Friday, May 28, 2010


That's my new word - Jever. Basically it's Did You Ever? So, here's my question - Jever have one of those moms that you just hate? I mean like every time you see her you just wish she would walk in front of a bus? I have one of these moms at my daughter's school. I can't stand her and yet can't get away from her. She's everywhere! I wonder if God put our daughters in the same class so that I would be forced to get along with her. He's testing me big time. This woman is just a big meanie. I swear, you could be walking down the hall and she'd see you and then look away like you weren't there. She never, ever, ever says hello. I've actually said hello to her and had her not even answer! It's not just me, I promise. I don't know anyone that actually likes the lady too much. It's sad because her daughters are the sweetest things you'll ever meet but she's not very nice to them either. She's just a big crabby pants. Well, there are only a few more weeks of school so I won't have to see her too often. Knowing my luck, our daughters will have the same teacher until high school!

Monday, May 24, 2010


Every mom I know is soooo mean. Really, they are. And I know they are because their kids say it's so. Can I have a Jolly Rancher for breakfast? No. You're mean. Can I watch TV while I do my homework? No. You're mean. Would you buy me that toy? No. You're mean. Would you buy me those sneakers? No. You're mean. Moms are mean and life is so unfair. Did you know that? Did you know that you're mean? Are you lean and mean? I'm old, fat and mean and I love it!

Friday, May 21, 2010

Do it yourself

I know I will one day regret saying this, but some days I really hate the name "Mom". It usually happens in the morning when both of my children need to be tended to. Did you know that as a child gets older, they lose the ability to do things? They can't bend over. They can't reach up. They can't look beyond the area in front of their nose. Well, that's how it is in my house. I know it's my fault (well, not all mine, but I have to take the blame). I've got a little control issue and I'm one of those types that find it easier to do things myself than let others do them. So, maybe I did that to my kids a little bit. But, I'm positive I taught them how to dress themselves. I was there when they learned how to put toothpaste on the toothbrush and stick it in their mouths. I know for sure they are able to find clothing and put it on their bodies. Yes, they sometimes forget to change their underwear or put the dirty stuff in the hamper or brush the knots out of their hair. But, for the most part, they can perform these daily functions. This morning, I thought I would lose my mind. I was helping the older one get ready for crazy hair day at school. I have to watch her cross the street and wait for the school bus. I have to make sure her water bottle is in her backpack. So, the entire time I'm helping her, here comes the short one. Mom, can you do my hair? Mom, can you help me get the Cinderella drawing desk? Mom, can I have a piece of paper? Mom, can I have a pen? Mom, I'm thirsty. Mom, can I watch TV? Mom, I have to go to the bathroom. Mom, I want to get dressed. Mom, where is my whistle? Mom, can I have another piece of paper? You get the idea. I don't want to be one of those mothers that do everything for their children. I still watch my mother-in-law pick up clothes from the floor and do laundry for her grown children. I don't know if I could be that lady. And, I don't mind doing some things for them, but really. My kids can usually tell when I've gotten to the point of frustration. They say "I know, you're not an octopus." But, they don't care that I don't have eight arms. They just want the two I have to be working for them. I guess that's okay for now. The frustration is worth it. As long as they realize I do things for them because I love them and not because the world owes them a big favor. Wouldn't want them to feel entitled and think I'm the maid. I not a maid. I am an octopus.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

The grass is always greener

There's this lady I know. She's got it pretty easy. Doesn't have to work. Husband has a good job. He cooks and cleans and takes care of the kids. Just a good guy. She doesn't complain about him too much, but she usually finds other things to complain about - the house, the kids, the neighbors - it's always something. It got me to wondering if she does this complaining to actually make herself feel better. Like, maybe when she has a gripe, people remind her how good she has it and she starts to feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Or maybe, she just can't help it. Maybe she's one of those people that just doesn't have a positive outlook on life and needs to always find something to bi*ch about. Who knows? I'm like that. I have a hard time feeling positive about a lot of things. I never seem to have a day that doesn't include a problem with something. So, it's up to me to turn my frown upside down and try to put a positive spin on things and make them go the best way they can. And, when I start to feel like my life is hard and when I start wishing that I could get a break, I think about the woman who gets fired from her job for taking a sick day to nurse her feverish infant back to health. Or the man whose wife criticizes him so much he can barely remember the last time she said something nice. Or the family who has to share a meal that is really only meant to feed one. So, in that respect, I've got it good. I might not have it as good as the next guy, but I might not have it as bad either.

Friday, May 14, 2010

Pipe down

Wow, I must be getting old and crochety or am just way too sensitive to noise. My kids seem to be the loudest people on the face of the earth. Well, no, it's not just them - it's so many children I encounter every day. What is that about? I know sometimes kids will talk louder because other people are talking and they want to be heard. Last night, we were at the library and I told my little one several times that we had to use our "library voices" inside. I love this place - it actually has a traffic light and the light is green when it's quiet. If you're too loud, the light turns red. I need one of those in my house! But, there's the short one making absolutely no attempt at all to use a library voice. Or, maybe, her library voice is the same level as other people's "at the baseball field voice". I don't know. I know some people who talk so much and so loudly that I think they just love the sound of their own voice. Don't they mind that other people are hearing about their private business? Do they care that other people might not be interested in their conversation? (take note, people who put their cell phones on speaker in restaurants and other places - it's just rude!) I was telling a friend today that I might get my daughter's ears checked because I don't think she can hear herself. That's got to be the reason she talks to loud. Well, that and the fact that her father has a loud, booming voice. I don't want them to stop talking (well, maybe just for a few minutes) I just want them to lower the volume to an acceptable level. Something that doesn't make me feel like I'm at a rock concert! Maybe I could stick cotton balls in my ears to solve the problem. Mommy Ear Plugs. It's a thought.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Mommy Exercise

I should have gone to the gym today. I know I should have. I can make a bunch of excuses - it's raining, I'm tired, there's not enough gas in the car, I'm waiting at home for an important phone call. Nothing works - I'm lazy. But, really, when you think about it, I did exercise today. I ran up and down the stairs about 27 times today. Some of those times, I was carrying a basket full of laundry. So, right there, I'm doing the stairmaster and lifting weights. I bent down about 546 times today. That's got to count for something! You can open a parenting magazine on any given month and there will be some cute little ideas on how to exercise with your children. Usually, it's the mom exercising while the baby sits there quietly and watches her or it's the mom lunging while she pushes the baby in the stroller. Once your kids are old enough to run around, the only way you can exercise with them is to chase them!

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms and grandmothers and aunts and every woman who does her part to help raise the next generation!

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Should I care?

Do you ever notice there are some moms who feel the need to tell people every last detail of their child's lives? When I bring my daughter to swim lessons, I sit off to myself and try to do work or something else but I can't help but hear the conversation that goes on with the other moms. Actually, it's more like one woman. She goes on and on and on. I know more about her daughter than I need to, that's for sure. I know how much she weighs and how tall she is and what size clothes she wears and what she likes to eat and what she plays with and man, I feel like I know more about this kid than I do about my friends' children! I guess some people are just chatty and they like to share. They like to tell you all the details of their pregnancy and the minute-by-minute details of labor and childbirth. I guess it fills the space and makes conversation. Actually, I sometimes like to keep things to myself about my kids. That way, it's just mine and I don't have to share it with anyone else. But, who am I kidding, I like to talk about my parenting joys and challenges just as much as anyone! It's kind of like how parents and grandparents used to be back in the days of photographs. When people would whip out the accordion of pictures of little Becky or Johnny Jr. and talk about their feats in ballet class or baseball or biology. Now it's "view my Snapfish photos", which there are usually a hundred of. Now we talk about early intervention and meeting milestones. Our brag books are very different than they were a generation ago. Oh, and by the way, my daughter is a fantastic swimmer. She's just a natural and doesn't she look so cute in her princess bathing suit and yes, I got it when we went on vacation to Disney last year and the kids loved it there and we got to visit friends while we were away and ... okay, you don't care - I get it.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Being there

I remember when I was younger, I hated having a last name that started with C. That meant I was high up in the alphabet and would be called in the earliest group during everything. The reason I hated it was because my dad was always late. I prayed that he would see me get my class ring or make my confirmation or graduate from high school. I always hoped they would start the ceremony late or change the system and go from Z to A one time. But, no, he usually missed the highlights. (Funny, now he's always early!) I don't know if parents realize just how much it means to their children to have them there. No matter where it is - if a child is doing something of importance, they want their parent there to witness it. If you are the only kid whose mom didn't show up, you will feel so embarrassed. If your dad is late and doesn't see you get the trophy, it just doesn't mean as much. Some parents are so good about this. They are always there to support their children. I'm not saying you have to smother your kids. Don't visit them at school every day. Don't wait for the school bus with a poster that says "I love you" or something super un-cool like that. Find the happy medium. Pay attention when she scores the winning goal (instead of texting on your blackberry). Watch him in the talent show and clap harder than anyone else. Parents, please, as you're reading this - make a mental note to always get there on time. Always be there for your child, even if they tell you that you don't need to be there. Get there.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

What's in a name?

I'm sure I will make someone mad with this post, but some of these children's names lately are just driving me nuts. I know it's tough to pick a name, but remember - this is something your child will keep with them for a really, really long time. So, choose wisely, please! My first daughter was easy. My husband's maternal and paternal grandmothers were both named Catalina. So, guess what? The second one wasn't so easy. I wanted Caroline so we could call her Carly and have Caty and Carly and wouldn't that be so cute. He didn't like it. How about Casey or Callie or Courtney? Nope, nope and nope. So, I actually let him pick my youngest daughter's name. Here were my requirements: It had to have a nickname. It couldn't be something that rhymed with something bad (see The Simpsons episode Art, Bart, Cart, Dart, Eart - nope, Bart is great!). And the third thing was he had to say the name 20 times in a row to see if it was the most annoying sound he ever heard. Just recently, while talking with my dad, he said he didn't like her name at first. Neither did my mom. She thought Sabrina would spark rantings of "teenage witch". But, since no kids these days know that cartoon, it's not an issue. My dad actually said the name was pretentious like Tiffany or Ashley. I disagreed. But, he said he likes it now since it's grown on him. One name that will never grow on me: Fisher. It's not necessarily a bad name, but when you hear Fisher's dad say Fisher's name every time he addresses Fisher or looks at Fisher or thinks about Fisher or stands next to Fisher - well, after a while, you want to kill Fisher's dad and remind him the reason you are repeatedly kicking him about the head is because he keeps saying Fisher over and over and over! What's funny is that I see this guy at lots of places. And whenever I see him, he's with Fisher. And when he's with Fisher, he needs to remind Fisher that he needs to be nicer to his brother and Fisher should not run near the rocks and Fisher should wait his turn and Fisher should not hit anyone with his golf club and Fisher should talk more quietly and oh Lord, please, I can't take it anymore. I now have it running through my head. It's like my ears are ringing. Stop the madness! Obviously, this man never did number three on my list. He never said Fisher over and over and realized how awful it sounds. Maybe, it's not the name so much. Maybe it's the dad's whiny little voice that drives me over the edge. Hmmm. It's a good thing he's not married to the lady I heard in the supermarket the other day yelling at her son.... Bender.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

The quiet game

Tonight, I played miniature golf with my fantastic four-year-old daughter. It was great - I truly adore her and love spending time with her. She's the kind of kid that makes you laugh and makes you just want to hug her and squeeze her cheeks and take that mental picture of her and hope she never changes. Anyway, we're playing and having a good time and we catch up with the family in front of us. It wasn't hard to do since there were seven of them and seven people couldn't possibly play quickly. Five of them were girls. Ugh, I thought it was hard having two daughters, I can't imagine five! So, we're behind them and I find it cute that the girls are all counting each stroke they take. Yeah, it was cute when they counted to 10 or 12 and then said they lost count and had to start all over again. Obviously, they don't know the miniature golf etiquette of stopping at five strokes. After the seventh hole of waiting for them to do this, I realized that their parents (or the older folks that were with them) didn't tell them to stop. I didn't mind so much since I wasn't in a rush - we were killing time while my oldest girl was at a party. But, it seemed kind of strange that these parents/guardians/whomever didn't tell their girls that they were being a little inconsiderate of the other people playing golf (because by now, others were waiting behind us). And then it struck me as even more strange that they didn't say anything to them at all. For about 14 holes, this guy and gal didn't speak to the girls (or to each other for that matter). They were obviously a family. The woman was looking at the girls but apparently didn't find any reason to open her mouth and talk to them. The guy was playing golf but didn't bother to share in the girls' counting or report his score to them when he was done putting. It just all seemed very odd. And then, as if reading my mind, the woman turns to me and says, "Oh, I'm sorry if we're taking too long. You're being very patient." In my head I'm thinking, way to notice now that we're on the 17th hole! But, I just smiled and said we weren't in a rush. I guess when you have five daughters, you don't need to say anything - they talk enough for the entire family.