7 ways to escape your children

With the summer winding down you are probably at the end of your list of ideas for getting some much-needed alone time.  Here are some of the ways I escape:

1) “I have a stomach ache”  What you will need to do is announce this to your husband and then vanish into the bathroom, but you will need to think ahead.  Before this “stomach ache” you will need to stock up your bathroom cabinet.  Fill it with magazines, nail polish,laptop, and wine.  With every knock your response will be “mommy really doesn’t feel good and spray some air freshener.  That should buy you 5 more minutes.

2) “I am out of tampons” Surely you are not married to the fictitious man who would run right out and get them for you and if you are…good on ya.  98% of men will cringe and then you will have to run out and get them yourself.  This may take a while as the 2 stores you went to were out of the ones you wanted (because you have a coupon or some other reason…really doesn’t matter because his eyes will glaze over in disinterest).

3) “I’m doing laundry” This is really the only time when having a second floor laundry comes in handy.  You don’t really have to do laundry but turn the machine on.  The noise will drown out all of those annoying requests like “When will dinner be ready”, “can you help me get my arm out of the chair slat” or “I have been wearing these underwear for 3 days can you wash them?”

4)“Hide and Seek” This is an oldie but goodie.  Always be the one who hides and make it interesting but adding in a 1 mile radius…that should keep em busy.

5) “Scavenger Hunt” This takes a little creativity. Make up a list of random things like a red velvet house shoe,the top sheet to your bed, 1/2 gallon of buttermilk, a pair of woman’s size 2 pants….and then make sure you have none of these items in your house.

6) “I burnt dinner”  This is not a hard task around here.  Simply place any leftover on the grill and turn it on high.  In no time it will be unrecognizable.  You will then have to run out get something….Already having a back up plan like a rotisserie chicken and some veggies from the deli counter.  That will take all of 5 minutes to get but will give you enough time to circle the block 4 times while blasting out your favorite x-rated rap…The Best Of NWA always does the trick for me.

7) “The Gyno Appointment”  Also takes a bit of planning and should be a last resort but comes in handy.  If you have dr. like mine you will be sitting in that office for at least an hour and a half before even being shown a room.  That gives you plenty of time to read magazines, check your Facebook or take a quick nap.  Sure you will have to endure a paper gown, then the dreaded  “shoe horn” followed up by some mundane chit-chat that seems to echo while he is down there but it’s a small price to pay to not hear “mom can you get me this” for the 800th time.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my boys but I think I will love them more than ever on September 6…the first day of school.

Happy Mother’s Day

There are things that people don’t tell you will happen to your body when your pregnant and after you have your kids.  I can remember feeling pretty damn good about myself about 6 months into my pregnancy with #1.  One day in particular I had just got out of the shower and was slathering on my cocoa butter (what a joke) while looking at my naked self in the mirror.  Not too bad, I thought.  Then I turned around to get a look at my back-end.  Big mistake.  I dropped my Palmer’s lotion and ran crying to Keith.  “Did you see these???”  He laughed.  It looked like a cat had taken its claws, started at my crack and scratched outwards to the sides of my cheeks.  Stretch marks.  Some how my belly, boobs and hips had been spared but my huge ass, not so much.  What no one told me though is that they fade and become a crazy iridescent color that can only be seen now with a black light. 

There are not many things that I have ever felt like I could do well.  I had an alright job and made alright money but nothing too spectacular (besides marrying Keith!).  It wasn’t until I had Clint (and Jack was 23 months) old that I felt it.  It’s hard to explain but the scene in Coal Miner’s Daughter when DoLittle says to Lorrettey (after having their 5th child) “I think we finally found something you know how to do girl” is what I felt like.

Don’t get me wrong.  It is not easy.  In fact it’s crazy hard a lot of the time.  The only thing I can point to that has kept me from pulling  “A Marie Osmond” (getting in my car and just driving off) is humor.  There is no way you’re going to make it unless you are willing to laugh at yourself and your crazy kids.  I think that came from my mom.  I have come to realize that my mom spent most of our childhood f-ing with us.  I would ask her why I had a cast on my leg when I was a baby and she would say in a really straight face “that’s because I threw you up in the air and forgot to catch you” or tell us wonderful stories about how she adopted us from aliens.  While frightening at the time I can see how hilarious it must have been for her.  Seriously, staying home all day with kids can make you lose your shit, so I am not mad at the threats of being stripped naked and put on the porch for everyone to see (this is actually something that she did to her little sister) or the one where you say “mom I am hungry” and then she says “I am mommy nice to meet you hungry” or

Me: “what are we having for dinner?

Mom: “food”

Me: “what kind”.

Mom: “the kind you eat”

and this could go for at least 30 minutes.  While aggravating as hell I can’t help but do the same things to my kids.  Yes it makes them crazy but is pretty damn funny.  I have even come up with my own.

Clint: “I want a popsicle for dinner”

Me: “Well I want my body from 1994 back but that’s not going to happen either”

I guess one of the best things my mom could have handed down to me was her humor.  There were times in our life when most people would have given up completely but my mom had the “scratch your ass and get glad” type of attitude that I think saved us.  So I am thanking you mom for telling me to eat all of my greens because “it’ll make your babies born naked”.  Imagine my shock when Jack did not come out with a turtleneck and corduroy pants on.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Dangles and such

There are some parents out there that say “I teach my child to use the proper names for their body parts” .  That is fine and good but you are just sucking the fun out of small things like this that they will carry on until they have kids.  A legacy of some sorts.  When I hear “vagina” I am waiting for a speculum to come at me.  When I hear the word penis I think of the back seat of an Omni Horizon…but that is a different story.

For my kids I did not get to decide what they were going to call it.  Sis did and I seriously could not think of a better word.  “Dangle”.  It’s now a part of our everyday vocabulary just as “please” and “thank you” are (ok that is a stretch ). I never knew how much trouble these “dangles” would cause.  I have had a couple of experiences with some “dangles” in my past but after having kids I realized that I knew nothing.

First off “dangles” do strange things.  One day while driving my oldest started to cry “My dangle hurts, my dangle hurts”.  Thinking that I had some how pinched it when putting his car seat belt on I pulled over immediately.  I jumped out and started to take his belt off and soon discovered what the “hurt” was.  I did what every mom would do…I called my husband.  How do you explain to a 3-year-old what is going on?  This is how “It will go away in a minute”. I know, pretty stellar advice from someone who has no idea what a “hard on” (and no I am not using erection) feels like to a 3-year-old.  So I spent the next few minutes apologizing for the “hurt” and after a few minutes it went away.  This was with child #1 and never did he really mention it much after that.  He dealt with it.  Child #2… not so easy.  At 4 1/2 I am still dealing with the cries and he says “I have a chubby and it won’t go down”.  He does not care where we are either.  While visiting in-laws we went to church with them (not a place they have been very often) and while the pastor was in the middle of a heated sermon about the devil (hardcore Baptist church)  my son announces to me “I have a chubby and devils aren’t  real”.  Ugh.  For his sake I hope not.

No one told me that when my child is potty trained that the excitement of finally being done with diapers would soon turn into dread.  Why you ask?  Well “dangles” seem to have a mind of their own when it comes time to pee.  Never did I think I would have replace a sink vanity cabinet because my children’s (and I have not ruled Keith out either) urine would warp it and make it crumble like acid had been poured on it.  I am convinced that no one actually pees in the toilet unless I am standing right there.  I have gotten into the shower and found puddles (I am  not opposed to peeing in the shower but only when you are in it and the water is running for it to drain).  This has to take several steps like opening the shower door and leaning over to do it.  I have found puddles in the bathroom garbage can, behind the actual toilet and I am pretty sure that someone has used the linen closet floor at one time because it really doesn’t smell right sometimes.  The best is when someone peed on the roll of toilet paper (which would take turning around completely to do).  Am I raising heathens?  Nope just boys.  I observed, when they are not watching, what they do in there.  The little one likes to scratch his butt and look around at the same time which means that it goes in whatever direction he is looking at the time.  The older one is a sport pee-er.  He has made peeing into a sport in which he needs to see where he can put it and have far he can aim it.  Boy do I wish we would have just taught them to sit!  Needless to say I spend a lot of time with bleach and on the bright side it is burning out my sense of smell completely.

These “dangles” are fascinating and everyday I learn something new everyday, whether I want to or not.  Without them (or it) I would not be here.  So as much as I have to clean up after them and be totally embarrassed by them, I tip my hat to them.  And when one day my sweet little grandson runs up to me and says “Super Grand” (cuz that’s what they’ll call me) “my dangle hurts” a tear of pride will well up in my eyes and I will say “call your dad, he will know what to do with that”.

Talent Show

It wasn’t until about 8 years ago, when I was retelling a heart warming story about a creepy old neighbor that gave me nectarines and in exchange I would sit on his lap, that I realized that my childhood was a little different from others.

I was born and raised in Detroit (shout out to Mexican Town and Clark Street!).  When I was about 8 we moved to Sterling Heights.  Just imagine going from Detroit Public School to the highly acclaimed (at the time) Utica Community Schools.  We went from everyone got free lunch to “what do you mean you have to pay for milk?”  A culture shock to say the least.  I can remember just feeling so out-of-place immediately.  I made friends no problem but they all seemed pretty foreign to me.  I thought a good ice breaker would be to show some of the girls one of those hand clapping games “Rockin Robin”.  It went well…that is until you get to the part where you say “eat my meat”.  Oh you don’t know that part?  Well it was the only version I knew so when the teacher tried to explain to me that it was “tweet, tweet, tweet” I stared at her blankly like she was making it up. 

Still wanting to fit in I  thought my big chance would be the school talent show.  You would have to try out in front of the class and they would vote to see if you got in.  Perfect!  Not only was I going to win over the whole school but also have everyone’s attention??  Oh yes this was going to be my shining moment.

It was a no brainer that I would dance because, even though I had never been formally trained, I was just damn good at it….at least that was what I had built up in my head.  If you watch The Middle then I was more along the lines of “Sue Heck”.  When it came to the music there was no other choice, it had to be Donna Summer.  You see my uncle Tommy was (and I belive still is) the president of her fan club.  She was like family practically.  I mean she sent him a painting of herself with real gold on it!  She has so many hits that it was kinda hard to nail it down.  When it came down to it though it was the every popular “Cats Without Claws”.  Don’t know it?  You can imagine my shock when the other 9 year olds did not know it either. It was so perfect because at that same time I had a bathing suit with a cats face on it with bedazzled eyes.  I would wear this bathing suit during my performance.

The next thing to do was to create a routine, right?  Oh no not me.  Why would I do that?  I knew the song and I was just going to go with what I felt.  Great plan.  The tryout day came along and I couldn’t have been more excited.  My super talented little brother was also trying out in his classroom and was sure to shut it down too.  The whole class gathered in the music room.  I started changing into my outfit in the bathroom.  As I was changing I was faced with a dilemma.  I could do decide whether to wear my underwear with my bathing suit or not.  It just did not seem appropriate to go without them.  I mean I was planning on some crazy good moves and it would just be embarrassing if something were to fall out.  So I put on my full coverage  undies and my “Cats Without Claws” bathing suit.

Walking in I was still super confident.  The teacher put on the music and I started to go.  As I started “dancing” around I realized that nothing was really flowing.  I felt lost.  The moves just were not coming to me as they did in the comfort of my bedroom.  I tried everything.   It was in that moment when I started to focus on the faces of my fellow classmates who just looked super confused. I tried to shrug it off and just kept going.  As I did a toe pointing with a turn and then some arm windmills and then I noticed a boy pointing, then another, and another.  I looked down and to my surprise my undies that I had crammed up under my suit were starting to fall down.  I tried to push them back up there (all the while still dancing)  but I was just making it worse.  They were now completely hanging out.  Now the whole class was pointing.  To make matters worse my sister and a friend came into the room and started to point and laugh too (THANKS SIS!).  Finally the music stopped and I was able to gather my Donna Summer tape and quickly run from the room.

Even though it was a disaster I was still sure that I was going to win because I was cool and my friends for sure were all going to vote for me right??  Little did a know that while I was changing a little adorable Asian girl from my class was bringing my class to their feet.  As I walked in there she was, she was sitting on the floor with a little plug-in organ.  She was genius.  My heart sank. Needless to say she was the 4th grade representation for the show.

So you might be thinking now is how did my brother do?  My brother was (and still is) a musical phenom.  He was such a music lover that a neighbor (who was also a Detroit cop) seen something in him and gave him a guitar that she had.  This was a very special guitar.  It had a pot leaf on it.  It was not a painting of a pot leaf but an actual pot leaf that had somehow been etched into the guitar.  My brother practiced like mad with that thing and became pretty damn good.  Oh did I mention that this guitar did not have strings?  That was not matter to my brother because he could make the guitar sounds. Of course that would be what he would do for his fellow 2nd graders.  Armed with his pot leaf guitar he walked down the hall to his class.  Though I never did get to see the performance it has become somewhat of a legend.  He preformed “The Eye Of The Tiger” not just making the guitar sounds but also singing the song as well.  I tear up just thinking about it.

That year was a big one in our household.  Although there was no Short representation that year in the Burr talent show we became a part of the schools folklore and also provided my family with many laughs (although it took about 20 years for anyone in my family to even bring it up for fear of me stabbing one of them with a fork).  I never really did ever feel like I fit in at Burr.  In 6th grade we made another move.  It was to South Warren.  About a mile from the famous 8 Mile and home to Eminem (also went to the same school as he and no I did not know of him and anyone that says they did is lying).  It did take a year or so to become acclimated.  I showed up with my hair puffed and hairsprayed and my pants penny rolled.  These girls looked tough.  The years at Burr had softened me.  I had to idea that what I should have done was tell them where I was from originally and capitalized on being the girl from Detroit.  That all didn’t matter because by the end of the school year I was brought down (or some would say beat down) a notch and became what you all know now as one bad ass bitch (think Sue Heck at 34).

I guess their is no real moral to this story.  It’s just a tiny snippet of my life growing up.  You may think “what kind of mother lets there children do these things?”  It’s the kind of mom that told her kids that they could do anything and be anything.  It’s the kind of mother that may of not had much to give to us but gave us the best thing ever …confidence.  It the kind of mother that I hope I am for my kids.  So when Clint says that he can fly I tell him that he can, and when he breaks his leg  I am blaming that shit on my mom.

Dragon

The project for show and share was to draw a picture of an animal that you would like to be for a day.  Clint drew a dragon breathing fire on a tree…a dragon that looks like its packin a little something extra:

This is one for the scrapbook.

Yep, I am poisoning my kids…

At least that is what they act like every time I cook and dare to ask them to eat it.  I will be the first to admit that I am not the worlds greatest cook, but I do have some skills.  I have read every article and have taken just about everyone and their mother’s advice on picky eaters and I have one thing to say to that….SUCK IT! 

There are so many different ideas to get your child to eat.  I have put my take on just a few favorites:

1. The “Short Order Cook”.  This is where you stand in the kitchen and open every cabinet, pantry and refrigerator door and ask your children “What would you like to eat tonight dear children?”  I will admit that I have been guilty of this (minus the “dear children” part because If I ever said that my kids would probably be expecting the wire hanger scene from “Mommie Dearest” right after they ate…which now that I think about it might be another tactic to use to get them to eat.   hmm

2. The “Make Them One Thing That They Like To Eat And Present It With The New Items”  Needs no explanation…and if you need one after that sentence then you are worse off than I am and please let me know so I can feel better about myself   Lets see, I have done this quite a few times.  Not once have my children ate the other options…not once!  I am renaming this one “Cook A Chicken Nugget And Then Promptly Put Everything Else In The Dogs Bowl .”

3. The “Children Learn Their Eating Habits From What They See”.  This is the one where it’s all your fault parents.  You have poor eating habits so your children will too. Keith and I may be many things but poor eaters we are not.  Truth be known I will eat a squirrels ass if it’s made right and Keith, well I am pretty sure he has cuz he is more country than me.

4. The “Present A Thing Over And Over”.  Where you just don’t give up.  You present those undesired foods over and over and over again in the hopes that they will cave.  Great. I have been presenting peas for about 4 years now, when in the hell can I stop?  “Jack would you like some peas? No?  I am shocked.  I’ll get ya next week then.  I am sure you will change your mind.”  This kid will be pouring out peas on my grave just to prove a point.  He is not caving!

I keep thinking, what did my mom do?  My sister, brother and I eat everything.  We like new foods we always ate well as children.  What was her secret??  Oh yah I remember….we were scared shitless of her!  Of course we were going to eat.  And if we didn’t we’d be having it for breakfast (“Yes Mommie Dearest”).  My kids do not fear me.  They don’t flinch when I reach over them for something, like we did.  They don’t fear having to stand in the middle of the room hugging their sibling.  They don’t fear me threatening to hold their hands and kiss them in front of their friends.

That doesn’t even work with these kids.  I once heard Clint say “Mom is just jokin us”.  So I guess intimidating I am not.  So what have I learned from all of this?  Not a whole hell of a lot.  What do I do now?  Pretty much 1-4 every night.  I am a creature of habit.  I have to believe that something is going to work.  I have to.  I can’t possibly be serving chicken nuggets and french fries for the next 13 years…right??

Hell the little one ate sand every day by choice (and when we went to other people’s houses as well) which led us to get rid of the sandbox last summer.  There is no way he has discriminating tastes….or any taste at all.

Exhibit A

Not My Finest Hour

Every Friday night we have ” Family Movie Night”.  We go to the local Family Video and pick up something we all can watch.  This Friday I was especially excited to go.  Last week I had bought a box of those ” crack like” Girl Scout Cookies and I was now fresh out.

This Friday we decided to go out to dinner with my mom and then pick the movie up afterwards.  As we drive past the video store I catch a glimpse of a man in a brightly colored vest with a sign saying “Get Your Girl Scout Cookies Here”.  Sweet!  So we have a nice dinner and then back to my moms for a little glass of wine.  All the time I am looking at my watch and hoping that those little girls are still there with their goods. Finally at almost 8 we get to the store.

As we walk up I see that the little girls, their mom, and man in the brightly colored vest are leaving.  Table put away and cookies too!  I asked “Will you guys be back here tomorrow?”  The mom tells me that another troop would be there.  I then go into the sad face and “awwwh” and then a description of how I seen the guy with the sign earlier and was praying they would still be there.  I was prepared to use the kids too (like look how skinny this one is…Clint).  So either the mom felt bad enough for me or just wanted me to go away but she said “what do you need?”  Like we were in a back alley making a drug deal or something.  I gave her my order. The look on those little girls faces was priceless.  No there wasn’t excitement it was dread like “lady we r f-ing freezing, we’ve been here since school let out and we just want to go home.”  In my head I was thinking  just Do Si Do yourselves back to your car and get my “stuff”.  And they did.

In the end everyone got what they wanted.  I got my cookies, the girls will get their “I Sold Cookies To A Mentally Disturbed Lady” merit badge and the boys got their movie.  Everyone’s happy.  So here’s to you Troop 1420 because no glass of $5.99 Sutter Home wine goes down better than with a box of sweet peanutbutter cookies.  I salute you!

So Here We Are

First I’ll start by giving you the origins of the name of my blog.  “Urban Cowboy” might not be the best movie in the world but it is one of my favorites just for lines such as “I got smarts real good”.  And there you have it.

I actually started this blog back in 07 but life seem to overtake me at the time and I could never commit to a regular post.  3 years later and no kids in diapers, I’ll give it another shot. 

Where to begin?  There is nothing particularly fabulous or even that out of the ordinary about me.  I’m a stay at home mom.  I chauffeur kids back and forth to school. I cook (sometimes) and clean (rarely), try to look my best (okay I’m not gonna lie here….I always do:) doing it all.

I went from gross office humor everyday (and loved it!) to poop jokes and posts on Facebook about how my kids tell me my butt is hanging out and how they don’t want to see it; or how a good deed I thought I was doing turned into a whole discussion at preschool about stealing (took an ornament off a tree to give to a kid on “bring in an ornament day”) and has now led my son to refer to me as “a stealer”. 

I would not change any of it of I could.  I found out that not only do I enjoy (sometimes) being home but I’m also pretty good at it too (sometimes).  These two crazy boys provide me with hours of entertainment and plenty of material for either a book or stand-up career.

So I hope you enjoy my little blog.  If anything, you can laugh at me trying to do my best and sometimes falling flat on my face.