You Know You're Raising Your Teenager Daughter Right When...

We ventured to the local water park this past weekend, in an attempt to squeeze in a little bit more of our summer. When we got home, wet clothes came off, a shower was taken, and comfy clothes went on- that's just how it goes, right?

The questionable tank top.
And I thought the most offensive thing was
my crazy lazy day hair...

Well, since my girls (you know, the two below my chin) had been cooped up in a bathing suit all day, it was time to let them free. I showered, found a comfy pair of palazzo pants and a tank top with a built-in bra, and was very at-ease.

It just so happened that the tank top was from Victoria's Secret. Back in the day, when I was a tattoo artist who relied heavily on tips, my wardrobe was a bit... questionable. I purchased these tank tops then, with a plunging neckline, and it helped with my bottom line... feel me? Since leaving the tattooing world and becoming a work-at-home mom, those tank tops got lost in the back of my closet somewhere... until this past weekend.

I came downstairs, Hubby on the couch, The Girl playing on the computer. She turned around, took one look at me and said:

"Whoa, Mom. Put those away!" And she started giggling.

I stopped dead in my tracks, as I had no idea what she was talking about. She gestured to my chest

When the Subject of Religion Pops Up...

When I started blogging years ago, there were two topics I always swore I'd stay away from- Religion and Politics.

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I have to break my little rule today.

The Ginger came in last night from playing outside with his best friend (a kid he's been friends with for 3 years now), and he immediately trucked it to the back part of the house. He started doing his chores (on his own, without being told- Red Flag #1), and was putting things away in their places with a little too much vigor (read: slamming shit around- Red Flag #2). I quietly watched for a moment or two, to see if he'd open up about whatever was obviously bothering him, but then returned to my office because I know with The Ginger, he'd have to approach me... and he would.

A few minutes went by, and The Ginger popped into my office and asked, "Mom, are we atheists?"

Whoa. Okay. I knew something was bothering him, but that definitely came out of left field.

Of course I asked the obvious question:

"Where did you hear that word?"

The Ginger walked out of the room. He obviously didn't want to rat out his friend, but I didn't feel

5 Ways to Develop Your Psychic Mom Abilities

"Have you been playing in my office?"

The Ginger stared at me blankly. Slowly, he shook his head.

"Really? You haven't been playing in my office? At my desk, maybe?"

He took a huge swallow. Slowly shook his head again.

"Are you lying to me right now?"

At that moment, he broke. "Yes, Mom, I was in your office. I was just spinning around in the office chair. I didn't touch anything, I promise! How did you know? I did it when you were in the shower."

"Because I'm psychic. All moms are psychic. We know what our kids are doing at ALL times. Got it?"

The Ginger, eyes wide, hung his head and nodded that he understood. Then he ran off to his room.

This is probably one of my favorite parts of being a mom. How did I know The Ginger had been in my office, downstairs, in the front part of my house, when I was upstairs, taking a shower, in the back part of my house? Am I truly psychic?

That time I dreamed the Pick 3 winning lottery numbers would prove yes. And yes, I played them, but they came up in a different order than what I played, and I had played 'Exact Order' like a dumbass. The clerk at the gas station, however, when I told him my story of how I dreamed the numbers, played them 'Any Order' and won $500 bucks off me. Asshat.

Anyway, no, I'm not psychic. The seat height on my office chair is adjustable, so when I sat down on it, and was about 4 inches too high for my desk, I knew the spinning-chair-loving Ginger had been having quite a fun time while I was otherwise occupied.

Am I ever going to tell The Ginger my secret? Hell no. Kids thinking their moms are psychic has

Can We Really Talk About Homeschooling?

(Note: This post was written as a rebuttal for an anti-homeschooling post that went up on a pretty popular mom blog submission site earlier this week. The original post was pulled from the website roughly 24 hours after it was put up. I sent in my rebuttal anyway, as they asked for one before pulling the piece, and received an email today from one of the editors saying the author of the post had been verbally threatened, so they pulled it for her safety. The original post was very belittling to the homeschool community, as the author did actually call anyone without an education degree who homeschooled their child an "idiot," but I find it disheartening that she was verbally threatened for sharing her opinion. We're all adults here, and as I understand not everyone would agree with her opinion or mine, verbally threatening someone who shares an different opinion than you is just idiotic.

So here, on my site, let's just all get along, please. Hold hands and sing kumbaya and shit, even if we don't see eye to eye. I felt my piece should be read anyway, as I took the time to put my heart and soul into it, so here it is. ~Morgan, aka Tatted Mom)

In January, I decided to homeschool my kids.

Why are you laughing? Kinda trying to be serious over here. I really did. No, seriously.

No, I didn’t bump my head. No, I’m not on drugs. And no, I don’t have a degree in education.

The public school system, as my family knew it, was failing my kids. We live in Arizona, which is currently ranked #43 out of 51 in the nation. Then, we live in Tucson, which is rated #228 out of 355. Statistically speaking, we’re at the bottom of the bottom here, and despite the valiant efforts of my kids’ teachers, it showed.

Instead of the “old method” of simply multiplying one number by another, my 4^th grader was bringing home some core curriculum BS of what looked like follow-the-bouncy-ball on a number line. I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to multiply it, or sing along. And he couldn’t figure it out, either. Note after note went to his teacher from me, stating, “He did the homework, I just taught him the simple way to multiply, because neither one of us could figure out what the paper was trying to teach him.” She was very understanding, unlike my daughter’s 7^th grade math teacher, who just constantly marked her work wrong because she wasn’t doing the 27 step core-curriculum-taught method, but instead was doing the 5 step method that has worked for me for 21 years now.

So, core curriculum- strike one against the public school system for my family.

My kids spent half of this school year in public schools, and when we kept getting notices in

The Evolution of a Super Mom

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Not Prepared for Parenting Older Kids... Or the Zombie Apocalypse

When you become a mom of older kids, like I am (mine are 13 and 10), and you see a mom with younger kids, I'm sure the same thing goes through all of our minds...

"Oh, thank goodness I survived that section of parenthood."

Now THAT's Being Prepared...
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No more diaper changes, no more wordless temper tantrums (now they are silent altogether, except for the sound of marching off and a bedroom door slamming), no more mandated nap times screwing up schedules, no more bottle feedings/stopping to breastfeed, nothing. Just older kids who can express their thoughts and feelings (somewhat) coherently, who you can tell to disappear if they are angering you, and who can wipe their own asses.

Bliss, right?

Yeah, not exactly.

Yesterday, we went on a field trip with the homeschooling group we are members of, to a waste water treatment facility. The tour was supposed to start at 10, but as this place was very difficult to find (everyone's GPS had us doing some crazy u-turns in subdivisions and crap) and somewhere around 50 of us total showed up, it took a while to get things rolling.

I *thought* this was the field trip that was supposed to last between an hour to an hour and a half. Come to find out (the hard way, yes), the timed one was not this particular field trip, but the one we have in 2 weeks. Not knowing this when we left the house, the kids asked if we should bring anything with us.

Why? We'll only be gone like an hour and a half max, we'll be home in time for lunch and to spend time with Hubby before he goes to work. Easy peasy lemon squeezey.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

The guy heading the tour started his presentation (what? There's a presentation with this? Just thought

I'm Not Screwing Up My Kids for Life... I Think...

Every parent worries at some point if they are screwing up their kids for life.

When you start homeschooling, that fear and worry seems to triple.

Two and a half months now, the kids and I have been trying to find our place in the homeschooling world. At this point, I feel like Goldilocks:

We started out with an online school-at-home program "porridge"- Too Strict
We moved to unschooling- Too Relaxed (according to Hubby)
We started a more relaxed daily online curriculum program- Too Easy & Boring

At this point, I've thrown the homeschool porridge against the wall and am currently pouting in the corner, wondering if there's any porridge out there that's "just right" for my kids and I.

Two months now the consistency has been rather spotty. They do math at Khan Academy everyday, we've found literature and grammar curriculum that we've stuck with, and they write posts for their blog each week, but as far as science and history are concerned, we're just bouncing around.

I'm totally screwing up my kids' lives, aren't I? Why did I start homeschooling in the first place? Why did I think I was qualified to do this?

These thoughts stay in the back of my head like poison, seeping forward every once in a while to drive me bat shit crazy.

Needless to say, I've been stressed beyond belief lately.

My readers and my friends tell me that we'll figure it out. They say homeschooling takes adjustment

Regaining My Nerd Status

I was a nerd in high school.

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Ha! Who am I kidding? I'm still a nerd now.

I'm a nerd, though, with a pretty big secret that was revealed to my kids this week. While they didn't fully understand the scope of the secret, Hubby looked at me like I had grown a second head and said, "Seriously? Whoa."

I never read 2 of the books that are some of the top books on pretty much any required reading or greatest books ever written lists...

"Lord of the Flies" and "The Catcher in the Rye." Never read either book.

Yeah, yeah. I know. Every single conversation in the last 15 years or so where either one of these books has been brought up has gone something like this:

Person: You know, like in "Lord of the Flies"/ "The Catcher in the Rye."
Me: Oh, yeah, I understand, but I've never read it.
Person: (blank stare) What?
Me: Yeah. I've never read it. But I know the concept of the story and all.
Person: (continued blank stare) What do you mean you never read "Lord of the Flies"/ "The Catcher

Silver Linings and All That Shit

Tomorrow is the big day for The Girl. Exactly 1 week from her 13th birthday, she's having her braces put on.

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And she's excited about it.

WTF, right? So many WTFs right now, it's not funny.

WTF #1- She wants braces. She's looking forward to braces. She's been begging for braces. Not so much because she wants her teeth straightened, but because in this day and age, braces are cool. Which leads me to...

WTF #2- Braces are cool? Since when? 15 (cough)... 20 (cough)... Okay, fine... 25 years ago when I had them put on, they were the devil. No one wanted braces. Braces were a necessary evil your parents forced you to go through; a rite of passage into the teenage years; another horrible part of puberty, as if the pimples, greasy hair and weird ass hair growth (sorry, not weird ass hair growth, like weird ass hair growth... maybe a hyphen is needed for that? Weird-ass hair growth. Better? Fuck it) wasn't horrible enough, your parents threw in braces. And for me? A lovely head gear. I'm just

The Kids Now Blog, Therefore, I Blog

Lest ye be warned, internet goers. My children now have blogs.

Ye have been warned...

They aren't public (yet- we'll see how this goes), and they were created for homeschooling purposes, but nonetheless, they still have blogs.

I've been reading my ass off lately- homeschooling books, unschooling books, curriculum standards. My poor Sarah Addison Allen novel has been quite lonely, sitting untouched on my bedside table while I reach for the non-fiction books beside her. But at the moment, it's a necessary evil.

I'll run y'all through a quick timeline of recent events, which can somewhat explain why I've been MIA lately.

• Beginning of January- Hubby left for school for 6 weeks and the kids started homeschooling with k12.com.
• 2 weeks later- Kids and I were highly frustrated with the rigors of k12.com, and went to our first local homeschooling group, where I learned about unschooling. Our lives changed forever.
• Beginning of February- Withdrew the kids from k12.com and let them start the unschooling thing. 
• Middle of February- Hubby came home, having graduated with the top GPA in his class (this, from the man who slept through high school- we were shocked and thrilled beyond belief). When his structured-military-trained brain saw unschooling in action, his headache began. He

Offending Teachers, and Chocolate Pie

Apparently I offended one of The Girl's teachers today. Didn't mean to, didn't realize I would, but I did.

Chocolate Chess Pie- Yes please!!

Today I had to finish the last of the paperwork for the kids' online school registration. I figured, since they have 4 days of conventional schooling left, I'd go ahead and write a letter to each of their teachers, giving them a heads up that The Girl and The Ginger weren't returning in January.

One of The Girl's teachers was not happy at all with my letter. She told The Girl that I "was insulting the entire school program" in my letter.

Thanks for keeping your opinion about a 12 year old's mom to yourself, there, adult teacher of my child... (rolling eyes).

The damn letter was 3 sentences long. I must have perfected my skills of offending people, to get it down to 3 sentences.

Here's the letter; y'all can decide for yourselves:

This letter is to inform you that [The Girl] will not be returning to [school] in January. We have decided to homeschool her, and will be formally withdrawing her from [school] and TUSD
following the end of this semester. 

This decision took a great deal of time for us to make, but we feel that both of our children will be able to excel faster and access their full potentials in a school setting that is not part of TUSD.

Thank you,
Morgan Moss

When Hubby read it this morning, even he came back with an "Oh, damn."

So, I'm starting to wonder if I'm just such a bitch now that I don't even realize when I'm being a bitch, or if the letter really wasn't that offensive at all. I thought the letter was simple, straight forward, and was aimed at letting the teachers know that I wasn't unhappy with them, as teachers, but unhappy with TUSD (Tucson Unified School District).

Apparently, the letter was just taken as insulting to the entire school system.

Oops, my bad.

But, let's take a second to touch base on a few things here.

1. I'm southern. We don't hold much back. If I wanted to outright insult the school system, I would have. After reading over my letter, after Hubby's and the teacher's feedback, I can see how there's a little sting to it- an eloquent sting (that's what we southerners are known for), but nonetheless, a sting. She's lucky I didn't add Bless your heart instead of a Thank you at the end, but that wasn't the intent of my letter. 
2. Arizona schools are ranked #43 out of 51 (Washington, DC is counted as its own entity) in the nation. In Arizona, Tucson Unified District is ranked 228 out of 355. So, putting my letter aside, this school system is, in itself, insulting. Both of my kids are in the Gifted and Talented programs at their schools, but that only does so much, you know? The only way to fully describe what's going on in my head with this whole scenario is with an analogy... 

All the states in the US are in a pie baking competition. Apparently, New Jersey has the best pie right now, with, hell, I don't know, an amazing triple chocolate chess pie. Arizona is cooking up some liver and onion pie. Sure, it's not as horrible as the skunk meat and rotten potatoes pie that Mississippi is apparently cooking up, but it's not good either. But, of the minced meat pies, my kids' group cooked up the best liver and onion pie of all the liver and onion pies in this area. Still doesn't mean that liver and onion pie is gonna win the entire pie competition, nor does it mean the liver and onion pie is even edible some days. Will it sustain you? Sure. But overall, it stinks to high heaven. So, I'm supposed to be happy with my kids' liver and onion pie, when I know my kids are triple chocolate chess pie potential, and have access to the triple chocolate chess pie ingredients? Oh hell no. I want chocolate pie for my kids.

So, while I do feel bad I offended one of The Girl's teachers (still torn as to why I feel bad- I really shouldn't), I stand by my letter today. It may have been slightly bitchy, but it could have been much worse.

This is why I shouldn't write letters before my coffee in the morning...
Or why I should write more. The jury is still out on that one.

Found out just a few hours ago that my kids have been accepted to an online school, so our ingredients for triple chocolate chess pie are right around the corner. I can't wait!

I love chocolate pie...

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Hell Week Post #2: The Day We Crushed The Ginger's Innocence

A few days ago, I posted the first of 3 in a series I'm calling "Hell Week", chronicling one of the craziest weeks I've ever had. Post #1, We Aren't Trying to Ruin Our Kids' Lives, I Swear was all about how last week, Hell Week, started out on Monday with Hubby and I making the biggest decision ever for our kids- the decision to homeschool them.

Now we're skedaddling on to Tuesday of last week, or the day that will forever be known as The Day We Crushed The Ginger's Innocence.

Yeah, we know why you are winking, big guy. We'll
keep your secret, until our kids are 10, apparently.

I was 10 when I asked my dad about the true existence of Santa Claus. I had done my research, presented him with evidence as we were wrapping presents one afternoon, and gave him a stern, "So, Dad, is Santa real?"

Without skipping a beat in the wrapping process, he said, "Nope. The idea of Santa is real, but as far as a fat guy with reindeer delivering presents, he's not real. We parents just keep the idea of Santa alive for kids." 

Fair enough, and props to my dad for an amazing explanation, right?

Hubby was 10 when he was told about Santa, as well. He had younger brothers, so his parents told him so he could help with the Christmas Eve shenanigans at night.

The Girl apparently figured everything out the Christmas she was 9 years old, but didn't mention it until the following Christmas, when she was 10. I guess Santa left a receipt for some Webkins laying around and she found it; forgetful Santa...

This year, The Ginger is 10. We're having to do a small Christmas, so the fact that half of our

Hell Week Post #1: We Aren't Trying to Ruin Our Kids' Lives, I Swear

I am officially labeling this week as "Hell Week," and it's only Thursday. It's been so amazingly, sweet-ass awesome (can you sense my sarcasm?), that it's going to warrant 3 posts from me.

My mantra right now...

Yes, 3 posts. I can't cram all of this week into one post. It would look a lot like a busted can of biscuits if I tried, and I don't like to make my readers' heads explode.

I will, however, give y'all a teaser of what my week has entailed, and then we'll just jump right into the first part of my week.

This week, Hell Week, started off with Hubby and I making one of the largest decisions we could possibly make for our kids- The Girl is still barely speaking to us because of it. Mid-week, we crushed The Ginger's innocence forever, and just after that, I contracted what can only be a precursor to the Zombie Virus. That's my Hell Week thus far, and please knock on some wood for me that the remainder of the week does NOT warrant a fourth post in this series.

So now that you have an overview of this week for me, let's just head right into one of the biggest decisions I've ever made as a parent, shall we?

Monday morning, as the kids were getting ready for school, The Ginger opened up his homework folder (keep in mind that last week was Thanksgiving, so the kids have been out of school since the Wednesday before this), and threw his head back. Tears started filling his eyes.

The Ginger: Mom, can I PLEASE stay home from school today?
Me: Nope. But why do you ask?
The Ginger: Because my state report is due today and I forgot all about it. I didn't work on it at all this weekend.
Me: Nope, sorry. You didn't do your homework, so you need to fully understand the consequences to

Cheese Farts, and Other Birthday Happenings for The Ginger

10 years ago today, The Ginger was born. He surprised us back then (we were told, based on 2 ultrasounds, that he was a she), and surprises me every single day since then.

You can read all about his birth here. I promise you, it's a doozie of a birth story.

But today I want to talk about this birthday, his 10th birthday.

He came to me 4 days ago with a list.

Me: What's this?
The Ginger: The list of kids I want to invite to my birthday party.
Me: Honey... it's too late for a party. We talked about this 2 weeks ago...

The look of devastation on his face almost killed me. He crumpled up the paper, threw it into the trash, and ran off to his room.

I let him vent for a few minutes and then called him back downstairs.

Me: Honey, do you remember when you got home from your friend's birthday party 2 weeks ago and you said you wanted a party?
The Ginger: Yeah.
Me: Do you remember what I told you?
The Ginger: No.
Me: I told you then, that if you really wanted a party, we needed to spend the next day making your invitations, because they needed to go to school with you that Monday. You have to give people at least a week to RSVP, and the RSVP should be about a week before the party so we

Surging My Kids into My Past

I ordered a 12 pack of Surge last week.

Yes, the heart-attack-inducing, tastes-how-I-envision-ghosts'-ectoplasm-tasting, colored-like-something-from-a-nuclear-waste-site Surge.

Shipping details say it will be here today.

I'm like a kid on Christmas Eve right now.

As a parent, will I be sharing Surge with my kids, aged 12 and almost 10?

You bet your sweet ass I am.

I'm the Mom who forces the 80s and 90s on my kids. They've seen "The Goonies," (The Ginger liked it more than The Girl), "The Princess Bride" (didn't like it), "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" (liked that one), the TV show "All That" (they loved it), "Sabrina the Teenage Witch" (The Girl adores that show), and countless other fave movies and shows from my childhood ("Camp Nowhere" and "Newsies" are next, and I was totally bummed to find seasons 1 and 2 of "Blossom" available, but due to legal rights of songs in the show, no more seasons of "Blossom" will ever be released on DVD. Super saddening...).

I'm not quite sure why I introduce so many things from my childhood to my kids. I've talked with other moms; I seem to be the biggest 80s/90s Dealer of them all, offering my kids episodes of "Saved By the Bell" like they are crack. ("Here, just try one episode, please... We don't have to watch any more if you don't like this one, just give it a try.") Most moms I know just let their kids watch what

Friday Frenzy: When Best Laid Plans Go Bad

(Today, I'm happy to welcome Traci from A Day in the Life of a Drama Queen's Momma. Her blog hilariously chronicles her daily life as a mom of 4- three of which are "slightly" dramatic girls. Her facebook posts alone have me laughing so hard, realizing I'm not the only one who goes through some of this crazy motherhood stuff. Definitely check her out! Thanks, Traci!! ~Tatted Mom)

When Best Laid Plans Go Bad

Things don't always go as planned in parenting. Even the best intentions and well thought out plans can go awry. For us, the problem began with a blanket. Not just any blanket. THE blanket. The blanket that we swore would not be a problem long before our daughter was even born. You see, we are SMART parents and learned our lesson the first time. We were not going to let our fourth child grow an attachment to any particular item.

No matter what.

But as I said....best laid plans...

It all started with child number two. She was addicted to the binky. You know. THAT child. She couldn't function without that thing hanging out of her drooly little mouth. She slept with it, ate with it, even talked with it. And some days, she double fisted that sucker, and slurped on two of them at the same time! It was pure torture (mostly for us) to take that thing away because we are worn down wimps, which led to her having it well past what would be considered "kosher" in the parenting world. (She was three when we finally conquered that battle)

But we are smart. So we learned our lesson, and adapted a NEW plan with child number three. NO binky. Solved that problem. (Pats self on the back)

Fast forward to child number three. Since she didn't have a binky to attach herself to, she instead

Friday Frenzy: 5 Reasons Why It's Okay to Take Halloween Candy From Your Kids

(Today I'd like to welcome Amber from Airing My Dirty Laundry. She's a fellow Air Force wife, and her blog is awesome. She has found the perfect blend of everyday life, humor and realism that makes her writing completely relatable to all moms out there, so definitely check her out!)


5 Reasons Why It’s Okay To Take Halloween Candy From Your Kids

Halloween is coming!

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This means it’s time for candy. Candy excites me. I will take candy out of my children’s Halloween bags without feeling guilty at all. Why?

Let me tell you.

1. I Bought Their Halloween Costumes

That’s right. They wouldn’t have any costumes if it weren’t for me, therefore, they wouldn’t be given candy at all.

2. I’m Taking Them Around The Neighborhood

Instead of being stretched out on the couch watching Grey’s Anatomy, I’m taking the kids out. I’m dodging families on sidewalks. I’m making sure my kids don’t get squished by cars that aren’t paying attention. I’m reminding them to say “thank you,” because sometimes the excitement of a full size

17 Controversial Parenting Topics, Covered in 1 Post

I get emails all the time about "controversial" parenting topics: What are your views on attachment parenting... Why haven't you ever jumped on the breast vs. bottle bandwagon... Do you even have opinions on the strong stuff?

Of course I have opinions on the controversial parenting topics; that's like asking if a bear sh*ts in the woods. I'm a very opinionated person; I just also carefully choose which topics I spout off about and which ones just aren't worth the effort for me.

But not today. You all have asked, I have (finally) answered, but I decided to do it my way. Instead of taking each topic and creating an entire blog post about it (which I totally could have done- seriously, I'm great at climbing up on a soap box), I've decided to get straight to the point on 17 different topics.

Please bear in mind a few things:

• This is my blog with my opinions. I'm just one person in this world. I feel I was respectful with my answers, so I would like the common courtesy in return when it comes to comments.
• I'm a firm believer in parenting your family the way that works for you, regardless of what others say or think, as long as your family is safe. It's something I preach over and over in my book, "Tatted Mom's Guide to NOT Screwing Up Your Kids." I have respect for all parenting styles, but I do have opinions on some of them. Just because I share my opinion below doesn't mean I don't support moms who parent that way; we are all on this parenting journey together.

Without further ado, let's get to it. 

17 Controversial Parenting Topics, Covered in 1 Post

1. A mom who makes baby food isn't any "better" than a mom who buys jars of baby food.

2. I will tell my kids "NO!!" and yell and scream, if necessary. Quietly whispering to a child that maybe they shouldn't run out into the street in front of that oncoming traffic doesn't achieve the desired results I'm looking for.

3. Children age in months up until 2. Then, it's years. Your kid is not 36 months old, it's 3.

4. I believe in competition; it helps children realize their strengths and interests, and show them what skills they need to work on. If everyone is given a participation trophy, and no one is deemed a winner because of the possible repercussions on the kids who didn't win, then maybe those kids aren't made for that sport or activity. If we never teach kids about competition, and winning vs. losing, they

Friday Frenzy: The Day Things Got Hairy at Disney World

(For today's Friday Frenzy, I'd like to welcome Michelle from Old Dog New Tits. Her blog is a refreshing look at all the dumbassery of life, and her voice is absolutely hilarious. Today's post had me cringing for her, it's so epic. Definitely check out her blog, and stalk her on social media- links are below! ~Tatted Mom)


The Day Things Got Hairy at Disney World

My family was on its first trip to Disney World. It was the four of us (son, 5 and daughter, 2) as well as my parents. My kids had a blast and wanted to ride everything they could but their age differential enabled my boy to take on a lot more of the rides than his sister. And he was still too young to know to fear the scary rides.

Enter that stupid Mission: Space ride at EPCOT.

I hate you, Mission: Space.

Now, first of all, I know what you’re thinking. “Mission: Space??? Michele, are you nuts? He was only five. I can’t believe you brought him on that terrifying shock to the nervous system.” To which I can only say, yes. Well, sort of yes. Disclaimer – the tragic story involving that ride happened just six weeks after we were there. Truly, no one realized how intense this ride really was at this point. But I digress …

So, because my daughter was clearly too young for this ride, Dave opted to sit it out with her. And my parents hung back with them. My boy was all excited about the space ride so what’s a mom to do?

Right? Of course, right.

It was one of the newer rides at the park so it comes with the tedious experience of waiting in a Disney line that weaved through a maze of snotty ropes, germy handrails and darkened corridors intended to get us all in a space-y mood by the time we reached the core. After nearly an hour had passed, we got to the end of the line and waited in a small holding room with maybe 25-ish people to get into our respective “pods.” (Can’t you just feel the nerd?) And we waited and waited. And waited. Something was clearly wrong. There was a loud beep and everyone got quiet in anticipation of a voice coming over the PA to tell us what to do.

We’re all familiar with the expression “you could have heard a pin drop,” right? Well, that’s exactly how it was when my sweet little son, back then always armed with a million questions, turned to me in the deafening silence and said “Mommy” … and then he paused … ’cause clearly there was gonna be more.

I turned to my boy and said “What?” … expecting any number of predictable, mundane statements

Friday Frenzy: Action/Reaction

(I'm very happy to welcome Meredith from The Mom of the Year here today for Friday Frenzy. Her blog is a little bit of everything, with a whole lot of laughs, and her unique writing voice has been featured in many popular parenting humor anthology books. A huge thanks to Meredith for participating in Friday Frenzy, and y'all should definitely check out her site! ~Tatted Mom)


Action/Reaction

It was happening.
Pic Courtesy

So there I was. Feeling completely Mom of the Year-ish after successfully moving my son from 3T into 4T clothing. All you non-kid people just skimmed over this sentence without blinking. The rest of you understand why I was fully expecting the equivalent of the Publisher’s Clearing House Prize truck to pull up in my driveway. Some weak soul who just scaled Everest would limp out to hand me a shiny metallic urn-like award and tell me that I had just achieved the greatest accomplishment known to mankind. Switching these kiddos up to the next size is no joke, people. Move aside screaming newborns, this is birth control.

Feeling extraordinarily proud of myself, I snatched up a jacket I had thrown by the closet to put away. I was going to hang it up, close the door, and wash my hands of another season of sorting little outfits. My daughter, however, had other notions. She saw me open the closet door and ran screaming towards her brother’s raincoat (her new garment of choice). She also demanded I get down her backpack and the toy I stashed on the top shelf (because it just has too many tiny pieces and annoys me). I successfully got the jacket hung, but was left with 3x as many other objects now littering my hallway.

It’s the scientific, or Newton’s, or whatever-you-want-to-call-its law: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

For instance, I will somehow magically score a night-out with my husband (remember that guy who is pretty hot and I used to date?), but footing the bill for the sitter will make me sick, and staying up