Category Archives: Humor

Fur Babies

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

I would be so embarrassed if the world could hear how I yell at my dogs sometimes. Between the death threats I spew at them and terrible names I call them when they’re acting out, it would seem I went from exceptional pet owner to Michael Vick…well, I wouldn’t go that far. My death threats to them are all empty threats. These animals were once my babies. I confess that I was one of those crazy pet owners who treated her animals like her kids. I didn’t go as far as pushing them around in doggie strollers that is all the rage right now, but I did dress them up in silly outfits and put them on our annual Christmas card.

People kept trying to tell me that it would change once I had actual children, but I never believed them. I used to listen, nodding in agreement while inside I vowed to remain loyal to my four-legged babies. They were our kids for seven years before our little munchkin arrived so I was sure they wouldn’t be neglected, although this was something that worried me while I was pregnant. Fast forward to the day we brought the baby home from the hospital…the animals were excited yet confused on why there was this funny little bundle permanently attached to us. The guilt was strong, yet I didn’t have time to dwell on it what with taking care of a newborn. Their sad little faces were pathetic as they tried to figure out their new pecking order…they still haven’t figured it out. There were many days when I’d have the baby and both dogs on my lap.

I still feel guilty that the dogs don’t get walked everyday and they don’t get as much cuddle time anymore. I still think of them as my kids, we call them brother and sister to our daughter after all. But I definitely understand what everyone was trying to tell me. There’s really no comparison. I love my fur babies very much but I love my daughter beyond words.

A Little Bathroom Humor

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

Has someone ever watched you go to the bathroom? Unless you’re a career criminal, the answer is probably no. There’s nothing quite as unsettling as a pair of peering eyes on you while you do your duty. It’s way more awkward than when you’re in a public restroom and you get stage fright and are unable to go or if the door won’t latch and someone briefly walks in on you. Mummyhood has meant goodbye to modesty in more ways than one, and this is one of those ways.

My hubby and I have never been one of those really open couples who uses the bathroom in tandem (surprising since we’ve only ever had one bathroom wherever we’ve lived). Call me old-fashioned but I like to keep some sort of mystery alive because after child-birth there really isn’t anything left to wonder about.

So when my daughter is in one of her clingy moods and Mummy needs to use the facilities, there’s no other option than to bring her along. In the few times that I’ve had to subject her to my restroom trips, she sits in her swing just as happy as can be. Only once did I have to actually wear her in the baby sling causing me to wonder if it qualified as child abuse?! To make your child sit in the bathroom while you use the toilet seems like some sort of punishment. Am I doing unnecessary trauma to her little psyche? Isn’t it better than leaving her screaming and alone in the other room making her feel abandoned? Or am I doing worse damage to where she’ll have flashbacks when she’s older to a horrifying memory of her mother sitting on the commode? Who knows. Soon she’ll learn that everyone poops (just like the book) and at one time in your life you might have an audience for it.

Pint-sized Bosses

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

“Change my diaper! Bring me my binkie! Where’s my milk?” A mummy is somewhat of a 24 hour pro-bono personal assistant to her baby. And her client can be very demanding at times. Who am I kidding? More like ALL the time. Mummy is a personal assistant times a billion. P.A.s in general  take a lot of abuse and are required to smile while they complete their tasks. A poo-eating grin, if you will. But the poo involved here is literal and must be wiped and cleaned off your “employer” several times a day, sometimes even out of their hair or off the TV screen after a huge blowout (Yes, this has actually happened to me). The boss also has a free pass when it comes to your body — no grounds for harassment here. I never knew I could get pinched, slapped, and scratched so much while feeding my baby. Usually it makes me laugh because she doesn’t do any real damage, but once in a while she’ll make me say ouch. I’m just thankful she’s not the Naomi Campbell of babies capable of chucking a cell phone at my head. Those days are sure to come later. Hopefully she’ll be as sweet and gentle as a lamb and nowhere close to a demanding diva.

I knew all this when I “signed up” to be a mom. Funny thing is I couldn’t wait to be responsible for all the daily needs of caring for my baby: changing diapers, feeding, bathing, burping, cuddling, etc. Yes, my services were free but I knew I’d get paid in hugs, smiles, and the sweetest coos anyone has ever heard. The rewards of being a mummy far outweigh the demanding schedule that comes along with a baby and I know when she’s capable of doing things for herself I’ll probably be right there trying to “baby” her again. The days and weeks keep flying by and she’s reaching milestones quickly so I know her independence is right around the corner ,which freaks me out a little, so I’m content with playing personal assistant for a lot longer.

Your Mom Goes to College

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

On January 18, 2011 I officially became a “your mom” joke. (“Mom jeans” and fanny pack to be issued at the hospital upon delivery).  I was, in fact, somebody’s mom therefore susceptible to this ever-popular comeback. A joke used by most males between the ages of ten and twenty or in my case, my twenty-nine year old husband. He likes to use it regularly. He’s also a fan of the ever popular, “That’s what she said,” which can, at times, be used interchangeably. Here is an example: “I like spicy sausage!” “Your mom likes spicy sausage,” or “That’s what she said.” Easy as pie and probably why the hubby likes it so. No thinking required!

It dawned on me that these two expressions might be going strong by the time my daughter is ten or so and I would be the butt of the joke. These little twerps running around making fun of me and I would be clueless. What’s a mummy to do? Grin and bear it? Tell them a grandma joke? “Your Grandma likes spicy sausage!” (Using their moms as jokes would be cruel, but grandmas would be fair game). But I couldn’t stoop to their level being the adult and all…or could I?

When my hubby and I were younger we bought shirts that read, “I heart your mom.” We wore them for a picture and our moms thought it was the cutest thing ever, totally missing the joke while we snickered in the background. Oh, if I could find that photo now… I guess everything comes full circle so it’s just a matter of time before my daughter laughs hysterically when someone says that her mom likes spicy sausage or that her mom goes to college and I’ll probably smile and think they’re just the cutest kids ever.

Funny Like a Clown?

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“Funny Mummy” implies more than cracking a good joke every now and then. When someone says that you’re funny it almost always means, “You’re bonkers and you make me seem less crazy.” I can just imagine my daughter saying to me one day, “Mom, you’re so funny.” And by that I will know that she really means I’m a loony toon. And I will be so proud. I would love her to think I’m funny for more than the silly faces I make and wacky nicknames I bestow upon her. Good god, what if she doesn’t have a sense of humor? Is that learned or inherent? Should I practice spit-takes in front of her and knock-knock jokes?

I guess all mothers are slightly insane. We’re insane because we let these tiny people spit up, defecate and urinate all over us and we still smile, clap, and kiss them all over right after they’ve done so. Who else in their right minds would put up with this? Since my daughter is still so young and the most she can do to me is these slightly offensive, but healthy, bodily functions, am I only at the beginning of my insanity? Is it going to get much worse as she gets older and can really inflict some damage? Drawings on the walls, eating pennies, and whatever else toddlers do? And then come the teen years. Hormones and attitudes. Ack. I’ll be 85% insane by then and a complete 100% when she graduates highschool.

And will I ever get it back? Will my sanity one day be restored? When my baby eventually leaves me in the dust will I get my fully functioning brain back as if it were waiting gift-wrapped sitting in a forgotten closet somewhere? God, I hope so because it’s only “Hello rest home” from there and I don’t want to be that crazy old woman who forgot to put her teeth in all because motherhood fried my brain.

Pass the Ginkgo Biloba, Please

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

B.B. (before baby) my memory was a steel trap! You could’ve asked me anything…the name of my kindergarten teacher? Mrs. Zirm. Who wrote the poem The Wasteland? T.S. Eliot.  The Italian city where St. Francis was from? Piece of cake…Assisi. But these days: 6 months A.B. (after baby) I’m lucky if I can remember my own name. I’ll be mid-story and completely forget what point I was trying to make. I understand this happens to people all the time, but this never used to happen to me. It’s weird and frightening. It makes me worry how I’ll be in five years.

One of my mom’s favorite phrases to me over the years was, “You just wait.” I used to (and still do) tease her about all of her wacky ways and this would always be her comeback. She was referring to me waiting until the day I had children thus rendering me a brain-dead stressed-out sleep-deprived lunatic. Well, of course she was right. My day has come! My brain barely functions yet the baby is thriving so I must be doing something right.

Sometimes I have a moment of clarity and can get an answer to a Jeopardy question, but most of the time the only thing I can think is, “I would’ve gotten all these answers before.” But really Jeopardy answers don’t matter because there is no time to be sitting around watching TV anymore when there’s a baby who needs feeding, changing, and a reading to. I miss my DVR almost as much as I miss my sleep!