Monday, June 27, 2016

Quote of the Week


Spent the better part of two days making a clam shell costume for daughter's dance camp, theme Under the Sea.

Daughter was super excited.

Walked into camp on the first day, spotted a sea of mermaids. Daughter immediately tossed clam shell costume and declared, "I don't want to be a clam shell anymore. I want to be a mermaid."

Ugh

Friday, June 24, 2016

Quote of the Week

"I can't wait until I'm a parent to boss my kids around and stop them from having fun."
-Stinky Marinky

[Yeah, that's what I do all day.]

Monday, June 20, 2016

In Honor of Father's Day


I’ve been thinking about this a lot and I firmly believe that Moms get the short end of the stick in the Kid Appreciation Department. Why? Take my household on any given weekday.

After dealing with their antics taking care of Stinky and Blinky all day, Daddy glides in about 6pm just in time to be Fun Daddy. In most cases, homework has been completed (five-alarm-fire-stress with Stinky), dinner has been eaten (the menu dictates the level of stress which falls anywhere between peaceful and dear God where did these children come from?!?) and baths have been taken (following a lengthy, philosophical discussion about why baths are required every single day). So when the DH comes home, there’s almost a renewed sense of energy about him that seeks out his offspring to connect with for the two hours before bedtime.

“Daddy, can I read to you while you hold this My Little Pony parasol over me for half an hour?”

“Sure sweetie, there’s nothing I’d rather do.”

“Daddy, can we build an electrical switch using my snap connector set?”

“You got it son! And when we’re done with that, let’s make a working doorbell and ring it incessantly.”

Or my favorite…

“Hey kids, lets wrestle on the carpet and get all riled up right before we put you to bed.”

How do I compete with that when all I can do at this point is sit on the sofa with my feet up to ease the pain of standing for the last five hours?

Stinky and Blinky don’t yet understand that Mommy works part-time so that I pick them up from school and care for them as only I could. I comfort them with encouraging words and life skills when John Doe steals their snack money or Jane Doe is being really hurtful with her words. And I kiss the boo-boos away. Even the icky ones that require stitches and tetanus shots. Daddy does this too, but not as often simply because of the fact that he works longer hours (out of the house anyway). So when he does any of these things, it’s important, more special. {Sigh}

I don’t think they care that it’s Mommy who takes them to the library to get the very same books that are more fun to read to Daddy. After all, he makes the funny sounds and noises better. They’ve forgotten that I taught them to read and sat [mostly] patiently as each painful blend was sounded out in the longest amount of time possible.

Ever heard of a thing called extra-curricular activities? Well, Mommy specializes in it and can juggle any permutation of ballet, gymnastics, softball, baseball, tennis, soccer, cub scouts and swim lessons. Summers are planned out in February with a healthy mix of learning and fun and carpooling to the nth degree. (That’s my super power. What’s yours?) But Daddy coaches teams. He gets to make important calls on the field and it’s his voice they are tuned to listen to in the midst of the madding crowd.

At home, somehow I manage to cook a nutritious meal, stealthily squeezing in extra fiber for Blinky’s constipation and acetic acid for Stinky’s leg cramps, while simultaneously watching a back-bend walkover and ducking errant nerfs. But when Daddy brings home Krispy Kreme donuts leftover from a meeting, its cause to celebrate.

The clothes they find in their drawers everyday are clean and folded because while watching Devious Maids last night, I thought to myself, “Self, surely there is something else you can do while you watch tv. Idle hands are the devil’s work.” But Daddy fixes the washing machine. In fact Daddy fixes everything with his cool, manly, uber important tools when our machines act up and in their reality, that’s way more important than having clean clothes after taking the aforementioned dreaded shower in the first place.

I’m creative and can help them decorate their big kid rooms, meshing their style with mine, scoring deals like nobody’s business. But Daddy is a programmer and brings home lots of neat doo-dads from conferences like infrared controllers and light-up stress balls which we’ve managed to live without all their lives but are now suddenly essential to our bare existence.

And sweet Jesus can I break up a fight. (I wonder if the neighbors ever hear me when I go all Disciplinary Mom on their asses.) I get in there grabbing flailing limbs and transforming myself into a human shield in a matter of seconds because this is the quickest, most effective way to prevent someone from getting hurt. I admit, it’s not pretty. The DH’s method? Calmly yell say, “Quit it!” and the little people immediately fall in line like soldiers at training camp.

I know that one day I’ll be Dear Mommy instead of Disciplinary Mommy, or You Never Let Me Have Any Fun Mommy, or But Blinky Never Gets in Trouble Mommy or Let Me Pick Some Random Argument with My Mommy Mommy. I know they’ll understand the sacrifices Mommy’s made for them both personally and financially. And I know the time will come for them to ask my advice about the very same things their little Stinkys and little Blinkys will drive them crazy over. But for now, I’ll just have to accept that the DH is the cool one. The DH is Blinky’s first love. The DH is Stinky’s hero. But lucky for me the DH is also mine and I had him first. J Ha!

For those of you who are interested in the DH’s side of the story, don’t worry, he’s writing his own version called, “Why is Mommy their favorite when I’m the fun one?”