If someone tells you that they saw my sweet family at the local Mexican restaurant last weekend don’t believe them.  It probably wasn’t us.

Especially if they tell you our darling three-year-old got a chip stuck in his throat and screamed bloody murder for ten solid minutes while everyone in the restaurant stopped talking to stare at us trying to figure out whether he (a) had been attacked by a swarm of killer bees, (b) was suddenly possessed by demons or (c) was choking (he was screaming….duh)….

Then if they tell you that he stuck his own finger down his throat and made himself throw up all over himself, the booth, the family order of cheese dip and my new dress before we were smart enough to run to the bathroom, tell ‘em they must be telling a story….

That kind of thing would never happen to us.

Never.

Say It Ain’t So is a post from: Mommy, Esquire

If you send a five-year-old to her room for two hours, she might have a pair of scissors.

And if she has a pair of scissors, she might use them to remove the top layer of her princess nightgown.

And if she removes the top layer of her princess nightgown, she might attach it to a cleverly constructed princess hat made from a piece of white paper and colored with a pink crayon.

And you might have a hard time getting mad at her because….well….it was pretty clever.

And she’s so darned cute.

And, after all, she’s the one who has to wear the cut up nightgown, not you.

And…who knows….she might be famous one day.

Project Runway Kindergarten Style is a post from: Mommy, Esquire

We’ve had an eventful summer.  The boys have gone to summer camp, several trips to the zoo, to the beach to see family and we even started school a bit early.  Summer is coming to an end and I’m pretty happy about that since some of us fair-skinned folks aren’t made for the hot blazin’ sun.  In fact, I have this very clever friend that said that her crayon color would be “fish belly white.”  [Thank you, Heather S., for that little humorous nugget!]  I think my crayon color would be “dark side of the moon glow” and I’m living in a house full of  “peachy sun glow” people. 

Anyway…..

The bottom line is that we’ve had fun.  Fun is good.  Enjoying each other is important.  Tempus fugit [Time flies] and there is something to that saying that “Time flies when you’re having fun.”  I believe it.  The summer raced by. 

However….

I’m excited for fall.  Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  Some people like Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Halloween, etc.  Not me.  I like the lesser celebrated holiday that is slowly being overrun by Christmas.  I like the Norman Rockwell version of Thanksgiving.  I like hearing the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade on a t.v. in the background while I’m stirring gravy and basting a turkey.  I like it when it’s chilly outside and you can send everyone out to the front yard for an impromptu game of touch football.  I like it.  I’m giddy just thinking about it. 

While I look forward to autumn, I know that my boys will be yearning for warmer weather and the hot sun.  They could play outside when it’s 1o2 in the shade.  They look forward to seeing their cousins each and every summer on the beaches of South Carolina.  They are the boys of summer. So, until then….the boys say,

“BYE, SUMMER!  SEE YOU IN TWO SEASONS FROM NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  SO LONG!!!!!!!!   WE’LL MISS YOU!!!!!!!!!!

Boys of Summer is a post from: Mommy, Esquire

My weekend has not gone as planned.  So, what’s new?  Right?  Yup. 

I have spent the last 72 hours: 

• taking temperatures via every orifice in one of three children, 
• cleaning up vomit from floors, beds, AND the ceiling  AND….Yes, it is possible for puke to spew that far from the mouth of a six year old like he was possessed by the Devil.  It’s true.  Trust me on this.
• Serving up 7-up and Ginger Ale
• Making trips to the Saturday Clinic at the pediatrician’s office
• Placing sick kids in quarantine and sending off well kids to football games
• Making grocery store runs for more prescriptions, Saltine crackers and Diet Coke for Mommy so I can stay awake for days on end whilst Daddy entertains/sleeps with/reads to well kids.

It’s “all hands on deck” over here.  But, that’s not the real reason I’m writing this post.  I had a very interesting run to the grocery store.  I was in a “Mom stupor” of sorts.  I’m sure my eyes were glazed over as I headed over into an aisle to checkout, but something caught my eye from the magazine racks….

O.K.  Did I just see the words, “Untamed Va-jay-jay’s”   Really?  Seriously?  Did I just read that?  Hmmmm.  Well, I do believe I did.  That’s one way to snap out of a “child puke induced” stupor.   Wow.   Then, I just realized that if my oldest son was with me, he’d ask me questions like:  What is a va-jay-jay?  Why are they untamed?  Does it mean the va-jay-jay is like a lion which you cannot tame?  Is it an animal?  Is it an invertebrate?  What do they eat?  When do they sleep?  Is it nocturnal?  Because it is untamed, can it never be an exhibit at the zoo?  Is it a carnivore?  Ah, the perils of homeschooling.  You get curious kids.  Whew!  Glad I didn’t have him with me.   Plus, do I really want to know the 37 things most men don’t have the kahounas to tell women or do I really want the touch that calms men during a fight?  I don’t think so.  I’ve got enough on my plate without having to “do” something else for any man in my life.  I swim in a sea of testosterone over here.  I do enough for ya’ll.  Thank you very much.  Here’s a magazine for ya:  How ’bout one for men that tells them how to clean up the entire house, fold clothes, put clothes away, give a great massage, make dinner, iron clothes, etc.  I can already see the first lead article, “How to iron like a dry cleaners” and “How to drive your wife crazy with a back massage that lasts more than five seconds”  Great idea.  I’m all for it.  I’d be the first to invest in such a venture.  Anybody?  Anybody?.

I began to look at all the other magazines on the racks…

S’cuse me?  I really think most women out there wouldn’t even read this one.  Why?  Because we all know that if some guy’s mom is spilling the beans, she isn’t about to be fair about it.  If Stedman is a “Mama’s boy” then we’ll all gag while we read this stuff.  So far as Oprah and Gayle sharing a bed for years?  Most women know that’s no big deal.  Who hasn’t gone on a vacation with “the girls” and shared a bed with a friend.  Girls sleep in the same bed with their girlfriends since their first slumber party in the second grade.  It doesn’t change when you reach adulthood.  No Big Deal, here. 

Then there’s ….

The doctors at Duke University have supposedly come up with a diet that beats having gastric bypass surgery.  Well, I’m always a bit skeptical about stories like this.  A while back it was all the rage to eat your weight in some watery cabbage soup to lose weight.  The cabbage soup diet originated from the doctors at the Mayo Clinic, then it was the South Beach Diet from a doctor in Florida, then it’s the blah, blah, blah diet from a doctor at blah, blah, blah.  I’ll give you a quick way to lose weight….sleep next to a kid who has a stomach virus.  Get said child to rub his little hands all over your face and arms.  Don’t shower because you won’t have time.  Then, forget to eat anything for several meals because the sight of food makes you gag after cleaning vomit from the carpet.  Go without sleep.  Plan something important or a date you need to cancel…then cancel at the last minute….because everyone and I mean everyone in your house is sick but you.  Do heaps of laundry.  After a full 72 hours, you should began to notice that you, too, feel sick or at least, very, very, very, tired.  Yes, a stomach virus is truly better than gastric bypass surgery…or the aforementioned diet from the doctors at Duke University.   By the way, wanna cure insomnia?  Get eight hours of sleep.  I haven’t slept for eight hours straight since Will was born in 2oo3.  Seriously.  I’d settle for six hours of sleep and a good nap on Sunday afternoon at this point. 

Lastly,  I did not buy any of the magazines.  I knew I wouldn’t have time to read any of them plus, I’m not in the mood to explain the whole va-jay-jay thing to my sons…So. Not. Ready. For. That.  No, sirree.  I spent Saturday with my son at the Saturday Clinic.  As we headed out the door, I noticed I did not have a “barf bag” on hand.  What does Mommy do?  I grab a little bag from the last shopping trip and lined it with a trash bag.  Cute.  Maybe I should submit that little tidbit to a magazine?  Not a bad idea considering all the garbage that they print, anyway.  Right?

Better than gastric bypass… is a post from: Mommy, Esquire

This past Sunday, I spent the afternoon with my mother.   We planned to spend the afternoon at an antiques warehouse in the town where we live.  The antiques warehouse is the kind of place where you can spend hours upon hours in a day.  We love it.  It’s an adventure for the two of us.  We have fun and I joke that our outings are like theater.  There’s lots of drama.  Mama  is not a subtle woman.  Let’s just leave it at that.

It went something like this:

——————————————————————————–

Act I:   Picking up Mama at her house:

Me:  Hi, Mama.  Are you ready to go?

Mama:  Yes.  I’m ready to head out.  But first, I want you to take this baggy of hair products.  There’s a really good conditioner in there.  You might like it.

Translation:  Your hair looks like crap.  You need to put this miracle condition on your head before birds start nesting in it. 

Me:  Uhhhh.  Thanks.

————————————————————————

Act II:  The Drive-Thru

Mama:   Do you mind if we go through a drive-thru so I can get an iced tea to go?  I’m parched.

Me:  No problem.  Plus, I left the house without even eating lunch.  I’m kinda hungry, myself.

Mama:  Oh, really?  Well, have you tried those salads at Wendy’s lately?  It’s not like the typical fast food salads.  They are really good.  You definitely need to try one.

Translation:   You need to be eating salad instead of a big honking order of french fries I’ve seen you order.

Me:  Okey dokey.

————————————————————————

Act III:   The primping

Me:  We’re here.  Ready to go in?

Mama:  Of course not. I need to put on some lipstick.  Don’t you need some?  My goodness!  I think I’ve got a tube you can have, sweetheart.  You need to dab some on right now.  Go, on.  Do it before we go in.

Translation:  Put on some lipstick, for Pete’s sake.  You look like the walking dead.

———————————————————————————

Act IV:   The Hat  [in the antique mall for a total of 1o minutes]

Me:  Look at this hat!  It’s awesome.  It would be great for bookclub.  We’re reading The Great Gatsby and having a theme party for bookclub.  Fun!

Mama:  ooooh!  That hat does look good on you.  I’ll get it for you.  You should wear hats.  I think you could bring the whole “lady in hats” fashion back.  It’s so 195o, Donna Reed.  It’s so…..you.  Seriously. 

Me:  I don’t know, Mama.  I don’t think I could just walk into the grocery store wearing a hat and gloves. 

Mama:  Oh, I think you could.  I dare ya.

Translation:  If you’re crazy enough to wear this hat to the grocery store, then I really raised a loony tune.

———————————————————————————-

Act V:    The Schoolmarm Dress

Mama:  Oh, Kim!  Look at this dress.  The tag says it is a “reproduction 185o’s school marm dress. Oh.  My.  Lord.   

Me:  [trying to look elsewhere] 

Mama:  Come. Over. Here…..Now!!!!  

Me:  [the dutiful daughter]   Wow.  That’s quite the sight.

Mama:  You need this.

Me:  I don’t know.  I could wear it for Halloween.  Maybe.

Mama:  Oh, no!  You could wear this with a pair of boots.  I’ve seen it in Vogue.

Me:  Really?

Mama:  Oh, yeah. 

Me:  I could just wear it for Halloween and be Laura Ingalls Wilder…or her mother, Caroline Ingalls.

Mama:  No, way.  You need to wear it now…..especially now that you are homeschooling.

Translation:  First, it’s homeschooling.  Next, it’s wearing prairie dresses, letting your hair grow out past your knees and buying a 15 passenger van.  Why fight it?  Just wear the dang dress and get it over with.

——————————————————————–

Act VI:  The Finale [3 hours later]

Mama:  Can you believe that we made it through the entire antique mall in JUST three hours?

Me:  nope.

Mama:  Look at this buggy!   Fun, fun, fun stuff!   Hat for you.  Prairie School Marm dress for you.  Bottles for your bottle tree….for you.  Little goodies, candles, wooden bowl, candlesticks….and a hat for me!

Me:   Are you going to actually wear that hat? 

Mama:  Yes!  Most definitely.  I think I can pull off a hat with feathers.  You could practically wear it with anything.

Me:  Ya, think?

Mama:  It’s a church hat, after all.

Me:  O.K. 

Mama:  With your hat and my hat…people will notice us in a crowd. 

Me:  Oh, I think they notice us right now.  No hat is needed.

Mama:  Bless your heart, honey.  Anything you say. 

Translation:  If you think they notice you, sweetheart.  Well.  Good for you. 

————————————————————-

The Encore

Mama:  I think I’m going to be sore in the morning.

Me:   Why is that?

Mama:  We had one heck of a work out.  Walking all through that antique mall is the equivalent of walking ten miles.  I know it is.  My calves are shot.  I’ve been feelin’ the burn. 

Me:  The burn?  As in working out ’till you feel The Burn?  Really?  From shopping in an antique mall? 

Mama:  Oh, yes.  Shopping can take lots of stamina.  That’s why I do it.  Exercise.  Pure and simple.

Me:  Hmmmmm. 

Mama:  Yep.  Stick with me and you’ll get a good work out. 

Me:   You could patent that idea. 

Mama:  Definitely. 

Me:  Definitely. 

An afternoon with my subtle mother. is a post from: Mommy, Esquire