Tag Archives: kids

My Christmas Story

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

 

When I was little, Christmas was marshmallowy moments of pure happiness sprinkled with glittery anticipation. It was thrilling like nothing else. I’d count down the days as soon as Thanksgiving hit, growing more and more excited with each X on the calendar. I’m sure it drove my mom crazy since now my daughters constantly ask if Christmas is here yet, thus making me totally insane.

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My daughter has picked up where I left off

 

We all remember at least one Christmas that blew our minds and made us scream with pure joy. For me, it was when Santa left $3 in my stocking. I couldn’t believe how rich Santa was to leave me three. whole. dollars. Who knows what I even did with all that cash…probably blew it on candy. And to think those three dollars were probably a last minute idea on my father’s part when he felt like the piles and piles of presents he already got us weren’t enough. I totally get that now.

Then I got older, Christmas turned into something else, and the only thing that has brought back any kind of happiness to it, is my children. Now it’s simply about making Christmas as special for them as possible. I struggle with wanting to give them everything their little hearts desire, and not giving them too much, fearing it’ll make them greedy little jerks…

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More than all the toys, I hope we’re giving them magic, the kind they unwrap and keep in their hearts, the kind that will always bring them happiness. I want them to feel the wonder of a holiday that’s about so much more than the things they asked Santa for. Christmas is going to change for them as the years keep coming, but I always want them to feel that certain spark of excitement because I realize we don’t get enough of those as we get older.

Unadulterated Joy

 

One or the Other

Posted in Family, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting by

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There are few things more stressful than getting kids ready for school in the morning. I’ve even compared it to diffusing a bomb because if one little thing goes wrong, it could blow up the entire day.

From the moment we wake up, the timer on the time bomb starts ticking down until the final minute when we have to be ready with lunches packed, backpacks ready, and out the door. Oh! And then there are the minor details of the kids being fully clothed, fed, and cleaned up too!

The stressful part isn’t all the simple tasks that need to be done, it’s repeating the simple tasks over and over to children who don’t listen. If my kids actually listened maybe it’d be a different story. But no, they wait until I turn from this:

June-Cleaver

pillar of patience

into this:

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death monster spewing rage

You can’t have a good morning and be on time, it just doesn’t work that way. You must decide which is more important. For me, being on time is important and is the reason why I turn into a lunatic in the last couple minutes before we leave the house. I’m always hopeful that they know I don’t mean the things I say in these last two minutes. They’re not listening anyway, so I think I’m okay.

My good morning starts as soon as I drop them off at school and drive away. That’s when life gets easier for a few short hours, at least, easier in the sense that I’m not breaking up fights, serving snacks left and right, or looking for an obscure toy they haven’t played with in months.

Maybe we have a “good” morning every now and then where everything goes pretty smoothly and we still make it to school on time, but it takes a boatload of effort, not to mention a boatload of coffee. It also takes a lot of biting my tongue and grumbling my string of obscenities walking from one side of the car around to the other while the kids are inside deaf to my cursing. In other words, the stars have to be aligned, not to mention all the socks, shoes, and sweaters too, preferably right by the front door for ease of grabbing as the final countdown hits.

 

Weird is Good

Posted in Family, Humor, Mommy Blog, Parenting by

I was reading to my daughter like we do every night before bed. She interrupted me like she does every night, but this time she said something that caught me off guard.

She said a kid called her weird. She sounded so sad, and for a minute, I was too.

My first reaction was to tell her to ignore this kid, but I paused and tried to think of something better, something that would help her for the next time it happens.

Then it came to me.

I told her that being weird is a good thing. It means you’re not like anyone else. So the next time someone calls you weird, you should say thank you. She laughed a delighted little giggle and I felt good, like I’d said the right thing at the right time.

As I was reveling in my parental sense of accomplishment, my daughter turned over, laughed again, and deliberately farted on me.

I couldn’t sum up parenthood more perfectly if I tried.

OneCrazyMummy

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

I might as well change this blog’s name to OneCrazyMummy because with baby #2 on the way I won’t be sane for a long time.

Yes, it’s official — the hubby and I are expecting a brother or sister for our darling daughter sometime in September. We’ve had awhile to get used to the idea of two little rugrats running around but sometimes the fear hits us out of nowhere. We’ll be out on a walk and suddenly realize there will be two drooly faces to wipe…(not to mention two dirty butts).

We realize that once this baby gets here, making us a party of four, we won’t be making any kind of reservations or leaving the house period. The hubby already scoffs at how much stuff is required just to make a simple outing to the park. Weighted down with multiple bags on his arms and the stroller in tow, he asks if the amount of stuff will double with the new addition. Duh! Like with everything else, it will become our new normal I guess.

This wasn’t exactly planned nor was it unplanned but we’re very excited for our growing family. Sure we have our moments of “what the hell are we thinking?!?!” but the thought of our daughter having a sibling so close in age eases those fears. At least until she’s a teenager and wants nothing to do with her brother or sister (or her parents, for that matter). Did I mention I was going to have myself committed by the time she hits thirteen anyway? A nice padded room with no sharp objects, just a bed and a pillow. That sounds like heaven!