Saturday, November 26, 2011

And the Winner Is . . .

The Winner of my Undying Devotion is . . . 

my Happy Hour Neighbor, with SIX correct answers.  Although I may have to take away her "friend" card for guessing Look Who's Talking.

1.  “Oh, but Baby Fish Mouth is sweeping the nation . . . “
WHEN HARRY MET SALLY - the Pictionary scene where she's trying to draw the clue for "Baby Talk."  Jess insists that "Baby Talk" is not a saying, to which Harry replies, "Oh, but Baby Fish Mouth is sweeping the nation.  I hear them talking . . . "

2.  “You wash yer hands on your own time!”
            *Bonus: “I’m gonna activate your dental plan!”

3.  “You CAN’T leave!  All the plants are gonna die!”

4.  “She falls down a well, her eyes go cross. She gets kicked by a mule. They go back. I don't know.”
Can I refill your eggnog for you?
Get you something to eat?
Drive you out to the middle of nowhere
and leave you for dead?
NATIONAL LAMPOON'S CHRISTMAS VACATION.  Man, I loves me some Cousin Eddie.  You gotta love a man who wears a black dickie under a white sweater and drives a "tenament on wheels."

5.  “ . . . it smells like mushrooms, and everyone looks like they want to hurt me.”

6.  “Bark twice if you’re in Milwaukee!”

7.  “I think you'll be okay here.  They have a thin candy shell.   Huh.  'Surprised you didn't know that.”
TOMMY BOY - c'mon, our dog is named after Chris Farley, God rest his soul.  I HAD to throw some Tommy Boy in the mix!

8.  “Would you please put some pants on? I feel weird having to ask you twice.”
THE HANGOVER.  If I had a nickel for every time I've had to say this . . . 

9.  “If he gets up, we'll all get up, it'll be anarchy.”
BREAKFAST CLUB.  You mess with the bull . . . you get the horns.

10.  “He'll keep calling me, he'll keep calling me until I come over. He'll make me feel guilty. This is uh... This is ridiculous, ok I'll go, I'll go, I'll go, I'll go, I'll go. What - I'LL GO. Sh*t.”

Friday, November 25, 2011

It's Contest Time!

Welcome to the FIRST EVER BoyMommy contest!  

Below are 10 of my all-time favorite movie quotes, most of which make me laugh hysterically every time I think about them.  In the interest of offering you, too, dear reader, a little holiday jolly, I’m running a contest.  Comment with the correct movie title and you could WIN! 

The prize?  MY unending love and devotion!  That’s right!  It’s a coveted prize, I know.  Chances of winning, probably pretty high.

Don’t cheat.  I know you can go on the world wide internets and research the answers.  Yes, you’re very clever.

"Cinderella story. Outta nowhere.
A former greenskeeper, now,
about to become the Masters champion.
It looks like a mirac...
It's in the hole! It's in the hole! It's in the hole!"
Let’s begin, shall we?

1.  “Oh, but Baby Fish Mouth is sweeping the nation . . . “

2.  “You wash yer hands on your own time!”
            *Bonus: “I’m gonna activate your dental plan!”

3.  “You CAN’T leave!  All the plants are gonna die!”

4.  “She falls down a well, her eyes go cross. She gets kicked by a mule. They go back. I don't know.”

5.  “ . . . it smells like mushrooms, and everyone looks like they want to hurt me.”

6.  “Bark twice if you’re in Milwaukee!”

7.  “I think you'll be okay here.  They have a thin candy shell.   Huh.  'Surprised you didn't know that.”

8.  “Would you please put some pants on? I feel weird having to ask you twice.”

9.  “If he gets up, we'll all get up, it'll be anarchy.”

10.  “He'll keep calling me, he'll keep calling me until I come over. He'll make me feel guilty. This is uh... This is ridiculous, ok I'll go, I'll go, I'll go, I'll go, I'll go. What - I'LL GO. Sh*t.”

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Ridin' the Rails with Stinky Stinkerson

Hubby was working in NYC all last week, so the boys and I thought we’d go visit for the weekend, catch up with old friends, and hang out at some of our favorite spots. 

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Since we’ve spent many long hours sitting in traffic on the New Jersey Turnpike and said turnpike does NOT bring out my better qualities, we decided to take the train.  We would leave at 6:05, and since Small’s regular bedtime is 7 pm, I assumed he would fall asleep . . . a precious little angel all snuggled in my arms and rocking to the gentle rhythm of the swaying train.

Um, that’s not how it went down.

Everything started out great.  The boys were excited to be taking the train, I had packed the ginormous suitcase and put it in the Swagga Wagon, and traffic into DC was bearable.  We arrived at the train station right on time, parked, got dinner to-go, and headed for the line to get ready to board.  The line was at least 100 deep, which made me think it wasn’t for our train, as we still had a half hour before departure.  Sure enough, a redcap flagged me down, asked me where I was going, and said “follow me.” 

I LOVE it when people are kind and helpful.  It totally restores my faith in humanity.

He parted the crowds like Moses and the Sea and led us to a secret entrance to the tracks.  He found us four seats facing each other and stowed my luggage and bid us adieu.  Best 5 bucks I ever spent.

Then the squirming started.  Ever traveled with a toddler who was so beyond exhausted that his eyes started rolling back into his head?

Two. And-a-half.  Hours.  Of squirming/screaming/wriggling.  It was like trying to hold onto a bag full of cats.  Remember that scene from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation where Rusty realizes Aunt Bethany has wrapped the cat as a Christmas gift?  Like that.

I have never been so happy to see Hubby as I was when we got to the top of the escalator at Penn Station and he was waiting with open arms.  But that was short lived, because our next stop was the tiniest hotel room known to man. 

All five of us squeezed into a hotel room.  We had our bed, a pull-out couch for Medium and Large, and we stuck Small in the pack-n-play in the bathroom.  There were two main problems with this configuration, however.
  1. Once we got everyone settled in bed, there was literally no space to walk because of all the quality hotel furniture, the stroller, and our luggage.
  2. Since Small was asleep in the bathroom, if you had to pee you were out of luck.  Which may be why certain members of our entourage had “accidents” the first night. 
That’s a whole lotta family togetherness.

The trip home didn’t start out much better.  We boarded the train after finding a redcap to help us with our luggage.  We looked like sherpas . . . wearing as much clothing as we could and with backpacks strapped on every available shoulder.  As we were getting settled into our seats, Hubby and I both smelled something.

Of course, our first inclination was for each of us to ask, “was that YOU?”

Cute.  But veddy, veddy steenky.
Oh, right.  The baby.  

So don’t judge us, but we were already on the train, and those train bathrooms are comparable in size to an airplane restroom.  We were desperate.  We did what we had to do.  We took Small a few rows back, away from as many people as possible, and quickly changed his stinky.  While Hubby did the actual procedure, I stood at the ready so that I could transport the offending diaper to a trashcan outside the train.

But you know SOMEBODY had to make a comment.

I got the stink-eye from a young woman a few rows up.  I cringed apologetically and said, “sorry.  We’ll be done in a second,” because I realized this was not an ideal situation.

“Ugh.  Seriously?  Can’t you do that somewhere else?” she replied.  Because she’s what?  20?  And she knows what it’s like to travel with a family of young children, one of whom is probably going to start screaming soon and who will be way unhappy if he has to fester in a dirty diaper for the next 3.5 hours?  “You can’t use the restroom or something?  Those restrooms are huge.”

Possible sarcastic responses:
  • “Yes, I could, but then I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of engaging you in polite conversation.”

  • “Really?  Huge?  Judging from the look on your terrified boyfriend’s face and my impression that he’s not allowed to have an opinion, I’m guessing your idea of “huge” and mine are two different things.”

  • “We could have used any number of restrooms we passed along the way, all of which were line-less and gleeming with cleanliness and sanitation, given we’re in friggin’ Manhattan.  But I decided to wait until 2 minutes before departure time because I like the excitement of having a deadline.”

Stuff.  Lots and lots of stuff.
I get it.  No one wants to smell poop.  But what were we supposed to do, really?  There’s no changing table in a bathroom that consists of a metal toilet and the equivalent of an upside-down water fountain.  We couldn’t disembark with our family of five, a stroller, 2 suitcases, bags, and five winter coats, travel up the escalator, undress the baby, change him, travel down the escalator, find five seats together, stow our luggage/stroller/bags/coats, ETCTERA, just so you don’t have to plug your nose for what amounted to about 30 seconds of unpleasantness.

So pipe down. 

Oh, and a private note to the mean 20-year-old with no sympathy for haggard parents of a stinky toddler: you got off at Newark.  Newark.  You think this is the last experience with STINK you’re gonna have today?  Happy holidays . . .

Monday, November 21, 2011


Crappy things that happened to me today:

  • After hauling @ss to get to school in time for Large’s Poetry Reading, I spent the duration of the morning chasing Small around, trying to keep his sticky little hands off the hallway display of papier mache volcanoes and playing this game: 
“hi Mommy.”
“hi baby.”
“HI Mommy.”
“hi baby.”
“HI Mommy!”
“hi baby.”

      We coulda played this at home.

Now offering Parenting Lessons.
Free of charge.  Aisle 7.

  • During my weekly trip to my Place of Worship, Target, an employee who clearly is the epitome of Parenting and has more knowledge on how to raise my child than I do, pointed out that Small was standing on a chair in the cafĂ© “and he could fall hurt himself.”  
         “Oh no, he’s fine.  Thanks!” I replied, kindly.

         And then he fell. 

        We need to work on his timing.

  • I found out that the sleep study the allergist recommended and said would cost “maybe $180,” is really going to cost closer to $2000 out-of-pocket.  I mean, how important is it for the kid to be able to breathe clearly really?

  • Medium had a temper tantrum, slammed the door into the door stop and put a hole in it.  We obviously need to work on his anger management.  He was not happy when I took $20 out of his bank to ostensibly cover part of the cost of the door.  Enter tantrum #2.  But you know what?  Apparently I have failed to teach my children about consequences and it’s about d*mn time they learn.  If I hear Hubby say “this is why we can’t have nice things!” one more time I’m going to have to break it to him that he sounds just like my dad.

  • When I dropped Farley off at the vet so we could board him over the weekend, I had to endure condescending stares, just because Small was playing inside the kitty crate.

Ugh.  Yes, I said crappy.  Not tragic.  Not life-threatening.  Not devastating.  Just crappy.  Sometimes a gal’s just gotta vent a little.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Random Thoughts

  • Hubby changed the lightbulb in the boys’ bathroom.  The Lightbulb Fairy usually takes care of these mundane tasks so that Hubby and our precious offspring never even notice a light is burned out, but I . . . I mean The Lightbulb Fairy . . . couldn’t reach this particular light.  Given my general lack of balance/grace/coordination, I thought it best to ask Hubby to do it.  The problem is that we got those "green" flourescent lights.  I’m pretty sure my neighbors think we have a grow light in our children’s bathroom.  I can assure you, we do NOT.  If we did, I would be so chill, dude. 
  • Given my last post, How I've Been Spending/Wasting My Time, I’ve decided that I’m a Manic-Depressive Crafter.  I get creative to the point where my glue gun really needs its own holster.  (I could totally make my glue gun a holster!)   Then I do nothing but watch TV for two months.  I have been known to knit, scrapbook, arrange flowers, make wreaths, sew, bead, cross-stitch, and so on.  And then I have vegged on my couch.  How else do I explain the fact that I have seen all six seasons of Dawson’s Creek?
  • I am an equal opportunity candy thief.  I separated the boys’ loot into two cereal bins and carefully marked their names on each.  The rest I threw in the trash because I could feel myself getting Type 2 Diabetes.  I don’t want one son to think I love the other more, so if I take two from Large’s bin I feel compelled to take two from Medium’s bin.  It’s because I love them so much, you see.  On the flip side, when Medium asked at BINGO the other night, “how come they get to buy cupcakes and we don’t?”  I replied with, “I guess their mother loves them more than I love you.” 

  • I have been blessed with good neighbors.  During a recent bout of potty issues, (which you can ready ALL about here . . . um, you're welcome!)  my neighbor stepped up to the plate and insisted that she watch my boys so I could go to the OB/GYN in peace.  Well, at least as much peace as you can have with a curious toddler in tow:

  • We had two teacher workdays last week, so the boys were out of school on Monday and Tuesday.  In lieu of telling them to please, fortheloveofpete, chill the f*ck out, I made them harness their chi with a little yoga.

  • And finally . . . the decorating challenges of the coach’s wife.  Yes, folks, that is a big-@ss trophy that has taken up residence ON my mantle IN the family room where everyone can see it.  

I hate trophies.  They are hideous, obnoxious, plastic, unnaturally-colored, phallically-shaped, dust catchers.  I can’t.  stand.  dust-catchers.  This one has worn out its welcome.  I can’t melt it down and make me some bracelets because, (please prepare for the shock of what I’m about to say,) it’s not real gold. 


I ask you, what is the sense in giving a team one GINORMOUS trophy?  What are we going to do, pass it around from family to family?  We’d have to rent a U-Haul just to transport it to the next house.  (And I’m not allowed to drive U-Hauls anymore ever since I hit that red pillar thing at the gas station and had to get two gracious Hispanic men in a white panel van to jimmy the lock since the keys were inside.  They had lots of tools and lock-jimmying knowledge.  I didn’t ask questions.) 

I'll be right back.  Mama needs a Snickers.

Friday, November 11, 2011

How I've Been Spending/Wasting My Time

I have recently discovered Pinterest.  How I lived this long without it I have no idea.

Pinterest is a virtual bulletin board.  You can "pin" any image you see on the computer to your virtual bulletin board, and you can have many, many bulletin boards.  For a person like me who is constantly ripping pages out of magazines and then has to listen to Hubby complain what-are-you-ever-going-to-do-with-all-those-scraps-of-paper, it's perfect.

But here's the thing: when I finish a magazine, it's done.  I throw the magazine away and I stick my rip-outs in a cute little folder I keep for just such meaningless crap.  But the world wide internets goes on forever.  There's always MORE stuff to look at and MORE stuff to pin.

I KNOW what you're thinking . . .  "I WISH I had that kind of time to sit on the computer."  You, my friend, are missing my point entirely.  I absolutely do NOT have time to be farting around on the computer, but unfortunately, Pinterest is my Mommy Crack.  I gotta have it, man.

Once I pin something, I get all inspired and stuff.  Since I discovered Pinterest a few weeks ago, I have done the following:

1.  Made a Halloween wreath out of tulle.  I bought a foam wreath and about 12 rolls of tulle ribbon, then tied them in knots around the wreath.  Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezy.

2.  Made a Fall Wreath out of Burlap.  Same idea, except I bought burlap at the fabric store and used a metal wreath.  It needs more color or a sassy monogram or something.  

3.  A Halloween wreath made of ribbon.  Ribbon was $1 a spool at Michaels, so including the wreath frame, this whole thing only cost about $15 to make.  How ya like me now.

4.  A Halloween skirt.  This was an ambitious undertaking for me and I almost stabbed my eyes out  with a sewing needle because I was so flimmin' flammin' flustrated.  It looks cute on, BUT, the pattern doesn't match at the seams, the lining is, um, noticeably not sewn to the hem of the skirt, and I had to fasten it at the waist with a rather large safety pin and monitor my Reeses Peanut Butter Cup consumption all night.

5.  Pillows.  I used the pillows from our old living room sofa, and I bought the patterned fabric from the clearance section.  

There you have it.  This is the reason my children didn't bathe ONCE during the week of Halloween and Medium wore the same underwear Monday through Friday.  

Thursday, November 3, 2011

BoyMommy for President!

Top Ten Reasons I Could Never Be the President:

1.  I’m pretty sure it would be frowned upon if I took naps in the middle of the day.  “Wha?  There’s a crisis in the Middle East?  Whew!  I gotta take a snoozer.  See ya in a couple hours.

2.  I have an irrational need for people to like me.  If a poll came out that said my approval ratings were down, I’m pretty sure it would hurt my feelings and I’d start crying.  Which leads me to . . .

3.  I tend to cry in stressful situtions.  It’s how I relieve stress.  I recognize, however, that an all-out fit of hysterics might be little comfort to the good people of America.

4.  I’m pretty sure all those people with good smarts on the CNN could make me look like a dumbass.

5.  You know how J Crew got a boost in sales after Michele Obama sported some of their duds?  I don’t think the nation is ready for a President who wears Target tshirts. 

6.  I can guarantee I would NOT balance the budget.  I can’t balance my checkbook.  I haven’t done math in a checkbook since 1998 when Hubby and I got engaged.  I agreed to marry him because my parents refused to balance my checkbook anymore, and, well, somebody’s gotta do it and it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me.

7.  I’m not so good at the Geography either.

Oh, honey . . . NO.
8.  Newsweek and Time would have to add a Style section, just so they could feature photos of me in various bad fashion choices, a la the Glamour Don’t pages.

9.  I’m horrified at the notion that the front page of the Washington Post would easily have a plethora of unflattering photos from which to choose.  Look, here she is eating french fries!  Here she is tripping over her own feet because she’s wearing those damn clogs again!  Here she is spending our tax dollars at the Starbucks drive-thru!

10.  If my family had to ride in a bus across the country in order to drum up votes, I’m pretty sure Hubby and I would strangle each other somewhere around Kansas.