Mommadosey

My Grandmother on my Mother’s side was a woman who never learned to drive.  In fact she never learned to do a lot of things until my Grandfather died. Then she learned to do things like managing her own money, running her own errands, handling her health care, and ultimately figuring out the busing system in Vancouver.  But she never learned to drive.

I have visions of the two of them, my Grandparents, together running errands.  There he would be in his old fashioned tweed cap and overcoat grumpily driving her around, and she chattering on about nothing with her list of stores she needed him to take her to.

He never went into the stores with her.  She would hustle around quickly trying to get everything on her list for the week as she knew another trip would involve having to talk him into taking her.  And he would impatiently sit in the car reading the newspaper waiting for Mother, his nickname for her, to come back to the car.

I don’t think that this site of the two of them was that uncommon for that generation.  I mean how many memories do you have of the old man sitting in the parking lot by himself reading or taking a snooze in the car?  I have a lot.

So today after lunch I needed to run into the Mall for a quick errand.  Da Husband was with me and was complaining of a sinus headache.  So, I left him in the car and I ran in, rushing around trying to hurry knowing he was grumpily waiting in the car for me.  Finally I finished and I hurried back out the parking lot.

As I turned the corner I saw him sitting there reading his iPhone.  He hadn’t seen me yet, and for a brief moment I got a vision of my  Grandfather sitting in the car waiting for my Grandmother and I.

I slowly snuck up on the car and pounded on the window startling him out of his sleepy stupor.

As he jerked to attention wondering who was violating his peace I wondered to myself, “I wonder if Grandma ever did that to Grandpa?”

Probably not.

But it sure would have been funny.

So this week I went wireless in my house. I couldn’t get the whole thing going myself so I had an awesome neighbor over to help me with the process.

After about an hour or two he got my laptop up and running, but not the Wii. I felt guilty about keeping him at the house for so long, and really at that moment I was so excited to get my new netbook up and running, so I sent him home.

Then today I tried to connect my iPhone to my wireless network, and again…no luck.

Now I’m thinking I really should call someone else to come help me.  Or I could research the problem myself on the Internet.

But what have I done instead today?

Well first I totally overslept and lost half the morning.

Then,  I cleaned a little.

I helped the boy finish his project for school.

I helped Da Boy practice his multiplication tables.

I graded Kumon.

I answered a few e-mails, finally got a shower in, broke up a few fights, disciplined a couple of kids, fed them two meals, and now…well now I’m trying to overcome writers block.

In order to do this I popped over to Blogthings.   For some reason this site sometimes gets me going.

Today, this was the first test that popped up.

You Are a Total Procrastinator

If you can a task off, you will. You hate doing chores and work.Almost all of your tasks get done late, if they even get done at all.You often find life overwhelming and stressful. You feel like you’ll never get everything done.You spend more time worrying about your responsibilities than taking care of them. It’s likely that you procrastinate because you have too much to do… or aren’t doing the right things. Learn how to let go of what’s trivial and focus on what matters. Do the important stuff right now!

Are You a Procrastinator?

Man.

That’s harsh.

Is the universe trying to tell me something?

Oh well.  If it is, I’ll worry about it tomorrow.

So today I turned 39.

39.   Holy Moly.

As Da Girl pointed out to me so deftly this morning, “Wow Mom, that’s old.”

Well I don’t know if it’s old, but it’s old enough so that some things have started to slip…like my control over the stomach fat.  Or the control I used to have over my once young childrens’ mouths.  Or the fact that I used to be able to remember what I was going to blog about by the time I made it upstairs to my office.

So this morning my kids and my husband gave me my birthday present with a little glee in their eyes.

It was a new netbook.

Little did they know how perfect this present is for me.

Sure it wasn’t going to help with the stomach fat problem.

And my kids’ mouths?  Well the clearly audible burp from my son sitting next to me clearly disproves it’s a help with that one.

But getting my ideas down before they’re gone in an instant?

Well…

“No Little B.  That was not a good one, and I would  appreciate it if you wouldn’t burp out loud like that.  It’s disgusting.”

Now…what was I saying?

M.I.A. - Mother in Action:  Me trying to get caught up with friends and family and Motherly duties.

M.I.A. - Massive Insubordination Attack:  Me firing the kids this weekend from their jobs, and they not even shedding a tear when they realize that they get no more allowance.  I have lost all control.

M.I.A. - Mistaken Identity Attraction:  Me discovering the surprising generosity of a few friends, and it warming my heart.

M.I.A. - Mildly Interesting Aerobatics:  Me thinking Da Girl would love to go watch a gymnastics tournament, but instead I watched her and her friends fight over a stuffed dog and then the iPhone.  Generous sleepover offer later saved the day.

M.I.A. - Marital Igloo Attendance:  Me and Da Husband curling up under the safety of some warm blankets and a comfy couch entertaining no one but ourselves.

M.I.A. - Mission the Ironically Afflicted:  Me and Da Husband having skillfully arranged a sleep-in morning awoken by Da Boy who ultimately prayed to the porcelain gods for two days.

And finally

M.I.A. - Missing in Action:  Me not doing what I love to do, write on this blog.

So Just My Life gave me this award!

***BLUSH***

And as always there are rules!

I must list 5 of my addictions and then list 5 blogs to pass this onto.

1.  Bread:  Especially freshly baked bread from this bakery .   I’ve been known to buy a whole loaf and eat it in one day, by myself.  Perhaps this explains my recent two week exploration into the land of South Beach.

2.  Naps:  I actually feel like any week without at least one good nap is a week not worth repeating.

3.   Movies:  I am a movie addict.  During movie season, which is right now if you were confused, I’ve been known to go to the movies at least four times in one week trying to cram in all of the Oscar worthy movies before Oscar season officially begins.  It’s exhausting.  Today? I’m off to see Seven Pounds .  Yes.  I am bringing the tissues.

4.  Writing:  If I had to suddenly stop blogging…**shiver**I’m not going to think about it.

5.   New Experiences:  I am constantly trying new things.  Life is short.  I want to try everything!

And now I’m supposed to tag five people…

Well on my old blog I used not be very good at doing that…

“– you with the brown hair and 5 kids
– you with 2 dogs, a cat, 2 rabbits, and squirrel you call Billy Bob Bojangles
– you with blonde hair and no kids and leetle slut problem
– you with those seriously jacked up teeth
– you with the well you know what you have (Please, I’m begging you. Get that looked at will ya?)
– you with the double D’s
– you who can’t stop staring at the double D’s
– oh and that naturally skinny beatch, yeah I’m talking to you too
– you whose skin hasn’t seen the light of day since the invention of the Internet
and……..
–you who has been waiting with baited breath to be tagged, yeah you. It’s finally you! “

Hmmmmmm…I still like that tag.  I think that’s what I’m going with.

And speaking of my old blog, not only was my blog mentioned as one of the “75 Great Oklahoma Websites ” by Oklahoma, but I was recently nominated in the category of Family Blogger for the Okie Blogger Awards !  yay!

Hmmmm…perhaps  shut down it down too soon… Nah.

Too many locals had discovered my blog, and I write about my life.  And well, not everyone likes to be written about…dagnabit.  (Don’t you just love the word dagnabit?)

It’s an old story really.

In third grade I got my first C on a report card.  It was in Math.  Those multiplication tables kicked my butt.  Still do for that matter.Anyway, that was not my last C.  Let’s just say that it progressed quite a bit.

And it completely used to frustrate my parents.  They would go to my parent/teacher conferences and the teacher would show my parents my standardized test scores (top 2% in the whole school) and then she would show them my grades.  She would then always say, “Does this look like the same child?”

Then they would come home, and I would be grounded to the dining room to study for 2 hours every night until the next semester scores would come out.

And they would be bad again.

And I would be grounded again.

I just didn’t care.

So Friday Da Boy, who normally gets straight A’s, came home with his report card.  He came to me with this morose look on his face.  “I got terrible grades.”

“Let me see,” I said thinking, “and it begins.”

And I looked.  He got an 86/B in Math.  All of the other subjects were A’s.

I said, “Those are great grades!  If you’re worried about Math, I can help you if you want, but I’m proud of those grades.”

He replied about to cry, “Dad always got straight A’s.  Even in college.”

Oh the pressure of the perfect Dad.

Perhaps it’s time to show him one of my report cards.

Perhaps.

But I don’t want to set a bad example now do I?

So in third grade I had my first big crush.  I remember this crush distinctly.  He was totally cute with his blonde hair and black eyes, and to this day I remember his name, Bob Ford.  But sadly enough, my love was to be unfulfilled.  He liked another, Christina Carpenter…stupid cow.I like Bob Ford until I moved out of town in 5th grade and then my interests moved elsewhere.  By the time I moved back to the same school he had moved out of town himself, and I’d all but forgotten him.

But then 9th grade arrived and I get this shrieking call from a teen friend down the street, “Oh my God.  You are never going to believe who moved in across the street!”

Me, “Who?”

My friend, “Bob Ford!”

“Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!”  We both shrieked in tones that can only be attributed to a teen-aged girl.

My friend, “Come over and then we can watch him move in.”

And I did.  And we watched.  In fact during that summer I think we spent a lot of time walking between her house and mine just to get a look at him.

But again, sadly enough, my love was not to be fulfilled.  He liked another…another stupid cow.

So this weekend Da Boy, a third grader, tells his father he likes a girl at school.

Da Husband asks him, “Really.  Who is she?”

Da Boy, “Sally Gear.  And guess what?”

Da Husband, “What?”

Da Boy, “She likes me too.  So…..you know what that means.”

Da Huband, “What?  You need me to call her parents so that we can take her out to dinner?”

Da Boy all embarrassed, “Ewwwwwww.  No!  Geez.  It means she’s my girlfriend.”

Da Husband containing his amusement, “Oh.”

Da Boy, “Sometimes we eat lunch together.”

Da Husband about to burst, “Oh.”

What’s one of top goals of every parent?  To see their own children do better and be more successful than they were?

Check.

One child down.

One child to go.

I am getting so good at this parenting gig.

(Post note:   What happened to Bob Ford?  Well apparently it’s off to jail for him.  He has a little problem with embezzling money from his father-in-law’s company.  Boy I had good taste.  He’s still cute though, for a criminal.)

So there are times I think that I have completely failed my children, like a few years ago when my then 2 year old daughter said, “What the hell!” while getting frustrated with a toy.  (Yeah.  That’s totally my phrase.  I take responsibility for that one.)  And then there’s the time when my then 3 year old son stands up in the booth in the middle of a restaurant holding his crotch and yells, “Mommy.  My penis hurts!  Kiss it!“

Oh my God.  The Failure.  The Shame.

Last year I was really focusing on teaching my kids about healthy food.  We got books.  We learned to read labels at the grocery store.  We discussed the food pyramid, etc.

But still both kids when you ask them what they want to eat my son always says “double cheeseburger and fries” and my daughter always says “I want Ranch with that please.”

Failure.

Dismal failure.

But every once in a while I have days like yesterday.  We were going through the drive-thru at a fast food restaurant and Da Boy says,

“Mom…does a health inspector make sure that a restaurant serves healthy foods?  Because this restaurant would totally fail.”

Yes!

My lessons are taking hold.  I am succeeding as a mother.

I am Super Nutrition Mom!

And then he says

“Mom.  Can I get the Baconator ?”

Sigh.

Oh well.

At least I still have this.

You Will Be a Cool Parent

You seem to naturally know a lot about parenting, and you know what kids need.You can tell when it’s time to let kids off the hook, and when it’s time to lay down the law.While your parenting is modern and hip, it’s not over the top.You know that there’s nothing cool about a parent who acts like a teenager… or a drill sergeant!

Would You Be a Cool Parent?

I have it!  Definitive proof than men don’t listen.

But first I should explain that Da Husband and I have a flow chart for our kids with their responsibilities.  They get paid for each responsibility.  If they don’t do their stuff they get probation.  If they neglect their duties another week…they get fired and get no allowance.  Ever.  Again.

So yesterday, in fear of getting fired, Little C, who did listen to the warning her mother gave her, finally decided to clean up the pile of birthday gifts in her room.  Needless to say the kids’ trashcan was overflowing with boxes, wrappers, etc.

It’s Da Boy’s job to take out the trash whenever it gets like that, and by the time Da Husband got home last night, well let’s just say it hadn’t been done.

Here’s the conversation:

Da Husband:  Little B take out the trash.

Da Boy all sassy and without looking up from his video game:  I took it out yesterday.

Da Husband:  It’s full again.  Take it out.

Da Boy in zombie video game land:  I took it out yesterday.

Da Husband:  Quit arguing with me and take it out.  It’s full.

Da Boy finally looking up:  YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME!  I SAID I took it out yesterday.

Da Husband with eyebrows raised in warning:  Excuse me? Come here.

Then he began to channel Bill Cosby as Da Boy just stared at him:  Come here.  Come here.  Come here.  COME HERE!

Da Boy now standing by and looking at the overflowing trash:  I said I took out the trash yesterday.

Da Husband:  You don’t want the trash job any more?

Da Boy:  I took out the trash yesterday.

Da Husband in a voice that only comes out of his mouth when he’s been pushed to far:  That’s not what I asked.  Do you want the trash job anymore?

Da Boy:  I took out the trash yesterday.

Da Husband in a controlled blow:  That’s it!  You’re fired.  Little C, how would you like to make more money every week?

Da Girl with glee and joy:  Yah!

Da Boy crying:  Mo-o-o-om!  Da-a-ad fired me.  I don’t get any money ever again! You ne-e-e-ver listen to me.

Me:  Didn’t Dad say for you to take out the trash?

And then I put the hand up to stop the inevitable “but…”:  And then you told him that you did yesterday.  And then he showed you the full trash can and told you to do it and you refused.

And I re-emphasized the hand:  Then you got fired because you refused to do it.  Right?

Da Boy:  NO!  I told him I DID IT YESTERDAY.

See…

Definitive proof that men don’t listen.

And where do they learn it?

Man School

“Listen Men.  You want the upper hand in regards to doing work around the house?  Just remember one thing.  You must always make the woman think that it’s her idea to do your job.  You must get her to think that in fact she wants the job.  It’s easier for her to have the job.

Probably the most convincing way to have your household responsibilities taken away is to get yourself in trouble for not listening.  If you pretend to not listen long enough…they will do your stuff for you.  I know!  Crazy, right?

At this point you may ask yourself why? Because it will take more energy for them to get you to do it than to do it themselves is why.  Sure you have to deal with a ranting banshee every once in a while, and sure it may cost you something important every once in a while.  But it’s worth it men.  Trust me.  It’s worth it. And they will fall for it every time.”

Yup.

Man School strikes again.

I just didn’t know that Little B would be affected by it so early.

So while growing up my Mother tells this story about wearing fuchsia lipstick to school and scrubbing it off the face in the alley behind her home.  Makeup was not allowed on her face, ever.

Then she tells the story of me in 1st grade.  Apparently my teacher called my Mom to tell her that if she were happening to miss her 3-inch gold hoop earrings I could find them in her classroom.  Apparently I thought it was a good idea to wear them to class even though they were the size of my head.

And Monday my 1st grade daughter comes home with fuchsia eye shadow, white lipstick, blush, gold glitter, a new hairdo, and no glasses.  Apparently Princess was trying to top us all.

I’m really looking forward to seeing what her daughter will do.