Torture

I take my role as family pain inflictor very seriously.

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For this reason I try to have the best torture devices out there in my home.

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I'll do anything to elicit screams, wails, moans, groans, and outright begging for mercy.

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The louder they complain, the better mother I am... right?

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What is your favorite way to torture children?

Why I Don't Blog

I love blogging, I really do. So what keeps me from posting on a regular basis? This does:

This is, for me, a raw and honest self portrait that I drew yesterday. I wish it were a sketch of me playing with my kids, reading a good book, working on one of my bazillion craft projects, decorating my home, laughing, walking outside, out on a date with my husband, or anything besides ignoring the world around me (including myself) as I stare blankly into my computer monitor. Oh, sure, I do most of these things every now and then, but statistically you are more likely to come over and see me doing this than anything else at any given moment. And this is why I don't blog most days. I have nothing to blog about.

I want to change. I want to change my self portrait. So I'm going to try and do a self portrait every week. They will be honest, and hopefully I can get them to start showing the me I want to be.

What would your self portrait look like?

Did You Know?

Did you know that Mr. Clean Magic Eraser doesn't work on dried boogers?

Did you know that you don't need to buy special chalkboard paint to turn your walls into a giant chalkboard? Apparently regular old flat paint works just as good. Ask my toddler.

Did you know that baby wipes are great for cleaning peanut butter and chalk off a nice new plasma TV?

Did you know that putting feminine hygiene items in a cute little zipper pouch in your diaper bag is only a good idea if everyone in the family knows not to give said little zipper pouch to the baby to play with in church? It's also a good idea not to tell the Tire Man to look in your glove compartment for the hub cap key unless you remember to remove your emergency pad stash. Or so I've heard.

Did you know that inviting people to your home for dinner is the best motivator for cleaning your home? Try it, it works.

Did you know that baking soda placed in a pretty jar next to your sink is a nice way to keep a cheap cleaning abrasive handy for cleaning cast iron enamel sinks?

Did you know that keeping a pretty kitchen scrub brush in your shower will make you 10 times more likely to keep your shower clean on a regular basis?

Did you know that you should always always always ask a plumber, heating guy, repairman, pizza guy how much their services cost BEFORE you have them to your home? I learned the hard way that not all plumbers are created equal.

Did you know that megaphones are awesome... AWESOME!!! Mr. Hotness, I want a megaphone for Valentine's Day. Thanks.

Did you know that you can sometimes literally lock your problems behind closed doors? Seriously. I still struggle with watching too much internet TV so I installed a key lock doorknob on the office and I make Mr. Hotness lock it before he leaves for work and he takes the key with him so I can't have access to the laptop until he comes home. The difference it has made in my life is amazing!

Did you know that Smart Ones freezer Florentine style lasagna entrees are nasty? Oh so nasty.

Did you know that if you get yourself a sassy new short haircut that it will look like a bad wig in 4 weeks unless you maintain it with regular haircutting appointments?

Did you know that dirty laundry breeds at night? Like rabbits. Like Mormon rabbits.

Did you know that you can't refreeze ice cream? It doesn't matter if it was expensive and you just bought it and you really really need it.

To Whom it May Concern,

Dear Children,
I love you so, but I just mopped the kitchen, which entailed me crawling on the floor with a butter knife, scraping petrified cheerios off the floor, and if you step one foot on that bright, shiny floor I will go insane and have your father commit me to a loony bin.
All my love,
Your adoring Mother.
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Dear Baby,
I understand that I am covered in cloth and therefore might logically be considered a giant walking wash rag. But I'm not. Please do your best to refrain from drooling, spitting, wiping, regurgitating, snotting, or pooping on me. If you don't like what you are eating, please go spit it in the garbage can, don't bring it to me and wipe it on my leg.
Thanks ever so much.
Your adoring Mother.
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Dear Boys,
I know you think wiping is not a manly act. Fine. Just don't make such an effort to display your manliness on the bedroom and bathroom floors. There are hampers all over the house. If you'd like I can draw you a map to each one. When I say I love everything about you this isn't included.
Unconditionally yours,
Mom
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Dear Teenage Daughter,
I know too well the look of disdain in your eyes, I once used the same death rays on my mother when I was your age. Life will never be fair, and I will continue to be useless in your eyes until the day you have a daughter of your own. Just do me a favor until then and wear sunglasses.
Understandingly yours,
Your Mommy
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Dear Husband,
I'm so very sorry about the late fees at the library, for loosing yet another GPS, and for spending too much at Amazon.com. But really, it's still cheaper than the therapy I should be getting or the medications I should probably be on.
Guiltily yours,
Your Wife (who you are contractually required to love)
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Dear Teachers,
If my child tells you that the baby ate their homework, please do not call them irresponsible liars and write their names on the board because, in fact, the baby did eat their homework. While he was at it, the baby also drew on my walls and flushed a dirty diaper down the toilet. Homework was a little low on my list this morning as I was trying to find a clean shirt. You see, the baby ate my shirt.
Respectfully yours,
"That Mom"
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Dear Grocery Stores of Connecticut,
I highly recommend that at least one of you start stocking Ben and Jerry's Oatmeal Cookie Chunk. It is just a suggestion, but it might reduce the number of complaints you've been getting about a deranged woman, crying, in the fetal position, in your freezer sections.
Pleadingly yours,
A Mother of Five

Sometimes

Sometimes bacon smell isn't from bacon, it's from the roasting chicken breasts that you forgot to take out of the oven 2 hours ago. Chicken jerky, anyone?

Sometimes hamster cage smell isn't from a hamster, it's from a nasty old diaper that was hiding waaaaay under the back seat of your minivan.

Sometimes chocolate on your baby's finger isn't chocolate... so don't ever lick it to find out.

Sometimes a baby spider that is eating your little girl's arm isn't a spider, it's a nasty tick that will freak you and your little girl out as you try desperately to pry it out.

Sometimes a dead mouse in your washroom isn't a dead mouse, it's an apple core that is so fuzzy with mold it looks like a dead mouse. (but just see how long it takes you to calm down enough to figure it out)

Sometimes a "little thing" isn't so little and you will throw a major temper tantrum until everyone around you understands why it isn't so little.

Sometimes a smile isn't just a smile, it's a saving grace.

Sometimes the "big things" in life aren't so big after all.

Sometimes poopy diapers and a messy house aren't poopy diapers and a messy house, they are signs of your wonderful blessings.

Sometimes ice cream isn't fattening, it's life saving therapy.

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I Need More of These

Next time I'm just going to bring my camera and have a waiter take our photo while we are being silly because I've tried for 3 days to find a google image that would fit this post. Apparently only wrinkly old ladies or skinny, drunk (and sometimes bikini clad) models can be found when you image search "girls night out" or "laughing women." The closest I could come to thirty-something women, fully dressed, with motherly figures, non imbibing, and laughing together was this pic from a weight loss website. (Hmmmmm.) It's a great photo, but it just doesn't capture the level of frivolity and enjoyment we had. But then it is probably hard to capture a good photo of someone laughing so hard she sprays her friends with water after taking a drink. When someone looses their ability to control their fluids, you know you are having one heckuva good time, and I need more moments like that in my life.
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My friend, Hope, facebooked me to let me know that I had no choice, she was coming to get me. I love her for this because otherwise I would have just said I was too busy, too tired, and didn't have anything nice to wear. We met up with Lucy, The Duchess, 32 Flavors, Alisa and her new friend, Teresa at a nearby Cheesecake Factory. It started as a simple, innocent, moms night out, you know a bunch of moms who really needed to get out of the house and talk to other moms while consuming things that are definitely NOT on their diet plan. But before we were even seated at our table it was looking like something else. Instead of the cursory, "How is your husband's work/thesis/job hunt going?" or, "So, how are the kids?" we delved right into some

fun and funny topics, like the pasties in the new Coraline movie, and husband's opinions on circumcision. After being seated the conversation continued on to even better things such as unexpected lactation experiences, how we were taught the birds and the bees (everything from anatomical pop up books to brochures from the 1950's), and how much men really don't know about women before they get married, and all the things we have learned not to say in front of our kids and why.
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Oh yeah, this was some amazing girls talk, let me tell you! We were laughing so hard I felt no need to go to the gym next day because my abs were so sore. Towards the end of the night the tables around us started to empty and we all new why. Everyone that came in that place took one look at the loud and obnoxious mom table and promptly asked to be seated elsewhere. I seriously think we were being more annoying than a table full of screaming, food flinging, poopy diaper, toddlers. And the best part was that not a single one of us were drinking or on drugs. Apparently all we needed to loosen up and have so much fun was some good friends, a small taste of freedom, a lot of sleep deprivation, and the right subject matter.
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I seriously need more nights like this in my life.
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So, call some women up, they don't have to be best friends, tell them they have no choice, you are coming to get them, go out somewhere fun, talk about silly things, and laugh till your sides hurt, or something comes out your nose, and enjoy an amazing bond between women. Trust me, it is a beautiful thing.

Me Time

Chocolate On My Cranium has started a great writing prompt called, Wordful Wednesday and this week the theme is Love for Self. Here is how I'm trying to better love myself.

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Nap time. Quiet time. ME TIME!!!

I live for "me time," that time of day when everyone is supposed to leave me alone and let me do something that I want to do. Me, selfish me. I don't always get this time, now that my kids are older and I'm juggling every one's schedules, but I still live for it.

About 3 years ago I had quiet time down pat. I had my kids perfectly trained, and for years had been getting a guaranteed 2-3 hours of quiet time every day. I would feed them lunch, clean them up, let them play while I cleaned the table and kitchen, and then off to bed I would send them to sleep or read to their heart's content. Then I would run to the TV, turn it on to my favorite program, which was whatever happened to be bearable to watch, and then I would run to the kitchen to make myself a yummy and rather large lunch. Grabbing my plate, a napkin, a tall glass of water, and usually the ketchup bottle, I would balance my way to the couch and there set up permanent residency until my precious 2-3 hours were over. Ahhhh, sweet Me Time, just letting my brain melt, stuffing my face, and not doing a darn thing.

You'd think with all this free time I would be happy, content, and energized everyday. But I wasn't. I still felt like there was never enough time to do things that I wanted to do. I still often felt trapped by motherhood. I still had a long list of things I would someday like to do but knew I never would. *sigh* If I couldn't get any of this done with my relatively long quiet time how was it that so many other mothers around me were accomplishing so much? Most mothers I talked to were envious of my long quiet/me time and wished they could get the same. But they were the ones going to the gym, playing musical instruments at concerts, starting in home businesses, and making lovely scrapbooks while my photos moldered in a box somewhere.

Then it hit me. It hit me smack dab in the gut. I had been calling quiet time "Me" time. But what was I using that time for? TV and food. Therefore I was defining "me," myself, with TV and food. Judge Judy, America's Test Kitchen, and old Matlock reruns with copious bowls of nachos and Yukon gold potato oven fries were what I was defining myself with. No wonder I never felt satisfied, no wonder I wasn't happy, no wonder that I constantly found myself lacking. But if I didn't want to define myself by TV and food, what would I define myself by? I was going to have to think about this for awhile.

I made a list of things I wanted to define me and these were at the top of my list: service, love, education, creative. Starting there I started using more and more of my "Me" time to redefine "me." I started writing letters to loved ones, making meals for people in need, reading classic literature, practicing my creative writing and art again. Suddenly I was feeling much more like me than "just a mom." It was wonderful. Emphasis on was. Sadly, in this past year I have fallen back into that pit of defining myself with TV and food. Why? Why would I do something that bears no fruit and makes me feel sluggish and fat? Because the devil on my shoulder likes to whisper in my ear, "You deserve it, you need some down time to just relax. You don't have time to do something creative. Cooking for someone else will just make a mess and they probably don't need it anyway. Besides, as soon as you start something the baby will wake up and ruin it. You deserve to just relax and do nothing for a second or two." But what the devil forgets to tell me is, "You will feel lazy and sluggish. You will be discontent and grumpy. You will gain weight, loose brain cells, and soon you will be mine!"

So, once again, I'm working on flicking that little devil off my shoulder. I'm trying to reclaim my right to choose what will define me. I'm trying to put the ME back in "me time." It's a lot more work, but I think I'm worth it. Don't you?

But Mom, You Promised

Yes, I promised we would make gingerbread houses this year. Next year I will just promise to eat more ice cream instead. Or maybe I will promise to spend all of our Christmas money on these easy gingerbread house kits instead of on Christmas presents.

But nooooo, this year I made a promise. A promise that required a double batch of cookie dough, a salmonella batch of royal icing, and letting Mr. Hotness buy all the candy (Have you ever let your man loose in the bulk candy bins before? 12, count them, 12 different kinds of candy. Of course by the time we actually got around to making the blasted, I mean, adorable little things we only had 5 kinds left) and one heckuva mess.

BEHOLD THE MESS:

Who would have thought that something as innocent as cookies would require such dangerous tools?

Hard candy stained glass windows? Baaaaad idea.

2D instead of 3d candy houses? Brilliant idea that kept me from having a total nervous breakdown in front of my kids.

The candy houses are cute, they taste way better than the ones that come in a box and look way better than the graham cracker ones we used to make. Were they worth it? Ask me after I finish this pint of Ben and Jerry's.

Dave Mattews Band Magic Brownies: Black Raspberry Ice Cream Swirled with Sweet Cream Ice Cream & Fudgy Brownies
(And you might want to wait till my eye stops twitching and my blood pressure goes back down too.)

(P.S. I don't like brownies, as a general rule, but the brownies in this are buttery and chewy and so so good.)

Good, Bad, Ugly

Good: I'm going to go see that adorable sadistic hamster in Bolt today with my kids (it's all about the hamster).

Bad: I'm taking the kids to see Bolt in an attempt to avoid having a total nervous breakdown (there had better be a lot of hamster in this movie).

Good: I have a wonderful friend who let me cry on her shoulder this morning.

Bad: She had come over to bring her kids for me to babysit and instead found me in my bathrobe, surrounded by filth, and sobbing over a pee soaked couch.

Good: The reason for the pee being on my couch and not on my child's bed is going to be gone and over tonight.

Bad: I now get to clean up the aftermath of the 3 week long reason why the pee was on the couch and not in the bed.

Good: See how good I'm being about not talking about this "reason?" I'm really working on not whining about the service I volunteer to do in life (but I'm not very good at it because I love to whine!)

Bad: Mr. Hotness will be out of a Job come April 30th.

Good: Mr. Hotness has a job until April 30th.

Bad: Cheeks wants to be held ALL the time.

Good: Cheeks is so stinkin' cute.

Bad: Mr. Hotness has been gone a lot lately. A lot. Lot lot lot lot.

Good: One of the reasons he will be gone is a job interview in L.A.

Bad: It's a job interview in L.A. (all you fellow mom bloggers who live near LA please help me be ok with this)

Good: Because Mr. Hotness is gone I have an excuse for seeing Bolt today (but seriously, there really needs to be a lot of hamster or I'm going to loose it).

Like Mother Like Daughter

Here is my latest dejunking purge.

When I was 16 my family moved from Saratoga, NY all the way to Ashton, Idaho. We stayed with my grandpa while my mom looked for a new place to live because my dad was dying. Ashton is a very small old railroad town with not much to do for a bored and disturbed teenager besides swimming in the ditch and eating huckleberry milkshakes. Wandering and bored I did a lot of snooping around my grandpa's house, but I was cautious and timid in my snooping because we were raised to fear our grandfather and respect his house and privacy. So I would open closets, cupboards, and drawers only touching a few items before hastily shutting them again. I will never forget opening a drawer in the upstairs bedroom. It was a drawer crammed full of old (very vintage), used, and carefully folded wrapping paper. Paper that my frugal grandmother had saved from gifts she had been given long long ago. Grandma died when I was 9. Later I learned that she saved much more than wrapping paper and everything that came her way was reused or saved with the hopes of getting just one more use out of it. She would have put any modern envioronmentalist to shame with the way she reduced reused and recycled everyday trash.

My mom inherited grandma's saving tendencies and passed them down to me. Sadly my "tendencies" aren't as romantic as a drawer full of beautiful old paper, mine are just out right pack ratty. I save all sorts of junk in the hopes that it will save me money down the road. I hoard all kinds of things for art crafts that I never do. I stash all manner of sewing novelties and scraps for the custom art jeans I plan on making and selling someday but have yet to make a single pair. I save bags, boxes, and every manner of product packaging container hoping they will make me organized but I forget I have them and they are such odd pieces that they would never help with organizaton anyway.


I've recently had the desire to use or unload all this k-rap (see Cookie, Mommy isn't using that really naguhty word anymore. Spelt with a k is something completely different) and have been on a dejunking spree and my mom has joined me. My mother, the queen pack rat of our family, though, is doing what many proffessionals tell packrats all the time. If you feel you need it, just take a picture of it. Pictures take up much less space than the actual item. Well, she ids doing just that and posting them on a blog to boot. So, if you have voyeristic tendencies and have always wanted to know what kind of junk hides in a pack rat's house and why they keep it then stop on by DOTMOTHER and cheer her on as she frees herself from her junk.


And mom, if you can toss yours then I can toss mine. It's scary that we have identical junk.

Here I am tossing out all those plastic zip up bags that bedding (and some toys) come it. I was saving them to use for organizing or for moving, neither of which has happened in 4 years (and I didn't use them when we moved 4 years ago either, I shoved them in a box with everything else).

Party's Over

Alright, alright, party's over. Time to get out, ladies, and get back to work. Gather up all the spoons and bowls, throw away the empty cheeto bags. It was nice having you and I sincerely appreciate all the good company, but there are babies to nurse, companies to run, countries to raise up, and bums to be wiped.

Ah, the life of woman. We are capable of carrying life inside our bodies, sustaining new life from our bosoms, and yet we wipe bums. We are willing to perform the lowest of the low and yet supreme in our abilities and capabilities. With a capacity to love that surpasses logic and the strength to endure the requirements of such love.

Yeah... we totally rock!

Goddess Durga, mother of the universe.

Post Partum Pity Party

Welcome to Lizzy's Post Partum Pity Party!!!

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Grab yourself a bowl of cheetos, a pint of ice cream, and have a seat. If your not in the mood to sit and listen to me moan about my silly little troubles then feel free to watch a movie. Here at the PPP Party we watch mid-twentieth century dramas such as Gentleman's Agreement, Come Back, Little Sheba, or Imitation of Life. No happy endings here, just good ol', rip your heart out drama. And, trust me, the movies are much better than my silly sob story. But, if you are a glutton for punishment then just keep on reading.

I've been so good this time around. I've done my best to avoid the post partum blues and I've made it this far unscathed, but today I give up. Today I'm letting the self pity overcome me. Today I'm throwing myself a regular pity party, complete with the works. I even let my kids eat cheetos for breakfast because I believe it's the little details that make the party.

Why am I so blue? Has there been a death in the family, illness, scandal? Has my husband been fired, cheating, or just plain mean? Have my children been misbehaving, making messes, or run away from home? Na. Nothing quite so validating is going on here. Nope, I'm just feeling sorry for myself because I want to. Because I have nothing to wear that isn't too small for me, maternity, or covered in puke/poop. Because I got my house cleaned spick and span last weekend (and I mean SPICK and span) and today it looks like a fuddy-duddy-mother-of-too-many-who-watches-soaps-all-day-long-in-her-mumu kind of house. Because today I almost cried over the spilt milk. Because it was half a gallon of spilt milk and I couldn't find any rags to mop it up because I'm behind in the laundry that was all caught up last weekend. Because Ben & Jerry's is so much easier to eat while holding a baby than chopping veggies for a fresh green salad. Because I want to wake up at 5am to go running before the kids wake up but the thought of loosing just one more hour of sleep makes me want to cry. Because by the time I get Cheeks asleep Mr. Hotness is asleep so I'm left drooling over a car of all things. And because... well... BECAUSE I WANT TO!!!

So, while you are all posting something witty on your amazing blogs, I'm going to go gnaw the cheeto scrudge off my fingers. Enjoy the party. =)

MUST. HAVE. IT.

My blogging has been pretty pell mell as of late. Cheeks has been pretty cheeky and keeps me from doing much of anything these days (though he actually slept in this morning and allowed to me to talk to my kids this morning over a lovely meal of pancakes, eggs, and strawberries. Usually my kids are left eating last night's remnants off the floor for breakfast... Uh, you know I'm kidding right? Because, really, they only did that once. I swear!!!!).

Lucky for... well, pretty much everyone including me, there are a gazillion other blogs out there to read. I've been reading all your blogs while rocking, nursing, and cleaning up puke, I just don't usually get a chance to leave comments.

Here is something I read this morning (I type this one handed as I balance a bottle under my chin into Cheeks' face), and now I must have it. Must!

CHOREGANIZER

I've seen/made/bought so many chore charts that I was absolutely convinced that there was an anti chore chart genome in my family's DNA. But this looks as if someone has studied my family and custom made a chore system just for me. MUST HAVE IT!!!

I prepared myself for the sticker shock. Anytime I find something that is perfect for me it is always too expensive for my penny pinching brain to accept. But at the Book Peddler I can get it for just $16.95. And it comes with everything, EVERYTHING, premade and ready to use. Man, that costs less than those pretty (pretty useless in my family) little wooden chore charts with a cute beehive that has little bees with your family's names on them rotating around the chores.

Maybe if I buy this my kitchen will finally be too clean to eat off the floor any more. Or do you use that phrase to mean your floor is clean? Because when I say you can eat off my floor it's because there is a three course meal, on my floor.

Wonder Women

Zoom! Pow! Crash! Zing!

Faster than a speeding bullet, using her sonic-boom voice, zapping everyone with her laser beam eyes, Wonder Woman is on the scene. She grabs one villain by the straps of his overalls, lifting him into the air with one hand, while at the same time extending her stiletto heeled boot to prevent another from running past her. Then she goes in for the kill, lassoing the leader with her rope of truth and asks, "What the heck is going on down here? I asked you guys to watch Dora just one more time with your sister so I could take a shower. Is that too much to ask? How am I supposed to fight crime and save the world today if I can't even take a little shower? Now, put the Dora DVD back in the machine and stop all this fighting!"

Super heroes are made every day by radioactive slime, the bite of a bug, random mutation, ancient/alien lineage, the possession of a powerful artifact, or by the very natural melding of genetic materials in a body which creates new life. Some scientists theorize that the combining, splitting, and specializing of atoms that happens in a woman's womb during gestation must 'cause the abnormalities or, as some like to call them, "gifts" that often manifest in the human female species after giving birth. Specialized hearing, "voice of death," rearward visual capabilities, lie detection sensory, and an uncanny ability to stop tears of others are just a handful of known post-natal abilities that we have on record.

At first governments were concerned that such unique abilities might pose a threat to regular civilians. Talks were being held to argue the need for contraceptives and sterilization methods to prevent the rampant spread of these phenomena. These measures were deemed unnecessary upon further study of the situation. It soon became obvious that these super humans came with their own set backs, a natural Kryptonite, if you will. It was found that, along with the super powers, these women also developed super inhibitors such as morbid paranoia: a fear of fatal catastrophes harming their loved ones at all times, hyperbolated guilt: an unfounded belief that self satisfaction can only be had at the cost of vital comfort to their loved ones, and bad body image: a feeling that they could never go out in public wearing the skin tight spandex that all super hero costumes are made of causing them to wear sweat pants which aren't conducive to flying or telepathic travel.

Despite these hold backs, Wonder Women everywhere continue to amaze and astound their children and husbands on a daily basis with their amazing feats of knowing it all and being able to fix almost anything.

Wonder Women, where ever you are, what ever you are doing, we salute you!

This is my last minute, bounce baby on my knee, as I type one handed entry into Scribbit's WriteAway contest. The theme is Wonder Woman. =)

Ah ha!

Michal from Relishing Motherhood is having a writing contest. She has graciously extended the due date for procrastinators like me (though I think childbirth is a purty good excuse to use this time).

The Topic: An Ah-ha Moment of Motherhood. Tell about a time when something really clicked for you and you saw motherhood in a new way. Or when you felt enlightenment in regards to your role as a mother or how you should handle a situation in your family. Or when you had an epiphany about your own mother.

Calling On Mom

"Hi, mom? It's Liz. I'm just calling to, once again, apologize. Remember all the times I complained about the haircuts you gave the boys when we were little? Yeah, I always just assumed you didn't know what hair was supposed to look like. Now I know that the "concentration camp" haircut is the only kind you can give a squirming 3 year old boy. I'm sorry!"

"Hi, mom, it's me again. You were SO right. Life isn't fair, and it never can be no matter how hard I try. I was sure that I could prove you wrong when it was my turn to be a parent. I now realize that the only thing I can give my kids is that same piece of knowledge, "Life isn't fair." Sorry, mom."

"Moooooom, she hates me! Was I this mean to you when I was six? If I was, I'm sorry."

"Mom, how did you keep the boys from killing each other, or keep yourself from killing them?"

"MOM, HOW DID YOU DO THIS WITHOUT GOING COMPLETELY INSANE???"

As a child I dismissed much of my mother's actions as those of the bizarre alien race of "parents." I figured she just didn't understand kids and so I tried to be patient with her. As a teen I learned that mom was good at listening to my problems but was annoyed that she never seemed to have the "right" solution. When I first moved away from home I considered myself as finally being free from her silliness. I could now rise above my mother and show her how life was supposed to be lived. Even in the early years of marriage I considered myself wiser and smarter than my mom, secretly hoping she was watching my good example. Yes, I was vain, vain and stupid. But then a funny thing happened. I had kids.

Now I constantly seek out my mother's holy wisdom. I am forever asking forgiveness for the vain ideas of my naive past. Suddenly my mother is my anchor, my guide, and my friend in this twisted world called parenting. Now I realize that I am doomed to seem silly, stupid, irrational, and useless to my children for many years. I understand now that my only hope to see true respect in their eyes is to wait for them to have children of their own. When they do I will wait by the phone for that wonderful day when they call to say, "Mom, you were right," to say, "I'm sorry," or call to ask me for help. Until then, I'll just call my mommy, because she understands.

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See how lazy-cray-tired I am? I'm not even going to steal a photo from Google for this post.

I don't know what to title this post so I'm not going to even try. I am so ready to have this baby now. The clothes are sorted, the house is clean, the crib is up, my mom will fly in Monday night, I'm contracting all the time now, I've been reading up on tips to make delivery more comfortable, my hands are are numb and in pain (I didn't think you could feel pain and numb at the same time, but I swear my hands are killing me but are numb like they are asleep), my feet hurt, my maternity clothes no longer fit...

Get the idea? So now I'm just counting down the hours. Tuesday morning will be caster oil/walking a lot time. I can't wait. I can not wait to have this little guy outside of me and in my arms! We still haven't found a name yet. Any ideas? It has to be a name with great meaning or related to a great person, and hopefully doesn't lend itself to mean nicknames.

Mr. Hotness says he will guest post for me when the baby comes to keep you guys informed. Be nice to him =). As for me, I may not be around the blogosphere very much, but I will still be reading your posts (even if I don't comment). Hope you all are enjoying your summer vacations!

=)

I've Lost It!

I've completely lost it. But this isn't unusual for me. I've come to consider "loosing it" to be an integral part of parenting. Over the years I've lost:

My mind

My keys

My sense of style

My identity

My brain

My vocabulary

My stomach

etc...

This morning I woke up to find that I've lost my voice. Completely lost my voice. All I can do is whisper. I've had to tell my kids that going to the beach it out for today. There is absolutely no way that I can handle 4 kids on an open beach without being able to yell at them to be safe. But the good news is that everyone is whispering. The kids seem to be mimicking me and are answering me in whispers. I LOVE IT! Our home is so peaceful and content this morning. Maybe I need to loose my voice more often. =)

And, for those important occasions when I do need them to hear me I have found a very valuable tool in my sons' Transformer Voice Changing Helmet.

Picture This

WARNING: To all my friends at church, one of the dangers of being friends with me is that you might accidentally end up with your picture on my blog. If you don't want it on here, just let me know and I will take it down. (Better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?)

Here are pictures of some of the things I did this weekend.

BABY SHOWER

Ok, when I was first asked to help with a baby shower I said, "Sure, as long as you only ask me to do the food." You see, I don't really do baby showers. I don't throw them, I don't go to them, I don't want one for me... nothing against them, I'm just not big on them. So, it was agreed that I would just do food. In the end, though, I was in charge of anything but the food. I panicked, I procrastinated, and then I stayed up till 3am and woke up at 6:30am Saturday morning putting all this stuff together. It turned out just fine in the end and I'm so glad it did. But I still don't do baby showers. Here is what we did (In the end I was glad I didn't do the food because the ladies that did did a fantastic job):

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I made a Well Wishes Quilt that all the guests got to sign and write a little message on for the new baby (who is darling, by the way).

As people came into the room I put a sticker on their back that had an item on it having to do with pregnancy or babies. People could only ask yes or no questions to figure out what their sticker said and the winner got a prize. Knowing that we are all experienced mommies, I tried to make them difficult. Here are some of the words:

Baby Puke, Caster Oil, Pediatrician, Pregnancy Test, Breast Pump, Circumcision, Poopy Diaper (Poop was kind of my theme), etc.

The women seemed to have a lot of fun figuring these out, and we had to remind everyone to take the stickers off. Can you imagine going to the store with "Breast Pump" on your back? =)

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This next one is actually the first baby shower "game" I ever played. I think I was 9 years old. I made little felt diapers, painted 3 with brown craft paint in the bottom, and filled with M&Ms or cashews. If you got a "poopie" one you got a prize. People seemed to really like this.

This is an oldie but I gave it my special touch. You are supposed to guess what the "poop" is in the diapers, and the person to get the most right gets a prize. Some people do this with melted candy bars, some do it with baby food, I did it using food combinations from my kitchen, and the results were fantastically real. It was so much fun watching everyone sniffing, handling, and talking about these dirty diapers. In the diapers there were:

1. Chocolate pudding and corn kernels

2. Sweet and sour sauce

3. Whole grain deli mustard

4. Hoisin sauce

5. Peanut butter mixed with canned peas

6. Molasses

7. Canned pumpkin and crayon shavings

Then, while the mom opened her gifts we gave all the women a small plate and some play dough. They sculpted their best baby and which ever baby the mom picked as her favorite won a prize. Mine is #7

COMING HOME

DSSH was a dear and had the kids doing their chores when I got home. But no one knew where Sweet Terror was. Hmmm...

MOTHER'S DAY

This is what DSSH let me wake up to. Mmmmmm. I LOVE LOVE LOVE strawberries smothered in Nutella.

I have to hide it from the kids if I want to get any, though. Sorry, Sweet Terror, but this is MY Mother's Day treat. =)

We did many other things this last weekend but I am much too exhausted to write about them. In fact, I've been providing my husband with lots of entertainment as a Narcoleptic, falling asleep in the oddest situations. But it was a busy, fun, and very enjoyable weekend.

How was your weekend?

Loving Mother's Day

Do you love Mother's Day? The first time I heard that a mom might not be ecstatic about this day was from my mom during an honest moment. Since then I have heard it often and from many women. Just the other night I heard a phenomenal mother tell me, "Aw, I HATE Mother's Day. Always have, always will."

This reminded me of the day that I felt the same way. It was Mother's Day 2003, I think. I remember my husband and kids saying "Happy Mother's Day" to me and that was pretty much it. It was a busy, hectic Sunday just like any other. After a few upsetting Mother's Days this was the worst. I was hurt, and very sad. To be fair, my husband was in grad school, very busy, very stressed out, very poor, and our children were very young. But I hated Mother's Day that day. I figured that if it just didn't exist I wouldn't have any reason to be upset. Honestly, though, I didn't hate the day, I hated the unmet expectation. I hated the lack of fanfare, the absence of feeling special, the void of feeling any different from every other day of the year. I suddenly knew why Moms were saying they hated mother's day.

But I didn't want to hate mother's day. It broke my heart when I heard that my mom didn't like it. I never wanted my kids to feel like I didn't feel special on that day, no matter what they didn't do for me. (By the way, mom, I ABSOLUTELY don't blame you for not liking mother's day in the past, or even to this very day as I am one of the worst people at doing anything for you on this day. I'm sorry!!! I love you and you are a fantastic mother.) Having your kids believe that they make you happy on this day is like letting them believe in Santa for as long as they want. It just makes them happy. Even husbands like believing this. But I didn't want it to be a lie, either, I wanted to really enjoy Mother's Day.

Here is what I did:

1. I changed my expectations. If you ask moms what they want on Mother's Day most of them say they want one day free of being a mom. That is what I wanted. I wanted one day of no cooking, cleaning, diaper changing, whiny kids, pleasing my husband, or doing anything that wasn't just for me. I also wanted to be celebrated, treated like royalty, to have one perfect day. And with expectations like that how could I NOT be let down?

But Mother's Day isn't about not being a mom anymore. It is a day to celebrate being a mother. So, I erased all the above expectations and decided that on Mother's Day I was going to find joy in my motherhood and nothing else. Anything else would be a pleasant surprise. Now on this day I laugh more with/at my kids, I refuse to yell, I give up all guilt, smile evily at people who are annoyed by my kids, don't worry about how they are dressed, what they eat, or anything else. It is a fantastic day.

2. I started treating myself. Sometimes we need to show people how to treat us by treating ourselves that way first. I now go to the store the day before Mother's Day and buy strawberries, whipped cream, flowers, whatever I want for meals the next day, and maybe even a new piece of jewelry (but I don't spend more than $15). If my husband wants to beat me to the punch on this, he is more than welcome, but otherwise I do it and I am always happy the next day when I can enjoy my treats.

3. I stopped blaming my husband. It is Mother's Day, not Wife's Day. Sure, a man should honor his wife for being the mother of his children, but he can do that all year long and on other days of the year. Once I gave up the idea that he was in charge of Mother's Day I was able to love him and not be angry with him for "failing me".

4. I allowed myself the same freedom regarding Father's Day. I can encourage the kids to celebrate the day. I can help them carry out their plans. But I don't have to feel pressured to do it all, or to even do anything (though I try to). Now I can't feel bitter because I "did more for him than he did for me". It isn't up to us, but to our kids.

Now comes the good part. I made all these decisions the day after that sad Mother's Day in 2003. The following Father's Day the kids and I picked out a candy bar for my husband (the kids' choice of gift) and we all signed a card. This was very little compared to the previous Father's Day fanfares. My husband was a bit hurt and disappointed. When he mentioned it I nicely, without any malice because there was no malice to be had now, said, "But it is more than I got for Mother's Day." He was sure that wasn't true but when I asked him to tell me what they did for me that day he couldn't think of anything.

Ever since that day I have had marvelous Mother's Days. And I have to thank my husband for all the effort he puts into them now. He really goes out of his way to treat me right. But it is my new outlook on this Holiday that really lets me feel joyful. It no longer matters if things don't go just right, it doesn't hurt if something keeps my husband from getting it put together, and it doesn't even bother me if the kids are grumpy and mean to me that day. I just smile, remember how blessed I am to be a mother, and enjoy the look of my new bracelet. =)

I hope all you mothers have a very enjoyable Mother's Day !!!

Adding To My Blog Addiction

(I rudely swiped this all too perfect image from HERE)

Every now and then, when I am feeling particularly lazy and need something to do that doesn't require physical movement or too many brain cells, I like to go blog hopping. I jump from random blog to random blog, sometimes finding something good enough to read and, though rare, sometimes even finding something that is worth putting down my ice cream so I can leave a comment. Usually, though, even if I find something good I don't usually go back because it really is hard to keep up with the blogs I already read daily. But then there are the rare, wonderful moments when I find a great blog, a blog so awesome that not only do I read and comment, but I get hooked and spend obscene hours ignoring my family as I read through all of their archives and past posts, leaving an embarrassing amount of comments in their email inbox. Usually these are blogs that have been recommended to me by other bloggers. Well, I have just finished reading ALL, as in every single post, from a blog that my friend, Becky, mentioned in her blog. If you are interested in Crohn's Disease, are raising boys, have twins, have a hard time surviving the wonderful world of momness, or just need to feel like you aren't the meanest mom ever, you will love this blog:

The Meanest Mom

Now, I really need to get the dishes done, make dinner, and wash my kids' faces so that my husband won't think I've been doing nothing but read blogs all day. =)