Archive | Does it Make Me a Bad Mom IF? RSS feed for this section

Repepepepepeat…..#1: Bad Mom Hates Santa

1 Dec

Being that it is December 1st I wanted to wish my readers a happy holiday season! I’d like you to know that I was ahead of the game this year and have already gotten the Chiquita’s picture taken with Santa! She was very afraid of “Ho-Ho” and didn’t want to get her picture taken with him unless Daddy and Mama were in the picture.

Enjoy our 2012 Santa picture and a repepepepepeat of my very first Bad Mom post from last Christmas when we attempted to get a picture taken with Santa at Bass Pro Shop. What a nightmare that was! Wishing you many blessings this Christmas!

Eva Santa

—————————–

Does it make me a bad mom if:  I’m muttering “Thank God we only have 9 more years of this Santa sh*t” as we leave Bass Pro Shop without a picture with Santa.

Santa: "At least you don't have smelly crying kids sitting on YOUR lap!"

Santa: “At least you don’t have smelly crying kids sitting on YOUR lap!”

Let me start off by saying I completely blame Bass Pro Shop for this ordeal.  I will never – and I mean never EVER – go to Bass Pro Shop again.  I don’t care that they’ve somehow managed to get the Santa Claus to come down from the North Pole.

We walk in, and I feel completely out of place.  This is worse than being dragged to The Home DePot!

For 1:  I almost barf while showing the Chiquita the enormous fish tank.  Those big nasty fish swimming around the tank are completely disgusting.  Torturing me would be throwing me into that tank.  I would literally have a heart attack.

I have a huge fear of fish – dead or alive.  I know it’s weird, and I have no idea where this came from.  I actually have nightmares about flying piranhas chasing me and backing me into a corner and then I wake up in a cold sweat.  It’s frightening.  A couple times I’ve even woken up crying.

For 2:  My husband insisted we go look at the firearms located on the 2nd level.  “Look,” he says, “There’s even a pink one!”

As if that’s a selling point on how I can somehow “fit in” at Bass Pro Shop.  Sorry, honey, it’s never gonna happen.

I said, “There’s a reason they don’t let people like me own firearms,” which in hindsight is quite hilarious because on our drive home 3 short hours later, I remember thinking that if I had a pink firearm I would have blown his brains out.

So it all started with me promising the Chiquita that we would go see Santa that Saturday.  Now I see why parents don’t promise things to their children.  You just never know what might happen.

What’s weird is the Chiquita is 17 months old but she already knows who Santa is.  I don’t think she understands the concept of Santa bringing presents, but I’ve already started telling her she better behave or Santa won’t come.  That always stops her dead in her tracks.  The Santa threat is pretty powerful, and I’m sort of sad I won’t be able to use it anymore in 3 days.  I’ll have to go back to telling her I’m going to sell her to the gypsies, I guess.

Anyways, two and a half hours later we are driving to Bass Pro Shop, which is about 20 minutes from our house.  My friend called my cell to tell me that she was there with her three kiddos and it was a madhouse.  She wanted to prepare me.  She knows I hate crowds and ugly people.

She explained they were passing out “time tickets” because of the amount of people, so you go there, get your time, and then come back to get your picture with Santa.

Fair enough – I’m a reasonable person.  We get our time and leave to do some Christmas shopping.  We arrive back at 3:40 pm to get in line for our 4 pm picture. (They told us we could start lining up at 3:45 pm).

We can tell we’re starting to lose the Chiquita, but we’re desperately trying to push through.  This kid will see Santa today because I promised!

The line is extremely long.  I look at my watch – 3:45 pm.  What is going on?  How could so many people be in line already?

“Are you here for the 4 pm time?” I ask the woman in front of me.

She nods.

My patience is starting to wear very thin…

A Bass Pro Shop employee spots my time ticket (apparently they are different colors) and says, “You’re here for the 4 pm picture?”

“Yes,” I respond.

“Ohh…you’re supposed to be in this line over here,” she tells us.  She points to another, not as long, but still long enough, line.

Wtf is this?  Are you joking me?

I look at the associate, take a deep breath and move over to the 4 pm line.

My husband and I are standing in the 4 pm line, Chiquita is starting to whine (poor kid is a trooper; she hadn’t had a diaper change since like noon), 3 kids about take me out running through the crowd (umm…where are your parents…oh probably in line), and I realize after standing there for 15 minutes – with the 3:30 line barely moving – that between my anxiety and my bad temper I need to get the f*ck out of here.  Right now.

I say to my husband, “This is ridiculous!  We’re leaving.  I’m not standing in this f*cking line one second longer.”

And I don’t think I was quiet about it.  Or nice about it.  I continue on, “These people are dumb to wait in this long line” as I grab the Chiquita and drag her out of there.

I realize this is not setting a great example for my daughter (nor was it being very nice in general), but, you do realize I would have been standing in that line for at least 90 minutes right?  So why didn’t you [Bass Pro Shop] give me a time ticket for a picture at 5:30 pm?

Here’s my beef – If you’re going to hand out time tickets for people to come back for a specific picture time you need to better anticipate the amount of time per family to take a photo plus any breaks for Santa.  Instead of handing out, say, 100 tickets maybe you only hand out 50.  It’s common sense, really.  You have people dealing with very small children who have very small attention spans!

And I’m not implying that I should have gotten my picture taken at 4:01 pm, but let’s be somewhat close to the time you gave me, like within 20 minutes!

Maybe this is just another silly Jlee rant; as even my mom looked at me like I am a complete spaz when I tried to explain the day to her.  But, sorry I’m not sorry if I’m the only one who thinks waiting 90+ minutes for a picture with Santa – when my child may or may not be crying – is ridiculous.  And sorry I’m not sorry that I feel management should have better managed people’s expectations.

All this waiting for a picture that might turn out like this….

I know some people had very good experiences at Bass Pro Shop, and to that, I say how wonderful for you.  But, for me, I will never go there again.  Not that I shop there anyways.

And we ended up getting a nice enough free picture with Santa the next day and with no wait in our neighborhood.  It’s not like the Chiquita knows the difference or really gave a sh*t so as far as I’m concerned that’s #winning. :)

The Chiquita finally got her picture with Santa. It may not be as beautiful as Bass Pro Shop, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be fine with it.

Tags: , , , ,

#10: Does It Make Me a Bad Mom If – I Don’t Run and Hug My Child When She Falls

27 Sep

I haven’t had a bad mom story for a while. I’ve actually been quite a good mom lately. I’m not saying this to brag, there have certainly been moments along the way.

One of those moments was this summer when the Chiquita was sitting in my low-to-the-ground beach chair. We were watching Hubs wash his car and enjoying the warm sunshine when the Chiquita insisted on climbing up onto my lap.

“Do you want to sit?” I asked her.

She nods.

“Okay. I’ll go get another chair.”

I got another chair and set it next to mine. I scootch her out of my chair and say, “There. Go sit in your chair.”

I had gotten her the exact same chair. I suppose I could have just sat in the empty chair but I was trying to make a point. That being kids move for adults.

So she’s playing in the chair now. Like bouncing around and getting up and down.

“Stop playing in the chair,” I tell her.

She looks at me and laughs while she continues to bounce around and eat her Goldfish. She also continues to play in the chair.

“Stop playing in the chair, Eva.” I say again, this time with the mom tone. “You’re going to fall!”

Not even one minute later she falls backwards in the chair, the Goldfish falling out of her cup and are now all over her face and chest as she lays backwards in the chair that now lays on its back in the grass with her legs straight up.

The Chiquita’s face looked almost the same as Kim K. except Chiquita also was covered in goldfish. Can you see why I laughed??

I looked at her, and as God is my witness I burst out laughing. I couldn’t stop laughing. There was a wet Goldfish stuck to her cheek. Her mouth was wide open.

I don’t think she could believe I was laughing at her.

I composed myself and yelled, “See! That’s why I told you not to play in the chair!”

Then I set down my iced coffee, got out of my chair, picked her up and hugged her hard.

“Now are you OK?” I said, squeezing her little body tight. “That’s why I told you not to play in the chair,” I repeated, nicely this time.

“Yes,” she said as I picked the wet Goldfish off her face and threw it in the grass.

Then I laughed for about another five minutes.

I would say that’s a bad mom moment….

And then there was last night.

I was reading 50 Shades Darker (yes, yayy I finally finished 50 Shades of Grey!), and my eye lids were slowlyyy closing. I was determined to finish the chapter. I’m one of those weird people who hates setting a book down in the middle of a chapter. Or does everyone hate that? I mean, it seems normal enough to me.

I set the book on my chest. I will finish this chapter…I think. I’m slowly drifting off into dreamland when I hear a little voice yelling, “Daddy! Daddy!!”

These days the Chiquita has been all about me, which I love, so I was surprised she was calling for Daddy. In hindsight I’m wondering if it’s because she thought she might get in trouble. Hubs is definitely the softie.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” I keep hearing followed by whining. Not crying, let me clarify. Just that whiny fake crying crap.

I wake up and see Hubs sitting next to me playing his video game. The book is still on my chest. And the Chiquita is still whining.

Knowing I’m not finishing my chapter tonight I set 50 Shades on my nightstand and drag myself out of bed thinking: What is this kid still doing awake?

I walk into her room prepared to yell: That’s enough! It’s time for bed, now go to sleep!

I walk in the door. I stop dead in my tracks. The Chiquita is standing there. Yes, she is standing next to the crib holding her bear, Mr. Bear, in her arms and holding onto the crib.

Holy sh*t! I got out…now what?!?

She looks at me.

I look at her.

I just stand there.

Finally I muster out, “Wh-what are you do-doing?”

Then, “How did you get out of your crib?”

Hubs yells from the master, “What? She got out of her crib!?!”

He runs into the Chiquita’s bedroom. “Curls!” (his nickname for her) He yells as he runs up to her. He takes her in his arms and says, “Are you OK baby?” He’s hugging and kissing her.

In my defense, I was probably still half asleep, but I am snapped awake and standing there feeling like a complete idiot!

Holy shit, my kid fell/climbed/jumped whatever out of her crib, and I don’t even pick her up and hug her and ask her if she’s hurt? No, I just stand there like a complete shit head staring at her.

Wow, I’m a bad mom.

I jealously watch my husband console our daughter. God, how does he come out looking like the knight in shining armor when he wasn’t even going to get his lazy ass out of bed?

“Eva sandwich!” I finally yell, running over to hug them both with the Chiquita snuggled tightly in the middle.

I plead insanity, because I really do think I was half asleep and completely shocked to see my kid – whom I placed inside a crib – now standing outside of a crib.

At least I didn’t laugh at her. Pretty sure I redeemed myself with Munchkins the next day. :)

Tags: , ,

#9: Does It Make Me a Bad Mom If – I Constantly Say I’m a Bad Mom?

10 Jul

My kid’s diaper exploded.
In the middle of the kitchen.
At my friend’s house.
During her daughter’s 1st birthday party.

And my husband is nowhere to be found, off fishing with the guys in the lake behind my friend’s house. I rudely ask him later on if he’s planning to parent today, which in hindsight was wrong of me considering I wanted him to go off with the guys so I could drink my martini in peace.

Not like I get much peace with the Chiquita around, but at least I could chat with the girls and sip the toxic Strawberry Shortcake martini my friend made while the Chiquita plays in the baby pool and without my husband giving me that ‘Are we gonna go soon?’ look.

Hubs isn’t a social butterfly.

But, back to the Chiquita, who decides she’s done in the baby pool. She walks to the patio door. Someone lets her inside.

I jump up thinking what is this kid doing?  I go inside and ask her what’s up.

“Eat!” She responds, like she hasn’t eaten enough all day, but my kid like me is a chip addict. Chip as in potato chip, yes another Bad Mom topic for you how I let my kid eat potato chips and Dunkin Munchkins.

“Eat! Eat!” She says and is walking through my friend’s kitchen.

I look down and omg she is dripping water ALL OVER THE PLACE.

I try to get her to stop moving and stand still as I’m trying to wipe up the floor, remove her bathing suit bottoms and meanwhile she is confused pointing to the food and saying, “Eat!”

She has no idea that she’s dripping water; even though I’m telling her – sort of even yelling at her – “Stop moving! You’re dripping water all over the place!”

Well, I mean, I told her to stop.  What does she do?  She stops.  And she plops down on the floor. BAM! Sure enough her water logged diaper explodes on the floor.

Do yourself a favor and get these!!

O-M-G.

Meanwhile my friend’s family is all sitting around watching this unfold as I’m slowly unraveling.  Really?  Really? I think.

I’m looking outside the patio door praying that my husband has come back, but no, he’s off … somewhere…having fun … and here I am having to attend to this mess of an exploded diaper, a wet child, a hungry child AND having everyone staring at me.  At my bad parenting and the mess I’m making all over my friend’s house in the middle of her daughter’s 1st birthday party. Ohmigosh, we are ruining everything.

Now, this I’m sure isn’t what anyone was thinking…but in the moment this is what I’m thinking they are thinking, and I’m feeling anxiety about the whole thing so my brain is starting to envision the worst.

The situation was quickly rectified – Chiquita changed and fed (again), the mess cleaned up, and we are back outside hanging out with the girls, sipping cocktails, and yes, eating more chips.

The Chiquita…such an angel!

I’m telling a gal how during this whole debacle I’m getting really flustered.  On top of it, friend’s brother is yelling out, “It’s OK, she’s just a spaz,” like yeah I am, but thanks, do you really need to yell that to your entire family while I’m on my hands and knees cleaning up diaper mess off the hardwood floor?  This is embarrassing enough.

I suppose with the anxiety, the embarrassment and the buzz I did look like a basket case and friend’s brother-in-law says in all seriousness, “Wow, you need medication.”

IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE FAMILY!

“I’m ON medication,” I yell back, now losing any shred of dignity I was still holding on to.

So this gal hearing the dramatic tale says, “I don’t understand why you’re getting so flustered, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“I don’t know.” I’m trying to explain it to her.

I mean, how do you explain your craziness to someone? Like have a camera follow me around and then watch it on TV in your pjs and you’ll totes get it while you’re sipping your wine and laughing at me!

This is what I want to tell her, but I know she’s asking out of genuine concern, and not in a judgy sort of way.  She’s honestly confused why I get like this.

Finally after going back and forth we get it out of me.

“I don’t want to be a bad mom!”

I am old school, and I have many complaints about things that parents do, like why do you let your children run around the store? Don’t you tell them “This isn’t a playground, it’s the store! Stop running around!”? That’s what my Italian mom yelled at me.

Along with don’t talk back, respect your elders, do unto others as you want them to do unto you, were you raised in a barn…and a barrage of other things that I don’t always see kids doing nowadays.  And I guess I am being a bit judgmental of parents nowadays which I suppose isn’t really my place. I mean, I’m a mess enough right?

But, because I’m looking at other kids and wondering why in the hell they are behaving this way I’m assuming that all other people are looking at me and thinking the same thing.

I Don’t Want to Be a Bad Mom.

Gal says something so interesting to me that it’s been sitting with me for days now.

“Don’t you think if you keep putting this “Bad Mom” vibe out into the universe you’re somehow willing it to be? Giving other people the chance to think it?”

Wow.

That’s a really interesting perspective.  Maybe only a perspective you get after a couple martinis.  Or maybe she’s just really smart?

She continues, “It’s kind of like with my weight. If I keep saying to people that I’m overweight it’s bringing attention to my weight rather than just me liking me for me and not worrying about it.”

Wow.

This is genius. So very profound.

I started this Bad Mom section on my website to be funny and to poke fun at myself and to give moms something to laugh about. We’re all making mistakes and we’re all doing the best that we can.

But, is this teasing myself hurting my self-esteem a bit? Am I taking it all too serious in thinking that I actually AM a bad mom instead of just laughing at the little things?

Maybe so.  I’m going to work on not calling myself a bad mom anymore. But, I will continue to bring you Bad Mom stories because I think we all need to learn to laugh at ourselves once in a while. How else do we stay sane? I haven’t gotten any bad mom stories lately…what are your bad mom stories? Email me at jlee5879@live.com.

Tags: , , , , , , ,

#8: Does It Make Me a Bad Mom If – I Let My Kid Drink Out of a Shot Glass?

8 Jun

The Chiquita is refusing to drink milk.

We took her off bottles about a month ago. Now we are trying to break the paci, but that’s another story….

So now…no more bottles. She asks me for a Ba-Ba every day, and I look into her sweet face with her big green eyes staring up at me, and want to cave. I sooo badly want to cave and say “OK! Stay my baby forever, here you go. Now give me a bigggg hug and kiss!”

It’s like she knows I’m a sucker.

But, I know I can’t. The truth is my little girl is growing up. :(

I remind her that she’s a big girl.

“Bottles are for babies,” I tell her. “Are you a baby?”

“Noooo!” She says.

Side note: No is one of her favorite words so I use reverse psychology on her all the time. Is this a big parenting secret? I don’t ask her if she’s a big girl or she’ll respond no.

But side note cont., back to her favorite word being no. That and Dunkin Donuts. I swear to God, this kid loves Dunkin Donuts. If we pull into a Dunkin Donuts parking lot she screams “Dunkin Donuts!” yet she can’t put any other two words together (thank you is tanks)….that is except Dunkin Donuts. Good lord what have I done.

Since the Chiquita hasn’t been drinking a bottle anymore I’ve tried to give her milk in any way possible.

~ A mini water bottle
~ A sippy cup
~ A big glass which I tell her is “Mommy’s milk” and that I will share with her

All I get is Noo! Noo! Noo!

This kid just doesn’t want to drink milk anymore.

Sooo what’s a desperate bad mom to do?????

What is this neat little glass????? And a straw??? O-M-G I loveeee straws!

Look at Mom trying to take my picture. Let me appear very aloof here….

Wait. Just wait a minute here. What the. What the f*%$ is this?!?

Tags: ,

#7: Bad Mom Says “Here’s a $20; Go play!”

30 Mar

Remember the old saying “kids should be seen and not heard”?  That saying was often used at my grandparents’ house over the holidays when the kids were told to “go play” while the adults got to do fun stuff like get drunk and play board games.

I’ll never understand why kids have all these toys – and trust me wayyy more toys today than when I was a kid and thought Nintendo was the sweetest thing ever with my 5 games! – And yet they still want to constantly be up your ass every chance they get.  What gives?

In hindsight I should be grateful my kid actually likes me because I know in about 12 years she will probably hate me and will tell me I’m so annoyingggg, like kids teens love to tell their parents.  I’m already dreading it and praying I survive because it’s not like we need another hormonal chick in our household.

For now I try to remind myself to appreciate the Chiquita’s mostly cute and sweet nature and to enjoy her hugs, which are now big and plentiful.  There’s nothing like the moment when your kid wraps her little chubby arms around your neck and squeezes with all her might.  Ooohhh! She says in my ear as she squeezes me tight and wipes her little nose on my cheek.

But, then there are those moments when I just want some goddamn peace and quiet.  Please, kid, can you let me have three seconds of privacy so I can wipe my ass???  No, you can’t, because your kid wants to be right there staring at you, looking in the toilet and plugging their nose.  #Awesome.

And godforbid you actually shut the door in their face.  Yes, this Bad Mom has done that.  Sorry I’m not sorry, but the Chiquita had plenty of alternatives.  And no, I wasn’t actually wiping my ass.  I was putting on my makeup, and I already had her staring at my naked body while I was forced to take a shower with the shower door wide open.  Meanwhile I’m shaving my pits and my kid is staring up at me, laughing and pointing at my belly button.

I laughed, at that moment it was pretty cute, but 40 minutes later while I’m now trying to apply my mascara absolutely perfectly to my eyelashes – my day is ruined if I have a bad eyelash day, no joke – and she just wouldn’t leave me alone did she finally start to get on my nerves.

“For Pete’s sake!” I yell. “In the living room alone you have a big screen with cartoons on, a princess castle tent and oodles and oodles of toys, yet you have to sit in the bathroom and hang on my legs and pick up strands of hair off the floor to hand them to me???  Really???”

She stares at me and hands me a fuzzy she picked up from the bathroom rug.  I grabbed the fuzz, said thank you, and then shoved her butt out the door.  Yes, I did.  What did she do?  She turned around and walked back in.

“Go play,” I said.

She looked up at me.  She had the cutest look on her face, like she was begging to hang out with me.  I considered letting her stay and then she tried to reach for the curling iron cord.  That’s it!  How will I ever finish getting ready?!?

“Go play!” I said, louder this time.

My lovely bathroom

You’re probably envisioning this large and beautiful bathroom with a heated tile floor, whirlpool tub and chic decor.  I wish!!!  My house was built in 1927.  It is a 3 bedroom 1 bath cape cod.  The bathroom is probably the size of your closet.  It has a single-sink vanity, a bathtub and a toilet.  Two people barely fit in the bathroom at the same time – unless one of them is in the shower – and it is especially tight when my 1 ½ year old is trying to push her baby’s Graco stroller at me while I’m curling my eyelashes.  I swear this happened.

I snap and yell, “Out, out, out!”  I turn her around and nudge her little body out [again] and shut the bathroom door.

Yes, I shut the bathroom door on her.  I didn’t slam it, I’m not completely evil, but yes, I did shut it as she stood there crying.  Even though I really really really wanted to take a Calgon bath and like the commercials it would suddenly be quiet and peaceful with candles burning, soft music playing and a glass of wine next to my beautiful marble whirlpool tub, I woke the fuck up and remembered this is real life.  And in real life people don’t shut bathroom doors on their children.  Well, maybe they do, but not me.

So, I take a deep breath, open the door, and give the Chiquita a bigggg hug while I wiped the crocodile tears from her cheeks.

***

Fast forward a week…we are having dinner at All Aboard Diner, this super cute restaurant that serves meals by train.  It’s kid friendly and serves alcohol, omg, I couldn’t imagine a better place to spend our Friday night with the Chiquita.

We’re sitting at the center counter.  There are booths around the outskirts of the restaurant, but if you want to have your meal served by train you have sit at the oval counter in the center of the restaurant.  I’m sipping my wine, Hubs is sipping a beer and the Chiquita is having a ball watching the train continue to go round and round.

We’re sitting on the short red diner stools, the Chiquita in the middle of us, and this place is super loud because there are kids everywhere.  Hubs and I cheers to the weekend, and I say, “I love this place for serving booze!”

Dinner is going great – and then the food arrives.

Now when you are about to have your first kid you constantly hear warnings pertaining to the lack of sleep.  And I guess I got lucky – super lucky – that the Chiquita is a sleeper.  My kid goes to bed early and gets up late.  The one warning that seasoned mom’s never gave me was that you will never be able to eat in peace again!

Feed me, Chiquita!

Eating with a child can be very stressful.  It consists of Chiquita trying to feed our begging cat, Kennedy, who thinks she’s a dog, throwing food that she doesn’t like and screaming over conversations of Hubs and I trying to discuss our day.  Basically dinner with the Chiquita is all about the Chiquita.

So after Hubs and I toast to the weekend and the red wine starts moving through my veins I’m like in total relaxxx mode.  The food comes, and I forget that I’m out with a 1 ½ year old.  I’m expecting this peaceful dinner consisting of me sipping more wine and having this deep conversation with my husband.  Then maybe sipping lots more wine.

A harsh reality hits me in the face as Chiquita is trying to grab everything in sight to shove in her mouth, including the very hot corn dog on her plate.

“Wait, wait, wait girl,” I say and grab her plate to cut the corn dog into tiny pieces.

Side note, this kid is an eater just like her mother.  Lucky for us we have great genes, until you hit about 30 and then suddenly the fat doesn’t fall off so easily anymore.  So sad.  I’m not a fan of working out and wish I could pay someone to do it for me.  Yes, yes, it does make me feel better when I DO workout, I just wish I didn’t have to for both my sanity and keeping my FAB figure. ;)

But back to feeding little people – as in kids not midgets – when you feed a child not only are they supppperrrrr impatient but by the time I get her situated, cut her food up, give her a drink, pick up the food she’s thrown off her plate, cut more food up because now the other food is gone, and I’m finally able to sit to eat my [cold] meal this kid is done eating and is ready to get up and move on to the next activity!

Wtf, I haven’t even taken my first bite yet!  I just want to eat and drink in peace!  This eating ritual will take place whether you are in your own kitchen or whether you go out to All Aboard Diner.  This did not occur to me.

At All Aboard Diner

While I’m cutting up Chiquita’s corn dog Hubs is sipping his beer and eating his juicy hamburger.  I’m salivating and looking at him like I want to murder him as my own juicy hamburger is looking at me and calling my name.

I get Chiquita situated [finally] and as I said above she’s now finished.  We’re in this awesome play land, and I’m sort of wishing she was old enough to go play so I can just kick back.

I look at Hubs and say, “I can’t wait until Eva is old enough to go play in the game room by herself.”

Hubs looks at me, and I continue.  “Like, I would just say to her, ‘Here’s a $20, now go play.’” As I motion my hands in a Shoo gesture.

I laugh, and then it’s like I heard in my own ears what I actually said.

“Hmm…does it make me a bad mom if I say to my kid ‘Here’s a $20, now go play so I can sit here and drink my wine!’”

Ummm…I think so. :D But at least I recognize it.

Tags: , , ,

#6: Bad Mom Says “Damn, this kid is persistent!”

6 Mar

I received this week’s “Bad Mom” story via email. I have to say I was LMAO reading it and thinking OMG, I would totallyyy do that!!! No side note comments from me this time around because as I said above, yep, Bad Mom here, I would totes do it, too. This story has great details and speaks for itself! Love it!! :D Submit your Bad Mom stories to jlee5879@live.com.

Friday February 24th (my birthday)!

I had this day all planned out. To do absolutely nothing. I took the day off from work, dropped the kids off at school & daycare and proceeded to start my day. I made it home from dropping off my kids let’s say around 8:45 am. I was good and comfy on my sofa, after taking a bubble bath no later than 10:30 am. I’m sorry, I failed to mention that the hubby was at work, kids gone so I had the house all to myself (how often does this happen, um NEVER).

Omg, I had to be about 30 min into Black Swan and was sound asleep, in dreamland and then it happened! 1st phone call 11:45 am (IGNORE, leave a damn message). 2nd call, 12:15 pm (IGNORE, leave a damn message). 3rd call, 12:30 pm (this continued on for about 2 hrs). Finally, my house phone rings and the TV screen displays it’s my mother-in-law and I answer thinking why did I just do that.

She goes on to say that my son’s school is trying to reach me. The entire 3rd grade class is being sent home due to puking & pooping and my child is the only kid still at the school. As if this information isn’t bad enough, I actually stopped and thought about going to pick him up (HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE).

Is Mommy ever coming to pick me up?

Needless to say my quiet time at home was ruined, but to make me feel even worse when I got to the school, my son made me a birthday card (since he had nothing else to do, while he waited) that read “Happy Birthday Mommy, I’m sooooo sorry I’m sick. Love, your favorite son (this is my nickname for him).” How can you not feel terrible after that!

Story #2

Monday February 27th

Kid is all better now and back at school. He comes home (on Monday) with 2 of those scholastic book orders (I can’t even believe they still have those, my mother used to order books from there for me).

He’s all excited. “Mommy, Mommy I want to order some books.”

I tell him leave it on the table and have his dad look over it. He does this Tuesday, Wednesday and finally on Thursday (after dad never looks over it and apparently I’m too busy) he says, “Mommy, the money for my book order is due tomorrow (Friday 3/2), can we order some books?”

I tell him “wait till I put your sister to bed, then we’ll go over this.” I’m thinking to myself “damn this kid is persistent, he’s not backing down.”

Honestly, I was hoping he would forget. Now don’t get me wrong, myself & my husband both encourage the importance of education and how reading is fundamental in my house. This kid (at the age of 9) has 2 book shelves full of books and both are completely full, so if we missed a damn book order it’ll be ok.

Sure we'll get something for you honey,,as long as we get something for me!

Finally, after days of asking we sit at the kitchen table and begin to go through the scholastic book order (the majority of the books he already has). When OMG, what do I notice the gosh darn Hunger Games Trilogy boxed set by Suzanne Collins for only $21 (this set is at Target for $36.99). Let me add, I was preparing to order this trilogy (on Amazon) before the movie comes out and now I am over the top excited because of this damn Scholastic book order. :)

My eyes light up, and needless to say this is the first order on the list. Oh yeah, and we order him a Titanic book and something else. But, whoo-hoo the Scholastic book order is the best damn thing that happened to me all week. Never put off tomorrow what you can look at today and get a great deal!!!!!

Tags: , , ,

#5: Does It Make Me a Bad Mom If – You’re Snooki

1 Mar

Snooki preggers???

My boss comes into the office [yesterday] and asks: “Is Davy Jones dead?”

I stare at him blankly.  “WHO?”

I’m mixing up Davy Jones, Davy Crockett and Leif Garrett.

“I guess you don’t know then,” he responds, which is true, I don’t know.

“Well, the news of the moment that I am concerned about – [I clear my throat for this rather large announcement] – Word on the street [I start again, do they even know how BIG this is?] – is that SNOOKI IS PREGNANT!”

My office explodes in laughter.  I’m not sure if they are laughing about the possibility of Snooki being preggers or if they are laughing that I even care.

Here’s the thing.  I pretend to dislike Snooki, and maybe I sort of do seeing as though she pretends to be Italian, but really isn’t, all the while giving Italian women a questionable reputation, but I think I really do sort of like her given the fact that I actually dressed up as Snooki for Halloween.

And, truthfully, I guess I shouldn’t even go there considering what the Mob Wives do for Italians.  I watch that show and thank my lucky stars my family isn’t “that kind” of Italian.  We’re the Bill Cosby of Italians.

Honestly though, if they had cast me on Jersey Shore say five years ago I’m sure I would maybe be a disgrace to my family – and all Italians for that matter – because let’s face it, alcohol and video cameras don’t always display people at their best of bests.  You know what I’m sayin?  Remember JUST STOP TALKING, thank the lord there were no cameras to film that train wreck!

So, sorry I’m not sorry that maybe I sort of actually like Snooki.  Not those fugly shoes she was wearing though.  Yuck!

Don't you dare go to http://www.SnookiSlippers.com

But what are your thoughts on her being a mother????

I have to admit, my first thought is:  Omg, that poor kid has a short degenerate alcoholic for a mother that humps her friend in a rabbit suit.  I mean, right?  Pretty sure I saw that on a preview during Teen Mom 2.  I watch Mob Wives and Teen Mom 2, but I don’t stumble so low as to watch Jersey Shore. ;)

But, then I think of Kendra, Hugh Hefner’s former girlfriend, and another of my fave celebs (besides Giuliana Rancic, of course) who famously told her mom she was pregnant at her wedding shower on an episode of Kendra and the world (well, maybe not the world, but definitely E! and her fans) were SHOCKED.

I’m sure there was speculation of what kind of a mother can that big boobed, blonde haired former Playmate actually be????  And if you watch her current reality show and have read any of her books (I plan to post on that later) you will know that she is actually a good wife and mother.

No nanny for this mama

And then I think of me.  I was raised in the good ‘ole Midwest, sure my parents divorced before my 1st birthday, but they both remarried and had children by the time I was 4 thus making this lifestyle very normal and giving me a great big family with two different viewpoints and opinions on raising children and on life.

I like to credit my two families for giving me a more balanced outlook on life because of these varying viewpoints and opinions.  It made me see what different families can be like on the inside.  My dad and stepmom were pretty laid back parents who never grounded or spanked their children, while my brother and I were often getting grounded, spanked, soap in the mouth, whatever it may have been to encourage straight As and good behavior.

I once jokingly said “You’re such a Focker!” to my brother (after the movie Meet the Parents came out in 2000).  I was saying it referring to my brother as a dork, and my mom nearly had a heart attack trying to tell me that Focker was a swear word.

“Nu-uh!  It’s a dude’s last name!”

Needless to say I never said that again.

I went off on a tangent though.  My point is such that I was raised a very well-balanced, respectable, nice young woman and look at me now, the crazy still managed to get me.

Back when I got pregnant I thought I was going to be this fan-frickin-tastic mother who was dressing her kid in designer kid clothes and sipping cappuccinos at the local Starbuck’s while my baby sat in herSilver Cross Balmoral Pram baby carriage, which according to The Most Expensive Journal, is likely the most expensive stroller in the world, priced at $2,900.00.   And how hilarious (or depressing) that Snooki can actually afford one!

It's not even cute!!

I never thought I would be the one struggling, or the one suffering from Post Partum Depression, or the one writing “Bad Mom” blog posts….

This is not to say I think I’m a bad mom, but more to say everyone is a mom in their own way, to the best of their abilities, and influenced (whether positively or negatively) by their own lifestyle and upbringing.

Who is anyone to judge?

The “Bad Mom” stories are silly and funny and are meant to remind us that no one is perfect.  We all have meltdown moments.  And what’s a “Bad Mom” to me may not be a “Bad Mom” to you.  I mean, we can all agree I’m not talking about crazy people who lock their kids in attics that you see on the news.  Those people weirdos need to die.  I’m talking about those of us just living life day by day, trying to be good people and trying to make it in this big crazy world.

As for whether or not Snooki will make a bad mom; I guess it depends on time and your bad mom criteria.  According to The New York Post, despite Snooki’s denials according to sources she IS in fact preggers.  Read Snooki Lied – She’s Preggers  and MSN’s Wonderwall for the info.

And remember that many people might think that Madge is one of the best mom’s out there, but I would BEG to ask Lourdes that question.  For one, Madonna doesn’t even let her kids watch TV!  Wonder if Snooki will let her bambino watch Jersey Shore?

If Snooki is in fact preggers I have my Halloween costume for 2012 – Pregnant Snooki! :D

Don’t be shy…please share your “Bad Mom” stories?  Or if you’re the perfect mother afraid to share what sticks out in your mind as something your parents did to you???  Email me at jlee5879@live.com.

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

#4: Bad Mom Says “My Bad!”

8 Feb

I’m obviously not doing very well with sticking to my time-table of Monday postings. What can I say? I’ve never been one to be on time!

Soo0…here is this week’s “Bad Mom” story which was actually given to me as a comment on #3: Bad Mom Says “Suck It Up!” from one of my fellow blogger friends. It’s funny, and in case you missed it, I thought you might enjoy it. :)

OK, here’s one that might as well make it to print. I’m sure I have plenty of recent Bad Mom stories, but my daughters would be the best source for those. And I’m not going to give you their contact info for that very reason. :)

Several years, when my youngest was about 8 or 9 and played recreational soccer, we got one of those soccer goals for our yard…I think they call them “rebounders” since the harder you kick the ball into it, the harder it rebounds back to you.

At the time, my daughter played goalkeeper, so we were helping her work on her defensive skills. (Guess where this is going.) So I kicked the ball pretty hard to her, probably harder than any of her teammates could ever kick. Not saying I’m that strong or athletic, but apparently I had some pent-up frustrations for some odd reason.

Well, the ball hit her in the arm. At first, I thought she was laughing, and I may have even laughed with her as I uttered something really un-motherly, like “my bad.”

Except she wasn’t laughing.

Within 30 seconds, the tears were flowing and she was wailing in the front yard, grabbing her arm. Since this daughter isn’t my overly dramatic one, I immediately took her to the ER.

As you can probably guess, I had broken her arm. And as you can probably guess, every doctor and nurse that approached us asked her what happened to her arm, and she responded quickly with “My mom kicked the ball to me playing soccer in the front yard.”

She forgave me, but that didn’t stop her from telling the world about it. And 5 years later, she still talks about it to all who will listen. Just call me Mother Of The Year. Jlee says: I just love this story (not that she broke her arm), but the fact that she will never let you live this down. Afterall, that’s what daughters are for! Thanks for sharing!!

"Mom is going to be paying for this shit for the rest of her life!"

Keep the Bad Mom stories coming!! Email me YOUR bad mom moment at jlee5879@live.com.

Tags: , ,

#3: Bad Mom Says “Suck It Up!”

2 Feb

Excited to report that I received my first “Bad Mom” email.  Yayy!

I would have posted it sooner, but unfortunately my mother-in-law passed away of a sudden heart attack last week.  We are shocked and sad and guilt-ridden (we should have done this, and should have done that), but have vowed to be there more for my father-in-law in the future.

I am dedicating this post to my mother-in-law, because she would sometimes read my blog (which honestly gave me anxiety!!! What will she think of this???)  She always told me that she thought I am a great writer, but said I swear too much in my blog (LOL), and I’m sometimes too hard on her baby boy (Yes, I probably am).

So, here’s to you Mom B.  We love you and will miss you and will think of you often….

Dad and Mom B. Mom will be very missed. :(

The Bad Mom email I received:  I am a bad mom every day of my life and here are a few examples…. while removing a splinter from my son’s foot I kept wiping it with a cotton ball of alcohol he was whining and crying and me and the other son were telling him (actually chanting to him) “suck it up” over and over. I finally finished and gave it one last wipe (he was still bitching and moaning) and it was over! I get my splinter removing supplies together to put away and realize my “alcohol” was actually nail polish remover!  Jlee says:  Yes, I was told to “suck it up” many-a-times as a kid! Love it!!

Kate says, "Suck it up kids!"

I gave them a vitamin drink and told them it will help keep them healthy during this bad cold season and will give them a lot of energy blah blah blah… oldest drinks it and immediately begins bouncing off the walls and acting obnoxious. I scream at him and tell him “It’s supposed to give you energy, not make you act like an idiot!” Jlee says: LMAO!!

Many many more mother of the year moments in my life==more to come I am pumping breast milk as we speak at work…. trying to make up for giving my 10 month old baby a lollipop to keep him quiet!

____

LMAO, thanks friend for sharing your “Bad Mom” moments. I hope we can all get a laugh out of this and remind ourselves that we are doing the best that we can.

~ xx

PS I’m hoping to post “Bad Mom” stories on Mondays so forgive this being a couple days late!!  Send me your bad mom stories to jlee5879@live.com!!

Tags: , , , , ,

#2: Bad Mom Says “It’s Common Sense Really.”

23 Jan

My weekly “Bad Mom” post isn’t really taking off the way I had hoped. 

Apparently there are just no bad moms out there!  I actually have been a pretty good mom lately, if I do say so myself, and I haven’t really had any stories to share.

I’m proud to say I’ve been keeping it all together.  I think I’m just more of a psycho before the holidays so now that we’re into 2012 I’m a little more content.  I’m not content about the belly bulge I noticed this morning when putting on my skinny jeans, but I digress.  I really can’t do it all, and I’m starting to be OK with that.

So my brief Bad Mom moment occurred this morning while I was driving the Chiquita to Bubbe’s house.  It’s freezing in the car even though I warmed it for about 15 minutes before we left the house.  We’re both bundled up with the heat blasting.  Chiquita is in the back in her car seat sucking on her paci while she holds her bottle and hugs her baby; a black fleece blanket across her legs.

We’re not even down the block when she throws Baby across the backseat.  Then she starts whining.  Ugh.  Soo annoying.  I haven’t even sipped my coffee yet and I’m trying to listen to Kiss FM’s “Dirty on the Thirty” celeb gossip segment and she’s in the back going, “oooh…ahhh….ahhh…ma….” trying to say to me, “Hey, lady, I dropped threw my baby now pick it up for me.”

Diva Eva wants it NOW!

How many times do we have to do this?  I turn around and say, “I’m driving right now.  Don’t throw your baby.”

She follows up with, “oooh…ahhh….ahhh…ma….”

I turn around again and say, “I’m driving right now.  When I stop at a red light I will get your baby.”  And then I turn up the volume to hear “Dirty on the Thirty.”  Nice mom, huh?

At the red light I turn around and grab Baby off the backseat.  I hand the baby to her and say, firmly, “Don’t throw her again because I’m not getting her for you next time.  You’ll have to wait until we get to Bubbe’s.”

She smiles and hugs Baby.  Awww so cute….for about three seconds.

Three seconds later Baby is on the floor again.  I hear, “oooh…ahhh….ahhh…ma….”  I think to myself, we have a seven minute ride to Bubbe’s and I feel like I’m going to kill this kid.  I tell her no and continue to drive despite her rebuttals. 

Seconds later her bottle has ended up been thrown on the floor and this infuriates her.  Where in the hell did the Chiquita get this bad temper?  Certainly not from Moi! :D

Now she’s really pissed and she’s letting me know it.  A tirade ensues complete with pointing at me and kicking her legs.  I want to laugh at this kid, but I don’t. 

I turn around and say, “Hey, I told you not to throw Baby and your bottle.  I’m driving.  I can’t reach it.  You’ll have to wait until we get to Bubbe’s.”

We’re going to be there in one and a half minutes.  I really wish kids understood patience!  She continues with her tirade and finally I’m at my wit’s end.  How many times do I have to tell the Chiquita NOT to throw Baby and/or bottles on our drive to Bubbe’s?  This isn’t a new phenomenon.  She wasn’t born yesterday.  She knows the drill.

Finally I begrudgingly turn around as another tirade ensues and I say (very nicely, actually, I’m not even yelling), “Listen.  How many times do I have to tell you not to throw your bottle?  I can’t pick it up off the floor while I am driving.  How about you just don’t throw it?  I mean, it’s common sense really….”

"It's common sense, Timmy!"

The words escape my mouth, and I think to myself, Wow.  That’s wayyyy f*cked up.  I just told my 18 month old she lacked common sense.

And this just after I argued with Hubs on what a “compassionate” person I am.  He goes, “You?  Compassionate?  The person who thinks everyone is ‘sooo stupid.’  Hilarious.”

 

What are your Bad Mom stories?  I can’t be the only one who is the occasional Bad Mom!  Write me at jlee5879@live.com.

Tags: , , , ,

← Older Entries

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 678 other followers