Nope, you are NEVER too old for PlayDoh!
BONUS points if you can, uh, guess which 14 yo is, you know, mine?
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If You Give a 14 Year-Old PlayDoh
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So, This Housewife Answers the Door
(Dude, stop me if you’ve already heard this one!)I know, I know, I said it…housewife…it's a bad word…however, rather than get into a debate on whether stay-at-home mom is any better (honestly, I really don't give two bon-bons about labels) say what you want, just, don't call me desperate.
Unless, we're all out of coffee AND milk [shiver] or, the microwave explodes AND takes the toaster with it.
What? It can happen, trust me.
Aaaaanyway, I work from home…BAH!…there I go again…okay, so, like do working moms stop working, you know, once they get home from work?
Color me confused (preferably, in a soft and slightly muted tone, like, heather gray) but, I thought we were ALL passed the, I know you are, but what am I, sort of thing.
Until, yesterday.
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Parenting Tip #3,100,188:
Don’t Worry, They’re Wrong
It Does NOT Get Any Easier!
I worry about my children. What? You, too!?!? Oh, thank goodness, because I thought parents of preschoolers were the only ones allowed to, you know, NOT know what they are doing.You see, once I became a parent (i.e. someone's mother, not apparent, like in an easily noticed sort of way) I was told (by other parents) when my children hit kindergarten (i.e. started school full-time, not hit, like in a smack with a hammer sort of way) that my job was, you know, DONE!
And I believed them.
After all, having raised 4 babies, to toddlerhood (yes, it's a word!) and beyond, it IS hard work (and I mean that in every sense of the word) heck, I've got the eye baggage to prove it.
"Have a GREAT day at school, Sweetie!!!"
[pumps fist into air]
"WHOOT…WE DID IT!!!"
Yes, I actually played that scene, just like that, over and over again (in my head) and when that 1st day of school FINALLY came, well…
"WHOOT!!!"
…yah, it was pretty much like that.
"Ummmm…now what?"
Figuring out what to do with myself was never really an issue (not with ANOTHER kid, at home) until my youngest hit started full-time kindergarten and…well…you know.
"What are you going to do with your day? "
Et tu, Garth (not his real name?)
Oh, I was very happy and not just because my husband took me to breakfast that fateful morning.
Right now, those of you who know that Hope is in the 4th grade (I think!) I bet you're wondering, you know, how DO I remember that, right?
Well, I was finding ways in which I can avoid doing the laundry cleaning out my files, when I came across this blog post I wrote waaaaay back in 2006.
So what, right?
Well, I read the rest of my post (because, well, I am my BIGGEST fan) and this is the part that got me, but good:
"I've got tons of stuff to do…there's a pile of mail on my desk
that I need to go through…not to mention laundry…and tons of stuff
that don't fit the kids…I need to sift through…before changing over
the closets for the fall…and I've got to organize their
rooms…better…before I can do that…which reminds me…I've got to
get the garage cleaned out…before I can finish renovating the
kitchen…and re-finish the dining room…I was hoping to start this
past summer…but, not before I finish wallpapering our room…I
started…three years ago…oh, crap…but, I'll have finish painting
Little Man's room, first…and…um…are you okay, Hon?"Long story, short (you're welcome!) my husband's eyes glazed over and then, well, he went to work.
So, what's my point?
[rolls up sleeves]
Although my writing HAS changed (sort of):
- there's a pile of mail on my desk I need to go through (it'll be there tomorrow)
- not to mention laundry (it NEVER ends)
- 2 of my kids have stuff that don't fit (boys don't care and the girl can borrow stuff from the other 2)
- closets haven't been changed (good thing, it's gonna be 90 degrees tomorrow)
- garage isn't cleaned out (because, we're STILL not finished renovating the kitchen)
- kitchen is STILL not renovated (see above)
- dining room STILL needs refinishing (because, my room STILL needs wallpaper, the boys room painting… etc…)
Why? Because, I'm STILL busy worrying about AND still doing OTHER stuff for my kids…dammit!
[crosses arms]
Why am I telling you ALL this?
[rolls eyes]
Okay, so once YOUR kids are in school full-time and folks begin telling YOU that, you know, your job is done…don't worry about it!
[rolls up sleeves]
Just send them my way…I'll fix 'em…REAL good!
[reaches for hammer]
Heck, isn't that what blogging's for?
[sound of crickets chirping]
Well, I feel better; how about you?
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Barefoot Parenting
(Pants ARE optional!)Playing the concentration game, on the fitness trail, while being bombed with acorns by militant squirrels, it's a gift.
Balance. Either you have it, or you don't. Then again, maybe you're one of those people who, over the years, have taken one too many nose dives into the asphalt and learned to NOT over-complicate a situation by, you know, wearing shoes.
[sound of crickets chirping]
No? Okay. Perhaps you're one of THOSE people who stop, look back and are all like…WHOA!…did you see that?!? Then swear that it came straight out of the ground (whatever it was) grabbed you by the ankles and, you know, face meets asphalt, the end.[cricket]
Allllllrighty then.
"Shouldn't you be wearing shoes?!?"
Me? I used to wear heels. Until, I had kids. Now, I have enough trouble strutting my stuff on the sidewalk (without falling down) or, maybe it's my bohemian roots, beginning show (among other, more grayish ones, I mean) and perhaps, I should just change my name to Agador Spartucus.
"Shoes make me fall down!"
Who knows? Since turning 40-something-or-another (closer to another, if you must know, DAMMIT!) maybe, I'm just getting back in tune with the earth (ahem!) like that hippie dude on Dual Survival and his…um…friend…who sort of remind me of an old married couple (cough!) with kids (cough, cough!) but, DAYUM if they don't make for entertaining television.
Hey. Hang on. There's a novel idea. Perhaps I should start evangelizing the benefits of "barefoot parenting!"You know, I can be the minimalist and primitive skills expert, trained in counterbalanced living and suburban preparedness…like, yes, she's texting (AGAIN!) but, they ARE outside and what if one of them breaks an arm, or something, right?
With 17 years of combined tween and teenage survival experience…like, yes, he's wearing low rise, skinny-something-or-another…but…um…at least, he's NOT playing a video game, right?Balance. It's ALL a matter of perspective. Sure, I can insist he pull his pants up (DAMMIT!) then again, this picture wouldn't be half as funny and, more importantly, just fade into yet another missed opportunity in increasing my "Break curfew again, bub and I'll show your girlfriend," arsenal, to boot!
"Um, mom?"
Maybe THEN the Discovery Channel will give me my OWN show!
"Mom?"
Aaaand, I will FINALLY get to go to an island!
"Mommy?"
Where no one cares who you are (or, aren't) where you are from (originally) and that you weigh more than what's on your driver's license (ahem) or, that you've worn white (AFTER Labor Day) with pink underwear (cough) and forgot to shave your legs, AGAIN!
"Mom?"
Oh, but there IS a bed (dogless, catless, hairless and MATCHING pillows) a VERY large bathroom (with a double sink) with room service (a sun-kissed-20-something-or-another with, dark eyes and a wicked tan) giving you undivided attention and an endless supply of fruity cocktails…FOR FREE!
"Mommy?"
Aaaand maybe then (and ONLY then) will the tired, frustrated and gravity-challenged parents of the world (like me) truly unite and achieve GREATNESS!!!
"Mooooommeeeee!"
[blink, blink]
"It's okay that you're driving in your pajamas, right?"
Except on Mondays, then ALL bets are off, DAMMIT!!!
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September 11, 2010
The Names Continue
Originally published for the Imperfect Parent September 11, 2008 — republished here, as the reading of the names continue — I will never forget…
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Children of the REAL Jersey Shore
(Now with MORE zeppoles!)Wake me up when Septemberrrrrr ends!
I love the beach this time of year. The fresh, salty air is a bit chillier, which makes the water seem much, much warmer and, well, most of the Bennies (i.e., the cast of the Jersey Shore, mostly, ironically enough) have ALL gone home.
"When was the last time we were at this beach, again?!?"
I get it. I was young, once (shuddup!) and could NOT wait for Friday nights, in the summer, when we'd head down the Parkway to Seaside Heights and/or Wildwood Crest and sneak into bars study the bible, ALL weekend long!
"I remember, Momma, it was when we showed Dana the ocean!"
I'd forgotten. Yeah, it really was the day we introduced my bloggy friend Dana to the ocean — she's from Wisconsin!
"Has it been THAT long?!?"
Sadly, my kids have outgrown Jenkinson's Boardwalk.
Glen's 1st trip to the boardwalk — Jenkinson's 1999
It really is just the right size for little ones; ALL tuckered out by nap time (me, too) and we'd be loooong gone by the time the Jersey Shore night life, you know, woke up.
"I thought that ride was SO MUCH bigger!"
Then, before you know it, YOUR kids meet the maximum 48 inches to ride and, well, you know, you can't go back."Can we get zeppoles?!?"
Yesterday, however, was a GREAT day to get out (considering, September also translates to, "school holiday," in Jersey!) and housewife is such an oxymoron, dontchathink?
Mmmmm….the view inside a big bag of zeppoles (pronounced as zep-poh-leez) or, fried dough, drowning in powdered sugar, if you're NOT from Jersey."Noooo, I want funnel cake!!!"
Mmmmm…of course…(or, auf-cawse, if you're from Jersey) there's ALWAYS room for funnel cake!!!"Wanna eat it on the beach?!?"
Bet you did NOT know we had palm trees, or blue skies, here in Jersey, right? Are they real? You know, I really don't know."This was really an AWESOME day, Momma!"
What we DO know is that there's SO MUCH more to Jersey than what some reality t.v. shows would care to admit, sort of.
"Too bad you ran outta money for the rides!"
Of course, it most likely will not be the one that my kids remember but, let's NOT go there…just yet…m'kay!?!?
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Wordless Wednesday:
Not Listening!Taken with my cell phone. Imagine what I could do with a REAL camera? Yeah, I'm looking at you, Garth (not his real name!)
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This is What it Sounds Like, When Butterflies Cry
This is what 6:15 a.m. looks like, in Jersey!
The morning came quickly, as it usually does to a seasoned (i.e. perpetually perplexed and severely sleep-deprived) parent (like me) and, unlike most mornings, I let the dog out, while my husband started the coffee (bless his squishy heart) and we both continued to pretend like last night did NOT happen.
"She's in tears."
Long story, short (you're welcome) unlike her 3 siblings, today is the 1st day of school for my middle girl.
"What DID you say to her?"
Suffice it to say, I've earned yet ANOTHER ✔ mark in reasons why I make OTHER mothers look good (really, don't mention it!) by upsetting my daughter to the point of tears, on the night before her 1st day of high school.
"She started it!"
Did I forget to mention, her mother also happens to have the emotional maturity of a 9 year-old?!?
SLAM!
So, rather than expose my children to further examples of what NOT to do, for which I'm hoping their future significant others will thank me for, later (probably not) I took a self-imposed time out on our front porch.
Did I forget to mention, our front porch is NOT screened in, or the fact that I absolutely DESPISE bugs?!?
GAH!
So, rather than risk being eaten by mutant moths (Mothra lives!) I swallowed my mommy pride and slunked back into the house.
SLUNK!
"Can I talk to you, Mom?"
Long story, short (yeah, I know, I lied) we ARE a lot alike (my 14 year-old and me, I mean) and we were both just stressed out (to the MAX) by the fact that, you know, she is going into high school.
"Don't worry, Sweetie, you'll be just fiiiine!"
Boy, if I had a dollar for each time I lied (like that) well, you know.
"But, you're so far away, Mom!"
Did I forget to mention, she was accepted into a career academy, that happens to be 25 miles away (i.e. approx. 30 minutes, if you're from Jersey) and that the bus picks her up at 6:25 a.m.?!?
"Doesn't anybody stay in one place, aaaaanymore?!?"
[blank stare]
"It would be SO FINE to see your face at my door…"
[blink, blink]
"…doesn't help to know, that you're so…"
Did I forget to mention, whenever faced with a difficult parenting situation, under extreme pressure, I often break into song.
"Okay, you can STOP singing now!"
If only it were THAT easy.
Kindergarten Halloween Parade 2001
"Long ago I reached for you, and there you stood…"
Freshman in High School 2010
"Holding you again could only do me good…how I wish I could, but you're so far away…AND, I know you love me, aaaaaanyway."
[bites lower lip]
Okay, I added that last part in, but Heather and me, yeah, we're good (for now) and PLEASE don't tell her, or the part about her mother being SUCH a dork.
[heavy sigh]
Because, she's MY daughter and…trust me, she already knows…bless her squishy little heart!!!
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The 11th First Day of School
"Wait, let me take your picture!!!"
My 11 year-old son (the ONLY boy in the house, btw) is smiling, but inside I know that he was all, like, JEEZ!
"CRAP! Wait, it's too dark!"
Frankly, the kid has lived with me long enough to know that, you know, it's just easier to pretend EVERYONE'S mother is a dork (like me) especially, on the first day of school.
"Okay, now, smile!"
DAMMIT! Hang on. Can I just, you know, UGH!!! Wait a minute. Is he? Nooooo. Who am I kidding? Maybe he was just wiping some leftover sleep from his eye. Or, a bug flew up his nose (it COULD happen) still, it would be nice to think that my kids, you know, like having me around, kind of, sort of, too.
"Wait, let me take your picture!!!"
My youngest daughter (she's 9) was packed and ready to start school, a couple of weeks ago and, no, I can't say as I blame her.
"CRAP! Wait, it's too light!"
She's the last of my kids to ever enter the 4th grade and, I'm sorry, but I just don't remember the other 3 ever looking THIS little.
"Okay, now, smile!"
DAMMIT! They just NEVER wait, anymore, do they? Maybe she was feeling sorry for her baby sister (ahem) or, because she's a freshman now and doesn't start HER high school until next week (SOB!) still, it would be nice to think that my kids, you know, really do like each other, kind of, sort of, too.
"Wait a minute…"
[scrolls thru cell phone]
"…who did I forget?"
DAMMIT! I'm just NOT ready to admit that MY OLDEST IS A JUNIOR IN HIGH SCHOOL!!! Maybe, it was just WAY too early in the morning and I couldn't find my phone (it COULD happen) still, it would be nice to think that she already knows, after ALL these years, I love her, just the same.
Wait a minute!
Does a "night before school starts" picture of my coloring her hair count for at least something?!?
[sound of many crickets, chirping]
Besides, the fact that, you know, YES, I am one of THOSE moms and, well, there could be worse things.
[ducks lightning bolt]
Like, she could have a mother stupid enough to actually leave that picture (up there) on Flickr, right?
[cricket]
Riiiiiight. Wait a minute. She DOES read my blog. D'OH! Never mind.
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When You Give a Doofus-Dawg a Watermelon
Doofus-Dawg on Watermelon
I love my dog. Truly, I do. Most of the time. He is a rescue. They found him tied to a dumpster. I can only imagine his life, b.u. (before us) still, there ARE pretty good reasons why we also refer to Rudolph as Doofus-Dawg (a.k.a. Pinhead) and why my husband, Garth (not his real name) texted me, while I was having dinner with the kids at my folks' house, last night.
"Wet sticky spot on living room rug, trail of dried juice on kitchen floor, watermellon gone, dish appears not to have broken, I'm not speaking to the dog."
Yes, he spelled watermelon wrong, so, I knew he WAS, you know, pretty angry.
"Where r u?"
Aaaand, I didn't answer him (right away) because, you know, I was THE ONE who left the watermelon on the counter.
"Why is the floor SO sticky?"
My son (he's 11 and, besides the dog and cat, is the ONLY boy in the house) woke up in a HORRIBLE mood, this morning.
"Rudolph ate some watermelon, last night."
Aaaand, he seems to be paying for it (see photo above) too.
"Ah, man, you kiddin' me, who left the watermelon out?"
Apparently, he wanted some.
"Um…Daddy DID!"
Relax. One good rescue deserves another, right? Besides, I'll tell him the truth, later (maybe) suffice it to say, I'm the one that has to live with the boy, for the next 8 hours, or so.
"AH, MAN!!!"
School starts tomorrow…THANKGAWD…stupid dog!!!