Category Archives: Comedy

Intimidated By My Own Authority

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Parenting by

When my mom counted to 3 —  she meant business.

I want to be the type of mummy who has no qualms yelling at kids who are doing something wrong. But I haven’t found my “mom” voice yet. Nor have I perfected my “mom” look. You know the one. The one where you nearly crap your pants if  you’ve done something to warrant it.

Last week I was at the library with my niece. She was putting on a very humorous puppet show about a dancing chameleon and a sick frog when a young boy, probably four years old, walked up and stripped the puppet from her hand. My niece was so upset, but she just looked at him like the bully that he was and sulked to herself. I wanted to steal the puppet back from this little tyrant (maybe even whack him on the nose with it like a poorly behaved dog*) but I did nothing. His own mother was sitting nearby, oblivious to his antics. Then I wanted to speak up for my niece, but I couldn’t find any words. Who am I to reprimand someone else’s child? I’d be asking for a beat down in the kid’s section of the public library. It’s not like this mom was Hulk Hogan or anything, but some parents are crazy these days. I wished this boy’s mother would’ve been paying attention and fixed the situation, but she didn’t. So we moved on to the puzzles. But it irked me.

I have this huge block when it comes to telling other people’s kids what to do. (How I substitute taught for 6 months is beyond me!) For some reason I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes or piss off anyone so I usually just freeze like a deer in headlights. It seems I’m intimidated by my own authority. That sounds ridiculous. You would think that from the moment I became a mom I’d be wielding my authority all over the place. Yelling at teenagers driving too fast down our street. Shushing noisy kids in the movie theater. Bitch-slapping anyone smoking near my baby. But no, I can’t even stand up to an ill-mannered 4-year-old. I’m sure I’ll get there…eventually and when I do, watch out all you little heathens!

*onefunnymummy does not condone violence against animals of any kind! : )

What’s Next, Baby Tattoos?

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Parenting by

Wait, let me get this straight…you want me to take our sweet baby girl to a mall so a gum-snapping, hair-flipping 17-year-old named Kimberley can shoot spikes into her delicate ear lobes? No sir! Ain’t gonna happen! Baby’s don’t get tattoos, why should they get piercings?

My hubby wants to get our baby’s ears pierced, but I’m not convinced. I think it’s funny that he even has an opinion on the subject, yet it’s endearing at the same time. How could I put permanent holes in my daughter’s precious ears? My job is to protect her, not to inflict unnecessary pain for the sake of decoration. She’s not a Christmas tree, for Pete’s sake! What does she need embellishments for? She’s gorgeous, as is!

I feel terrible when she bonks her head on the side of her crib or face plants when attempting to crawl, so how would I feel when she’s screaming in agony from a piercing gun harpooning her miniature lobes? I’m guessing like the worst mom in the world!

My mom took me to get my ears pierced when I was 6 months old, a fact I often bragged about. She did it because I was bald and people would mistake me for a boy. To this day, I’m happy to have my ears pierced and no recollection of going through the painful process. So I wonder if I should go ahead and make the decision for my daughter, or just wait until the day she can ask me herself. What’s a mummy to do?

If her doctor’s office did the procedure, I’d be more inclined to get them done sooner than later, but they don’t. I asked. I just can’t bring myself to take her to a mall to have it done. How could I live with myself if something went wrong or they got infected. I look at her beautiful face and smooth skin and think nothing could be more perfect in this world…how could I mar her by putting metal studs in her ears? It seems insane!

The more I think about it, the more I want to wait until she comes to me and asks to have it done. Even then I’m making her daddy take her. Let him be the bad guy for once!

My #1 Wish

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Parenting by

To stop time or at least be able to pause it like on the awesome 80’s sitcom,      Out of This World. All Evie had to do was touch her index fingers together, and voila, time simply froze. It was only when she clapped her hands like cymbals that time would pick up where it left off. If I had this ability, I could keep my daughter a baby for a little longer because her days as an infant are speeding by. Plus, think of all the laundry and dishes I could get done. Who am I kidding? I’d be sleeping all day and watching reality TV marathons.

In only 10 days, she’ll be 8 months old and I seriously don’t know how that happened. I don’t like using the term literally, but it literally feels like we just celebrated her 7 month milestone. Now I know why people have more babies…to show time who’s boss!

When I was little, our family used to go on an annual trip to a church camp in the mountains. I wasn’t so thrilled about the church part, but man did I love the snow and ice-skating part. 100 days before our departure, I counted down on the dry-erase board in my room. It took f-o-r-e-v-e-r.

It’s weird that you wait and wait an epic 280 day (sometimes longer) countdown when you’re pregnant just to meet your little munchkin. You keep telling yourself that it will be here before you know it, even though it feels light-years away. But then as soon as you pop that sucker out — wham! Time decides to fly by at “ludicrous speed” to quote Spaceballs.

Now that I’m a mom, my life has become a constant deja-vu moment or Groundhog’s Day. It feels like a hazy dream where I know what will happen next. Except that it’s not a dream, she really does need to eat and be changed again. I wish I could go back to when it felt like I had all the time in the world instead of laying in bed at night wondering how another day managed to sneak by.

Whoever said that time flies when you’re having fun is right. My days are so filled up with love and happiness (not to mention monotony and repetition) that time just sort of stopped existing for me. So, in a way, I guess I got my wish. Maybe I should’ve wished for a billion dollars instead!

Screaming Baby On Board

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Parenting by

A wailing baby is a valid reason for speeding (not to mention other infractions when driving)! I haven’t gotten a ticket yet (knock on wood) but there have been times when I’ve gone from Driving Miss Daisy to Evil Knievel in 60 seconds or less. When your child is screaming bloody murder from the confines of her car seat just a few inches from your head, it’s not easy to block her out. As a side note, I’m pretty sure cranking up the radio to drown her cries is frowned upon in the parenting handbook.

Yellow lights are met with a burst of speed instead of braking and corners are cut a little sharper than normal…whatever to get you home and her out the quickest! I’m not proud of this, but it’s the truth. I usually pride myself on being a super safe driver especially since having my daughter, but sometimes a lead foot is necessary.

There is a solution. New parents should be issued a pink or blue siren for the roof of their cars which magnifies their child’s screams so the world can hear what Mummy or Daddy is dealing with.

A baby on board sticker won’t cut it! Baby meltdowns are enough to make even the safest, most cautious driver break the rules. It’s a truth serum of sorts because I would reveal my deepest, darkest secrets to make the crying stop. These sirens wouldn’t work unless the baby was screaming so parents couldn’t abuse it.

Where do I sign up?

Most of the time, I’m able to plan outings accordingly so baby doesn’t have a meltdown, but there are the rare occasions that she’s tired or hungry which will always trigger a screamfest and frazzled nerves for Mummy. No matter how many times you tell her calmly that we’re almost home, she only screams louder. Until I get my siren, I guess I’ll have to remember to slow down, stop at yellow lights, and try my best to soothe my tiny road-rager without losing my cool.

Bad Mom Complex

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Parenting by

Ultimately, I know I’m a good mom because I don’t smoke crack and I haven’t forgotten my baby anywhere…yet . But there’s this silly part of me that worries, “I don’t want them to think I’m a bad mom.” It’s a phrase I use too much these days. My hubby is constantly flabbergasted that anyone would call me a bad mom, yet I’m always so preoccupied thinking about it.

“Uh oh, we better put socks on her feet or someone will say I’m a bad mom. She scratched her face because her nails are too long. She yakked all over herself and there isn’t a spare onesie in the diaper bag. Shame on me!”

I put a lot of  pressure on myself to be “perfect” at my new job as Mummy. I guess I’m going to have to get over my perfectionist ways, and quickly! I’ve learned that baby + perfect don’t mix unless you’re talking about how perfectly cute she is! Things don’t always go as smoothly as you envisioned, but hopefully everyone survives and maybe you learn what not to do next time. I guess this is probably how my parents felt at one point, and look at me — I still have all of my fingers and toes.

Guilt fuels my “bad mom complex.” Take for instance, this blog, which I love working on. Most days I write while she naps, but other days I find myself typing in between playing with her while we sit on the floor. I should be focusing all my attention on her, yet I’m not. Nothing like a baby trying to eat a power cord to get you to stop working though! Yikes! I try to rationalize my guilt by saying that a mom who works from home would be battling the same issues and since writing is my job (even though I don’t get paid for it) it’s okay. Yet somehow the “bad mom complex” rages on!

It’s so easy to say “The hell what other people think,” but it’s another thing to actually teach yourself this carefree attitude once you’ve been a people pleaser since you were born. I guess I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing and hopefully when she’s thirty she’ll have all of her fingers and toes.

Super Nanny = Birth Control?

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Parenting by

Why didn’t I ever watch Super Nanny before I went and got knocked up?!? Had I tuned in, perhaps my husband would’ve won the argument to remain a kid-free household. (We all know who won that one!) But now that we have our beautiful daughter we’re glad we took the leap to become parents. I can’t imagine not ever knowing her. Ask us again in thirteen years…we might be singing a different tune. Then again, some of the worst of these hellions is under the age of five. So we might be closer than we think to dealing with our own little Tasmanian devil.

Lord, I hope that I never need the help of Super Nanny. The children on this show scare the crap out of me. Cussing, hitting, screaming, breaking things, extinguishing their parents’ will to live. I don’t know who’s going to be the disciplinarian out of the two of us. My hubby likes to think he will be a strict dad…but we all know what super strict parents gets you. Hello, rebel without a cause! I refuse to be a grandma at 45 though, so maybe he’s right when it comes to setting rigid rules. But our daughter already has him wound so tightly around her itty bitty finger, I doubt he’ll be anything but a big ol’ softie! I’ll probably end up the bad cop…naturally.

I never put much thought into the actual parenting part that goes in to bringing up baby, or at least I never made it past the diapering stage!(Surely, I can’t be the only one? ) You think you get pregnant, have your bundle, and ride, sail, or drift off into the sunset…until one day you realize that the decisions you make will shape this little baby’s world and then you have your first ever panic attack! So, I try not to think about the day she’ll shout that she hates me, wishes she was never born, and slams her bedroom door in my face. For now, our biggest hurdle is when she becomes a fusspot because she missed a nap…nothing Super Mummy can’t handle!

1 Thing I Would Go Back and Tell my 13-Year-Old Self

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Parenting by

Don’t hate your body! Easier said than done! I recently came across a photo album from when I was so young I couldn’t even order a drink in a bar, or cast my first ballot…we’re talking young. Looking at the photos with my 30-year-old eyes, I saw myself much differently than how I saw myself then. I was so skinny, and cute, and…insecure. As a teenager, I didn’t despise what my Mama gave me, but if a genie came along and granted me 3 wishes, one of them probably would’ve been to look like Niki Taylor. Shallow, I know.

I’d say I had the “normal” amount of body image issues growing up– no eating disorders, but I wasn’t completely comfortable in my own skin either. But who is at that age? Not many teens, especially girls. Which brings me to my next question. How am I going to make sure my daughter doesn’t end up with a warped body image? Take all the mirrors out of the house? Disconnect our cable & internet and never buy a fashion magazine again? That’s a start.

I know I have to put more emphasis on intelligence and what’s on the inside…yada yada yada, but I wish there was some magic button I could press that would relieve her of ever having to worry about her weight or what size she is. It’s really appalling how early all of this madness starts these days. Maybe I’ll teach her what a wise woman once told me a long time ago (not really, it was yesterday). She said, “Love the jeans you’re in now,” meaning be proud of what you’ve got no matter what size you are, because you might look back and realize you were hot stuff when you thought you were a schlub. She went on to say that it never really goes away either…fan-frickin-tastic! Although I’m not in the jeans I want to be in post-baby, I need to embrace them because in ten years I might look back and say, “Mummy wasn’t so bad after all!”

The Sleep Scale

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Parenting by

Whether your baby is a good or bad sleeper seems to be thee question asked by most people. Which in turn translates to: is your baby a “good” baby or a…a what? Do people say “bad” baby? This isn’t The Land of Oz and we’re not talking about witches, people. Only heartless scum say bad baby. The term these days is “high needs” which basically means high maintenance. But the last time I checked babies need to be held a lot, cuddled, and fawned over. When I think of high maintenance, I see Baby J.Lo making demands and screaming until her bottle is just the right temperature. This is not what Dr. Sears meant when he coined the term.

When I get asked if my baby is a good sleeper, I can’t help but feel like my daughter is being unfairly judged. She used to be the best sleeper in the world. From 10 to 6 without a peep. Then the growth spurts and mental leaps started happening and my perfect little sleeper disappeared into the quiet night. Now I’m lucky if I get a full 4 hour block of sleep before she’s wailing for her pacifier. But do I need to relay all this to a stranger at the grocery store? Heck no! So, I give the obligatory answer that she’s a great sleeper, even if it’s not the complete truth. I’ll never see this lady again!

I get it. People who have gone through raising their children, or who are in the process of rearing, want to know where you (or your baby) land on the sleep scale. Misery sure does love company! Perhaps the person asking the question had a notoriously un-sound sleeper and wants to feel some sort of camaraderie, or maybe it’s because they’re smug and want to gloat about their kid who sleeps like a log. Wherever your baby is on the sleep scale shouldn’t be any indication of how happy or unhappy your munchkin is! I try to remind myself that years from now the sleepless nights will be a foggy memory, but her smiles and laughter will be etched on my heart forever.

Thar She Blows!

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Parenting by

Blowouts are inevitable! Yellow, runny poop can hide in places you didn’t even know existed on your baby. What’s even worse is that sometimes they will just stew in it, perfectly happy without a complaint. Then the smell hits you. But it’s not a normal doo doo smell. Someone once described it as a breakfast food smell. No breakfast I ever had! Someone else said it smells like movie theater popcorn…way to ruin that for me. But the best thing about blowouts (sarcasm font needed) is that they wait until the most inopportune time to let it fly. Just when you’ve put a freshie on them, new outfit, plopped them in their car seat for a trip to the grocery store, started the car, and made it around the block…wham! Blowout city!

Now that the munchkin is eating some solid foods, we’ve entered a whole new realm of poop. (I know this is just what you wanted to read about.) New textures, colors, and smells! Oh my! The contents of her diapers closely resemble what she ate at her previous meal: think liquidy prunes. Yummy! Never did I think I’d be so enthralled with what comes out of her rear end. However, I’m not one of those moms who carefully inspects each dirty diaper, but I do take a quick peek to make sure everything is normal. Because sometimes it’s so much that you think she might’ve pooped a squirrel — like on Anchorman.

There is this whole method of infant potty-training called Elimination Communication where the parent looks for the baby’s bathroom cues then rushes them to the toilet or a nearby pot. This just screams disaster to me. I wouldn’t have the patience for it at all. Plus, you’d have to be agile enough to spring into action at any given moment. You’d probably be better off getting a parakeet and letting it fly around your house to poop willy-nilly on all your furniture.

Potty-training this early is enticing, but this method isn’t for me. More power to those who are brave enough to try it though. E.C. really gives new meaning to the term “baby poop” when referring to an unattractive shade of green or yellow paint! While I’m all for a “pop” of color in a room, baby poop is not really the look I’m going for.

The Living Dead

Posted in Babies, Comedy, Daughters, Family, Humor, Parenting by

Forget diamonds — concealer is a new mummy’s best friend! Cursed with spotty skin from an early age, concealer and I have been bosom buddies for a loooong time. But now I rely on it for fear of looking like the undead without it, as well as covering up PMS breakouts. Awesome. It’s no surprise that I would frighten young children first thing in the morning, yet when I look over my daughter’s crib she’s not horrified by my zombie-like appearance, she’s tickled to see me. Now that’s love.

My mommy guru (sister-in-law) used to tell me the wonders of a highlighter pencil and how it could brighten up the dullest of faces. But to me, it was just one more thing I couldn’t be bothered with, plus I didn’t have kids yet and didn’t know the importance of looking well-rested even if it was just smoke and mirrors. I was already putting moisturizer, concealer, foundation, powder, eyeliner, and mascara on…wasn’t that enough?!?

Apparently the answer is no!

I didn’t know what it meant to be truly tired until my baby came along. I also didn’t know what it meant to look truly tired until my baby came along. There’s nothing worse than someone saying, “You look tired.” Really? Why don’t you tell me how fat my ass is while you’re at it? What do people think they’re accomplishing by telling someone this? That once you hear it, you’ll realize they’re right, drop everything, and take a nap right away? This observation is almost always followed up with, “Why are you in a bad mood?” Gee, I wonder…

When I see pictures of myself now, my eyes are happy but they’re beyond droopy. I see the same thing in my hubby’s eyes, but he’s not battling the dark rings that I am. It’s probably because he gets to sleep through her 3 am wake-ups. Lucky bastard! He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to figure out a way for him to breastfeed number two, whether it’s taking hormones or what! That way maybe I won’t have to glop on so much concealer to cover up my racoon mask! And in the meantime, maybe I’ll have to buy those wonderous highlighter pencils…in bulk.