Tag Archives: Neurotic Mommy

All Moms Are Neurotic Sometimes – Right?

pull out hair stress frustrated

Here’s the thing, I’m not saying you’re neurotic, but we’ve all had those moments that totally defy all logic and reasoning. It’s just that some of us have more than others. I have these moments almost daily, hourly. I know… you’re jealous.

You too can have them, just develop a hearty case of OCD or throw all rational reasoning out the window and start to believe your thoughts can control the world (they’re the same thing).  

My please-don’t-have-me-committed moment du jour was focused on a prescription of antibiotics for my daughter’s double ear infection.  Please note, the child’s never had an ear infection and for her first, she’s decided to have two. Let me tell you, that kid NEVER does anything half-assed, which is something I usually marvel at.

Anyhoo, after 4 days of diligently doling out her meds, twice a day (No easy task, as any mom will tell you), I accidentally knocked the bottle over onto the counter.

I felt the way an alcoholic would watching interventionists pour the last bit of liquor down the drain, or worse, the way EVERY breastfeeding mom feels when a bottle of pumped milk AKA “liquid gold” is spilled – sob worthy.

I watched as the pink milky blob spread across the counter and did what any other self respecting mom would do. I grabbed a medicine syringe and started siphoning the remains. But, I couldn’t put it back into the bottle, why? I mean, there were 6 days left and at least 4 were staring at me in a blob on the counter. Instead I filled a separate glass with everything I could suck up, and stared at it.

Now, a new mom would probably Continue reading

Sex or Oven Cleaning : The Age Old Dilema

That’s the question I was faced with the other night… and after a decade of marriage, I chose to clean my oven.  (Sadly, that’s not a metaphor.)

Recently, I went to a sex party, which one of my friends was co-hosting.  Upon entering, I was quickly introduced to the “Sexpert.”

“Jenny this is Julie, she is a penis expert.” No joke, that’s how she was introduced.  This made me wonder: why people don’t introduce me as something cooler?

“That’s funny.  I’m somewhat of a penis expert myself,” I said, buffing my nails on my shirt as if cleaning an apple.  Then I blathered something about not being a pro like her, because I didn’t want to jeopardize my amateur status.  You know, for the Olympics?  Jenny what the hell are you talking about?  Did you just mention the Olympics? The Olympics of what – hand-jobs?  Just shut up, already.

Sometimes when I’m uncomfortable I use exaggerated humor to fill conversational gaps.  Did I say use?  I meant abuse, like in the form of an oddly misplaced stand-up routine, which can become painful to watch and often requires more than a two drink minimum.

“Oh, what do you do?” she asked, not knowing what to make of my schtick.  “Are you a urologist or something?”

“No, I’m just a slut.“

Really, Jenny? Did you just say that? What’s the matter with you? 

“I’m not really a slut, I’ve just… Continue reading

What have you done for me lately? Too much!

In one week Suburban Jungle will celebrate it’s first birthday! Yes, one year of building a following of tons of readers and 1000’s of visitors each month… sometimes each week.  One year of amazing comments, personal email responses, and whispers at the grocery store.  The gestation period for this baby was about 7 years longer than the standard 9 months, but it was well worth it.

I started this blog after signing up for FB.  Before I knew it, I had hundreds of FB friends, because I am extremely popular.  I realized, here is a huge audience of people that I can awkwardly and annoyingly push my material on.  Due to nostalgia induced guilt, they just might read it. Since then, it has grown into a legitimate site, read by people all over the planet, literally.  I have become a contributing writer for CityMommy, NewParent, SheJustGotMarried, and the JewishTimes.  I have been mentioned in Good Housekeeping, and I am contributing to a hilarious book!

Because of you, I am looking for an agent and working on pitching two books.  I have gotten multiple calls about writing a pilot and am very seriously working towards getting many of my articles published… articles that started out as blog posts, for your entertainment.  If I did not have such amazing people following the blog, commenting, calling, and emailing, I don’t think I would have been so inspired to pursue this dream.  So, I want to thank you.

This is around the time I would start to insult you, by saying something like, “It was you, the little people, the peons, that helped me, a titan of brilliant creativity.  Who would ever have imagined?”  But I wouldn’t dare, because I still need you little people.

I need you now more than ever.  Because I am focusing on making this a career, I can not focus on marketing the blog.  I need those of you who are technologically savvy to Stumble me, Mixx me, Digg me, Blog Roll me, Tweet me, and Tickle me.  I made the last one up, but who doesn’t like a good tickle?  For those of you who don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about, please pass me on to friends, neighbors, class lists, and Mommy And Me programs.

This is an official amendment to our contract, like getting an annoying packet explaining the change in your insurance coverage.  I write a blog that is mostly article driven.  If I want consistent traffic without marketing, I need to be more “bloggish,” and POST, POST, POST.  So rather than let the Suburban Jungle suffer, I will enhance it with more frequent posts.  Not all will be articles, I am still just one insanely talented person.  But, I promise they will be witty, relatable, and sometimes short.

I will continue to give you the articles you love so much, and in return you will continue to enjoy the posts… that’s an order. You will talk about me at lunches, PTA meetings, water coolers, and play-dates.  You will sign up friends to the email subscription with out their permission.  You will annoy them with requests to join the Suburban Jungle group or networked blog on FB, and insist that they follow me on twitter.  Most importantly, you will ignore all spelling and grammatical errors.

I will hold you to our contract, which like an insurance company, I have the right to amend at any time, without prior notice.  Thanks for reading and inspiring every word!  You are truly the best audience ever!

Much Love,

Jenny from the blog

I always love feedback and hope to hear from you.

The FB Suburban Jungle group will receive articles only… not the entire feed, for the full experience sign up for the FB networked blogs thing-a-ma-who-ha.

I will not have as much time to post on LinkedIn, so if you find me there, sign up directly on my site, and feel free to link to me.

Is it just me or does money seem tight these days?

I don’t know about you guys, but I have watched my investments plummet.  it’s probably just me.  I must have made bad choices.  Reeling from the tech fallout of 2002, I cautiously invested in low risk things like bonds, and solid proven companies like GE and CitiBank.  What was I thinking?

Oddly, I also assumed that my husband would receive his weekly commission based paychecks well, weekly.  I appear to have been wrong on both counts. The constant chatter I hear on line at the supermarket, where people are pulling coupons out of their Chanel bags to save a buck on T.P. (one ply), makes me think, “maybe I‘m not alone.”

I want to know when I started to sound desperate and entitled?  Was it when I complained that I have to make my own coffee? Or when in an attempt to avoid such a dreadful task, I offered my barista a BJ in return for a Grande latte?

You know Sally Struthers once said, that a child in a third world country could live on the price of just one cup of coffee a day.  There’s probably a Starbucks like every 8 huts in Ethiopia, but how can I buy them coffee everyday when I can’t afford my own?  Oh, the irony.  You know Sally also said, “Stop calling my husband Meathead, Daddy.“ so I don’t know why I’m letting her make me feel guilty in the first place.

Here in the first world — America, there are people who struggle everyday of their lives and in the face of that I still manage to be upset that my husband and I haven’t exchanged gifts this year.

In an attempt to be frugal and responsible I recently returned $200 worth of “barely” used makeup and creams to Sephora.  Look, we all know that stuff looks perfect in the blinding color melting lights of the store and not so perfect in the natural lighting of … reality.

That was a resourceful plan.  Unfortunately,  I couldn’t use the credit to buy groceries or vaccines, so I did the next best thing and prudently bought myself new creams and make-up that probably won’t look good in reality either.  I may have, in a hopeless attempt to feign normalcy, wrapped those items and given them to my husband to give me for Valentine’s day.  Don’t judge, the manager said I could bring back anything that was barely used.  Under that premise, I’m going to try to return my diaphragm to Walgreens tomorrow.

As is obvious, I am using as many creative saving outlets as possible.  Yesterday, I caught myself thriftily gazing upon my husband’s pile of dry cleaning and wondering how much of it a little spritz, elbow grease, and a strong wind couldn‘t fix.  That thought gave me quite a chuckle and then I spit on the stains, rubbed them together, and blew them with my hair dryer.  It worked… I may have discovered the “Ancient Chinese Secret.“  Let‘s keep that one between us.  I’m using the money I saved to stave off my barista for couple weeks.

This morning I went so far as to wrap a barely read book for Ryan’s book exchange.  Actually, that one kinda falls under laziness.  A big sorry to the recipient, I think the one time we read it, Ryan had hand foot mouth, but I’m sure the dog hair tumbleweeds and pet dander in my house just scrubbed those germs right off.

PS  I am still negotiating with said barista.  He countered my offer with a week of free Grandes with extra whip (wink wink).  To which I replied, “Make them Ventis, and we got a deal.”  He drives a hard bargain, but I am confident that I am coming out ahead on this one, pun always intended.

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