I have to have the nastiest carpets in 'hood. Last week, a few drops of coffee sploshed out of my mug to the carpet, and I didn't even bother to try to clean it. It's that bad. Although completely mortifying, the nice thing about totally ruined carpet, is that it's less stressful. When the Pinenut pees on the carpet, Mr. Hilarious spills red wine, the Walnut barfs, or the Peanut knocks over a full mug of coffee, it's okay. I mean it's already ruined. Note how none of it is my fault. Mr. Hilarious has gotten to the point where he doesn't like to invite people over. The carpets coupled with our 1970 hand me down pink and blue tweed couch with a gash in one cushion and neon green gum on the other is simply too much for him. I, on the other hand, am the first to volunteer to host a play date. 20 kids, glitter glue and kool-aid - no problem.
Lately, the carpets have gone from stained to filthy. My husband inferred "we" weren't vacuuming enough. "We" means "me" since I am the sole cleaner which is why the home is a mess. I discovered that our pricey Dyson cleaner (a gift from my mother in law - a hint, maybe?) was not doing the job. It wasn't sucking at all, or it totally sucked depending how fond of puns you are. So I finally got around to taking it into a repair shop. While there, my Pinenut says "I have to pee on the potty!" While he doesn't do this at home, I have to take him when he asks. When we emerge from the bathroom, the repair-man has the Dyson in pieces and is holding a popsicle stick.
"Here's the problem!" Apparently that stick lodged in one of the pipes which created a dam for popcorn, and the tube was totally blocked. I was so excited that the machine wasn't broken. The shop is mother, son plus the grandma and grandpa and two dogs! How can you not trust these people? However, when the repair-man says "I'll clean her up for you and give it a basic tune up for $80," I wanted to say "oh, no thanks!" and scoop up all the pieces and bolt. That is probably bad form with the whole family there, so I skulked away thinking I just wiped out my "miscellaneous" money for the month.
Then the repair man calls the next day saying I need a new belt for 60 more bucks. I asked Mr. Hilarious who said "I guess we have to pay. I mean, it's not like we really know." And we don't really know, so what can we do? So I paid $140 dollars for sucking up a Popsicle stick, which shouldn't have been on the carpet in the first place. That's basically a new vacuum. Looking on the bright side, it is nice to have a working vacuum. I came home and vacuumed, filling an entire canister in just one room. Gross! I then borrowed my friend's steam cleaner. I have to say, the carpets look awesome. Mr. Hilarious says, "They still like look garbage." True. But it's clean garbage.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Good Mom
I have always had a selection of kids CDs, but rarely listen to them. I prefer 92.3 or classic rock or NPR. Unfortunately, my kids scream about how much they hate it so loud that I can't hear anything. So I have done something that I think deserves a gold medal in motherhood. I have started to listen to the annoying kid songs. I am not talking radio Disney here. I have gone all out library CD in 5 of my six 6 CD spots in the car. You wouldn't think this was worth mentioning. However, I have just spent an entire day of carpooling and errand running listening to the Backyardagains. Those little sh*ts may look cute, but without their rad dance moves, they are unbearably annoying. I'm tone deaf, and even I can tell that one of them can not hit a note to save her life. Alas, my two year old is obsessed. The five year old is even on board. My oldest is happy with all music, as long as she can along. She may actually be the before mentioned character who can't hit a note. So when my pinenut asks "mommy, can we play it again, please?" and I say, "okay" (I do groan. I am not arguing that I am perfect), it is the mark of great self sacrifice.
Because I could see this small gesture of unselfish parenting quickly driving me to insanity and possibly causing me to drive into a guard rail simply to make the singing stop, I spent close to an hour researching kid music. I requested a dozen new CDs from the library. It is shocking how many popular artists have made children CDs. I selected performers that are already in my itunes library. Bob Dylan, Dave Matthews, Ziggy Marley, and Jewel are just a few who have made music for the three nuts in the backseat. I am so hopeful the kids will compromise with me on this before I rip the CD player from the dash. Not only would it be expensive to repair, but with 5 library CDs in there, I think I would have a replacement fine close to nine hundred bucks.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Werewolf
I want a dog. Mr. Hilarious wants a snake. We constantly feed information about these pets to our kids hoping the kids will want what we want enough to sway the other parent. We are both losing so we are currently a pet less home, and honestly, I am secretly glad I don't have yet another PIA.
So my Peanut is reading aloud from a book about a dog. From left field, my Walnut says "I want a snake." He obviously thinks his dad is super cool and is going to follow his cue.
The Pinenut says "I want a werewolf." I bust out laughing, but he is so serious.
He is thinking deeply, then says, "No I want a dog, because a werewolf is too scary for me." Well thank goodness we don't have a third pet in contention. And by the way, there is no way in hell we are getting a snake.
So my Peanut is reading aloud from a book about a dog. From left field, my Walnut says "I want a snake." He obviously thinks his dad is super cool and is going to follow his cue.
The Pinenut says "I want a werewolf." I bust out laughing, but he is so serious.
He is thinking deeply, then says, "No I want a dog, because a werewolf is too scary for me." Well thank goodness we don't have a third pet in contention. And by the way, there is no way in hell we are getting a snake.
The I Need a Break Contest
I heard my friend tell me that she was failing as mom. She is one of the most selfless, loving mothers I've ever met. What was more disheartening than hearing this wonderful mother doubt herself, is that I told her the exact same thing about myself the week before.
We read countless articles about how to raise a good eater, how to raise a thankful kid, how to raise the happiest kid on the block. Then when our kids don't follow the plan, we feel like failures. We feel really bad confessing that somedays the "perks" of parenting (cute smiles and seeing milestones) aren't enough. Kids can be PIAs. They really are. I know mine are in a continuous battle to push me until I rip out my eyes everyday.
The only reason I don't run for the hills is that I have wonderful friends who laugh with me about the same frustrations. I have a friend who often says, "I think I will walk out to the mailbox, and just keep on walking." I know that kids getting on my last nerve is part of parenting, and it's okay to admit that somedays I don't want to be a stay at home mom anymore. But I don't quit, and I deserve an award for that.
Our job is hard. To make it easier, we need to stop trying to be mother of the year, and start admitting our big busts. I want to read about other moms' mistakes and frustrations and then laugh and move on. Thus the "I need a break" contest. Enter your story when you felt like quitting, but didn't. Tell me about the day you actually walked to the mailbox, but managed to come back.
If I could, I would give every mom I know an all expense trip to a spa in the Caribbean. However, I am a stay at home mom, not an heiress. However, I will take $10 from my grocery budget and buy a Starbucks card. If the website ever generates money, I will add it all to the pot. For now, I will pick the winner each month. I am assuming I may only get one a month, so the winner will be easy to pick. If I start getting many entries, I will think of a new method.
Rules:
1. No bragging, and I won't be fooled by the "my daughter is so smart that she really embarrassed me" stories.
2. Keep it short. We're parents and don't have all day to sit in front of a computer screen.
3. Dads can enter too.
4. Don't get mad if you don't win. Enter again!
5. One entry per month.
6. Entries due the first day of the month before (example: for April's contest, entries are due March1st)
7. Email themommarathon@yahoo.com with entries nd questions.
We read countless articles about how to raise a good eater, how to raise a thankful kid, how to raise the happiest kid on the block. Then when our kids don't follow the plan, we feel like failures. We feel really bad confessing that somedays the "perks" of parenting (cute smiles and seeing milestones) aren't enough. Kids can be PIAs. They really are. I know mine are in a continuous battle to push me until I rip out my eyes everyday.
The only reason I don't run for the hills is that I have wonderful friends who laugh with me about the same frustrations. I have a friend who often says, "I think I will walk out to the mailbox, and just keep on walking." I know that kids getting on my last nerve is part of parenting, and it's okay to admit that somedays I don't want to be a stay at home mom anymore. But I don't quit, and I deserve an award for that.
Our job is hard. To make it easier, we need to stop trying to be mother of the year, and start admitting our big busts. I want to read about other moms' mistakes and frustrations and then laugh and move on. Thus the "I need a break" contest. Enter your story when you felt like quitting, but didn't. Tell me about the day you actually walked to the mailbox, but managed to come back.
If I could, I would give every mom I know an all expense trip to a spa in the Caribbean. However, I am a stay at home mom, not an heiress. However, I will take $10 from my grocery budget and buy a Starbucks card. If the website ever generates money, I will add it all to the pot. For now, I will pick the winner each month. I am assuming I may only get one a month, so the winner will be easy to pick. If I start getting many entries, I will think of a new method.
Rules:
1. No bragging, and I won't be fooled by the "my daughter is so smart that she really embarrassed me" stories.
2. Keep it short. We're parents and don't have all day to sit in front of a computer screen.
3. Dads can enter too.
4. Don't get mad if you don't win. Enter again!
5. One entry per month.
6. Entries due the first day of the month before (example: for April's contest, entries are due March1st)
7. Email themommarathon@yahoo.com with entries nd questions.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Threatened at McD
Saturday night we picked up the Walnut from friend's house. It was so late, and Mr. Hilarious was leaving for Vegas in the morning so we decided to stop at McD's for dinner. They have a play place, and while we don't usually eat dinner there, we go often for icecream and playtime.
Mr. H has a fear of condiments and knows that Murphey's Law forbids fast food restaurants of leaving his hambuger plain. After we all sit down, Mr. H discovers mustard and goes back to the counter to exchange them. It happens more often than not, so it's expected. We are sitting at the first table inside the door of the playplace, and the counter is straight out the door. It is taking Mr. H forever, and the lobby is packed with people. I see him tell the lady, and she calls the order back. It is still taking forever. I am finished eating, and the kids are already playing again. Now Mr. H is usually a polite guy, even when he has to wait an unreasonable amount of time. But when someone is rude to him, he doesn't shirk away. Which is what happened during a simple hamburger exchange on an innocent Saturday Night.
The manager comes out and says to the crowd "has everyone been helped?"
Mr. H says, very nicely, "actually, I am waiting on those hamburgers, sitting right there. I just want to exchange these"
The manager gives him a total blank look, looks over Mr. H's head and says louder "has everyone been helped."
And then Mr. H is no longer in the mood to polite and patient so imagine all of his dialouge with a smart tone.
He says, "no, man, I have not been helped. I want those hamburgers right there."
Now the manager must have had a very bad day, because he immediately adapts an angry tone.
Manager, "You can't talk to me that way!"
Mr. H: "What is your problem? Just give me my hamburgers!"
Manager: "You need to show me some respect"
Mr. H: "You need to show me some respect!"
Manager: Nostrils flaring, "This is my store."
Mr. H: "Just give me my hamburgers, and I'll go."
Then manager throws the hamburgers at Mr. H, who gives the hairy eye ball and starts heading back to the childplace.
Manager (now yelling across the lobby) "That's right, you better walk away before something happens!"
Mr. H (also yelling) "What's gonna happen? What are you gonna do?"
He turns and comes into child area, packed with kids and parents all staring at him, agape.
But it's not over. The manager comes across the counter, storms through the crowd of people in the lobby, busts into the child area and puffs his chest into Mr. H's face and yells "You want something to happen? Let's make it happen! Come on, make it happen"
Mr. H's eyes are the same height as this man's chest. He's big and mean and mad. Mr. H is visibly shaking he is so mad. He says through gritted teeth, "I am here with my family."
I stand and am hysterically yelling, "there are kids in here!"
The entire McD's staff has cleared the kitchen and drive thru area and are all yelling for the manager to come back. So he turns and leaves and Mr. H says we have to go. By the time we call our kids and get their shoes on, the whole store has emptied. If I had an iphone, I could've recorded it, send it to McD's corporate and be sitting on a yacht right now. As it is, we are afraid to make a formal complaint so that crazy man would have our names and address. So Mr. H is writing an anonymous letter and I am boycotting McD's. That'll show them!
When Mr. H said "we're never going there again!" I agreed, but secretly thought, "No Mcd play land? Great, another thing that makes my life harder!
Mr. H has a fear of condiments and knows that Murphey's Law forbids fast food restaurants of leaving his hambuger plain. After we all sit down, Mr. H discovers mustard and goes back to the counter to exchange them. It happens more often than not, so it's expected. We are sitting at the first table inside the door of the playplace, and the counter is straight out the door. It is taking Mr. H forever, and the lobby is packed with people. I see him tell the lady, and she calls the order back. It is still taking forever. I am finished eating, and the kids are already playing again. Now Mr. H is usually a polite guy, even when he has to wait an unreasonable amount of time. But when someone is rude to him, he doesn't shirk away. Which is what happened during a simple hamburger exchange on an innocent Saturday Night.
The manager comes out and says to the crowd "has everyone been helped?"
Mr. H says, very nicely, "actually, I am waiting on those hamburgers, sitting right there. I just want to exchange these"
The manager gives him a total blank look, looks over Mr. H's head and says louder "has everyone been helped."
And then Mr. H is no longer in the mood to polite and patient so imagine all of his dialouge with a smart tone.
He says, "no, man, I have not been helped. I want those hamburgers right there."
Now the manager must have had a very bad day, because he immediately adapts an angry tone.
Manager, "You can't talk to me that way!"
Mr. H: "What is your problem? Just give me my hamburgers!"
Manager: "You need to show me some respect"
Mr. H: "You need to show me some respect!"
Manager: Nostrils flaring, "This is my store."
Mr. H: "Just give me my hamburgers, and I'll go."
Then manager throws the hamburgers at Mr. H, who gives the hairy eye ball and starts heading back to the childplace.
Manager (now yelling across the lobby) "That's right, you better walk away before something happens!"
Mr. H (also yelling) "What's gonna happen? What are you gonna do?"
He turns and comes into child area, packed with kids and parents all staring at him, agape.
But it's not over. The manager comes across the counter, storms through the crowd of people in the lobby, busts into the child area and puffs his chest into Mr. H's face and yells "You want something to happen? Let's make it happen! Come on, make it happen"
Mr. H's eyes are the same height as this man's chest. He's big and mean and mad. Mr. H is visibly shaking he is so mad. He says through gritted teeth, "I am here with my family."
I stand and am hysterically yelling, "there are kids in here!"
The entire McD's staff has cleared the kitchen and drive thru area and are all yelling for the manager to come back. So he turns and leaves and Mr. H says we have to go. By the time we call our kids and get their shoes on, the whole store has emptied. If I had an iphone, I could've recorded it, send it to McD's corporate and be sitting on a yacht right now. As it is, we are afraid to make a formal complaint so that crazy man would have our names and address. So Mr. H is writing an anonymous letter and I am boycotting McD's. That'll show them!
When Mr. H said "we're never going there again!" I agreed, but secretly thought, "No Mcd play land? Great, another thing that makes my life harder!
Big Hairy Goal
Every month I have a new plan for what I am going to do when the kids are all in school. I do not live and breathe for my kids. I want a life all my own and thing staying at home is wonderful, yet totally unfulfilling. Many moms are content staying home, I am just not one of them. I chose to stay home because I really do believe it is best for my kids. However, I also did not have much choice because I did not have a job that could pay for daycare (let alone three kids' daycare) So here I am, nine years removed from the work place (not counting the serving jobs and baby sitting stints). What am I going to do?
Recently my ideas have been: nurse, paralegal, freelance writer, author, Montessori teacher, eco center/family garden business owner, costume designer, yoga instructor, college prof. Seriously, I am all over the place and unsure where to go. Every time I say "I have a new idea!" Mr. Hilarious tries not to laugh.
I am going to start small. If I am going to be a blog writer, I need to write more regularly (daily?) and have a little focus. I haven't even told anyone about this blog because I think no one would want to read stories of my life. I need a little more focus. I need a niche. I really need a happy nappy. Maybe it will come in my dreams.
Recently my ideas have been: nurse, paralegal, freelance writer, author, Montessori teacher, eco center/family garden business owner, costume designer, yoga instructor, college prof. Seriously, I am all over the place and unsure where to go. Every time I say "I have a new idea!" Mr. Hilarious tries not to laugh.
I am going to start small. If I am going to be a blog writer, I need to write more regularly (daily?) and have a little focus. I haven't even told anyone about this blog because I think no one would want to read stories of my life. I need a little more focus. I need a niche. I really need a happy nappy. Maybe it will come in my dreams.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Hair Cut
I have a secret addiction to Groupon. What a great invention. All the things that I would never spend money on, sent right to my email at half price. I am a spontanious buyer and have managed to create a nice little stockpile of deals in my groupon account. When I recently checked my groupons, I had bought seven and not spent one of them. I decided I needed to get on it before I became one of the those horder ladies who bought junk and crammed into a room until there was no where left in the house to stand. So I decided to spend my groupon to a fancy salon. For 25 bucks I got $80 to spend at a swanky salon where prices for a haircut start at $50. I had already cut about 15 inches for locks of love six months ago. My hair was still short, but I could just squeeze it into a pony. In truth, I liked my long hair and want to grow it back. However, when you are used to getting your hair cut by the students at the hair school, and you get a chance for a $50 hair cut, you can't just get a trim. So I told my stylist I wanted a new look, and it could be anything as long as it was low maintence. By that, I mean airdried and done. I am not going to kid myself into pretending I will ever blow dry or flat iron my hair regularly. I am lucky if I run a brush through it. Yep, I am that mom, and I am really not all that embarrassed about it.
So the hairstylist asks me, "if you had to put a sign on your head with one word, what would it say?" I wanted to say, "Desperately trying not to lose my mind," but that's more than one word. When I didn't immediately supply him an answer, he made suggestions: "Trendy, classic, sophisticated?" Well, none of those... "Fun!" I said, very sure of myself. So he gave me a very fun, super short do that flips out all over the place and looks great airdried. It looks terrible straight out of bed, so now I have to take a shower before I go anywhere. I usually only take showers after I run or before a fancy date, so I think I will be buying lots of hats.
When I saw my son after the big cut, he looked at me, smiled sheepishly, and said "you cut your hair." I said, "yea! Isn't it fun?" He kept smiling but didn't answer. My daughter jumped in and started talking nonstop about the hair cut and her hair cut and remember when we both got our hair cut. When she came up for air, I quickly said, "I don't think your brother likes my hair." He said, "Well, I was trying to keep my feelings to myself." How sweet. It's okay that I am raising a boy who likes long hair as long he doesn't want to hurt feelings more.
So the hairstylist asks me, "if you had to put a sign on your head with one word, what would it say?" I wanted to say, "Desperately trying not to lose my mind," but that's more than one word. When I didn't immediately supply him an answer, he made suggestions: "Trendy, classic, sophisticated?" Well, none of those... "Fun!" I said, very sure of myself. So he gave me a very fun, super short do that flips out all over the place and looks great airdried. It looks terrible straight out of bed, so now I have to take a shower before I go anywhere. I usually only take showers after I run or before a fancy date, so I think I will be buying lots of hats.
When I saw my son after the big cut, he looked at me, smiled sheepishly, and said "you cut your hair." I said, "yea! Isn't it fun?" He kept smiling but didn't answer. My daughter jumped in and started talking nonstop about the hair cut and her hair cut and remember when we both got our hair cut. When she came up for air, I quickly said, "I don't think your brother likes my hair." He said, "Well, I was trying to keep my feelings to myself." How sweet. It's okay that I am raising a boy who likes long hair as long he doesn't want to hurt feelings more.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Crazy train
I've been riding the crazy train the past few weeks and I am not sure if it's MY train that's crazy or if I am on someone else's crazy train. I am going with latter because if unclear, why not blame someone else? Mr. Hilarious has always joked that I attract crazy people. He even suspects he might be crazy and not know it since the vast majority of my friends are crazy. Most aren't my real friends, but I keep them around for entertainment value. If I didn't open myself up to these crazy people, I would be much more boring at dinner parties. But with a chronic liar who was so smart mensa asked her join, but was too hung over to sign papers, there is always a great story. I know a woman who runs thirty miles a week just so she can use the child watch at the gym and get a break from her kids. Wait that's me, but I never said I wasn't a little crazy. I'm just not as crazy as the woman who included her pot growing room on the tour of her home during a playdate, or a woman who had an affair, got pregnant, went back to husband and they raised the baby like the affair never happened. Really, I know these people. They are living amoung us in sububia. And really they are great, funny people, 90% of the time.
But sometimes, the drama is too much and I have to get off the train. Lately, I've been feeling less social and wondering if I need to simplify. I already decluttered the whole house, and now may be the best time to declutter my social time. People ask me for my time and I feel guilty saying no. So I make room for them and run out of time for the people I care about most. I talk on the phone way too much. I talk way too much. This month, I am going to practice the art of silence. I am going to use the phone for no longer than ten minutes at a time. I will ask three questions before talking about myself. I will take one run a week alone. I don't even know if silence is better than talking, but I hope it will be less stress and more time with my family. I want to be a good friend to people, but I can't be a good friend to so many people that I am not a good friend to my family and to myself.
But sometimes, the drama is too much and I have to get off the train. Lately, I've been feeling less social and wondering if I need to simplify. I already decluttered the whole house, and now may be the best time to declutter my social time. People ask me for my time and I feel guilty saying no. So I make room for them and run out of time for the people I care about most. I talk on the phone way too much. I talk way too much. This month, I am going to practice the art of silence. I am going to use the phone for no longer than ten minutes at a time. I will ask three questions before talking about myself. I will take one run a week alone. I don't even know if silence is better than talking, but I hope it will be less stress and more time with my family. I want to be a good friend to people, but I can't be a good friend to so many people that I am not a good friend to my family and to myself.
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