When Baby Makes Three

holding baby

There are certain events in life that are tailor made for a contract. Buying a home? Get it in writing. Landed a new job with a big fat salary and a comprehensive dental plan? It’s only a reality after you sign your John Hancock. Have a bunch of moola before you get married? Better get a pre-nup.

So shouldn’t it follow that BEFORE your baby is even conceived, parents-to-be should sign on the dotted line to map out every little detail of the upcoming child- rearing gig? That’s exactly the arrangement, dubbed a “pre-pup,” that Rebecca Onion recently proposed in an article on Slate.com.

Ms. Onion, 36, mused about the many changes becoming a mother might bring. She wrote, “I’m willing to allow that being a mom might strip me of some of my independence.” (emphasis mine).

Some?

As a mother of two, I can’t stop laughing.

Ms. Onion, should you ever be standing in the bathroom watching those little blue lines appear on that pregnancy test stick signaling Baby’s on Board, there’s only one thing to do. Look into the bathroom mirror, gaze at your reflection, and give yourself a little smooch.

This is you kissing your independence goodbye. [Read more…]

50 Shades of A Real Mother

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The 50 Shades of Grey Trilogy, written by E.L. James, has become a worldwide phenomenon. This series continues to reach unprecedented sales milestones that suggest every man and woman on the planet currently owns a copy.  The craze started for the self-published James thanks to friends telling friends and ebooks – where women could simply download James’ smutty tales in the privacy of their own homes.

Which, of course, is the digital equivalent of a brown paper bag.

And now, just in time for Valentine’s Day 2015, the movie version hits the big screen.

In 2012, everywhere you looked women were toting around, and actually READING, copies 50 Shades in public. Without so much as blushing.  In the Chicago airport, I witnessed women of all ages, from gray haired grannies to moms with babies in strollers, so totally mesmerized while reading the book they nearly missed their flights.  If the sales numbers are any indication, the odds are good that my own mother has a copy of the book on her nightstand.

The mere thought is so horrifying; I’m going to need therapy. [Read more…]

Montana Dress Code – Say it Ain’t So

pix - scared person

As I was reading the recent publication of the 64th Montana House of Representatives Legislative Session Dress Code, I have to admit, for a moment I thought it was a satire piece straight from the pages of The Onion. Then I realized the truth. This was no joke.

I laughed so hard my bonnet nearly fell off.

It seems that certain male members of the Montana State Legislature have worked their whitey-tighties into a knot.

Apparently they have a mighty big problem with the apparel of some of the females who enter the state house. Their specific concerns involve the revealing nature of the knee and chestal areas of female attire.

This stance, of course, begs the question: Who elected Ward Cleaver?

Jeanette Rankin just rolled over in her grave.

When you parse the words of this edict, it seems like a reasonable assumption that the fairer sex has routinely been distracting the men-folk from their elected duties. From the stern tone, clearly these Girls Gone Wild have been entering the chambers wearing necklines that are too low, hemlines that are too high, and heaven forbid, the ever-too revealing open-toe pump. These admonishments suggest that women have been strutting into the legislative session on the arm of David Lee Roth just before shimmying down a pole to the thumping beat of Walk This Way.

No doubt, flaunting their toe cleavage.

So female members of the house may no longer purchase clothing at Ann Taylor, Banana Republic or Jones New York. Instead, they would be prudent to enter chambers wearing the latest in Duggar-wear.

Our nation has seen the Women’s Rights Movement and Title XI. We’ve Come a Long Way, Baby, except on the Montana State House floor. [Read more…]

Not Eggs-axctly What the Easter Bunny Had in Mind

egg huntAn Easter Egg Hunt at the Seattle’s Woodland Park Zoo turned from a festive spring holiday event into a hard boiled criminal case when two moms got into a fist fight.  According to witnesses, the fight started when one of the mothers shoved a kid out of the way so her snot-nosed brat could get to the plastic eggs first. Because nothing captures the spirit of this Christian holiday like punching another mom in the mouth in front of a bunch of kindergarteners.

Makes you wonder if they were filming an episode of Teen Mom 2.  .  .

The brawling women had to be separated multiple times.  After the profanity-laced tirade in front of 4-6 year-olds was over, one of the women left with more than an Easter basket – she also left with a bloody nose.

Talk about a bad eggs-xample of parenting.

Santa, for the sake of Mall Elves everywhere, put this chick on the naughty list.

Update: Thanks to the eyewitness account of a nearby woodland creature, police have cracked the case.

When Cupid Makes You Stupid

Many people remember the instant it happens.  And nothing is ever the same.  The sun is brighter.  Mr. Bluebird lands on your shoulder because you’re just so darned happy.  You’ve become so annoying that your closest friends are actually plotting Mr. Bluebird’s untimely demise.

And that’s a sure sign that you are head over heels in love.

Every teenager experiences that universal rite of passage known as falling in love – usually with a person who doesn’t even know they occupy space on planet earth.  For me, it was probably best if I remained unnoticed by my high school Crush de Jour.  With my unibrow, a space between my front teeth big enough to park a Prius and a wardrobe from the Sears flammable collection, not being noticed was probably best to keep at least one tiny shard of my fragile teenage ego intact.

But eventually those unacknowledged teenage crushes pave the way for Real Life LOVE.  It’s On the Job Training for that life changing moment when Cupid runs over you driving that Mack Truck of full of Flaming Amore Arrows.  You can’t eat.  You can’t sleep. You can’t talk about anything but your One and Only.  That special someone has swept you off your feet.

It’s hopeless when you’re smitten.  Then it’s all over except for deciding between the FryDaddy Jr. or the George Foreman Grill for the registry.  What the heck, you only have a few weddings in this lifetime, make them special.  So don’t be greedy, you can ask for the Foreman on the next go round.

Those were the days.

It used to be simple.  But now with eHarmony, Speed Dating and Relationship Agreements, the Rules of Engagement as I learned them have been redefined.

Online dating confuses me.  Should your search for true love involve a search engine?  We’ve become so desperate that we’ll believe that skeevy eHarmony guy who I’m convinced is the Pina Colada Song Guy from the 80s.  Are we gullible enough to believe our soulmate looks just like Brad Pitt, who is a food and wine connoisseur and spends weekends at his cabin on the lake? While his online mugshot may resemble Young Brad from Thelma and Louise, it’s a much bleaker image in reality.  Your Online Sweetie’s country cabin could possibly involve wheels and cinder blocks and he may consider serving KFC from a bucket while swilling Miller Lite a gourmand’s delight.

After your encounter with Online Bad, you’ll fully understand why love is occasionally blind.

And now looking for love no longer has to waste time – with Speed Dating.  One night, twenty dates, four minutes each.  No awkward small talk or worries about food plastered on your front tooth.

Apparently it works.

Just ask the couple whose engagement announcement recalled their first speed date.  The groom-to-be summed it up succinctly in the New York Times, “She was articulate and worth seeing again.”

What sweet nothings will you utter at the altar, Romeo?  You’ll Do?

With that attitude, he’ll probably not even make it to Kim Kardashian’s martial finish line.

Now thanks to Mr. Facebook, we have Relationship Agreements to define our dating life.   Mark Zuckerberg may know a thing or two about online relationships but apparently he needed help with his real-life one.  Mark and his then-girlfriend wrote up a dating accord that required him to take her on one date and spend one hundred minutes with her a week.

So when you start swooning, make the call – to your attorney.

Maybe New York Times Bride-in-Waiting should follow Mark’s lead. She could definitely use a Relationship Agreement – with another guy.

 

 

 

Sign of the Times

 

In all my years, I have never, ever had any incident in a public restroom that prompted me to think that is SO weird; it must be captured on film. But on a recent trip, that’s exactly what happened. [Read more…]

How’d You Find Me?

I’m always curious about how people find my blog.  Do they find the link from my column at the Bozeman Daily Chronicle?  Have they read A Real Mother: stumbling through motherhood?  Found it on Facebook?

All good to know, but my all time FAVORITE way (and by far THE  most fun) is to check out the search terms people use to find me.  I find myself repeatedly uttering WTF?

These are some of my favorites – exactly as they appeared in the search engine: [Read more…]

A Letter to My Hacker

Dear Sir,

We haven’t met personally, so normally I would take a moment to introduce myself.  Although I don’t know you, it’s clear you already know me.  In fact, you could say we’re almost like the same person.

That’s because you stole my identity, you Cyber Scum.

Now I’m racking my brain trying to figure out how you did it.  So I did a little research about how scoundrels like you operate.

I already knew about your phony phishing schemes.  Don’t think I’ll ever wire you money for the taxes to claim my big win in the foreign lottery.  You can’t fool me with your offers to Work-at-Home.

If you paid any attention, you Hack, you’d already know I do that. [Read more…]

Minor Catastrophes Meets A Real Mother

No, I’m not in the midst of a minor catastrophe (although I do seem to regularly experience them), I’m ON Minor Catastrophes, Megan Regnerus’ very funny blog about one mom, two dads, three boys and one very naughty dog.  Megan was kind enough to feature me in her Your Turn profile.  Stop by and say howdy.  Ms. Megan totally rocks.

WARNING: The lovely Megan makes me sound WAY cooler than I am.  If you see the photo from my youth on her blog . . . then you’ll know the truth.  I am not, nor will I ever be, cool.  

Mommy Needs A Drink – Part Deux

My Friday?  Surgery to fix Older Boy’s broken nose.  Check.  Doctor visit to examine Younger Boy’s ankle in cast – referral to orthopedic surgeon. Check.  The Husband, who also blew out a calf muscle last week playing basketball with Younger Boy, down for the count with stomach flu. Check.

Mommy needs a drink.

Only I am warped enough to make my bruised, bandaged and possibly  hurling family sit down and pose for what might become our Christmas photo.  And looky, Mommy found a drink!

Mommy’s day is getting better.

this is wrong on so many levels

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