Laundry heiroglyphics

Posted on March 24, 2015 by momsranting

I got some great new pants, from Stitch fix. I call them miracle pants, and I do believe they could change the world. For better.

I was doing laundry, my dress pants and tops for work mostly. Washed all the dark stuff together on gentle, as usual. Grabbed my pants out of the wash, and checked the tag to see if I could dry them. There were no written instructions…. just a weird jumble of stick drawings that I assume was supposed to mean something to me.

???

Nothing. This means nothing to me. I called my best friend who doubles as my recent sub-par girl scout cookie supplier… asking if she had any idea what the little pictures mean on the tag of my pants? Nope. Happened to her, and she had to Google it.

Are we really supposed to know this? Is the book of laundry hieroglyphics sitting somewhere for us to learn from? All I can glean from this tag is something about temperature-in Celsius of course, something about ironing them…I assume it’s ok?? And something about avoiding circles. Or holes. Maybe don’t throw your pants down a hole? Don’t cut circles in your pants?

These are made in Canada, not ancient Egypt!

I did not take the laundry tag class in home economics, I am not sure it was offered. It seems pretty ballsy for someone to just assume the world at large is going to know what to do when faced with this tag. I feel like the triangle with stripes might mean something important. How do I know??

So I Googled it too. Holy hell, it’s like cracking a code. Check it out here. It’s amazing how much information can get jammed onto that little tag. And a little sad that I dried the pants on super low, after crossing my fingers. Now that I know better.

LINE DRY!! It means line dry! How would I possibly know this? It looks like an envelope, or a box to me.

This has nothing to do with Pink Floyd, and everything to do with using non-chlorine bleach. If you must.

No one is trying to save you from falling down a rabbit hole, or illustrating chop sticks on an empty plate. It means NO dry cleaning. Geez.

Looking at all the possible laundry symbols, I would have to say the DMV booklets for beginner drivers is much easier to figure out and guess what all those signs mean. Thank god I don’t need a license to do laundry. My ignorance has most likely contributed to a shorter life span for my miracle pants. 😦

It should not be this hard to wash your clothes.

Tagalong scandal

Posted on March 22, 2015 by momsranting

They look innocent and delicious. Don’t be deceived.

I sit here, just seething.

There is a box of tagalongs right behind me on the counter. An OPEN box. The fact that I am even able to write this without chomping on one, and then another, and then another….. means there is something seriously wrong.

Like, the world might be ending kind of wrong.

If there is one thing I can always count on to illustrate my complete lack of self control with regard to junk food… it’s girl scout cookies, right?? Well, apparently the girl scouts must think they are doing me some kind of favor, but I don’t see it that way. It feels more like mutiny to me. And I don’t even know if I’m using that word properly, not being a sailor and all…but it feels like the best word to capture my feelings of betrayal.

Let me tell you a little story. A story of dreams being shattered.

I am, like many of you, a very, very strong supporter of the girl scouts. I donate to them without fail every year, buying boxes and boxes of cookies. Because it’s a good cause. Now, I’ve gotten into the habit of eating these cookies, sometimes even eating most of the cookies before anyone else in the house can find them. This is how I keep obesity from claiming more victims. It’s selfless, really.

My favorites are always the same. Tagalongs. Samoas. Thin mints. And a few other boxes just for variety. But those three, those are the staples. Thoughts of those cookies are what keeps me going during the rest of the year, and able to turn up my nose at the Keebler elves shoddy imitations sitting on the grocery store shelves. I’ve never cheated.

My internal cookie clock started going off around January. I called my cookie contact. Not time to order yet. After much impatient waiting, I got my order in. Extra boxes of everything. Then more impatient waiting. Why do they make you order so early and then wait, and wait before those cookies come in??

I would call up my cookie friend, listen half-heartedly to some blah-blah-blah about her life…then cut her off. “Where are the cookies??” GEEEZ, not in yet??!!

By the time they came, I was practically twitching in anticipation.

There they were, boxes and boxes of those coveted cookies. Sitting on my counter. Waiting for me. I grabbed the tagalongs, my absolute FAVORITE. Took one. Decided to take 4 instead. Headed up to fold laundry, giving myself about 10 minutes before I had to come down for more.

so far, so good.

I ate the first cookie. Hmmmm, didn’t feel anything close to orgasmic. Tried another. WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!

They don’t taste the same! They are missing something critical. Something that would guarantee my self loathing after inhaling a good half box in one sitting. I nibbled on the third cookie, trying to figure out the difference. It just…. didn’t have it. That special something was gone. I eyed the last cookie. For the first time in my life, not wanting it. I ate it, just in case. But still disappointed.

Where are you hiding?? I need you-secret amazing ingredient!!!

I called my friend and cookie supplier. Trying to be calm. “What in gods name happened to the tagalongs!!??? I can’t even eat anymore! What did they do!!??” She wasn’t sure. But did mention that some cookies are made at different bakeries and so will taste different from bakery to bakery. She’s right. But I’m still thinking corners are being cut. Someone found cheaper ingredients. Someone decided to sneak a smidge less peanut butter in each cookie. Whatever the case, I am suffering.

One might think I would be grateful for the removal of such an obvious object of weakness for me. No thanks. I would rather be the one to overcome my cookie addiction on my own terms. I don’t WANT help!!

I don’t know what this means for the future, my future with the girl scouts. Thank god, the samoas are still as addictive as they can possibly be. I just try to ignore the label as it keeps trying to remind me each cookie is 70 calories. I imagine it’s better to get all those calories in during one sitting and just be done with it, rather than spread them over any reasonable amount of time.

Consider this your public service announcement. Lest you too find yourself with far too much self control around cookies that have always been able bend you to their will in the past. It’s scary.

the hallway

Posted on March 19, 2015 by momsranting

panoramio.com

There is a particular hallway in a hospital I work at… it is just a little bit too long and straight for my comfort.

Weird, right?

I walk this hallway about 20 or so times a day, with many of the same people who work in the same hospital day after day. And plenty of other people I’ve never seen.

This hallway is just long enough to be TOO long when you see someone you know at the other end. It’s too far to try talking to them, so of course in my over-thinking mind… I start to wonder at what point do I make direct eye contact? If I look at someone too soon, and they look at me…are we required to hold eye contact ALL THE WAY down the hallway, until we are close enough to actually say hi? Can I look away? Do I have to smile, and then just….keep smiling???? What if I smile and they don’t? When is it officially close enough to say hi?…. and do I have to stop or can I just keep walking?

If you smile too long, your face will freeze like this….. it’s a scary thought.
ilpvideo.com

It’s such a long, straight, boring hallway….there really isn’t much to look at.

So imagine starting down, and it’s not very crowded yet…. and there is a stranger coming your way. 9 out of 10 times, both of us will do our very best to pretend we don’t see each other. I check my phone (GREAT for ignoring others), I’ll look at my pager, stare intently at the list of patients in my hands…. or remember how much I really adore that painting on the wall-and focus on every brush stroke, or the exit sign up there in the corner…..

WHY do I do that????

Sometimes I look at the people passing me, just to see what they will do. Most don’t look at me. I envy the ones who can just walk and stare straight ahead, looking at NOTHING but doing it so intently, they make nothing seem so important. Sometimes I say Hi, and people sometimes say Hi back to me. I feel victorious when that happens.

Here is a secret.

There are times I see someone I know, way down at the other end. They don’t see me. We don’t make that early eye contact. So I make sure I look really busy, and avoid looking at them at all costs. I imagine we both breathe a sigh of relief as we pretend our way past each other. It’s like these small social opportunities are just too stressful.

I’m MUCH friendlier outside of that hallway, honest.

I’m not alone, I asked a few friends and they all laughed and admitted to doing the same kind of ignore tactic. I asked my husband and he thinks I’m even crazier than he did before. Is it because he’s not American? Is this isolative behavior more of our cultural norm?

If we put that hallway in the middle of, say, Italy…. would people still rush past each other, trying to pretend they are alone? Or would everyone be greeted with a smile, and a kiss on one-or both-cheeks?

I wonder….

The grief caused by a mouse

Posted on March 16, 2015 by momsranting

dreamstime.com

I am going to say this, as much as I hate to.

I saw a mouse in my house.

If you think about it, most people probably do have some sort of little critters lurking around in the heating ducts, the basement corners, attic, whatever. They are so small. Our houses in comparison are so big, not to mention so warm and dry when it’s crappy and cold outside… doesn’t take much to find a way in.

But it’s not ok for me to see it, or KNOW about it.

So after seeing this tiny little furry body scurrying across my floor, I was shocked. Mortified. Embarrassed. Disgusted.

As I have dealt with this little….issue…. I had no choice but to propel myself through various stages of emotion. Almost identical in fact, to the stages one often goes through after a divorce, or after the death of a loved one. It has been that tragic for me.

Stage 1. Denial.

Absolutely. Because there is NO WAY I have a mouse in my house. Obviously someone once had a pet hamster and it has managed to live in the heating vents for the past 6 years or so since we bought the house, completely undetected. Maybe I was witness to him finally finding his way free after all these years. Probably just looking for a big wheel to run on. Or, even better…. I probably didn’t just see that. Nope, it happened so fast… it may have been my imagination and god knows that thing gets out of hand all the time….

Stage 2. Anger.

After spending a fortune on a load of NO kill traps, and spreading them all over to humanely catch any potential mouse, or gerbil, or hamster that could possibly be living in my heating vent….. that bastard managed to avoid all of them and show up again the next day, scurrying around like he owned the place. TWICE in the same night. My jumping around with a flashlight and broom had no effect whatsoever. Now I’m angry. You might be cute. But I’m going to kill you.

it’s on.

Stage 3. Bargaining.

What a wasted stage. This never works, as I can tell you-being a mother of 4. Doesn’t work with the kids, doesn’t work with a mouse. But we try it… and I guess the promise NOT to kill him just wasn’t enough to inspire that mouse to sashay into one of my traps. If only I had been better prepared for a rodent invasion….If only I had encased my home in steel mesh…If only I had made a better deal with God…. I could have saved us from the mouse.

Stage 4. Depression.

Well, it IS really depressing to know I am being invaded by at least one small, furry creature. And I am going to believe, for the sake of my sanity, that he JUST got here the very first moment I saw him, and when I am not seeing him, he is in some sort of suspended animation, and NOT spreading his little mouse germs all over my house. What? That sounds like denial to you? Listen, I NEED to be in denial right now. Or I would burn this place down…

Stage 5. Acceptance.

It helped when I talked to a friend at work. She just had the same issue. We talked about traps. She told me what I already knew, those no-kill traps are a joke. I accepted my problem. Bought a million cheap wooden traps after work… armed myself with peanut butter, and turned my furnace room into a torture chamber.

I have since become an official murderer of innocent mice. As much as I would have preferred to avoid that, I also accept that I am willing to kill a mouse, or 2…to keep my kids disease free and my home clean. And to keep myself sane.

Do I feel bad? Well….maybe a little??? Do you hate me for being a mouse killer?

You do???

Tough.

Sorry Mickey.... We have no mouse tolerance....

Sorry Mickey…. but not really……

Spanish lesson

Posted on March 3, 2015 by momsranting

image courtesy of:
clatl.com

My 13 year old is taking Spanish class.

He is the master of Spanish Class.

He sometimes asks me to give him a sentence, ANY sentence, and he will translate it in Spanish.

I start with some basic stuff that I will know as well. “Where is the bathroom?” “Give me a pencil.” “Your dog smells bad”

He doesn’t know the word for “smells”, argues that it’s not an important word when having a basic conversation. I think if you are in fact with someone who only speaks Spanish, and you smell gas or a fire…. it could be a really important word to know.

I move on.

“Your cat is stuck in my throat”

He smiles, “Su Gato es stucka en la garganta”

I run to Google translator. “Ok!” He’s laughing…. “it’s really not es stucka!” (no kidding)

but I was still impressed.

And can I just say…. I had NO idea I could actually find an image to go along with having a cat stuck in your throat, or a cat about to be stuck in your throat. But there are many. So this is a phrase that may well come in handy, if you’re into that sort of thing.

Poop talk

Posted on March 1, 2015 by momsranting

Let’s talk about poop.

You don’t want to talk about it?

That’s ALL I seem to talk about these days. Not one day goes by without mention of poop. So you can leave now, or just hear me out.

I think about poop a lot, as I’m working on potty training the 2 year old. Sometimes we have conversations that go like this:

Jenna: Mommy, I pooped! It’s so cute!!
Me: No, Jenna. It’s not cute when it’s in your pants. It’s only cute when it’s on the potty.
Jenna: Blank stare.

Followed by another day:

Jenna (on the potty): I pooped!! It’s not cute. (sad face)
Me: No Jenna… it’s soooo cute!!! Poop is adorable on the potty, we love poop on the potty!

We flush the poop. Wave bye-bye. She yells down the toilet “Have fun with your friends!!”. Because in our world, poop and pee can’t wait to get out and into the potty, where they can be flushed to catch up with their family and friends having a big poopy party.

I was organizing books today, and noticed our large selection of potty training books. One of their favorites??

Where’s the poop?
by: Julie Markes

Where’s the poop indeed.

A cute take on showing little ones that EVERYONE poops. Even wild animals like elephants, kangaroos, tigers and monkeys.

One of Jenna’s favorites? Baby penguin.

The parent animals are always very attentive to the whole poopy business…

Nope, I pooped behind that rock. Now go find it!!

It’s a pop up book, but here’s a hint for parents… the poop is always hiding in the lower left corner. wink.

Of course. It has to be tied in to humans at the end, or there is a real chance we could be teaching our kids to just go poop behind whatever they want. Cover it up, and let us find it. Fun!!

Here is the little boy, proudly telling his mom about his own poop.

Where is it?? Where is that poop? Jenna knows!!

: 🙂

Anyway…. that’s what we do around here. Pretty much every day. In case you were wondering.

My holding advice

Posted on February 21, 2015 by momsranting

Talking to my future sister-in-law today, as she frets about how her 1 month old suddenly wants to be held all the time. He cries when she puts him down. Won’t stay in his own bed all night. Won’t nap for long without waking unless he is being held. Wants to be held. All. The. Time.

So she asks me for advice.

Is she kidding????
courtesy of: Pixshark.com

I may not be the best person to ask, seeing as how I have not been successful in forcing independence on my own children…. but I guess desperation makes people, well, desperate.

So I told her what I could.

Mostly about how Sammy did the same thing. I held him constantly, and when I did attempt to put his cute little baby head down for a nap, he was up within 15 minutes and looking for those comfy arms again. Some days, I would just give up trying to let him sleep alone. I gave up and watched a damn movie that he would sleep “like a baby” through, as long as I kept holding him.

We talked about baby-wearing, which is supposed to raise more independent and confident children in the long run.

The whole family tried baby wearing

So this was a way to hold the baby without having to hold the baby. Theoretically, you can get a lot of stuff done since your hands are free. I was too nervous, and still kept a hand on the baby. Plus, I probably didn’t try using the wrap enough to get comfortable with it. Once I had it on, it felt stifling to me. Trying to get the baby out fast when she started to cry was a little difficult, as was shimmying my way out of it if I didn’t want to try untying it first. I got my first wrap with Sammy, and remember one day trying to cut the grass on a muggy summer evening. I was in “super mom” mode, determined to do all the things I was doing before having the baby.

My initial confidence waned as each pass over the lawn (with my electric, NOT self-propelled mower) resulted in a hotter, sweatier me…. and a decidedly droopy baby in the carrier. He started out with head right under my chin…and ended nestled in my chest, as the material stretched and bounced with each plodding step. I envisioned him eventually dangling somewhere around the knees, swaying and being bumped along as I walked.

I saw other moms breezing through the grocery story, the park, life in general…with a smiling baby tucked inside their sling or wrap. I was jealous of these perfect moms, who could wear their babies so effortlessly.

smug much??
amazon.com

So, I just held mine. A lot. I still do.

All I can really say is that eventually. EVENTUALLY….they don’t want to be held so much. I doubt I could get my 17 year old on my hip anymore…although she was the one who broke it in for the others.

As for the sleeping alone bit…. I’m definitely not qualified to give advice on this. I share a pillow with one or two other people most nights. All I can say is, who WOULDN’T want someone nice and warm to cuddle with?? And if all else fails, and you need to try doing something else besides holding your little one during their nap, try letting someone else sleep with them!! 🙂

Hell nights

Posted on February 14, 2015 by momsranting

thisiswhyimbroke.com

If I was given one wish right now, I might wish for Jenna to sleep at night. I am desperate for it.

We are back in a cycle of night waking, crying, wanting to go downstairs, then walk over there….then over THERE… all the while pointing and crying relentlessly if I don’t comply. There is really NOTHING over THERE. She just doesn’t want to be HERE, wherever we are at the time.

I feel very close to that kind of tired that comes with having a newborn. The kind of tired that has you noticing the sunny day around you, yet not feeling the brightness penetrating the gray haze you are trapped in. The kind of tired that might contribute to falling asleep at the wheel and driving into a light pole on the way home from work. Ahem. Anyway….

It’s really…. Annoying.

I asked my husband the other day, “Can you imagine how much better life would be if we actually slept a night through? All the way through??”

I might have seen a tear in his eye…. and I think it was probably just too painful for him to contemplate. So he didn’t.

It’s not always this bad. Jenna has cycles of horrible sleep, followed by cycles of ok sleep. But no cycles of great sleep. Not yet.

I have been told we are at fault because we all share a room. Also, because I have held her too much. Also, that she is manipulative….VERY manipulative. The upside of this would be that she is also very intelligent.

I am going to say that I doubt all children who share rooms are bad sleepers. I also doubt I have spoiled her into this behavior. I also don’t believe she is manipulating me. She is not evil. Well, I am saying this now, but in a few hours I will absolutely agree that she is the most evil child in the world because I will be exhausted and she will be tossing and turning, wanting a drink of water, wanting to go potty, wanting to go downstairs, wanting to watch Paw Patrol on my computer, and then ONLY sleeping when she is lying directly on top of me, clinging like an octopus.

I have Googled the hell out of this phenomenon.

Learning about things like sleep regression, and “wonder leaps”… all good excuses for your kid to sleep like crap. Can’t blame it on teething anymore…she’s done.

I suppose it helps to know there are other parents with similar issues. I love the advice: Cry it out. DON’T cry it out! Hold them. Don’t hold them! Lock them in their own padded room. Let them sleep in your bed. Melatonin. Sleep therapy. Lobotomy. (just kidding, I made up that last one. Pretty sure no ones tried that yet)

lobotomy free!!

I am telling myself it will be so much better by age 3. Sammy was up a lot too until then. One more year.

(determined look on face, followed by huge yawn).

The Courtship

Posted on February 2, 2015 by momsranting

imvu.com

They met on Facebook. Then texting, finally talking on the phone.

I was kept updated as things progressed. As she went from hundreds of candidates, to one.

They had so much in common. Went to the same concert once, sat in the same row. Was it fate??

Both embarking on a journey, deciding if they want to share the experience.

Finally. It was time to meet.

They met at my house, and drove together from here. Big smiles and “hello’s” all around before they left.

And then the waiting.

A text update to me during a bathroom break..”I’m so nervous!”

More updates later: “We went shopping and now we’re at Mitchell’s. We’re bonding, I think this is going well.”

Dancing around the BIG QUESTION…. feeling each other out.

And then, it happened.

“Mom, we’re rooming together!”

She picked a roommate for college. They picked each other. With wide and hopeful smiles, they then moved to picking out all the things they are going to do to their dorm room, to make it “theirs.”

I swear this was more stressful than a first date. At the end of the night, I felt like we should be announcing an engagement…..it felt so HUGE.

And it was, wasn’t it??

tantrum or possession??

Posted on January 24, 2015 by momsranting

Last night, I attempted to put Jenna to bed.

It was late, because we just kind of dragged our feet, and it was Friday, and then daddy came home and things got delayed even more….

We did the potty thing, the teeth brushing thing…. and then got settled in bed.

I am not sure what happened next, it was like a flip switched and suddenly I had this feral child trying to escape from me. There was screaming. A LOT of screaming. The kind that has to be shredding the back of her throat, yet she continued. A lot of trying to climb off the bed, a lot of “Mommy!!!!! I want downstairs!!!!”.

Her distress prompted a couple visits from daddy, convinced I was torturing her, and wanting me to let her come back downstairs.

I finally gave in. Wouldn’t you know it…. she screamed downstairs too??

It was one of those fits that has to just taper off…..no matter how long it takes. She was too far gone to rationalize this.

Back upstairs. I thought if I held her firmly, not TIGHT, this might help calm her down. In the same way you wrap the psych ward patients in a straight jacket and maybe a cold, wet, tightly wrapped sheet during an outburst.

I held her in my swaddling way…. speaking softly and trying to calm her down.

This is when she started to really scare me. She may have been speaking in guttural Latin, I’m not sure. Bucking and thrashing with superhuman strength, I fully expected a glowing pentagram to show up on her forehead and for her to start biting my face.

I let go, didn’t seem to help after all.

Somehow it ended… Oh yea, I was back downstairs with her by then. Sitting in a kitchen chair. Googling 2 year tantrums and child possessions.

Guess what happened at 3am?

More of the same. This time screaming for popcorn, downstairs, water.

Fell asleep as I sat holding her on the kitchen floor, after drinking water and screaming a bit more.

This morning she woke up late. So did I. We were in my bed, me terrified to move until she wakes up.

Her little shaggy head pops up, and her little voice chirps “Hi Mommy!, I want Paw Patrol!” Seems completely normal again. But I don’t trust her.

I will not turn my back on her….

momsranting

My place to talk about my family, my life, and maybe some other stuff too

Category Archives: humor