No really, this was my day. For real.

Sometimes there is a day that goes so ass backwards it leaves me wondering the following morning if the day really happened or if it was a terrible, terrible dream. Yesterday was one of those days. The hubs turned 40 and I had the best of plans – I should have known the shit would hit the fan simply based on the fact I had a plan…

The hubs office was throwing a luncheon for him and the kids and I were attending as a surprise. This meant we had to be there on time. Yep, if you are keeping track that is two strikes against me, a plan and a deadline. We HAD to leave the house my 10:30. Hubs was arriving at the gathering at 11:30, we have a solid 45 minute drive and needed to get into the location and settled before 11:30. Right, as if.

10:05 kids dressed, hair styled and settled in their rooms with books. I however still had not gotten into the shower yet.
10:10 exit shower to find both kids covered, yes covered in diaper cream. Rock star thought it would be relaxing if he put lotion on himself and the baby. How nice of him.
10:10-10:15 five very precious minutes spent yelling, and then yelling a little more.
10:15 wipe down two kids, change clothes and restyle Itty Bitty’s (formerly very cute and fluffy) hair into a greased slicked ponytail.
10:25 throw on my clothes; pack up some make-up as it will have to be applied in the car.
10:30 gathering items to walk out the door and catch the smell. Yep, full-blown poop blowout all over Itty Bitty. Enter round three of cleaning and dressing the baby.
10:40 I’m am now getting nailed with morning sickness. Of course. Barf, Barf, Barf.
10:50 Head to car, which of course is parked in the driveway, not in the garage and it is pouring cats and dogs. Without fail, in the haste and hustle and bustle of getting the kids to the car Rock Star wipes out…in mud.
Let’s just say we were slightly late for the party. But the good news is, the only person who runs more late than I is the hubs.

The really sick thing? The morning was the best part of the day. After lunch I had a million birthday dinner errands to run, yeah with two kids in a thunderstorm. The house was of course a wreck and we were having company for dinner. You know how there is two kinds of guests, the ones who really know how you live and don’t mind clearing a spot of the couch to sit or refilling the toilet paper holder themselves and then there are those who need the house to be in June Cleaver order when they arrive? I was hosting the second group.

Yep, that was my very, oh so very, real day.

WHAAAAAT am I doing?

I have a total love/hate relationship with connection technology. I despise the idea of being connected all the time via phones, texting, email, blogs, tweeting, Facebook, television, etc. At the same time, as a SAHM I do like the ability to reach out. Obviously I enjoy my blogging, but I also battle the idea that rather than enjoying and sitting with the small moments in life we spend them sharing with the masses. People who tweet as their children are being born for example blows my mind! Put the phone down and get present in your own life already! Trust me; I get the notion of sharing the funny interesting things and thoughts in a day. All of my family lives out of state and I love that I can keep in touch with them and the push of a button. I love that my kids get to talk to and have books read to them via skype with their godparents who live in NYC. I love that I can toss jokes with my cousin mid-day who lives in the woods of Wyoming and that I can get photos of my kids in front of grandparents in Michigan within minutes of taking them. It is wonderful to have the ability to stay connected with the people who I love that are far from me. But I have set some boundaries for myself (those of you who know me and have been reading for a while know I am all about the personal boundaries!) I dropped off of FB late last year because I was just spent on all the mindlessness of it. I had a growing list of friends and friend requests that I did not really know or quite frankly care about, and an endless list of friend request from people I really, really did not know that sat there just making me feel guilty. It was time and energy totally wasted. I decided rather than spending an hour surfing FB on info I didn’t care about I would spend the hour reaching out to people with whom I wanted to foster a healthy relationships. Great move. I have recently gotten back on FB, but again with the boundaries, I am only “friending” my first cousins. As you know I love these guys and gals and since we are so scattered about and all keep odd hours between kids, happening social lives, work and school, it is a great way to keep track of each other.
Okay….I think I am rambling and digressing a bit…lets see where was I going with this??? Oh yeah, I signed up for Twitter. WTF?!?! I hate the entire concept. I loathe the idea of telling the world that I am stoked that I just got eggs for 0.49 or getting excited that Ashton Kutcher just went to CVS. Seriously I do not care. So whaaaaat am I doing???? Well as you know I write a weekly column for The Grain Valley Pointe newspaper and they tweet about local stuff. I clicked on their home page and was reading some of their tweets and given my business here in town and that the hubs is on the P&R Board I figured it would be good stuff to know. So I signed up just to get the GV news. Of course though I am now feeling the pull to tweet something. WHY? It goes against everything I believe in and yet it is calling my name…tweet…tweet….tweet…..tweeeeeeettttt! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! For the love of all things good and pure, I will be strong and reject the urge.

Uh…just in case you want to check and make sure I do not start tweeting you can follow me @mamacomedy.

I aspire to be …Dora?

When I was young I thought of being something great in life. You know an aerobics instructor, a department make-up counter lady, the next Tiffany or Debbie Gibson …you get the idea. But never, oh never did I think on any given day of my life my true aspiration would be to be Dora the *Freaking* Explorer. My kids, and yes I sorrowfully say kids as Itty Bitty is much aware of the mind grating “I’m a Maaaaaap!” song, are obsessed. So much so that Rock Star requests I play Diego and Dora with him daily. Multiple times a day in fact. I find it interesting that he continues to ask me being as I apparently suck at being the almighty Dora.
No Mooom! Not like that!” Argh! So here I am day in and day out try to be the best little Dora I can, only to achieve tremendous failure and have myself esteem shaken-again. I mean really, I already had to give up on being the next hot teen pop star, now this!? Life is so unfair.

Oh Dora, what a love –hate relationship we have evolved into.

Costco and Such Things

I drive a Suburban (which by the way I LOVE and will drive til the wheels fall off and then go buy another) and am a pro at parking the beast. I am an all-around excellent driver, but my parking skills are rather exceptional. I have even been known to get my burb into one of those compact spots - although I typically avoid other cars as to not get my purly white paint chipped. So you can imagine my horror when Friday I sat in the Costco parking lot watching some dingbat spend about 3 minutes trying to park her Toyota! Just to be clear, this car was not much bigger than a Hotwheel and it is being parked in a COSTCO slot (for those of you familiar with Costco, you will recall their extremely extra wide parking spaces). Seriously, this chick backed-up and realigned herself about 12 times before she finally got it in. I have absolutely no idea why this irritates me so, but it does. Driving is just one of those things I can’t help but feel like, if you are going to do it you better be good at it. Period. I could go on some more on this topic, but I think I am dangerously close to losing you at this point. Right?

So, on to something else. For the record, I am sad about Conan. He got screwed and I think he is hilarious and would watch him any day over Leno (who I find to be a complete bore).

I am getting dreadfully sick of winter food. I crave fresh fruits and veggies for myself and family. Living here it is impossible to get good organic whole, raw food because nothing is local. Sigh. I will be doing a great deal of canning and freezing this summer, although there still is something so wrong about a diet without fresh leafy greens. Again, sigh.

I am boring myself with these ramblings. Sorry my friends.

Did you win?

For those of you who bet against me that I would not actually return the shit toys from target, you win.

Damn. It.

Toys Suck.

Warning: You are about to read lots of naughty words. Sorry Grandma.


So the hubs and I went to Target today to buy gifts for the kids. I am pretty restrictive when it comes to birthday and holiday gift giving where my family is concerned. As a family we are aggressively working to be more consumption conscious while teaching our children happiness, joy and entertainment do not need to come from things. That being said, we buy our children three gifts for Christmas: one small item for their stocking (plus fruit and nuts), one gift from us and one from Santa. The hubs and I no longer exchange gifts and I have a rule that you only get a gift from our family if we are celebrating together, I do not ship stuff. I will however send homemade gifts of the heart. So my point is…we have very little shopping to do. One quick trip to Target and we are done.

Well, I say Target but what I really mean is the mother-fucking toy shithole of the world. I wanted to get the kids some gentle quiet toys that would allow them to use their imaginations and not be reliant on batteries, lights and noise. No such fucking luck. Nothing. Nothing at all. I could not find anything that did not talk, light-up, blink, sing, or generally rot the small brains it is intended to entertain. Shit.

December 22 and I am a bust. Hmm…could this be the year we give up Santa and tell the kids our family gift will be a day of board games together??? Here I walk the thin line between beautiful, wholesome mommy who will broaden the minds of my children and mommy the crazy bitch who robs my babies of Christmas to serve my own belief system. Damn. Buy toys I must.

I caved, somewhat.

1. Sleds – actually happy with this one given we are supposed to be getting nailed with a snowstorm Christmas Eve.
2. Little People figurines and Schoolhouse – unfortunately plastic. Here love, have a little C-A-N-C-E-R with that toy…
3. Lightening McQueen GeoTrax System. Gag. Loud, batteries required and I guarantee you it will lose it’s luster within 3 days.

Not happy. Toys suck. I have already started knitting next year’s gifts.

UPDATE:

I wrote the above last night then forgot to post it. Today I went to Pottery Barn for Kids and was able to score some wonderful wooden toys for the Rock Star (a HUGE Pirate Ship with figurines) and a barn made of corduroy with fabric animals for Itty Bitty. Sigh. Feeling much better.

BTW – the other shit is getting returned.

Open Letter to Glitter

Dear Sparkly Crafty Glitter,


I give. I break. You win. You seem oh-so-innocent sitting there on the Hobby Lobby shelf. Looking beautiful and fun, begging to be bought and given to the smiling faces of my children. You seem so harmless and wonderful. Everyone loves you, right? You inspire me to create and to allow the creativity to flow out of my kids.

Then I took you out of the freaking package. What have you done to me? Why do you conspire with glue to do such damage to our lovely home? How did you get in my hair and between my boobs!? Your sparkly beauty is now a sheet of migraine inducing scum on my floor, kitchen table and my children.

I would also love to know exactly how you remain completely resistant to the broom, my vacuum and every Swiffer product created? Damn you to hell Glitter. You are killing me softly. I am becoming obsessed, I cannot forget about you hanging out in my kitchen and dining room. I thought about you while running errands today and thought I had a plan to delete you from my life once and for all (can you say lint roller? I know, genius huh?) and then…while cleaning the last remaining scrapes from this morning art event I saw it: The most wonderfully shiny, sparkly, beautifully happy glittered snowman ever created. He took my breath away.

Glitter Snowman will hang for the next several weeks and each day I will gladly attempt in vain to clean the fairy dust droppings you will leave. The hubs has been right all these years; want me to get over being pissed? Just dangle something shiny in my direction.

Thank you Glitter, for the smiles you have brought into our home. Thank you from the bottom of my glue and glitter incrusted socks.

The person who gave my kids germs can suck it!

Err….oh how I want to hunt you down and make YOU go three days without sleep, look into the puffy, watery little eyes of a body ravaged with snot, aches, fever and diarrhea. I want you to know because you were selfish and needed to run your errands and touch everything in the grocery store without keeping your hands clean you have given my babies days and days of shit. You are a bad, bad person. My four year old without fail sneezes and coughs into his elbow and then sanitizes his hand and said elbow…it’s not that hard dumbass! And furthermore, keep your (dumb)ass home!

I do not know who you are, what you look like, or what your exact story is and quite frankly I don’t give a shit. I just want to kick you in the shins really hard (unfortunately for me I think I am too tired to have enough oomph in my kick to hurt you) and I want my babies to be able to sleep and eat and I want a freaking NAP!

Whoever you are – you suck.