She Disappeared

She was the temporarily single mom of theree boys. Not all of them were in school, yet none of them napped any longer. And it was a holiday weekend.

As she stepped into the shower on Tuesday, she couldn't recall if she had managed to squeeze one in since her amazingly wonderul saint of a husband (because he eventually returned) had left in the dawning light of Friday morning.

She was gross.

She could remember haircuts for all the boys, a trip to Sephora with all the boys (stupid, stupid woman), baseball games, baseball practices, trips to the grocery store, hours at the pool and cleaning, but she couldn't remember a shower.

It must not have occured (gross).

When she massaged the shampoo into her hair no suds formed. "Yeah, that's dirty," she thought. Another glob of shampoo and the thoughts too soon washed away as she enjoyed the warm water.

And the quiet.

And being alone.

And being clean.

CRASH! The bathroom door slams open. "Hi Mom!" Well that seven minutes of silence is over.

As she toweled off she considered the options for greeting her husband upon his return that evening. She narrowed it down to two.

1. Immediately drop to her knees and give him the best blow job of gratitude she could muster.

or

2. Greet him with a big hug and a kiss and never let on that he really could do ANYTHING as long as he never permanently left her by herself with three young boys.

She figured #2 was the smarter option, since she'd needed to maintain some leverage. But he did get some play the next morning.

********************************************

I bend to my knees in pious admiration to all of you single parents, though I won't be including oral sex with it.

Sorry.

It Has Come to My Attention

There is just a little over eight weeks until BlogHer 2007. I will be going to Chicago, sans kiddos, to tear up the town. The lovely Canape and I will be sharing a room, so I'll have a place to hide when I just can't shake Jessica (she swears she's going to stalk me, but we all know she won't be able to see me over the crowds that will surround her wherever she goes).

Anyway, the reason I'm so excited to be going (besides the fact that Canape is going to do my make-up) is the opportunity I'm going to have to meet in person (I hope) many of the incredible women I've gotten to know over the past ten months or so of blogging. They've made me laugh, cry, snort, think, recoil in horror, sing a song and cheer.

I know a trip to Chicago may not be in the budget for everyone, and if this is the case with you I want you to know how much you'll be missed. There are still others that I know would like to go but might not have a spouse that understands how important this conference is to them (shout out to Shakey for being incredibly understanding on this point). For this reason, I'm starting a petition.

See, I want to see Janet there.

Mr. Wonder Mom needs to know just how important blogging is to his wife, what an amazing network of women you are and how many of us want to meet his magnificent wife (why should he get to keep her all to himself?). So please add your name to this petition by leaving a comment to this post. And if you need us to get a petition started for you, just send me an email.

What are you waiting for? Read the statement and get commenting already!

We, the undersigned, think Janet aka Wonder Mom is indeed wonderful and we would grately appreciate the opportunity to spend time with her in Chicago at the BlogHer conference. Please find a way to make it possible for her to attend. You don't want an army of crazy bloggers after you now, do you?

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Signed,
The Women of the Blogoverse

My Boys Are Difficult to Understand

Mr. 10: "Mom, when are you going to dye your hair again? It's getting really grey."

I hate it how they're so cryptic.

If You're Looking For Me

You can find me over at Gunfighter's today.

He offered me the opportunity to guest blog and even gave me a topic. How nice is that? Go check out his site. He's a good read.

I Think He Prefers "Gentleman of the Evening"

So Mr. Three came to work with me today due to the fact that we're too lazy to drive just one kid to daycare if the other isn't going his brother had a dentist appointment. As an added bribe to make up for having to spend the day in my office (turning the only place in my life that is neat into a mini-version of my home, I might add) we stopped by Micky D's for breakfast on the way in.

Three has been really into Happy Meals lately for all the Shrek toys, so this addition to his day was greeted with cheers.

On our way down the highway, Three had Donkey, Artie and Shrek in his lap and they were all having a Three-choreographed conversation with small interludes of their recorded voices taking over. Apparently, Artie "doesn't know anything about being a king." Donkey likes playing "peek-a-boo" and this little-known fact was revealed about Shrek...

"I'm a hooker!"

Or so Three insists that's what he's saying.

In Case You Didn't Know

It's happened. We're all gay today.

Nothing New Here

I just told Kelly that I think I lost my sense of humor in traffic a few weeks ago. I seriously don't have much to blog about, but I hate going silent for days.

The little photo you see of me when I comment on your blog--or in my profile...well my hair is much longer now. As I mentioned a while back, my hairdresser had the nerve to move out of the area (without asking my permission) and as a result I haven't had a hair cut since September.

Luckily, I can tell my hair is growing by the ever increasing skunk stripe running down my part.

And while I'm on hair...why is it that all the hair on my head is going grey, but my leg hair remains dark, dark, dark?!

If I'm going to:

a.) spend a fortune pretending I'm still a brunette
b.) stain my bathroom from floor to ceiling trying to save money on salon costs or
c.) look like an old hag

Why can't I at least have the benefit of lighter leg hair?

Does all your pubic hair eventually go grey, will it fall out/stop growing first or will I need to spend my nest egg pruning the bush (es)?

Do the stop signs in parking garages hold legal weight? Can I get a ticket for blowing off a stop sign in a parking garage? I tend to view them as suggestions. But really, can police officers just skulk around a garage hanging out behind the next turn when they need to fill their ticket quota? I would.

I love growing things.

I've been seing all these photos of new infants lately and every time I look at one I feel like I'm going to start lactating. I really think I'd love to have another (that would be number four for those keeping score at home), but the very thought sends Shakey into a catatonic state (once he finishes hyperventilating).

So I garden instead.

I was going to put the cutest bumper around my vegetable garden but it made it too hard to weed.

Okay listen. I can't hang around here all day chatting. I'm supposed to be earning a paycheck. You're such a bad influence.

Any good blog topics for me?

I have an idea. Let's do a reverse Linda "Duran Duran is neither a Duran nor a Duran. Discuss." Richman.

You give me a topic "The Thigh Master is neither a thigh nor a master. Discuss." and I'll discuss (and MammaLee I haven't forgotten about the meme).

Real Mom's Have NO Shame (Enter the Contest)

In Honor of Mother's Day, I'm recycling an ealier post I wrote in response to the "Real Moms..." meme. This time you get a photo taken by me as an added bonus (can I get Amen?!).

And, it serves as an entry to the Real Mom Truths contest.

Go ahead, you enter too! I want to read what everyone has to say.

The winner will receive this amazing 4G iPod Nano and Chocolate gift set, plus a link to their post on True Mom Confessions on Mother's Day

So without further ado, I present you with my original words (okay slightly edited) because I still believe them, and well, we all need to stick together.

Happy Mother's Day to all of you!!

********************************************************

Real moms? You want to know the ugly truth? Our deepest, darkest secret?

We have NO shame.

Sure real moms look around the table at a work meeting and secretly want to look like the single fashionistas, but they'll wear an outfit that's five years old if it means their chilren get the birthday present of their dreams or a memorable vacation.

Real moms gag at the smell of vomit, but they'll go to the pharmacy with it in their hair when their baby is running a fever and can't keep anything down.

Real moms will clean toilets at a bar if it means their family has food on the table.

Real moms will exhaust themselves raising kids by themselves rather than modeling a "normal" relationship that is loveless or violent.

Real moms might try to have children naturally, but they'll love the ones they get with every fiber of their being regardless of their genetic relationship.

You can try every trick you have to put down a real mom, but it ain't gonna phase her. When it comes to her family there isn't anything below her.

You want to demean her? You want to degrade her? You want to make her invisible? You want to treat her as less than equal?

Fine.

As long as you're willing to be met with the ferocity of tiger, because a real mom will battle to the death to protect her family and provide a safe and loving environment in which her children can grow up to be healthy and happy.

Oh, and by the way, she'll have an army of out-of-date outfit-wearing, toilet brush-waving, vomit-spewn women standing behind her to take you on.

Because that's what real moms do.

And apparently real moms will take photos of their children even when they're mad
because they don't have a black nose like their brother the leopard.

200

200...two hundred...CC...double benjamins...ducent

• The amount of money you collect for passing "GO".
• The number of years NOAA has been in existence.
• Double the number of words this gent allows for each post.
• The number of innocent people released from jail due to DNA testing.
• The number of calories in this serving of celery (Doesn't eating it actually burn calories?).
• The number of calories in four OREOs (I don't know how many are in one of these.).
• The number of times I've seen Sixteen Candles (at least).
• The number of freckles I have per square inch on the sun-exposed parts of my body.

• The number of this post (Our's goes to 200...).
  

A Poem, A Meme and Some Folks

There once was a woman named MamaLee, she was so nice and tagged lil ole me.
Following along came Dorky Dad, and he tagged me the same, but I didn't get mad.
A meme you see really makes me HAWT.
It gives me something to write when I haven't a thought.
Read on if you wish.
It's 10 things about me.
Cause I'm so damned interesting as I'm sure you will see.
And when you do, will you please figure out a a way to convince me?

It's called the Chinese Freeze Tag, though as my man Dorky Dad said "I don't think it's Chinese and I'm pretty sure there's nothing frozen about it". I am to write 10 things about myself, and then tag 10 people to do the same.

1. I love the sound of driving over gravel. It reminds me of so many good times...driving through the parking lot at the fireman's carnival, going to a baseball game, to an outdoor concert, catching a fireworks show.

2. Fireworks make me so happy. I get so excited whenever I see firework shows. I greet them with childlike wonder and consider them terribly romantic. I can't help but clap when they're over.

3. Despite the fact that he's short, I've had a thing for Matt Damon for a long time...until I saw The Departed. Now? Oh I'm all about Leo.

4. The beach is my favorite place in the world. Doesn't matter the season, doesn't really matter which one. I feel so free at the beach.

5. Bookstores make me feel hopeful. When I see all those books I know that if there is nothing else I still have all of them to read.

6. I used to just want a different nose and straighter fingers, then I realized that my neck was too short. I'd love to have perfect feet. I'd also like a bit higher forehead and now...I'd love it if my boobs were fuller and perkier. Since most of this cannot be corrected with surgery I guess I just have to accept what I look like.

7. Some days I feel like I'm in a holding pattern waiting for something to change. I know I need to be the one to make a change, but man I'm tired.

8. For the longest time penises sort of scared me. I didn't grow up around too many. Now I'm surrounded by them. I sort of think sex would be different for a girl if she grew up with brothers. Penises are a lot less intimidating when the first ones you see are so small.

9. I love the fact that I grew up in a house where we learned to talk about our bodies matter of factly. I was never afraid to go to my mom with questions. That also says a lot about what an incredible woman she is.

10. I want to learn how to surf and to swim with dolphins someday.

There you go. Ten facts about me. Crap I think I even bored myself. Shoot I need to get the blogging bug back. Any suggestions?

So who's going to get tagged? Let's go with Crouton Boy, Canape, Mitch McDad, Karrie, the Queen of Mayhem, QueenieB, Southern Fried Mom, Kelly, Lawyer Mama and MommaK.

Haaappy Birrrrth Day Mr. President...

I'm doing my best Marilyn Monroe here.

Well HIS name is Mr. Big Dubya isn't it?!

I wanted to wish you a very happy 40th Big D--with no jokes about old age.

Oh! And an old friend of yours wanted to send his regards as well...

What Else Didn't They Tell Me?

There was quite a bit I "learned" during pregnancy that no one told me about when I was foolishly having unprotected sex trying to get pregnant.

I knew to expect some nausea. I knew my clothes would stop fitting. I even knew that my body might never return to its previous shape. I DIDN'T know I would have to stop eating brie. I DIDN't know about the tear-inducing heartburn. I DIDN'T know about the hemorrhoids and I definitely had NO idea that someone would suggest I give myself perineal massages.

But I got over all those things.

I missed the brie--and I might have cheated on that rule a few times. The heartburn sucked, but it went away as soon as the babies were ripped from a gaping hole in my abdomen born--same with the lovely hemorrhoids. As for the "suggested" massage? Let's just say that if I had taken the time to get THAT in touch with my body I would have been pissed since my boys decided there was no way they were entering the world that way.

Once the babies arrived I discovered there were a ton of other things folks left out of the Beauty of Motherhood myth. You know, things like getting peed and pooped on, cracked nipples, mastitis, the cult-like brainwashing sleep deprivation, the lack of libido (see sleep deprivation), the hormone swings, bleeding for weeks after the birth, and, oh yeah, the aching joints for that first month.

Again, I lived through all that fun, and now my youngest is three.

Lately I've discovered that no one tells you that your children begin rolling their eyes at you WAY before they become teenagers. I've discovered that kids don't have just one bike--you need a new one for every few inches they grow. I've discovered that little league players no longer grab the equipment from a team bag. They now carry bags bigger than they are filled with equipment expensive enough for me to buy at least one pair of crocodile pumps. I've discovered that by fifth grade they can really stink. And, I've discovered that nothing I can do will convince my three year-old that he can't wear baseball pants every day (no kidding this has been going on for two months now).

Again, I can handle these things no one bothered to tell me about.

Today I discovered yet another thing no one told me about, and while it's not really that bad, I think it was just the straw that broke the camel's back.

No one told me I'd be using my fingernail to scrape dried boogers off the wall as I leaned across a toilet that my boys use as a rough target for peeing.

So what is it that no one has shared with me yet about teenagers?

Wait! I'm not sure I want to know.

Positively Perfect In Every Way

I have Stevie Wonder coursing through head. Granted I've changed the words a bit, but sing with me.

Isn't he lovely? Isn't he wonderful?
Isn't he precious? More than thirty years old.
I never knew through blogging I'd be
Reading someone as lovely as he
But isn't he lovely the one who blogs with love.

And who is this man? Why the amazing Kevin Charnas of course!

I nominated this post by Kevin for the April Perfect Post award. Honestly, there were a few more that followed that could have easily been nominated as well, but I'm impulsive and sent in my nomination the minute I read it. There were also these posts in April too.

Please take some time to go visit Kevin and read much more than this post. He is alternately the funniest, snarkiest, most sensitive and large-hearted person around. Oh, and I think he's okay too.