Monday, August 02, 2010

I blame it on Wipeout

I won't ever have video games in my house. (Blake, c. 1995)

That's what I used to shamelessly profess as I watched other children withdraw from social activities to play their DS's, Play Stations, or Atari's. Now look at me. Now I'm screamng from the rooftop...only one hour of Wii today (Blake, c. ten mintes ago).

Ha to the double Ha!

I've completely lost the video game war and apparently I am losing the TV war too. You know how I know? I'll tell you...

Last weekend at a birthday party for a friend of my 6 year old, I offered said son a drink. "Would you like a water, a capri sun, or a juice box?" I asked. And completely straight faced, not even a hint of a joke he said, "No I think I'll take a beer. That Miller Lite would be fine."

And 2 days later when he got over the fact that there were no keg stands to be had at the birthday party, I innocently enough asked what he wanted for dinner and his response was, "Red Lobster." Uhhh...what? (now no offense to people who eat at Red Lobster, but we haven't and I don't even think we have ever driven by one)

So my only assumption is that TV is to blame. And since I seriously doubt that he's watching commercials for Miller Lite and Red Lobster on the Food Network, Bravo, or TLC (I jest, I need to get self-righteous on me at this point), then the only thing we have to blame is that darn show Wipeout that he and his father love so much.

Seriously, what goes better with hysterically laughing at people on insane, impossible obstacle courses than a cold Miller Lite and an Admiral's Feast?

Monday, May 17, 2010

Dress Code

I think that it is official. I am screwed.

My little (well, not so little now) boy has thrown me some curve balls but for the most part I can see them coming a mile away. Don't want to leave a friend's house...I anticipate a meltdown. Tired and not getting what you want...I anticipate a meltdown. Don't like the clothes I lay our for you...well, he has never seemed to care. I never really appreciated that until now.

My little girl...well she's a totally different story. I must remind you that she isn't even THREE years old yet. She has hit temper tantrums full force this year and quite honestly, I can deal with them. What transpired today...not so prepared for.

I picked out an outfit for her to wear to school. A pair of capris and a striped shirt. It was cute, it was comfortable, and she has worn it multiple times with no complaints. That was not the case this morning. Her protests were so loud to my wardrobe choices that I think the neighbors 4 houses away could hear the screams of torture at 7 in the morning. It was like I has chosen a prairie dress and a bonnet. We fought, we yelled, my husband intervened and after about 25 minutes and 10 trips to time out she conceded and put on the pants. (she comes by her stubbornness quite honestly!)

As I was walking out the door to take the kids to school, I gave my husband a small high five claiming victory and patted myself on the back for breaking the little girl down.

So wouldn't you know how surprised I was when she came home from school in a DIFFERENT pair of pants. As she walked in the room and I got a look at her, the very first question I asked was not "how was your day honey?" but rather, "where did you get those pants?" And don't you love toddler honesty, she looked me straight in the eye and said, "I didn't like the pants I was wearing so I put these in my bag and my teacher put them on."

So take that Momma. You are so screwed.

Sunday, May 09, 2010

Lessons on Mother's Day

I struggle constantly with the idea of bribing versus positive reinforcement. The big boy is at a point where he REALLY appreciates the value of a dollar...he saves up, rolls pennies, and begs for trips to target to buy legos when he has "earned"enough money.

This morning, being Mother's Day and all, was no different. We were all racing around trying to get dressed for the brunch that I arranged. (mother's day or not, if you want it the way you want it yourself!). A control freak on all fronts, I had already placed the kids' clothes on their beds and was trying to dry my hair and put on a smidge of makeup before we left. And just like every other day, the little girl refused to wear what I put out for her. No amount of "its too cold to wear a sleeveless dress" and "no you can't wear your fleece sweatsuit" was getting through her adorable little head of blond curls. There were tears, tantrums, and fears for what this says about our teen years. Exasperated and desperate to get some concealer on the bags under my eyes worthy of a surcharge at US Airways I offered the big boy three dollars to help her get dressed.

Desperate for a new star wars lego set...he accepted the challenge.

And wouldn't you know it that three minutes later she came bounding into the bathroom with her dress on (albeit backwards) and a big smile on her face.

So for three dollars I learned, all you have to do is take her baby doll away, put it WAY up on the dresser where she can't reach it and tell her she can have it back when she puts her dress on. And viola...her dress is on.

It may be Mother's Day, but I got schooled in mothering by my 5 year old today. I would say he definitely "earned" his money!

Monday, April 26, 2010

Mother of the day.

Tonight I got a phone call from the little girl's pre-school teacher. I always get a pit in the bottom of my stomach when a teacher calls me. I almost instantaneously ask, "What did she do?" Benefit of the doubt? Not around here.

It turns out that instead of her doing something wrong, I missed our teacher conference today (awesome on my part) and so the teacher was doing a follow-up call to go over her report card. Do I have to remind you that the little girl is 2.5 years old? This pre-school business is apparently serious stuff!

Within the conversation, the teacher described a child that I am not very familiar with (she used adjectives such as friendly, cooperative, helpful, polite...I said, "do you mean smart-assed, flippant, demanding, and devious?). She talked about different activities that our little girl enjoys, skills she has developed and things she should work on over the summer. Seriously, I kid you not, in her bag were worksheets to practice cutting over the summer!

At the end of the conversation, the climax, the highlight, the grand-finale the teacher referenced a self-portrait that the little lady completed. In no less than 20 minutes, she painstakingly described the process that took place to create this self-portrait. I really don't know who was prouder of the work, the girl or the teacher. And after hearing that the teacher had taken the time to frame this self-portrait because she knew I would want to display it I paused. And praying that the coffee grounds weren't on top of the portrait I dug it out of the trashcan and took a look.

So if you think you are going to win Mother of the Day today. Try again, I've got you beat!

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

The back-handed compliment

Oh where to begin? Let's just say that after a night of binging on pepperoni pizza and onion rings, I found myself at a Weight Watchers meeting last Saturday. I had a real taste as to what it would be like to be an addict. OK, let's get real. I am an addict...a food addict. And the only support group I rely on is Weight Watchers. So that's exactly where I headed first thing in the morning after my saturated fat and carb bender to get control of my out-of-control eating.

I have joined Weight Watchers approximately 17.45 million times. I try to nod my head politely as the "mentors" go through counting points, weighing food, making good choices,etc. I try not to point out how much has changed since I first joined way back in 1988...and honestly, not that much has changed, not even my weight.

So, as I stepped up to the counter to make my enrollment official, the sweet lady behind the counter asked me sincerely, "Are you sure that you weigh 138 pounds? If you don't you can't join today."

I should probably add here that I am 5'11" and not "small boned" AT ALL. 138 would make me look like Heidi Klum...and let's be really clear, I don't.

This sweet little, and probably senile, lady was worried that I didn't weigh enough to join Weight Watchers. HA!

"uhhh...yes I am sure." I said, trying not to laugh in her face at her obvious sight problems. Blindness maybe?

I then proceeded to step on the scale.

As the lovely, senile, blind, and now suffering from turrets woman behind the counter looked at my weight (only seen by her) she then gasps, stands on her tip toes to peer over the counter and looks me up and down about 10 times.

"Yes you do." she says. "I should have looked closer. If I had looked closer I can definitely tell you weigh enough. You certainly do."

Uh, thanks. I think?

Friday, February 12, 2010

SnOMG. I can't take this anymore.

This blizzard is killing me.

And for the first time in 12 days, I am not talking about my children. They aren't driving me crazy, I don't feel like locking them outside in the sub-zero weather, and I am no longer running away from them and hiding in the basement closet with the furnace just to get a minute alone. (this may because they are both currently napping)

If life doesn't get back to normal soon, I am going to be a contestant on next season's Biggest Loser. And while I love a good before and after, I'm not much for public weigh-ins.

I was so prepared for round one of this blizzard. I hit the HT, recipes in hand, stocked up on healthy fare, fresh fruit and veggies, prepared well-rounded meals, and was so proud of my preparation and follow through of my menu planning. I was a regular June Cleaver. I even donned an apron once or twice.

But you know what? These kids demand to be fed THREE times a day PLUS snacks. That's a lot of food, people. And they can't seem to do anything for themselves. "mommy can I have a snack?" "mommy, I'm hungry" "mommy, I'm thirsty" "mommy, is it dinner time?" THREE times a day PLUS snacks.

So when round two rolled around, I had had enough. No more Julia Childs for was all Little Debbie. So this week we have had orange fingers from the doritos, chocolate in the corner of our mouths from the tollhouse cookies, and dishes caked with old queso strewn throughout the house. It is getting SO old.

I realized this morning that the situation was getting dire as I was being lapped at the gym by the senior sneakers. I recommit to a healthy life for me and my family...right after I finish this tube of Pringles. Yummmm.

Tuesday, February 09, 2010


Please, let us not address the more than 2 months since I last logged on. I lost my Mommystar mojo. I don't know what happened. Well, actually, nothing happened. Nothing that I could spin into a funny little tale, a witty little story, or a minor little exaggeration.

But seriously, if I can't find something to write about while locked in the house for what feels like the 14th day in a row, dreaming of the days when I could go to work to change diapers on 10 kids who ALL poop daily, then I really should just abandon my blog all together.

Tonight we're entering our 2nd major snowstorm in less than 5 days. And coming from a girl who went to school in Maine, these are major storms. 30" last Friday and another 12-18" tonight. I love a good snow storm, but this is getting ridiculous. The streets aren't plowed, schools are closed, and my kids won't leave me alone.

The cabin fever got so bad yesterday that a friend and I rejoiced that Target AND Chic-Fil-A were both open. We made a date to meet there with the kids and wander the aisles browsing the pool supplies, bathing suits, and patio furniture. (really, you should go to a Target and ask for a gets a GREAT reaction!). When I got home 3 hours later my husband asked where we had gone. "to Target and Chi-fil-a" I replied. "The WHOLE time?" "Yes, for 3.5 hours, you got a problem with that?"

Tonight, that same friend came over because supposedly her dryer is broken and she needed to dry some pajamas and underwear. I wasn't fooled, she just needed to get out of the house. I don't blame her, tomorrow I'm going out for bird feed, I'm afraid the birds will be hungry in this snowstorm.

I know this storm is monumental, we'll remember it for the rest of our lives, talk about Snowmageddon 2010, Snowtorious B.I.G., and snOMG every winter when they forecast snowfall. But what I'm really hoping we don't remember is that this was the winter that I drank myself blotto and passed out in a snowbank, let my kids go sledding into the stream without supervision, or hid in the closet and cried until March.

The sun will come out tomorrow right?