10 Days into Summer Vacation…..

Summer Vacation is not for sissies. Mainly those of us who are stay at home moms. For the record, I have been both a stay at home mom, and a working mom. Both are hard. However, it is my opinion, especially that I am in my own 10 days of Summer Vacation, that being a stay at home mom while the children are on summer break is one of the hardest job there is. A job I may add that I do not get paid for…..hugs and kisses do not count. Anyone who says hugs and kisses are payment enough, need to spend a day with my kids.

I do love being able to sleep in. That is a nice change that lasted about two days. Can anyone explain to me why my children feel the need to wake up earlier than they would if they were going to school? It has to be some kind of conspiracy. (At my expense.)

Also, they are constantly hungry. Every time there is “down” time I hear the glorious words “Mom, I am hungry.” Okay really, you just ate ten minutes ago, you are not hungry.

Oh and the “down time.” Now, for the first few days I kept the kids busy. I was all in my “Yes, I am going to be on of those Pinterest moms and keep my children active and creative. They will not sit in front of the t.v all day long.”

Yeah. Screw that. I was able to last two days until the little monsters wore me out. Last week I was actually excited because I found a new park we could go to. Guess what? I was the only one who liked the park. So, we left. We went to another park. Guess what? They did not like that park. They sat on the bench and would not go play. Do you want to know why? Because they were hungry. Of course.

Then I told myself  “Okay Jen, you know what, boredom is good for the kids. They need to learn how to entertain themselves without relying on me.” That lasted about 45 minutes. Granted those 45 were glorious. However it swiftly ended when their form of “entertaining themselves” involved throwing their ball off of our balcony so they could see how far it would go. Do you want to know how far the blasted ball went? All the way to our neighbors car. I know this because of the neighbors car alarm. That was fun to explain.

So then I had one of my not so brilliant ideas. Brownies! Score, right? Brownies are food, we know by now that my children love food. I can also throw a cooking lesson in there. Surely this would keep them busy. Guess what? Brownies only take 10 minutes to make.

I will say tonight was the best night ever. Want to know why? The Disney channel was premiering Teen Beach Movie Two. This is a thing with my kids. They love the first Teen beach Movie, which I have seen more times than Frozen, if you can believe that. All day long all they could talk about was Teen Beach Movie Two. It was a great day. Then, between the hours of 8 and 10, complete silence. other than their burst of laughter from their room as they were watching the movie. That was kinda cute, although it did not last long.

As soon as the movie ended, I am greeted with “Mom, that was the best movie ever, what are we going to do tomorrow?” God help me.

Then, the icing on the cake. My son got attacked by a stray cat. Like seriously attacked. You can see the bite marks on his arm. I am talking puncture wounds. Of course we do not have peroxide. I believe the girl’s used it for some kind of science experiment. My son, being the clever soul he is decided to use mouth wash on his arm “because it has alcohol in it.” Yeah, no it does not. Do you know how I know this? Because it clearly says on the bottle “Alcohol Free.” I did not even have the energy to tell him that he smells like toothpaste for nothing.

Anyone want to take a gander on what my husband suggested he use instead? My vodka!!! Seriously. My husband was washing Vinnies arm in vodka. So, now instead of smelling like toothpaste, he smells like a drunk. Of course.

Oh yes, I forgot to mention. My husband has also been on vacation this week, which is another blog post all in its self.

This is why I drink people, speaking of, I do believe….

Vodka is Calling.

Guilty! (but not really, this really was not my fault)

I really think I am messing my kids up. To the point where I need to put a pay pal account up for their future therapy.

I am not exactly sure how this happened, but somehow my 10 and 8 year old daughters believe that once you become an adult, you will no longer have to pee or poop.

Yeah. I seriously have no idea where they come up with this.

10 yr old~ Mom, when do you stop using the bathroom?

Me~ Umm, what?

10 year old~ When do you stop going pee and poop?

8 yr old~ When you are a grown up.

Me~ Okay….what?!?!?!

10 yr old~ Okay so what age?

8 yr old~ When you get older, just a little bit older, when you are done being a teenager. That is when you do not pee or poop anymore. Grown up people do not pee or poop. I know this because I am so very smart.

Me~ WHAT??????

10 year old~ Okay good. I can’t wait.

Me~ Can’t wait for what?

10 year old~ Pay attention Mom, I cannot wait to not pee or poop.

8 yr old~ Me too!!!

Me~ Ummm, who told you guys this?

Both girls in unison~ YOU DID MOM, DUH!!!

Me~ What?????!!!!????!!!

10 year old~ When you bought me that gross book about pads and tampons and underwear, and the stupid body changing, you told us no more pee or poop.

Me~ No, no I did not! What? When? What did I say?

10 year old~ You said when we have to use the pad or the other thing we will not have to pee or poop.

Me~ Okay……I think maybe you misunderstood.

I told you I am messing them up! I am not even sure how this happened. I put so much thought and care, and sensitivity into buying the American Girl book that explains the body changing and all that good stuff. I was actually quite proud how I handled the whole puberty thing.

And now? Now it looks like I somehow convinced my daughters that after you are a teenager you no loner have to pee or poop??

So yeah. I will be accepting donations for their much needed therapy that will most likely happen in the very near future.
This was another writing prompt from the infamous Mama Kat


Shattered Dreams

I never talk about my age.

Well, I do, but most likely it is me lying about my age. The closest you will ever get to knowing how old I am, will most likely be through this particular blog post. (Or if you catch me while watching The Real Housewives of New York and the vodka has taken over)

I grew up in the age of the Hair Bands. Oh how I loved my Hair Bands. Warrant was my very first concert in Virginia Beach. When my friend Jodi asked me if I wanted to go to the concert I was nervous. I had never been to a concert before, but I loved me some Warrant (She’s My Cherry Pie!) I would play the tape (yes, I said tape, another clue on how old I am) over and over again on my boom box. (Shut up.) When I had asked permission from The Parents to go see Warrant in concert (side note, I knew they would say yes, if memory serves me correctly, they had just returned from The Rolling Stones concert)  I was greeted with “Of course you can go, just be prepared, you will either love it or hate it, there is no in between.”

Guess what. I totally loved it.

That summer, seeing Warrant at the Boathouse started a very long list of concerts that would quickly come.  Montley Crue, Skid Row, Aerosmith, Deff Leppard, Nelson (you get extra points if you remember Nelson.) I had found my calling. This was all I wanted to do. Go to concerts, all summer long.

Skid Row was my favorite. To the point where one day in The Parents kitchen, while everyone was getting ready for dinner, I excitedly told them how I plan on marrying Sebastian Bach and I wanted to be a groupie. You could hear crickets. I wanted to be a groupie. Little ole virgin me had just announced to The Parents  over dinner that my main goal in life was to marry Sebastian Bach, but first I must become a groupie.

I always wondered why they did not support me in this new endeavor of mine.

You may be shocked to hear I have lived a very sheltered life. I was 17 when I had my first boyfriend. I was home schooled. I was the shy girl who had no friends. So of course it made total sense that I should become a groupie, right?

Fast forward two years.

Funny thing. Did you know there is a difference between being a groupie and being a roadie? Well neither did I. Just to be clear, there is a huge difference. Prostitution to be exact. Imagine my surprise when I found out a groupie enjoys the company of men, well, enjoys the company of the band members…..okay, to be clear, a groupie is someone who will sleep with whoever it takes to meet the band members. This totally explains why The Parents were not supportive of me being a groupie, right?!

I do have to wonder why they did not think to correct me. Why no one thought to tell me “Jennifer, perhaps you mean roadie, someone who helps the band set up their equipment, and not a groupie, which is another name for a whore.”

Were they waiting for me to find out on my own? Did they know I would be totally embarrassed telling everyone I came in contact with that I was going to be a groupie for Skid Row? Or……and I had not even thought of this til JUST NOW, maybe they did not know the difference? Okay, I am reaching aren’t I?

Perhaps it was my determination to be a groupie and later, Sebastian Bachs wife, that led The Parents not to clue me in on what a bad bad idea this was. Perhaps The Parents thought this was a “teaching moment” for me, and perhaps they figured if I was that determined to be a groupie and Sebastian Bachs wife, then maybe I first need to learn what exactly a groupie is.

Another funny thing. I ended up getting pregnant just two years later. At the tender age of 19.

Unfortunately, it was not by Sebastian Bach.

And, I never became a groupie….or roadie.

Shattered reams I tell you, shattered dreams.


So I almost died today.

So I almost died today.

Here is the setting. I am standing outside my daughters school, waiting for my 9 yr old to come out. I am also playing on my phone, trying to “fix” the first ever “selfie” I took of myself while waiting in the car. It’s the important things you know.

The little kindergartners come out, and they are all looking at me with this wide eyed look. I figured they had a bad day in school. Then the teacher looks at me with the same wide eyed look and says “Jennifer, you need to get over here now.” So of course, I am freaked out. “Why? What? What’s going on?”

I turn around knowing there is not anyone behind me, because I am standing in front of a wall. Well, what do you think is looking back at me as I turn around?

A rat. Yes. The biggest, fattest rat I have ever seen is hanging on the wall right above my head!

I had no idea rats could even just sit and hang out on a wall?!?!

So of course I screamed, which sent a domino effect into motion. All the kids starting to scream, and run, and complete chaos. It was bad. Very very bad.

The poor kindergartners are probably going to have nightmares about killer rats, which will prompt their parents to call the school and ask WTH happened………and I will then be outed as the paranoid mom who scared all the children because I was thisclose to death with the rat almost attacking my head.