Am I Going Mad or Am I Just a Mommy?

The Weakest Link

Scene: Inside a crumb-strewn Toyota Sienna smelling vaguely of the remnants of a spilled and forgotten sippy cup.  The vehicle's five occupants are getting restless while sitting in traffic on the Southeast Expressway.  MSM is at the wheel and has placed a temporary embargo on any and all kid tunes.  Other occupants balk at listening to Pixies and Arcade Fire.  Failure to compromise= stereo off.

Gramma Brenda and CeCe (age 2 yrs, 9 months) sing (for the thirteenth time, mind):

Rock-a-bye, baby
In the treetop
When the wind blows
The cradle will rock
When the bough breaks
The cradle will fall
And down will come baby
Cradle and all

CeCe: Gramma?  Why is cradle up in the tree?

Gramma B: I don't know, CeCe.  That's not a very smart thing to do is it?  Why is the cradle up in the tree?

CeCe:  Gramma, that's dangerous! The baby will get an ouchie!

MSM:  Yeah.  What kind of  stupid git...er, I meant to say what really silly person, would put a baby in a cradle and stick it up in a tree?

Gramma B: That's a pretty silly thing to do, come to think of it.  Who would do a stupid thing like that?

CeCe: I know who!  A man!

That's mah girl!  Two years old and she has it all figured out already.

Lampshade Wearer in Training?

I think someone may have OD-ed on Goldfish crackers and apple juice.

Yes, I know. I have no shame. And this isn't wordless.

Moodswinging Mommy has been away from this blog for quite some time now.   She has been absurdly busy obsessing about vampires, fan fiction, and generally embarrassing herself in person and over the interwebz over the last few months.  No. Time. To. Blog.  She shall forgive Blogherads for yanking her ads because she was a Lazy Suck-Ass Blogger, and just before they were supposed to send her a check, too!  Google Page Rank is also absolved of the sin of taking away her coveted 3/10 page rank.  Zero suits me just fine, thankyouverymuch.  Less PR spammers to deal with is a good thing.

And now I give you a not so Wordless Wednesday:

PS:  This is not my car, nor is it Super Dad's.  But some girl in Manchester, NH must be very happy.

Top 10 things Moodswinging Mommy would do in her first 100 days as President

 10) Burn my birth certificate so no one would know that they had accidentally elected a Canadian

 

9) Call all of those jerks who picked on me in middle school just so I could say “Ha! Ha!”

 

8) Learn to fly Air Force One

 

7) Have the White House chefs make me all those things that I was too lazy to make for myself 

 

6) Pardon all vampires, especially Edward

 

5) Launch covert military operation into Switzerland to take all of their chocolate

 

4) Order all hot male military personnel to the White House for a “21 Gun” salute

 

3) Drop water balloons on Rush Limbaugh from Marine One

 

2) Ban Fox News from the White House.  Fair and Balanced, My Ass!

 

1) Last but not least, bring about world peace, an end to world hunger, and an end to the financial/economic crisis

 

Phrases that spell T.R.O.U.B.L.E

These are in no particular order, and, I might add, all heard around these parts within the last week.

From the Forty-Year-Old Man:

"Uh, I'll be back in a minute.  I have to go to Home Depot again."
 (This is usually preceded by a smattering of colorful words.  Man in question does not return for at least 90 minutes.)

"Have you seen that Home Depot bag/receipt?....You know, the one that was sitting on the counter/hanging on the doorknob right here? "  
 (How to distinguish said bag/receipt from all others scattered about the house is a mystery.)

"Have you seen your blog today? Hehehe!  Check it out!"

"Um, so we had some paint in a yogurt container in the garage that we forgot about?  But everything's fine now."  (More on this later.)

From the Five-Year-Old Boy  :

"Mommy?  When you microwave popcorn, is there always a lot of smoke?"   (Sunday morning wake-up call,approx 6:15 am )

"I got myself some grape juice.  It is good.  And don't worry Mommy, I only spilled a little bit."  (What is it with these wake-up calls?)

From the Two-Year-Old Girl:

"Ta daaaaa!"  (This one can send shivers down one's spine.  Seriously.)

"I need more gwoo!"  (Time to hide the cat again.)

"Mommy, I have poop.  I changed diaper myself." 

From the Personal Trainer:

"Don't worry, I'll go easy on you.  Although last week I did made a guy throw up."


From Emergency Room Doctor to Nurse:

"Bring me a 25 gauge needle.  And she'll need  4 more cc's of morphine." 

(Spinal Tap=Fun times!)

Well, that pretty much sums up my last week and a half.  What spells T.R.O.U.B.L.E around your house?

Sweet Revenge

You shall be mine soon. 

Well played, Super Dad, well played indeed.  I want to remind you of a few things, however.

I prepare and cook your food. (Well, sometimes.)

I do your laundry.

I know where you sleep.

I have hidden the camera.

Yes, you'd best prepare yourself.

You'll never know when it may happen.  Tonight?  Two weeks from now?  I'd keep one eye open if I were you.

Or perhaps you should know when I will strike? Hmmm....

That reminds me of a little something.

Super Dad, meet Barney Stinson.

Mwahahahahaha!

Word to the wise: Never mess with a woman who has Moodswinging as part of her moniker.

Percocet Blogging

Coming to a blog near you.  As soon as I sleep.  Must sleep.....

Size Does Matter!

When it comes to many things, yes, size does indeed matter. 

Case in point:  The Marshmallow.

Yes, I said marshmallow.  Just stay with me and expect the unexpected around here, 'k?

And here we have it....

On the left, we have a generic mini marshmallow.  I usually toss five to ten of these in my hot chocolate.

On the right, a super-duper-genetically-engineered Malvavisco Super Gigante, direct from Progreso, Mexico.

(I say genetically-engineered because someone under ten in our house is under the impression that marshmallows come, and I quote, "Fresh from the Farm.")

There is supposed to be a "regular" sized marshmallow in the middle for a better size comparison, but that same someone under ten appears to have eaten them all.

Here's what the package looks like:

 

Since I have personally examined many of these Super Gigante marshmallows, I can personally guarantee that size does matter.  And they even come in strawberry flavor that actually tastes like strawberries.  How cool is that?

9,000 and Counting

Dear Readers-

Moodswinging Mommy here. Since my to-do list and life are positively insane right now, I am bringing you one of my favorite posts from the past year.  I felt obliged to mention this because I don't want you reading and exclaiming "What?  That crazy lady has gone and had another baby?  God help the Human Race!"  Nope.  The baby to whom I am referring below is now two and a half years old.  I might add that the routine hasn't really changed much.  Nowadays, it is more likely that I am stepping on microscopic pieces of Lego rather than Thomas engines.  Sadly, there are still diapers.  Alas, there are no baby swings big enough to restrain entertain my toddler.  Instead, we rely on Sharpies and Magic Erasers, respectively.  My daughter is an artiste and the walls are her canvas. 

Enjoy! 

9,000 and counting?  What is the significance of this title, you may ask?

Ooh, I feel like I'm playing Jeopardy!

Answer= According to the lovable geeks at the Mad Sci Network, this number represents the average number of neurons (those are brain cells to you and me) a healthy person loses daily from age 30. Upon first glance, this may seem like a very high number. However, lest anyone get worked up in a tizzy, you should know that this loss represents a mere 5 % of the total number of neurons you have in your noggin. Phew!! Don't forget, though, that we're talking about a healthy person. Alcohol increases brain cell death, and use of some drugs kills off neurons at much higher rates. All those martinis and gin & tonics in graduate school don't seem like such a good idea now, do they?

Makes you wonder about the dreaded Mommy Brain, doesn't it? Now, I've heard the research and haven't yet read the book, but from where I'm sitting, it doesn't feel like I'm smarter than before I had children! I'm still waiting for that perk to kick in. Maybe it will happen after my hair stops falling out in clumps?

Since I'm playing scientist, here's my Hypothesis, based on my own personal experience, of course: Being a Stay-at-Home mom increases brain cell death at a rate of 9,000¹⁰*.

We are a sleep-deprived, forgetful, and clumsy lot! If one is looking for the milk in the house of a stay-at-home mom, you'll most likely find it in the cupboard. The cereal, why it's in the fridge, of course! How many times have you found yourself somewhere, only to forget why you went there in the first place? The simplest of tasks seem to take forever when interrupted by the countless whims of mini dictators. For example, I am still writing baby-gift thank you notes and am starting to wonder if I will ever finish. My typical routine goes like this:

1. Lay out thank you cards, gift list and envelopes on dining room table.
2. Fill sippy cup for RJ.
3. Start writing. Darn pen doesn't work!
4. RJ calling. Turn Thomas on the TV in the living room.
5. Go in kitchen. Why am I in the kitchen? Ah yes, a pen!
6. Return to dining room. Write 2 thank you notes.
7. Being paged again. We hate Thomas today. Switch channel to Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.
8. Address and stamp 1 envelope.
9. TV is too loud. Go and turn it down.
10. Oops, can't find address for envelope # 2.
11. Take envelope to basement to look up address on Internet....No pen down here.
12. Hear through monitor that Baby C has awakened from nap.
13. Run up two flights of stairs. Change diaper. Feed baby. Put her in swing.
14. Return to address envelope in basement. Oh, that's right, no pen here.
15. Go upstairs to get pen.
16. Baby crying. Binkify her.
17. Down to basement again, address envelope in 5 seconds flat.
18. Hear loud thud and screams from overhead.
19. Run upstairs. RJ has dropped die-cast Thomas train on his toe. Kiss it better.
20. Go to put stamp on second envelope. Oops, forgot it in basement.
21. Run down. Retrieve envelope. Put on stamp. Phone rings.
22. Answer phone. No, not interested, thanks. Harvard should be donating to me.
23. Where's 1st stamped thank-you card? Find RJ playing with it. Confiscate it.
24. Put 2 thank-you cards in mailbox for pickup.

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED! (Estimated time to complete: 7 min.; Actual time: 40 min.)

As if this weren't enough, once I read (and finished) things like this. Sometimes I actually understood them, too!

Now I read these:

 

I don't mean to knock my current reading choices. I love good deals as much as I love the idea of doing things the easy way. I'm all about easy! My point is this:

If I continue along this path, will there be a time when Real Simple will not be simple enough for my brain to handle?

I think I'd better go and do a Sudoku.

Scratch that. The baby's crying.....

I think what we have here is a communication problem.

In case you are stumbling upon my blog for the first time, I just want to let you know that Moodswinging Mommy does read.  I present some evidence here, there, and way yonder. 

I am really not a small town kind of gal even though I am stuck in the 'burbs with two kids.   As far as I'm concerned, small towns do have some things going for them.  One of them is the free local newspaper.   Each week when a new edition comes out, I gleefully snap one up. Does this make me a concerned and informed citizen?  Well, I'm a taxpayer, so at some level it does.  Then again, I can't vote, so I'm kind of in a gray area.

The reason I love the local paper so much?  Two words:  Police Log

Don't get me wrong.  It's not out of some kind of schadenfreude that I enjoy the police log so much, it's just that they report on every event, from the most trivial to the most ridiculous.

How does this one strike you?

1945phone.  Assist citizen, services rendered.  Location/address: 123 Main Street (Yes, they give the entire address!) Walk-in party reports that his girlfriend and child have been missing since Wednesday.  Made contact with girlfriend, she and the child are okay.  She left him.  See N665's report.

Now, it is not my business why she left or whom she left.  Maybe the guy was a complete douche-bag or even worse. (I'm betting on the latter.)  However, since I don't know the details, I can't help feeling a little bad for the guy.  

Now I've heard of breakup via answering machine, breakup through text message, but breakup via the police and local newspaper?  And to give his address to boot?  What's next, breakup by sky writing? 

Two days until the next paper comes out. I can't wait!