7 quick Mom Confessions

7 quick Mom Confessions

1. The baby can safely make it down the steps alone. The way in which I found out this little piece of dangerous information is only because I found her on stair 6 or 7 after taking an extra 2-3 seconds to button my pants. Also, my two-year old can unlock my master bedroom door. And evidently, the best way to lure a baby to a staircase is by opening a door and saying “here Rita, Rita, Rita.”

2. This morning I spent a solid 60-70 minutes killing imaginary dinosaurs and, their friends, the bears from the woods. Death to them was warranted by their vicious attacks on the family’s toothbrush supply. Even though each princess/superhero brush was locked safely in James’ Lightening McQueen lunchbox, two toothbrushes were sacrificed in the waging dental hygiene war and nearly flushed down the toilet when Mom was too busy sword fighting the Velociraptor and his friend Care Bear. Things turned a bit too real when baby sister Rita was suspected of transforming into a baby Tyrannosaurus Rex and the weapon of choice became a pillow and suffocation the almost inadvertent course of death.

3. And speaking of death by suffocation, plastic garbage bags are now hidden much higher than their already high above a toddler’s reach position. It was one of those “only on the news or in scare tactics used to makes moms crazy paranoid but don’t actually happen in real life” actual real life moments. In an effort to wipe a counter, I turned a corner. A friendly giggle, giggle among the 3, 2, and 1-year-old turned a bit to jovial just as the actual surface of the granite began poking through. I took three steps towards the family room anticipating to catch a purposeful spill or mess being made in action only to find three children covered in plastic bags pretending to be ghosts while playing the piano (irony? Foreshadowing?)

4. My crazy started showing pretty clearly when getting into the car in a parking lot after an unsuccessful school pants run to Target and James telling me, “don’t worry mom I will go super fast so nobody gets us.” I did buy glitter nail polish and new pajamas, so not all was lost.

5. And somewhere in between James refusing to hug me on his way to school because “he would be late for work,” and Josie’s decision to only wear high heels, Rita started walking. She usually wobbles her way right to the spice rack and then into the cabinet underneath the fish tank and then to the garbage. It’s a pretty busy schedule.

6. I gave Josie a Popsicle as bribery for a shower. It had been three days of sweat and grease pile up and Rita was napping and she wanted no part of “too hot and speamy” shower, but I needed every part of one, and before I knew it she was sitting on the floor gleaming in skills and manipulation enjoying a delicious treat and I lathered thinking, “is popsicle bribery really the only way towards cleanliness?”

7. I brought my own chicken to McDonald’s. I know, I know, what is the point and how crazy can I get? And if there is ever a reason to pass the politically incorrect judgment card over my way, this one deserves it. It was leftover from a “but I don’t like chipkin” dinner the night before and packed up in the car on the way home from a weekend getaway. It was dinner time and we were driving and before I knew it we were at the golden arches and the last time we tried fast food I had spit out chipkin all over my car and I put the leftover in my purse and when Jim was in line ordering I tricked everyone and fed them “special chicken nuggets!!” And everyone ate it and loved it and I felt sort of like a genius.

May all of your weekends be lovely and long!

Go to Clan Donaldson for more! and as always, ConversionDiary for the best blog.

Hump Day Confessions with a side of blood soaked soapy zucchini bread

One Morning, 5 confessions, Happy Hump

Confessions of a Teenage Looking Drama Mom through which you can forget about that homemade cork board on Pinterest and feel better about yourself at my expense.

Pardon the typos as my fingers are bloody and dawning band aids with teddy bear and hearts, which are quite literally my two least favorite objects on the face of the planet but picking out band aids is a childhood privilege.

1. The morning began with aspirations higher than the laundry pile so I began there. As I folded tiny shirts and tinier dresses, the oldest requested my assistance with toilet paper and his derriere. The girls playing wildly with items too clean for their hands seemed occupied well enough to walk 5 steps for approximately 30-35 seconds to help their big brother with his toddler problem. James explained that he “pooped a lot, just like a big horse,” an image that aided my coffee and cereal to digest with ease and comfort. As the toilet flushed the baby’s left foot disappeared into the dryer as Josie attempted to shut the door with a giggle and a wave. We practiced saying “no put Rita in the dryer,” approximately 5 billion times after that.

2. Step two of attempted productivity: clean the master bath. Events included Rita biting off the head of the duck soap, Josie dipping her head into the toilet, the entire contents of every single feminine product being dumped and thrown and stacked and as they asked, “but what are these for and why cant we eat them?” The good news is I salvaged most of the soap from the baby’s mouth.

3. As we continued to de-clutter in the family room, James confidently studded in my general direction holding a chewed up tomato found in between the couch cushions. “Do you think we should throw this away, Mom?” he asked. How long had it been there? Years for all I know.

4. After discarding of what I’m guessing Josie thought was a ball of red candy, I began to grate zucchini to make bread. While cooking with toddlers is usually full of organization and cleanliness, it becomes much worse when the mother begins to bleed a generous amount from two fingers on her right hand. The grater and me = a bad mix of clumsiness and blades.

It was there in the baking process that I should have seen green zucchini turned red and stopped. Alas, I taped up my fingers with bad images of fake romance (explained above) and braved the teaspoon holding toddlers hands on baking lesson. Moments later, tired of a dash of cinnamon here and a help mommy pour the flour there, a few too many ounces of dish soap was happily poured into the wet ingredients as she exclaimed, “blue!!!!” At least I didn’t accidentally burn it?

5. I believe I’ve already confessed about the language issues in this household, namely the phrase “damn it,” being used by James at appropriate times and with emphatic intonation. I have, in all sincerity, attempted to remediate my bad habit, but sometimes, swearing happens just like something else also best described with use of a bad word. Well, the bad habit has been successfully passed on to the younger one, who happened to exclaim not only “damn it!” but also attached “Josie!” to the phrase on three separate occasions this morning, which had to with the bloody fingers, the tomato, and the soap, revealing the most frequent use and word grouping used by those that love her most.

 

Happy Mothering!