Tag Archives: Kids

I gave my kids a terrible present

13 Dec

Why do I always miss an opportunity to play mind tricks on my kids only to exploit their emotions on the world wide web?!?!  In the latest episode of Jimmy Kimmel’s ‘piss your kids off so we can laugh at your shitty parenting skills’, parents were told to give their kids an early Christmas present, but it had to be a terrible gift.  I got a few chuckles, but the last little boy was clearly perturbed….well here you just watch:

Thou Shalt Not Sag

11 Jul

I haven’t seen sweetness all day because she spent the afternoon with her Mema, and soon as she walks through the doors, there I am with open arms and a smile…I missed my baby.  The first thing out of her mouth is “why don’t you have on a bra with those boobs?”

Um, okay…I missed you too, brat.

Dr. Know-It-All

1 Dec

I love that my friends think that I’m the expert at what I do. I’ve only been in the mom game for 6 years and the early childhood education field for 2 years and I’ve been dubbed the kid whisperer. Everyday I get a call or text asking my advice on how to manage a picky eater, what does lime green stinky-doo mean or which age bicuspids start to break through. I wish I could lie and say I’m working on my Ph.D to become a child psychologist, but I know my mouthy daughter would expose me and tell everyone I’m a quack. But I know that I know it all and that’s all that matters  So as I wait for my honorary doctorate degree for my infinite knowledge and wisdom on kids, here’s the latest convo between myself and one of my professional friends.

Her: “Kaleb has been a night owl lately. He refuses to go to sleep and stays up to like 1 am. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up with him.”

Me: “Man that sucks.”

Her: “Yea I know, especially when I’ve got to be at work at 8 am. Did your girls go through this phase?”

Me: “No. And if they did–then I completely missed it because I was probably sleep.”

Her: “Well what do you suggest I do?”

Me: “Girl, that’s easy…one word: Benadryl!”

This Goes Out to the Baby Daddy’s

9 Sep

Someone close to me has a baby’s mama who abides by the trifling baby mama handbook.  You know the rules:

1) Get him for child support

2) Don’t allow him to see the child (despite a court order)

3) Use the child to control  him to do the things that benefit you

This trifling baby mama club is a true sorority and these chicks will have you shocked at their crazy antics.  Here’s the background: they were young and dumb and in lust and not knowing it wasn’t love.  At current they aren’t together and their relationship is a tumultuous one, but he tries to man up to his responsibilities while she tries to thwart any attempts he makes to be a constant figure in his child’s life.  “What kind of woman would do such a thing?” you ask…we all know the importance of a father being in a child’s life–especially a black child.  Not to mention the child is selfishly stripped from experiencing an entire side of her family.  You see, I empathize with the child because my father was missing in action (his choice) but my mother made sure I spent time with my paternal grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins.  Even though he wasn’t there, some of my fondest and most memorable experiences were with them.  To this day I still have a loving and close relationship with my father’s mother.

You would think, only someone of unsound mind would put her child’s necessities last.   Baby mama syndrome runs deep in this chicks blood and you could easily blame it on ignorance and nature.  But she too grew up without a father.  She personally knows and pain that comes with having an absentee father…so why would she resort to perpetuating the vicious cycle?  I’m no therapist but I’ve already diagnosed this chick with a few psychological disorders: pathological liar, multiple personalities, bipolar, narcissism, trichotillomania (I don’t know about this one, that’s just my over-zealous psych 112 from five years ago trying to impress you ).

Here’s my point, I can’t help but to feel pity for men who encounter this problem…wanting to be a positive figure in his child’s life, but are put through the ringer by selfish bitches chicks.  See I can’t even call her a woman, because real women know despite the grief and heartache you may have experienced in your relationship with him, that should never impose on his relationship he has with his child.  Suffice it to say if it there’s violence and abuse that’s another case but that’s not the situation here.  We praise women for putting the ‘S’ on their chest and being baby mama’s (yes thank you Fantasia for the theme song), but we overshadow and negate the efforts and presence of the fathers who are actually there…or at least trying to be.

So this blog does not go out to my baby mama’s ( I was one…until he put a ring on it) this goes out to the baby daddy’s.  Who work hard to (try to) keep up with that child support.  And who picks up an extra job to pay those attorney and court fees where he had to advocate for himself and his paternal rights.  And to those who cherish the time he spends with his little one despite the adversity that may come his way.  Fellas, I hope you all continue to take care of your responsibilities and showcase just how important fatherhood is to you but most importantly to your little one!

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Random Ramblings–ADHD Style

6 Aug

Because I suffer from adult ADHD (self-diagnosed via web MD) my mind is always running.  Rarely do I ever complete a thought unless I really have to.  And I normally have multiple  unfinished tasks and thoughts running through my head because I can’t focus on just one. Here are some of the thoughts that consume my mind in just one hour out of the day…these are just little snippets, believe me it  goes on and on (disclaimer–the following consists of some serious topic jumping, hence the randomness of the subject matter):

I went to get my hair done a few weekends ago at the beauty school and the chick asked me if I wanted a wash and blow job. I thought: what the–she needs to realize those are serious words only to be spoken of and/or acted upon when I need some extra housework done around the house.  I’m giggling so hard I’m sure she thinks I’m crazy…I should tell her what she said and how I interpreted it…But wait what’s this chicks name again?

I wonder why I’m so forgetful.  Even simple things I have a hard time remembering, like people’s names.  More chances than not I’m going to forget a name within the first few seconds of meeting that person.  Because I really did want to know the chicks names I said: “hey give me your number so I can put it in my cell phone…how do you properly spell your name?” To which she replied: “k-a-t-e”….me: “oh, great thanks”.  *looks into purse to put phone back*  This purse is so junky, and so is that cabinet above the stove.  I need to clean it out.

Why do I try to rearrange clutter?  Organizing the clutter in my life actually means I move shit from one corner to a dark and lonely space in the back of my closet…out of sight out of mind.  (while stuffing shit into the back of the closet, I hear dogs barking)  Why the hell are those dogs barking?

Never leave the kids alone for more than ten minutes or you will have a traumatic experience on your hands with the little shih tzu’s…I still don’t know what those girls did to the dogs, but I do know they’ve got this paranoid side-walk that they do when their around the twinsies.  (I go to put the dogs in the kennel and see a spider on the wall.  I scream.  Get the vacuum cleaner and suck the spider up with the hose.  Then I think to myself: “I need to call Billy the Exterminator.  Actually I think I can do this myself and everyone will be so proud.”

Went to home depot to get some anthrax to annihilate the spiders in my house.  So I asked one of the workers with the ‘may I help you?’ tags on and he replies “I don’t work here I work at Walmart.  I’m just a regular customer.”  He laughs and I think “Well take that damn vest and name tag off…you’re confusing people!”

I finally find a home depot associate to which he replies:  “um, I don’t think they package anthrax to be sold in retail stores.”

Me: “You don’t think? (this man is probably thinking I’m some sort of threat to homeland security, yet I insist he finds out) Can you find out please?

Associate:  “No I’m for sure they don’t.”

Me: “Can I special order it and have it delivered to my house?”

Associate: “I don’t know (clearly he’s uncomfortable) but this Bayer spider killer is the best on the market. Try that.”

See what I mean…random and crazy.  And this how I function every minute of the day.  So I’ve taken up yoga to help me concentrate and to ease my rambunctious brain activity… if that doesn’t work I’m trying Prozac and then I wonder if I would qualify for disability if I’m professional diagnosed…and if I qualify for disability I wonder if I can get a handicap sticker?  A handicap sticker would…(and it I never stops)

7 Friends A Mom Needs

20 Jul

A woman needs her friends.  Whether she’s  married, separated or divorced.   There’s a  sanity–or insanity depending on the friend–that comes along with having other empowering women in your life.  I have been blessed to have a diverse range of friends, to whom I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without having them in my life.  They’ve cleaned up puke after a night of 7 Patron shots, stayed up long nights to help with college essays, helped parlay me into a job, listened to my ideas and told to me pursue them–no matter how outlandish I sounded, stood by my side through the important stuff in my life.   But most importantly they encouraged, inspired, and uplifted me.  I thought about my life and made a list of 7 friends every mom should have:

The remember the time we almost got kicked out of college pal–this friend is important because she knows what it means to throw caution to the wind, a true free spirit.  In my world, letting my hair down is a rarity.  I fret over things such as:  public restrooms and changing tables,  I wake up multiple times throughout the night to re-tuck the kids in, I cringe over germs that populate shopping carts and I get quite nauseous over the of thought of  the presence of bodily fluids lurking on movie theater seats (this is a separate post for another day, it will gross you out).  But having a crazy nutso friend, is actually a breath of fresh air in an uptight life.  She will have you doing things you will never speak of, but the two of you will have a few chuckles and constant “I can’t believe I effing did that” moments followed by “Did anyone catch that it camera?  If so, you better not upload it on facebook.  Better yet,  burn it!”.

The fab friend–this friend is equpped with a keen eye for fashion, style and chicness.  She can take something old and make it new.  She can shop high-end and knows where all the sales are.  This pal will not allow you to fall into the mommy jeans and over-sized sweater slump.  And if you know you’re going somewhere with her, you know you have to bring your fashion A game.  The glitz and glamor of this friend will guide you to the light at the end of the fashion faux pas tunnel.  But most importantly, she’s probably got a wardrobe so awesome, she won’t even notice a few missing pieces.

The tell it like it is girlfriend–it may sting, make you upset and even may make you cry; but this friend is there to tell you the truth.  She’s a no holds barred type of woman who will tell you crocs make your feet look like shit and you’re always broke because you can’t budget.  She tells you the things you don’t want to hear and helps snap you back to reality.

The friend with no kids–your kids likely call her Auntie and she spends just enough time around them for them to know her, but to not ask to spend the night at her house.  This friend can offer cool conversation that you once had but sadly went out the door soon as the pregnancy test read positive.  She’s up on the latest music, fashion, movies and gossip.  Her conversation is just what you need to get those annoyingly catchy Gabba Gabba tunes out of your head.  She’s a respite from the craziness of mommyhood.

The intellectual friend–when my brains doesn’t get any intellectual stimulation, I short circuit.  As a defense mechanism my brain issues a warning and I force myself to analyze dumb shit like Sarah Palin quotes.  That’s why having a friend who can enlighten and stimulate your brain is imperative.  Two months after having the twins, I tested my brain age on sweetnesses DS and it was 81–DAMN!  In my defense, many of the questions required mental math, a subject I suck miserably at.  My brain age diagnosis made me realize just how fast I was losing my touch.  I was always the witty one.  The know-it-all.  The one who answered the questions–even if I made them up.  Your intellectual friend is just the right prescription for a decrepit brain.  She’ll whip you into shape, jump start those synapses and get you back to the place you once were–being a smart ass.

The mom like you–This mom knows all about what you’re going through.  She despises Chuck E Cheese just as much as you do but she’s the first one there to help you set up for your 3-year-olds birthday party.  She doesn’t think you have a chemical imbalance when you cry uncontrollably.  She doesn’t judge you’re messy house and crayola-covered walls.  She tells you all about her struggles with weight, sex, depression and you rejoice your life hasn’t gotten that bad help her thorugh her battles just as she has helped you through yours.  She justs gets you and there’s no greater feeling than being understood.

The been there done that friend–When I have a “this is freaking me out, is this normal?” question, she always provides the right answer.  Having a friend like this helps keep my medical bills down because a hypochondriac like me would always be in the ER.  This veteran mom loves to give advice and no matter the time or day, she’s always there to answer your call.  Even if it is to ask if green poop is normal (and apparently it is especially is taking an iron supplement).

Confessions of a Not-So-Perfect Mom

8 Jul

On a number of occasions, I’ve given sweets tylenol pm when she didn’t have a fever but I needed her to get to sleep–sooner rather than later.

My girls think mimosa means “mom juice”.

During my all-day lifetime movie marathons, I give the kids cereal, capri suns, fruit roll ups and crayons to keep them from bothering me.

I taught my 6-year-old how to change diapers, fill sippy cups and warm food in the microwave so I can sleep in on the weekends.

I catch up on “business” while the kids are running wild and destroying the house.  When I say business that really means I’m on Twitter.

I play Yo Gabba Gabba to distract the kids when the hubs in I are in the bedroom having sex.

On a few occasions, I’ve used sweets allowance money to order pizza.

Twice, I didn’t send sweets to school because she had a midday hair appointment.

I’ve parked in handicap parking not because I’m disabled but because I didn’t feel like carrying two car seats from the back of the parking lot.

I tell businesses that my 4ft 2in 6-year-old is actually 3 so she can be admitted for free.

I substitute Juicy Juice and Pediasure for actual fruit and vegetable consumption.

I still have, but never paid for sweets school pictures from last year.

I enjoy throwing caution to the wind and making up my own parenting rules as I go along.  Who’s nominating me for the mother of the year award this year?

Rule of Life #412 Being a perfect mom is so overrated.  Bad is the new good.