Category Archives: Parenting

10 Tips for Surviving Disneyland With a Toddler

Posted in Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting, Writing by

disneyland

1.Buy your tickets online and print them out at home instead of just checking the park hours like my rookie ass. It will save you from waiting in yet another line because at this point you’ve already waited 20 minutes in line to park, 15 minutes in line to ride the tram, and another 20 minutes in line behind the lady who is buying annual passes for every single member of her family. As you’re well aware, waiting in line is against a toddler’s everything.

2. Two hours later, or as soon as you get inside the gates, buy an ice cream cone or cupcake or both. No doubt you will already be cursing your stupidity for taking your kid(s) to the “Happiest Place on Earth” so sugar will at least trick your brain into thinking it was a good idea for 10 minutes.

3. Know that you will become asshole magnets attracting that stupid drunk group of people. They will undoubtedly stand behind you in line for the tram — karma for all the times you were those loud, belligerent assholes. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em by bringing your own flask because I still never found out if Disneyland sells booze.

4. Avoid driving through LA to get to Disneyland. Driving through LA is never a good idea. Stay nearby in a crappy hotel or freeload off a relative who lives close by even leaving one of your other kids with them to make your experience more enjoyable.

5. Bring a bag of toys and books to distract your little one while you stand in lines that last for days. You won’t be able to give her your phone because you need something to distract you also.

6. Don’t let yourself become “hangry” and settle for breaded chicken chunks and limp fries because it’s the closest thing. Just eat popcorn, churros, and cotton candy all day. Avoid the cafes and restaurants cause all they sell is overpriced microwavable frozen food.

7.When your child who normally naps around 1:00 starts acting like a whiny jerk, just give her more sugar like the moms on Toddlers and Tiaras. It totally works.

8.If you want your toddler to stop talking about going on the carousel for the millionth time, take her on the teacups cause she can’t speak when she’s going cross-eyed.

9. If global warming is in full effect and the weather is unseasonable warm, seek refuge in A Small World. It’s air-conditioned and it lasts a long time.

10. Feeling regretful at any point in your visit? Take a look around and notice all the other parents sporting the same FML look of frustration as they try mercilessly to please their overwhelmed youngsters. Try not to high-five your spouse when you see other children throwing a tantrum and yours is behaving, cause your time is a-coming!

BONUS TIP

11. Look up an actual article with helpful tips for surviving Disneyland with a toddler. You’re welcome!

Another Birthday Letter

Posted in Family, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting, Writing by

To Our Kooky Lil Bundle-of-Fun,

Happy 3rd Birthday Lovey Bear! You might as well be turning 23 today instead of 3 because you’re just so grown up now. You are quite the little character, telling tales using your hands like an even tinier Roberto Benigni. In fact, you look a lot like him. Same crazy hair, miniature body, and insane excitability. I’m going to enroll you in Italian classes tomorrow to complete my vision.

You

You

Him

Him

 

That old cliché is true…it seems like just yesterday your father and I were bringing you back from the hospital, staying up all night holding your precious little body, and staring at you with such wonder. We couldn’t wait to hear your little voice for the first time or find out who you’d become. I know you have a lot of growing and changing still to do, but I love who you are and will love who you’ll be no matter what. You are so smart and want to discover as much as possible. You love horses and balloons and books. Your favorite song is Alphabet Pony and you love interpretive dance. You make me laugh the best laughs of my life and that is everything.

We took you to Disneyland for the first time (cause you were free) and your favorite part was the carousel and picking out which color saddle you wanted. You loved A Small World and Dumbo and had more sugar than real food. You picked out a pair of glittery red Minnie Mouse shoes and you wore them home. All in all, it was a great day and I’m glad we could go.

I hope your birthday was as special as you are. Daddy and I love you like crazy.

All my love,
Mama

Piece of Cake

Posted in Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting, Writing by

Having one kid is cake. But you could never know this until you have two.cake

When our children are away from each other, it’s like they’re different kids. The baby is the happiest little angel never screaming or crying like she normally does in her sister’s presence. And the big one is her most sweet and charming self when she has all the attention and the patience of parents who don’t have a fussy baby to placate first. It makes me wonder what the second one would be like if she were the first born and vice versa.

It’s like those Luvs diaper commercials. You know the ones — first time moms vs. second time moms. Where the new mommy is breastfeeding in public for the first time in a busy restaurant. She’s nervous someone will see her boob, her baby is screaming cause she’s starving, and Mommy has a full-blown panic attack. The next scene shows the same mom with her second baby. She could care less about a cover-up, her boob is free, the baby is happily nursing away while her toddler throws crayons at the waiter who is ogling said boob. She gives the waiter the, “My eyes are up here” move with her fingers and proceeds to place her order. And just like that, a veteran mom gets her wings.

The other commercials are equally awesome, showing how a second-timer can leave the house with only a handful of Cheerios and a spare diaper, or let a greasy mechanic hold her baby while she writes a check for her new brakes. These are things a first-timer would never do. A first-timer has the entire house packed into the diaper bag and car before heading out anywhere and no one who hasn’t bathed in Purel and had all their vaccines can come close to touching or even breathing on your first born. But second born, shoot, you’d let a group of house-trained monkeys come in and do the job if they were willing to put up with your jerk of a baby.

As a second-time parent, there are a million things I’ve said and done that I never guessed I would. I openly curse them in the middle of the night in my exhausted stupor. I leave them unattended, asleep in their beds while we go next door for dinner. Before you get all Judgy Judgerson on me, I totally have the video monitor that alerts me if someone is crying or being kidnapped (although the signal only reaches the corner of the dining room). What? It’s not like the doors are unlocked and not like we live in a major city. We live in the sticks and have two of the yappiest (I mean, meanest, toughest, tear-you-to-bits) dogs in the world, so no way anyone is getting into the house without us knowing. And besides, we’re right next door….if we were Oprah, it’d be like they were just in the East Wing of the estate. No biggie.

Thinking back, I never left my first-born alone in the house even to go get the mail. And when she was strapped into her car seat waiting in the driveway, I’d lock the doors while I walked the 100 steps to the mailbox even though she was never out of sight. Now I go strap them in their car seats while I come back in the house to get the rest of our crap, moving as slowly as possible, enjoying the fact that they’re locked down and not running circles around the kitchen island while I’m trying to fill sippy cups and snack bags.

We start out as over-protective Mama Bears who fiercely watch over our babies and then whether it be because we’re tired, or more relaxed, or more experienced (and definitely more frustrated), we learn to let go just enough not to go completely cuckoo and to actually enjoy the odd moment of parental bliss i.e. naptime.

To Spank or Not to Spank? A Squirrel Satire

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting, Writing by

tree squirrel

Once upon a time there lived frazzled Mama Squirrel who, one day, took her two baby squirrels to the nearby playground to get out their chitters and squeaks in the fresh air so she wouldn’t be a complete nutcase by dinnertime.

Turned out all the other Mamas had the same idea and the playground was packed with skittering feet darting all around.

Mama Squirrel’s two little ones were playing well with the others until a bossy chipmunk wanted to use the counting toy and forcefully moved Sister Squirrel out of the way.

“No, Chippy Chipmunk,” her mother squeaked angrily. “You need to play together!”

Chippy huffed and continued on. Sister Squirrel was very understanding, swelling Mama Squirrel’s heart with pride…for once.

Meanwhile, Chippy’s mom proceeded to tell Mama Squirrel all about her dilemma just getting to the playground. First, her best jumping branch broke and she had to wait over an hour for the handyman to come fix it, then she had to nurse Chippy’s baby brother for a half hour only to be rewarded with a blowout on their journey over, but not before almost getting creamed by a guy riding a bicycle and texting at the same time. Mrs. Chipmunk was obviously distraught and Mama Squirrel knew exactly how she felt. That easily could have been her morning.

Out of nowhere, Chippy, still upset from being reprimanded by her mother, took out her revenge on Baby Squirrel, extending both arms and forcefully pushing her down. Poor Baby Squirrel didn’t do a thing!

Watch out, Baby!

Watch out, Baby!

Mama Squirrel swooped in, rescuing Baby Squirrel before Chippy stamped on her tail or gave her rabies.

Looked something like this.

Looked something like this.

Mrs. Chipmunk, with Baby Brother, strapped to her chest, didn’t miss a beat. She grabbed Chippy by the arm and swatted her behind three times and said, “We do not push anyone. We’re going home.” And off they went, Chippy’s mom pulling her by the arm while Baby Brother slept peacefully in his pouch, oblivious to what his future held.

Mama Squirrel felt badly for Mrs. Chipmunk, they’d only just gotten there and what an ordeal it was to do that! At the same time, Mama Squirrel was happy that Mrs. Chipmunk had no qualms about spanking her beloved little Chippy in front of a playground full of other mothers. Not only did she see what happened (because there’s nothing more annoying than when a mother doesn’t see her offspring behaving badly) but she took matters into her own hands, literally, and showed Chippy that pushing was not acceptable behavior. Now, if it had been Mama Squirrel, she wouldn’t have spanked because what does that teach them? It’s confusing to their wee chipmunk-sized brains. Yet, if Mama Squirrel was being honest, there was a tiny part of her that reveled in the punishment because who has the acorns to that these days? Apparently, Mrs. Chipmunk does, that’s who!

You Dumb Bastards

Posted in Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting, Writing by

I don’t get out much. This is nothing new. The other day I was in a normal grocery store as opposed to the tiny hick market I usually frequent and I saw Star magazine. (The tiny hick market by our house doesn’t have trash magazines next to the registers thus limiting my pop culture knowledge to zilch.)

Says official...gotta be true then!

Says official…gotta be true then!

When I saw the cover of Princess Kate and it said, “It’s official! She’s Pregnant” my first thought was, “You dumb bastards” to quote a favorite Kevin Smith movie, Mallrats. Then my second thought was, “Of course she’s not pregnant, you don’t believe these rags. How can it be trusted when the story next to it is about Jessica Simpson’s weight or what Miley Cyrus did with her tongue now?”

Didn’t the Royal Couple just have Prince George? Wasn’t that hullabaloo only three months ago? My two monsters angels are close in age, but not THAT close! My next thought after calling the Prince and Princess of Cambridge dumb bastards was, “Ha ha! You will know my misery.” A millisecond later it struck me that “They’re royalty. They probably have nannies coming out the yin yang. And will never know my misery. So go on and have ten more!”

I already feel sorry for their alleged second born child though. Can you imagine following in these footsteps?

george

Any subsequent birth or baby would pale in comparison to this level of perfection.

As everyone knows you go all out for your first born — brand new everything. Nothing but the absolute best! And in Prince George’s case literal parades thrown in his honor, his birthday a national holiday.

So what does the second one get? Hand-me downs and an empty baby book or in this case a smaller crown with less gems and an older brother who can do no wrong in his mother’s eyes…even if he declares war on the rest of the world.

That poor alleged second child!

One Funny Mummy Goes Viral…Not Really, But it’s a Start!

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting, Writing by

This morning I was shocked to find an email from an editor at BlogHer in my inbox saying they were going to publish my most recent Mom Code post on their Family blog page. Immediately I felt like I’d won the Pulitzer Prize, wait did I say Pulitzer? I meant Publisher’s Clearing House and that dude with the ginormous check and balloons was knocking on my door ready to hand it over. I’m pretty sure the feeling would be the same…total elation!

Yahoo!

Woohoo!

This came at just the right time to give me a small piece of validation to keep going because lately I’ve been questioning if I’m even a writer anymore because I don’t have a spare moment to reflect or observe or do writerly things and it’s starting to mess with my mind and, no doubt, my mood.

I was so excited and beside myself that I immediately went to BlogHer’s website so I could see my post, but it wasn’t there. So I thought maybe it would be published sometime this week. So I went back to my inbox to reread the email and only then did I notice the date, December 26th…four days ago. The day after Christmas. Who checks their email the day after Christmas? Certainly not me! Isn’t the whole world on pause from the 25th until January 1st because it sure seems that way according to the amount of tourists walking around the tourist trap of a town next to us and also according to the TV as absolutely f*ck all has been on. Plus, I normally wouldn’t have even checked that email if it weren’t for that Target debacle. (Man, Target has really been letting me down lately.)

So I was bummed I missed seeing my post on the front page of their Family section, but completely unbummed that they selected my post in the first place. There is no monetary compensation (although that would’ve been icing on the cake) but there is a profound sense of accomplishment especially for someone who deals with poop all day. I’m super proud and thrilled. Hopefully, there will be more to come!

Mom Code

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting by

My sister and I think we’re hilarious. It’s probably a “you have to be there” kind of hilarity, but it’s ours and it’s one of the things I love most about her. Every time we get together we’re brainstorming about our newest venture whether it be a taco shop where we sell delicious tacos and silk-screened tees, a book store/jungle gym for kids, a dessert/champagne bar, an eclectic home furnishings boutique, or a reality show about our comical conversations in dressing rooms. Yeah I know, we’d be the only viewers, but if that Ryan Lochte had a show and only half a brain then surely they’re just giving them away to anyone. A gold medal and rock-hard abs are totally overrated and will only get you so far.

We think it’s a brilliant idea inspired by that one time I got stuck in a sweater or that other time we went bra shopping schnockered off our asses and I ended up buying a massively padded bra that sits stuffed in the back of my delicates drawer despite having been measured and trying on fifty different bras. In my drunken stupor I grabbed the wrong one because what do I need with a push-up bra anymore? I have enough to worry about. Tucking my boobs back into my bra while chasing my two maniacs at the playground is just one more hassle this Mummy has no time for.

Our newest idea/fantasy is to have a TV show called Mom Code modeled after MTV’s Girl Code.

girl code

Since we’re no longer the shiny, young thangs we used to be but mentally and physically exhausted moms who need a glass or four of Chardonnay as a reward after a particularly hard day, we know that Mom Code is more suited to us than what these twenty-something millennials are talking about. These gals discuss things like the timeline for farting in front of your boyfriend or girls who can’t walk in high heels or how a porn star’s va-jay-jay resembles a walrus patty. My favorite comedienne is Nicole Byer whose catch phrase is “I can’t!” Everything she says cracks me up!

sad

“People don’t want to hear about your diet. Just shut up, eat your lettuce, and be sad. #ICan’t”

Mom Code moments happen every single day and when they do, I yell, Mom Code! and then text my sister cause I know she will sympathize, probably already having gone through it. So I’ve decided to put a little list together so that one day I might look back and laugh. I apologize in advance for all the poop references…it just goes with the territory. Oh hey, that’s one #MomCode

You look out the window and see the sunrise and your first thought isn’t, “Oh how beautiful” but “Ah crap, how early is too early to start drinking?” Mom Code

You don’t care if your toddler plays with matches and locks her baby sister outside, you will sneak away to take a dump in private if it’s the only thing you accomplish all day. Mom Code

You are now the proud owner of  yo-yo boobs…push them up and they just yo-yo back to their new southern location. Mom Code

It’s weird to see your actual name or initials cause now you’re just Mom. Mom Code

While furiously scrubbing your skid-marked toilet you unknowingly step in the fresh dog poop hidden on your poop-brown bathroom mat. Mom Code

You’re unsure if the booger crusted to your cheek is your own or your toddler’s and then you wonder how long it’s been there and who all has seen it. Mom Code

After changing a bajillion poopy diapers, you suffer from PPS…Phantom Poop Smell where you randomly catch a whiff just sitting on the couch then search tirelessly for the source of the stink yielding no results. Mom Code

You could feed a small African village with the amount of Cheerios, Goldfish, and raisins from under your two car seats. Mom Code

Any job sounds better and a million times easier than taking care of two demanding whiny-pants day in and day out. Mom Code

You give your fellow mom a knowing smile when her little one is going ballistic in the middle of the store (and feel smug as shit that it’s not yours this time). Mom Code

Silence means one of two things: they were finally successful in killing each other or one of them is happily drawing poo hieroglyphics all over the hallway while the other one eats handfuls of sugar directly from the bag. Mom Code

You eat every meal standing over the sink or the kitchen counter or sometimes even over the toilet. Mom Code

Mom Code like Girl Code is universal. How would we ever survive without it? Yeah ok, with a lot of wine. While it doesn’t seem particularly funny when you’re going through it, I try to tell myself that someday I’ll look back and laugh and even miss it.

Living Under a Rock

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting by

It’s a sad, sad day when your own mother is hipper than you. When she knows more about what’s current and trending than you do. Makes me want to get a facelift or better yet, some Botox. Not really, but sheesh, it’s alarming. Give the old woman an iPhone and she’s Queen of Social Media spouting off words like YouTube and Yelp. I’m surprised she doesn’t have her own Twitter handle before me.

About a month ago, my sister sent me a video called, “What Does the Fox Say” and ever since then I’ve wanted to shoot, skin, and wear that fox to a Sunday brunch. Not really as I could never harm a fly, seriously, I apologize to a fly before I smack the crap out of it with a dish towel. Who does that? It’s a FLY!

foxphoto

The fox song is a catchy tune that Auntie played while my daughter was staying at her house one weekend so I never had a chance. It was funny the first hundred times listening to it and watching my girls bounce up and down to the music. The fact that the big one knows the words and sings along makes me laugh, but now it’s just gotta go. We’ve probably added 20,000 views alone.

Well, come to find out that this video is quite popular. Here I was thinking it was a kid thing. Apparently the group Ylvis was on MTV at the VMAs and the song was used on DWTS (not that I watch either of those things). Then my own mother asked me if I’d seen the latest spoof from SNL with Kerry Washington, “What Does My Girl Say.” That was the moment I knew my mother was more relevant than me and I just wanted to crawl back under my rock and pretend that the outside world didn’t exist, like I do 99% of the time.

I wish I had the brain power and the energy to make my own video called, “What Does the Mummy Say?” so my daughter could sing it in her adorable little voice. She’d say, “Go to, Go to, Go to Sleep” “Eat your, Eat your, Eat your peas” and “Time-out, Time-out, Time-out, NOW!” “What does the Mummy say?” It’s an instant classic, a bajillion views…in my head.

Miley Cyrus Ain’t No Shirley Temple

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting by

I grew up watching black and white Shirley Temple movies, instantly falling in love with her perfect ringlets and undeniable dimples.

shirleyOf course I saw myself as Heidi living in the Swiss Alps with my gruff German grandfather learning how to milk goats and wear clogs. And as the adorable little orphan in Curly Top singing about animal crackers in my soup and also as the feisty little southern belle dancing down the stairs with Bojangles Robinson himself in The Little Colonel.

dancing with Uncle Billy

Whether it was intentional on her part or not, my mother made me a huge nerd. She’s the one who introduced me to Shirley in the first place. She deemed her a worthy role model, letting me dress up as her in third grade complete with a top hat, cane, and the best ringlets my straight hair would hold. She helped me with my book report on her that same year and it was my proudest accomplishment of third grade, next to my kick-ass volcano.

When I think of the role models my daughters might have, I get a little worried to put it mildly. Remember cute little Hannah Montana?hannah montana

Well, I don’t know if she was ever cute or innocent, but I’m sure a lot of young girls watched her with the same adoration I had when I watched Shirley. And we all know how that ended…a twerking nightmare.

I can just imagine if Shirley Temple was a child-star today. How she’d grow up to shed her “nice girl” image claiming that performing half-naked with her tongue hanging out of her head was staying true to herself as a performer. She’d sing “On the Good Ship Lollipop” wearing assless chaps humping a giant foam sucker and twerking till the cows came home cause that’s what entertainment is these days.

Forgive me, Shirley. You would never stoop so low. Plus, you had real talent. You were, and still are, America’s Sweetheart for a reason, not because your daddy had an Achy Breaky hit in the early 90’s. I know my daughters will see the same magic in you that I saw and I can’t wait to share your movies with them.

To sum up, the nerdification of my daughters will definitely be intentional. They will wear glasses whether they need to or not. They will idolize Shirley Temple and play with horses until they’re eighteen. They will never listen to pop music and will never leave the house. Only now as mother do I understand why I couldn’t watch Dirty Dancing when I was nine and was twenty the first time I watched Pretty Woman. Like I said…total nerd.

Addicted to Chachi

Posted in Comedy, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting by

Remember that show Joanie Loves Chachi? Joanie loves ChachiYeah, me neither. It was before my time. Spinoff from Happy Days, Scott Baio from Charles in Charge fame? Anyway, the “Chachi” I’m talking about here is my daughter’s beloved nickname for her pacifier…which she still has. I’m so embarrassed and ashamed to admit that I let my 2 1/2 year old still use a pacifier. I was always one of those people who said as soon as the kid could walk, that thing was gone. Yet, here we are a year and a half after she started walking and she clings to them like a junkie to a needle, like a fat kid to cake, like me to my shred of sanity.

We called the pacifier a paci or passy like other families, bypassing the outdated term of binky. Chachi came about organically. She called it something that sounded like chachi and it stuck. She even had a little song and dance about it. “I got a chachi. I got a chachi” swaying her little hips side to side while waving her chachi in the air. chachiIf you asked my friends, it sounded like she was singing about something else entirely.

She’s a full-on chachi hoarder! It’s not like she’s happy with just one. Oh no! That would be far too simple. She needs a minimum of two and prefers three or more. I remember how it happened. When she was nine months old we used to stock her crib with a couple extras for those middle of the night wakings so she could flail around and find one in her sleep. Well, that ultimately backfired on us and now she needs them to cuddle and rub against her nose. However, this might be more than a learned behavior it might be genetic and the person I have to blame is myself! Apparently I was a chachi fanatic just like my chip off the ol’ block. However, I called it a poey (Long o sound like Joey with a p–didn’t want you thinking I called it a pooey). I used to rub my nose with the poey to soothe myself as well. One day when I was two my mom told me “no more poey” so I calmly turned it over without so much as a fuss. Not going to be the case for my little petunia. I’ve been getting her used to the idea that chachis are only for babies and now that her sister is no longer a baby, we need to pass them on. She adamantly refuses this conversation and idea. I’ve even told her the chachi fairy will bring her an awesome present, yet she tells me she’s not giving them up. Eff the Chachi Fairy in so many words.

Not too long ago I read something by Erma Bombeck about pacifiers from her book, Motherhood: The Second Oldest Profession. She talks about the mothers of her generation being closet pacifier advocates. She never wanted her own mother to know that she used them with her children. I get it. I start to perspire when I think about the world witnessing my giant child with a chachi in her mouth. I can just hear the judgement swirling around their heads. Lucky for me she only uses them in the car and in bed.

Erma writes that the pacifier signaled that we can’t cope with our children. Ding! Ding! Ding! Hit the nail on the head–at least in my case. When her mother saw her grandchild with a pacifier she said, “Do you know that if you keep using this pacifier, by the time this baby is four years old, her teeth will come in crooked and her mouth will have a permanent pout?” To which Erma replied, “Do you know, Mother, if I do not use that pacifier, I may never permit her to become four?” My sentiments exactly! And why my toddler still has a chachi obsession! If she didn’t use those things at night, who knows what kind of crappy sleeper I’d have on my hands. Guess I’ll find out soon enough when I take them away.

“We American pioneers of the pacifier have given it the respectability it deserves. After all, what other force in the world has the power to heal, stop tears, end suffering, sustain life, restore world peace, and is the elixir that grants mothers everywhere the opportunity to sleep…perchance to dream?”

Amen, Mama!

Wish I could’ve remembered this passage when I was up at 2 am this morning frantically searching the dark corners of my baby’s crib for her stinking pacifier to quiet her uproarious cries. Maybe then I wouldn’t have cursed those plastic pieces of crap to hell. Then it hit me, I’m the chachi pusher.

Hello, my name is One Funny Mummy and I’m an addict…of peace and quiet!