Friday, July 31, 2009



     Have you ever heard of the story of the little red hen? It is one of my personal favorites. It goes something like this….
There is this little red hen and one day she decides to plant some wheat. She asks all the folks around her if they want to help her plant the wheat. “Who will help me plant this wheat she says?” wanting someone to help shovel the dirt and sow the seeds. No one seems to want to help they even tell her they are just too busy. Then she asks if anyone wants to help her tend to the seeds she planted. Will they help her water and weed the garden. Nope, again no one wants to help. Then she asks as the seeds begin to grow who will help her harvest the wheat. Still a resounding no is heard across the land. She next asks who might like to help her grind the wheat into useful flour. The same answer all around. No No No! they all say. Next she asks for help in baking the flour into a loaf of bread. No one is available to help the hen with this chore. Soon a lovely smell wafts through the air as the little red hen begins to pull her freshly baked bread from the oven. She then asks one last question. “Who wants to help me eat this lovely bread?” They all of course yell yes, because it smells great, it looks great I’d bet it’s wonderful. Do you know what the little red hen says… FUCK OFF!!! I did all the work and now I will be the only one to reap the reward!

     Ok so that is not EXACTLY how it goes but you get the general idea right? So how does it apply here… Well of course you know I’m gonna tell you. I am by no means perfect. I am not the best mother. I am not the most wonderful wife. I am learning, growing and changing everyday. I am happy in this constant changing state. For it is when we no longer strive to be better or to grow and change that we become stagnant and we all know what a stagnant pond smells like. It’s the same with people. Stagnant people smell rotten and can spoil a great day of fishing! I want to change, I need to change and I love not being perfect or not knowing the answer to every question life asks me. I think imperfection is also a good thing for my kids to see. That way they know they too can fail and that failing in life is sometimes even more important than succeeding because some of life’s greatest lessons are learned from our failures. Having said I am not perfect and that I do not have all the answers I am once again going to remind you that you do not have to listen to a word I say here in this Blog. I do not have a Psychology degree, I am not a doctor. My only area of expertise is my own life, and what it’s like to be me. No one knows how to be me better than I do and no one knows how to be you better than you do. So read this blog if you want, or don’t. It’s no matter. I am simply writing it as I said from the beginning because I have heard more than one woman, on more than one occasion say the exact thing I am thinking and so I figured if there is ten of us maybe there is 100 or maybe 1000 or maybe even 100,000 who feel the way I feel and wonder the same things I wonder. This blog is nothing more than my collected thoughts on how we can bring about a change in our lives and maybe just maybe start living a little happier. I am all for happier aren’t you? So if you want that change and you feel the way do then read on because I do have some ideas. Anyhow back to the little red hen before I trail too far away. I was saying that I am not perfect. I make mistakes all the time. My kids are not always dressed before 11 am, and not always in matching outfits. Sometimes we forget to brush our teeth, sometimes I stop at McDonald's because I don’t have time to fix a perfect dinner. I yell a lot more than I should. I cuss in front of my kids sometimes. I talk on my phone while driving. I let them stay up late too often. I let them see me get stressed out over bills sometimes. Because of my mouth sometimes my son says the F-word. Because I used bottled water without fluoride for my daughter in her formula as a baby she has three cavities. I did not breastfeed my third child. Sometimes I say “Shut up kids!” Sometimes I don’t read to them at bed time. Sometimes I let them eat candy. Sometimes we do not have a well balanced meal. Sometimes when I am stressed my anger comes out at them and not at the person it should be directed toward. These are the things I lie awake at night fretting over. These are my failures. These are my pitfalls and my open wounds. The things I feel guilt over night after night. I am not perfect. But you know what? I am the one who feeds them, I am the one who bathes them, who wakes them up and puts them to bed. Who buys their groceries, who shops for their clothes, who does their laundry, who mends their wounds, who dries their tears, who brushes their hair, who teaches them about life, who reads them stories, who sings them their alphabet, who talks to them about the friends they chose, the boys they will date, the girls they will marry. I am the one who has planted these little seeds. I am the one who is tending this little garden. I am the one who will reap this wheat and grind it into flour and I am the one who will bake this wheat into bread. So if you have no plans on helping me with any of these arduous tasks, if you have nothing constructive to add to this recipe, then do not for one minute think you will be eating this bread. You will not try to arm chair quarterback me. You will not yell from your house across town a commentary on my mothering skills. You will not sling words at me in fit about the job I am doing. You will not whisper you observations to one another about how you think things should be done. You will not tell me how to raise my children, and you will not sit in judgment of the things I chose to do. My children and I will have our own day of reckoning where they will be my judges asking me why did you let me cuss? Or why did you let me eat so much candy? Why did I not get to go to cheer leading camp or tryout for football? Just like I asked my mom why she did so many things I now think were so wrong. I am fully aware that that day will come. I live everyday of my life with it in mind, but THEY are who I will answer to. No one else, not my neighbors, not my in-laws, not my mother, or my father, nor my sister, not her husband, not my friends, not the woman down the street, the man in the mall, the couple at the table next to us at dinner. My three kids will be the ones who get to line me up for the firing squad. No one else, it will be between me and them. When I yell too much I think of this.
     So having said all that I leave you with a thought? When did we all think it was suddenly OK to pass such harsh judgments on other mothers? Think on it a while. Have you done it? Have you sat back and tried to partake in bread that you had no helping hand in making? Her kid is fat, she must take him to McDonald's too much. Her kid has cavities; she must let her drink too much soda pop. Her kid isn’t talking yet, she must not be reading to him. Her kid cusses, she must be a terrible influence.
    Maybe time would be better spent thinking about what our own kids might be saying to us when that judgment day comes. How will you measure up to their little rulers? I feel pretty certain that if you stopped once in a while and asked yourself, "Is this good for my kids?" your choices might differ. If you lived all your days with that thought in mind don’t you think you might be a better dad or a better mom? Don’t you think you’re kids might be happy with the mom you turned out to be? I think you will agree that the answer is a resounding "YES."
     Judgment is the catch phrase of the next decade. You hear people saying that it is not good to judge others. The fact is that we all at some point do this. At some point was all have found ourselves forming thoughts about the person next to us and they may not be nice ones. That is simple human nature. The problem occurs when one loses the common sense to instead of keeping that idea, that opinion, that "judgment" to yourself and decides to tap the person on the shoulder and say .."You know I think what you are doing is bad." It is not your place to say. Keep those judgments to yourself. As I have already said. My kids are the only ones who will have a say in what I have put them through. They will be the ones to "Judge" my actions. I do not go through a day and wonder to myself .."What would my friends think of the punishment I just gave to my daughter." I do however wonder what my daughter will think and if she will someday understand that I did it to send a message and that the message was for her good. The only approval I need is theirs. Having said that. To sum up again. Ask yourself... Is the way I am raising my children a way that will in the end leave them thinking that their parents loved them? Will they think that their parents gave all they could to them? Will they think that their parents did the best the could possible have done everyday of their lives? Then and only then can you relax. Then you can eat the bread.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

I’m going to have to insist that you not serve me chicken anymore..( a story about change and about the time my husband alomst lost his nuts)

I’m going to have to insist that you not serve me chicken

It seems that I may have ruffled some tail feathers with yesterdays spot. I thought on it all night. Should I take it down? Should I change it in some way? I really was preoccupied the whole day. Last night lying in bed I came up with an answer. Maybe ruffling tail feathers is good. Maybe that is the only way a change will be made. (maybe not all husbands are ready to read this blog) My husband has read this blog. He laughed and we talked about a few of the issues I brought up. But mostly do you know what I have noticed? I have noticed that he has helped just a little more with the dishes, he helped get the kids to bed, he has been just a little bit more sensitive, and he has even offered to let me shower first since he knows I had the kids all day.

That’s it! That’s the key!

Change no matter how slight is what the point of this blog is. It was suggested yesterday that I was insinuating that someone was completely unhappy in their marriage and that said someone was out there looking for someone or something better. That she was searching for this mythical unicorn. I re-read the blog over and over. I guess I could see where that might be the conclusion drawn. I want to state for the record that this blog is about my life and my everyday encounters with my own husband. If you have read yourself into this blog then that is all on you. If you see yourself as the person complaining and can relate that is because many of us are going through the same things. But what I want to clarify is that most of us, myself included, are not searching for someone else. We are not so unhappy that we want out. We do not feel as though we have settled on second best. Most of us are really in love with the man we married we just want a little change here and there. We just want a little help. We just want the recognition that we deserve for being the hard working wives that we are.

No different than any man I am sure on Earth wishing his wonderful wife was just a little skinnier, just a little more sweet in the morning, a little more sexually active at night, or that she would stop serving him chicken three times a week. We all want a little change and that’s just a fact. We do not want someone else, we are in love with what we have. We just want what we have to grow and evolve. That’s life man! I love the house I live in but I wish it were in a better neighborhood, and it needs new windows. The paint needs scraping and touching up, and the kitchen needs to be remodeled. I am not selling the house or dumping it for another one I love this one it just needs some attention. Do men get that? Your relationship needs some attention and some maintenance. Just the same as your car or your house, every now and then your love needs a tune up.

The funny thing to me also is that if a man’s needs are not being met he is quick to say so. In fact not only is he quick to say so but he is quick to insist that a change is made. He will not stand for this any longer. But why does a woman just stand idly by unhappy with a situation and either complain only to her friends or suffer silently? I think because when we demand this change the same as a man would we are called nags or bitches and it is dismissed as our time of the month. We have to be stronger and more persistent just like a man would be that the changes we need are actually made and stuck with. My husband hates chicken. He only wants red meat for dinner. About six months ago I made two nights in a row what I thought were very delicious and well prepared meals. The first night was fried chicken with cheese potatoes and corn on the cob. The second night was homemade pizza with Alfredo sauce base, chicken and spinach with red paper flakes and mozzarella cheese. He was eating the pizza and the turned to look at me and said, “I am going to have to insist that you not serve me chicken anymore.” As plain as day and without much emphasis, just kind of nonchalantly said it.

WHAT THE FUCK????  For those of you who KNOW me. I mean really KNOW me (not just in passing or on facebook) you know he is lucky to still have two testicles let alone a penis attached to them. Baa haaaaaaaaaaa....

My face became very hot and I had to sit on my hands so as not to smack him across his smug undeterred face. This is what I am talking about. He made known very simply that he no longer wanted to eat chicken that same as if he were telling me it was raining outside. He stated his point and not for one second did he feel bad about it or even fret about saying it beforehand. Why are we as women not able to do this?

I’ll tell you what. I am going to start. Right here and now, today. No more whining to my girlfriends. I will just say what it is I want and then calmly and without hesitation proceed to insist that I get it. I still serve Rick chicken but only maybe once every few months and I make sure it is on a dish he likes like dumplings. I did let him know that if he ever said anything like that again that I would have to insist that he fix his own damn dinner from now on but other than that we were both heard and the necessary changes were made. Changes are what we want not whole new husbands.

So again to review… We love YOU… not so much exactly as you are but maybe with minor adjustments.  ( wink wink )

We love your quirky ways and even your stinky outpourings. You make us happy. But I am sure guys that you will have to admit you dream about the unicorn now and again. Otherwise porn would never have been invented. I mean come on. If all of us were perfectly happy all the time with one another porn would become obsolete. Who’d need it when you already had the best at home? A secret though, I bet even Jenna Jameson’s hubby looks now and again, and even Pam Anderson's man wonders about others now and then. It’s just human nature. But as far as our real relationships and as far as our basic needs as women, maybe THEIR way, the mans way, in this matter of change is the way to go.

Ladies, be a man, insist on change and demand that it be immediate and permanent. Insist they not serve you chicken anymore!

Monday, July 27, 2009

Unicorns do not exist....

Unicorns do not exist....

Ah ha ha ha.. this one for my sister who keeps swearing he is out there...
You all know who I am talking about. The guy who is sensitive, understanding, loving and caring. The guy who comes home from work and says, "Oh my love, my sweet, I know you have had a hard day with the kids. Why don't you let me make dinner and then you can have a nice hot bath while I do the dishes." She swears that the more high maintenance women she knows have husbands who help equally with the chores and do not complain. These husbands who put in full days at the office and never burden wives with problems and yet instead come home smiling and help out with the kids and really notice and appreciate all that their wives do for them. To my sister I say simply that UNICORNS DO NOT EXIST! No more than this man exists. What? It's true! No, I am not a man hater but lets face facts... he is just not out there. My husband is pretty great but even he is only some of these things some of the time but absolutely never all of these things all of the time or even most of these things some of the time. He, like all the rest of the husbands of the women I know, comes home from work thinking that he is now "off the clock." I made this term up, he has never used it. I am not even sure he consciously thinks that way but never the less he is "off the clock" when he walks through our front door. It's a general term I use which is not just related to work but related to all things in life ranging from laundry, bills, music lessons, kids, dinners, to dishes. He can’t even be bothered to listen to me talk about whatever issue might be in front of me at the moment. (He will, however, definitely clock in for sex but only if I am on top and only if he doesn't have to initiate it and will definitely clock in for a BJ. What a lucky girl am I? But that is a whole other blog...Where was I now? Oh yes... It is somehow ingrained in them that this is all the further their obligation goes. Work and come home. I have thought and thought on this. Where could it have come from. Heck, even Ward Cleaver mowed the lawn now and again, he piddled in the garage when June needed something fixed. He attended a few Parent teacher meetings, and was always responsible for punishing the boys. So what model of man did they see that made them think they could just "clock out " like this? I keep coming back to the 70's when we as women started to say that we wanted to be the ones to go to work. When we started to want careers. Was it then that the leaders of the man group said, "Well, OK we will let you have your little careers but only as long as it does not cause any more work for us and only as long as you are still able to keep up with your regular work load. Only then will we allow it." I don't know who runs the man group or even if there is one but they all seem to get these ideas from somewhere? Why does it never occur to my husband that I too work 30+ hours per week in addition to watching three kids, and that every last chore in the house might become a bit overwhelming? 3 kids, a full time job, laundry, dishes, breakfast, lunch and dinner, vacuuming, dusting, toilet cleaning, bed making, refereeing, taking out the trash, grocery shopping, and bill paying all in one day is really a super human feat yet every woman I know is expected to do it. To do it day in and day out. All of this going through our heads, we have a constant running inventory of what needs to be done and when, who needs to be where and why and what they need to take when they go. We are constantly ticking away in our minds what the next bill due is and the next repair on the house will need to be. We already know that we are almost out of shampoo and that the kid’s favorite breakfast cereal is running dangerously low. We know that the dance costume is missing a button, that the laundry is piling up, that your blue socks have a hole in them and that the cat needs food. So the husband wonders why, when he has the audacity to look at me after one of those long days and say, "Uh I'm out of clean underwear. When do you think you might get to that laundry pile? or Babe did you happen to get milk today. I've been saying since yesterday that we are out," that I finally lose it and freak out or scream. He looks at me like I have three heads and is like Jeez what's your problem? (The most funny part of it all to me is that after 8 years of marriage he still doesn't know not to say those things.. That it never bodes well for him.) He wonders why he just got yelled at? Really? You try doing in one week what we do in one day. It would never happen. If I leave the kids home with my husband I am lucky to come home to a house that is the way I left it. A male friend of mine laughed once when telling me that when he was left to watch his two boys his wife always came home, "in the hole." What he meant by that was that she was much worse off than when she left the house. He could barely keep up with the two boys let alone keep them from destroying the house. Let's not even dare talk about him actually accomplishing a chore. Watching the boys was all he could handle.Yet his wife did that and kept their house sparkling. He laughed to me that he had no idea how she does it but I doubt she will ever know he feels this way. God forbid, that might give her license to relax and take a moment off. Instead we all just keep trucking along, keep pushing forward with all that is on our plates and there is no end and no help in sight. These unicorns just do not exist. So what is my answer to all of this to this problem we are facing, and Oh yes I do have one! But ,I am saving it. I want to make sure you are good and ready to hear it. For now I want you to keep on thinking about how miraculous what you do every day really is. I want you to keep stepping outside yourself and looking in at what you have accomplished and really give yourself some credit for how hard you have worked. And what he heck.. it never killed anyone to dream about a unicorn now and then.....

Saturday, July 25, 2009



     So Yesterday I was talking about all of the bake sales, Gymboree classes, swimming lessons, art camps… and the list goes on that we in this day and age of raising children are more or less EXPECTED to have our kids involved in. I do not resent doing a few of these things but it seems every day that my daughter comes home from school I am being presented with some piece of paper “requesting” my participation or involvement in some new endeavor. Room parent, trash bag sales, sports coach, snack provider etc etc etc… So now in addition to every other role we play and every other job we have in our everyday lives we now have volunteer philanthropist on our list of daily chores. I can honestly say that I do not remember my mother doing this for me or even being asked to? I can not remember my mother being the slightest bit concerned if I was involved in an after school activity much less encouraging me to do so and then taking a participatory role in said activity. I am not angry with her. I do not feel cheated. I don’t feel she was a bad mother for not doing these things. It just wasn’t the thing to do then. It was not expected. It was not the norm. Some of the moms did do it. I can remember Mrs. Anthony from my grade school being the all around super mom. But she was the only one and everyone else thought she was like a saint or something. I can tell you that I have not been given Sainthood for doing those very same things in this decade. I am just like every other mom on the block. No one says to me, “Wow your children are so lucky.” It is simply expected. More than that, if you do not do these things with your children in this day and age you are frowned upon, looked down at, JUDGED. You should be doing them and doing them with a smile on your face. Maybe they do not come out and say it but you know they think it. And in all likelihood some one somewhere HAS actually said it to you. I have another friend with and slightly autistic child who’s doctor urged her to get him as much socialization as possible at his early age of 3. Stating that if she did her son would be more adjusted to being in a group setting and be more apt to function in society on a higher and more “normal” level. So she enrolled him in a gymnastics class. Each and every time the class day comes around, he argues and gets upset because he doesn’t want to be a part of the group. She gently and lovingly urges him knowing that it is in the long run what is best for him. One afternoon she was literally jumped by a red faced and very angered mother from the class. She told my friend that she was a horrible and abusive mother and that forcing her son to participate in this class was abominable. She told her she had a good mind to call DFS. This lady was serious and this truly did happen. My friend calmly explained the situation to this woman (which I would have never done) and the woman stuck to her guns and continued to call my friend the antichrist. This really happens folks. I know Hillary Clinton said “It takes and village” but I am wholeheartedly sure she did not mean that you should sit back and play arm chair quarterback to another mother who’s situation is totally none of your business. Besides being absurd, let me ask you what 3 year old do you know that you do not have to force to do what is best for them? So next time when my daughter does not want to take a bath should I not force her? Would this woman find that abusive? If I forced my son to eat his carrots would she call 911? Clearly the best thing for a child is the business of only that child’s parents and that child’s doctors! Not some random mom who believes herself to be Super Savior defender of all children who wish to sit on the sidelines!
     Now I know my mother never had to deal with that. There were ladies in our neighborhood, older moms who thought my mom was young and too hip, thought her parenting skills to be lacking and morality was in question but their action was simply to never ask me to baby sit when I was older or to not invite us to their bar-b-que’s. So what! At least their disgust was quiet and whispered instead of shouted and reported to the authorities. These days it seems everyone has DFS on their speed dials and is ready and willing to call if they think your parenting is in question. Who knows how to raise my kids? Apparently in this day and age everyone we pass on the street and believe me they will let us know when we are not living up. I understand that is important to get involved as a society in making sure our children are safe but where are these same vigilantes when a little girl gets snatched while walking 3 blocks to her home in broad daylight and no one saw a thing? This is when your 911 speed dialing finger should be ready… not when I took my little girl in the bathroom for a stern talk about not throwing herself on the floor in the restaurant because she was asked to try the broccoli? When my actions actually break the black and white letters of the law certainly step in but when your idea or your morality and mine do not mesh you have no business “giving me you thoughts” on the matter. When did we lose this common sense? When did we become our sister’s keeper? When did we become judge jury and hangman to every mother we come in contact with? When did you become the Mayor of my village?

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Resentment and Guilt Party of One

Resentment and Guilt Party of One

     I have been doing all this complaining so I felt that I must really take a minute to explain to you that I dearly love my family. I know you do too. I hope I did not loose you on that last chapter. Some days are much harder than others and that was one of the harder ones. Back to what I was saying though; my children are the best thing that has ever happened to me and my husband is the love of my life (farts and all). This probably sounds funny after reading all you’ve read so far. You must be thinking I desperately need to see a professional, and well maybe I really do. But surely you must see that absolute irony in the world we live? We are expected to do all of this and be everything to everyone and truth be told how can we and not have just a little bit of resentment toward the makers of all of this extra work? It is so hard to love your husband when you are washing his skid marked tighty whiteys. So hard to love our kids when you have repeated the same phrase for the 47th time in a row today. And of course with those feelings of resentment along comes a big side dish of guilt. The guilt we feel then leaves us so ashamed. And by the way for you newbies to mother hood, I know you start to think you might be the only one feeling these things and that you are such a bad person. I assure you that you are not alone and to remind you of that my best piece of advice is to get a “mommy friend”. I do not mean one of those robots whose children are always perfectly coiffed and who are able to read at the age of three. I mean the mommy who can’t find a napkin in the car so she wipes her son’s runny nose with his sister’s preschool back up panties. She is just like you. She is not perfect and she will not judge you. She will just make you laugh and more importantly she will make you feel sane. I have a few of those friends. Thank God! I can not stress to you the importance of this person on your speed dial list. So back to the subject which was my little darlings and all of my guilt. That same mommy friend of mine was just telling me that the other day she had such a bad headache and she just wanted her son to be quiet in the car for just a little while. Pounding headache! The kind of headache that brings tears to your eyes. So she asked him to sit still and stay quiet for the rest of the car ride. And of course she then spent the rest of said car ride thinking to her self that some horrible accident would most likely happen at this very moment that would leave her son unable to speak ever again and that would be her punishment for asking him to shut up in the car. You know it’s silly but you can’t help feeling it. The guilt overwhelms us. Truth be told I am having a hard time writing all this tonight because I am feeling guilty. Some nights I am just so tired that I absolutely dread reading a story to my daughter at bed time, but I always do it anyway because I actually think about all the mothers who must work two jobs to survive and don’t get this luxury, or all the divorcees who don’t even live under the same roof as their kids and couldn’t do this even if they wanted to. I feel so much guilt over every little thing and it’s that guilt that makes my legs lift my body off of the chair and up the stairs to her bedroom to read the damned story. Would I be punished in someway for “taking for granted” what I have, the ability to say good night? I live in such fear of that “punishment” that I live every moment thanking the universe for what I have been given, which by the way in and of itself is tiresome. I guess what I am saying is that I am tired. All the time it seems I am tired. I spend every minute with this family furiously packing in all these things that if they missed out on I would be over run by guilt and constant fear of punishment. An art class, a bed time story, homemade cookies for a snack, finger painting, walks in the park when it’s nice, trips to the zoo, pool parties, swimming lessons, mommy and me gymnastics, a Spanish lesson, over the top birthday parties. It is all fun yes, but it’s all so tiresome. I want to enjoy my kids. I want the time with them to be fun and exciting, not draining, and not always filled with the thought that if I do not do this I will never be rid of the guilt. When and how are we supposed to just enjoy them? I do not want to resent them. I do not want to be angered when my husband wants to play a round of golf. I want to be happy for him and excited he is spending time with friends. Instead I fell gypped! Oh no you don’t fella! It’s your turn to spend the day with these kids. It’s your turn to do some entertaining, and while you’re at it how about you do a load of laundry too. Do you think they, the husbands that is feel this guilt? I’ve asked mine and the puzzled look on his face at my inquiry said it all. Like Tim the Tool man. “Huh?” We are totally alone in this feeling. Does it date back to Eve eating that damned apple? Is that where our guilt began? So far back in time it is almost untraceable? So tonight's query…. How can we get past this feeling? How can we change our thought process to reasonably resemble that of our husbands so that we can just say,"No" to that Gymboree class or that bake sale and not spend the night flogging ourselves in the basement over it?

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Ground Hog Day not just for Punxitonie...

Back in again and just having one of those days... you know the one?.. I like to call them..

     I once heard that the average toddler hears the word “no” over 200 times in one day. Yeah well, who do you think is saying it? Remember that movie with Bill Murray where he wakes up and keeps having the same day over and over? Of course you do it was the story of your life! Here are just a few of the things I repeat daily; “I don’t know where your (insert random object here) is. I was not he one who had it last.” “Stop hitting your brother.” “Stop picking your nose.” “You must at least taste it before you say you do not like it” “You must hold my hand in the parking lot. Do not run off you may get hit by a car.” “First eat your dinner before you can have any sweets.” “NO! NO!” “Your coat does not go one the floor.” “Stop sticking things in the outlets! While you’re at it stop sticking things in your nose too.” “That is not a toy.” “Please get down from there.” “The word your looking for is WON’T not CAN’T. You CAN do it but you just won’t.” “Poop, But, Fart, Turd and all poop related words are bad words as far as I am concerned and the next time you say them I will wash your mouth out!” “You have to drink milk too not just juice or your teeth will rot out.” “Please be quiet.” “Apologize to your sister.” “Stop hitting!” “Do you have any sense?” “Pick up your room.” “You need a time out.” “That behavior is not acceptable.” “Turn it down.” “Turn it off.” “Start listening.” “Get down from there.” “Get off the ground!” “Don’t eat things you have dropped on the floor.” “Put your toys away.” “Hurry up, we are going to be late again.” “Oh yes you will young lady.” “A sucker is not breakfast.” “Stop playing in the toilet.” Oh and let’s not forget, “Not tonight dear I have a headache.” Ha how would I not after a day like that? I say the same things day in and day out. At some point in time one would think they would get tired of hearing them and actually do what it is I ask. I speak and I think all they must hear is “WA WAH WAH WAH WA WA WAH” At what point did I become Charlie Brown’s teacher? Do they think I like to sound like this? It only contributes to my tired and listless appearance. My youthful glow is slipping away like sands through the hour glass. The mundanaity of it is…well mundane. It amazes me what actually excites me these days. A trip to the grocery store alone is a treat! A chapter read in a book is nice. Today for instance, my four year old got in the car and actually put her own arms through the car seat straps and sat ready for me to buckle her quietly and calmly. I felt like a choir was signing hallelujah! My mini-van somehow seemed enlightened. The clouds in the sky suddenly parted. Had I actually finally been heard? I have only been saying, “Please get in your seat and put your arms in the straps while I put your brother in the car,” for one year, three days, and 16 hours, 23 minutes, and 15 seconds now. Everyday it is the same thing. My mother got mad at me the other day and said. “She’s only four. You don’t have to be so snipity with her.” Yes mom she is only four until you want her to play Beethoven’s fifth symphony on the piano and then she is “sheer genius.” Why can this same child not complete one simple and very helpful little task for mommy’s sanity? It is a question for the afterlife I guess. Right up there with why the husband won’t actually look for something before coming to you and saying he can’t find it anywhere, and what is the meaning of life. I wanted nothing more in my twenties than to be married and have kids. And now I want nothing more than to be swept away in a leer jet to Paris. It is no wonder women get hooked on soap operas. They need to escape from the mundane, the "Groundhog days of their lives." I guess I somehow thought it would be different. Thought it would be more glamorous. I definitely thought it would be easier. I thought there would be more help and now I am left here alone and disillusioned. A point I’d like to make here for you to think about tonight. In your twenties when you thought about and wanted a marriage with a family so bad,when you went to your married friends houses and looked at the picture above their mantle (you know the one we all have, husband, wife and darling children) what did you see? A frozen moment in time when for the one split second of that camera shutter all was right and all was quiet and still, a perfect family. But I ask you did you take a moment to remind yourself no one takes pictures at a funeral. By this I simply mean, we only want to remember the good and what life looks like in that gleaming photo above your fireplace, may not be at all what life is really like. The smiling mommy on the mantle was probably having a groundhog day of her own. “Smile for the camera. Stop hitting your sister. Quit picking your nose. Where did that stain come from, you’ve only had this shirt in for two minutes?” Her armpits were probably sweaty, her hair probably glued in place, the kids probably threatened with in inches of their lives oh and by the way her husband probably just farted.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Thanks for reading.......

Thanks to all who are reading and I hope that you are finding some bit of enjoyment and some bit of solace in my rantings. Please feel free to e-mail me if you have any topics you's like me to address at

now on to my next question.....

Is Happiness is Over Rated?

     So have you come up with an answer? Can you manage this life with out the occasional Valium or Prozac prescription? I haven’t had much sleep since last we talked but my mind is racing and I have a few more bits of info for you. A social scientist named Dan Buettner made the pursuit of happiness his life work and in the year 2000. He did a study to find the happiest places and people in the world. Do you know that among some of least happy people in the entire world he found us? Who is us? Why the American Housewife of course. And do you know what reasons most of us cited for this unhappiness? Not poverty, not loneliness, not abuse, but the simple fact that we are set up to fail. We have all of these things that we are expected to be and to do and not one of us can be and do all of them and do and be all of them well. IT IS IMPOSSIBLE. It is impossible to succeed at our lives without sacrificing our happiness. Who is to blame? I don’t know. I am NOT a social scientist. I can only speculate that sometime around women's suffrage and the fight for equal rights we began to take on all these additional roles and sort of forgot about the ones we already had. We just sort of kept pushing and thinking that if the men can do it we can do it! Before we knew what had happened we were here in the middle of this mess and tired as heck wondering what went wrong. We’ve been sold (or probably more accurately went out and willingly bought) the idea that we can be everything to everyone and still look good doing it. You know who I blame...I BLAME ENJOLI!!! 
HA! I remember that commercial from when I was just a girl. “I can bring home the bacon! Fry it up in a pan, and never let you forget you’re a man cause I’m a woman with Enjoli!” It’s TRUE! Sometime in the 1970’s women decided we needed to become superhuman bionic. Maybe it’s Lindsay Wagner’s fault! I don’t know! All I do know is that now I’m left holding the bag and it’s breaking my back!
     So is happiness overrated? Are we just supposed to go on dong it all and smiling while falling apart? How do we go back? How do we undo what has been done? Are we so afraid that if we take a minute to go get a massage and a pedicure that our kids might miss band practice or have to have take-out instead of a healthy well prepared home cooked organic meal? So filled with guilt at the idea of putting ourselves first for just one hour? Why? Men do it all the time! They do, they really do. Let’s take for example “the 20 minute POOP”. You are laughing because you know EXACTLY what it is I’m talking about. He needs his privacy (mine even wants in our dream house, his very own bathroom.). He needs to meander and languish on the toilet for at very least 20 minutes while he reads Golf Digest and the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue (it would probably be porn if you had no kids.) Here he also clips his fingernails, examines the nose hairs he needs to trim, and stares into the hand mirror wondering if Heidi Klum comes into the office today by chance would she find him attractive. Can I even remember when I pooped last? I find myself spending an entire day holding it in because it is just so inconvenient and I just do not have the time. Let’s examine for a moment what it actually takes to go poop as a mommy. I really think it is important to cover this because NO ONE explains it to you before you have kids. No one ever even mentions this at all. Let’s say you are in the mall with your little darlings. Let’s say one is an infant and one a toddler. You are alone with them and you really have to go. So here are all the possibilities. You will need to use the handicapped stall even though it is totally politically incorrect. But the fact of the matter is that not all of you will fit into one of those other tiny little stalls. You must next, threaten your toddler within inches of his or her life, “ not touch anything. Not the trashcan, not toilet, not anything!” You better hope you have a stroller for the infant or a car seat carrier; otherwise you must now attempt to hold your infant child while you pull down your pants, urinate or defecate, and wipe. You can not set them on the floor. God only knows what is on that floor. Although some one did invent a baby holding shelf they are not in most bathrooms because no one really cares about our plight. By now your toddler is on the floor examining the drain. YUCK AND DISGUST. She is most likely also peeking under the stall at the person next to you who thinks this is so incredibly rude. So all this time you are quietly mumbling to her through gritted teeth, “Get up! Get up right now, mommy is trying to pee. Get up for Christ sakes. Get up and stop that. Stop it. Stop it right now! Please stop.” Does she? Nope! Sorry. And what if you were fortunate enough to have a stroller? It is probably too big to fit in the handicapped stall? Do you leave the kids just outside the stall door? No way. The toddler will make a run for it and what are you going to do mid-stream? You pretty much just have to go with the door open! Forget having “privacy.” You get the exact opposite you have a public pee or worse poop in front of complete strangers no less. Even if I am actually able to bring both kids in the stall, manage to keep them from touching anything and keep them off the floor, my daughter usually announces to all parties in the ladies room exactly which number it is I am performing and just how “yucky” it smells. She sometimes even tops it off with real gagging sounds. But not hubby, he defiantly needs the full 20 minutes of privacy. What a joke! So next, after he determines that Heidi Klum most definitely would fall madly in love, because Seal has nothing on him, and he can finish up his luxurious 20 minute “business.” He can then jump into the shower and take a 20 minute long steam sauna while he washes his hair. This as a side note infuriates me because really what do they have to do while they are in there that takes 20 minutes? Men do not condition their hair. Men do not have to shave their arm pits, and men absolutely do not have to shave their legs which could take forever because now that I haven’t showered in three days I am beginning to resemble a Yeti! And not to get too private but we are being REAL so the fact is that it is 2000 something and most of us are expected to shave our “Va-J-J’s.” That in and of itself could take 20 minutes! There are a lot of folds and creases in that area. Special care must be taken. What do they have to wash? All of their equipment in right there out in the open. they take all this time to wash their hair and why their hair is short or in some cases no existent! My husband likes my hair long but come on! The upkeep on this is a lot on top of all the other things I am carrying. Again like with the poop, when would I shower at all let alone for 20 minutes? Do I do it during the day while the hubby is at work and the kids are home with me? If you have no kids you might say, “Sure why not?” If you have kids you are probably snickering because you know the ramifications of a decision like this. You might get away with it sure but you might not. My friend Tracy just e-mailed me a photo of what happened during her 3 1/2 minute completely frantic shower during which she barricaded her kids into her bedroom that adjoins to her bathroom. She set them up with cartoons on TV and a snack in her bed while she attempted to shower. The second her shower was turned on her son jumped off the bed and found a very large, and very full bottle of baby powder and proceeded to sprinkle it all over the bathroom, carpet in the bedroom, bed, sister, and dog, before finally turning it on himself and emptying every last poof into his hair. He did this all in silence. He did this all while the bathroom door was open, and his mother was speed showering. This is totally true and while moderately funny, it did take her the better half of the day to clean everything up and give both kids and the dog a bath. All in 3 ½ minutes he did this! Oh did I mention she did manage to shave at least her arm pits. Kudos to you Tracy! Oh but your poor hubby works so hard everyday that he really needs that steamy shower to relax a little bit. Does yours have you believing that crap too? Any hard day at the office can not even remotely compare to what two little children can throw your way. He thinks negotiating with his middle aged boss is tough. He should try going toe to toe with a three year old who wanted the pink sippy cup with the yellow lid and not the blue sippy cup with the purple lid. She would have him wondering which way is up! At least you can ration with the middle aged boss. My daughter cried for a full hour yesterday because Yo gabba gabba was not "coming up next" and I can not control the time at which a certain cartoon comes on. You could also try to take this fabled shower in the evening when the hubby is home. Which is when? Does yours get home at like 6-6:30 depending on traffic? At which time you are expected to have prepared a gourmet meal no tuna helper, and have cleaned up the house. So after finishing the clean up from the gourmet meal, teaching little Suzy a foreign language, because even though she is only 3 it is 2009 and we are supposed to be grooming our children for success at as early an age as possible. Reading the kids a book and putting them to bed comes next and now what time is it? 8:45-9:00? You are expected to do all the things you couldn’t do during the day with the kids like, laundry or bake cup cakes for pre-school tomorrow. You must also spend time with the ever needful hubby. To raise happy children you must have a happy marriage. So quality time must be devoted to your relationship. Even though his idea of quality time usually only last 5 minutes if you know what I mean. Can you shower now? When will you sleep? What if in addition to taking care of the kids you also have a job? I haven’t even mentioned that yet. What if you also have some sort of a job that you bring home with you and need to get caught up on as do many of my female friends? We will definitely discuss this in a later blog. The same friend I referred to earlier, Tracy. She makes me laugh. She said that if she told her husband that she got a new job and that the hours were from 11:00pm to 6:00am, he’d say, “Great honey good for you.” And be totally relieved that at no point in time would he be left alone with the children while they were awake and may need something. It would never occur to him that she would never have time to sleep.
After our pampered little poodle husbands get out of their relaxing steamy showers, they want another 20 minutes to do various other grooming rituals. They shave their “beards”, put on lotion and aftershave, and admire themselves in the full length mirror, pluck hairs from their ears and noses, pop zits, and pull out grays. ALL UN INTERRUPTED!!! WHAT??? I know I sound angry but I promise that by the end of the blog I will calm down (I think). All in all 1 full hour of UN INTERRUPTED bliss and total focus on only yourself! Can you imagine this ladies? Well you will have to because until your kids are at least in high school you will not be getting this!
     Not only are we supposed to be able to "do it all" but we are supposed to look good doing it? When? How? I see some women out there who manage to do this and I actually find myself staring at them in a daze. Magical harp like music starts playing in my head while I envision them putting on their makeup and brushing their long lovely hair. Pan camera to the children’s rooms where the two kids are duct taped to the wall, gagged, and trying to scream. Is that how they do it? Do they have nannies? Even if I could find the time to do it, would I have the energy? It is really all I can muster to keep my eyebrows at a minimum of two and to keep plucking those annoying black hairs that keep popping up on my chin and making me look and feel like the Wicked Witch of the West. To put on fresh make-up, to style hair, to tweeze, and pluck, and scrub and shave, and polish and manicure and groom is dizzying! All of this with two little angles at your feet.
     What about my happiness? What about my Bliss? Why is my happiness suddenly at the very end of the priority list? Any expert will tell you that it shouldn’t be and that it is so important that we make time for it in our busy schedules, but really practically how is that possible? Should we draft a bill to congress that along with daylight savings time can’t we just add two more hours to each day? Why does it have to be 24 can’t it be 26? Those two hours would greatly enhance my life, I think? Truthfully though I’d probably just find them absorbed by the activities of the two children and the desperate needs of the giant child I call husband. So what is the answer? The answer is that it is only your happiness that is over-rated. Everyone else in the house better still have theirs right? Or is it that you should be happy just to serve these people you call family? Think on this tonight and we will meet again tomorrow, same time same place.

Monday, July 20, 2009


     How many people do we have to be in one day? Let’s see there is of course to mother, the house keeper, the dry cleaner, the negotiator, the gourmet chef, the chauffeur, the accountant, the psychiatrist, the doctor…and that is just what you have to be to your husband! Ha Ha!
No really, from the moment you wake up in the morning. From the very second you hear that nasty little screeching alarm at 6:15, you have to start the race. Someone may as well fire the starting pistol because that is what it feels like to me. My brain is on instant overdrive, abuzz with all I must accomplish and all I must organize in this next 10-12 hour period of time. We must not only prepare ourselves for this day but chances are we must also ready a couple of children, a dog, a cat, and probably a husband. From the, “Honey, where is my other black dress shoe?” to the, “Mom I can’t find my book bag!” you’ve already become a private detective and crime scene analyst and you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet. But wait there is more…so much more. You must now dress yourself in a somewhat stylish outfit despite the nest that is your hair, apply a modest amount of make-up to hide the black bags under your eyes, and make the bed you and your spouse both slept in all by yourself. You proceed to the kitchen where you must prepare a moderately healthy breakfast free from steroids, hormones, pesticides, trans fats and cholesterol. Oh and did I mention that it must taste good, and not just to one person but to all of them When (not if) it is rejected you must be prepared to offer a second and sometimes even third alternative to your first unacceptable creation lest you be considered inconsiderate or un-nurturing. If you are lucky you might have some time to put that nest of yours up in a somewhat stylish fashion before you balance the check book since your husband keeps using the debit card and forgetting to tell anyone or write anything down anywhere. Oh no! Now it’s 7:30 and the kids aren’t dressed and the missing book bag has not been located. Wait! Before you run off to tackle that you must throw in a load of laundry and carry up a basket of clean clothes that hopefully the cat hasn’t slept on. Now where were we? Oh yes… You must proceed to wrestle down the untamable two year old boy who refuses to keep his diaper on, get him dressed while he is writhing about like a pile of snakes. Once that is finished you grab a few diapers to add to the diaper bag because we are all about multi-tasking and consolidating our steps. I have a tip! If you turn off a light and shut the door of the room you have just left when all the tasks in that room have been completed you can check it off your list as you go. Otherwise you will most likely forget what it is you still have left to do and where. This little practice at least narrows the field. Next you must wrangle the second child, a girl who has just figured out that she is a fashion goddess and must pick out her very own clothes. You must try to negotiate a deal with her…. Hmmm if she wears what she wants to wear the other mothers at pre-school might think you are running a toddler brothel! So you must become David Copperfield and perform the most impressive magic act of getting her to wear what you want her to all the while letting her believe she was the one who chose it. Not too hard at the age of 4 but she is catching on. So as you both head off to find the now pant-less little brother you continually compliment her on her choice of outfits for the day and tell her how smart and pretty she looks. Pants back on the boy and grab the Mr. Clean too since in the three minutes you were out of his sight he has written on the walls in pen. Just then your spouse comes around the corner with a look of disappointment on his face and says, “Honey, I can’t get ready for work with the kids always in my things, I can’t find my deodorant anywhere and I think the boy may have been playing with it. I just need you to keep him out of my drawer. I’m not trying to be a jerk but you have no idea how hard it is for me to get ready with them under foot.” You smile and say, “Ok dear.” All the while you are thinking…I HAVEN’T SHOWERED IN THREE DAYS! You tidy up from breakfast run a quick vacuum over the carpet replace the pillows on the couch and when you get the boy to stop jumping around you put on their coats and head for the door folks. You are now going over in your head all the rooms with closed doors, all the appliances that have been turned off and unplugged, the animals that have been fed and watered, the show and tell item you placed in the book bag the night before…. Ah ha! The missing book bag! Where could it be? You tell the kids to wait by the door while you go look. Really you’d like to go ahead and strap them in the car while you look since you know the boy as soon as you turn your back will be jumping on the couch again but that would be child abuse leaving your kids strapped into their car seats in the car that is parked in your garage. You can hear the gasps of horror in your head, “Oh my no... You should never leave them unsupervised. One of you little Einsteins may figure out how to get their seat straps unfastened and then hot wire the car and drive it off into the sunset! Oh no you mustn’t do that!” So you tell them to stand still and off you go to search. The boys hiding places are predictable and even though it only took a few minutes when you come back all the cushions are on the floor, coats are off, hair is messed up, and the boy’s shirt is soaked in steroid free organic soy milk from his “leak proof” sippy cup. You change him, replace the couch cushions, and put the coats back on. You close the last door and you are totally and completely exhausted and it is only…8:03. Good morning and welcome to motherhood in 2009!
I could go on for at least 10 more pages detailing very specifically the events of the day but it is 2:30 in the morning and this is really me. Really a mommy who is writing this blog and I really do need to get at least a few little hours of sleep or this scene that I go through every morning will truly unbearable tomorrow. So I leave you with this for now. How in the world does one manage this without some form of pharmaceutical intervention?

This my virgin run.....

Funny I use those words seeing as how today I turn 37 and am far from virginity...I am a mother of three beautiful children and a wife to one amazing man. My life is so full and so wondrous. I am starting this blog well... because of the zoo? That may seem odd but let me explain.. The other day my family and I went to the zoo and in the course of the six or so hours that we were there I heard woman after woman saying the same things over and over to their husbands and kids. I would lean slightly to the side and eavesdrop. One woman was arguing quite loudly with hubby that she was not his mother and was a bit tired of being made to feel as if she were. Yet another said to her spouse that she was always doing whatever she could to make his life easier, and wondered when some thought would be given to what would make her life easier? Still another was annoyed that her husband was complaining about going to the zoo and how it was her idea and that they always had to go where she wanted to go. She responded that if that were the case she'd be drinking somewhere poolside and that this in fact was something they were doing for the kids and not for her. Long story short I felt as if I were watching reruns of my own life and a strange sort of vertigo came over me... Here we all are; all these wives and mommies living our separate lives but somehow all of us living the exact same dramas and the exact same issues. I decided we needed a voice. I am no more qualified than the next gal but for whatever reason I just can't sit by anymore and say nothing... So here goes... sit back relax, enjoy, relate, laugh, scream, cry but if nothing else feel that you are not alone ladies!!!


For better of for worse we are not the mothers that our mothers were. How can we be? It is impossible. Let’s face facts! The world has changed so much since then. The safety and security most of us felt in childhood has vanished and been replaced by a world of school shootings, abductions, and pedophiles. You can’t just let your kids go outside and play anymore. Now you must know where they are every second of every minute of every hour! If I have to hear from my mother one more time how I can finally understand what she went through, and just how hard it is to be a mom, I think I’ll scream. I can’t just put my kid in an unsafe metal collapsible playpen out in the sun with no SPF while I take a smoke break and spray my bee hive with chlorofluorocarbons and chat on the phone. I must practically sit on my kids to insure their safety. Yes, I admit that it is true, every generation believes they have it worse than the last. However, I’m afraid that this time we may be right. So what about this blog? Well, I only have two goals in writing it. The first is to let all you others out there hiding behind the modern woman facade- "Know that you are not alone!" and, "NO you are not crazy." The second thing is that I hope when my daughter becomes a mother herself, things might just be the tiniest eensyest bit easier for her because of this story. YOU CAN NOT DO IT ALL!!!