Sometimes, I have no idea what my children are saying to me. This weekend was a perfect example. The day after Christmas I was pretty exhausted. I was determined to do nothing. I stayed in my pajamas and we decided to watch the Divergent movies. The movie was highly entertaining. Especially since the lead male character is so incredibly good looking.
"Wow! What a handsome man. He really is good looking...."
Theo James - so adorable that I could eat him with a spoon
I must have gone on and on. Finally my 11 year old had enough. "Ewwww, mom. You thirsty," she blurted out.
I didn't know what that meant. I thought it meant horny. But surely that is something you would never accuse your mother of being. Especially if you are 11. I had to Google it. Desperate. She called me desperate. To top it off, she didn't even use correct grammar. It's you're thirsty, not - you thirsty.
Not only did having to look up this slang word make me feel old, my husband scoffed and said, "He's like- 10 years younger than you. You don't even have a chance."
I was like:
I had to correct him. "Actually, I am only 11 months older than him. Also, I could have a chance. Maybe he has incredibly low standards. Maybe he would be like, "Who needs a supermodel? I've always wanted to have a fling with a mom-type." It could happen."
He rolled his eyes, "No one wants to have a fling with a mom-type." BURN.
"You're just jealous that Theo James is my BFF. Boyfriend Forever."
That day, I learned that no one wants to have a fling with a mom-type and the urban definition of thirsty.
It's not the first time I've learned a new word.
There was the time I came downstairs and my daughter told me that my hair was "on fleek." I was confused. "Is that good or bad?"
She laughed. "It's good. It's on point."
"Oh! It's kind of like da bomb?"
"Mom, no one says the bomb anymore."
She is wrong - I am someone and I still say the bomb.
Later that night my husband complimented me on dinner. "I'm on fleek," I told him with a smile. "What does that mean?" I laughed. "You are too old. You wouldn't understand." My daughter was like:
Then there was the time we saw 2 kids holding hands at the bus stop and she pointed to them and said, "Goals!"
"They have goals? Like to go to college?"
"No, mom. Relationship goals."
"I don't understand."
"Like, it's something to aspire to."
"Holding hands? How about going to college or helping others? Like, college goals!"
"Oh my God. Stop!"
"Are we mom and daughter goals?"
"No."
She also had to explain to be what bae means because I thought it was baby. Sometimes she calls me bruh. "How's it going, bruh?"
"I am not your brother. I am your mother. You should call me muh, not bruh."
*Eye rolling*
Nothing makes you feel as old an uncool as the mother of a tween girl. Sometimes, we don't even speak the same language.
I f**king failed at Christmas this year. This is the first Christmas that I just wanted it to be done and over with. Which is really sad, because I usually love Christmas and am excited about it. This year I feel like it just came too quickly and there was too much to do. Plus, my kids were acting like jackholes which is a thing they do around Christmastime.
The Saturday before Christmas, I was sitting in the living room watching Home Alone 2 in front of the fire with the children when my husband walked in and said, "Do you know what you want for Christmas?" I didn't know what the answer was and I was a little suspicious.
"No. What?"
"A new kitchen."
What? You trippin. "Seriously. Let's go get appliances."
"Like now?"
"Yeah. Why not?"
So that's what we did. I got new stainless steel appliances and picked out paint, curtains, a new light fixture, a rug. The whole thing. They told us that they would deliver the appliances Christmas Eve. That seemed like a good idea at the time. Then I got home and realized that the kitchen needed to be painted and back splash needed to be done before the appliances came.
What a dumb ass idea right before Christmas. We painted the kitchen and got everything ready. In the meantime, there were still Christmas things to be done. I waited until the very last minute to take the kids Santa. Like, Christmas Eve. We show up and it's a 2 hour wait. The kids were like, "We're not waiting in line that long. Can we just take a picture and photo shop Santa in it?" I felt horrible. This is the first year that I didn't get their picture done with Santa. Bad Mom Award.
Somehow they talked me into spending $60 on pajamas. They guilt tripped me. "Well, since we didn't get to see Santa can you buy us jammies at Belk?" I would do anything. They didn't get to see Santa. Who shops at Belk? Millionaires? Sixty bucks for pajamas is OUTRAGEOUS.
The appliances came on Christmas Eve afternoon. They had to take off the front door to get the refrigerator in. My husband had to work all day and when he got home in the evening he hooked up everything. I was waiting on him to install the dishwasher to cook dinner. The wires were exposed so he turned off the electricity and the water. It was dark so he had me holding a flash light while the kids sat in the dark in the kitchen.
The waterline looked old as shit. This house is 13 years old but the water line looked like it was 50 years old. It was rusted through and all jacked up. Finally, as it approached 7 o'clock, I put my foot down. "It's Christmas Eve. Just turn the water off to the dishwasher and we can try again after Christmas." My husband finally relented and turned the electricity back on. I got to work making shrimp scampi while he cleaned up the kitchen.
"You have everything ready for the girls?"
"Yes."
"Did you get gifts for the dog?"
What the f**k? Really? I'm lucky that I got the kids covered. I have presents for my nephews in the back of my car still because I didn't get a chance to send them. The dog was not even on my radar.
"No. I didn't get gifts for the dog."
"What do you mean? Why not?"
"Because she's a god damned dog."
He was highly offended. "She is part of the family."
"She's a dog."
"I'm going to go get some gifts for the dog."
"Right now? Nothings open."
"Target is open."
This B called the kids down and they went to Target to get gifts for the dog. It gave me time to cook dinner and straighten out the house in peace. They came back with their gifts and the neighbors showed up with cookies and to exchange gifts with the kids. I was so grateful for the cookies. I did not feel like baking Santa cookies.
After they left we sat in front of the fire and watched 10 minutes of A Christmas Story before the kids started to fall asleep. We ushered them up to bed and then began Santa time.
We unloaded all the gifts we had hidden, attached bows and placed them artfully under the tree. We reminisced. "You know, on this night 15 years ago, you asked me to marry you." He smirked, "Great decision. We've been playing Santa for 12 years." How is that possible? All the years are blurring together. It's like Groundhog Day.
After we did the gifts, I stuffed the stockings. I discovered that I was missing an entire bag of stocking stuffers. I could not find them ANYWHERE. After a while, I said, "Screw it," and just overfilled their stockings with candy. I was so disappointed in myself. I'm going to find that bag in March, I'm sure.
We ate the cookies, drank the milk and put the stupid elf in his box and sent him back to the North Pole. Then it was time to sleep. We were exhausted.
Our 11 year old was the first one up on Christmas morning. At 5:00 am. Oh. My.God. We were up opening presents at 5:45. They opened their stockings first. My 11 year old was like, "There is only candy in here. This is crap." Kick me while I'm down why don't you? They opened their gifts and I thought I had gotten them an equal amount but my 11 year old somehow had more gifts. "I think Santa forgot a gift or two," I whispered to my husband. Nothing wins you the bad mom award more than getting more gifts for one child for Christmas than the other.
My 9 year old was gracious about it but I was hating myself. I must have forgotten something.
we cooked a large breakfast and then they put on sundresses and went outside to enjoy their gifts.
Yes, sundresses because it was 80 degrees outside. What the hell? It's hard to get in the Christmas spirit when it feels like Easter. I slaved away in the kitchen and then sat in my lawn chair and watched the kids play on their new scooter and skate board and tanned my legs.
Our family came for dinner and we had a nice time....then it was over. I was so relieved. Isn't that terrible?
We have spent the past few days recuperating from the holiday. This evening I took down the Christmas decorations. I found my 9 year old's missing gift in the garage. The mustache pillow! How did I forget the mustache pillow? I called her down.
"Look, there's a gift for you that fell out of Santa's sleigh!" She was so excited. I suck.
The tree is down and the Christmas decorations are packed up but there is one remnant of Christmas that still remains-dinner. I made so much food for Christmas dinner. I spent like hundreds and hundreds of dollars at the grocery store on Christmas dinner so I told the kids I wasn't going grocery shopping until we ate all the left overs. We've eaten ham for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the past 4 days.
Tonight the children had a breakdown. My 9 year old was like, "I want Chinese food." I shook my head. "No, we are having ham." She cried actual tears. "But mom, we have ham every day. I am so tired of ham."
My husband gave her a stern look, "There are starving kids who would be happy to have that ham." Isn't that every parents line?
We chatted at dinner. Our daughter told us about a friend's cousin named Oliver.
"Is his last name Twist?" I asked. Literary humor. That's how we roll.
My husband joined in the fun. "Does he have a cousin named Huckleberry Finn?"
My daughter rolled her eyes. "He's Italian or something."
My husband said, "Does he have a cousin named Joey Fatone - the mobster?"
I almost choked on my ham. "Joey Fatone was in NSYNC. He is not a mobster."
Joey Fatone = not a mobster
We laughed so hard. "That was a pop culture fail," I snorted.
I'm being long winded and random but that's how my life is, so....
Sh*t is getting real with E-man. He wants to kiss my daughter. She knows that I know he wants to kiss her. We all know. My husband, my youngest daughter - sometimes we talk about it at dinner. We are all up in her business. He texts her about it. "Sooo....when do you think we will kiss?" She's always like, "I'm not ready" or "I don't know." He'll wait a few days and then ask again.
His new tactic is to be the nice guy and to give her time. "It's okay if you're not ready....but when you are, I'm ready." Dude, take a cold shower. The strategizing starts so EARLY. My husband uses that tactic on me to this day. "I know you have a headache and that you don't want to. That's okay. But if you change your mind, I'll be around." It's must be a male thing. They are like, If I pretend like I'm a nice guy - no pressure then maybe it will be like reverse psychology. She'll think it's HER idea.
Females are much too smart for that. We know when we are being conned.
For Christmas, she got him a giant Hershey Kiss. Well, I got him one because she doesn't have a job. She laughed about it. "He keeps saying he wants a kiss from me, so that's what he's going to get." She's so funny.
If they actually did kiss I think it would be more like this:
and less like this:
But still, I don't really like it.
E-man has stayed away for a few weeks but he showed up at the house today. She pulled on her hoodie and joined him outside. The two of them sat on the electric box on the side of the house for an hour. My nine year old spied on them and gave me the play-by-play.
"Right now they are looking at his phone."
"Now they are looking at the sky."
"Now they are laughing."
I looked out the window and caught a glance of them sitting side by side on this big box. She swung her feet back and forth and he looked at her with hearts in his eyes. Jesus Christ. She likes him. A lot.
This is such a fun and weird age. I don't know if I am doing the right thing by just sitting back and letting things play themselves out. How do you know the right thing?
I don't know how we got here exactly. How so much time has passed. How my little, squishy, bald headed baby has turned into an adult-sized child who sits on the electric box in the front yard with a boy who keeps asking to kiss her.
The reality has set in. She is going to kiss a boy someday. Both of my daughters are going to kiss boys someday. I'm just not ready for it to be soon.
This morning, I was awoken by my nine year old asking me 100 questions. I opened my eyes and she was two feet in front of me. "Mom, do you know what the weather is going to be today? Have you seen my book? Can we go get a Christmas outfit today?" Oh my God. "I don't know, I haven't, lets talk about it later, take a shower." She frowned at me but disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower. I closed my eyes in the hope of getting 10 more minutes of sleep. Two minutes later, my sleep was interrupted by this sound:
Holy crap! My 11 year old set her alarm to the imperial march and it's not a pleasant sound to wake up to. It's actually quite alarming and makes me feel like I am about to be killed. Darth Vader never showed up but my 11 year old crawled into bed with me. "Mom, I need to get a gift for A, J, and E-man. Don't forget that we need to go get pencil tonight and you need to get all the stuff to make cupcakes for the Christmas party."
Ugggghhhh. Don't tell me this crap before I have a cup of coffee in the morning. They should know this by now. I dragged my butt out of bed and went downstairs to make breakfast. My youngest made her way down and petitioned me to buy her an outfit.
"I was thinking for Friday, we could go get a green shirt, red skirt, and shoes will bells on them. Like elf shoes."
"I am not buying you a new outfit that you are only going to wear once."
"Please mom. I have to. All of my friends are going to do it."
She whined and moaned until I gave in. On the condition that we go to Once Upon a Child. She agreed.
This evening, we got home, I made dinner and then we got ready to venture out. It was 6 pm and pitch dark. It felt like 9 pm. I did not want to go out. As we were getting ready to go, my 11 year old said: "Mom, we have to go get Star Wars tee-shirts."
"Why?"
"Because we are going to the movie tomorrow night and we need to represent."
They are going to the movie tomorrow night. My husband purchased opening night tickets to Star Wars in September. IMAX 3-D expensive-ass movie tickets. The movie starts at 10:00 pm on a school night.
I did not agree with it. "Dude, they have to go to school the next day."
"It's the last day before Christmas break. They won't be learning anything. We can just send them to school in their sweat pants."
"Seriously? You couldn't just go see it on Saturday?"
He looked at me like I had 3 heads. "This is like a historic event. It cannot wait until Saturday. The kids need to experience this."
I can't believe that I am going to allow this. Bad Mom Award.
Anyway, we went to Once Upon a Child to get this damn outfit. My daughter picked out her clothes and went into the dressing room. There were 2 benches by the dressing room and my oldest daughter sat down. I joined her a moment later and as soon as my bottom touched the bench, she stood up and moved to the other bench.
God forbid she be seen sitting next to her MOTHER in PUBLIC. That would just be unacceptable. I sat alone on the bench and before long a young mother walked by. She was holding a baby in one arm and pushing her cart with the other. She had a young child who she situated in the dressing room. Then she sat down next to me.
Her baby was so cute, she had such big eyes. The mom asked the baby, "Are you going to let me put you down?" as she set the baby in the cart. The baby began to cry. She picked the baby up and the baby was silent. She tried to put the baby in the cart again and she cried again. She picked the baby up and the baby was instantly silent.
The mother let out a long, resigned sigh. The baby must be held. There was no other option. "Oh man. I had two of those," I commented to her. Boy - did I. My kids never tolerated being put down. They pretty much were strapped to my body the first two years of life. They didn't even like my husband to hold them. The struggle is real.
She turned to me. "Really?" I nodded. "If it's any consolation, there will be a point in time where she won't even want to be around you. That's my daughter over there. She won't even sit next to me." I motioned to her on the other bench. She was sitting there like:
What a B.
She held her baby over her shoulder and just vented. "I don't get it. My son wasn't like this. She always wants to be held. She always wants me. She's 8 months old and she sleeps in my bed. It's the only way I can get any sleep. I'm still breastfeeding and my family thinks I'm crazy. It's just so hard!"
That's a lot to tell a stranger, but whatever. I didn't know what to tell her. I'm not a good advice giver. She wasn't really even asking for advice. "One day, you'll look back and you won't regret any time you spent holding your baby. She won't sleep in your bed forever. You are giving the baby the best you can. It get's better, I promise."
It does get better, but Lord knows - it doesn't get easier. My 9 year old exited the dressing room then and I got up to leave. "You're a good mom. Merry Christmas!" I said to her before I left.
When your children are babies and very young children life is so hard. Every day is a lesson in survival. When you are in it, you feel like you will always be in it. When the days turn to weeks that turn to months without adequate sleep, massive pre-planning to leave the house EVERY TIME, a crying kid on your hip, cheerios ground into the carpet, ect.... you just feel like your life will never be normal again.
Then one day you wake up and your children are as tall as you are and spend more time avoiding you ever thought possible and you reminisce about the days you wasted with a baby napping on your chest.
They get older, and it gets easier. But not too much easier. I was reminded of this at our next stop. We went to AC Moore to get bells so I could make the damn elf shoes. My kids for some reason were having an argument. Loudly. In public. I don't even know what they were fighting about.
"You're stupid."
"Well, you're ugly."
"I hate you."
I turned around and save them the mean mom whisper. "Shut your mouths now. Both of you."
They had to keep going. "She started it."
"No, you started it."
"No, you did. Jerk."
Finally, I yelled at them - in public. "You're both horrible. Shut your mouths and separate NOW or you are going to regret it!"
This lady in the aisle looked at me like: You shouldn't call your kids horrible.
What she didn't know is that I wanted to call them a-holes. I stand by my statement. I love them, but they have the tendency to be horrible at times.
We went to check out and they stood behind me with their arms crossed, giving each other mean looks. Tis the season to be jolly.
Things have been a little crazy around here with a sick kid and getting ready for the holidays. You might remember that last week my daughter informed me that the elf on the shelf will bring Santa his letter and that Santa will send one back in return.
She got to work right away, writing her letter. She sealed it in an envelope and wrote SANTA in big letters across the front. She set the letter down next to the elf and said, "Don't try to open it. It's for Santa."
When she woke up the next morning the letter was gone and the elf was wrapped around a bottle of tequila. I thought it was funny. Maybe not appropriate or in the spirit of Christmas, but whatever.
That morning after I dropped her off at school, I tore open the letter and read it. It read something like this: "Dear Santa,
Merry Christmas! How is everything in the North Pole? I hope this letter brings you the Christmas spirit. I have tried to be a good girl this year. For Christmas I want...." Then she went on to list 18 items! Holy Quacamole.
On the list was: an electric razor scooter, a hover board, a BB-8, monogrammed cowboy boots, monogrammed scarf, monogrammed cross body bag, Samsung headphones, Dove shampoo and conditioner, dry shampoo, a mustache pillow. Also, lotion. Not special lotion. Just lotion. I was like:
The scooter, hover board and BB-8 would be $800 all together.
I wrote a letter on special Santa paper that read something like this:
"Imagine my surprise when Green Peppermint himself showed up with your letter. It made me so happy! Things are very busy here in the North Pole. Mrs. Claus makes sure I have plenty and cookies and hot chocolate while I check the list twice.
You are on the nice list! You have been a good girl this year. Make sure to continue to try your best and listen to your parents.
I will work hard to make Christmas morning magical for you but be grateful for everything you receive." AKA - you better not be bitchin when you don't get all the 18 items on your list.
I folded it up and left it out with the elf. I sprinkled glitter all around so that it could seem magical. She was so excited to get it. It made me feel bad that I hate the elf so much. My husband looked at the letter on the special paper and the glitter and whispered in my ear, "When did you find time for that?"
"I didn't. Santa brought it."
I have gone a little overboard with the kids gifts this year. But a lot of their gifts are boring. Like lotion. I spent $43 in Bath and Body Works this week. There was only 3 things on the counter and when the lady told me the total, I almost lost my mind. I looked at her like, "For what? These 3 things? How can that be?" I handed her my debit card slowly, with a look of pain on my face. They better make that lotion last all year because that s**t is crazy.
I did buy my 9 year old the razor scooter, a mustache pillow, headphones, and a bunch of other crap.
My 11 year old's list was much more reasonable. Converse high-tops (all white), a penny board, some pencils and a sketch pad, a Totoro messenger bag, and underwear.
What kind of kid asks for underwear? Neglected kids. "Why did you need underwear? You have plenty of underwear."
"No, I don't. I also need socks."
She asked for it specifically so I am going to put them in a special box and act like they are a legit gift. I even threw some socks in there.
The shopping for the kids is mostly done. I still need to get gift cards for all the teachers. Secret Santa gifts for like, 20 people. I feel like I have a lot of time but it's only 13 days away now. The panic will definitely settle in by this time next week. I'll be broke, tired, and overwhelmed but we'll get there. As long as I don't have to step foot back in Bath and Body Works, I'll be happy. Please help me, baby Jesus!
I had the most mortifying moment ever today. I totally brought it on myself. My self loathing is especially strong tonight.
I have to preface this story by explaining my mindset. I live in pubertyville. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. It's a land of shaving cream, tampax, mood swings, bras, deodorant, eye rolling and boys showing up at the house with puppy dog eyes asking to hang out with my daughter. I'm just over here like:
My husband and I joke about it all the time. It's the only way we can stay sane.
About a week ago my daughter asked if she could go to the movies with some friends. One of those friends included E-man. I debated it. My husband and I talked about it and ultimately, I decided to let her go. I dropped my youngest off at a birthday party and then I dropped off my oldest at her friend's house where they were meeting before the movie. Then, I went to have dinner with my husband.
We went to the sandwich shop on the corner. There was no one in there. It was after dark and super quiet. I was glad, we had the whole place to ourselves. They served us our food and we lamented.
"Our daughter is at the movies with middle school kids and boys!" I said.
"I know," he said in agreement.
That's when I said something that I probably shouldn't have said. I should have just kept it in my f**king head but all I could think about was this 12 year old boy sitting next to my daughter in the movie theater. "That kid better not have a spontaneous erection while sitting next our daughter," I said with a laugh.
I wasn't trying to be mean. I am realistic. We live in pubertyville, that is a thing that could happen. It probably happens all the time. It's a part of life.
That's when a man at the counter turned around. It was so quiet and we were so engrossed in our conversation that I hadn't heard him come in. "Hey! How are you?" he said with a smile.
Who was this gentleman? It was E-man's dad.
I was absolutely mortified. This man heard me speculating about his son's raging-hormone-pants-party in a sandwich shop. Like the a**hole that I am. I wanted to crawl under the table.
He was cool about it, didn't say anything. We made awkward small talk. Then he got his sandwiches and left. He is a nice guy and I am a total douche bag.
When it was just me and my husband again he started laughing so hard that I thought he was going to squirt soda out of his nose. He couldn't breathe. "That was like something out of a movie. I swear to God. The minute you said spontaneous erection he turned around and it was his dad! What is the likelihood of that? It could only happen to you."
Sh*t like that does only happen to me. I wanted to crawl under my the table. I hate myself so much. I can never face his parents ever again. Open mouth and insert both feet. FML.
It's Christmas time again. This weekend we decorated. The kids argued with me over what should go where. We draped garland, hung stockings and put up our tree. We spent $250 on Christmas lights. It was painful for me. I didn't like it.
My husband thought we needed to step up our Christmas light game. I went out and got all kinds of lights and reindeer set. The reindeer moves it's head. It's legit. My 9 year old spotted our neighbor on the roof having icicle lights and my 9 year old started giving us a guilt trip. "Why don't we have icicle lights? Everyone else's house is going to look better than ours."
So my husband went back to the store to get icicle lights. I was busy making dinner and I went out to check the progress. He was on the roof which made me extremely nervous. I love him, he just reminds me of the kind of guy that would fall off of a roof. I was like:
He rolled his eyes at me.
He did a good job. Our Christmas light game is strong. I WILL be complaining about the electric bill next month. Stay tuned for that.
Now that the house is decorated and the lights are up, it is time to concentrate on the gifts. I did a lot of the kids stuff already. Of course, they always change their mind. I asked my 11 year old again what she wants. "Just some sketch pads and colored pencils."
"I thought you wanted a penny board."
"I did but I changed my mind."
Too bad. I purchased it already, she better like it. My 9 year old told me that she "hasn't decided" yet. Take your time. We have all the time in the world. Actually, let me know on Christmas Eve. I like living on the edge...
My husband the other day sent me a link and texted me, "This is what I want for Christmas." AGreat! Finally, someone who is direct and know what he wants. A Swiss Gear laptop backpack. Easy enough. Then he called me today and said, "I ordered that backpack today." WTF? I replied, "I'm wrapping that shit up and you better act surprised on Christmas morning."
I never want anything for Christmas but this year I want REAL perfume. Like Dior J'adore. But I'm cheap so I don't want my husband to buy it. He'll just walk into a department store and pay $100 like he's Oprah Winfrey or something. I want him to go online and use a coupon. I'll just buy it myself and tell him to give it to me. He's doing it with the backpack, so that seems fair.
Of course it would not be the Christmas season without the Elf on the Shelf. Our elf has been moving around but has not been up to any mischief. I'm too lazy for all of that. I had to go out of town for work yesterday and came home this evening.
My nine year old came up to me with a concerned look on her face. "Mom, last night the elf did not move."
I looked at my husband like:
"Hmmm....maybe he was tired." She shrugged, "That's okay because I'm going to write my letter to Santa and give it to the elf and he will make sure to bring it to him. Did you know that if you do that Santa will send you a letter back?"
No. I didn't know that. Now I have to write a letter, put glitter in it, make it be magic. This elf thing is really out of control. The worst part about him is that his arms and legs are not pose-able. You would think he would have wire in his arms and legs so you could hang him easily from things. No. The elf is an asshole.
I'm not going to let it get to me though. Trying to focus on the real meaning of the season - giving back, time with family, baby Jesus. Only 22 more days until Christmas eve!
