Oh, Buddy! Oh, Pal!

“So, what’s your imaginary friend’s name?” asked my preschooler.

My imaginary friend?

The thought never occurred to me. Now, of course, I had a secret pal years ago as a child. She was great on rainy days and stuck to me like glue during that week with the chicken pox. Even helped out with homework and making the bed.

Hmmm…Maybe it’s time to re-connect.

“Hi, pal. It’s been years! How about you start a load of laundry while I unwind over here on the chaise lounge?”

“We’re outta milk…Oh…imaginary frieend! Buddy, oh, pal!”

“Put a little elbow grease into it, friend. Ya gotta show that mildew whose boss.”

“Me? Of course I didn’t eat the last one, darling. But, that invisible gal in the kitchen looks a little shifty to me.”

My imaginary friend…. She really helps a gal out in a pinch.

Now, if I can just get her to fetch me a glass of wine from my imaginary wine cellar while I lounge by my imaginary pool enjoying the imaginary view, life would be so very sweet.

As you can well imagine.

Sigh.

A big thank you to Stacks and stacks for the wonderful shout out today! I made her Top 5 Mommy blog list! You can see it here. Her site also lists wonderful tips on organizing.

Girls Vanity Review

My daughters and I were in the market for bathroom vanities.

The lil’ gals had amassed a collection of plastic baubles and jewels. Powder puffs and brushes. Purses and doo-dads. Sparkly clips and shimmery scarves.

Simply made sense to clear a cozy corner of their room for this number.

Now, if we could just prevent the magic marker from getting too chummy with her fine ivory surface, we can call it a day.

If you’re in the market for a similar set up for your emerging diva, be sure to check out this site here. You won’t be disappointed.

I haven't received products for my endorsement. However, plans are in the works....

Father Time, quit riding my a$$!!

Lately, Father Time has been riding my a$$. I told him to lay off, but the bugger just won’t let up. Seems he gets to call all the shots in the relationship. And, when I call him out, he’s nowhere to be found.

He’s one slippery fella. Scrappy, too. Always wins.

So, the thought occurred to me. Maybe I should hit him where it counts. Maybe I should have a little heart to heart with his better half. Call up his old lady and let her know what her hubby’s really been up to. Fill her in on every last dirty little secret.

I am sure she would like to know how he’s been messing with us ladies.

It didn’t take long to figure out who his wife is. It was pretty obvious, after all.

I almost got up the nerve. Almost picked up that phone, called her up and let it all hang out.

But, common sense got the better of me.

After all, it’s best not to mess with Mother Nature.

A gal could go grey overnight.

Toddler Pox

My doctor peered over his glasses as I whispered my secrets.

“I think something’s a little off with me lately.”

He leaned closer.

“I’m exhausted at the end of the day. I am distracted. I can’t seem to finish a sentence. I run circles in my home. I have a flabby belly, stretch marks and saggy boobs. I obsessively make macaroni and can’t break my Barney addiction.”

“Hmmm.” My doctor smiled knowingly. “My wife had a bout of this in the 80’s.”

“She did?” I felt instant relief. “What is it?”

“Toddler Pox,” he stated.

I gasped in horror. “Is there a cure?”

“No. No end to this. Rather, it evolves. It starts with Baby Pox. Then, Toddler Pox, of course. Preschool Pox is around the corner. Then you’ll catch a nasty case of Elementary Fever….giving way to The Tweenie Plague… graduating to the contagious Teenage-itis. We will have to quarantine during this time, naturally.” He paused reflectively.

Hands over my face, I took it all in as he continued. “It is cyclical, recurring every 25-35 years. But, for the second cycle, you serve more as a witness rather than a victim. Makes for interesting retirement years.”

“Don’t they inoculate for this?” I asked in outrage.

“The drug companies pushed for a vaccine, of course, but the diaper lobbyists have a strong grip on Washington.” He winked. “I have heard rumor about a certain doctor that can help.” He paused, scratching his head.

“His name is on the tip of my tongue,” he continued, “….Dr. Snik….no…Dr. Snitch….No. Um, that’s not it.….Snit….No,…..Snipity…Ah…yes….Doctor Snippy Snip. That’s him. This will stop a reoccurrence. If you can just get your husband in the car, they’ll fix him up good.”

Hmmmmm?

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On vacation this week, folks! Off to the Happiest Place....Will let you know how it goes!

Stink Eye

So, he gave it to me. A rolling of the eye as I made my observation.

“You forgot to pick up the milk!” I said.

Then, my preschooler gave it to me when I was braiding her hair before preschool.

“Quit squirming around! I almost got it!”

My toddler was next.

“No more cookies before dinner, Missie!”

Even my furry friends were in on it. Not sure what set them off, but it’s easy to know when a cat gives it to ya.

Stink eye. Nothing’s worse.

But, there’s always a remedy.

Eyebrows knitted together. Eyes a rollin’. Lip a curlin’. Throw in a snarl.

Yep.

Right back at ‘cha!

A Slippery Slope

I had fully anticipated this. I had ample warning. It’s common knowledge, after all.

Who among us isn’t aware that, at some point in our lives, we all transform into our mother?

Before we know it, we open our mouths and out pops dear ol’ Mom.

Eat your veggies! Drink you milk! Look before you cross and, for God’s sake, be home by nine!

However, as worrisome as this may sound, I fear the worst for myself.

I think I may have leapfrogged a generation.

You see, I am becoming my grandmother.

It all started with the simple purchase of a pair of elastic waistband pants, which was quickly followed by the discreet purchase of yet another pair….and then another. They’re just so comfy.

Of course, it made perfect sense to pick up the extra wide sensible shoes that matched the elastic waistband pants. Couldn’t pass those up. Since I was already in the shoe section, I figured I might as well buy some knee high nylons that were marked down 75%. Only a fool would pass up a sale like that.

And, since I was on a roll, who could blame me for snatching up the cozy cardigan which completed the whole ensemble?

Should I go back for the clip on pearl earrings, ya think?

These days, my oversized handbag is full of clipped coupons, Kleenexes and a broken pair of reading glasses……. Oh, there’s my missing knitting needle!

The other day, I somehow mistakenly checked out a book from the library with extra large print.

And I didn’t return it. So darn easy on the eyes.

I’m kinda under the radar about all this, but I am beginning to see the wisdom in comfort and the folly in vanity.

Who likes creeping satin panties anyway? Or stiff underwire? Itchy lace? Teetering high heels?

Not me.

Old age. It’s a slippery slope.

Somebody toss me a line??

I’ll wait over here on my rocker for a spell. Gonna knit me an afghan for the childuns.

Tinker 'Tude

She laid there sprawled across the chess board, hair in disarray and wings slightly bent.

“Tink! What are you doing here?”

From what I gathered, there was some sort of mix up during an afternoon cleanup in the playroom. A bit of a misfiling occurred. A misplacement of sorts. A goof. And, my suspicions were that my resident two year old was at the bottom of it somewhere.

Now, of course, Tink was full of complaints. She had spent the last four nights trapped in that Milton Bradely chess set and she wasn’t wasting any time letting me have it.

Didn’t I notice the light was not on in her teapot cottage?

Wasn’t I worried when her flower garden was looking wilty?

How did the children occupy themselves during her absence?

So, here we were. Me with my feather duster. She with an escalating fairy attitude. Nose to nose we were.

And, I heard her out. She certainly had a point.

It must have been a bit panicky locked in that box with all those faceless pawns, wondering when the next game night would occur.

However, I certainly cannot be held responsible for seeing that every toy is properly accounted for. Every. Single. Day.

So, I told her that. Plain and simple. No sugar coating…..

And so….

That’s how I ended up out here sitting on this toadstool in the backyard.

Ribbit.

Who would have thought a plastic fairy made in China could possess such a mean bag of tricks?

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!