Name Change

So, I finally decided that I could no longer let the world think that I do not know how to spell the word “wimpy” so I thought of another name for this blog.  Diary of a Sue-per Mom (get it…Sue?).  You, too, might be a Sue-per Mom (not to be confused with an ACTUAL super mom) if:

You are not above bribing your kids with candy on a regular basis.

You forgo regular baths for “wipes baths” when you just can’t muster the energy for the real deal.

You want to punch people in grocery stores who give you parenting advice.

You let your kids eat Lunchables and Kraft mac and cheese.

You leave your baby in the crib to “read books” when you’re super tired in the morning.

Your kids (and you) know all the words to every Nick Jr. show theme song. (What?!  It’s preschool on tv. It says so on the commercials.)

You use the gym for it’s free babysitting services.

You regularly appear in public with dirty hair and food smeared clothing.

Your babysitter is your BFF.

But you also love your little peeps more than life itself.

Holidays

Wait just a minute, people of America…I need to know what jackalope is offended by the use of the phrase “Happy Thanksgiving”. I just came home from the grocery store where I was told three times, “Happy Holidays”. Ummm…guess what: Tomorrow is THANKSGIVING. It is not specific to whom you give your thanks. You can thank Papa Smurf for all anyone cares. This holiday is about being grateful and celebrating prosperity. We could ALL stand to give a little thanks, no matter how much or how little we have. Why is Thanksgiving coming under fire? Who deemed it some sort of politically incorrect holiday? Well, I have a suggestion: if you find it offensive to receive good wishes for a day of Thanksgiving, then I invite you to stand up and march your ass to work tomorrow where you may only be allowed to have a Hungry Man frozen dinner for lunch and not watch ANY football. And also, you shall be excluded from all the Black Friday sales (well, you couldn’t partake anyway since you will also be required to work on Friday).

And while we’re on the subject, I will take the time to address Christmas as well. I realize that not everyone celebrates Christmas. But why on earth is it considered so awful to say “Merry Christmas” to a person these days? It’s not like saying, “I hope the baby Jesus digs your eyes out with a shrimp fork today you worthless piece of garbage”. Now, THAT would be offensive. But Christmas, last time I checked, is a national holiday. On December 25, we don’t get mail and our trash doesn’t get picked up. Our great country acknowledges this holiday as an actual day of celebration. So, if someone wishes you a Merry Christmas, know it isn’t mean spirited, accept their good wishes and return them any way you’d like. If you tell me to have a Happy Hanukkah, then I will be grateful for your good will. And feel free use the generic “Happy Holidays” if you wish. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. Just don’t pour your Winter Berry Hatorade all over those of us who choose to be more specific.

And just one more thing…if the state of California could find a way to import some frozen Sister Shubert rolls for the holidays, my uber Southern husband would greatly appreciate it. Seriously, Golden State, you really could learn a little from his people in the holiday foods department. They’ve got some stuff that would knock your tie-dyed socks off.

Holidays

Wait just a minute, people of America…I need to know what jackalope is offended by the use of the phrase “Happy Thanksgiving”. I just came home from the grocery store where I was told three times, “Happy Holidays”. Ummm…guess what: Tomorrow is THANKSGIVING. It is not specific to whom you give your thanks. You can thank Papa Smurf for all anyone cares. This holiday is about being grateful and celebrating prosperity. We could ALL stand to give a little thanks, no matter how much or how little we have. Why is Thanksgiving coming under fire? Who deemed it some sort of politically incorrect holiday? Well, I have a suggestion: if you find it offensive to receive good wishes for a day of Thanksgiving, then I invite you to stand up and march your ass to work tomorrow where you may only be allowed to have a Hungry Man frozen dinner for lunch and not watch ANY football. And also, you shall be excluded from all the Black Friday sales (well, you couldn’t partake anyway since you will also be required to work on Friday).

And while we’re on the subject, I will take the time to address Christmas as well. I realize that not everyone celebrates Christmas. But why on earth is it considered so awful to say “Merry Christmas” to a person these days? It’s not like saying, “I hope the baby Jesus digs your eyes out with a shrimp fork today you worthless piece of garbage”. Now, THAT would be offensive. But Christmas, last time I checked, is a national holiday. On December 25, we don’t get mail and our trash doesn’t get picked up. Our great country acknowledges this holiday as an actual day of celebration. So, if someone wishes you a Merry Christmas, know it isn’t mean spirited, accept their good wishes and return them any way you’d like. If you tell me to have a Happy Hanukkah, then I will be grateful for your good will. And feel free use the generic “Happy Holidays” if you wish. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. Just don’t pour your Winter Berry Hatorade all over those of us who choose to be more specific.

And just one more thing…if the state of California could find a way to import some frozen Sister Shubert rolls for the holidays, my uber Southern husband would greatly appreciate it. Seriously, Golden State, you really could learn a little from his people in the holiday foods department. They’ve got some stuff that would knock your tie-dyed socks off.

Practice

Tonight my big girl, AK, was helping me cook dinner. She really enjoys cooking with me and when she’s not spreading raw eggs on the counter or flinging raw ground beef off the spoon, I enjoy it too.

While we were cooking, I said to her, “You know, maybe you could take some cooking lessons when you get a little older. You might like that.”

After a little bit of deep thought, she replied, “I know what college is for. You figure out something you like doing and what you want to be when you grow up and then you go to college to practice it. Sooooo…I guess when you went to college, you practiced being a mom.”

Hmmmm…let me think about that for a second…

1. I lived in a beautiful, huge sorority house (complete with LOTS of mauve decor) kept by two sweet maids and was served two meals a day in a dining room where we had a most lovable cook (props to my homeboy William and his famous Oprah’s Unfried Chicken) and some nice young men who would clear the table and do the dishes for us.

2. I stayed out until 4:00 a.m. about three nights a week drinking quarter beers at bars where the floors were so sticky it was like walking in marshmallow fluff. And I didn’t even care about the bottom of my styrofoam shoes. Umpteen quarter beers tend to make you unconcerned with your footwear.

3. I repeatedly ate Taco Bell bean burritos and Five Star Pizza in the middle of the night and didn’t do so much as one jumping jack (which, theoretically, I could still do back then without peeing my pants since my pelvic floor had yet to be destroyed by a human head) and managed to stay a size 2 with a totally flat stomach.

4. When the nights of beer drinking and burrito eating took their toll on me, I laid in my bed until around 1:00 p.m. at which time I limped to the tv room to stuff my face with Pokey Stix and watch Days of Our Lives, which I dutifully scheduled my classes around when possible. Boy, how things would have been different if we’d had TiVo back then.

5. I spent all my spare time with my very adorable future husband and we would watch tv, go out to eat, see movies, attend basketball games, hang out with our friends, go to concerts and drink even more beers ALL BY OURSELVES. ANY TIME WE WANTED.

Sooo…I’m pretty sure I did the exact opposite of practicing to be a mom during my college years because…

1. As a mom, I do not have a maid, cook or busboys. I AM the maid, cook and busboy.

2. As a mom, I can’t stay out until 4:00 a.m. so much as once a YEAR without feeling like I might die a slow and painful death when I have to sit outside a five year old’s jazz class nursing a hangover. And I show much more discretion with my footwear.

3. As a mom, I can’t even eat pizza or burritos during the DAY without seeing it immediately on the back of my 35 year old thighs and that’s putting in four days a week at the gym (but it doesn’t always stop me). Thankfully, Spanx were invented in the interim. And also boob high jeans went out of style. Those freaking things didn’t look good on me when I DIDN’T have a baby pooch. Can you imagine?!! Ugh.

4. When I’ve been up late at night for any reason, be it a rare night out, a barfy kid or plain old insomnia, when the clock strikes 7:00 am, my cute little hair bow adorned alarm clocks are banging down the door. They don’t give a crap about those last couple Goldschlagger shots in the wee morning hours (just kidding…does Goldschlagger even exist anymore?) And I don’t have the slightest clue what’s going on in Salem in this century. Is Stefano back from the dead again? Are Bo and Hope back together? At this point in my life, I schedule my activities around 1:00 because it is the magic relief of nap time. And God help the ass clown that rings my doorbell during those golden hours.

5. And of course, as a mother, my still very adorable husband and I have approximately no time alone. Our days of being two carefree kids are long gone.

We do, however, have two beautiful and precious little girls who wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for those nasty bars, quarter beers and awesome adventures.

But I sure as hell wasn’t practicing to be their mother. Not even a little bit.

But that can be our little secret.

Lucky Day

First of all, I should have my own stenciled parking spot at Target. I’ve been there no less than three times this week.

Second, there is a grandmotherly aged woman wearing a navy blue DKNY track suit straight from the Marshall’s clearance rack who is lucky to have walked out of Target today with all of her teeth.

It’s no secret…my baby is a terrorist. It is nearly impossible to go anywhere or run any errands with her since she will not be restrained under any circumstances.

That is, unless there is candy involved.

I had to run to Target today to get a birthday card for my husband to give to his father.

Let me run off course for a second to tell you how much I DESPISE picking out cards for other people. I was in that card aisle cursing my dear, hardworking husband for not having thought to get this stupid card sometime before he left on a trip (and maybe more than one day before his dad’s birthday). I never know if the fart cards are inappropriate or if the balding cards will be offensive. I can’t possibly pick a sappy love card for my father in law that is purportedly from my husband. It feels weird. This dilemma, without fail, costs me way too much time and frustration in the card aisle. I almost got a card with Rocky on the front that belted out the Rocky song when you opened it just so that I wouldn’t be asked to do this task again, but then I thought better of it.

Anyway, Little Bit was removing all the cards that interested her in any way…Elmo, monkeys, penguins, Dora. The place was a mess. So I strong arm her out of the card aisle only for her to take off in a full sprint toward the registers. The candy on the end cap brought her to a dead stop.

She grabbed a package of peanut butter M&M’s and held on for dear life. After I wrestled them from her chubby little fingers, she went into what my dear friend JKN calls a full Berkeley protest. Body went limp like a noodle, arms straight up (can’t grab under the pits), screaming at the top of her lungs.

This is a situation in which I only have one resort: lollipops.

I mean, I have to figure out a way to quiet her while I pay for the freaking birthday cards. So at the word “sucker” the protester went silent. Success.

It was at this point that DKNY lady says something to the tune of, “You are so pretty…you don’t need candy.”

Oh no you di’int!

Did you just admonish me via my 22 month old baby for giving her a lollipop in your most rehearsed fake-friendly-kid voice?!

The steam stayed inside my ears until she said, “Do you have teeth? You shouldn’t be eating candy. You’ll ruin your pretty teeth.”

Okay, lady, here’s the deal: pay for your Polident and Werther’s Originals and keep moving before you have one fuming mad stay at home mom wearing a cream cheese smeared sweatshirt wringing the life out of your wrinkly turkey neck.

This woman is either a spinster cat lady or she had perfect children, or maybe she even has amnesia. In any case, she’s a biotch. The judgment behind those statements (okay…pot, met kettle) made me homicidal. Sometimes, it just takes a DumDum to get through the Target line. And, Lady, if you think that’s bad, you should find your way to my house where you would probably shit your Depends if you could see the mothering atrocities being committed while my husband is out of town.

And that is why, my friends, if my kids have cavities (which they don’t) I’ll chalk it up to getting through a few check out lines, banks, school pick-ups, church services, and post offices and think, oh well…it’s worth a few drillings. After all, shouldn’t there be some form of payback for their embarrassing public tantrums??? Just kidding.

So….rude, judgmental Target Lady, I ask you this: Do you have teeth? Because if so, you shouldn’t talk like that to a tired mom in the Target check out line or she’ll ruin YOUR pretty teeth.

Figures of Speech

I just need to put this out there: it’s “vice versa” not “vice-a versa”. I overheard this today and it got me thinking of all the ridiculous things people say.

For instance, for the love of God, can everyone please stop saying, “I could care less”???? It’s “couldn’t care less”. If you could care less that means you care more and therefore, you care.

And also, taut and taunt are two different words. You cannot pull something taunt.

And it’s not necessary to say “8:00 a.m. in the morning”. It’s redundant. Say “a.m.” or “in the morning”. Not both.

It’s Valentine’s Day y’all. Not Valentime’s. Ever seen a Valentine’s Day card? It doesn’t say Valentime’s.

And for all intents and purposes, you should never say “for all intensive purposes”.

Oh, and I would just as soon have everyone stop saying they would “just assume” do something. Please.

Carry on with your night, everyone.