You know you're in the Mother-Hood when...

You Know You're in the MotherHood When...

You've sniffed a spot on your shirt and been able to determine the origin of said spot with CSI efficiency.

You let someone see you basically naked because he said he was an anesthesiologist.

It's a good day if you actually had time to shower, without interruptions or an audience of any kind.

Your meal plan has consisted of eating whatever mac and cheese is left in the pot after you've served it to the kids.

A drawing of you with a head the size of a watermelon is the prettiest picture you've ever seen.

Everyone but you being asleep counts as "alone time."

You feel a sense of accomplishment if you read an entire article in People magazine in one sitting.

You can name 3 out of 5 Backyardigans - you know you can.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

These Boots Were Made for Mockin’

So, yesterday morning when I was walking my four year old into preschool, I was bombarded with a feeling of total inadequacy and general blah.
I saw, across the parking lot, two other moms escorting their young children into preschool. Both had done their hair (whereas mine was pulled up in that ½ ponytail, ½ bun, just get the f*^% outta my face manner), both had cute clothes on – we’re talking actual coordinated outfits (although, if it pleases the court, I must point out there WAS some gray lettering on my sweatshirt that matched the charcoal yoga pants I was sporting.) I think calling them charcoal takes it up a notch, no?

I didn’t see so I can’t be sure, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say they both probably had jewelry on – and not just the necklace they put on a few days ago for their daughter’s choir concert and just hadn’t taken off yet (yeah, me again, but it made my sweatshirt feel fancy)
They most likely picked accessories that matched those cute outfits. I was in such a hurry this morning; I didn’t even put my wedding ring on before I left. Amazingly, I didn’t get hit on at Starbucks – even while appearing to be being single. Maybe it’s because I also appeared to be homeless.

The “piece(s) de resistance” were the boots; one had knee high black boots, the other knee high brown. They were the pictures of the perfectly stylish moms – fall edition. As I was thinking of the new knee high boots hibernating in my closet, Little Miss Brown Boots turned slightly and I noticed that, not only was she cuter than a spotted puppy in a red wagon, but she was also pregnant.
Not just sort of/early on/is that a baby bump or bloating? pregnant – she was belly button popped out the wrong way so far you can see it through her (most likely) designer maternity shirt from across the parking lot pregnant.
Darn her! Here I felt tired and entitled to my schleppy (yeah, it’s a word) appearance, but there’s no way (even with my seriously overdrawn sleep bank account) that I was MORE tired than Little Miss PREGNANT Brown Boots. Those boots were the breaking point. With every click of the heel, I felt more and more like Humpty Frumpty.
Those boots were totally mocking me. My Nikes wanted to kick their ass.

As I got back in the car to head out, I rattled off my list of reasons why it was okay for me to be in my sweats, make up-less (did I not mention that earlier?) and totally schleppy.
I tried to Stuart Smalley myself out of feeling like I the “before” to the “after” pictures.
I work from home, there’s no need to get out those, lay flat to dry or (gasp) dry clean only duds. I was planning on trying to hit the gym later that day, so wearing my work out clothes was really just trying to be prepared. I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me!

Yeah – those were pretty much it.

Sure, I could have thrown on some jeans, grabbed a cute shirt and pulled on my brown boots. I would’ve looked a lot cuter for those 3-4 minutes I spent in the school.
I may have been able to give those mommies a run for their money.

Then I realized, if I did that all time, how could I possible expect to shock everyone on those rare occasions that I DO put the whole package together?
I'm all about the sneak attack. I just have to get some sleep first.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

I'm Baaaaaaaaack

This is me. Blogging.
One year (and a little more, but let’s not get finicky) since my last blog.

Really? Has my life been so vanilla (no disrespect Robert Van Winkle) that there have been no “blog worthy events” in the last 12 months?
Sadly, no – my life has been very bloggable – but my creative juices have been very shriveled and raisin-like.
What little bits of creative juice smoothies I could squeeze out were used for my not-close-to-Pulitzer winning monthly articles in Search Parker and South Aurora Magazine. Hey, I’m published, I’m gonna plug it.

Tonight I was logging some much needed “adult time” – no offense to my beautiful children, but occasionally I enjoy speaking to people taller than 4 feet about subject matter that is anything BUT American Girls, the latest episode of “Good Luck Charlie” and playing the uber-fun game of “where’s my paci?”
Sitting next to a good friend, I was called out.
With no warning, I got a “You need to start blogging again!”
(Yes, she exclaimed this proclamation, it warranted an exclamation point.)
Relentlessly, she continued on, “your blogs are so funny, you should write more.” Without missing an beat, she leaned towards another buddy sitting across from her and asked, “have YOU ever read her blogs? They’re so great!” Again, exclamation point totally needed, she was excited, or liquored up, it’s hard to tell.

Nevertheless, the challenge was thrown – start blogging again.
Oh, and make it funny. No pressure.

So as I ponder where my best source of inspiration may lie – Walmart on Black Friday springs to mind – I promise you (my three and a half readers (I know at least one of you only skims the blog) this – I WILL blog more.
I WILL find more people to single out in odd circumstances and poke fun at them.
(Myself included.)
I WILL be overly sarcastic and borderline inappropriate when needed.
I WILL find uniquely absurd situations to shine a spotlight on and bring to your attention.

Here’s the first – when you’re at a restaurant and someone orders water, with extra lemon wedges, only to squeeze (half a lemon) into their glass then add sugar/Splenda/Truvia whatever to it – is that stealing lemonade or just a perk of creative ordering?

Discuss amongst yourselves, or blog about it – whatever works.