12 Hours of Chaos or Ho Ho Ho Get To Bed!

Who says we can't have the holiday spirit all year long?

In these past Twelve Hours of Chaos, my beloveds gave to me...

12 excuses for another drink of water at bedtime,

11 pleas for one more piece of candy,

10 minutes of hiding behind the sofa when I didn't know where he was,

9 attempts to pick the lock on the bathroom door when his brother was using the potty,

8 ounces of yogurt spilled on the floor,

7 smacks with toy swords,

6 shouts to stop fighting,

5 really good Cyber Monday emails I'm ignoring,

4 threats of no TV,

3 questioning looks at dinner,

2 exchanged looks when I tell them to get their pajamas on,

And 1 poop too big to flush down.

An Exciting Reminder of the Meaning of Life or I Finally Took Oprah's Advice and Simplified!

Nothing like a little crime to end writer's block!

A few weeks ago I started a new job that I love. And a week ago, on a rainy night, all of my stuff was stolen from the parking lot of my new job. My Coach purse, work bag, brand new Ipad, identification, credit cards, pictures, books, you name it, gone. The guy ran off with everything important to me. He actually opened my car door while I was in the car and took everything. And, because I already had my seat belt on (I'm a responsible driver), I wasn't fast enough to grab him and my stuff. I stomped my feet, screamed "fucker!" at him (I'm sure this was really fun to watch on the security camera) and called 911.

According to the police and anyone with a healthy sense of survival, getting out of your car to go after someone after they've robbed you is not the best choice. I explained to Peter that I was surprised it even happened because I thought I looked like a bad ass. He informed me I look like a small blonde woman.

What I feel like

What Peter says I look like

I was shaking as I told the cops what happened. I was shaking as Pete drove me home. I was shaking when I called the credit card companies and the credit bureau to put alerts on my accounts. I was shaking when I called Apple about the security of my Ipad. I was shaking when I told Pete to go get new locks for the house because this guy had our address and our house keys.

Then, about 2 hours after it all happened, I stopped shaking. I looked at my babies, who were trying really hard to act like things were normal, like their dad asked them to. The Moose kept trying to give me backrubs (sweet, but not normal) and The Rock was not listening and intentionally doing what I asked him not to (totally normal). And all of the injustice, anger and violation kind of swirled about and went down the drain like bathwater. Because all that really is important to me is right here. These babies are fine.

Pete went back to the scene of the crime and found my purse in a dumpster, with all my id and house keys etc. The cash and Ipad are gone for good. Some of my stuff is ruined. All in all, I've lost about $1700 worth of stuff. But you know what? It's stuff. And I really could care less. The babies are safe and honest to goodness, it is all I care about.

See, maybe if we own stuff that we feel is irreplaceable, perhaps that means that we place too much emphasis on our stuff. If we can't let it go, maybe we shouldn't own it in the first place. I'm not saying I don't want my Coach purse or my Ipad back - I really do. I bought the Ipad for Max so it really sucks that he doesn't have it now. And I might have an unhealthy relationship with my purse and I might have even had a conversations with it. But if I decided to be upset about the stuff rather than focus on the fact that the people who ARE irreplaceable are home and safe (although they make me crazy because they won't go to bed), I'd really be missing the whole point of life. And this whole thing reminds me to kiss and hug my babies every day because life is just plain weird. No matter what happens, they will know I love them to the core.

At the end of the day, I didn't really lose much. I did gain a great story however. And on a Sunshine-kind of day, I'd like to think the thief used my money for fruits and vegetables and some whole grain bread for his family. And that the Ipad is going to be a birthday gift for his kid, if he can just figure out how to reset it. I'd like to think that my "charitable donation" to the community went to some good.

Deep Thoughts By Yours Truly

Well, these aren't quite deep thoughts. But since I've been too busy to actually write a real post, I decided to leave you with a few random thoughts instead.

1. What the hell AutoCorrect? Have you never done AutoCorrect for a parent before? When I say poopy, I do not mean popping. Who says popping more than poopy? And poppy instead of puke? Seriously? I would like to submit the following words to AutoCorrect: poopy, barf, puke, and losingmyfuckingmind. Clearly my texting is not sexy.

2. Why can't all public bathrooms have big stalls? Have you ever tried to maneuver a small child onto a toilet seat in what is the equivalent of a 18 inch x 18 inch box? I just want to give the middle finger to whoever designed these types of restrooms whenever I take my youngest to the bathroom, which means three times per meal at a restaurant because you put up those damned hanging beads on the hall to the restroom and they are SO FUN to go through. DO NOT GET ME STARTED ON PORTA POTTIES OR I WILL POPPY!

3. Is there a rule about not serving cereal for dinner? Because breakfast didn't get picked up this morning and the box of cereal sitting on the counter looks way more appealing than actually cooking something nutritious. If I throw on some gummy vitamins, that makes it a well balanced meal, right?

4. And what about ice cream for dinner? That seems like an adult choice to me.

5. I am going to write the Rock's future teachers apology notes at the beginning of the school year, apologizing for all future behavior. Because yes, I am the parent that laughs when he acts up. He is hilarious.

6. Kissing my 9 year-old in public is the worst possible punishment I can inflict on him that is legal. I have pointed out to him that while this does not embarrass me in the least, I know it mortifies him so he better stop rolling his eyes at me.

7. Apparently beauty cream is a hoax. I told my 3 year-old that it makes Mommy pretty and then I made the mistake of asking him if it worked. After a critical assessment, the answer is no. Screw you Oil of Olay. Side note, he is the one I will rely on to dress me for my funeral because I know he will pick out the most flattering outfit.

8. When I look at my dear children now, it freaks me out that I ever birthed something so large. Now I know what elephants feel like. And not just because I wear a lot of neutral colors and have saggy skin too.

9. What is the line between explicit and REALLY explicit music? Somehow one or two F-bombs are okay, but not straight cussing in rap. How did we ever decide upon this justification?

10. I am more concerned when I hear my children swearing inappropriately than when I hear them drop a justified cuss word. I have accepted that they will know how to swear - I just don't want them sounding like idiots doing it.

11. How did I ever live without these two little beasts in my life?

And that's all for now folks! Have a great night and tip your servers!

The Age Old Parenting Debate or To Spanx or Not to Spanx, That Is the Question

Moms, are you ready to discuss one of the most heated debates of parenting? Yes, even I am going to address it on my blog. I don't do it, don't believe in it and don't think it helps to raise my children to be the kind of adults I want them to be. I don't Spanx. Of course I'm not going to talk about spanking. First of all, I don't want to know if you do or not and I don't really feel like discussing it. Besides, the issue of spanxing is way more near and dear to my heart.

What brings this important topic up today? I had too much time in an airport and spent that time looking like a ditz, reading Cosmo magazine. To my defense, Oprah also discusses it, but in hindsight, that also makes me look ditzy. Crap. Anyway...it's spanx this, spanx that. Here's the thing. I don't do it and I'm going to tell you why.

1. False Advertising: Look, I'm a perfectionist. As a FORMER size 4-6, I feel as though it is my responsibility to once again get into that size by my own accord. Using any other method to look svelte is just plain cheating and no one likes a cheater. If I want to look like I have an awesome body, I personally feel that I better work for it. And work for it. And work for it. And until then, well, the mirror is just a good reminder that 1. I should get to the gym more often and 2. I should buy clothes that look better on me now. And for goodness sake, my husband knows what I really look like anyway.

2. Pretty Undergarments: You all know that I worked at Victoria's Secret for a couple of years during college. I made some of my best friends there and I also developed a certain standard for my undergarments there as well. I only want to wear pretty bras and panties. As a mom, I might be covered in puke or finger paint on the outside, but underneath, I can still look pretty. (Side note, pretty bras do not make up for smelling like puke however.) And Cosmo kept addressing how do you hide your Spanx when you are hooking up on a booty call. Well, I say, I'll never be put in that situation! I just won't wear ugly panties. Or, it goes without saying, have a booty call with a stranger.

3. Standards: Let me get all Woman-Power on you and say, Ladies, it's time we stand up to this standard of having to be a size 2 after having 2 kids, working full-time and eating a diet of chicken nuggets and turkey sandwiches. Aren't we all supposed to be above this by now? We are supposed to look healthy, not like super models. We are supposed to be secure with our body image and teach our children to love themselves just the way they are! To hell with Spanx! Let's wear flowing skirts, eat organic fruit snacks (oh the irony) and make our own crafts out of leftover egg cartons. I am woman, hear me roar! (This dichotomy is what happens when I read Parents magazine and Cosmo at the same time.)

So whether you Spanx or not is really up to you - it's your personal decision and one each parent needs to make for herself. But now you know where I stand on this very important subject. I'm just going to head to the gym now, then shower, throw on some super cute bra and panty set and a long flowy skirt.

My Four Golden Rules (Because One Is Not Enough and Five Is Too Many)

Rocking the Moose when he was three months old, I would coo at him and gaze into his eyes. I would tell him how smart and funny he is, how perfect he is, and how he should always wear condoms. I believed it was never too early to lay the right foundation of my expectations for him.

After I had the Moose, I gave considerable thought to what I call My Golden Rules. If my boys follow these four simple rules, they really should avoid most of life's disasters. Most other trouble they get into pales in comparison to the trouble they will get into if they break one of these rules. I accept that my kiddos will screw up and screw up often. And I will love them through it. All I ask is that they follow these four simple rules and I promise to forgive them for pretty much everything else.

1. No Smoking: Seriously, if I catch one of my boys with a cigarette (or chewing tobacco) in their mouth, I will slap it right out, even if they are thirty years old. Sure sure, you might argue that they can make their own choices when they are an adult. No, I say, not if they are fucking up. And smoking will fuck them up. Do you know how much prenatal care I followed to have healthy babies? I gave up lunch meat BEFORE I got pregnant, in the anticipation of GETTING pregnant. I gave up caffeine, which is my life blood, for them both for two years - one during each of their pregnancies and one for the year I nursed them - that's four years total! And let's not even get into the permanent damage they did to my boobs during the breast feeding. Hell if I'm going to let them mess up their lungs after all I did to give them healthy ones in the first place.

2. No Drugs/Drinking: Okay, part of this is unrealistic, I know. The drugs part, I'm holding strong. I've gotten through life this far without doing drugs, and I expect the same from them. Nothing good comes from doing drugs. They are addicting, damaging, ruin your career/life, and can kill you. I'm done sounding like the Reagan Administration. Just don't do drugs. As for the drinking, just be responsible. Get a DD. Call me if you mess up. Don't drive drunk. Nuff said.

3. Always Respect Women: I just won't tolerate disrespecting women, and this includes their children. When I thought up these rules, I thought "what offenses could I just not forgive if my children committed them?" And rape or any form of sexual, physical, domestic abuse comes to mind. I just won't have it. So don't do it. Respect any woman in your life, including teachers, parents, girlfriends, coworkers, wives. By respecting women, you in turn respect their children because any woman can tell you that their children are simply an extension of themselves. If I hear of you disrespecting women, I will come down on you like a fury and you will remember that Mom is the Boss. Again, your age is meaningless. I will always be your mom and if you are really fucking up, I will set you straight.

4. Practice Safe Sex: There are too many consequences that come from ignoring this rule. For God's sake and mine, wear a condom! I rocked my boys to sleep reviewing my Golden Rules, including this one. I'm hoping it sticks a little subconsciously because we have a few years before we can have the sex talk and I really need them to remember this rule. STDs and babies last forever. They only need a condom for 20 minutes. I promise to grow a pair and teach them all about condoms when they get a little older if they promise to follow rule number four. And I don't care if she's on the pill. HIV could care less too. And this one ties nicely into Rule Number Three!

So that sums up my main rules. Everything else is really minor compared to these Golden Four. I've had them in place for almost 9 years now and haven't seen any circumstances that would cause me to change them. I can handle swearing, slamming doors, and rolling eyes (personally guilty of all three!) I will yell at them and send them to their rooms, but I will know, those offenses aren't deal breakers. Of course I have created other rules over the years, but they are really level two rules, like "Never wear those awful school color overalls, even if you are drunk and tailgating, because I will take a pair of scissors and cut them off - walking around in your boxers is less embarrassing than those overalls." But the overalls do not have life changing consequences - they just make you look like an idiot and would probably eliminate the need for Rule Number Four. The Golden Four can change your world if you don't follow them. As a mom, I can only do so much to guide my boys and so far, I've noticed that boys can only remember about 4 things at a time (note - if the topic is Skylanders or Pokemon, the memory becomes infinite). Feel free to steal my rules if you want - as you can see, I don't have stealing listed above. I'm hoping the Ten Commandments covers that one.

The Glitter Star Movement or Ladies, How About a Little Love?

Moms, I need your help. I'd like to change Mom-Culture everywhere. I'm tired of happily busting my ass being a mom without any recognition. I want a freaking Glitter* Star.

They say when you deliver, "You don't get a medal regardless of how you deliver your baby." You can go naturally, C-section or with an epidural and no one cares. A healthy baby is our prize. And yes, that is true. But really, I think you need a little love if you went naturally. Why not? Do you know how much it hurts to have a baby?? I don't - I had an epidural and a C-section. But I can IMAGINE how much it hurts and I think that deserves a tiara, or at least a small ribbon on your hospital door. If you told me I'd get a tiara for delivering naturally, I might have considered it. It's all about the proper motivation. If you delivered naturally, you are a freaking Rock Star. I am jealous of your awesomeness, and may make a snide comment about it because I can be petty.

Currently I'm looking ahead at a week that involves 4 sports practices, one soccer game, one religious education class and a scout event. Oh, and the cherry on top is the authentic looking costume I "get" to make for my son's school project (and a poster - don't forget about the poster). This is in addition to the regular things that need to be done like groceries, dinners, laundry, spelling words, scheduling doctors' appointments, working full-time and paying the bills. I woke up on Monday morning and the first thing I thought was "What the fuck! How is this all supposed to get done?" My second thought was "I need coffee." And according to Parents magazine and Redbook, I'm also supposed  to find time to eat 2 nutritious snacks each day (Snickers bars and coffee do not count), exercise, meditate and journal, because by taking care of myself, I will have the energy to find 26 hours in my 24 hour day. If I make it through this week, I deserve a freaking Glittery Star.

Have you noticed that men get verbal Glitter Stars for the smallest of accomplishments? They change A diaper - Glitter Star! They pick the kids up from daycare - Dad of the Year! They take the kids to buy groceries - Mr. Mom! Moms, we do all of these things in one hour after a full day of work. No Glitter Star. Time to change things Ladies! (Disclaimer: My husband is awesome. He gets the kids ready EVERY morning, drops them all off and picks them all up at night. A.MAZING. What he does in one day would likely warrant him 72 Gold Stars by those people who have low expectations for dads. He definitely exceeds these expectations and (guilty admission) I occasionally/often take this for granted.)

Wouldn't it be nice if we could just look at each other, see that worn out look on that Mom's face, and say "Hey Sister - I've been there! Good job!" and put a Glitter Star on her stained shirt? I know I'd feel a little bit better if someone gave me a Glitter Star every once in a while. Sometimes just not screaming at your kids at night deserves a Glitter Star - there's no need to be stingy! I know we are supposed to know that the simple fact that we are moms is reward enough - that we don't need that pat on the back because the sheer fact we are raising amazing children speaks for itself. Well, I say that's crap. Have you read that Sistine Chapel email that says the creators of the Sistine Chapel didn't put their names on it? That the fact that the Sistine Chapel is amazing is all the recognition that they need? Well, I'm willing to bet that after they put in 10 hours building the Chapel that day, they didn't go home and figure out what's for dinner, run someone to soccer practice and cut up felt to make a fringed jacket for their grade-schooler's school project. (Yes, I am hung up on this costume. I will eventually get over this...sometime next year.) And maybe they did think, "Hey, how about a Glitter Star for all that freakin' work!?"

So here's what I'm proposing. All of us start walking around with a few Glitter Stars in our purses. Consider it Adult Fruit Snacks - a simple way to make someone instantly happier. If you can't find Glitter Star stickers, then smelly stickers will work just as well. I seem to remember being really excited about them in first grade. The next time you see a mom that looks like she's had a hell of a day and needs a little pat on the back for successfully (or unsuccessfully) dropping everyone off at the right practice field on time, give her a Glitter Star.  If you'd like to make your own because you want to seem like Martha Stewart or a Pinterest Queen, then please copy, color and cut out the star below. I will be slightly annoyed that you felt the urge to show up the rest of us with your craftiness, but I will forgive you if you pin one of your stars on my shirt. Please ignore it if my shirt is stained. I am still my 3-year old's human napkin. I'm pretty sure your Glitter Star would make up for it. Side note, I'm going to print some off for my mom - I owe her more than a few.

*Side Note: This original post was called the Gold Star Movement until a friend of mine pointed out that a gold star has a negative connotation too. While the Gold Star is the highest level of sticker you can get as a kid, I am an adult and am sensitive to its other meanings too. Hence the name change to Glitter Star.

The New B-word or I Know You Are and So Am I

Those who  know me know that I am not shy to throw out a few swear words here and there. I've talked in past blogs about my colorful vocabulary and have stopped making apologies about it. But today I'd like to address a new swear word and it's one that I'm going to make a conscious effort to stop using. The B-word. Is this because I feel that the word "bitch" is derogatory? Well, sometimes it's an accurate description. And I much prefer to use it as a verb anyway. I can't give that up. No, the word I'm talking about is BUSY.

I've been giving this quite a bit of thought and have decided that "busy" is the new B-word. We all use it and frankly, it's getting too much play. "How are you?" The reply is always "busy" as if that describes an emotion. It's a cheater's way of getting out of replying to a question. And I am SO guilty of this. Does saying that I'M busy imply that you are not? "Oh, I'm so busy, you know, working full-time, commuting 90 minutes a day, running after the kids, baking from scratch, managing two sports schedules for one kid, volunteering, blah blah blah." Wow. Is anyone else thinking "hey lady, are you just trying to win this conversation or are you actually trying to make me hate you?" I'd venture to say that the B-word leads me to two other B-words - boring and bragging. Enough already! We get it. You are...busy. Snore and please don't call me again.

So I'm going to turn over a new leaf. From here on out, I'm going to do my best to avoid the word "busy." I'm going to acknowledge that we are all in the same boat and that saying we are busy is the same thing as saying "I'm breathing." In the meantime, I'm going to be trying out a list of other adjectives, such as peachy, swell, standing, overwhelmed, bitchin' (a b-word that is not off my list), and hungry. Chances are I am actually hungry.

Who's with me on my new crusade? It's time our children learn a different vocabulary that doesn't include this word, because in reality, busy is the new normal. Get over it, get creative and join me! Unless that is, you are too busy.