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Posts Tagged ‘kids’

Un-Crafty Family Meets Green Potato

March 15, 2011 8 comments

My son had a school assignment to take a regular russet potato and dress it up as a character for a story he would write in class.  There was also going to be a prize for the best potato.  There’s a few things you should know up front:

  1. I am not crafty.
  2. My husband is not crafty.
  3. We’re both competitive.
  4. We started Sunday and it was due Monday.

We had the flier for the assignment in plain view all week, but just had not gotten around to it.  Sunday morning the pressure was on to deliver a potato character by Monday.  We agreed that my husband would take the kids to Target to buy supplies while I went to the gym. 

After my workout, I texted my husband to let him know I was on my way home and he called right back asking if I had my wallet.  I always have my wallet and my husband always forgets his…  True to form, he had forgotten his wallet and had no way to pay for the $36 in potato character supplies the Target cashier had just rung up.  Target is next to the gym, so I swung by and rescued the supplies. 

My son had decided that he wanted to make a leprechaun.  My son LOVES St. Patrick’s Day.  He is in the design phase of this year’s leprechaun trap…

Once bringing home the hostages supplies, my son announced we would paint the potatoes green.  Remember – my husband and I are neat freaks… So we proceed to cover the whole kids table with paper bags and newspapers.  We rolled up the kids sleeves and carefully doled out the green paint and brushes.

My wild child daughter had green paint on her, her clothes, the chair and the “covered” table in less than a minute.  I braced for my husband’s frustration with the mess, but he uncharacteristically laughed.  He had the foresight to buy washable paint! (I mean pick out, since he did not have the foresight to bring his wallet.)  This mess quickly spread to my granite counters and me.  But again washable, so we decided to live on the edge.

Next the potato needed limbs.  My husband suggested straws and I thought about toothpicks as anchors.  I whipped out my hot glue gun.

I must pause here – I only own a hot glue gun because I have pipe cleaner dreams of being crafty.  I think my neighbor has used it more than me, but HA, I now had a project for my glue gun.

Um, plastic straws melt when they meet hot glue. 

My son thought melting Mr. Potatoes arms was hilarious, but my husband rescued the idea by suggesting I apply the glue to the toothpick and waiting a second before placing the straws on the toothpicks.  I said I had a glue gun, I didn’t say I knew how to use it.

Next came wardrobe – my department.  We had bought a hat and fake mustache that truly must have been marketed with potatoes in mind… weird??  My son and I then fashioned a coat (more like poncho) out of a half of bandana and glue-gunned it in place – I was feeling very crafty at that point.

During this time, my daughter has helped herself to a bottle of purple paint and a container of googly-eyes – with my husband and I one foot away.  Apparently this craftiness took all of our energy.  So my husband helped the diva, while my son drew and cut our construction paper boots and hands, that I glue-gunned on. (Yes, I am going to continue to yap about the glue gun).

The piece-de-resistance was the pot of gold.  We took mini caldrons from our Halloween decorations and filled them with glass beads that you would use in floral arrangements (another thing I have a few materials, but no skill for).  We borrowed gold spray paint from a neighbor and voila:  The potato leprechaun had his pot o’ gold.

I am pleased to introduce you to Lucky:

 

A close up on the gold:

  

And what about my daughter’s potato?  Well… she’s three and had many “design-changes” mid-project.  I tried my best not to take over and make her a cute potato lass.  True to her artistic direction, we ended up with “Potato Ghost Goldilocks Leprechaun”:

 

This turned out to be a fun-filled, kitchen-wrecking, heart-warming, glue-gun wielding, family bonding experience.  This was more fun than carving pumpkins and everybody contributed to the finished product.  As long as there is washable paint, our family may continue to do Sunday craft projects until I accidentally glue the kids together!

10 Signs You Might Be Crazy

February 18, 2011 23 comments

I have never claimed to be balanced.  I never pretend to have it all figured out.  I admit that I am usually barely treading wine.  But through personal experience observation I have devised a checklist to determine if one is truly nuts…

  1. You think you can finally get caught up on your to-do list with one really productive day ever.
  2. You contemplate a puppy, another baby, a new car and a planning a vacation on the same day.
  3. You can’t find your cell phone, so you ask a friend to call you.  When you hear it ringing on your person, you ask the friend to hold their ear to your body to help figure out which pocket you put your phone in.
  4. You think that new Justin Bieber movie would be good for date night.
  5. You use your mom voice when talking to yourself.
  6. When you can’t find a sitter you convince yourself that the kids would be angels if you take them with you wine tasting.
  7. You ask your husband to get a vasectomy and hold on to baby gear just in case.
  8. You think the bright side of canceling a dinner date with your husband is that you get to clean behind the refrigerator.
  9. You think that your 6-year-old and 3-year-old are now mature enough to accompany you clothes shopping without causing a dismembered mannequin.
  10. You are planning to give up all alcohol and all sweets for Lent.

If you have experienced any of the above, pour yourself a glass of wine (or beer or chocolate milk) and join me at the Funny Farm.

Disclaimer: I am not a psychologist, tarot card reader, bartender or other professional.  This post is for entertainment only and should not be used to treat a mental health condition or ridicule its writer.  If you think you might really be crazy, seek professional help, then give them my address.

A Mama Bear Kind of Day

January 6, 2011 14 comments

I have said before that I am the classic, over-protective, mama bear.  I had Mama Bear feelings three times today before 10:00 am! 

Mama Bear #1:

My son woke us up at 5:45 this morning because he had had a nightmare. 

He failed to mention that he had already filled his diaper and subsequently pee’d through the full diaper, soaking my husband and his side of the bed (thank God for California Kings – my side was dry and warm!).  In disgust, my husband got up, changed my son, put him in bed next to me and got ready for the day (45 minutes early).  But I digress…

My son couldn’t go back to sleep because he was so scared from his nightmare, his little heart was racing.  (I know because we had to snuggle tight to avoid the pee.)  He started asking me questions about bad guys and home security.  I ended up turning on the light and talking with my son for forty-five minutes about ‘what-ifs’ and why he is safe.  He wanted me to get his dad, because he was worried I was too small to defeat a bad guy.  I tried to explain without showing my over-dramatic true colors that I would keep him safe at all costs.  I explained that bad guys have no interest in us, we have an alarm system, etc, etc.  But I was getting worked up being asked questions like, “What if a bad guy came in with a gun and tried to take Sissy or I?”  What I really wanted to say is that if somebody came in this house that shouldn’t, I would kill them.  Did you see the period?  Kill them. Period.  Even if they were bigger and had a gun, I would win because you always bet on the crazy mama bear!

Mama Bear #2:

After getting my son safely off to school, I was driving my daughter to preschool.  We literally live within a mile of the school and could walk if it wasn’t so damn cold this morning.  (Who am I kidding, I always drive!)  As I was going straight, somebody turned left in front of me.  I had to SLAM on my brakes with my sweet, precious girl in the car! Once I realized that, by the grace of God, we had stopped (I truly don’t know how I brought my husbands huge truck to a stop that fast!) I was relieved… and pissed!  What kind of moron makes a left turn without slowing down, or looking both ways!  I wanted to yell at her, but I settled for a long honk.  My little girl is too young to witness road rage. 

However, when I dropped her off at school my heart was still racing and my voice cracked when I tried to tell the story.  You all know that feeling… I get chills just writing about it.

Mama Bear #3:

After dropping my daughter off at preschool, I went to the gym.  I hoped to run off the adrenaline pumping through my veins.  I had a nice run and on my way home noticed that our neighbor’s nanny’s car was parked in front of their house.  Except, they had fired that nanny yesterday

Now maybe, I was already mentally in the wrong place with the bad guy talk and near collision, but I started worrying about disgruntled employees and my neighbor’s sweet little girl inside.  I instantly pulled my car over.  But I didn’t jump out of my car and barge in the front door.  No, I am balanced and mature, but the thought occurred to me.  I texted my neighbor at work to make sure the nanny was supposed to be there, she confirmed that while they gave her notice yesterday, her last day was today.  I took yet another deep breath and went home.

I think I need some serious wine and chocolate to counteract the adrenaline from today!

Are you a mama or papa bear type?  Do you mentally prepare for the worst in situations?  Have you, like me, mapped out your exit strategies with the kids if an intruder got into the house?  Have you performed acts of heroism for the sake of your children? Some other time I will tell you about my escalator gymnastics that saved my son’s life…

Bottom line, am I crazy or a normal mama?

My protective side...

Categories: Parenting Tags: ,

What I’ll Miss When My Kids Grow Up

January 4, 2011 16 comments

I was exhausted last night.  I did another marathon post-bedtime poop party with my daughter.  I swear she poops at will and her will is AFTER I have put her to bed.  She pulls the poop card to get out of bed and hang out.  She sits on the potty for 30 minutes and somehow pulls poop out of her ass little touchy literally and figuratively.  It doesn’t matter if she has pooped twice already during the day.  Come 8:30 pm, she waltzes in for her poop party.  Did I mention she likes me to hold her hands to help “push the big poop out”. (I know, I am a sucker).  So I sit, on the bathroom floor, holding my daughter’s hands while she talks to me, gets me to sing “There’s a Whole In My Bucket” and pushes out the poop.

Last night nearly killed me.  I was tired, had a horrible headache and today is the first day back to work and school.  As I sat there fuming, she bent over and kissed my forehead.  In that moment, I pulled it together and reminded myself that despite the trials of parenthood, there are some amazing parts too.  

I am writing myself a list of the things I will miss when my kids are all grown up, so that I don’t take these precious moments for granted.   It is my intent to refer to this list when I am tempted to daydream about fast-forwarding to the part where they are grown up and out of the house.

Here’s a start:

  • Falling asleep cuddled up with them
  • Waking up to kisses on my nose
  • Receiving hugs that nearly knock me over
  • Spontaneous and surprise art projects
  • Hearing the giggles from the other room when they are playing well together
  • Hearing them running through the hall to come see me when they get home from school
  • “I love you Mommy”
  • “Mommy, will you snuggle me?”
  • Watching their excitement at Christmas
  • Seeing them accomplish a goal for the first time – waterskiing, a soccer goal, a somersault
  • Seeing their eyes light up when something delights them
  • Cute mispronunciation of words
  • Eskimo kisses
  • Butterfly kisses

Clearly, this list could go on forever.  Just starting this list has put me back in my zen mommy place.  It’s only breakfast, so who knows how long it will last, but I can always work on this list some more if when they dump their cereal on the floor.

What will you miss?

A Mother’s Take on Airport Security

December 3, 2010 24 comments

I just returned from another business trip, I  travel enough for work that I know some of the TSA agents better than my friends.  I feel bad for many of them; it’s a hard, stressful job.  If they screw up, bad things can happen.  If they don’t screw up, bad things can still happen and they will be scrutinized and blamed.  With all the recent press about pat downs and body scans, I became irritated.  I question the effectiveness of some of these measures, but I appreciate that there is a group of people trying to keep us safe within the constraints of our justice system.  I am going to spare you my diatribe on why we can’t fight terrorists when we play by different rules…  I would rather be a little inconvenienced and live to bitch about it than be a victim.  So let me provide a mother’s reality check on airport security:

  • A pat down is nothing to me.  I have kids pawing at me all day.  I have had strangers watch me give birth.  I have had lactation consultants man handle my lady lumps. You want to pat me down? Knock yourself out.  I am sorry if you get peanut butter on your hands, my kids accosted me before I left for the airport.
  • Body scanners are the least of my worries.  I dodge Nerf bullets, have my feet taken out by moving furniture and am exposed to entirely too many loud noises.  A little radiation sounds like a picnic.  My lack of sleep is a much bigger threat to my health.  As far as the modesty goes – see number one. And here’s a newsflash – my anatomy is the same as every other female.   And right now that anatomy is intact, without bullet holes or damage from bombs.
  • Don’t blame the agent.  Being jerky to a TSA agent is like being a jerk to a kid.  It’s not their fault.  TSA agents just follow orders.  Kids are just a product of their parents (which explains SO much about my children)!  Let’s follow the Golden Rule people!
  • An ounce of prevention… This is a common phrase to explain that being proactive is worth it.  If one extra kid lives from wearing a bike helmet, it was worth it.  If one extra terrorist is stopped by the scans and pat down, it was worth it.
  • Being half dressed is normal. Many people complain about stripping off belts, shoes and coats.  Mothers are having a good day if that is all they’re missing. 

A final suggestion: Let my kids run airport security.  Terrorists would take one look at my diabolical children and surrender!

What do you think about airport security?

Don't worry, it's a Nerf gun...

Kids Are Like Power Outages

October 25, 2010 Leave a comment

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…

The “Real” Parenting Definitions

October 8, 2010 6 comments

We have all heard them, but what do these parenting buzzwords really mean…

Perspective: Trying to get eye contact with a screaming, tantrum throwing child in order to discipline them.  Usually involves getting on the ground and tilting one’s head upside down.

Time-Outs: Me. Bottle of Wine.  Closet or Patio. 

Make Good Choices: Pick the action that will be least likely to cause me to go psycho-mommy on your tiny heinie.

Consequences: A politically correct term for mommy (or daddy) revenge.  You break my i-pod, spill my cocktail or wake me up, there will be consequences.

Positive Reinforcement: Using duck tape to encourage them to stay in timeout.

Incentives: Bribes out of desperation. 

Stranger Danger: The danger of giving my children to a perfect stranger if they make me too crazy.

Crying It Out: What I do on the days when I realize that I have no control and that my life is run by two little people.

What would you add to the list?

"Positive Reinforcement"

Categories: Humor, Parenting Tags: , , ,

I Brushed My Teeth With What?!

October 4, 2010 10 comments

Parenting has highs and lows and sometimes unexpected, and unwanted, surprises… 

We spent an amazing weekend with friends from college and their children.  We all got together at a private camp.  We had a campfire, a hay ride, fishing, swimming, and more.  It was family and friend bonding bliss.     

On Saturday night, my husband graciously put the kids to bed in our cabin, while I sat up at the lodge having cocktails and visiting with our friends.  I strolled into our cabin about 1:30 am and of course had to get ready for bed in the dark.  The cabins were simple and we all slept in one room, which was the same room the sink was in.  So I couldn’t turn on the light to brush my teeth or take out my contacts.    

I was doing pretty good in the dark.  I got my contacts out, found my glasses and prepared to brush my teeth.  I grabbed the tube, slathered it on and shoved the toothbrush in my mouth…  What the %$&#?  This substance was neither foamy nor minty.  It was not meant for my mouth, but rather my daughter’s butt… It was Desitin!    

C’mon, make me feel better, tell me your gross parenting story!    

My toothbrush the next morning...

Sore Muscles and a Happy Heart

September 25, 2010 8 comments

Last night I physically pushed my daughter up to achieve her goals…

We were at the birthday party of my seven-year old Godson.  The party was held at one of those bounce places and had some bounce apparatus I had never seen before.  Among other cool structures they had a “spiderweb” that was a two-story series of elastic straps that form webs.  There were five or six level of webs that the kids had to climb up to get to the top in order to zoom down an inflatable slide.  And PS – this particular room was pitch dak except for black lights, a few laser lights and disco balls.

My three-year old wandered over to the spiderweb saw that this was the favorite of the big kids and jumped in line without hesitation.  (There was a long line because only four kids could be on it at once since kids, struggling to get to the top would often fall a level or two!)  I saw my son as he approached the halfway mark, he was struggling, but he did it, he’s always been able to defy gravity.  As I watched the other kids, I repeatedly tried to talk my daughter out of attempting this (I know, bad mommy).  My son finished and came over, stunned to see his sister in line.  He, being my conservative child, said “Mommy, you’re going to let Sissy do this?  I don’t think it’s a good idea.  It’s really hard!”  This certainly did not help my apprehension. 

As we approached the front of the line I asked the employee if there was an age limit, hoping she would rescue me from my fears.  Was I afraid my daughter would get hurt – no.  I was worried she would attempt it, not be able to do it and be frustrated, possible even cranky.  The wise 14 year-old employee said, “There is no age limit, but it will probably be pretty tough for her, you can go in and help her”.  Grrreeeaattt…  I watched as one of my girlfriends (who is stronger than me) tried to get her four-year old up and after a while, they came back down.  ‘What am I doing in this line?’ I thought!

Getting her up the first level was easy, I just lifted her up… and she sat on my head.  Then it got tricky, I was trying to climb up and push her up at the same time.  Fortunately, my son (who could likely beat my in arm wrestling) yelled, “Mom, climb up the side, it’s easier”.  We slowly started our climb.  Was I smart enough to figure out how to support my weight on the series of webs to help my daughter? No.  I took the old fashion, sheer tenacity route.  I would hold on to the netting wall with one hand while I hoisted my 38 pound “baby” girl with the other.  I’d then have her hold on to the side while I got my dead weight to the next level.  We were doing ok until she started to fall…

HER arms were getting tired, um, hi, what about your pack mule’s arms???  She slipped and fell through a level of webs.  I grabbed her and told her to hold still. (I needed time to run this physics problem in my non-math brain).  I realized that while heavy, she is narrow and could slip through the webs and potentially go straight down – at least 10 feet to the trampoline bottom.  Oh and she’s upside down so she was going head first!  Hello neck injury!  She was starting to panic, “Mommy, help me, I am falling”.  This may be what saved us, mommy adrenaline to the rescue.  My common sense told me we would be fine, these things were built for safety, right??  But my emotions were sounding the alarm – my daughter was upside down, in the dark, scared and every muscle in my body hurt (I may need to go see that Gym guy everyone talks about).  I was also afraid if she slipped, I might too and fall on top of her.  I said to her, “Sweetie, don’t worry, mommy is going to get us back down”.  HA! “No, Mommy, I want to go to the top, push me up!”  I wanted to cry, I wanted my husband, hell, I wanted my son, he probably could have saved us both!

But my daughter had a goal, and while she was scared, she was determined.  She inspired me, I dug deep, told myself our lives depended on it.  I got her flipped upright, I steadied her on the level above me and threw myself up like Shamu coming out of the water onto the ramp at a marine water show.  The higher I got the more I realized I didn’t want us to fall, so I clenched my teeth and up we went.

The top was like a dream.  The angels were singing, “Eye of the Tiger” was playing in my head again and when I looked down at the bottom of the slide, I could just make out the shocked and impressed faces of my husband and our friends.  As I pushed my daughter onto the platform, I romanticized us sliding down together in victory.  I yelled”wait for mommy” as I hoisted my tired body up onto the platform and looked just in time to see her bound down the slide… without me.

As I came down, I saw her high-fiving everyone.  I couldn’t wait to hear the “Thank you Mommy, we did it!” But by the time I got to the bottom, she was off to her next adventure without me.  When I asked her about it this morning, she was very blaze.  I said “wasn’t that hard?”.  Her response was, “No, can we do it again sometime?”  Ugh!

But isn’t that the essence of being a parent?  We push ourselves mentally, emotionally and physically to do the best for our kids.  We help them achieve their goals so they can grow to be independent and not need us anymore?

I would love to hear all of your stories on pushing yourselves to help your kids achieve their goals!

I know how this mama feels!

Categories: Parenting Tags: , , ,

10 Ways to Make Wii Struggles Disappear

September 16, 2010 7 comments

I hate – we don’t say hate in this house – I strongly dislike my son’s Wii.  

I swear that video games lead to at least one tantrum or mild freak out session in my house per day.  My son’s Wii melt-downs can be classified into one of the following:

  1. He gets upset when time is up. (I set a one hour per day limit)
  2. He gets upset when someone beats him or he can’t beat a level
  3. He gets upset because he doesn’t get to play on a given day even if it is because he was at a playdate, birthday party,etc. (I am sorry, you are having a fairytale life and couldn’t squeeze Wii into your amazing social calendar!)

What makes it worse is that my better half (who in this case is not better) often contributes to the problem with wise actions like letting him play right before bed (which is prime melt-down time) or my personal favorite, overriding my one-hour rule with, ‘Oh, honey, I know he already had his hour, but I told him he could play with me'”

I realize that it is not the Wii’s fault and it is a parenting issue, but I am in no mood to be reasonable.  In an effort to cope with my Wii frustration, and end Wii struggles, I am considering the following (none of which would happen in front of my son, because that would be another tantrum!):

  1. Use the straps on the controllers as a sling-shot to launch the console
  2. Donate it to a clay pigeon range – Pull!
  3. Give the Wii swimming lessons
  4. Sponsor a grape stomping competition on the console – wet and crushed – that oughta do it!
  5. Controllers as pins, console as bowling ball
  6. Wii Field Trips: beach, lake or snow
  7. Donate it to a ‘kindergarten hardware engineering’ class – sounds altruistic, yet fatal
  8. Drop the system at the front door of the Playstation headquarters – it’s not that I like PS any better, I just figure it won’t come back that way
  9. Tell my daughter there are princess stickers inside that she can have if she can get them out
  10. Go crazy like Office Space with a copier on the whole system

 Watch out Wii, you don’t want to be left alone with me…

This could be you Wii!