with relatives halfway across the country. Google is well…when was the last time YOU picked up a twenty pound encyclopedia or walked around with a song in your head and couldn’t remember who sang it? And then…there’s FaceTime. Yes, technology can be wonderful, but it can also be the bane of our very existences. FaceTime’s an insane concept for me to wrap my brain around. Ten-year-old me thinks that the idea that I could not only talk to, but SEE my friend miles and miles away while I did my homework, ate dinner and walked the dog, is inconceivable! Hell, I was excited when three-way calling and call waiting were invented. It was great being able to listen to not one, but two of your friends breathe while you watched TV, only putting down the phone to run to the bathroom during commercials. Now our kids can WATCH each other watch TV, pausing anytime they want.  And…it’s getting on my nerves. FaceTime might as well be named “We Have No Privacy Time”. Because that’s exactly what it is and I don’t even use the damn thing.

I just never know when FaceTime is running in my house. I could be screaming at my kids to pick up their socks off the couch in all sorts of colorful language and I glance over at the coffee table and my daughter’s friend is staring back at me, blinking with shock, her jaw on the floor, saying, “My mommy never uses words like that”. I’ve come out of the shower in a towel to find my daughter sitting in front of the bathroom door on FaceTime with my nephew…no warning…just his grinning face shoved in my face as he asks if my daughter can come play Legos. And my sister says she’s had my daughter’s face shoved under her nose while she’s half asleep asking if she can come play Legos. My husband has to have pants on at all times, and I can’t walk around braless anymore in my own house. Nor can I dance around the living room using the lamp as a makeshift stripper pole while “Pour Some Sugar on Me” blasts from my iPod anymore. I gotta tell ya…that really puts a damper in my Saturday morning cleaning routine.

The kids are constantly “with” each other…it’s like they don’t know how to be alone. And therefore, I never get to be alone. You hear voices all the time…you don’t know if they’re your kids or kids that are in your house that shouldn’t be or you need meds or they’re just on FaceTime. And kids are ALWAYS in your house via FaceTime. Not only do I have to listen to my daughter practice the trumpet (a noise that sends neighborhood cats ducking for cover), I have to listen to her best friend practice the recorder *cringe*. And that kid’s poor mother is treated to my daughter’s *ahem* singing. And incidentally, my singing, too because Face Time is always there…like a hidden camera show. Because heaven forbid they pick up a book or talk on the phone (do kids even do that anymore????) or go outside and play. What fun is that when you can watch your friend in their pajamas across town plant fake vegetables in their online game while their mom screams at them to clean their room in Spanish? Now THAT’S entertainment.

 

Filed under: parenting humor Tagged: facetime, kids on facetime, tech, Technology taking over our lives, why is facetime always on?

One Piece of Pie At a Time

Have you seen this article? http://www.inc.com/jessica-stillman/work-sleep-family-fitness-or-friends-pick-3.html

I’ll give you the gist of it…it basically says that we cannot do it all. As hard as we try, to have balance, we either have to sacrifice things or be content with the notion that we are doing a crappy job with SOME aspect of our lives. This is the battle that moms go through every single day of their lives. I’m not saying that fathers don’t fight to keep things in balance, I’m just saying they aren’t as affected by it as women seem to be. I think that’s because as mothers, we are constantly feeling the need to be superwoman. It’s in our blood to want to be everything for everybody, often sacrificing ourselves in the process. For me it’s not only about balancing family obligations (being a good mother AND wife), my “real” job, my writing, keeping the house from falling apart, not gaining 400 lbs by eating donuts and drinking coffee non stop to stay awake, and still having a life. It’s about being good, or at least semi-decent at it because otherwise I feel like a big fat failure at all of it. And no, I’m not trying to sound like a martyr (I can hear my husband singing “Wind Beneath My Wings” as I type this), but I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. I think it’s ingrained in almost every single mom with a pulse.

The article says “Family, Fitness, Friends, Work, Sleep…pick 3”. While those categories are a little broad, it’s so true it’s almost scary. As much as we strive to have balance, we can’t devote what we need to to all these categories. I think there’s more like “Family, Housework, Fitness, Eating Healthy, Work, Sleep, Friends/Leisure…pick 4”, but that’s just my personal opinion. However many categories you think there are, the idea is still the same. Life is like a pie. You need to divide it as best as you can. You can cut it into 8 pieces for sure, but those pieces are going to be thin and likely to fall apart when you lift them out of the pie. And even if you manage to get the slice on your plate, it’s not going to be as filling as say if you had divided the pie into 4 or 5 pieces…you’re going to be missing the filling or the crust and you’re still going to be hungry.

The same thing holds true with balancing work and family and all that other stuff…while you may be able to pull it off, you’re not going to be doing anything to the best of your ability, leaving yourself feeling like a failure. The pie represents a day…there’s only 24 hours and only one of you. There’s only so much you can do. If you manage to work and cook and work out and do all the housework…you probably got 3 1/2 hours of sleep. I can write amazingly funny novels and help my kids with their homework, but I’ll have an ass the size of Canada.  Or I can chose to stay home and not work at all so I can clean the house and be an amazing wife, mother, and friend, but we’ll be dirt poor and live in a shoe box (at least it wouldn’t be hard to clean!). Likewise, if you are healthy and fit and spending lots of time with your friends, you probably are sacrificing your family time to do it. And I’m not saying that’s necessarily a BAD thing. Because honestly, that’s the only way we CAN do it all. One piece at a time. We cannot be there for everybody AND ourselves every single day.

Some days we need to call out of work to take care of our sick kids. Some days we need to leave the kids with a sitter and have a date night with our spouse. Some days we have to put in the extra hours to get the work done that pays our bills. And some days we need to blow it all off and go to the spa and take care of ourselves. Balancing isn’t necessarily about giving something up, it’s more about knowing WHEN you need to sacrifice one piece of your life for another. I think the hardest part about this is that we don’t want to neglect the other pieces of our life, but unfortunately, that’s the only way to keep it together.

I wish I had the answer….I wish I knew how to not lose my mind from feeling overwhelmed by the pressure of doing it all. But I’m starting to see how impossible that is, how unhappy that makes people, how unhappy that makes me. Instead of doing it all I’m going to focus on staying sane and trying to enjoy each piece of my life. After all, why eat the pie if you’re not going to enjoy it?

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: balancing act, how to get it all done, moms doing it all, work family balance, working moms

The Great Cooking Experiment

Okay so if you’ve read my blog for more than say, a week, you know that I’m a pretty lousy cook, I have picky eaters in my house, and we eat out A LOT. By a lot, I mean four or five plus meals a week. Like they know our names at the pizzeria and Mexican restaurant we frequent. At the beginning of this year, seeing that the entire family gained excess weight over the last year, and my husband had reported we spent a grand total of $13,000 on restaurants in 2015, I decided we would try an experiment, an entire month of eating at home for dinner. Thirty-one long days. Armed with a new crock pot and an abundance of Pintrest recipes, I announced this plan to my family and friends. And they all laughed. And laughed. And laughed. No one thought I could do it.

Now by “I” I mean me. Because essentially, this was my challenge. This was 99% on my shoulders to plan, prep, and cook. To design 31 meals we could all stomach without repeating meals over and over. Sure, my hubby cooked a few of those meals (maybe 8?) but that was about it. He was also very opposed to the idea because he’s well, lazy, and likes the convenience of a wait staff and kitchen staff. Still, I wanted to do it because I felt like this challenge was about change, about making better choices for my family. We’ve all packed on some excess weight from eating out and I know that’s not a healthy precedence for the kids. I felt like not only would we be better off physically and financially at the end of this, we would be better off overall. I thought maybe I might even learn to LIKE cooking.

The month is almost over. We’ve gotten through 30 days. The crock pot has meal number 31 in it as we speak. And the results are pretty much in, the experiment as good as over. And yes, maybe we did accomplish it. And it honestly wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be to actually cook. I’m not as horrific at it as I recall and hubby is pretty amazing (when he actually cooks). Some of our meals were better than good. (I could eat the crab corn chowder or the quesadilla every day). But guess what? I’m not gonna sit here and tell you I developed a new found love of cooking. I’m not going to tell you that I suddenly became a gourmet chef. I’m not gonna tell you our family bonded over creating healthy meals together. I’m not even going to tell you we lost a single solitary pound. I’m not even gonna lie and say I cooked 31 meals. There were quite a few nights I waved my hand toward the kitchen and said “fend for yourself”, which results in soup or cereal for my kids. What I will tell you is that the challenge was definitely NOT what I thought it would be.

This challenge end up being more than about the cooking for me. It ended up causing me to see the disparity of chores in our household. While everyone ATE the meals, not everyone helped create them. Or even clean up. Not only did my workload in the kitchen increase tenfold, I’ve never heard so many freaking complaints about meals in all my life. Oh sure, the first few days we all worked together to make the meals and I believe it was Day 15 before we even had a meal we didn’t like. But we were pulling out all the stops in the beginning. I have about 10 meals in my wheelhouse. Hubby has maybe 7 or 8. You do the math…that’s about 2 weeks of crappy, unpalatable food. That’s 2 weeks of complaints and 2 weeks of HOURS cleaning up the kitchen because the kids have made themselves pasta or soup or some alternate meal.

Hubby gave me the peliminary numbers for our savings for the month. Even though we obviously spent more at the grocery store, we spent nothing at restaurants. I thought we would save over $1,000 a month, considering we spent $13,000 a year. Nope. The grand total amounted to $606 for the month. Yes, sure, that adds up to $7,272 a year. That’s a vacation or even a year’s worth of car payments and insurance. But that’s also NOT ONE SINGLE MEAL OUT. That’s no takeout, no birthday dinners, and no “hell, I just can’t fathom cooking tonight”.  That’s a whole year of hearing “what the hell is this made of?”, “you’re having ANOTHER bowl of cereal?” and “I didn’t know chicken was gray”. To some, that’s bearable and within reach. To me, that’s like saying you can save that much money if you don’t turn you heat on in the winter or the air on in the summer. Sure that’s a huge savings but holy crap you’re gonna be mighty uncomfortable, unnecessarily. Some things are just not worth it. To me, my sanity is worth $7,272 a year.

Unfortunately, the man who fought me tooth and nail when I proposed this challenge, was seriously buoyed by that number. Cheap to the core, the idea of saving to him is akin to money growing in our backyard on its on special bush. He doesn’t care that I have old lady hands now from the dishwashing. He doesn’t care how much food I threw out because people in this damn house don’t eat leftovers. He doesn’t care that the cashiers in Shop Rite greet me by name. He just sees dollar signs. He told me wants to go the WHOLE YEAR without eating out. That’s when I laughed and laughed and laughed.

We’d never make it the whole year. We’re so close to freedom I can taste it. My kids are marking it on the calendar—we only have to eat Mommy’s crappy meals for X amount of days more. My husband is the one who’s actually thinking about where he wants to go out to dinner on the first of February. It would be impossible to expect us to pull it off. I’m not delusional. But maybe, if we all work together (insert snickering here) we can pull this off enough to limit our eating out to one or two nights a week. Heck, that’s gotta save SOME money, right? Wish me luck.

P.S. If for some ungodly reason you’re intrigued by one of the pictures above, comment or leave a message and I’ll forward you the recipe.

 

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: 30 meals in 30 days, 31 days of cooking, cooking, cooking challenge, not eating at restaurants, pintrest fails, pintrest recipes, saving money by eating at home

I STILL Hate Snow Days

Yesterday we had a blizzard here in good old New Jersey, and while many of my (insane) friends were ecstatic about the two feet of snow we were getting dumped on us, I was in misery as usual. Not to mention the fact we weren’t even getting a day off of school for it because it was a weekend…let me tell you…I’m thrilled about losing my precious Saturday to snow. NOT. For all those of you who LOVE snow days, you must not have children. If you do have children, then you must have a spouse at home to help you not kill those children when you’re snowed in. STOP WISHING FOR SNOW DAYS!!! There are a bunch of us moms out there who for whatever reason do not have a second adult at home when we’re trapped in the house. Some moms are divorced. Some are widowed. Some of us have spouses that need to work, like cops, firefighters, sanitation workers, doctors, etc. There is no “snow day” for them and therefore, no snow day for us. In eighteen years of marriage, my hubby has only been home with me ONCE during a snow storm. I’m flying solo and I’m the entertainment director, the chef, the laundry fairy, the snow clearer, hostage negotiator, and the referee. Mind you, my kids are 10 and 14…it’s even worse when they’re younger. Still, it’s a pretty harrowing day either way.

If you still can’t understand how miserable that is, here’s a breakdown of my day:

7:28 am: The children who normally sleep until 10:30, 11:00 on a Saturday are up. They stare out the window in wide-eyed amazement at the snow coming down sideways. Fortunately, they are old enough to realize they don’t want to go outside when the snow is coming down sideways.

7:34am: One child decides to play video games. The second child starts screaming and trying to rip the video game controller out of her hands while yelling “I bought this controller! You can’t use this controller!” The other child retaliates by kicking first child in the head. First child screams about his history of head injuries and threatens to break the fingers of second child if she doesn’t let go of video game controller.

7:36am: I am in possession of video game controller while I negotiate the terms of video game usage for the day. It includes chores before game. I am laughed at. I threaten to fling controller out the window. It is white. The children apologize.

7:40am: The dog wants to go out. He does not want to go out the back door where, because of the drifts, there is minimal snow. He wants to go out the side door where he usually goes out and the drifts are almost two feet already. I try to patiently explain to the dog how we are going to change it up today because he’ll be cold if he has to climb over the piles of snow. He looks me in the eyes like he understands and then paws at the side door while whimpering.

7:41am: I pour Bailey’s in my coffee.

8:45am: Dog has made side door a shrine. He has whined for an hour straight.

8:47am: I let dog out the side door. Two feet of snow falls into the house. Dog does not like the snow and runs back into the house shaking snow everywhere. Smaller dog runs out and gets covered with snow. I run out in my slippers to retrieve smaller dog who is now traumatized. Larger dog is now back outside and poops near the door which I step in with my slippered feet.

8:49am: More Bailey’s.

9:00am: Make children a nice breakfast.

9:30am: After nice breakfast, the children have cereal and hot cocoa. Several bowls. Several mugs. They leave bowls and mugs everywhere. I explain the maid is stuck in snow and won’t be coming this weekend. First child states that we should fire the maid.

10:00am: We are out of milk. The horror. But thank God we’re not out of Bailey’s.

10:02: First child makes pasta.

10:22am: First child makes soup. We are now out of soup.

10:44am: First child says he is still hungry.

10:47am: Second child wants to make candy. I say no.

10:48am: Second child wants to dye her hair with Kool-aid. I am in the bathroom with symptoms of Listeriosis from the package salad I ate before I found out it was recalled. She ignores me when I say no.

11:05am: Clean up Kool-aid mess as second child drips grape Kool-aid all over the house. Dog laps up hungrily.

11:07am: I send them outside reluctantly to do the first round of shoveling. Run back to bathroom.

11:16am: I look out the window to find they have cleared a one foot section of the sidewalk. They are both tromping through the snow in the front yard.

11:17am: There is screaming and a thump on the front door. I run to the door and trip over the dog. Second child is standing there, gloves hanging off. She needs help putting gloves back on.

11:18am: First child is dripping snow all over the front foyer. He is wearing his sneakers. I ask why he isn’t wearing his boots. His face looks like a light bulb went off when I mention boots. Before I can protest, he is stomping through the house looking for boots.

11:21am: Second child is screaming again. She has to pee. Snow gear comes off. She pees, goes back outside. Take Imodium. Add Bailey’s to mug…there is no more coffee in there.

11:23am: Screaming. Glove is off again.

11:25am: First child is trying to salt walk without shoveling. Bang on the window and yell at him for wasting salt.

11:27am: Children are rolling around in the un-shoveled driveway. Still only one foot area is shoveled.

11:30am: Screaming. Children are trying to shove each other’s faces into the snow.

11:31am: More Bailey’s. I order them to either get to work or get inside. They opt for inside.

11:33am: They track salt inside. Dogs try to eat salt.

11:36am: With a towel I mop up the snow that is now all over the living room. I bring wet clothes downstairs to dry off.

11:37am: Children want hot chocolate. I inform them we are out of everything we need for hot chocolate. I tell them to have tea instead.

11:38am: Children are making coffee.

11:45am: Put dinner in crock pot. Children announce they are not eating THAT.

11:55am: Dog crying to go out side door. Ignore dog.

12:01pm: Children are asking for lunch.

12:04pm: Clean up dog pee.

12:26pm: Cleaning up the remains of lunch and doing my third batch of dishes for the day. Stare longingly at the book I wanted to read.

12:35pm: Second child wants to make cookies. Don’t have ingredients for cookies. Search Pintrest for what I can make with the ingredients we do have.

12:37am: Drag out Kitchen aid and all ingredients. Call second child to make Triple Chocolate Banana Bread. Second child declines.

1:19pm: Bread is done. Call children. They wrinkle up their noses and forage for snacks in the cabinet.

1:27pm: TV flickers briefly. Hold my breath and say a silent prayer we don’t lose power. Prayer is miraculously answered.

1:33pm: Children complain we are out of snacks. I give them the finger.

2:00pm: Ask children to try to shovel before it gets to be too much. Hubby needs to get into driveway when he comes home in six hours. I offer large sums of cash. Children decline and pretend to nap.

2:17pm: Trudge outside in snow pants, hoodie, hat, and several layers. Mutter to myself while pulling on boots that seem way too small.

2:18pm: As I am walking out the door, children suddenly want to come outside and shovel.

2:30pm: Children frolic happily in the snow while I shovel.

3:00pm: Still shoveling. Still frolicking.

3:02pm: I demand first child help me. He reluctantly begins shoveling driveway while flinging excess snow onto second child who screams loudly.

3:04pm: Second child has snow in hair and face and is trying to punch first child.

3:06pm: I order second child into the house. She stomps off. Dog runs out just as snow plow goes down street. I panic thinking dog will get hit. Dog is such a weenie he runs back inside. I breathe a sigh of relief.

3:33pm: Second child is banging on the window waving to us. She has a mug.. More coffee. Great.

4:05pm: Second child is back outside. More crying. Wet clothes. Frozen hands. And that’s just me.

4:30pm: Two hours of shoveling and we’ve cleared a total of twelve feet. Snow plow comes down the street and plows the driveway back in. I go in the house and admit defeat. Pour wine. It’s almost 5:00 anyway.

4:35pm: Dry clothes again.

4:55am: Coax dogs into going outside. They crap in front of door and step in it in their haste to come back in. Clean up dog poop tracks on the floor.

5:00pm: Cannot uncurl my hands. It feels like I have arthritis. Run my hands under warm water till it runs out.

5:20pm: Try to take a nap. Children wake me to ask when dinner is. I tell they to go away. They start fighting over video game controller again. Throw video game controller on floor and stomp on it.

6:00pm: Give children crock pot dinner. They whine and complain and make faces. I make them take a bite. They agree it’s delicious. I try not to punch them in the face.

6:30pm: Fourth batch of dishes.

6:35pm: Discover second child left a chap stick in her coat pocket and it’s now all over my coat.

7:00pm: Drag first child back outside. Six inches cover everything we’ve shoveled.

7:16pm: Second child comes out and stands on mound of snow next to driveway and knocks it back into the driveway. First child clotheslines her to the ground and shoves snow in her face for her stupidity.

7:20pm: Snow is flying everywhere and nobody is helping me shovel.

7:25pm: Children are eating snow and trying to slide down the front of my car.

7:30pm: I make everyone go back inside, screaming obscenities at the top of my lungs. If there was anyone outside, I would be probably be arrested by a sanctimommy who has never yelled at her children.

7:40pm: It is peaceful alone outside. The snow is falling and there isn’t a sound on our block. For one split second, I am enjoying this snow day.

7:45pm: Hubby pulls into driveway and breaks spell. He asks me if I had a nice day off. I resist hitting him over the head with the shovel and burying him in the snow. They probably wouldn’t find him till spring.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Filed under: parenting humor Tagged: Blizzard 2016, home with kids on snow days, I hate snow, I hate snow days, kids and shoveling, snow days, stuck with kids in snow

New Moms Know Nothing

The internet sancti-mommy patrol is currently losing its $hit about how a mom is raising their kid. I know, I know…daily occurrence…when will we get used to it? It’s not about breastfeeding or immunizations this time though. This time, it’s totally petty. It’s because of  a post (Facebook maybe?) that a mom wrote about how she’s got this mommy thing under control and people need to stop whining about how difficult parenting is. The problem was, this mom was a new mom…as in, her child was two weeks old.

Now stop laughing for a second and think about this. Yes, that mom has absolutely no clue about all the aspects of raising a child that she still hasn’t encountered. She knows nothing of the sleepless nights of teething, the shuttling two (or more kids) to practices, the pain of not being able to help your child when they’re just not getting math in school, or the anxiety of your teenager driving for the first time. She’s a sancti-mommy of the worse degree. But…she’s also me. Well, maybe not when my newborn was two weeks old…at that point, I was too bleary-eye and sleep deprived to think anything other than “this sucks hairy monkey balls”. But when my son was sleeping through the night at six weeks old, and I went back to work when he was twelve weeks old and I had everything under control, I thought I rocked this parenting thing. What I didn’t realize was that HE rocked the baby thing…he was an exceptionally well behaved baby and toddler. I had the audacity to think that he was the norm. He was not the norm, he was what they call a “trick child” (damn him). He made me think I could handle anything because he was so easy. He slept all night, every night for ten hours, he didn’t whine for things in stores, he ate his vegetables, and he always put his toys away when I told him to. I bragged to every mom who was walking around like a zombie, how simple it was and how I didn’t understand why people couldn’t go to work, cook meals, exercise, engage in hobbies, and have a perfectly normal relationship with their spouse (keeping this PG, folks, but chandeliers may have been involved). Then God heard me bragging and He laughed and laughed and gave me child number two.

Karma’s a bitch (and so is my daughter most of the time). I love her to death and wouldn’t trade her for the world (well, most of the time). She keeps me on my toes and has taught me, I am definitely NOT Supermom and I most certainly do not have it under control. She is strong-willed and has her own agenda which usually does not include acting like the sweet little princesses we used to read about in her Disney books. It usually involves throwing said Disney books at our heads after screeching at the top of her lungs and tearing all the pages out of the book because we wouldn’t let her make candy (yes, make candy) at nine o’clock on a Wednesday night. It involves painting her toys with nail polish when she is in the bathroom with the door closed. It involves her deciding the she “not going to school and there’s nothing you can do to make me”. It involves a lot sleepless nights when she won’t go to bed, and a lot of wine (for me, not her).

In addition to completely leveling the playing for me by adding the Diva Devil, God also thought he’d continue to teach me a lesson by making my sweet little baby boy a little less sweet, a little less babyish, and a heck of a lot more boy. He does disgusting things like tucking his dirty socks into the couch cushions, peeing on the toilet seats, and using up all the body wash in the shower for God knows what. He eats all our food and doesn’t eat his vegetables like a good boy anymore. We schlep him to practices and games and he has sleepover with his loud and equally gross friends. He forgets homework assignments and fights us about wearing a coat. He’s not so simple anymore either. Infants and babies are a cakewalk compared to the pre-teen/teenager thing.

I’m handling this parenting thing on a day by day basis and I’m pretty sure I’m screwing it up. Gone is the confidence I had ten years ago when my Charlie Brown headed three year old crawled up on my lap and snuggled, telling me I was “the best mommy in the world” (I even have mugs and plaques to prove it). Now I’m far from the best mommy. I’m the one walking around like a zombie now and I get it. And so will this “new mom” that brags about her clean toy room and spotless kitchen where she whips up gourmet meals that her infant isn’t even going to eat. She may not get it right away, but when she does? Whoa…Future Her is in for a doozy. And that’s when you can laugh, folks.

Filed under: parenting humor Tagged: new moms know nothing, parenting is easy, parenting is hard, sanctimommies, sanctimoms

What I’ve Learned in Forty Years

So my 40th birthday is around the corner (and by around the corner, I mean, TOMORROW) and I realized it’s not what I expected it to be. I’m not necessarily worried about BEING 40 or getting old. I think I’ve aged fairly well and I’ve kept it together (and by kept it together I mean gravity has been fairly kind and I’m not picking my boobs up off the floor…yet). what’s bothering me the most is I don’t feel like I’ve figured it out yet.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, congratulations. You’ve managed to seamlessly shift into adulthood without adverse effects. I bet you have a 401K, a summer home and a landscaper. The rest of us, myself included, are waiting to wake up one day and feel like we’ve got it together; we’re waiting to feel like we imagined being an adult would feel like.

When I was twenty and stood on the edge of adulthood, my parents were in their early forties. I was so nervous about screwing up my adulthood. Forty and up seemed so OLD to me at the time, so adult. It was like they were real life adults, not just fumbling around in the darkness trying to figure it out. Now that I’m their age, I’m wondering if they weren’t just faking it.

Maybe I still don’t feel like an adult or even like I’ve got it figured out. But I guess you can’t get to this advanced age without learning a thing or two. I wish I could pat my twenty year old self on the back and tell her to calm down…give her some advice. Here’s what I’d say if I could.

1. Don’t think every single decision you make has to be thought out to death. Don’t be afraid of messing up. And when you do, don’t be afraid to fix it.

2. You are NOT fat. You have no idea what fat is yet. Enjoy your food now. When you’re in you’re thirties, just looking at cheesecake will have you running for stretch pants. Oh and also, could you tone the exercise level down just a notch? Because of you exercising like a nut in your twenties, your metabolism is really freaking confused when you don’t have all that spare time in your thirties and likes to deposit fat everywhere when you can only work out a few times a week.

3. Speaking of pants…don’t do the mom jean thing when you’re twenty-six please. It makes your butt flatter and you look frumpy. Dress sexy now, not when you’re likely to be looked at with pity because you you’re trying too hard to look young. (For the record, you haven’t reached that age at forty yet either).

4. If you’re not happy, change something to make yourself happy. Likewise, happiness is not a goal you’re striving to achieve. Stop telling yourself “I’ll be happy when I get a job, I’ll be happy when I have kids, I’ll be happy when we buy a house….” Enjoy the journey and don’t get so caught up in the destination. Be happy now.

5. Stop rooting for the Jets. They’re just going to disappoint you for the next twenty years. Pick a new team NOW.

6. Get on a plane. Go places. See the world. I know it’s out of your comfort zone, but don’t be afraid. Do it when you don’t have kids. And do it when you DO have kids. They need to have new experiences too.

7. Spend more time being with your kids rather than worrying about if you’re doing it right. You’re gonna mess this up no matter what….there is no such thing as a perfect parent. So why not enjoy the time you have instead of obsessing about it?

8. Get your eyebrows waxed. No seriously…do it NOW.

9. Take more photos, but don’t obsess about organizing them. Throw them in a box and look at them every once in awhile.

10. For the love of GOD woman! Start using anti-wrinkle cream! Yes, yes, I know you don’t have any, but you’re TWENTY! Get that tube out and slather that $hit on your face every night! You’ll thank me when you’re forty.

Filed under: parenting humor Tagged: fortieth birthday, middle life crisis, moms in their forties, turning forty