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.


**This is a repost from two years ago, 'cuz I'm having that kind of a day.**

Dino Mom

Sometimes I feel like a dino-mom.

Ancient and over the hill. Big and scaly. Roaring and cranky, too.

But, then my little dino-child comes around with a curiosity for all things dino.


“Mommy, what’s this?”

“Who’s that?”

“Why? Why, Mommy, why?”

She skips and dances, humming a tune. She throws her arms around me and professes her love for my dino-mom self.

Then, I smile and think that maybe being a dino-mom isn’t too bad.

Maybe a dino-mom is the best kinda mom to be.

I then go about my day less grouchy, less roary and somehow less ancient.

Later on, I sit down to share a cup of coffee with the T-Rex-mom up the street.

‘Cuz, you know, there’s always a bigger and badder dino on the block.

Kinda made me look like a harmless newt.

Geriatric Washer and Dryer

As you know, I have been struggling with the laundry lately. I’ve been stalked by laundry, seduced by laundry and just driven mad by it.

It’s the hamster wheel of my life.

“Wash it. Sort it. Fold it. Put it away. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.”

Then, my washing machine began to complain.

“My back. My aching back. You never give me a break,” she squawked.

She was a granny of a washer, hand in hand with a grandpa of a dryer. Not quite the duo I needed to help with a young family and spring cleaning.

So, I decided to send them packing to the old folk’s home for appliances. They didn’t complain as we loaded them into the van. They looked happy to come face to face with their retirement years.

As for their replacements, well, I got a couple slinky little numbers over at smarter.com. They have really cheap washers and dryers, I’m telling ya.

You’ll find top brands like Whirlpool, GE and LG. The prices are tops. And, the models are young and eager to please.

‘Cuz if you are going to run with this rowdy crowd of dirty socks, you’ve got to be built like a workhorse.

Good thing I got a good price.

Birds, Bees and Some Naughty Laundry

I was once again grumbling over a hill of dirty socks, per usual.

The sweat was pouring down my face as I wrestled the darks and roughed up the whites. The teetering laundry pile was far higher than I had seen it before. I had been working on it all morning and barely made a dent. I surmised that the clothes must have had their way with one another because the rate in which it multiplied was maddening.

It was true, some laundry mating must have occurred.

And, I knew what I had to do.

I needed to find the Pappa of the bunch and promptly send him to Dr. Snippity Snip.

I dug and I dug, finally finding what I suspected to be the culprit.

He lay there, immodestly clinging to a pair of lacy panties.

A pair of flannel boxers, fly open wide, he was.

I grabbed him by the waistband and said, “No more fun for you, Pal!”

He responded with surprise, “Hey, lady, I was just getting to first base!”

I marched out to the garage and opened the trashcan.

He started to squeal. “Why you raining on my parade? What did I ever do to you?”

I looked him in the fly…er…eye….before saying, “The work around here is never ending! You and that funny business in the laundry basket are making me old before my time!”

Then he started to soften a bit. “Ah, doll. I never knew. How about a little foot massage? I can fix you up with a pair of athletic socks.”

I gave him another look and began to succumb to his charms.

“A foot massage?” I asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” he assured me. “I’m in good with the whole sock crew. I can make you feel real good, little lady. “

Before I knew it, that rascal had convinced me to bring him back inside to continue with his date with the lacy unmentionables.

And, now, I’m sitting here with a single, one eyed, unmated sock named Gladys rubbing my feet while I listen to the laundry pile writhe and moan.

Kinda makes for an interesting afternoon.

A Valentine's Yowza

My kindergartener runs out of her classroom at the end of each day with reckless abandon. Her backpack is bouncing and her jacket is falling off as she giggles and jumps her way into my arms. Her mood is contagious. Her little sister and I hold each of her hands and the three of us hop-skip to our van, laughing the whole way. They each beg me to swing them around and I oblige, lifting each one into the sky before helping them into their car seats.

What is so funny?

I don’t know.

But, I enjoy the moment.

Of course, the day quickly returns to laundry and Mattel madness once we return home. But, for a few glorious moments each day, we experience a bit of glittery magic.

Later that afternoon, I decided to sprinkle some magic on hubby.

I skip and jump my way into his arms as he returns home from work and I cover him with kisses. My laughter is without reason. I hold his hand and skip-hop into our living room. I turn and face him and beg him to swing me in the air.

The result?

Hubs was confused when he did not find the usual lady in sweat pants hissing over a mountain of laundry, of course. But, being the man he is, he seized the moment. I am not one to kiss and tell. But, I can say results were had.

Yowza!

May you find yourself skip-hopping somewhere hand in hand with someone you love today, too. Happy Valentine’s!

Looking for Inexpensive Glasses on the Web?

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Sure, the Internet is full of stores that sell cheap glasses and cheap prescription sunglasses but, rest assured, there’s one online store that allows you to buy glasses online at a discount but the glasses aren’t cheap. No no no, they’re quality glasses with a cheap or discounted price tag - GlassesUSA.com. So, a lot of people put “getting healthy” on that pesky resolution list but they probably left vision care out of that group - which is kinda silly. If it’s been a while since your last eye exam, now’s a good time to get your eyes checked.

The next time you need to buy glasses frames - even if they’re just replacements, shop online for discount glasses from GlassesUSA. Stop buying what you think are “cheap glasses” from your local optical store and start shopping online. It’ll save you time and money in the long run.

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**This was a sponsored post. Thank you Glassesusa!**

Battling the Laundry Basket

I am quite certain laundry will be the death of me.

It’s always there keeping a sharp eye on me, tapping its foot and biding its time…

a growing laundry basket of neatly folded whites, snarling at my procrastination....

a teetering pile of towels, staring disapprovingly in my direction....

a mass of unmatched socks tangled together in a hopelessly lovesick pile.

Laundry doesn’t say a word, mind you. It never does.

Rather, it’s eerily silent.

But, its silence doesn’t prevent the judgment.

Oh, no. It stares down its nose, whispering quietly among itself.

It casts judgment with one cold stare.

Then, it sits and waits, growing fatter by the day.

Because it knows, in the end, it will win the war.

And, I sit avoiding its gaze and wishing it away….

only to attack it suddenly one day with brutal force, folding and putting it away.

“I’ll show you who’s in charge,” I say, as I manhandle the socks.

“You condescending old rag,” I curse under my breath.

“You try to keep on top of all this mess,” I lecture.

Then, the drawers and closets are once again full. And, I am quite happy to have won the battle.

I know. I know.

The war will rage again soon.

But, I can enjoy the cease fire in the meantime.

A barnacle here and there

Had a whirlwind of a Christmas.

Some fun in the snow.

Sleigh rides.

Santa parties

Decorations

Cookies

And presents galore.

Now, I stand here in an ocean of discarded wrappings and bows, fighting a post-holiday bug.

I was just about to put my feet up when I heard a little voice…

“Mamma Talk….Mamma talk…..Mamma talk….”

Was that my blog calling to me?

Don’t leave me… Don’t leave me… Don't leave me...

So, I paid her a visit. It had been awhile.

Here she was, floating belly up, unattended, afloat on the bloggy seas. Barnacles were growing here and there and, at first glance, I thought there was little hope.

I immediately dove in and gave her a little resuscitation.

After a moment, she stood up on her shaky, spindly legs. She stretched and shook her head. Then, she wasted no time in chastising me for my neglect. She waggled her finger at me, hand on hip and eyes a glare.

She showed no mercy. Just would not let me up for air. She cursed my laziness and ripped into me venomously.

Yes. I know.

She’s a pistol.

But, the way I look at things, a blog's gotta have a little bite. So, in this case, I think I'll roll with the bloggy punches.

Give it your best shot, Mamma!





Got a couple of monkeys yourself? Looking for some bunkbeds? Be sure to check out this site.

Vintage Blogging

It’s not every day that somebody leaves a comment suggesting I update my blog.

“Don’t people usually at least upgrade their header every once in a while?” ~anonymous

Well, let me formally respond.

We roll with the old school here on Mamma Talk.

We happily present a vintage blog.

We are classic. Timeless. Retro.

Are the columns too skinny? Well, scroll down, the way we did it back in the day!

Wondering where the tabs are? Don’t got none. Easy!

And, we are in mint condition, mind you. ‘Still in the package’. That’s us.

To suggest Mamma talk is outdated…. that she’s rubbing elbows with the dinos…..and perhaps even hinting that we’re not with it?

Are we old-ish around the gills, are we?

Think we run an old fashioned gig?

Type type type type type type type type type type type typeCHING!
Type type type type type type type type type type type typeCHING!

Are you saying our technical
S
K I
L
L S are lacking?

That maybe we are a bit CLuelEss, even?

That the Mamma is not aging gracefully?

Well, I beg to differ.

We may not be a trendsetter. But, we rise above the trends.

‘Cuz we run a classy joint here.

And a classy broad always acts her age!

Dolly Hair Salon

“Mamma, I can’t find her hair brush!”

“Her hair brush?”

Silly of me to ask.

The doll’s nylon hair was standing on end, horrifically tangled and slightly gummy on one side. It was clear her grooming had been a tad bit overlooked.

“You’ll have to sort this one out on your own,” I said gently, before mentally adding, “….seeing that you were most likely the cause of this tendril travesty.”

I handed over a wide toothed comb and quickly extracted myself from the sticky scenario. I actually managed to enjoy a few moments to myself twittering around before my suspicions were aroused.

I suppose the endless running water should have sounded my alarm.

Not sure why the muffled giggles emanating from the upstairs bathroom didn’t quickly prick my ear.

What finally did lure me in was my three year’s old request for more of my fancy conditioner.

More?

In the end, the rest of my day was spent mopping a soapy floor and setting a dolly’s hair with my new hair curlers.

I figure, if she’s going to use half a bottle of my most expensive conditioner, we might as well give her the whole salon package.

Besides, there’s nothing like mile high hair on a naked Happy Holidays Barbie.