Bonding Over Your Bush: Lets Talk Lady-Scaping While Pregnant

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Your chatch hasn’t seen the light of day since your belly cast a big ‘ol shadow over it.  Your bush is growing into a national forest.  Women on death row are probably better groomed than you. 
Pregnancy makes your hair (including pubic hair) grow a zillion times faster and thicker. 
While having the Mariah Carey look on your head is glam, having it frizz out all over your lady parts – is a messy situation.

I’m not saying you gotta be bare down there to be sexy or attractive. Pah-lease.  We women got enough beauty pressures.

But I draw the line at braids of bush poking out around the bikini line.  Especially in the summertime. 

Pregnant or not.

Do you really want the medical staff at the hospital to activate a search party for your baby when you pop it out – because it’s buried in 2 feet of woo-hoo wool?

Lady-scaping before labor is not a luxury, it's essential.

Before you rush off to the salon for a wax – let me tell you why your partner is the perfect person for the job.  You two are bonding over a baby, why not bond over your bush?

Five reasons you should let your partner groom your vag while pregnant.

1.  Save yourself the embarrassment at the salon.  Your esthetician hasn’t seen you in months.  She’s probably already moved on to another salon.  You’ll have to show that “situation” to a new girl.  Are you prepared to put your pubed out, poo-nanny on display for the new, young, hot, perfectly perky twenty-something year old esthetician at your salon?  Don’t even think about a Brazilian if you have hemorrhoids – you’ll scare the shit out of the salon staff.

2. Professional grooming is really expensive.  At a salon - a bikini wax is like $40.  A Brazilian wax can run you about $80.  Don’t even get me started on the Sphynx wax.  An at-home wax kit is like $10-$20 and you can use it more than once.  

3.  It can be done in the comfort of your own home.  On your own bed.  With someone who you are (hopefully by now), totally comfortable with.

4. You can lay back, hold your leg up, watch Netflix and have a bowl of popcorn propped up on your pregnant belly during the wax sesh.  Perfection.

5. Your partner might get turned on.  And you might too.  I don’t know what it is about grooming that makes people want to get their groove on.  Just go with it.  But promise me you’ll wash and lubricate the newly-waxed area really well before all that friction.

I’m not saying it’s going to be salon quality.  But, your lady parts will go from over-grown chia-pet, to child birth ready chic.  A partner wax sesh while you’re pregnant will help you knock out the three B's - bond over baby, belly and bush.

How did you stay groomed while pregnant?

Share in the comments section below.

Or tell me on my Facebook page, or TWEET me.

What if I Die First? Rules for my Kids' Keeper

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

As we're driving in the car to the beach over Spring Break, I was plagued by thoughts of death.  My husband and I are rarely at the same place at the same time.  He wasn't even supposed to be able to make it for our beach trip.   And here we are - IN THE SAME CAR.  All together.

Because I'm fifty shades of fucked up, I start having unhealthy and hideous thoughts while sitting in the passenger seat. (He refuses to let me drive on road trips - which adds to my anxiety).  So, I start thinking, Shit! I don't have a will.  What if, gawd forbid, something happens and me and my husband both die in a car accident and our kids survive?

Yes, morbid indeed.  I get it.  I should be thinking of sun, sand and tranquil ocean breezes on the way to the beach.  Instead, I'm thinking about dying.  How normal is that?  I am crafting my last will and testament on the way to paradise.  Actually, since becoming a mom, I constantly think about dying.  About me dying.  Ways to avoid death.  I think anxiety of death plagues you when you become a parent.

Either way, dear reader, you must know I am afflicted by a touch of insanity.  I refuse to push these somber musings away, or at the very least - I don't want them to go to waste.  I have to use them! Record them.  Death, after all, is uncomfortable.  And what would my writing be, if it didn't make people feel a tad troubled.  So here you have it!

If I die first, or me and my husband die together - these are the rules my kids' keeper needs to follow.

1. Nutrition is of utmost importance.  Whoever takes care of my kids needs to be informed about proper nutrition.  They need to make healthy choices for my children.  My kids DO get to have ice cream, chips, etc. on occasion.  But, a diet of real nutrition is non-negotiable.

2. Do homework with them.  Not for them.

3. Keep them involved in at least one activity outside of school - something in the arts, sports, volunteerism. Something that builds character.  Also, don't over-schedule them, they need free time to let their imaginations run wild.

4. Teach them tolerance.  There is only one race - the human race.  Teach it, preach it, and lead by example.

5. Give them new experiences as often as possible.  Exposure to new experiences creates empathy and builds the brain.

6. Tell my daughters that they are beautiful.  And make sure you don't use the mirror as a measure of beauty.

7. Don't tell my daughters they can "do anything they want" in this world.  They wouldn't have thought otherwise if you didn't say something.  Just bring them up smart and strong.

8. Remind them - that their mother is awesome.  Show my picture, read my letters (yes, I write my kids letters so they can read them later in life), and read my blog posts (when they're old enough for rated "R" rhetoric).

9. Learn the art of keeping them safe and close, but far enough away to fly on their own.

10. Save my accessories for them - scarves, handbags, shoes and jewelry.  If life has taught me anything - it's that old fashions come back in style!

11. They have to make their beds.  And help with household tasks when they are old enough.

12. Teach them how to hang a picture, change a light bulb and sew a button. These simple and mundane tasks will empower them.

13. When you teach them to drive - please tell them about blinkers.

14. Birth control is totally acceptable, if not, encouraged.  So are condoms.

15. Show them how to speak up.  Speak up for what they believe in, for injustice, to make a valid point.

16. Practice dialing 9-1-1 with them from your phone.  Smartphones are changing at lightning speed everyday.  Make sure my kids know how to dial 9-1-1.

17. Practice fire safety (related to #16).  While my kids live with you, check household fire alarm batteries and carbon monoxide devices on a regular basis.  Stock the house with at least one fire extinguisher.  I know it seems like common sense, but a lot of people don't do this.

18. No guns in the house.  For anyone.

19. Encourage my kids to keep a diary.  Read that diary if you suspect that they are being harmed, or harming themselves.

20. Love the living shit out of my kids. And do the best that you can.

What would you want your child's guardian to know?  What would be in your will?  Also, if you have morbid thoughts like this - please announce that.  I think other readers (and myself), would like to know that it actually is very normal.  And we don't need a shrink.

Share in the comments section below.

Or tell me on my Facebook page, or TWEET me.

Why Are Moms Always Contradicting Themselves?

Monday, April 6, 2015

I've never been one to contradict myself.  I'm always super strong in my convictions.  I stand by what I say.  I'm passionate about politics.  I'm a fucking FEMINIST with a capital "F".  I believe, I conceive (literally and figuratively) and I execute.  So why, since becoming a mother - am I the MUTHA of all contradictions?  I'm a flip, floppin' mutha - effer.  I'm conflicted every flickin' second when it comes to these kids.  

Here are some of my contradictions:

I want to spend as much time as I can with my kids before I die.  If I have to spend one more minute with my kid, I’m gonna die.

I like that my girls ask me to play Barbies with them.  I fucking hate playing Barbies.  In fact, I hate playing. Period.

I hate when my kids are sick because they’re so needy.  I love when they’re sick because they need me for lots of cuddle time.  And they sit in one place.  And just watch TV.  Beats the hell out of chasing them all the damn time.

I want my kid to walk so I don’t have to carry them anymore.  I’m anxiously waiting for my mobile child to now bump her head on the corner of every table, run into walls or trip down stairs….that she now likes to climb up and down.  Up and down.  Fuck.

I want my kid to learn how to talk. Oh my gawd – this child won’t shut the fuck up.

I want this kid to sleep - through the whoooollle night. Is that too much to ask?  She’s been sleeping too long –is she breathing?  Is she alive?

I want my girls to learn how to ride a bike.  I’m terrified that they’re going to ask me to ride their bikes all over town.

I don’t want my girls to shave their legs.  Shaving legs is the gateway to womanhood.  Then again, my girls can’t go around looking like hairy beasts getting called Chubaka. Break out the razors.

I don’t want my girls to get boobs.  I want them to so they don’t get teased for having mosquito bites.

I want my kids to learn to drive so I don’t have chauffeur anymore.  And I can have an early cocktail hour.  I’ll be worried sick when my kid is behind the wheel.  Like, thinking about my daughter having a driver’s license in 11 years, makes me want to throw up.  Right now.

I want my kid to go away for college! Experience adventure, dorm living and travel!  But, I don’t want them to go away for college and leave me ALONE!  Well, and I don’t want to pay for out-of-state tuition.

I want boys (or girls) to like my girls at school.  I want my girls to "fit in."  But, really I want them to have no friends, no boyfriends and no girlfriends.  AKA no peer pressure, no sex talk, no doing sex, no drugs, no alcohol, no nothing.

I want my girls to be just like me.  I hope they’re nothing like me.

What are some of your contradictions?  Share in the comments section below.

Or tell me on my Facebook page, or TWEET me.

Can I pass down culture to my kids, without the religion?

Thursday, April 2, 2015

I got the above image from a Christian website, that promotes a Christian way of life.  But, here, I'm using it as a starting point for a conversation piece.

Easter is approaching.  The questions from my kids have already started swarming.  Especially, when we're in Target and picking up our milk - right next to the whole EASTER SECTION.  How could we miss the pastel puke fest that takes up three full aisles.  The Easter designated aisles are filled to the gills with plastic-pastel eggs, chocolate bunnies, fake colored grass, Peeps and the most important treat of all - Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Eggs.  I could eat five of them fattening bitches in one sitting. Yum.

Okay, for real though.  My kids have started asking why we celebrate Easter.  I imagine their curiosity is stemming from what they're learning in their Southern-style, Methodist Church Preschool.  (Side note- their enrollment has nothing to do with our family's religious affiliation or lack of.  My kids attend this school because it has a decent curriculum program, the school had openings and the school is five minutes from my house).  The school infuses Christian lessons into the curriculum in the form of Chapel class. My kids do come home singin' Jesus songs.  They do come home asking about Jesus and the cross.

I have great memories of Easter egg hunts as a kid.  Of getting dressed up.  Of a savory ham at Easter brunch.  Of colored eggs. Of warmer days in New York - and flowers (especially tulips) in bloom.  I love Easter.  I'm hot for the holiday.  The thing I'm luke-warm about - is infusing the Christian version of this holiday to my kids - when my own religious footing and foundation has gone cold.

So the question is - can we celebrate these seemingly religious-rooted holidays, without the religion?

Quick note here - leave your Judgey Mc Judgin's comments to yourself.

Dear Readers, keep your religious or faith-based feelings about what my family does - in check.  I respect that some of you may have religious beliefs, but I don't want to hear your religious feelings on the subject I am discussing here.   If you are even somewhat inclined to leave me a preachy comment below or on social media, I'll block your ass and delete the comments.  I'm not opening up this conversation to start a religious preach fest, or anti-religion preach fest.  I don't want to be enlightened.  I'm not looking to talk about faith your faith.  Or lack of.  I'm simply wondering how, if at all, can my family and other families celebrate holidays with religious roots, if we, ourselves, are not religious?  And if yes, what does that look like.

My husband and I weren't always religion-less.

I'm a cradle Catholic. I was baptized, I made my first communion, I made my confirmation, I went to church with my family, midnight mass, I went to Pre-Cana marriage preparation classes and was married in a Catholic church on a mountain side of Positano, Italy by a Priest.  Both of my children are baptized.  I'll go ahead and admit here, I don't know why I baptized them.  It felt more like the cultural thing to do - and less having to do with religion.  And I liked the idea of them having godparents - and assigning that "special" role to someone that me and my husband were close to.  Not because of gifts and such, just a nice way of telling someone that they're important to us, and to our kids.  It was a nice, symbolic ceremony to unify us with a bond.

My husband was raised Muslim-ish and Baptist-ish.  I kid you not.  Both of his parents practiced-ish their respective religions, but not in a regular, regimented or routine way.  It was religion-ish.  There may have been some daily praying facing Mecca.  There may have been some Jesus and bible scripture references.  But, my husband has never set foot in a Mosque.  He never went to Baptist church, or any church, with his family.  He fasted during Ramadan once in high school.  And he went through a brief Pentacostal phase for a high school girl friend.  My husband describes himself as religiously confused.

However disciplined, or un-disciplined our religious backgrounds are - they are, in fact, part of our culture.  Our history.  Our stories, as adults.

Both of our families celebrate cultural holidays that have religious tie-ins.  Christian holidays include: Christmas, Easter, St. Patrick's Day, St. Valentine's Day and Halloween.  And a Persian holiday - Nowruz  - is a holiday has religious roots in Zoroastrianism.  It marks the beginning of Spring, a New Year for those who celebrate it.

But, when we started a family of our own, we didn't know what our own celebrations would look like. We want to expose our kids to traditions and cultural celebrations from both of our backgrounds.  We also want our kids to learn about and experience other cultural traditions - that have nothing to do with our backgrounds.

However, when it comes down to actually celebrating a specific holiday - that is important to us, to our culture, can the religious dogma be deleted from the day?

The celebrations are still just as important to us, with and without the religious aspects.

Do not think for a second that without religion - these celebrations, rituals and holidays are less meaningful to us.  If you think that, again, you can X up on out of this article.

Or if you think I'm trying to carry on some type of Hallmark holiday - with all that extreme materialism and consumerism - you've got me wrongly pegged.

I'm simply saying, yes, I think me and my family can celebrate holidays, that have religious roots.  I think we can re-define the meaning of these holidays in our own terms.  I'm not proposing that I spin the Easter story of Jesus on the cross into a baseless fallacy.  Or twist the Christmas story into a tale that exemplifies my wonderful fictional storytelling skills.  (But whoever thought of that damn Elf of the Shelf story - you are a fucking genius.)

As Easter approaches, I've thought a lot about what it means to me - devoid of the religious dogma my Catholic past so instilled in me.  When it comes to my kids, I can describe the meaning of Easter in terms of the beauty of Spring, the symbolic feelings of renewal, rebirth and new growth.  This is not some make-believe bunny and jelly bean story.  My story DOES have meaning and significance.

I'm confident I can do this for every cultural, religious and secular celebration that exists.

I can create our story and our celebration.

What do you think?  If you grew up with religious ties - can you pass down your culture to your kids, without religion?  Is it possible?  Comment below.

Or tell me on my Facebook page, or TWEET me.

Just remember to not be an asshole and boast, preach or attack on a basis of religious beliefs.

Your Kid's Allergies are NOT my Problem

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Get ready to hate me moms...
Okay, here it goes.....

Stop making your kid’s allergies – everyone else’s problem.

The world doesn’t need to revolve around you and your kid’s allergies.

Phwew.  That felt good to get out.

Let me guess...You think I’m a jerk?  I’m insensitive?  I’m a dick.

We’ll you’re being an ass.  An over-the top allergy asshole.

I understand awareness.  Having awareness (a big buzzword these days) is key.

Of course.  I get it.  To an extent.

But parents who demand nut-free, dairy-free, fruit-free, fish-free, gluten-free, soy-free, flower-free, animal-free, dust-free….FUCK your I NEED TO BE FREE FROM EVERY FOOD EVER MADE list. 

How about you teach your kid what to not eat, or what to stay away from?  Or how about you pack them every meal they’ll need while not in your presence?

Now, you think I’m a total bitch.

When I was a kid (oh yes, a good ‘ol back in the day story for you – but I swear it has a relevance)…. I went to a babysitter after school.  This babysitter – babysat like 20 kids at once.  She always served us a snack when we arrived after school.  It was usually PB & J.  But, sometimes it wasn’t.  Either way, when a kid wasn’t supposed to eat what she was serving – that kid would FUCKING TELL HER.  The kid knew what was okay to eat, and what wasn’t okay to eat.  And, because she was a normal babysitter – not some kid killing babysitter using allergies as a lethal weapon – she would serve the child with the allergy – a different food item.

Informing the teacher and appropriate school staff about your child’s allergies and allergy action plan is essential.  Informing care takers is necessary.  But going a step further, and requesting that all parents of kids in the class only bring in nut-free and food “not processed in a facility with nuts” – is just plain unreasonable. 

I beg of you - teach your child how to handle their own allergies.  Empower them.  Let them have the ability to save their own life.  To prevent their own sickness.

I know you're scared.  I’m scared every day my kid is going to have an asthma attack when I’m not around.  As if, I’m the only person qualified to handle her asthma attack.  I’m not.  I have to believe and trust that the people around her are informed of my action plan.  But, my kid is reminded on a very regular basis the protocol for a possible asthma attack.  SHE knows what to do.  And that makes me feel the most comfortable and have the most faith.

Too many kids with allergies are being sheltered by their parents trying to control their child’s environment.  Guess what?  The environments and situations we’re in every day are variable.  Dear parents with allergies, why are some of you trying to control other parents, and make policies that restrict everyone else – when you could just as easily teach your kid what not to eat?  Or, teach them, that if they’re unsure about a particular food item – don’t eat it.  Parents aren’t giving their kids enough credit.  Enough knowledge.  Enough practice with their potential problem.

I attended a kindergarten orientation for my daughter recently.  It’s a public school in Atlanta. When we got to the point in the presentation about school lunches and the cafeteria – several parents started huffing and puffing.  Raising their hands  - and acting a damn fool.  The orientation coordinator tried to answer all of the food concerns the best she could.  But, she got hit from every direction.  The questions  came like rapid fire bullets. 

“Is the cafeteria nut free?”


“Are the classrooms nut free?”


“Well, my son has a lot of allergies – how will I know that the food being given to him will be okay for him?”

“Ummmm, if you’re that concerned ma’am, I assume you’ll pack his lunch.”

DUUUUUUUhhhhhhhhh.  If your kid has a lot of food allergies – YOU, the PARENT, needs to help them pack their lunch and snacks with the appropriate foods.  How is that the school cafeteria’s problem?  Or responsibility?  Or my issue?  Or my child’s issue?  Your child’s dietary restrictions are your responsibility and your child’s responsibility.

If your kid is really sensitive to allergens – and could go into anaphylactic shock, all the more reason for a parent to arm their child with the knowledge of an allergy action plan.  Get them involved.  Practice possible scenarios.  You practice fire safety with your kid, right?  Same thing!  

If you have an extremely sensitive child that means, you the parent, DO INDEED need to pack every single meal and snack for your child when they attend school, birthday parties, sports functions, etc.  But, parents with allergic kids (of the less severe variety) – please don’t expect the whole school, the whole class, or a whole birthday party to cater to your child’s dietary needs.

I was allergic to cats since I was kid – guess what I didn’t do?  I didn’t go over people’s houses that had cats.  Or pet them.  And if I wasn’t sure if there was going to be a cat present in a home – I brought some Benadryl and an albuterol inhaler.  I knew how many puffs to take.  I knew how many pills to take.

I’m severely allergic to cats.  I’ve been hospitalized as a child and an adult for an allergic, asthmatic reaction to a cat.  It sucks.  It’s scary.  For gawd sakes – it’s really hard to breath.  But, I’ve been armed with the knowledge of my allergy and an action plan since I WAS A CHILD.

It’s not my problem that a kid in my daughter’s class has this allergy, or that allergy.  It’s not my concern.  Unless that child is in my care, or in my house, I don’t need you sending me an email about your kid’s allergies.  Please don’t request that I only pack nut-free items in MY kid’s lunch.  I pay for this food.  I’m free to pack my kid whatever I want.  

Most allergies, are not life-threatening.  Most.  If your kid immediately goes into anaphylactic shock upon breathing in air that has peanut protein particles – that’s pretty extreme.  That might mean a whole life-over-haul for you and your child.  It sucks.  It's unfair.  There's probably not a whole lot of public support or funding to build a school that is completely allergen free.  Not a single particle, atom, molecule of an allergen.  It probably sounds like a dream school for parents dealing with a severely allergic child.  But, thus far, it's not a reality.  I wish it was an option for these folks dealing with severe and scary allergies.  I wish there were whole restaurants for these folks!  But thus far, progress is slow.  People with severe allergies have to learn how to safely navigate life outside of their homes.  

My own kids have dealt with milk allergies, animal allergies, airborne allergies, fabric allergies, soap allergies, lotion allergies, sunscreen allergies, ear piercing allergies and asthma.  I get it mamas.  

I get the struggle. It’s real.  But, do us all a favor, make it a real issue with your child, your child's doctor, your child's teacher, the school nurse, etc.  Not me.  And just in case you think I haven't done my research - I have.

PS parents - it never suggests anywhere on the site - to email the parents of all of the children in your child's class. Just sayin'.

Now that you all really hate my guts - comment below.  

Or write me your thoughts on Facebook or Twitter.

Spring Break Survival Guide - What to do with your kids that doesn't involve playdates with annoying parents.

Thursday, March 26, 2015

So you're not hopping out of town for Spring Break with the kids.  No beach vacay?  No national park trip? No Caribbean?

Hopefully, you were smart enough to sign your kids up for spring break camps.  Please, tell me you signed them up for spring break camps.....

Wait, no.  You didn't.  Shit.  Things slip my mind everyday too - like forgetting to eat, pee and brush my teeth.  I totally get it.

Or maybe you're cash strapped?  Solidarity sister. Those fucking camps can get expensive.  $300 for science/tech camp.  $120 for princess dance camp.  $60 for art camp.  That shit adds up.

What do you do when you have no family around to help?  No dollar bills for the beach?  No cash for the kiddie camps?  No babysitter in sight?

You drink.

So first item on your Spring Break Sucks TO DO list is:

- Pick up a handle of vodka (or alcohol of choice).

Phwew! First thing - crossed off.

Now that your preliminary prep work is out of the way - I got you covered for the rest of your "staycation."

Side note - Whoever thought of the word "staycation" is a fucking asshole.  Staying home is NOT a vacation.  It's just a better word for a week long trip down insanity lane.

15 Things to do on Spring break if you're not going anywhere - and you don't want to commit to playdates with parents (and children) that make you feel kinda stabby.

1. Find cardboard boxes.  Buy a few from Lowes for a buck a piece, or ask your local grocery store or Wal-Mart for used boxes.  Kids can do all types of things with boxes.  They can make a lemonade stand,  A little house.  A town for Legos.  A chic beaded handbag. Rrrrrrr what did I just say? Yup, a handbag.  Believe me -    Here's some inspiration for you.  I don't think most of those cardboard box Pinterest projects are actually doable.  But, they're motivating.  You can do your own broke down, D-I- Don't version of them at home.

If you have a baby or toddler - just plop boxes all around the room.  No further action required. Babies love boxes.  AS IS.

2. Borrow FREE passes to local attractions through your local library.  Taking the kids to the zoo these days  - is a straight up bank account buster.  I think I paid $40 last time I took my kids - and that was WITH coupons.  But, check with your local library - they usually have free passes you can borrow to visit local kid museums, nature centers, aquariums, the zoo, etc.

3. Go to the gym!  A lot.  If you have a gym membership that also offers childcare as part of your membership - now's the time to maximize your membership.  Drop the kids off to exercise - or do what I do.  Drop the kids off, and read gossip magazines in the sauna.  Either way, this is 1-2 hours of NO KIDS.

4. Bake cookies or cupcakes from a box - then bring them to someone to cheer them up.  Or eat them.  All of them.  All week.  I love baking from a box with little ones because it's minimal involvement.  There's little mess (okay, relatively little mess) - and you can extend the whole process by decorating the baked masterpieces.  It eats up an hour of your day at least.

5. TVs and tablets.  Screen time, schmeen time.  Have the "experts" who claim screen time is bad for children - ever had to actually entertain children for a week straight?  I think not.

6. McDonald's.  The one with a play area maze-y thingy.  Yes, it's gross food.  I don't even wanna know what's in those mystery meat chicken nuggets.  And yes, that play area is probably caked with germs and fecal matter.  But, you probably never take your kid there.  It's fiiiinnnneeeee for a day.  My mom fed us McDonald's frequently - and we turned out okay.......I think.  Just do me a favor, bathe your kids when you get home alright?

7. Go to the local park.  I guarantee there will be other sad schmucks there too - who didn't plan anything for spring break.  Voila! Instant entertainment for your kids.  And bring a book, magazine or newspaper for yourself.  Catch up on current events.  Catch up on Fifty Shades.  No judgement.  Better yet, bring ear buds too.  Listen to a podcast, or some music.

Are you drinking yet???  You should be.  Oh yes, yes, for my sober sistas - if you don't drink please meditate...or prraaaayyyyyy.

8. Make sandwiches for the homeless.  A lot of churches or homeless shelters welcome sandwiches.  And sandwiches are easy for kids to make.  Form an assembly line in your kitchen.  Ham, turkey, cheese, or peanut butter and jelly.  Don't add condiments - they make the sandwiches mushy.  And most homeless shelters will tell you to hold the mayo and mustard anyways.  If you don't want to go to a homeless shelter - you can simply set up shop in an area of town where a lot of homeless people congregate.  Encourage your kids to talk to the homeless- THEY ARE PEOPLE TOO.  It will be a feel good activity for all.

9. Spring Cleaning - CHECK! Put your kids to work.  Chores.  YES, chores.  Make a list.  Assign names.  Get it done.  Blast some kidz bop music or Justin Beiber - your kids will get it done.  Did you know toddlers are uniquely qualified to clean baseboards?  Yes!  I wouldn't tease a mama.  A toddler's short stature and proximity to the ground - makes them excellent baseboard cleaners.  Also - use this time to discard old toys, broken crayons and puzzles that are missing pieces. (important note - smuggle the broken crayons out of the house like a drug lord.  If caught by a kid, a meltdown could ensue.)

10. Buy a painter's drop cloth from Lowes or Home Depot - give the kids some paint - and let them go at it in the yard.  Let them splatter the paint.  Throw the paint.  Put handprints on the canvas.  WHATEVER.   The freer you let them be, the less hassle for you.  All you have to do is hose them off before they come into the house.  If you don't have a yard - any greenspace will do.  Or do some chalk on sidewalks.  That's right.  Kick it old school with hopscotch.  Or challenge your kids to do a chalk drawing contest.  Or jump rump!  You remember those?  They're like $1 at Wal-Mart.

11. Visit a pet shop.  Instant zoo.  Just don't let your kids talk you into going home with a "zoo" animal.

12. Collect flowers.  Collect bugs.  In old tupperware or jars, or zip lock bags.  Don't forget to poke holes. I don't know what you do with your nature-findings after the collecting part is over- but kids like collecting shit.  That's all I know.

13. Storytime.  There must be one at your local library.  The librarian will also add music (and sometimes crafts!!) for little ones.  It's worth some research if you have little ones.  And there's no rule that says you can't attend every storytime within a 20 mile radius from your home.

14. Don't skimp on "Quiet Time" or naptime.  Everyone needs one hour at least of down time, sleeping time, or "quiet time" during the day.  Make it happen.  Quiet time activities include: coloring, reading, puzzles, etc.  All done QUIETLY.  AND ALONE.

15. Oh fuck, put a mayday call out for one pitiful playdate.  Let's not get too crazy.  I said one lousy playdate.  By, DAY 5 of said Spring Break - a playdate is lookin' reeeeaalllll good.  Even if it's with the mom that judges you and tells you everything you're doing is wrong (who also has kids that are bad behaved, asshole monster, snot bags).  Yeah, call her.  Just don't have her over your house.

Ohhh, and if this list runs out.  Rinse and repeat.  I hope you're drunk now.  Or at least loving your Spring Break, No Break buzz.

What do you do to keep your kids entertained for hours on end?  We're in this together mamas! Share your tips in the comment section.  Or share them on the Missguided Mama Facebook page or TWEET me!

Stand with Me

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

The cool spring air, blew through my bedroom window. The sun rays streamed in, glowing through the window slats, and poured onto the white bed.  Birds were singing.  The kids were still asleep.

I'm pretty sure I'm experiencing Mom Nirvana. Minus a coffee, or a spa, or being on an international retreat.  But, you know these days - it's the little things mamas, amiright?

Nothing is better than a sunny spring Sunday, with a slight cool breeze.  Our family doesn't go to church like most of the southern folk we live around.  So it's really quiet in our neighborhood on Sundays.

We usually make a huge breakfast and bump old 90's rock tunes on Sunday mornings.  But, this Sunday I was determined to explore, get out into nature and share it with my kids.

It was my idea to visit a local mountain.  It's called Stone Mountain in Georgia.  I heard about the beautiful hiking trails through a friend on Facebook (naturally - where else do you hear about anything these days?)

She posted great pictures of her young daughter climbing.  It looked totally doable for my five and three-year old.  It looked totally doable for me.  I hate heights.  I hate flying in planes.  I hate being in tall buildings.  Skyrise patios. If I get a hotel room at a massive hotel – I want to be no higher than 15 floors up.  I hate being up high.  But this mountain, I can do.

We dressed in our hiking best.  Aka…exercise clothes cuz that’s all we got.

I packed some Nutella sandwiches (because all things lead back to Nutella), fruit and waters and we piled into the car.  My kids were excited - which made me excited.

We arrived at the entrance – there were brochures boasting this experience, and that experience and different ticket packages being offered at every inflated price point imaginable.

Apparently, Stone Mountain is a souped up state park.

I turned to my husband, "Listen, we're here for the mountain.  Not for the rides and the cotton candy and the Dippin' Dots.  We're here for the naturey-hikey trail thing I saw on Facebook.  Where the fuck is it on this map? Ugh, I can't read a fuckin' map.  You drive and read it. I can't."

The mountain was simply the backdrop to this state park production.  Rolling, paved trails lined the main roads throughout the park.  There were small lakes to fish in, picnic tables, charcoal grills, and some historical buildings.  Just the type of park to take the family for a day of nature and relaxation.  But, it also had a full-fledged theme park and attractions.  Just the type of day for tourists in the Atlanta area.  If the Niagra Falls state park is on steroids, than this park is on Creatine.

After a bit of a detour through narrow and tree-lined roads (thanks to my fabulous sense of fucked up direction)…AKA we got lost.  We found the correct parking lot for the mountain hiking trails. We had the kids pee before we made our climb. The kids did some yoga stretches before they got onto the mountain.  Which was cute and slightly mortifying at the same time.  I mean, my three and five-year old girls are displaying downward facing dog in front of the public restrooms.  

Like we’re some sort of yogi, new age, juicing, crunchy parents or something.  We kinda are.  We shop at Whole Foods after all.

After a good stretch, and possible OoooooOOOOOOOOooommmmmmmssss, my kids were ready to climb.

Stone Mountain, is in fact stoney.  I mean, I've never climbed a mountain before.  So I don’t have much to compare it to.  I've hiked a bit.  But the mountain had Stone Age terrain.  The mountain is a pale, tan color.  It has lots of divits with little pools of water – and large boulders.  Boulders, that at any moment, look like they could come tumbling down to knock you down like a bowling pin. 

The first 500 feet, went by in a breeze.  The air was fresh, and the adrenaline was full speed ahead.  We were getting’ high off of climbin’ high (that should be in a Snoop Doggy Dog rap or something).  Anyways, the kids are climbing, skipping and jumping up the rocks.  To which I reminded them more than once – to stop hopping from one boulder to the next, “You’re going to crack your head open.”

I stayed behind my three-year old as she used her mighty, meaty legs to climb.  She has amazing thighs.  Nice chunky ones.  Unlike her sister – who has sticks for legs.

Roots from trees stuck out – tempting to trip us.  Large beige rocks stood defiantly as obstacles.  The incline, getting steeper.


It felt like I was afraid for my child the whole time.  I didn’t want her to fall and hit her head.  I didn’t want her to fall and tumble down a ways.  I didn’t want her to twist her ankle.  But, my three-year old climbed this mountain like she had done it a hundred times.  Like she had enough energy for two mountains. 

We reached 1,000 feet or so.  The views were gorgeous.  You could see the whole city of Atlanta from 1,000 feet. 

It was a good stopping point.  I took in several gulps of the fresh, crisp mountain air.  I could see 15 miles out from the mountain.  I shamelessly took pictures with the kids.  Okay, okay selfies.

I looked up – and realized we had a little more to go.  I look back out to the horizon.  We’re really high.
Nausea starts to set in.  I get gurgles in my throat.  I feel a little dizzy.
Just deep breaths, yoga breaths iiiiiinnnnn annnddddd ouuuuuuuutttt.
And you wonder where my kids get the yoga from?
I’m telling myself to remain calm.
I suggest we all take a lunch break under a tree and look at the views.
We drink our water, eat our food and talk about the beautiful day.

But, I’m dizzied.  Physically dizzied.  How the hell am I going to climb to the top? 

After we eat, I tell my husband and five-year old to go ahead without me and the younger one.  My older daughter was so excited to make it to the top.  I couldn’t deny her. 

The little one was feeling hesitant.  Or tired?  I’m not sure which one.  Maybe both.  Maybe she could feel what I was feeling.

My husband and older daughter went ahead.  I was looking at them the whole time.  Climbing.  Please stay behind her, please stay behind her. Don’t let her fall. Don’t let her go near the edge.

Little one seems content to lie on a rock for a bit and soak up the shade.  We sit and chat for a bit.

Suddenly, just as my husband and older daughter are going out of sight, little one says she’d like to go to the top.

I don’t want to discourage her bravery.  So, I say, “Okay, let’s go.  But you don’t have to.  And if you need to stop and take a break, just let mommy know.”

She climbs, then gets distracted by some big cool rocks that she wants to knock over.  And she stops.  Little one needs a break and wants to sit.

I am hoping that she wants to just stay here the whole time.

Within 20 seconds, she’s ready again.

“I wanna go up and see Daddy and sissy.”

Ahhhwwwww heeeellllll.

“Okay, we’ll go higher, but if you need a break, tell mommy.”

We climb about 10 more steps.

Little one stops.  And seems unsure.  She sits down.  I sit with her.

I tell her, “You know it’s okay if you don’t want to go up.  We can see Daddy and sissy in a little while, when they come back down.”

As if she senses that I said those words more for my own comfort, than hers, she replies, “No, it’s okay mommy, we can do it.  We can go to the top of the mountain.”
I look up.  I get dizzier. 

Dear gawd woman -get it the fuck together.  Don’t look back down.  You’ll effing puke or pass out right on the side of this thing.

I take her by the hand, and we go up.  At this point it’s pretty steep so I have to hold her hand to help push her.

It was thirty or so steps to the top.  And we were up.  A flat, rocky, top of a mountain.  I felt like I was standing on dinosaur land.  Desert-ish.  Dry.  Even some of the huge craters looked like giant T-rex foot prints.  Great, I'm in the freakin' Land Before Time and it's freaking me out!!

  I stood in the middle.  I didn’t want to get close to the edge like the other people taking selfies.  I just looked for my husband.  I kept looking.  I couldn’t look at the view, it would made me sick.  I get sick writing about it right now.  I just kept an eye on my kid, and another eye out for my husband.  A minute passes – and I start to panic.  I’m thinking the worst.  If my kid fell off this mountain, would anybody know?  Would they notice?  Wouldn’t someone be screaming?  Wouldn’t my husband be screaming?  I would never forgive him.  Where are they?! They better not be close to an edge.

Out of the “Stone Mountain Summit Shop” (cheesy gift shop on top of a mountain?) – runs my daughter towards us.  There is my husband.


My older daughter is so happy that we made it up – that she’s shouting.  She’s jumping.  She’s hugging her sister.  They’re acting like a reunion of long lost buddies.


My husband looks genuinely shocked to see me.  He knows, I don’t do heights.  The kids are ecstatic.  They’re playing and jumping all over.  They’re letting their imaginations immediately run wild.  And their legs.

I scream with panic, “Stay close to us!”  I am clearly, freaking the fuck out.

My husband says, calmly, “Mommy is freaking out. She doesn’t like being up high.  Just stay close to her so she doesn’t get scared.”

I sit down.  They sit down next to me.  And that’s when I take in the view.  I have to sit to soak it in.  It’s too dizzying to stand up.  When I feel grounded in my surroundings,  I stand.  

And then I ask my daughters to stand with me.

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