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Thursday, March 26, 2015

You might be a Mom if...

You might be a Mom if … your car is not just a vehicle but also a movie theatre, a dining room, a dance floor, and a therapist’s office.
You might be a Mom if … your phone contains 300 blurry photos of inanimate objects your preschooler took.
You might be a Mom if… you consider showering before 10 am an accomplishment.
You might be a Mom if… you haven’t peed alone in over a year.
You might be a Mom if… there are plastic ponies, dolls, and mermaids in your shower.
You might be a Mom if… you can walk through a playroom in the dark like a Ninja, never stepping on a single toy that is scattered throughout the room.
You might be a Mom if… you find a random sock, hair bow, or googly eye in your purse.
You might be a Mom if… you grab a Capri sun for yourself to drink.
You might be a Mom if… you consider 3 chicken nuggets, 6 grapes, and a half eaten cookie a balanced meal.
You might be a Mom if… you do 3 loads of laundry every single day of the week and still cannot catch up.
You might be a Mom if… you have become an expert at doing pretty much everything with only one hand, and not even your dominant one.
You might be a Mom if… the restaurant you go to the most often has a playground attached to it.
You might be a Mom if… you consider 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep refreshing and a good night.
You might be a Mom if… when you hear someone about to throw up you instinctively reach out to catch it in your hand.
You might be a Mom if… you can carry 6 bags of groceries, an open juice box, a purse, a diaper bag, 2 dolls, and a 30 pound sleeping child in one trip without dropping a single thing.
You might be a Mom if… you check for floaters in your drink before you take a sip in case one of your kids got to it first.
You might be a Mom if… the magic of Christmas, Easter, Halloween, and Valentine’s Day has returned.
You might be a Mom if… your refrigerator also doubles as an art display.
You might be a Mom if… you know the actors in the Teen Bop magazine cover.
You might be a Mom if… you catch yourself singing “Let it Go” while at work or the grocery store.
You might be a Mom if… you just started singing “Let it Go” in your head.
You might be a Mom if… your tablet case looks like a monster, a cartoon character, or has stickers all over it.
You might be a Mom if… all the apps on your phone are for ages 3+
You might be a Mom if… you schedule your pap smear around PTA meetings, play dates, and baby-sitter availability.
You might be a Mom if… you could serve a full meal with the food that is on the floor board of your car.
You might be a Mom if… your serving wear has cartoon characters on them… even the forks.
You might be a Mom if… you go to sporting events where the star athlete scores in the opposing team’s goal more times than in their own. And they are excited when they do so.
You might be a Mom if… you look forward to the annual Spelling Bee because it is a chance for you to socialize with other adults.
You might be a Mom if… you have ever told someone “You get what you get and you don’t pitch a fit”.
You might be a Mom if… you have ever swatted blindly into your backseat while driving hoping to connect with an arm, leg, SOMETHING because of what was going on back there.
You might be a Mom if… you consider arriving 5 minutes later than scheduled as being early.
You might be a Mom if… you have ever gone through a car wash for entertainment.
You might be a Mom if… you are an expert at doing hair and nails but yours always looks like crap.
You might be a Mom if… you pee yourself a little when you sneeze/cough/laugh.
You might be a Mom if… you have several clothing items get ruined by the adhesive from stickers.
You might be a Mom if… you have rewashed the same load of clothing 4 times to try to get the desiccant completely out of the laundry from the diaper that exploded when you washed the original load.
You might be a Mom if… you are the Master at hiding things; so good, in-fact, that you forget where they are.
You might be a Mom if… you are going to reread this because this is a very accurate description of you.

Friday, March 13, 2015

Chloe Gump's Pet Company

For T’s 6th birthday she got a fish tank and a few fish since she had been begging for months for a pet of her own. After a few weeks we decided to upgrade to a larger tank so we could get more critters and Chloe was able to get a pet of her very own too. We went to the pet store and Chloe got a shrimp. Yes, a pet shrimp; not the yummy kind you dip in drawn butter but a see-through tiny creature with beady eyes. Chloe was thrilled and gave him a really unique name – Shrimpy.

Every morning the girls would rush to the fish tank to feed them and to look for Shrimpy. He (I am assuming it is a he, I don’t know how to tell the gender of a shrimp) liked to hide in the pink princess castle in the tank. Since he was transparent all you could really find were his creepy little eyes or his antenna-thingies; I am pretty sure that is the scientific name for them. At the pet store he was pretty cool, swimming around all over the place, but in our tank he was ridiculously boring and almost never moved into the open.

One morning my husband was looking at the tank with the girls and there, floating in the tank, was what appeared to be Shrimpy. It was his husk floating in the tank and Hubs showed it to the girls. T thought it was cool but Chloe started to scream and cry as typical and ran away to wallow in agony. He explained it was just Shrimpy’s old shell and that it meant he was growing which is a good thing. He then pointed out the actual Shrimpy cowering in a corner just like always which pacified the beast, I mean Chloe.

Later that day they told me about the incident and Hubs let me know Chloe was crying over the shrimp. These shrimp are literally $0.50 at the pet store so I declared when he actually does die I am going to buy a new one and no one will know the difference to save myself the drama. Hubs disagreed and made the point that we don’t need to lie to the girls, that we will tell them the truth like we did when Mr. D (my cat) died. Seeing as how they still cry over that cat and we let them eat breakfast with his ashes I am not sure that is the best approach but I agreed (see “Nothing a dead can’t fix” for the details on that one).

Last weekend it was time to clean the tank, the filter was nasty and there was a ton of stuff floating around the bottom of the tank. The girls were really excited to help me and caught the fish and snail and put them in the holding tank. T was worried about Shrimpy and I told her not to worry, he was most likely in the princess castle like he had been the last 2 weeks. He doesn’t move much so I wasn’t concerned.

When I picked the castle up no shrimp came scurrying out. He wasn’t in the rock or around the plant. Crap, where is he? I pulled the filter out; nope, not stuck to it or inside.

The girls started to cry.

“Don’t worry, I am sure he is in here. He is see-through, he probably is just among the fuzzy stuff on the rocks.”

He wasn’t. Super crap. That damn shrimp was nowhere to be found. Not an antenna, a husk, nothing. The girls REALLY started to cry.

“Momma!!! He’s dead! You killed Shrimpy!!!” yep, blame me. It’s always the mothers fault.

“Maybe Shrimpy is tricking us and wanted to go down the drain because he wanted to go to the ocean” Ah-ha! This will make them happy, they’ve watched Finding Nemo a hundred times and love when the fish escape!


Damn-it! These kids are too smart.

I couldn’t pull anything else out of my rear. I admitted I thought he was dead.

Oh the wails! Tears, sobs, snot, and misery all erupted out of them like lava from a volcano. They were howling and hugging each other and declaring how much they were going to miss their favorite pet shrimp.

“T, didn’t you just tell me a few days ago that he was boring and you wanted to return him to the pet store?”

That was adding salt to the wound.

“BUT *sob* I LOVED *hiccup* HIM!” snot, tears, more snot (kids are gross).

I had to leave the room, I didn’t want them to see how much their pain was entertaining me. I went in the living room and heard them start to sing songs about how much they loved Shrimpy – “I am going to miss Shwimpy, he was the best pet evew!” this continued for quite a while.

They went over to the craft table, still singing, pulled out the crayons and paper and drew several pictures of shrimpy, some with hearts all over the paper. T came up to me with her picture, tears glistening in her eyes, Chloe beside her with tear stained cheeks.

“Momma, can we put Shrimpy in a can like Mr. D?”

“No honey. We have to have a body to be able do that. Shrimpy is gone. But we can keep this picture to remember him”

Sniffle. “OK. Can we go to the pet store? I want to tell them he died, and maybe we can get a new fish?”

Rest in Peace, Shrimpy, you won't be forgotten. Just kidding, it had been a whole 15 minutes - time to fill the vacancy in the aquarium. 

My hubs made a good point about that shrimp after he read this post - The only thing exciting that shrimp ever did was die, twice.

Monday, March 9, 2015

Going out in College vs Going out Today

A few months back my friends and I got a rare treat, a girl’s night out. It was a lot of fun but it struck me how different a night out is now compared to many many (many) years ago when I was young, single, and my body wasn’t wrecked from babies, age, and way too many M&M's.

In my single days:

Work till 11 pm, go home smelling like fried chicken and sweat after working a 9 hour shift at a restaurant in town. I need to hop in the shower but there is only one bathroom at the house I share with 2 other roommates. No big deal; there is a shower curtain there for a reason, right? As I shower my roommate comes in to pee.

“Hey” I call out, “Bring me a beer, I need to catch up!” They started at Happy Hour so I needed to start chugging if I wanted to achieve their level of drunk-ness.

I drink a beer while finishing up my shower. I shave my legs, (who knows what will happen tonight, I might get lucky) wash my hair and dry off quickly. At this point in time there are random people in my home. No big deal, I wrap up in a towel, walk through the kitchen and head to my room to get dressed.

I put on a slinky, sexy outfit (i.e. 2 sizes too small and my muffin top is popping out), blow dry my hair, use a putty knife to slather on my makeup and slip on the highest heels I can stand (which only make me 5’3” as I am ridiculously short). During this time I drink another beer. Crap! Am I missing a game of Never Have I Ever? I need to hurry up!

I am finished getting ready, I grab another beer and head to where everyone is. The music is loud, people are laughing, dancing, drinking. It is midnight, still too early to go out; it doesn’t get busy till 12:30 – 1 am, no point in heading out yet. Yuck, this canned beer is hot, better chug it and grab another.

Finally, 5 beers and 2 shots later, it is time to go out. I get to the bar/club with my friends and drunkenly attempt to not have to pay the cover charge. After paying to get in we dance, yell over the ridiculously loud music, and drink until last call. Then I head home (plus or minus a few people).

The next morning we lay around, hung over, and decide who is going to go get biscuits from Hardee’s. We clean up the mess from the night before, collecting beer cans, solo cups, and cigarette butts, the smell is awful, I dry heave a little. After that I take a nap, I have to be at work at 4 pm so I need to get some sleep, it is Saturday and there is a great band playing at the bar tonight.

You know, hair of the dog and all.

Going Out Now

After a week of reminding my husband that I have plans to go out I am SO ready for some crazy fun!

Seriously? He forgot?!? Ugh, ok, we will go at 7 when he gets home from work instead of 6 like originally planned.

Sweet! My friend is here in her boss Mini-van to pick me up, I don’t have to worry about drinking and driving – whoop whoop, I can have 2 glasses of wine tonight! We head to over pick up our other friend who is eagerly awaiting our arrival in her driveway, giant purse in hand; I hop in the back after moving aside her son’s soccer gear and toys. This is going to be EPIC!

We go to the nail salon and get pedicures. After consulting with each other we get wild and splurge for a design on our big toe – with crystals on mine, I feel special. Gotta take a picture to capture this! Now what? Time to go get dinner; it is still early-ish at only 8 pm. Maybe we’ll go see a movie after.

We pile up into the mini-van and head to a restaurant/bar. We all want to sit in non-smoking away from the bar; it stinks and is too loud. No one is in the mood to have to yell to be heard. Man, it is dark in here; can they not afford decent lighting?

I order a glass of wine and sip on it before I get my entrĂ©e, as do my friends. We talk and giggle about work, kids, men, whatever comes up. I bring up how Mini-van friend had to do the stop and squeeze earlier that day because she began to laugh and nearly peed herself. Our other friend calls out “I pee myself all the time!” and whips out a bag which contains a pair of spare panties. She slaps the panties on the table and lets us know that anytime she laughs, sneezes, coughs, she pees herself and has taken to always having a spare pair of underwear with her. Her husband even asks her anytime she laughs if she peed herself and typically the answer is yes. Having babies will wreck your bladder control, along with other things.

Man can I relate to that. Good to know I am not the only one. I am so going to have to get a cute bag to put some spare panties in; that is a genius idea.

I yawn. It is 9:30, getting kind of late. At this point we have all agreed that we will have to go to the movies another time; my friends don’t want to have to pay their babysitters more than they have to, it is nearly Christmas and Black Friday is 2 days away. The babysitter for one of my friends is on her way to the restaurant and drops off her son since the sitter has a date tonight, it is still early for her so she has plenty of time to go home and get ready.

I am home by 10. Good grief I am exhausted, I wouldn’t have stayed awake for a movie anyway. Yay! Hubby got the girls to bed so I don’t have to do that I can put on my pj’s or any pants without a zipper and crawl into bed.

Hubby gives me “the look”; he is hoping to get lucky. No thanks, I didn’t shave my legs, I have my jammies on and I am really tired, maybe tomorrow?

The next morning I wake up at 6, quickly get dressed and head out the door. The minivan pulls up and we head over to grab our friend from last night, there is a big sale at K-Mart and we need to get there early to take advantage of the deals.

My head hurts; I think I have a hangover from that second glass of wine. I need a cup of coffee and an Advil. Won't be doing that again for a while.

I think this quote pretty much sums it up:

“I used to carry a pair of spare panties with me in case I got lucky, now I carry them with me in case I sneeze” - A wise woman who obviously had a kid