bitching & moaning »

Coolest Boobs on the Block

Posted by Domestic Diva at 4:41 pm Uncategorized

May 312011

Well, I’m enjoying yet another Mid-Atlantic Sprummer where we seemed to have skipped over the moderate and median temperatures associated with Spring, and have gone from our frigid winter weather right into sweltering heat and oppressive humidity. In fact, as I sit here in my living room with the blinds closed, a tall glass of tropical punch Kool Aid (yeah, I said it), and as close as humanly possible to the nearest vent constantly blowing cool air, the heat outdoors is well into the 90′s with the heat index simmering around 102 degrees.

Over the holiday weekend the temperatures at the beach were not quite as unbearable, however, no one would argue that it was anything other than hot with heat indexes into the 90′s. The occasional gust of wind felt like someone’s hot breath hitting your body, so there was little alternative to cooling off other than taking a dip in the pool, bay or ocean. Having a cool beverage was also a must, and I was alternating sips of my bottled water and pressing the chilled bottle against my face, neck and chest.

Despite my best efforts the heat and humidity left me with a beach afro, flushed skin and the inability to stop sweating. If I had a bikini I would have worn it just in the hopes that less clothing would equate to a cooler body temperature. As we sat roasting on the beach, I was trying to come up with some new ways to stay cool…like an air conditioned bathing suit. Thanks to Google I found the next best thing. It’s the Cooling Water Bikini:

Photo thanks to Oh Gizmo!

Apparently with the Cooling Water Bikini you can enhance your bust and quench your thirst when you fill it with cool water (or wine?). I’m not exactly sure of the mechanics, but I think you’d just need to be conscious of how much fluid you’re drinking from each cup. The last thing you want is to end up lopsided boobs at the neighborhood pool…awkward!

What are your tips on beating the heat this summer? Leave me a comment before I order one of these!

If you liked the post, please take a quick second and vote for me on Top Mommy Blogs. Just one click is all it takes…thank you!

A letter from the SUV that God forgot

Posted by Domestic Diva at 10:11 pm Uncategorized

Apr 252011

To Whom It May Concern:

I am writing this letter somewhere in the mountains of northern Maryland or maybe south western Pennsylvania. Geographically speaking there is little to no visible difference as far as the landscape is concerned. I am accompanied on this trip by my husband of eight years and my three children who this July will turn 6, 4, and 2 respectively. It’s hard to say how long we’ve been in this steel cage on wheels. Days? Weeks? Months? My husband assures me it’s been a mere three hours, but I think he’s gone mad. I’m certain my mind is going too. These may be my last coherent words before my mind is totally lost.

I’m sitting in the middle row positioned behind the passenger’s seat, and it is my job to keep the children happy while my husband drives. My children don’t like being confined and/or restrained in one spot for more than a few minutes as often is the case will little children. I knew, however, that this trip was going to go poorly when twenty minutes into the drive the oldest called out, “Are we there yet??”

I think we actually may have traveled through some sort of worm hole or time warp, or perhaps I’ve died and gone straight to hell. The stubble on my legs proves either we’ve been in the car for an extremely long period of time or I forgot my weekly shave. Either way, this is just terrible.

I prepared as much as anyone could for a thing like this. Aside from everything we’ll need if we ever reach our final destination, the car is stocked with as many distractions as possible for the 6+ hour trip. We even made some new purchases: The dual dvd player we bought (plays one dvd on two screens) has proved a blessing and a curse. Sure it’s a distraction, but when have you ever seen three kids agree on any one movie selection regardless of age and gender. I packed some new movies, films which I’m sure are terrible, but at least I haven’t seen them 6,937 times like the other selections hand picked by the children themselves. As of right now, I’ve been subjected to the second half of Toy Story 3 (for the third time in two days), Despicable Me, Happiness is a Warm Blanket Charlie Brown, and now we’re onto Cars (a real classic in heavy rotation since 2006). Given our current course and the speed at which we are traveling, we’re due to hit downtown Pittsburgh at rush hour, so I highly anticipate at least one more movie selection after the current 116 minutes of highly stimulating animation concludes.

We’ve had several near meltdowns, and even though the children just ate before leaving, the constant barrage of questioning regarding when they will eat next and what food will be served, is speeding me towards a meltdown of motherly proportions. Of course there are also smaller grumblings and back talking from “he won’t stop looking at me” to “I’m hot” and “Yeah, well, I’m cold” and my favorite “he’s breathing loud at me!”

The baby is also three hours past nap time and she.is.pissed. If I don’t make it out of this SUV that God forgot it may well be because my almost-toddler murdered me. Randomly and without cause she’ll cry out. As I scramble to determine the nature of her distress handing her juice cups, pacifiers or a toy, she’ll scrunch her face, yell and throw whatever I hand to her. The last time she screamed, I tried passing a pacifier to her which almost immediately came whizzing past my face at a velocity I never would have dreamed possible from a 22 month old. Thank God it hit the handle of the door becuase I’m certain had it hit the glass, it would have shattered. Upon further inspection, I’m sure it bent the metal frame of the door.

As I indicated before I may already be dead. It may have been from a physical assault from my toddler, or perhaps my brain just exploded from listening to the nonsense constantly being spewed behind me from the boys. Although, it could very well be from some of these world class drivers we’ve seen since around Baltimore. We’ve witnessed cars that passed two lanes of vehicles weaving in and out and one point even passed on the shoulder. There was an ice cream truck going 32 mph on the interstate, quadruple lane changes with no blinker and/or other discernible warning, a thousand or so people who were not utilizing the left lane for passing (although Marylanders do this in Delaware too, so I’m beginning to suspect it’s backwards here- slower traffic keeps left, not right), and my personal favorite, “Twinzies.”

Twinzies was coined when a car in the lane next to us would speed up and slow down to match our exact speed. No matter what, this car (van in this case actually) did, they wanted to be just like us. A ridiculous conversation between my husband and I ensued where we imagined the other car saying things like “Hey, how fast do you want to go? Oh, yeah? Me too!! Twinzies!!!” Then we imagined the family occupying the car rearragning their seats and changing clothes to match us exactly. Then they would pull along side us, honk and point and mouth the words “Twinzies!!” at us. This conversation went on for a solid thirty minutes (just about the time it took us to lose our car twinzie), and it was then I realized my husband was nuts. I guess I’ve lost it too since I coined the term. Initially Joe just called them “a bunch of real friggin assholes.”

Anyway, as I sit here and ramble on as I drive through this unending stretch of road taking me up one mountain and down the next, I feel full of emotion. I want you, dear reader, to know that even though I’m sure I’ll not survive, or may already be dead, that you meant so much to me. No matter my situation, whether it be my boys emptying a giant pack of tampons out and throwing them at each other in the front yard, or someone getting poop every where, or even the time they let a stray dog in the house, you…you were always there for me. Sometimes with a relate-able tale to help me feel less alone, or an occasional experience you would share that would trump my own, but no matter what, I felt like you were there with me. You lifted my spirits, helped me laugh through some (funny yet) traumatizing parental moments. No matter what situation I was in, I was not alone.

So as I sit here facing an eternity of driving hell with three now hostile almost animal like little creatures with a husband who has lost his mind, I feel comforted knowing somehow, someway you’re here with me. Perhaps even though I am crippled with despair in this very moment, one day you and I will laugh together and say it wasn’t so bad. Perhaps we’ll sip our wine and say “Hey remember that time you took 3 kids under six on a 6+ hour car trip?” And we’ll laugh and laugh…I hold onto that tightly now as I sit now with tears in my eyes knowing that this trip has not even started and in just a couple days we’ll be in the car doing it all over again. In the case that this is hell and I’m already dead, I guess I should get used to repetition. Either way, pray for me, dear friend. Pray.for.me.

Your friend always,

Susan

Wheat free me

Posted by Domestic Diva at 11:33 am Uncategorized

Mar 072011

In case you’re new, I’m allergic to wheat. It’s one of the many things that is wrong with me. I didn’t always have a food allergy, and here’s the short version about how it happened (and if you already know the back story or you don’t care, skip to the 3rd paragraph): About nine years ago I started getting sick. It started one October and I literally threw up almost every day until the following January. The only reason I didn’t puke seven days a week was because there were some days I was too sick to eat any food. I had to go to the hospital more times than I’d care to recall so I could be re-hydrated and given IV medications to stop the puke-a-thon. They’d send me home, tell me to stick to a bland diet and then the whole cycle would start over again once I ate a piece of bread, crackers, pretzels, or anything else made with wheat/flour. So after three months, an upper GI, CT scan, and a barrage of blood work and other rather unpleasant exams, no one ever mentioned the possibility that I could have developed a food allergy at age 23. Well, no one except my chiropractor, who was a bit alternative even for a chiropractor, and a lady my Mom worked with who had a similar experience.

So I cut all wheat products out of my diet and I stopped getting sick. It was like a God damn miracle. My initial intent was to slowly introduce wheat back into my diet and see what happened. I never made it that far though because I ended up eating food containing wheat by accident. I learned the hard way quite a few times about how foods are labeled such as “modified food starch” could contain wheat, and one of the worst was eating food that was labeled “gluten/wheat free” BUT also label as “made in a facility that processes wheat.” Basically that means that there could be cross contamination and as long as that’s on the label, it’s an eat at your own risk situation. Wheat is also in a number of foods you might not expect, or realize, like some soy sauces, seasonings, and let’s not even talk about beer/alcohol (it just depresses me). My point here is that I’ve basically become a label freak and read and analyze everything before I eat it. If I’m going to a restaurant that is a larger chain I go to their website, read about ingredients, and have even emailed with questions. If I was going to eat wheat and get sick on purpose I’d eat a whole pizza, drink a ton of beer, or enjoy a Cappriotti’s Italian sub with extra pickles.

So anyway, I’ve had two recent wheat accidents. One was at a Wendy’s where I ate some French Fries, which at some point used to be listed as gluten free on their website, but now either the fries themselves have changed or now they are just cooked in the same oil as other wheaty items like chicken nuggets. Either way, I love french fries, and Wendy’s fries were always my favorite, but now I can’t eat them. The last time I ate them I was super, super sick. Did I also mention that aside from puking, getting the cha-cha’s along with swelling in (ALL) my joints? So it’s real easy for me to determine when I have a stomach bug/food poisoning versus wheat poisoning.

Even though I already knew the answer, I called Wendy’s customer service to confirm their fries were now another item I could not eat. I told the customer service rep my story, and instead of saying, “sorry, the new fries do contain wheat and we’re so sorry you were sick for three days after eating them” she says, “Yep. The fries do have wheat. The good news is you can still eat our salads without the croutons.” That’s the good news? Seriously? I don’t know about any of you, but there is nothing appealing about eating a Wendy’s salad. If I wanted to eat something sure to give me diarrhea like their nasty lettuce, I’d just eat the fucking french fries. That was pretty much my response to her too.

Over the weekend I opened a letter from the Perdue company and found an enclosed check for $15.00. They sent this in response to an inquiry I made into their Perfect Portion individually wrapped chicken breasts with roasted garlic seasoning. The package said “gluten free” but the time I spent in the bathroom, and the very unpleasant things that happened in there (along with the joint pain), was a pretty big indication to me it was not gluten free as advertised. They sent me a very generic response to my initial inquiry about the cleanliness of their sites, how they feed, monitor and process the chickens which didn’t answer my question which was “are there other items that you process in your plant that contain wheat?” They actually called and left me a voicemail saying there was no chance of contamination because the plant was wiped clean at night and the gluten free products are always made first. I took that as there are wheat products in the plant, and as such there IS a chance of contamination. As far as the $15 check they sent, are they paying me back for the product or for the pain and suffering…or perhaps for the toilet paper I had to use? At least they didn’t suggest I eat a salad.

In other news, I’m losing weight still without the need to exercise. It’s probably in part to my occasional accidental wheat-purging and the fact that I’m reduced to eating foods like salad (thanks Wendy for the suggestion). Also because I haven’t had french fries in months which may be the cause of my bitchiness (not the cold weather as I initially thought). Sorry for the whining, I let myself indulge in a pity party every once in a while about my allergy. I know it could be worse, but to someone who loves food as much as I do, and someone who would love the simplicity of eating a fucking sandwich, it’s a bummer.

Found this cartoon at http://jacattack.wordpress.com/2010/07/14/you-no-eat-a-no-wheat-a/)

Oh, and just so you all don’t experience anything close to what I go through when I eat wheat, please don’t miss the Skippy Peanut Butter recall. It sounds shitty. Happy Monday!

While you’re here, give me a vote on Top Mommy Blogs! Just click the link below for an automatic vote. Thanks!

The blood of a unicorn

Posted by Domestic Diva at 4:38 pm Uncategorized

Feb 132011

I’m not a doctor by medical standards…and I suppose technically, I’m not a doctor by anyone’s standards, however, I feel like I have a basic understanding of the human body. As an out-of-the-closet germaphobe, you might assume I’m always at the doctor’s office whenever I, or one of my offspring, have a sniffle. That couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, I hate the doctor’s office, medical aide unit, and hospital. Going to one of these places is like walking into the lion’s den. Tons of sick people congregating in one place, leaving germs all over, is a place I try to avoid. Anyway, my point here is that I’m not one to rush to a doctor’s office just for your standard cold.

So after my son Jake, who is three, had a mild cold for 10 days and developed a fever, I called for an appointment. I was slightly annoyed Tuesday that calling at 10:30am was too late for an appointment that day, so I took Jake in Wednesday. The doctor did a throat culture (which was negative), checked his ears (which were clear), and listened for a long time to his chest and back. Having a thick nasty cough, fever, chills, vomiting, and more thick green snot I than ever thought possible for a human child of his size, the doctor told me he needed a chest Xray. Poor, Jake. I admit, he was really sick and as much as I didn’t want him to have another Xray (the kid had one in December when he had walking pneumonia), I wanted to rule out anything serious. Thankfully, it was clear, but I was surprised that the nurse who called with the report Wednesday afternoon said the doctor thought it was viral. I think the initial 10 days of illness were, but the last three days of fever seemed like a secondary infection. I argued that he was getting worse with higher temperatures coming closer together and that this was only the third sick visit this kid had ever had. Furthermore, he’s only been on an antibiotic twice. What about a sinus infection? Long story short, no dice. “Call back if he gets worse or has a fever Friday.”

So Wednesday night was bad, Thursday was worse, and Friday morning I called again. They took a message and I got a call back from another nurse saying the doctor would see him again BUT he still thinks it’s viral. WTF? Then, the nurse starts with the slow talking. I hate slow talking. “Now, I understand that you are concerned about Jake, but a virus can cause a fever, “ The nurse condescendingly advised me. She continued, “you can bring him back in, but when a child has a viral illness an antibiotic won’t help.”

“Duhhhhh! Doooooy!!! Errrrr!!!” I began making these ‘idiot’ noises in my head. Was this nurses fucking kidding me? If she was saying this to my face I would have kicked her in the vagina. I slow talk to my little kids all the time, “Now, Jake. Please don’t stand on the toilet and jump in the tub when I go get your towel. You could break your leg.” OR “Joey, if we let wild, dirty animals in the house it could cause a huge mess, dear.Plus Mommy doesn’t want to have to kill a dog.“ I slow talk to my kids because they may act like idiots, but they are just kids (and usually don’t know any better). Plus it helps me not scream and/or curse at them. Here’s an example of slow talking to one of my kids (true story) : Slow talking example. In general, slow talking, at least in my experience, is meant to be condescending. It really chaps my ass when someone talks to me like this.

I am not arguing that I’m a medical professional, but based on my own experience, research, and previous experience with my kids (who have been prescribed antibiotics a total of 6 times between the three of them) I didn’t see the harm in trying something for this potential bacterial infection. So I slow talked back. “I do know that a virus can cause a fever. I have three kids. Two of them spent time in daycare, have gone through preschool, and my oldest is now in Kindergarten. We have had our share of viruses. Many of those viruses have caused fevers. I also know that bacteria can cause infections too. Bacteria can also cause fevers. Antibiotics can kill bacteria and make you feel aaaallllllll better.”

She wasn’t amused. I was not amused either. Long story short, I told the office I would take him to an Urgent Care facility that I was confident would give him an antibiotic and not waste the time and another co-pay on a diagnosis they were not willing to change. I planned on taking Jake Saturday morning when his fever broke. He still sounds like a TB patient, but at least the fever is gone. And now, because this is what happens with a house full of children, Cecilia has a fever and thick nasty cough after 11 days of mild cold symptoms.

So now, because my doctor wouldn’t give me the blood of a unicorn to cure my son…. oh wait, I wasn’t asking for something crazy like the blood of a unicorn, I was just looking for a simple antibiotic, so now I’m going to look for a new pediatrician. Hopefully, Cecilia’s fever and cough will be better by tomorrow or she’ll be visiting Urgent Care too. Sounds like the way one of my Mondays would go…

The blood of a unicorn has magical healing powers. It seems more likely I'd be able to get this from my pediatrician than an antibiotic.

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Anyone can be an azul

Posted by Domestic Diva at 9:04 pm Uncategorized

Feb 012011

Maybe it’s the constant onslaught of winter weather, but I’m feeling a wee bit bitchy lately. I feel like I’m going to look back at my posts in a few months and diagnosis myself with chronic PMS or something.

As I sit here now, listening to freezing drizzle hit the window, I’m not lulled or calmed by the melody of the sound, I’m annoyed. This, in part, is because we seem to get a winter storm the same time every week, and it keeps falling on my grocery shopping day.

I walked into the store yesterday, already irritated, at lunch time behind an elderly woman with a cane, a team of shopping friends (wth?), and a family. This I never understand either- why are both parents out with three kids? If you have two available parents, one of you should keep your infant, young baby and toddler at home…and the other does the grocery shopping (don’t forget the birth control!). Anyway, I was on a time crunch and had just 40 minutes before my husband’s lunch hour was up. Normally, this would be a tight time constraint for my weekly trip anyway, but with the store packed with snow-a-phobics, I knew I was in trouble.

As I weaved my way down one aisle after the next, I felt like I could be a champion on the old show, “Supermarket Sweep.” I checked off one item after another, maneuvering between shoppers, carts, stray children, stock boys and the like marveling at the speed and good time I was making. It’s times like this I do feel like I’m domestically gifted, and just as I was making my way down one of the final aisles, I encountered one of the sixty or so seniors doing their shopping too.

The woman smiled kindly at me, and I watched as her 90-something year old arm trembled as she attempted to reach something on a shelf that was just out of her arm’s reach. “Here,” I said, “let me help you. What can I get for you?” I smiled as I pulled the box of dark brown hair dye down from the shelf, and tried not to giggle as I saw wisps of her white and brown hair peeking beneath her scarf. “Good for you, Grandma,” I thought silently as I handed her the box. She studied it for a minute, and I was then instructed to remove two or three more boxes searching for the right shade of brown. Just as I thought we finally found it, I heard a loud commotion just behind me and a string of curse words.

Coming to a stop was an older man on a motorized scooter. My cart was stopped next to the old woman’s, blocking the man’s path. I quickly apologized and went to move the cart when the man said, “People are so damn inconsiderate!” I stopped behind my cart, turned, and asked the man to repeat himself. “You’re blocking the whole damn aisle.”

I stood there for a moment and considered hitting him in his fat, wrinkly head with a bottle of shampoo, and then had a quick daydream about kicking him off his store-borrowed rascal scooter (he didn’t look incapable of walking, he looked lazy). Instead, I just said, “I’m terribly sorry to have slowed you down and caused you such a terrible inconvenience as I helped this woman reach a product off a high shelf. To help you make up for lost time, let me just give you a heads up, the tampons and Midol are located in aisle 12 now.” He just glared at me, and to my delight, the old woman began to chuckle. We both had a hearty laugh as the lazy old man motored past us.

“What an asshole that old guy was!” I complained to my husband as I brought my bags inside. “I mean, I know we’ve had this conversation before, but I don’t care if you’re 4 years old or 70-something like this guy, just cause you’re old and maybe even disabled doesn’t mean you’re excused from acting like an asshole!”

Jake, overhearing the conversation, chimes in with “I learned that azz-hules on Dora are blue.”

I immediately stopped what I was doing and tried to process what he was saying. He then questions, “So some azz-hules are old and some of them are blue too?”

Then it clicked. “First, Jake, please don’t repeat my bad words. Don’t say asshole or ‘azz-hule‘ as you said. Secondly, it’s azul, and azul means the color blue.”

Jake, clearly irritated with me, just said, “well, people can be azul.”

“Yes, yes they can, Jake. People can be azuls…it’s a good life lesson. Oh, and why don’t you ask your brother about blue people.”

Cheer me up! Give me a vote! It just takes one click of the link below. Otherwise I may end up kicking old men in wheel chairs. You can help. Oh, and leave me a comment too?

Please pass the motivation

Posted by Domestic Diva at 5:52 pm Uncategorized

Jan 282011

On a scale of 1 to 10 my motivation to exercise and becoming physically fit is hovering around a 2. The only reason I would say it’s not a 1 is because I am at least thinking about how I should be working out. My main problem? I have no motivation.

I want to be healthy, but basically, in my ever-rationalizing mind, I’m healthy enough . I’ve lost 55lbs since having my third (and final) child through dieting, and I’m now a healthy weight for my height. My Wii Fit even shrunk my Mii and made my avatar thinner and happy rather than sad and fat like I started out. By the way, I don’t actually exercise on Wii Fit, I just get on and weigh myself every 200 days or so. So I’m healthy enough, so why isn’t that good enough? Problem is I’m soft and squishy and resemble a before picture from a plastic surgeon’s office. I’m what people look like just before they get a suck and tuck.

Also countering any motivation to exercise is that fact that most of my clothes fit. I used to say I didn’t care what the scale said as long as my clothes fit. Funny thing was I did care what the scale said and my clothes did fit, just not well. I had a chronic case of muffin top and often had to opt out of pants for fear of camel toe. Now I’m comfortable wearing, maybe not announcing, my size, so there isn’t much motivation to be active so my clothes will fit. And we’re no where near the panic-inducing swim suit season, so I can’t bank on that one (yet).

As much as I’m looking forward to Spring, we seem to be in a perpetual state of winter, and exercising outdoors (aside from shoveling) is not going to be happening any time soon. I have these grandiose visions of me taking the baby for a run in the jogging stroller while the boys are in school. Wanna take a guess how many times I’ve taken a kid for a run in the jogging stroller that I’ve had for nearly six years? Yeah, you guessed it, zero times. Of course, if I was one to make excuses, I’d say I was pregnant every other year, and I was one of those barfing for 9 months preggos not one of those working out until the day I delivered Mamas. Anyway, this is the first time since 2005 that I have a 19 month old and I’m not expecting another kid. So maybe, just maybe, when the weather turns, I’ll start getting all in touch with nature and working out. Time will tell.

I’ve been trying to think of the things that motivate me, or even things that motivate people in general. Fear is a good motivator, but unless I can find a (slow) wild animal or person with an infectious disease to chase me, I have little hope of actually running anywhere. Guilt, as with any good Catholic, is also a motivator for me, so if I had a workout partner who was relying on me to run with them daily, perhaps I’d do it. But I don’t have a workout partner so there’s no guilt to help me out. Lastly, regardless of the fact that I’ve lost weight, food is still a motivator for me. You’ve heard of the rabbit chasing the proverbial carrot on a stick, right? So I’ve come up with a similar mechanism to aide me in my quest for physical fitness. See my new motivator, The Ham on a Stick:

So, if you’re someone who is already physically fit, can run (behind me) and hold a stick with a 5lb ham on the end, then I’d like to hire you. Pay is negotiable and I’m hoping to start running as soon as possible. I may actually sign up for a 5K in Spring…late Spring…or early Summer.

Can you relate? Do you think you can motivate me? Leave me a comment …I’d love to hear from you!

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Bad Bedtime Poetry

Posted by Domestic Diva at 7:17 pm Uncategorized

Jan 262011

Is it the constant onslaught of winter weather that leaves me so tired at the end of every day? Is it a case of the “Winter Blues?” I swear I have Seasonal Affective Disorder, I am in desperate need of some light therapy (and regular on the couch head therapy too, I know). Or perhaps it’s the constant battle, the war that is never won, just surviving the day as a parent?

Whatever it is, it’s not the greatest feeling. It’s my belief that it’s a combination of things but whatever the reason(s), it’s taking a toll. I woke up the other day and my very first thought that popped into my waking mind was “Holy shit! I have over 13 hours until the kid’s bedtime.” That sucks!

So here’s some bad poetry to celebrate the daily battles and little victories of the modern mother. It’s my version of therapy.

Little Victories

Now that the day is done

Count all the little victories won

No toys (or bones) were broken

Only a few (dozen) curse words spoken

Three meals made plus snacks and more

Then all their remnants scrubbed from the ceiling, walls & floor

Play things scattered all around

Your sanity lost, now is found

Kids are bathed and tucked in bed

No noise is left now but the pounding in your head

So kick up your feet, relax while you can

Tomorrow is another day & the battle begins again!

So rest while (and where ever) you can, Mamas....tomorrow is a new day!

Can you relate? Help make my day a little better and vote for me below! Leave me a comment too…I’d love to hear from you!

10 Things that get me through the day

Posted by Domestic Diva at 9:29 pm Uncategorized

Jan 182011

Did you ever lose something that you perhaps didn’t realize you relied so heavily upon? Ever run out of a staple product? I did and it nearly ruined my life morning…got me thinking about the things I need to get through another day in paradise :

Coffee. It’s not a want it’s a need, and without it I’m guaranteed to not be my typical sunshiny-self. I go without my morning brew and it’s gonna be a bad day- for all of us.
Hair products. After decades of trying to combat my giant afro head, I’ve found the right recipe for an un-fluffy head given the right atmospheric conditions. After washing, I scrunch in Samy Moose (for curls), some Bed Head Foxy Curls gel, and dry with a diffuser. I finish off the affliction style with Aussie Scrunch Spray. If I deviate from this daily blend of products mayhem ensues. I walk around the rest of the day looking like I was electrocuted, like I’m a mental patient, or am forced to wear a hat…a very large hat.
Nature Valley Bars. I discovered these delicious on-the-go bars a couple years ago and I’m totally hooked! No time for breakfast? No problem. No time for lunch? No problem. Need a low calorie snack that will fill you up? No problem! I.love.Nature.Valley.Bars. I keep some in my car, purse, diaper bag, pantry, and I buy them in bulk at Sam’s Club. They offer a multitude of flavors by my #1 is Oat & Honey followed by Fruit & Nut. They’re healthy enough to eat everyday, satisfying to grab and eat on the go, and have kept me from starvation brought on by my ridiculous schedule at times. Pretty sure if I had to pick one food to eat the rest of my life this would be it…or nachos.
Ipod. I didn’t realize how much I needed this little device, but apparently my musical selections work as a mood stabilizer. Without them I’m lost in a sea of mindless child chatter, the constant stream of requests (juice to movies to snacks and everything in between), the kid’s show’s theme songs playing throughout the day and melting my brain one stupid refrain at a time, and the not so distant sounds of my husband’s conference calls (all.day.long). Without my own selection of background noise, and my wide varieties of genres of music, I get a little….bitchy.
Nick Jr. & PBS Kids. I know I just complained about the kid’s show’s music, but if my kids didn’t have their favorite shows to entertain them at various times throughout the day or when the weather is bad, they’re sick, or I just want them to sit still for more than 3 minutes at a time, I fear my house would look like a scene from Lord of the Flies. Plus parking them in front of the TV is much more socially acceptable that strapping them to a chair.
Facebook. What can I say? I’m addicted. I don’t know what it is about “the Facebook,” other than it’s my drug social network of choice, but I love it. It’s like a lifeline to other Moms who have become trapped chosen this often thankless life of domestic servitude bliss. It also gives the feeling that you’re staying connected with friends and family without very much effort. Let me just drop a couple “likes” here and there, and aren’t I a fabulous friend? Oh, and there’s the fact that I may be a bit narcissistic and think people actually care what I’m doing (every damn minute of the day).
Pepsi. The 10-20 ounces of coffee I drink for at breakfast won’t last all damn day. Four One or two Pepsi’s see me through from lunch until bedtime.
WTF? This picture is hilarious. I couldn't NOT put it on my website.
Clorox Wipes. This isn’t just because I’m a germaphobic. It’s cause my kids are gross. You should see what my kitchen table/highchairs/booster seats look like three times a day. It’s gross. Even worse is the bathroom. My boys miss the toilet more often than not (I don’t even want to know why), there are the occasional little brown splotches (Mr. Hanky?)on the seat and/or lid, and I have to scrub the day’s meals off the handle of the door (after meals, and usually covered in food, they are instructed to go hose off in the bathroom sink). I never dreamed I would clean as much crusted peanut butter & jelly and spaghetti sauce from my bathroom door knob and bathroom sink. It’s gross. There’s no need to even mention why I need Clorox after preparing and cooking raw meats or when there is an illness in the house. If I had to choose only one cleaning product, this would be it.
Afternoon Nap Time. Every day from around 1pm-3:30pm I lay down and take an afternoon nap. Yeah, right. Talk about a fantasy. That’s actually the time of day my daughter naps- she’s the only one of the three who still takes one. I utilize the time to clean up the morning’s destruction, do my regular cleaning and laundry without having to get up every 14 seconds, answer emails, make phone calls, and God willing eat lunch. I know my nap days are numbered, and I’m trying to not even think about all three kids awake all day.
Wine. Before you get your panties in a bunch, I don’t drink every day (I wish I had that kind of time). Maybe that’s why I enjoy wine as much as I do when I actually find the time to sit down and quietly enjoy a glass (or three). I drink white/pino grigio for anyone who’s buying.

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Sometimes my crystal ball ain’t so crystal clear

Posted by Domestic Diva at 1:49 pm Uncategorized

Jan 022011

I hate being right all the time. Seriously, I do. I wish that some of my “predictions” would not come true, especially those about how I would be spending my holiday. The week before Christmas is when my first premonition came to me. I was standing with my three year old in his preschool class, when another little boy wandered in the room, visible sick and tired. One of the teachers asked him if he was “awake yet” and his mother replied “he was up all night coughing.” It took a lot of will power to not a) smack this idiot parent in the face and b) not to take Jake by the hand and just leave. Instead, I said goodbye to Jake, said a silent prayer for good health, and walked down the hallway towards the exit listening to the echoing sounds of what I would have diagnosised as whooping cough. Two and a half days later Jake started with a cold, cough & fever. Cecilia followed late the weekend before Christmas, and Joey started coughing a few days before Christmas.

Jake ended up breaking his fever over the weekend, but in an effort not to share what he had, we kept him home to recoup (which meant he missed his Christmas party & festivities). Cecilia also broke her fever the Monday before Christmas, and Joey who was still “well” attended school the week before Christmas which was just Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. I volunteered at school to help out all morning Monday & Tuesday during which several kids had to go home because they were still sick or had become sick. One child, who was puking all day Monday, returned, still sick and feverish Tuesday, was sent home before 10am and was back on Wednesday to spread his holiday cheer again. It’s cases like this, where the school’s policy is that the child must be fever free for 24 hours, that I think the school should be able to say, “Sorry! Take your sick kid home you horrible parent! We said 24 hours fever free! You think all these kids want to be puking on Christmas?!” Premonition #2 befell me Wednesday at Joey’s Christmas party as I observed him sitting in between two of the sick pukey kids from Monday & Tuesday trading & sharing snacks. Yum!

Christmas Eve we had no fevers (it had now been over a week after they started and only had mild-lingering cold symptoms), but as I packed my holiday diaper bag, I told my husband to take our spare trashcan and stick it in the back of the truck just in case someone needed it. As he was packing the food, presents, and kids, he mumbled something about me being a “weirdo” but still took the trashcan and placed it in the back of the truck anyway. My thought process here was that just two days before Joey was sharing snacks with his two barf-buddies, and we hadn’t quite cleared the “incubation” period.

As we pulled back in the driveway after a long but enjoyable Christmas Eve party, I was happy that my husband was right about me being such a “weirdo” and that the trashcan was still sitting in the trunk unused. Christmas morning was not quite as happy as I would have hoped, but after a late and exhausting evening, I assumed my cranky kids were just feeling the effects of the holiday.

Before we got back in the car that afternoon for another 40 mile trip (each way), Jake complained of a headache, so we gave him some Motrin and headed north. We had another fabulous party, and the gift exchanges were a hit again. Great food, good people, and did I mention the food? The kid’s palates are a little less refined and they enjoyed bowls of candies and seemingly unending cups of juice in combination with the excitement of so many gifts. Jake had been using his best “Oliver Twist/Puppy Dog Eyes” to get handfuls of M&M’s from various Aunts, Uncles & cousins, and after a sugar high, all the kids, including Jake, seemed to be finally winding down as we hit 157 miles of our 160 mile round trip Christmas 2010 bonanza. Expecting snow the next day, and with the car quiet, my husband pulled into a gas station about three miles from home just as Jake began to puke juice, M&M’s and Motrin all over himself.

Without a thought, he threw the car in park and ran and grabbed the trashcan from the back of the car that his weirdo-wife insisted on taking the night before just in time for me to jump in the back over the seat and catch “most” of what his body was rejecting into the can. It was moments like this, standing in someone else’s sick, facing backwards in the car, nearly home after the longest two days of my life, that I hated being right. My husband, the next day however, refused to admit I was right because he says I wanted the trashcan for the wrong kid and he was puking from 8lbs of candy and not from a virus. Give me a break! Sorry that my crystal ball ain’t so crystal clear. My mother’s intuition got most of it right…at least the important parts.

All the running around, excitement and junk took it’s toll on Jake though. After 9 days of a cold (which we’re told by doctor’s can last 7-14 days in kids), poor Jake developed a fever again and they advised me he had to be seen (in the snow storm) at a Urgent Care Center. After he and I spent four hours and what will undoubtedly be hundreds of dollars with the tests/X-Rays, Jake was diagnosed with walking pneumonia. The following day, just after the snow storm ended (and with 8″ of snow on the roads) Cecilia redeveloped a fever after 9 days of cold and earned herself her very first ear infection. My husband soon followed with an antibiotic, and Joey and I were the only two to come out un-medicated. So we spent the week battling secondary infections, running humidifiers, and finally were well for New Year’s Eve. I am now enjoying our third consecutive day of good health, before school starts back tomorrow. Anybody seen my bubble?

Hope you all had a Happy Holiday & Hope you all have a fabulous & happy New Year!

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Oh, the shame!

Posted by Domestic Diva at 4:37 pm Uncategorized

Dec 102010

Just a quick post to anyone else feeling a bit overwhelmed by the ordinary on this Friday. I hope this post makes you feel a little bit better.

This week I played nurse to a really sick kid, spent most of my time sanitizing and killing germs, flashing FedEx delivery men (okay, that was just one day), trying to get my “normal” stuff done, laundry, laundry and then more laundry. I hate the fucking laundry (sorry if that offends you, but wait until you see what’s next).

The fun part about stomach viruses, aside from scrubbing puke from rugs, is all the laundry you get to do. They puke on themselves, their toys, their bedding, towels, whatever. So all in all this week, I’m going to guess I did 14 loads of laundry since Sunday. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have the kind of time that allows me to properly fit in an extra 8-10 loads of laundry in one week, and this is the result:

There you have it, folks. This is an aerial view I took while standing on my bed of approximately 8 loads of clean, yet unfolded laundry that has been accumulating in four baskets smack dab in the middle of my bedroom. This growing pile of laundry is causing a significant increase in stress (I told you I like to project my real stress on ordinary stuff like laundry), and yet somehow it seems to continue to get larger not smaller. I’ve been way to busy disinfecting until today to care enough to do anything about this. And since I’ve already said it once, here it comes again: I’m instituting “Fuck it Friday,” and instead of folding and putting away this multiplying mountain of clothing, I’m going to drink a bottle glass bottle couple glasses of wine and watch “Inception” on Demand tonight.

So whatever it is that’s bothering you on this Friday, I hope you’ll join me and blow it off until tomorrow.

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Older Entries

Coolest Boobs on the Block

A letter from the SUV that God forgot

Wheat free me

The blood of a unicorn

Anyone can be an azul

Please pass the motivation

Bad Bedtime Poetry

Little Victories

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10 Things that get me through the day

Leave me a comment too…I ‘d love to hear from you! What kind of things get you through the day?

Sometimes my crystal ball ain’t so crystal clear

Oh, the shame!

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Twitter: @NoDomesticDiva