Camryn, 6: “Hey Mom? Um, the toilet just got all stuffed with toilet paper, but I didn’t want to bother you or Daddy, so I fixed it myself. (big proud smile).
Mommy: “Wow. That was very nice of you. I didn’t even know you knew where we kept the plunger let alone how to use it. Way to take one for the team.”
Mommy: “Camryn, please tell me your hands are all wet from washing them and not from fixing the toilet with them…”
Camryn, 6: (silence)
Mommy: “Olivia, it’s almost time to leave for school, so that means it’s time for you to pick out, change, change again, change once again, complain and whine about, and then finally engage in a full-blown tantrum over the shoes you will wear today.”
Olivia, 4: “Ok, Mommy. Um, how abouts today you just picks out whatever shoes you wants me to wear?”
Mommy: “And you will just wear them without whining or crying?”
Olivia, 4: (sighs) “Yes, Momma.”
…apparently hell froze over between the hours of 7:58 pm and 8:15 am and I never got the memo. Today’s going to be a good day. I can feel it.
That moment when your eyeslids want nothing more but to retire for the night but you force them to work overtime so that you can fulfill your irrational need to browse random photo albums of people you haven’t seen or spoken to in over a decade and actually have no desire to see or speak to ever again…
Olivia, 4: “Mommy! Quick come up to the bathroom!”
Mommy: (rushes to bathroom based on urgency in Olivia’s voice)
Olivia, 4: “Mom, look how big this poop is! I mades it all by myself. Yep, the whole thing. Doesn’t it looks like an ice cream cone?”
Mommy: “Ya know, I kinda don’t want to admit it, but yeah, I think I sorta see where you’re coming from.”
Olivia, 4: “Ok, well can you wipes my butt now so I don’t have poopy underwears later on?”
Mommy: “Sure, you earned it.”
If the kids are playing house and six-year-old Camryn declares she will be playing the role of “Mommy” to four-year-old Olivia who will be taking on the part of “a three-year-old baby” does it mean I automatically get to punch out of my role as the official house Mommy until they are done playing their game of house and decide to go back to arguing over who sings Justin Bieber’s new song better?
…and an on-call, well-trained nanny, chef, hairdresser, makeup artist and housekeeper. Oh, and let’s not forget the real necessities, such as a bottomless box of Entemann’s chocolate chip cookies, a five gallon sized container of cookies and cream ice cream, a super-sized jar of chunky peanut butter, a bottle of extra strength Tylenol, a laptop with unlimited Facebook access and a case of wine…
To My Dearest Cheesy-Pop-Music-Loving Daughters,
Please note that you will never, ever, ever, ever find a Justin Bieber, One Direction, Alvin and the Chipmunks, LMFAO or Hannah Montana album in MY music library. So, if the question ever arises and someone happens to inquire about your musical tastes…you just tell them it’s all Daddy’s fault. Thanks so much.
Agreeing to a game of Hangman with your six-year-old child who decides to put into play a variety of words that she has not yet mastered how to spell 100% correctly…yet doesn’t reveal her lack of spelling skills until you have pulled out every last hair on your head trying to figure out what the mystery words could possibly be.
Dear Cheetos, Cheese Puffs and Nacho Doritos,
F#*k you and the cheesy orange aftermath you never fail to leave behind on my children, their clothes, the walls, the car windows, the cat’s tail, the doorknobs, the toilet flush handle, the entire set of Crayola markers, the television remote, the couch cushions and the computer keyboard and mouse.
“Take a good long look at me, little lady…because I’m the boss around here! Get used to it! When you grow up and have your own family…you can be a boss too!”
Camryn, 6: “Mom, what does a turtle’s body look like underneath the shell?”
Mommy: “I can’t say I’ve ever met a shell-less turtle, so I really don’t know.”
Camryn, 6: (appearing completely flabbergasted): “Hmmm. Well, I thought because you are a teacher you would know things like this. Hmph.”
I recently taught six-year-old Camryn how to use Pandora.com so she could listen to music on the computer. However, apparently somewhere along the way, she taught herself how to correctly spell Justin Bieber. When good ideas go bad…
If I knew then what I know now about being a parent… I would have made it a priority to buy lots of stock in Polly-O string cheese, Pepperidge Farm goldfish crackers and all brands of juice boxes. I would have also trained my body to poop only after 8 pm when the chances of a bathroom ambush were less likely since the kids have punched out for the day by then.
Olivia, 4: “Hey Mom. I don’t thinks you know this, but I’m really the tooth fairy.”
Mommy: “For real?”
Olivia, 4: “Yeah. And I even have sparkly wings that I put on.”
Mommy: “Well then. Thanks for letting me off the hook and I hope you treat yourself well when start to lose your baby teeth.”
Olivia, 4: “What you say?” Mommy: “Oh nothing, Tooth Fairy.”
Why is it when I glance at the backseat of my car it always looks like a f#*king scene from the morning after a wild party at a frat house minus the drugs and with the substitution of empty apple juice sippy cups in place of the empty beer bottles?
To be followed up with useless parenting question #2… Why am I bothering to waste my breath, time and energy on asking you why you did this when it is a guaranteed fact you will do it once again three days from now and still have the same answer of “I don’t know, just because I felt like it” when asked to explain yourself?
The kids are finally asleep after a day of fun Easter festivities and I am left wondering if they took an inventory of the candy, specifically the peanut butter filled chocolate eggs, in their Easter baskets, whether or not they’d miss them if they were to be gone in the morning and if they will believe my story that the Easter Bunny loves peanut butter filled choholate eggs even more than carrots, so he decided to come back for a snack during the night…hmmm…what to do, what to do….it’s not all year you come across these delicacies….
“You say Matzoh, I say Pasta,” says the half Jewish/half Catholic/part Italian Girl…
Jewish Grandma: “So, Camryn, what’s your favorite part of Passover?”
Camryn, 6: “Well, my most favorite part of all is hiding the PASTA.”
Jewish Grandma: (appalled) “Um, I think you mean matzoh?”
Mommy: (makes mental note to self to swing by the library for a large stack of kid-friendly Passover books and incorporate an intensive Passover tutorial session into Camryn’s afternoon activities.)
Hmmmmm…3:30 on Tuesday? Nah, that won’t work. I’ll be tied up tackling your mountains of dirty laundry, scrubbing the caked on macaroni and cheese off of your lunchtime dishes and organizing the toys in your bedroom in an attempt to make the floor visible once again. Shall we shoot for the following week?
“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” – Ferris Bueller
They come without warning…these moments of reflection. They wash over you and leave you viewing the world through a clearer, more refreshed lens. They arrive just as you teetering on the edge and reel you back in to become fully aware, once again, of what it’s really all about….
The reality (thru the eyes of six-year-old, Camryn): “She’s annoying me again, Mommy! I want to play with you instead! Hey, I have an idea. How about we just trade Olivia in for another dog?”
School Vacation Agenda:
Main goal: to spend quality time with the little ones while engaged in and enjoying such activities as…
1. playground visits
2. playdates with friends
3. completing some arts and crafts projects
4. taking the dogs for walks
5. busting Daddy out of work for a few lunchedates
6. library stops for books and movies
7. attending a couple of plays
8. whatever else may tickle our fancy and keeps the kids smiling
And so here we are. We have finally arrived at school vacation, day #1 of 11. It is only 8:34 am and we are just getting our toes wet, yet we already have our first addendum to the agenda. All activities will drop down one spot in priority and number one shall now read as follows: 1. Stop by the nearest sports supplies store to purchase a referee shirt (in adult, size Large and preferably with pink stripes, if they carry it. )
That which does not kill me, makes me stronger…so, hopefully, this means I will survive the high-pitched squealing that is the girls arguing over whether or not the Littest Pet Shop chinchilla’s birthday is really today or tomorrow…I think I can, I think I can….
Breakfasts fully consumed by all, teeth brushed, clothes picked out by Mommy approved and independently put on, heads of hair brushed, headbands to match their outfits selected and in place, shoes and socks on the feet, schoolbags packed with school library books which ensures avoiding another overdue fine, and lunches with bonus “I love you” notes from Mommy. And all with five minutes to spare before heading out the door. Who needs Mega Millions? I just won the Mommy lottery…a tantrum-less school morning prep session. Dare to dream, because sometimes, dreams really do come true.
That moment when your child declares, after consuming just four cookies from the package, that they no longer like those Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup Chips Ahoy cookies in the kitchen cabinet and you automatically begin planning out which flavor ice cream you will pair those heavenly little nuggets of peanut buttery goodness with once the kids are asleep for the night…
If I put as much time, energy and thought into creating world peace as I do cleaning out, organizing and re-organizing my pocketbook, I would, without a doubt, be able to add Nobel Peace Prize winner to my resume. I swear, if I ever get my hands on those tiny, evil pocketbook hating trolls that come out at night and trash mine…they’ll be sorry.
The emotions come out of nowhere and sideswipe me as I am washing a dish left behind by one of the kids. All it takes is an innocent glance out of the kitchen window. I can’t help but stare at the baby carseat waiting at the curb for tomorrow’s garbage pickup. Wasn’t it just yesterday I spent countless hours pacing the aisles of Babies R’ Us obsessing over which seat was the best one for that precious baby kicking inside my belly?
The purple and gray Graco seat ended up being the winner and was just perfect. It met all the must haves on the new parent-to-be’s checklist. It had a good safety rating, was easy to figure out how to use with the adorable matching stroller I’d been eyeing since I first saw the little pink line on the pregnancy test and most importantly didn’t look like someone threw up flowers or hearts all over it. It had that “yeah, I’m a baby girl, but I mean business, so none of that coochie coochie coo nonsense for me, please” look to it. It was the one my baby was going to be carried around in, nap peacefully in, smile her first smile in, puke up entire bottles of formula in, and independently learn to propel herself out of at six months of age.
And yet now it sits, lonely, empty and abandoned on the curb. Perhaps it is the memories of when my daughters were babies and the fact that in one moment those memories seem like yesterday and in others they feel like so distant like memories from another lifetime. Maybe it’s the fact my daughters are growing up at a speed faster than I can wrap my head around and some days I wish for nothing more than a rewind or pause button. But whatever the reason may be, my eyes remain glued to that carseat. But, within a few minutes, the reality of the clock nearing midnight presses down upon me and I force myself to turn away.
I grab a paper towel, wipe my tears and take the trip upstairs to go to bed for the night, but not before paying a visit to kiss my daughters who will always be my babies..whether I can carry them around in a carseat, my arms or in my heart.
Mommy Pet Peeve #538: When you your kid completely ignores you when you ask them a question.
Mommy Pet Peeve #539: When your kid answers your question with a completely inappropriate answer because they didn’t even bother listening to the question.
Mommy: “Camryn, do you want chicken nuggets or macaroni and cheese for lunch today?”
Camryn, 6: “Yes.” Mommy: “And would you like it served with a side of dog poop?”
Camryn, 6: “Uh, yeah.”
Mommy: “You got it kiddo. Coming right up.”
Mommy: “You got it kiddo. Coming right up.” Camryn: “Yep.”
You know you are a parent when_____________________
…you finally crawl into your bed at the end of an exhausting, overwhelming day and you are greeted by a rainbow colored Slinky and a stuffed hedgehog stabbing you in the ass.
Four-year-old Olivia’s lastest obsession is her newly acquired knowledge of the fact that women grow hair under their armpits. What does this mean for me? It means enduring Olivia’s random spot checks of my armpits, with bonus condescending commentary, on her findings. This leaves me no choice but to step up my armpit hair grooming habits in order to avoid being ridiculed for being furry. A big thank you for making a woman feel that much more self-conscious about her appearance, little one…
That place of limbo where your child doesn’t have a fever anymore, their cough has started to fade and they are eating and drinking normally once again, yet you decide to keep them home in case they still need one last day of rest to ensure they are 100% healthy again…and then moments later give yourself a swift kick in the ass when you find them dancing and singing along to Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way” with the cat dangling from their arms…at only 9:02 AM. In preparation of tomorrow’s school departure, the backpack was packed, clothes laid out and lunch money on the kitchen counter all before the clock even hit 12:00 pm today.