So I'm checking out in the grocery store this weekend and get to talking with the mommy in front of me. We are yapping about this and that, when all of a sudden I feel a "WHACK" on my rump. I quickly turn and find this woman's 5-yr-old son standing there with a DVD case and smiling an impish grin.
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry! I don't know what to say--this is so embarrassing," she shrieked as she looked at her son with shame. "Are you kidding? That's the best thing that's happened to me all day...I LOVE it!" I exclaimed. And I wasn't joking.
As I continue to climb towards my mid-forties, I've decided that any and all external affirmations (even lewd gestures) are not only welcome but earned. That's right, baby...I said it...I should be worshiped!!! For nothing else, I want recognition for all the sweat equity I've put in. In fact, I want to be known as a MILF and my future goal is to become a cougar....and if any of you young boys make googley eyes at me and then follow it up with a "ma'am" I'm going to cream your face.
I've spent the last 30 years dieting, exercising, bleaching, waxing, hi-lighting, perming, straightening, plucking, make-upping, and now botoxing...I want to see the ROI and I'll take it in the form of a compliment please: appropriate, inappropriate, male, female, transgendered, disfigured troll.......it doesn't matter. The messenger is insignificant...it's the message that matters.
It is YOUR job to make ME feel good....stop being so selfish.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
Trick or Treating with The Fuhrer
Over the past year or so my 7-year-old son has become very interested in World War II. He has watched a couple specials on the History Channel and enjoys books detailing artillery, equipment, and world leaders during that time. It's blown my husband and I away because his level of interest is pretty involved; he looks at maps, studies and inquires about alliances, and is irritated that France didn't do more. He has very strong opinions, can articulate his thoughts and support his points. Of course those points are simple and direct, but well-stated nonetheless.
I was loving his historical interest, his big ol' brain, his desire to learn.....up until the point he hit me with this zinger: "Can I be Hitler for Halloween?"
"Sure sweetie whatever you want...wait....what did you just say?"
"I said, can I be Hitler for Halloween?"
This question came out of nowhere while we dined upon Leggo waffles. I watched him as syrup dripped from his chin and he wiped his mouth with his shirt collar, trying to lick it back off again.
"Ummmmm.......no," I responded in a perplexed voice. For a moment we just stared at each other with tilted heads while we simultaneously chewed.
"Why not, Mom? He's really famous, he has a costume and I can wear a wittle moustache and everything." (he still sounds like Elmer Fudd when he says his L's, R's and W's) "AND," he added, Abbi could be Mrs Hitler!" Again, excellent points from a 7-yr-old mind when considering Halloween theme and attire. I was in a real jam. It took a few days but I finally was able to explain the reasoning behind my emphatic no.
For just a moment, however, I did imagine my 2 precious darlings gallivanting around town as Hitler and Ava Braun, scoring all the Butterfingers and Sour Patch Kids they could. I also thought about the annual picture of the neighborhood children and what it would look like: John is a great hobo, Jennifer's Raggedy Ann costume is too precious....and Patrick is a dead-ringer for Adolf. Things that make ya' go hmmm....
I was loving his historical interest, his big ol' brain, his desire to learn.....up until the point he hit me with this zinger: "Can I be Hitler for Halloween?"
"Sure sweetie whatever you want...wait....what did you just say?"
"I said, can I be Hitler for Halloween?"
This question came out of nowhere while we dined upon Leggo waffles. I watched him as syrup dripped from his chin and he wiped his mouth with his shirt collar, trying to lick it back off again.
"Ummmmm.......no," I responded in a perplexed voice. For a moment we just stared at each other with tilted heads while we simultaneously chewed.
"Why not, Mom? He's really famous, he has a costume and I can wear a wittle moustache and everything." (he still sounds like Elmer Fudd when he says his L's, R's and W's) "AND," he added, Abbi could be Mrs Hitler!" Again, excellent points from a 7-yr-old mind when considering Halloween theme and attire. I was in a real jam. It took a few days but I finally was able to explain the reasoning behind my emphatic no.
For just a moment, however, I did imagine my 2 precious darlings gallivanting around town as Hitler and Ava Braun, scoring all the Butterfingers and Sour Patch Kids they could. I also thought about the annual picture of the neighborhood children and what it would look like: John is a great hobo, Jennifer's Raggedy Ann costume is too precious....and Patrick is a dead-ringer for Adolf. Things that make ya' go hmmm....
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Livin' Large
One of my very fave questions to ask kids is: "What do you want to be when you grow up?" The answers are usually standard....a teacher, a doctor, a policeman, etc.....but sometimes the responses are so outlandish and lofty it can be difficult to contain an outward laugh.
For a while my son and daughter repeated the same career choices when asked about their future endeavors, but recently they have come up with a few new gems that absolutely kill me....
Per my son, his future bio will include the following: $1,000,001. A jetpack. The ability to make himself invisible. With these three items one could rule the world; and my shorty has the determination to do it.
My daughter is much more blase' about her career path. She doesn't like to waste time thinking about minute life stuff like work, school, homework, etc. Over the last year or so she has thrown out professional soccer as a career but has changed her mind in recent weeks due to the 1.5 mile run she has to complete during her club practice. It's just too much work for the little princess. If something isn't easy to attain, she ain't interested....
"So if soccer's not going to be your gig," I ask, "what do you want to do?"
"Oh, I don't know," she'll sigh, "I'll probably just be a famous actress." This bold statement is made with absolutely no commitment whatsoever.....she's not in drama, hates to read, and gets embarrassed in front of crowds. So good luck with that one, toots--you're right on track! When I remind her of her soccer talents and how great she is and could be with continued training, she looks around and gingerly says, "Nah.....I think I'll stick with the acting..." Stick with it?!?!? There's nothing to stick with, crazy!
Recently the two of us went to the bookstore and while I browsed for a new read she skimmed the teen fan club section in order to find the best autographs. After all, she needs to be ready for all the paparazzi and mobs when she makes her debut in Hollywood........apparently it's as easy as that.
For a while my son and daughter repeated the same career choices when asked about their future endeavors, but recently they have come up with a few new gems that absolutely kill me....
Per my son, his future bio will include the following: $1,000,001. A jetpack. The ability to make himself invisible. With these three items one could rule the world; and my shorty has the determination to do it.
My daughter is much more blase' about her career path. She doesn't like to waste time thinking about minute life stuff like work, school, homework, etc. Over the last year or so she has thrown out professional soccer as a career but has changed her mind in recent weeks due to the 1.5 mile run she has to complete during her club practice. It's just too much work for the little princess. If something isn't easy to attain, she ain't interested....
"So if soccer's not going to be your gig," I ask, "what do you want to do?"
"Oh, I don't know," she'll sigh, "I'll probably just be a famous actress." This bold statement is made with absolutely no commitment whatsoever.....she's not in drama, hates to read, and gets embarrassed in front of crowds. So good luck with that one, toots--you're right on track! When I remind her of her soccer talents and how great she is and could be with continued training, she looks around and gingerly says, "Nah.....I think I'll stick with the acting..." Stick with it?!?!? There's nothing to stick with, crazy!
Recently the two of us went to the bookstore and while I browsed for a new read she skimmed the teen fan club section in order to find the best autographs. After all, she needs to be ready for all the paparazzi and mobs when she makes her debut in Hollywood........apparently it's as easy as that.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Sugar Britches
When my son was born, he came out the size of a toddler (WOWCH!) My very own Baby Huey...we actually referred to him as the "baby who ate Dallas". He's always dominated the height/weight charts at the pediatrician's office, but lately he has been growing at the speed of light....I know, I know....kids have their growth spurts and all but I'm in a constant race against the size chart with my little Oedipus.......
My kids go to Catholic school so they have a uniform code--which I freaking love! However, the uniforms ain't cheap and I cross my fingers at the beginning of the year in hopes that the size I purchased will last through the whole year. No dice.
With an entire month left of school, I knew I was going to get completely screwed when my son had to suck in his stomach in order to get his navy shorts both buttoned and zipped. He was the fashion equivalent of the Incredible Hulk. Shame. "Mom," he pleaded, "these do not fit!" I gave him a knowing smile and said, "Well, just wear your fleece--nobody will see." A statement I made knowing full well the temp would be in the nineties that day. What kind of a mother am I?
Had we lived in East Germany his look would have been fine; but tight, short navy pants with white socks and black shoes weren't going to cut it in Dallas. My girlfriend, who saw him wearing this, called him "Sugar Britches" and kept singing the Sir Mix-Alot song "Baby Got Back". I had no choice but to replenish his shrinking academic wardrobe. I took one for the team and bought him all new clothes 3 weeks before school got out. I'm such a sucker, but what was my choice? "Sugar Britches" is just not a name you want people screaming at your son during football games.....
My kids go to Catholic school so they have a uniform code--which I freaking love! However, the uniforms ain't cheap and I cross my fingers at the beginning of the year in hopes that the size I purchased will last through the whole year. No dice.
With an entire month left of school, I knew I was going to get completely screwed when my son had to suck in his stomach in order to get his navy shorts both buttoned and zipped. He was the fashion equivalent of the Incredible Hulk. Shame. "Mom," he pleaded, "these do not fit!" I gave him a knowing smile and said, "Well, just wear your fleece--nobody will see." A statement I made knowing full well the temp would be in the nineties that day. What kind of a mother am I?
Had we lived in East Germany his look would have been fine; but tight, short navy pants with white socks and black shoes weren't going to cut it in Dallas. My girlfriend, who saw him wearing this, called him "Sugar Britches" and kept singing the Sir Mix-Alot song "Baby Got Back". I had no choice but to replenish his shrinking academic wardrobe. I took one for the team and bought him all new clothes 3 weeks before school got out. I'm such a sucker, but what was my choice? "Sugar Britches" is just not a name you want people screaming at your son during football games.....
Friday, July 8, 2011
Worry Wart
I hate the fact that fear and worry have become so Vogue. Between my Irish Catholic upbringing and propensity for panic attacks, I really don't need any outside influences, especially media hype, to give me more fuel for my already burning-out-of-control OCD fire. As women, we have an innate desire to care for others, don't we? This feeling was reinforced at an early age via playing house and Barbies. We took care of our pretend families and made sure everything was hunky dory from A to Z. If only our experiences could be that scripted and easily negotiated in real life--what a breeze!
It seems like everything out there these days: media, talk shows, warning labels, etc. shoot people into a catastrophic frenzy. It's time we stop riding the "Terror Train". What does that do for you, anyway? Bupkis, I tell ya!
Day-to-day life brings enough challenges and feelings of insecurity without worrying about huge looming what ifs and propaganda. It's insane! Everything has boiled down to one long list of things that will kill you. Could I feel this way because 90% of the stuff on this endless list are things I'm doing, eating or exposed to? You bet your sweet ass it is! But look at the facts.....yoo-hoo.....I'm still here!
Let's take a moment and stroll down "freak out" memory lane, shall we? The following scares were reported with such intensity that people felt they should stay locked inside their homes while wearing hazmat suits:
1) The Killer Bees!!!!!!! (Are they still en route or what?)
2) SARS (so much for all the money I spent on those face masks)
3) West Nile Virus (my kids took baths in Off)
4) The Swine Flu ( I love bacon)
5) Y2K (wasn't the world supposed to implode or something?)
Ridiculous. I fear "Bieber Fever" more than I do global warming. FUHGETTABOUTIT!!!!! And please...whatever you do...don't step on a crack...it will break your mother's back.....
It seems like everything out there these days: media, talk shows, warning labels, etc. shoot people into a catastrophic frenzy. It's time we stop riding the "Terror Train". What does that do for you, anyway? Bupkis, I tell ya!
Day-to-day life brings enough challenges and feelings of insecurity without worrying about huge looming what ifs and propaganda. It's insane! Everything has boiled down to one long list of things that will kill you. Could I feel this way because 90% of the stuff on this endless list are things I'm doing, eating or exposed to? You bet your sweet ass it is! But look at the facts.....yoo-hoo.....I'm still here!
Let's take a moment and stroll down "freak out" memory lane, shall we? The following scares were reported with such intensity that people felt they should stay locked inside their homes while wearing hazmat suits:
1) The Killer Bees!!!!!!! (Are they still en route or what?)
2) SARS (so much for all the money I spent on those face masks)
3) West Nile Virus (my kids took baths in Off)
4) The Swine Flu ( I love bacon)
5) Y2K (wasn't the world supposed to implode or something?)
Ridiculous. I fear "Bieber Fever" more than I do global warming. FUHGETTABOUTIT!!!!! And please...whatever you do...don't step on a crack...it will break your mother's back.....
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Recession Hits the Tooth Fairy
I don't know what the hell is going on but my kids have been losing teeth left and right. Are they brushing their teeth with Mountain Dew? Eating an abundance of Laffy Taffy? I have no idea, but I do know one thing...I can't afford the high rent expectations of the modern day Tooth Fairy. When I was little, I got coins under my pillow...not 5 dollar bills! My kids expect to earn enough money to bank roll a Vegas casino on their lost teeth. It's ludicrous. Not to mention the fact that I never ever have cash. The last time my daughter lost a tooth, again my wallet was bare, I did what any smart mommy would do and jacked money from her piggy bank in order to pay up. I pulled together all I could and left a mound of change worth $2 under her pillow. The next morning, Little Miss Sunshine stormed out of her room, shaking the bag, and said, "What is THIS?!?!?!" Apparently nickels and pennies aren't acceptable currency to 10-yr-old kids...they want to see the paper stuff--only THE PAPER STUFF
I gave her the age-old "money is money" statement and all I got was a disgusted look (I can't even imagine if she knew it was her own money to begin with) As a mommy, I have no shame; it's not about the journey it IS the end result that matters: get the kids fed and to bed, get them to practice on time, make sure they brush their teeth and wash their hair......and always make sure their piggy bank is flush, just in case the Tooth Fairy needs you to spot her a couple bucks........
I gave her the age-old "money is money" statement and all I got was a disgusted look (I can't even imagine if she knew it was her own money to begin with) As a mommy, I have no shame; it's not about the journey it IS the end result that matters: get the kids fed and to bed, get them to practice on time, make sure they brush their teeth and wash their hair......and always make sure their piggy bank is flush, just in case the Tooth Fairy needs you to spot her a couple bucks........
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Bad Driver On Board
I am a terrible driver--no need to sugarcoat it. I take out curbs on a consistent basis, I have absolutely no depth perception, and my turn radius is piss poor. I was fine with this shortcoming when it was just me in the car, but now that I'm a Mommy Chauffeur I can't get away with anything and it totally stinks. The first time one of my kids ratted me out to my husband was several years ago. My son, Patrick, and I were leaving the mall and I backed into one of those cement pillar doohickey things....oops. He immediately took his sippy cup from his mouth and said, "Mommy, what was that?" "Oh nothing, sweetie. Everything is fine.....don't worry about it."
I never really thought about it again until dinner when Patrick announced, "Mommy went bump in the car today, Daddy!" I froze. I could not believe this was happening--he just started babbling a few words for the first time and all of a sudden he's forming sentences that drop me in the grease? Traitor.
Years have gone by since that fateful day and I'm still an awful driver. The only thing that's changed is now the jig is up and I can't slip anything past my clan--especially my hubby. He thought everything would remedy itself when he bought me an SUV that makes that beeping sound when you back up.....not so much.
Mommies you know how it is--you have a car full of kids (usually fighting), the radio is blaring, you're running late, pretzels are flinging about, etc. It's all you can do to stay between the lines on the road much less not have a minor mishap. The last "bump" I was involved in took place on a narrow street when another big mommy bus tried to pass me and our side mirrors clashed. We stopped, rolled down our windows, gave each other a nervous smile and waited for someone to speak..."I'm so sorry about that. I really thought I could squeeze by you," said the other mommy. "Me too. Guess it's tighter than it looks," I replied. We both looked out our windows to survey the mirror damage and just kind of shrugged at the scrapes and small dents. "I don't think it really did anything, do you?" "Huh-uh," said my new friend. "Actually, I think those marks were already there," I said, "I can't be too sure. I'm good." "Me too," she said. And that was the end of it. Just another day in the life of mommy driving with no time to waste on the small stuff........
I never really thought about it again until dinner when Patrick announced, "Mommy went bump in the car today, Daddy!" I froze. I could not believe this was happening--he just started babbling a few words for the first time and all of a sudden he's forming sentences that drop me in the grease? Traitor.
Years have gone by since that fateful day and I'm still an awful driver. The only thing that's changed is now the jig is up and I can't slip anything past my clan--especially my hubby. He thought everything would remedy itself when he bought me an SUV that makes that beeping sound when you back up.....not so much.
Mommies you know how it is--you have a car full of kids (usually fighting), the radio is blaring, you're running late, pretzels are flinging about, etc. It's all you can do to stay between the lines on the road much less not have a minor mishap. The last "bump" I was involved in took place on a narrow street when another big mommy bus tried to pass me and our side mirrors clashed. We stopped, rolled down our windows, gave each other a nervous smile and waited for someone to speak..."I'm so sorry about that. I really thought I could squeeze by you," said the other mommy. "Me too. Guess it's tighter than it looks," I replied. We both looked out our windows to survey the mirror damage and just kind of shrugged at the scrapes and small dents. "I don't think it really did anything, do you?" "Huh-uh," said my new friend. "Actually, I think those marks were already there," I said, "I can't be too sure. I'm good." "Me too," she said. And that was the end of it. Just another day in the life of mommy driving with no time to waste on the small stuff........
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)