Heather Balog's Blog, page 32

A bad Mommy’s thoughts on “Fifty Shades of Grey”

thebadmommydiaries:

In light of all the attention that the trailer for this movie is getting….

Originally posted on Heather Balog:

About a year and a half ago, I started hearing rumblings amongst friends and coworkers about a HOT new book, Fifty Shades of Grey. Now these ladies were nearly quivering with madness when they exclaimed to me, “You HAVE to read this book! You just have to!” That right there is the most antagonistic set of words ever set in front of me. I DO NOT LIKE TO BE TOLD what to do. And what’s more, I don’t tend to follow the crowd, what ever the trend, I tend to buck it…I don’t watch any Housewives of any county, I don’t find Zumba exhilarating, I never thought Tom Cruise was yummy (but Channing Tatum is a different story), I never grew carrots on FarmVille or crushed candy…you get the picture. So just on the fact that it was popular and all you saw on the beach all summer were women…

View original 1,009 more words

Filed under: Uncategorized

Are We There Yet???

thebadmommydiaries:

And here we go again…

Originally posted on Heather Balog:

Around March or April, my husband and I begin to sweat and break out into hives. It is this time of year that we start to plan our annual family travel extravaganza. Like most other red blood American parents, the notion of a family summer vacation is ingrained in us. We feel it is our parental duty to provide our children with some sort of vacation during their vacation from school. We want them to have life experiences beyond their own backyard. Every year, we ponder destinations over brochures and the Internet, seeking our perfect family getaway. And every year, after we’ve spent countless hours analyzing our options and fighting over who wants to go where (some reasonable, some not so much…ahem…European cruise), a sense of dread immediately begins to consume me.
Vacations are hardly that for me. The anxiety sets in about a week before we are scheduled to…

View original 1,139 more words

Filed under: Uncategorized

Adult Only Swim

I have a confession to make. Sometimes, ever so often, I’m jealous of people without kids. Okay, before you get up in arms about me being a horrible mother, just think really hard and I’m sure you will come up with at least once a day when you wonder about how different a situation would be if you didn’t have kids.

Now, I’m not talking about when I’m rushing out the door, hurriedly washing game uniforms with Dawn dish liquid and drying them with my hair dryer or up till midnight icing cupcakes for a school party nobody told me about until 10 pm. And I don’t mean when eating fast food in the car between the billion activities we have to rush to or fighting with an eight year old about why we cannot stop at WaWa for her lunch and how she needs to make a GD peanut butter and freaking jelly sandwich before we are late. I’m not talking about bleary eyed me pasting sequins on poster board for a project or cleaning up after an unruly sleepover that has left my cat trembling in a corner. Hell, that’s the stuff that defines me, keeps me on my toes.

No, I’m talking about those precious moments of peace, relaxation. You know, those brief moments in your day when all your laundry and cleaning is done and you have about fifteen minutes before someone is going to ask you “what’s for dinner”? Those moments that kids absolutely ruin every time without fail.

You put on your bathing suit and take your book and a nice glass of sangria to the deck, sighing with contentment. You just might finally get to the end of the book you’ve been reading for a month and a half and find out who the killer is.

And then you realize…the kids are in the pool. Which in itself is not a problem. It’s the fact that they are drawn to you like moths to a flame when they see you in relaxation mode.

“Hi, Mommy!” The little one calls out cheerily. You wave half heartedly. Now, where were you in this book? The bookmark has mysteriously disappeared….

“Come in the pool, Mommy!” You look up. They are both leaning over the side of the pool, peering at you with their big round eyes.

“Uh, no thanks,” you dismiss them with a wave. You take a sip of the sangria. Damn, that’s good.

“You never go in with us!” They complain.This is true. You always go in after they go to bed. Adult only swim. The reason being…well, you’ll see…

“Puleeeeeeeeeezzzzzzzeeeeeeee?” The begging begins.

You shake your head. “No, I just want to sit here-”

“Pretty please with sugar on top?”

You sigh. They are not going to give in.

“Ok. But in a little bit…”

“When is a little bit?”

“When I finish this book,” you announce triumphantly.

You have not outsmarted them, however.

“No! That’ll take too long!”

Sighing again, you reply, “Fine. This chapter then.”

They swim away and you flip open the book and start to read. Wow, you can’t believe you ever put this book down! It’s so intriguing! It’s drawing you in, word by word….Until you feel like you are being stared at. And your arm is getting moist.

“What?” You ask in an annoyed tone. The children are now dripping on the deck right next to your chair.

“You promised you’d come in when you finished that chapter,” the little one whines.

“Yeah, you promised,” the bigger one chimes in.

You start to wonder why the hell they need you in the pool when they have each other to annoy.

“Fine,” you retort, marking your place in your book. “But I don’t want to be splashed.” You stare at the little one meaningfully. “Understand?”

She gazes at you with those doe eyes and bobs her wet head up and down.

Grumbling, you climb down the ladder. “It’s too cold,” you complain.

“You’ll get used to it,” they assure you.

Feeling like an ice cube, you take about twenty minutes to get into the pool and immediately lay face down on the raft. Tilting your head to the side, you remind the little one, “I don’t want to be splashed.”

She is ignoring you as she hops in circles around the raft.

“Mommy, watch me! Look at me! See I can touch the-” gurgle, gurgle, gurgle…splash. “The bottom! I can’t touch the bottom with my hand! Look!”

“Uh, huh. Very nice,” you murmur into the plastic raft. It’s nice floating here with the warm sun on your back and the-

Suddenly, you feel splashes on your back. Cold, wet splashes that you SPECIFICALLY requested to NOT have.

“Stop splashing me!” You growl. The kids giggle.

“Sorry!”

“Just don’t let it happen again,” you admonish.

You go back to resting peacefully, enjoying the late afternoon sun; your thoughts drifting off, obvious to the fact you forgot to apply sunblock…

SPLASH!!!

You don’t know what happened, but all of a sudden, you are floundering in water, trying to right yourself and spit out the water you swallowed.

“What the HELL!?!?” (You actually don’t say hell, but this is a PG blog)

You stare at your assailants, who are attempting to look innocent.

“Sorry, Mommy,” they chime in together.

“I don’t like you two very much,” you manage to sputter as you shake a finger at them. They just laugh.

Grumbling, you drag your soaked body out of the pool and snatch up the nearest towel. Which is wet. You sigh with annoyance and grab your book, despite the children’s protests to come back in the pool.

Teeth chattering, you storm into the house, greeted by your dry and relaxed husband lounging on the couch with the iPad. He glances up from his game.

“How was your swim?” He asks with complete seriousness.

Gritting your teeth, you respond, “Just peachy.” You start up the steps to strip out of the wet bathing suit you didn’t even want in the first place. Maybe you can just stay up in your nice dry room and finish this book. There’s only ten pages left…

“Hey, honey?” You hear hubby call. “What’s for dinner?”

Filed under: parenting humor Tagged: adult swim, kids in the pool, Swimming with kids

Why I’m Not Buying My Husband Anything For Father’s Day

Originally posted on Heather Balog:

Sunday is Father’s Day! Yah! Another excuse for me to throw money away this weekend? Like hell! Why should I buy my husband something for Father’s Day? No, no. I’m not bitter about not getting anything for Mother’s Day. In fact, my own mother brought me a tee shirt. I wanted to write on it, “I gave birth and all I got was this lousy tee shirt”.

Father’s Day, as far as I’m concerned, should be abolished. It’s bogus. As you know, I’m not a fan of Mother’s Day either, but Father’s Day is even more of a farce as far as I’m concerned. First of all…shouldn’t we be thanking our fathers (and mothers) every day? Why do we have to put aside a day to spend unnecessary money and battle with other people for tables at restaurants or the last three cards in the card aisle? Let’s all stay…

View original 1,106 more words

Filed under: Uncategorized

Kindle Countdown Deal

Julie, the Director of Nursing at a prestigious hospital, meets new nurse Alex, who has an ulterior motive, and her life will never be the same. Check out “All She Ever Wanted” for only #99 cents on #kindle this week only. Don’t miss your chance to snatch up this great beach read for a steal!

All She Ever Wanted

So You Had a Bad Day; You’re NOT a Bad Mom

It’s been one of those days. You know the ones…you wake up with a feeling of impending doom and have the sneaking suspicion that you should just stay in bed. But of course, your responsible side implores you to get your butt up and get moving because after all, they’d never make it through the day if you didn’t.

The day starts off with one disaster after another. The milk has gone bad and there are no eggs, English muffins or bagels either. You have a run in your stockings and you forgot to shave one leg. The dog has chewed a shoe or maybe he’s actually chewed the buttons of your child’s dress that she was planning to wear for picture day (yes, that has actually happened). You cap the morning off by spilling your coffee all over yourself when you discover the newspaper thrower person has actually managed to dent your car with the paper full of coupons that you never get a chance to cut out anyway. I mean, really, who has time for that?

You get to work and attempt to slog through your day. Maybe your boss is in a pissy mood and gave you a poor review. Or your coworker won’t stop bitching about her in laws not matter how many times you tell her it’s NOT unreasonable that they still send their son a birthday card. The computer is in “glitch mode” and your phone won’t stop ringing. You have a migraine by noon and you just want to put your head down and go back to sleep. But you can’t because your husband “forgot” he was playing golf and now you have to rush to pick up the kids.

So needless to say, this is the kind of day your kids should rally around you and do everything in their power to make your day better, right? Wrong! This is the day your kid or kids are going to dump even more misery on your plate and make you doubt yourself because you are vulnerable as it is. Kick her while she’s down so to speak.

This is the day you are going to question every parenting decision you’ve ever made and wonder, really wonder, if maybe you’re not cut out for this gig after all. This is the day your daughter is going to fling her glove down on the softball field and stomp off because she’s bored and you are GOING TO TAKE HER HOME NOW! She’s going to kick and scream and cry and call you the worst mom on Earth because YOU are making her finish the game. This is the day your son is going to screw up his GPA because he can’t seem to get his head out of his ass and off his iPod long enough to remember to not only DO his homework assignments, but bring them to school as well. He’s going to kick and cry and scream and call you the worst mom on Earth when you take that iPod away. Or your daughter is going to have a melt down because she can’t have dessert when she didn’t finish dinner. Or your son is going to flip out when you tell him he has to clean his room. What ever it is, you will be called THE WORST MOM ON EARTH. And you know what? Today is the day you may start to agree with them.

Or maybe this is the day you let them watch six hours of TV so you can catch up on the laundry because your house is a wreck and you’ve been neglecting it. Or maybe it’s the day you say to hell with it and let them have dessert for dinner because you need a break. Perhaps you forgot to tell them to go to bed because you’re engrossed in this blog and now it’s an hour after their bedtimes. Or maybe you locked yourself in the bathroom and ignored them all night because you had such a lousy day and you just can’t take the whining for another second.

You used to stand firm in your rules and your decisions but now you question them every time. Am I really doing this for them? Am I just doing this to make my life easier? Or because I think this is what I should do? What if I’ve been going about this all wrong and I’ve screwed them up forever? Have I taught them NOTHING at all? Can I get a do-over?

You’ll be up all night, tossing and turning, thinking, “maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on him”, “maybe I don’t pay enough attention to them” or “maybe I should start only making food that she likes for dinner”. You’re second guessing yourself. You’re feeling low and like you really are, THE WORST MOM ON EARTH.

KNOCK IT OFF!!! First of all, if you WERE the worst mom on Earth you wouldn’t be second guessing yourself. Hell, you wouldn’t even be reading this because you’d be lying in a ditch somewhere stoned off your ass after you gave your money to a guy named Rico who promised you he could take you to see a unicorn. Seriously. You’re not the worst mom. Yes, we all have bad days. We all have off days. We yell and scream and threaten. We adopt an apathetic attitude and hide under our covers. We coddle them and don’t stick to our guns. And you know what. It’s fine. You’re a pretty decent mom 99.9% of the time. You’re not winning Mom of the year! but hell, we can’t all be June Cleaver. You love those little poop heads more than you love yourself. And deep down, they know it. So do yourself a favor and stop beating yourself up. After all, that’s what you have kids for. Let go of the container of Rocky road and put away the bottle of wine.

Forgive yourself. Go to bed. And tomorrow, pick yourself up by your boot straps (whatever those are) and be the best damn Mom I know you can be.

Filed under: parenting humor Tagged: Bad days, Moms who worry they're the worst mom in the world

Life Before Technology Ate Our Brains

Originally posted on Heather Balog:

My son was punished earlier this week…we took away his iPod and his phone for two days. I thought by the end of the second day he was going to go absolutely bonkers from technology withdrawal. It rained yesterday so he couldn’t go outside and there was, according to him, “nothing on TV”. With 400 channels, plus on Demand, I find that very hard to believe. Yet he sat, sulkily in the living room, watching Phineas and Ferb reruns, pining for his beloved iPod and his connection to the outside world.
If I was parted from my iPhone for 48 hours, I must admit, at this point in my life, I’d be distressed. Technology has definitely enhanced our lives in ways we never imagined. I mean, I am sitting poolside while writing this and I won’t even have to move more than my fingertips to make this available for all…

View original 1,337 more words

Filed under: Uncategorized

Shock Collars for Social Media

I realize that this is completely off topic, but this is just meant to be a satirical post, poking fun of everyone who uses Facebook (myself included). If you see yourself in this post, just laugh, ok? I’m guilty of almost all of the following.

I’m convinced that social media just may destroy the world as we know it. I don’t mean that kids nowadays have no idea how to interact with each other without a cell phone in their hand or the fact that they are all going to seriously need chiropractic adjustments because their neck muscles can’t hold their head up to look straight ahead. That’s all true, of course. (Please see, Before Technology Ate Our Brains).

No, what I am witnessing is much, much worse. It’s not the kids imploding as much as it is the adults. Adults are doing this to themselves…they can’t blame the damn kids for this one. Social media has become, well, a social circus of sorts. Facebook in particular is probably singlehandedly responsible for more divorces, family feuds and friendship breakups than we can possibly imagine. And why? Well, in the words of one of my anti-Facebook friend, “Facebook is evil”. After six years on social media, I’m feeling inclined to agree with him. Adults cannot just be adults and look at each other’s pictures in a stalker like fashion, keeping their opinions to themselves like we do in real life. People would not do or say half of what they do on social media. I think we were better off when we weren’t privy to the constant details of other people’s lives. It is because of the following annoying Facebook friends that our world is being ruined by social media.

The “Oversharer”: In actuality, I think we are all guilty of this one from time to time. But there is a fine line that the chronic Oversharer crosses almost daily. Hell, the Oversharer pretty much leaps over that line in a tutu shouting “look at me, look at me!” Perhaps she was not hugged enough as a child. Who knows. But the Oversharer feels the need to tell every one in the social media world everything from the fact that she is pooping on the toilet to the fact that her husband is cheating on her. I cringe whenever I read the Oversharer’s status and always wonder if she thinks it’s her own personal diary. Maybe she doesn’t understand the whole “public” concept? Or she has Tourette’s and says the first thing that pops into her head? Honestly, Oversharer, I don’t need to know about your yeast infection.

Suzy Freaking Sunshine: That song “Happy”. Yeah it’s about her. She’s always blessed, nothing ever goes wrong and she LOVES everyone. You throw up a little in your mouth when you read her posts. Beware, she’s one prescription refill away from a nervous breakdown.

The Vague Poster: This friend to social media WANTS to be the Oversharer but he or she doesn’t REALLY want people to know every detail of their life. Instead, they like their friends to play that little guessing game…”is she talking about me?” This type of Facebook friend is just waiting for her friends to ask “what’s wrong?” The best way to deal with this friend is to ignore them completely. Otherwise, you’re constantly wondering if she’s talking about you.

The Comment Crasher: This type of person is one of the most toxic on Facebook. You cannot ignore them because they comment on every freaking status and picture imaginable, managing to insult you and your other friends in the process. For example, “nice picture, who’s that fat guy next to you?” (It’s your boss) This ends up wrecking friendship after friendship because you have no choice but to unfriend this person for your sanity. Which makes seeing THEM in public SUPER DUPER weird.

The Manic Depressive: She’s like that Katy Perry song, she’s hot and she’s cold, she’s yes and she’s no…and you’ve got a front row seat for the whole damn train wreck. One day she’s pinning inspirational Pinterest sayings and the next day she’s lamenting about the cruelty of her life, threatening to swallow the last of her Valium. Sort of a cross between the Oversharer and the Vague Poster. Don’t be alarmed, she’s overreacting. Just roll your eyes and move on.

The Frightening Friend: People you don’t really know well but are very, very, sorry you accepted their friend request on Facebook after a few status updates. Perhaps you didn’t realize they like to torture puppies in their spare time. Or they give their kids sponge baths…when they’re home from college. Whatever it is, de friend them ASAP. Chances are, you won’t see they too often anyway. And if you do, maybe they’re not the type of friend you really wanted in the first place.

The Selfie Showcaser: Yeah…stop with the selfies. Nobody wants to see them. Really.

Peter Politics: He wants to make sure you know about his stance on every single issue known to man from abortion to gun control. He is mostly an angry person, ranting and raving about the “other side” whether it’s republican, democrat or the Green Party. He really needs to either run for office or shut the hell up. Nobody is going to read his status and say, “oh my God, you’re right!” Nobody accomplishes anything by just running their mouth all the time.

The Shouter: He or she uses caps in their status updates. ALL THE TIME. You don’t know if he or she is mad, happy or just doesn’t know how to take the caps lock button off their keyboard. Which brings us to our next friend.

The Technologically Challenged: They post pictures upside down, send private messages to everyone in their status update or hit send before they complete their message or proofread. This can lead to uncomfortable situations as the Technologically Challenged do not know how to fix their booboos.

Can’t we bring back the nice old prom pictures when we had braces and bad hair, crock pot recipes and updates about the never ending snow? Back when Facebook and Instagram and whatever else is out there, was fun? Those don’t cause people to punch each other in the mouth (unless you looked really bad in your prom picture). I go on Facebook to see good news, sarcastic comments, five million pictures of your kids and funny statuses. I don’t want to watch people fighting back and forth (with words nonetheless). There’s a time and place for everything and it’s generally NOT on the internet. If you have a problem with your cousin or your coworker and you wouldn’t say it to their face, don’t put it in a status update for God’s sake.

Here’s an idea, maybe if we set up a shock collar for those who want to use social media. And there is some sort of moderator in charge of delivering the shocks. Like, “Oh, that’s a picture of your placenta? I don’t think so…” BUZZ! “Ooo, a bitchy status about your sister? Hmmm, I think you’re gonna regret that one…” BUZZ! “Another political rant? That’s gonna cost you…” BUZZ! Seriously…how do I get that job?

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Facebook

Novocain is for Wimps

All parents seem to get one child who has an unnatural tolerance for pain and one who an absolute wimp. My son is some sort of freak of nature. His pain tolerance is off the charts. He has actually played baseball with 103 fever and will walk around with blood spurting out of his body before someone points it out to him. He detests ice packs, ace bandages and splints and refuses them under all circumstances. He has been concussed three times and we didn’t even know it because he bounces back up like a rubber ball without skipping a beat. I spent most of his childhood uttering phrases like, “where did you get that bruise?”,  “who bled all over the kitchen?” and “doesn’t it hurt with that eye ball hanging out?”. There are no tears, whining or dramatics involved in his (many) injuries. One time, my daughter threw a rock at his head (causing one of his concussions) and he walked into the house with blood all over his face and calmly said “I think I need a band aid.”

*I must pause here to mention that this unnatural tolerance for pain does not extend to things that actually do not hurt such as getting his hair cut, brushing his teeth or putting his contacts in. Those things cause him to flip out like a stark raving lunatic.*

My daughter, on the other hand, is a wuss, plain and simple. She cannot take any sort of pain or discomfort at all. Or the anticipation of possible pain or discomfort. Her tolerance level hovers somewhere in the -5 range on a pain scale of 1-10 and it’s causing A LOT of problems in every day life. She has to be chased around the lab for blood work, restrained by three people for a throat culture, and sat on in order to detangle her hair. If she trips up the stairs, she will literally crawl up the remainder of the steps until she reaches her destination, whimpering all the way. A hangnail will leave her catatonic. We go through a box of band aids a week because she puts one on every single bump and bruise she gets. I cringe when the phone rings and it’s the nurse from her school, mentally playing “guess the ailment today”. Yesterday she claimed she needed to come home because her “thigh collapsed”. I don’t even know HOW that would happen. She is routinely carried off the basketball court and softball field for injuries. The other parents think I am the worse mother ever because I do not indulge her and my only reply is usually, “Is there a bone sticking out? No? Okay, suck it up Buttercup and get back out there.”

I am certain that it’s an attention getting ploy. I’ve witnessed her falling off her pogo stick and bike when nobody is looking. She glanced around to see if she had an audience and hopped right back on when she realized she couldn’t get sympathy. Either that or she just likes to embarrass me. I’m pretty sure it’s the later.

Case in point. She has two teeth that have been loose for about 6 months. The adult teeth grew in behind the baby teeth, yet they are still sticking out of her head. She looks like a beaver. I finally decided to call the dentist to get them pulled. Stupid me. I forgot that a few months ago she actually PUNCHED the dentist while he tried to apply SEALANTS to her teeth. Yeah, that’s just painting your teeth with some film that helps prevent cavities. There was no way she was going to let him actually PULL a tooth out of her head.

She started her dramatic hyperventilating as we pulled up to the dentist office.

“What are we doing here?” she asks me suspiciously.

“Getting your teeth pulled,” I reply nonchalantly.

She crosses her arms over her chest defiantly. “Uh, uh. I’m not going.”

I sigh as I tell her, “Oh, yes you are.” And so begins the battle royale.

She tells the dentist immediately upon entry that there is NO WAY she’s letting him pull her tooth. He’s probably his mother’s wimpy child because he tosses his tools down on the tray without a fight.

“Well, you’re going to have to go to an oral surgeon then,” I tell her, while glaring at the dentist for his lack of effort. He rubs his jaw, probably recalling his last run in with my demon child.

“No,” she retorts. We go back and forth for several minutes, arguing. I have succumbed to every no no in the parenting handbook including threatening and bribery. The dental assistant is sitting there with a bemused expression on her face. She can’t believe that my children are related. The last time my son had a cavity filled he did it without Novocain because Novocain is for wimps. Like his sister.

“Tell you what…” the dentist finally jumps in. I shoot him a pained look. This better be good. “If you can get those teeth out in two weeks, you won’t have to get them pulled.”

She considers this for a moment. “Five weeks,” my lawyer in the making replies.

He shakes his head. “Two weeks.”

“Four weeks.”

“Two weeks.”

“Three weeks.”

He frowns and growls, “Two weeks. If you don’t get those teeth pulled, you’re going to need braces.”

Her faces crumples. “Will braces hurt?”

“Of course they hurt, ” he tells her. I want to personally knock him out at this point. She has a new worry now. All the way home, she is sniveling about braces. I want to drive my car off a cliff.

But this is why I think she just enjoys mortifying me. Her father will take her to the dentist, the doctor, the chiropractor, etc. etc. and she will tell him, “I’m going to be brave for you, Daddy,” with a pouty lip and a tear glistening in her evil little eye. And she will get whatever she needs to get done completed without a fight, causing my husband to come home and raise his eyebrows at me.

“I don’t get what the big deal is,” he will tell me. “She didn’t give me any problem.” And I will glare at her because she is clinging on to her Daddy and simultaneously sticking out her tongue at me.

“How come you’ll behave for Daddy and not me?” I accuse later on.

She smiles sweetly at me and responds, “It doesn’t hurt when Daddy’s there.” Little brat. Fine. If that’s the way you want it, Daddy can take care of all your doctor appointments and injuries in the future. I’ll take the one who doesn’t cry to get his bones reset and his head sewed back together. That’s MY kid.

 

Filed under: parenting humor Tagged: kids and dentists, kids and doctors, kids who cry too much, kids with high pain tolerance, kids with low pain tolerance, pain tolerance, wimpy kids

Bad Mommies Unite

Originally posted on Heather Balog:

I’m think I’m overwhelmed. I’m not sure. Is overwhelmed the feeling that your head is going to explode from all the things you need to do in a day and the feeling that you’re having a heart attack because of the constant heart palpitations and chest pain? Okay, then…I’m definitely overwhelmed.





I feel as if I have so many balls up in the air to juggle that I’m dropping all of them. Everyday I’m busting my ass to be the best mother, best wife, best friend, have the cleanest house and to do that job that pays for all of it, to the best of my ability. Throwing in my writing on the side and working out so I can wear a bikini on vacation and it’s become a recipe for disaster.




Moms are expected to be perfect. Our families see us as infallible and we knock ourselves out to…

View original 927 more words

Filed under: Uncategorized