Mamma Aches...

“It’s from childbirth,” says my doctor after hearing my tirade about my uppity sciatic nerve.

“Pregnancy can do it to ya,” says my ophthalmologist as she writes me a stronger prescription for glasses.

“Bunions worsen with sudden weight gain,” says my foot doctor.

“Ya gotta stop bending at the waist to pick them up,” says my massage therapist as she wrestles with a knot in my back.

“Put some ice on it and elevate your feet,” advises my mom after I whack my shin on the toy bin.

“HUH?!” I say struggling to hear over the kids’ screams.

Mamma aches. It’s a new syndrome.

It does go away in time, doesn’t it?

And, can somebody pass me the aspirin?

Bloggy Orphans

I am a Stay at Home Mother. I have shelved my teaching career for a handful of precious years to attend to the needs of my little ducklings. I am happy to place their needs over our indulgences. I am filling their foundational years with my full attention and…

Not, now, sweetheart I am blogging…

and my greatest wish is that I use my years of teaching experience to mold their growing minds…

I said, not now. Go watch Dora.

Research states that the young mind grows more during the first five years than it does in our entire lifetime. In fact, there is a distinguishable difference in the minds of neglected children when compared to children who received at least “adequate” attention during these precious years. So, when you ask “Can we mold our children’s minds?”

Big girls go potty by themselves…

I say, yes, yes, we can mold our children’s minds. No, we need not become flash card wielding paranoid mothers. Pressure and over scheduling can be detrimental as well. But, a quiet moment cuddled up with mommy and a book…

You know where the Cheerios are! Gimme a minute!

…a morning in the park, pausing for a moment to enjoy the meandering line of ants under the tree…

I don’t know where Mr. Socky went…..

A day in the library browsing through books, enjoying a morning Mommy and Me class, a playdate with friends….All these activities help contribute to your child’s growing social skills, intellectual development, language and vocabulary acquisition and emotional well being.

Yes I see the Kitty. I know.I know. Kitty Kitty! Nice kitty!

Small attention to the details of their day, listening to their thoughts, focusing on their interests, engaging them in conversation, re-enforcing good behavior, allowing them the luxury of knowing that mommy will always be there…

Ssssssss! Can’t you see I am WORKING?!

All of these things lay the foundation upon which an entire life stands firmly, well grounded and secure. Ah, to grow up in a home under the watchful eye of an attentive, loving mother

STOP BUGGING ME!!

PS. Note to Social Services…..I am prone to exaggeration.

Battle of the Remote Control

Alright, ladies and Gents….In case you just joined us, We’re going for Round 2 in the WWW Sweetheart Battle of the remote control. In the last round, hubby pinned his sweetie to the couch landing on ESPN for a total of 30 seconds.

Wifey’s up and ready for round 2. She’s doing a quick cat stretch in the kitchen and ….she’s coming back into the ring…..Oh, this lady’s feisty. She has him in a wicked lip lock. Distraction is her game. His grip is loosening. Ouch! He’s dropped the remote. Wifey does a nosedive under the coffee table. She’s in possession. She’s in possession. This is quickly taking a turn for the manly worse. Oh, she’s hitting that volume button. The Soap Opera channel?? Gulp.

“Oh, Thor! Thank you for rescuing me from falling off that icy cliff. You know, in this light I can see our future when I look into your eyes….”

The man’s playing dirty pool. He stepped out of the ring and hit the channel button on the TV. Rookie move. Wifey’s calling foul. A penalty for hubby.

Back to the couch they go. Hubby’s performing a foot rub (his penalty). This is gonna be a slow game tonight, ladies and gents…..sorta like watching a defensive struggle on Monday Night Football Wha…Wait a minute, just wait one minute…..Wifey’s eyes are drooping. Oh! She can’t keep them open. Come on, fella! Is she nodding off mid-game? Ya got your opening. Is he going for it!? Come on, buddy, my granny could pull this one off! Just like stealing candy from a baby. She’s sawing logs, bud. Take advantage.…. There he goes….He’s….I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes….he’s pushing the buttons while the remote is still in her tight grip…Master maneuover.

“Biff! Biff! Smack! You motha…f******!”

And he scores the Sopranos! This just may be a win for all manhood… Bada Boom, Bada Bing…Kids in bed. Wife snoozing. A full stomach and we got Tony and his crew! This may be a hall of famer moment!

Note to hubby…I know I got the sports lingo messed up. That’s what makes it fernnnyy!

Top of the List

I am a list maker.

I make weekly To-Do lists, grocery lists, laundry lists and errand lists. There’s also birthday lists, doctor lists, and grooming lists. Of course, let’s not forget the Honey- Do list.

It’s my attempt to keep on top of things.

It makes me feel in control, at the mommy wheel and commander-in-chief-ish.

To say the least.

If there’s a lost errand, rambling about loosely, undone, unaccounted for and undocumented, I hurriedly shoo it in the direction of said lists.

“Now, now, haircut, you’re not going to get the best of me this season. Go find your place at the top of the list.”

“Ah, dental cleaning….go stand in line with the vaccinations. And, not such a sour face, please. I promise I won’t put you off much longer.”

“And, where do you think you’re sneaking off to, Ms. Mammogram? Hmmmm? OK, Ok, you can stand at the end of the line, but no more hiding out with Mr. Pap.”

My list making does consume quite a bit of my time. In fact, I spend much of my day overseeing these lists.

“I know, I know, Oil Change. Your point is duly noted. Pops will receive a memo with his coffee.”

“And, sorry, Mildew in the Shower. We’ll have to take you off any and all lists until further notice. Check back when the kids are enrolled in school.”

“Pedicure, pedicure. I understand you’ve been shuffled and reshuffled. But, there’s no getting around it. End of the line with you!”

“I know, I know Mr. Date Night. You’ve been parked last in line far too long. How about I upgrade you to a Quickie and we call it even?”

What with the managing of all these personalities, it’s a wonder anything gets done around here.

Good thing I have lists.

New parent

Please check out my guest post on New Parent. It's a great new site with lots of information for parents.

Murder by Vacuum

So, it all started with the best intentions, really.

I was doing a little vacuuming in the playroom. Now, if I had noticed the pink feather boa cascading on to the ground, I could have avoided the whole fiasco.

But, I didn’t. And, so it happened.

Immediately, my high power Dyson vacuum violently sucked the boa halfway up into its bowels, causing a flurry of feathers, a burning smell and a high pitched whine to emit from my most beloved appliance.

Luck was with me (kinda) as it happened my girls were occupied downstairs and did not bear witness to the blunder.

Eager to cover up my crime, I pulled the vacuum to my room, boa firmly attached, trailing and bouncing behind. My cats began dive bombing the tail end of the boa, eager to help finish off the kill, I suppose. Shooing, them away, I hid the whole kit and caboodle deep in my closet and returned to the scene of the crime.

Assorted feathers were scattered on the floor and another kitty was making a feast of the situation.

Having heard my cursings, hubs was quick on the scene with the girls hot on his heels. I tried to stop him, but he was fast footed and eager to help. The feather strewn trail and burning aroma led him to the closet. Opening the closet door, he allowed a cat to escape. The cat coincidentally had firm hold of the boa and dragged the entire…um…situation out into full exposure.

As my daughters shrieked, a cat began regurgitating a feathery, glittery mass at our feet.

I, of course, stepped into the sticky muck. Hubs muffled a giggle. The cats fought over the boa’s carcass. And, the girls won a free trip to the toy aisle at Walmart.

Murder by vacuum.

At least it was quick.

And, kinda G rated, really, if ya think about it.

Sweep it, Sister!

"I sweep,” My toddler furrowed her brow as she pushed her plastic broom across the Lego littered floor.

“Clean up, clean up. Everybody, everywhere…” My preschooler had discovered my fluffy fuchsia feather duster and was boisterously bouncing around the room in search of cobwebs and dust bunnies.

And, where was I, you ask?

I was directing traffic from my perch on the couch, novel in one hand and a Cadbury egg in the other.

“Over there, darling, over there. The dust bunnies are under the sofa…”

“Atta, girl. Kick those Legos back into the closet.”

“We’ll have this place in ship shape in not time…Hand me the remote, would ya?”

Hallmark moments such as this are few and far between.

Gotta drink it up when you can. Live in the moment. Linger in the sweetness.

‘Cuz these kids can turn on a dime.

“Mommy! I hungry!”

“She won’t give it back!”

“I potty!”

“AHHHHH!”

Stick that!

My daughters love stickers. They put them everywhere.

On books. On paper. On car seats. On themselves.

In purses. In boxes. In shoes. In backpacks.

It’s highly addictive.

And, their dealers are everywhere.

The Target cashier.

The pediatrician.

The dentist.

Trader Joe’s, even.

Usually, they are in sticker heaven enjoying their stash.

Stick.

Stick.

Stick.

But, the other day, a monkey wrench was thrown in their direction.

“Mamma. Fix!” My toddler’s eyes filled with tears.

“Mommy, it won’t unstick. It’s broken!” My preschooler was mortified.

It was quite the sticker conundrum.

A bit of a sticker orgy, really.

Clinging to each other, the stickers were in a sticker game of Twister.

An impossible situation.

I eyed the garbage, but thought better of it.

“We’ll take these stickers to the sticker hospital. The Sticker Doctor will fix it up.” I nodded enthusiastically.

Then, after a quick late night trip to Target, we replaced the mangled stickers and it was another winning mamma moment for me.

Sure, hubs felt silly at the check out stand. “Sticker, please.”

But, he’s beginning to learn to roll with the pink and polka dot punches around here.

If ya know what I mean….

Toddler Aerobics

My toddler had a serious case of the wiggles today.

Getting changed….

“Get back here, Miss Naked Pants!”

In the car….

“Eyaaak!!”

At the store…..

“NO standing in the cart!”

At lunch……

“Get out from under there!”

The good news is, those who play hard, sleep hard….mostly.

Time for a good book and a little afternoon nap.

Anybody seen my Snuggie?

Idiom Me.....

Ya gotta be quick witted around my house. My little daughters always have something up their sleeve. They’re a regular barrel of monkeys, those two.

Ya really gotta keep up with the best of ‘em. Stay on your toes. Keep your eye on the ball. Sometimes ya even gotta be scrappy around here.

I mean, I always try to keep ahead of the game. Outwit ‘em. Throw 'em for a loop. Head ‘em off at the pass.

But, sometimes they really give me a run for my money. Or simply put, knock me on my hiney.

At the end of the day, I guess you just gotta count your blessings and shine your best silver.

‘Cuz we all know who rules the roost around here.

And, it sure ain’t me.

A big thank you to my friendly idioms for lending a hand in this post. Sometimes a good idiom really knows how to take the words right out of your mouth.

Err…Or something like that…