It's Not Really That Cold Out But I'm Still Leaving

Apparently the "people" who seriously need to get a hobby aren't happy until they spoil everything we love. This time they've set their sights on a beloved tradition: Christmas carols. Because we can't have nice things anymore, now old holiday songs are being scrutinized for appropriateness. If you haven't been living under a rock, you know I am referring to the "Baby It's Cold Outside Scandal of 2018".

First let me take a brief detour before I get to my point. Why is it that Bruno Mars can ply a women with diamonds and champagne just to have sex by the fire, literally his intentions are spelled out in the song, but God Forbid Dean Martin wants to cuddle during a snowstorm and tries to convince his lady to stay inside with another glass of wine! Why is that one date rape but the other is A-OK? Not to mention the number of songs on the radio nowadays that explicitly talk about performing oral sex, call women derogatory names or talk about killing people. Those songs are perfectly fine but we need to pull apart our traditional classic carols?

So back to my point. Since everyone and everything is suddenly offensive, it's only a matter of time before the rest of our revered traditional Christmas music is picked apart by the grumpy forty year old trolls that still live in their parent's basement. It's probably a good idea to get ahead of this now. So let's be proactive, shall we?

Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Apparently there have already been mutterings that this song encourages bullying so I'm pretty sure this one's days are numbered. But before this song makes the ban list, has no one considered that it celebrates the uniqueness that is a reindeer vastly different than his peers? With all the "inclusivity" being touted, how is this not worth a second chance? Yeah, people, uh, reindeer, are cruel and don't understand Rudolph's big ol' red honker, but Santa sees the beauty in him and that's the take home at the end of the day, right?

We Wish You a Merry Christmas. Well this one is obvious: It excludes all of those people who do not celebrate this specific holiday. We can't have a song that is this dismissive of other faiths and cultures. Heathens! Immediately we should change it to "We Wish You a Merry Christkwanzakkah".

I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas. How racist can we get people? I mean a white Christmas? Was this written by the Ku Klux Klan themselves? (Quick side note, who the hell came up with the KKK? Clearly hooked on phonics did not work for them.) Not to mention that we are back to the exclusion  thing with Christmas. Henceforth we shall re-title this song to "I'm Dreaming of a Racially Diverse Holiday".

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus. If Baby It's Cold Outside stirred up controversy I can only imagine how well this one would go over. First, both mommy AND Santa are clearly cheating on their spouses. Beyond that, it could cause childhood trauma for that kid to witness said adultry. By the way, was this agreed upon by both parties? How do we know that Mommy didn't roofie Santa's milk, hmm? This one will now have to go by "I Saw Mommy and Santa Claus Engaging in a Mutual Reciprocated Act of Affectionate Behavior Not Condoned by Anyone Who Believes in the Sanctity of the Marriage Bond". Also accepted: "Hey, Who Knew Mommy and Santa Clause Were Both Swingers?"

Holly Jolly Christmas. With the influx of awareness on depression and the increased rate of depression during the holidays, this just seems like a mockery of those who may suffer from mental illnesses. Plus, who are you to tell me how to enjoy (or not enjoy) my holidays? We are going to have to change this one to: A Seasonal Appropriate Holiday Celebration Where You Are Not Entitled to be Jolly, Unless You Want to Be".

Walking in a Winter Wonderland. This is extremely offensive to people who suffer from disabilities and are unable to walk. How insensitive can you be? My God. Not to mention that it's clearly only intended for people who live in climates conducive to snow. Now it's exclusive AND offensive. This song clearly won't make the cut the way that it is. From this point on we will now all refer to this song as "Transporting Yourself in a Winter Landscape Suitable For Your Geographic Location".

Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer. This promotes senicide, alcoholism, and mixing medication with alcholic beverages. (A big no-no!) Sure, Grandma may be entitled to a cocktail or twelve after living through the great depression and two world wars, but like every other family in America we hide it with vague stores of possible dementia and put it down to her advanced age. We don't flaunt the fact that Grandma is a floozy who can't hold her liquor. And what kind of family is okay with letting grandma go out into that good night, snockered and imbalanced? Was there no one sober to drive grammy home? Couldn't she call an Uber? (Well, back then, a taxi.) Also, this is libel against Santa's good name. What kind of Fictional Fat Man isn't responsible enough to fly a heavy sleigh pulled by flying magic reindeer? I'm sorry, this one will just have to go. Immediately. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.

And last but not least, the one that started it all: Baby, It's Cold Outside". Ok,we all know they are saying that this promotes date rape culture. I disagree, not just because I don't think it's okay to look for sinister intentions in cherished Christmas carols, but because it's just not realistic. If it were, it'd be called, "It's Not That Cold Outside But I Haven't Shaved my Legs in a Week, I'm Bloated, and I Just Want to Binge Watch Netflix and Eat Ice Cream Tonight So Adios Amigo".

Listen people, the moral of the story is this: You can find a reason to make something out of nothing for everything if you try hard enough. My question is: Why do we have to try hard enough? Why do we have to crap over everything good and wholesome just because we can? Shouldn't some things be sacred? Here, let's just have some of this very spiked eggnog (I think Grandma made it) and sit here by this cozy fire where the stocking are hung with such precision and care. Would you like a cookie? They are NOT upside down J's, just stockings, so no worries that I'm secretly converting you to Judaism.




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People Innards Ain't For Wearin'

I tend to come across odd articles sometimes. Often it's a quirky tidbit that would be great in a trivia contest but in reality will sit and take up storage space in my cranium while I'm trying to remember three items on a to do list (and getting a mental "storage full" error).

Sometimes, however, I come across something gross.

Yesterday was one of those days.

Did you know that you could make your child's umbilical cord into jewelry? That's right, you can now wear a shriveled up collection of human cells right on your person! Make it into a ring and flash that 'bilical bling to all your friends! Or make it into a necklace and keep those decaying particles near and dear to your heart!

Um, no.

Seriously? How did I not know this was a thing now? I feel like any second someone is going to jump out from behind a bush and tell me I'm being pranked or something. Do they still do Candid Camera? There's a hidden camera recording my crinkle nose of disgust reaction over this, right? Is this like one of those gag gift boxes where you think it's toddler ankle weights and then someone says they're just kidding and your real gift is inside? No? You mean this stuff is for real?

What fresh hell is this?

Listen, I love my kids. Truly. But never have I finished giving birth to one of my precious progeny and called out to the nurse, "Hey, don't throw that umbilical cord away, it'll make me a fine accessory when my pearls are too dressy!" Not only was I a little busy basking in the after glow of childbirth (translation: stitches, many stitches), but I guess I am just not avant garde enough to see the art in wearing something that was once contained on my insides. On. My. Insides. Y'all.

What's next? Kidney stone earrings? Tonsil toe ring? Appendix necklace?

How the hell did this even start? Is this like Hoarders: Extreme Motherhood Edition? Is someone trying to see how may different pieces of memorabilia you can have from your child's life and this one was the one that took the cake?

"I'll see you your first haircut hair samples and raise you baby's first nail clippings."

"Oh yeah, we'll Ill see those nail clippings and raise you this ring....made out of my kid's umbilical cord."

"Yeah, okay, you win. That's cray."

Do these people realize that they are wearing a vein? And something called Wharton's Jelly. (I looked this up on the internet out of curiosity. I'm not sure which is more frightening: That I had no idea what Wharton's Jelly was after having 4 kids, or that someone felt the need to name the stuff Wharton's Jelly. Who is Wharton and why is his jelly inside me?) It's basically wearing dried gelatinous vein material.

(But it really makes this blouse POP!)

I guess the moral of the story is this: If it was in/on/of any part of my body and it proceeded to come out/off, it was probably not meant to find a new home inside my jewelry box. And by probably, I mean "No freaking way, man!"




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Hide Thine Pumpkins It's All Hallow's Eve

It's hard to believe, but tomorrow is Halloween. I think, of all the kid oriented holidays (and boy, those twerps got all the good ones!), this one has to be the kid-est oriented-est.

If you doubt this, consider the mass pumpkin hiding that is occurring in towns big and small, all across the country. That's right, because only kids would be dumb enough to piss off their potential free source of candy before they get it.What kind of idiots do that? Uh, kids that's who. They'll TP your trees, shaving cream your car, egg your house, and smash the jack o'lanterns.

Now that I think about it, that's probably why the fun size candy bars were invented. A bunch of pissed off adults who were tired of the Halloween shenanigans and refused to give those kids full sized candy bars. Before the miniature versions were invented they probably just threw hunks of milky way and snickers at kids. "Take THAT you little ba*tards!"

Because only kids would think that it's acceptable to smash pumpkins that their peers, other kids just like them, spent time creating. Only heathens would take a crap on the family tradition of carving vegetables with spooky faces that we can put on the porch and light, like creepy beacons of paganism. Only heinous (probably teenage) monsters would think it's ok to  ruin the equivalent of a week's worth of parental patience by smashing it all over the driveway. I'm not kidding. Have you ever tried to carve pumpkins with a 4 year old? A feral, wild child who could be a poster child for Ritalin? It pretty much goes like this:

Okay, now we're going to cut out the eye...stop touching that. I just need to get the little pumpkin carving tool. Put that down, it's sharp! Okay, do you want circle eyes or triangle....please leave that alone. Because it's pumpkin guts, not a toy. No, leave it in the bowl. So circle eyes. Ok, now you push the eye out. No, not with the poker tool, just use your finger. Great! Now we can do the next eye, don't put that in your eye! Because it's not your eye.Yes I know its the pumpkin eye. Okay, I already told you to put the cutting tool down. Because it's sharp and you can hurt yourself. Stop stabbing the table with the poker tool!

And soon and so forth.

After spending all of that quality family time (without crying, liquor, Xanax, OR copious amounts of cookies), just to have it heaved all over the road? Yeah, that's pretty much some moronic kid move.

Another big hint that this is a HUGE kid holiday is the candy. I mean, what kid doesn't want candy? (Yes, Linda, even your kid who has only ever eaten vegetarian tofu wants candy, stop kidding yourself.) How is that not literally their dream? To walk up to stranger's houses, knock on the door, say a few words, and come away with the sweet nectar of the gods? And to have this done all over the entire city? Uh, yes please! (Actually, I'm NOT a kid and this idea is pleasing to me. Especially if you throw in some orthopedic insoles after walking around all night.)

Not to mention that they score this candy by wearing costumes. So let's review: Mass destruction and pranking, followed by playing dress up (Sorry...for the boys, I mean "role playing".) and topped off with scads of deliciously free candy.  I'm going to go with The Most Child Oriented Holiday for 200 Alex.

On the upside, if you take your kid out trick-or-treating long enough, you can get a decently sized stash that you can both share. Just make sure they know about the two most important rules of Halloween: Full size candy bars are meant for full size people and Momma is the candy checker-outer for your own safety.

Happy Halloween from my ghouls and goblins to yours! Stay safe and take lots of pictures that you'll feel guilty about forgetting to print out for another 3 years!



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It's Fall Y'all (Now Chill the Hell Out)

It’s officially fall in my house. Some people use Labor Day or the Autumnal Equinox as their guide to when it’s truly fall. In my house it’s the day that we finally take the air conditioners out of the widows. That day was today, so mark September 29^th as the first day of Autumn 2018. (This will be on the quiz later.)

I’m always torn about how I should feel on the first day of fall. On one hand, it’s great that I can open the windows and get some fresh air in the house without the AC Nazi, I mean the love of my freaking life, asking me why I don’t just turn the air on instead. There’s something about a crisp fall day when the sun is out and the windows are open…..it’s lovely. On the other hand though, this means that summer is most definitely over and it’s only going to get colder from here on out. I spent much of the day (or like the last 15 minutes before I started blogging) weighing the pros and cons on fall and since I know you are dying for me to share my thoughts with you, here it is:

My Pros and Cons about Autumn List That I Put Together Just to Amuse Myself (And others apparently since I’m sharing it with all of youse.)

PRO: Soups, stews, comforting and delicious foods that we pull out in colder months and wrap around us like a comfortable blanket. Bring on the carbs baby!

CON: None of my favorite comfort foods are what you’d call healthy. Soul food? Yes. Delicious? Yes. Going to make me have to double time my daily workouts? DEFINITELY YES.

PRO: Sweaters are WAY more forgiving than bathing suits. Layering up to stay warm in the colder months means that no one notices I’m about to put the local bakery out of business with all the rolls I’m carrying around.

CON: Covering up and hibernating in the winter months makes my already pale skin start to become fluorescent. Come spring I’m going to have to buy my closest friends and family sunglasses just to get through until the farmer’s tan comes in.

PRO: Did I shave my legs? Or not? You’ll never know because I’m wearing pants all day, every day. That’s right, it’s time to live it up like a hippie in a protest over razors.

CON: If you think fluorescent legs are bad, try fluorescent legs with carpet. Yeah, ‘nuff said. (Shudder.)

PRO: Halloween is right around the corner…and so is the day after Halloween’s half off candy sale.

CON: Buying new clothes is expensive so I can’t have both candy AND comfort food and continue to fit into my clothing. (I’ll have to alternate days! How’s that for plan B?)

PRO: Now when I wrap myself in a blanket (or 5), I don’t look at crazy as when I do it on 85 degree days. (The AC cools me off quick, I’m telling ya!)

CON: Unfortunately, I’m starting to look more and more like a bear: hairy legs, round body, and hibernating in my house til the daffodils peek back out.

PRO: Not only does fall have apple picking, pumpkin picking and a dozen scrumptious other flavors, but it comes with new scented candles, soaps, and lotions to keep us (and our surroundings) smelling like fall, which is apparently a mixture of apple, cinnamon, pumpkin, and leaves.

CON: Mmumph unumph mununumph. (Translation: I can’t talk about this right now because my mouth is stuffed full with these damn seasonal maple cookies that are only like a hundred thousand calories a piece.)

PRO: Fall leads into one of the best holidays ever: THANKSGIVING! (Mmm, turkey.) And once we’ve stuffed ourselves like a turkey, we can start shopping for THE MOST WONDERUL TIIIIIIMMMMMMEEEE OF THE YEEEEEEAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRR!

(Quick side note: If you’re seeing a trend about my love of fall and food, well, you’re darn tootin’ right! It’s all about that bass, bout that bass, bout that bass. Cuz I can’t  stop shoving food into my face, in my face, in my face.)

So now that it’s fall, or autumn, or the season that falls between spring and the season that shall not be named, let’s enjoy it. Grab something pumpkin spice (Because that shit is EVERYWHERE) and settle down for some leave crunching, pumpkin carving, apple cidering fun.

What is on your pros and cons list? Let me know! You can follow me on the Instagram (modernmommayhem) and like me on the Facebook (Modern Mom Mayhem) Of course, feel free to read old rants, I mean posts, about other things that have set me off right here on the blog.

I'm Not Dead Yet (But Apparently I'm Close)

I've never been one of those people who obsess about their age. Well, not since I've hit the "big three" at least. (16, 18, 21) After you're legal to drink, the next exciting age is retirement and considering they keep moving that age farther and farther out of sight like a carrot dangling in front of a jackass...best not get me started on that topic right now. That's a blog for a different day.

So anyway, yeah, birthdays are a big freaking deal in my house. Even the dog gets a "cake" (A.K.A. a wet dog food instead of the usual boring pellets). So with the big 4-0 looming on the horizon for my husband and I, we know we are both going to be hitting an important milestone soon. (The one where we are apparently over that hill we've been sitting on for 39 years. Talk about indecisive!) With this in mind, when I came across an article titled "40 Things No One Tells You About Turning 40", I thought it was a perfect time to study up on what's in store for me.

It starts off benign enough: Your circle of friends get smaller. You'll get gray hair. (Which I technically don't think qualifies for this list because people gray at different rates. It's not like you turn 40 and poof! Magically your gray hair appears.) But as the article goes on, it gets a little more depressing.

• Your back will hurt. 
• You won't budge on core beliefs. 
• You don't get embarrassed anymore.
• "Wrinkles blindside you." 
• "Junk food hits you like a ton of bricks."
• Sleep is your biggest priority.
• You don't care about being alone.
• You have less inhibitions.
• You get hangovers easier.
• There are vitamins and supplements for everything.
• Your joints make noise, you can't lose weight easily, you have multiple creams for your body.
• People you know begin to grapple with serious health issues. 
• People think you're incompetent, glasses become necessary, forgetfulness is a new worry.

I'm only 2/3 of the way through this article and I feel like 40 is the new 70. I was feeling pretty good about my age but now I realized that this year is my last golden year before I completely start falling apart. I'll have no friends and no inhibitions. I'll be popping supplements to stave off old age's forgetfulness. I'll have to start buying hair dye in bulk because now I have to worry about gray hairs. I'll be a wrinkled mess (probably what some of those body creams are for I'm guessing) and I can't enjoy junk food and alcohol now because of how easily I get a hangover and how hard it is to lose weight.

At this point, I'm wondering if I even want to know that last few things I was never told about turning 40. Maybe I don't really need to know. I mean, I've gone 39 years without knowing and it doesn't seem to be hurting me thus far. (Although, maybe this is because I'm not 40 yet??)

Bravely I continue on and now see that I will also fear going to the doctor's office and I'll have a barrage of new tests that will come with these appointments. (Because I'm older than dirt at 40 remember.)

But wait! There's more! If you order now, you can also get this:

• You might not be able to get back up once you bend over!
• Your sex life will "slow down" but what you lack in quantity will be made up by the quality. (Maybe because of the long dry spells?!?!?)
• You won't recognize those famous faces on the supermarket tabloids (possibly from the memory loss) and people will now start to sir and ma'am you. (HA! This happened 15 years ago so shove that in your pipe and smoke it article!)
• You start thinking seriously about retirement. (Oh come on, who doesn't think about it?)
• Your priorities shift and you don't worry about small stuff.

Okay, so let me summarize. I'm gray, everything hurts, I speak my mind, and I take more pills than a hypochondriac with access to a medical dictionary. I'm wrinkled and fat and I can't enjoy alcohol or junk food because I'm old and fat. But that's okay because I won't remember that I'm old and fat due to the memory problems, of which will also come in handy on helping me forget my lame sex life and the fact that I don't know any current celebrities in my ancient age.

After reading this article, I derided it so hard that I'm pretty sure I broke my scoffing bone. (Or at the very least sprained it.) It was all yuks and chuckles until, wait, is that a gray hair on my head? Let me get up and go see in the mirror. (cue cracking knee sounds and aching back) Gasp! OMG, it's coming true before my very eyes! But I'm not ready to be an old lady yet! There's so much I still wanted to accomplish!

Le sob, le sob!

So now that I have one foot in the grave, I realize that I was very unprepared to turn 40! I need to find an article on 'How to Cope with Reading Disturbing Articles About Turning 40 That Will Simultaneously Scar You and Make You Feel Inadequate". Is that article out there? Because I feel like that one might be a little more appropriate at this point.

(To read the article for yourself, here is the link: https://www.msn.com/en-us/lifestyle/smart-living/40-things-no-one-tells-you-about-turning-40/ss-BBLlEbL?ocid=se)



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Pumpkin Spice Better Chillax

Why is it that everybody is always in such a hurry to get to the next thing? It doesn't matter if it's an age (I can't wait until I'm old enough to drive!), a phase in our lives (I can't wait until he starts school), or, my current peeve, a season. Most specifically autumn.

It seems like as soon as mid-freaking-July hits, that's the secret signal for all of these stores to start rolling out the fall promotions. Soon everywhere you turn it's pumpkin spice this and apple cinnamon that. Swimsuits go on clearance (Because who would want to buy a bathing suit in the summer?!?!) and sweaters to start to roll out. Forty five people in your social  media news feeds will roll out that annoying "Who's ready for bonfires and crunchy leaves?" post.

Yeah, that's the one.

And why is it necessary to push all this autumn crap on us in July anyway? Can't you see that I'm trying to SUMMER over here? There's like 2 and a half months max that I get to enjoy the heat, the pool, cookouts and family lawn games, and growing my own vegetables and flowers. You know what's NOT good for growing flowers and vegetables? Fall. You know what's NOT good for pool parties? Autumn. You know who could give two craps about pumpkin spice ANYTHING? This girl.

Stores be rolling out emails in July like:

 

Come in NOW and stock up on your favorite fall scented candles and lotions!

FALL into a new wardrobe for autumn!

Save 15% on your favorite cardigans and hoodies!

Meanwhile, it's 85 degrees and I have sweat in places I didn't know I could sweat in just by walking to the car. I'm really not thinking, "Boy, I could use a sweater right now!" (Well, at least not until I go to work and sit my office with the AC that is set on the Popsicle setting.) And don't think that's a complaint about the heat, because it's not! I'm one of those weirdos who loves heat and humidity. (Plus humidity grows the best tomatoes!) 

Summer is short enough that if you blink even once after Memorial Day it's already Labor Day. And yes, while I do agree that fall brings some pretty kick ass things like apple picking, pumpkins, football, and gorgeous leaves, it's also a gateway season. That's right, first it's the light stuff like autumn and then before you know it, you're into the hard stuff like WINTER with it's icy nastiness and white shit everywhere. Do you know why winter has so many holidays? To keep people from realizing it's winter! Let's have a Christmas party! Ooh, now let's have a New Year's party! Hey, let's have a Valentine's Day party! Quick! Break out the corned beef and green beer, it's a St. Patrick's Day party! And then before we all catch on that we're stuck in this perpetual hell of slushy, frozen tundra, BAM! Spring is here.

I guess I just don't think it's a lot to ask for to let me live in the damn moment and enjoy my summer. There's something special about your kids being able to have spontaneous s'mores nights and swimming all day like they've suddenly grown gills. There's freedom in not having to worry about packing lunches and having to always have cash on hand for field trips and book orders. (Plus there's an added benefit of being able to tell the kids to go outside and play which may earn you 3.5 minutes of quiet time. You might even be able to pee with the door shut!)

So yeah, I know fall's on the way. The temperatures are starting to change ever so slightly and the stores are amping up their back to school ads like we might miss it if they don't tell us every week. (Like any parent doesn't have THAT day circled in red on their calendar complete with an internal countdown clock? Yeah, I know, we're contrary creatures. We may enjoy summer but we enjoy sanity too. What's left.) I know it's coming, but I don't have to like it. And I don't have to acknowledge it. At least not until:

Autumn Equinox 2018 in Northern Hemisphere will be at 9:54 PM on
Saturday, September 22

Until then though, it's still summer baby. You'll find me by the pool. 

Dear Daughter: An Open Letter to my Daughter on Her Graduation

Just three short years ago I penned an open letter to my son upon his graduation. Once again I find myself in a similar situation, only this time it’s my daughter that has graduated. Since sons and daughters are very different, I felt like she needed to have her own letter. So here it is:

Dear Daughter: Advice for Leaving the Nest

Dear Daughter,

Yee haw! Sweet, sweet freedom! I know that you, and many other college kids, will have adventures and try new things that your parents won’t hear about for many, many, many, many, MANY years. (And even then it will probably only be because it was accidentally spilled by a co-conspiring sibling/cousin/friend.) While I want you to enjoy college, I do have some advice for you while you find your footing in this big, new world.

Remember that you’re not always going to like everybody. Everybody isn’t always going to like you. This is fine. You don’t have to like someone to be nice. Be the bigger person. Being kind to someone who is trying to be cruel to you will confuse them even more. You don’t want to be the mean girl who inspires an epic Carrie like revenge scene where you end up covered in pig’s blood. (Do you even know how hard it is to get blood out of clothes?) Besides, being nice burns more calories than being mean. Did you believe me when I said that? Because that leads me to this next one…

Don’t be so gullible. Yeah, it’s cute at home when we tease you and you believe us, but other people will take advantage of it. So no matter what that person says, they probably don’t have puppies and candy in that 1980’s panel van. DO NOT go with them. And that guy who says that he’s a talent scout for a modeling agency and can assess your skills, you just have to get naked first…yeah, that’s probably a skeezy perv that you should just stay away from. (No matter what spell check says, skeezy perv is a thing. You don’t want to be one and you don’t want to know one.) This is how probably 50% of CSI/Law and Order/Forensic Files episodes start. The other half involve late night walks down dark alleys and early morning jogging in the most isolated areas that you can find. Please also avoid these scenarios at all costs.

NEVER leave your drink unattended. If you forget this cardinal rule and for some reason do not have eyes on your glass at all times, get a new drink. Yeah, I might sound like a paranoid mom, but you’ve never seen me played by Meredith Baxter in a Hallmark movie about a date rape fraternity house of horrors, now have you? (Because Hallmark will get the rights to any and all movies about women who have terrible things happen to them. I think it’s in their contract somewhere.)

Study. Take a snack break. Study some more. Do your best at all times. Even if you do your best and it’s only a B, you will have the satisfaction of knowing that you worked hard for the grade. You don’t want to get a B and wonder if you could have done better if you’d only worked harder. And it WILL be harder. High school leaves you ill prepared for college because they still hold your hand quite a bit. Then you go to college and get a hard shove into the real world with a short, “Good Luck, kid” and a bunch of well wishes. College should be harder than high school though. It’s preparing you for your profession, for your future, for dealing with all sorts of people.

Speaking of people…college is like a candy store. You’ll have a variety to choose from. There will be rich ones and poor ones. Nice ones and mean ones. Gay ones and straight ones. White ones and brown ones. Funny ones and serious ones. Sunny ones and cloudy ones. Weird ones and normal ones. Surround yourself with people who get you. People who lift you up, not bring you down. People who are nice and also like eating ice cream while binge watching Warehouse 13 for the 9^th time. (Okay, if you find that specific of a person, you might want to make them your instant BFF because honestly, what are the odds that there are two of you in this world and you found yourself in the same college?)

Which reminds me.

Binge watch quality shows on Netflix. None of this Real Housewives of Some Town I Don’t Care About or Dancing With Mediocre D List Stars Because All the Real Celebrities Have Real Jobs And Don’t Want to Do This Show. Occasionally you can watch Cooking with Celebrities Making an Ass Out of Themselves on National TV Makes Me Feel Better About Myself Because Even I Can Make Scrambled Eggs Without Screwing It Up, but that’s about it.

Don’t forget to call your mother. Pretend you need advice so that I can pretend that you didn’t grow up the second I blinked. Send letters to your family, text siblings, facetime with us when you feel homesick. We will always be your people. We will always love you. We will always have your back.

(But seriously on the dark alleys and 5 AM jogging thing.)

Love,

Mom

I’m Living in the Moment (I Can’t Find Today’s so I’m Borrowing Last Week’s)

It seems like everywhere I turn around lately there’s some sappy reminder that you need to spend time with your kids (NOW!!!) because before you know it, they’ll be gone and you’ll be a decrepit old lady who misses the smell of gym socks and the sounds of children screaming at each other. Okay, so it’s worded a little differently than that, but I’m not kidding about being inundated with the message.

It’s on commercials.

It’s in poems.

It’s on my FaceBook wall when I finally catch a minute to stalk, I mean, catch up with my family and friends.

What these well-meaning people fail to realize though, is that this just kicks my mom guilt into high gear. Suddenly I’m worried that all my kids are going to remember of their childhood is that I nagged them to pick up their dirty clothes instead of remembering the field trips that I chaperoned or the impromptu park trips or themed birthday parties that I killed myself over. (More on THAT later.)

And I know that I’m not alone either. There’s a gaggle of moms, wide awake in bed at night, second guessing everything they said and did with their precious progeny. It’s classic nurture versus nature. We nurture so it’s in our nature to worry that we’re doing it right. (Or wrong. Or not as well as Kevin’s mom. But definitely better than that wacko on the news who duct taped her baby to the wall. Poor thing. I wonder if the baby's okay now. I wonder if I’m okay. I wonder if my kids are ok. I just know the youngest is coming down sick. I know his signs. <Nods to self> You just watch, he’s going to get sick. Then he’s going to share with his siblings. They’re going to fall like dominoes and then time it so that someone is sick for the daughter’s graduation. That’s it, I’m going to start giving them all Vitamin C tomorrow! That’ll nip it in the bud. Oh, that reminds me, I have to….) And down the rabbit hole we continue until we pass out from sheer exhaustion.

It’s not that we don’t want to spend time with our kids either. We all have that fantasy of a perfect outing with our family. Like going to the park and having a picnic with foods that they all like and eat, followed by a board game where we have some good clean family fun like a 1950’s "Leave It to Beaver" episode. (Google it Generation Z.) Everyone’s laughing and having a good time, the kids are happy, the parents are happy, and we will build memories that will have everyone sighing fondly over “that one time we went on that picnic”. We build it up in our head and convince ourselves that our family is actually normal enough to accomplish such a feat.

So we try it.

And then reality kicks in.

The picnic was sabotaged by nasty biting insects who made it impossible to sit down. That was fine though since the youngest kept trying to drown himself in the pond because he wanted to go swimming making you and your husband keep jumping up to chase him, the teenager decided that she’s only vegan this week and wouldn’t eat anything other than fruit, and the wind kept blowing the paper plates around, adding a nice garnish of dirt and grass to the food. You forgot to take your allergy pill and sneezed for 2 hours straight. By the time you made it back home, everyone needed a bath and you and your husband needed a bottle of wine or a couple Zoloft. (Or maybe wine with a Zoloft chaser.)

And a lot of the time, it doesn’t even have anything to do with our unrealistic expectations of family gatherings. Sometimes we go in with our eyes wide open, knowing that there’s a 78.9% chance it’s all going to turn into a shit show, but we just can’t seem to find enough time in our days. There’s work and after school activities and shopping and cooking and laundry and somewhere in there we even manage a few hours of sleep. (Occasionally.) It’s not that we don’t want to have meaningful moments, it’s that we are so freaking busy living our lives that there’s no time to live our damn lives! (Ironic, isn’t it?)

But this is why God gives us grandchildren. It's like our do-over. By that time, we've managed to successfully raise our own kids and have had the opportunity to remember what sanity is. Which is probably a good thing since our kids will be on that carousel and need us to lend them some of ours. (Usually in the form of babysitting.)

So I'll try to be living in the moment more. It might not necessarily be THIS moment, because I seem to have misplaced that one. But I think there's one from last week stuck between the couch cushions, so I can use that one. (I just might have to dust it off a little first.)

Looking for MORE mayhem? Come find me on Instagram (modernmommayhem) or find me on FaceBook (Also modernmommahyhem!)

I Insta-Regretted It

Social media offers us multiple platforms for us the stay connected with family, friends, and even complete strangers. (Celebri-stalking has never been easier!) You can like, follow, retweet and look at Instagram photos for every John, Jane, and Jack on the planet, celebrity or not. (It’s so easy a President can do it!)

But sometimes, that starry eyed wonder evaporates in the blink of an eye.

I admit that I don’t often use my social media to the capacity that I could. Most times I only use it by accident. If you’re proficient in the language of social media, I’m sure you’re wondering how I can accidentally use it. Generally, I see an article on some picture that some celebrity posted that caused some sort of (eyeroll) scandal, or better yet, brought out the trolls en masse. Normally I am seeing this headline briefly as I head online to one of the websites that I use for work, so I can’t really take the time to check things out. (Not to mention that everything fun is blocked at work. Or so I hear. I wouldn’t really know personally.)

Ironically, this is usually how I find funny Facebook pages and “tweeters” too. I don’t know if you have ever seen the imomsohard ladies, but their videos never fail to crack me up. (They might be my mom spirit animal.) And you have to live under a rock not to have heard of James Breakwell and his Xploding Unicorn Twitter account. Here he regals us with tales of his life with one wife, four daughters and a comedic timing that never disappoints. Both of these are so relatable and hilarious that I am thrilled to have stumbled upon their unique brand of entertainment.

But it’s not always that way.

Sometimes, I find something that I like or follow and start to regret it. Maybe it’s that they post too damn much. Maybe it’s that they were only funny that one time and don’t live up to my expectations anymore. Whatever it is that makes me disenchanted with them, I’m always super bummed to have to “unlike” or “unfollow” anyone. Plus, it’s like SO much work. I have to go find their page or their site and stuff and then figure out how to get out of it. They should totally make a universal process for this. THE BUTTON. Click once for “like”, twice for “love”, three times for “leave me the hell alone now”. (Which can double as the "I'm sorry I drunk liked you and now am rectifying that error in the sober light of day" button.)

Unfortunately, I feel guilty when I actually DO follow through with kicking their asses off my followed list. I feel like they’re keeping an eye on their numbers (well probably not them if they’re mega famous, but definitely an unpaid intern peon or something) and then I go and betray them by leaving. I always imagine them ending up with hurt feelings and taking it personal, wondering what they did to offend someone. I’m sure that I’m making too much out of it and that in reality, no one really gives a flying fudgecicle but WHAT IF THEY DO? It’s just too much. (FYI, when my document program doesn’t know that fudgcicle is a word and gives me zero spelling suggestions, it really starts to make me paranoid that it’s a nonexistent word that only I use. So if that’s the case, I truly apologize but you’ll have to add it to your own personal dictionary now. I don’t make the rules, just that one.)

The guilt isn’t usually enough to trump the feeling of “Wow, that’s really bleeping stupid.” Especially if it’s a sentiment I’m uttering multiple times over the course of a day due to the frequency of posts. I’ve come to the conclusion that there IS an amount of posts that is “just right”, or the Goldilocks Syndrome as I like to call it. (As of this moment.) If it’s too much, I’m annoyed. If it’s too little, I don’t remember who you are. But if it’s just right, plus it made me laugh, then there’s a good chance I won’t feel guilty for giving you the axe. There are only so many hours in my day and this small chunk of time that I have blocked off to waste on social media already has 5 minutes of cats falling off table videos.

And I would totally LOVE to go on a really big rant about how much time I actually DO waste on some sort of cat related videos (why are there so many out there?) but I actually am nearing that pre-determined period of above referenced social media time wasting, so you probably dodged a bullet there.

Psssstt…….

If you enjoy wasting time on social media, and you’re just looking for someone new to follow (and then unfollow next week), come find ME! I promise I won’t post too much and when I actually remember that I am the one that has to manage it (because APPARENTLY there are no social media posting fairies), it’s probably something that gave me a chuckle. (Or an eyeroll.) Look for me on:

Instagram: modernmommayhem

and/or

Facebook: Modern Mom Mayhem

Making Memories (Or is it Mom-ories?)

Do you ever think back to your childhood and there are those few things that stand out to you as memorable? Chances are it's either something really funny or something really awful, isn't it? Like the time you went on vacation and your sister threw up in the car. Or that time that you got stung by a bee on the beach. Or that time that your Dad burped along to a song on the radio. (Listen, for boys, gross IS funny.)

For some reason, our memories seem to catalog the funniest and most horrendous things as the most memorable. Sure, you might remember the song that your mom sung you to sleep with when you were little, but first you'll remember how your little brother wet the bed  until he was 5.

Why am I thinking about this you ask? Probably because the one memory that my youngest brother has of me (and he wasn't even there, it's just a "passed down" memory) is that when I was four, I ate a stick of butter. Why? I have no freaking clue. I mean, yeah, I DO love me some butter, but not enough to eat an actual stick of it. But that's adult me. Maybe four year old me was like, "Mmm, butter. Must eat some." And it makes me wonder what memories my own kids will carry with them as they grow up.

For instance, our annual vacations where we drive for two days each way. What are they going to remember from that? (I mean, other than creative ways to insult idiot drivers.) Will they remember the "snackpack"? (The backpack full of "Shut up and eat this" snacks for the drive.) Or the movies they'd watch on the way down?

Ha! Right.

Here's what they are going to remember:

That year that the boys had a fart off to see who could stink up the car more. (that was THIS year, thank you very much for that.)

That Mom would drive in New Jersey so that Dad didn't end up flipping anyone off.

How much Mom HATES driving in the Carolinas and their stupid two lane highways. (Just put in a third lane already!!)

Sleeping in a hotel room with your entire family sucks. No, I take that back. It actually SUUUUCCCCKKKKKKKS! Big time. (Sleeping with kids. Snoring husbands. No fan for white noise. Need I say more?)

How cranky Mom can get being stuck in a traffic jam when he bladder (that's been squished by four bouncing babies thank you very much) is full to bursting.

How long into the drive it takes Mom and Dad to start squabbling because traffic also SUUUUCCCCKKKKKS! (Sometimes we actually make it out of the driveway! Ha ha ha.)

How annoying Yo Gabba Gabba can be on repeat for 18 hours.

That time there was a snake in the bedroom. That Mom found. At 11:30 at night.

That year that the dead jelly fish were all over the beach and Mom kept having a heart attack anytime the two year old went near one.

It will be interesting, ten years from now, to look back together and compare our memories of the same trips. I'm sure that everyone will have a different perspective on things. Hopefully their Mom-ories make me out to be less crazy and frazzled than I really am. Or if not, maybe they'll think it's funnier then.

For all the families making similar "rememberies", may they be as funny, stinky, and memorable as ours have been. And from my family to yours, Happy Easter!

Looking Out From the Eyes of a Mom

Looking Out From the Eyes of a Mom

One day, I might finally open the laundry room door,
and not find mountains of dirty clothes from ceiling to floor.

Someday, I can look in the mirror and see,
Past the dark circles, frown lines, and crows feet.

On another day, I might be able to solve the mystery,
of where the mates to those lonely socks are hiding from me.

One day, maybe even soon, I will finally see,
what fuss is all about this time that's for "me".

Someday, maybe, I will have the joy of knowing,
what it's like to have hampers not overflowing.

On this day, I know that every mom can understand,
why I listed two laundry complaints, oh they know firsthand!

On a distant day, I could finally begin to plan,
little boy bedtimes without checking for bogeymans.

One day, I will finally beat back those damn dust bunnies,
under furniture, in dark corners, thinking they are funny.

Someday I will know what it really looks like,
to have windows minus sticky prints from little tykes.

On another day, maybe I can climb the top of laundry mountain,
I'll claim these lumpy piles as my own, with a saucy grin.

(Maybe one day, hopefully quite soon, I will be taught,
Don't climb laundry after drinking that bottle of wine that I bought!)

One day I may actually know what it's like to eat,
a HOT meal, sitting down, in my very own seat.

One far away day, I may sleep through every single night,
without sick kids, crying tots, or monsters from scary dream frights.

Some distant day, I will have to explain to people why,
I am so effing weird and why aspirin commercials make me cry.

On that day, I'll simply blame every single thing,
on hormones out of whack from birthing my offspring.

(One day, my own will know how true that really is,
when they've grown WAY up and have their own kids.)

One day, that seems so far away now but is closer than I think,
I'll look at my kids to see that they grew up in a blink.

Some day, they always say, you'll miss these times,
of sticky kisses, boo boos, and mystery wall grime.

(One day, the mystery grime will be known to me,
even if it's clearly a hand print from child number three.)

One day, these kids of mine will still call me mom,
but they'll have their own lives, far from calm.

On another day, they will finally begin to see,
through my eyes, and how fleeting time can be.


P.S. I promise next time I will be back to my sarcastic, eye rolling, sassy self. But for this time, hug those babies a little tighter tonight and be thankful for all of the moments and memories you are giving to them right now. (And stock up on tissues. I wasn't kidding about those commercials.)

Because...Winter (And Other Reasons I’m Losing My Mind)

I love living on the east coast for a lot of reasons but the biggest one has always been because we get to enjoy all four seasons here. My kids get to go sledding in the winter and swimming in the summer. They get crunchy leaves in the fall and the renewal of the Earth in spring. I love the heat (especially the extreme hot temperatures!) and while I hate being cold, I’ve generally tolerated winter fairly well. It’s only a single season after all.

Until winter 2017/2018 started kicking my ass.

I am not sure why, but this winter seems to be extremely heinous. Could it be because the temperature’s favorite setting is deep freeze? Maybe. Is it because it won’t f%*#ing stop snowing? Quite possible. Is it because I’m getting older and my body is slowly preparing myself for retirement and moving to Florida with the rest of the nation’s retirees? I don’t know. What I do know is that the cold seems to have settled into my bones permanently. I’m tired of single digit temps. I cringe at the thought of another bleeping snowstorm not to mention the fact that I’m seriously contemplating buying an arctic snowsuit. I have to psyche myself up to take a brief 15 minute walk outside for some exercise.

Because I’ve lived here my entire life, I think that means I’m supposed to have some sort of super immunity to the snow and cold. It’s like one of those ‘Meanwhile in NY” memes I’ve seen floating around the Internet. You know, the ones where the South shuts down over 3 inches of snow and we’re barbecuing with 3 feet of snow in the backyard? Yeah, like that. The winter is starting to drive me crazy. I’m losing what little sanity I have managed to save over the years. It doesn’t help that January seems to be the longest month ever. Is it March yet? Because I feel like January has been at least twice as long as it should have been.

Yeah, this is the one I was thinking about.

And if you open your mouth and a complaint about the weather falls out, it’s bound to be in your grandmother’s voice. Crabbing about the economy, weather, politics, and “kids these days” is something that is reserved for a specific age, one that generally comes with grandchildren, retirement, and crotchety old person-ness. I’m too damn young to qualify for that. So the weather is driving me insane and I’m not allowed to complain about it for another 18 years or so.

It’s not just the weather that’s making me lose my marbles, it’s the cabin fever. Being cooped up inside all the time with rabid children and stir crazy pets. I’d love to send them all outside but Mother Nature flipped her bitch switch and gave us a temperature with a wind-chill factor of negative 5. This is the weather so cold that your snot instantly freezes to the inside of your nostrils if you take so much as a small breath outside. And if it’s not too cold, then it’s too dark. Sure, the days are starting to get longer, but the sun is still cutting out from work pretty early. By the time we are home from work and school and dinner is done, it’s midnight for all intents and purposes. The house, which normally has ample room and space for five people to maintain peaceful cohabitation, starts shrinking until everyone is in everyone else’s business. (You can’t hide. They will find you.)

As if that wasn’t enough to earn me a nice white jacket and a pretty, padded room, the house is starting to check things off its “Make My Owners Daft” list. In the last few weeks we have had four light bulbs go out in three different fixtures, a carbon monoxide detector died, the basement door handle refuses to stay on, and the front step is taking a beating from the subzero weather and is disintegrating before our very eyes. If we manage to make it through this winter intact, it’s possible that the house may not. There’s a giant conspiracy between Mother Nature, our kids, and our house to move us to the funny farm.

Yes, I am ready for my tinfoil hat so that the aliens can’t zap my brain.

So while I’m slowly losing my marbles like I’m in a game of hungry hungry hippos with a roomful of toddlers, I am seeking solace within the confines of a good book. It’s so pretty in there and they don’t have frostbite. I think I’ll stay there awhile. At least until the ground is green again and I can feel my toes.