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A Budding Author or Attorney, You Decide.

27 Mar

Every afternoon, upon getting home from school. I go through Miss Sassy Pants’ folder and review any work that has come home. I enjoy those few minutes getting a glimpse into her school work. How is she doing in Math? Getting more confident. How about Art? Pretty good if I say so myself.

Reading and Writing?

You decide.

This came home today:

Penguin for a Pet

Directions: Write an opinion on whether or not you think we should get a penguin for a class pet.

(as Miss Sassy Pants wrote: her words, punctuation, spelling,  etc.)

Are you crazy? a penguin for a class pet? I think a penguin for a penguin for a class pet is not a good idea. First of all, if we get a penguin we will have to get fish. And fish are stinky. Also if we get a penguin, it would have to be cold in our room. Finaly I think it would be a bad idea to get a penguin for a class pet because if it already has a mate it could lay an egg. As you can see these are my reasons to not get a penguin for a class pet.

 

If you do not know, Miss Sassy Pants is in second grade.

 

So what do you think, future author or future attorney?

Either way, I’m going to be in big time trouble when she hits the teen years.

Not Applicable!??

28 May
Eeyore as depicted by Disney

Eeyore as depicted by Disney (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This past week or so has been a doozy. Not only am I packing up our place solo, but the kids and I were in a bit of a fender bender. As a result, I am sore all over. The middle of my back feels like I took a swift kick from a donkey.

Erring on the side of caution, and under the advice of several friends and family, I had it looked at. As I was filling out the forms and answering the routine questions, it came up: What do you do? (for a living). I’m a stay at home mom. Oh…… (dead silence). Three separate occasions this week, I’ve been asked this question with varying responses to my answer.  All vague and non-committal as if the person asking the question doesn’t know how to process parenthood as a profession.

A quick exam by the doctor and a few x-rays for good measure confirm that all is well. Just a muscle strain and a spasm. No medication since I’m still breastfeeding. $50 bucks and I’m on my way, trying to convince myself that the $50 for reassurance that nothing serious was going on, was well worth it.

And then…

My husband, through circumstances beyond his control, ended up at the same urgent care also with back pain. HE brings home multiple prescriptions, photo copies of stretches he’s supposed to do nightly AND work restrictions.

Ok.

The next morning, Mr Crabby Pants is crying at my husband’s knees, I’ve got my hands full, and my husband looks at me and says with a degree of frustration, “Honey, can you get him, I’ve got work restrictions.”

That was the moment.That’s when it finally sunk in.

For those of us Mom’s (stay at home or otherwise) THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS WORK RESTRICTIONS! That whole section on the after-care release forms became Not Applicable the moment I said I was a stay at home mom.

No work restrictions for this or any stay at home mom. If the kid is crying, we pick him up! Blood, puke, snot or tears, it’s always Mommy to the rescue.

And, at the end of the day, after that friendly kick from Eeyore really settles in, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Mama, I’m Watching You

11 May

023

We learn from watching others.

Simple as that, from the beginning of time.

These days I’m equal parts amazed, astounded and appalled by what Mr Crabby Pants can get up to just by watching me.  For example, I found it amazing when he decided he wants to start using the toilet (going through the motions) at less than 18 mos old. I was appalled when he removed the “childproof” cap from a bottle of children’s ibuprofen I had on my dresser. You see?

He’s not the only one who watches and learns, though. I do too. I have been watching and learning from other moms for years before I became a mom myself. In the spirit of Mother’s Day, I’m sharing some of the Top Tips that I’ve learned:

1: Never sit down to breastfeed a baby without a large glass of water within arms reach.

2. Sleep when your baby sleeps. Hard to do, I know, but essential for survival when said baby is pulling all-nighters.

3. Read to your baby. Even if it’s boring grown-up stuff, they will grow into readers by your example.

4. It’s ok to not feel comfortable breastfeeding in front of your father-in-law.

5. It’s ok to feel comfortable breastfeeding whenever and wherever that screaming baby demands it.

6. A full body hug from Mom can sooth any owwie.

7. Finishing what your child doesn’t eat is natural.

8. Singing with your kids is fun.

9.It’s ok not to use the phrase “Use Your Words”, because you don’t know what that means.

10. Sometimes, Mommy needs a time out too.

5 minutes all to myself……….. I’ll take it!

If only in my dreams.

Happy Mother’s Day!

 

True Confessions of a Less-Than-Perfect-Mom

12 Apr

I’m not a perfect mom, I don’t have any qualms saying this. In fact, it’s a relief really.

5 second rule be damned

In honor of all you other less-than-perfect-parent out there,  I will confess my top 5 “sins”.

  1. I celebrate, support, and even champion The 5 Second Rule. I refuse to throw away perfectly good food due to the wild whims of a toddler.
  2. I have been a complete failure at getting either of my children to sleep in a crib. Like, ever.
  3. I laugh at my kids. There are days when you either laugh or you cry, and I chose to laugh. Even at inappropriate moments.
  4. I wear my “postpartum uniform” of yoga pants, a nursing tank and a t-shirt on days when I just don’t feel like getting dressed; often accessorized with snot stains, sweat stains and other stains I don’t care to examine too closely.
  5. I yell and growl when frustrated, and more than I realized. I figured this out when the baby started to growl back. OOPS!

Parenthood is tough stuff no matter how you slice it. None of us are perfect. Have a wonderfully, imperfect day and hug those kids!

It Shouldn’t Be A Surprise

19 Mar

Maybe I jinxed myself all those months ago, back when I was still pregnant. Because every time we were looking at baby stuff, I was automatically drawn to everything and anything with a MONKEY on it.

Foreshadowing? Maybe.

At the ripe old age of fifteen months, my sweet baby boy has managed the new skill of climbing unassisted out of his play pen. It seems that the aluminum frame and mesh side panels that I painstakingly picked out and purchased a year ago is just no match for my little monkey. He’s not too tall, he’s actually on the lower end of the growth chart… He’s just strong and fearless and determined.

All I wanted was a safe place to put him when his sister was feeling a little less than sisterly, or if I wanted to vacuum, or run out the car for a load of groceries… you get the gist.

I packed it up today. After taking multiple pictures of it from different angles so I can list it on Craigslist!

winter 2013 003

Frustration: The Mother of Invention?

28 Feb

I’m trying to lose those last few pounds of baby weight, plus the couple that creeped back on over the holidays. Me, being me, I have plans:

I will eat more vegetables

I will workout at least 30 minutes a day

I will cut Coke back out of my life, this is not my first time, read my good-bye letter here

I will plan not only what’s for dinner but breakfast and lunch too

Ambitious right?

The other day I spent all day cooking and made these frittata things that you make in a cupcake pan so it’s all pre-portioned and sitting in the fridge ready to go. (Baked omelets for non-cooking people)

Except, the damn things stuck to the pan and I was only able to get the tops off. Frittata  tops anyone?

Then, for the last week, yes, it’s taken a week, I have been trying to get the cupcake pan clean.  I was just giving it another go, and actively contemplating tossing the thing in the recycle bin. I started scratching at it with my finger and it started coming off. Now, I don’t have the time or the patience to finger-scrape a cupcake pan. It is nap-time after all and only last so long.

English: A tin with large divets in it, for ma...

English: A tin with large divets in it, for making cupcakes. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

But, I started thinking, what do I have that will act like a little scraper, since my bigger scraper had not worked. and it came to me.

My GRAPEFRUIT cutter thingy that my mom got me years ago from Tupperware.

Now, I’m not a grapefruit fan, although every few years I try it out again. But, that little baby is handy at other citrus fruit. AND I’ve recently discovered it’s good for opening the lid to salad dressing.  On that line that says “cut here” or whatever nonsense, just line up the cutter like you’re cutting the foil on a wine bottle, and there you go! Come to think of it, this little tool is coming in pretty handy these days. Thanks Mom!

Needless to say, I had to share my excitement with you.

And hey, if you have any kitchen gadgets that you use for other things, let me know. I’m always looking for shortcuts!

Something Amazing

24 Feb
English: Nouvelle Experience Finale 1994, Cirq...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My daughter and I have been on a rollercoaster together since her very first breaths. She is my love, my joy and the reason I feel like screaming as I dive head first into a glass of red wine at the end of the day.

My son is a soothing balm in temperament. He laughs, smiles and sings his way merrily through the day. When he is not scaling the furniture in search of new ways to give himself a head injury, that is.

With this information, you might wonder why, when I was at the library last week, did I pick up a DVD of Cirque Du Soleil.  Why? I thought it would be mesmerizing, I like the music…

Monday being a holiday, meant three days of all Mommy all the time as my husband of course was at work.

I’m just putting in a load of laundry, when I hear it, the inevitable screech of pain, coming from the livingroom.

“Why…” I ask as I charge into the livingroom expecting to see the little guy in tears and in pain, which is most often the case.

Not this time, it’s Miss Sassy Pants in a screech of anguish with tears pouring down her sweet face she explains that she’s stuck on a storage basket that I keep tucked under the coffee table, and which houses our DVD collection.

I quickly undo her shirt and start the Mommy tirade of “why, why,WHAT and why” as I take in the warren of tunnels she has created of blankets, pillows and assorted toys throughout the livingroom all in a matter of minutes as I was trying to tackle the Mount Vesuvius of laundry.

All throughout my tirade she listens with her big green eyes pouring tears and the occasional whimper. For once,there is no snappy comeback. For once, she is not trying to argue, I mean negotiate things to her way of thinking.

Out of breath, I ask her to please clean all this mess up and can we please not do this again since someone got hurt.

Ok, she says. But can you please kiss my back.

Of course, I pull her into my arms and lift her shirt so I can kiss where she was stuck on the basket. Only, then do I see the gash/welt that runs from her shoulder-blade past her tushie. My poor baby girl.

Later, as I was applying Neosporin along with a couple more kisses for good measure, I asked her. “What were you doing, to hurt yourself like this?”

At first, I got a blatant, lie. I explained that due to physics, her explanation couldn’t possibly be true, and asked would she please try again to tell me what had happened.

She got real quiet, and very softly said, “Something Amazing”.

So much for Cirque Du Soleil.

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