Let's Sail the Bloggy Seas.....

BBBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTTTTT!!

Please excuse this interruption as “Mamma Talk” has temporarily been pirated by some ghostly, ghastly pirates.

Pirate 1: Arrrgh! We’re at the Capt’n’s wheel now, Mateys!

Pirate 2: We be flyin’ the Jolly Roger tonight. This be our blog now. “Pirate Talk” she’ll be. Argh.

Pirate 1: We be off to sail the bloggy seas. Pull the anchor and raise the sails, me hearties.

Pirate 2: We be helpin’ ourselves to yer bloggy booty, stealing yer pieces of eight and helpin’ ourselves to yer lassies.

Pirate 1: And, if ya don’t like it….well, dead men tell no tales.

Pirate 2: And, if ya do like it, well, yo-ho-ho!

Pirate 1: Light the cannons, there fellers. They be sleeping with Davey Jones tonight.

Much apologies from Mamma Talk management for this piratey coup. We’ll be back to regular scheduled programming after the holiday…..we hope.

What's Your Poison?

“Would you like a double chocolate, carmello, marshmallow shake?” My daughter asked, chef’s hat eschew. It had been a busy morning in her Little Tykes kitchen.

“Absolutely,” I reply downing it in one imaginary gulp.

“How about a spicy, orange juice, chocolate, fairy slurpee?”

She was pushing it a bit, but what the heck....

“Well, that would be most delightful,” I replied, throwing it down the hatch in one exaggerated swoop.

**What a chaser**

Shortly after, I topped it all off with a cup of mint, peanut butter, raspberry tea.

And, so it continued.

I was served concoction after concoction by my pint sized barista.

At one point, I was tempted to order up something a tad more adventurous, but thought better of it. Parenting always nudges us in the straight and narrow direction, doesn’t it?

By late afternoon, I had fictitiously sampled a vast array of magical brews.

It was a “high tea-happy hour-coffee break-ice cream social“ kind of a thing. Parents of preschoolers, I am sure you have been knee deep in this scenario on many an occasion.

Talk about chugging a lug.

My daughter was now manning the Playskool oven. Apparently, we were moving on to appetizers.

Zebra cheese and goblin crackers, anyone?

As soon as I finish this Play Doh popper, I know I’m game.

A Spooky Kind of Love

My little family ventured out in search of the perfect pumpkin. We endured a bouncing ride down a country road and some narrative from the back seat.

“Are we there yet?’

“More juuuice!”

Upon our arrival, I immediately fell in love with a Cinderella pumpkin, amber and misshapen.

Hubby set his eyes on an overgrown number still attached to a winding vine.

My toddler wasn’t too picky. Fingers were outstretched at every squash and gourd.

“Mine! Mine!”

But, the preschooler, she had her mind set. She was the picky one. She knew what she wanted and there was no backing down.

“How about this little white one?” I suggested.

“A ghost pumpkin” teased hubs.

“This is a pretty one, too.” I admired a shiny, round one.

But, she wasn’t having it. She was determined to find “the one” herself.

She meandered through the pumpkin patch, peering amongst the leaves and winding vines. She bent down to examine one but discarded it upon closer inspection.

“Just what are you looking for?” we asked in unison.

She reassured us not to worry. The pumpkin was here. She just needed a moment.

After some parental toe tapping, hubby suggested we take a break and enjoy some cider and cotton candy in the barn.

But, her laser focus was not to be interrupted. She was on a mission.

A pumpkin mission.

So, we gave her a moment. And then another.

Suddenly, the jackpot was hit.

Arms wrapped around a large, ill shaped pumpkin hidden at the edge of the patch, she smiled broadly and made the announcement.

“Here he is! I found him.”

I am sure I’ll always remember my 4 year old embracing that unconventional pick. Her heart was determined to spread cheer to the least likely candidate. The pumpkin underdog. The lovesick puppy in the proverbial window.

She had found her man.

And, with the help of a carving knife and a couple of tea lights, I think I just may fall in love, too.

A big thank you to everyone who voted for me during Scary Mommy's search for the Scariest Mommy! I appreciate the support and all the commenty love. But, alas, I wasn't the scariest. Congrats to the winners!

I'm a Scary Mommy, Too!

Scary Mommy is hosting a contest to find the most deserving “real” mother out there. In other words, she is looking for another “Scary Mommy” - a mommy with heart and soul, but who is also firmly grounded in the reality of the mommy trenches; a mommy who is most unafraid to admit her faults.

This contest, dear reader, simply called my name…

I began this blog shortly after I left my teaching career armed and equipped with the best a teaching credential has to offer. I happily infiltrated the ranks of stay at home mommydom, prepared, ready and….

…promptly got my hinny handed to me on a plate by a colicky baby and some dirty diapers.

I have been giddily blogging about the experience ever since.

The winner is given the opportunity to be highlighted on a blog that promotes the new movie, “Motherhood”, starring Uma Thurman, Minnie Driver and Anthony Edwards.

They’re also giving away a video camera.

So, if you could be so kind, please comment on Scary Mommy’s blog and tell her you think Mammatalk is the best candidate! Or, you could post your own Scary Mommy story. Nothing like a little healthy competition.

And, here is my favorite post that depicts the struggle to maintain sanity while mothering.

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My Parent Decoder Ring.

I had saved up for weeks, hoarding every nickel and penny. I sent away for it secretly. Mum was the word. I had snuck the order form out to the mail, hidden between a couple bills.

And now, here it was. Shiny and new. Blinking and beeping on my kitchen table.

The fat instruction booklet was full of promise. Dr. Sears had nothing on this thing. Bothered by temper tantrums? Two turns to the left and a click to the right. Whiney toddler? One full spin and a push of the red blinking button. Argumentative tween? A couple spins and a few pushes of some multi colored buttons, a-la-Morse code.

I had thought I found the Holy Grail of Parenting. Soon after, I began seeing other parent decoder rings…everywhere!

The loud mouth in playgroup had one on her keychain. Our preschool teacher donned one on her right hand. And, what is that on the left finger of my Mother-in-Law??

Ring! Ring!

Ring! Ring!

Nurse: Doctor’s Office.

Hubby: She’s at it again. This time I found her leafing through the phone book and spinning a mood ring around in her hand.

Nurse: I’ll have the doctor call you ASAP….But, sir….if I can be so bold….You’ve really gotta stop forgetting Date Night…

Hubby: I know, I know…. Start with a bottle of Kendall Jackson and a foot rub….

Nurse: That’s a start.

My Magic Fairy Mamma-Mamma

So, I was spending time with my head in the cyber clouds. Taking a walk down the proverbial bloggy block when I dozed off. Not sure whose prose lulled me to sleep….Must have happened somewhere between a Crockpot recipe and a new baby tale, I suppose. But, no matter.

With my head resting on CNTRL/ALT, I floated off to the land of noddy. I was greeted by a magnificent lady in silver taffeta.

“Greetings, Mammatalk,” she chirped, adjusting her tiara.

“Who are you?” I asked, groggy and confused.

“My darling, I am your magic Fairy Mamma Talk-mother.” She was delighted as she spoke, clapping her hands with enthusiasm and with her shimmering wings fluttering in the laptop glow.

Nervous and excited, she was eager to explain. Her words quickly spilled out of her. She got ahead of herself at times as she bubbled on and on, stumbling here and stuttering there. She spoke of pumpkin facial masks and mommy spas. Pedicures, haircuts and waxings. Champagne flutes and chocolate. She tossed something out there about a life coach. Testing the waters, I think. Then, she finished off speaking of a nice afternoon nap with a Snuggie and a good book.

I was confused.

Surely, this was a good fairy. A creature of light. A good Samaritan of sorts. Eager to spread joy to my mamma world.

I should be overjoyed.

But, there was something about her manic giddiness that put me on edge.

Not to mention, the CNTRL/ALT key was digging into my nose.

“Why have you come?” I inquired.

She sighed. “All Mammas need a fairy mamma…Mamma…..Mammma! MAAMMMMA!!”

Then, I awoke with a start finding a keyboard jammed up my nose and a demanding toddler peering into my face.

“Mamma??”

And, off I went to fill sippy cups and change dirty diapers. But, you can bet your bottom dollar I’ll be in the garden tonight clicking ruby slippers and searching for a cricket named Jiminy. Or is it that mousey pair, Gus and Jaq, I should be looking for?

A discarded lamp?

Some magic beans?

You don’t think Rumpelstiltskin is behind this? I really can’t stand that guy.

Hmmm.

Might explain the shifty eyes.

Old Man Grump

We try to prevent it from happening. We really do.

The glass is half full at our house. Plenty of living in the moment and keeping your chin up over here. And, I’m happy to say we generally are bright eyed and bushy tailed.

But, on occasion, old man Grumps pays our family a visit.

He settles in, all cozy on the couch, an unwelcome visitor staking his claim. His influence is all encompassing.

“I don’t want to!” It starts with my preschooler.

“NO! NO! NO!” My toddler is quick to follow suit.

Hubby gets sucked into the negative spiral. “I just don’t have the time! Not now!!”

Our kitties feel the vibe. “HIISSSS!”

Per usual, I am the last to fall. “Can’t I get a moment’s peace around this mad house?!” Slam!

Soon, we are all whisking around a negative vortex lost amongst the complaints and belly aching.

At the height of our irritability, a life vest is thrown. A friendly phone call. A warm email. A fat baked good in the bakery window.

And, then, our grouchy house guest departs, leaving with promises to visit again soon. Let’s not have so much time pass between visits! Don’t be a stranger….and the like.

That fella, Grump, really chaps my hide. Next time, I outta introduce him to My Fiery Irish Temper. Like to see those rascals go head to head. I might even pay ring side seats to see that match.

And, my money’s on the red head. Go Irish!

My Odds are on the Kid

So, I was spending a leisurely afternoon with my little gals, sprawled out on the floor immersed in a friendly game of Candyland.

I had planned to teach them about the spirit of cooperation, fairness and turn taking. Possibly review our colors and numbers. Maybe touch on a lesson or two about counting.

And, then things starting getting ugly around the Licorice Forest.

My two year old had insisted upon illegally advancing her own pawn along the Candyland path, all the while stuffing my pawn up her nose.

My four year old kept sneaking a peek at the over turned deck of cards and rearranging the pieces on the game board.

My temper began to flare.

Who can play a friendly game with competition like this?

Cheaters. Conspirators. Up-to-no-gooders!

The scoundrels.

I insisted upon a time out. A re-match. Call in the ref.

Instant replay, maybe?

Apparently, my ruffled feathers only accelerated the chaos.

Our fans roared with commentary.

Mr. Potato head thought I was competing outside my age category, thereby giving me an unfair advantage.

Miss Raggedy thought it was about time I gave the hoodlums a piece of my mind.

My Little Pony thought an old washed up Candyland player like myself had no business getting back in the game at my age.

Thomas the train had a thing or two to say about hot heads getting worked up over alleged rule breaking.

Curious George just wanted us to get on with it. He had ten bucks riding on the toddler.

And, Mother Goose lectured us about remembering to put the fun back in the game.

Nothing like a little Milton Bradley to stir things up on an otherwise friendly afternoon in the playroom.

Who woulda thought?

Mommy Morphing

I suffer from Mamma Morphing Disorder. I spontaneously morph into various personalities to suit the situation.

Sometimes I am an old hag complete with a wart and hump shouting my commands and demands.

“For the last time!! Clean up this mess!!”

I am a witch perched atop a broom.

“Time for bed, my pretties!! (insert cackle)”

I am a furry beast baring yellow fangs.

“What did you say? GRRRR!”

I am a house troll chained beneath the stair.

“This laundry will be the death of me!”

I am a wicked schoolmarm armed with ruler and whistle.

“SHHHHHH!”

I am a hunchback in the bell tower, dragging my foot behind me.

“Really, how long has it been since I’ve had a good wax and cut?”

Happily, on rare occasion, I am the Fairy Godmother smiling from amongst the silvery pumpkins.

“Ice cream for everybody. Yeah!”

It’s a regular Disney circus around here.

A storybook soiree.

A cartoon carnival.

A bit of a beastie ball.

Sigh.

Sometimes this revolving door of Disney characters gets the best of me.

“Back in the closet, Tabitha and Isadora. Tuesdays are your day, remember? “

A bit of a scheduling nightmare, really.

Kinda hard to keep up.