1. If, over the holidays, you ate your weight in peanut butter blossoms and chocolate nut clusters, you may want to consider that it's time for a diet.

2. If you decide on a low-carb diet then, by all means, make sure you work in a place where homemade apple crisp is made so that you can test your willpower when you smell it.

3. And you see it.

4. And you watch 200 kids eating it.

5. If your low-carb diet allows you to eat certain carbs, like Grape Nuts and Shredded Wheat, they will taste like the best treat you've ever had.

6. Then you may find yourself going through a lot of Grape Nuts.

7. And toilet paper.

8. You may think that bread baked without flour is the worst thing you've ever tasted.

9. Until you try milled flax seed and soy hot cereal.

10. Even if you add a lot of cinnamon.

11. And Splenda.

12. If you are at the grocery store you might find yourself standing in the frozen food section seriously considering the purchase of low-carb ice cream.

13. But, then the rational part of you will realize that you'll end up eating nothing but ice cream.

14. Then you may find yourself going home and being thankful that your pants feel just a little more loose.

15. And you'll celebrate.

16. With a bowl of Grape Nuts.

Labels: Dieting, Ramblings, Random Realizations

I am a self-admitted social media junkie. I enjoy connecting with people and having discussions about all kinds of topics. One day it may be a conversation about hair color (because some of us were stripped of natural highlights when we bore children...love you kids!) and the next day it could be about LOST (Kate should be with Jack, period).

So, guess what fell into my lap? A place where parents can talk about all things...well, parenty. Books, toys, gadgets, and open conversations about spit-up, bed wetting or even how to get rid of the cranberry juice that stains my son's face. No really, if you know how to rid him of it please tell me. My husband calls it his "permanent undersmile".

Back to that parenty place! I have even started my own group where you (yes, you) and I can connect outside of here. Just look over at the right sidebar for the box titled "Gettin' Savvy With It". If you don't know where the right sidebar is, just follow my map...
I have already started a discussion and would love to hear your thoughts. Come on over and take a look around. Let's connect and share! The only thing off limits are electric breast pumps, because some of us, who shall remain nameless (*cough* me *cough*) have some post-traumatic stress. And, sagginess.

Labels: Socializing

A few weeks ago, I pulled a back muscle when I was lifting a case of water. What? Water is heavy. And, sloshy. After it happened, I told my boss that you never realize how much you use your back until you can't use it anymore.

On Wednesday night my husband suffered a grade 3 rupture of his gastrocnemius, which is a fancy way of saying he badly tore a big muscle in his calf. He was shooting hoops when it happened. Okay, not so much shooting hoops as he was coaching fifth-grade, girl's basketball. What? Dribbling around 11 year old girls is hard. Especially if you're 38.

Since then, he has been on crutches and unable to do much. And, let me just say that you never realize how much you use your husband until you can't use him anymore.

Every single morning, rain, shine, sleet or snow (in Ohio, it's mostly the rain, sleet and snow part) he walks our dogs. The 11 year old Labrador could probably survive without her daily jaunt, but there is no doubt that she is in such great shape because of my husband, so we like to keep her active.

However, the one year old Labrador, Daisy, needs this exercise. She needs it like I need water, and air and beer.

Every day, my husband walks three miles with the dogs. They run off-leash most of that distance and likely cover twice the ground he does. Then Daisy comes home with her thick tail whacking everything in its path, she grabs a toy, slobbers on my jeans and looks at me as if to say, "I'm just getting warmed up, lady. Let's play!"

Thanks to my husband's injury, for the past four days I have been walking the dogs. If you can call it that. It's more like getting pulled down to the park, letting them off-leash, then running 200 yards through shin-deep snow, in my big, clunky snow boots, to get Daisy because she has run off to steal another dog's ball.

It is exhausting and after only four days, my body is sore. My left hand is blistered, my ribs feel bruised, I have shin splits and my thigh muscles are like jello. It's a workout like none other.

I'm actually kind of hoping that I rupture my gastrocnemius.

Labels: Creature Features, My Better Half, Ramblings

I started this blog back in 2007 because I was longing for a creative outlet and I wanted a way to journal the crazy things my kids said and did. There is no way that I'm ever going to let my son forget all the times he's embarrassed me. Not a chance, kiddo.

After I initially told about 30 friends and family about it, I began to seek out other blogging parents. In doing so, I found a community of people who shared my love of writing and who could see the humor in being a parent. Poop is funny, people.

Very early on, I made a good friend in Joe Schatz from Joeprah.com. Joe is a stay-at-home dad of three great girls. And, Joe totally gets that whole poop thing.

Joe led me, and my blog, in bigger and better directions. He made me realize that I had a genuine audience and that lots of people get the poop thing. Joe was a reader who really believed in me. I owe him so much.

I was incredibly proud of him when he started Dad-Blogs.com. He asked me to write a column there and I jumped on board immediately. Then he got me a writing gig at Examiner.com. Unfortunately, after a couple of months, I had to bow out of both because I, quite simply, had too much on my plate. I am still sick about it.

So, when Joe went and wrote a book and asked me to read it, I have to be honest and say that I was kind of nervous. I've always related to his stories and loved his writing, but what if, by some itty-bitty chance, I didn't like it? I couldn't bear to let him down again.

I put off reading it. Joe e-mailed me. I put it off again and promised him that I would get to it next week. Joe e-mailed me one more time and said he's going to be on The Tyra Show on February 18th, and if I could just look at the book before then, it would be great.

Here I am on February 17th, and I just finished reading Joe's book. So sue me, I'm a procrastinator! And, you know what? This book is brilliant.

I'm not saying that because Joe is a friend, who helped me expand my audience, and who I have disappointed (at least three times now). Though, I can understand how you might think that. Trust me, if I didn't like the book I would have found a way to blow Joe off yet again.

I'm saying that because it is really, truly great. "Daddy, where's your vagina?" - What I learned as a stay-at-home dad is touching, funny, informative and different. In a totally good way.


Joe talks about everything a parent needs to know, but not the stuff you find in most books. A typical parenting book might tell you how to change a diaper, but Joe's book mentions the epic nature of an infant's "up-the-back" poop. I've never read about up-the-back poops in any other book, but mercy me have I experienced them.

My daughter's UTB's always happened in the middle of the night and I can vividly remember holding her under the running water in the bathtub hoping the poop would run off and down the drain. But, UTB poop is like tar and you have to get your hands dirty. THIS is the kind of thing that new parents need to know about. That you will be wiping poop tar OFF OF YOUR CHILD'S NECK at 3:00 AM.

This book is a must-read for any parent...not just dads. And, because I really want everyone to read it, I am giving away a copy! Just leave a comment here, with a valid e-mail address, before February 24th at noon EST and I will pick a winner at random.

Maybe I can even get Joe to sign it. That is, if he's still speaking to me.

*UPDATE* Congratulations to HockeymanDad! You're the lucky winner!

Labels: Books, Giveaway, Ramblings

This post originally appeared February 25, 2009...

Remember a couple of weeks ago when I said I don't talk about religion? Well, scratch that. I saw a lot of comments on the internet last night from people who were confused by Lent. Never fear! Momo is here! Here to set you heathens straight.

Let's start with Ash Wednesday, because well...it's today, and if you see people walking around with ashes on their foreheads, you won't just think they need to bathe.

Ash Wednesday is the first day of Lent in the Roman Catholic church, which is the 40 day period of preparation before Easter. For those of you who think Catholics can't count and say, "You people drink too much! There are 46 days between Ash Wednesday and Easter!", that's because Sundays don't count. It's kind of like kissing your grandma, in that you probably kissed her first, but you don't consider her your first kiss. Some things just don't count.

Ash Wednesday is a day of fast. Many Catholics will take the money that they would have spent on food and give it to the poor. Though, you know...recession. The act of fasting allows us to begin this period of reflection with a clean slate. It is a form of penance for our sins. It also makes most of us grumpy and gives us bad breath.

At Ash Wednesday Mass, the priest, or deacon or someone else authorized to do so, will take ashes made from burning the palms from last year's Palm Sunday Mass and put a cross on the congregant's forehead and say, "Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

This is to remind us to shape up real quick-like before St. Peter meets us at the pearly gates and says, "Sorry 'bout your luck."

So for 40 days and nights we reflect. We think about our sins, we fast, we pray, we give alms and we repent. A lot of Catholics offer up sacrifices. I am giving up chocolate. Mm-hmm. That's right. Just when the Girl Scout cookies get delivered too. This is why my Fat Tuesday dessert consisted of chocolate molten lava cake with ice cream and Reese's Cups on top. What?

When it gets hard to bear...like when your husband eats an entire sleeve of Thin Mints in your face...you remember Christ's ultimate sacrifice, think about how you have sinned against Him and try not to smack your husband. Then you can offer up that you didn't eat the chocolate AND you didn't smack your husband. That's a Catholic two-fer.

If you see someone with ashes on their forehead today (including me) now you will know why. We are reminding ourselves that we won't be on this earth forever and we need to be sorry for our sins. It may not hurt you to remind yourself of that as well. Catholic or not, you can't deny that life is short and good morals aren't so bad.

So, if you see us, we don't care if you stare at our ashes, but don't get close enough to smell our breath. Fair warning.

Labels: Catholic Cliffs Notes

1. You know you've seen a lot of snow when the meteorologists are predicting six to nine more inches and you think, "Please. That's nothing but a dusting."

2. Winter storm warnings take on a whole new meaning when there are icicles as tall as your children hanging from your gutters and trees.

3. You may forget about those icicles until you're grabbing the morning paper and you open the front door only to have a dozen of them fall on your head.

4. No matter how many times you go to the grocery store, if it's a snow day you will suddenly be out of bread and milk.

5. And, beer.

6. If your one year old puppy enjoys chewing on ice cubes, she will really enjoy eating the huge, filthy chunks of ice that fall off of cars as they drive down your street.

7. If you have two children and a husband who walks three miles every morning, there will be so many wet clothes that your dryer will work overtime.

8. So will your mop.

9. There are not enough movies, or games, or jigsaw puzzles to get kids through two weeks of snow storms.

10. Which means there is not enough patience to get a frazzled mom through them either.

Labels: Ramblings, Random Realizations

My children like to talk. A lot. We have a video of my daughter telling a story when she was three and she doesn't finish before the tape ran out...after 30 minutes.

Though, at times, it can drive me crazy, I'm glad my kids talk to me. Our conversations have opened the doors to discussions that (hopefully) let my children know that I'll always be honest with them. If they ask me something, I do my best to give them a truthful, accurate answer.

Being that kids are naturally curious about the human body, this means that some of the things we've talked about would make typical parents squirm. That's right, I'm talking about ex-say. (Ha! Find me now, spammers!) I have always spoken openly about ex-say because we're all human and it's a topic that everyone has to deal with at one time or another. God gave us noses to smell and He gave us other parts for other things.

I discuss these things with them because I believe that knowledge is power. I want my kids to be armed and ready to make informed decisions...when they are adults and have finished college and are married to someone who loves and respects them and tells them the sun rises and sets with their smile.

Depending on the age at which they have asked questions, I have had to use language that my children will understand. Which may have backfired on me when my son once told a complete stranger that he had babies in his bawlz.

But, as it turns out, I may have confused my daughter as well. A couple of years ago, when I first explained how babies are conceived, I apparently messed things up quite a bit.

Let's just say that the other night she told me that she walked away from that conversation thinking that a women had to chew up the man's parts...as if sitting down to a steak dinner...in order to have a baby.

I'm glad we cleared that up before she meets her future husband.

Labels: Kids, Ramblings, Shameless Statements, Things I Said

Almost every night, at roughly 9:30 PM, I fall asleep on the couch. My husband and I are usually in the middle of watching TV and let me just go ahead and say thank goodness for our DVR, or I would never know what the heck Jack Bauer is up to.

The lights are on in the living room, the television is loud, the dogs are playing and yelping at each other, the coffee table is leaving deep indentations in my calves and my laptop is burning a hole in my thighs. But, boy can I sleep! All I have to do is set my head at an extremely awkward angle so that when I wake I'll barely be able to move my neck, and I am OUT.

Sometime between 10:00 and 11:00 my husband will tell me to go to bed, at which time I rub my eyes, mumble something about being "so tired"...you know, because it isn't obvious...then head upstairs.

When I climb into bed I begin, what I refer to as, my ballet.

This little dance starts with me on my right side as I notice that my top pillow is too close to the edge of the mattress. Then the top pillow is too high in the back and too flat under my head. Then the bottom pillow has slid toward the back of the bed. I simply can not get comfortable.

I flip over to my left side and start again. Tossing, turning, fluffing, adjusting, and flipping over and over again. For real, it's like Baryshnikov up in here.

Last night this went on for many minutes and when I finally got settled just so, I realized that I had forgotten to take off my socks.

One of these nights, I'm just going to stay on the couch.

Labels: Insomnia, Ramblings

Labels: Kids, Photos, Shameless Statements, The Places in My Neighborhood

Do you ever wake up with a zit in your ear, a pulled muscle in your back from lifting a case of water and a nose that will not stop running no matter how many times you blow it, then notice that one of your favorite shirts has a hole in it and that your super-expensive work shoes are all scuffed up, and then you laugh as you think, "Who cares...I'm a lunch lady" and remember how, because of your line of work, you went to the grocery store yesterday with baked rotini on your forehead?

Yeah. Me too.

Labels: Lunch Lady Land, Question of the Day, Ramblings

At my daughter's fifth-grade basketball game on Saturday the other team had a center who was quite large for her age. Actually, large doesn't even cut it. This girl stood a good foot above the other girls and likely weighs more than my husband.

I, having reached the towering height of 5' 9" by the time I finished seventh grade, could feel her pain. Though at least this girl was smart enough to play a sport in which height is an asset. The only thing for which I used my height at that age was hiding out in my basement pretending to be a Solid Gold dancer.

Of course, when my seven year old son spotted the overwhelming presence towering over his sister, he had to say something. I shouldn't have been surprised when he exclaimed, "Wow! That is a really BIG BOY!"

I quickly hushed him then said, "Hey! That's not nice. You can't say things like that."

He looked at her again, looked at me and said, "Sorry".

Then he paused before saying, "That is a really BIG GIRL!"

Labels: Family Life, Kids, Shameless Statements, Sports Shorts