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26Jun 2014

The Stay-at-Home Mom’s Guide to The Summer of George

I was a Seinfeld fan from the start. Maybe it was the story about nothing. Maybe it was Kramer. Maybe it was the fact that it was so freaking scripted but it wasn’t Who’s the Boss or Cosby Show scripted. I still can’t put my finger on the full reason for my reverence… but “The Summer of George” was my favorite episode. Hands down. Ever.

If you’re familiar with Seinfeld (and this episode) then you remember that George had been fired from his job with The New York Yankees. While he’s wallowing in his sadness he discovers that he has been allotted a severance package that will last for approximately 3 months. And that is when George decides he is going to “really do something with those 3 months.” He’s going to read a book (from beginning to end, in that order). He’s going to learn to play Frolf (Frisbee-golf). This is going to be the time for George to “taste the juices and let them drip down his chin.” Now, being the lazy bastard that he is, George doesn’t really accomplish many of his goals but every time summer rolls around, I’m so fucking jealous of George and the idea of “that” summer.

It is currently the third week of summer camp for my older kids here. I’ve been feeling, a bit, low…. let me take that back, the monotony of it all has made it Groundhog Day around here.

Summer is turning out to be just like Fall, Winter, and Spring. The same. But hotter… It’s like a shitty song on repeat and I’ve already skipped too may songs on Pandora to listen to something new. The incessant loads of laundry and meal planning, the grocery shopping, the drop-offs, the pick-ups… there must be something else I’m supposed to be doing…

And then it hit me.

My older kids are in camp until 3:45 EVERYDAY!! That is almost 2 hours longer then the normal school day for my Middle Monkey and my Hubby isn’t an asshole about my jobs around the house.

It’s almost like I’ve been given a severance package too… but this one is with TIME!

And around here, time is like money.

I’m really going to live.

I’m going to do all the things I don’t normally do!

I declare this… “The Stay-at-Home Mom’s Summer of George”!

Here is my Top 10 list of things to do…

10. Go see the movie Chef, during the day, with my 4 month old baby. {Because no one takes a baby to the movies… but I have to see this}

9. Drive to the Eden “strange fruit” winery (which is over 1 hour away) and buy kiwi wine. {Because no one takes a baby to a winery… but I have to try this}

8. Finally hit up a spinning class. {Even though I’m petrified}

7. Put on a bathing suit and take the baby to a public pool. {Ugh, but it has to be done}

6. Get a pedicure. {Because damn, my feet are toe-up}

5. Travel the 30 minutes to the Norman Love Confections and take the chocolate tour. {Because chocolate}

4. Take the baby to the beach and only pack one bag and an umbrella. {It’s harder than you think}

3. Have lunch or brunch with a friend once a week. {Because friends and food}

2. Read a trilogy. {From beginning to end, in that order}

1. Eat a peach, alone, without any children asking for a bite, and let the juices drip down my chin, just like George.

20Jun 2014

The Mother I Thought I’d be Versus The Mother I am

by outnumberedmother

I always knew I’d have children. That was just something in the cards for me. I never thought I’d have 3… but that’s for another blog. I remember being a teenager and talking with a friend about where we saw ourselves at 35… I said, point-blank, married with kids. And she said she was never having kids because she’d never be able to be “the mother she wanted to be”. At the time I thought her words were so bizarre, so strange. How could she know the future? You are the person who decides how you will act, what moral compass you will follow. You dictate your future. At 15 I was really into that whole dogma.

Now, looking back on that conversation, I’m shocked at the words of wisdom provided to me by a person who was so young. She was TOTALLY AND COMPLETELY right on. I am nothing like the mother I thought I would be. That doesn’t mean that I’m not a good mom, although I do have my moments of total insanity. But I’m not “that mom”. That imaginary figment could never fly around here.

Mother I Thought I’d be…

My children will always be able talk to me, about anything, and I won’t judge them.

Mother I Am…

They talk to me, about anything, and I judge the ever-loving shit outta them. I judge them so hard I’m Judge Judy. I don’t always hand down a sentence but believe me, I judge. And they aren’t even teenagers yet. Oy.

Mother I Thought I’d be…

My kids will always be able to pick the radio station in the car.

Mother I Am…

Fuck that. After hearing Timber a million times I’m picking the radio station. “When you have a car you can listen to what you want.” {Did I just say that? My mother used to say that}

Mother I Thought I’d be…

I will actively play with my kids all the time.

Mother I am…

I can’t believe I even thought this was possible when I was younger. Like, I actually resented my mother at times because I didn’t think she played with me enough. And she played with me a lot! Between the housework, the siblings, the drop-offs and the pick-ups, I’m lucky if I get to eat a meal sitting down. Play with you? Another game of Candy Land? We’ve already played 5. You must be joking.

Mother I Thought I’d be…

My children will travel. We will see the world together.

Mother I am…

Traveling costs money. Traveling with small children is a mind numbing siege that I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. The last trip we took was a 2 hour car trip to a soccer tournament and I actually considered putting duct tape over the mouths of the older 2. Travel? I don’t fucking think so.

Mother I thought I’d be…

Each of my children will have their own personality, and I won’t let their behavior, good or bad, change how I feel about myself.

Mother I am…

Wrong, wrong, wrong. When they accomplish something fantastic… I too, feel fantastic. When they act like animals… I see that as a direct reflection of my parenting failures. Just because I feel this way doesn’t make it right. But it’s still how I feel.

No, I’m not the mother I thought I’d be. Far from it. I have cobwebs in my house, I’m not hip, I’m embarrassing, and I’m not always fair. But I am here for them… 24/7, no matter what.

And I’m laughing.

And I’m trying.

19Jun 2014

The Cable Company That Has Us by The Balls

by outnumberedmother

It’s no secret that I hate Comcast. They have monopolized the area in which I live and other than Dish we have no other choice if we want cable and internet. Fine, fine, fine, this is a first world problem, I get that. But I grew up with the understanding that if I want something… and I FREAKING PAY THROUGH THE NOSE for it, I should get what I pay for.

This is not the case with good ol’ Comcast.

Besides the fact that every time I write them a check I feel like a rape victim, the service is shoddy at best. Our internet goes out at least once a day, often the OnDemand feature doesn’t work at all and don’t even get me started about the cable boxes “rebooting” out of nowhere in the middle of a show… or the service being down sporadically for the first 2 days of the world cup… the list is endless. Reminds me of that scene in European Vacation where every channel is cheese-making or snow. I’ve had enough.

I’m starting to realize I’ve spent more time on the phone with Comcast attempting to get them to remedy the trillion situations I’ve encountered than I have actually utilizing their shit service. A disheartening thought to say the least. And although I love TV, I would drop Comcast in a New York minute if I didn’t have kids. That’s why the utter shitshow I’ve encountered today really makes my blood boil.

Last month I upgraded my phone to an iPhone 5. Upon reviewing my current bill with AT&T I realized I was using less than 1GB of data a month, although I was paying for an unlimited data plan. This didn’t make a great deal of financial sense so I let my unlimited data plan go (even though I had been Grandfathered into a plan they no longer offer) and opted for a 2GB plan (still leaving me with a less expensive monthly bill).

I do not use a lot of data on my phone. I don’t stream movies or watch long YouTube clips. I use WordPress, FB, Twitter and Evernote. That’s why I was fucking shocked when I received a notification from AT&T today that I’ve reached 90% usage of my 2GB, AND I STILL HAVE A WEEK LEFT IN THIS BILLING CYCLE.

I called AT&T to try to figure out the drastic data usage change. I explained to the customer service guy that I’m usually home and hooked up to WiFi while using my phone. The whole thing didn’t make sense.

Unless you factor in Comcast.

The costumer service guy was able to tell me every date and time where my data usage spiked. The highest day spike was on June 4th where I used 3/4 of 1GB just in that day alone. “What happened on June 4th?” he asked. Yup. you guessed it, Comcast had an outage for the entire county that day, that lasted ALL DAY (granted it was due to an accident, which wasn’t Comcast’s fault, I’m not completely blinded by my dislike of this giant) but because of that day I was able to trace every spike in my data usage to a day where my internet was down. And those times… ARE Comcast’s fault.

I wouldn’t even be writing this right now if Comcast was better with their customer service. If every once in a while they offered a credit for outages, or shitty service, or making me hold on the phone for hours… I would be totally pacified.

But they don’t do that.

So I’m pissed.

And I’m proving to Comcast that the pen is mightier than the sword.

Rant over.

I feel better now.

12Jun 2014

The Books

by outnumberedmother

This morning the baby and I had to go to our local Barnes and Noble (something I don’t do nearly often enough) to get a birthday gift for my nephew. As I walked into the large building I was transported back to my childhood summers. Spent with a weekly trip to the local library because I loved to read and my parents wanted to instill the love of reading in us. Each summer they threw down the gauntlet and issued us a challenge… read 10 books over the summer and write a report on each and they would reward us with a trip to Great Adventure.

In today’s society this might not seem like a huge deal. Summer vacations are the norm now, which can sometimes cheapen the actual monstrosity that planning and executing a vacation is to parents. But for me, in my childhood, summer was spent at the beach or camp and a vacation (especially to an amusement park) was a major deal. I’m thinking that along with the Minecraft book he wants, maybe I’ll also get my little brother’s son his first Harry Potter book for his birthday. A reading-right-of-passage for sure.

As I’m standing in this bookstore I could feel that feeling… exactly the same way as when I was a kid. All of the stories that live inside these pages, all of them at my fingertips, the choices… it’s one of the most exciting adventures you could go on. The written word is indeed powerful and storytelling is an art. The fact that someone can paint a picture with their words and allow you to step into the world they created is the ultimate fantasy. I think we all need a bit of fantasy in our lives. It helps to keep up with all the mundane bullshit. We all have things we “have” to do… a small escape can be the difference between enjoying the ride or dreading the journey.

I love technology. I love the practicality it brings to my already cluttered life. But I will never love an e-reader the way I love holding an actual book in my hands. Just feeling the pages in my fingers and the weight of its spine… No Nook could ever replace an actual book to me.

This makes me think about the summer I was 12 years old and my Mother introduced me to the Thorn Birds. I was a confused tween who felt like every adult (especially my parents) had it in for me. Reading that book, knowing how much my Mother had enjoyed it too, felt like I had been indoctrinated into a secret society. One where we had something in common other than our DNA. It was a marvelous feeling that makes me always appreciate when my Mother points me in the direction of what she thinks is a good read. I must hand it to her, she has never given me a bad book. Wurhering Heights, Anne of Green Gables, Beach Music. Mama’s got skills that rival the New York Times Bestseller list.

While all the promise of the bookstore is laying right in front of me along with the joy when I realize I actually have time to browse, I am brought back to the real world from my amazing trip down memory lane by a 19-year-old kid with dyed, jet black hair, skinny jeans and boots on in the middle of Florida summer…

“Hello… {while shaking his head}”

Um, yeah Hi. {I smile, what does this kid want?}

“Could you move your stroller? {Then mutters under his breath} Didn’t you hear me the first time?”

Oh, I’m sorry, I must have been somewhere else…

As I move my stroller out of his way he reaches over to grab a skull and crossbones patterned case for his Nook and walks off saying to his friend… “I swear, these Moms act like they own the place. Let’s go get a latte.”

Back to reality.

I doubt he knows where to find the Harry Potter.

30May 2014

A Toddlers Guide to Clean Eating

by outnumberedmother

Today was the 3-year-old’s last day of school. They had a sweet little show where the kids sang songs and did dances. It was completely adorable and for a tiny millisecond you can almost forget that cute little angel is your psychotic toddler.

This is bad.

Never forget.

Don’t even think about forgetting the fact that in an instant they can go from “Aw” to The Exorcist.

I’m telling you this not to scare you (but lets face it, fear is your friend with a toddler) but to keep you on your toes. The very toes he’s going to pound with his fists during the next tantrum.

In our normal, everyday life I make pretty good choices on what to feed my kids. This usually depends on my exhaustion level. We don’t do a lot of fast or frozen foods, or candy, or sweets. The oldest has juice, but not the 3-year-old. And when they don’t eat shit, you can really see a difference in their personality. At least I can see the difference in my kids. I can probably see the difference in your kids too but they aren’t my problem.

That’s why it is totally my fault what is happening right now. Letting my guard down today was a huge mistake and I’m paying for it. In spades.

It’s to the point of Masochism. I knew what the outcome was going to be but I allowed it to happen anyway. Touche peer pressure.

After the little play they had an Ice Cream Social to end the school year. My very hungry caterpillar had a loaded ice cream sundae, with chocolate sauce, and mini-m&m’s. Then he ate a brownie. And I’m watching him consume all this junk and saying to myself, “he never gets treats like this, it’s only one day. How can I deny him when he’s not allergic, he hasn’t been bad, all his friends are doing it?”.

But I know better.

Then his teacher gave him a lovely end of the year gift… a beach pail filled with toys, and his name on it. So sweet of her. As I loaded the kids into the car I was busy looking at everything and reading her card to me {a tear-jerker for sure}. I missed the fact that a pack of Skittles was also in the pail. 3-year-old didn’t miss a beat and started pigging out on Skittles.

By the time we got home things were going downhill.

“I don’t wanna take a nap, I big boy”

Big boys take naps.

“Not Daddy, not big brother.”

Daddy’s at work, I can assure you if he were home, he would be napping.

“YOU MEAN MOMMY!”

{Oh Hell No! I’m nice Mommy. You’re Fidel Castro with a sugar high. Don’t get it twisted}

I’m sorry you feel that way.

Once we arrived home he seemed to chill out a bit. We watched some mindless children’s programming but he barely took a bite of the sandwich I made him.

As nap time approached I gave him lots of notice. All met with a very specific type of anger that is the true symbol of a sugar crash.

He’s in his bed right now pitching a fit reminiscent of Veruca Salt.

Note to self, stop at one bowl of ice cream and next time, make sure you have enough wine.

28May 2014

The Flat Stanley Magellan

by outnumberedmother

The school year is almost over…. we can taste it.

It’s like the last mile of a marathon (not that I’ve ever run a marathon but I see the way those people look by the end). Crazy, wide-eyed, desperate. I really thought we were finished with the difficult parts of this school year. We could just cruise through that last mile and let the adrenaline be our guide.

I was so very wrong.

Come to find out, this isn’t a marathon… I would welcome the old-fashioned, user-friendly, 26.2 miles with open arms right now. A course mapped out for me by someone else? Bring it. Tunes and friends and a cheering crowd? Can I get an AMEN?? A marathon would be my homeboy. But alas, this is no marathon.

No, I just discovered this is a Tough Mudder race… and we still have to go through the electrocution cables.

My 9-year-old son brought home ONE LAST project. The mountain I see laid out before me is large, it’s daunting, I’m exhausted, he’s exhausted… but if we can just climb this last peak, just push a little bit more… there, oh yes, there, is glorious summer awaiting us. No homework, no projects, no mundane bullshit.

We can go back to basics.

But first we have to actually do this freaking thing.

So, I guess Boy Wonder had the assignment to write a paper on an explorer. That part, is already done, as he’s been working on it at school. Good job buddy, ’cause if you brought home an assignment for a whole paper too, Mommy might have had a moment similar to The Shining… “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy”, would have been an understatement.

Ferdinand Magellan is our man. With the written part already complete, now we are left to do the bullshit busy work of creating our own Magellan. What the teacher sent home is pretty much a Flat Stanley. Which would be fine if our Flat Stanley Magellan was about to travel the globe, or even be displayed, but this whole assignment is just ridiculous to me because school is over in 5 days. 5 FREAKING DAYS!!! Where will they display this? What is the purpose? If this had been me in the third grade I probably wouldn’t have even bothered. But it’s not. Boy Wonder wants to complete the task, and do it right. But that won’t stop me from designing the projects I think we should submit.

Here’s what we are working with… yeah, I know. I think this teacher is just about as over this school year as we are.

{I don’t blame you girl… I feel you}