Friday Flip Offs 7-15

I didn't plan to Flip shit off today, but DAMMIT, I have to!

Don't know what Friday Flip Offs are? Well. What I do is post my grievances on Friday so that I can enjoy the weekend, hopefully guilt free. Yah? Yah. OK - so join in if you want. Grab a button. I'll even try to get that linky working again. [not the most technically sophisticated kid here.]

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So my only flip off today?

TO MYSELF! My kid lost his 5th tooth yesterday. He's now lost 3 on top, 2 on the bottom. And he knows the tooth fairy routine. [Check this pic of the day he lost his first toof - he's fucking cute.]

Anyway. We use a super special dish for the teeth. It's from Mr. Kiss' gramma, it's the perfect size and we put it on the dresser. Who the hell fishes for teeth under a pillow? Jeesh. So he went to bed, excited about getting money. And then so did I.

I heard him wake up, heard the glass dish open, heard it close and smacked my forehead.

I. Forgot. To Put. The Money in.

Mind you, Mr. Kiss could have done it himself. But he didn't. So we both forgot. But WTF, there's another Flip Off. WHY is it that I take all the guilt? Whatever.


The thing is, this kid is such a schmoopy happy boy. He's generally well behaved. And he is SO into this crap. The tooth fairy, Santa, The Elf on the Shelf, Easter Bunny. Cripes, I could create a fictional person like a Master Pooper Scooper or something and he would probably believe in it.

And that is magical to me.

And I fucked up.

My solution to this fuck up is to recruit a friend [Thank You Poppy] to call my phone today and leave a message pretending to be the tooth fairy, saying she was sorry and too busy or something. I'll play that message for Big Kiss later on when I pick him up. Hopefully he buys it - and bet your ass he's getting double tonight.

There. I do feel a little better. A little. Tell me it's ok, even if you have to lie to me.


If this works, feel free to link up! I promise to visit - love me some Flips!

I make cute kids. Rockin the Babies!

Lil Miss Shell - she's such an evil genius. Last month, she had us Rockin' our Bumps.

What does that lead to? Rockin' the babies!!


I did love my big fat pregnant belly, both times - but gotta admit, the results are a lot cuter. Cue the tears as I spun through the millions of pictures of my babies. Take a looksee for yourself.

Big Kiss at his first July 4th Party. 4 weeks old.

Big Kiss at 9 weeks. His cheeks remain...

Big Kiss at 5ish months. Lobstah!!

OK - seriously my fave pic from his first year. Ever.
Big Kiss almost 6 mos. I had to hold him up.

Lil Kiss at 6 days old. He was admitted to the hospital for pneumonia.
We were in for 10 days :(

He's all - pneumonia can't keep me down, back the Eff up, yo.

Same Lobstah costume. Lil Kiss 2 mos old.

I mean, come on! Lil Kiss 4ish mos old.

A Juicy Reminder - Coming to Boston!

Remember that post I wrote letting you all know that Juice in the City is coming to Boston? NO?? Do you NOT commit to memory every. single. word. I type? Fine. Well, it’s here, if you’d like a refresher (you know you do – and – Ahem – one of the JITC founders commented on that one. Uh huh.)

My thoughts in that post still ring true, even as my Momma still struggles with expenses. And Mr. Kiss still hasn’t found a job (up to appx 130 rejections now). We had to install a new furnace. The ‘old’ car didn’t pass inspection, so more money had to be spent just to drive it away. Expenses. Money issues. Sigh.



Anyjuice, a reminder to any Boston Moms who would be interested in becoming a Local Business Consultant for Juice in the City – check them out. Especially if you’re in the Brookline/Newton/North End areas. If you’re familiar with your community, know of some great local hot spots and places to go – give this a shot. The info is here – and yes, like I said before, it says MAKE MONEY!

Moms helping moms. Nothing better.

You can follow Juice in the City on twitter @jitcboston and their facebook page. When Boston's deals are up and running, please subscribe!



sponsored post. sharing the love, kids. sharing the love.

also - comments may or may not be working. blogger is being a total assclown.

Rockin' the Bump

This hot chick Shell? I forget how the hell she came up with this idea - but she's got a bunch of people sharing pictures of their Baby Bumps.

No, I'm not currently pregnant, nor will I ever be again - but when I WAS with child, I took lots of pictures. I said before, thank the sweet baby jesus I didn't blog back then, or you'd have been grossed out by the amount of pictures I had. I mean, really, you know I would have shared.

Over sharer. That's me.

This is the post I shared a couple of years ago: Rub the Buddah.

I totally loved my big fat pregnant belly. I'm way short, too - so my kids had nowhere to go but out. And I mean OUT.

Just a sample, there's a few more on the actual post.



With the second kid, I made a t-shirt that said "Oh Boy." Oh boy, indeed. #large



Thanks for hosting, Shell - I'll be bumping around later.

HA!
Bumping!
For Bumps!
HA!

I'm done now.

Momma Juice? Maybe more...

Raise your hand if you're excited that it's Monday.

All 3 of you with your hands up, go away. You're not my kind of people. I need more weekends in my life. Like life full of weekends. Seriously.

Anyway.

I've been thinking a lot about money. How we're cutting some costs because Mr. Kiss is still unemployed. Don't get me wrong, we're thankful to have been a dual income family prior to his lay off...many don't have that second salary to help them out. But the thing is, we don't spend a ton to begin with. I'm pretty frugal, get lots of clothes at Target or second hand shops. But our little treats like nice dinners and baby sitters are going to have to be put on hold for a while.

Also, My Momma needs help financially and I told her I could do it. I have to do it. I owe her for all of the sacrifices she made to raise us. But helping her is going to be a bit tricky now. Mr. Kiss doesn't really understand this reverse support, he's never had to be in the situation to "want" for things. Ever. So I have to figure that out.

I have a point. Promise.

I've been reading a lot about this awesome company - Juice in the City. It's a unique daily deals site, think Groupon or the like - but it's totally local. For the small businesses in the city. Juice in the City was founded by two moms on Mother's Day in 2010. Each city has teams made up of moms who source deals based on their personal experience...not just companies who hire teams that have never set foot in the businesses they represent.

I love this: "We believe in supporting the local economy while at the same time, empowering moms!"

Juice [for short, heh] has been featured in USA Today, talk about a genius idea. They have teams in many cities already and are looking to expand. That's right, Juice in the City is coming to Boston.

I know some of you readers live in Boston(-ish) like me...Juice is looking for Local Business Consultants in the Brookline/Newton/North End and Beacon Hill area. If you're interested in becoming consultant, Juice in the City asks that you are familiar with the local community, the local hot spots and the places to go. I think that the key point is that spending money in the community means the money STAYS in the community.

Ok - my point. Thinking about money. I really wish there was something like this when my Momma was struggling to raise her 6 kids while going to college. She's always been a true promoter of local shops, even owned her own bakery. Since this wasn't around then (shame) here's hoping that this great company may be able to help some of you!

Want to work from home? If you're interested in becoming a local business consultant, check this out - Make Money!

Yes, it says "Make Money!"

On that note, I'm going to be promoting the deals with Juice in the City - so I need to tell you I'm getting paid. Moms helping Moms. That's pretty awesome.

You can follow Juice in the City on twitter @jitcboston and their facebook page. When Boston's deals are up and running, please subscribe!

I totally thought today was Monday

Wait. What?

I have access to blogger.

AT work.

And it's working? We'll see if this post goes through.

So happy belated Memorial Day! Do you say that? For Memorial Day? Is it really happy? Probably not, but I do truly thank all of the veterans out there for their service.

We were non-stop this weekend, and it was gorgeous out. 'Bout time, we needed some fucking sun.

Saturday I did my longest walk ever. EVER. And my feet paid the price. I used moleskin on the places I usually blister. Well now I know I blister between my toes. Yep. My toes are shredded. Thank God for our pool because I soaked my sore body as soon as I got home.

We had other crap going on every day, but ended with family time in the pool. The boys are like fish and I love it. We all have nice little tan lines and are ready for whatever amount of summer New England allows (read: short & fucking hot).

Anyone know anything about Allentown, PA? Me either. But Mr. Kiss is there right now interviewing for a job. It's the perfect position, duties and responsibilities. But it's in Allentown, PA.

Jaysus.

So I have 8-ish weeks to go til the 3 Day walk. I'm pretty sure it's going to kill me. Hopefully Poppy will give a nice eulogy at my funeral.

And finally, tomorrow? June 1? My Big Kiss turns 6. SIX. I'm still amazed someone let me be a mother, much less for 6 years now. That little schmoopy kid is the sweetest and I never want him to turn into an angsty teenager. Please say he won't? Or lie to me?

I'ma hit publish, let's see if it works. And if so, can anyone comment? Stupid blogger.

Momma's Momma

Mother’s day is coming up. Duh.

Instead of going on and on about what *I* want to receive for the holiday [ahem *massage or full spa day* ahem], I figured I’d share some memories of my own Momma. Yah. Memories of Momma’s Momma

Besides, I’m not really feeling the love from my own heathens right now – so maybe writing about good stuff will help me realize that one day those heathens may just blog about how awesome I am. Of course, I’ll be senile by then, but a girl can dream.

Ok. Some Memories of my Momma…

When I was – oh – 7 or 8, Momma signed up the family to be in a traveling marching band. She played the base drum. I was a flag girl. We marched in parades in 90 degree heat. We marched in rain. I almost broke my shin with flag, more than once. My little brother? He was a water boy. Thinking about it now, I can see why Momma did this. We were on welfare, and by us doing this…together…we got to travel all summer and see fun things and it was all free. I think we did some fund raising, probably, but I don’t remember that. Just the bus trips and laughs and songs and parades.

When I was a senior in high school, Momma finally got her dream job. In a town 4 hours away. Instead of making me move during my last year, she took the job and moved there herself. Leaving my brother and I on our own. He was a sophomore at the time. She came home some weekends, but mostly she mailed in the rent check and simply trusted us. Can you imagine? Letting your 17 and 15 year old kids live on their own, 4 hours away? She had no choice. And to be honest, we were good kids. I had one party – no alcohol involved – and my little brother was just excited to be part of the group that he didn’t tell on me. Otherwise we just went to school, I’d go to my job most nights and pick up my brother from practice. I’m quite impressed we survived, honestly – but hell, to do that today? I don’t know how she did it.

Momma is a cake decorator. We always had the bestest coolest most delicious cakes growing up. She’d make one for us to bring to school , and make everyone gather around it for pictures. She even taught cake decorating classes at the high school some nights. Sometimes I got to tag along – I was the official frosting taster. Momma owned a bakery where she’d make cookies and cakes and donuts and lots and lots of Finnish Nisu (sweet dough, like cinnamon rolls, but way more divine). She was able to make decent money decorating cakes for weddings and other parties. I remember looking through her zillions of pictures in albums at all of the cakes she’d made over the years, noticing the fashion and hair styles that changed along with the photos.

Momma made my wedding cake. Nothing crazy like fondant or berry cream filling or anything. Plain old vanilla with white frosting and a silly monogram or something on the top tier. I was so proud to tell people she had made it for us.

Momma is beautiful, strong, talented, funny and stubborn. I’d like to think this apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

Happy Mother’s Day, Momma.

Love you more.

The tale of the Ape

This morning I got the boyz up, set them up with their "cereal & milk" and went back upstairs to shower. When I was getting dressed, I realized they were being extra extra good.

Let me preface this by saying my kids? Do not typically get all Dr. Destructo when unsupervised. They may punch each other or chuck puzzle pieces about, but they've never used sharpie on the couch or cut anyone's hair. As a mom, though? When it's too quiet? You know something's up.

So I went to investigate.

All I found was the boys in the bathroom laughing - but nothing clearly amiss. Fine. Move along with the morning.

I dropped them off, Hi Ho, Hi Ho, off to work I go.

So I get to work and when I pulled my phone out of my purse, I bumped the camera button and found a picture.

I almost fell over, literally. I was crossing my legs so as not to piss my pants.

I tweeted this - Knowing I'd have to blog this shit later. You know. When I had access to blogger. Fucking firewalls.


Alas, here's the pictures I found on my phone.

George Costanza anyone?



Head gear. For the ape.



oooh, look at those pink polka dots. how pretty are they?



lemme just check this out, just a bit closer, oooof, i fell over.




People? The polka dots? It's my freakin' undies!

My children decided that taking pictures of a stuffed ape in my polka dot unmentionables was fun for them.

I don't even know what to say.

"Just" a mom?

I've been working away, telling people that 2 + 2 doesn't always = 4. Also trying to log miles like my life depended on it...and so my space here has been so lonely.

Who's helping me? Natalie, that's who. Nat is a gorgeous mother of one + twins. The girl who bowls like a rock star. The girl who's birthday is this weekend and hasn't said shit about it. Yes. Natalie. She wanted to share some words, and I needed some words and so here are Nat's words:

*******

I am a diaper changer.
I am a boo-boo kisser and a tear wiper.
I brush hair and teeth, and comfort crying babies.

I am a referee.
I am a judge and jury. A negotiator and mediator.
I call time outs and naps, and discipline even when I'm too tired to.

I am severely underpaid servant.
I am a chef and a chauffeur. A personal assistant and maid.
I cook and clean, and do laundry...a lot of it.

I am a jungle gym.
I am a dancer and a singer. A story teller and a clown.
I play, laugh, remember songs and games of my childhood and teach them to my children.

I am a yeller.
I am occasionally a tyrant and a maniac. A child myself and a tantrum thrower.
I scream too often. I love even more often. I doubt myself even more often than that.

I am a mother.
I am continually being challenged and learning how to be one. I continually hope that I am doing it right.
I gratefully thank God each day that my kids are happy, healthy, and resilient.

The other day, as Ethan climbed back and forth over my legs as I tried to relax on the couch, it occurred
to me that I was so much more than just "mom". I started to think about all of the things that I do every
day without even realizing it or giving myself credit for. How many hats I wear; how many different faces
I put on. I had to write this, and although it's short, it means more to me than any other post I've done in
a long time.

*******

Thank you friend. Love to you and good luck this weekend. Happy Birthday. Wish I could be there when you roll a spare. Or strike. Hell, I just want to wear the bowling shirt.

Cozy

Last night I went to bed at 7.30.

So did my husband.

So did the boys.

We were all in their room, in their beds. Me and the little guy in the bottom bunk, Mr. Kiss and my 5 year old in the top. The top bunk. Of twin bunk beds. Mr. Kiss is 6'4". Yah.

Even the dog was in the room. All of us, in a 12x14 foot bedroom.

There were dishes in the sink. Dirty pots on the stove. Fine, one pot - I made mac & cheese. Whatever. There was unfolded laundry on the couch. And a load in each the washer and dryer.

Guess what?

I left it all.

We all went to bed at 7.30.

All of us, in one room.

Everything I needed within 10 feet of me.

I may just try it again tonight.

Grand gestures

I haven't been home for bedtime all week.

Got a new situation at work. Co-worker got promoted, is now my boss, The Douchenozzle is a WAY different manager than my old boss (who's older and a softie and has kids and is a Christian! God Fearing!)

Anyway.

My schedule has changed, for the worse, and I've been working a TON. Mr. Kiss has been picking up the kids, making dinner, doing bedtime, tucking in, doing all that stuff Momma's supposed to do.

Don't get me wrong, he's great at it. But I HATE missing it for so many days in a row.

To make it up to my kids?

I'm taking them to a super fun show on Friday. I am not above bribery or grand gestures to make them think their Momma rocks, no matter how much she's away from home.

Best part? I didn't even have to think very hard about what to do. Hell Yah! I won these supercalifragilistic tickets to see the Toy Story dudes at Disney on Ice. My girl A is going to come with us. I'm going to buy those boys cotton candy and popcorn and juice and whateverthehellelsetheywant!

Why?

Because I have mom guilt.

Whatever.

We're going to have a blast. And we're going to stay at A's house afterward. And she's making them a killer breakfast in the morning. And when I drop them off and go right back to work on Saturday, I'll know they'll be remembering our super fun time at the "Party" the night before.

I win over Dada.

That's all.

No, Wait, That's not all! I forgot to tell ya who I won the tickets from: SarahViz from the Trenches of Mommyhood. AND, I get to meet her (hoping her kids aren't too sick to go).

Thanks love, I needed this win ;)

Monster

We're all perfect parents right?

Never yell. Never serve preservatives to our cherubs. Always comb our kids' hair. Houses are spotless. Skinny and pretty soccer moms.

Heh.

Jaysus, if you ARE that kind of parent, you may wanna move along because this ain't the place for you.

Still here? Cool.

Now I want to send you away: Today I'm admitting one of my MANY failures as a mother. At Natalie's place (the famed Mommy of a Monster).

Love her Monster Mommy Moment feature.




Go read that shit.

If you judge me, you're an asshole.

But don't worry, I'm pretty much ok with that.

All I need

Found these just now, as I was going to bed.

They're from my 5 year old. Well, I'm assuming because the Little Kiss can't quite cut with scissors yet.

This kid has always known how to get to me.

He frustrates me, woos me, entertains me, loves me.

Tonight he melted me. Again.

Little turd.

Monday Funday

There is so much shit going on, I don't even know where to begin.

The best part is, I'm not sad or sick or mad or whatever, just busy. Living life, working, being a mom, wife and friend...you know, that shit you do when you just do it?

Yah.

That!

Not to mention, I'm exhausted today. For a super reason, but damn, I feel like dying. I took a costanza nap today - from 12.30 to 1.15 - locked the door, lights off, under my desk. That would have been This Kid. 

WHY was I up so late? Watching the Packers win the Super Bowl, silly.  All by myself. Well, I let the boys watch the first quarter with me, but then drugged them and watched the rest all alone. Pure Bliss. I may have cried at the end. Whatever, I felt my sconnie pride. Plus? Mr. Kiss called me and all the Grown Men were crying, too.  It seems everyone becomes an emo pussy when their team wins the big game.  I'm OK with it.

p.s. I'm not moving to Texas. Fuck the French.

p.p.s. My girl A was asked by a store clerk where she gets her hair cut and how long did it take to grow it out? It's a fucking wig, she replied, but thanks!

p.p.p.s. I'm watching Despicable Me and sorta want the soundtrack.

FFO 1-07

Ahhhhhh, yes. It's Friday Flip Off time again. People. I took a couple of weeks off because, well you don't wanna go flipping shit off on the eve of Baby Jesus' birth. Unless you're agnostic. Or Jewish? I don't know. But then it was New Year's Eve, and well, Ahem....

Moving on.

So yes, Friday, time to flip stuff off, shake it off and let yourself enjoy your weekend.

Who's in?

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I'm not gonna lie, over the past month-ish, a lot of things totally pissed me off. I was sicker than a fucking dog. My girl A was beginning chemo. My kids were all up in my business more than you can imagine. My momma visited (YAY!) but then had to go (sadpanda). So. Much.

But I'm not gonna dwell on that crap.

I will tell you that A? Is kicking cancer's ASS. She had almost no reaction to the first 4 rounds of chemo. Her hair? Gone. But her wig? She lovingly refers to it as Nancy and it looks incredible. She's getting a lil more tired, and next week, she starts the second half of treatments. This? Is giving her anxiety. She did so well with the first part, she's nervous fate won't let her off as easy for the second part. I'm going with her to the treatment next week - which I'm hoping will be OK. Moral of this story? Again - cancer - Fuck You and the nasty gene you fucking rode in on. We're fighting and we're not going to stop.

Up next?

5.5 year olds AND 3.5 year olds who act like total babies with the whining and tantruming and early morning wake up calls.

Sweet baby jesus, my dear cherubs, you get this:



Don't mess with a tired MommaKiss, kids.

Got any flips to share? Link up!

Tough Love is Tough

I got home to smiling faces and hugs. After a long day at work, it was just what the doctor ordered.

Until my husband gave me the stink eye for 'distracting' the kids during dinner.

Yes.

Seriously.

frustration level: 4

So I went to sit at the table with them.

Mr. Kiss left for the gym, haircut and grocery store. Boys and I are reading, then we play checkers and they ask me to turn on The Fresh Beat Band.

frustration level: 7 [but they love that show]

Big Kiss, who is 5, starts whining for more to eat. Like we starve him. We don't. He eats plenty. I said no, he whines more that he "used his manners." I said [in my still croaky voice] "thank you, but the answer is still no."

Everyone calms down - upstairs for bed.

frustration level: back to maybe a 3

While I'm getting Lil Kiss' medication, screaming ensues upstairs. Big jumped and scared Lil, they smacked heads - Crying. Fits. "I'm Sorry's"

frustration level: 8

"Ok, jammies on, no books. In bed."

5 year old? Chucks a stage 6 tantrum. Kicking his legs, cries for daddy (nice try), says he's not my friend, whatthefuckever, can you see where I'm going here?

frustration level: 92384729138173

I lose my shit, which Mommas are never supposed to do [I lie].

Lights out. Momma feels like a total asshole. Babies are crying in their beds.

Follow through, Tough love. Better in the morning.

Little squeaky voice "I need a tissue, please, momma. "

I give each kid a big hug. Whisper to them to please go back to bed. "Let's all have a better night tomorrow."

Think they'll forgive me? Think they'll hear me when I go and lay next to their sleepy bodies and tell their sleepy heads that I'm sorry? Think I'm the worst mom ever? Think my husband will be getting the stink eye upon his return?

Boys. They don't get it.

Today I wore a dress.

It's a pretty snazzy dress, one that I have only recently been able to wear again. Finally losing my gunt has been fabulous for the wardrobe. It's a deep red and fits the season. Since it's chilly up in these parts, I also had to wear nylons.

Fine, I haven't shaved my legs. Details.

For whatever reason, I was up early enough to be fully dressed and ready to go before the boys even stumbled out of bed. I know! Shut Up! My 5 year old saunters in to pee and when he's done, looks up at me with his head cocked and says "Why you look like that today? This uniform?"

It's not a fucking uni, kid.

Of course, I didn't say that (out loud). I said "It's just a dress dude, I wanted to wear it to wear to work today." He doesn't need to know that all of my work pants are in the laundry.

His reply: "You look gorgeous."

And he still had those warm-from-sleep cheeks.

Sigh.

We go downstairs for breakfast and it's time for Little Kiss to whine his way to the table. That kid wakes like his Momma-there ain't nothing easy about it.

They eat, I finish my coffee. Little Kiss finally takes a gander and says "You look pretty, Momma - what's deese?" And he comes over to feel my legs. The ones covered in the pantyhose.

I say "They're called nylons. They're like socks, that Mommas wear with dresses."

Then each kid comes over to touch my leg, one puts his head on my shin and says "They soft."

And then? Lil Kiss says "How far they go? How tall them socks?" as he's trying to get to 3rd base with his hands.

Mentally calc'ing the therapy bill, I lift one side of my dress and show them "They go all the way up to my belly, see?" Not quick enough - I remember that Momma goes commando in nylons and quickly put the hem of the dress back in place.

Didn't phase them.

They got their sneakers on, smooch me good bye, Mr. Kiss gave me a wink and off they all go. Down the sidewalk, leaving me to ponder my long socks and if I'm going to get a note from Big Kiss' teacher this evening.

All because I forgot to shave my damn legs.

Wordless Wednesday 10-20

Shhhhhh. I'm trying to whisper (wordless, ya know) But-You also may want to click www.mommyofamonster.com

Mean Kids - bullying

I’ve seen a lot of articles and news stories about bullying lately. I bought the People Magazine with the feature on bullying, and suicidal results from being bullied. I just read this on the site Ooph, which was written by The Empress.

Talk about heart-breaking. Her son was bullied daily. Daily. He was physically and emotionally impacted. The hard-hitting point for me, though, is that she didn’t fully clue into the problem until seeing her son’s doctor for his physical issues. Vomiting, losing weight, not sleeping. Those kinds of things…who would assume they were because the lil man was afraid to go to school? Who would assume it was because he was being tormented DAILY?

It’s awful. It’s unbelievable that it happens. But it does. It happened to me. I was bullied. We moved around a lot as kids, we were poor and never had new clothes. I ate on the “free lunch” program. I was an easy target. I fought back, sometimes. Others, I just ran away and hid. Words can never be unspoken. A kicked shin or pulled hair will heal or grow back, but the action may never be forgotten.

So yes, I went through it. Now that I’m a parent, it’s one of my biggest fears for my kids. I’ve wondered how to make them “good.” How do I raise them to be empathetic and NOT be the bully? At the same time, how do I raise them to be strong enough so that they aren’t the target of a bully?

My son who is 5 started kindergarten this year. He’s my ‘soft one.’ Don’t get me wrong, he’s ALL boy, but he has such empathy and emotion, that I do fear he’ll be seen as vulnerable to some prick who needs someone to validate his assholery. You’re aware that kids can be total assholes, right? Even at 5? Hell, I’ve met some 3 year old assholes. Anyway, since I can’t (nor have I ever had the chance to) watch him all day long – I have to rely on what he tells me. The stories of his day.

In the second week of kindy, he told me that his friend Christopher* punched him. In the stomach. I asked why, he said “Don’t know, because he wanted to.” Then he showed me his school folder and a note that Christopher had to write to Big Kiss saying he was sorry that he was “unkind.” Sorry that he had hurt him, on the inside and on the outside [he literally had to circle those options, he circled both]. And he signed it. We talked to Big Kiss about it, asked who he told when he was hurt [the teacher’s aid]. If he cried [yes]. If he felt scared of Christopher [no]. He seemed OK about it, but how can I be sure?

One day, his bus was late, so the 5 and 6 year olds were asked to take a bus with some older kids. That night at dinner, he told us that some “big” kid was unzipping his back pack and then took it and was about to throw it out the window until the bus driver “blew her mouth whistle” and told the kid to stop it.

So this week (wait, I need a little back story): Since kindy started last month, our routine is to drop both kids at daycare in the mornings before work. I leave Big Kiss’ backpack by the window and he plays in the gym until the bus comes to take him to school. I then bring Lil Kiss to his room, unpack his lunch, give sloppy kisses and all that mothering jazz. As I walk back through the front, I typically peek into the gym ‘til Big Kiss sees me and we give each other a thumbs up. Well on this day, before he saw me for the thumbs up, I noticed he was in the middle of 2 kids. One – our neighbor, who is a total spaz and some bigger kid I didn’t know. The bigger kid was pulling my kid around by his hood. All standing, but physically moving him. While The Spaz cheered him on.

My child had a half-laugh; half-I’m going to break down look on his face and I just stood there. I was cemented in the door way. I almost yelled out, but the sound didn’t come. I don’t even know what I would have yelled and before I could think it through, one of the teachers was there to break it up. She took the bigger kid’s hands off my kid’s hood and said something to him that I couldn’t hear and my guy just sorta straightened his hood and moved away a little bit.

I didn’t go in. I didn’t move for a second. Then the daycare director saw me and asked if I was OK and I said yes and then? I left. I sat in the parking lot and cried and wondered what the fuck was wrong with me. Why did I just leave? But more, what was happening to my baby boy? Is this going on more often than I’m aware? At the daycare in the mornings or afternoons? On the playground? In the lunch room? How would I know? How do I talk to him? He’s only FIVE. I don’t want to scare the shit out of him, but want him to know he’s got a right to be treated properly. And to also make it known that he should never treat another kid that way.

I’m sorta lost on this one. Any opinions welcome.

*Name totally NOT changed, little turd.




hell yes, i'm pouring my heart out. You mess with my kid, you mess with my heart. God help you if you break either one.

a MommaKiss memory-If Only

Since I'm still on the beach drinking wine with my dear friends, I give you another MommaKiss memory...


Today, I woke up at the leisurely hour of 8.30.

I removed my sleep mask, used the remote to turn off the fan and turned on the Today Show – must check the weather to see if it’ll be warm enough to sit by the pool.

Without having to ask, my snickerdoodle coffee with fat free coffee mate suddenly appears. Along with a fried egg white, flax and oat bread and a bowl of strawberries. There’s also a decanter of coffee on the tray so that I can refill if I desire.

I enjoy my breakfast and catch up on last night’s shows – Weeds and Nurse Jackie. It’s so relaxing to watch other people’s fucked up lives.

I draw a bubble bath and read – mimosa on the side table.

Al told me it would indeed be 85 and clear today, so at about 11, I realized it was time to head on outside.

I slip out of my fluffy robe and into my bikini, because of course I’m slim, with non-saggy boobs. Must apply sunscreen – don’t want to look *gasp* old and wrinkly.

Lunch was poolside – grilled chicken and vegetables, with sparkling water and a glass of prosecco, of course.

I finish reading my second book of the week and take a nap.

It’s now 4pm and I must decide how and with whom to spend my evening!

What a glorious life!

HeyZooChristo, if only – instead?

Me and my saggy-fun-bags were dragged out of bed at the ungodly hour of 5.30am by a small but persistent and chipper child asking for Juice. About a million times. I made my own damn coffee, got the kids dressed and ready for daycare and ate a stale pop-tart on the way to WORK. Also? I answered every fucking question imaginable from every angle imaginable at work today. I think I remember seeing my husband at some point this morning – may have even kissed him goodbye – but was too exhausted to remember.

Ain’t life grand?

originally posted 08/2009