Things that Make this Mom Go “Huh?”: Vol. 1

This stroller ad has been all over the mom-net and every time I see it, I’m so thankful that a company has finally tapped into how real moms look when we exercise.

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Sure, we like to stand behind the cliché of yoga pants and mom jeans, but the truth is that we are all covering washboard abs, zero body fat and thoroughly enjoy jogging with our babies while wearing a bikini. Not only do most moms with infants have enough confidence in their bodies to show it off by the family pool, but why stop there? Pregnancy transforms your body to model-like measurements and we all need to be like this very obviously real mother and exercise in a two-piece swimsuit. Run all over the damn town wearing this.

Because THIS is reality, guys!

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Also in an effort to make me feel like less of a woman, is this video of a mom delivering her own baby in the passenger seat of the car while her husband is all calm like he’s driving Miss Daisy to her hair appointment.

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The husband freaks me the freak out in this video because he appears to be driving at a snail’s pace and isn’t remotely afraid that his wife’s vagina is about to burst open all over his car’s interior. Ryan barely let me have contractions in his car out of fear that my loud yelling would somehow harm his car’s resale value. But this bro, even after the baby is born, just keeps on driving like he’s going to Home Depot for a new drill bit. No rush, no rush! Just um, turn up the a/c and unwrap the umbilical cord around your still-attached-to-your-placenta-baby’s neck.

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We’ve all been a bit under-the-weather here so when an article popped up on my Pinterest about how to keep sick kids entertained without screen time, I was definitely intrigued. Caroline came down with a nasty fever last week that has turned into a lingering cold for the rest of us. I figured this list may have some ideas that would allow Caroline to rest and for us not to watch one more damn episode of “Curious George.”

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I was wrong because people that clearly don’t have kids made up this list or they have kids and really don’t like them.

5 Screen Free Sick Day Activities

  • Sudoku Puzzles. I found this great site that has a huge list of free printable Sudoku puzzles. They are sorted by difficulty and even come with the solutions. (Although I never print that page… I don’t want to the kids to know about it. )
  • Secret Codes. I love this fun idea of secret code math equations from No Time for Flash Cards. It involves spies and math, both of which are HUGE at our house. Modify the problems to fit the math skills your little one is currently working on.
  • DIY Geoboard. Geoboards are a wonderful quiet time activity. An Everyday Story has created a fun DIY Geoboard that is not only easy to make (and store) but also adds another level of creativity that regular geoboards don’t have.
  • Sponge Blocks. Building with anything is a great sick day activity. I especially like the idea of building with DIY sponge blocks because it’s something new and exciting. These blocks also add to the quiet and softness needs of a sick kiddo. (This idea is from Inner Child Fun.)
  • Make a Comic. Sick days (especially the sick days where the kids are almost better) are the perfect days to start a project. Sweet Hot Mess has printable blank comic strip sheets. They are so fun and just beg to be filled with an exciting story. Print a few extras and join in!

Huh? Who, in their right mind as a parent, is like “honey, I know you just threw up your PB&J, but maybe you want to build a bungalow or a craftsmen style house with these awesome sponge blocks?” Who wants to do that? And who the hell wants to do secret math codes when they’re healthy, let alone when they’re sick? Have these people never taken cough medicine? I can barely tie my shoelaces and remember my middle name after a swig of Robitussin and you want my medicated child to solve a damn Sodoku?

But seriously, thank god for geoboards. That’s actually a good idea.

Just kidding. That’s awful because it involves pins, rubber bands and corkboard and that spells “absolutely boring” to me. If I gave that to Caroline, she’d pin my still-conscious head to the corkboard and flick the rubber bands at me until I bled and apologized for giving her such a feeble activity to do while she was sick.

Come to think of it, maybe screen time when you’re sick isn’t so bad after all…

Queue up another episode of “Curious George!”

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Don’t Look Down

Tonight was Caroline’s gymnastic class which greatly insinuates that she is the one doing the physical activity, but in reality it’s the parents demonstrating the gymnastics moves and chasing the children when they bolt towards the exit. It shouldn’t surprise you how out of shape I am, but even I’m embarrassed when I’m sweating in a “parent and tot” gymnastics class.

Anyway, tonight the instructor was going over a few key poses for the kids to replicate on their mats. Most of the kids must have had a pint full of sugar because they were unfocused and hyper (SHOCKING for that age group, I know) so I was doing my best “super enthusiastic, look at me!” mom impersonation trying to get Caroline to practice her positions.

Look at Mommy doing a pike pose, Caroline!

Let’s do table pose like this! 

Can you do an arch like Mommy?

I was basically the Kerri Strug of the class without the Olympic pressure and broken foot.

 

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I was going out of my way to demonstrate the moves to capture the attention of Caroline and her friends. I figured if the parents and I could make it look interesting then the kids would stop picking their noses and copy us.

Then the instructor said, “let’s try doing a saddle pose” which is a pretty fundamental move for gymnastics. You essentially sit on your butt, separate your legs and smile like the gold medal is already yours. Like this girl:

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Watch THIS, you class of uninvolved parents that aren’t doing the moves themselves! I’ll do a straddle pose!

And I did.

It was a damn good straddle pose- a perfect 10.

Then I looked down.

There it was: an unmistakably large and noticeable hole in the crotch area of my $7 Target leggings.

A hole that I didn’t know was there, but was unknowingly flashing to a class of toddlers and their parents while trying to showoff my enthusiasm.

Some days when I feel like I have my shit together, I realize at 6pm that I’ve been walking around all day with my underwear exposed.

Next week, I will be wearing this to class:

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And yes, I realize this is the second post in a row about underwear. I don’t understand my life, either.

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The Toddler Walk of Shame

Caroline loves the bathroom at the library. It’s a private bathroom where the toilet, mirror, sink, soap dispensers and paper towels are all extremely low to the ground. I think she finds it fun that she can be independent in there and doesn’t need assistance or a step stool. I could withhold water from her for weeks and without fail, three minutes into the library trip she’d have to pee.

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Today we went and were enjoying the company of another three-year-old little girl when Caroline proudly declared that she needed to go to the bathroom. I figured we’d be quick so I didn’t bother to put Oliver back in his stroller and risk him screaming. I just grabbed my purse and her hand and headed to the bathroom.

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When we got into the bathroom, I realized that Oliver’s foot was haphazardly stuck in the opening of my purse. While trying to awkwardly detangle his limbs, I saw Caroline proudly hop on to the toilet by herself.

And then, I noticed her lean her head over…

Oh my God, she’s trying to see where the pee comes from.

Before I could formulate a plan or even digest what I was seeing, she began peeing…all overher underwearthe toilether shoesand the floor.

Because she was in such a rush to independently use the bathroom, she didn’t pull her clothes down very far resulting in them being soaked.

I pulled her over on to the chair to examine the damage and it was then she realized what had just occurred. This is the girl that cries for a napkin when a crumb gets stuck to her face. This is the girl that volunteers for a bath after eating a cupcake. This is not the girl that is okay with having a spot of water on her pants, let alone urine.

So naturally and expectedly, she freaked the f^$# out.

The library has two rules: return your damn books on time and always shut the hell up.

I owed $8.00 in fines and Caroline was screaming about bodily fluids so we were giant library rule-breaking outlaws.

The only strategy I could come up with was to leave her underwear off, put her pants back on and hightail it out of there to the car where I had a change of clothes for her. I suppose the library actually has three rules: wear pants.

As I’m trying to convince Miss Panicking Neat Freak that we’re going right to the car and that pants are required in public places, clean ones or not, Oliver is trying to wrestle out of my arms to crawl on the floor.

So here I am: one baby who wants to crawl on the floor of a public restroom and contract Ebola and Polio and the other baby who is screaming because she finally found out where pee come from and she wasn’t happy about her anatomy.

Motherhood. It’s beautiful.

I finally managed to emerge from the bathroom with minimal sweat pouring down my face and Caroline’s screams down to soft whimpers. We were so close to the exit when Caroline suddenly remembered that she wasn’t wearing her underwear, but at the same time, can’t remember why despite it just happening.

Her response? And the only response of a toddler: scream.

So she screams.

“Mommy! Where are my underwear?! Do you have my underwear?! MY UNDERWEAR AREN’T ONNNNNNNN!”

 Librarians don’t like conversations above a whisper and I imagine they definitely don’t like when patrons scream like dementia patients about their lost undergarments.

That’s the thing about motherhood though. Just when you think you have it all together, there you are sticking your daughter’s urine soaked underwear in your Kate Spade handbag. That’s what I get for trying to pretend that I have an ounce of class.

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25 Things: US Weekly Style

Since I have some new readers (code for people other than my mom and Ryan), I thought I’d do a little list of random things about myself that will make you either go “I hate this broad” or say, “Eh, she’s weird and potentially tolerable. I’ll keep reading.” I’m hoping for the latter.

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I was inspired by the trusted news source of US Weekly that provides 25 things about a particular celebrity. Since in my own head, I am a celebrity then here is my submission to US. I’m still waiting to hear back from them…

  1. My real name is Alexandra. I actually prefer to be called this, but absolutely no one else participates in this request. Hardships, yo.
  2. I just turned 30 years old in January, but I feel like I am perpetually 25 years old. I’m perfectly fine with entering my 30s- I like where I am in life and the little family Ryan and I have made!
  3. I have a bachelor’s degree in History with Adolescent Education 7-12 certification.
  4. I have a master’s degree in History as well. I wrote my 85 page MA thesis on the marriages and motherhood of a small feminist group in Greenwich Village in the 1920s. I loved researching and writing it.
  5. With that said, anything concerning women’s history is my
  6. Ryan and I have been together for 12 years and married for five. He makes me laugh hard every single day.
  7. We have two babies: Caroline and Oliver. She will be 3 and he will be 1 in September. September is the only month we have babies, apparently.
  8. I cannot, for the life of me, refuse a baked good. Cakes, cookies, pies, brownies, cupcakes—it’s ridiculous the love affair I have with each of them. I’d leave Ryan for a tub of buttercream frosting.
  9. Speaking of food- I am revolted by subs. Too many cold, random things in one sandwich. No. I also will dry heave around bologna- something about it makes me want to upchuck all over.
  10. Refrigerated leftovers gross me out too. I don’t like how food can change in appearance, texture and smell in the fridge.
  11. My favorite flowers are peonies.
  12. Llamas and pigs are some of my favorite animals. Please don’t ask why. I apparently have a thing for dirty farm animals.
  13. In the colder months, it’s rare to not see me in a cardigan.
  14. Even if I were a billionaire, I’d still want to do my own laundry. Somebody else washing my undergarments weirds me out.
  15. I wore braces for 18 months and my grandfather drove me to every appointment and afterwards, he’d treat me to McDonald’s breakfast. I couldn’t think of a better reason to miss morning classes.
  16. When I was in 5th grade, my mom told me to play with my Barbies while she took a shower. Like a true bad ass, I snuck out to go race some neighbor kids on my brand new mountain bike. I fell mid-race making a turn and broke the SHIT out of my arm. Having a cast up to my shoulder made me one bitter tween that summer.
  17. I’ve loved the British royal family since middle school. Needless to say, the past three years have been extra exciting for me.
  18. I got my belly button pierced when I was 18 years old. Damn, I was so cool
  19. I’m too scared to get a tattoo.
  20. Our dog is a diabetic that wakes us up to pee 3 or so times a night. And you thought babies kept us up!
  21. “Gilmore Girls” is my favorite show, ever. It coming to Netflix was like a Christmas present that I get to unwrap every night. Ryan is so thankful 😉
  22. Like most normal people, I need coffee to survive. I like to start the morning with hot coffee and then transition to iced coffee. Skim milk and Splenda is my coffee mix of choice.
  23. I think the opening scene of “The Lion King” is better than the entire “Frozen” movie. SUE ME!
  24. I’m a nail biter. It’s gross, I know.
  25. The first CD I ever bought was Britney Spears and I have NO REGRETS about it.

So there you have it! You probably just wasted 25 brain cells reading this, but maybe I’ll make it up to you by re-reviewing “Magic Mike: XXL” later.

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Working on my Anger Management…at a Toddler Gym Class

Caroline started a new session of gymnastics a few weeks ago and I have to say that this class is severely pushing my already weak patience levels. For starters, we went from a 9am Saturday class to a 5:45pm Wednesday class. Who the hell thought this time slot was a good idea? When am I (and, uh the kids too) supposed to EAT? I’m not trying to feed my toddler yogurt (that’s all that emaciated girl eats) and then force her to do somersaults for 45 minutes. I’m also not victimizing myself by going to a freaking “parent and tot” gymnastics class on an empty stomach because I will turn into Bigfoot and straight up eat those kids.

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Get in my belly

Anyway, this new class has a whole collection of characters. For example, there is a little boy, who on our first session a few weeks ago, was running around with his grandparents. His grandmother looked a few days shy of turning 302 years old and looked like Meryl Streep- if Meryl Streep was 250 years older and thought gray hair was stylish and not just for witches. I spent a few moments thinking how nice it was for this little boy’s grandparents to accompany him to a gymnastics class when the threat of breaking their fragile hips is so real. My little Hallmark moment about these precious grandparents was ruined when the little guy fell down and yelled “Mommy!”

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See. Everyone is confused.

Mommy?!?!?!?!

I thought only celebrities had babies over 65 years old. Last time I checked, Al Pacino was not a member of our toddler gymnastics squad. Not to be graphic, but this woman’s uterus has to be older than our solar system. But you know, good for her and stuff.

Then we have a mom that videos the entire class. She haphazardly follows her daughter around with her iPhone while recording her every move. How much memory and space does she have on this phone to record six weeks of 45-minute toddler gym classes? Furthermore, who the HELL wants to re-watch those? I’m experiencing these classes live with my own eyes and even I don’t even want to see a bunch of confused and clumsy kids try to balance on a beam. What poor, poor undeserving soul are they making watch these videos? Terrorist suspects? Wouldn’t a simple picture of her in a leotard suffice? Nope. “Here is almost an hour of tape documenting her walking like a monkey and tripping over own legs. Enjoy Aunt Susan!”

But the real issues is the troublemaking kid in class. Surprisingly (and for once), the troublemaker isn’t Caroline (parental success!). This kid enters class and it’s like someone released a convict before his sentence was up.

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Whatever the teacher says, he just does the opposite.

“Don’t jump on the parachute!”

Kid jumps on the parachute delaying class by five minutes while people chase him off.

“Hold on to the balls until I say so!”

Kid immediately chucks it at someone’s head causing some type of head trauma.

“Stand still!”

Kid is racing himself around the room like a lunatic. No one’s chasing you, kid! No one!

His behaviors wouldn’t be so bad if his mom wasn’t so aloof. As parents, we’ve all had the naughty kid somewhere, at some point. However, I’d hope that we would also try to correct our children’s actions. No, this mom is like “teehee!” and ten minutes into the class (after he’s set a kid’s hair on fire and slashed the trampoline with a shank) she just gives up and lets him do whatever. He cuts in line, doesn’t follow instructions and is an all-around toddler terror.

So let me end this post with a piece of advice and one question for you all…

If you are a parent and your kid is acting like a jackass then please do something about it.

And…um…my question is hypothetical of course, but if you “accidentally” trip a kid on a gym apparatus is that a crime?

Asking for a friend.

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Lies I Tell My Toddler, Volume 1

Before having children, I would have labeled myself as a “truthful mother”– a mother that tells their child the truth in all sorts of circumstances to ensure that they have an honest and realistic view of the world around them. With the exception of Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, my daughter would grow up with a candid mother that provided her with truthful answers to all of her questions.

 But then I had a toddler who asked all sorts of questions and wanted to do all sorts of things and it turns out that this “truthful mother” that I once aspired to be is actually a compulsive liar.

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Once I realized my questionable parenting techniques, I started keeping track of all of my seemingly harmless “fibs” to my daughter.

Without further ado, here are some recent lies I’ve told her…

“Girls Don’t Fart”

Upon potty training, my daughter realized that the human body could make some hilarious noises on the toilet. She also learned that when she farts in front of my husband, it’s an automatic laugh. I began to tell her that girls simply do not fart if they are ladies. Maybe there’s some truth to that after all. I mean, I highly doubt Kate Middleton is lifting up her leg in front of Prince William and passing gas. If I want my daughter to marry well, she can’t be running around asking people to pull her finger so “girls don’t fart” in our house. According to mom’s rules, we don’t have the correct anatomy to even make that happen.

“The Coffee Shop Doesn’t Make Donuts”

Yes, I know that the name of the coffee shop actually has the word “donuts” in it, but they “don’t make donuts” therefore I can’t buy her one. In reality, I’m not willing to pair my iced coffee with a $1.29 sprinkled donut that my daughter will pick the frosting off of and declare that she “doesn’t like donuts anymore.” We are a middle class family, we need to save all the money we can so sorry kid, the oven is broke and the coffee shop just doesn’t make donuts.

“Too Much Brownie Batter Will Give You Worms”

There’s probably some scientific truth to this because uncooked eggs are allegedly bad for you, but when my two year old is eyeing the bowl of brownie batter with a look like she’s going to devour every square inch then I have a problem. Brownie and cake batter is reserved for mature adults that can handle the repercussions of eating raw egg. Toddlers can’t enjoy the pleasure of licking the batter spoon and therefore I tell her that it will give her some type of awful parasite that will make her puke for days. When she asks why I can eat it, I tell her to go watch whatever is on PBS at the time.

“I Can’t Just Put ‘Curious George’ On. It Doesn’t Work That Way”

Straight-up lie. It works EXACTLY that way! It’s 2015 and we live in the age of DVR’s, Netflix, YouTube and Hulu. Of course she can watch whatever she wants whenever she wants because that’s the age that we live in. However, if I have to watch a curious monkey conduct the NYC subway or Elsa sing that godforsaken song one more time, mommy is going to need to rob a liquor store. In our house, we live in 1996 where your show comes on once a day if you’re lucky (or 3 or 4 times if Mommy’s having a rough day or is busy in the other room eating brownie batter).

“When You Go To Sleep, Mommy Goes to Sleep Too”

This is a necessary lie because if I told her the truth that Mommy and Daddy are going to have beers, eat chips and watch shows with a ton of curse words and adult situations, the girl would NEVER go to bed. I like to tell her that mommy is just as tired as she is and when I close her bedroom door, I’m going to go to sleep just like her. In reality, mommy is sneaking downstairs to do an embarrassing happy dance and is still four hours away from bedtime. Those copies of US Weekly’s aren’t going to read themselves!

“The Library Is Closed Today”

Of course the library is open—it’s Tuesday at 11am. The truth is that this mommy doesn’t want to be forced to socialize with the other mothers. There’s the granola mom that wants to tell me how I should make my daughter’s body wash because chemicals will give her cancer. Then there’s the mom that named her daughter “Pepper” and the mom that is taking selfies in the corner while her son threatens to urinate on the floor. I don’t want to become friends with these women so sorry little one; you’re going to read “The Little Mermaid” for one more night because “the library is closed today.”

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Don’t judge me, guys. I’m always honest with the one thing that matters most: the IRS. I still have a little dignity left, after all.

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Diary of a Date Night: Is It Worth It?

 Last week was our fifth wedding anniversary. So much has changed in five years: we bought a new house, had two beautiful children, got new jobs, I properly learned how to use a curling iron and my husband got a new Xbox. Five years full of big events which means we are socially obligated to go on a date night to celebrate.

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I love my husband and love spending time with him, but a simple date night when you have kids is astronomically stressful. With the exception of childbirth and the occasional root canal, date nights are colossally painful to both plan and execute. For several hours beforehand, there is an internal battle of “is this worth it?” that begins right around…

4:00PM: Did I really just make dinner reservations for 8:45PM? Are we upper class Europeans? Who the hell eats dinner that late? People that need their kids to be asleep for the sitter, that’s who.

4:10PM: Damn, having pasta at 10PM is going to give me some serious gas. Reminder to pack the Tums.

4:15PM: Make coffee. I wonder if people will judge us if we just stay home and watch “House Hunters” instead. Tonight, there’s a young couple that has different architectural preferences and a very limited budget! Do I really want to miss that episode?

4:18PM: Reminder to set that episode to record.

5:30PM: Make dinner for the kids. I’m thinking of making them pizza bagels which is complete bullshit because I love pizza bagels. Why are we going out and spending money we don’t have when we can take this perfectly dense carbohydrate and top it with cheese and pepperoni?

6:30PM: My husband affectionately smacks my ass as I’m putting away dishes and lyrically references “Baby Got Back.” With romance like this, I don’t see why we need a date night.

7:00PM: Begin to put the kids to bed. Reading a book about a disturbingly large red dog and an aloof penguin that wants to fly is canceling out all of my coffee’s effectiveness.

7:10PM: This freaking penguin wants to “fly” by shooting out of a cannon. How are we still reading this? I’m going to fall asleep. Any minute. Are we sure this date night is a good idea?

7:30PM: Begin the horrific process of finding something to wear that isn’t yoga pants, sweat pants, stained or three sizes too large/small. At this point, I have two dresses to choose from: my professionally preserved wedding gown or my 11th grade prom dress. Go big or go home, I guess.

7:34PM: I bet this damn restaurant requires that I wear a bra. Communists.

7:40PM: Since this is a special occasion, my usual make-up routine of “concealer under tired eyes” is not sufficient. I’ll put on some eyeliner because nothing says, “I have my life under control” like meticulously applied eyeliner.

7:44PM: Husband lurks outside the bathroom door asking how much longer I’ll be. I’m not sure there, pal. I just found a soggy Cheerio entangled in my hair and I just realized I haven’t plucked my eyebrows since 2013. It might be a while.

7:55PM: As I’m slowly and patiently applying my eyeliner, my husband startles me to say that it’s a 35 minute commute to the restaurant and we should hurry up. My eyeliner now looks like it was applied by a 4 year old during an earthquake. I can’t believe I have to present myself to the public.

8:05PM: Loud cries sound from the baby monitor. Ah rats! The baby needs me and most likely wants to watch “Gilmore Girls” with me while wearing sweat pants. Rain check on that date, husband.

8:06PM: Crying stops. Resume process of putting on Spanx.

8:10PM: Say goodbye to babysitter and remind her of emergency numbers and practices. Wait a damn minute. What if something bad happens while we’re gone? A fire! A kidnapping! A national disaster! You know who is good to have around in emergencies? Your mother. I’m a bad mother for leaving them, aren’t I?

8:15PM: Taylor Swift comes on the car radio and I realize that I’m outside of the house…in the car…driving away…without the kids.

YO! Let’s go crazy tonight, husband! We could do shots, go to a strip club, and commit a misdemeanor. We are kid free! We don’t have to talk about big red dogs or curious monkeys! We can talk about real stuff like we did before we had kids!

8:45PM-10PM: Spend the entire dinner talking about our kids while drinking two glasses of wine and eating subpar pasta.

10:30PM: Fall asleep mildly buzzed after thinking that date nights are hell of a lot of work, but that we are lucky enough to get them.

10:31PM: Stop being sentimental and wonder if that couple on “House Hunters” found their dream home.

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Until next time, date night…

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Nanny Applicants: The Bad, The Worst and The “WTF”

Since my inheritance from Oprah is still pending (she’s disputing that we’re related which is rude because we’re basically twins), I have to return to work this coming fall after a yearlong maternity leave. Oliver’s medical issues caused me to take a longer time away and reevaluate childcare. We settled on hiring a nanny of-sorts to come to our house three days a week (my mom watches them the other two days) to ensure that Ollie doesn’t get exposed to too many germs given his weaker immune system. We registered for a service where we could access background checks, driving records, resumes, references and the results of their last STD check (not really, but I’d pay extra for that).

Needless to say, some of the applicant’s messages have been less than stellar in terms of first impressions. Remember that these are people applying to take care of my children- the tiny humans that I created and love more than high caloric baked goods.

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Let’s take a look at some of our options…and please remember that I know how to spell so the following errors are not my own.

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Monica:

 i am able to provide meals and really enjoy going to playgrounds etc when it’s beautiful out. my home is very kid friendly inside and out. we have 2 bounce houses, a trampoline, play set, etc. I’d love to care for your sweet child in september. I hope that you choose me :-) have a great day.

First off, what does “playgrounds, etc.” mean? Is that code for “playgrounds, libraries, crack dens and cock fights?”

Secondly, your home sounds like a damn circus. Bounce houses and trampolines? Why don’t I just break my daughter’s arm right now? And once again, WHAT DOES THE “etc” mean? Do you also have sharp knives for them to play with while they’re swinging on the play set?

Thirdly, do not call my child “sweet.” You don’t know her and when you do, you’ll realize that she will straight up ninja kick you in the gut to get a piece of candy. “Sweet” my ass.

Lastly, are you running for Student Council president? You hope that I choose you? Is there a vote? Is this “American Idol?”

VERDICT: Creepy and will kill my children, etc.

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Kristen:

I am great with kids. I take care of my 7 month old nephew so I am very comfortable with babies. I drive him around with me while running errands and such so I am comfortable driving with children in the car.

That’s awesome that you can run errands (that’s code for drug slinging, let’s be real here) and have somebody else in your car with you at the same time. You’re basically a multi-tasking wizard. Like, tell me your secret oh wise one because whenever I run errands, I leave my kids at home alone so you must really be on to something.

VERDICT: She definitely hides her drug stash in her nephew’s diapers whenever she gets pulled over.

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Kelly:

I am a fun out going and caring person who loves kids

I have worked with infants all the way up to preteen

I have more experience with infants and toddles

Thank God you came along Kelly because it’s been really hard finding someone that knows how to take care of toddles.

VERDICT: Before I hire her, I need her to explain what the fuck a “toddle” actually is.

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Emma:

Hi! My name is Emma and I will be starting college in September and could easily work the schedule you need! at the moment, I care for fraternal twins and I love it! Sadly, I’m becoming an adult and bills have to be paid and there aren’t enough hours for me to watch them

I love that you’re right to the point, Emma. Instead of telling me that you love children and Pixar movies, you go right for the truth: bitch needs some cash money dollars. I get it, trust me. But most of our expenses are student loans and you haven’t even started college yet so what kind of debt do you have exactly? Gambling debt? Loan sharks? Lawyer fees? Victim restitution? You sound desperate for money and you know what people are willing to pay a lot of money for? MY BABIES. I’m on to you, Emma! Stop trying to sell my precious kids on the Mexican baby black market.

VERDICT: If you need lots of money and fast then you have one option in this country: become a stripper. Good luck, friend.

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Trudy:

I’m a grandmother of 3. I had had 3 children of my own. I also watch my nieces 4 children when she needs me.

This is a cool story, Trudy. Thanks for sharing. Your autobiography is riveting so far.

VERDICT: I’ll put her in the “maybe” category because she’s obviously 200 years old and could probably knit me a kick-ass blanket for the couch.

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Elaina:

very intrested in this job. I have my own car and I am very reliable.

YOU ARE HIRED. You have a car and need a job?!?! Why are we wasting time messaging when you can be babysitting my children and I can be teaching you how to spell.

VERDICT: This girl is the golden ticket of nannies. Guys, she has her OWN CAR! It probably has wheels and doors and everything to keep my children safe! She’s the one! What other requirements does she need to meet?

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As you can see, this is going to be an uphill battle. I’m interviewing two women today in person so if I disappear after this post goes live then please contact the proper authorities because apparently anyone that applies to be a nanny is a psychopath, sketch-ball criminal that needs money and loves bragging that they have a car.

Wish me luck…

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5 Kids, 2 Adults and a Water Park

Like true Americans, I spent the recent Fourth of July celebrating this great country’s birth by drinking (Mexican) beers. We were at our best friend’s house and because I have zero integrity, I peer pressured my hostess best friend to drink them with me. It was hot, we have kids, beers are tasty, we have kids, beers are tasty—you get the point.

Maybe around our second beer (I think she stopped at two—she has more self-restraint than I do, apparently), we were talking about things we want to do together with the kids this summer. She mentioned a water park that’s about 45 minutes away from us and we were both like “Yes! Let’s do it!” and then we high-fived and braided each other’s hair.

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We were so confident that the water park would be awesome. We figured we could handle the kids by ourselves (her three plus my two) sans our husbands and come out looking like the better parent because WE TOOK THE KIDS TO A WATER PARK while those losers were at work! We were jazzed for our mommy date, particularly once we saw that the forecast was calling for a hot day. This was adding up to the be the greatest day EVER!

Let me tell you that the day was memorable, but not necessarily in the way we anticipated.

See as a mom, you wear “mom goggles” and a “supermom” cape. Everything looks doable and manageable from afar until you actually start doing it and then you realize why prescription anxiety medications exist.

Take the kids to a water park? No problem! Easy.

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Reality?

I wanted to curl up into the fetal position in one of the park’s rafts and drift towards Cuba because Castro seemed friendlier than my toddler.

Allow me to enlighten you on the ways in which my “mom goggles” totally and rudely mocked our every move.

Mom Goggles: We’ll leave the house around 10:15AM. Just have to pack up our bathing suits, some towels and we’ll be on our way!

Reality: “Where the f*@$ is my phone? And where are the bathing suits? Are they dirty? Does that one even still fit Caroline? Where the f*@$ is my phone, seriously. Holy shit, it’s 10:08AM. Damnit! I forgot to pack us lunch! I didn’t go grocery shopping. I can’t pack a wheel of cheese, right? No, I can’t. Shit. Will the kids eat dry pasta and canned gravy? That’s all I see in his pitiful pantry. OH MY GOD! WE ARE SO LATE and WHERE THE F*@$ IS MY PHONE? AND LET THE DOG OUTTTT!”

Mom Goggles: Let’s all go on the “Lazy River!” How fun! You sit in a raft and float peacefully down the river. Caroline will love it and it will give her a minute to relax.

Reality: The “Lazy River” was not lazy. In fact, it was full of aggressive hoses that were violently pouring, shooting, dumping and spraying water at us. Caroline screamed the entire time and now has PTSD. She will forever twitch and shudder at the very sight of spewing water.

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Mom Goggles: I’ll pack up 3-4 bottles for Oliver—that should be enough for the day.

Reality: Yeah that was plenty of formula, but I forgot to pack the vent that goes inside of the bottle. So not only did the bottle leak all over Oliver, but he’s full of gas. You know where babies don’t want to be when they’re hungry and full of farts? A freaking water park.

Mom Goggles: Oliver will probably nap in the stroller, giving me some one-on-one time with Caroline.

Reality: He’s hungry and full of farts. Take that nap and stick it up your unicorn dreamer, Allee.

Mom Goggles: A wave pool! Caroline’s going to love this.

Reality: Does she know this isn’t a shark-infested North Carolinian beach? Why the hell is she screaming? She won’t even come near it. She keeps yelling “the waves will eat her” What does that even mean?

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Mom Goggles: Tell my friend to take her oldest son on the waterslides while I watch her daughter back at the splash pad with Caroline and Oliver. I am such an awesome mom that I can even watch other people’s kids.

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Reality: Both girls immediately announce they need to use the bathroom. Do you know how hard it is to escort two soaking wet toddlers to the bathroom while pushing an overstuffed stroller with a 20-pound baby in it? My SAT’s were easier than that.

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Overall, it was a fun day, but a painful reminder that I need to take off those mom goggles and realize that the shit always hits the fan with children. It’s part of their appeal.

Or their fatal flaw.

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Hmm…debate that in the comment section.

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Bathing Suits as a 30 Year Old Mom

There are few things I hate more than trying on bathing suits. Maybe I hate denim cut-off shorts and ill-placed mosquito bites more than trying on bathing suits, but the hate is parallel.

What makes today’s swimsuit fitting even more infuriating is that I kind of…recently…just had a baby…like 10 months ago, but to the female body that’s like 2 weeks ago. My body has clearly gone through a revolution of sorts these past three years and while I loved my yellow polka dot bikini, it was time to retire that shit. It was a humble and simple bikini that accompanied me on the honeymoon beaches of Mexico when I was a young newlywed with narrow hips and minimal body fat.

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But three years and two babies later, I look really different in it now…

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Bottom line: trying on bathing suits as a mom is awful because styles, sizes and designs that once looked “ah-mazing” now make you feel like a college tramp on spring break. Can I just find something that isn’t going to embarrass my daughter at the splash pad and expose my lady bits to the neighbors?

For starters, why don’t they make bathing suits for actual women? You know, the women that aren’t Gisele Bundchen. Women who occasionally do crunches and squats (you know, like once or twice a year), but also really like cookies and buttercream frosting. Where are the bathing suits for those women?

I spent 15 painful minutes in the fitting room wanting someone to take me outback and pistol-whip me. I didn’t buy anything because I was too busy envisioning setting all of their merchandise on fire, but can we have a talk about some of the options out there?

The String Bikini Top

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I wore more clothes in the birth canal than this thing offers. One small splash in the pool and it’s “Moms Gone Wild,” but without the booze and sketchy dudes filming it.

The Underwire Push-Up Top

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What’s great about this top is that I can literally kiss my boobs because they’re propped up so high. Nursing moms could legitimately breastfeed themselves in this—how convenient if you didn’t pack a snack!

Low Rise Bikini Bottom

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Are exposed c-section scars in fashion yet? No? Then this can go straight to hell.

Thong Bikini Bottom

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This bathing suit would be on the back of a milk carton ten seconds after I wore it because my ass WOULD HAVE EATEN IT. People would be holding candle light vigils for the lost thong that Allee’s backside completely swallowed. Rest in peace.

The Bright Colors/Crazy Patterns Suit

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I had three seizures looking at these.

The Tons-of-Fabric Suit

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Why do I need my arms covered up to this extent? Is a Catholic priest coming to the pool for a baptism?

The Crazy Cut Out Swimsuit

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Just putting this thing on requires a PhD. And who wants those tan lines? Yeah, let me go to a meeting at my daughter’s nursery school with tan marks that resemble some form of weird bondage—that’ll go over well.

I just gave up and bought this:

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