parenting

Reasons why I hate family game night

January 28, 2013 By Frugie 11 Comments

Have a family game night- it’s fun! They said.

No it’s not.

Family game night is a cross between a trip to the gynecologist and refereeing a cock fight in Guadalupe. It’s miserable and feels like it will never end. (Not that I’ve ever refereed any cock fighting or visited any Mexican town called Guadalupe.)

1.) No one can decide on what game to play. “I want Apples to Apples!” Other kid- “We played Apples to Apples last time, let’s do Guesstures!” Mom and dad don’t really want to do either, but drinking games are kind of inappropriate with a 9 and 12 year old.

2.) Dad won’t get off his laptop. Kid- “DAAAAD, you can’t be on Facebook while we’re playing!” Dad- “I’m not, I’m just keeping tabs on the news. I’m totally paying attention to you guys.” (NOT)

3.) Children won’t put down media devices either. Me- “Daughter (12) it’s time to put away your phone, stop SnapChatting your friends and play. We are doing this for YOU!” (Guilt trips are totally required on family game night by the way.)

4.) Someone always cries. Usually the youngest because they are losing. Then I start crying because I’m so fed up with everyone.

5.) Someone always leaves the game pouting and stomping off loudly up the stairs. Again- usually the youngest. Or me.

6.) They decide to play Monopoly. (Just kill me now) Nothing good ever comes of this game and it goes on for a fortnight.

7.) Dad tries to be funny making irrelevant jokes and it turns out to just annoy everyone. Really, it was kind of funny the first time- but the following five, not so much. Give. It. Up.

8.) One sibling accuses the other of cheating. At this point, you don’t really give a shit and you’re hoping it’s almost bed time.

9.) You’re fed up, you announce the game is over and send everyone to bed. Tears and crying commence and you are told you are the meanest mom EVER! Then you feel like the White Witch in Narnia and everyone blames you for spoiling their fun.

10.) No one remembers whose turn it is and when they do they take F O R E V E R to make their move. (Courtesy of Hollow Tree Ventures)

11.) Little hands can’t hold cards for shit. (Thank you Motherhood WTF)

12.) It’s very hard to find a game that spans ALL ages, let alone one where the older kids don’t whine and cry that ‘THIS IS BOOORING” (this confessed to me via You Know It Happens At Your House Too)

13.) The cat lays on top of the game pieces and game board, wiping out all progress and your wine glass is empty. At this point, everything is futile and it’s time to just send everyone to bed. See #9.

14.) Someone decides to play a game of Smell My Finger (written by The Bearded Iris).

15.) Beer pong is just not the same with apple juice.

Please do my a favor and vote for me for the Circle of Moms Top 25 Funny Moms contest! CLICK HERE. Please and thank you!

Filed Under: Family Tagged With: children, family, family game night, humor, kids, parenting, Relationships, sarcasm, why I hate family game night

10 Reasons Why Minivans are Cool

January 24, 2013 By Frugie 19 Comments

I love my minivan. I do. I don’t understand why people diss on them so much. Last year I wrote Mama’s Pimp Wagon as an ode to my minivan. Maybe I like it so much because it’s a Honda Odyssey that I’ve had for 10 years- DID YOU HEAR THAT HONDA? Yeah, 10 years! Dear God let this not jinx it (knock on wood). It takes me where I need to go, it has heated leather seats, the kids are comfortable. If anyone out there is considering purchasing a minivan- here is why I think they are cool:

They rarely get stolen
There’s 3 rows of seats. Depending on how many kids you have, you can spread them (the kids) out as far as possible.
You can fold the 3rd row seat down very easily and have a picnic back there, or take a spontaneous trip to IKEA and see how many Ulv bookshelves or Torg chairs you can fit.
It has 11 cup holders. With 11 cup holders I own the Starbucks drive thru like a boss. Although I’ve never actually ordered 11 drinks at once. But knowing I can, is joy enough.
I love pulling up to a valet at some swanky place and handing them the keys and saying, ‘take care of her, she’s my baby’, and then also saying, “don’t mind the cheerios and gold fish crumbs everywhere, or the empty juice boxes, or that subtle but funky puke smell.”
You can impress people with your parallel parking skills. Really.
At stop lights you can crank up Kidz Bop or Veggie Tales and take on those teeny pecker wagon Preludes with their over-sized mufflers jamming to Li’l Wayne.
It’s like having your own party bus, but without the stripper pole and chauffeur.
3 words- Automatic sliding doors. I repeat- Automatic Sliding Doors.
It screams commitment and stability. It also screams, we are parents and we have no shame.

Buy the book!

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: children, honda odyssey, humor, minivans, Ooh mama's pimp wagon, parenting, Reasons Minivans are Cool

Just shut the ef up about how my kid looks, okay?

January 7, 2013 By Frugie 11 Comments

If I get my kid a hair cut or not, it’s none of your gads dang beeswax.

Owen hasn’t had a buzz cut since he was 5 years old. He’s 9 now. He likes his hair a long short. It’s short, but it lays a good 5 inches from his scalp. He just likes it kind of moppy.

Every since the haystack hair of preschool days started bothering him, he wears it longer vs. shorter.

Who cares? Right?

Except every dang blessed person needs to point this out to him. Stop already.

First there’s the grandparents. “Well hey son, your hair is getting kinda long there, when are you going to get a hair cut? I can barely see your eyes.

Then Owen will make a tear filled plea, “I wish kids at school would stop talking about my hair”, he’ll cry.

“Why do they talk about your hair?”, I ask.

“They say I look like a girl!”, he’ll cry.

Huh? Ya look like a boy to me kid. What, with your sports jersey, high tops and all that fart talk! So I tell him to never mind and it will all be okay, like any mom does, right?

Then there’s the discussion about his weight-

Did I mention Owen is skinny? He is. His dad is really skinny. Always has been. I mean, like lanky lean Russell Brand skinny. But without the cocaine addiction and long hair.

Owen will grow up to be just like his dad I’m sure. A blond version of his dad. Healthy, tall, lean, a good runner, great at soccer, super coordination, good balance. Yeah, but what do people talk about- how skinny he is.

Thanks people. You know what that does to him? It makes him feel like he’s not good enough being just who he is. It makes him feel like he needs to change to conform to some other ‘normal’ that people seem to picture him in.

How many times I have to give him the pep talk because he’s standing on the scale wondering when he’ll gain 5 pounds. Sure, lots of kids at school are chubby. Do we talk about the chubby kids? No. That would be mean. But telling my kid he needs to eat a cheeseburger because he’s like a bean pole, is okay? No. It’s not.

Yes- this is my son we are talking about. Not my daughter. My daughter who is 12 and you would think would be obsessing over her body, isn’t like this. She’s petite as well but I think she’s learning to appreciate her size, thank God!

Owen is only 9. He’s still getting there.

I tell him, when he stands on the bathroom scale and asks me if he can have a steak so he’ll gain some weight, “Owen, do you know how great it is that you are so lean and light? You know when you do a breakaway in soccer and you run with that ball like the wind? Remember that. That is what you are made for. Not how you look, not how big your muscles are, or a number on the scale. You just keep being you.”

And then he sighs and says, “okay, can I have ice cream?” Yes, son, after your dinner.

Remember what you say to a child. Even a child that is not your own. The words you say to them stay in their little minds and create a truth, a reality that might not be necessary for them to even know or hear. I remember everything said to me growing up about how I looked. And it’s still etched in my brain looking at my 40 year old self. The good and the bad.

This isn’t a, Woe is Me My son Is So Sensitive, post. It’s a, Think of the Words You Choose Towards Children post.

Filed Under: Family Tagged With: blog, body image, children, family, health, humor, parenting

Thankful for boogers and dribbles on the seat

December 17, 2012 By Frugie 4 Comments

Yep. I’m going to say it. I know, it’s a complete change of heart. Especially after all the complaining I do and when I threaten to go on strike. You guys know that’s just hyperbole right? (what a big juicy word, ‘hyperbole’)

Every day a child is taken too soon from this world. It’s the sad fact of life. Childhood cancer, bike accidents, car accidents happen every day. Children by the hundreds die in the Sudan because of starvation and disease. Why did the Sandy Hook Elementary tragedy make such a difference for me? I don’t know. Maybe because it’s relatable to me based on the victims’ ages and location and its absolute randomness. It could happen anywhere.

So I’m still my snarky self. Trust me. But I decided first to remember before I gripe at my kids ONE MORE TIME about the clothes that needed picking up and the wrappers left randomly around the house, to take a breath, to speak calmly, and not let the little things bother me.

Will I still parent and make them hate me from time to time because I put my foot down on setting boundaries? You betcha. Will I do it with respect for them and their dignity? Absolutely.

This weekend I told McSweetie I’m not going to nag. He probably thought it was a Christmas miracle that came early. I will kindly ask him to remove his toenail clippings from the bathroom floor and whiskers from the sink. And then I’ll flash him my boobs when the kids aren’t around. It’s a win-win situation for both of us. He might start doing more chores, more often.

I will remember not to roll my eyes (it’s hard for me). I roll my eyes and see my brain sometimes. I will try not to get exasperated when Owen asks for the bajillionth time questions like this- “how tall is Marshawn Lynch from the Seahawks?” “How much money did Steve Jobs make before he died?” “Is the White House the biggest house in America?” “What kind of car am I going to drive when I get my license?” “Does Dad make more money than so and so’s dad?”

You get my point.

He is one inquisitive kid. But hey, what a blessing, right?

Then there’s Emma’s fits of absolute dissolve over something minor. But never tell a pre-teen girl ‘it’s not a big deal’. Because guess what? It’s a pretty big fucking deal I didn’t wash the socks she was planning to wear today.

I will remind her, without screaming at her, that I am not a mind reader. That I’m happy to wash her socks with the rest of the laundry after she gathers it up off her floor and into her hamper. But then I will smile, and hug her (but only when she’s ready, because hugging a pre-hormonal adolescent girl before she’s ready is as dangerous as wrangling an alligator.) I will smooth her hair and wipe her tears and offer her a snack.

Most often kids are cranky when they are hungry, so I will make sure she doesn’t need anything to eat.

So I think this will be a good plan. When Owen hands me a booger, the size of his thumb and announces, “I was digging for gold!” I will smile and tell him that his gold needs to be put in a kleenex treasure chest.

Those little stinkers!!

I love them and their boogers, and their tears, and their farts. And McSweetie’s toenails. I kinda love them. Sort of.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: children, family, gratitude, humor, kids, life, motherhood, parenting

Today I’m over at Bonbon Break- in the bedroom

December 3, 2012 By Frugie Leave a Comment

Well, I’m not actually over there sitting like a miniature person in the computer screen waving at you. That would be very Willy Wonka ish, wouldn’t it?

But click on over to their holiday issue and read about a coming of age story. Yes, Emma has reached a milestone about old St. Nick.

These are those parenting moments that keep you on your toes.

Enjoy the magic while it lasts. And by magic, I mean, the lying facade of trying to be a magical fat man who spies on sleeping children.

Read here- Bonbon Break

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Bonbon break, Bonbon Break Bedroom, children, Christmas, holidays, kids, parenting, Will Santa Return this Year?

Wife Confession: I enjoy the hubs away on business trips. Short ones, of course.

November 29, 2012 By Frugie 10 Comments

I think the further into marriage and kids you delve, the more you realize how much you like to be alone. Or is that just me?

I love my kids, I love my husband. Blah blah blah. You know this to be true. But come on. I love being alone. I’m the Greta Garbo of my peers. Leave me alone to bask in the glow of the reality TV show from my flat screen. Let me nap with the dog on the couch. Let me go poop by myself and change my maxi pad without interruption.

So when McSweetie had a business trip this week, I felt more sense of me time than just when he’s at work. Why? Maybe because after the kids go to bed, I rule the family room and the remote. Okay, I rule the remote most nights anyway. BUT. I got to sit around, pass gas, drink wine and watch all the Lifetime movies a girl could want. And they were holiday Lifetime movies. Even better.

So hubs comes home in the evening from the airport, kids are happy to see him, yada yada, and I’m moaning on the couch before it’s time to tuck in the boy. I’ve heated up the hot pad twice and stuffed it in my pajama pants. This my friends, is a clear signal that Aunt Flo has come to town and she’s brought her suitcase. Did McSweetie notice this? Not so much. He asks what’s wrong. I mouth ‘cramps’ and give that all knowing look like, ‘poor me, I has armageddon uterus.’ What does he do? He gives me the exasperated look like, ‘didn’t you just have your period’, and says to me “that’s not what I was expecting.”

I stayed quiet, popped some Aleve and reheated my heat pad. I waited for him to fall asleep on the couch while I concocted this entire speech in my head.

Here goes:

“THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU WERE EXPECTING? REALLY? Yeah, well, newsflash bucko, it’s been 25 days since the last one. I’m sorry I wasn’t greeting you at the door wearing nothing but a trench coat and had the kiddos already tucked in bed sleeping soundly so we could have wild monkey sex on the dining room table. Which if you hadn’t noticed already was cleared off of its crap from the last several months.

Yeah, and another thing. You probably thought, ‘oh bummer, looks like the wifey isn’t up for some lovin’ tonight. Whoa is me, I won’t get some.’ But did you ever think- ‘Awww, poor thing. Look at her. She’s done all the chores and even scrubbed the base boards (I did actually, can you believe it?!) and she has an achy uterus and feels poorly.’

But did you think that? Hmm, did you?? NO. Of course you didn’t.

You don’t care that the pain I feel in my baby box slightly resembles that of the first few hours of labor. Where my endometrial lining is screaming at me and I have pain spasms all the way down my butt. Yeah. So there.

Don’t mind me. I just dropped off your dry cleaning, kept the children alive, washed the sheets, scrubbed the base boards (Did I mention I scrubbed the baseboards?) and cleaned up some crap from forever ago, and am sitting here being miserable in my female-ness that I have NO CONTROL over!

So yeah. Go fall asleep on the couch. No nookie for you.

Men.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: cramps, family, humor, life, no nookie for you, parenting, personal, PMS, rants, Relationships, sarcasm, uterus armageddon, women

Self love. Yes, THAT kind.

November 13, 2012 By Frugie 24 Comments

Please be advised this is no pervy, whack-off post. Any of you who found this by Google or other key words, just go elsewhere. This is about parenting. If you’re looking for anything otherwise, move along.

Masturbation.

Yep. That word. It’s a doozy. What comes to mind when I hear that? That character on Family Guy, was it Master Bates from the Morning Wood Academy? Ha ha. Insert frat humor here.

Okay. Have you had THAT talk with your kids? I’ve had that talk with my kids. But I’m talking about this talk. The other talk. You know, where you tell them that if they touch themselves they will go blind. Or their hand will shrivel up and fall off. I’m kidding! I just said that small puppies will die. Okay, seriously.

I have NOT had this talk with my kids. We’ve talked about sex and how a baby is made. Emma is pretty clear on most things between a man and a woman. I mean, you know, the basics. She’s had family life in school, she knows about STDs and drugs and alcohol. She’s got it covered.

Okay, well maybe I did have THIS talk about Master Bates with Emma. But it was not on purpose.

My children have always been, uhm, you know, precocious. They are big farters and announcers about their farts. They talk about their privates. ALL. THE. TIME. We’re pretty comfortable talking about pretty much anything.

And then, the other day, Owen asks me if it’s true that when you rub your nuts your penis gets hard. Well, I said, I don’t have that equipment so I can’t say from experience. (Yeah, I know, easy way out.) But that if at any time you want to touch your privates, it’s totally fine to do as long as you are by yourself and privately at home. And then I asked him where he heard this bit of information. And he said a kid at school said that rubbing your junk makes it hard. Lovely.
AWKWARD. So I just casually said that if he had any questions he should probably ask his father. And that if he ever feels like touching himself, it’s totally not a big deal and again, reiterate that it is to be done in seclusion. And to please not talk about it with anyone outside our family, like at school or the playground. It’s best to just come to me or dad with questions.

I think I handled that pretty well.

Moving on to a different day and Emma makes a joke about rubbing the cats balls while she was petting his belly. Technically he doesn’t have any balls, since he is neutered, which is also more fodder for discussion and jokes in this house. We like to talk in funny cat voices and talk about his missing balls. It’s a whole ‘nother story. I said to please not molest the cat, it invades his privacy. One should only rub their own privates not anyone else’s or any animal’s for that matter. (Seriously, I need to have these conversations? WTF?) So she says, “Why on earth would anyone ever want to rub their privates?!”

Uhm. Well. Uhm. No reason.

Is what I should have said.

But instead, I start to pontificate on the benefits of self pleasure. Well, not exactly. But I said that masturbation is totally normal and nothing to be ashamed or afraid of. It is perfectly common for when you start to reach adulthood and sexual maturity to want to touch yourself only with the means of making it ‘feel good’.

Insert big shocked face from Emma here.

“Oh my gosh!! There is NO WAY that I’m just going to stick my hand down to my vagina because I WANT to! Do I just start flapping around my labias and clitoris for fun? NO!” (okay, this girl knows her parts and it kinda freaks me out every time she uses them in context!)

Me- “Well, your brother was discussing that boys at school talked about rubbing their privates and it felt good, so I was just making sure you were clear on the whole parameters on that kind of thing.”

Her- “DISGUSTING! So dad rubbed his junk when he was a teenager? Like I want to think about that!! EWWW!!! No thank you!”

Me- (Totally not trying to crack up and make her think I think this is a joke. She makes Taylor Lautner pectoral jokes all the time, now she goes all prude on me?) “Hey, that’s fine sweetie, whatever you are comfortable with. And if you have any questions, feel free to ask.” (please, please, please, don’t have any questions.)

Her- “Okay, well thank you for that mom. I’ll just go to bed now and try not to have nightmares about this sort of thing.”

Drama queen much?

So there you go. If you ever need any advice on how to talk to your kids about anything sexual, feel free to ask me. No, actually, I’m kidding. You’re on your own.

But I have said this- as much as we parents squirm and dance around this stuff- if your kids can come to YOU about it, Elle Woods finger snaps to you.

Because parenting is about being there. And then blogging about it after they walk away.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: adolescence, children, family, humor, kids, masturbation, parenting, puberty, sex

RTLF #22 – my kids

November 2, 2012 By Frugie 8 Comments

Way back when, before there was Owen, we considered Emma might be an only child. My pregnancy was tough with her. My post partum was no picnic either. Unless it’s a picnic where fire ants crawl in your pants, sting your crotch and wild honey badgers shred your nipples. Not pretty.

James probably had a coronary five times over stressing about the health of his wife and unborn child in a time span of 3 months. He figured we were done in the baby gestating department.

But once the baby-nesia set in, and I was ready for another, I convinced James that Emma needed a sibling. That she wasn’t going to be the token child of some sweet, middle class couple who doted on her and was totally whipped because she was the center of our universe. It was important for her to have a sibling, a counterpart in the family. And if we could grow that little cabbage patch kid ourselves, let’s give it a go.

After Emma’s second birthday, the idea of being pregnant again didn’t seem like a horrible idea anymore. So sure enough, I got knocked up, and that baby turned out to be Owen. She had just turned 3 when he was born.

Despite the early years of whining, bickering, throttling, and basic sibling rivalry between them, we’ve turned a corner.

Every now and then the uterus spawn will do something to shock and awe you into thinking that maybe they won’t kill and hate each other forever.

This week, Emma wrote an essay on how her favorite thing to do is spend time with her brother. I think the earth stopped spinning for just a milisecond there out of shear WTFness.

The following is her words, and yes, I melted reading this.

“I have had many memories, but my favorite ones are with my brother. My most cherished moment in my life happened when I was three years old. My Oma and Opa woke me up early in the morning with smiles on their faces to tell me my brother was born. We drove to the hospital to see the new addition to my family. When we arrived to our destination I remember being filled with glee. With my baby doll in my arms that I named Owen to prepare for holding the real Owen, I sat down in the big hospital chair and my father placed my brother in my arms. With the amount of tears and cameras out I knew that it was an important moment. Today, there are small moments that I cling to such as beating my brother at Mario Kart, him saying I look pretty, or even when he laughs at my joke.

Another reason why spending time with my brother is important is he has always been there for me. Two years ago I had a back injury that had me in bed for a week. During the bed rest period I was helpless and scared because I didn’t know what was wrong with me and I couldn’t even walk to the bathroom by myself. One of the hard days I was really emotional and I needed cheering up. My brother, being the cute little boy he is, came up to me and handed me one of his stuffed animals. It was a giant, blue cookie monster from Sesame Street. He told me to get better soon and he loved me. His words of encouragement were just what I needed. The days of hurt went by faster and I was soon fully recovered. That was one of the many examples of Owen being by my side and helping me get through something. I loved every second of my brother’s words of wisdom.

In conclusion, spending time with my brother, Owen is my favorite thing to do because of amazing memories we have had, him always having my back and life lessons we have had together.”

Emma is turning this essay in today and I needed a copy of it to prove to her she did once write this. My work here is done people.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: brothers and sisters, essays, family, Love, parenting, Reason To Live Fridays, relationship, sibling love, siblings

Mom on Strike

October 30, 2012 By Frugie 4 Comments

Dear Family,

This is not the NFL. No replacement refs here. No SCABS.

When you wake up in the morning, get your own damn waffle. You can reach the toaster.

Pack your lunch.

When you can’t find your socks, look in the drawer. Or the dryer, or the hamper. Have you ran the washing machine? It’s not magic, it doesn’t run on its own. Oh and don’t just load the blasted thing, put that shit in the dryer, then FOLD. IT. Yep. Guess what? Folding and putting the laundry away is THE BORING part. Uh huh. You may think ‘you’re all that’, putting them dirty clothes in the machine. But that don’t make you a hero.
The battle is in the taking those socks, making them into sock balls. Taking t-shirts that are inside out and putting them right side in. Or out. Whatever. Oh dear GOD how does every motha fuckin’ shirt get inside out in the wash??? I don’t take off my shirts and put them over my head like that. Is that necessary?

Okay, moving on.

Garbage on the floor. Throw away your own furkin’ wrappers, kleenexes, band-aids, used ones especially, popsicle sticks, gogurt tubes…. oh my gads, is this a frat house??? Throw away all toe nail clippings. I shouldn’t have to ask you twice.

After dinner, if I’m at a PTA meeting, you know one of the many things I do for free, don’t just pile up the dishes on the counter over the dishwasher. Put them IN it. Put the pans in the sink. Put away any leftover food in the refrigerator. Oh, and this is big, WIPE. OFF. THE. COUNTERS. I know it’s hard. It can be yucky. What, all those crumbs and spills. Yeah, disgusting.

If I make the danged dinner, least you can do is clean up after it.

All your clothes and random belongings need to go up to your room. That means all of you. I’m tired of looking at your thermals, hoodies and soccer shoes. Why are there always socks in the family room? Hair accessories are the same. Do they multiply like bunnies? Why are there always bobby pins and hair elastics in every room of the house?

If you have a dish in a room of the house, other than the kitchen, put it away. I don’t want to find your milk glass in your bedroom two weeks later.

Toilet paper needs to be replaced on the roll. How many times do I have to say this? If you are using the last roll, go get several more from the bathroom cupboard.

If you use the last milk, go into the garage fridge, and get the next carton.

All tools need to be returned to their proper place. That means a roll of tape goes back in the office. A hammer goes back in the garage.

Please don’t leave Nerf weapons randomly on the stairs. Someone will trip over them. Okay, I will trip over them.

Now that we have that established, I think I’ll go to the spa, and then eat bonbons watching an entire season of Boardwalk Empire on DVD from the library.

Someone call for pizza.