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?


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.


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!









Sometimes I Get It Right

This parenting gig is hard work and most of the time, I feel like I am failing miserably.   Very often, I end up regretting something I said or didn’t say.   My parenting line up is often filled with mistakes and a long list of things I should have done better.

But sometimes, I get it right.

Tonight, my daughter was practicing her piano.  She had been doing quite well with practicing daily and was getting so much better with her new song.  Then we had a hectic week and she kept forgetting to practice.  I forgot to remind her as well.  So when she sat down tonight to play, she had forgotten a lot of song and it was choppy.  After the fifth time of trying to get the last piece down, she burst into tears.

“I’m a failure!  I was doing so good and now I can’t play it.  I keep forgetting to practice and I’m making mistakes.  I’ll never be able to play in the recital.”

At first, I just let her sit with me and cry.  Hell, when you’re that frustrated, sometimes a good cry can really help.  I tried to remind her that she did have it down at one point and with a little more practice, she would get there again, but when she gets this upset, it is often futile to attempt any type of reasoning.  So I waited.

Luckily, the boy was downstairs doing backflips off the exercise ball onto the new couch and miscalculated.  The screaming from downstairs was enough to snap my daughter out of her misery and focus on her brother’s.  Once it was determined that the boy was not injured badly (scraped knee) and we were all in agreement that he was a bonehead, things seemed back to normal.

My daughter came up to me and said:  Sometimes I just get so nervous when I have to play in front of people.  I can feel myself start to cry and shake and I am so afraid I will screw up.

Me:  Remember that story we just read about the girl who was afraid of making mistakes?  And the old man helping her said if you are uptight and afraid, the music won’t flow?  We all get afraid about making mistakes, especially in front of other people.  But music should be fun.  You should play it because you enjoy it and it makes you feel good.

Daughter:  I do enjoy it.  I mean, I don’t want to do it when I grow up.  I already know what I want to do when I grow up.  I guess I’m lucky because I already know.

Me:  Just because you don’t want to play music professionally, doesn’t mean you can’t do it.  I love art, but I don’t make money doing it.  I do it because it makes me happy.  And you may know what you want to do now, but that could change.   Growing up and knowing what you want to do doesn’t mean just how you want to earn money.  Life is about how you want to make a mark on the world.  Its about finding what you want to do to make a difference in the world while you are here.  I wish I had figured that out earlier.

Daughter:  But you are making a difference in the world.  You’re my mom.

Insert harp music and soft radiant light here.   She really made me take a step back and pause.

Parenting is like performing on a stage.  You are constantly afraid to make a mistake in front of a crowd.  We often feel judged about how we raise our kids.  We are bombarded with people telling us how to parent.  Don’t feed your kids this.  Teach your kids that.  If you don’t do this, your kid will never succeed, get a job, go to college, learn to self regulated, be responsible, (insert whatever other the guilt trip you’ve heard here).  How the hell are you suppose to ever feel good about the job you’re doing with so many voices out there saying you suck?  I do a perfectly good job on my own with the negative talk, thank you very much.  I don’t need a whole backup band adding any more to the melody.

After she went to bed, I was cleaning up the kitchen and notice something on the frig.


She had written down what I had said to her.  Even put my name down as the author.  When I saw that, I did a double take.  I was truly shocked. That one thing I said had meant enough to her that she stopped and wrote it down so she could remember it.  It was one of those Lifetime movie parenting moments you never really think happen in the real world.    Most of the time, my words fall on deaf ears.  I’m constantly wondering how the hell my kids are ever going to be productive adults in this world when most of the time, they can’t find their way out of a paper bag.   Then something like this happens and all the little pieces fall into place.


That’s when you finally realize….. I got one right.






Five Reasons Everyone Should have an ADHD Friend

1958452_10204703030489229_5528013608169813191_nWe all have a circle of friends that we rely on.  Your support group.  The friends you hang out with and laugh till you cry.  The friends you vent to or seek out when you’re having a bad day.   I call these friends “the A list”.     The list is usually short, but although small in quantity, it is rich in quality.

I am sure just as your group of friends is rich in quality, it is probably also rich in diversity.  While most friends have similar personalities and things in common that draw them into that friendship, it is our differences that add the spark to the relationship.  That is why every circle of friends need at least one ADHDer in their group.  Let me tell you why.

 1. We are very entertaining

One of the best qualities of an ADHDer is our sense of humor.  We love to laugh – at ourselves, at the world, at life in general.  We love to make people laugh and love it when people make us laugh.  If you have a party, an ADHD friend should be first on the list.  We will talk to anyone who will listen. We’ll talk even if no one is listening.  We make great ice breakers.  Cousin Joe in from town and knows nobody?   We’ll make him feel right at home.   We are the ones at the party with the bucket on our head and the first in line for the Conga.  We love to feel happy and we want everyone around us to feel happy too.  We will make it our personal mission that you have a good time in whatever situation you are in with us.


2.  We are good in a crisis

A crisis is all about spontaneity, adeline rush, and chaos.  Everything we ADHDers thrive on.  When the chips are down, we are at our best.  It does not have to be a big crisis.  Any crisis will do.  Car breaks down and you need a ride? You have to bring 450 cupcakes to a fundraiser by tomorrow at 8am?  We’ve got your back.  We aren’t wishing for anything bad to happen, but when it does, your ADHD friend will be the first one there to help. We think outside the box and come up with a plan most would never consider. You can rest easy when we are on the job.  It will all fall into place.

3.  We love a good project

Routines are boring.  Most daily living activities are boring so if you have a project you need help on, we ADHD friends are where to look.  We welcome anything that will distract us from doing the boring things in life – cleaning, food shopping, laundry…we will take any excuse to avoid the mundane.  Need your living room painted the day before Thanksgiving?  We’ll help.  Moving furniture or digging a ditch for a new swimming pool?  Totally into that!  Projects are thrilling and exciting. Our super hyper focus abilities means we will not stop until the project is complete.  Projects let us work with our hands and be around people we love.  What more can you ask for?


4.  We rarely sleep

Up at 3am and need someone to talk to?  Want company on Black Friday or standing in line all night for concert tickets?  We are the people to call.  We hardly ever sleep and when we do, it’s for small periods of time so chances are we are up and looking for something to do.  We are great listeners and we hardly ever gossip since we usually forget the conversation once you are out of sight.  We will keep you company at night when your kid is up all night with the croup.  We are the ones to call at 5am when your sitter bailed and you need someone to get your kids to school so you won’t be late for work.  Give us a chaotic situation and we will be happier then a swine in sh@$t”.  (That’s a Nana quote)

5.  We are game for anything

Going on an adventure?  Please take us along!  We love adventures.  No idea is too crazy for us ADHDers.   We love all things novel and shiny and bright so excursions are a world of excitement and wonder for us.  Whether you are taking a random road trip to NYC to see a play or stalking your favorite celebrity outside his hotel dressing room, you can bet we will be right there by your side.  Be careful though.  We do have a tendency to go too far so make sure you can rein us in or at least have bail money for us.

After reading this, I am sure you are just itching to go out and find yourself an ADHD friend.  In all fairness, I must point out the fine print that comes along with an ADHD friend.  We’re not known for having a very good filter and we have some impulse issues so we often say or do things that can hurt another person.  When we go to far with a joke or we stick our foot in our mouths, please don’t think we meant to hurt you.  We didn’t.   Our brains are moving so fast that things come flying out before our brains can figure out what we said was wrong.  Believe me, we do figure it out.  When we do, we will be crushed at causing you pain.  We are very sorry so please forgive our momentary lap in judgement.

Our compassion, loyalty, and generosity run incredible deep.  We are prone to gigantic highs and crushing lows.   We can run through more emotions in 20 seconds then most people feel in a week.  We feel all emotions so deeply which is why (I believe) we can have such deep empathy for all people.  So don’t take our mood swings personally.  Most of the time our moods have nothing to do with you.  The good thing is our moods are like New England weather, they change every 15 minutes.  If you wait a moment, we will probably come back around.

We are obnoxious, loud and exhausting, but we are also fiercely loyal, tremendously generous with our time and our love, and we can always find the sun through the clouds.

So you are probably wondering how you find an ADHD friend.  It is really not that hard.  Just look for the adult who is rolling down the hill with the kids or throwing herself down the inflatable slide at the Fun Zone.  There’s a pretty good chance that’s one of us. If you jump on the slide and ask to race us, you will be taken into our fold with a booming hello.  Then just hold on and enjoy the ride!



Bookends of Crazy

The other day I posted a video of my children in the morning.  If you happened to miss it, you can check it out on Facebook : www.facebook.com/MostlySaneMamas.

BTW – This is a good day in my house.  I had written this post a few days before so it seemed fitting to send it out into the world now.  Maybe it will give a little more context to the video.

The plus side of having a houseful of people who have a lack of focus and an overabundance of energy is there is hardly any boredom.  Sure we have days where things go smoothly and not much happens, but most days are anything but dull.

Often my day starts and ends with crazy.  Not just chaotic crazy, but bat sh&@t, off the wall crazy.  Like two manic bookends holding in the calm that unfortunately, someone else gets the pleasure of witnessing, mainly my kids’ teachers.




The roughest times, understandably, are in the morning before meds kick in and in the evening when the meds wear off.  Basically, the bulk of the time I have my children.

Nights are usually filled with more meltdowns because my kids are usually exhausted from holding it together all day.  Mornings are more prone to involve activities with lots of energy and chaos, like skateboarding in the kitchen or a rousing session of gymnastics on the couch.

The other night, I asked the boy to get on his pjs, like I do every night shortly after dinner.

His response?

Throw himself on the floor, screaming “why won’t you ever just let me relax?!”

He proceeded to repeat this cry over and over and over for the next 20 minutes as he got himself ready for bed.

My daughter and I found this quite amusing.  The boy – not so much.

My morning can start at any time, be it 3am, 4am or 7am (although that is rarity and usually means someone was up from midnight to 4).  After 10 years of this, I have become well versed in recognizing how far up the crazy scale each morning will be.  Sometimes, its barely a blip on the radar and we all go smoothly into our day.  Other times, someone pulls the pin from the hand grenade and the explosion is intense.

Today was a fine example of a sh&($t storm in the brewing.  When I got up, my daughter was already on the couch with her head in her laptop.  Who knows how long she has been up.  My son, on the other hand, followed me downstairs at 5:45am and grabbed his iPad.

Electronics are banned in our house during the mornings.  We have plenty of other distractions each morning, there is no need to add something as mind sucking as electronics.  I’ve even banned myself (not very successfully) since I am just as guilty of losing track of time and having to rush to make the bus.

Me: Shut it down. No electronics before school.

YaYa: I was just looking up something quick.

Me: Uh huh.  How long have you been up?

Yaya:  I don’t know.  4 something, 5 something.  I don’t remember.

Me: You need to get ready and you still have homework to finish.

Yaya: SIGH!  Fine!

Me: You too, little man.  Time to get ready.

The boy:  Where are my clothes?  Did you bring them down?

Me: Nope.  Thats your job.  You didn’t do it last night so you have to run up and get them now.

The boy slowly slides down the couch onto the floor and proceeds to cry and kick and scream.

I know, its a shock to have to stop what you are doing an get dressed.  Its not like it happens…oh… EVERY. MORNING.   We even have a flipping chart on how to do it!  But every morning, its a surprise.

The boy rallies and gets dressed fairly quickly.  He decided to dress all in camouflage today “so no one will be able to see me.”  Awesome.  If I knew it was that easy to disappear, I would have completely changed my wardrobe years ago.

Everyone gets fed and the boy is ready to go so I let him have his iPad.  My daughter on the other hand, it still not dressed, homework is still undone and she is now under a blanket, reading a book.  It’s 7:05am.  Medicine alarms rings at 7:30 and Bus alarm is at 7:45.  Not looking good.

Me: Last time, you need to get dressed and finish you homework.  If you are not ready, you will miss the bus and get an incomplete.

Nothing.  Silence.  Not even a glance to know she got it.

Me: Hey!  We on the same page?

Yaya:  I got it!  Geez!

Oh how I love my tween!

Finally, my daughter drags herself off the couch completely wrapped in a blanket and sits at the table to do homework.

Yaya:  I can’t do this.  its too hard.

Me:  How can you tell?  You have a blanket over your head.

Nothing.  I’m just staring at a blue blob sitting motionlessly at my kitchen table

Me:  Would you like me to help you?


I reach for the paper so I can read the instructions…the blanket speaks,

“I was reading that!”

I push the paper back over and wait.  My daughter proceeds to slowly bang her head against the table.

It’s 7:15am.  I walk away.

She finally emerges halfway from the blanket and with a little cheerful prodding, she is able to complete her homework relatively quickly and with no injury to herself or others.

But she’s still not dressed.

Me:  Ok.  You need to get dressed.  I’m running up stairs to get my clothes on.  Then we will do medicine.

She pulls the blanket over her head, slowly slides off the chair and proceeds to slither her way into the living room.  She is going in the right direction so I dash off to get dressed.  That’s when I hear the boy say “hey, I want a blanket too!”  I cringe.  Go back down and break up what is sure to turn into a disaster or continue on to get dressed and hope to make it back before chaos erupts?  I choose to get dressed.

I can hear lots of laughter and its getting louder and more intense.  Never a good sign.  I am moving as fast as I can.  The phone rings.  I’m sure its my husband.  My daughter yells she’s got the phone.

I hear “Hi Daddy!”   This is followed by more crazy laughter with some banging and thumping.  Then it happens.  There is a loud crash and the boy starts crying.

I make my way back downstairs and turn the corner into the living room.

The phone is in the middle of the floor and I can hear my husband on speakerphone yelling, “Hello? Hello?”.  The TV tray table is knocked over, there is a blue blanket blob on the floor and my son is crying and holding his face while wrapped in a brown fleece blanket.

The boy: “I hit my face on the table!”

Me: What did you think was going to happen?”

YaYa:  I didn’t do anything!  He did it to himself!

I pick up the phone to save my husband.

Me: Hey.

Hubby: What the hell is happening?

Me:  They are doing that blanket thing.

Hubby:  Ah.  That explains the screaming.

Me: Yep.

Hubby:  So the morning’s going great I see.

Me: Fabulous!

It’s 7:25am and I’m exhausted.  My only ray of hope is that big yellow bus coming at 8am to take my children away and leave me in silence.  That is, if my daughter ever gets dressed.

Trip To The Dentist

Let me just start off by saying this, this post has nothing to do with dealing with children and difficult situations in the dentist’s office. If that was what you were looking for, I’m sorry to say that you will be sadly disappointed. This is a post about my situation at the dentist’s office this morning.

When I was in grad school I had a professor who would run to work, not shower (that we could tell) and just slip in to other clothes before teaching classes or holding office hours. I will call him “Bobby D”. To compound matters, the graduate fellows had offices directly across the math hallway from the professors. The math hallway was narrow, as it was a not a main corridor, so the distance between offices was minimal. The office I shared with another graduate fellow was directly across the hall from Bobby D’s. My desk was set up so that I could not see in to his office, yet I always knew when he was in and when he had chosen to run in to work. My closest friend in grad school was Irish Twin. Despite having an office on the diagonal from Bobby D’s, Irish Twin often wandered over to my office with her nose wrinkled, shortly after Bobby D had arrived at school.

Well, today I pulled a “Bobby D.” Mind you, I did NOT go to work post run. I did however, put in a quick four miles (on a ridiculously humid day), hop in my car, change my shirt, throw on some deodorant, and head to the dentist. What the heck, I thought. I was only getting my night mouth guard. How long would it take?

Forty minutes. Forty minutes to adjust and readjust that mother, while the only two things running through my mind were Do I stink? I must. How can I not? and I’m going to be Tina Fay in Date Night pulling my night guard out of my mouth at the last minute offering to rally. “Oh… oh, no… We can still fool around.” Will Big Man fulfill the Steve Carell role and let me off the hook with “I will light up your life… next time” or are we just moving in to a new, sadly awkward stage of marriage? Forty minutes in the dentist chair. I’m not even one of those people who hates going to the dentist. I love it. I’ve almost fallen asleep in the dentist’s chair once or twice. This morning, if I wasn’t sweaty from my run, I was sweaty from the awkwardness of sitting there, worrying.

Did I mention yet that my dentist is a runner? My dentist is a runner who has often noticed when I have show up for an appointment in full on running gear and has asked if I have just come from a run. My response has always been “No, no. I’m heading out for a run after this. I would never run before coming here. Gross.” I think I even told him about Bobby D once. Of course, I did. Why wouldn’t I? I would never pull that kind of thing. Oh wait, but I did.

I’d love to blame it on motherhood and not having enough time to squeeze everything in, but really, who am I kidding? My kids are both in school all day. If I work, it’s as a substitute teacher and it’s not every day or even every week. I’ve got plenty of time to myself. Actually, as my kids get older they give me fewer and fewer excuses to use. I really only have myself to blame for the fact that there are more people out there who would never recognize me with straight, dry hair, make-up and normal clothes than without. It’s just that I am that girl who doesn’t give a crap. Unless, of course, I’m going to the dentist office…


If A Parent Speaks in the Kitchen and Children are There, Does Anyone Hear What is Said?

Blah Blah Blah

About 90% of the things that come out of my mouth are a waste of time.  Why?  Because most of the time my words are never heard.  Whether I am speaking to my kids, my husband, or even my dog, the words coming out of my mouth often never reach my intended target.  It’s almost like I never spoke at all.


Recently, my kids and I were gathered in the kitchen for our morning medication routine.  After giving my kids their downers and popping my uppers, I decided things were going well enough to broach the subject of dinner.


I know – big mistake.  A) I should NEVER ask an opinion on dinner.  It always leads nowhere and ends with me pissed off with a headache.  And 2) Don’t ask about something that is more than 5 minutes into the future.  It’s a lost cause.  They’ll never remember the conversation and I am then badgered for the next 7 hours about what’s for dinner.


But on this fine day, I broke my rules.  The following that occurred is true.  Only the names have been changed for no real reason.


Me:  Hey guys, listen up.  Hey, guys, look at me…look at me. (touching each kid’s shoulder)    I have to ask you something.  You listening?  Everyone?


Them:  Yes.  (briefly making eye contact)


Me:  I was going to make kielbasa and rice tonight, but we had chicken and rice last night.  Do you want kielbasa or grilled cheese instead.


Now I know that is a long sentence and a lot of information followed by a choice, which throws my kids.  This was evident since by the time I said “kielbasa” the first time, the boy had gone back to playing with his lego figure and my daughter had turn to her brother and started an entirely different conversation with him, essentially talking over me.


Me:  Hey!  Hello?  I just asked you a question.  Did you hear me at all?


Yaya:  Yes. Of course!


Me; What did I say?


Yaya: ( blank stare)  Umm.  You said brush your hair and your teeth.


Me:  That was a half an hour ago.


Yaya: Oh.

Me:  (to the boy)  What about you?


The boy:  Umm, well, I don’t know because I can’t read yet.


Me:  Seriously?  I asked you a question.  I didn’t write anything down.  There was nothing to read.


The boy:  Oh.  Well, I don’t know because ummm,you know, I can’t talk so I, ummm, I don’t remember.




Me:  I asked about din…


Yaya:  Grilled Cheese!  I want grilled cheese!


Me:  Oooo-k.  That good with you, dude?


The boy:  No.  I want a hot dog.  And I want it shaped like a squid.


Yaya:  Oh me too! Can I have a squid hotdog?


Me:   Sure.  How about hot dogs with mac and cheese?


The boy:  Wait.  I want mine to look like a human instead.


Yaya:  A human?  That’s gross!  I still want a squid.


The boy:  No wait!  Can you make mine into a creeper?  That what I want!


Yaya:  Oooo!  I want an Enderman hot dog!


Me:  I’ll make it into the Statue of Liberty if we can just stop this conversation.


Great. Now I have a headache.



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



Dirty Laundry

My husband usually does most of the laundry in our house since he is always flying off somewhere and needs clothes.  It is probably a self defense thing on his part since he gets clean clothes quicker doing it himself then waiting around for me to remember there is laundry to do.  That said, when he is away, I tend to forgot we even have a laundry room in the house and it soon piles up at an alarming rate.   Which is why I hate laundry.  Miss one day and soon there is a moutain of dirty underwear piled on your basement floor.  It’s a no win situation.   So I decide to make up a song about my disdain for laundry.  Before you watch it (or if you watch it), I would like to present the following disclaimers:

1.  I CAN’T SING!  If you have seen my other video, Snow Days, you will know this and are prepared for the off key howl which I call singing.  I know I can’t sing.  My husband, as well, has told me I can’t sing  (I guess the honeymoon’s over).  After 13 years of marriage, he might possibly be embarrassed by me.

2.  It is very hard to make a video (even a bad one) by yourself.  I used to be in video production in my former life so I know what it takes.   Back when I was doing video, there were plenty of warped individuals who liked to do crazy videos and found them just as hilarious as I did. Now, at 45, the amount of individuals who would willing participate in such antics with me have dwindled so I am all alone on this venture, just me, a tripod and a camera.  Even my children, who once thought I was funny, have shunned me.  My children are now at the age where I embarrass them and no longer want to help me.  They used to be willing participants and now they want nothing to do with my videos.  I am beginning to think they might not really be my kids.

3. These are not award winning videos.  They won’t go viral and many of you won’t find them funny.  That’s OK.  I think there are funny and a few of my friends do too.  My warped mind is always coming up with strange things and this is an outlet for me to be creative and have some fun.  If you find them funny, great.  We should be friends.  If not, then I’m sure there’s a cat video somewhere that you can watch.

So here it is.  Enjoy

Oh, one more thing….no laundry was done in the making of this video.



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!

Image IMG_1190




A couple of weeks ago Little Man fessed up to a situation where he and Lady Bug had been pulling a fast one over on the parents.  I was impressed that my six year old came clean.  Big Man had been suspicious about what the kids were up to when he came home from work a few times.  Usually, I was making dinner whenever the dynamic duo was up to no good and Daddy came in looking for his I’m-home-from-busting-my-a$$-all-day-to-support-you-people-hug-me! greeting.  Now, the children were not selling drugs, committing murder, or any other such nonsense, but because Lady Bug is 8 going on 16, I am not allowed to divulge her personal information on-line without her express written consent or that of her legal counsel.  Really.  With that in mind, you’ll just have to trust me when I say the crime was punishment-worthy, but nothing too serious.

I would love to take credit for raising such a fine, upstanding young man as Little Man, whose conscience would not allow him to continue with the deceit.  However, I’m really not that good of a parent.  I was helping him while he was in the shower when he asked me if I keep secrets from Daddy.

ME:  Of course, not Buddy.  We’re a family.  I don’t keep secrets from Daddy, or you, or your sister.  Unless it’s a good secret, like what I got you for your birthday, or a surprise trip.  Only fun secrets.

LM:  Oh, well, I have something to tell you then.

ME:  Ok.  What is it?

LM:  (Confession, which also involved taking his sister down, as they were in cahoots.)

ME:  Oh. Well thanks for telling me about this.  You know that we’re all going to have to sit down and talk about this before bed.  You, me, daddy, your sister.  What made you tell me this now?  Sounds like this has been going on for a bit.

LM:  Well, remember this morning when Lady Bug was reading her Fancy Nancy: Super Sleuth book to me?  Remember Nancy’s sister JoJo felt guilty about taking the marble and it made her feel sick, but then she told the truth and it made her feel better?  I’ve been thinking about that a lot today.

Fancy Nancy

Thanks, Jane O’Connor.  You are an excellent parent.  Me, not so much.  I can take credit for buying your book, that’s about it.  And to be perfectly honest, I had no idea there was such a good message about telling the truth in your book when I picked it up at Target.  Well done, Jane, well done.

I know that I’m pretty lucky in lots of ways.  But specifically to this scenario, I have at least one child who picked up on the message in the book his sister read to him and did the right thing.  I also have an 8 year old who will read 124 pages of anything to her brother after breakfast.  And while I’m not too thrilled that the kiddos were teaming up together to hide stuff from mom and dad, they did have each others backs until Little Man’s conscience kicked in.  Now that’s the stuff that I hope carries them through life.  Somebody’s got to have your back.  It might as well be your brother or sister.  I can’t say that I remember being that good of a sibling to Lil’ Sis or Baby Bro and vice versa.

As for their punishment?  No screen time what-so-ever for three days, plus a weekend with no screen time at home.  And guess what?  They spent their mornings before we headed off for each day’s activities lounging about, reading.  I hope they picked up some more good messages along the way, because apparently I’ve been falling down on the job!