Results tagged "Family"

And I mean that in the most eloquent, and non-boob way possible…

You’ve all seen it by now. In fact, it’s old news and I’m way behind the times — clearing the buffers out of my brain that are filled with apple sauce, toy tractors and soy milk. It takes me a few days to clear my head, wipe the oatmeal from my eyelashes and say… What does that say? But the ‘Mom Enough Time Magazine’ cover that was released ever so obnoxiously, Pre-Mother’s Day weekend. Yeah. THAT ONE. The one that forces all to look where most try not to out of a little thing called PERSONAL SPACE. Because– not only is she sending a message about how awesome your arms can look with daily Pilates, but hello? Camouflage on a 5-year old? GROUNDBREAKING. My son has been wearing the military pattern for years, much to the chagrin of his leftist Preschool (Not that there’s anything wrong with that political standpoint. Get over yourself.) It’s FASHION, people. Even TIME MAGAZINE agrees.

Really TIME? You had nothing better to do than to sift through the Goddess files to find the one 26 year old, self-righteous (in her own right, because I’m non-confrontational) woman that wanted to stand up, say F-YOU, I BREAST FEED to the universe? Never mind the rest of us that — in one massive uproar, sheltered our cubs under massive butterfly wings and said, “ARE YOU TALKING TO ME?!?!” Because women, MOMS in particular, are not defensive at all. Go team YOU.

Admittedly, I didn’t read the article, so while I feel the need to write this post — I can’t speak for the content beyond Time’s cover. Apparently, you have to buy the issue if you want to read in detail and by the time that I reached the newsstand, the angry mobs of Moms had already had their kill. All I could find was a trampled issue of Saveur Magazine — the Bread Issue, which — half-gnawed on must have served as substance to one of the blood seekers. I would go into detail over what they did to the Vogue Scarlett Johansson issue, but really — the images are too graphic for my descriptive ability. HOWEVER, I did read the online interview with Miss MOM ENOUGH (in capital red letters) on Time’s website — I don’t know, aside from the weirdness of shoving her boob into a her kindergarten-aged children’s mouths, she seems okay — a little loopy, but what Mom isn’t? And whatever, if that’s your thing — DO IT. Obviously, someone at Time Magazine is happy that you did — sitting in an accounting room, counting dollars upon dollars where the once dilapidated and tired magazine was, just yesterday, scrounging for pennies…MUHAHAHAA, WHO CAN WE PISS OFF NEXT?!?! While many would have been perfectly fine not knowing, and NOT getting angry over imagery and words that point and accuse. Blood pressures would have remained normal — and those of us with a sense of humor wouldn’t be wondering if we need to be careful about our boobs and what mouths they end up in. But whatever, who’s to stop those that feel compelled to share — in all seriousness, or not.

via the lovely blogger lateenough

Some days just can’t be duplicated…On our way to school today….

“Mom. Why do the clouds move?”

“Well…. the wind blows them around. Look at the clouds today — don’t they look like the comforter on your bed?”

“Yes, they… They look like a big mattress!”

“Yes, you’re right — all puffy…”

“And COMFY! I bet they’re bouncy. I bet the man that drives the sun is laying on them.”

“The man that drives the sun?”

“Yes — he’s friends with the man in the moon. He sleeps ALL THE TIME.”

“Really…”

“Yes, but the sun is too hot. Like the radiator in the little bathroom.”

“I know. That radiator is hot …. but the sun is a million times warmer…”

“MOM. I touched that radiator last night and it was really hot.”

“You shouldn’t touch it.”

(after a minute of thought while driving past McDonald’s)

“Mom. Did you need to go into Old McDonald’s today?”

“No…. Dad bought me a coffee this morning.”

“Oh. Well. MOM.”

Yes.

“If you need a coffee sometime and Dad doesn’t get you one, you can just go to the Old McDonald’s drive-thru.”

“That’s true, Will.”

“If Dunkin’ Dounuts had a drive-thru, then you would go there, right?”

“Probably.”

“Maybe tomorrow Dad won’t bring you coffee?”

“Maybe.”

Do you lie to your kids?

No really. Do you? I mean… just LOOK at Ann Curry’s face.

You’re lying RIGHT NOW. And she T-O-T-A-L-L-Y knows.

Because, according to the Today Show and some rather swarmy ladies from Todaymoms.com, you are just oozing with lies. LIES.

YOU BIG, FAT LIAR.

Personally, I try not to lie to Will — but not because lying isn’t fun (because it totally is!), no. Will is way to smart and tends to figure things out… He spends a lot of time and asks A LOT of QUESTIONS…. taking the fun completely OUT OF THE LIE. Santa Claus was suspect for weeks before Christmas. There was a lot of concern over how he gets onto the roof… “He doesn’t use a ladder, he doesn’t NEED a ladder.” We were three steps to polishing off the liquor cabinet with his series of investigations, but it all ended when Mr. Claus paid off big time Christmas morning. Thank you VERY much, John Deere.

And, didn’t you know, this is a heated topic. Why, it was just a few months back that I was perusing Facebook when I came across a post from fellow blogger, Jaime Lee, who had written a nice little HONEST post about ’6 lies moms tell kids’. For the most part, these 6 categories of dishonesty are all based in keeping a child happy and protected. You know — ‘The Tooth Fairy’, ‘Let’s not talk about sex yet, the baby came from a stork’, ‘GYPSIES’.  All rather harmless, and in all honesty, easy enough for a child to understand and quickly get over once the real truth is unveiled. But as I read on to the comments section, I found myself all stressed out and twisted up in the world of someone that DOES NOT LIE….

“As Life Gets Better says:

This is my interim kitchen desk.

The Boy is outside playing where I can see him (sort of), as is the Bluedog… And the baby is sleeping in her “sling” behind me. My desk is further inside the house (pictured here) but by being at the kitchen table, I am able to do about 12 things at the same time. And — the sling (also pictured here and here), which we like to call it because we aren’t going to refer to it as it’s real name, is probably the best thing to happen to babies and Moms lately… I highly recommend. That is unless you are on the team that thinks Fisher Price is the Devil… in which case, may I suggest removing your head from the bodily nether-regions. Say good-bye to crazytown. Because, WHATEVER, if it’s safe and the baby likes it — it works for me.

I have to do 12 things at once. Sometimes 13. And I know, WHY? We’ve discussed this several times before — the list making.. the obsessions, the NEEDS. But really, without getting all into it AGAIN, what is the big deal? I can overanalyze for hours.. until you stop hearing me and it all turns to white noise… Kind of like all of these political jackasses that think they are doing what is right for the American People… when I’m all DUDES – who the hell asked you to do ANYTHING.. that is, right before I crawl back under my rock where I pretend to ignore all things BUDGET, and OH YEAH, elections. But you know as well as I do that I just like to be busy.

Because, and here it is — THE POINT — remember that job offer I mentioned the other day? You know. The one that offered REAL money and the one that I, very appropriately, TURNED DOWN? Well — all things considered — I’ve allowed it to go to my head. (SHOCK.GASP. YAWN) That’s right. Aside from not having any of the required skills or time for the position, other than knowing about design and a few things blog, I have allowed the level of flattery to take me to places where I start to think that I could zero in, focus, and somehow turn this blog into something more functional. And, although I’m not quite sure where this inspiration will lead, I am starting to think more about the DIY’ers and the list makers — And I’m talking about the really good ones… coochicoos; eye blog; minor details; nonchalant mom; noodlehead; oh joy; paper+cup; re-nest (of course); not martha; small for big; ucreate; death by kerning, which is now called “pictures”, which is beyond lame… And a world of others that, if you dare, you can find shared over in the public resting area of my google account. The private area is well.. PRIVATE.

Design incorporation with a real life twist. I mean, the internet is vast as are the endless connections and references at my fingertips… it’s just a matter of getting started, letting it morph and then sprinkling in consistency… I’ve already started on the research — and considering last week’s offer, I think I might be good at it… that is unless they just wanted me for my charm and sparkling personality…Or, I know — for my GRACE, Right? And, I know, just waiting on the “IT” definition… but it’ll come to me, eventually.

Hello there… won’t you please come in.

I’ve been hoping that you would stop by — there are so many things going on these days that its hard to keep track — What haven’t I told you lately?

Did I tell you about how inconvenient it is that I moved my computer to the basement? Yes. It was a bad idea. Now almost every time I need or want to compute, I have to slink off under the guise of doing laundry. It was also rather inconvenient that my accountant moved his office from the neighboring town of Hampton Bays to a place called Aquebogue…. Which makes me think that I have to borrow Mr. Sal’s thigh high fishing waders and head out into the bogs of Long Island while carrying peace offerings so as not to upset the natives. What’s that? Long Island doesn’t have any bogs? Really. ARE YOU SURE? Because I just googled it and therefore must BEG TO DIFFER.

Do you know what else Long Island has? PINE BARRENS…. Masses of pine trees huddled and mopped together to form clumps of forestry so thick that if you were to stick your hand in, it might just take DAYS to pull it back out. Right? Although I’ve never actually tried this, as I drive to places like AQUEBOGUE, I can envision this happening. Which is not only why I’m more afraid of Pine Barrens than I am of a bullet riddled Hood — But ALSO why I’ve chosen to write a blog post that seems to be about nothing. Because I spent a good part of the past few days reading through Mommy Blogs and I have to say that writing about nothing might be a better choice for time well spent.

It all started rather innocently, with my perusal of a few really good blogs that I enjoy on an almost daily basis. I would never consider these blogs to be “Mom Blogs” because they don’t focus solely on the lives of the writer’s children. Instead they blather on about idiosyncratic topics OF WHICH I feel compelled to compare my own life with and THEREFORE consider to be nothing short of GENIUS. At one point, as is what usually happens here in this conundrum of the internet, I clicked on a link… and then another… and another… and another until I was lost and wandering aimlessly through a sea of angry and heavily drinking Moms that seem to not only loathe their daily lives, but also have no qualms about sharing these rather sad and insecure feelings about their kids, husbands and general STATI-Q in life.

A lot of these blogs, of which I’m too nice to actually link to so that the Moms don’t hunt me down and force me into the Pine Barrens, focus on really personal things… like cute pictures of kids coinciding with posts about not having enough time to ones self anymore… or how so-in-such’s life could be so much different today had she not married while pregnant and, yadda 3 more kids later, she’s lucky to get one night out a week away from the dirty bastards. The bastards, of course, being her kids… not the chain gang of friends that she also has photographs of on her blog, in what I can only assume is her home, doing keg stands and smoking butts–Blindingly F’d up, while the kids, I mean BASTARDS, hang around at knee high vantage. And, while I am sitting here, beating myself up for inconveniencing myself by moving my computer to a place in my house that is seemingly impossible to get to… I would MUCH rather hang out with my kid, not complaining.

SO, what’s going on here? I mean, aside from the good Mom Bloggers — of which I liken to Gilda the Good Witch, there are also some rather talented writers out there that AREN’T MOMS and also know that this is ALL WRONG. Could it be that the lives of other semi-celebrity, self-proclaimed Mommy Bloggers have made it such that others feel the need to TELL ALL online? Do they think that there is the same status waiting for them at the end — along with SWAG and personal assistants? Fame & Fortune… And her little dog too! And when exactly DOES IT END? When the dirty bastards, aka CHILDREN, finally escape from the lives that their Moms have told us all about in some aspect of pride? REALLY? And is it worth it? Because, even though I’m writing this from the TALLEST PEDESTAL IN EXISTENCE,  if attempting to write seriously about hating motherhood is the new white, then I remain cloaked in BLACK (seeing how it’s spring-n-all).

About so many things…

But when it comes to big time parenting decisions, I have to admit that I’m usually up for suggestions. Because… in the beginning, he was just a baby. Things weren’t that hard, really. I mean there was the whole life adjustment thing — the realization that nothing was more important than him…. The giving up of all things selfish  — as if showering once in a while was such a glutenous activity. Full time parent means FULL TIME parent. But after a while… as he grew, crawling — talking — walking — RUNNING… the amount of work I had cut out for me morphed from around the clock survival to more of a set of guidelines. No – Don’t do that — Not a good idea — You can try but it might not work. And, finally, the decision to let him figure it out for himself… and the guilt involved with the outcome — standing on the handlebars of the big-wheel was only going to lead to tears.

We decided to take Will out of school last fall after trying it out for only one week. One week at the school that we thought was “the best”. They agreed — although “advanced” (because there is a benchmark for TODDLERS, for the love of gawd), and nearing the size of a 5 year old, at two and three quarter years old — he was simply too young emotionally. Our departure wasn’t without a disclaimer, however — that if he did stay, they were confident that he would “eventually” like it… which reminded me of when Mr. Sal tastes something, remarks on how disgusting it is and then says “Try this”… Because by then I had already collected my child and was hightailing it through the countryside…. that much more determined to take him out, out and AWAY. And as we released ourselves back onto the beach — back into our daily routines filled with errands, play dates and priceless days together, I was sorry for even thinking about school. But here we are…  right back where we were a year ago… deciding what to do in September.

It would be extremely wrong of me to criticize the institution that we held in such high regard. So, without getting off my high horse (that is sooo very high), let’s just say that we are shopping around again…. We’ve had a change of heart… Because, as I shrug off the parental intimidation, we may have been wrong the first time around… So, let’s NOT LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN.

So here we are! I can just hear you… Gushing with anticipation.

Thanksgiving is upon us. And I know that sounds as heavy as it really is. Heavy — food, family, home, food, friends, relationships, news, football, politics, food. I know, WHATEVER. Almost everyone has that stuff. Or if it isn’t blood relation, its a family of friends — its a group… but most importantly.. its a COMFORT ZONE. I, in particular, have only spent one Thanksgiving really really away from my family. I mean there have been years where I have sat among in-laws and or other additions to my family — my zone-o-comfort, but only once was I really far away — and dudes, it sucked.

Yeah, no. Not going to sugar coat this one. Years upon years ago — another lifetime, even — I spent a college break over Thanksgiving with the family of a boyfriend… the ever DOOMED relationship that every other girl in existence has locked away somewhere… only to pull out for gasps and shrieks of OH MY GOLDEN BAKED BIRD, WHAT WAS I THINKING?!?. But that’s all I can say about that….for now.

I spent this one Thanksgiving among a group of über dysfunctionals, while my own family, displaced for a brief year-long stint in Atlanta, enjoyed in splendor among each other. And whatever — I’m sure it wasn’t awesome — both of my sisters were at great ages in Jr. High & High School… TONS OF FUN, right?!? But had I known what I was in for, I would have driven nonstop from Philly to be there with them… Instead, I went to New Jersey (and I’m not knocking, Jeerz). I’m not going to lie. I couldn’t eat. I didn’t want to — everything was gross to me — AND I was hideously uncomfortable — calling every friend I could think of on the phone… if only to interrupt the fun they were having with their own families. Tears burning behind my eyes, and this had been MY CHOICE. I’m sure there are pictures out there somewhere of me at this affair… my hair standing on end, hives all over my body — shoulders resting at complete tension by my ears. The very brush of another’s arm against mine made me flinch… just forget about the nice hello hugs and cheek kissing… I was completely standoffish and impolite… which, given that GRUNGE was so IN — I was probably way hot.

But that was then, and this is now. Now is when I get so juiced up about Thanksgiving that I run outside and cut dried berries to decorate the front door wreath (above.. — shut it, Martha.)… Imagine if I had allowed more experiences such as the one non-family Thanksgiving into my life… Just think about how balls out freaky I’d be. I allowed myself to think about this over this past weekend while my husband and I celebrated our 6th Wedding Anniversary… I know, SIX is so nothing in the scope of a lifetime… but when you add on another 10+ non-married years, things start to sound a little more permanent. We celebrated by actually GOING OUT TO DINNER, which — if you haven’t heard, is this new trend where you leave the house, sit down in a public establishment and allow someone to wait on you… There are a few bumps in the road… like having to sit near OTHER PEOPLE, but as we giggled our way through the idea of being adults, we were able to drown out the others… that is with the exception of the woman looking for dental floss. Now that was just unforgivable.

In short, the weekend was really nice. We had lovely guests — who were gracious enough to allow us out of the house… I remembered my hideous nightmare of a Thanksgiving on the eve of Thanksgiving… while on our Anniversary — making me beyond grateful for where I am now… and (OMG!) where I most certainly AM NOT. And while it all comes and goes so fast — Christmas is next week, right? — It was so nice to just think about the comfort of  what’s to come this week — even if it equals something… heavy.

Happy Thanksgiving my Friends!

Transition is looming…

Will starts school in a few, very short weeks. And while I am anticipating a serious meltdown that spirals into a Dear Lord, WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN phase for a while, at least I know that I’ll have Will to be all – ‘Dude, MOM – Get Over it – 9:15 to 11:45 is LESS THAN 3 HOURS’. But still. My feet are frozen… creatively speaking, of course. And considering that we live approximately 2 minutes and 26.5 seconds from the school (yes I timed it. stop judging me), I had better get my bud-unka-dunk in gear. TOOT SWEET.

Because, if you could see me, then you’d know. My hair is sun bleached with heindog roots, my freckles are totally chill and whatevs — the office move that was supposed to be over by the end of the summer is still only half done AND – I still haven’t figured out what I am going to do next. Yeah, I can hear you – STOP SHOUTING… WHY do I have to DO anything? Why can’t I just STOP?  Well, whatever lazy bones… because I’ve tried. And if you haven’t seen what happens to someone that has worked semi-consistently since they were 12 then you can sit right over there with the Olsen Twins. Because they’ve been footin around since they were babes… and you don’t hear them complaining — DO YOU? Not to mention that I have this whacked out “creative” gene stun-gunning me every time I try to think inside the box. Which is not only why I married a Republican, but also the reason that anxiety likes to sneak up on me when the big idea exerts itself.

And this is a critical time. When Will was born I was still running a mildly successful company that allowed me to be a Mom, work from home and manage the day to day operations with employees. I did this for the better part of Will’s life.. until the giant ECONOMIC CRISIS (echo echo echo) took it from me. Since then I have been a full-time Mom with occasional projects here and there, with the help of a babysitter a few hours a week. With the exception of these few hours — Will has been with me from the second he wakes up until about 5 minutes after he falls asleep. And, yes.. I could be considerate about the whole situation, but honestly — I’m a little weary of finally having time.

And, although I’m totally aware that you are on vacation these last weeks of summer… What should I do, Internet? I’m damn-sure as hell NOT giving you all of my newly found two and a half hours… What would you do?

What do two sisters do when their third sister is being thrown an engagement party by her Fiancé’s family — of whom the two sisters have NEVER MET BEFORE?

Well… they have Muppets made in the Bride & Groom’s likenesses OF COURSE! I mean REALLY?! What else would anyone POSSIBLY DO in a situation such as this?

Because it made perfect sense, right? For two utterly refined sisters -  one older (me) and one younger than the bride to find themselves invited to an event honoring the one in the middle and her husband to be… being thrown by lovely unassuming people that are only expecting that what anyone else would…

It’s official, my sister is getting married.

And although I’m not so sure how she’ll feel about this little online announcement to the UNIVERSE, I’m going to be THAT PERSON, and lay it all out there. Because this is exciting and I NEED TO TELL EVERYONE. I mean why keep it a secret–Why keep BOUNCING OFF THE WALLS when I have the INTERNET at my finger tips?

So… when she asked me to head out to our parents house for some necessary planning, I threw the kid in the car and did what I was told. But then our Mom surprised us by pulling out Nana’s wedding dress — which not only fit my sister — who is gorgeous, by the way (just in case you needed to know), but also sent us to the world of 1939 to when she was married… And just what are we going to DO ABOUT IT? Well we are going to drink wine, lust over the antique fabrics and decide to turn the headpiece into a necklace OF COURSE. I mean REALLY. And what would make Nana happier? The queen of the accessory…. the reason beads were invented…the spark that ignited it all.

Did I mention that I was excited?