There’s no way to avoid it, kids are curious, gross little creatures.
Just when you think your precious little cupcake couldn’t top their latest and greatest display of grotesqueness, you find out they have other vile tricks up their sleeve.
This past Thanksgiving, our dog had a litter of puppies. This was the first time my family had …
Why is it every kid in the neighborhood has to play at my house?
As I sit at my computer trying to focus, all I hear is the neighbor girl’s blood-curdling screams of joy while she chases my boys for a kiss or a touch. Go home. Better yet, go home forever and never come back.
I would say this to her but I don’t want to be responsible for her outpatient therapy in the future. I’ve told them all to play in the cul-de-sac or at her house but I’m pretty sure my kids are not allowed in her yard. Then again… they don’t WANT to play in her yard. She has a dog. I have sons and they are afraid of dogs. What did I eat while I was pregnant?
I don’t think other parents are dumb enough to let this go on every day.
Are we the fun parents on …
I remember that night last October better than I recall what I had for lunch yesterday. I learned an invaluable lesson in mommyhood. If you are crouched next to the shower spraying poop off of your daughter’s behind, you should be mindful of where you rest your arm. Because if you accidentally lean into the …
If I have to go to Walgreen’s one more time to buy tape I’ll strangle myself. I would strangle the kids but I’m not sure I have time to go to prison. I say the kids, because it’s they who steal my tape.
They tape everything. It’s on my new carpet, toothpicks, and all the army men. What the tape is supposed to do is beyond me. But okay. If they like it so much, I’ll just throw a couple of rolls into their Christmas stockings this year. Santa gives tape right?
While I’m at it, I’ll stop over to McDonald’s and speak to the manager about putting tape into the Happy Meals instead of useless, boring toys.
I’ve tried to hide the rolls of tape. The kids know every single one of my hiding spots though, so forget that. I need a high place, a high shelf that even they can’t reach. Wait a second… I can’t reach the LOW shelves either …
Our son gave me a funny look as he sat across the table from me. We were eating breakfast when he sneezed.
A huge glob of nasty nose fluid hung suspended in mid-air from the tip of his face.
He started to freak out. He cried as if the world were ending. He was on the brink of hysteria.
I sprang …
As I sat in front of the TV eating chocolate chips, one fell and I couldn’t find it. I figured my dog would find it, so no need to search. When I repositioned my son (who was sleeping on my lap), this is what I saw. My first reaction was: “How the EFF did he …
What’s the last text you want to get from your husband when you’re away from home? “We really shouldn’t leave the Super Glue where the kids can reach it.”
Those who have experienced the undeniable need to sacrifice your attachment to cleanliness and a small piece of your sanity in a wretched public restroom can appreciate the contrasting experience of heeding that same call in the comfort of your very own bathroom.
At home, in your private sanctuary, you have the clean seat, the tidy bowl, the stack of outdated yet unread magazines and the perfect combination of wipes and extra quilted paper for your delicate behind. It is the nirvana of potty breaks.
That is, of course, unless you live in a house filled with a motley assortment of teens, tweens and toddlers. In that case, the home is filled with bathrooms that are only one small step above public facilities. We have the random sprinkling of drips and, more often than not, a clogged toilet.
Could it be the carb-heavy, fiber-free diet of the average American youth, or perhaps the …
You stand alone in the kitchen sipping coffee, enjoying a quiet morning sunrise when you hear a tiny sneeze. Normally this would be odd, but you’re holding a baby, so it’s just cute.
Especially when the baby smiles because she finds sneezing funny.
Coffee in one hand, baby in the other. Out of the corner of your eye you notice something other than the smile on the baby’s face. Actually, you notice two things: two long strands of thick, yellow mucus oozing out of her nostrils.
She doesn’t seem to notice them, as the hilarity of the sneeze occupies her mind enough to ignore the sensation of the fluid leaking out of her face. Then her fist twitches, and starts to move.
The flash of a possible future barrels through your mind… the tiny fist, smearing mucus over her face in a wide swath… caked and crusty eyebrows… eyelashes delicately holding droplets of snot, …
My seven-year-old woke me up.
“Why are you waking me up in the middle of the night?” I asked.
“It’s the morning, Mommy.” she said.
So it was.
My body was 3am-tired and my head was muddled. I couldn’t remember what I had been dreaming, but I halfway remembered getting really silly the night before.
“Silly?” I asked myself. “Why would I get silly?”
After I was dressed and had a cup of coffee, I went online and saw it: Facebook activity. Tons of it. Right around midnight the night before. The coffee helped me wake up and piece together what happened.
This is the 40-something Mom version of Girls Gone Wild.
The party started in my bed. I was sitting up in my bed, typing on my laptop. I was alone. I was drinking.
I was drinking Deep Eddy’s Sweet Tea Vodka with water over ice. This is my favorite drink for after the kids are in bed. …
Day 07 of the fever sickness. It’s not the sickness but the isolation that will get you.
Nina has definitely had some flashes of being out of touch. I can only hope she will regain her social identity and leave this behind at some point. She has taken to pulling out hair (first from my head …
Remember the story about Goldilocks, who theoretically trespassed on the private property of those three bears, unmaking all their beds and eating all their porridge? And remember how that Mama Bear came home and knew instinctively that there had been some unauthorized crap going on in her house while she was gone?
The longer I’m a mother, the less plausible it seems. Do we really think some Random-Little-Blonde-Girl wreaked all that havoc on her own? Isn’t it more likely that those idiot bears left their Teenaged-Son-Bear home unsupervised?
I’m betting that, just like me, Mrs. Bear arrived home after a lovely weekend and bearly had time to set down her purse and overnight bag before she noticed the tell-tale signs that something was amiss.
A more believable story: Once upon a time there was family. A Mom, A Dad and three little Girls.
Were these girls DRAMA? Of course they were! Did they cry …
5:00 pm: Locate the one, specific plate they will each condescend to eat off of. They will usually be dirty. Clean them.
5:05 pm: Fill their plates with food. Be sure to include:
a. One food they will almost definitely eat (this will be something that only technically qualifies as food, like Chef Boyardee or hot dogs).
b. One food they might, possibly, in a fit of wild adventureness, decide to try one bite of before spitting out (this will be something unassuming looking, like rice, or maybe carrots).
c. One food they will never in a million years touch but which you feel you must put on their plates for your own peace of mind (this will be something green).
5:20 pm: Make your own dinner. This will be leftovers, since after cooking for the kids you don’t have time to cook for yourself.
5:22 pm: Call the kids to the table.
5:23 pm: Kid #1 …
With all the craziness of downsizing from 1600 sq. ft. home to a 320 sq. ft. trailer to see the lower 48 states in a year-long family road trip, I’ve had some control issues. This has caused the word “No” to come out of my mouth more often than I would like.
So when my daughter mentioned …