Hair roller hell or how I almost had to cut my kid’s hair outta rollers

I know I’m not the only Mom to which this situation has happened. But it’s never happened to me before! I nearly had to cut out 10 hair rollers from my Little Pumpkin’s hair!! All because of the BLEEPITY BLEEPING BLEEP hair rollers were all tangled in her hair!! And we had FIVE minutes before she had to leave for school! And I was panicking!! And she was screaming!! And there was crying!! And OMG HELP US!! I felt horrible, absolutely terrible about the whole ordeal. Her poor little scalp. Not to mention her psyche.

Well, despite all the screaming and crying it turned out all right. I was finally able to get her hair untangled from the roller’s teeth (which were really the culprits all along) WITHOUT cutting her hair at random points. Damn, that would have been a real nightmare. Probably these rollers weren’t meant for her length of hair anyway because of the teeth. Really, the damn things were given to my gremlins to pretend play beauty salon (or whatever) and I should have just thrown them away a long time ago. Which is EXACTLY what I did as soon as the husband & Pumpkin were on their way to school.

I just have to add, I did try to warn her about these particular rollers when I was putting them in her hair. We also have the foamy, squishy kind that DON’T get tangled in hair. But NOOOOO, she wanted to have these ones put in. So, lesson learned. Hopefully. What lesson do I hope that she learned? LISTEN to your mother. What lesson did I learn? Push your argument a little stronger.  Maybe, she’ll listen. Or most likely, she’ll still want her own way. What am I gonna do? She’s got a determined personality. Much like her mother & father.


Thanks for listening (or reading, if you must be technical),



Heaven help us

We're gonna have an official teenager in our midst very, very soon. GAH!! Oh, sure we've been getting the tween attitude for a while now but my Honey bunny is officially turning teen in less than 3 days. You know what scares me about this whole situation, beyond the typical teenagery stuff, she has internet access! She knows the name of my blog! At any point in time she can type in the url, be whizzed away, and read EVERY LAST THING I've written about her, her sister, myself, and at times, her father on this VERY BLOG!! Not to mention the random posts about whathaveyou, that until this point in time I've never worried about her reading.

NOW! Now, I am most assuredly freaking out. Probably there is no reason to have a conniption fit before the fact. I just tend to do that sort of thing, you understand.

But I digress, my baby is becoming a teenager. The HELL. My BABY is becoming a teenager. Hold on a sec while I process that thought… Ok, I'm back.

The two of us have been party planning for awhile now. It's a delicate balance between kids party and non-kids party. She decided to invite some boys this year. Oooooohh! I know. Boys!! The husband & I are figuring that we'll be kept on our toes by this gathering since it's at our house. She wondered out-loud to me, what if there's an awkward moment or we don't know what to say. So we've been detailing what to do for the whole time to try to minimize any weirdness. I hope for her sake that this party is fun for her & her friends.

I'm so proud of her and all she's accomplished in her life to-date. I'm sure I'll be even more proud of her in the years to come. Probably we won't always get along in these up-coming years but it'll no doubt be interesting!

Happy 13th birthday to my Honey bunny!!

Thanks for listening (or reading, if you must be technical),



And the winner is….

ME! I win! I win the ‘Most Hateful Mom of the World’ award. How did I win? What did I win? How did you not know that there was even such a contest?! To start, how did I win? I won because I’m the meanest, most horrible mom. What did I win? I won a trip! A Mommy Guilt trip! Just for me. Disclaimer: Sorry this contest was not broadcast state or nationwide.

Well, let me tell you a little bit more of the story….

You see, it all started a long time ago, when my Honey bunny first started “fibbing” to me about brushing & flossing her teeth. This went on for awhile with rewards and/or punishment distributed periodically until the dentist finally had to mandate that she come to the office for check-ups & cleanings every 4 months because her teeth and gums were so badly deteriorating. I’m just gonna say, that my daily nagging was clearly not making a difference cuz she still wasn’t doing it.

Ok! Fast forward to a few days ago when I asked her if she was ready for school, including the usual, EVERY DAY things necessary to be ready for school, e.g., flossing, teeth brushing, face washing, to which she replied “Yes MOM, I’m ready”, and due to the fact that she’s perhaps been less truthful in the past, I asked again (thinking that maybe I’d give her ‘the out’ to come up & complete the tasks if she really hadn’t done them – damn am I an enabler?) but she says to me “WHY DON’T YOU BELIEVE ME?!” *read with whiny voice*

Right. Well, I decide I’d check out the situation in her bathroom sink before jumping to any conclusions. Uh oh. BONE DRY. I MEAN REALLY BONE DRY. Damn it! Now I’m gonna have to do something I really, very much do NOT want to do. What?! You’re probably screaming, what did you do?! I called her to come up to her bathroom and pointed to the Sahara desert that was her sink and asked how she could possibly have washed her face, flossed, and brushed her teeth in that sink. Her response was that it had dried. Suuuuure. At this juncture, I presented exhibit B, her little sister’s bathroom sink which was still wet from when she finished all the morning routine nearly an hour prior.

Shit slowly began to spiral outta control when I tell her that I was gonna have to do something now due to her total lie, that she brought it on herself, and that because she knows what she did was wrong, so on and so forth. I told her that she wouldn’t be able to go to the Halloween dance at school on Friday. Now comes the swirling vortex of crying, begging, pleading, bargaining, and more crying. Oh, just wait, it gets better.

15 minutes it has taken us to have this “conversation”, so now I’m not ready for work and she’s got to get to school before she’s late. I tell her to give me the permission slip & money for the dance. Commence additional wailing, pleading, bargaining (she told me I could take away her CELLPHONE, computer, and TV privileges, if I’d just let her go to the dance – heeyyy, I must have really struck a nerve with this punishment), crying, and the coup de grâce, “YOU HATE ME!!” Ahhhhh, life with an almost teenager. So much fun. Said NO ONE EVER. And now me too. I felt ill and so very sad because I wanted her to go to the dance! And have fun with her friends! But I just couldn’t let it go this time. I had to put my foot down. But damn it if I didn’t feel as horrible about the whole thing as she did. Was I doing the right thing? Will she be scared for the rest of her life? Was I being too harsh? Should her father & I start sleeping with one eye open!?

So! Yesterday. I’m driving her to school and she says to me, “you know my friends told me that I should ask you if there was something that I could do that would make you change your mind about letting me go to the dance…” Me: blah, blah, blah, more useless lecturing that she’s totally not listening to. As she’s getting out of the car she asks me again, “so what’s your answer?” Me: oh, sweetie, I haven’t changed my mind. And then, after school, there’s yet another attempt but this time it includes a request from her Drama teacher to participate in the Haunted House that’s panned for the school dance. “But MOM she wants me to do this!” Me: well that’s unfortunate because you’re not going to the dance. You know what? You gotta give her props for trying!


Thanks for listening, or reading (if you must be technical),



P.S. Last night she mentions to me that her girlfriend is also not going to the dance due to a punishment so MAYBE they could have a sleepover! Bwahahahahaa. Um, no. I’m certain this isn’t over yet. Two more days till the dance. Here’s to hoping I survive.

We get to celebrate another birthday or how nearly a decade has passed

Today is my little Pumpkin’s 7th birthday. Yep, SEVEN years old. I don’t know why I’m constantly surprised by the fact that years are passing by so quickly. I say this same S#!T all the time. And yet, I’m surprised again. I think it’s all the looking back that I do at times like these. Day to day always so focused on today and the next day that when I stop to reflect on the years passed, I get weirded out. Thoughts of “how did we get here so quickly” cross my mind. Oh, I know it hasn’t really been fast there’s always the same 24 hrs in a day, 7 days in a week, and 365 days in a year (Ha! Except for this year!). But you can’t tell me that when you stop to look back that the years don’t seem compressed into seconds. Is that a thing?

Well anyway, the point of this post is suppose to be about my Pumpkin getting older. And I guess secondarily it would be about me wigging out once again. I’ve been worrying -overly as is my modus operandi- about the plight of a second child, and probably the same for a 3rd or 4th if you’re insane enough to have that many, does she get enough attention? Besides the yelling at them to behave and get along, I mean. Do we spend enough quality time with her? Or has she always been the tag-along kid? It makes me feel incredibly guilty to think that might be the case. But in a way, it’s true. She always went along to Honey bunny’s events or with me to the grocery store or to my office, until quite recently she didn’t have her own thing. And I certainly never had a chance to take her to Gymboree (or somesuchthing) as I did with her older sister. I know I’ve written about it before. I still feel guilty about it. Yippee! More Mommy Guilt. I’ll come back from my tangent now.

So, she’s turning 7 yrs old and becoming such a big girl. She’s incredibly independent, smart, funny, and says things that continually blow my mind in terms of showing how advanced she is for her age. And she’s got the ” I wanna be older so I can do the things my sister is doing” mentality. I remember that well. Always wanting to be included and doing what my older sisters were doing.

7 yrs ago I was all ready to have a baby. I was walking around the hospital hallways telling the husband how I’d try to deliver her without an epidural. Ahahahaha!! He actually stopped walking with me to laugh out loud. Needless to say, I didn’t deliver without the epidural. The pitocin made sure of that. I will never know whether or not it would have been possible to have a baby without ‘drugs’ cuz both girls were induced. Doesn’t really matter. What matters is that they arrived healthy and beautiful! And now, my “baby” is a big girl on her way to becoming a young lady. Happy 7th birthday, Pumpkin!

Thanks for listening (or reading, if you must be technical),


Stuff I didn’t want to admit, even to myself.

I’ll tell you one thing I NEVER thought I’d be dealing with as I raised my own children, dealing with the sensation or visualization or emotionalization ~is that even a word? it is now!~ of watching one’s own child-hood very nearly replayed, in front of your bloomin eyes, by one’s own child. Yeah. Did that even make sense?

Let me put it this way. I’ve finally admitted that my child is sneak eating food. Oh, I’ve known it has been going on for awhile but I think I REALLY didn’t want to admit it. Why? I feel like a failure. That’s why. My child is hiding food wrappers in the couch cushions. It’s kinda funny cuz what? you think I’m not gonna find them? but then again it isn’t funny at all. It’s scary as hell, actually. Well, for me it is. Because I know what it’s like to want to eat something but also knowing that I’d get into big trouble if I was caught eating it, so I hid the evidence. As a child I never wanted to disappoint my parents. This is the crux. My child doesn’t want to disappoint me.

Since I’m speaking so frankly, I’ll admit that I still sneak eat food. The truth is, there are times when I want something but I don’t want the kids to see me eating it!! Probably because it’s almost dinner time & they’ll most certainly want to have whatever it is I’m having but I don’t want them to ruin their appetite. Yes, that is my story and I’m stickin to it!!  

Candy from a dish was the BEST because there was no wrapper! No evidence! You know what I’m talking about, right? Your Grandmother had a candy dish, didn’t she?! Only problem with it was the candy was generally stuck to like five other pieces of candy or to the dish itself, thereby making it virtually impossible to remove without making a shitton of noise.

Being a young girl is difficult! Body image and health and fitness and self-esteem and grades and so on and so forth. It. is. HARD. And being a parent of a girl is even f—ing harder. Unless you don’t care. Then it’s easy as pie. Which is what your child probably ate for breakfast because you don’t care anyway.

In all seriousness, I want to have a happy, healthy, well adjusted child. WHO doesn’t? The last thing in the world I want for my child is to go through the same crap I went through. She can go through some different crap! Wait, I take that back. I suppose she is going through the same shit as me because A) I still need to heal and 2) because I sort of know how to help her get through this. I hope. Dammit. This shit is hard, YO! 

I could launch into a whole tirade about the media and how it distorts our view of beauty and damages our self-esteem but that is a debate I don’t wanna get into right now. Does it? Doesn’t it? Does it only mess with those that already have image issues? Who really has the answer anyway?

Whoever said having children was easy was a lying sack of donkey dung. And they still are, too.

Thanks for listening (or reading, if you must be technical),


Posted via email from Mother Musing

I’m a brat

I was looking through a bunch of old pictures and came across this photo of Pumpkin. She was about 1 yr old when this was taken. And to this day, she still is a brat. A funny, entertaining, smart, adorable brat but a brat nonetheless. Plus, this just happens to go along with my post on remembering old times. 

Here’s the story behind the photo:

The husband wrote this on a sticky address label & stuck it to her shirt as a bit of a joke. You see, she was coming with me to the office on a daily basis and the two of us were getting pretty sick of the arrangement. She was frustrated because she couldn’t do all the kid things that she wanted to do and I was frustrated from telling her NO! all the time while attempting to simultaneously get work done. Yeah, it wasn’t long after this point that she started going to day care. And I’m so glad that she did. It was the best decision ever. For us. And I’m not going to get into a whole discussion about whether day care is right or wrong. You just gotta make the decision for yourself & your situation. 

Oh, there is still some mommy guilt for me around this but I’m working through it. Someone hold me. 


Thanks for listening (or reading, if you must be technical),


Posted via email from Mother Musing

Remembering some old times

I was recently reminded of the time when I had to take my gremlins to daycare for the very first time. It wasn’t as traumatic for me as for some. More of a relief, in a way. See, up to the point in time when I decided to start the girls on the daycare path, I was attempting to work with them right in my office. Imagine, if you will, a 10×10 room with an L-shaped desk, shelves, a small couch, very little floor space, and a baby gate at the door. Now imagine a toddler & a mommy crammed in there. Not real conducive to a productive work environment.

As they got older, more mobile, and more adventurous it became exponentially more challenging to get anything done. So for me, it made all kinds of sense to enroll them in a “pre-school”. Besides, they were between 9-12 months old and I was lucky enough to do the part-time work / full-time mommy thing. 

But now they’re in elementary school and they come to the office for shorter, more managable periods of time. And they go to an on-site after school program three days a week that allows them to play with their classmates while still allowing me to get serious work done for those days. Win-Win. Therefore, no mommy guilt.    

Well, that’s what I keep trying to tell myself.

Thanks for listening (or reading, if you must be technical),


Posted via email from Mother Musing