Dear Ungrateful Family . . .

Dear (Hypothetical, of course) Family,

Remember last week when Mommy got fussed at because the baseball uniforms were still in the washer and Daddy and Large had to wear wet uniforms to their game?  And Daddy muttered under-his-breath-except-really-loudly that Mommy had “dropped the ball” because he’s so PUNNY and he doesn’t even know it?  ‘Member?

Golly, that was fun.

Mommy felt so GOOD about herself and her contributions to her family on that day.

I thought that PERHAPS the BoyMommy Family could use a little refresher course in working together to keep things running instead of relying on Mommy 100% of time, and MAYBE a reminder of all the behind-the-scenes stuff that moms do but for which they never get credit. 

Because nobody notices the kick-@ss job you’re doing until you don’t do it. 

Let me let you in on a lil’ secret:  there’s no little fairy flitting and flying around the house performing all the mundane tasks that you take for granted.  It’s me.  Mommy.  The Boss.  The CEO, the Mack-Mommy, the Dalai Mama . . . ME.

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For instance:

1. When is the last time you thought to yourself, “hmmm . . . it seems that-there lightbulb musta blown out.”  That’s right – you don’t have to, because Mommy takes care of it.  Furthermore, do you even know where the spare bulbs are stored or where one goes to purchase such household items?
2. “Oh, I need to mail this bill, but alas, I have no stamps,” said NO ONE in the BoyMommy family.  By the way, hey Daddy, where’s the post office?
3. Run out of ink in the computer printer?  Not.
4. This one’s tricky because I have a theory that I am the only person who actually uses toilet paper and/or paper towels, but please notice next time you wipe your behiney or a countertop (preferably not with the same paper-product) that we never seem to run out.
5. That’s funny . . . yesterday I only had a dab of toothpaste/soap/shampoo left and now there’s an entire container.  Huh.
6. Remember how Daddy told you your fish would die if you didn’t feed it or change the water, and Mommy warned you that she would NOT be taking care of floaty animals?  Yeah, that one’s kinda on me. You see, I meant what I said. Sorry about your fish.  My bad.
7. Yesterday the lunch lady said I only had $.70 left on my account, but today I have $50.  Ice creams for everybody!
8. Forgot that today was picture day, but still seemed to show up to school with slicked hair, a collared shirt, a face devoid of milk mustaches and wayward boogies, AND with a check made out to LifeTouch Studios?  How DOES she do it?
9. Yesterday you were worried you wouldn’t have milk for your cereal or bread for your sandwich, but voila! . . .  [private note to across-the-street-neighbor: this goes for you too, you 8:00-on-Saturday-morning-coffee-pod-moocher.  What would you do without me?]
10. Only one more scoop of dog food left in the bin?  Mommy's on it!  ( . . . because I just luuuuurve that smell at the pet store, and, let's face it, the dog seems to appreciate me.)

These things don’t magically happen, folks, so next time your uniform is a little, um, damp or you have to wear your undershirt inside out because it's day two, quityerbitchin’ and cut me some slack, will ya?

Love you!

xoxoxo

Mommy

Why Do I Have to Do Everything Around Here?

In the past week, two of my children have announced, “I have to do EVERYTHING around here!”  I won’t tell you which two, but suffice it to say it was not the child whose only complete sentence is “I wan git out.”

I had asked someone to pick up legos and I had asked someone else to take his shoes upstairs to his room.  Both requests were enough to send my exhausted, overworked children into meltdown mode.  Obviously I’m running some sort of child labor camp out here in the ‘burbs. 

Just for the sake of argument, some of MY responsibilities around here:

• Make lunches (pb for one, jelly for the other.  Because heaven forbid they want the same thing.)
• Laundry – carrying it downstairs, separating it, folding it, putting it away, repeat.
• Oversee homework – this includes actively monitoring the process as I am forced to be a hoverer lest it not get completed . . . which ultimately leads to a very tense Thursday evening.
• Load/unload the dishwasher.
• Wipe the yellow from around the toilet bowl.
• Steam clean the carpet where the dog peed.  Again.
• Wait for the plumber.
• Go Grocery shopping.
• Make sure each bathroom is appropriately stocked with toothpaste, toilet paper, and soap
• Drop off and pick up the dry-cleaning.
• Change light bulbs.  (oops, I forgot: the Lighbulb Fairy does that.)
• Take the dog to the vet.
• Transport patients to various dentist/doctor/allergist appointments.
• Prepare delightful meals that my children won’t eat.
• Keep the family calendar.
• Taxi children to Cub Scouts and various sports practices.
• Attend parent-teacher conferences and field phone calls from the principal.
• Vacuum, since I’m still finding random Christmas ornament hangers embedded in the carpet.
• Make sure we always have an epipen, ibuprofin, children's cough medicine, neosporin, bandaids, and pepto.
• Make sure the Cub Scout uniforms are ready for Wednesday and Friday, the basketball uniform is ready for Monday and Saturday, and the baseball uniform is ready for Sunday.
• Plan spectacular birthday parties that rival the festivities surrounding the Royal Wedding.

And that’s just the BIG stuff.  There are lots of mundane little tasks that I also take care of:

• Turning the Wii on
• Pouring milk
• Reaching the top shelf of the pantry
• Turning the shower on
• Reaching the top drawer
• Cutting the top off the yogurt
• Twisting the top off the Gatorade
• Putting batteries in the remote
• Tying shoes
• Wiping snotty/boogery/crusty noses
• Wiping, um, other things

AND I do all this while trying to maintain a modicum of my former intelligence, any youthful good looks I may have once had, and an enthusiastic parenting attitude, while trying not to hit the sauce until after 5pm.

So yes, children – clearly I owe you an apology for asking you to pitch in a bit.  I’ll do that right after I finish sitting on my @ss while watching my stories.

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 KNOW!  

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.

The Light Bulb Fairy and the Joy that IS Homework

I’m supposed to be stuffing the Holiday cards, but I’m inching my way towards a diabetic coma and feeling VERY sleepy.  I just made a batch of Nestle Toll House cookies, mostly so I could eat raw cookie dough for breakfast.  Epic Weight Watchers FAIL.  (And by “bake,” I mean break the pre-made dough, place it gently on a cookie sheet, and patiently stare into the oven for 10 minutes.)

Having just ingested half of the cookies and some of the dough, I realize that blogging about it consequently puts it out there in the universe.  It is possible, (although not probable since my own spouse is NOT a regular reader of the literary brilliance I post,) that Hubby will now know that I just ate cookies for breakfast.  It’s one of those Stay-at-Home Mommy secrets that I should really keep to myself.  Cookies for breakfast is highly classified information, along with how light bulbs get changed in our house.  When I was on bed rest last winter, I had to break it to him that there is no Light Bulb Fairy.  Don’t worry though; I didn’t tell him about Santa.

How many members of the
BoyMommy Family does it take to
change a lightulb?
According to Hubby, ZERO!

I don’t think Hubby has changed a lightbulb in the 11 blissful years we’ve been married.  He either thinks

a)     that the lighbulbs that were installed in the house when it was built are SUPER efficient and long-lasting, or

b)    the Light Bulb Fairy is responsible.  The LBF purchases the correct bulb and has it handy so that when a bulb blows out, it can immediately be replaced, and no one will ever know it was ever without light.

Also, in the throw-my-husband-under-the-bus category, there’s this little gem.  Yesterday I overheard Medium tell Hubby to “acknowledge Large!”  How many five-year-olds have acknowledge in their vocabulary AND know how to use it correctly?  My little sponge has heard me say it to his daddy a few times – usually when I am so tired of hearing “Daddy!  Daddy!  Guess what?  Dad.  Dad!  Guess what?!  Daddy!!” that I finally break and say, “acknowledge your children!”  (To be fair, the boys have little to no concept that Daddy might be doing something important and that not everyone in their sweet little lives is going to devote 100% of his or her attention to THEM at all times.)

He came home from work early last night to help me out, which is MUCH appreciated.  However . . .

I get to sit with my Big Brother
AND I get to do homework?  Woohoo!

He “suggested” that maybe the boys should begin their homework earlier so that we’re not all subjected to Medium’s incessant whining during the witching hour, which is actually the three hours between 5-8 pm.  He has a good point.  Waiting until after dinner but before baths to do homework, especially with a child who is clearly overwhelmed by the magnitude of tasks such as writing his name five times and practicing tying his shoes, is probably not the wisest strategy.  I like to let them play for a while when they first get home though.  I figure they’ve got some pent-up energy that needs to be released.  Plus, at the beginning of the school year I was trying to get Medium excited about his work by having the big boys sit at the table together, and I could strap Small into the Bjorn and make dinner while supervising homework.  Yesterday was not a shining example of this strategy, however.  Instead, it was chaos.  In fact, when Hubby walked in from work, I was yelling at kindly encouraging Medium to focus.  When Hubby went to empty his morning coffee mug into the sink, he could not do so because there was a child in it.  (Another diaper blowout necessitated the Biohazard Bath.)  So the new plan is for Medium to do his homework before Large even gets home from school.

Interesting, though, that Hubby’s “suggestion” came on a Monday night.  Monday is easy; it gets worse as the week progresses and you ain’t seen nothin’ until you’ve seen the chaos of Thursday night homework!  It would be easier to get the Hell's Angels to switch to organic natural fibers than it is to get my kids to do homework without complaint by the end of the week.