Questionable Choices in Parenting

Laughing at life as a parent so they don't commit me

Breaking Up and Making Up with my Running Shoes: This Time It’s Serious

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My running shoes and I have had an on again/off again relationship for about fifteen years.  Our relationship has been complicated and filled with angst, heartbreak, and infidelity. While my shoes have been true blue, I have a cheating heart. Sometimes it was with others that I thought were better for me: yoga, aerobics, and that short lived affair in college with Tae-Bo. But usually it was just lust that pulled me away: late night nachos, cold winter weather, more sleep. But no matter how long I strayed, I always come back to my running shoes. While she welcomes me back with open laces, she punishes me for leaving her behind. The longer I’ve been gone, the longer it takes me to get back to where we were.

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Most days I don’t enjoy running.

I run against traffic rather than with it: rebel

I hate the idea of running in a group and only run alone: solo

I sing really loud while I run: tone deaf

I spit while I run: camel

Maybe my running shoes don’t like me either or we aren’t compatible because I’ve never felt that “runner’s high.” But for some reason running and I just work. We always have, always will.

I don’t aspire to run in a marathon or even the local 5K. No medals or time trials for this gal. I just want to be comfortable in my skin, my new skin. The skin that has been stretched and pulled. The hips that have spread.  The body that has created, nourished, and carried my two greatest achievements.  More than fitting into my jeans,  I want my daughter to feel good in her skin. Better than I feel in my own.

My little girl has the most delicious kneecaps and bitable thighs. I adore her round arms and the belly that hangs over her diaper. While admiring my precious baby, I started to ponder when do we stop loving chunky thighs on girls and start to dislike them? It was then that I realized that my running shoes mean more than this skin. Because my skin is a reflection of how she will see her own. I would die a thousand deaths if I thought I contributed to an unhealthy body image for that sweet, sweet girl.

Enough of the excuses and hiding my running shoes in the back of my closet.

I’ve been on a diet since I was 18. That’s when I started college and stopped running the first time. I started packing on the pounds, and the breakups and makeups with my running shoes started. The scale would go up, the running shoes and I would have another go ’round. Then numbers of the scale would fall, and I would tell my running shoes we were “on a break”.

But this time it’s different. I think we are going to make it this time. This time it’s not just about the weight on the scale or my fear of saddlebags. This time it means a lot more.

So I will eat ice cream with my kids, but I will also put them in the jogging stroller with me while I count the miles under my feet.  I will entertain them with lollipops and sing them songs to get more time on the road. And I will teach my daughter to love the skin she is in because I created that skin and it is perfection.

So let’s try this relationship again, running shoes. I thought about quoting a Taylor Swift song or maybe The Notebook to win you back, but you’ve never needed hearts and flowers, just me, my bad singing, and the road.

 

A Space of Their Own For Real ™

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Canopi

When we were looking for a new house there were a number of “must haves”: more space, more space, room for the kids’ toys, and more space. When we first walked through our new home, Hubby and I looked at each other and smiled because we knew this house had everything we needed and more. The only problem was he saw the large, light filled room in the basement as his future man cave.  You know the drill; he assumed it would be a room he could keep dark and cold, lined with comfy couches and reclining chairs that would swallow him up on the weekends as he watched every major league and college sport imaginable. Sorry, honey! Welcome to your kids’ new toy room! If Mamma can’t pee alone, you surely aren’t getting a man cave!

In our old house, the kids’ toys were creeping into every inch of our living space, and I couldn’t breathe without being assaulted by one of their toys. I was actually giddy when unpacking their new toy room.

“Look at all of these toys in ONE space! I don’t remember how to cook without a scooter, baby doll, and drum set at my feet!”

Mimi’s play kitchen and princesses fit perfectly on one side, a corner for their musical instruments, the books and art table will fit right there, and Monkey’s beloved train table and collection of cars, planes and trucks fit on the other side. I stood back and looked at my organizational masterpiece and breathed a sigh of relief.

Then five minutes later it looked like a hurricane went through the toy room, but hey, they weren’t in my kitchen so just turn off the lights and ignore the mess!

A few weeks ago I was looking around the disaster zone toy room and realized that while my kids’ personalities shine through in their favorite toys, the blank walls just didn’t do this room justice.  So when Canopi and Fathead® suggested I check out the selection of kid’s wall decals, I knew this was the perfect way to make this a space of their own!

My kids would go BANANAS over any of the Disney decals, but it was Bucky, Jake, and Captain Hook that were the big winners! Since we watch Jake and the Neverland Pirates 487 times a day, I wasn’t shocked when the kids started singing the theme song when the box with the decal arrived.

Fatheadkids

Bye-bye boring beige walls!  Hello Jake and the Neverland Pirates fabulouness!!! Look how amazing this decal is! It’s big, bright, colorful, and could be arranged so many ways. Talk about a statement wall! Yay hey, YES way.

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To be honest, I had no idea that Fathead ® made so many different wall decals. It’s not just HUGE sports decals. One we got one up, I wanted to pick more and more. Here are the decals that other bloggers picked:

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Aren’t these great? They really have a decal for everyone. Check out Beth from Arrow in the Eye. She picked the Fenway Park Skyline mural. If you are stuck in your home office, at least you have a beautiful scenery, right?

Can you believe I put the entire decal up myself? Well I did AND I had both kids running around demanding chocolate milk and snacks while I worked. So if I can put the decal up under those circumstances, you can do it too!

Seriously, head over to Fathead®  and check out what they have to for you and your family! Seeing my kids burst into song and dance every time they see Bucky was so worth it, “For Real”™!

FATHEAD

Love and Marriage Six Years Later

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This weekend Hubby and I celebrated six years of married bliss, or in reality, six years of love, passive aggressive fights, good times, awesome times, not so awesome times, and just simple life.

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Every year I force him to watch our wedding video so I can ohhhh and awwww over every wedding detail I agonized over, my pretty dress, my tiny waist, can you believe he brought that horrible girl as his date, our first dance, my husband looking oh so dreamy in his tux, and those sweet vows.  One part of the video that really caught my attention this year was not us cutting the cake to the silly song Adam Sandler sings at the end of The Wedding Singer, but the priest’s sermon about how a marriage changes through the years. So I got to thinking about the things that have already changed is six short years…

6yearsLots of things change the longer you are married, but if the days you want to high five your husband or even kiss his face outweigh the days you want to punch him in the face, well now, that is some wedded bliss!

Terrible Twos are No Big Deal and Other Lies I Tell Myself

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We are just a few weeks into the “terrible twos” and let me tell you, friends, one of us isn’t going to make it to three. If I were you, I’d put my money on the little one.

Terrible Twos

I used to think the term “terrible two” was a gross exaggeration. Simply put, this was a  term created by someone who liked alliteration and innocently wanted a funny phrase for the little ups and downs of their child’s second year of life. Come on, I already had a two year old, and we sailed through that year pretty much unscathed. Sure there were some rough patches, but all in all, two was a good year with my boy.

But those of us who mock, roll our eyes, and refuse to heed the warnings of other mothers will get a swift kick in the uterus from Mommy Karma, a testy and unforgiving biotch.

Some of the confusion may have been in the name “terrible twos.” Let me offer some more descriptive and effective terms for this stage of life. How about “Dear-God-why-is-she-screaming-again-I-think-the-windows-are-going-to-burst two. Or “Don’t-make-eye-contact-just-give-her-whatever-the-hell-she-wants-and-run two.”  No? How about “If-my-husband-thinks-I-am-having-another-baby-anytime-soon-he-is-as-crazy-as-this-child-that –has-thrown-herself-on-the-floor-and-is-losing-her-shizz-right-now two”.

Every morning I hear the same little voice calling for me from her crib, “Mommy, where are you?” But I never know who I am going to get when I pop my head into her room. Sweet Mimi, sleepy Mimi, silly Mimi, grumpy Mimi, shepard for the devil Mimi.  Even if you get one Mimi out of bed, there is no telling who she will be when you get downstairs. When her dad says good morning to her, any of the following can happen:

  1. She leaps into his arms and sings a song of job to entertain her dad
  2. She bursts into tears and yells that no one is allowed to look at her
  3. She screams for chocolate milk and throws the cup at you if it isn’t pink, doesn’t have enough chocolate, or if you looked at her when warned not to do so
  4. She quietly sits on the couch and watches TV
  5. All of the above in a five-minute span

I’m exhausted and the magic light that is the age of three is so far away. I’m assuming that when she wakes up on her third birthday (in 345 days) she will be normal again, right? RIGHT?

You never know when and where she will unleash the terrible. A few days ago while at the beach, Monkey was catching a few waves with his boogie board. Mimi marched down to the water and morphed into an out of control screaming banshee. She was in full on major meltdown and I tried everything in my mommy bag of tricks—snacks, drinks, toys, a million dollars—just please stop screaming. I tried to give her another boogie board– she didn’t want it. I traded with Monkey and tried to give her his board–she didn’t want it. Turns out, she didn’t want to “boogie”; she was mad that her brother was having fun, and she, apparently being a part of the fun police, needed to put a stop to his fun.

The calm before the storm
The calm before the storm

Is there a terrible two rehab facility? Somewhere where Dr. Drew sits down with two year olds and talks them through these trying times. Now that would make an interesting reality show. Maybe this is a two part therapy and the mommies attend some sort of spa to relieve our tension or receive a lobotomy, whichever is needed most. If this sort of place doesn’t exist, I am creating one today.

Who’s coming with me?

Blogger and Now a Vlogger! Check Me Out!

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So I’m getting real fancy up in here and trying out vlogging. Actually the ladies over at More Than Mommies asked me to join in on their Mommy TMI vlogs and since I am a sucker for peer pressure, you get the pleasure of seeing me ramble in a video! I even tried to fix my hair, but then I went for a walk with the kids to get a free slurpie from 7-11 and well, you will see….

My Scary Mommy Repost: All I Need to Know I Learned on 90210

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This weekend I had the opportunity to wine and dine with the super hilarious and sweet Jill Smokler, aka Scary Mommy.  Since I already had a bloggy crush on her before, my crush has exploded 100% after this weekend.  I may become a Scary Mommy groupie. Today I am reposting the piece she featured on her site when I was a brand new blogger in February. Not only is this my favorite piece, but Jason Priestly even retweeted this post on Twitter. So one post on Scary Mommy and a retweet from Brandon Walsh—-drops mic and walks off stage.

If you are a Beverly Hills 90210 fan, here are the very important life lessons you probably learned from hours of watching the best show ever!

I have been highlighting my hair since I was in seventh grade. I really couldn’t even tell you what my real hair color should be. Here is my best guess: If you head out to your local drug store and walk down the aisle with boxes of hair color, take a look at “Blahhh” or “Meh” that would be the best description of my natural color.

 

Since I have been cursed with such lackluster hair, I have been forced to shell out big money every few months to make sure I remain a bouncy blonde and not some crazy lady pretending that her six inches of dark roots is her attempt at ombre.

 

A young gal was highlighting my hair this week and she was over sharing stories of her “bad boy” and “womanizing” boyfriend. I patiently listened to her story, nodded periodically, and even gave the shocked “No!” every so often. When she finished the sordid details of her love life, I decided to pass down some sage wisdom from a slightly older, wiser, been-there-done-that-lady. Here is what I told her:

 

“Honey, you date the Dylan, but you marry the Brandon.”



I knew I was in trouble when she got this dumfounded look that screamed “What the hell are you talking about?” Then I got the “Who?”

 

Dylan McKay and Brandon Walsh? 90210? The real 90210. Only one of the greatest shows ever! Really? No idea who I am talking about?

 

First, I felt old. Then, I felt sad for the wayward young girl that didn’t have 90210 during her formative years to guide her along her journey to maturity.  Then, I got to thinking about my own Monkey and Mimi and all of the conversations I will have with them in the future and I shudder at the thought. What if I just lock the kids in a room and force them to watch all ten seasons of my favorite show? When they are done, they can come out and we can discuss what they have learned. I am confident all of those difficult conversations will be addressed in each hour of 90210, and I will simply just need to reiterate some of the most important…

 

Beverly Hills 90210, Life Lessons

 

1. Don’t get drunk at prom and pass out in front of the principal. While I am sure you are charming, no one is going to stage a walkout and chant “Mimi graduates, Mimi graduates.”
Beverly Hills 90210, Life Lessons, Donna Martin

 

2. Don’t wear the same dress to the spring formal as your best friend, don’t date the edgy new girl that takes drugs, don’t dress slutty at Halloween parties, don’t date the broken hottie that has mommy issues, and don’t lose your virginity at the spring formal you wore the same dress as your friend — for reasons other than you are wearing the same dress as your BFF — Didn’t you learn anything from Brenda’s pregnancy scare?
Kelly, Brenda, 90210, Same dress

 

3. Just because your friends have bigger houses, amazing clothes, a bitchin car, tons of money, and the super, cool, fun mom that is sometimes in and out of rehab, the grass is not always greener and your friends probably wish they had a snarky, sarcastic Mom like yours that can make a mean pepperoni roll. Boom!

 

 

Beverly Hills 90210, Life Lessons

 

4. Drugs are bad. So are diet pills, cults, gambling,  plagiarizing your college papers,  cheating on your girlfriend with her BFF, cheating on your boyfriend with his BFF, cheating on your girlfriend with a lame music executive —OK, let’s just generalize that with cheating — it’s bad – all bad.

 

Beverly Hills 90210, Life Lessons

 

6. Violence against a woman is never OK, and if some guy pushes you down the stairs, he does not love you. While I do not condone violence, I would kick a guy’s ass if he ever laid a finger on my Mimi.
7. When faced with two options and neither feels right, always choose yourself. While she made lots of bad choices during the course of the show, Kelly got this one right—“I choose me!”

 

Kelly, beverly hills 90210

 

So there you go, seven very important lessons that cover all things I need my children to know as they grow up to be functioning members of society.  Trust me, I dated the Dylans but married the Brandon. Man, this child rearing is easy!

I Survived My Son’s First Field Trip

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When my son’s chi chi preschool informed me that in order for him to keep his spot in school for the fall he needed to attend the summer session, I was livid, furious, irate! How dare they take away precious summertime with my boy of long days at the pool, running wild at the splash park, and frequent trips to the beach. How dare………oh wait, they’re going to have pony rides and trips to a petting zoo. Dang, can I go?

The summer calendar the school’s activities looked way better than me filling up the water table 375 times in one morning. Plus the kid would probably be sick of my face by mid-June. So I conceited and sent him on his preschool way.

I knew the kids were going on field trips this summer, but Mommy Brain struck again because I never thought about the logistics of how the group of three and four year olds would actually get to the field trip destinations. Obviously they would load all of the munchkins on a HUGE yellow bus. You know the kind of bus that doesn’t have seat belts. The same buses that are involved in 26,000 accidents a year, but who’s counting?

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My sweet little boy! How could I let my three year old on a bus? He won’t go! He will be terrified!

I need to prepare him because if I know anything, it’s my boy.

Days before the trip and all the way to school that day, I reminded him he would be riding the big yellow bus with his friends. They would go see a puppet show and have lunch at the theater. And when he gets off the bus, Mommy would be waiting for him. And I bet Mommy will have a treat. Yes, a treat.. ice cream. Lots of ice cream…

Walking to his classroom on the day of the field trip, I was still chanting over and over “you’re going to go on a big bus today! Won’t that be amazing?”  Before we made it very far, a teacher told us to just head out to the buses because they were ready to leave.

I can’t do that! This boy is a man of routine and he doesn’t like when things change.

He will be terrified and burst into tears if I walk him over to the bus and then leave! 

This isn’t how it was supposed to work. No, no, no!

I was supposed to drop him off in his class, like usual, and run out the front door.

This will be a disaster!

We walked up to the big yellow bus, he let go of my hand, and stood in line with his class. What the…? Wait, what just happened? That little traitor didn’t even look back. No tears. No hesitation. Just a big goofy grin and off he went to wait in line with his classmates all decked out in their blue school shirts.

If there is one thing I know. it’s my boy. And if there is one thing that will continue to surprise me, it’s my boy