It's Ok!

Rest assured, moms. I’ve decided the things that you feel the guiltiest about are actually ok! Here’s a quick list I put together. 

It’s ok to:

• Think Cheez-Its can pass as a healthy snack, especially if they buy you five minutes to eat your own dinner.
  
• Think if you have to sing “Old McDonald” one more time, you may lose it.
  
• Pray your kids take an extra long nap today.
  
• Give your baby a little Tylenol before bed because you don’t think you can take one more sleepless night of teething.
  
• Not remember the words to popular lullabies. What is it that mama will buy if the diamond ring don’t shine? I can never remember.
  
• Put a small book in the crib so your baby has something to play with when she wakes up, buying you another five minutes to get ready.
  
• Look forward to going back to work on Monday.
  
• Think your kids are the smartest – and cutest! – kids you’ve ever met.
  
• Secretly take credit for how smart they are.
  
• Get excited for your People magazine to arrive every Saturday.
  
• Scold your son for saying you still look pregnant when your baby is 8 months old. And cry about it later.
  
• Grab the camera instead of picking up your baby when she’s crying. Those big bottom lip pictures are the cutest!
  
• Work out only to have uninterrupted time to watch your favorite TV show.
  
• Cuddle with your baby a little longer than you should before bed.
  
• Hate all the work involved with bath time and push it off until it’s absolutely necessary.
  
• Want to open mouth kiss the person who invented the epidural.
  
• And kick the crap out of the person who invented the bra, pantyhose and high heels.
  
• Plan a day away, not really because you need it, but mostly because you want your husband to understand and appreciate how much you do.
  
• Get on Facebook instead of reading that book to your son…again.
  
• Comment to add to this list instead of helping your husband.
  

-M

Summer Hours

We, Heidi and Melissa, do solemnly swear to not let the warm summer air affect our timely blogging. We promise to get better at posting more frequently, but not to affect the quality of posts. We promise to write blog posts instead of getting jiggy with our husbands at night or working during the day. However, please don’t expect writing to replace sleeping or eating. These are two things we must abide by. We MUST get 8 hours of sleep every night and MUST take our lunch breaks at work (which are sometimes the only thing that gets us out of bed in the morning). This we promise to you as our faithful followers.

Tattle Tree

There are many, many reasons why I admire teachers. No matter how crappy my day goes, how many meetings I have or how many stupid people I have to interact with, nothing can compare with the average teacher’s daily agenda. I have to be honest, there are weekends when I am literally staring at the clock…trying to coerce the minute hand to move faster…just so I can return to my cubicle and escape from my four children (my oldest being my husband).

I am not rolling in the dough (have you seen my wardrobe?) but I am fairly certain I make more money than my kids’ teachers. They are the most patient, brilliant and underpaid people in corporate America. They come to work with a smile on their face, knowing full well that they must encounter ADD children, overly- or under-involved parents and mass chaos in general five days of the week.

I often wonder how they get through their day. Recently, during my five-year old’s parent/teacher conference, I learned a great life lesson in dealing with difficult people and stressful situations. This technique can be summarized in two words: Tattle Tree. The tattle tree is a simple but fantastic concept.

When my son’s teachers are too busy to listen to every whiney, snot-nosed kid in their tiny classroom complain about how “Olivia stuck her tongue out at me” or how “Martin got out of his chair,” they calmly tell the children to “Go tell the tattle tree.” The kids proceed to gather around a leafy plant in the corner of the room and shout out all of their friends’ offenses. At the end of the day, the teacher then listens to the tree and harmony is restored.

In doing this, both the tattler and the teacher achieve satisfaction. The tattler gets to blow off steam by ranting to a plant and the teacher gets to prevent him or herself from going to jail for strangling the tattler. It is pure genius.

When I returned to my job at an insurance company, I wasted no time and posted a sign with large letters reading “TATTLE TREE” to the closest plant on my floor. Word spread quickly about the tree’s purpose and (I kid you not), people began to utter the phrase, “Go tell the tattle tree” when someone complained about how “Vicki was talking too loud” or how “Heidi took a two-hour lunch.”

Teachers are the smartest people in the world and I bet some of the lessons you learned as a kid still reside within you today. Make sure to thank all of the teachers in your life…it’s the least we can do for everything they contribute to our society.

-H

Book Club Minus the Books

I'm starting a book club. Except we won't be reading or discussing books. But, we will be drinking and eating in the quiet heaven of a kid- and husband-less house.

The book club is to solve a problem that probably many moms have. We don't get equal personal time as compared to our husbands. And I blame us. Our husbands have golf or basketball leagues or fantasy football nights, which makes it easier to get away when you have something organized and regular to go to. But, women tend not to get involved in organized activities as much, and if so, we drag our kids along. Case in point - Heidi plays in a volleyball league once a week, but takes her two boys with her so that her husband only has to tend to the baby. When was the last time our husbands took the kids with him to softball or the fantasy football draft (that lasts 3 nights)?

When we complain about equal time with our husbands, they tell us to join a league or get involved in a hobby. Heidi will be the first to tell you, God gave me brains, not athletic ability (and not a small butt, which we will be talking about one day). And the thought of scrapbooking makes me want to shove a hot poker in my eye. So...no talent + no hobby = no Melissa time. Until Nikki and I decided that we are going to get together one night every other week to catch up on our TV shows we never have time to watch, drink wine, eat take out and enjoy the peace and quiet. Ahhh...I'm blissful just thinking about it. Anyway, we can't say, "Tonight is TV and wine night." That sounds lame even for me.

And what's sort of annoying is that we had a long discussion about what night to get together to account for t-ball practice, soccer games and, of course, our husband's tee times. AND (this annoys me even more that I'm thinking about it) we are only doing it every other week so that we're not taking too much time for ourselves. When was the last time your husband cancelled his tee time so he could hang out with the family? I digress.

So, we're calling it a book club. Which is ironic since Nikki HATES to read and makes an exception only for her texts, e-mails and this blog (complaining all the way). First thing on the agenda: red wine, Paradise salad and Gossip Girl! Book club is going to be off the hook!

Where's My Baby?

Tornado season has begun. I grew up in the Midwest, watching the green sky and funnel clouds outside with my dad and loved every minute of it. Even when I was in labor with Cambria, there were tornadoes all around us and I remember I was more disappointed that my TV shows weren't on because of the breaking weather alerts. The nurse would come in and update me on the storms, though I was more interested in having her get me another popsicle or pillow. The only thing I worried about was how the tornado would affect the anesthesiologist’s response time.

That all changed as soon as Cambria was born. The second day we were home from the hospital, another tornado came through and it was like I was possessed by someone else. Someone who is terrified of tornadoes. I was screaming at Ryan to get downstairs as I held Cambria in my arms, huddled in the corner of the basement, rocking back and forth. I got a tad better with every severe storm we had, but here it is again.
And this time, I have some crazy people stirring up all of these same feelings.

I recently picked up Cambria from the childcare at church and found a note in her diaper bag informing us of their policy and procedures if the tornado sirens were to sound during church. It starts off nice enough, saying that they will line up the children and walk them downstairs, making sure every child is accounted for. Even though I have no idea how they would deal with my baby, who doesn’t walk, let alone “line up,” I’m giving them the benefit of the doubt; I’m sure they have that figured out. Then they say that a map of exactly which room they will be taken to is on the back of the sheet. The back is blank and I am mildly annoyed.

The letter goes on to say that parents should not pick up their children from their room and that the children will remain with the teachers until a pastoral staff member gives further instruction. Now listen, I am a pretty rational person and I have no anxieties about leaving her with other people, but you’re telling me I can’t be with my baby during a tornado when she’s in the same building as me? That’s ludicrous. And, I understand that the pastoral staff is probably the closest to God in the building, but shouldn’t we let trained meteorologists or – call me crazy – the National Weather Service make decisions about when we are able to come out of the shelter?

This memo author has become my church nemesis. Should you have a nemesis at church? Probably not. But, I stare everyone down, wondering if they wrote the memo. I’ve ruled out all moms because, surely a mom wouldn’t write this nonsense, right? And, I spent the entire time during the next week’s service checking out the exits and which door I would use in the event of a tornado to run to my baby (oh yes, I picture me full out sprinting, which says a lot for me). I also have a Plan B in case this insane memo author is one step ahead of me and blocking the door. Let’s just hope that tornadoes stay away during the one hour a week I’m at church.

TSIB!
-M

But That's Just Me

So, it’s no secret: I’m down for making people laugh. I have yet to run into anyone who I can’t at least coax a smile out of…even if it’s just a condescending I’m-just-smiling-because-of-your-ridiculousness grin. I don’t care what the motivation is behind those pearly whites. I just want to see them.

My friends know that, despite the fact I am a 32-year old mother of three (well, technically, I don’t turn 32 until December but once you hit 30 what difference does it make anyway?) I will still take on their dares. They can live vicariously through my public displays of embarrassment without having to do stupid things themselves.

My list of “accomplishments” include:
- drunken handstands at music festivals
- performing “I Love Rock and Roll” by Joan Jett at a company work event
- chest bumping a senior executive
- break dancing on top of an officer’s conference table
- playing football with a bunch of strangers we stumbled upon during lunch hour
- answering the hotel room service in my t-shirt, gym shorts and knee-high sexy black boots

Here is what I am not good at: offering to pay for stuff and being thoughtful. My friend Nikki, in particular, is one of the most protective, talented and genuine people I know. Just last month, I barely remembered to wish her and her family (which includes three kids) a Happy Easter. But, low and behold, Nikki came hopping into my cube with a homemade tin full of goodies for my 6-month old daughter. And this wasn’t just your standard basket of crap…it included a pinwheel, some bubbles and Jaycee’s favorite puffs to eat (all color coordinated).

Seriously? She has the same amount of time in her day as I do to balance her full-time job, her three kids, her fourth kid (husband) and all of their after-school activities. You know what I accomplished the week of Easter? A shower and 10 hours of quality TV…Rock of Love, The Office, E!’s Soup, etc. Oh, and we attended church to celebrate Jesus’ rising (trapping our boys for at least an hour of quiet time was an added bonus!)

But that’s just me. I’d love to hear how other moms view themselves.

-H