What's Been on My Mind . . .

A Seinfeldian rant:

1.  The stripes on my bedspread should be horizontal instead of vertical.  I need them to go up and down.  When they are horizontal, I lie in bed and think about the fact that they’re not vertical.  Think, think, think. I need them to be up and down so the tag is on the bottom right. 

2.  I can’t stand it when people use their cell phones in public restrooms.  I’m answering nature’s call.  That doesn't mean you need to answer your BFF’s call. 

Lane Bryant

3.  The initials for Lane Bryant are LB, as in lbs.  Is that supposed to be some sort of sick joke?  I don't need any extra LBs on my clothing . . . that’s why I shop there in the first place.

4.  I don’t think people who can’t use apostrophes correctly should argue that English should be the “official” language of the United States.  

Pinterest: we-smallpuppet.tumblr.com

5.  Why is it that I get 25 ketchup packets at the McDonald’s drive-thru, but if I ask for one mustard packet they practically have to call the manager at home to get written authorization?

6.  I love Hershey’s Kisses, but since Easter I’ve decided that the wrappers are fornicating with the dust bunnies under my couch and they’re multiplying.  I find them everywhere.

7.  If my children ever get lost or kidnapped, I’ll just show the police my ipad and they can get the kids’ fingerprints from there. 

8.  Bruno Mars accidentally turned my 5-year-old into a badass.  Even though he sings “hot pants” instead of “hot damn,” I just can’t seem to get him to annunciate “funk you up.”  So yes, my preschooler will totally f*ck you up.

9.  I think Large’s math teacher is a super hero called The Underminer.  At one point Large may have believed I was kinda smart, but after last night’s homework I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m barely functioning as an adult.

10.  Watching Downton Abbey makes me want to speak with a British accent.  And also Peppa Pig.  There’s just something about cartoon English pigs that makes me feel particularly Bri-ish.  Honestly, I think I have more in common with Peppa than with Lady Grantham.

If Facebook Posts were REAL.

Hubby and I were chatting last night about the plethora of happy family summer photos that are making their way onto Facebook.  Sure, I could post photos of my smiling children, frolicking at the pool with their dad (on that one random evening he got home before dark and was able to join us.)  Or a photo of them playing ball in the backyard (before Medium had a full-on temper tantrum, complete with hitting, ball spiking, and name-calling.)  Or a photo of the fish we caught (after I pulled the wayward hook from a screaming Small's shorts and untangled Medium's line from his "this-pole-is-SO-STUPID-I-am-the-WORST-at-fishing-the-stupid-fish-keep-eating-my-worms" fishing pole.)

When you know people well enough, you know that what they're posting online is not the full story.  But who wants to look at pictures of messy houses, petulent children, and household chores gone awry?

What's that you say? . . .

BoyMommy's Keepin' It Real Facebook Posts, Summer 2014:


1.  Swagga Wagon

2.  Laundry

3.  baseball cards

4.  Uh oh.

5.  Gratuituous Ninja photos

6.  Healthy Eating Habits

7.  My mad Housekeeping Skillz

8.  Christmas in July.  Because I haven't put that sh*t away.

9.  My boys are SUCH good little listeners

10.  AND they're charming!

You now how all those OTHER posts on Facebook make you feel just a teensy bit envious or a tiny bit bad about yourself/your looks/your parenting/your eating habits/your social circle?  (No?  Just me?)  Well this series of real life photos should make you feel better about your own life, because if you've put all your holiday decorations away, actually have dairy products in your fridge, and had a boogerless morning, you're doing better than I am!

Things I'd Rather Do Than Take All 3 Kids Grocery Shopping

Small finished up preschool last week, which means the summer is fast approaching and the boys will be with me all the time.  

 

All.  The.  Time.   

I will no longer have that brief block of time in which to run tedious errands by myself.  You know what makes them even tediouser?  Taking everyone with me.  Even yesterday, I had to purchase TWO separate kinds of vitamins.  You mommies out there know immediately that the reason I had to buy two was because I had two children with me . . . hence two types of vitamins.  This phenomenon also explains why my grocery bill triples over the summer.

Things I’d rather do than take all 3 of my children to the grocery store:

1.  Shop for jeans, bras, and/or bathing suits.  Try on said items in a poorly lit, closet-sized room with a three-way mirror so that I can look at my own flat @ss and watch myself do the bent over boob shimmy maneuver.

2.  Get a bikini wax.  After a looooong winter.

I'm gonna need you to slide
all the way down to the end . . . 

3.  Visit the gynecologist.

4.  Watch a Barbie movie marathon, complete with catchy tunes and multiple costume changes.

5.  Discuss politics and religion with Ann Coulter.

6.  Listen to 9^th graders do a cold reading from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare.

7.  Clean out somebody else’s ear wax.

8.  Pull the hair from the shower drain.

9.  Ride the subway to Yankee Stadium on a sweltering hot summer day.  In a subway car with faulty air-conditioning.  And positioned under the armpit of a muscle-shirt-clad Yankees fan.  Don’t ask me how I know the specifics . . .

10.  Walk barefoot through the schmat on a fraternity house party room floor.

Do Me a Solid.

Mommy is tired . . .

• Of being the only one who cleans up the dog poop on the family room floor.  I know you see it.  Don't pretend you don’t.  With 3 kids, I've spent the last 10 years being the primary poop-cleaner-upper.  Help a sister out, man up, and pick up the poop!

• Of being the only one who ever carries anything upstairs.  We’ve been through this before.  A pile at the bottom of the stairs is the international signal for take-your-sh*t-upstairs.

• Of finding snack wrappers in the family room, in the couch, on the buffet, on the side table.  Walk your @ss to the trashcan.

• Of Hubby treating the dining room chair as his own personal valet.

Passive aggressive?  Yes.  Gonna land me in jail?  No.
It was a conscious decision.

• Of being the Bad Guy.  Small's new mantra?  "Mommy says no!  Daddy says yes!"  Um, this is Parenting 101 . . . Mommy says no, Daddy says NO.

• Of being responsible.  I want to go to sleep at 8:30 and let someone else worry about whether or not the kids have brushed their teeth or if they’re in their rooms watching inappropriate you tube videos on the ipad when they should be sleeping.

• Of having to take the cup out of the athletic supporter before I throw it in the washer.  Do me a solid . . . take it out yourself so I don’t have to.  It’s kinda . . . gross.

• Of flushing the boys’ toilet every morning.  Seriously?  THIS is why your bathroom smells like a high school locker room.

• Of finding those little Rainbow Loom rubber bands every-friggin-where.

 

 

• Of repeating myself.  Repeating myself.  Repeating myself.  Life would be so much simpler if my boys would just (choose one.  Or more.  I don't care anymore.)

1. Get up
2. Get dressed
3. Get their coats and shoes on
4. Focus on their homework
5. Get their uniforms on
6. Brush their teeth
7. Sit down at the table
8. Stop talking about poop, flatulence, boogers or any other bodily functions.

That is all.  Happy Monday to you.

Dear Kids, Here's How the Rest of Summer is Gonna Go Down. . .

Dear Offspring,

            Hey there!  It’s Mommy.  Listen, we still have about seven weeks left of summer “vacation” so I thought I’d give you a few tips on how we can avoid Mommy’s Annoyed I-Have-a-Headache-Why-Don’t-You-Listen-You-Kids-Are-Driving-Me-Crazy Face.  You know the one.

1.  When my face gets red and I start getting persweaty and using language that is, um, less than ladylike, it’s time for you to go to your room.  You don’t need a reason.  Just go.

2.  Please don’t wear your dirty, dusty baseball cleats into the living room and then sigh loudly and turn the tv volume up to 57 because you can’t hear over the sound of the dust buster.

3.  You’re bored?  Do I look like Julie, your Cruise Director?

4.  At this point I don’t care if he hit you, where he hit you, why he hit you, or how hard he hit you.  If you’re not bleeding, I don’t want to hear about it.  Work it out.

5.  Yes, I know I let you eat Goldfish for breakfast the other day, but when the Pediatrician asks you if you eat your veggies, just nod and say “yes.”

6.  Don’t ask me to take you to play tennis at 2:00 pm on the hottest day of the year to date.  The answer is a big fat negatory.

7.  Please don’t tell the neighbor mommy that I said you weren’t allowed to play outside because it’s too hot and that you need to play inside her house. 

8.  Want to know why you’re crying in the middle of the afternoon?  You’re overly tired.  Go to bed when I tell you, already.  You think I don’t know you’re playing your DS until all hours of the morning?

9.  When the refrigerator is stocked with milk, cheese, yogurt, and fresh fruit, being out of potato chips does not constitute having “nothing to eat in this house!”

10.  Don’t act like I just asked you to donate a body part when I request that you unload the dishwasher.  Perhaps if you didn’t use a different cup for every sip of water you take we wouldn’t have to run the dishwasher as often.

If you take each of the above under advisement, we will have a much more peaceful rest-of-the-summer.  It’s all about self-preservation.  Your choice.

Love you!

XOXO

Mommy