Wait A Minute Mom! You Used To Have A Life Before All Of Us?
Oh yeah…I did. Totally…
I used to wake up to alarm clocks, friends calling to go tubing down the river, the sun shining in my room or even all by myself without any assistance.
Now?
On most mornings I wake up to, “Shut up!” “Get off my head,” “No more wedgies” and “Mom, the cat threw up.”
I used to go on drives to clear my head, go clothes shopping or meet a friend. Now when I drive I’m either picking a kid up or dropping one off, grabbing a half gallon of milk, going to doctor’s offices, dentist offices, principals offices and the discount shoe store.
Prior to the 19
90′s I used to stay up late by choice.
Ya know, dates, parties, working, rated R movies.
These days? Now I’m up late because someone has a fever, can’t fall as
leep, had a nightmare or needed one more glass of water.
Before I had kids I used to wear make-up to enhance my appearance, now I wear it to cover the circles under my eyes.
When I was single I used to get my hair permed at a salon every 6 weeks and would tease it 2 inches high with aqua net instead of tying it back with one of my kids shoe laces to keep it out of my eyes while I fold underwear, unclog the kitchen sink and clean toilet paper off of the bathroom mirrors.
Before I was the mother of six, I wore mini skirts, tube tops and Daisy Duke’s.
Now if you see me out in public you’ll usually catch me wearing borrowed sweats from my mother in law or a house dress that I picked up at a yard sale for a buck fifty after I negotiated the price down from a buck seventy five.
There was a time that when someone whistled at me, it was because I had a nice back si
de, not because they were trying to get my attention to stop my kid from shop lifting or throwing fruit at each other at the grocery store.
Back in the day when my phone would ring, it was usually a friend or a total stranger I’d given my number to calling to see if I wanted to go out to the bars, make a day trip to the Grand Canyon or hit a party.
Now when the phone rings it’s a principal at school telling me my kid just got caught looking under Sally’s skirt, or a cop telling me they found my kid in an abandoned house jumping off the roof into the pool in the backyard.
And every now and then it’s my husband calling after work to ask me if it’s safe to come home yet.
And before my children were conceived, I was skinny and could sleep thr
ough the night without getting up at 2am to go pee, pop some tums or rub the cramp out of my calf.
Before my children were born I was suffering with heartburn, restless leg syndrome and I waddled when I walked.
After they were born, before they were even an hour old, my stomach was cramping and my butt was sore.
Before we brought any of the children home my belly jiggled when I moved and I was wearing adult diapers.
Before the kids were a year old my head ached all the time and I nursed until I looked like a National Geographic model.
I forgot to color my roots before they grew out and I wore my sons flip flops since I was to tired to velcro my sandals.
I stayed up late watching re-runs of The Wonder Years and The Incredible Hulk and I forgot what ho
t food and cold drinks tasted like.
And even though I want to pull their tongues out of the back of their throats, tie them to a chair with it in their rooms and lock the door while I run errands for 5 days, I can’t imagine a me without all of them.
Yes I had a life before I had children…
But it wasn’t worth living…
For The Women In My Life…Maunt, Friends, EAV And VB
Short…sweet and to the point…
You all have made a difference in my life
She cannot claim the honor of having built Notre Dame Cathedral.
She need not.
She has built something more magnificent than any cathedral-
a dwelling for an immortal soul, the tiny perfection of her baby’s body…
The angels have not been blessed with such a grace.
They cannot share in God’s creative miracle to bring new saints to Heaven.
Only a human mother can.
Mothe
rs are closer to God the Creator than any other creature;God joins forces with mothers in performing this act of creation…
What on God’s good earth is more glorious than this: to be a mother? — Joseph Cardinal Mindszenty
Hey Mom, Isn’t That Your Ego Deflating?
Why yes son, yes it is. And thanks for not pointing out the obvious or anything.
Traitor…
Look, I get that vanity is a sin and all, but I see nothing wrong with the occasional compliment or even a little recognition once in a while for Pete’s sake.
It’s not like I’m waiting for someone to write a song immortalizing me or anything.
Although “My Sharona” in a good start.
Would it come as a surprise to anyone if I revealed that Costco is one of the culprits for my deteriorating confidence?
Thank God I only do my shopping there every other month. Anything more than that and I’d have to be put on a suicide watch because it never fails…I’m walking along, I see someone I recognize, I do a shout out, wave a howdy do and wait for the return wave with a grin on my face.
And more times than not they turn their head, look at me, rub their eyes, scratch 
their butt and act deaf.
Know who else damages my self esteem? The dentist.
This do gooder always greets me as if we don’t get together at least 3 times a year so he can cram his fingers down my throat. He comes sashaying out of his office with his perfect, bleached white teeth smile and says, “So…who do we have today?”
Seriously?
Anyway, since I’ve been so sick the last two weeks I’ve been wearing what any decent stay at home mom wears.
No make-up, my hair in a bun and an oversized house dress with holes in it.
Well, why not?
Anyway, yesterday I’m doing my house cleaning thing when the USPS guy shows up at our door. Now I don’t know about anyone else, but getting an unexpected box at my door is almost as good as chocolate and getting money in my birthday cards.
It never happens anymore…but I digress.
The USPS guy took one look at me and said, “Holy toledo lady! Are you okay? Should I call the cops?”
“No…why?”
And then he clears his throat and says real slow like, “Ohhh…so you meant to look like that? *Ahem*…jut sign here please.”
So I did.
And then I threw his little electronic sign-y in-ny thingy over the neighbors wall.
I’m also convinced that the inanimate objects in my bedroom are alive and well and out to get me.
Doubt me?
Don’t, because earlier today when I was making faces at myself in the dresser mirror, I swear I could hear my maternity clothes from 2007 start to giggle and say, “Pick me! Pick me!”
And then later in the day I went into the bathroom and when I stopped to make sure Miss Clariol got all the gray out, my reflection made a gagging sound and turned it’s back on me.
So now there’s two of me and we both freak out when, adding insult to injury, my scale chuckles and asks, “Did you wanna hear my newest your mama’s so fat joke?
It is now in the recycle bin along with my one size fits all tee-shirt for insinuating that it could only fit over my head.
Today I had to go to the grocery store and decided before we left to try on some of the free make up samples I got in the mail.
Ya know…waste not want not.
A little eye liner, a little blush and I thought I had done a pretty good job of covering up my black eyes and sick face.
Half way down the pet food aisle I hear a gasp from the little boy standing behind me. I turn around and produce a winning smile for him, and he just stands there staring at me and won’t move.
Even when my daughter started throwing cat nip at him he stood statue still staring at me as if I had just burped out loud and didn’t say excuse me.
Finally he looks up at his mom and says, “I thought Halloween was over already.”
The paramedics assured his mother that his limp is temporary.
So…Wanna Explain How You Got Those Black Eyes There, MrsMom?
“Um, I’d like to blame it on jogging and a huge rack, but I can’t.
To be honest doc, as I was running to the bathroom, I ended up having a massive coughing fit. It was so bad that everything went fuzzy, grey, and then I found myself kissing the bathroom door.”
And as I sat on the doctors exam table being scrutinized by my Nurse Ratchet impersonator, I felt the sweat dripping down my back to my feet, and onto her antique persian rugs.
“So…you’re suffering a fever too, are ya?” She asked me while she crammed a flash light in my ears, nose and throat.
“Uh-huh.” I coughed.
“And you sound like you’ve swallowed artificial rocks, have a lawn mower in your chest and cotton shoved up your nose.” She stated as I gagged on her p
opsicle stick and tried to keep my lungs from falling out of my mouth.
“Anything else?” She asked while she took out her meat thermometer, a 4 foot q-tip and a cattle prod.
My eyes began to water as I shook my head and tried to get my lower intenstines back inside my belly before she pulled her police taser out of her enormous lab coat pockets.
“Now, what I want to know is why you waited 7 days to see me.”
“Well gee, if you had a doctor who carried a small arsenal in their panties while cramming metal down your throat, you might procrastinate too.”
“Why Miss Sharon…I’m surprised to hear you say that as if you believe I would actually shoot
you dead or ram this branding iron on your butt.”
“Maybe that’s because you did once.” I hacked out trying to locate my kidneys.
“Excuse me dearie, I did not shoot you dead. I simply gave you 4 shots at once while I used the scope down your throat and pinched your bum.”
“Yeah, well…I told you I wasn’t pregnant since I was only 9, and I didn’t need all those shots either. My brother had stabbed me with a butter knife when I was kicking him in the face, not a rusty nail. And I didn’t really have TB or VD…that was just my dad making a funny.” I reminded her as I suddenly stopped breathing.
“Still holding that against me, are ya?” She asked while she pounded my back with one of the ski poles that she kept in her office.
“I’ve explained before that was bad judgement, I was a new doctor and ea
sily swayed by tearful parents.” She explained while she used a beach towel to wipe up the mess falling out of my nose.
“I just need to know if I’m going to live or not, doc…
Son #1 has his birthday next week, son #3 is graduating after that, son #5 has his ceremony from sandbox to playground equipment the following day, son #2 has a swim meet the same day son #4 has his 5th grade chili cook off and later that night my daughter has a meeting with the park and rec coordinator for bubble gum in the hair awareness day.”
“Well maybe if you’d come to see me sooner I could have cured you by now,” she told me charting my heartbeat at 200 MPH.
“I’ve been scared of you since the day I was 6 when you told me that if I scratched my chicken pox I’d be on your end table as a model of a 12th century black death victim.”
“And it worked! You don’t have a single chicken pox scar on your body do you? Now, you have an upper respitatory infection, a lung infection, a viral infection, pneumonia and a fever of 101.7.
Here’s 5 scripts for all the meds, you’ll lose weight from throwing up, gain it back from these steroids, pee your pants and get less than 4 hours of sleep a night from all the coughing, but here’s some sleeping pills to help with that. You’ll live.”
I grabbed my scrips, my pancreas, the sample of Depends she handed me, kissed her on the cheek and said, “Thanks doc…see you in the fall for allergy season.”
Um…Mom, Guess Who’s Arm Is Stuck In The Wall?
Ever been sitting on your bathroom floor, rocking yourself back and forth trying to pretend that you can’t hear anymore, when suddenly one of your kids opens the door and says, “Guess what?”
Oh God. Not again, now what?
Are they going to tell me we have ants on the counter? Did someone poop in the bath tub? Are we all out of cheese or spaghetti o’s again?
I shudder whenever one of my children start a sentence off with a question. It leaves too much to the imagination and almost nothing surprises me anymore.
The last time one of my kids had begged me to guess what was stuck inside a wall, we had a 10 minute power surge and my now 6 year old had charred finger tips, 4 feet of static hair and we ended up with a melted army man stuck inside the outlet in 
their bathroom.
So my 11 year old is standing in front me with a look of horror, amusement on his face while he jumps from one foot to the other in excitement.
And it was so freaky that I hesitated to ask.
So I just looked at him in silence waiting for the suspense to be too much for him to keep quiet while he finally burst out, “There’s a huge hole in brothers wall.”
I drop my head down and shake it around as I ask, “And…????” To which he replies, “Well, someone’s arm is stuck in it. Wanna guess who’s?” And before I can say nope, I don’t, I hear the 16 year old yelling, “Stop trying to pull your arm out! You’re breaking it!”
So I race into the boys room where I see my daughter standing there with only the bottoms of her bathing suit on, a toothbrush in her mouth, her fathers dress up 
shoes on her feet and her right arm up to the shoulder in my sons bedroom wall.
My first obvious question? “Huh?”
My second? “Huh?”
And as 4 boys are giving me different stories, I’m trying to calm down a hysterical 5 year old and figure out how to get her arm free without calling the fire department.
Trying to pull her arm out didn’t work, that only made her scream louder and left itchy white stuff on the floors.
My other option? Make the hole bigger.
A few knocks here, a couple of knocks there and finally there was enough room for me to put my arm over my daughters and pull hers out.
This way I get all scratched up instead of her and can blame the cat when my husband asks why it looks like I’ve been shoving nails up my arm.
So after some soothing of the child and a little warm water, I was finally able to 
ascertain what actually transpired.
It seems a few months back the 13 year old had an attitude and had kicked his door open in a fit of hysterics, which resulted in a door knob size hole in his wall.
He had neglected to inform his father and myself of this little error in judgement to avoid punishment.
Well, once the 6 year old had found the hole he figured if he shoved a hammer in there, he could poke another hole in the wall to the bathroom.
Why?
Because he’s convinced his brothers steal his Nintendo DS games and plays them in the bathroom. He just needs proof.
I stared at son #5 in disbelief and asked, “What was your plan son?” Were you going to stick your head thru the wall and say, “Here’s Johnny!”
So when the hammer didn’t work, he thought maybe his sister’s arm could create a black hole large enough for him to perform his peeping Tom duties. All he had to do was convince her that there was candy behind the magic wall and she could eat as much as she could grab.
So I ran to the grocery store, bought some spakle, handed the boys putty knives, hard hats, goggles, told them to get to work and to repeat after me in case daddy ever notices, “It was like this when we moved in.”
Why Yes, That Is My Head In A Toilet Bowl
The last time I was this sick I was 12, had the chicken pox, the stomach flu and a broken arm.
Ah…memories.
Anyway, having just slept for 16 hours, with the exception of getting up to…uh, er…um, ya know…I’m not even sure what day it is.
And to add insult to my injured head, 5 of the 6 kids are all home today. Turns out they get a thing called a “Testing break.”
Who in the halibut gets a testing break?
So, as the 5 & 6 year olds beg me to cook eggs and brownies, (and the 13 year old actually wanted me to do his laundry) while I keep looking for the Halls and vicks that I know I bought last month, I thought I would share the first thoughts that came into my mind this morning when I woke up.
Did I mention I woke up to the 6 year old whispering in my ear, “You have to put the tv on OnDemand with my little pony before sister falls off the top of the tv shelf.”
Yup…she was on top of the TV trying to find the channel to change since the remote control was safely hidden under the couch. Like it always is…
I’m going to go back to sleep next to the toilet. It’s nice and cool there and “potty” understands me so well right now…
And NO! I’M NOT PREGNANT AGAIN! Sheesh…
Here’s Some Suggestions For You Mrs. Mom…
Ooh, that sounds intimidating, and yet…exciting! Only, it’s not…
It’s just facebook ruining my life again. Or at least, I’ve chosen to blame them for my issues.
For instance. Issue #1…facebook is giving me a complex. They keep posting random people’s photo albums and rubbing it in my face. Literally.
See, what I should be doing is scrubbing fake tatoo’s off of my kids, but instead I’m looking at Lilly’s pictures of her family vacation in Europe. First of all, I don’t know Lilly, but she’s a friend of a friend and secondly, I’m curious. Like is she fat? Is her butt bigger than mine?
These are the things I’m looking at instead of doing my SAHM duties and it’s getting harder to lie to my husband about why things didn’t get done.
But…if Lilly has cottage cheese on her legs, then it was worth it and my self esteem has improved.
Issue #2. The news feed shows me what pages my friends like and now
I have to go find out what it is and why they like it.
Why?
Because if they’re into frog licking or rock worshipping, I can now judge them without their knowledge. I may have known this person since our days of puberty, but now I have the power to see their thoughts, and if it freaks me out…I have one less friend on facebook.
Issue #3. My friends make me feel like a retard without even trying.
For real. Some of them are too smart for me to even know. They’ll post an update so brilliant, I half expect Encyclopedia Britannica to start using these posts as a source of reference.
Some of them are doctors, some politicians, some are college professors and some who know to only eat when they’re hungry and stop when they’re full.
Gawd I hate that.
Issue #4. My deteriorating ego.
First, facebook tells me I should use friend finder like 10 of my other friends did to find friends.
However, it seems I’ve already found all of my friends…so that particular tool is of no use to me anymore.
The next little needle in my side is the, “Sharon, here are some people you may know. You have 178 mutual friends.”
Now, the way I see it, these people who share mutual friends with me are getting the same notifications, right?
So why aren’t they sending me a friends request? What if I send a request and they don’t remember me so they ignore the request? Then 2 months later when they pop up on my list of people I may know again, I have to consider that they A. Don’t like me, or B. Don’t remember me.
Then they’ll be sitting on their couch rubbing their hands together and thinking, “Ha ha! She doesn’t know if I don’t like her or can’t remember her.”
Now they have all the power and I have one less friend than almost 300 of my friends who can post on their wall’s and I can’t.
You know why else facebook is harmful to my ego? Because my brilliant friends will post an update, I’ll comment, go to bed and when I get up in the morning I’ll have 57 new notifications.
And my heart just swells with pride thinking people out there in internet land really do love me.
But…it turns out my friends status that I posted on got a reply from a friend of theirs who I don’t know and they ended up having a 3 hour conversation without me.
My friend never replied to my comment, but now I have to read that they’re going shopping and I’m not invited.
I think I need a statu
s new update..
Like I’m going to Fiji with Fifi to spend a million dollars on nothun’ cause Fifi is married to Skippy, who’s a French lord or something.
Then I’m going to steal random pictures from a flickr photo album and claim I just had the best vacation ever with my BFF.
How ya like them cookies?
Mmmm…cookies. Wonder how much milk we have left…..
Like A Good Neighbor, Get Off Moms Porch…
This is 2012, not 1954.
I’m not stupid ya know. I’m completely aware that there ain’t no jell-o mold or a plate of Pillsbury cookies ala touch of Hershey’s chocolate on the other side of my door.
And since none of my knocking neighbors are offering me a snack, I ain’t answering.
Not too long ago my husband had to come up with a list and pin it to our front door of who can knock on our door and who can’t.
Why?
Because your average American doesn’t understand, “No Soliciting.” And I’m a sucker.
Example?
We had a door to door salesman selling carpet cleaning products who, when shown our no soliciting policy nailed to our door said, “But ma’a
m, I figured after you saw how well this cleaner works you’d be happy that I knocked on your door.”
Yeah, I was so happy that I took his liquid in jar, gave him $10 and let the kids play catch with it.
We also had a group of, “I’m a product of public school” 20 something’s show up selling magazines who actually said, “Hi! Saw your sign but we just need 4 more subscriptions to earn a college scholarship. Wanna help out?”
Yeah, they always need 4 more subscriptions.
So I bought their #2 pencil and told them to beat it.
Then there was that guy who always needs to sell that extra meat he just happens to have.
Ya know, the guy who always sold some meat to my neighbor, and they always have extra that they’re selling at a huge discount to avoid getting into trouble with the
ir boss?
His sales pitch was so cliche, he may as well have asked, “What’s a girl like you doing in a madhouse like this?”
So when I showed meat man the, “No Soliciting” sign on my door, he looked at me and asked, “What’s soliciting?”
And I ended up with $60 worth of meat in my freezer.
I was starting to get frustrated the last time the Jehovah witnesses showed up and ignored our sign.
I didn’t even say a word when I opened the door. I just leaned over, pointed to the sign and started to close the door when they said, “Uh, we’re not selling anything. We just want to give you this issue of the Watchtower and ask if you’ve found Jesus yet.”
I looked them up and down and stated, “Well, you may not think selling your religion is soliciting, but to answer your question, yes…yes I have. Would you like to come in 
and finish praying the Rosary with me?”
You never saw two granny’s in comfortable pumps run so fast…
Sadly, I am a sucker for kids selling salt water taffy at ridiculous prices.
I always end up paying $20 for a tin of candy that would cost me a buck at the dollar store.
I don’t care if they’re from an orphanage, a pop warner football team or raising money for their parents mortgage. Their taffy is worth my mad money.
And my husband is getting a little bit testy about it.
I also have 6 kids who climb all over each other and end up breaking bones and living room furniture just to see if the latest knock on the door is the mailman with a special delivery from an obscure relative leaving us their Publishers Clearing house winnings.
So, in order to save money on candy and leg casts, my husband created a new sign in red neon lights that reads:
If you touch thi
s doorbell or knock on this door you better be, A. Selling candy, B. Offering to trim my trees or C. A talk show tv producer telling me some random Jane Doe wants to thank me for making her life worth living, and that I now have an all expense paid trip to beautiful Burbank California.
“If you’re over 4 feet 10 and you’re not wearing a football helmet, a girl scout uniform or holding an over sized check for a million dollars, you better step off or you’re about to be greeted by a home owner with an attitude and a gun.”
There hasn’t been a random knock in 7 weeks…
Shop Amazon – Mother’s Day Gifts
Dear MrsMom, We Have Eligible Singles In Your Area…
As of last month I am now eligible to meet Asian singles. At least according to my email I am.
A week before that it was senior citizens and two weeks before that it was Jewish and African American singles.
Last fall I was finally eligible to meet the spokesperson for Jose Cuervo after the group was able to confirm I had given birth six times.
I’m not sure when the on line dating community finally decided to start taking notice of me, but it’s about time.
After all, it has been 22 years since I completed my video of why I’d be a fun date. I always knew someone would appreciate the fact that I never checked my beeper or had to find a pay phone on a first date.
Of course, I was single and childless back then…
And frankly it’s about time that someone besides the people I live with showed me a 
little attention. Matter of fact, it’s about time I got some attention that didn’t require me to sign something, cook something or clean something up.
But to be honest, after I reply to these invitations to meet at a Motel 6 or a Castle Boutique, the interest seems to deteriorate a bit.
And I still can’t put my finger on what I’m doing wrong. After all, they solicited me…
Like when I received a friends request from some chick in a thong. We didn’t have any friends in common, but I figured there had to be a reason why, “Jenny wants to luv you,” was getting in touch with me.
Maybe we’d been in labor together, or perhaps we had both showed up for the same photo shoot of, “Mom’s who should have been nuns” daily. And you know what? She never replied personally. Instead I received an auto message with a link that directed me to her porn site. Only the link didn’t say what type of site it was, so naturally I clicked on it.
Well, that was interesting. *Ahem*
I had also received an email from “HotBecky69@hotmail.com” that same week.
She sent me all of her stats, several of her pictures, told me she was lonely and horny and begged me to reply. So I did. I sent her a picture of me, my husband, all the kids and told her that I was pretty lonely for some adult conversation after watching Sesame Street and Ice Age all day .
That was 2 months ago…I still haven’t heard back from her.
I was also shut out from the, “Single senior citizens who like to be spanked.”
Not that I don’t enjoy a good spanking every now and then. After all, a little swat on the behind helps reminds my kids that spraying hair spray all over the dog is not in anyone’s best interest.
But it turns out that these elders prefer you already receive a Denny’s 10% discount and that you carry an AARP card in your wallet.
And I’m still confused over the decline from the Asian singles I received this weekend.
Admittingly I’m a little too “Irish white” to pass for Asian, but they had solicited me.
So I called their #800 line yesterday hoping for a valid reason for the decline since they didn’t specify that both parties had to be Asian and single.
I’m still on hold…
But I think the biggest disappointment had to be from the, “Other moms in need” organization.
I was really happy to receive their email invitation that stated, “I’m married, lonely and need you,” considering I need some help matching socks for 6 guys. I also need some help with the ring around the bathtub and the base board washing.
So these were the thoughts running through my mind as I sent in my profile information
to their site. I also included our family portrait from Christmas of 2007 and a list of my demands, like lint filter cleaning and coffee grinding.
The return email was not encouraging.
How was I supposed to know this mom club was intended for mom’s who felt the need to be told that they were a bad girl by other moms?
Mom…I Don’t Want My ***** To Fell Off
And here she is…the four year old.
Well, she just turned five. Watch till the end to see what she doesn’t want to “fell” off as she does her tap dance to Big Band And Swing In a Laundry Basket
Does this still qualify as Wordless Wednesday?
I promise I'll grab yours if you grab mine :)
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