For two weeks I gave it my all. I bribed them, only to have my props eaten mid-shot.

I pleaded with them to look at me, only to be blatantly ignored.

And even worse, I had them simply turn their backs on me and walk away.

They gave me smiles so fake I had to cringe,

and crawled out of the holes I set them in.

I joined in to tickle them into smiles,

But still, had nothing.

Then came the last night of our trip. The night that Evan pulled off his diaper and proceeded to run around the yard wearing only a shirt. Too lazy to get a new one, I momentarily forgot about my mission. I half hazardly captured a few shots, not paying attention to his lack of bottoms.

Later that night, when I reviewed my pictures, I discovered something horrible. Something unthinkable: I had captured the impossible– the perfect photo, featuring Ben, Lily, Evan. All looking at the camera, acting like serene versions of themselves, surrounded by glowing light.

Perfect.

Except for one tiny little thing…

It totally serves me right.

©2009 Scary Mommy. All Rights Reserved.

Goodbye beach

goodbye pond

goodbye lobster rolls and days so long

goodbye fish and goodbye shells

goodbye bubbles, and whistles and bells

goodbye ice cream

goodbye daydreams

goodbye fried clams and cookies and cream

goodbye little house

goodbye big yard

goodbye playing so very hard

goodbye stars, goodbye sea air

goodbye sand, everywhere.

{Inspired by Goodnight Moon. Obviously.}

And a huge thank you to all of my lovely guest posters for filling in—it was wonderful having a break. And I’m ready to come back!

©2009 Scary Mommy. All Rights Reserved.

There are many different types of moments that we experience as mothers; seconds of pure joy, sadness, excitement…and even panic.  The tagline of Jill’s blog, “the good, the bad, and the scary,” immediately caught my attention when I first clicked on her site.  I had never really thought of motherhood in these terms, but Jill, in all of her infinite wisdom, is right.  There are scary moments; times when you look around and say, what the hell?  How did I get myself into this?

That was certainly the case as I sat in a “meet and greet” session for my son’s pre-school class last week.  I arrived at the meeting in full glory: late, desperate to get my two toddler children to walk beside me, my daughter’s breakfast wiped on my pant leg, and without the forms that I was supposed to read and sign.  I tried to sneak quietly to the back of the room and crouch down into a chair meant for someone about an 1/8 of my size.  My hope to go unnoticed was shattered when my son yelled out, “Mama, I made pee-pees.  Change my diaper nooooowwwwww!”  We were not off to a good start.

Thankfully, the formal introductions soon ended and the kids were ushered outside to play.  The head teacher instructed the remaining group of moms to gather our chairs in a circle so that we could “get to know one another better.”

What?  My stomach began to drop.  Forced social interaction?!  As I looked around the room, I was petrified.  What was I going to say when asked to describe myself and what I do for a living?  I was pretty sure that launching into a detailed talk about our blog and my determination not to be buried alive by the pile of laundry in my house were not good choices for “openers,” especially with these ladies…

The woman who most caught my eye was the Perfect Mom.  She was beautiful and flawlessly made up by 9:00 am.  How did she possibly accomplish such a miracle?  Honestly, I have a hard time remembering the last time I shaved.  Perfect Mom even had the painted finger and toe nails that coordinated with her outfit.  Looking at her was like staring into the sun.

The Me-Me-Me Mom was easily identified.  Once she was given the opportunity to talk, I was amazed at how she only seemed to breathe every ten minutes.  Eventually the instructor cut her off.  The group could not take much more of her diatribe regarding how brilliant her children are, how loving her husband is, and just how thrilled she is to be a part of the group.

Hippy-Dippy Mom came next.  Here in the land of Berkeley, California, these women are not hard to spot.  Their hippy chic style and infinite number of gold bangles make them stand out in any crowd.  This woman seemed nice enough, until her boy, who had long hair and was wearing a skirt, made me stop and stare.  During her introduction, H-D Mom explained the importance of letting her children chose their own sexual identity.  Good times, good time!

Finally, we came to what I like to call the CSI-Mom.  She somehow managed to turn her introduction into a shake-down of the head teacher.  She rattled off questions non-stop to the poor woman:  What were her qualifications?  Where did she go to school?  How would she ensure that the kids in the class achieved academic excellence in the fall?

I knew that my turn would be next.  I had to laugh as I thought about how I would describe myself.  I am the Scatterbrained Mom; the woman who lost a bit of her brain when she started having kids.  I’m late to everything, my house is a disaster, and I usually look more than just a little disheveled.

My world can be a scary, scary place.  Is yours?  Tell me, what kind of mom are you?

©2009 Scary Mommy. All Rights Reserved.

I’m not trying to steal any thunder from Jana, but I do have my mean mom moments. I wasn’t born into the “stern” school of parenting, but I was born in Italy, where mom is the boss – and boy, do I enjoy my role as boss ;-)

Italians tend to be of the viewpoint that mom knows best, and that comes in quite handy. Also, Italian moms develop a bossy, controlling streak quite early in life – but manage to balance that out by being affectionate, fun-loving and awesome cooks, so everyone loves them despite the tendency to occasionally play dictator.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t expect my kids to obey like little soldiers, but I do sometimes want them to do things they don’t like to do. Tidying up is definitely on top of the list. Their room is a constant mess. Even when I do dive in and declutter and re-organize and move beds and dressers and vacuum everywhere, it still only lasts for a few hours, half a day tops. And my daughters seem to have inherited my dislike for household chores, so they are not so happy with me when I make them tidy up.

Sarah, my 10-year old, doesn’t usually call me “mean” – she is very Swiss in a way, so not always vocal about her feelings – but she has a face she makes when she thinks I’m being mean.  She makes the face, which I guess would be a glare if she had a mean bone in her body herself, and then stomps away. Occasionally, she will add “that’s not fair”, but she usually does the wannabe-glare and stomp combo. Actions speak louder than words, don’t they?

Unless you are Stella, that is. In her case, words can definitely be louder. She is now in the Terrible Threes, and it’s not exactly a walk in the park. I used to laugh at the Terrible Twos cliché, because really, what was so terrible about her? That she made a mess? Big whoop, I’m messy too. Then a few weeks ago, right around her third birthday, the tantrum started. The ones from the jokes, the ones from comedies, because a child screaming and throwing himself on the floor is not funny anywhere else, really.

So Stella chooses a radically different approach from her sister. And I have to admit I’m kind of scared of the day they decide to gang up on me. Then it’ll be payback for all the times I made them tidy up their room.

©2009 Scary Mommy. All Rights Reserved.

I can’t stop crying. Don’t worry – not literally. I mean, I CAN stop crying…it just seems like I’m crying an awful lot lately. And about nothing in particular.

Like yesterday my friend emailed me and said something that really touched me, and I started crying. Then I replied, and she wrote back, and I cried some more… And the day before I was looking at another friend’s profile on Facebook — she had a few random pictures posted of her attending someone else’s (who I didn’t even know) birthday party. And I started really crying. Bawling. ?!?! I hadn’t even seen that friend in 12 (TWELVE) years! We’ve been emailing today and there have been even more tears.

I am not even sure why I was crying…Is it because I am feeling just a little bit isolated being a stay at home mom? Dare I even complain about being in a position that I feel unbelievably lucky to be in, in the first place? I never thought I’d want to stay home, much less be able to…and now that I am, I absolutely love it 100% of the time. Seriously – I do. My daughter and my husband light up my life.

But I also miss my identity before Ms. Foo came along. I don’t think I used to define myself by my job. But I worked damn hard to get to the position I was in, before I decided to stay home. I was finally getting paid to write. And now, I write for fun. Here. And all the new friends I make will know me as Christy the mom. But I’m so much more than that, I think. Aren’t we all?

I miss seeing my old friends in Virginia. Friends who knew me when. Don’t get me wrong, I have friends here in Philly. Great friends. Fabulous friends. Friends who have kids and friends who don’t. Friends who love to eat and drink and play Hearts till we pass out. Friends we traveled to Brazil with last year. (I wouldn’t travel to another hemisphere with just anyone.)

But we don’t get together nearly as much we should (boring). Why is that? Baby goes to bed early and sleep really does reign supreme. But still… She incubated in my womb for over nine months, and I naively thought we’d have some freedom after she emerged. Instead, she is now incubating inside the four walls of our home.

So I find myself crying for a bit, and then motivating to get out of the house…for instance, Ms. Foo and I went to Wegmans and to a Mommy and Me activity at the mall today.

I know other moms feel the same way, but god it feels good to get out of the house and talk to other adults. Ms. Foo’s babbling is adorable – but I didn’t even realize how much I missed interacting with other adults until we went to our first playdate last week. I felt so unsure myself – it was crazy! I felt like I had to explain everything to a child…when I was talking to fellow adults!!!

I was telling myself – stop – be normal! But I swear it was hard. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to speak to people I don’t know. I talk to my husband, mom and various other family members on the phone all the time. But other moms I don’t know – not so much. That’s why I’m so grateful to have stumbled upon this moms group in my town – it is so nice to talk to them in person, in real life!! It’s pretty funny, really. It’s easier for me to speak to my six month old baby and three year old black lab than it is for me to talk to a roomful of fellow thirty-something moms. Ludicrous.

I wish I had someone I could call during the week and say, hey, want to come over for dinner tonight? Matt’s working late and I’ve got HGTV on tape, chicken marsala on the menu and a bottle of prosecco with your name on it. And though I don’t have that person/those people to call yet, it’s got to be just a matter of time.

I’m sure my hormones have something to do with it…Six months of breastfeeding, after nine and a half months of pregnancy, after a year of fertility treatments will do that to a woman, I suppose.

I know, I know, I am so blessed. My life right now is pretty freaking awesome, and yet…it doesn’t feel complete.

So, for now I’m content with my happy little family and my friends who I don’t see often enough and my play date friends and the emails and blogs of my friends from home and the new blogs I’m discovering and the occasional visits from my family. But I hope one day soon I see my friends more often, and have some spur of the moment HGTV and prosecco, because could it really get any better than that? I think not.

©2009 Scary Mommy. All Rights Reserved.

When you have sick kids, or kids that are threatening to be sick, the smart thing to do would be pick up on those subtle signs, like vomiting, and then batten down the hatches and stay home. It really is for the best. Unless of course, you are me.

A couple weeks ago, the stomach flu went through the house. The good part was that it was a very fast moving bug. Each kid got sick once, was a little crabby and that was it. They were done, life could go on.

So, on the morning of a playgroup with my sister and her kids, when Claire threw up, just a little, I thought, “Great, today is her turn.” She did the vomit thing early and she should be fine by the time we need to go.

The rest of the morning went off without a hitch until… Claire erupted in the van. Not a huge deal. Since we were still close to home, I turned around and ran into the house and got her cleaned up. She seemed no worse for the wear. She even ate a couple crackers and drank some water. All was good so back in the car we went.

The rest of the ride went on as normal, kids laughing one second and bickering the next. Mommy rocking out. But then I hear it. The distinctive sounds of gagging and purging from the back.

“Mom. Yuck!” Hayden screams. “This is just too gross. I just can’t look at it any more. She totally puked.”

Now a Prepared and Organized Mommy like I like to think I am would have totally expected this. In fact a Prepared and Organized Mommy would have stayed home after the first vomit but who I am kidding, I am not that prepared and organized.

After the purge, Claire again seemed fine. I pulled over the car to call my sister and try and decide what to do. I looked in my rear view mirror and listened to the boys beg to continue on.

“Well, Claire, time to take one for the team” I said and we continued on to the park to play.

Playgroup was a success. Thanks mostly to my sister who stopped at the store and purchased a new outfit for Claire. Things were going so well that I decided to sneak in a quick trip to Target. You know, just a quick in and out trip.

Now you would think that I would have learned my lesson by this time. Claire was obviously sick. She needed to be at home. A Prepared and Organized Mommy would have brought her home and put her to bed. But no, I just had to go to Target.

Lets just say that I totally learned my lesson that sick children need to stay home while I was cleaning vomit out of the car seat for a third time.

What’s your biggest failure in being prepared and organized?

©2009 Scary Mommy. All Rights Reserved.

Even though I’ve been married for a million years, other couples annoy me. I can only imagine the restraint that single people have to exercise in not lock and loading around them. I mean, the other night, my husband went out to dinner to our favorite restaurant. It was a standard romantic meal, cocktails, conversation, a roach on the wall which earned us a second round on the house.

So everything was great and I was feeling all fantastic and then, as we’re leaving the restaurant, I see a couple sitting kitty-corner at a table drinking champagne with their arms linked. Ok, so I’ve seen this in movies and in circus freak shows, but I’ve never seen this in real life and was sort of hoping to live out the rest of my life in that state of ignorant bliss.

Because who does that?

It can’t possibly be comfortable, what with the fear of spilling precious champagne looming over every sip. And what does it mean—that you must synchronized drink champagne with your beloved because only an animal would drink champagne without being conjoined to their mate?

What it meant to me is that I hope these people never cross my path again. Because it’s wonderful to see other people happy. But it doesn’t have to be Cirque d’Soleil happy, with props and acrobatics.

I feel the same way about cutesy pet names that couples give each other. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t care what they do in the privacy of their homes, behind closed doors. But other people shouldn’t be exposed to “butter lips” or “donkey kong” or whatever terms of perversions these hedonists choose.

And I follow my own advice. For example, the pet name that I chose for Husbandrinka is “Honey” because it’s sort of generic sweetness. Plus, it’s made by bees, so there’s this whole earth friendly aspect to my affection.

The only down side is that I hate honey.

But at least it’s not nauseating to others.

©2009 Scary Mommy. All Rights Reserved.