Why I Should Not Be A Role Model

WARNING: This post contains material some might find offensive.  Some may not know what the heck it means.  Urban Dictionary can tell you (and much more!)  Otherwise, I would not read past this sentence. 🙂

I am the co-leader of m daughter’s Girl Scout troop.  I m still not sure how I was allowed to lead a group of girls, but somehow I passed the muster.  Or it could be that they are just super desperate for leaders.  I’m thinking it might be the latter.

Anyway…one of the badges we are working on is the Bookmaking badge.   The other leader and I decided it would be fun to take apart a book, then use the various parts for different projects.  We found some cute ideas on Pinterest we thought most of the girls would enjoy.  All we needed were some old books.

I volunteered to hit Salvation Army and get enough books for the troop to use.  Since we were using the covers for one project, I tried to find hardcovered books with interesting covers.  I found about 7 books in the kids section, but since we have 12 girls, I had to grab a few adults books.  I stayed away from the romance novels and the murder mystery books since I didn’t think the parents would like their kids carrying around a hardcover art tote with a picture of a bare chested man riding a horse or a giant eyeball with a knife stuck in it.  (Little did I know this was the least of my worries.) Overall, I left with 13 hardcover books for under $4.   Total bargain.

After making the art tote from the covers, our next project was to use the pages of the books to make note cards.  Our original plan was to make them so the girls could give them to their moms on Mother’s Day, but since we really suck at staying on any kind of time line, we didn’t get around to it until this week.

So I’d like to to picture the following scene:

There are seven middle school girls sitting around the dining room table with the task of taking a book page, stenciling a drawing on it, then cutting out the picture and pasting it onto a note card.  Very simple. Very innocent.  See how cute these are?

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My fellow leader was cutting cardstock for the kids and the girls were chatting and picking out pages for their projects.  I was doing my typical activity: drinking Dunkins and watching my friend do all the work. 🙂

A few girls were checking out what was written on the pages, but most were starting to stencil when my daughter (of course) grabs one of the pages and starts to read out loud….

“Oh nice! This says “regular sex, three-way, pussy eating, anal, anal with dildo….”

My fellow leader and I froze.  It was like one of those scenes in a movie where time slows down and the main character  sees everything in slow motion.  I could feel all the neurons in my brain slowly connecting as I processed what I was hearing.

When what she said finally registered in my brain, I immediately dove across the table and ripped the page from her hands.  Of course, the other girls are now screeching hysterically and begin to frantically dig through the rest of the pages on the table to see if they could find more.    I, on the other hand, was attempting to find any other Xrated pages before the girls got their hands on them.

Really?!  Out of the 400 pages on the table, my kid grabs THAT one.  It must be genetic.

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The other leader is just shaking her head.   She’s known me for years so this is not a shocking situation for her.  Probably quite tame overall.

Leader: What the heck kind of books did you buy?

Me: I certainly didn’t think I bought this type.

Me: This is definitely not a page you want to be putting on a card to your mother.  Unless Girl Scouts has a badge for this?

Leader: Ummm…no.

Girls: Come on Miss Sue!  We know all about that. Let us see the page.

Me: WHAT?!?!?  How the heck do you know what ANY of that means?!  You’re 11!  You shouldn’t know these things.

Daughter: Mom, we’ve all heard about this stuff before.  We know a lot of 7th graders.

Girls: And we read the bathroom walls.

Daughter: yeah, people draw lots of pictures of balls in the stalls.  They are all over the school.

Well, its good to know kids are still learning about sex ed the proper way – though rumors and graffetti.  I’d hate to think the kids today are missing out on the same type of education we got.  I’m not sure if it is sad or pathetic that these kids know a whole hell of a lot more then I ever did at 11.  Of course, we only had older siblings and Benny Hill.  They have social media and YouTube so they definitely have an edge on us.

My daughter could not wait to get home and tell her dad about this.

Daughter: Do you think dad will get mad at me if I tell him what happened?

Me: No.  He will probably think its as hysterical as I do.  Which is why we are still married.

I can’t say that the other seven girls’ dinner conversations about today will go over as well. Most of the parents know me and still continue to send their kids to Girls Scouts every week.  I’m thinking this incident will not be a shocker.  So I have that going for me.   Also, I think I actually did some adult-ing, which is rare.   I mean, I did take the page away at least. (Is it bad, that I kept it?)

Other then getting booted out of Girl Scouts, the bonus of this event is that apparently, I now know that my daughter has way more knowledge about the subject of sex then I was aware of….and I really need to start catching up!

Peace,

Sue

 

 

 

 

 

Treat Her Right, Fool!

Mother’s Day is this weekend and in honor of all the moms out there, I put together a little video to show how much moms mean to the world.

I actually made the video as a joke for a friend of mine. We have a little inside joke going. We used to get together in the mornings to walk our dogs then she decide to go an get a job and leave me high and dry. One of the worst things for me is to be left alone to my own devices. Spending every morning alone with just my warped mind and two dogs is a recipe for disaster. I need adult supervision.

Since I was walking my dog anyway, I started taking her dog along as well. I would send her updates on how her “daughter” was doing at “daycare” and it kind of morphed from there. I made up a fictitious name for my daycare, Panciocco Paws Academy and post pictures of things we did on our walks. Then came the commercial and, well, it just snowballed for there.

I hadn’t done anything in awhile so when I realized Mother’s Day was coming up, I had to do a video. I found the perfect song, performed by the awesome Mr. T and the rest is history. If you want to see Mr T’s version, here’s the link: Mr. T

I posted the other videos on my YouTube page if anyone would like to see just how starved for adult companionship I really am.

So to all the moms out there, this is for you. And for all you kids out there, remember to Treat Your Mother Right!

Happy Mother’s Day!

Sue

The Day My Last Brain Cell Died

 

Poor little guy....

Poor little guy….

It was actually uneventful really.  No fanfare, no pomp and circumstance, no bright lights or flashes of color.  It kind of just slowly dimmed until at last, it blinked out, like an old incandescent light bulb.  I expected it to happen really.  They say when you become a parent, your brain cells slowly start to die.  And if you are a stay at home mom…well, forget about it.  Those suckers practically fall out as quick as my peri menopausal hair.  Long days of singing “itsy bitsy spider” four hundred times, speaking in monosyllabic sentences, fielding incessant questions beginning with “why?” along with chicken nuggets and fries as my only nutrition…it was bound to happen.  Inevitable even.  In fact, I am surprised my brain lasted me this long.

My Brain

My Brain

My Brain as Parent

My Brain as a Parent

 

Oh, I tried to fight it.  I did crossword puzzles, played Luminosity every morning, and used big words like fastidious and paradoxical and h’orderves .  But it was no use.  Years of getting my news in 15 minutes snippits and learning just enough about a subject to get by had taken it’s toll.  The thing was on it’s last leg.

 

The day started as any ordinary day.  After conducting our normal 4 hour morning routine, it was now 8:30am and we were ready to hit the stores for some errands.  My ladies at Dunkins had my order ready to go when I walked in.  The future look bright as we headed to our first stop….the pharmacy.

 

Had to get the kids ADHD medication filled.  It was then that I realized something….nowhere in our morning routine today did I actually give my kids their medicine.  This became apparent as I stood at the counter while my daughter launched herself up and down like a kangaroo on crack while rapidly firing questions at the clerk. All the while, the boy was behind me, practicing his ninja moves on the reading glasses display.  I was impressed by the durability of the display as well as his moves.  I quickly debated on going home to get the meds, but decided to forge on.

 

As we were leaving my daughter informs me her “thighs” hurt then she points to her calf muscle.

 

Me: Those are called calves.

Her: Like a baby cow?

Me: Yes

Her: Well then my cows are hurting.

 

This was followed by hysterical laughter…. and then the mooing began.  The boy, of course, happily joined in, having no clue why he was mooing.  They continued the Laurel and Hardy routine – “my cows are hurting”  “MOOOO!!!” – as we drove to our next stop.  I threatened to drop them off at the closest slaughterhouse.

 

Now that the mooing was squashed, we hit Walmart.  There is usually never any good that comes out of a trip to Walmart.  Today was no exception.  I had a return to do and need 3 things.  My daughter announced that she can no longer walk because her “cows” hurt too much.  More mooing.  I ended up putting them both in one of those mack truck carriage that weigh 400 lbs and has no steering ability.  We headed to Customer Service to stand in line, because at Walmart, there is always only one person working the register.  I realized I left my receipt in the car.  Briefly debated on leaving the kids at the service counter, but thought better of it.  I might not come back.  So I pushed the big ass cart back to my car, found the receipt and pushed the cart back to customer service.  Return done, we grabbed the 3 things I needed and 97 things I didn’t and got the hell out of there.

 

I needed to make an exchange at the next store, but realized I forgot the exchange item.  Being one exit from home, I decided to shoot back, take a pee break, grab the bag and head out again.  Screeched into the driveway, grabbed the bag, ran in to pee and got back in the car.  As I opened the door, the dog jumped into the back seat.  The kids started screaming, the dog ran all the way to the back of the van and wouldn’t come out.  F$@%k it.  You’re coming with us now, a-hole.

 

Halfway to the store it hit me.  I left the f(*&*ing bag at the house!  AGAIN!

 

And that is when it happened….that poor little brain cell, hanging by it’s nails to my gray matter, finally gave out and let go, falling slowly, silently screaming as it died in my head. Poof! It was over in a matter of seconds.

 

Strangely, I don’t feel any different now then when I had a brain.  Maybe I never really need it in the first place.   I always considered myself as a somewhat intelligent person, but maybe I never was.

 

I am not sure what life holds for me going forward without a brain.  I am hoping I just roll along through life, blissfully ignorant to the world around me.  If that is the case then you might just see me riding around in my van, filled with the delightful sounds of mooing….and it may be me whose leading the chorus.

 

Peace and Moos

Sue

 

My ADHD Thanksgiving

5:00am – Kids come in to ask if it is time to go downstairs.  I tell them”No, go back to bed.”  Kids leave. My husband pretends to sleep.  I wish I could learn this technique.

5:02am – Kids are back again.  “Is it morning yet?” I tell them no…. again.  Swear under my breath when they leave.

5:04-5:59am:  Kids come back 17 more times to see if it is morning yet.  My “NO!” is getting increasingly louder and my words of profanity are getting increasingly more sophisticated.  My husband still pretends to sleep.

6:00am:  Kids return to inform me that it is now 6am and officially morning so can they please go downstairs?  I whip off covers with dramatic flair, stomp around like a 5 year old as I put on my slippers then take the kids downstairs.  My husband is laying perfectly still.  I think he is even holding his breath so as not to give away his position.  I “accidentally” slam door as I head downstairs.

6:02am: Kids turn on annoying Disney show and proceed to ignore it while playing on the iPad.  I put on tea kettle and hide under a blanket until my caffeine is ready.

6:30am: My hubby wanders down for coffee.  “Don’t you need to make cookies for your mom’s?”  S@$#T!  I start the oven and get out the mixer.   My husband gets on his iPad.  Kids proceed to fight over……well, everything.  We both ignore them.   The boy craps in his pull up.  My husband comments on how much he stinks, but makes no move to fix the problem.

6:45am:  Kids realize I am peacefully involved in a task and decide they would like to “help”.  Kids fight over who gets to lick the spoon.  Kids fight over who puts cookie dough on the cookie sheets.  The boy starts to eat cookie dough out of bowl.  Daughter gets bored and leaves part way through first batch.  The boy smells so bad, I have to kick him out of the kitchen.

7:00am:  Dad goes into his shop and proceeds to run the table saw.  Kids are now in basement with TV blaring.  I almost burn the next batch of cookies because I get distracted pinning Thanksgiving activities that I will never do with my kids.

7:30am:  Yell down to kids to get dressed.  Yaya comes up in a panic because she does not have a Thanksgiving day outfit to wear.  Wants to go shopping RIGHT NOW!  I inform her only Kmart in NY is open right now.  “Can we go? Is that far?”  I give her The Stare.

7:32am:  Spend next 20 minutes finding something for her to wear that meets her approval.  Tell her to get dressed then realize I forgot the cookies again.  Run down to kitchen to put in the next batch.

7:52am: Decide to clean up kitchen.  Jam dishwasher to maximum capacity.  Throw the rest of the dishes in the sink.  Notice the living room looks like hell.  Start picking up the living room.  Put the blankets in the basket and straighten pictures on wall.  Figure now is a great time to put the kids’ new school pictures in the frames. Put the old photos in my office and decide to check facebook.  Spend next 10 minutes watching stupid cat video someone posted.  Smell something burning.  Cookies!  S@##$T!!

Little crispy...

Little crispy…

8:02am: Rescue burnt cookies from the oven.  Kids come up to investigate smell.  Give them unburnt cookies and soda then send them back downstairs.  Dawns on me they are still not dressed.  Call them back upstairs.

8:10am: Search through 5 laundry baskets looking for a pair of pants for the boy.  Realize most of them are soaking in the basement because they stink like urine.  Finally find a pair.  Don hazmat suit and proceed to deal with the giant poop in his pullup.  Spend the next 10 minutes trying to chip dried poop off the boy’s scrotum as he kicks and screams that I am hurting his penis.  His sister is jumping up and down on my bed, naked, and playing “hot crossed buns” on her recorder.  Tell her to cut the crap and get dressed.  This was meet by “Oooo, you just sweared!  You owe a nickel!”   Control my urge to flip her the bird.

8:24am: Double bag the toxic pull up and put it in trash.  Decide to empty all the wastebaskets upstairs.  Notice laundry is overflowing in the hallway.  Need another laundry basket so I start to put the clean laundry away.  Get all the laundry sorted on bed and realize I don’t really have time to put all this laundry away.  Put all the laundry back in the baskets except the one I need for the dirty stuff.

9:00am:  Neighbor shows up with Dunkins!  Bow to his glory!  Send him home with a bag of not-so burnt cookies.

9:30am:  Realize I now have less then an hour to get out everyone out the door. Go upstairs to run shower.  About to step in and realize I never threw my jeans in dryer.  Contemplate if I can make it down through the basement in a towel without getting groped by husband or kids asking for something…..pull out pair of jeans from dirty laundry.  Think I can get one more day out of them.

9:32am: Try the shower thing again.  Just get undress when husband whips open door.  (I swear he has a camera in the bathroom)  Mentally make a note to lock door.  Husband honks my breasts and leaves.   I yell to him “we need to leave by 10:30 to get to the nursing home!”  He replies “well, you better get moving then.”  Give him the finger before I close the door.

9:34am: Get in shower.  Husband is back “to get his shaving stuff”.  Realize I forgot to lock door.  Hubby gets in an ass grab for good measure before leaving.

9:40am: Get out of shower and get dressed.  Husband knocks on door.  I remembered to lock it.  Husband comes in to take a shower while I dry my hair.

9:42am: Realize drying your hair while someone gropes your boobs is near impossible so I give up and put my hair in a clip.  I give my husband’s junk a honk as payback.  Realize that was not the smartest thing to do.  Escape the bathroom quickly.

10:00am: Down to the basement to check on kids.  Tell kids to get shoes and socks on.  Kids ignore me.  Dad is done in shower.

10:15am:  The boy comes into room crying because Dad yelled at him for peeing his pants.  I search for more pants.  Finally find a pair in the bottom of a basket.

10:25 Get the boy calm enough to get him undressed.  Put new pants on.  Tell him to get socks and shoes on…..again.

10:28am: Actually making good time.  Go out to pack up car.  Realize 6′ fake christmas tree I picked up yesterday for Girl Scouts is still in car.  Start to unpack tree.

10:30am:  Dog escapes as I’m bringing in tree from car.  Takes off to visit neighbor walking her dog.  Everyone stops to talk with neighbor.

10:43am:  Finally get dog in house and family in car.

10:45am:  Pulling out of driveway to make the 30 minute drive to nursing home.  Hoping Grampy’s dementia will help him forget we were suppose to be there at 11am.

As we head to our destination, I can’t help think about all that I am thankful for…..my kids, my husband, my family and friends.  But most of all, I am thankful that in 8 hours, I will be back home, in my comfy pj’s, snacking on well done cookies.

Happy Thanksgiving and Happy Hanukkah from my dysfunctional family to yours!

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Sue

Please Just Shut The @%#^$^* Up!

Sometimes I think my ears might start to bleed….

 

Why?  Because my kids never stop talking.  They talk ALL. THE. TIME.  They don’t even care if anyone is listening.  And when they aren’t talking, they are making random, annoying noises.  Just…. noises.  WTF?  Why?  It can be annoying as all hell, but  I have generally become proficient in tuning them out most of the time.

 

The thing I have a hard time dealing with is the questions. The Never. Ending. Questions.

 

My son is the biggest offender in this category.  He is constantly asking questions, most of the time, just for the sake of asking something.

 

Quite a few of  his questions are legit, like “what are we doing today?” or “can I have a snack?” Continue reading

What I truly want for Mother’s Day

Each time the month of May rolls around, my husband and I have the same conversation we had the year before.  It goes something like this:
Him: Crap!  It’s May, isn’t it?
Me: Yep
Him:  Is Mother’s Day this weekend?  And your birthday is soon too.  I have to get you something.  What do you want? Continue reading

What Parts are Private

 © Creativestock | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images


© Creativestock | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Most days, when I pick the boy up from preschool, I wait with bated breath to see how he comes out.  Is he happy, mad, sad, wet, dry or a combination of these.   Depending on how he comes out can determine how the rest of the afternoon goes.  So the other day, when he came skipping out the door, I thought things looked pretty promising.  And then I realized his teacher was following right behind him.  That could only mean one thing – trouble.

 

Teacher:  I just wanted to let you know about something that happened today.  In case you hear about it tonight.  I don’t want there to be a misunderstanding. Continue reading

How I Became “That” Mom

© Vasic | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images


© Vasic | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

I never really wanted kids.  I was actually quite adamant about it.  Then my damn sister had to go and have a baby.  And when I held my beautiful, little nephew in my arms, I was all done.  Sign me up.   I wanted one of those sweet-smelling, warm, cuddly lumps of joy. Continue reading

After The Diaper Bag

I remember the days when everywhere that I went, I toted the diaper bag around with me.  It was big and bulky and full of stuff, but it came everywhere.  I made do better than some, as I nursed both of my children and didn’t need to carry bottles and formula along with me.  But breastfed babies seem to have more excessive and frequent poop blow outs than formula fed babies, so multiple extra outfits were always necessary.  And diapers.  Lots of diapers.  And wipes. And creams.  And toys.  And burp cloths.  During certain stretches I even carried an extra shirt and nursing bra for myself.  Oh wait, I had my wallet, keys, and phone in there, too. Continue reading