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costco_we_own_you

Making Friends at Costco

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There’s a fun new game I discovered at Costco (I think the employees really like it).

I’ll tell all the kids to get in the cart, then I wheel all the kids and the stuff in the cart to the side of the cashier.

Then I shout “THANKS FOR THE FREE BABYSITTING!!!” and run away laughing.

They looked like they enjoyed it, except for the abject death mask of fear from the sweet gal boxing up the goods.

That’s right, girl. True love waits.

Also, another fun game is watching my three boys take their pretend guns in their hands and make very loud noises (like automatic rifles) pointed at random strangers usually above the age of 65.

Surprisingly, they’re usually the best sports and tend to pretend to fall over.

At least, I hope they’re pretending.

Costco, you just be quiet. We’re paying half your salaries right now.

#costcorun #amwriting #makingnewfriends #boymom

baby_birds

Disposable Diapers for Birds: The Scoop on Poop

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Roses are red.

Violets are blue.
Husband’s on call,
I tend to the crew.
 
We’ll celebrate later,
Anniversary too.
Next week will be good!

Today can eat poo.

 
Like I said, today (Mother’s Day)

was kind of an “Eat poo” day. Little did I know how significant that would be toward the end.

Dave arrived home and glory be. His presence makes everything better. The screaming is a little less grating, the boy noises more easy to bear… mostly because he whisks them off outside and lets me have a few minutes’ peace to sling dinner. Which was exquisite tonight. A smoked Tri-Tip with grilled hearts of romaine salad and baked potatoes. In my very VERY humble opinion, I am really good at it. Meat was a perfect 130 degrees internal. And if you say that’s not enough… you’d be wrong.

I know, I know. I cooked our dinner. For Mothers’ Day. Special dispensation, you see… the man was at the hospital earning the $$. Next week is our anniversary and we are stepping out, my friends. And we’re going to party till Ten O’clock like the mid-40’s parents we are.

But until Dave came home, it was poo. Lots of boy arguments, lots of baby meltdowns because I’m weaning her and no one wants to learn to feed themselves when it’s just HANDED to you. Level up girl. Put on your big girl panties.

So when dinner was ready, we kept the boys inside and Miss Fussypants went outside, because that tends to make her happy. The two adults sat outside with our plates and tried to keep her somewhat content.

While eating, we heard the crazy-crazy chirping of all of the adolescent birds sitting in our cactus in the side yard. So Dave picked up Rachel to show her the commotion.

I, of course, continued to sit and milk the sanity for a few minutes. So this next part of the story is told through the eyes of daddy when he returned with Rachel in his arms:

“You aren’t going to believe what happened!

So, I was watching this little scene unfold: The babies were chirping like crazy for food. The mama bird flies in and starts feeding one of the chicks.

Then the chick turns around at the entrance of the nest. I got worried because I thought this was the instance that the poor little bird was going to be thrust out of the nest into the cold cruel world and I’d have to be an unwilling participant in its little social experiment.

But no. It hangs its little booty out of the entrance of the nest and proceeds to push out a fairly large poop for such a small bird. It was astounding. BUT:

The turd just hangs there. Quivering indefinitely like it is stuck in a time warp of fecal proportions.

And THEN… that mama bird swoops over and grabs that poop and hauls that poop right out of the nest to some proverbial diaper pail in the sky.”

I looked at him and blinked.

“Forget the *poo* hitting the fan… that mama bird didn’t even let it hit the ground!”

I feel like I was one-upped today by even the animal world.

I was intrigued by what just happened so we asked the googles about this phenomenon of “birdy poo snatching.” Here’s what it told us:

“Baby robins remain in their nest for about 13 days. Just about every time the nestlings gulp down some food, they poop. Let’s see—that’s 13 days x 4 babies x 356 insects and worms on average each day. That’s a LOT of poop! How on earth do robins keep their nest clean?

Baby robins can’t wear diapers of any kind, but they do put their poop in a strong “bag” so the parents can carry it away. This bag is made of thick, strong mucus that a parent robin can pick up in its sharp beak and carry without puncturing, and is called a fecal sac. Fecal sacs are just like disposable diapers for birds!

Within seconds of feeding, baby robins back up and poop. This ensures that whichever parent brought the food will still be there to carry away the fecal sac.”

How many times a day are those parent birds picking up fecal sacs?

I guarantee you, by the end of each day, that mama bird also wanted to kick that little baby right off the edge of that nest. Her poor wings. I see you mama bird…. I see you.

After we finished reading the Google expose, Dave looked up from his phone and said, “If that doesn’t say Mother’s Day, I don’t know what does.”

“I have an answer for that: Haagendaaz and Breyers on sale at Albertsons. Get to steppin.”

Dave, being a husband of excellent training threw the baby in the car and took off for the promised land.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the poo-slinging moms.

There will come a day when “Mom’s Not” doing it anymore,

But today is not that day.

#momsnot #momsnotwipinyourbum #authorsofinstagram #latenightwriting #creativewriting #creativewritings #creativewritingsociety #mothersday2021 #mothersday2021❤️ #mothersday2021🌷🌷 #momsaresuperheros #writersofinstagram #momwinslife

spirit_week

If You’ve Got Spirit, Let Me Hear It!

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Spirit Week.

The scourge of every semester for moms everywhere.

I mean, I suppose there are some who get excited about it. And God bless you if you are. You keep doing you.

I’m going to keep doing me.

And “me” is simply dreading the extra work associated with the various dress-up days.

I mean, I barely get myself dressed in the mornings. If I’m wearing the appropriate underwear and I’m out of my robe for the morning drop-off I’ve done really well. I might as well just close out that day as a “Win.” I may be a little smelly… my hair may not be washed in a few days, but I’m wearing clothes and I won’t get hauled into the local precinct for indecent exposure.

I’m convinced there are two types of kids in this world: Ones who think that school spirit week is “neat” and ones that think it is “not neat.” We didn’t have “school spirit” days when I was growing up. But then again, we had to walk uphill to school both ways in the blinding snow. It goes without saying.

My two eldest each fall into one camp. Sam thinks it’s definitely “neat” and Josh gives me the head shake every time. I will let you guess who is my favorite son in this scenario.

But at least Sammy is a self-starter. He decided he wanted to dress up for “Disney Day.”

This is a conundrum in this house. We’ve watched many a Disney movie, but other than that, we don’t have much to do with the Mouse ears. I’m not sure why. We haven’t hit Disney Princesses with #4. When we do, you’ll certainly hear about it.

At breakfast, Dave and I brainstormed and we got a brilliant idea.

“Sammy- you have a Mandalorian shirt! Mandalorian is most definitely Disney!”

He got excited. “Cool mom! That would be grea….”

He stopped short.

“Wait. That shirt is actually a ‘night shirt.'”

Me: “Yes. I mean, it’s a ‘t-shirt.’ You wear it with pajama bottoms BUT… you can ALSO wear it as a regular shirt.”

*I’m selling this hard*

Sam: “Mom, it’s a night shirt.”

Me: “You can wear it, Sam, it’s ok. No one will actually know.”

Sam: “MOM!!!! IT’S A PJ SHIRT!!!! THIS IS NOT GOING TO WORK!!!!!”

Dave and I just stood off to the side and looked at each other like, “This conversation cannot be real.”

Sam the scientist just could not make the existential shift in his head from PJ to T-shirt. It was too much. I feared his brain would explode.

“Sam, if you don’t want to dress up, you don’t have to.”

Josh “hi-fived” him and they loaded up their stuff and got in the car.

I want you all to know that I tried. I made the effort. I even argued a case.

And when it was unceremoniously shot down, I’m here to tell you…

I’m not sad about it.

Until next year Spirit Week, with your cray-cray hair days, your dress up parties and your silly props. This mom’s peacin’ out and coasting on “normal” for the entire summer.

#schoolspirit #schoolspiritweek #latenightwriting #momwinslife #authorsofinstagram #authorsofig #writinginspiration #writinglife #writingofinstagram #amwriting #writingstuff #momsnot

sedonuts

Another Bite Out of the Se-Donut

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Well, we’re up there a lot.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with the area, there’s no other way to describe it other than this: Two giant brothers went head to head in a wrestling match and they piled up giant slabs of rocks as they went. And they bled all over the place and stained everything red. Then the rains came and kind of turned it into a watercolor mess. Then their mom came out and yelled at them for making such a mess and bleeding on their front lawn. And then the mom teared up because the mess was so beautiful. Then that giant mom decided just to let them fight it out next time because it produced such beautiful results.

And that, in a nutshell, is Sedona. It’s wild, it’s jagged, it’s breathtaking.

And TJ calls it Se-Donut. And we do not correct him.

Partially, this is because there is an ACTUAL donut shop in Sedona called SeDonut. Which makes me angsty that I don’t own the marketing rights to that. I would have a field day.

This donut shop is good, but that’s beside the point. TJ just picked up the name and happily proclaims he loves “SeDonut” but means “Sedona.” And we pat his head and tell him he’s cute.

Especially since the viral shutdown, we just take a Saturday and go up there and play. Because it’s always at least 10-15 degrees cooler than the Phoenix Valley. Sometimes we’ll just go to a fun splash pad park and sometimes Dave and I are feeling adventurous and take all four hiking. Of course we get the complaints. The “I’m tired” and “I’m hungry” etc. Zip it kids. We’re busy building character. For the parents, of course.

But today, we just went up to relax. We took a picnic to the park. We brought all the kids and the dogs. And it actually was *fairly* relaxing as far as hauling kids go.

I should explain the one complication. When Rachel woke up that morning, she had a slight fever (with no other visible symptoms). Eh, like around 100 deg. And Dave and I went back and forth about whether we should go. Like all good parents, we decided to nix the day and just stay home.

Nope. Of course not. Are you kidding? Stay home on a beautiful day with FOUR kids slowly stealing our sanity? No way. So, I just grabbed the Tylenol, made the picnic lunch and had the boys throw all their things in a bag; shoes, swimsuits and extra change of clothes.

Rachel was fussy on the way up and of course, tons of traffic for a Saturday. But there’s something about hitting those red rock views that makes even the fussiest baby fade into the background. We made it into West Sedona and set up camp at the park. It was busy but not overwhelming with all sorts of parent and littles playing on the equipment and splash pad. The hippie parents were out and I love those guys. They’re all so nurturing and attentive and they always remind me to relax and enjoy the moment.

The kids lasted about 2.5 hours and then fussy pants happened for both Rachel and TJ. Into the car they went. And then we loaded up the other two. After a McDonald’s ice cream pit stop, we looked at each other and said, “What next?”

To be fair, the “What’s next?” discussion happens A LOT. It usually goes like this:

Dave: “OK, what do we do next?”

Me: “Umm, haven’t gotten that far.”

Me: *silence*

Me: “What about XYZ?”

Him: “Sounds good, let’s go.”

The “Next” was a short drive to Uptown Sedona. TJ had fallen asleep. We had the two dogs, a woken and crying Rachel and the other two boys. When we found a parking spot, Josh looked at us with panicked eyes and said, “I FORGOT MY SHOES.”

So, to be fair, we didn’t really notice until this point because 1) lots of kids and 2) parks don’t require shoes. But running around Uptown Sedona most certainly does.

I’m going to tell you something you already know, but we’re in the learning phase with the littles right now:

Natural consequences really, really stink.

Especially for Josh who doubles down on the critique of himself every minute of every day. Did Dave and I get a little frustrated? Of course. Because that means one of us has to stay in the car while the other parent takes Sam, Rachel and the dogs on a walk around Uptown Sedona. And let me remind you, it was BEAUTIFUL that day.

But we didn’t say a whole lot other than make a plan as to who was going to stay. Josh started having a minor meltdown because the full weight of his forgetfulness settled in on preventing him from having fun. And Josh is about two things: Playing outside and having fun.

I’m guessing the next time mom says “Go put your shoes in the bag,” he won’t forget.

Maybe.

Let’s skip the rest until the drive home. This is where things get fun.

Remember that line in “Dumb and Dumber” where Lloyd says to Harry, “You want to hear the most annoying noise in the world?” Then proceeds to sound like a human air horn?

That was the ride home with little Ray Ray. She didn’t have a fever anymore, appeared ok. Had been fed, no dirty diaper. You know, the usual checklist that parents go through eleventy million times a day. I was the driver home because I insisted I was awake and ok to drive.

I popped in those AirPods and put on the Noise Cancellation feature. Life saving. I drove that bus home and she screamed practically the whole way. I’m sure Dave’s nerves were shot, but the boys seem to be able to ignore the screaming and just watch their movie even though they couldn’t hear the sound above the screaming.

We thankfully exited the car at home and it was late so we hurried everyone to get themselves ready for bed. As I unfolded Rachel’s diaper, I discovered a 2 mm red rock tucked neatly right in-between her tiny little butt cheeks, buried where the sun can’t shine.

Imagine having a pebble stuck in between your cheeks and not being able to do anything about it. I just shook my head and thought, “Sorry little girl. We missed another one.”

Then it was time to put the boys to bed and little Sammy has been struggling hard with allergies for a few weeks. He seems to have gotten ALL the allergies, poor boy. So even on Claritin he was miserable and complaining that his nose felt like there was something “tickling” it. I thought, “Oh, that’s just the effect of allergies.” What else do you say about that?

But he was almost having a full meltdown and getting loud about his nose. I just hugged him and all of a sudden he pulled away after a violent sneeze. He looked at me with wide eyes then looked in his hands.

“Mom!!! It’s OUT!”

Me: “What…WHAT!!! What’s ‘OUT?'”

I looked in his hands and there was a small wad of toilet paper that had been in there for who knows how long. Likely a couple of days because I remember back to how long the “tickling” comment had been going on.

I once again felt sad, like I missed his misery.

“Sam, did you suspect you had anything stuck up your nose? You should tell mommy… you wouldn’t get in trouble, I just would want to help you get it out.”

Sam: “I really didn’t think anything was up there.”

Guess who then got a lesson in how to figure out nose blowing? I doubt he’ll be smashing TP up his nose again.

Maybe.

Whatever.

Who am I kidding?

The kids and their drama now firmly asleep, I crawled downstairs to put away the rest of the stuff in the fridge and the leftovers from dinner. I started this story to sort out my day and worked on house admin until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. And I finished it the next day when I had had an appropriate amount of sleep.

Appropriate amount of sleep? Who am I kidding?

Certainly not you.

#sedona #sedonaarizona #sedonaaz #sedonaescape #visitsedona #redrockviews #sedonuts #latenightwriting #childrensbookauthor #roadtripwithkids #levelupkids #momwinslife #picnicinthepark #appleairpodspro #everydaystories #writingforlife

hair1

The Snip Heard Round the World

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Guys, the BEST thing about being a mom of boys, hands down, is taking them to the barbershop. Now, I know there are probably many of you who do the snip-snip yourself at home. All I have to say is, “YOU WIN!”

Come to think of it, I should write another book titled “Mom’s Not Cuttin’ Your Hair.” Cuz this mom surely ain’t doin’ it.

I would consider myself a fairly competent “Jack of all trades,” but I know my limitations. I barely know how to fix my own hair, much less lay scissors to another human’s head. One time, when I was in high school, my brother let me attempt to cut his hair with the clippers. All I’m going to say is: sheep have looked better after half their coat is lying on the ground.

Good thing that particular brother is neither vain nor given to fits of rage. Sorry, Will. I obviously learned my lesson. Again… I now know my limitations.

So, yes, we work the every-2-months-or-so haircuts into the family budget. This self-proclaimed Jack-of-all-trades will leave hair cutting to our favorite barbershop, Barbershop Jack… and now I do, in fact, know Jack about hair. I found a GREAT barber and they educated me on the nuances of boy-shearing.

And hair mowing day is my favorite day ever.

My three wild little things have been going ever since they were tiny. The barbers have been patient and kind and even when they screamed, just handed them more lollipops. When we walk in, they head straight for the lollipop bowl and I just look the other way– I don’t know what sort of crimes are being committed and what kind of sugar is being consumed. It’s kind of like the grandparents’ house. I’m in such a good mood that nothing can destroy it. Not even ridiculous sugared-up boys.

They hop up in the chair with their little fuzzy, hair-covered lollipops and they ask if the barber will turn on “Sponge Bob Square Pants.” The barber looks at me. Me: “Sure. Go right ahead. I’ll allow it.”

The barbers and I will catch up on their lives and families, because you know…. little boys watching Spongebob are not the most loquacious conversationalists.

By this time, the barbers all know how I like their hair. Sammy bucked the system the last time and told me he wanted his head shaved just like Josh’s. Josh’s hair is particularly wiry and looks fine cut really close. Sammy… just looks weird. BUUUT… I decided it was just one of those things I needed to let him do. And so he did it. And he really liked it. But about a week ago, he decided he wanted to be able to “style” his hair. So the next time, he declared he was going to leave it long. My mama’s heart breathed a sigh of relief.

Barbershop Jack is an oasis in my life. They have cold drinks in the fridge for the hot, hot AZ summers. Comfy couches and lots of reading material for both kids and adults. It has the feel of a local hometown barber shop, but in the middle of busy Phoenix, AZ.

They even have a female barber who has a background in salon hair. I’ve been known to sit myself down while the boys are getting theirs cut and get a quick trim. And I usually have a baby sitting on my lap. Not exactly a nice and relaxing day at the spa, but it gets the job done and there will be plenty of spa time available when my babies are older.

The. Very. Best. Thing is when the boys get out of the chair. It’s my one shot at perfection. My one shot at “no-hair-out-of-place-preciousness” that somehow erases all of the insane/stupid things they did that week. I clap my hands and squeal and yell “YOU ARE SO HANDSOME” uncontrollably, practically crying with joy. The barbershop is used to it and they just tip their hat waiting for the slobbery sappy mom to simmer down and pay the bill.

The other day, I was in the kitchen fixing dinner and helping Sammy with his homework at the kitchen table. I sent the other two upstairs to take showers. I thought to myself, “It’s mighty quiet up there.” And based on my experience, I should have gone to check. But based on my tiredness, I let it be.

The photo attached to this post is the result of “letting it be.”

Needless to say, I let them go to school like that the next day. I asked Josh if many people commented. He said, “Oh, about four…” and shrugged his shoulders. And then life happened and I forgot to take them to get it fixed. TJ will pretty much have to have his luxurious hair shaved off in order to right the wrongs.

And that is really the only reason I am mad. TJ will shatter my barbershop zen because his head will look like the surface of a baby’s bottom.

But I have faith in you, Don and all the crew at Barbershop Jack. You are miracle workers. I’m just going to grab my Dr. Pepper, lean back on the couch and zone out to Spongebob. Because a nice afternoon at the barbershop covers a multitude of sins.

#boymom #momofboys #cuthisownhair #barbershopjack #haircuttime #letsfixthis #hairdisaster #momofboys💙  #momofboys #momofboyslife #momofboysrock #barbersrule #rockstarbarbers #rockstarbarbershop #ilovemybarber 

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