Mommy Groups

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Ah mommy groups……I can’t stand them.  It’s not because I don’t enjoy being with other moms.  In fact, we all need to be with other moms.  It’s extremely important to our sanity and I am blessed to have found a small group of fellow moms who also like to keep it real.  The trouble with most mommy groups is that they are supposed to be a safe place.  A place where you can vent, share and feel like you really are doing ok, and you aren’t alone on this crazy journey.  It should be a judgement free zone.  Instead, when you express how worried you are about how little junior is barely speaking at the age of two, there is always some “helpful” member of the group who chooses that moment to announce that their precious angel was fluent in three languages at ten months of age.  Or, the other member of the group who will tell you it’s because you haven’t enrolled junior in a high priced nursery school program where they teach Mandarin and Spanish.  We need to stop this nonsense already.  In my opinion mommy groups should be run more like AA meetings. Everyone sits down and one at a time each mom would stand up and make her declaration:

“Hello, my name is Mary, and I’m a mom.  Last week I used jelly beans to bribe my toddler into silence during a dance recital for her sister.  That’s right, sugary, filled with artificial colour and flavor, jelly beans. I’m not sorry and I’d do it again!”

“Hello, my name is Dana, and I’m a mom.  I let my children watch television.  TELEVISION. There is simply only so much finger painting a woman can stomach in a day.”

“Hello, my name is Anne, and I’m a mom. I bought cupcakes from the store and put them in a container from home to donate to the school bake sale.  I said it, STORE BOUGHT CUPCAKES.  In order to bake I would have to put my six month old down long enough to wash the dishes piled in my kitchen.  It’s just not happening. ”

“Hello, my name is Ellen, and I’m a mom.  I am pretty sure I hit Mary’s mini van in the parking lot before I came in. ”

“Hello, my name is Jamie, and I bed share.  I got tired of nearly dropping my breastfeeding infant on the floor when I fell asleep watching The Late Show.  Now, I take her to bed and we sleep.  We SLEEP. It’s glorious. ”

“Hello, my name is Adrian, and I fed my toddler chicken nuggets and macaroni for dinner every night last week.  Every damn night…..”

And instead of collective gasping , widened eyes, and terribly misguided and judgemental advice, everyone would simply be offered a hug, reassurance that their child or children will be just fine, and then they would serve cookies.  Now THAT is a mommy group that even I would join.

Taco Tuesday….

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Most directions for making tacos read something like this:

1.) Brown 1lb of ground meat in a frying pan with some oil

2.) Add seasoning mix and water

3.) Warm tortillas in microwave and serve with salsa and sour cream.

 

So, when the kids very excitedly asked if we could have “Taco Tuesday” I thought sure, what the heck.  My directions for making tacos would read a little something like this:

1.) Start browning 1lb of ground chicken in a frying pan with some oil.

2.) Open seasoning pouch and attempt to pour into frying pan.

3.) You are completing these directions while balancing a sick baby on your hip and while using the spatula with your right hand even though you are left handed,  because the baby will cry if switched to your right hip.

4.) Because of step 3 you will now flip the spatula out of the frying pan, sending it to the floor along with the seasoning pouch.  The seasoning pouch will be open.

5.) You will now use your foot in a frantic attempt to stop the dog from licking the spatula and eating the seasoning mix off the floor while still balancing the baby.

6.) At this point both of your older children will enter the kitchen in need of something and no it can’t “wait just one bloody second!”

7.)  You will now give up on the mess on the floor and ask the dog if she would like some @#%&* sour cream.

8.)  The smoke alarm will now go off because in all the excitement you forgot to turn the burner down and the meat has scorched in the pan.

9.)  The smoke alarm will upset the baby.

10.)  You will now pull a pizza out of the freezer and inform the house that the next person to utter the words “Taco Tuesday” will lose their electronics for a month.

 

You might be a mom if…….

I recently compiled a list of sorts of the signs that I feel truly define the fact that you have become a parent.  You might be a mom if:

1.)  You don’t recall the last time you sat down to eat anything.  Any food typically served hot is consumed by you when cold, and foods that are supposed to be cold are consumed by you while lukewarm and quite possibly melted.  The last “meal” you had was quite likely part of a chicken nugget with one or two half eaten carrot sticks or the crusts of a grilled cheese sandwich and a leftover apple slice, depending on the time of day.

2.)  You haven’t shaved your legs in weeks because if you actually manage to have a shower, you don’t have time to shave and also wash your hair.  Let’s face it, only so many of us look good in hats but pants look good on everyone.  So, if the choice is between the hair on your head or the hair on your legs , the head wins every time.

3.)  Your definition of a “vacation” now falls under, grocery shopping without the kids.

4.)  There are enough fishy crackers and cheerios on the floor of your mini van to feed a small country.

5.)  You drive a mini van.

6.)  Your idea of success has shifted from getting that big promotion at work to getting everyone out the door in the morning wearing pants….and both shoes.  Both shoes are a true sign of just how high up the ladder you have climbed.

7.)  You can’t find your car keys, however you can locate a red balloon, a green crayon, a bandaid and a piece of bribery gum at a moments notice if required to do so.

8.)  You know what I mean by “bribery gum.”

9.)  Most of the electronics in your home have mysteriously stopped working.  Upon inspection you will find the cause to be foreign objects jammed into places they should not be.  Things such as crayons, cookies, the wing from a toy airplane….and your car keys….

10.)  You are blogging with one hand while a baby is nursing on your lap, which is apparently the only place she can possibly be at all times because she simply could not care less about mommy’s attempts at a writing career.  Or perhaps that’s just me.