Archive for the ‘brain dump’ Category

Yes Day- February 24, 2015

Tuesday, February 24th, 2015

snow day yes day collage

We’re ending another snow day. Another day gone with no preschool, no playgroups, no workouts and a shortened workday. No amount of hot chocolate, movies or sledding could save our sanity by 5:00 pm.  I tapped on my husbands headphones as he diligently filled out spreadsheets at his laptop. He came home early to work from home as the threat of even more treacherous roads loomed. I said, “We’re going out to eat with the neighbors.” He looked up at me and down at the kids and said, “Yes.”

I’ve seen all of you excelling mothers out there with your homemade snow cream, handmade crafts and smocked little painters at easels happily painting the cold day away. Well done. Be sure to tell your troop leader you earned your Pinterest badge.

Don’t mind me. I bitterly say that out of jealousy and shame.

I’m ashamed that I was damn near losing it by the end of today. Don’t get me wrong, now that I’m not working, I love snow days with my kids! I get to enjoy some fun without constantly checking my laptop or phone. I don’t have to wait for “the email” from the boss about whether the office is open, sealing the day’s fate. I don’t have to wonder what ungodly hour I’d be freezing my tail off to tell television viewers to stay off the roads as I ventured out on them. (Yes, I was a news reporter in what sometimes feels like a past life.) 

But practically an entire week of snow days? That’s different. I felt shame that I was seriously sick of my children when evening came. The whining. The tantrums. The crying. Chasing one while peeling the other off of me was exhausting. My daughter looked at me about this time and said, “Can play with the iPad again.” I stopped and looked at her and said, “Yes.”

She looked surprised. That’s when it hit me. Sometimes you just have to make it a “Yes Day. ”

“Mommy can I watch another movie?”

Yes

“Can I have another cookie?”

Yes

“Will you open this for me?”

Yes

An entire bag of blocks gets dumped in the middle of the kitchen floor.

Yes, that happened. I’m letting it happen.

“Can we eat pizza for lunch?”

Yes

I watch as he feeds the dog cheese from his highchair.

Yep. I just let it happen.

I didn’t make it enough of a “Yes Day. ” I didn’t pick my battles. I let it get to me. Of course Yes Days can’t happen every day. I would raise spoiled little assholes that would still be demanding I open applesauce pouches for them after college. But, sometimes? On some snow days? For my sanity? Yes. It’s okay to have a Yes Day. It’s even okay to toast to Yes Days with a drink. Cheers to spring being a few weeks away.

drinking beer on a snow day

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If I Win- February 7, 2015

Saturday, February 7th, 2015

I gave my babies a bath and put them in their pajamas. That’s my favorite. When they’re all fresh smelling and still a little damp in clean pajamas. I promised them a treat because Mama needed to run a quick errand. I got my jammied babies Munchkins from the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru for a Saturday night treat and spent two more dollars. Two dollars for the chance.

Power ball ticket

The Powerball jackpot is $380 million tonight. I’ll battle those odds. People always say, “what they would do if they won.” I’m talking about what I would do immediately, in the 24 hours after finding out I had the winning numbers. If I win tonight, this is what I would do:

1. Call Greyson and repeatedly check the numbers. (He’s traveling.)

2. Make him come home.

3. Put the ticket somewhere really close to me and try to sleep.

4. Call the lottery office in the morning, but they may not be open or answering calls. I don’t really know how that works.

5. Go to church, thank God, try to get my head straight and not tell anyone else.

6. Treat the kids to Chipotle for lunch because, I mean, come on, we’re millionaires, baby!

7. Talk to Greyson about hiring a lawyer and financial adviser.

8. Hopefully go to the lottery office if it’s open. I think you may have to wait until Monday.

9. Try not to tell anyone.

10. Go to the Lululemon store and get me some new work-out clothes. I feel like a lottery winner should get to splurge on the $90 workout pants she’s had her eye on.

11. Email and call Dave Ramsey. I think we’ll need all the financial advice we can get.

12. Find out from the lottery office if I can be anonymous. I’m really not interested in telling anyone or doing a press conference. Let me be clear that as a former reporter I am super-pro media, but if I can get away with not going public, I will.

13. Take the kids home for naps and hope Greyson is home by this time. I imagine he’d be on a plane immediately.

14. Start making a list of things to pay off. Our washer and dryer. I’m sick of that bill. Suck it HH Gregg. I’m a millionaire! Gimme a new TV. I’ll pay in cash.

 

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Super Blizzard- January 27, 2015

Tuesday, January 27th, 2015

This is my current theory about Blizzard 2015. Only the mother of a 4-year-old girl would think this. Happy Super Bowl week! Stay warm!

 

elsa seahawks

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O’ Christmas Tree? Containing Your Spruce- December 17, 2014

Tuesday, December 16th, 2014

o xmas tree

There is a holiday epidemic plaguing the homes of infants and toddlers around the world. This year it hit our home.

Escaping Christmas trees.

Trees are taking their boughs and baubles and getting out of the homes where they are imprisoned. Many trees in the houses of young children say they’re sick of only being decorated 2/3rds of the way down. Their lower thirds remain naked. I can’t blame them. How would you feel if your lower third was bare? I like mine looking just as festive as my top, thank you very much. Why should a Christmas tree be any different?

Other trees feel gypped because the adults in their homes no longer put fine crystal ornaments on them like they used to. Cherished ceramic ornaments remain boxed up, replaced by BPA-free plastic balls. It’s insulting to the trees. If you have to be chopped down and hauled away from your family on the tree farm, you want to be decorated properly. Not haphazardly covered in makeshift toys some rugrat will drool on.

If your tree is artificial, check to see where it was made. China? It’s likely. The National Christmas Tree Association says 85% of artificial trees are made in China. Your tree may be trying to leave your house to get home before the Chinese New Year. It’s just after our New Year and it’s a long journey to your homeland if you’re made of polyvinyl chloride.

The number one way trees try to escape? Toppling over. Trees hope that if they topple over enough that you will get sick of them and drag them to the curb even if it’s just a week before Christmas. Broken ornaments? Water on the carpet? That’s what they want. They want out. It’s a conspiracy. That’s why they make tree stands so lousy.

Yes, you can dispose of an artificial tree on the curb too, although it’s much more rare. AE’s or “artificial escapes” don’t happen too often. Artificial trees are doomed to live in boxes. They want you to throw them out. China, remember?

Solutions For Taming Trees:

How do you prevent your tree from escaping? Fence it in. Check out ours. It’s going NOWHERE! That bad boy is doomed to live in our attic in a musty box 11 months a year! Bwa ha ha! You WILL bring us holiday joy, tree. You will! You live HERE! NOT in China!

Our Christmas tree 2014 in a baby gate

Another option is to tether your tree to the wall like our neighbors did to their fresh cut Fraser Fir after it fell over when the kids were playing with it. They also have a one-year-old at their house.

Christmas tree tethered to the wall

A little known fact is that Christmas trees are afraid of heights. That’s why so few of them grow tall enough to be the tree at Rockefeller Center or at the White House. Funny, I was unable to find a fact from the NCTA to back that up. One family I know exploited their tree’s fear of heights by putting it up on a table. The tree stayed put, not daring to venture down near the family’s toddler.

xmas tree 5

It’s a holiday battle! Keep your trees contained and your little ones safe.

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Elf Rhymes- December 1, 2014

Monday, December 1st, 2014

The year I almost lost our Elf On The Shelf

On the night of the last day of November, that’s when parents suddenly remember.

Tomorrow is December 1st. Thank goodness, the kids’ behavior is the worst!

Christmas will be here really soon. We’ve been using Santa as a threat since June.

Our little friend with the creepy smile hasn’t been here for awhile.

The Thanksgiving holiday has come to an end. It’s time to succumb to a Pinterest trend.

Scrolling through your Facebook feed, you see parents preparing for their children’s greed.

They use a toy as behavior modification, as we all prepare for winter vacation.

The “Elf on the Shelf” is back in suburban homes. Your Instagram will be nothing but those weird little gnomes.

Last night brought intense pre-holiday panic. My child’s excitement for Christmas is manic.

She said, “Mama, my elf comes tomorrow!” as she went to bed. I thought, “Wait, where did we put it?” I smacked my head.

I scoured each closet, every drawer and each box. I found an old bottle opener and some missing socks.

I Facebook messaged my friends like, “Oh shit!” They were like, “Uh oh, girl you better find it!’

I have no idea where my husband tucked it away. Ugh! He’s in Vegas on business til’ Friday!

I started making an elf contingency plan. An elf letter saying “I’m still helping the big man!”

After preschool drop-off I’ll head to Barnes and Noble. That may prevent a meltdown ‘a la Chernobyl.

I gave it one last look in closet junk piles and racks. It was in a box with dry cleaning hangers and an unused Camelback.

My preschooler will not be a disenfranchised douchebag! “My ‘Elf on the Shelf’ is here!” she’ll brag.

Fellow parents! May your holiday tantrums be few and light. Don’t forget to move the damn elf each night.

 

My Santa hat is off to the authors of “Elf on the Shelf” not only for your fortune-making genius merchandising, but for your ability to rhyme that book. This poem, written in “Elf on the Shelf” style, took me for freaking ever. 

tgiving eots

 

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