Archive
Seven Deadly Sins Challenge – Sloth
I have bragged through vanity, recovered from gluttony and had a blast with greed, so it’s time to move on to seven things I neglect to do. First I have to say that lately I feel like listing seven things I don’t neglect to do would be much simpler! Does anybody else feel like life is chaos right now? I feel like I am barely treading water and slightly (or majorly) behind on everything!
- Wash my hair. I really am lazy and sometimes I get up in the morning and have so much to do that washing my hair feels like a waste of time. I always take a shower… eventually…
- Mail greeting cards. I have cards, I think of people on certain occasions, but I can’t get them to the post office! Similarly, I have baby gifts for two people that have been sitting on my counter for weeks!
- Floss. At least I am honest.
- Exercise. I was on a roll, now I just look like one.
- Share pictures. I have taken so many great pictures of friends and their kids, someday they will get to see them.
- Clean out my closet. Ugh.
- Breathe. So today, I cut out early from work (I am on business travel), bought a cupcake and inhaled it.
What are you neglecting to do? Is it because you’re busy or the task is not appealing?
Maybe tomorrow...
Quotes for My Kids’ Weddings
One of may favorite bloggers Ironic Mom does Whiteboard Wednesday posts where she talks about something she has said to her kids that sounds bizarre when taken out of context. Reading her weekly quotes has made me more cognizant of things I say to my own children.
I realized tonight, not only is it fun to pay attention to these funny moments, but these quotes could be great embarrassment when each of my children get married. (Yes, I am THAT Mom). So today I am providing an entry for the list of quotes I will say at my daughter’s wedding.
My three-year old has developed this habit of torture where she poops at 9:00 every night. At 7:30, we take her to the bathroom, read her a book (or four) and put her to bed. After both kids are in bed, my husband and I try to catch up on work… or internet surfing. Inevitably, my daughter interrupts my productivity by getting out of bed and announcing she has to poop. It does not matter if she pooped at dinnertime, bedtime or both. My husband and I are convinced that she saves some poop to use as an excuse to get out of bed!
Last night was no different. As I was trying to work (aka party on Twitter) my daughter strolled into my room announcing she had to poop. My husband is already spared this interruption because his office is at the other end of the house (I am sure he planned that!). It is also because he recently said she was faking it and sent her to bed, only to discover she was telling the truth and was taking a long time because it was hurting. She didn’t have a bladder infection, but rather a minor irritation. But it did require me to do one those “only a parent job” of holding a wipe on her to soothe the stinging. When I did this she pee’d on my hand! I couldn’t get upset and simply washed my hand MULTIPLE TIMES! (This tangent is important, read on…)
Last night, my little diva sat on the potty for at least 15 minutes singing, talking to me or talking to her imaginary friends (she has almost as many as I do!). I finally go in the bathroom to try and hurry her up and she asks me to hold a wipe on her bottom so she can poop without it hurting. That’s when I am compelled to say:
“You can’t poop on my hand!
She may have had some discomfort pooping, but that is where I draw the line. She is going to need a higher paid ass butler for that task!
What weird things have you done for your kids? Or what thing have you said that would sound strange without (or even with!) context?
Remember, the more comments I get, the less off-balance I think I am…
She's laughing because she has an ass butler!
I Almost Stole a Car… Again
I really need to pull it together. I am on a business trip and when I landed I went to retrieve my rental car from Avis. I looked on the board, saw my name, P. Moran and headed for the parking space where my car was. I loaded all my stuff, got in, adjusted the mirror and prepared to start the car. I glanced up at the rental card, because since I have stolen a rental car once, I always double-check.
Stop – you know you’re curious about the first stolen car, go read it, I’ll wait here. Do you want me to hold your keys? If you’re in a hurry just read the part under fairy amusing.
Welcome back. So, I checked the card on the dashboard. Yep, P. Moran, that’s me. Wait, P. Moran, I am actually P. Morgan you silly people.
I thought it was strange that they spelled my name wrong since I have my whole profile saved in the system, so I flipped the card over – who the heck is Pam Moran?! Could they have really goofed my name up that badly? Since I already have a special mark next to my name in the Avis system as someone who grabs any car lying around, I thought it best to go back and check the board again. I take all my stuff out of the car and start walking back towards the Avis Podium. An Avis employee sees me walking back with my stuff. “Ma’am, is everything ok with the car?” (I wish he would have said Miss). “I think I may have almost gotten in the wrong car or you have some typos on my rental card,” I explain.
We look at the board and there is P. Moran and, what do you know, P. Morgan is right below it…
Make me feel better, share with me a blooper you have committed.
I am much more subtle...
Crazy Just Got Crazier
I talk about struggling for balance, for never having enough time in the day. I lament that I want to cut back at work and spend more time at home with the kids. So what is my genius solution? Enter a writing contest.
NaNoWriMo is a writing program where you write a novel in 30 days. 50,000 words in 30 days. 1,667 words per day. The goal is not have a finished product, but rather just to get ideas down. I am not supposed to edit, just write. Hmm, run my mouth without censoring, I can probably handle that.
You are entitled to skip straight to the comments and tell me that I am an idiot for signing up for this. But here’s the thing, writing gives me balance, it’s how I sort out emotions, diffuse anger and appreciate life. I have always dreamed of writing a book and a good friend suggested I turn my stories that I blog about into a semi-fiction book about being a crazy parent. So I am going for it. Will I have a finished product December 1st? No, but I’ll have a very rough draft. Very rough I said!
Occasionally I might share an excerpt here, both to get feedback and to not overwhelm myself with blogging and writing. So here we go, your first sneak peek (remember, just ideas, not a Pulitzer submission) of “Parenting Taught Me I Don’t Know Sh*t”. (I haven’t made the philosophical decision about swearing in my novel. I don’t swear on my blog, but I do swear in real life).
Okay, I am stalling, hear you go:
Pregnancy and Private Planes
A week into bed-rest my husband has to attend the wedding of a college buddy. It’s a 2 hour plane ride from home and he “has to go” because he is the best man. What about his best wife and best, going-to-be-born-at-any-moment baby?! After a few hormonal battles, I agree to let him go, like I ever had a choice??? My cousin, who has a two-year-old agrees to come stay with me since I am still on bed-rest which clearly means I need a baby-sitter! (I was also bored and thrilled for the company!)
I call my husband and… get f’ing voice mail! What?! He is supposed to have his cell phone on him at all times in case I need him. We had agreed he would only turn it off during the 20 minute ceremony! Fine, I leave a message and will call again in 21 minutes. 19 minutes later I call again – voice mail. I leave another message and wait. 10 minutes, 20 minutes, I am approaching hysteria!
My cousin tries to point out the obvious – I am not in labor, but all I can say is , “But what if I were?!” I leave another irate message about him not caring about me and the baby, and being an irresponsible father before he even has a baby. My husband will tell you I left 15+ similar messages, I say prove it! When he finally calls me back SIX HOURS LATER he is breathless, panicked and remorseful. “I am sorry babe, my phone battery died and no one else brought their phones into the wedding. I have been running around for hours trying to find a phone to call you. Is everything okay? I checked my voice mail and it said I had 15 messages, what happened?!”
As I listen to him talk, I realize the impossible – he is drunk! “Have you been drinking?! You promised me you wouldn’t drink in case you had to get home in a hurry! What were you thinking?” “Babe, listen. I have had a few drinks. It’s an open bar and I am the best man. When the father-of-the-bride handed us shots, it would have been rude to say no”. “Rude to say no!” I thunder, “Rude would be missing your baby’s birth because you’re too drunk to get home!” “Honey,” he says as if he’s talking to a tantruming two-year-old, “you’re not in labor, right?” “Well, no, but I could have been!”. He then tried to be the good guy, “Babe, I know it’s hard being on bed-rest, but if I needed to get home, I could take a cab to the airport and be on the next flight.” I can’t be pacified, “Well what if I needed you in the middle of the night and there were no flights?! Would you charter a private plane?” “Sweetie, the doctor said first babies are usually late and labor takes hours, even days, I am sure I would make it” “Well OUR baby is not most babies! Tell me you would charter a private plane if I needed you!” “Honey, a private plane is tens of thousands of dollars, get some rest and we’ll talk in the morning”. I will not be dissuaded, “TELL ME YOU WOULD CHARTER A PRIVATE PLANE!” “Honey, I promise I will get there for the birth of our child, I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you and our baby.” At this point, my cousin takes the phone, hands me some herbal tea and just smiles. She’s smart enough not to try to reason with crazy.
Of course, it’s fiction, who really acts like that? I did.
Design Your Own Funny Farm
I recently sent a friend to the funny farm. A few of us have been teasing her about holiday decorations and we finally pushed her too far, she has jokingly checked herself into a virtual, “special resort” with pink pills, fruity drinks and no stress. She is practicing her fetal position and listening to soft music. Her imaginary funny farm got me to thinking… (I know, it happens once in a while, whether I meant to or not)…
If I could design a place to “check out” and regain some sanity, what would it look like?
The Slightly Off-Balance Center for Balance
Located lake side, this sprawling resort will instill balance, joy and laughter. Check-in and stay as long you’d like, we won’t tell your family you’re here. Amenities include:
- Personal bungalows with lake views, waterfalls, personal wet bars and wine cellars, light blocking window treatments (for sleeping when you’d like, as long as you’d like) and a staff of 5 for each bungalow:
- Cleaning lady – she picks up to, no cleaning before she arrives
- Chef (she can also mix drinks)
- Hair and make-up artist (should you want to socialize)
- Massage therapist – they also give mani/pedis
- Pictures of your children are welcome and there is a designated area to interact with them should you choose, but there is no guilt if you just watch your kids through the two-sided mirror or don’t watch at all.
- Spouses are welcome by invitation only and you can re-send their invitation at anytime. Spouses are brought up blind-folded so they cannot find this place on their own.
- There is a large pool, staffed to ensure you’re never hungry or sober, I mean thirsty.
- An intensive therapy area for new inductees where people play with your hair, pat your back and tell you you’re amazing. Intravenous chocolate is also available.
Activities include:
- Yoga – but only the stretchy feel good poses, no stand on one leg and feel your heart race nonsense
- Chocolate and chick flicks – this will soon be an olympic sport, so I have been training.
- Spa days – 24 hours per day, seven days per week on demand
- Wine Tasting or cocktail pounding – there is no judgement here
- Book Clubs – we’ll read to you and there are no deadlines
You will note the absence of a personal trainer – this is not a fat farm. Through the miracles of modern science, fat and unnecessary calories have been removed from our food and beverage, but you won’t taste the difference. Should you enjoy exercise, there are beautiful trails and a gym, but nobody cares if you go. This same science that removes fat and calories, ensures no hangovers from too much enjoyment of the pool bar.
Tell me about your dream funny farm. But beware, if you build it, I will come and stay a very long time!
Ahhh... Utopia
Another Halloween Aftermath – Sticky Skeletons
Candy is not the only diabolical treat handed out on Halloween. My children also received little sticky rubber skeletons. They’re “great” – you can throw them at the wall and they stick for a few seconds before falling off. It was all fun and games until Mr. Skeleton was launched towards my vaulted ceiling…
My husband, the kids and I sat there waiting for Mr. Skeleton to come down. After a few minutes, a leg came off. I figured it was only a matter of time until the rest of him came down, or so we thought. When we realized he was making a permanent home on our entry way ceiling, it was time for drastic measures. We threw a whiffle ball, then a nerf ball, then a soccer ball. The soccer ball only smushed him harder to the ceiling. We then got out the “tool” we use to change the light bulbs in our vaulted ceiling. My husband proceeded to drag that along the ceiling, leaving little scrape marks, but still the pesky skeleton wouldn’t budge. He finally had to get out an extension ladder and climb up and pull the sticky little guy down.
I hope my HUSBAND learned a valuable lesson about throwing things at the ceiling. What, you thought it was my kids?
What things has your spouse done to make you think they are one of the kids?
I had to use the zoom lens for this one...
Happy Halloween from June Cleaver
In the spirit of Halloween, I am going to be Supermom today and when I say Supermom, I mean June Cleaver, I love that woman and am not comfortable in tights and a cape. If my son can be GI Joe and my daughter can be Belle, a kitty, Sleeping Beauty, a Cheerleader and a skeleton (it’s changing by the minute) than I should be allowed to take on a new persona.
So what has supermom done so far – Made my family pumpkin pancakes from scratch (well mostly, ignore the canned pumpkin) and cleaned the kitchen – what you wanted more?! It’s only 10:00 am in California! You may be saying to yourself, did she come up with this bogus post just to brag about the pancakes – yes, possibly. As I sit and type my husband is vacuuming – does that mean I have already broken character?
Now for a costume… does supermom wear flannel pants and an old t-shirt? Does she have dirty hair and flour on her face? No? Hmmm… I will work on this – I would love to dress as my idol June Cleaver (without the heels, I am not that tough). I might have to whip out my sewing machine… ha ha ha, sorry I was laughing so hard, I had to stop typing, I don’t even own a sewing machine! But I do have a glue gun and a stolen stapler (sorry, I can’t talk about it, I plead the 5th).
If supermom aka June doesn’t work out, I will still celebrate Halloween by eating all of my kid’s candy and scarring (yes, that was intentional – scaring AND scarring) people with my off-balance behavior!
How’s your Halloween going? Have you been a Monster Mommy? If so, you may be a contender in my Mom of the Year Contest! The deadline for submission is tomorrow! Don’t forget, we have a celebrity judge – Lori from In Pursuit of Martha Points is picking the winner. You can go lobby for yourself at her site, but she is likely out launching an attack on her neighbor’s Halloween decorations today.
Late breaking news – my husband just came in to vacuum this room and told me he started the laundry and cleaned the bathrooms – I guess I am no June Cleaver, back to the drawing board… Any ideas for me?
5 Types of Over-Balanced Moms
You know what I am talking about, the too perfect and know-it-all moms…
I know what you’re going to say: “But Paige, you preach that every mother should be valued and not judged”. Correction – real people should be valued, but I choose to mock stereotypes all I want! And as for why I have decided to call them “over-balanced” ? Well everybody knows that too much of a good thing will make you sick! So to make the rest of us real mom’s feel better here we go…
- Too-Perfect-Mom: Nothing ever falls out of her car when she drops the kids off at school. She attends every event and brings homemade baked goods for all occasions. She’s never late and never looks like she just rolled out of bed. You have never seen her raise her voice to her angelic children and when you describe your chaotic day, she just gives you a sympathetic smile. She is NOT in the running for Mother of the Year! (But you could be if you submit…)
- Fashionista Mom: Always perfectly coiffed, trendy and never stained. Whether it’s early morning drop-off or coming from the gym, she never looks frumpy or disheveled. We all have our good days, but she’s never had a bad one.
- Know-It-All-Mom: She is an authority on everything. She tells you what you’re doing wrong as a parent (and possibly everything else) and how to correct it.
- Age Defying Mom – She has given birth to four kids and looks like she is 18. Perfectly toned, perky boobs, no wrinkles and she eats pizza and cupcakes at every party. The only consolation is imagining she has a plastic surgeon on speed dial, but alas, you’re sure she just has good genes.
- Overly-Talented-Mom: She’s athletic, a fabulous cook, crafty and decorated her model home. She sews all of her children’s darling clothes and made a breathtaking mission out of dried pasta and baking soda for her child’s school project. Everything she does is flawless and fabulous. I have a friend like this, but she’s crazy, so I still love her.
In revolt of over-balance, I present you with Paige:
- I am mildly athletic, if you count that I don’t usually trip when I walk.
- When I cook dinner, my husband tells me to focus on the main course and he’ll handle the rest
- The only thing I’ve made with my glue gun is a mess
- I forgot my daughter’s snack day at preschool… EVERY TIME FOR THE WHOLE YEAR! (sorry Miss Jill!)
- My best clothes are Target sales rack and my nanny has had to intervene when I tried to leave the house in a pathetic state
- I have a small fortune worth of half-empty water bottles floating around my car
- When I am on my “A” game, I close my windows before I yell
- The only thing I consider myself an expert on is being a crazy, off-balance mommy
Are you over-balanced? If so, what’s the secret? Prozac and wine??
If you’re off-balanced, like me? What’s your shining moment? I can hear what you’re thinking, that’s a funny one, you should enter my Mom of the Year Contest.
I'm no June Cleaver...
Working Moms Raise Their Kids Too
“I thought about going back to work too, but I didn’t want someone else raising my kids.”
This is what a very sweet, well-meaning, mother said to me this morning at my daughter’s gymnastics class. I wanted to respond with something like, “Yep, I wanted to have children for the picture frames and then send them off and check in with them on holidays”, but this mom was very nice and she meant well, so I smiled and said, “Yep, it’s a balance”.
Our nanny usually takes my daughter to the class since I work, but today, I took her and was given the once over and “Oh you must be her mom…”. Yes, my daughter has a mother. No, the nanny doesn’t leave her with a pack of female wolves at the end of the day.
As I see it, I do raise my children. Yes, there are 7 hours of preschool and 33 hours of a nanny per week, but otherwise, the buck stops here. The preschool is one I picked based on my personal beliefs on what is most important at this age. I interviewed 7 preschools before choosing this one. I provide direction for our nanny. I set the parameters for discipline and I set the tone for how they are cared for. In other words, I work AND I raise my children. I have people who help me, just as we have teachers who help instruct our children. But I ensure my daughter is raised as the demanding, hilarious diva I had hoped for and I am diligent in raising a control-freak, OCD son who will likely be CEO of a major corporation someday (how else will I retire?). And before I step off my soapbox, here is some evidence that my children are a product of my influence:
- My son will not leave his room if a drawer is open and he cannot sleep if the closet door isn’t closed
- My daughter likes to dance in her underwear on a chair
- My son will correct you if you’re doing it wrong
- My daughter will not stay in her room for time out “Nobody puts Baby in a corner”
- My son will stick up for the picked on kid at school
- My daughter has a snuggling addiction
- My son likes to know the rules
- My daughter likes to break the rules
- My son is super-competitive
- My daughter cheats to win
OMG, wait, I take it all back! I work full-time, who the hell raised these kids?!
I did, I do and I am proud of the results. All parents raise their kids, we just employ different methods of doing it.
What’s the biggest impact you have made on your kids or your parents have made on you?
Kids Are Like Power Outages
Our power was out for 14 hours starting just before dinner time yesterday. Yes, my night was filled with fights over flash lights and trying to put my kids to bed without their usual movie and book. While the candlelight was beautiful, it certainly heightened the normal Sunday night stress.
I realized that my kids and power outages have a few things in common:
- I have no control when either will be on or off
- Depending on my frame of mind, they can either be enjoyable or a pain in the “flashlight”
- Both are beautiful, but can lead to injuries. Candlelight = unnoticed suitcase on the floor
- They both throw off my routine and cause chaos
- They make you appreciate the times when things are running smoothly
- Abandoned dinner plans are typical side effects
- Sleepless nights are par for the course
- They both require lots of batteries
- Messes are inevitable (de-frosting freezer…)
- They both have varying degrees of severity: Brown out = cranky, Blackout = temper tantrum
- Things eventually return to “normal”
My life is back to “normal”. The flashlight wars are over, I have cleaned up the melted popsicles and I have almost re-set all of the one million clocks in our home. And for my next trick…
Pay It Forward
Slightly Off-Balance 
