Archive for the ‘Daily’ Category
November 16 2011
I was lying in bed the other morning, long before the sun woke up. My wouldn’t rest enough to fall back to sleep, because I was thinking about a basket I have. Clearly this isn’t your ordinary basket. It’s big and made of sturdy metal, a piece picked up from the previous tenants of some place I’ve rented over the years. I’m sure it would need to be cleaned, and the junk it was already holding thrown away, but I was lying there wondering if it might solve the stuffed animal storage problem I seem to be experiencing.
That’s right, I lie in bed dreaming of stuffed animal storage.
Doesn’t everyone?
But it’s a good dream to have. Kind of like world peace, and almost as unatainable. All of the stuffed animals stored in a neat, yet aesthetically pleasing, container out of the way. Instead of spilling forth and taking over every square inch of space.
The thing is, it’s boggling how we accumulated so many stuffed animals. I haven’t purchased a single one. The grandparents, however, can’t seem to pass a crane game without playing. And then they multiply. So I was trying to determine if this basket was big enough to house the many we’ve been given. Except even if it were, that might only solve one of my problems. Because then I wouldn’t know where to put the damn basket .
At which point I realized. There is only one truly good stuffed animal storage solution. And it involves packing them all in a trash bag, to donate to some other unwitting family.
November 15 2011
Birthdays are made to be special. Seeing your child grow up another year, and all of it’s accomplishments, is definitely a reason to celebrate. Some just go about it more extravagantly than others.
There are those who begin devising the perfect birthday party theme months in advance. They scour Pinterest boards for inspiration. The entire event must coordinate and match perfectly, from outfits to games to the table setting specially purchased to the elaborate cake artfully crafted.
That’s not how I do it here.
And so I present to you, how to pull off the lamest birthday party possibly ever:
1. Real invitations are cute, but not worth the effort. My preferred invite system is sending an email or over Facebook chat. The more impersonal, the better.
2. Dinnerware consists of paper plates, plastic cups, and plastic forks.
3. Balloons are festive, except when you blow up the same kit of helium balloons for each kid on each birthday, year after year. The helium balloons that begin to deflate before the first party guests even arrive.
4. Refer to party goers as “guests”, but it’s really just a few members of family. Because you’re crazy for inviting school friends.
5. The skating rink and swimming pool are fun places to hold your festivities, if you’re into that. Because there’s nothing more comfortable than home. Where the main entertainment is placing bets on who drips food on their shirt first.
6. Let the bakery at the grocery store make your cake. If you happen to forget until the last minute, recruit Grandma to bake some cupcakes that somehow melt and fuse together. They’ll love it as long as they don’t know any better.
With these easy tips, you’ll be throwing a lame birthday get-together, too. Just make sure your child never attends one of the more elaborate events, or else then you’re just screwed.
November 09 2011
It was that precious time of night when all the kids are tucked safely under the warmth of covers. I was able to exhale my guard away as they slept peacefully against their pillows, like apple-cheeked cherubs. Including Buzz, even though he was taking over more than half of my bed after insisting that’s where he wanted to rest.
Once they did, and the house fell silent, I gathered myself a midnight snack. A treat. Normally and preferably ice cream, but I’m trying to make healthier food choices. So I poured a bowl of Raisin Bran.
After making sure the doors were locked tight, I stumbled in to bed with a sloshing bowl of two scoops of raisin cereal in hand. Looking down at the little boy hogging more than his fair share of my bed, I pulled the covers down to slip in. Attempting a smooth, quiet transition. On tiptoes, as careful as I could be not to stir him.
But then I lost my balance.
I couldn’t catch myself. I tripped. I fell. In slow, horrified motion.
The hand holding my bowl of cereal landing square above my sleeping son’s head.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”, I whispered, raising myself to view the damage. I was expecting a puddle of milk. Bran flakes clinging to his soppy hair. A look like what the hell, mom? But Buzz only tossed very briefly, then found a comfortable position to sleep again. I patted the bed in awestruck disbelief. A bowl full of milky cereal fell on his head and there was not a drop spilled. Now I’m not a very religious person, but I’ll be damned if that’s not a miracle.
November 04 2011
Beep
One eye shot open. The television in the room was still on, but everything past that was dark and hazy. I don’t remember when I fell asleep, but it couldn’t have been not too long before. Jimmy Fallon was the last I recalled and now it was on some late night poker tournament. Maybe I didn’t really hear anything. If I did it could have come from the TV. I just wanted to go back to sleep. My head turned towards the clock, sight still fuzzy and lids fighting to close, before I rested on the pillow again.
It was almost 1:30 a.m.
Beep
What the beep? I tried to will my tired eyes to cooperate as I begrudgingly pulled myself like the walking dead from the comfort and lumbered in to investigate. All the while, I was pleading under my breath for this not to wake the kids. After taking a moment to clear my head, I realized where the intermittent beeping beep was most likely coming from.
Beep
I looked around to make sure there was no immediate danger involved before I took my place under the smoke and carbon monoxide detectors. My lopsided, confused gaze passing back and forth, the longest few minutes having passed since I was initially jolted awake. Then it beeped again, and the culprit became known.
Beep
Let this be a lesson to you to be wiser than I. Change batteries as instructed in your alarms. Lest you be with a screwdriver in hand, clumsily rotating in a new set of AA’s after being rudely rustled from a lovely bit of slumber at 1:30 in the morning. That’s just motherbeeping rude, I tell you.
November 02 2011
Just like you’re not considered a true momblog until you’ve retold a good poop tale, the same can be said in real life. Once you become a mother, the list of suitable conversation topics gets skewed. As adamant as you are beforehand that it won’t happen, you will find yourself recounting every motion of your darling’s bathroom visits in disturbing detail.
Even over breakfast.
My parents and I went out for a morning meal recently. The hostess sat us at a table next to a large family with a number of cute little kids. One of which was apparently in the throes of potty training, which of course the mother wanted to include everyone else in. While in the middle of our breakfast, I overheard their conversation shift familiar gears.
“Speaking of going number 2″, she began, “yesterday he came to me and said he needed to go poop. So he took down his underwear and starting running through the house with his pants around his ankles.” That’s when one of her other family members asked a question to clarify before continuing on, “He said he had to poop. But he never went poop…”. And on it went.
She said poop at least 10 times while telling this story.
All over a breakfast of sausage links and pancakes.
I’ve written about poop twice now just this week alone.
I wonder if that lady has a blog?
