I'd like to take a moment to fix the problems in today's world. You may either read this and pass it along until everyone reads and follows them, or elect me president. Either way is fine with me, however, if I were president, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have to do laundry anymore, so that may be the best solution...
1. Bring back manners.
2. Never vote in favor of death, bigger government or higher income taxes.
3. We could cut taxes tremendously if we quit paying the politicians. If they were volunteers, maybe we would start getting people who actually care about the betterment of our country.
4. Anyone who drinks and drives should have something cut off of their person. Maybe their right foot.
5. Anyone who hurts children should have something cut off of their person. No need to give a suggestion as to which part.
6. Stop suing doctors. Money isn't going to fix it, and all you do is raise the cost of healthcare.
7. Men should be men, and teach their sons to be men. Quit being gigantic wusses.
8. Women should be women, and teach their daughters to be women. Quit letting the men be wusses.
9. School should start at ten and give me a chance to drink some coffee before I have to drive near a high concentration of children.
10. Raise your children. Don't let everyone else do it, because they're doing a horrible job.
11. Americans should use only British swear words. They are funnier.
This is part one. I have things to do. Bergershnerger.
Nov 13, 2009
Alright, Girls, Your Turn
Yesterday, I had an entire day of "doing nothing", and I was going to write about the problems women create in marriage. My "doing nothing" was interrupted with my two-year-old hot gluing his face to the dishwasher, the police showing up at the door to tell me my three-year-old was in the street, and making a meal for 8 out of chicken for 2. (Note to self: When sending hubby to the store, include the amount needed of each item, as he seems to forget how many people live here.) So, if you ever wonder what I do all day, look at what happens when I try not to do it. (Before you send me nasty notes about child endangerment, you should know that I am exaggerating -- I won't tell you by how much, but I am exaggerating.)
Well, I locked the door, thawed some pork chops and hid the glue gun, and I put in an Elmo DVD for good measure, so, Girls, it's your turn.
...
Yeah, the problem is, the women I am friends with are perfect -- they never screw up their marriage, and I, of course, have no personal experience in mistake-making, so here's what we're gonna' do...We're going to talk about the women we know who are not our friends, and the reason we don't like them is because they're not as good as us. Maybe their mistakes will shed some light on this subject. (HA! Found a way to do this without losing friends -- I am an excellent writer!)
Women should respect their husbands unconditionally. You see, men do not know that there are actually two separate definitions for the words "respect" and "love". You won't be able to convince them, either, 'cause it's in the Bible, and there's no changing it. So, as long as you respect him, he will be assured of your love for him.
Don't make fun of him. Boys didn't like it in kindergarten, and they don't grow out of that as adults.
Don't mess with his hat. (I don't know -- I just remember this from high school -- male equivalent of a bad hair day, maybe?)
Don't "nag" him. This means never tell him anything ever. Oops, I accidentally directed that one at the guys...I stink at this. Ok, men don't like nagging. I hate it myself. Ask nicely, and if that doesn't work, ask nicely again. If that doesn't work, keep asking nicely, and explain to him that you wouldn't have to keep asking if he would listen in the first place. (DARN! I just did it again, didn't I?)
Forgive and forget. It's hard, but boy they get mad if you keep bringing stuff up!
Never complain about money. This does nobody any good. Ever.
You may treat him like a baby, but never like a girlfriend.
Never claim to have a headache...you know, if he thinks you should wash the car or something, and you don't really feel like it. Just tell him you'd love to wash the car, and will do so as soon as you aren't mad at it anymore.
Clean the house. I know, right? hahahahahaha
Well, my children have realized that I am not in sight, so I have to go put out fires, now. Maybe I can come up with some more evidence against the girls on my next hour off.
Well, I locked the door, thawed some pork chops and hid the glue gun, and I put in an Elmo DVD for good measure, so, Girls, it's your turn.
...
Yeah, the problem is, the women I am friends with are perfect -- they never screw up their marriage, and I, of course, have no personal experience in mistake-making, so here's what we're gonna' do...We're going to talk about the women we know who are not our friends, and the reason we don't like them is because they're not as good as us. Maybe their mistakes will shed some light on this subject. (HA! Found a way to do this without losing friends -- I am an excellent writer!)
Women should respect their husbands unconditionally. You see, men do not know that there are actually two separate definitions for the words "respect" and "love". You won't be able to convince them, either, 'cause it's in the Bible, and there's no changing it. So, as long as you respect him, he will be assured of your love for him.
Don't make fun of him. Boys didn't like it in kindergarten, and they don't grow out of that as adults.
Don't mess with his hat. (I don't know -- I just remember this from high school -- male equivalent of a bad hair day, maybe?)
Don't "nag" him. This means never tell him anything ever. Oops, I accidentally directed that one at the guys...I stink at this. Ok, men don't like nagging. I hate it myself. Ask nicely, and if that doesn't work, ask nicely again. If that doesn't work, keep asking nicely, and explain to him that you wouldn't have to keep asking if he would listen in the first place. (DARN! I just did it again, didn't I?)
Forgive and forget. It's hard, but boy they get mad if you keep bringing stuff up!
Never complain about money. This does nobody any good. Ever.
You may treat him like a baby, but never like a girlfriend.
Never claim to have a headache...you know, if he thinks you should wash the car or something, and you don't really feel like it. Just tell him you'd love to wash the car, and will do so as soon as you aren't mad at it anymore.
Clean the house. I know, right? hahahahahaha
Well, my children have realized that I am not in sight, so I have to go put out fires, now. Maybe I can come up with some more evidence against the girls on my next hour off.
Nov 12, 2009
Predictions
A few years back, I was in the produce section of the grocery store, and ended up following an ederly couple a few feet ahead of me. I overheard the wife barking orders at him and acting as if he was a complete idiot when he didn't forsee her every vegetable need. I marveled a little at her lack of respect, but for some reason, they intrigued me. The husband meekly obeyed her commands and apologized when she seemed offended. After a minute or two, I lost them behind the potatoes and forgot all about them. I finished picking out the perfect 5lb. bag and headed around the corner to the celery where I saw them arguing yet again. Well, she was arguing. He was nodding. Then he fell down flat on his back. I think he must have slipped because he was trying to get up and talking to the people who rushed to help him. I couldn't go help, first because I was busy holding the baby into the child seat, and second because I had seen his wife's reaction and I have to admit that I was having a hard time keeping a straight face. Does that make me a bad person? Probably. But I think it would have been worse if I'd tried to help while I was laughing like a kid in church. And while I do think that people falling is completely hilarious, I never find it funny when old or pregnant people fall -- just regular people. (It's especially funny if it happen to be a cheerleader, a PTA mom or a drunk dude.) The only reason it was funny this time is because everyone else saw the guy fall and only that. I saw his wife.
She ran to a spot about two sections over (to the bananas) and spent a few seconds pretending as if she didn't know who in the world he was or what had just happened. She was just a granny looking for a good deal on bananas. Then, I think she must have realized that people would have seen them together, so she dropped the act and proceeded to scream at him. "Henry, I told you not to wear those shoes to the store! You won't ever just listen to what I say, will you? Now look at you! You've got what you deserve, that's what...embarrassing yourself in front of all these people. I'd sooner leave you here on the floor than try to deal with you anymore. Get up, Henry, get up. Why do you want to sit on the floor, anyway? It's dirty." Then, noticing the odd looks she was getting, she spoke to the people helping her husband. "Oh, don't worry about him. He's fine -- does it all the time. He just wants attention, and if you keep fussing over him it'll only encourage him." So, can you kind of see why I was having a hard time keeping it together?
To make matters worse, I realized in that instant exactly what was going on. I had wondered about her disrespect and his willingness to go along with whatever she said, but the reason had just become clear, and I shall now impart to you, gracious reader, the wisdom given to me that day.
You see, that couple looked to be in their nineties, but we'll say they were eighty for the sake of retaining a driver's license. They were more than likely married at age twenty, which puts them together for a good sixty years. Let me lay it out for you, so you don't miss anything...
In the first year of any marriage, the husband is not yet aware that he is married. It takes him at least this long to quit coming home drunk after hanging out with his buddies all night, and wondering what in the world his wife is mad about. This usually leads to his saying a lot of awful things that he will not remember the next day, but mark my words, she will. Forever.
Within the first year of the birth of the first baby, the husband manages to ask his over-stressed wife what she does all day. I don't mean that he asks out of interest. He asks because he thinks she's sitting at home twiddling her thumbs all day. Over the next fifty-nine years, she never manages to make him believe how busy she's been.
Before the end of the five-year mark, a wife has discovered all the things about her husband that he hid from her before they were married. This may be ex-girlfriends, or it may be the fact that he likes to snack on onions dipped in garlic right before bed. Either way, now she knows.
Between ten and thirty years, he has become a workaholic. He has also managed to do each of these things at least once: Call her fat. Ogle other women in front of her. Make fun of her. Tell her he doesn't like something she has cooked for him. Buy her an insulting gift. Say something awful about her family. Take his mom's side over hers. Ignore the children. Forget a birthday. Lose his wedding ring. Laugh at her when she falls down. (Wait, is there a pattern emerging? Oh yes, I think there is.) Ask her if that's what she's wearing...well, I'll stop here, because if you've been through the seventh year of marriage, you know this list already. If you haven't, you are probably mad at me for writing it.
So, this brings us up to forty years of marriage, and our couple is now fifty years old. Their kids are grown and either moved out or into the basement, where they read and write inane blogs in hopes of becoming famous writers. They are grandparents, now (unless their only child is the basement-dweller), and life is starting to calm down. They have both had minor health problems, but nothing to worry about. Perhaps she's had a surgery and still made dinner that night. Or maybe he's had surgery and been a complete pain in the bootay. Still, they've grown to know each other and get along as a team after all these years.
Something starts to happen here. She looks back on their life together and just gets pissed off at the old fart for all the stupid things he put her through, so she starts nagging at him over little things, like where he left his coffee cup, or how his belt isn't keeping his drawers up anymore and it's time to switch to suspenders. He wants to be offended by her behavior, but he's looking at his options, now. He doesn't really have hair anymore, and his military physique isn't quite what it used to be. And if truth be told, he doesn't know what he would do without her. Put this on low and let it simmer for another ten years or so.
We arrive at our grocery store couple. He knows that he's lucky to have her, she's stuck by him through thick and thin, never letting him get into too much trouble. Hers is the only cooking he enjoys, she keeps track of his meds, and after all these years, her saucy attitude only makes her more beautiful to him. As for her? Well, she may love him and never leave him, but she is still madder than a snake with a foot on its tail, and any woman who thinks he's a sweet old guy for putting up with her can have him if she wants him so bad. She probably felt bad when he fell down. She was probably feeling sorry for him, but she's taken care of that guy for seventy years...she knows when he needs babying and it's not like he was having a heart attack or anything. How often do you see an older couple like this? A sweet patient husband and a nagging cranky wife. Now you know why -- she's been busy for the last seventy years, and he still doesn't know what the heck she's been doing. And he knows that she's just letting off steam, that she loves him, and that it's his turn to put up with her for awhile.
Now, I'm not as jaded as I sound. This is just a guess. I've seen the older couples walking hand in hand, not needing to say anything, with smiles on their face. I'm betting that those husbands figured something out before their seventy years were up. And the wives? Well, alright. I'll talk about them tomorrow, because I don't have anything to do all day.
She ran to a spot about two sections over (to the bananas) and spent a few seconds pretending as if she didn't know who in the world he was or what had just happened. She was just a granny looking for a good deal on bananas. Then, I think she must have realized that people would have seen them together, so she dropped the act and proceeded to scream at him. "Henry, I told you not to wear those shoes to the store! You won't ever just listen to what I say, will you? Now look at you! You've got what you deserve, that's what...embarrassing yourself in front of all these people. I'd sooner leave you here on the floor than try to deal with you anymore. Get up, Henry, get up. Why do you want to sit on the floor, anyway? It's dirty." Then, noticing the odd looks she was getting, she spoke to the people helping her husband. "Oh, don't worry about him. He's fine -- does it all the time. He just wants attention, and if you keep fussing over him it'll only encourage him." So, can you kind of see why I was having a hard time keeping it together?
To make matters worse, I realized in that instant exactly what was going on. I had wondered about her disrespect and his willingness to go along with whatever she said, but the reason had just become clear, and I shall now impart to you, gracious reader, the wisdom given to me that day.
You see, that couple looked to be in their nineties, but we'll say they were eighty for the sake of retaining a driver's license. They were more than likely married at age twenty, which puts them together for a good sixty years. Let me lay it out for you, so you don't miss anything...
In the first year of any marriage, the husband is not yet aware that he is married. It takes him at least this long to quit coming home drunk after hanging out with his buddies all night, and wondering what in the world his wife is mad about. This usually leads to his saying a lot of awful things that he will not remember the next day, but mark my words, she will. Forever.
Within the first year of the birth of the first baby, the husband manages to ask his over-stressed wife what she does all day. I don't mean that he asks out of interest. He asks because he thinks she's sitting at home twiddling her thumbs all day. Over the next fifty-nine years, she never manages to make him believe how busy she's been.
Before the end of the five-year mark, a wife has discovered all the things about her husband that he hid from her before they were married. This may be ex-girlfriends, or it may be the fact that he likes to snack on onions dipped in garlic right before bed. Either way, now she knows.
Between ten and thirty years, he has become a workaholic. He has also managed to do each of these things at least once: Call her fat. Ogle other women in front of her. Make fun of her. Tell her he doesn't like something she has cooked for him. Buy her an insulting gift. Say something awful about her family. Take his mom's side over hers. Ignore the children. Forget a birthday. Lose his wedding ring. Laugh at her when she falls down. (Wait, is there a pattern emerging? Oh yes, I think there is.) Ask her if that's what she's wearing...well, I'll stop here, because if you've been through the seventh year of marriage, you know this list already. If you haven't, you are probably mad at me for writing it.
So, this brings us up to forty years of marriage, and our couple is now fifty years old. Their kids are grown and either moved out or into the basement, where they read and write inane blogs in hopes of becoming famous writers. They are grandparents, now (unless their only child is the basement-dweller), and life is starting to calm down. They have both had minor health problems, but nothing to worry about. Perhaps she's had a surgery and still made dinner that night. Or maybe he's had surgery and been a complete pain in the bootay. Still, they've grown to know each other and get along as a team after all these years.
Something starts to happen here. She looks back on their life together and just gets pissed off at the old fart for all the stupid things he put her through, so she starts nagging at him over little things, like where he left his coffee cup, or how his belt isn't keeping his drawers up anymore and it's time to switch to suspenders. He wants to be offended by her behavior, but he's looking at his options, now. He doesn't really have hair anymore, and his military physique isn't quite what it used to be. And if truth be told, he doesn't know what he would do without her. Put this on low and let it simmer for another ten years or so.
We arrive at our grocery store couple. He knows that he's lucky to have her, she's stuck by him through thick and thin, never letting him get into too much trouble. Hers is the only cooking he enjoys, she keeps track of his meds, and after all these years, her saucy attitude only makes her more beautiful to him. As for her? Well, she may love him and never leave him, but she is still madder than a snake with a foot on its tail, and any woman who thinks he's a sweet old guy for putting up with her can have him if she wants him so bad. She probably felt bad when he fell down. She was probably feeling sorry for him, but she's taken care of that guy for seventy years...she knows when he needs babying and it's not like he was having a heart attack or anything. How often do you see an older couple like this? A sweet patient husband and a nagging cranky wife. Now you know why -- she's been busy for the last seventy years, and he still doesn't know what the heck she's been doing. And he knows that she's just letting off steam, that she loves him, and that it's his turn to put up with her for awhile.
Now, I'm not as jaded as I sound. This is just a guess. I've seen the older couples walking hand in hand, not needing to say anything, with smiles on their face. I'm betting that those husbands figured something out before their seventy years were up. And the wives? Well, alright. I'll talk about them tomorrow, because I don't have anything to do all day.
Nov 10, 2009
What Counts
I am not creative today. I made a list...
What Makes it Worthwhile
The sounds a newborn baby makes when it is sleeping.
The words "I love you, Mommy."
Funny kid-quotes
Holding a sick child who has been too big to let you hold them for the last two years
Bedtime prayers
Playing in the snow
Singing in the car
Hugs and kisses
Flowers, weeds, leaves and grass picked just for me
Presents wrapped in sheets
Shows in the living room
Christmas morning
New discoveries
Watching them take their first step
Taking a nap with a two-week-old
"I missed you, Mommy" when you were gone for an hour
Reading stories
Making up stories
Nonsense conversations with a child who woke up in the middle of the night
Lullabies
Naptime
Watching them become who they were meant to be
Slumber parties
Baking cookies
Walking to school
The park
The zoo
Falling in love six times a day
Getting my hair done by a two-year-old
Noisy evenings
Dinner companions
Riding bikes
The smell of baby lotion
Watching them charm my parents
Tickle monsters
Butterfly kisses
Bear hugs (and tiger hugs, and lion hugs, and puppy hugs...)
Something new to laugh about every day
Baptisms
Midnight mass
Funny prayers
"Mommy, sing me a song"
These are a few of my favorite things.
What Makes it Worthwhile
The sounds a newborn baby makes when it is sleeping.
The words "I love you, Mommy."
Funny kid-quotes
Holding a sick child who has been too big to let you hold them for the last two years
Bedtime prayers
Playing in the snow
Singing in the car
Hugs and kisses
Flowers, weeds, leaves and grass picked just for me
Presents wrapped in sheets
Shows in the living room
Christmas morning
New discoveries
Watching them take their first step
Taking a nap with a two-week-old
"I missed you, Mommy" when you were gone for an hour
Reading stories
Making up stories
Nonsense conversations with a child who woke up in the middle of the night
Lullabies
Naptime
Watching them become who they were meant to be
Slumber parties
Baking cookies
Walking to school
The park
The zoo
Falling in love six times a day
Getting my hair done by a two-year-old
Noisy evenings
Dinner companions
Riding bikes
The smell of baby lotion
Watching them charm my parents
Tickle monsters
Butterfly kisses
Bear hugs (and tiger hugs, and lion hugs, and puppy hugs...)
Something new to laugh about every day
Baptisms
Midnight mass
Funny prayers
"Mommy, sing me a song"
These are a few of my favorite things.
Nov 9, 2009
What I Do All Day
Many a wife has been asked the question "What have you done all day?". We won't say who asks the question -- this is a nice blog. I wasn't asked the question at all, but I am prompted to make a list because of "extenuating circumstances". Or whatever -- I'm compelled.
So, my gift to the moms -- just hit the print button, or copy and paste and fill in what I've missed.
Get kids dressed X 18 (morning, post-spills, after baths/bedtime)
Brush hair X 4
Style hair X 2 (this does not include my own)
Find 6 pairs of shoes X 1-2
Find pacifiers X 15
Make breakfast X 5 (one eats a school)
Find backpacks X 6 (before school, after school, and homework time)
Home school X 5 hours per day
Keep the kids safe, alive and mostly happy X not sure how to multiply this one
Make lunch X 4 (also not for myself)
Draw coloring pages X 4
Find "other activities" for youngest two X 20
Get the baby out of the toilet, refrigerator, sink, pantry, and street X 75
Force the older two to be respectful and obedient X 10
Take out the trash X 2 (the boys usually take it out a few times, too.)
Clean entire kitchen X 2
Clean anything else that I have time for X whatever I have time for
Wash clothes X 3
Dry clothes X 3
Fold clothes X 3
Put away clothes X 4 (the baby likes to play in the closet)
Oops, get the baby out of the closet X 1 (NO, not that closet!!)
Take kids to school X 1
Go back to school for something X 0.3
Get the kids from school X 1
Serve snacks X 12
Help with homework X 3-4
Make "art" with kids X 5
Discipline X 100
Praise good behavior X 200 (Is that optimistic? Maybe.)
Wow, I just realized how boring this really is...let's skip some things...
Make dinner for 8 X 1
Clean up from dinner X 1
Wipe faces X 10
Get ready for bed X 6 (not myself)
Put children in their beds X 20 (they don't do this part of the day well at all)
Change diapers X 5
This is not to mention some of the things you can't measure on a day-to-day basis, but still take time...
Grocery shopping
Instilling morality
Teaching manners
Obtaining clothing for everyone
Keeping us in friends
Staying in touch with family and making plans
Planning birthday parties
Buying all gifts
Bathing people
School parties and field trips
Remembering birthdays for ALL family members
Arranging babysitters
Gigantic household chores that nobody even knows need to be done
Christmas
Thanksgiving
Halloween
All Saints Day
Easter
Answering the phone and the door all day
Getting up at night with kids
Cleaning up after and taking care of sick kids
Ok, I am bumming myself out here, I can't do it anymore...
A list of what I do for myself:
Get a 10 minute shower if I stay up really late or get up really early
Fix my hair once every month
Brush my teeth every day
Drink coffee (all day) and check my email/FB for about 10 mintues twice a day, while the kids eat
Girls Night about 6 times per year, after I arrange childcare
Talk to friends on the phone, usually every day, maybe an hour, while I clean
At bedtime, I write, watch TV and/or play on FB until I feel my muscles un-tense a little
I sleep about 4-5 hours per day
So, if you ever wondered what I do, there it is. There are many joys to all of these things. I wouldn't trade my life as a stay-at-home mom for anything. This is merely a list for the "people" who tend to ask the question, usually wondering why moms don't get more done. Maybe tomorrow I can write a list of the things that make it all worthwhile.
So, my gift to the moms -- just hit the print button, or copy and paste and fill in what I've missed.
Get kids dressed X 18 (morning, post-spills, after baths/bedtime)
Brush hair X 4
Style hair X 2 (this does not include my own)
Find 6 pairs of shoes X 1-2
Find pacifiers X 15
Make breakfast X 5 (one eats a school)
Find backpacks X 6 (before school, after school, and homework time)
Home school X 5 hours per day
Keep the kids safe, alive and mostly happy X not sure how to multiply this one
Make lunch X 4 (also not for myself)
Draw coloring pages X 4
Find "other activities" for youngest two X 20
Get the baby out of the toilet, refrigerator, sink, pantry, and street X 75
Force the older two to be respectful and obedient X 10
Take out the trash X 2 (the boys usually take it out a few times, too.)
Clean entire kitchen X 2
Clean anything else that I have time for X whatever I have time for
Wash clothes X 3
Dry clothes X 3
Fold clothes X 3
Put away clothes X 4 (the baby likes to play in the closet)
Oops, get the baby out of the closet X 1 (NO, not that closet!!)
Take kids to school X 1
Go back to school for something X 0.3
Get the kids from school X 1
Serve snacks X 12
Help with homework X 3-4
Make "art" with kids X 5
Discipline X 100
Praise good behavior X 200 (Is that optimistic? Maybe.)
Wow, I just realized how boring this really is...let's skip some things...
Make dinner for 8 X 1
Clean up from dinner X 1
Wipe faces X 10
Get ready for bed X 6 (not myself)
Put children in their beds X 20 (they don't do this part of the day well at all)
Change diapers X 5
This is not to mention some of the things you can't measure on a day-to-day basis, but still take time...
Grocery shopping
Instilling morality
Teaching manners
Obtaining clothing for everyone
Keeping us in friends
Staying in touch with family and making plans
Planning birthday parties
Buying all gifts
Bathing people
School parties and field trips
Remembering birthdays for ALL family members
Arranging babysitters
Gigantic household chores that nobody even knows need to be done
Christmas
Thanksgiving
Halloween
All Saints Day
Easter
Answering the phone and the door all day
Getting up at night with kids
Cleaning up after and taking care of sick kids
Ok, I am bumming myself out here, I can't do it anymore...
A list of what I do for myself:
Get a 10 minute shower if I stay up really late or get up really early
Fix my hair once every month
Brush my teeth every day
Drink coffee (all day) and check my email/FB for about 10 mintues twice a day, while the kids eat
Girls Night about 6 times per year, after I arrange childcare
Talk to friends on the phone, usually every day, maybe an hour, while I clean
At bedtime, I write, watch TV and/or play on FB until I feel my muscles un-tense a little
I sleep about 4-5 hours per day
So, if you ever wondered what I do, there it is. There are many joys to all of these things. I wouldn't trade my life as a stay-at-home mom for anything. This is merely a list for the "people" who tend to ask the question, usually wondering why moms don't get more done. Maybe tomorrow I can write a list of the things that make it all worthwhile.
Nov 5, 2009
What Wives (Really) Wish Their Husbands Knew About Women: You're Doing Something Right
So, after this series on everything wrong with the world today, I feel a little guilty. Well, I don't really, but I'm gonna' say it, anyway, because I've been through a lot, and I am probably a little more "outspoken" about these things than most nice loving wives. In honor of the men who get it right sometimes (my own included): A Tribute...
You're Doing Something Right...
...when you tell her she's beautiful when she's nine months pregnant. (Not that she isn't, its' just nice for her to hear!)
...when you fall asleep on the couch with a new baby.
...when you love her family.
...when you surprise her on your anniversary -- or any other time.
...when you bring flowers for no reason.
...when you give her a night off.
...when you make it through an argument in a loving manner.
...when you do the grocery shopping.
...when you hold the door open.
...when you stand up for her.
...when you say thank you for dinner.
...when you make sure the children respect her.
...when you make her laugh.
...when she dumps an entire ashtray on your head and you have the grace to laugh instead of get mad. (True story)
...when you say that the house looks nice -- especially when it doesn't.
...when you tell her you appreciate her.
...when you laugh and light candles and make it fun when the power is out.
...when you dance with her.
...when you dance with your daughter.
...when you go to the doctor with her.
...when you cry more than she does at an ultrasound.
...when you take a crying baby out at church.
...when you take up a cause she cares about.
...when you actually do smell good.
...when you bring her a gigantic bowl of ice cream, and say nothing if she eats every bit.
...when you pray together.
...when you laugh together.
...when you cry together.
...when you have fun together.
...when you teach her how to drive a standard without screaming about the clutch.
...when you fix stuff, even though you do more breaking than fixing.
...when you let her call "The Guy" after you're done trying to fix stuff.
...when you tell her that she looks skinny in everything.
There are more. So, for the guys out there doing things right, good job. You're appreciated. For the wives lucky enough to have them, make sure you tell them.
Enough preaching for me! Apparently, I won't be ordained anytime soon, so I'm done helping the world for now, and back to being my normal bratty self.
You're Doing Something Right...
...when you tell her she's beautiful when she's nine months pregnant. (Not that she isn't, its' just nice for her to hear!)
...when you fall asleep on the couch with a new baby.
...when you love her family.
...when you surprise her on your anniversary -- or any other time.
...when you bring flowers for no reason.
...when you give her a night off.
...when you make it through an argument in a loving manner.
...when you do the grocery shopping.
...when you hold the door open.
...when you stand up for her.
...when you say thank you for dinner.
...when you make sure the children respect her.
...when you make her laugh.
...when she dumps an entire ashtray on your head and you have the grace to laugh instead of get mad. (True story)
...when you say that the house looks nice -- especially when it doesn't.
...when you tell her you appreciate her.
...when you laugh and light candles and make it fun when the power is out.
...when you dance with her.
...when you dance with your daughter.
...when you go to the doctor with her.
...when you cry more than she does at an ultrasound.
...when you take a crying baby out at church.
...when you take up a cause she cares about.
...when you actually do smell good.
...when you bring her a gigantic bowl of ice cream, and say nothing if she eats every bit.
...when you pray together.
...when you laugh together.
...when you cry together.
...when you have fun together.
...when you teach her how to drive a standard without screaming about the clutch.
...when you fix stuff, even though you do more breaking than fixing.
...when you let her call "The Guy" after you're done trying to fix stuff.
...when you tell her that she looks skinny in everything.
There are more. So, for the guys out there doing things right, good job. You're appreciated. For the wives lucky enough to have them, make sure you tell them.
Enough preaching for me! Apparently, I won't be ordained anytime soon, so I'm done helping the world for now, and back to being my normal bratty self.
What Wives (Really) Wish Their Husbands Knew About Women: Finally, Some Help!
Ok, guys, I guess I've been a little rough on ya. I'll help you out a little, now. If you have read the book I mentioned, you have probably heard a lot of good advice from one man to another. I'm sure you've heard advice from your wife or your sister or your mom...But now you have to hear it from me. (Actually, you don't have to -- there's a little magic red box in the top right corner of the screen with an "x" on it. All you have to do is click it and I go away.)
Finally, Some Help!
Ok, so, even if you know your wife is suffering from "hormonal problems" and that is why she is freaking out on you -- never, ever, ever say that. The good doctor suggests keeping track of these things, and when your wife gets overly-emotional, you should just remind her that it's going to go away in a few days and that you are there to support her until it does. I am sure he means well with that, but as a woman, I cannot agree with that advice. I'm only looking out for you here, guys. As far as "keeping track" goes, I guess that's all right, but don't tell your wife that you're doing that so you'll know when to expect crazy-lady to come out. If your wife is upset, it's for real.
Hormones work like this: Things that would normally elicit an emotional response still do. The only difference is that the emotion may be much more than it would otherwise. This can work in your favor -- make her happy and then she'll be extra happy. Upset her, and yeah, she'll be extra upset. But never forget that whatever the reason, the emotions are REAL. Treat them as such, and you'll go far, my friend.
Second point: How to get what you want. Yup, I'll tell you the secret. The doctor suggests maybe doing the dishes or something. Ok, well, depending on how much your wife hates dishes and how much you give away about your intentions, this may work once or twice. And it is a nice thing to do.
I'll tell you the real secret, though. Let's face it, we all know what you want -- a roast dinner with potatoes and carrots and gravy, right? (What did you think I was gonna' say???) So, you can't just come home from work and expect that exact dinner every night -- maybe your wife made chicken or something. And really, washing a few dishes does nothing to get that roast on the table, does it? So, here's what you do...before you leave for work in the morning, tell your wife that you love her roast, and ask her if she'll make it sometime this week. She may have time to make it that day, but she may still need to go to the store or something. If you have put the roast in the freezer, it will take a couple of days to thaw out, so keep that in mind, as well. So, the morning before the roast dinner, your wife already has it planned. It will be thawed by lunch time, seasoned, seared and simmering away by the time the kids are taking naps. When you walk in the door, it will be almost ready. At this point, you have two options -- you can sit down and watch TV until the roast is served OR you can go into the kitchen and ask your wife if she needs any help. Whether she needs help or not, your presence in the kitchen with her will help to get dinner served up more efficiently. Then, when dinner is over, you can secure another roast dinner for next week by telling her how much you loved the one you had tonight. See? That's how to get what you want -- I'm not evil -- I'm helpful.
By the way, I've heard too many times that it's the wife's fault if dinner isn't ready in time for the husband. This may be true some of the time, but if it happens a lot, keep in mind that your wife may not want to cook every night, and you can bring dinner home every once in awhile...it will make her happy, which will make you happy. Everybody's happy, and I get the credit because I'm the Martha Stewart of marriage. It's a good thing.
Point number three: Dr. Dobson says that the raising of the children should not be considered "woman's work". I happen to agree with him on that one. Explain to your wife that you need a few minutes to unwind after you come home from work -- most women are ok with that. Once you're switched into home-mode, try thinking of something you can do with the kids that will be your special time with them. Help them with their homework, give baths, read books -- whatever. Man, I'm good. I should really write this stuff down.
Finally, Some Help!
Ok, so, even if you know your wife is suffering from "hormonal problems" and that is why she is freaking out on you -- never, ever, ever say that. The good doctor suggests keeping track of these things, and when your wife gets overly-emotional, you should just remind her that it's going to go away in a few days and that you are there to support her until it does. I am sure he means well with that, but as a woman, I cannot agree with that advice. I'm only looking out for you here, guys. As far as "keeping track" goes, I guess that's all right, but don't tell your wife that you're doing that so you'll know when to expect crazy-lady to come out. If your wife is upset, it's for real.
Hormones work like this: Things that would normally elicit an emotional response still do. The only difference is that the emotion may be much more than it would otherwise. This can work in your favor -- make her happy and then she'll be extra happy. Upset her, and yeah, she'll be extra upset. But never forget that whatever the reason, the emotions are REAL. Treat them as such, and you'll go far, my friend.
Second point: How to get what you want. Yup, I'll tell you the secret. The doctor suggests maybe doing the dishes or something. Ok, well, depending on how much your wife hates dishes and how much you give away about your intentions, this may work once or twice. And it is a nice thing to do.
I'll tell you the real secret, though. Let's face it, we all know what you want -- a roast dinner with potatoes and carrots and gravy, right? (What did you think I was gonna' say???) So, you can't just come home from work and expect that exact dinner every night -- maybe your wife made chicken or something. And really, washing a few dishes does nothing to get that roast on the table, does it? So, here's what you do...before you leave for work in the morning, tell your wife that you love her roast, and ask her if she'll make it sometime this week. She may have time to make it that day, but she may still need to go to the store or something. If you have put the roast in the freezer, it will take a couple of days to thaw out, so keep that in mind, as well. So, the morning before the roast dinner, your wife already has it planned. It will be thawed by lunch time, seasoned, seared and simmering away by the time the kids are taking naps. When you walk in the door, it will be almost ready. At this point, you have two options -- you can sit down and watch TV until the roast is served OR you can go into the kitchen and ask your wife if she needs any help. Whether she needs help or not, your presence in the kitchen with her will help to get dinner served up more efficiently. Then, when dinner is over, you can secure another roast dinner for next week by telling her how much you loved the one you had tonight. See? That's how to get what you want -- I'm not evil -- I'm helpful.
By the way, I've heard too many times that it's the wife's fault if dinner isn't ready in time for the husband. This may be true some of the time, but if it happens a lot, keep in mind that your wife may not want to cook every night, and you can bring dinner home every once in awhile...it will make her happy, which will make you happy. Everybody's happy, and I get the credit because I'm the Martha Stewart of marriage. It's a good thing.
Point number three: Dr. Dobson says that the raising of the children should not be considered "woman's work". I happen to agree with him on that one. Explain to your wife that you need a few minutes to unwind after you come home from work -- most women are ok with that. Once you're switched into home-mode, try thinking of something you can do with the kids that will be your special time with them. Help them with their homework, give baths, read books -- whatever. Man, I'm good. I should really write this stuff down.
What Wives (Really) Wish Their Husbands Knew About Women: False Advertising
I touched on "False Advertising" in my previous post, but I see it as the core of marital disharmony, so it gets it very own post all to itself. Yay, FA!
Part Two: False Advertising
What do wives wish their husbands knew about FA? Well, lemme' tell ya'. Husbands, when you think your wife is not keeping up her end of the bargain, remember back to your pre-marriage days. What did she actually do to make you fall in love? Usually, the answer is "nothing".
Here's how the story goes: Woman is walking around minding her own business, being beautiful and smart and cute completely on accident. Man sees her and decides to keep her. Man is no longer allowed to keep woman just because he wants to, so he has to make sure she chooses to be kept by him. He begins performing all kinds of tricks to win her attention, her affection and, ultimately, her commitment while she continues to be her usual beautiful, smart, cute self. Man and Woman marry. The end.
This is where the FA ploy begins to fall apart. Let's take a look at what your wife thought she was getting versus what she got.
FA = "I only have eyes for you" After Marriage (AM) = "...until I have seen enough, then I will become afflicted with Eye-Roving Syndrome, and will no longer be able to control where my eyes point themselves."
FA = "I am romantic" AM = "...when it is a special occasion (that I didn't forget), or the day after each time I make you cry."
FA = "I am dependable" AM = "...if it suits my mood at the time and it's not football season."
FA = "I smell nice and use my manners" AM = "...for exactly fifteen minutes per day -- usually when I am at work and nowhere near you."
FA = "I am manly and tough" AM = "...until I get the slightest bit sick, then I turn into a gigantic baby."
FA = "I will take care of you" AM = "...until you are sick, because you will never be as sick as I, and I still need you to take care of me."
FA = "You are beautiful" AM = "...and that's the last time I'm saying it. Why repeat myself?"
FA = "You are smart" AM = "...until you say something I don't want to hear. Then you are an idiot who obviously doesn't remember that I am the head of the household. Oh, snap! I'm the head of the household! Submit, woman!!!"
FA = "I love your cooking" AM = "...almost as much as my mommy's -- maybe you could ask her for some recipes?"
FA = "I love kids" AM = "...for five minutes per day, three days a week."
Well, you get the picture. The glaring difference here is that women haven't given any false advertising. Now, later, we will discuss the point in time where maybe your wife isn't doing the things you want her to do, and I will tell you why that may be. Be very aware that it will be your fault. I can't help it. I am a woman, I am perfect, so I just can't help you out here, guys. Sorry. Really. I am.
Part Two: False Advertising
What do wives wish their husbands knew about FA? Well, lemme' tell ya'. Husbands, when you think your wife is not keeping up her end of the bargain, remember back to your pre-marriage days. What did she actually do to make you fall in love? Usually, the answer is "nothing".
Here's how the story goes: Woman is walking around minding her own business, being beautiful and smart and cute completely on accident. Man sees her and decides to keep her. Man is no longer allowed to keep woman just because he wants to, so he has to make sure she chooses to be kept by him. He begins performing all kinds of tricks to win her attention, her affection and, ultimately, her commitment while she continues to be her usual beautiful, smart, cute self. Man and Woman marry. The end.
This is where the FA ploy begins to fall apart. Let's take a look at what your wife thought she was getting versus what she got.
FA = "I only have eyes for you" After Marriage (AM) = "...until I have seen enough, then I will become afflicted with Eye-Roving Syndrome, and will no longer be able to control where my eyes point themselves."
FA = "I am romantic" AM = "...when it is a special occasion (that I didn't forget), or the day after each time I make you cry."
FA = "I am dependable" AM = "...if it suits my mood at the time and it's not football season."
FA = "I smell nice and use my manners" AM = "...for exactly fifteen minutes per day -- usually when I am at work and nowhere near you."
FA = "I am manly and tough" AM = "...until I get the slightest bit sick, then I turn into a gigantic baby."
FA = "I will take care of you" AM = "...until you are sick, because you will never be as sick as I, and I still need you to take care of me."
FA = "You are beautiful" AM = "...and that's the last time I'm saying it. Why repeat myself?"
FA = "You are smart" AM = "...until you say something I don't want to hear. Then you are an idiot who obviously doesn't remember that I am the head of the household. Oh, snap! I'm the head of the household! Submit, woman!!!"
FA = "I love your cooking" AM = "...almost as much as my mommy's -- maybe you could ask her for some recipes?"
FA = "I love kids" AM = "...for five minutes per day, three days a week."
Well, you get the picture. The glaring difference here is that women haven't given any false advertising. Now, later, we will discuss the point in time where maybe your wife isn't doing the things you want her to do, and I will tell you why that may be. Be very aware that it will be your fault. I can't help it. I am a woman, I am perfect, so I just can't help you out here, guys. Sorry. Really. I am.
What Wives (Really) Wish Their Husbands Knew About Women: Pre-Marriage
I am a huge fan of Dr. James Dobson from Focus on the Family. He has written many excellent books on how to raise a family, how to make a marriage work, how to talk to your kids, etc. He's a smart man and I agree with most of his values and opinions. I recently read his book "What Wives Wish Their Husbands Knew About Women" for the second time. This is the only one of his books that I completely disagree with. I made a list of what I would have written if I were the famous psychologist asked to write that book. Since I'm not famous or anything, I only get to blog about it, so if you agree with me, please help me become internet famous so that someone will pay me to write my book called "Marital Doodies: How to Clean Up The Mess".
Part One: Pre-Marriage
Dr. Dobson tells a story about when he was in college and first met his wife. He was drawn to her because she was so independant (read: "not clingy"). He ends the story by telling about how he started acting as if he didn't care whether she dated him or not, which caused her to cry and really want to be with him. His point: If you are holding something too tight, it tends to move away from you. If you are moving away from something, it will hold on to you. It's a good point. I'm not sure that making someone cry is considered a success, but she did marry him, so who am I to judge?
I am too lazy to go grab the book and see what else the Doc has to say about dating/courtship, so I will just tell you what else I think men need to know about this phase of life...
1. No false advertising. This happens 99.9% of the time. A woman falls in love with this incredible guy who listens to her, talks to her for hours, is wonderful with children, opens doors, smells nice, brings her flowers, tells her she is the only one he will ever love, shares her faith (or wants to), loves her family, writes her beautiful love letters, and makes her laugh. Then she marries him and finds out he is a big fat liar. Guys, I know you weren't lying during that phase, but you have to remember that your wife fell in love with you while you were doing that. If you aren't planning on keeping it up throughout your marriage, then don't do it before the marriage. Let her see what she's really getting.
2. Respect your wife, even if you haven't met her yet. This will help you a lot. Nuff said.
3. When it's time to propose, do it right. If a girl loves you, she will be happy with any proposal, but please don't take advantage of that fact. There will come a time when she wants to tell the story of the proposal to a friend. She doesn't want to say "Well, we were watching TV and he said 'Fine, let's get married', so we did." It's embarrassing, it makes you look bad to her friends, and she loses points on the "Woman's Scale of Importantness". It doesn't have to be fireworks and airplanes -- just make sure you say something sweet and give her something to talk about later.
4. During the wedding planning, do anything she tells you to do, and nothing that she doesn't. The only thing you need to do at this point is keep her happy and calm. You may do the following without her knowing: (1)Plan to sing to her at the reception, only if she likes to hear you sing. (2)Tell your buddies not to get drunk and make her mad. (3)Buy her presents. That's it. Don't do anything else.
5. If you are an addict, a mama's boy, extra stinky, an idiot, lazy, or rude -- don't date women. We don't want you.
A note for the girls: Don't marry a guy if you think he needs "fixing". If he's broken, take him back and exchange him. Now.
Men, the women don't need all the advice, because you get a chance to see her at her worst when she is planning the wedding. Pay attention to that, and it's all you'll need to know about what you're getting into.
Part One: Pre-Marriage
Dr. Dobson tells a story about when he was in college and first met his wife. He was drawn to her because she was so independant (read: "not clingy"). He ends the story by telling about how he started acting as if he didn't care whether she dated him or not, which caused her to cry and really want to be with him. His point: If you are holding something too tight, it tends to move away from you. If you are moving away from something, it will hold on to you. It's a good point. I'm not sure that making someone cry is considered a success, but she did marry him, so who am I to judge?
I am too lazy to go grab the book and see what else the Doc has to say about dating/courtship, so I will just tell you what else I think men need to know about this phase of life...
1. No false advertising. This happens 99.9% of the time. A woman falls in love with this incredible guy who listens to her, talks to her for hours, is wonderful with children, opens doors, smells nice, brings her flowers, tells her she is the only one he will ever love, shares her faith (or wants to), loves her family, writes her beautiful love letters, and makes her laugh. Then she marries him and finds out he is a big fat liar. Guys, I know you weren't lying during that phase, but you have to remember that your wife fell in love with you while you were doing that. If you aren't planning on keeping it up throughout your marriage, then don't do it before the marriage. Let her see what she's really getting.
2. Respect your wife, even if you haven't met her yet. This will help you a lot. Nuff said.
3. When it's time to propose, do it right. If a girl loves you, she will be happy with any proposal, but please don't take advantage of that fact. There will come a time when she wants to tell the story of the proposal to a friend. She doesn't want to say "Well, we were watching TV and he said 'Fine, let's get married', so we did." It's embarrassing, it makes you look bad to her friends, and she loses points on the "Woman's Scale of Importantness". It doesn't have to be fireworks and airplanes -- just make sure you say something sweet and give her something to talk about later.
4. During the wedding planning, do anything she tells you to do, and nothing that she doesn't. The only thing you need to do at this point is keep her happy and calm. You may do the following without her knowing: (1)Plan to sing to her at the reception, only if she likes to hear you sing. (2)Tell your buddies not to get drunk and make her mad. (3)Buy her presents. That's it. Don't do anything else.
5. If you are an addict, a mama's boy, extra stinky, an idiot, lazy, or rude -- don't date women. We don't want you.
A note for the girls: Don't marry a guy if you think he needs "fixing". If he's broken, take him back and exchange him. Now.
Men, the women don't need all the advice, because you get a chance to see her at her worst when she is planning the wedding. Pay attention to that, and it's all you'll need to know about what you're getting into.
Nov 4, 2009
What I Learned from Hip-Hop
Well, it seems that sitting in the house for ten years eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches is not the best thing for your waistline, especially if you have been pregnant eight times within nine years. Pregnancy teaches your tummy how to grow so that your body knows exactly what to do with any extra calories you may consume. If it weren't for this phenomenon, mothers would never have the joy of being asked "When are you due" when they are not, in fact, pregnant. This is something about which I hope to one day discuss with Eve during our conversation on "Why did you eat the damn apple?".
I have noticed that I only enjoy one type of physical activity, and that is dance. I am not a dancer, and have restraining orders against my ever trying to dance again, so I try to only do it at home with the blinds shut because I don't like jail.
Diets make me angry. Not the lack of food, but diets in general. If I hear someone say "diet" I have an immediate attack of rage, so I thought maybe some new dance work-outs would be the best way for me to get back into shape. (Notice the use of the word "back", as if "shape" was a place I have ever been -- the only shape I know is circle.) I have a salsa DVD, which I love, but I am bored with it, so yesterday I was in the store trying to decide between swing and hip-hop. The logical choice would be swing -- I love swing, it's somewhat applicable to real life, and it's easier on my poor old back than jumping around punching at air. So, after thinking it through, I chose to buy hip-hop so that I could come back and get swing when I realize how old I am.
This morning, after a healthy breakfast, I was feeling really on track. I warmed up by kicking everything on the living room floor into one corner. There were a lot of things on the floor, so this was a great warm up. I put in the DVD and banished my oldest two children from the living room. The boys have a history of giggling at my dancing, saying things like, "Mommy, show Daddy that dance you were doing -- it was FUNNY!" or "heeheehee -- look at Mommy! Is she trying to do the same thing that girl on TV is doing???". Knowing that I shouldn't be attempting hip-hop, I knew that I had no choice but to banish the boys.
So, at the start of the video, all you have to do is take steps side-to-side, and I'm thinking "I so got this". That lasts about two and a half seconds until the girl starts kicking and doing these things with her feet that make no sense whatsoever. She's saying "up, up, down-down-down, crazy march and back-of-the-room and punch it!", and it seems that someone has led her to believe that these words somehow correspond with what she's doing with her feet. After a couple minutes of that, she says "Now for the arms!" I hurt my foot somewhere between the second "up" and "back-of-the-room", so I was excited about arms. At least until I realized that "arms" go with "feet", and as I was trying to do a "cross-over-pull-it-up" at the same time as a "jiggy-jump", I fell over. Since my foot was really hurting and I could hear my boys giggling from their spying spot in the hallway, I figured that it would be best to stay on the floor and just watch the rest so that I would know what is coming tomorrow and be awesome at it. If I can be perfectly honest here, I didn't even have the energy to watch it, so instead I wrote a list of things I had learned. Here ya' go...
What I Learned From Hip-Hop
1. Half of making the dance look good is the clothes -- the hillbilly look I currently sport doesn't fly.
2. I need better shoes.
3. Jumping and punching is a good way to learn the areas which need toning.
4. People who can dance like this and rap at the same time are true athletes.
5. I don't have cute, bouncy, dancer hair, nor do I know how to acquire it.
6. "Jiggy-jump" and "jiggy-kick" go together only if you can "pull-it-up" with your arms.
7. "Pull-it-up" does NOT apply to the baggy pants as I had previously thought.
8. Barring a desperate need to embarrass my children, there will never be an occasion for me to use the steps I learned today.
9. "Bootie" is required, not for looks, but for balance. (Looks like I have one thing going for me.)
10. I do have the ability to go "up, up, down-down-down", but just because you can do something does not mean you should.
I have noticed that I only enjoy one type of physical activity, and that is dance. I am not a dancer, and have restraining orders against my ever trying to dance again, so I try to only do it at home with the blinds shut because I don't like jail.
Diets make me angry. Not the lack of food, but diets in general. If I hear someone say "diet" I have an immediate attack of rage, so I thought maybe some new dance work-outs would be the best way for me to get back into shape. (Notice the use of the word "back", as if "shape" was a place I have ever been -- the only shape I know is circle.) I have a salsa DVD, which I love, but I am bored with it, so yesterday I was in the store trying to decide between swing and hip-hop. The logical choice would be swing -- I love swing, it's somewhat applicable to real life, and it's easier on my poor old back than jumping around punching at air. So, after thinking it through, I chose to buy hip-hop so that I could come back and get swing when I realize how old I am.
This morning, after a healthy breakfast, I was feeling really on track. I warmed up by kicking everything on the living room floor into one corner. There were a lot of things on the floor, so this was a great warm up. I put in the DVD and banished my oldest two children from the living room. The boys have a history of giggling at my dancing, saying things like, "Mommy, show Daddy that dance you were doing -- it was FUNNY!" or "heeheehee -- look at Mommy! Is she trying to do the same thing that girl on TV is doing???". Knowing that I shouldn't be attempting hip-hop, I knew that I had no choice but to banish the boys.
So, at the start of the video, all you have to do is take steps side-to-side, and I'm thinking "I so got this". That lasts about two and a half seconds until the girl starts kicking and doing these things with her feet that make no sense whatsoever. She's saying "up, up, down-down-down, crazy march and back-of-the-room and punch it!", and it seems that someone has led her to believe that these words somehow correspond with what she's doing with her feet. After a couple minutes of that, she says "Now for the arms!" I hurt my foot somewhere between the second "up" and "back-of-the-room", so I was excited about arms. At least until I realized that "arms" go with "feet", and as I was trying to do a "cross-over-pull-it-up" at the same time as a "jiggy-jump", I fell over. Since my foot was really hurting and I could hear my boys giggling from their spying spot in the hallway, I figured that it would be best to stay on the floor and just watch the rest so that I would know what is coming tomorrow and be awesome at it. If I can be perfectly honest here, I didn't even have the energy to watch it, so instead I wrote a list of things I had learned. Here ya' go...
What I Learned From Hip-Hop
1. Half of making the dance look good is the clothes -- the hillbilly look I currently sport doesn't fly.
2. I need better shoes.
3. Jumping and punching is a good way to learn the areas which need toning.
4. People who can dance like this and rap at the same time are true athletes.
5. I don't have cute, bouncy, dancer hair, nor do I know how to acquire it.
6. "Jiggy-jump" and "jiggy-kick" go together only if you can "pull-it-up" with your arms.
7. "Pull-it-up" does NOT apply to the baggy pants as I had previously thought.
8. Barring a desperate need to embarrass my children, there will never be an occasion for me to use the steps I learned today.
9. "Bootie" is required, not for looks, but for balance. (Looks like I have one thing going for me.)
10. I do have the ability to go "up, up, down-down-down", but just because you can do something does not mean you should.
Nov 2, 2009
Other Parents
There are no perfect parents. We will all be mentioned on a counselor's couch at some point in time. That's just how it is. So, in an an effort to make myself feel better about that, I'd like to take this time to share some of the awful decisions I have seen other parents make. This is a good excercise because I can always remember that I am not as bad as they are, and it's also just good old-fashioned American fun.
--------------Gross out warning: Pregnant People and Dads Need Not Read Further-----------------------
Once, my husband and I took our children out for dinner. I believe we only had two or three at this point in time, and the oldest would have been three. We were still pretty on-the-ball parents back then, not yet worn out by the effort of saying "no" 8764 times a day. Our kids knew how to behave in a restaurant, and we basked in the praise of our fellow diners every time we took them out. This time was no exception. Another couple was there with two young children, maybe one and two years old. Their kids weren't nearly as perfect as ours, so we delighted in chuckling at the sloppy efforts at parental control. The littlest one was cranky, and her parents could not get her to stop whining. We whispered to each other that, had it been our child, we would have taken her outside for a good talkin'-to, and been back in five minutes with a cheerful pleasant baby, proof of our parental superiority. After a few minutes, the little girl threw up all over their table, letting the rest of us know why she had been so cranky. Her parents stared at each other, the challenge clear on their faces: "I'm not getting up -- it's your turn."
My husband and I would have been talking about how awful they were for not jumping in and helping each other, but we were too busy trying not to follow the example of the little girl. A server came rushing in to help the other family clean up. The parents seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when they saw that they could make the server do everything but wipe up their child. They did at least that much -- they got out some baby wipes and cleaned her up as best they could at the table, then proceeded to... FINISH THEIR MEAL!
As we were asking for to-go boxes, appetites ruined, these people were sitting at the puked on table eating...not even looking around to notice how quickly they had cleared that side of the building. Their server, having cleared away a disgusting plate, did not come back. We were waiting on our check, discussing their complete lack of manners (everyone knows the Rule -- when your kid pukes, you leave.), and trying to make sure our own kids didn't breathe any germs that may have been floating around, when the inevitable happened...
Oh, yes, you know what it is. If you are any kind of parent, you know exactly what happened next, and you knew if before I said it, because you would have followed the Rule and taken your child directly home. These people didn't follow the Rule, so they got what they had coming -- she puked again. This time...well, I don't have to go into detail, but they didn't exactly have the option of finishing their meals after that one. Hubby and I split with our kids as fast as we could, rolling our eyes at the stupidity of people who obviously should have read at least one book about how to be a parent.
Lest you think I am too judgmental of these people, I shall make a confession. Five years later, I had spent a week at home with sick children. I had cabin fever, and it was somebody's birthday. Nobody had run a fever for 24 hours, so I convinced myself that we were fine, even though the baby (one year old, at the time) had been fussy all morning. We went to church, then out to eat for the birthday party. My son ate a couple of fries, and then cried through the rest of lunch. I tried to reason with him (notice my lack of taking him out for that "talkin'-to"), but he was being stubborn. I picked him at some point, I think because I realized he was bugging someone else at the table. As soon as I did he made like a volcano and erupted all over me. It was gross -- I mean, I'm a mom so I can handle some pretty disgusting things, but this was gross. I had on a long dress, and the entire thing was dripping. He wasn't done yet, and I did have the presence of mind to know that this was going to gross some people out, so I ran to the bathroom to get him (and myself) out of sight. I'm pretty sure I was too late to keep from grossing anyone out, but at least I tried. My sister (who hates puke) rushed after me and helped me clean up the baby, the bathroom, and myself. My husband found a change of clothes for me in the back of the truck, and after about half an hour we were as clean as we were going to get without a shower. It was time for the walk of shame back through the restaraunt past all of the people we had just put on a crash diet. I noticed that our friends and family had all packed up their uneaten food.
That was known as "The Incident" until the day that same child did something so much more disgusting that I can't even write about it in a public forum.
So, I may have ignored the signs that my child was sick just like those other parents, and he may have thrown up all over the place just like that other kid, but at least I took him somewhere else and cleaned him up myself, and I followed the Rule -- we haven't been back since. As you can see, I totally beat that other mom in the Not-As-Screwed-Up-As-You Contest.
--------------Gross out warning: Pregnant People and Dads Need Not Read Further-----------------------
Once, my husband and I took our children out for dinner. I believe we only had two or three at this point in time, and the oldest would have been three. We were still pretty on-the-ball parents back then, not yet worn out by the effort of saying "no" 8764 times a day. Our kids knew how to behave in a restaurant, and we basked in the praise of our fellow diners every time we took them out. This time was no exception. Another couple was there with two young children, maybe one and two years old. Their kids weren't nearly as perfect as ours, so we delighted in chuckling at the sloppy efforts at parental control. The littlest one was cranky, and her parents could not get her to stop whining. We whispered to each other that, had it been our child, we would have taken her outside for a good talkin'-to, and been back in five minutes with a cheerful pleasant baby, proof of our parental superiority. After a few minutes, the little girl threw up all over their table, letting the rest of us know why she had been so cranky. Her parents stared at each other, the challenge clear on their faces: "I'm not getting up -- it's your turn."
My husband and I would have been talking about how awful they were for not jumping in and helping each other, but we were too busy trying not to follow the example of the little girl. A server came rushing in to help the other family clean up. The parents seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when they saw that they could make the server do everything but wipe up their child. They did at least that much -- they got out some baby wipes and cleaned her up as best they could at the table, then proceeded to... FINISH THEIR MEAL!
As we were asking for to-go boxes, appetites ruined, these people were sitting at the puked on table eating...not even looking around to notice how quickly they had cleared that side of the building. Their server, having cleared away a disgusting plate, did not come back. We were waiting on our check, discussing their complete lack of manners (everyone knows the Rule -- when your kid pukes, you leave.), and trying to make sure our own kids didn't breathe any germs that may have been floating around, when the inevitable happened...
Oh, yes, you know what it is. If you are any kind of parent, you know exactly what happened next, and you knew if before I said it, because you would have followed the Rule and taken your child directly home. These people didn't follow the Rule, so they got what they had coming -- she puked again. This time...well, I don't have to go into detail, but they didn't exactly have the option of finishing their meals after that one. Hubby and I split with our kids as fast as we could, rolling our eyes at the stupidity of people who obviously should have read at least one book about how to be a parent.
Lest you think I am too judgmental of these people, I shall make a confession. Five years later, I had spent a week at home with sick children. I had cabin fever, and it was somebody's birthday. Nobody had run a fever for 24 hours, so I convinced myself that we were fine, even though the baby (one year old, at the time) had been fussy all morning. We went to church, then out to eat for the birthday party. My son ate a couple of fries, and then cried through the rest of lunch. I tried to reason with him (notice my lack of taking him out for that "talkin'-to"), but he was being stubborn. I picked him at some point, I think because I realized he was bugging someone else at the table. As soon as I did he made like a volcano and erupted all over me. It was gross -- I mean, I'm a mom so I can handle some pretty disgusting things, but this was gross. I had on a long dress, and the entire thing was dripping. He wasn't done yet, and I did have the presence of mind to know that this was going to gross some people out, so I ran to the bathroom to get him (and myself) out of sight. I'm pretty sure I was too late to keep from grossing anyone out, but at least I tried. My sister (who hates puke) rushed after me and helped me clean up the baby, the bathroom, and myself. My husband found a change of clothes for me in the back of the truck, and after about half an hour we were as clean as we were going to get without a shower. It was time for the walk of shame back through the restaraunt past all of the people we had just put on a crash diet. I noticed that our friends and family had all packed up their uneaten food.
That was known as "The Incident" until the day that same child did something so much more disgusting that I can't even write about it in a public forum.
So, I may have ignored the signs that my child was sick just like those other parents, and he may have thrown up all over the place just like that other kid, but at least I took him somewhere else and cleaned him up myself, and I followed the Rule -- we haven't been back since. As you can see, I totally beat that other mom in the Not-As-Screwed-Up-As-You Contest.
Oct 30, 2009
Just Say No
When I was a kid, D.A.R.E. came to my school every year and taught us to "Just Say No". Every time I opened a box of Lemon Heads or Junior Mints, the inner flap of the box said "Just Say No to Drugs". I heard it so many times that I eventually came to believe that drugs would one day walk up to me on their own and say "Would you like to take some of us?" and I would say "NO!", and that would scare the drugs away and they would never bother me again.
I propose a new sort of class. This class would be given almost as often as Just Say No to Drugs. It would be called Just Say No to....Everything Else. It could be run by Y.A.R.E officers (Yes Abuse Resistance Education), and could be taught at any age level, but should be required before becoming a mother. I have been unsuccessful in starting a support group for yes addicts, but today, I am here to say, "My name is Mandy, and I am addicted to yes." There, I've admitted I have a problem, and that's a step, right?
I would like to go one step further and start saying no...
Let's start small:
No, drive-through worker, it is no longer "okay" that I spent ten minutes listening to my kids scream while trapped in the car with them because you don't know how to count money.
No, person I hardly know, I can't have coffee with you because I don't even have time to have coffee with my real friends.
No, son, you may not use the computer right now, Mommy is blogging. (You see, opportunities for using no are abundant.)
No, teacher, I cannot help with the field trip, the class party, snack day, homework, fund raisers, spirit week, or science experiments, and by the way, I'll be picking my kids up half an hour late from now on.
This is fun...let's keep going.
No, friends, I don't have time to "hang out". When I say maybe, I mean no. I would like to hang out, but the next weekend I have free is in 2022.
No, former customers and vendors, I am not, in fact, my husband. I have no idea where he is, if or when he will call you back, where he keeps the paperwork, if he plans on fulfilling his commitments to you, or what you are even talking about. I am only nice to you because I feel sorry for you. No, I will probably not give him your message.
No, I don't want to plan ANYONE'S birthday party. Please don't be offended if I don't really care it's your birthday. I have seven birthdays per year that I have to make a big fuss over, and since you are not my child, I just cannot see what the big flippin' deal is.
No, church-lady, I can't help with ANYTHING. I truly want to, but unless our church has nanny services and gas cards, I can't do it.
No, friend, I can't babysit. I love your kid, but my kids are really hard to handle, and to be honest, I am going to watch yours more closely than my own, which makes them jealous, and it's just a bad day from there on out.
Well, as much fun as that was, I am afraid that people will never ask me for anything if I continue to write. The thing is, I want to help people. I want to do all of the things I say yes to. The problem is that over-commitment leads to under-fulfillment, and I hate that. I want to be super-woman, but I'm not. So will somebody please teach me how to say no???
I propose a new sort of class. This class would be given almost as often as Just Say No to Drugs. It would be called Just Say No to....Everything Else. It could be run by Y.A.R.E officers (Yes Abuse Resistance Education), and could be taught at any age level, but should be required before becoming a mother. I have been unsuccessful in starting a support group for yes addicts, but today, I am here to say, "My name is Mandy, and I am addicted to yes." There, I've admitted I have a problem, and that's a step, right?
I would like to go one step further and start saying no...
Let's start small:
No, drive-through worker, it is no longer "okay" that I spent ten minutes listening to my kids scream while trapped in the car with them because you don't know how to count money.
No, person I hardly know, I can't have coffee with you because I don't even have time to have coffee with my real friends.
No, son, you may not use the computer right now, Mommy is blogging. (You see, opportunities for using no are abundant.)
No, teacher, I cannot help with the field trip, the class party, snack day, homework, fund raisers, spirit week, or science experiments, and by the way, I'll be picking my kids up half an hour late from now on.
This is fun...let's keep going.
No, friends, I don't have time to "hang out". When I say maybe, I mean no. I would like to hang out, but the next weekend I have free is in 2022.
No, former customers and vendors, I am not, in fact, my husband. I have no idea where he is, if or when he will call you back, where he keeps the paperwork, if he plans on fulfilling his commitments to you, or what you are even talking about. I am only nice to you because I feel sorry for you. No, I will probably not give him your message.
No, I don't want to plan ANYONE'S birthday party. Please don't be offended if I don't really care it's your birthday. I have seven birthdays per year that I have to make a big fuss over, and since you are not my child, I just cannot see what the big flippin' deal is.
No, church-lady, I can't help with ANYTHING. I truly want to, but unless our church has nanny services and gas cards, I can't do it.
No, friend, I can't babysit. I love your kid, but my kids are really hard to handle, and to be honest, I am going to watch yours more closely than my own, which makes them jealous, and it's just a bad day from there on out.
Well, as much fun as that was, I am afraid that people will never ask me for anything if I continue to write. The thing is, I want to help people. I want to do all of the things I say yes to. The problem is that over-commitment leads to under-fulfillment, and I hate that. I want to be super-woman, but I'm not. So will somebody please teach me how to say no???
Aug 14, 2009
First Day of School
Today is the first day of school. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself. In reality, yesterday was the first day, but I missed it. For years, "Meet the Teacher" night has been on the same day as the Feast of the Assumption (August 15th). This year, that happened to be on a Saturday, so I assumed that we would meet teachers the following week. WRONG. I got a phone call from the school yesterday asking if we were coming to school this year. Oops. Now seriously, what kind of mom doesn't know what day school starts?
This led me to wonder, how DO moms know when school starts? I think it's one of those things we get when we have our first child, like breast milk or spit that cleans stuff. Well, MOST moms get it -- I didn't. I honestly cannot remember how I knew which day school started for the last four years. They don't send you a letter or call, and if it's in the newspaper, I never read it, anyway. So how did I know? In our small town, everyone knows everything, so the first day of school is easily discovered (I didn't think to investigate this year). Also, there is a sign in front of the school. The thing is, there are also trees on either side of it, and this year, the trees have finally become tall enough to hide the sign. I am not sure if the other people in town stop their cars to read the sign, but most of the time when I am driving, I am listening to six children scream at the top of their lungs, so the last thing I want to do is prolong the trip to stop and read a sign. Hmmm....
So, my theory is that the other moms are all in a perfect mommy club. I have seen signs that this club exists. For instance, I am the ONLY parent who didn't know what day, or even week, school started. I am also the only one who sits outside of the school to pick up my children without knowing a soul around me. The other people all know each other by first names and chat non-stop while I pretend to be very interested in the cloud formations or whatever stickers the Kindergarten class has stuck to the window. Or the times that I have driven through town only to have to take a detour because the entire town is in the street for a sidewalk party or carnival I knew nothing about. This may come from my refusal to read the newspaper, or perhaps because I drive an hour away for church, which takes me out of at least fifty percent of our town's social life.
All things considered, I still believe in the perfect mommy club. There are some moms who have been so bold as to bring homemade snacks to class on "snack day". C'mon...a normal mom doesn't have time to sit around baking fresh goods to take to her kid's class to be devoured by thirty whiny kids she doesn't even know. Sounds like a bunch of perfect mommies hanging out in a big kitchen spending their days coming up with new ways to torture us normal people.
Don't get me wrong, I do bake -- I love to bake, in fact. My kids are cookies snobs who won't eat a cookie out of a package and roll their eyes at "pre-mixed" dough. However, when I do find the time to bake, I seem to lose that bit of time which allows me to take a shower, work out, dress up all nice, and show up to school with a box of whatever has come out of my oven. Also, the other kids are rude, and I don't want to share with them. I only want my kids and our guests to eat my cookies. They are made with love, and I refuse to just hand them out willy-nilly. I am NOT a perfect mommy.
Another proof of the perfect mommy club is the Letters to Santa article in the paper every year. (Okay, sometimes I read the paper, but only if it has my kids' names in it.) Each year, the school sends home a sheet on which we are to help our children write a letter to Santa to be published in the paper. These letters show up all through December, and are grouped by class so that you can more easily compare your child to other kids his age. When I get this assignment, I give it to the older kids and let them write what they want. With the younger kids, I ask them to tell me what they want to say to Santa, and I write it word for word onto the paper. Invariably, it goes something like this:
Dear Santa,
I want a Power Ranger and some skates and that's it. (At this point, I may suggest they say please or ask Santa how he is, but they usually decline.) Ummm...The End.
From, _______
That's it, that is what they want to say to Santa in full. No manners, no stories, no "hey, how's Rudolph and Mrs. Claus". Every year, all of the letters are the same, and I send them into the teacher. Then, when the paper comes out, I rush to buy a copy and show the kids their letters. Every year, my kids' letters are surrounded by the letters from their classmates, and every year, I see more examples of perfect mommyhood. For instance:
Dear Santa,
How are you doing at the North Pole? Are Rudolph and Dasher quite well? I don't need anything for Christmas, as I had so many gifts last year I had to give half away to children less fortunate than I. If I could have one wish this year, it would be to end all of the suffering in the world, and for my little brother to have the bike he wants so badly.
Thank you, Santa.
Love, _____
Ok, so either this kid got an extra helping of manners, kindness, selflessness and grammar, or his perfect mommy helped him write a letter from the perfect kid. (Note: I should say that my kids have very good manners most of the time -- it just doesn't seem to show up in their writing, yet. Gotta' give credit where it's due!) Here is another example:
dear santa,
for chrismus, i want a doll, and my sister wants a dollhouse i am in preskool, so i am sorry about the speling.
luv, ______
At first glance, this seems like a real letter. The problem is, most kids in preschool cannot write anything but their names, and even if they can sound out words, they aren't going to apologize to Santa for their bad spelling. Sounds to me like a perfect mommy wants their child to look extra cute in the paper this year. I'm just saying.
I don't mean to sound bitter toward the perfects or anything. I am sure they are perfectly nice and perfectly well-meaning. Really, I am. I just want to know how to BE them. I want to know how a woman who spends all night nursing a baby and cleaning up throw-up can show up to school the next day with a perfectly fitting outfit over a perfectly toned body, with perfectly manageable hair, matching shoes, driving a perfectly clean car, and dropping off her 1.5 children who are also perfectly clean and well-dressed (homework finished and in their bags). I want to know how she keeps her house clean when she is at work all day, and when does she have time to work out? I want to know how she has managed to scrapbook every minute of her kids' lives, and still have time to make dinner from scratch every night and worry about if her kids are getting their clothes dirty.
I just want to know. I want to join the club.
This led me to wonder, how DO moms know when school starts? I think it's one of those things we get when we have our first child, like breast milk or spit that cleans stuff. Well, MOST moms get it -- I didn't. I honestly cannot remember how I knew which day school started for the last four years. They don't send you a letter or call, and if it's in the newspaper, I never read it, anyway. So how did I know? In our small town, everyone knows everything, so the first day of school is easily discovered (I didn't think to investigate this year). Also, there is a sign in front of the school. The thing is, there are also trees on either side of it, and this year, the trees have finally become tall enough to hide the sign. I am not sure if the other people in town stop their cars to read the sign, but most of the time when I am driving, I am listening to six children scream at the top of their lungs, so the last thing I want to do is prolong the trip to stop and read a sign. Hmmm....
So, my theory is that the other moms are all in a perfect mommy club. I have seen signs that this club exists. For instance, I am the ONLY parent who didn't know what day, or even week, school started. I am also the only one who sits outside of the school to pick up my children without knowing a soul around me. The other people all know each other by first names and chat non-stop while I pretend to be very interested in the cloud formations or whatever stickers the Kindergarten class has stuck to the window. Or the times that I have driven through town only to have to take a detour because the entire town is in the street for a sidewalk party or carnival I knew nothing about. This may come from my refusal to read the newspaper, or perhaps because I drive an hour away for church, which takes me out of at least fifty percent of our town's social life.
All things considered, I still believe in the perfect mommy club. There are some moms who have been so bold as to bring homemade snacks to class on "snack day". C'mon...a normal mom doesn't have time to sit around baking fresh goods to take to her kid's class to be devoured by thirty whiny kids she doesn't even know. Sounds like a bunch of perfect mommies hanging out in a big kitchen spending their days coming up with new ways to torture us normal people.
Don't get me wrong, I do bake -- I love to bake, in fact. My kids are cookies snobs who won't eat a cookie out of a package and roll their eyes at "pre-mixed" dough. However, when I do find the time to bake, I seem to lose that bit of time which allows me to take a shower, work out, dress up all nice, and show up to school with a box of whatever has come out of my oven. Also, the other kids are rude, and I don't want to share with them. I only want my kids and our guests to eat my cookies. They are made with love, and I refuse to just hand them out willy-nilly. I am NOT a perfect mommy.
Another proof of the perfect mommy club is the Letters to Santa article in the paper every year. (Okay, sometimes I read the paper, but only if it has my kids' names in it.) Each year, the school sends home a sheet on which we are to help our children write a letter to Santa to be published in the paper. These letters show up all through December, and are grouped by class so that you can more easily compare your child to other kids his age. When I get this assignment, I give it to the older kids and let them write what they want. With the younger kids, I ask them to tell me what they want to say to Santa, and I write it word for word onto the paper. Invariably, it goes something like this:
Dear Santa,
I want a Power Ranger and some skates and that's it. (At this point, I may suggest they say please or ask Santa how he is, but they usually decline.) Ummm...The End.
From, _______
That's it, that is what they want to say to Santa in full. No manners, no stories, no "hey, how's Rudolph and Mrs. Claus". Every year, all of the letters are the same, and I send them into the teacher. Then, when the paper comes out, I rush to buy a copy and show the kids their letters. Every year, my kids' letters are surrounded by the letters from their classmates, and every year, I see more examples of perfect mommyhood. For instance:
Dear Santa,
How are you doing at the North Pole? Are Rudolph and Dasher quite well? I don't need anything for Christmas, as I had so many gifts last year I had to give half away to children less fortunate than I. If I could have one wish this year, it would be to end all of the suffering in the world, and for my little brother to have the bike he wants so badly.
Thank you, Santa.
Love, _____
Ok, so either this kid got an extra helping of manners, kindness, selflessness and grammar, or his perfect mommy helped him write a letter from the perfect kid. (Note: I should say that my kids have very good manners most of the time -- it just doesn't seem to show up in their writing, yet. Gotta' give credit where it's due!) Here is another example:
dear santa,
for chrismus, i want a doll, and my sister wants a dollhouse i am in preskool, so i am sorry about the speling.
luv, ______
At first glance, this seems like a real letter. The problem is, most kids in preschool cannot write anything but their names, and even if they can sound out words, they aren't going to apologize to Santa for their bad spelling. Sounds to me like a perfect mommy wants their child to look extra cute in the paper this year. I'm just saying.
I don't mean to sound bitter toward the perfects or anything. I am sure they are perfectly nice and perfectly well-meaning. Really, I am. I just want to know how to BE them. I want to know how a woman who spends all night nursing a baby and cleaning up throw-up can show up to school the next day with a perfectly fitting outfit over a perfectly toned body, with perfectly manageable hair, matching shoes, driving a perfectly clean car, and dropping off her 1.5 children who are also perfectly clean and well-dressed (homework finished and in their bags). I want to know how she keeps her house clean when she is at work all day, and when does she have time to work out? I want to know how she has managed to scrapbook every minute of her kids' lives, and still have time to make dinner from scratch every night and worry about if her kids are getting their clothes dirty.
I just want to know. I want to join the club.
Jul 10, 2009
Summer Fun
My baby sister got married last week, and the wedding planning made for a crazy start to the kids' summer break. I spent almost the entire week hanging out with her, which meant that my dearest had the kids. Needless to say, the house has been neglected sorely and the kids were ready for some summertime fun.
We didn't have the cash to send them to camp or swimming lessons or anything else that kids usually do during the summer, and they had cabin fever pretty bad by the time the wedding was over. I had to come up with something fun for them to do and still get the house clean in the meantime. This is the first (and probably only) time I will blog about practical parenting -- not because my plan was so great, but because it had so many unexpected benefits. Here's what we did:
HOW TO TURN YOUR HOUSE INTO A SUMMER CAMP FOR YOUR KIDS
I sat down with the kids and told them that, since we couldn't go camping, we would turn our house into a summer camp. They were very exited about this. I made a sign with the camp's name on it, and listed the camp counselors (each child was a counselor) along with the individual cabins they were in charge of. I divided the house into six parts, and each part was a "cabin". Each of the kids had a list of what to do to get their cabin ready for camping.
The house was divided into cabins as follows:
Kitchen
Living Room
Playroom
Kids' Bedrooms
Kids' Bath and Hall
Laundry Room
My truck was a bonus -- to be turned into the camp bus.
We all worked together in each room, starting with the kitchen. The counselor of that "cabin" had a list of goals they would check off as we went along.
Goals:
Name your cabin and make a sign for it
Supervise clean-up (the other children would have to listen to the counselor, and get everything picked up)
Clean-up game (I came up with a game that also involved getting one thing done in each room -- in the kitchen, we poured soapy water on the floor and sock-skated; in the living room and playroom, we set up a bucket to toss items into as they picked them up; in the bedrooms, they divided into teams and raced to see which room got done first; in the bathroom, I put about two inches of soapy water in the tub, they got into swimsuits, each got a washcloth, and they soaped up the bathroom while they played in the water -- if you try these, make sure any soap you use is safe for their skin -- I used just a tiny bit of anti-bacterial hand soap.)
Just for fun activity (we did different things for each room here, too...I tried to make it fit the theme for the room...Kitchen -- camp snacks, living room -- campfire songs, playroom -- build a tent out of blankets and team-building activities, bedrooms -- set up sleeping bags, bathroom -- well, they tossed their washcloths through a little bathtub basketball hoop, laundry room -- make S'mores...doesn't fit the theme, but it was the last thing, and they really liked the S'mores over the stove. note: I didn't let them do their own marshmallows, because I didn't want to set a precedent for playing with the stove.)
"Camp-it-up" (Each counselor got to decorate their room to make it look like camp. The oldest drew pictures of daddy-long-legs and taped them to the wall, the living room has a S'more maker that looks like a campfire -- not plugged in, BTW, etc.)
Here is what happened...
1. The entire house was cleaned in two days. This is a HUGE deal at my house. Added bonus for mom -- they stayed occupied while it got clean, so I didn't have to worry about them wrecking it. Most of the time, I clean one room, and halfway through room number two, they have managed to cause both a fire and a flood in the first room.
2. They got to work on leadership skills. Added mommy bonus: I didn't expect this, but they each began to take ownership in their own cabins. They don't want anyone making a mess in "their" room. I must say that this worries me somewhat, because I now have five children (the little guy is unaffected by this) running around saying "Don't mess up my cabin! What's wrong with you? Go play somewhere else!", which sounds disturbingly like their mother.
3. They worked on being a team during the team-building activities. Added mommy bonus: I just thought this would be a fun thing that kids might do at camp, but they took it seriously, helped each other out, had fun together, and guess what??? They are getting along. Still. Nobody has been choked, hit, bitten or thrown off the roof all day. They are even having conversations and making up games together. Here's something for you: While they cleaned up after dinner last night, they kept each other going by singing the campfire songs from the night before! It was like Little House on the Prairie or something. Dorky but effective -- that's how we roll.
4. They are having fun creating their own camp experience, even though it's inside (it's really too hot for them to spend much time outside). Added mommy bonus: They stayed in bed last night, because they were zipped into sleeping bags!!! I should have thought of this sooner. You are not allowed to tie your children to their beds. However, you ARE allowed to zip them in! Before I start getting a lot of comments about what would happen in there was a fire or how mean I am to not let them have 8,000 drinks after bedtime...they were ABLE to get out of the bags, but the bags just made it more fun, and they didn't WANT to.
6. The "camp snacks" have taken on a life of their own. Now, every meal must have some element of camp food, which has made meal time more fun, and has made them try foods that they wouldn't normally try -- even stuff we eat all the time becomes delicious when you put the word "camp" in front of it. Last night, we had Camp Pork Roast. No, this is not a real thing you would probably eat on a camping trip, but hey, it works. Added mommy bonus: They all want to help in the kitchen. Sometimes this is great, and sometimes it just means that I trip over a kid every time I turn around. But, when they all line up at the bar to watch or help, I get to pretend I'm Rachel Ray.
So, our house looks like camp for the rest of the summer, the kids are happy, it's clean, I'm happy, and we are having a lot of fun together. All I wanted was a little help getting everything picked up, but I'm having a blast playing with the kids, and they are going to have a special summer experience without breaking the bank!
We didn't have the cash to send them to camp or swimming lessons or anything else that kids usually do during the summer, and they had cabin fever pretty bad by the time the wedding was over. I had to come up with something fun for them to do and still get the house clean in the meantime. This is the first (and probably only) time I will blog about practical parenting -- not because my plan was so great, but because it had so many unexpected benefits. Here's what we did:
HOW TO TURN YOUR HOUSE INTO A SUMMER CAMP FOR YOUR KIDS
I sat down with the kids and told them that, since we couldn't go camping, we would turn our house into a summer camp. They were very exited about this. I made a sign with the camp's name on it, and listed the camp counselors (each child was a counselor) along with the individual cabins they were in charge of. I divided the house into six parts, and each part was a "cabin". Each of the kids had a list of what to do to get their cabin ready for camping.
The house was divided into cabins as follows:
Kitchen
Living Room
Playroom
Kids' Bedrooms
Kids' Bath and Hall
Laundry Room
My truck was a bonus -- to be turned into the camp bus.
We all worked together in each room, starting with the kitchen. The counselor of that "cabin" had a list of goals they would check off as we went along.
Goals:
Name your cabin and make a sign for it
Supervise clean-up (the other children would have to listen to the counselor, and get everything picked up)
Clean-up game (I came up with a game that also involved getting one thing done in each room -- in the kitchen, we poured soapy water on the floor and sock-skated; in the living room and playroom, we set up a bucket to toss items into as they picked them up; in the bedrooms, they divided into teams and raced to see which room got done first; in the bathroom, I put about two inches of soapy water in the tub, they got into swimsuits, each got a washcloth, and they soaped up the bathroom while they played in the water -- if you try these, make sure any soap you use is safe for their skin -- I used just a tiny bit of anti-bacterial hand soap.)
Just for fun activity (we did different things for each room here, too...I tried to make it fit the theme for the room...Kitchen -- camp snacks, living room -- campfire songs, playroom -- build a tent out of blankets and team-building activities, bedrooms -- set up sleeping bags, bathroom -- well, they tossed their washcloths through a little bathtub basketball hoop, laundry room -- make S'mores...doesn't fit the theme, but it was the last thing, and they really liked the S'mores over the stove. note: I didn't let them do their own marshmallows, because I didn't want to set a precedent for playing with the stove.)
"Camp-it-up" (Each counselor got to decorate their room to make it look like camp. The oldest drew pictures of daddy-long-legs and taped them to the wall, the living room has a S'more maker that looks like a campfire -- not plugged in, BTW, etc.)
Here is what happened...
1. The entire house was cleaned in two days. This is a HUGE deal at my house. Added bonus for mom -- they stayed occupied while it got clean, so I didn't have to worry about them wrecking it. Most of the time, I clean one room, and halfway through room number two, they have managed to cause both a fire and a flood in the first room.
2. They got to work on leadership skills. Added mommy bonus: I didn't expect this, but they each began to take ownership in their own cabins. They don't want anyone making a mess in "their" room. I must say that this worries me somewhat, because I now have five children (the little guy is unaffected by this) running around saying "Don't mess up my cabin! What's wrong with you? Go play somewhere else!", which sounds disturbingly like their mother.
3. They worked on being a team during the team-building activities. Added mommy bonus: I just thought this would be a fun thing that kids might do at camp, but they took it seriously, helped each other out, had fun together, and guess what??? They are getting along. Still. Nobody has been choked, hit, bitten or thrown off the roof all day. They are even having conversations and making up games together. Here's something for you: While they cleaned up after dinner last night, they kept each other going by singing the campfire songs from the night before! It was like Little House on the Prairie or something. Dorky but effective -- that's how we roll.
4. They are having fun creating their own camp experience, even though it's inside (it's really too hot for them to spend much time outside). Added mommy bonus: They stayed in bed last night, because they were zipped into sleeping bags!!! I should have thought of this sooner. You are not allowed to tie your children to their beds. However, you ARE allowed to zip them in! Before I start getting a lot of comments about what would happen in there was a fire or how mean I am to not let them have 8,000 drinks after bedtime...they were ABLE to get out of the bags, but the bags just made it more fun, and they didn't WANT to.
6. The "camp snacks" have taken on a life of their own. Now, every meal must have some element of camp food, which has made meal time more fun, and has made them try foods that they wouldn't normally try -- even stuff we eat all the time becomes delicious when you put the word "camp" in front of it. Last night, we had Camp Pork Roast. No, this is not a real thing you would probably eat on a camping trip, but hey, it works. Added mommy bonus: They all want to help in the kitchen. Sometimes this is great, and sometimes it just means that I trip over a kid every time I turn around. But, when they all line up at the bar to watch or help, I get to pretend I'm Rachel Ray.
So, our house looks like camp for the rest of the summer, the kids are happy, it's clean, I'm happy, and we are having a lot of fun together. All I wanted was a little help getting everything picked up, but I'm having a blast playing with the kids, and they are going to have a special summer experience without breaking the bank!
Mar 14, 2009
Concert Rush
When One Sings
by Mandy Green
Wake up at eight and hit the snooze,
Sleep 'til nine or ten.
Fix the breakfast, start the wash,
On a roll again.
Start the shower, throw them in,
Check behind the ears.
Find some clothes and wash some more,
Now I'm switching gears.
Time to iron a tiny tux,
Hem the legs once more.
Comb hair, make lunch, and find the shoes,
Little brother wore.
Oh, here is one, the lace is gone,
One cannot be found.
You all search while I break down,
Room is spinning 'round.
Why must you wrestle in your suit?
That is not allowed.
Find that shoe or we can't go,
Want to beat the crowd.
Change the diaper, dress the baby,
Check the clock and see,
We're late again, find that shoe!
Leave the rest to me.
Your brother found it, put it on.
What is that you say?
Half the shoe is missing, now,
Melted clean away.
Brother wore it once last weekend,
Wasn't in a fire,
Rode the four-wheeler that day,
Caught it in the tire.
Well, it will have to do, I sigh,
Regulations say:
That shirt, those pants, that vest and tie,
Those shoes aren't for play.
Check the mirror, I look a fright,
Not much different there.
Everybody in the car,
Gotta' be somewhere.
Tie shoes your shoes while we're on the way,
Seatbelts on, let's go.
Don't stop for fuel or snacks or drinks,
Stop that, I said NO!
When we've arrived we're right on time,
Wonders never cease.
Get the singer straight inside,
Mommy needs some peace!
When it was time to hear them sing,
Little ones sat still,
Watched big brother, eyes aglow,
It was such a thrill.
Listen to the choir singing,
Turn the camera on.
All of that is worth it now,
Listen to the song.
by Mandy Green
Wake up at eight and hit the snooze,
Sleep 'til nine or ten.
Fix the breakfast, start the wash,
On a roll again.
Start the shower, throw them in,
Check behind the ears.
Find some clothes and wash some more,
Now I'm switching gears.
Time to iron a tiny tux,
Hem the legs once more.
Comb hair, make lunch, and find the shoes,
Little brother wore.
Oh, here is one, the lace is gone,
One cannot be found.
You all search while I break down,
Room is spinning 'round.
Why must you wrestle in your suit?
That is not allowed.
Find that shoe or we can't go,
Want to beat the crowd.
Change the diaper, dress the baby,
Check the clock and see,
We're late again, find that shoe!
Leave the rest to me.
Your brother found it, put it on.
What is that you say?
Half the shoe is missing, now,
Melted clean away.
Brother wore it once last weekend,
Wasn't in a fire,
Rode the four-wheeler that day,
Caught it in the tire.
Well, it will have to do, I sigh,
Regulations say:
That shirt, those pants, that vest and tie,
Those shoes aren't for play.
Check the mirror, I look a fright,
Not much different there.
Everybody in the car,
Gotta' be somewhere.
Tie shoes your shoes while we're on the way,
Seatbelts on, let's go.
Don't stop for fuel or snacks or drinks,
Stop that, I said NO!
When we've arrived we're right on time,
Wonders never cease.
Get the singer straight inside,
Mommy needs some peace!
When it was time to hear them sing,
Little ones sat still,
Watched big brother, eyes aglow,
It was such a thrill.
Listen to the choir singing,
Turn the camera on.
All of that is worth it now,
Listen to the song.
Jan 3, 2009
In the Eyes of a Child
While I usually reserve this page for something funny or a current vent, there are just times when other things have to be said.
Due to medical issues, I had to have a hysterectomy over the summer. This was a shock to me, as I have had a baby almost every year since the first was born, and figured I would go on doing that. It was a very hard time, and it took awhile for me to come to terms with it.
The hardest part of that time was when my oldest (a long-time baby fan) asked me what the surgery was for. I explained that mommies have a little balloon thing that holds the babies before they are born, and that I had to have it removed. Simple, right? He did not like this at all. He immediately understood that we would have no more babies. He wanted another little brother. We had a Big Talk, I told him that we could possibly adopt if that was something that God wanted for us, and that, even without the surgery, I wouldn't have been able to carry a baby.(This was something of a stretch, because we weren't sure of that, but I didn't want to have to explain pregnancy loss again, as he had a hard time with my last miscarriage.)
So, the surgery went on, and went well. I didn't get to see a lot of the kids, because they spent a lot of time with family during my recovery. A few weeks later, I noticed that he still seemed upset when anyone mentioned it. I tried to talk to him about being content with what we have, and how blessed we are already with so many brothers and sisters. This, however was not the problem.
"Mommy, what if there was a baby in there when they did the surgery? Would it die?" This hit me like a ton of bricks. I told him that there wasn't, but he wouldn't take my word for it. "What if there was, though? Did they check? What if the baby was still so tiny that you couldn't see it? Like, if it was this big?" (holding his finger and thumb together) "Wouldn't it die? How can they be for sure?" I don't have to tell you all of the things I said, but I did finally convince him that there was no baby there, and that the doctors can tell these things.
My point is this. My son (age seven at that point) asked about a potential baby that was so small you couldn't see it. Would this tiny life, no bigger than a speck of dust, survive this surgery? He was worried about a tiny little brother or sister dying before we even knew it existed. I have never explained much more about pregnancy to my kids other than that the baby grows and then is born. How did he know how small a baby can be? How did he know that, even though nobody knew it was there, and nobody could see it, it would still be a person, a brother or sister, and still have a right to live? I have never told him any of these things, although I believe them with all my heart.
There are things that children know inherently. There are people they seem not to like. They know that mommy and daddy mean safety. They believe in God with no questions asked, because, to them, of course there is a God. Who else would have produced a world full of such wonder? And they know right from wrong. They push their limits, and get into trouble, but kids know right from wrong. They know that murder is wrong. They know that stealing is wrong. They know that disobedience, anger and hatred are wrong. And they know that a child, so tiny that you can't see it, living in his mother's womb, is a child. They know that a baby has a right to live from the first day of conception.
Pro-life or pro-abortion, answer this: When was the first time that the reality of abortion was explained to you? What did you think? What did you feel? Were you horrified, sickened, grieved? Or did you accept the explanation that a child is a blob of tissue until it takes it's first breath? How old were you? If you were a child, still fresh from the loving arms of God, did you wonder about your own conception? Did you wonder if you had ever been in danger from the knife of an abortionist? Did you reject the entire notion and think that no mother would ever kill her child? If you were an adult, did you try to see yourself in this situation? Did you wonder if you would/could ever submit yourself or a loved one to this "procedure"? How many people, when first faced with this issue, accept it, support it, love the idea? My guess is very few. You see, people have instincts, too, we just ignore them sometimes. Abortion goes against our most basic human need -- survival. And it goes against every human desire -- safety in our mother's arms, freedom, life, happiness, acceptance, love.
My seven year old could not put this into words at his age, and thankfully hasn't been exposed to this horror, but he knows it is true just the same. People are born with certain things written on their hearts and in their minds. We know that abortion is wrong, just as sure as we know that any murder is wrong. Some ignore this truth until they forget it, but they knew it once. Yes, I believe that abortion is a sin, that is it against God's Will. I believe that God is grieved over this most awful of human errors. I don't make light of that side of this issue. My point is this: Whether or not you believe in God, whether or not you are religious, if you have a conscience, you know -- or did know -- that abortion is evil, no matter the reason.
Due to medical issues, I had to have a hysterectomy over the summer. This was a shock to me, as I have had a baby almost every year since the first was born, and figured I would go on doing that. It was a very hard time, and it took awhile for me to come to terms with it.
The hardest part of that time was when my oldest (a long-time baby fan) asked me what the surgery was for. I explained that mommies have a little balloon thing that holds the babies before they are born, and that I had to have it removed. Simple, right? He did not like this at all. He immediately understood that we would have no more babies. He wanted another little brother. We had a Big Talk, I told him that we could possibly adopt if that was something that God wanted for us, and that, even without the surgery, I wouldn't have been able to carry a baby.(This was something of a stretch, because we weren't sure of that, but I didn't want to have to explain pregnancy loss again, as he had a hard time with my last miscarriage.)
So, the surgery went on, and went well. I didn't get to see a lot of the kids, because they spent a lot of time with family during my recovery. A few weeks later, I noticed that he still seemed upset when anyone mentioned it. I tried to talk to him about being content with what we have, and how blessed we are already with so many brothers and sisters. This, however was not the problem.
"Mommy, what if there was a baby in there when they did the surgery? Would it die?" This hit me like a ton of bricks. I told him that there wasn't, but he wouldn't take my word for it. "What if there was, though? Did they check? What if the baby was still so tiny that you couldn't see it? Like, if it was this big?" (holding his finger and thumb together) "Wouldn't it die? How can they be for sure?" I don't have to tell you all of the things I said, but I did finally convince him that there was no baby there, and that the doctors can tell these things.
My point is this. My son (age seven at that point) asked about a potential baby that was so small you couldn't see it. Would this tiny life, no bigger than a speck of dust, survive this surgery? He was worried about a tiny little brother or sister dying before we even knew it existed. I have never explained much more about pregnancy to my kids other than that the baby grows and then is born. How did he know how small a baby can be? How did he know that, even though nobody knew it was there, and nobody could see it, it would still be a person, a brother or sister, and still have a right to live? I have never told him any of these things, although I believe them with all my heart.
There are things that children know inherently. There are people they seem not to like. They know that mommy and daddy mean safety. They believe in God with no questions asked, because, to them, of course there is a God. Who else would have produced a world full of such wonder? And they know right from wrong. They push their limits, and get into trouble, but kids know right from wrong. They know that murder is wrong. They know that stealing is wrong. They know that disobedience, anger and hatred are wrong. And they know that a child, so tiny that you can't see it, living in his mother's womb, is a child. They know that a baby has a right to live from the first day of conception.
Pro-life or pro-abortion, answer this: When was the first time that the reality of abortion was explained to you? What did you think? What did you feel? Were you horrified, sickened, grieved? Or did you accept the explanation that a child is a blob of tissue until it takes it's first breath? How old were you? If you were a child, still fresh from the loving arms of God, did you wonder about your own conception? Did you wonder if you had ever been in danger from the knife of an abortionist? Did you reject the entire notion and think that no mother would ever kill her child? If you were an adult, did you try to see yourself in this situation? Did you wonder if you would/could ever submit yourself or a loved one to this "procedure"? How many people, when first faced with this issue, accept it, support it, love the idea? My guess is very few. You see, people have instincts, too, we just ignore them sometimes. Abortion goes against our most basic human need -- survival. And it goes against every human desire -- safety in our mother's arms, freedom, life, happiness, acceptance, love.
My seven year old could not put this into words at his age, and thankfully hasn't been exposed to this horror, but he knows it is true just the same. People are born with certain things written on their hearts and in their minds. We know that abortion is wrong, just as sure as we know that any murder is wrong. Some ignore this truth until they forget it, but they knew it once. Yes, I believe that abortion is a sin, that is it against God's Will. I believe that God is grieved over this most awful of human errors. I don't make light of that side of this issue. My point is this: Whether or not you believe in God, whether or not you are religious, if you have a conscience, you know -- or did know -- that abortion is evil, no matter the reason.
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