You are here: Home / Archives for mean mommy
Apr 13, 2012

Nothing Says Vacation Like Hard Labor

April 13, 2012 By

The end of spring break is in sight, but oh it’s been a rough week. While we did get out of the house one day, I couldn’t sacrifice more of my work schedule for further outings. Besides, my odds for losing a child had already proven to be high, so I didn’t want to risk it again.

So by Wednesday at exactly 8:32am, the rounds of “I’m bored!” started, along with constant chatter directed at me while I was trying to focus on the computer. I offered them snacks, games, and whatever movies we owned or Netflix had online that they wanted to watch if they would just let me have a little time without needing me. And they took me up on all of them, and then still continued to express their boredom.

By 10am, I was desperate. So (with suggestions from others) I invented a new game: clean the house! Some families go to a beach for spring break; we do hard labor.

Amazingly, the kids seemed excited by it.

Both Cordy and Mira have chores they’re expected to do, but the tasks are limited. Turn off your bedroom lights, put your clothing away, clear your dishes off the table, let the dog out, etc. But neither have really participated in routine cleaning around the house.

I wrote up a quick list of what they could do with limited supervision from me. It was a surprisingly short list. Ah well, even 30 minutes would be a help for me.

And then? I put them to work.

They scrubbed the lower kitchen cabinets:

They took out the recycling. Mira dusted around the TV. They picked up toys and books in their rooms. I even showed Cordy how to mop:

Excuse the blurry photo and messy kitchen.

Surprisingly, the best time-waster chore was asking Mira to take the laundry out of the dryer and put it on my bed. She took one or two items out at a time, so she had to make a lot of trips back and forth. Best. idea. ever.

Cordy did exclaim at one point that she felt like Cinderella, being forced to scrub and mop. She tried to say she felt like a slave, too, but I shut down that direction of thought. For a kid who has very few responsibilities, she has no right to claim we’re treating her like a slave.

Did they do a fantastic job cleaning? Not really. Sure, everything is a little bit cleaner, but the point was to keep them busy and get them interested in helping out more around the house. And I still had to oversee a lot more than I had planned, but hopefully that means I won’t have to oversee as much in the future.

Despite the Cinderella comparisons (which actually just made them sing Cinderella songs while they scrubbed), I think they did enjoy helping out. Mira asked for more to do on Thursday and I had to scramble to think of more chores.

I think I’d still prefer to have a cleaning service if I could ever have it, but I have to admit these two are much cheaper. They work for beans. Jelly beans.

Filed Under: Cordy, daily life, Mira Tagged With:


Jul 26, 2010

Single Parents, I Salute You

July 26, 2010 By

I don’t know how you do it.

Seriously.

You all deserve a medal. Or a hug. Or a national holiday in your honor, with guaranteed babysitting for the day so you can lounge poolside and have a margarita without worrying if your kid is too close to the edge of the pool.

I’m just finishing up a six day solo-parenting gig and I’m exhausted. (Aaron was in California at San Diego Comic-Con, where ironically the weather was much cooler than the melt-your-face-off heat wave we had in Ohio.) I love my children dearly, but nothing tests your love for your children quite like 6 days alone with them.

Actually, it wouldn’t have been so bad if I wasn’t on a nocturnal schedule due to my job, and my children weren’t on a beat-the-rooster-to-the-punch schedule. This equated to mommy dragging her tired self downstairs before the sun was up, making them breakfast, turning on the TV, and then collapsing on the couch while promising extra gummy snacks at lunch to whichever child could be the quietest for the next couple of hours. You might be surprised how many “who can be the quietest” game rewards you can think up when you’re half-delirious from sleep deprivation.

I was raised by a single mom, so you’d think I’d have some tricks on how to do it solo. Growing up, my mom worked 40+ hours a week, cooked meals, cleaned our house, paid bills, mowed the lawn, helped me with my school homework, went grocery shopping, attended my school events, and yet somehow still had time to sit on the couch with me and watch TV in the evenings. I’m convinced she’s secretly a cyborg who doesn’t require sleep.

Yet six days proved me to be nothing like her. I was short with my girls more than once. OK, more than once each day. Maybe even each hour, depending on the time of day. At times I felt like they were trying to make me lose my temper. The house did not stay clean. The laundry did not get done until Cordy ran out of shorts to wear. Paper plates became my best friends. On the third day, Cordy cried that she missed her daddy when I yelled at her. I didn’t cry about missing him until the fifth day.

But the end is now in sight. And we did have some fun during these six days, too. We made ice cream together. We went shopping for toys and t-shirts at the Disney store in the mall. (Mira then begged to go into Victoria’s Secret when we walked past it – uh-oh.) We sat together in a heap on the couch and read Thomas the Tank Engine stories. We had dinner with grandma one night, where the girls performed the “I love grandma and mommy” dance for us. Cordy drew a picture of us with a heart above us and the words “I love you mom” written below, asking me to display it to work. (I did.) And each night I tucked each of them into bed and kissed them goodnight, reminding them that even though we sometimes get upset with each other, I will always love them no matter what.

It wasn’t so bad. But I’m still glad I don’t have to do it longer than six days. And I’m looking forward to getting my time away at BlogHer next week.

Filed Under: Aaron, being a mom, daily life, domestic zero, memories Tagged With:


Sep 8, 2008

Forget Spelling It Out Now

September 8, 2008 By

There was a time when Aaron and I could have entire conversations about things around Cordy without her knowing. We’d just have to S-P-E-L-L out the word we didn’t want her to hear and/or repeat, like C-O-O-K-I-E or I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M or the ever popular W-I-N-E.

Problem is, she’s been watching Word World and Sesame Street and Super Why, all of which are encouraging her to spell. And one in particular (I’m looking at you, Word World, with your obsessive, sweets-loving Pig) teaches kids how to spell cookie.

Do you know how hard it is to talk about cookies without being able to say or now spell cookie? We can’t even use a food code word, like lettuce, because the kid likes lettuce and nearly every other food we mention. And it’s just too weird to say to your spouse, “Hey, when you’re at the grocery, can you pick up some….uh…uhm… socks? You know, the…uhm… socks with the brown spots – one might say “chunks”- in them?”

We try to give our daughters healthy snacks, and save the sweet treats for special occasions. They normally have snacks like bananas, apple slices, fruit and cereal bars, goldfish crackers, homemade applesauce (from my mom’s apple trees) and yogurt.

But hiding in one of the cabinets, on the tippy-top shelf, are the secret goodies – cookies, candy, and those little Betty Crocker molten lava cakes that you make in the microwave in 30 seconds. Hiding in the deep freezer is the ice cream that Aaron and I love – ice cream that doesn’t exist to our children and if they ask about it we will deny-deny-deny.

It’s a little ironic that we care so much about our daughters’ eating habits, and then pull out the naughty snacks when they go to bed.

Do you have mommy/daddy snacks that you hide from the kids?

(Wine doesn’t count.)

This post was written for Parent Bloggers Network as an entry for a contest sponsored by Brothers-All-Natural.

Filed Under: being a mom, growing up Tagged With:


May 16, 2008

You Think I’m Strict?

May 16, 2008 By

I’ve been accused of being a strict parent before. Other parents have rolled their eyes at me and told me it was no big deal if my daughter didn’t say “please” and “thank you” at this age, and told me I was too harsh for dropping everything and leaving a playground if rules were broken. I was accused of being a helicopter mom because I wouldn’t let my three year old play in the front yard by herself.

But I’d like to think that setting boundaries now will make my job easier when Cordy wants to wear makeup at eight years old, or begs for a tattoo at fifteen. Hopefully, she’ll know the rules well enough to not even ask about those things. (Oh please oh please!) I don’t think I’m being too harsh, though – I give Cordy plenty of freedom within the boundaries of the rules.

Now I can say that a celebrity mom agrees with me. Actually, she’s more strict, and she knows far more than me about how to properly raise kids. Read my review of the book Mama Rock’s Rules to find out more about the parenting advice offered by Chris Rock’s mother.

Filed Under: reviews Tagged With:


Jul 30, 2007

I Met My Inner New Yorker Yesterday

July 30, 2007 By

As we were checking out of our hotel yesterday morning, we hit a snag in saying goodbye to the Windy City. While I waited with our luggage cart and Mira, asleep in her carseat, Aaron took Cordy to go get the car, which was parked in a garage across the street. However, he soon returned without the car.

“I can’t get to the car. They won’t let anyone cross the street.”

Sure enough, the street was blocked off by Chicago police, with a few construction workers wandering the deserted street. They were moving steel beams by helicopter, and although I could hear the helicopter, never once did I see it pass over the street.

We waited patiently at first, hoping it would only take a few minutes. During that time, I got to say goodbye to several bloggers as they passed through the lobby, as well as chat with Lisa Stone about the need for a BlogHer Mommy conference (seriously, we need one!). Cordy ran around the lobby, tripping up men in business suits and closing off the revolving door by laying in the entrance of it.

But soon I joined Cordy in a lack of patience. We had been waiting for 45 minutes, and the street was still closed off. Cordy began to meltdown, crying because we wouldn’t let her run in between people’s legs. Mira woke up around this time and started to fuss, too.

Then it happened. Cordy had finally had enough, prompting her to lay down in the middle of the lobby floor and wail. Something in me snapped, and like flipping a light switch, I went from an understanding, accommodating softy to a pissed off mom who wasn’t going to stand for this anymore. I asked Aaron to wait with Mira, while I scooped up my screaming, thrashing toddler and marched outside to the cops.

“How much longer is this going to take?” I yelled over the helicopter noise to one of Chicago’s finest.

“Uh, I don’t know. We thought they’d be done by now. But no one can cross until they’re done.”

Cordy continued her tantrum, wailing right in his ear while I held her tight. I added a little more force to my voice. “No. We’ve been waiting for nearly an hour and I’m not waiting anymore. Our car is over there and we need to get to it. She needs lunch, we have things to do. I don’t have time to be held hostage so someone can move steel beams all day!”

The cop looked a little surprised. His voice softened a bit. “Well, you know… I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t go up that ramp to get your car. After all, uh, they’re not even flying directly over the street…” He walked towards a construction worker and I walked quickly behind him, with Cordy still screaming. After a short conversation, the construction worker gave me a thumbs up sign.

I walked back into the hotel lobby, still carrying the crying toddler, and said to Aaron, “OK, go get the car.”

“But…how did you…”

“Doesn’t matter, just get the car.”

We were on the road within 15 minutes.

**************

And I want to add a quick apology to everyone I was going to party with on Saturday night after the cocktail party. I went back to the hotel to nurse Mira to sleep, and fell asleep myself. Sheesh, I’m old. When I woke at 3am, I figured it was too late to call. (Besides, you want to be careful falling asleep around other bloggers…)

More BlogHer tales to come…

Filed Under: BlogHer07 Tagged With: