
I've always hated Bratz dolls but I spotted this poor topless Baby Bratz doll at a local thrift store and I actually felt a little sad for it.
It’s that time again…that time of the month (I call it DMS for During Menstrual Syndrome) when I get an all-consuming desire to organize my entire life, experience massive amounts of guilt over my parenting and become thoroughly convinced that nobody loves me or cares about me—all while feeling more tired than I ever thought humanly possible and being busier than anyone who doesn’t work outside the home should ever be.
One would think that I’d be used to this cycle of suck by now, that I’d see it coming and somehow be able to ward it off but no…that never happens. Instead I act like a crazy pregnant woman and start “nesting” which really just means I start cleaning things and develop an overwhelming desire to turn my house upside down, shake it out and start fresh with NOTHING because I CAN. NOT. STAND. THE . CLUTTER. Now mind you, this is the same clutter I live with the rest of the month with apparently no issues whatsoever, which probably contributes to the problem.
Right now I’m fighting the physical clutter, as well as the digital and mental. I long to become a well-oiled machine of organized precision—our household operations will be streamlined, my thousands of photos will be sorted through with all the bad shots discarded and all the keepers organized in such a way that I can actually do something with them—although I have no idea WHAT that would be. And I will be so organized that I can make time for the most important thing of all…spending better quality time with my kids.
It’s that last one that really eats at me every month. I read other people’s blogs (and Family Fun magazine because I’m a masochist, apparently) and see all the great things they’re doing with their kids and families (this can range from craft projects to family outings to little things that create special memories) and I feel like a total loser.
Honestly, if I can get some work done in the morning, get a load of laundry washed and have dinner ready early, I feel like I’ve moved mountains—which is to say, I don’t exactly challenge myself and yet, squeezing in the planning and execution of special things to do with my kids always gets backburnered. Before I know it, the weekend has come and gone and the weekly grind starts all over again—school, work, errands, housework, dinner, cheer practice and/or Girl Scouts, bedtime—lather, rinse, repeat.
I just don’t know how to make any of this happen and yet it’s all I can think about during my period. Well, that and trying to find extra moments to sleep because I’m JUST. SO. TIRED.
Because it’s all part of the wacky nesting thing, I feel compelled to make a list—I don’t hold out much hope of actually doing most of this stuff but maybe seeing it in writing will make me feel more organized and uh…WHATEVER—I just want to make a freakin’ list!
Things I Want/Need to Do and That Will Hopefully, Somehow, Make These 5-6 Days Per Month More Tolerable—in No Particular Order:
Organize the thousands of photos that currently live on my external hard drive.
Plan a weekly dinner calendar. Grocery shop while kids are at school.
Clean out desk and old school papers, calendars, notices etc from last year.
Clean out overstuffed file cabinet so I can file more stuff that I will probably never look at again.
Finish up washing all the bedding from when we tried to go a week without Pull-Ups (See Also: Thank God for waterproof allergy covers for mattresses).
Plan 1 or 2 cool things to do with the kids every week (i.e. go to the duck pond, go to Busch Gardens in the evening, plant the seeds I got from the Greenworks luncheon I attended at BlogHer 09. (2009, people! This alone speaks volumes) Note: Grocery shopping does NOT qualify as ‘something cool’ and bribing kids with bakery cookies so they won’t complain? Not the best parenting technique.
Clean out all the junk from daughter’s room (this alone would take half a day).
Organize all son’s toys so he can actually PLAY in his room.
Plan a fall family camping trip. Think about a vacation for next summer since we didn’t do a damn thing this summer and I spent most of my time shuttling kids around between points A, B and C and dying of near heat stroke.
Start planning Christmas now because when December comes, I will, without a doubt, feel like skipping Christmas altogether.
Implement a work schedule I can stick to so I don’t spend so much time working when the kids are home.
Be more social (i.e. stop ignoring Facebook messages from friends, call people back in a timely manner, make real plans so I can’t claim I’m too busy when loosely organized plans come up.
Stop effing around so much on the internet. Reading news, reading junk on Twitter and bookmarking random crap that I won’t ever go back to is enriching my life HOW? See also: Spend more time writing.
Catch up on Editorial Calendar for The Green Mom Review so I’m not scrambling at 11pm to figure out what we’re posting the next day.
If I do read blogs, which I actually DO, make sure to comment because I don’t want to be one of those people who swear they read blogs but never comments.
Watch the few shows I enjoy early in the evening so that when bedtime comes, I actually get some sleep instead of watching said shows. See also: GO TO BED EARLIER, DUMMY.
Look into swim lessons for my son, who totally got screwed out of them this summer (and it was really the only thing he wanted to do).
Make dinner earlier on cheer practice nights so we can still eat together.
Play with my son more when his sister is at practice instead of using this time to catch up on laundry while he watches TV and rots his brain.
Volunteer more at school (See also: get more sleep and use time more wisely so I will actually step up and volunteer instead of putting it off because “I’m too busy” —because I wouldn’t BE too busy if I was less tired and used my time more wisely.
Now I need a nap. I can do some of this stuff later, right?
OMG…see how I did that? SEE? *head meets desk*
So I went to the evil empire the other night, right? No, no, no…not the Scientology headquarters located in lovely downtown Clearwater, a mere 20 minute drive from here (in case you ever want to see the trophy case where they keep John Travolta and Tom Cruise’s REAL brains in those creepy glass jars usually reserved for fetal pigs and two-headed snakes. Note: Would also make for awesome science class field trip because BRAAAAAAAINS)
No, I went to that store that rhymes with Schmalmart—and I realize, as a bleeding heart liberal who tries to live as greenly as possible and supports fair trade and loves the mom and pop shops, that I’m committing some serious sacrilege but I had to go there. HAD TO. For roller skates. Because my daughter wants some for her birthday and because I was away at BlogHer on her actual birthday, which means whatever ‘lil missy wants, she WILL get. (Note to kids everywhere: Guilt is a terrific parental motivator!) Also, because it was, like, 9pm and where the frig else can you buy skates at 9pm?
So, after much wandering about, as I’m not well acquainted with the layout of Schmalmart, I finally ask some employees who were clearly more interested in continuing their conversation about whose bad ass rims were THE MOST bad ass, where they keep the roller skates—because this is fricken Schmalmart and THEY HAVE EVERYTHING.
Except they don’t.
Because they DON’T SELL ROLLERSKATES AT SCHMALMART, according to surly guy #1
The hell?
Then, in a feeble attempt to be more helpful and less surly, surly guy #2 suggests I instead go home and peruse Schmalmart.com and mail order some skates.
Well, thank you, sir, for that helpful suggestion but if I wanted to mail order stuff, I would have been all over this task WEEKS AGO. But why would I want to mail order something when, in theory, I should be able to walk amongst the People of Schmalmart, pluck some damn skates off the shelf and JUST BUY THEM.
Also, weeks ago I was much more concerned with MY OWN NEEDS…like buying shoes and dresses and shit for BlogHer. Priorities, people—I HAVE THEM—in case you didn’t know.
Okay…so I resign myself to the fact that I’m not going to get any skates on this particular evening. I’ll just carve out some more kid-free time some other day this week, because we all know how easy it is to come by kid-free time IN THE DAMN SUMMER.
So I leave and go to the toy section, thinking since I’m already here and have already committed a green mom’s cardinal sin by setting foot in the front door, that I might as well get the other gift I needed…a card game called Slamwich.
I look and look and look and I don’t see Slamwich but since I’ve never actually laid eyes on a Slamwich game, I have no idea what it looks like.
So, I go back to surly guy #2 who is now ticking off all the reasons he will, in fact, be getting a date with some girl he fancies (I’m sure his bad ass rims will play a huge part in all of this) and ask about Slamwich.
Me: I’m looking for a game called Slamwich. Can you check your computer and see if you have it in stock?
Surly Guy: Slamwich? Like sandwich?
Me: Well, yeah, except it’s Slamwich
Surly Guy: Oh. Okay.
Me: Can you check if you have it in stock?
Surly Guy: Let’s see if it’s on the shelf
Me: I already looked at all the games. I didn’t see it but I’m not sure what it looks like so it would probably be easier if you just looked it up.
Surly Guy: No, I have to look.
Me: *suppresses eyeroll*
Surly Guy: Is it this game? *holds up something called Slam*
Me: No, it’s SlamWICH
Surly Guy: Oh yeah, like sandwich!
Me: *blink*
Surly Guy: Let me call some other stores
Me: If I have to drive across town to another Schmalmart, I really don’t want it.
Surly Guy: Okay, I’ll call and see if any other store has it
Me: Are you high?
Surly Guy: What? *thinks about it for a second* No, definitely NOT high.
Me: Okay, but you should know that you SEEM really high
Surly Guy: Oh. Haha. Yeah. That’s funny. No, wait. I mean it’s funny but I’m not. Here, let me call them right now. *dials number, asks someone to help him locate “SANDWICH” and gets put on hold*
Me: No, it’s Slamwich
Surly Guy: What?
Me: Dude, seriously, LOOK IT UP ON THE COMPUTER
Surly Guy: I can’t.
Me: Why not?
Surly Guy: I’m not allowed
Me: Why?
Surly Guy: Because we can’t look up inventory
Me: You’re not allowed to look up inventory?
Surly Guy: Yes. I mean no, our computer doesn’t do that
Me: What???? Every big box store can do that
Surly Guy: Not ours
Me: So you mean to tell me that the largest retailer ON THE PLANET cannot look up something on the computer and see if it’s in stock?
Surly Guy: Nope
Me: No, seriously
Surly Guy: *hangs up phone*
Me: Wait, did they answer you? Does anyone have this stupid game? *clearly annoyed*
Surly Guy: No, I just got tired of waiting
Me: So you just hung up?
Surly Guy: *smiles* Yeah!
Me: So now what?
Surly Guy: Uh…go to the front desk. They can look it up for you
Me: Are you joking? Why didn’t you tell me this, like, ten minutes ago? Also, NO…because in my experience, those people are completely useless
Surly Guy: Yeah *laughs*
Me: Are you sure you’re not high?
…
So I hurried across the street to Target, which is in extreme renovation mode (translation: totally sucks right now) and also where I’m not supposed to be shopping at anyway because they gave money to anti-gay groups, and bought some damn skates. I feel bad about breaking my boycott but as noted, parental guilt is a seriously effective motivator and apparently I am willing to compromise ALL my principles in order to avoid it.
Related: I suck.
BUT I GOT THE SKATES!
Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get Sandwich *sigh*
Soooo…the other day my daughter and her friend were in her room playing this “Party Truth or Dare” game that she got as a b-day gift. It’s kid version so there’s no “I dare you to give so-and-so a lap dance” kind of stuff going on—well, not that I know of—I mean I didn’t look at EVERY card.
Anyway, my daughter and her friend are reading the cards and giggling and asking each other questions and then a question comes up that reads something like “Name one thing you’ve done that your parents don’t know about” and my daughter answers something not all that bad (but that I definitely didn’t know about) and they giggle some more and her friend says conspiratorially, “Your mom doesn’t know about that?” and before I knew it, the words were coming out of my mouth…
“I do NOW” I said loud enough for them to hear me,.
*crickets*
And then the door curtly closes shut.
And I sat here wondering why the hell I couldn’t keep my big mouth shut, particularly since this is just the beginning of such things.
OMFGIAMSTUPIDSTUPIDSTUPID.
….
I tried to find a non-pervy truth or dare image for this post and uh…I don’t think those exist. Let’s just say the internet is clearly MADE for perverts and if you are one of them and came here via some gross Google search, I hope you were totally disappointed.
A couple years ago, I wrote a post about how I didn’t want my daughter to get involved in cheerleading even though all her friends were doing it.
I listed a variety of reasons why I thought sports would be a better choice and how all the cheerleading I’d observed involved a lot of inappropriate (read: stripper-like) dance moves and of course, the outdated gender roles issue—the boys PLAY the sport while the girls cheer for them on the sidelines. I think you get the picture…
Well, two years later, my daughter is a cheerleader. She hadn’t ever shown much interest in any sports or physical activities other than cheering and gymnastics and honestly, we just can’t afford gymnastics so I finally gave in and signed her up to cheer.
She hasn’t cheered at any games yet but she’s been going to practice 4 evenings a week for a few weeks now and she seems to really love it. She’s also showing a lot of self-discipline and hasn’t complained at all about the rigorous practice schedule—unlike her mother, who’s ALREADY over it and totally dreading those 8:30am games every Saturday.
As far as my concerns about all the hoochie dance moves, the coaches don’t approve of them either so I’m heartened that we’re all on the same page in that respect.
I don’t know how it will be down the road but for now, I’m okay with her cheering. I’m glad she’s getting some physical activity every day and making new friends and I’m happy that she’s happy.
In other words, this is me eating my words along with a nice big slice of humble pie (although I reserve the right to contradict and/or totally recant everything I’ve said here at any time!)
I must now go pack for BlogHer 10! Hope to see you all there :)
–
PS: I wanted to let you all know that I recently resurrected Moms Speak Up
Katy Does Sesame: Yet Another Opinion
I watched the clip on BlogHer.com while reading a post called “Katy Perry Cut From Sesame Street For Turning Moms On.” In said clip, Perry is wearing a strapless dress and yes, she shows a little cleavage but honestly, it’s hardly pornographic and she doesn’t do anything I would consider suggestive while singing a G-rated version of her song “Hot & Cold.”
But somehow, I’m still disturbed to see Perry on Sesame Street. I really wasn’t sure why although I can assure you that it’s NOT because she is turning me on, as suggested by the post on BlogHer.com.
After giving it some thought, I finally figured it out—
Perry invaded what I regard as a safe space; a place where kids can tune in and, unlike in the real world, there’s nothing inappropriate waiting to jump out and chip away at their innocence. Nobody gets beat up. Nobody gets shot. Nobody gets murdered. And nothing is sexualized.
There are very few places like that in the television realm but of those that exist, Sesame Street is pretty much the pinnacle and having her on there kind of spoils that for me.
The fact is, I can barely watch regular television with my kids around—if it isn’t the content of the actual show I’m watching, it’s the previews, trailers and ads for other shows that send me leaping for the remote— but I’m not going to launch into a big lecture about that. I think any reasonable, rational, responsible adult can agree that most of what’s on TV, regardless of the time of day, is not fit for young kids. Period.
And yes, I’ve acknowledged that Perry’s performance on Sesame Street was largely benign. BUT…there’s just something disturbing about having a woman who does this in her videos turn up on Sesame Street. Those two worlds should never collide. Ever.
My kids will grow up someday and then they can, if they so desire, watch a woman simulate ejaculation via whipped cream cans attached to her breasts while mimicking double-fisted oral sex, as much as they want.
But RIGHT NOW, one of my many important jobs is to let them have a childhood, to keep them from growing up too fast and according to Chris Rock, keep my daughter off the pole.
Having someone like Katy Perry invade my safe space interferes with that job—I don’t need someone who cannot even BEGIN to conceive of how hard it is to raise kids in today’s world getting in my way and making it any harder.
The verdict: Sesame Street used poor judgment in the first place but at least they had enough sense to rectify their misstep. To all the people that roll their eyes and say “You’d see more skin at the beach” you’re missing the point entirely.
Tags: Elmo, Katy Perry, Sesame Street