Saturday, February 21, 2009

My Most Proud 'Mommy FAIL' Moments

Thursday afternoon was one of my typical 'holy crap, this place is a wreck and I just don't have the energy to do anything about it' kind of days.

So I didn't.

I spent too much time on twitter where it's become a personal goal to make someone laugh in 140 characters. Ex: "10yo hounddog just chased a dust bunny across the room. Either she's getting senile or I have another smartass in the house. Off to clean!" Totally addicting, I'm telling you. By the time four o'clock rolled around, I realized that I was not only still in my pajamas, as were my sons, but the house was still a wreck and my fancy-pants dinner that I should have put on the stove three hours ago certainly wasn't making itself.

I got up, put on some cartoons for the boys to keep them out of the cleaning tornado that I was about to become. (Yeah, you know as well as I do THAT wasn't happening.) I did get dinner started though and from the smell of it, this might be the most delicious dinner I had prepared to date. For those of you who are trying to eat healthier, I have been spending a lot of time on the Cooking Light website. They have some awesome, easy to prepare dinners that are ready in minutes! For those of you who cook all the time and are damn good at all I have to say.

This post was SO about something totally different. *ahem*

Anyway, my new neighbor Jessica called, so we went to the park while dinner simmered and the house cleaned itself. Heh...

When we got there, it was much colder than it had looked from my warm, cushy living room chair. Jessica immediately mentioned the freezing wind and that they wouldn't be able to stay much longer. (Lightweight.) Granted, she had been waiting about 30 minutes while I dressed the boys and tried to blow some of the 'been-sitting-in-the-same-spot-in-my-jammies-all-day' stink off me. My response? "Why don't you guys just come over to my house?!"

The second it left my lips I remembered the all-too-honest tweet about the hound dog and the dust bunny as well as the rest of the 'holy shit, did a bomb go off in here' mess that awaited us. It was too late...she came...she saw...and I think she either felt good about herself and her own domestic skills or vowed to never return. I know she didn't decide to never talk to me again, because my phone rang as soon as she got home.

"Hey, I know you cooked that 'fancy-pants' meal and all, but we are going out to grab some dinner and a beer if you guys want to join us." (Yeah, I totally made her smell my dinner and went on and on about how much work it was to assemble. It made me feel a little better about the house. A little.)

So dinner went in the fridge and we went out.

We hadn't been there 30 minutes and some stranger came carrying Deuce (the two year old) to us from the game room. The kid was screaming like I've never heard before. The man said something about him falling off a highchair and hitting his head. I didn't catch it all since I was too busy trying to climb under the table from embarrassment. The full story was that he was standing on TOP of a high chair, holding the toy rifle from the video game when he fell, backwards, and hit his head on the game console.

Never in my five years of parenting have I ever experienced a knot like that one. You've heard of a goose egg? Yeah, this was a perfectly shaped and appropriately sized golf ball sticking out of the back of his head. I'm not exaggerating here, it was the exact size of a golf ball. I had to keep touching it because I couldn't believe it was that big, and round, and dude, it was a golf ball. Deuce, didn't appreciate my amazement. Nor did he seem to enjoy having everyone else touch it. "Man, you have to feel his head! It's like a perfect golf ball! Feel that!"

Yeah, I know. Mommy FAIL, right?

On the way out, I started doing the mommy guilt thing. I should have been in there with him, I should have been watching him, yadda yadda yadda. I was starting to get pretty down on myself when I remembered the many other mommy FAIL moments in their short little lives.

There was the time I let my mom hold Deuce and she dropped him; like we all knew she would.

The time I put Bonus in a swing and left him while I went to check my email. Oh, and didn't bother to strap him in. Yeah, you got it. He fell, face first, onto the hardwood floor.

The numerous calls to those blessed saints at poison control who never said, "Where the hell were you when he was eating goo-be-gone?!" Oh, and by the way, apparently it is okay to drink it in small amounts as long as you don't get it in your lungs. (I know, what the hell?!)

Oh, and I can't forget the time I was nursing Bonus and decided I couldn't wait one more minute to go to the bathroom. I walked across the house, with him still latched, and made it there only to slam the back of his head on the door jam when I failed to realize the bathroom door was much narrower than the other doors. That one, was actually pretty funny. He looked up at me with this, "I have been given to a total dumbass" look before screaming bloody murder.

I almost forgot the time we drove all the way to DorkFish's work to show off our new son, Bonus, to the firefighters and when we got there realized we had never strapped him in.

In fact, most of my mommy FAIL moments had involved Bonus. I guess that's the way it rolls when you're the first-born. I suppose, in the grand scheme of life, Deuce really had it coming.

After all, we weren't saving for Harvard or anything.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Why you should be saving money for my bail

Last Sunday we took the boys to Lowes. I know, I know, some GRAND ADVENTURE there Mrs. Outdoordogs...but they love the place and Steve needed some lumber for his garage project.

(For the record, I have no idea what he's doing out there, but it allows me to read blogs and twitter; until I have to go fetch the Deuce because he's terrified of the circular saw.)

So, we stop by the hot dog stand on the way out of the store and there is a police man standing there. Both boys stand, frozen, until he acknowledges them. Then the questions start:

Bonus: "Is that a REAL gun?! My gun has an orange tip on it and I don't wike dat."

Police Man: "Yes, buddy. It is a real gun. Yours has an orange tip so we police officers know it's a toy. You need to keep that on there. Did you know bad guys are painting the tips of their guns orange to trick us?"


First, let me say that I'm totally amazed not only at that fact, but because he's taking the time to talk to my sons. We've never had this happen. Generally, they approach the officer and stand there refusing to speak so it looks like I'm the one that wanted to talk to the officer...grrrr. Incidentally, they also did this to me at a concert once. The old banjo player is probably still telling his buddies about it.

Bonus: "Are those REAL handcuffs?! We need handcuffs...we only have a dog leash."

Police Man: (giggling) "Yes, these are real handcuffs." -chuckle, chuckle, chuckle.

(I, am turning beet red at this moment.)

Then little Deuce pipes up with his too adorable stutter: "My daddy, he he he he he he he..."

Not knowing where this was going, but utterly terrified after the dog leash comment, I quickly suggest we go eat our hot dogs on the lawn tractors. (Yes, we're redneck. But the only thing more awe-inspiring to my sons than a police man is a lawn mower.)


Tuesday, February 17, 2009

But First...

I’m working on a post for both, er, all of you faithful followers, but first this:

(Phone Rings)

Me: “Hello?”

Other person: “Hey, Amy! It’s Jessica! Do you want me to come get Bonus so he can play over here today?”

Me: “HELL YES! Wait, who is this again?”

So, Beaux is playing at a neighbor’s and I’m pretty sure I could find the house if I had to… In the mean time, Deuce is fussing about having to take a nap, but doesn’t know Bonus is gone, shhhh.

I am busy eating chocolate that I had to buy for myself because my husband sucks at holidays... Er, I meant to say that I'm writing a new blog post for you guys.

Bet you’ll never guess the topic…heh.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Ode to a Redneck Shower

Some crazy burocracy in Canada thought it would be a good idea to give this nut job a child. (And honestly, I am applauding their decision.) So as a tribute, a bunch of bloggers are admitting their best “Redneck Mommy Moments”. Normally, I would have no problem recanting personal experiences…but there is just something about the ‘google is forever’ rule that scares me…

Here goes anyway!

The name “Bo” has stuck with you from years of Dukes of Hazard and yelling, “Get It Bo!” (But when you name your kid Beaux, you spell it different so no one will ever make the connection.)

You’ve taken soap and pajamas to the local pool.

You’ve bathed them in the front yard with a water hose; just for the fun of it.

You taught them ‘daddy likes his beer shaken’ cause your adorable husband thought it was cute to have the one year old get him a beer.

You have borrowed diapers from strangers on many, many occasions but have never been asked.

You potty trained them in the front yard. (Bonus points for watering the already dead plants!)

It took you 3 years to get the two-leggers to pee inside and the four-legger to pee outside. (Your rugs tell the story well.)

Your toddler calls himself “Pussy” because he can’t pronounce his name and you giggle. Every. Single. Time. (Then you tell perfect strangers about the time he was standing in the Catholic school parking lot and with arms raised high and biceps flexing he yelled, “Super Pussy!”; all while tears stream down your face.)

And that, my dear friends, is why I Pink-Puffy-Heart Tanis. She gets it.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

I Can Haz A Clean House Plz?!

I awoke this morning to the sound of beer cans being rolled across my living room floor. Realizing this was not, in fact, a college flashback, I jumped out of bed and ran to the sound yelling, "Deuce! NO! That's alcohol abuse!"

When I entered the living room I found both Bonus and Deuce rolling cans across the floor to each other.

(Go ahead and stop wondering if the beer cans had anything to do with me being in bed still...they didn't and it was only 6:30 a.m.) You see, my father-in-law and brother-in-law had been visiting while I was in Nashville at Blissdom09 and I had returned to a bit of a 'bachelor pad'. (In case you've been following along, this is where I was embarrassing the family...)

I digress.

Much to my relief, the beer cans were still full. (Thank God! Can you imagine the mess if they had that little bit of backwash left! Ick.)

Upon further inspection, I realized that these were cans of Natty Ice that my brother-in-law had left behind.

My response?

"Roll, baby, roll." And I went back to bed.

You see, dear readers, this is why when my friend, Candice Stone tweeted about her cleaning business, I just had to share my desperate need for a house cleaner.

And I'm sure you would agree whole-heartedly.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Why I don't deserve to be let out in public...and other embarrassing stories.

I just returned from Blissdom09 and let me tell you...I've learned A LOT. Those of you that follow me, okay, both of you, will be amazed at the upcoming changes to this little blue-back grounded, "It's-not-a-damn-pet-blog" site. Oh yes, you might even tell your friends that secretly you read my writing and not be embarrassed to admit it!


I hope, at least. Heh.

Anyway, I now know that not only am I a much smaller fish than I had realized, but the group of Big Fish that I had previously been worshiping is much, much larger than I knew. And some of them have said that they would be following me too...eek. So now, not only do I have to 'up the ante' so to speak, but really have to make this place look good.

And considering I've got mad skills...but none of them have to do with's gonna be a long road. So I'm putting on my big girl panties and you're welcome to join me!

Just don't show me, cause mine are big enough.


Okay, first of all, anyone who was at Blissdom09 with me and saw me on Friday night AFTER the cocktail party; it was the new Rx and not the two drinks I had that caused me to act like that. And by that you pretty much have to insert your own experience with me. Cause honestly, I don't remember much of the night let alone what I said.


I do remember getting on the elevator with the fabulous Jen Lancaster and bits and pieces of the conversation have slowly been returning. (When I honestly wish they wouldn't.)

First, I said, "Hey! You're Jen!" (As if she may have been suddenly stuck with amnesia or something.) Secondly, I remember saying, "I can't wait to read your new book in August!" To which the fabulous Jen Lancaster responded, "Um, actually, it comes out in May." Okay, total party foul, but it could have been excused had I not responded with, "Awwww, Man! I thought it was August!" (with much disappointment.) Apparently, in my medically-induced reality, August comes before May...who knew?! The rest of the elevator conversation is a mystery to me except for my parting line which was me stumbling off the elevator mumbling something about my son's stuffed frog. I'm not sure what I was saying, but I'm pretty sure that no one, including me, cared.

The next morning, I posted this on twitter, "
Totally bombing intros #blissdom09. When did I become 'socially awkward'?! Anyone who saw me last night, it was new meds not the beer! Geez." This tweet not only showed me how many new followers I had by the number of people that approaced me saying, "Oh my gosh! What did you do?" but also by the sheer volume of bloggers who admitted having conversations with me...and I don't remember them.

Not to mention that the very awesome Poppy was along for the ride...sorry about that! Great intro, huh?! (And no, contrary to her post, Poppy did not have price tags -ala Minny Pearl- but she did have an amazing sense of humor and equally impressive personality.) -not to mention she was too kind to tell me what an ass I had made of myself in front of her dearest friend, the fabulous Jen Lancaster.


Yeah, I guess you could say I made a name for myself. If the embarrassment of the night didn't do it, the business cards may have...

For those of you that missed them, it was a beverage napkin with my blog site written on them and lipstick.

(The cheesy grin is added for effect...I have no explanation for the puffy shirt.) -photo courtesy of Jenny over here.

Apparently, when one goes to such functions, they are expected to bring a business card so that others will later remember their blog and follow them. Who knew?!

At least Tanis thought it was entertaining. She saved my her bra.


Oh, and for those of you who know me and how I constantly recount my favorite posts from my favorite bloggers, you will understand my excitement on meeting Catherine! I did, however, make a dork out of myself by only being able to compliment her blog by telling her it makes me cry. I was actually trying to say that she is so thoughtful and stuff...which still sounds better in my head.

She did let me hold the precious Jasper, though! So either I didn't make a total ass out of myself, or she was desperate to eat lunch.

In typical FAIL fashion, I made him cry. Again, zero points for the dork fish. I can't even accomplish one simple task like keeping a baby happy for five minutes. (And I have done that TWICE...)


And then there was Saturday night. I spent most of the evening with Tara, who may or may not want to admit it so I'll leave her details out. I do remember the embarrassment that ensued. But I'm not willing to share all the gory details until they become less memorable. (And the headache fades.)

But I will admit that I thoroughly enjoyed the high-dollar cosmo that was purchased for me by a unnamed police officer who worked at an unnamed airport and meeting the famous Denny who's tagline was "Denny, like the restaurant."

No, I am not kidding. But I wish I was...


The previous evening may or may not have had anything to do with me missing my 8 a.m. flight.

But I'm pretty sure that the humiliation of loosing my fruitloops in the handicapped stall of the women's restroom at gate B9 taught me a lesson. Yes, I was kicking my own ass.

And if the handicapped woman who was waiting on said stall had not been bound to a wheelchair, I think she would have been too.


So, what have you, o beloved followers, learned from my experiences? (And please don't tell me if it's to stop following me!) If it is to stop following me...just keep it to yourselves. Mkay?!

Update: Just in case you are one of those followers who wonders, "What were her kids doing while she was writing all that?" Here you go:

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Let Them Eat Cake

Every night the Big Dog has a few questions for us. At first, it was his stall tactic to keep from going to bed. But now, it's become a tradition and he seems to really enjoy it.

Just so you know, he doesn't ask easy ones. There has yet to be a "Why is the sky blue?" or a "How does grass grow?" Nope. Never an easy question.

Tonight's question was, "How does a heater work?"

"Well, that's an easy one, buddy. First, you plug it in and the power goes through the plug to the coils. The coils heat up and then the little fan sucks the air from the back side and blows it across the coils, heating them up, and thus blowing out hot air."

Feeling pretty confident with my response, I flashed him an overly cocky smile and a quick pat on the knee. Little did I know what would come next...

"No, momma. I know how all that works. My question is, HOW does the electricity heat up the coils?"

"Um...How about another cupcake?!"

Monday, February 2, 2009

Groundhog Day....EVERYDAY

I know many stay-at-home mommies out there. In fact, I pride myself on learning their tricks for survival and using my own sarcastic twist to keep treading water in this inevitable downward spiral called parenthood; which I am certain will eventually lead to my sons writing books about me.

I just hope they make me sound pretty; cause dammit, I try.

Most days.

But years ago (5 to be exact) I came to this conclusion. Each day of parenthood brings with it new surprises such as cute new words, precious hugs and fleeting glimpses into the reality of how quickly each moment passes. I find myself starting sentences with, "It seems like only yesterday," while making a mental note to never ever sound like an 80-year-old Jewish grandmother again. I struggle to remember when they took their first steps, their first words and even their damn birthday when caught off guard by strangers.

In a nut shell, it's an awesome experience to be with them every second of the day and watch them transform from the most perfect baby in the world, to precocious little toddlers and handsome little preschoolers. I want to remember each and every little word, giggle and smile.

But give me a damn break. Tell me I'm not the only one trapped in a Groundhog-Day scenario.

Every morning it's the exact same thing.

"I want waffles! No, not your waffles, the frozen kind! And I want milk too! MIIILLLLKKKK! Can we watch cartoons now? Can we? Huh? Plllleeeeaaaassseee?! NO! I can't go back to bed! I already wiped the icky stuff from my eyes and that helps me sleep! MOMMA, he's got POOOOOOOP! Change him NOW! He smells BAAAAD! I won't play with him cause he STINKS! I know you were sleeping, but I'm awake and you should be too! It's time to get up, Momma! Remember, you have to make me waffles! No, I can't reach the toaster to do it myself! Momma, that's a bad word."

Every. Damn. Day.

That groundhog's got nothing on me. I see my shadow every morning...with two shadows in tow.