Daily Dump, Life is a Shit Show

Jan 12, 2017

A Letter From Your Threenager

Dearest mom,

I am writing this letter because I’d like to fill you in on a few things. A few very important things that you definitely need to know. You are always wondering why I get angry or lose it over the littlest things. You are always asking me the questions like “what’s wrong?” or “what do you need?” or "why are you crying?" In your mind I am an angry little dictator…always demanding something. Maybe I kind of am. The truth is, mom, you just don’t really understand me. I feel that my demands are very clear, but you somehow seem to mess it up every single time.

You just don’t get shit right. Simple as that. How hard is it to know when I want the pink cup or that I HATE those pants...or wearing pants at all? Sometimes, you even give me snacks that I hate. Never mind that I just asked for it. Come on, mom. Figure. This. Out.

Let me give you a few examples of your ineptitude.

You never understand my words. Literally. Are you stupid?
I don’t want your help. With anything. Ever. I can do it myself…until I do want your help. Then, drop what you are doing and help me immediately. Hurry! Do you want me to lose it again?
You are always rushing me. Just stop. If it takes me until hell freezes over to put on one slip-on shoe, then so be it. It needs to be just right…so stop rushing.
Pants are the devil. Stop making me wear them. I prefer to be pants-less at all times.
Sometimes I want a hug and sometimes I don’t. It’s up to you to know when.
Dinner? I don’t want that shit. I’d rather manhandle all the food on your plate or just eat the stashed candy I keep under my bed.
Stop trying to pick out my clothes. Seasons don’t matter. If I want to wear a tank top backwards and shorts when it is 10 below zero, then so be it. I’m a fashionista. You’ll see.
Please just don’t say no. To anything. I am three now. I can make my own decisions. If I want to do art while we are eating dinner, just let me. If I want to take a three-hour bath, let me do that too. If I want to play in the sandbox naked, that’s my choice. No more of this “no” shit. Kapeesh?
If I get frustrated about anything, it is going to get thrown directly at you. Probably at your head. Sharpen up your reflexes.
Figure out my moods…there are really only two: Raging mad or adorably lovey.

So, mom, next time you see me flop around on the floor, screaming hysterically, and completely losing my shit, you need to know it is because of you. Instead of trying to get me to stop, just wait until I am done, applaud my mad tantruming skills, and then give me a hug…and maybe some candy. Unless less I don’t want you to. Figure it out.

Love,

Your Threenager

Jan 9, 2017

Hazmat Mom

Do you mind being puked on, spit on, or peed on? Do you enjoy spending your days wiping noses, sticky fingers, and poopy butts? If you answered yes to any of these questions, being a mom might be the job for you.

All the mommies out there will tell you… you encounter some pretty repulsive things while tackling this parenting thing, and most of them on a daily basis. Folks, raising kids is disgusting. Kids themselves are disgusting and they definitely have some questionable hygiene practices. Most adults (I said MOST) know how to deal with the body’s disgusting stuff in sanitary ways. Kids on the other hand, they are pretty helpless and don’t grasp the monumental grossness of what they are doing. That leaves mom to clean up the mess and try to teach them how not to be disgusting.

Motherhood is a serious business. I’ve heard that being a mom is the hardest and most important job of all…and after being a mom myself for the last 8 years, I would have to agree. Not only is raising a child into a respectable and kind human being difficult, at times, it is also pretty gross. As a mom, I’ve encountered feces, vomit, boogers, and spit more times than I can even count. I’ve seen things you could have never imagined pre-kids…and no matter how hard I try, I can’t unsee them. If I’m being honest, a hazmat suit would come in pretty handy sometimes.

Here are just a few of the hazardous jobs moms do:

Director of Regurgitation: How many times have you been puked on or spit up on? How much vomit have you cleaned up? Moms are regurgitation specialists, whether they like it or not. Not only will you clean up vomit and spit up, but there will also be oodles of spit out and chewed food, too.

Snot Stream Specialist: Kids always seem have a stream of green snot running down their upper lip. It’s just a fact of life with kids. It is mom’s job to eliminate this snot stream before it becomes a little warm snack for them. Just a heads up…watch out for the sneeze. Really. Watch out.

Fecal Matter Investigator: You will examine more poo that you ever thought. You will genuinely care about the color, consistency, frequency, and even smell of the poop and will have detailed conversations about it. Yes, you will talk about poop…with doctors, spouses, your kids, and even friends. AND…you will eventually touch it. Might be when cleaning out a massive blow out that reaches their hair, or perhaps you are fishing out floaters out of the bathtub, but poop will be in your hands.

Odor reduction Specialist: Kids smell. End of story. Mom gets to find the sources of all the smelly surprises and eliminate them before they become too pungent. Could be poop, could be sweat, could be rancid breath…use your imagination. Not only do we get to smell the children themselves, but then there is the rotten food, rancid milk found in a sippy cup in the car, or that small piece of chicken nugget found under the couch cushion.

Motherhood is a lot of things—some beautiful, some awful, and some really, really gross. We do this all without vacations, sick days, or raises. We are soldiers. We get this shit done. Literally.

Jan 6, 2017

Dear Kids...Meet Dad

Dear kids,

I would like to formally introduce you to someone very special. He might look vaguely familiar to you and you have probably seen him around the house. He lives right here with us, and eats dinner with us each night. You know, the guy you rough house with, play outside with, and talk Pokemon stats with…He is your dad. I wanted to point him out to you, because I fear that you may not realize that he is here and can help you out with things, too. Whenever you want or need something, he must become invisible and you can’t see him. It’s the only explanation. I wasn’t aware of his superhuman camouflage power until we had kids. Now, I beg him to teach me his impressive incognito ways.

Here is the thing, kids. Your dad is a smart guy. His legs are not broken, and he is perfectly capable of doing all sorts of things. He can get you milk, he can answer hard math questions, he can get you a snack, and he can even help you locate your missing hats and mittens (ok…maybe that one is a bit of a stretch). I have also heard rumors that he is super good at helping put on pants and socks. I know I’m your mom and you clearly think I am amazing, but I am really not the only one in this house capable of doing most of the things that you are asking. I am so tired of saying, “Ask your father! He’s right there!” How can you not see him?

To prove my point, let me give you a little example of what I am talking about. Remember that time when I was upstairs in the shower and you decided you wanted a granola bar but didn’t know where they were? Remember when you walked past your dad in the kitchen, through the living room, all the way up the long flight of stairs, through the hall, through my bedroom, and finally into my bathroom to ask me to find them for you? Yeah. It would have been way easier to just ask your dad. He was right there! Could have saved a lot of time.

So, next time you are hungry, thirsty, hot, cold, hurt, sick, or in need of anything at all, let’s try something new…ASK YOUR DAD!

Love,

Mom

Jan 3, 2017

50 Reasons My Kids Are Fighting

My children love each other most of the time…until they don’t. Then they hate each other. Once we hit that moment, there is no turning back. Anything the other person does aggravates the situation. Including breathing, smiling, moving, looking…well really just about everything. I know fighting with your siblings is normal…it has been going on since the beginning of time. But it’s completely exhausting playing referee constantly. I don’t think we can go two minutes without someone yelling, crying, screaming, and tattling. “Mom, she is looking at me” or “He said he doesn’t like me”. The fights are completely pointless most of the time. It blows my mind to think that half the time they play so great together, then at the drop of a hat, they want to kill each other over some stupid McDonald’s toy they found under the couch that no one has seen in two years. No joke…my kids have fought over garbage. Literally garbage.

Conflict is a normal part of any relationship. But come on, kids, some of this stuff is just dumb. These are the 50 most ridiculous agreements my kids have. (Yes, 50)

He is looking at her.
He likes the cat more…no she likes the cat more.
It’s her turn to sit by mom.
She almost touched him.
He wanted the blue cup. She got it last time.
She smiled at him.
He let the dog out yesterday when we got home. He always does it.
Who started “it”.
She was singing.
She took the last granola bar.
He wanted to shower first.
Who gets anything first.
Who gets anything last.
He put my Barbie in his pants.
Which toothpaste tastes better.
Who is taller.
Who won anything. Ever.
She ruins his life.
Who can run faster.
Who has the most books.
He took the last cookie.
He got his dinner plate last again.
She got to sit by mom.
She touched my toothbrush.
He’s in my room.
Who gets mom’s phone first in the waiting room.
Who gets to sit on what side of the bathtub.
It’s mine…no matter what “it” is.
What show to watch.
She wanted to be first.
She wanted to push the elevator button.
He peed on the seat.
You always open his door first.
His blanket is not as warm as her blanket.
Her feet smell too bad.
The girls are copying him.
She “stole” his book.
Who gets the corner seat on the couch.
She gets more hugs than him.
Who gets the first piggy back ride upstairs to bed.
Why does she always have more money?
He “won” in the game. It's not fair.
She laughed when he tripped.
He tripped her back because she laughed.
Who gets to sit by the cat.
Who is better friends with the neighbor?
Who has bigger feet?
Who gets to keep that special piece of garbage (literally).
Who likes who more?
Who started "it"?

Geez! This is only 50. I am sure I could list hundreds more! They come up with a new reason to fight multiple times a day. Now, I totally understand how my brother and I would drive my mom crazy. Mom, I'm sorry.

It is clear that my children have a love/hate relationship. I think that is probably the norm. I guess we can only cherish the good times when they are best buds and hope they don't end up killing each other.

What ridiculous things do your kids fight about?

Jan 1, 2017

Dec 30, 2016

2016 - Worst Year Yet

Well, it's the end of another year. It seems customary that all bloggers have to do some sort of year-end blog post, right? Well, here is mine. It is more of a self pity rant, but it's all I got. Here is my open letter to the year 2016.

Dear 2016,

As you know, the end of another year is rapidly approaching. Halleluiah! Your year, 2016, completely sucked. I’m done pleading with you. I’m done trying to talk to you. We are over and you can kiss my ass.

2016, you have been less than kind to the world with all your murders, wars, diseases, riots, natural disasters, deaths, and of course the election. Each day we turn on the news to find something even more terrible happened. Why? Why are you so terrible? Aside from the major world issues, you have been a real bitch to my family as well. I know in comparison to what is happening all over the world, my problems are small. But still, what do you have against the Bismarks? We haven’t done a damn thing to you. Just 10 short months ago, I had a lively mother-in-law, a different job, different friends, and different lifestyle. I know change is constant and people say that change is good, but I am not a fan.

So, for a moment of self-pity, let’s break it down:

First, you took my husband’s mother and my children’s grandmother. She had a long 2-year battle with ovarian cancer, and the cancer won. She fought hard and struggled for two years. It is still surreal that she is gone. Birthdays and holidays are not the same. Although life has moved on, as it always does, things are just eerily quiet and we miss her so much. The screaming kids are still there, but it is not the same without grandma riling them all up. Now all we have left are the memories…and the regrets.

Then, you took my job. A job I busted my ass for, for a decade. You allowed a few arrogant people take my career into their hands and make decisions that would impact me for the rest of my life. These decisions were made solely on hearsay, jealousy, need for control, and the opinions of others and not on fact or merit. I doubt they even realize how their actions deeply affected not just me, but my finances, relationships, my children, my self-esteem, and my career.

As if those things aren’t enough for one year, then you decided to have the storm. Now this could have been much worse, I know that. No one was injured and our house is still intact, but this storm took down two huge pine trees in our backyard along with the back of our fence, swing set, and kid’s playhouse (in addition to the major powerlines that have caused power outages for months). We really enjoyed spending money we didn’t have on tree removal and repairs. So, thank you for that. Thank goodness we have amazing family and friends that helped us get it all taken care of and fixed pretty quickly.
Then, let’s talk about the car accidents. Let’s count them together. Not one, not two, but THREE car accidents in just three months. Now this, this is really something special. No one was injured in any of them, so that was a blessing for sure. Two cars were totaled during these accidents. Now our car insurance rates are skyrocketing and we got to enjoy the glorious car-buying experiences. I mean…really?

2016, you broke me, you really did. I am still cleaning up the pieces of all you broke. 2017 has a good shot at being a better year; you did set the bar, low, after all. 2017, do better. Please. 2017, you are going to be our year.

Sincerely,
The Bismarks

Dec 28, 2016

Stupid Things I Said Before I Had Kids

I remember it like it was yesterday. How I thought I knew everything about kids before I actually had kids. Remember when you used to think that you would be a better parent than all those yahoos you saw at restaurants or stores with the screaming kids? Surely you would do a far better job as a parent than them. They must all be total idiots.

The good old, pre-kid days…the days when you didn’t have to worry about anyone but yourself. The days when you lived in the whimsical world where you judged everyone else on something you knew absolutely nothing about. You just sat there on your high horse and made faces and comments and vowed to yourself that you would NEVER be that mom, or NEVER let your kids act that way. In your mind, things would be different for you, for your kids. Those perfect little specimens of humanity would never act like that. Your precious peanuts would never throw fits in public or be disrespectful. Your kids…well, they would be amazing, in every way.

While I do think my children are amazing, they are definitely not the perfect angels I once hoped they would be. Those screaming, dirty, angry little freaks whose behavior I once cringed at are now my own little rug rats. They misbehave, throw fits, cry, and sometimes even talk back. I confess. I am not the perfect mother with the perfectly behaved children I once thought I would be.

I was a total idiot when I thought things would be different for me. It is the same for all moms…kids are hard. Here are some of the dumb ass things I thought and said before I had my own children.

When we have kids, they can eat what I make or go hungry! – As I make 4 different meals Every. Single. Night.

My kids will never throw fits like that - What was I thinking? Now, I enjoy watching as they thrash about on the floor in the middle of Target. Judge away non-parents. Judge away.

My kid will never be the mean “kid” – That’s a load of crap. All kids are mean and will behave like brats sometimes. It’s inevitable.

Sleep when the baby sleeps – Great idea! The chores will do themselves and the other kids, they don’t need food or attention. I’m going to nap.

Crappy food will not be allowed – Jelly beans for dinner…. I guess. Only if you eat two bites of chicken first. That’s how we roll. Hey, they’ll have a vitamin too.

My house will always be neat and tidy – Fast forward a few years. Now, it looks like it barfed all over itself. Nothing is where it should be. I don’t even have enough places for all the crap we own.

I will never be rude and show up late – Now…I will never be on time. Ever. To anything…Ever again. Sigh…

Seriously, I have no idea what kind of delusional, unicorn land I was living in before I had children, but becoming a parent has certainly changed the way I view a lot of things. There is nothing quite like raising children that challenges your patience, attitude, and character. So, all you young, non-parents at the grocery store judging me and my kids…just you wait. There will come a day when it is your kid flopping around on the floor at Target screaming for candy or running around buck naked at Grandma’s birthday party. Just you wait.

Dec 26, 2016

Maxed Out Working Mom

All moms work hard, there is no question about that. Whether it is full-time, part-time, at home, or outside the home, it is all overwhelmingly exhausting at times. I happen to work outside the home. I spend most of my daytime hours counting down the minutes until I can leave and head home to my next job. At work, my brain is a never ending “to do” list of all the things I need to do at home. At home, it’s a laundry list of everything I should be doing at work. As the stress mounts, the guilt mounts. I’m either feeling guilty I am at home with my kids when I should be at work, or I feel guilty when I am at work and not with my kids. I can’t win. If you are a working mom you might relate to some of these.

You know you’re a working mom if…

Your kids leave the house almost every day with either mismatched clothes or messy hair…sometimes both. You just don’t have time to argue.

Most of the time, your laundry doesn’t make it out of the clothes basket into the dresser drawers or closet.

Your calendar is filled with reminders for your kids doctor appointments, conferences, and sports schedules in addition to your conference calls, team meetings, and webinars.

You have never been to “breakfast with mom” day at school.

You can find diapers, underwear, Barbies, Legos, and wipes in your laptop bag.

You go to work nearly every day with spit, snot, or food crusted to your clothes.

You cry on your commute into work in the morning because you just pried your child off your leg and left them screaming at the window with their teacher watching you drive away.

Your employer thinks you are out interviewing for a new job…You are not. You are just out with sick kids that often.

Your teachers see your kids’ “firsts” before you do (first steps, first words, etc).

You never drive when you go out to lunch with co-workers. No way you are letting them see the rotten food and garbage all over the kid-mobile!

You feel guilty for leaving work before a project was done because you had get a kid to gymnastics…but you would feel even more guilty if you missed gymnastics.

You have shown up to work with a princess or Ninja Turtle Band-Aid on your finger.

You get home from work just in time to feed the kids, do homework, baths, and put them to bed each day.

On the bright side…Work is the only place you can go to the bathroom alone with the door closed or finish a cup of coffee while it is still hot!

To all my maxed out and exhausted fellow working moms out there…hang in there.

Cheers to stress, exhaustion, and doing our best to survive! I'll take another glass of wine, please…

Dec 24, 2016

Worst Christmas Gifts EVER

The holidays are a time for coming together, celebrating, eating, and enjoying the company of your friends and family. What could be better than that? Oh, right…the presents. When it comes to Christmas gifts, it’s the thought that counts, everyone knows that, right?

As a parent, there are certain things I don’t want my kids to have. I think every parent has their own list of things they DON’T want you to get for their kids. You know, the usual things like drum sets, Playdoh, slime, electric guitars with amps, items covered in lead-based paint, games with trachea-sized pieces, and so on. While the actual nightmare gift varies from parent to parent, it seems inevitable that your kid will get a toy that you don’t approve of over the course of their childhood.

Like most parents, I strive to create and maintain a safe lifestyle for my children...and keep myself sane. There are certain things that I just don’t want my kids to have. Here are some things you should NEVER give to kids, especially mine. Under no circumstances.

A pet cobra…as in the snakes. They are poisonous and deadly.
The entire series of the TV Show Jessie. The theme song alone might kill me. Well really, any of the Disney Channel shows in their entirety.
Nail guns. They are not for kids.
Hamsters, gerbils, or rodents of any kind. No thank you.
Bleach. Kids and bleach just don’t mix.
Fun Dip. Dipping sugar sticks in pure sugar is never a good idea. They already have sugar highs this time of year. I beg you…don’t do it!
Plastic Bags and duct tape. Suffocation is real. It’s not a game.
A box of those little “do not eat” packets you find in shoes. I don’t know what happens if you actually eat them, but I don’t want to find out.
Anything with PlayDoh, slime, or putty. That shit always ends up all over the house or stuck in hair.
A machete. They can cut people…and their siblings.
Shards of broken glass. These can cut kids and parents.

Please, you want to make sure your gifts elicit squeals of delight, not screams of pain and terror…from the kids or from me!

Merry Christmas!

Dec 20, 2016

Christmas Morning: My Head vs. Reality

What is better than Christmas morning? Nothing. It is the most magical one-day-a-year…at least it is in my head. As parents, we want Christmas morning to be a time full of smiles, excitement, and maybe a little bit of magic for both our children and for ourselves. We hope our kids will remember our Christmases together as a family when they are grown and we can talk about the memories for years to come. Alright, maybe I watch a few too many of those sappy Hallmark Christmas movies. But somehow, every year, I expect this great, wonderful, perfect morning…and each year I am slightly disappointed that it didn’t turn out quite like I had pictured in my head.

In my head

The children quietly wake up on Christmas morning to find beautiful, white, fluffy snow slowly falling and gently covering the pine trees. Excited, to see if Santa came, they sneak down to find the beautiful Christmas tree lit and twinkling with all the amazing, perfectly wrapped presents beneath the tree. There is soft Christmas music playing in the background and the house smells of hot chocolate and fresh cinnamon rolls just out of the oven. The kids quickly run back upstairs and wake up mom and dad to come down so they can open their presents. We all sit around the Christmas tree together laughing and taking turns opening each of the gifts together as a family. Once everything is opened, the kids quietly play with their new toys while mom and dad sip their coffee and just sit back and enjoy the moment.

Ahem...Ahem...

Reality Check!

The over-tired, over-stimulated, sugar-high children excitedly storm into our room at the break of dawn, slamming the door against the wall from the force of opening it so quickly. Not only do they scare the shit out of us with the loud slam, they proceed to jump on us and nag us until we finally give in and stumble our way out of bed...in the dark. The kids run down the stairs as fast as they can and I am heard bellowing from the top of the stairs, “Wait for mom. Don’t you dare touch those presents until I get down there” as I quickly try to get on my pants and slippers. I fumble for my camera and run downstairs as quickly as I can in hopes of capturing the magic when they first see the gifts that Santa left for them. On the way down, I step on the cat’s tail and she runs away wailing. The dog has to go outside and in the excitement, no one has let him out, so he starts to take a dump right there on the rug. Nothing like the smell of a hot, steamy pile of dog shit to make Christmas morning complete. I’m yelling for my husband to hurry up and get down here so he doesn’t miss it all. Meanwhile, the paper-ripping, box-destroying, toy free-for-all is happening just a few feet away in the living room. In a matter of minutes, the kids have torn through all the packages and their stockings without even a pause for a breath…or a single picture. The whole process lasts a whopping 5 minutes in its entirety…and there is no Christmas magic anywhere to be found. Another Christmas morning done and gone before I am even fully awake to enjoy it. And that’s a wrap.

So, the silver lining or lesson here? I guess all we can do is try to go with the flow and enjoy the moment (literally)…every loud, rushed, glorious moment of it. No Christmas morning is complete without nagging, tantrums, attitude, tears, yelling, and maybe even a little poop. Someday, we’ll look back at these “perfect” moments and wish we could have them back. Or so they say…Meanwhile, perhaps a shot of schnapps in our coffee is in order. Tis the season!

Merry Christmas everyone!

Dec 18, 2016

American Girl

Well, the day has finally arrived. I've managed to avoid this doll craziness for the last seven years. But this year, the American Girl doll has made her way into the Bismark home. We finally took the plunge and decided to give our middle daughter her first American Girl doll. Happy birthday, baby girl! I hope you love it!

These dolls are a big investment. More than I realized. I mean, I have furniture in my house that didn't cost as much as this doll. I know there are probably families out there that have a dozen of them, but for us, it is expensive. Regardless, we decided that we wanted our little girl to get what she really wanted for her birthday.

The road to this point took about 4 years. At first, it was just the occasional magazine that would find its way to our mailbox. These marketing geniuses hunted us down and started targeting our house about the time she turned three. Most of the time I was able to quickly throw it away before she saw it. No sense in getting her hooked on something I couldn’t afford to get her. Then, as she got older the magazines started coming a little more frequently. She would find them and look at the pages over, and over again. Now, her little friends all have them and they all talk about them at school, gymnastics, and wherever else there are groups of 7-year-old girls. So now, the pressure is on. She must have one.

Not only is she the middle child and gets forgotten about more times than she should, she also has a birthday a week before Christmas. So, to buy her forgiveness and with the help from Gramma and Grandpa, she is getting her first American Girl doll for her 7th birthday.

Now, the doll that she really wanted was the gymnastics girl. She takes gymnastics herself, so she wanted a doll to be just like her. Well, I scoped out the price on that little gem and realized it would be damn near $300 for the doll and the equipment. For a DOLL. Oh hell no! So, off to Costco we went to get her the $120 package special with three outfits. Sorry kiddo! Samantha, it is. I did find a lovely gymnastics outfit on Amazon for her though. Real doll, generic accessories. That is the best we can do!

Now that we have opened the door into the American girl vortex, I am fearful we may never get out. I mean…there are people that take them out to lunch at the café at Mall of America. There is the enormous store filled with all the billion dollar accessories. I am just not sure if I am prepared to become a part of this cult of cray cray moms that get so excited to bankrupt themselves buying dolls. Let me give you a little example. The other night I was trolling Amazon trying to find alternative doll gymnastics equipment and leotards, I started reading the reviews on some of the outfits. Why? I have no fricking clue. But there I was reading review after review on what is the best outfit for a doll. There was one particular customer who was commenting on an outfit she had recently purchased. She was very upset that it came with open-toed doll shoes paired with a sweater. She went on and on about how she really wished they were closed toed shoes because closed toed shoes go much better with sweaters for the cold weather. Wait. Are you kidding me? I had to reread to be sure I understood. Ahem…Number one. Do you realize you are talking about a doll? I am really sorry to shatter all your hopes and dreams, but dolls are not real and they don't feel temperature nor do they care if their shoes are open toed or close toed. Why do you? Number two. How in the hell do you have the time to comment and review clothes for dolls? I mean…I guess I was reading them. But still…if you have nothing better to do than critique the style of shoes for your doll, perhaps you should try to find something more meaningful to do. Just a suggestion. My fear…I am going to turn into one of these crazy American Girl outfit Nazis.

Crazy or not, I have entered this doll world. We also have another younger daugher as well, so I think I will be part of this for awhile! She was ecstatic to get her Samantha doll and hasn't put her down all weekend. I do love to see her so very happy!

Today, I’m complaining about how expensive and ridiculous all this is. Tomorrow, I am going to be having tea with a couple of dolls. Welcome to the other side.

Dec 15, 2016

MAN-ual: A Translation to Female Logic

As a service to all the men of the world that seem to be totally lost and confused when it comes to communicating with women, I feel it is my duty to give you a little help. Selfishly, I am really tired of having to explain myself over and over again and never being understood. I mean, you would think that by now men would have figured out the hidden messages we are sending them. Is it really that hard?

The truth is, women are complicated sometimes. I’ll admit it. Quite frankly, half the time I don’t think we even really understand ourselves. So, men everywhere…here is my valuable gift to you. This is a list of common phrases you probably need help with interpreting because they don’t mean what you think they mean.

You’re welcome.

Fine: Actually, this means the opposite of fine. It’s not fine. The argument needs to end. We know we are right and you need to shut your mouth. Discussion over.

I don’t care: Yes, yes I do care. I care a lot. Let’s talk about it more.

Nothing: Really means something. Figure it out. It probably means that everything is wrong and everything is not ok. You should be scared.

Go ahead, do what you want: ALERT! This is not permission. It is a dare. Just see what happens. You shouldn’t do it unless you want to experience the wrath.

That’s ok: It’s really not ok. We are actually thinking about how you will be punished for your mistake.

Wow: This means that I’m amazed at your stupidity. Don’t be confused. This is NOT a compliment.

Whatever: Our way of saying F you.

Forget it: Don’t forget it. Let’s keep talking about it. Probably for a long time.

Don’t worry about it: No, you should worry. If I’ve asked you 100 times to do something and you don’t, I’ll just do it myself. I won’t be happy. So you should worry because you’ll pay for this later.

It’s up to you: Really, it’s me deciding here…you just think you are. The decision has already been made. Isn’t the correct decision obvious?

Hopefully, with the help of this MAN-ual, men everywhere will be able to figure this shit out. Study this. Learn this. Really, you should do it. Stop annoying your significant other by not really understanding her.

Good luck to you!

Dec 13, 2016

All I Want For Christmas

Christmas is upon us. For weeks now, my family has been talking about what we want for Christmas. The kids are making their long lists for Santa and adding to them with every new commercial they see.

I have also been thinking about my very own Christmas list. Of course it includes the politically correct things like world peace, an end to starvation, health...or even a million dollars, or a day at the spa.

But here’s the thing. If I am being totally honest, I really don’t want those things. Sure, they are really important things, but selfishly, there are a few other things that I desperately want for Christmas this year.

Without further ado, here is my REAL Mom Christmas list:

I want to stop repeating the same thing over and over and over again and have one of the kids listen the first time.
I want to drive a vehicle without garbage, crumbs, and rotten food all over the backseat.
I want the kitchen counter tops to be free of multiple piles of papers and garbage that we don’t need to keep.
I want to watch an adult TV show in its entirety without having to pause it 15 times because someone got out of bed.
I want to sit down with my coffee or my computer for more than five minutes at a time before someone says, “Mommmmm… Will you get me...water, milk, breakfast, a Band-Aid, paper, Kleenex, pants…"
I want to look in to the kitchen from my cozy spot on the couch and NOT see all the cupboard doors open and every single light left on.
I want to arrive to church on time, and sweat free. Just once.
I want all the socks to have matches. Where are the fricking matches?
I want to have a pen in the house that works and that is kept where it is supposed to be in the drawer. Just one.
I want to have one meal…just once, where the kids don’t fight over who gets to sit next to mom.
Even better, I want to sit down through an entire meal.
I want one day where I don’t have to watch the Disney Channel and here the song “Hey Jessie”.
I want someone else to do the kid pick up after work. Someone else to wrangle the toddler and the two school-agers. Someone else to carry the backpacks, art projects, boots, hats, gloves, and screaming toddler through the snow in the frigid outdoors to the car.
I want someone to listen when I say “don’t eat in the living room” and really not eat in the living room.

AND…

I want A silent night. A peaceful, quiet, calm night.

There you have it. Mom’s REAL Christmas list. In the end, I know I will get perfume, a pair of mittens, or a kitchen gadget. And that’s okay. Even though whatever I get won’t be matched socks, a clean kitchen, a meal with no interruptions, or a silent night, whatever I do get will come with love.

Merry Christmas!

Dec 10, 2016

Reindeer Games...The Dreaded Office Christmas Party

Tis the season! Companies everywhere are hosting the annual “performance” when they pretend they care about their employees for that one very special, drunken night. The awkward boozing and schmoozing with upper management and your co-workers is at an all-time high. Personally, nothing gets me more into the Christmas spirit than being forced to hang out with a bunch of intoxicated co-workers, only a handful of which I can tolerate, late into the night after a long day of working with those very same people. If I am being honest, I don’t like spending time with most of you, even when I am getting paid for it.

How wonderful and generous that our fabulous companies want to throw us a party! How great for morale! Ahem…only problem is…no one actually wants to go. Yes, insensitive bosses everywhere, it’s true. Most of your employees really do hate attending your annual holiday party. Not everyone enjoys drinking, getting harassed by drunk people, and eating the god-awful food you have catered in for the big event. If I was going to have a night out without kids, it would be with my husband and sure as hell wouldn’t be spent with my intoxicated boss.

Those of us who are lucky enough to be in administrative support roles sometimes get the worst of these parties. First, we are forced to be on some dumb planning committee and attend pointless meetings about a party we don’t care about nor do we want to attend. Then, you expect us to plan the party, coordinate all the details, set up the party, and then clean up afterwards. Wait…didn’t you say this was a Christmas party to thank your employees, increase employee morale, and wish them the happiest of holidays? Hmmmm…something doesn’t seem right.

Here are some other reasons why I hate these dumb, forced, drunken bashes.

I talk to you jokers every day, all week long. What makes you think I want to spend my evening with you also?
Yes, it’s expected that we be there for “team building” I get that. But here is an idea, how about you do it during the day while I am already at work so I get paid for it. Don’t make it more stressful by having it one evening in the middle of the week so your employees have the added stress and guilt of having to make other arrangements for their kids pick-up, transportation to and from sports, and bed time. Not everyone has a paid nanny at their beckon call.
The food tastes like shit. Always. We don’t want to be forced to eat nasty food because your best friend owns a “catering” company and you get some sort of discount or kick back for using them. Don’t trade your employees for brownie points with your BFF.
Surprisingly, most women don’t enjoy fending off drunk asses as you try to harass us, dance with us, or be inappropriate with us. Really, we aren’t interested.
Sorry, but we don’t want to listen your drunken sob story about your divorce or about how you can’t afford to go to Hawaii this year for Spring Break because numbers are down. Really. I. Don’t. Care.
And my favorite, you won’t even let us socialize with the people that we want to talk to. You criticize us for hanging out with the people that we work with every day and not “mingling” with other departments and managers. So really, you force us to go, and then force us to talk to people we don’t want to. I can’t imagine why no one wants to go!

I’m not saying don’t have a holiday party. There are probably companies out there that really do mean well and throw great parties where none of these things happen. Just not any that I have ever worked for. I’m just saying please respect your employees, and don’t pretend that a holiday party during the busiest time of the year, in the middle of the week after a long day of working is a perk. If you want to make your employees feel appreciated, then motivate them, respect them, respect their time, and give them a break from work.

Assholes, we drink because of you…we don’t want to drink with you.

Dec 8, 2016

"Real Life" Lessons

Read, read, read. Teachers are always discussing the importance of reading for young children. All young children love to have their parents read them their favorite stories over and over again. Then, once they enter elementary school, the push increases even more as they begin learning to read on their own. Read, read, read. While I don’t disagree that reading is important and essential, it gets pretty boring reading the same story over and over again…at least it does for me. I’m tired of the usual stories about fluffy dogs who find themselves getting into mischief or superheroes that save the world just in the nick of time. I say we change it up a little bit. Let’s teach our kids some valuable real-world lessons.

Here are some short book reviews on some “not so typical” children’s books. Let’s keep it real, kids.

Dad’s New Wife “Chuck”

This is a lovely little tale about Jimmy’s dad getting re-married to his new “mommy,” Chuck. Follow Jimmy through the disappointment when he learns how judgmental and mean the other kids on the playground are about his new life.

Four Letter Words to Share on the Bus

D%#n, Sh!t, F&$%…This educational masterpiece teaches your kids to pronounce all these gems correctly and learn to use them all in the right context. Teach them young. Nothing means business like a 5-year-old dropping the F bomb. Kids will listen to that sh*%

Read the rest of the "Book Reviews" HERE!

Dec 7, 2016

Mom-ageddon

Being a perfect mom…is there even such a thing? Pinterest wants us to think so. But I don’t buy it. Not anymore anyway. With my first child, I truly thought things had to be perfect. He was always well-dressed, clean, and had all the latest baby toys and gear. Then, the second baby came along unexpectedly. I had every intention of doing the same things with her, but there was less of me to go around. She was a little less perfectly dressed, maybe a little dirtier, and had all the hand-me-down toys and baby gear. I had to learn to let go of the perfection a little. Then, along came baby number three. That’s when the shit hit the fan. In just about every way possible. Her clothes rarely match, sometimes I completely forget to bathe her, and she plays with garbage and rocks. But guess what? All three of my kids are ok, healthy, and smart. AND the world is still spinning!

Over the years, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I can’t do it all, even though I want to. Nothing is perfect, no matter how bad I want it to be. And guess what? The world didn’t end and I am alive to tell you all about it. The world didn’t end when I used the 6-year-old Pack N’ Play and baby swing instead of buying a new one. Life went on even though the baby didn’t have a “new” Christmas dress but instead wore something from a garage sale. These are some other things, that to my surprise, DIDN’T cause the world to end.

Wrinkly Pants – My kids wear them pretty much every day. They just dig them out of the laundry basket where they have been sitting since the week before. Hey, at least they are clean! The world is still spinning. I’m even pretty sure they have friends despite the crumpled clothes.

Non-Pinterest-themed Birthday Parties – My kids are perfectly happy with paid for parties at the local movie theater or bowling alley. No handmade invites, cakes, or party favors here! AND they have just as much fun.

Mismatched Clothes – It’s just not worth the fight. I let my three-year-old wear pretty much whatever she wants (within reason). A pink floral shirt, black striped pants, and two mismatched socks…why not. Leotard? Sure thing! She may look like a freak, but she is happy an I’m not late for work. Win – Win.

Yellow School Bus – My kids ride the old, yellow school bus to school every day. They also stand OUTSIDE at the bus stop and wait to be picked up. I wish I could drive them to school every day, but it just isn’t realistic for our family. Amazingly, no one has died because of this.

PB & J – We eat it for dinner. A lot. It’s quick and easy and the kids will actually eat it. It could be worse, right? We are all still here to talk about it.

See? No earth-ending catastrophes or deaths. Everyone has survived the horror of my “less than perfect” parenting. At least so far. All I can do is my best. And I guess my best is subpar…but I can hope that sometimes I might just be perfect in my child’s eyes.

Dec 4, 2016

How Mommy Stole Christmas

Tis the season. I spent most my day today Christmas shopping for my kids. By the looks of the Target I visited, the rest of the world had the exact same idea. People were everywhere, in fact, there were literally no shopping carts available when I entered the store and I had to grab one from someone who was leaving. This was not a good sign. Nothing gets me in the Christmas spirit quite like pushing a shopping cart through a jam-packed Target store filled with oblivious shoppers. There I was roaming the crowded aisles filling up my cart with unnecessary toys and gadgets and crossing each of them off my long list one by one. Kitty Surprise…Check. Football… Check. Legos…check. Shopkins…check.

Amid all the chaos, I started reminiscing about Christmases past. All the childhood memories of shaking my presents under the tree for weeks and impatiently waiting for the big day to arrive. The more recent memories of staying up late on Christmas Eve sorting and getting all the gifts wrapped perfectly for my own children. Thinking about my children waking up at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning and my husband and I watching their excitement as they open the packages that Santa left under the tree. And then there is the glorious memory of the year mommy threw the Christmas tree to the ground in pure frustration. Yep. You read that right. Mom lost her shit and threw that damn oversized tree straight to the ground. Fully decorated I might add.

Before you judge, let me tell you the whole story. It was one of the years that we decided to get a real Christmas tree. The whole family went up to the local tree lot and we picked out the biggest, fullest Christmas tree they had. No joke. This thing was massive. We have vaulted ceilings, so a 10-ft. tree should fit just fine. So, we strapped that bad boy to the top of the car and headed home for the decorating festivities.

We spent that entire evening setting up the tree and getting it decorated just so. Well…as perfect as you can get with a two-year-old. There it was…. the beast stood 10 tall feet into the air. It was fully decorated with lights, garlands, and ornaments. It was really beautiful. And then…it fell over. Crashed to the ground with a huge thud, spilling all the water from the tree stand onto the carpet and ornaments crashed and shattered everywhere. Great. We cleaned it up and back up it went. Phew. Crisis averted…Nope.

Over the next couple days, the damn tree fell over two or three more times. Each time, we woke up to find spilled water all over the carpet and broken ornaments everywhere. Honestly, I’m surprised that I didn’t lose my shit earlier. But like idiots, we just kept putting it back up.

One night, we were sitting in the living room relaxing and watching TV. Then it happened again…the damn thing started tipping. My husband leaped up and ran over to the tree and caught it before the whole thing crashed to the ground. Nice save. He asked me to hold it up while he did something to the tree stand so we could stand it back up. There I was holding the heavy, fully decorated 10-foot tree. The needles were starting to scratch up my arms, my back was starting to hurt, and the sap was all over my hands. I don’t know what exactly my husband was doing, but it was taking WAY too long. I had enough. So, I yelled out in frustration and threw that massive bitch to the ground. Ornaments shattered, water spilled, husbands yelled, and children cried. I was done. The Grinch threw the Christmas tree.

After it all happened, and I realized what I had done, I remember turning around and seeing my two-year-old son just standing there crying and scared. Poor kid. He didn’t understand what had happened. He just watched mommy the Grinch smash his beautiful Christmas tree. Sadly, that will not be the last time he will see mommy lose her shit. I think he is adjusting well.

Lesson learned. After four attempts, the Bismark geniuses determined that the tree stand we had was just too small for the massive tree. We ended up getting a new tree stand and thankfully, it never happened again.

Well, there you have it. That folks, is how the Grinch stole Christmas. Merry fricking Christmas.