All posts tagged kids

August Mom Again

Published November 2, 2017 by sarcasmica

Hello again, it’s me. Your friendly conscious neighborhood August mom. I was staring at my computer screen wanting to get so much off my chest, but then I realized I just want a second cup of coffee instead.

November kicks my ass every year. Every. F-ing. Year.

I love Halloween. Love it. It’s my fave for those millennial readers 🙂 After it’s all over, I always get a little blue. I procrastinate taking down the decorations. I make a mental note of the neighbors that are cleared out and cleaned up by November 1st.

There is so much prep that happens leading up to Halloween, y’all, my brain is just scrambled eggs by the time it’s over. I’m always left thinking, “Really?! That’s it?! It’s done for another year ?!!”

Think about it.. back to school, parent/teacher conferences, all the fucking communication – or lack thereof – between teachers and myself, my daughter’s birthday, then my birthday, then BAM! Halloween.

And then it’s November and i’m looking at Christmas decorations at the pharmacy. November is my husband’s birthday and Thanksgiving, and before I know it it’s anniversary time and then Christmas. Getting older just means less prep and organization between shit. It’s all, ‘Really? Already?’ while everyone around you is holding a calendar wondering what your malfunction is.

This year my son decided to mature. He decided to do this not with a job or paying rent, but by going trick or treating with new friends in our new neighborhood. They warn you this will happen. They warn you when you least expect it, your kids grow up. They don’t warn you it will happen in the form of ditching mom on her favorite holiday to go ring doorbells and take candy!

Ok, i’m calm. Sorry. I am so proud of my anxious, worried, safety-minded, cautious boy for going out and conquering the neighborhood dressed as a psychotic murderous animatronic  bunny. But why couldn’t he warn me last year that it would be the last family trick or treating year?

He is my oldest and he’s (finally) growing up. He actually commented while doing homework last night – which, by the way, has been meltdown free all year!!! – that he cares about his work and he wants to get good grades.

Huh?! Where is my child?! What the fuck is happening right now?!

All of this is happening while we are having minor construction done on the house. We are adding a deck to our nonexistent back yard. I’m supposed to be keeping track of shit like schedules and ordering crap I know nothing about when I can’t even manage a home cooked meal for my family every night. Every day is a magic trick of turning my seemingly empty pantry and fridge into not one, not two, but three meals for my kids! Somehow there is food in their lunchboxes that does not get a note home from CPS for me every day. And it’s not because I don’t go to the grocery store. I’m there all the time! But still we never seem to have one important ingredient each day.

I am not an organized person. I am an August Mom. I am getting by. I am dealing and managing, but just barely. I’m one missed cup of coffee away from a mental break down at all times, it seems. My husband, who has been working very hard lately coincidentally, and I had a fight last night about fucking deck lights. Deck lights! Why can’t we fight about who loves who more, or who wants to have more sex? Or why do you spend money on all of these gifts for me? Why waste that brain energy on fucking deck lighting?!




Published March 12, 2015 by sarcasmica

This is why i’m a lunatic. This, dear husband, is a short list of all the reasons after bedtime I am too checked out to even consider the horizontal mambo or the bedtime tango.

The highs and lows of just one day:

Woke up, got the 3rd grader up. 4 year old is on the iPad in my bed while daddy, aka Sleeping Beauty, snores.

Had a marvelous one on one breakfast with son. We laugh, we joke, we even both get to eat!

Then hurried herding: brush/bands/jacket/backpack/now now now, hurry!

Manage to drop off just before the bell rings. Win!

Get home. Incomprehensible that waffles and/or Nutella are not on the morning menu for Her Highness the Preschooler. We find a nearly acceptable alternative, but this insubordination will not be forgotten.

Laundry is finally grudgingly hauled to the room of procrastination. Clothes are loaded and machine is on.

HH (Her Highness) refuses to use the bathroom alone because washer is making noise. She demands our fearless dog Barney accompany her because insubordinate mom refuses to entertain such foolishness.

10 minutes later Quick Pee McGee is still in the bathroom. She refuses to come out because she is afraid the soulless, barely audible, only working body in the house will devour her whole.

She eventually makes it back to the living room in one anxious paranoid piece.

Two spiders were seen this week having the gall to traipse across our ceiling in broad daylight. One a mega sized daddy long legs, the other a dead speck of legs smooshed near the shoes. Because of these anarchist arachnids, daughter refuses to play in/around/beside the play room. Shoes are smashed, flung, cried over, inspected, hit on the floor before being put (always) on the wrong foot first.

We make cookies. I am asked no less than 2000 times “Can I lick the spoon now?”

She notices a familiar drawing insufficiently covered or hidden in recycling bag. All hell breaks loose.

Andre the Giant size tears are pouring out of her eyeballs and she wails, “Why you didn’t like my pictures?!?” “You HATE my pictures?!?”

My heart falls onto the unmopped floor and I lie. “They must have fallen in the RECYCLING bin, (annunciating as if the fact they were not in the trash is any less of a betrayal) I’m SOOOOO glad you found them! That was lucky!”

The cookies patch some of the damage (on both sides)

I now completely understand how hoarders begin their stacks. Kids’ drawings.

Pick up Super Son who has finally managed to remember to put in his bands after lunch, AND without using a mirror, and who also aced his spelling test.

Homework gets done with no yelling. Dinner is eaten with no drama.

Bedtime makes me want to claw my eyeballs out. Son has seemingly been entombed in cement and cannot quite lift a toothbrush. Daughter has imagined her room a den of infinite angry face-sucking, toe-munching tarantulas on a mission for her brain and any place BUT her bedroom is safe despite the million-stuffy army she has surrounded herself with.

Once all the precious angels have settled into their beds I turn my brain off, turn the TV on, and hit the recliner button. No brain necessary. And please, for the love of God, do not ask me any questions. Especially if they begin with “Honey, where is the…..” because i may just answer with my brain exploding all over this couch.

I know for some this may seem trivial and demeaning to have so little undo me so much. To you I say kudos. You obviously are far more intelligent & superior, and im ok with that. Me and my margarita are good over here on the inferior side of the sofa.


House Pain

Published October 30, 2013 by sarcasmica

House Hunting:
It’s not at all what Pinterest and ‘House Hunters’ sets it up to be. It’s frigging exhausting!
do we/dont we
what do we absolutely need?
we do NOT need THAT, but we need that
the backyard is where?
the view is of what?!
we need/we want
it costs HOW MUCH?!

and the big one: “is this it?”

Shoot me.
Are we blessed to be able to buy? yes. am i thankful? im too scared too be thankful. i’ll be thankful if we close on something.

And to add to the fun, our little one gets dragged everywhere with us because its a family decision. (sort of) The pinnacle of the experience so far is having a relatively newly potty trained girl with us who announces loudly at our dream house, ” i have to go potty! ihavetogopottyihavetogopotty!!!!”
I shrug and get permission to take her and “check the flush”
Y’all, this girl ruined that nice bathroom! She left a crime scene in that toilet
I ask, “Do you have to go pee or poop?”
“pee…    … AND poop!” (big smile)
“Ok, thank you for telling me you needed to go”
she sits… and then fires away like a trucker with Montezuma’s revenge
i looked at her trying not to look horrified
“Wow, honey, you Really needed to go”

ohmygodohmygod please dont let the owners walk upstairs right now

from the hallway: “mom! … Mom! .. MOoOOOM!”
my 7yr old is running around
“im in here, what do you need?”
he calls from the master bathroom down the hall again
“where are you?!”
I whisper-yell “Im in the bathroom with your sister, what do you need?!” (and where the bloody hell is your father?!)
“i have to go, too.”

This is a test. This is a test of the emergency patience and control system. If this were an actual emergency you would have a martini glass in one hand

“go down the hall.”

I try to coax my daughter off the John, but she isn’t done ruining the bowl yet. She has never ever had to poo like this in her life. It just figures it has to happen in a home we are considering while the owners are present.

My son decides he doesn’t have to go after all – perhaps my red glowing eyes and forked tongue convince him otherwise – my daughter, Al Bundy, decides she’s done and i not only have to flush twice to get rid of the evidence, but i’m silently scouring the bathroom for spray, a match, an air freshener, anything! All they had was a counter top renuzit, which i am waving around like a wiccan priestess hoping it does something. anything. I resort to having to turn on the ‘fart fan’ AND wiping down the toilet before leaving the crime scene.

I’ve never exited a house so quickly.
We may have to buy it out of sheer embarrassment

and worse still, we have to go back out tomorrow and do it all again!

Oasis in the Summer

Published June 27, 2013 by sarcasmica

If Target had a theme song, that would be considered The Song of My People.

But they don’t, sadly

I was just inside the store with kids both sardine-ed into the cart when my oldest brother called me to talk about some family matters. I’m going through the aisles to pick up my various necessities-that-are-somehow-only-necessities-inside-these-doors, and somewhere around the snack aisle he clues in to where I am finally. He asks, “Who the hell does grocery shopping at Target?”


How is this even a question? I am not understanding the words coming out of the phone. It’s more like who DOESN’T grocery shop at Target ?!

I begin speaking to him like a small dim-witted child.

”  I    grocery shop at Target.”

He was still confused.

“STAY at HOME MOMS shop at Target for ANYdamnTHING”

As i’m trying to keep my cool, i’m looking around and noticing all the moms with now older and varied sized children clinging onto carts and legs and purses, and yet no one is yelling.

Well, one unlucky mom was, but that wasn’t until i got to the other side of the store, and it was short-lived. She was on her way to the toy section.

It is summer in the northwest, people. Even though it’s not July 5th – as i’ve learned is the official start to the season – school is OUT! Where do we universally flock to for an hour of minimally bothered calm and reflection while still able to pick up medicine, meat, milk, and a toy while sipping a freshly brewed/blended/muddled Starbucks?

say it with me now…

Target !

This is our haven. Our meeting place. Our watering hole, if you will. As i explained to my uninformed male sibling, where else can you pick up all the necessities and still keep your sanity? There is bribery for everyone involved. For some reason, the grocery store has a kriptonian effect on my sanity with my children, and their ability to not be annoying.

Maybe it’s the wide aisles, or the various Targets located throughout the store to continually hypnotize all inhabitants, it works, so we go.

It is especially useful on days like today. Days when mommy has PMS, and is staring down another weekend with the husband leaving town for two weeks, nothing to make for dinner at home, and both kids home all. day. long.

If they had a walk-up bar, it would be heaven on earth.

Girl Power

Published November 13, 2012 by sarcasmica

I had a great morning with my daughter today. Every morning is good, we wake up, we play, we take my son to school, come back home and play more. Today, however, we had a playdate at a whole new adventure for her. It was a ‘bounce house’. It was at a kiddie sports play area, but they had a bouncy area. This was the first time she had to navigate such a place without her big brother to pave the way. I’d like to say she ran in and was fearless, however, she’s smarter than that. 🙂  She was more interested in kicking the soccer ball around with me. So we did this for a good half hour. She braved the smallest kiddie bouncy that had tiny slides. It was great training for her. She got herself up to the top, then slid down and was soooo proud of herself and excited! I thought we finally had lift off.

Then she walked into the towering seaweed.

The inflated seaweed tower.

The inflated seaweed tower that rebounded off her little body and whacked her right back.

Game over.

After that , she was finished. No amount of coaxing, coaching, or cheering was going to get her back into that godforsaken contraption with the man-eating seaweed.

My poor little darling.

So we did another 20 minutes with the soccer balls.

After watching a few kids go up and down the BIG slide, and in and out of the jumping contraptions, i figured i had to suck it up and do it with her.

On a side note, i am not the smallest waifiest of moms. One challenge i’ve made for myself by being this stature is that navigating play areas is always a bit sticky. I think for being 5’11 and 2*(&lbs I carry myself fairly well. But i’m never sure of the rules at these places. I don’t know the weight limit on the inflatables. Sure, they are generator powered to ensure a constant inflation, but what if Rhino mom climbs to the top of the slide? ! Will it hold?! What are these poor children and parents thinking as i am climbing above them?

Come to think of it, the slide ‘stairs’ were vacant behind us… hmmm.. can’t say i blame ’em!

Anyhoo, so I took off the shoes and began my climb to the top. My daughter wanted nothing to do with it. I did it solo to show her there were no teeth hiding to chomp bodies at the top of the stairs. I called out to her, then slid down.

My daughter is a sucker for a good slide, so i had a feeling it would just take one demonstration. Thank goodness. I looked pretty silly doing this solo !

So after watching my survival to the bottom, she suddenly got a rush of courage. She jumped up and attempted, weakly, to approach the stairs with me. I ended up having to lift her up to each rung. Once at the top, she had begun to whimper and whine a bit, but then we sat at the precipice of funland. She zipped her lip and squealed with delight the whole way down.

I felt triumphant! I introduced her to a whole new world of fun!

“One more time, please, mommy!”


So up we climbed , each time she was more and more brave until finally after the third climb she did it all by herself. 🙂  She managed to talk me into a total of five trips up that stairway and down the slide.

Covered in grime and sock sweat, to preserve my own heartbeat, i had to find another outlet for her new adventurous side.

Into the bouncy castle we went.

Yes, we. I waited until it was empty to go in. She wouldn’t go in unless i was already in so as i was waiting for her to climb in and through the kiddie door net, a bigger girl followed her in. After my brave girl got her footing, i stood up and gently fake-bounced so she could get the hang of it. Pretty soon we were both squealing with delight as i bounced higher, causing her to rocket more vertical each time. Then I threw all caution to the wind and landed on my rear end. She thought that was hilarious and demanded ‘again’ about three more times.

2 hours later, sweaty and proud of ourselves, we put our shoes back on and walked out to the van with heads held high and grins slapped on our faces.

What a fantastic mommy moment for me! I love that kid so much, and it was really amazing to enjoy such a cool ‘first’ being able to focus singly on her, and not just let my son help her through another experience because it’s easier.


Published October 12, 2012 by sarcasmica

Recently i have figured out I have a terrible condition. It is not contagious, but it is isolating. It’s hard to contain and even harder – it seems – to manage. There is a cure, but it takes time and luck. I have discovered since the recent move that i have diarrhea of the mouth.
I have met a few people here in Washington that i have run into again and again either at school pick up or over the back fence. (neighbors)

I was speaking to my neighbor today who wanted to know how the school year has been going.
Here’s how my condition plays out:
I think to myself, “Give the short answer. Do NOT go into detail. She doesnt KNOW you! If you want her to want to know you, say what you have to say and then SHUT. UP.”
She was sincere. Shes the PTA president, but im sure there’s a limit to what she wants to know. That’s certainly how i feel when i meet someone new. Don’t throw it all at me at once, lady!
I’m firmly zipping my lips after giving her the jist. I’m confident i can do this….
But then i open my mouth. I give the concise and intelligent answer… and then my lips continue moving. My tongue will not stop wagging. I go on and on about past schools and teachers. I can hear myself, and mentally i’m slapping my own forehead.

just. shut. up.

As an afterthought, i reach back behind my brain and force out a question about how her kids are managing.

Ok .. she’s still talking to me, i think. That was good. Just pray she doesn’t ask another question. Do NOT comment too much on her experience. Don’t be that annoying person you yourself hate talking to!

It seems the more i encounter these same people, if they have the generosity of speaking to me more and more, i get it all worked out. Once i’ve purged the necessaries that have most recently been stressing me out, i tend to calm the spastic dialogue a little better.

Unfortunately, for the ones i see less frequently, i’m afraid i’m just the over-sharer who they try to limit the eye contact with. Another lady i met through my neighbor i ran into at pick up the other day. Unfortunately for her, it was the end of a long long day of doctors appointments and diaper rashes and standard daily headaches…. but compounded together, i was at a breaking point. That’s when the dreaded question is asked. “Hi! How are you?!”

And it begins all over again.

I can see the horror in her eyes as i over share my daughter’s diaper rash story.

She doesn’t need to know my husband is out of town … but if i pepper my diarrhea with something relate able, maybe she can draw an accurate conclusion that i’m desperate for conversation and friendship.

Great. Now i wreak of desperation .. and dirty diapers and rash cream.

I’m hoping my condition runs it’s course and i’m cured soon. I fear it will cause me to begin an unending cycle ending in ultimate isolation for this cabin fevered mom.


Published September 6, 2012 by sarcasmica

It’s funny to catch a glimpse of the person who resides just under the surface of Momma Bear. That would be myself in the case of today.

After picking up my son from his first day of first grade, i surprised him with a trip to the park. I was feeling pretty good about my mommy skills. I even remembered to bring his scooter which scored be big points! So we get to the park, he takes off, and i hang with my daughter in the sand box. She finishes there and moves onto the ladder wall rope combo thing. As she’s climbing up there’s a little girl at the top. She was deceptively dressed in her cute ruffled dress and messy braided hair. Her little red Mary Janes managed to put themselves in front of my kid’s head as she’s climbing.

I saw red. Right down to those buckles.

I took a deep breath and told myself to give her a chance. She was probably around 4 or 5. Old enough to know better.

“Oh, that’s not very nice. Can you please not put your foot in front of my daughter’s head?”

She had the nerve to look at me, smile, and do it again.

oh noOOOO you di’int.

“Well now that wasn’t very nice. I asked you to stop.”

as my kid is closing in on the top of the platform to climb up, Beelzebubbles inches closer to Gemma’s fingers.

“Now i know you heard me and i’m going to tell you again to be nice. Do not step on my kid’s fingers. You are not a very nice girl, are you?”

she continued to try to look like she was not aware of what she was doing, and i shit you not said in the lowest barely audible voice she could muster, “I don’t have to listen to you because my mom isn’t around.”

Oh yea? Is she working the corner again? Is it bring your kid to work day for the Hos?

That’s what i WANTED to say .. but i didn’t! Jeez, what kind of person do you take me for?!

So as my daughter tried to walk past this little troll, she steps in front of her to block her way.

Im standing RIGHT there! The balls on this kid are confounding me. I’m not small. I’m not frail-looking. I’m 5’11 and 2asl;kdjjf lbs!

So i say, “Little girl, if you don’t start being nice to my kid, i’m gonna come up there and move you myself.”

that seemed to pierce the veil of evil and she moved.

The whole time my little cherub is saying “scooz me. scooz me!” all sweet and nice.

I almost felt guilty for threatening someone else’s kid… almost. Almost is a wide berth in my mind in the case of today. It was a fleeting moment. What i’m most proud of is not taking another opportunity to belittle the squirt. Once Gemma ran across the bridge, the future trailer park manager actually tried to play with her and talk to me sweetly.

“That’s nice.” was all i could muster. I left it at that. She ran off to find her owner after that and we didn’t see her again, thank goodness.

Seriously, some kids !!

I say this with the full knowledge my son has the potential of roasting a squirrel over a pentagram, but that wasn’t the point of the story. I’ve never seen my kid purposely hurt anyone but his relatives. He mostly goes out of his way to help kids on the playground. He really just plays and seeks out kids to do his bidding. He hits the playground with a scenario and game in his mind, and he is only interested in playing with kids who will allow him to direct them. Personally, i don’t mind this, but i could see (and have seen) how it plays out when things go wrong.

He says mean-ish things and might call a kid or two a poop head, but that’s the extent of his maliciousness. He’s never brazenly threatened a child in front of a parent.

Momma bear was not happy about restraining herself, but at the same time proud she did.

*back pat* x 2

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