Questionable Choices in Parenting

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

Stalking Your Kids = Parenting, you are doing it right

by

Stalking is illegal in all fifty states, but to that I say felony-smelony. Let’s find the fun side of stalking! I mean I get the whole “illegal” and super creepy aspect if you’re stalking a celebrity or an ex. Although stalking someone like Ryan Gosling would really be more sport than stalking. And come on,  I have no good reason to not stalk an ex because

  • My husband is adorable, has all of his hair, and for some unknown reason thinks I’m the cat’s pajamas.
  • All of my exs are big, fat losers—that’s why they’re an ex.  If you happen to be one of my exs and you are reading this…. Hello, and not you. You were great.  (But really him too, he was awful too)

While the penalties for stalking can be pretty dicey, there is one type of stalking I approve, condone and practice: stalking your children.

Stalking your kids is even better if you have an equally efficient and effective (read: cray cray) mom stalker just like you. This is where my fav gal pal Coco comes in handy; plus she is a lawyer in case we need any representation while stalking.

Right now our kids are young and the stalking is mainly to observe, swoon, and giggle at how our kids act and react when we aren’t around; however, polishing our stalking skills now will serve us well when they are tweens and teens (shudders at the thought).

If you are new to stalking, no worries! I have compiled five easy steps to make stalking your children easy and fun. Follow along!

1.  Timing is everything:  Angle your swagger wagon so that you can see them exiting the premise.  Three busses on the field trip? No problem, feel free to pull in between those buses in order to “monitor” their speed and driving precision.

2. Spot the targets carefully: At no time do you want to be detected. Stay far away from them as they enter the new location and take your seat far enough away that your cover is not blown. Use human shields if necessary. Are you in the clear? Good! Now enjoy  your subjects  kids as they engage in fun under your watchful eye

3 Documentation: Secret stalker pictures like this are key. Save all pictures for research and prosperity.

Secret pic

4. Deny all allegations against you: Upon arrival of pickup, if one Miss Chatty Cathy tries to out you by saying “I saw you today” quickly answer “No, no, no silly girl,” knock over the rack of dress up clothes to distract her, and run away.

5. Reward Yourself on a Successful Mission: If all of the steps are successful, make a quick getaway to Starbucks for a grande, skinny caramel macchiato and a muffin. You’ve done well, lady.

Stalking is usually frowned upon in most circles, but it’s embraced around here. So until they have GPS devices installed in kids’ underwear…wait do they have GPS panties?  Ohhhhh I am claiming this brilliant idea now: GPS undies ™  I’m going to make a fortune!

Let me revise, until GPS undies ™ are on the market, my secret stalking missions will continue. If we see each other out on our next “outing” just give me a little nod,  I’ll know why you are hanging around the shadows.

A Mixer, a Vlog, and Kids: Sounds like the beginning of a joke!

by

Well hello there!

You know, blogging with kids can be ridiculously impossible; trying to vlog with kids, just book me a ticket to crazy town.  So this week I decided to let the kids join me while I vlogged.

Here is what I learned:

  • Without children I can form sentences and sound articulate and prepared.
  • With children, I can barely put two words together and just ramble. Blah, blah, blah, blah
  • I need to fix my hair for the next vlog
  • Even with dirty faces, my kids are super cute (OK, I already knew that but wait until you see them C-U-T-E)

My favorite ladies Christine and Janene from More Than Mommies asked me to join their Mixer today as “The Life of the Party”, and, let me tell you, I am totally the life of the party—well I used to be. Now I am sleepy at 8:30 zzzzzzzz. Luckily we are mixing it up during the day and we would love for you to join us!

Here are the “rules”

(Don’t make us post bouncers at the door.)


 Follow your Hostesses – Christine and Janene from More Than Mommies

More Than Mommies


 Follow our Co-Hostess – Meredith at The Mom of The Year

The Mom of the Year


 Follow the Life of The Party – Amanda at Questionable Choices in Parenting



– We will choose someone who signs up via Twitter on the Linky below to be our LOTP each week. We love to keep up with all of you on twitter–so tweet with our hashtag (#MTMmixer) so we can find you!
Follow our Mixologist – Ann at Such a Mama
 – Every week we will choose one participant to get our party started at the #4 slot. All you have to do is link up under the first Linky (and follow the “rules”) to be considered!  If you really want to host – just leave us a comment!!!
Add your Post/Twitter ID/Blog URL to the Linky it belongs in.
Follow the person directly BEFORE you on the hop!


Finally, we ask that you post one (or both) of our buttons in either a post or on your sidebar to let other people know where you are partying today!

 
 

Link up your Blog:

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

Link up your Twitter Handle:

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

Link up your Facebook Page

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list...

Link up your Pinterest Boards:

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

Link up your Mommy TMI Vlog Post

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

About My Birthday Boy

by

Four years ago the world became a better place and not just because the most miserable pregnant woman in the world no longer had a bun in the oven, but because my sweet boy came into this world and made it a little kinder and sweeter.

In celebration of my first born’s birthday, I’ve been thinking about the four short years he’s been hanging around this joint and how it seems like a lifetime of knowing him. After all, he is pretty awesome.

Aaronboat

After the obvious announcement of “It’s a boy!” the doctor added “Wow! That is the cleanest baby I’ve ever seen!”  Weird thing to say to a brand new Mamma, right?  Somehow I thought these words would be some sort of prophesy and I would have the cleanest kid around. Nope, didn’t happen.  We should have named that kid Pig-Pen because rarely is there a day when he doesn’t have a chocolate milk mustache or dirt covering some area of his body. Dirtball.

When the doctor laid a tiny, dark hair, dark eyed, olive skinned baby on my chest, I was instantly and madly in love with this little boy.  He was perfection. Interesting, I thought, while gazing at his beautiful face, I  produce middle eastern children. Hubby’s Lebanese heritage had clearly trumped my own genes.

babyaaron

Turns out the kid was just a little jaundice, and after a few feedings and a couple of good poops, this is who we ended up with. Handsome little devil, huh?

View More: http://stevebeltzphotography./t2Vl5127177

My boy is a hoot! He has a sharp sense of humor and the best comedic timing. His ability to make his Mamma laugh has saved his cute butt from many trips to time out. While it’s clear he is going to be a hit in college, I’m a little nervous about the reasons why. He’s smart, adorable, and funny,  plus chicks dig him. But he’s really going to catch the eye of the ladies with his Frank the Tank tendencies.


The kid really loves being naked and rarely walks out of the potty with anything other than socks on his feet. To be honest, his balls have probably touched every surface of this house. Since I’ve already told you that I am a crap housekeeper,  and if  balls skeeve you out, well, just don’t sit on our couch, OK?

Naked antics aside, he really is the kindest little boy and has such a huge heart. He will cover your face with kisses, tell you he will love your forever 934 times a day (and mean it every. single. time), and gives the best hugs.Not that lame side hug or hugs with hands at his side, but real honest to goodness hugs. Hugs that melt my little black heart because he is a little gem and he is all mine! OK, I shall share him with Hubby (but he’s mostly mine).

He can’t bare to see people hurting or sad. Most Disney movies are banned from our viewing list because the sad parts wreck him for days. He is the first one to offer hugs to a friend in need.

He is a gentle boy with a good, good heart and I when I think about that good heart I just know that some horrible  girl is going to break it into a million little pieces. My blood boils because I will be powerless to do anything. Well, I may scratch her eyes out, in my head anyway.

Sometimes I think I ended up with this gentle boy and his kind heart because I was a real creep to the guys I dated a million years ago. Is this karma’s idea of payback?

Maybe karma didn’t count on me being this crazy in love and obsessed with my boy. Is it possible to love your kids too much? Nope…no way. Not when they are this fabulous. So here’s to the most amazing four years with my lovebug and a lifetime more!

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

by

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.

shoes

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 ™

by

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.

fathead2

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:

Bloggerscollage

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

by

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.

Wedding1

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

by

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?