New Adventures Of The Old MODERN MOMMY

Sippy Cup Holder, The One Where I Give Up What's Left Of My Dignity

Many of you must know by now that there is very little thought involved in most of my day to day decisions.

Raise your hand if this is news because you may be in the wrong place.

I typically stumble through things in a fairly perfunctory way. Apathy really is no joke people. You know the broken clock that gets it right twice a day? I too am accidentally successful sometimes. Much like the Primary child who enthusiastically answers "Jesus!" to every Sunday School question, I do eventually strike gold. For the passer by and the casual observer these moments look impressive and intentional. Thus a previous thesis of mine that I can rock a first impression. However, it's everything directly following those occasions (where I shine at being someone you don't know well yet) that tends to lack a certain consistency.

It is in that same spirit of self examination that I don't mind telling you I drove down the road this morning drinking out of a sippy cup. Someone had to do it. That delicious, chocolate Carnation Instant Breakfast drink wasn't gonna finish itself. I noticed I was being watched at a stoplight. I simply raised my bright purple and yellow cup and nodded my head as if to say, "Cheers!" Now it is notable that in addition to my choice in beverage containers, I was also singing loudly in pure reckless abandon. A futile attempt to rid myself of whatever was left of my dignity. In yet another shameless poultry reference, only a bucket of the Colonel's finest would have raised the bar on this moment.

It's genuinely surprising I do not get pulled over more often.

 

Sorry About The Dust

My apologies if little wifts of dust puffed out of your keyboard when you clicked into Modern Mommy today... I kind of haven't cleaned up around here lately.  Much to the dismay of my 7 loyal readers.  Good thing my mom has my phone number cause I am slightly falling off in the blogging department.  Ironically I am working on a blog for my communication challenged extended family.  I meant what I said about that "new post" link kind of haunting me.  I am seriously the most motivated, accomplished person in my head.  But if you knew me, you would be wildly impressed that clean white towels are stacked neatly in my linen closet, I maintain a well organized spreadsheet with all my bills and there are actual vacuum rows on the living room floor.  Now, fight the urge to ask if this is only a monthly occurrence, cause I have developed mad skills PD (post divorce).  I ask myself why sometimes... mostly it is because I have pride in my life, my home, myself again.  But every time I fold laundry right out of the dryer and put it away, I imagine ex modern husband being just a little annoyed that I have taken up good house keeping now after such laziness in the marriage days.  That makes me smile and the task now seems lighter.  He is upset with me because I recently insulted him via email.  Childish, I admit.  I did apologize, I am sorry I insulted you, but I just don't like you much anymore. Clearly I am not "over it" huh?

Have you tried so many different kinds of shampoo you have a graveyard under your sink?  You know the mismatched bottles that you save for the day when you are in such money trouble that you find yourself saying, "thank god i saved all this shampoo! think of all the showers we can take before we need to buy soap again?"  I think I have always looked for the shampoo that will give me the full, beautiful hair I always wanted... now of course I know better.  They all basically have the same stuff in them, and my hair is getting hopelessly thinner everyday.  I want pregnant, hormonal, pre-natal vitamin, full hair.  But maybe without the additional child. 

Can you ever cook enough chicken?  I mean really... there is hamburger, but you can burn out pretty quick.  And fish?  What toddler goes crazy for the halibut? Chicken is where it's at people.  True, Modern Toddler and Modern Pre-Schooler have sprouted wings, and tent to peck at the ground while I am cooking dinner, but I know they like it.  I suppose it could be a phase, but I have been 29 for over three years now and I have always loved chicken.

Name it:  "It's not wooly. Nobody gets wooly, women get weary!  They don't get wooly! ... I hate people that get the words wrong"

Inform, Influence, Inspire

I bet you think I made that one up.  No Sir.  That, in fact, is the TypePad motto.  That is what my blog host (creepy visual, sounds like a host body... Make it So!) is requiring of me.  Maybe is it just a suggestion cause it is in pretty fine print.  So here we go.  Made this post up 5 minutes ago.  You can tell.  So what.

Inform:  Today, as usual, I slowly and under the guise of a long black minivan, quietly pulled into an empty parking spot outside Modern Pre-schooler's school playground.  I LOVE to watch when she does not know I am there.  Just trying to get a feel for what the kid does in her spare time.  Also I am bound and determined to get a look at the friends we hear about all day and night when Modern P gets home.  First is Chase.  He is a prickly little thing who's first intro to the Modern Family was a lovely spring day on which Modern P notified my husband that Chase pushed her on the playground.  Modern Hubby just about grabbed the keys and headed for the door.  Instead, he waited impatiently for the next preschool day and marched right up to the school owner and ratted out little Chase.  We were later assured that Chase had been "spoken to" (yikes) and they would keep a close eye on the "situation".  Modern P is too young for situations, I explained to Modern Hubby.  He was not amused.  Today as I watched behind tinted windows, Modern P was paired up with a little boy cavorting here, there and everywhere.  Every few minutes, the boy would turn and say something that looked a lot like get lost.  He goes.  She follows.  Another brush off.  She follows.  This brings back memories of my soph year in high school and a certain senior.  I shuddered.  Modern P a stalker?  Already?  She must see how Modern Mommy haunts Modern Hubby for attention.  Too bad she was not around for the courting days when Modern Hubby worshiped me daily.  Sad.  So, I observe this time honored dance between the two and it strikes me that this must be Chase.  She has been talking about him again lately, but it seems with some fondness.  I know little boys tell little girls to get lost because the part of their brain that wants to say "I like you" was removed shortly after birth.  Pretty soon Modern Toddler grew restless in her car seat and I was revealed.  We got out, and listened as Modern P pointed out the friends we hear about, and finally some faces for names.  It turns out that Modern P runs with an older crowd (I always did too, thus the soph/senior thing) and one of the most repeated names at home belongs to a sweet little girl who wants Modern P to come to her b-day party.  I met said little girl's dad at the sign out sheet and we made our selves known...  "I am so and so's mom.  Oh, we hear about so and so a lot, I am her dad."  This will be a 5th b-day party, and Modern P is only 3 1/2.  That is a big difference at this age.  So now I know the "boy" on sight, it was Chase after all.  And we have faces and parents to attach to the names.

Let us save Influence, Inspire and the obligatory poultry reference for the next post.  I am regularly looking for random blog ideas, and the thought of spending the weekend knowing my post subject is a lock for Sunday night is mighty comforting.  So... To Be Continued! 

It's The Parenting Skills That Need The Work

Little shift in power in the Modern Household. Modern Mommy and Modern Hubby sort of switched roles for 2 weeks and while I was out of the house 8 or so hours a day, Modern Hubby ran the ship. Big change? Not really. Modern Hubby has been bread winner, Mr. Modern Mommy and just plain hubby for quite a while. He is our example of strength and consistency. Modern Mommy on the other hand climbs out on the slightly less organized side of the messy bed. I am known for PJs all day, playing on the floor with Modern Toddler and Modern Pre-Schooler while dishes stack, laundry lies unfolded and cobwebs sway gently in the breeze. I am firmly in the "they are only little for so long, we better play more, read more, cuddle more for tomorrow they grow" camp when it comes to the division of labor in the household. Although one might venture to say that dividing line I speak of is much more fluid in concept that firm in reality. As life throws it's best at the Modern Family, we have not always known how to adapt. Internet, grab on to something stationary and prepare because we are so on our game around here lately that it is beyond any sane explanation.

I am back to my routine, Modern Hubby is back at work (he always was what with all the technical gadgets available these days...) PDA, Phone, Laptop and the job comes to you. He was on the conference call, changing the diaper, cooking dinner and spinning the iTunes in one big orchestra of Modern Life. My first day back in the loop found us in and out of 2 doctor's appointments, devouring one shared vanilla Frosty and killing time in the aisles of my fav killing time kind of place, Target. Where else can you grab Cheerios, diaper wipes, a DVD and a nice pair of sandals? Please remember this was a rhetorical question and the name on all of your lips shall not be spoken here. Modern Pre-Schooler was all about testing limits today, as every good and decent three and a half year old should be. She had been relatively good, and I felt like spoiling her since I was dealing with guilt after being so unavailable for those 10 days. But as soon as she had said treat in her three and a half year old hand's, she became the one who sleeps with another on the first date, and I became the other they never took seriously again. So the dance continues as we move in and out of the minivan, to and from various doctor's offices. Where, after another unstrapping of the car seats, unfolding of the stroller and all other events leading up to the act of congress required to get us all in sync - she promptly informs me that I am in fact an "Idiot." Nice. I know where this comes from, Thank You ridiculous Garfield Movie sequel. She may not know the word's real meaning, but she sure had the tone down. I must point out that my parenting skills were severely lacking today, so very less than. As left of center as i felt today, we pulled off a nice evening, Modern Hubby and I. My meds are on track, mixing and mingling in a satisfactory little cocktail and I am on my very best behavior. Truth is just that I am happy. Despite all evidence to the contrary, we are positively euphoric around here. Even though I was spoiled, having little or no involvement with the hard stuff the last couple of weeks. Also, my parents were in town as well and no parent will do when grandma and grandpa are in sight.

We did make it home today, and with exactly 25 miles left on the minivan before we hit the no fly zone with the mileage, and of course, the warranty. That is exactly 25 miles we have to get the van to the dealership tomorrow morning to fix the little electrical bugs that buzz around our heads as we procrastinate the service appointment to the literal last minute/mile. Tomorrow is a pre-school day, work day and stay home w/out transportation day for Modern Toddler (formally known as Modern Baby) and me. I am seeing PJ's, chicken and rice, and lots of play time on the floor.

Passive Agressive Olympics

So I hear it goes something like this: "Passive-aggressive behavior refers to passive, sometimes obstructionist resistance to following authoritative instructions in interpersonal or occupational situations. It can manifest itself as resentment, stubbornness, procrastination, sullenness, or repeated failure to accomplish requested tasks for which one is assumed, often explicitly, to be responsible. It is a defensive posture and, more often than not, only partly conscious. For example, people who are passive-aggressive might take so long to get ready for a party they do not wish to attend, that the party is nearly over by the time they arrive."

Nope. Nothing like me. After all, I rarely procrastinate - I am posting daily on a blog, that counts right? I may have a little resentment baggage, but I am entitled. There's nothing in there about entitlement issues was there? The defensive posturing sounds familiar, but I can't quite put my finger on it and seriously it's not really fair to expect me to define every feeling I have every time I have one. Rude.

So you could say that Modern Family may have a passive aggressive tendency or two. I know you are thinking so does mine. Truth be told, as I always try, if it were a sport, this family would be a real contender. Some of our stuff is big and runs deep, but mostly we fight to put out the same fires all families do. There is, more often than not, a bit more scrapbooking, Van Morrison and poultry involved. We are so damn close to being humble around here, but it always slips through our fingers.

Take today for example. Modern Pre-Schooler sits next to me in church with her knees at her chest sharing a compromising view of her pink butterfly big girl panties to any member of the congregation who was unfortunate enough to look our way. I reminded her again that she is a big girl and while showing a little diaper can be reasonably cute, we need to be more grown up now. I explained that grown up girls are modest so we should always be sure our skirts and dresses are long enough and we need to be sitting so that our panties do not inadvertently give the world the wrong impression of Modern Mommy's parenting skills... Ok, what I really whisper-yelled was "...put your legs down, your big girl underwear is showing!" She replied in kind by promptly inserting her finger up her nose clearly in pursuit of her frontal lobe. Defiance. She is so my kid.

PS
Google thinks I am single and might wanna a little chat tonight. Could there be any more references to my hubby and the modern offspring?? I am so confused because they also are offering my readers free baby supplies and diapers. Google thinks I am a single parent. I am no where near that brave, self sufficient or disciplined. Husband, Husband, Husband, Family, Family, Family. Bipolar, LDS, shockingly quite Normal. Roasted Chicken, Scrapbooking, Witty, Charming, Popular Blog, Huge Readership.