Sponsor A Suburban White-Boy

With the holidays approaching, many people will be asking themselves, “What can I do to help others who are suffering?” Well, ask no more. The struggle of the suburban white-boy is all too often overlooked. I made the following video in an effort to change that and raise awareness.

**Contains adult language

Please don’t let their suffering continue. This video highlighted the struggle of just one white boy, but there are millions more out there facing daily dilemmas like, “Should I play with my Xbox 360, or my Nintendo Wii U?” No child should ever have to make that decision. Not in America, dammit.

I heard recently that the same white boy in this video had to share a snack with another child because their mother forgot to send a snack to school that day. Yes, you read that right. Two children sharing one box of Goldfish crackers. Friends, it doesn’t have to be this way.

What can you do to help? I’m challenging everyone who reads this to share it with at least one person and show you support suburban white-boys everywhere by wearing their signature gray ribbon. Together we can make a difference.

#sponsorasuburbanwhiteboy

You don’t have to do big things to change the world. Small things are cool, too and take up way less of your time. -Mother Theresa

 

Sponsor A Suburban White-Boy

The Hell Is Wrong With You, Electric Company?

Electric Company

Maybe it’s the awesome weather we’re having. Maybe it’s the eleventy-millionth day of school being closed due to snow. Maybe it’s because I have a fever- the kind you can measure with an actual thermometer AND the Here’s Johnny! Jack Nicholson kind. Or maybe, just maybe it’s because I’m chemically unstable. Whatever the reason, I am taking off my gloves and I’m dropping the heavy hammer of  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

As some sort of reward for bull-shittery my son came home from kindergarten yesterday with a baby tree courtesy of the MIddle Tennessee Electric Company. Strong work, electric company! Not only did you send home a tree for me to plant amidst the ice and snow-pocalypse, but you sent home the very thing that you lay slaughter to every year!!! What a concept!

We all know that once this tree gets as tall as I am that you will swoop in with your hard hats and chain saws to butcher its limbs off. Hey, I know!. Why don’t you just have my kid name a goldfish, then make us all stand in the bathroom as you flush Nemo down the fucking commode!!

Do any of your department heads talk to each other? Because I really feel like this was the product of some idiot savant in the PR department who didn’t bother to run the idea by anyone else, much less focus group it. I’d love to talk more about this matter, but you see I have a tree to kill, dreams to shatter, and time’s a waisting. Thanks again, butt holes.

Sincerely,

Stable Mom- 35

Five Things I Hate Hearing

Five Things I Hate Hearing

There are a considerable number of phrases that cause me to cringe a little, but some are worse than others. Here are the top five things I hate hearing.

  1. When the word “seen” is spoken without being preceded by “have.” (e.g. I know she done killt that rooster because I seen it with my good eye.)
  2. “It’s a God thing.” This particular phrase is used to describe anything good that has happened to any person at any time. I find it most reprehensible when said with a southern drawl. (e.g. After not holding nothing down for a week, Sissy drank a whole Mountain Dew. It’s a God thang.)
  3. “Can you do me a favor?” I probably can and I probably won’t. That’s what you get for using a poor, vague proposition.
  4. “Now, that’s where you’re wrong.” FALSE. I’ve been wrong for years. If you’re just now noticing, then that’s your bad. And just in case you’re wondering, nope- I still don’t care.
  5. Unsolicited parenting advice. This is particularly hard to swallow when spoken from the mouth of stranger, or anyone without kids of their own. (e.g. It’s been forty years since mine were that age, but I spend a lot of time volunteering in children’s church and I tell you. You’re going about it all wrong.)

It’s pretty apparent that the older I get, the less I’m able to tolerate. However, I’m not the only one experiencing intolerance with aging. So spill it. I want to hear what grinds your gears? What phrases, cliches, or otherwise annoying activities make you cringe? There are no wrong answers. Go!

Luke-isms: An Unwelcome Tub-side Chat

Here is your latest installment of Luke-isms, as promised.

Luke-isms

It had been a particularly trying day as I attempted to get housework, writing, and Luke business taken care of. It was the kind of day that Brantley received a text message from me saying, “Have fun at the gym after work because when you get home, he’s all YOURS.”

Brantley got home that evening and I headed upstairs to take a bath.

“I just need ten minutes to myself,” I told him.

The tub had no sooner filled and I turned off the water to relax when I heard the door open. A familiar sound followed. It was the sound of Luke dragging his stool slowly across the bathroom floor. He parked it right next to the tub and sat down.

“WHAT are you doing? And where is your Dad? I’m trying to take a bath, Lucas. I just want some privacy.”

“It’s ok, Mom. I’ll just sit here and watch you quietly.”

“No. No. No! Brantley, where are you?” I shouted.

Brantley popped his head in the door. “Luke, leave Mom alone. She’s trying to take a bath.”

“Ok.” Luke said as he hopped off his stool. Then, he stopped. “Oh Mom, just one more fing. I know we’ve talked about this before, but I forgot. What happened to your penis, again?”

“Lucas Payne Wescott, girls don’t have penises…”

He interrupted, “Oh, that’s right. Baginas. Baginas. You have baginas.”

I wished for someone to hold my head under the water until I stopped struggling.

I wasn’t asking for the world. I just wanted ten minutes alone. With my baginas.

Stay tuned for the next installment of Luke-isms where Luke spanks himself as he shouts, “Don’t ask any questions, Mom. Just trust me. I deserve this.”

My Kid Expects More From Me (Spoiler Alert! He’s In For A Let Down)

I’ve been getting telltale signs over the last week that Luke (5) is raising his expectations of me. This is quite a conundrum because I am proud to be a champion of mediocrity and yet there I am, time and time again, encouraging him to improve on everything he does. 

 
Last Friday I helped him pick out his clothes and as he started getting dressed I headed for my closet. 
 
“I’m going to pick out my clothes now,” I told him.
 
“Okaaaay,” he said in a sing-song voice. “Do not EVEN tell me what it is. I can’t wait to be amaaaazed.”
 
I stopped dead in my tracks. Since when have I ever come out of my closet wearing something that amazed him, or anyone else for that matter? I wear sweat pants every day and I’m pretty sure he was four-years-old before he ever saw me in a dress. I’ll never forget his surprise. “Mom, YOU have a princess suit?”
 
Afraid he was getting his hopes up for something that was not to be, I told him, “It’s going to be running pants (I hesitated) and a T-shirt.”
 
“Are you going running?”
 
“No.” (Slightly annoyed)
 
“Ohhh, all right then. Dad runs in his.”
 
With that twist of the knife I went into my closet, closed the door behind me and mumbled under my breath, “At least I can tie my own shoes.”
  LucasSwagger1
Then, this morning after hitting snooze on my alarm for the third time I heard his big, flat feet hit the floor as he got out of his bed and headed for my room. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Really, Mom? Free times?” 
 
He climbed into my bed and we snuggled for a while before having to get him ready for school. Per our usual routine, we argued about the direction he combs his hair and his disdain for blue jeans. Before I knew it he was out the door and headed to school. He will only be there for three hours, but I miss him already. 
 
What I don’t miss, however, is having my outfit critiqued. 
 
Billie Jean King is a handsome woman, dammit and I’m not one bit ashamed of copying her swagger. 
 
This brings me back to my conundrum, though. Is it right for me to expect him to strive for perfection at everything he does while I sleep late and, from time to time, sleep in the outfit I’m going to wear the next day? (Shut up. You know its brilliant.)
 
Yes, of course it is. 
 
He’s five-years-old and therefore still crappy at everything!! That may sound harsh, but before judging me try making a resume for your five-year-old. You can’t. It’s hysterical. They can’t do anything. 
 
So…
 
Parental win. End conundrum.

I Just Want To Be Alone!

Luke: “Mom, will you help me make a sign for my bedroom door?”
Me: “If I can coordinate the colors to match your bedroom and mount it on card stock?”
Luke: “What does that mean.”
Me: “It means I’ll help you if you let me make it pretty.”
Luke: “No!”
Me: “Then, no. I won’t help you.”
Luke: “Ok, fine. But, not too pretty.”
Me: “Deal.”
I didn’t realized at the time that I had just agreed to make a sign that had the sole purpose and intent of keeping ME out of his bedroom. However, I didn’t fret over it for too long because truth be told, I appreciate space and privacy just as much as my five-year-old son. Maybe more…

This is one of many examples of why I am delighted to be a contributing author in the soon to be released book, I Just Want To Be Alone.

Jen of People I Want To Punch In The Throat is a blogger that people love to love and love to hate, depending on who’s receiving the aforementioned throat punch. Last year, she released the wildly successful precursor to this book- a hilarious view of motherhood entitled I Just Want To Pee Alone. However, when Jen asked who would like to take part in a second volume which was to include the topic of husbands I raised both hands and a foot. 

You may have read the bit of husband bashing I wrote about in “You Have Lipstick On Your Teeth” last year, but something tells me you’ll have my back once again after reading my chapter, “Rehearsal Dinner Roofie.” 
Lori

How To Beat The Winter Weather Blues

“Winter Weather Blues” is my son’s nickname.

I’m kidding. 
Sort of.
It’s cold and dreary outside. If you’re like me, (and if you aren’t you probably wish you were) then you’re doing your very best to keep your family, your dog, and yourself from crossing the line from seasonally affected to seasonally afflicted. 

I’m pretty certain I read somewhere that Cabin Fever is more contagious than Herpes. 

Here are some ways we’re avoiding it at our happy home. 
Spend two hours turning a cardboard box into a crappy robot that your son will be totally ashamed of.
Get lost in a sea of arts and crafts. You’ll be feeling very mentally healthy when after a couple hours of this your son asks, “Can we do something fun?” 
Now, if you have the desire to respond with, “Like give you a black eye?” then step away from the scissors and the hot glue and try something else.
You always hear people say “Take time for yourself.” These people are stupid and usually don’t have kids, but we all need something to hit that won’t send us to jail. Just know that while you’re taking time to let off steam there will be at least one unsanctioned bathroom experiment going on behind your back. That’s why it’s so important to make those minutes count. 

Finally, don’t neglect your pet. If you notice your dog is feeling down, then give them a self-esteem boost with a little dental hygiene. He/she will be thrilled about it, not to mention SUPER cooperative. 

I hope these ideas have been helpful. If they haven’t, then feel free to jump off a bridge.

What are you doing to stay sane this winter? I’d love to hear your coping skills, I mean ideas.
Lori

(Barely) Surviving The Polar Vortex of 2014

I’m writing to you from a place called Monkey Joe’s. It’s a place where kids can run wild with reckless abandon while their parents sit in massage chairs and use the free wifi to watch episodes of Breaking Bad on their laptops. 


I’m thankful for this place because there aren’t THAT many at-home, indoor activities I can come up with. I thought there were. I was wrong. 

Earlier this morning Luke asked me to help him make a jet out of a cardboard box. I said, “Of course.” 

Two hours later we were both crying. 

He complained that I cut the holes in the wrong places and that his whole body wouldn’t fit into it. 

“That was NEVER a possibility!” I cried.

“Dad could make it work,” he said.

“Ok, look. I can attach something to the bottom of it so your legs don’t show.”

A short time later I noticed that our Yorkie, Baxter had retreated to a safe place- free from box cutters, hot glue and burlap. I should have done the same.


I’m no engineer, but I was pretty proud of the finished product. It had wings on either side. There were handles on the top for him to maneuver the jet from inside (I crafted them from pipe cleaners, dammit!!). It had two exhaust pipe thingies made from toilet paper rolls that stuck out of the back. Yes, the eye holes were too far apart, but I cut exactly where he had traced them. The final addition was the fabric that hung down to cover his legs, keeping him completely concealed in his “jet.” 

Did he say, “Gee thanks, Mom!” or “I love it!”

No. 

His response was, “I can’t wear a jet with a skirt on it! I’m not a girl.”

I was done. 

“Get dressed. Arts and crafts are over,” I said. “We’re going to Monkey Joes.”

Forget the Polar Vortex. I needed a massage and some grown up TV shows.

Lori

Three Minutes Inside the Head of an Everyday Mom

“Three Minutes Inside the Head of an Everyday Mom” is brought to you by JD Bailey, creator and writer at HonestMom.com.
You may have seen the hysterical post by Jason Good in which he gives you a 3-minute glimpse inside the head of his 2-year-old.
I read that again recently and thought, huh. I don’t think my head functions all that differently. Which is either a bit funny or a bit pathetic. Let’s find out.
3 Minutes Inside the Head of a 36-Year-Old
Upon waking up in the morning…
I’m tired.
I NEED COFFEE.
That person climbing on top of me better be a hungry preschooler and not a hungry husband.
Ow. That was my spleen.
Stop climbing on me so I can get my coffee.
GET OFF OF ME.
Oh look! Hubs brought me coffee!
Ahhhh, coffee.
What day is today? Monday? Wednesday? Thurfriunday?
Ooooh, pretty shiny ring. On my 3-year-old.
TAKE OFF MY WEDDING RING!
Where’s Annie? Is she still in bed?
I need to know what the weather’s like today.
Who put Dora the Explorer on?
What’s the chance that Dora could tell me if it’s gonna rain today?
So wait. What day is today? Tuesday?
OMG. It’s Tuesday. Annie’s still in bed.
Bus will be here in 39 minutes.
I didn’t make lunch yet.
Doesn’t Annie have to bring something for show-and-tell today?
Do we have peanut butter?
Man, I want peanut butter RIGHT NOW.
And chocolate.
Nutella. I want Nutella.
I must be PMSing. Or I’m pregnant.
Crap, could I actually be pregnant?
Why does my third toenail have no nail polish on it?
I have to go to Target.
Need to buy more peanut butter. And dryer sheets.
God, my spleen hurts. Or is that my appendix?
Huh. Do I have appendicitis? Nah.
God I’m tired. Hubs snores too much.
Oh. Buy nose strips for Hubs at Target.
I really hope Hubs is waking Annie up right now.
THE BUS WILL BE HERE IN 38 MINUTES!
Oy, will I ever get real curtains for this room?
Which kid has dance class today?
What is Annie crying about?
I think I have a draft due for a client today.
Or is it the school newsletter that’s due today?
Christ, there is a PTO meeting today, isn’t there?
Why is Gracie so quiet in the bathroom?
Crap. She just flushed a whole role of toilet paper, didn’t she?
Must. Get. More. Coffee. NOW.
Am I the only one whose brain functions (malfunctions?) in this way?
You can read more from JD Bailey at HonestMom.com

The End Of My Motherly Rope

Luke missed several days of school this week due to having strep throat. It goes without saying, but he and I spent A LOT of time together. Most Some of the time was great. We snuggled and read books, but there were a few moments I’d like to forget. 


Yesterday morning I was laying in bed reading a book. 

I know. I know. To a child, a mother sitting down to read a book by herself is the universal symbol for “What can I break, or set on fire?” Clearly, I wasn’t thinking.

Luke casually walked into my bedroom and said, “I blew my nose just like you asked me to.”

There was something in his voice that struck me as odd…

“Well, I didn’t hear you blow your nose. Are you sure you didn’t just flush the commode to make me think that you blew your nose?”

“Well, there wasn’t any toilet paper on the roll, so I used Q-Tips BECAUSE I’M SMART IN MY BRAIN! Oh, but they’re stuck in the potty because they wouldn’t flush down.” And he skipped away.

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