United States of Motherhood: October 2010

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Very Scary Halloween

It's been very scary this last week. I've been flu-ish. Very, very flu-ish.

Deathly 103.5 fever--after double dosing Motrin --flu-ish. Bricks on chest, gasping for breath flu-ish.

So not okay when I was already procrastinating.

Moms. Do. Not. Have. Time. To. Get. Sick. This. Time. Of. Year.

The result?

I did not attend one child's Halloween party.

You know--the ones I usually spend hours planning and executing with over the top style. Nope.

So here we sit Halloween night with one baby girl off to her Halloween festivities and two still getting ready...and I bought not one Halloween costume.

We scavenged from an old dress up trunk, old make up, leftover spirit day hairspray, and what we had in the house.

We put only a scant handful of decorations up, instead of the five crates of season fun.

We bought the leftover pumpkins and candy at the grocery store today.

Don't laugh...

We seriously carved only two very rudimentary pumpkins, instead of the normal 6-8 elaborately carved ones.

Guess what?

The world did not explode. The roof did not collapse. The Mommy police did not collect me for grossly under-performing the perfect mom model.

And? Everything is not perfect, and yet everything is perfect.

The flu?

Maybe this was some cosmic force making me chill the freak out.

If so, message received.

Definitely message received!

Now on to scarier things...


This princess fairy wearing wings from when she was in pre-school is what barely 11 going on freaking 21 looks like.

Scary! Very scary Halloween indeed.
Help!

Thx for the Flickr pics by effekt!

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Anita Hill: Whiny, Attention-Getting, Victim Complex?


Let's compare:

1. One wife feeling her husband was wrongly accused as a sex offender leaves a private message on a voice mail.

2. One "victim" receiving said call decides to waste tax payers dollars by ALERTING the FBI and media that {gasp} she was asked for an apology she didn't want to give.

I hardly see asking the first as seeking attention, but sorry the second certainly raises eyebrows as to motives.

Read more at CafeMom's The Stir.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

"Try It Mikey" Mentality Lost: Me Thinks Puberty

I made some homemade caramel sauce on Sunday with sweetened condensed milk. With jest, I told the kids it was butternut squash soup. CG and I proceeded to dip apples in it. My accomplice CG, always a sport, took it to a new level and further verified the vegetable soup by by dipping his pastrami and onion sandwich in it.

Yes, we go all out when deceiving our kiddos. Call us evil parents! Heh!

We learned something incredibly enlightening.

Li'l Man shrugged, accepted us at our word, dipped his apple in the soup, and said,
"Mmmm. Tastes like caramel."

Eldest curled his lip. He didn't want to even try it. When he did begrudgingly taste it, he made sounds of distaste something along the lines of, "Yucky."

When told what it actually was, he sheepishly grinned and then ate it like a good little boy with a teenage gusto for sugar.

Yep, score one for the 8-year-old's open mind over the 14-year-olds' slammed-shut culinary taste.

Thoughts?

This may be a stretch, but I have some allegories to politics, discrimination, and a multitude of adult vices brewing in my head. When do we cross over from that open-mindedness to suspicion, judgment, and fear of what's different or deemed unwanted?

Puberty perhaps when the power of suggestion can turn even the most innocuous caramel vile.

Many thx for the Flickr pic by Pinot & Dita

Monday, October 18, 2010

Numbers and The Hated Eleven

I have this thing about ages. I hated 19. I abhorred 26. I despised 35 and I know I will hate 39 and for sure 40.

Don't ask me why.

Okay, do ask.

Perhaps these sums don't add up to what I had wished for myself.


For what I had imagined and for where, as a youth, I planned to be as a woman. I see missed opportunities and wasted minutes, hours, and days in those sums of my years.

I see goals dashed. Dreams lazily squandered.

No worries. I have an antidote. I just look at my children and I am easily proud of what I have done for them.

Today, however, I am hating on a new number.

ELEVEN.

Sigh...my baby girl was eleven this week-end. Soooo pre-teen. Eleven didn't bother me so much with my Eldest, but for my only baby girl?

Eleven is scaring me.

Worse, we somehow planned her Student Body Leadership camp to coincide with this birthday. She's been on slumber parties, but this is the first trip without me as a chaperon.

I didn't realize this until I had dropped her off at the bus.

I didn't realize it until I began to miss her.

There I was on a Sunday afternoon outnumbered three to one. One husband, two sons, and me. I needed my girl-power ally and she was gone. My mirror of arched brows and rolled eyes when one of those silly boys exasperated us.

So why do I hate eleven?

I see it as one more step, one more year toward her leaving home for good. Eleven takes her out of the school yard and firmly into middle school, boys, student senator, friends, and much more... and away from me.



Did you hear that? That was the seam of an apron string tearing and wrapping around the emptiness of my heart.

My heart feels tight.

I can't wait until she gets back. I need her overly tight hugs right now.

Many thx for the Flickr pic by tkamenick

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Oh the Drama: Otherwise Known as Life Is Too Much for Me Right Now

I've been incredibly busy and sadly absent here. Stirring up shit elsewhere. Heh!

So while you twiddle your thumbs waiting for me to get my head out of my butt and blog, here's this for your viewing enjoyment:


Dontcha just love spawn of Beelzebub? I am sure we mommies and daddies all know the feeling.

Oh, okay, if you must read something I shat out, check out this from my other gig:



Not up your alley. Now who's being difficult, eh? Fine! Okay how's about this:


Cheers! Coming from a frazzled Seattle suburban area near you....

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