I Wanted To Be One of Those Moms But Instead, I'm THAT Mom

You know those moms. They look totally put together each morning at preschool drop-off. They've always on top of everything that their kids need for school. So organized and polished.

That was the dream. To be one of those moms.

But, instead, I'm THAT mom.

Let me give you an example from Monday morning.

My kids decided to sleep in. This rarely happens, but when it does, of course it's on a school morning: we now have 15 minutes to get everyone in the van.  I rush around and get the two who are going to school into their clothes while deciding a diaper change is enough for the baby.

As for me, I threw on a pair of shorts and decided the tank top that I'd slept in would be fine for drop off- since I don't actually have to get out of the van for that. So, of course I don't need to put on a bra. My hair is in the messy bun that I'd tied it up into the night before.  And I don't need shoes, either.

We rush out the door and root around in the van for snacks for the boys to take to school, while promising my kindergartener that I will check the lunch calendar when I get home and bring his lunch to school if they are having something he doesn't like.

Drop off the kindergartener. Drive to preschool, drop off the preschooler.

But, wait.

The assistant who gets my child out of the van asks me if he has his white t-shirt in his backpack.

What white t-shirt? I have no idea what on earth she's talking about.  Was there something about that on his calendar? Where did I put that calendar anyway?

But, I smile like I have a clue when she tells me that his class is painting their shirts that morning.  I tell her that I'll just run across the street to the store and pick one up for him and be right back.

Drive across the street, thankful that the parking lot of K-Mart is still empty.  Survey what is in the van: there's a light pink hoodie that I can toss over my tank to disguise the fact that I don't have on a bra. Even though my shorts are bright pink and I sort of look like a giant cotton candy in this outfit.

Then I start looking for shoes.  In the trunk, my options are a pair of black high heels with bright pink accents or a pair of black flats.  I put on the flats, grab my youngest, who is still in pajamas, and head into the store, praying not to see anyone I know. Or anyone at all.

The K-Mart gods are smiling on me so I am able to grab a white shirt and checkout without seeing anyone but the cashier.  We were in and out of there so fast that I got back to preschool before all the drop-offs were over: I was able to hand the white t-shirt to one of the assistants through my window.

Phew.

That morning? Pretty typical. Because I'm not one of those moms, I'm THAT mom.

I don't look put together while I do this mom thing, but I still get it done.

And my boys love me anyway.

Are you one of those moms or are you THAT mom?

When You Give a Preschooler Scissors...

Okay, "give" is not exactly the correct way to phrase it. More like: when you have a pair of scissors somewhere in your house and you have NO CLUE how your preschooler managed to find them....


Last Friday, Bear(4) and Cub(2) gave each other haircuts.  They were in their playroom and I mistakenly thought that they were playing with their TOYS.


Oh, no. They were giving each other haircuts. And I did not discover this until I told them it was time to go get Monkey(6) from kindergarten and Cub handed me a big chunk of hair. With an adorable grin on his face. He was oh-so-proud.


Because we're almost always running out the door at the last minute to go get Monkey, I did not have time to inspect the damage.  I sat in the pick-up line, trying NOT to look at them in the rearview mirror. Instead I tweeted about the disaster that just happened. What? That pick-up doesn't move!


Once home, I inspected the damage and tried not to cry. My boys were going to need serious haircuts.


Saturday rolls around and Hubs and I talk about getting the boys haircuts. In the afternoon, after I get to take a nap. Mama needed a nap.


We get to the kiddie haircut place and the boys are playing with the germ-infested train table when I notice that there are now chunks missing out of Monkey's hair.


"Um, sweetie, did you cut your hair, too?"


"We made 'Bear's' hair salon upstairs in our room and he cut my hair today."


So, that makes three little boys who need all their long, thick hair cut off.

Monkey: BEFORE

Monkey: AFTER

Bear, BEFORE:

Bear, AFTER:

Cub, BEFORE:

Cub, AFTER:

That's it! No more scissors in our house! Apparently, putting them up where my boys "can't" get them is not enough. If they cut any more hair at this point, they are going to be bald.


Guess it's just a parent's rite of passage. Have your children done this?

5 Minutes to Myself Can Be Dangerous

There are days when I wish for just five minutes by myself.

Maybe I could actually go to the bathroom without an audience. Or get dressed without a small boy asking me questions that I don't want to answer about my lady parts.

Or just be able to drink a cup of tea peacefully.

But, when you have small children, it's not really possible.

And can sometimes end in disaster.

On Thursday morning, I was feeling optimistic about a great day with Bear and Cub(Monkey was in school, of course). We were going to go to storytime at the library, and then go to the park to play and eat the lunches I was going to pack.

I didn't even blog because I really wanted to focus on my boys, particuarly Bear since he was on his new preschool schedule of being home two days a week.

But, before I started getting them ready to head out the door, I went into my room to go to the bathroom and get dressed. I wanted to finish blowdrying my hair, too.

I was gone for LESS than five minutes.

Then I hear, "Mommy, my hands are stuck to my belly."

Annoyed, I pull Bear's hands off his belly, thinking he's being a goofball.

But, it was really sticky. And I asked what he had used....

We walk around the corner to see Cub, in just a diaper, COVERED in something.

What does he have in his hands? GORILLA GLUE.

I managed to calmly ask Bear if he ate any and he told me no. I believed him.

I whisked both boys to my bathroom and immediately into the tub to try to get this off. As the water is running and they are soaking in the warm water, I dash back to the living room, grab my laptop and run back to the bathroom.

To live blog this. Just kidding.  So that I can google how the heck I can get this off of them.

There wasn't a ton on Bear's skin, but there were big chunks of it in his long, thick hair. Of course, close to the root. I'm thinking that he's going to end up with a buzz cut because there is no other way to get this out of his hair.

Cub has so much on him that I really don't even know how to begin to describe it, other than it was like a second skin, a shell. And a thick one. .

Google tells me to try vegetable oil. So, I run to go get some...and I mean literally, I was running like a crazy person.

But, I have to pass through the living room to get to the kitchen. And that's when I see it: there is Gorilla Glue aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllll over our couch.

Our couch that we got new in June. That we love because it's so big and comfy. Hubs and I can both stretch out on it together.

But, kids are in the tub, so I grab the vegetable oil and rush back to the bathroom.

Google again to see how to remove it from fabrics.

Google informs me: BWAHAHAHAHA! Not going to happen.

I call my MIL to see if she is in town and tell her what happened. She says she will pick up some cleaning supplies and come over.

I'm scrubbing my kids with vegetable oil. It works to get the glue out of Bear's hair. It's starting to come off Cub's skin.

By the time they have been in the tub for about an hour, they have both had enough, so I let them out, even though there is still a lot to remove from Cub's skin.

MIL gets to my house and we start trying to work on the couch. We both think it's pretty hopeless.

I start tearing up and getting hysterical. I even tweeted "Goodbye twitter. In case you never hear from me again: my boys got into Gorilla glue while I was blowdrying my hair-" and then tweet 2- I'll break it up for those of you wondering how I could fit all this into one tweet- I didn't- "and got it all over our new couch. Dh may kill me. It's been nice knowing you."

But then MIL tells me that Hubs got a warranty on the couch. I ask her if she's sure and then start to wail that it probably only covers normal stuff like if it breaks. Not if you leave your kids unsupervised and they GLUE the freaking thing.

So, she calls him and talks to him. Because I'm like a crazy person and there is no way he would have understood what I was saying.

But, it's true. He got the crazy kids warranty. Which covers EVERYTHING you can possibly do to the couch.

So then I burst into tears of relief. As he laughs at me for being so upset about it.

It took two days and three long baths to remove all the glue from Cub. Our couch- is a lost cause.

And those five minutes that I had to myself: SO NOT WORTH IT.

I received information about Clorox’s Bleach It Away campaign and am sharing my messy moment for the chance to win prizes from The SITS Girls. To learn more about the messy moment program, check out www.BleachItAway.com.  Sharing your story on the Clorox fan page gets you entered for the chance to win $25,000 and daily prizes, and you can grab a coupon for Clorox® Regular Bleach.


I'm also linking this to MamaKat's Writer's Workshop. 

Milestones: I'm Not Mushy....

I never really cried at milestones in my life.


High school graduation? Please, get me out of there.


College graduation? I was more interested in getting one last glimpse at the boy I had a huge crush on.


My wedding? Nope, that was Hubs. Really hard, too. If you haven't read that story and want a laugh, you can find it HERE.


I've always thought of these events as more of a beginning than an end. The mark that means that something new and exciting is about to begin: I looked forward and not back.


I laugh and smile during these times, not cry.


Monkey, my oldest, had his preschool graduation last Friday.


A lot of his buddies had their preschool graduations last year or even the year before. He's been the baby of his group of friends, not that you can tell it otherwise, except for what grade the kids are in.


And the moms talked about how they cried. And, being the extra-supportive friend I am, I rolled my eyes. But, not to their faces at least.


Preschool graduation means my oldest is moving on into the world of kindergarten. Full-day kindergarten. New friends and new challenges. It's exciting.


But, then, his preschool teacher had to go and set the slide show at graduation to the song "Let Them Be Little."


Please, let them be little,

'Cause they're only that way for a while.
Give them hope, give them praise,
Give them love every day.
Let 'em cry, let 'em giggle,
Let 'em sleep in the middle,
Oh, but let them be little.


I couldn't help it. I turned into a big pile of mushy mom and cried. Because, you see, I didn't let him be little....but that's a story for Pour Your Heart Out this week.

They Sleep WHERE?

The boys are in their new bedrooms. Baby Cub(which you all know as Mason now) is in his own room with a toddler bed.


The big boys are sharing a room and they are currently sleeping on these Cars inflatable mattresses that the have for camping. They'll have their bunk bed soon.


What's your point, Shell?


I have two total Mommy Moments for you about where my boys sleep.





The first happened back in PA, with Monkey, when he was about 3.5. He had two toddler beds in his room, since the little boys were both in cribs in the next room.


He decided that he was too big for a toddler bed and informed us, "You have to get me a bunk bed because I'm too big for these baby beds."


Well, we told him that we would get one for him, but not right then. That bunk beds cost money and we would save for one. Even told him that he could help by saving money in his bank. Total stall tactic. We just weren't ready for him to have a bunk bed.


Very seriously, he told us, "Well, I'm going to sleep on the floor until you get me a bunk bed."


And so he did. Right in the middle of the two beds. He actually slept like that for months in protest. Side note: he really wasn't too big for the beds.  He's just that stubborn. He gets that from his dad. Ahem. 


Not a problem, it's not hurting anything for him to sleep there.


Until, one day, he walks into his preschool class and announces to his teachers, "I sleep on the floor because my mommy is saving money for my bed."


OMG. I wanted to die.


Time for child #2 to embarass me. Bear, who decided for whatever reason in our beach house that he liked to pile pillows in his closet and sleep on top of them with his blankets.  Again,whatever. As long as he's sleeping and not hurting anything, I let it go.


He's at his pre-k assessment and they show him a picture of a bed. He correctly identifies it.


But, then, later they are asking him, "Where do you go when it's time to go to sleep?"


My eyes open wide in horror. They want to know if he knows what a bed is for.


He responds, "My bedroom."


They keep prodding, "What do you need to go to sleep?"


He tells them, "Mickey Mouse blanket."


I start to think that just maybe he's not going to tell the assessment team that he sleeps in a closet.  And start to get some of the color back in my face.


They keep prodding, but thankfully, he moves on to tell them "This dinosaur roars!" and they decide to move to the next question. Whew.









Just found out the Mason made the final round for Bob 93.3's Baby Idol contest- thanks to all of you! Please vote for him this week 1x per day per computer. Contest ends 5pm EST Friday afternoon. Thanks so much!

Vote HERE 

MY Word and A Mommy Moment

 <a href="http://thingsicantsay-shell.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://i904.photobucket.com/albums/ac246/shellthings/motherbitchesbutton.jpg" /></a> I couldn't not play along with Supahmommy and Mommybrain's All About MEme Monday because they are asking about your word/phrase.  If you've been around here at all, you already know this, but I thought I'd point it out in case you didn't know.  Motherbitches: what the mean girls of junior high turn into when they age and procreate.  Have a run in with some motherbitches? Grab my button and write about it!   Want to see other people's words?
 *****






 

This is a Mommy Moment blast from the past.

When Bear(who is almost 4) was about 1.5, I took him and Monkey to go meet my friend Loralou not really her name but it's what I call her in my head.

I had never actually met her. We had "known" each other online for a year and a half, though.

I walked into her kitchen, with Bear perched on my pregnant belly. Introductions to our children have barely been made.

When.........brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrruuuuuuuuppppppppppppppppp

Comes the noise from Bear's diaper.

EXPLOSIVE POOP.

Shot right up his diaper, all over his clothes and mine and all over her kitchen floor.

Nice to meet you, now I must go bathe my child and change our clothes.

 *****

Hosted by Krystyn It pretty much takes a holiday and me forcing the camera into someone else's hand to get a pic of ME with the kids, but every so often, I do it. I need to do it more often. That's the idea behind this last meme.  It would help if my boys were a little more cooperative about it, too....

  

Mommy Moments: Boys, Bras, and Boobs

Do you have those moments where you think OMG, I never thought I/my kids would say/do that.


 No, not me....and not my kids.....

And then, motherhood proves you wrong!

Mommy Moments Monday is our chance to share those.

I should probably go ahead and admit that I laugh inappropriately when this stuff happens.

Sometimes, it's either laugh or cry.

I much prefer laughing.

As you probably know, I have three little boys. In case you didn't know that and want to ask me if I'm going to try for a little girl, let me state for the record that I had three kids, none of them twins, within the span of less than 3.5 years. We're done. I can see the light at the end of the diaper tunnel.

Moving on.

Yesterday morning, my almost-4 year-old came into my room when he woke up in the morning. He found one of my bras on the floor beside the bed where I'd tossed it before getting into bed.

He picked it up and said, "It's your zebra, Mom."

Zebra?

Zebra?

Oh....

Ze......bra!

"Where's the white stripes, Mom?"

Side note: I want to cry that he no longer calls me "Mommy."

"I look on the directions."

Then, he tries to put my bra on.

Looks down at himself and asks.....

"Where are my horns?"

Don't worry.


Hubs told him that they aren't called "horns."


Instead, they are

There's my Mommy Moment for this week. Be sure to click the Mommy Moments button and check out others and to share your own!