Tag Archives: the suburban jungle

Enough With The Freakin’ Awards – Should Our Kids Get Trophies For Everything They Do?

Trophies ecard

 

 

 

 

 

 

At 3, my kids received trophies for soccer, which I assure you were not deserved. How do I know? Um, there were times my daughter would stop kicking the ball to chase a dragon fly. And, I could be wrong, but I don’t think my son was bending it like Beckham when he would pick up the ball with his hands and throw it to a friend mid-game.

I know, it wasn’t about them deserving their awards … all the kids get trophies for simply showing up to the ceremony — because that’s what we do to our millennial children, we make them think that they’re the best at everything. We praise them constantly and tell them everyone is a winner, leaving them little motivation, little idea of what the real world is like, and little chance of not freaking out when they realize they aren’t perfect. Continue reading

Motherhood Feeling: If I’m the Sane One – I Must Be Losing My Mind

motherhood insane

.

Do you ever have certain feelings about motherhood, like: Is it supposed to make me this crazy? How am I supposed to be able to think on this little sleep? How come it affects my ability to have a rational thought or conversation … or my ability to shower on a regular basis? Yeah, me too … I usually have those thoughts after conversations like this: Continue reading

40 Signs You’re a PARENT …

40 signs that you are a motherAfter writing about how you know if you’re the mom of a boy or the mom of a girl, I realized there are so many indicators that define us moms and literally set us apart from every other life force on Earth. So, here you have it: Signs You’re a Mom or as I like to say, You Know You’re a Moms IF…

1.  You haven’t heard your actual name the entire day, but you’ve been beckoned relentlessly.

2.  You’ve ever sang Old MacDonald with the same enthusiasm you once sang I Will Survive.

3.  Lying is always an option, as in … “I’m sorry, the arcade is closed on Sunday.” “I love the outfit you put together yourself.” “You’re right, you do sound just like Beyonce when you sing.” and “No, they don’t give ketchup at the drive-thru.”

4.  You have some sort of stain on your clothing that you would literally have to taste to place.  What is that latte or spit up? Hmm… Gimme a sec…  Oh, it’s spit up.

5.  You’ve recently consumed a partial plate of sliders, french fries, chicken nuggets, or mini hot dogs and you weren’t attending Mayor McCheese’s wedding. Continue reading

Why Having Memory Problems Like Brain Fog and Momnesia Sucks – Reason #342

memory problems, momnesia, brain fog, humor

 

The explanation for memory problems #342 is actually titled: No one is named Chaka Khan. Yes, it may seem obscure, but I bet you’ve come across it once or twice. Well, if you, like me, have disabling brain fog (due to having once birthed a child, meds that don’t agree with your mind, or maybe some kind of Gluten sensitivity). I’m not saying I have a gluten allergy, but it’s super trendy to have one, so I may pick one up for Fall.

So, here is why Reason #341: They Charge a Fee For Forgetting Appointments Even if You’re Going to Talk to a Doctor about Forgetfulness, is no longer the final reason… Continue reading

There is No Good Reason to Properly Guess Someone’s Age, Size or Pregnancy Status – EVER!

When a woman, who was not carny folk, guessed my age on the nose, I realized there is NEVER any reason to hit that nail on the head… NEVER.

the_jerk_1979_weight_guessing2

Last week, I was getting a lovely facial, as any facial should be. Wait, did I say
lovely, because I meant frightening, and horrifyingly stressful.

There, that’s better.

Sure, the goal of any facial is anti-aging, but this woman looked me right in the pores with one of those magnifying thingamabobs and said, “Let me guess, you’re about 41?”

“Fuck you! You, evil black-head sucking bitch!” I yelled at the top of my lungs as I smushed the Vitamin C Ester Detoxifying Anti-Aging mask, she was applying, into her eyes.

OK fine, I didn’t do that, but I thought about it, I thought about it hard. I believe I said something more cowardly like, “No, I’m actually 40 and a half.” Then I squeezed the tears from running down my face (as she’d have no trouble spotting them with her all seeing glass).

“Yes, I could tell,” she went on smugly, as if I had asked how she knew, “because some of your pores are rather enlarged and I don’t see naso-labial folds this deep in people under 40.

“Really, because I’ve had those marionette lines since I was a child.” I said defensively in an ‘I’ll Show You,’ kinda way. Though, it probably made me sound like I used to be some creepy Howdy Doody looking kid, instead. Continue reading

35 Reasons Moms are Late

35 reasons moms are late

I was never an incredibly punctual person, but but becoming a parent has put a whole new spin on my excuses for being late to meetings, school drop off, parties and appointments. As was made apparent in my “20 Momisms Translated” post, we moms have a lot in common… why should this be any different?

Back in the day, I was late because of the normal stuff, you know, my hair didn’t look just right, my alarm clock didn’t go off, there was traffic on 95… Now, between me barely keeping my head on straight and my kids being out of their minds, my excuses look more like this:

Sorry I’m late but …

1. My daughter’s socks hurt, or as she put it, her socks “hate her.”

2. All of a sudden, none of their shoes seemed to have a mate. NONE.

3. I couldn’t find my keys … they were in my pocket.

4. My kids were fighting over who got to sit in which seat.

5. My daughter’s fingernail was itchy.

6. My son decided to wrestle with the dog rather than simply walk out the door, so we had to roll off the fur, but I couldn’t find the lint roller, so I had to fashion one from masking tape and MacGyver it off.

7. Both my children had to make a last-minute poop.

8. It seemed like a good time for one of them to ask where babies come from. Continue reading

Can You Eat a Cat if it Doesn’t Have a Name?

We let our kitty name herself... Meet Qopn!2kWell, we’re going on week 3 and Josie/Clover/Cat face/Mrs. Bigglesworth still doesn’t have a name or should I say she has too many?  How am I ever going to teach her to fetch, and roll over, and play the keyboard, and fold the laundry, and pose for pictures (so that I can make a fortune like ICanHasCheezBurger), if she doesn’t know her name?

What, cats don’t do those things?

Of course they do, you just have to teach them to fold using one of those boards they use at the Gap, also you may have to implant little sticks into their paws so you can control them like marionettes.

And have you not seen Keyboard Cat? She proves to me on a daily basis that anything is possible.

She’s my hero.

Anyhoo, our kitty who will one day be an internet sensation (or at the very least, fold my laundry) has no name. After my kids refused to name her *Clawwdia Schiffer or Justin Bie-purr or Jimmy Talon, or Will Feral or Oprah Winfrey (there’s no play on words there, we just thought it’d be really funny to say, look Oprah Winfrey pooped in the litter box) we were really lost.

We had finally found a boy name we agreed on. That name was Carl.

We all truly got a good laugh out of people coming to the house and having this conversation: Continue reading