Free Advice Friday! My kids wakes up at 5 AM! Help!

Dear Kim, My son is a total A-hole. He has decided 5:00 am will be the new wake up time and shrillingly yells and stomps all over that it’s “wake up time” In. Every. Room. He’s 2 1/2. Brother 4, sister 5. Is there any rule somewhere, either for or against, plopping them in front of the TV and letting the crew of Paw Patrol take the lead while I pretend to watch/snooze on the couch for another hour?? I’m pretty sure this isn’t a pediatrician approved way for my kids to start the day but somewhere in the mom book, just for a a few months, is there an emergency pass?? Tell me there is!!

Dear Kim,

My son is a total A-hole. He has decided 5:00 am will be the new wake up time and shrillingly yells and stomps all over that it’s “wake up time” In. Every. Room. He’s 2 1/2. Brother 4, sister 5. Is there any rule somewhere, either for or against, plopping them in front of the TV and letting the crew of Paw Patrol take the lead while I pretend to watch/snooze on the couch for another hour?? I’m pretty sure this isn’t a pediatrician approved way for my kids to start the day but somewhere in the mom book, just for a a few months, is there an emergency pass?? Tell me there is!!

Sincerely,
Mourning my sleep in Minnesota

 

 

Dear Mourning,

Yes, there is a rule, it’s called the “Do whatever the hell you need to do to be a somewhat healthy & functioning parent” rule. For me, that means completely dressing my 5 year old for school, THE NIGHT BEFORE. She totally drags ass in the morning, and I was about to go bonkers insane before coming up with this questionably brilliant solution. Here she is getting ready for bed:

“Nightie-night! It’s going to be a cold one tomorrow.”

ana snowCome 8:15 am, I just stick a Pop Tart in her mouth and roll her to the bus stop.

What I’m trying to say is, if your sanity rests on plopping your 2 year old in front of the TV so you can snooze for another hour, then GO FOR IT!  Besides, TV isn’t all bad- how do you think my kids learned their letters and numbers? Me? Ha! All the credit goes to Sesame Street. Of course, they now sound like Count von Count, “Vun, Doo, Thrrrree! Mommy bought thrrrree bottles of wine! ah…ah…ah…”  An unfortunate side effect, but we’re looking into speech therapy.

But if damaging your child’s developing brain with television is a real concern, then might I suggest toys? Yes, toys.  Go to a thrift shop, purchase a bunch of crappy toys, disinfect them until your hands bleed and the bleach makes your skin translucent, then put a new toy in your darling’s room each night while he’s sleeping.  In the morning, he’ll be so into the new toy that he’ll totally forget about his carefully crafted plans of mental and emotional domination.

This appeared in Ana’s room after one particularly exhausting evening:

dollhouse

Do you have any idea how long it takes to color a house that big? At one point, she didn’t leave her room for a week, and we almost missed her bitching.

Mourning, I hope I’ve given you some encouragement and/or solutions to help turn your little A-hole into a little Angel. TV, toys, coloring books, whatever you need to do, do it! Oh, and make sure to hook a Clapper up to your television- no reason you should get out of bed.

Now put on Paw Patrol and get some rest!

Kim

www.OneClassyMotha.com

I’d like to send a BIG SHOUT OUT to my newest sponsor Imagination T’s!

front mommy back mommy

The Weekend in Crappy Pics! 10/9-10/12

weekendincrappypics

 

Let’s pretend for a moment that you’re super interested in my life and just can’t get enough. Ok? Good, because I’m about to start this weekend review on a Thursday.

Thursday, I organized a Ladies Bunko Night at the neighborhood clubhouse. It was well attended by almost 30 desperate-to-get-out-of-the-bedtime-routine women, and all of them in their pajamas! The pajamas thing was my idea because avoiding zippered pants is my newest hobby.

So as we’re playing, I receive this text from Brian:

bunko3

 

My friend Lisa, who’s sitting next to me, says, “Is that Brian?”

Me: “Yeah, he wants to know when I’ll be home and where his charger is.”

Lisa: “Doesn’t he know we’re trying to have fun here? Give me the phone.”

 

I hand it to her and she replies to him:

bunko4

 

and here’s his reply…

Bunko5

Mom???

oh, shit. It was Collin.

Lucky for me, I’m well adept at dealing with horribly uncomfortable parental situations.

 

How to respond:

Step 1: Ignore it

Step 2: Repeat step 1, like this…

bunko1'

Hello, indeed. Welcome to a whole new level of awkward.

On Friday night, we went to a restaurant where my Aunt Charline gave Collin an early birthday card. Here’s the front:

photo 3 (9)My mother says she helped pick out “the cute little robot”.

Here’s the inside:

bunko6

Hmm…I’m guessing this didn’t come from the Kid’s section of Hallmark.

So, after learning the phrase “she’s my bitch” and receiving a birthday card suggesting that his penis and nuts will fall off with age, Collin felt he was now a man and commemorated the moment by ordering his first cup of coffee- hold the cream.

photo 3 (10)

Meanwhile, Ana’s been drinking coffee for years.

Saturday, Brian and I hired a babysitter and went to a Brew Fest. That’s where I found my new favorite beer:

photo 4 (6)

On Sunday, we had Collin’s 11th birthday party, inviting 10 children to our house. It was a completely unstructured party, partly because I believe children should use their imaginations and create their own fun, but mostly because I’m lazy.

How did that go? Well…

Flickin’ Chickens were flung onto my ceiling

photo 2 (11)

mustaches were applied to family photos and television screens

photo 5 (5)

a rousing game of Ebola Tag was invented

bunk7

Can you blame me for opening a bottle of wine?

And an impromptu game of Charades was played.

Ahh, charades, good old fashion fun. Sounds harmless enough, right? WRONG.

Ease dropping, I heard the guesses, “Illuminati” and “cleaning up after your drunk husband”. That’s when I stepped in and supplied them with my own clues. And, not coincidentally, that’s when children started going home.

On Monday, I thought I stepped in dog shit and nearly threw my hip out trying to wipe the gushiness off my shoe.  Turns out it was a damn Flickin’ Chicken.

photo 2 (13)

How was your weekend?

Exhausted Mothers everywhere, here’s my answer to the horrible Bento Box Fad!

Well, it finally happened, the thing I’ve been dreading…yesterday, my precious daughter rolled off the school bus bitching and moaning about the lack of artistic effort that I’ve been putting into her packed lunches. My first thought, “Oh shit, has she been on Pinterest?” My second thought, “We need to update our parental controls to include Pinterest.”

But no, it seems that some better-than-me mother (who, I guarantee, does have a Pinterest account) has been sending her daughter to school everyday with a lunchbox full of “love” in the form of Disney inspired entrees and Chicka Chicka Boom Boom carrots. And Ana has taken notice. Thanks a lot, lady. Thanks. A. Lot.

According to my daughter, Wednesday’s lunchtime was spent watching little Hayden nibble on Elsa’s certified organic noodle braid, while Ana despondently ate from a zip-lock bag filled with pretzels and an enormous amount of apathy. Her tale of woe was really quite heartbreaking. So, like any guilt-ridden mother, I decided to give this stupid Bento Lunch thing a try.

I promised Ana an Olaf lunch, but when I read the first three ingredients: Japanese Nori noodles, purple seaweed, edible modeling clay, I was all, “Oh heeeellll no!” Packing a lunch should not require me to source food from various specialty shops and craft stores. I haven’t shaved in four days and THAT needs to happen before I start driving around town seeking out cuisine for my 5 year old to throw out.

How’s that Meat Loaf song go?

“I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that. Nooooo, I won’t. do. thaaaat.”

But I promised her an Olaf lunch, so it was on to Plan B. Unfortunately, I had no Plan B…at least not until I drank a couple glasses of 2009 Cabernet from the Napa region- that always loosens up my wheels.

And so, exhausted, not-so-perfect mothers everywhere, I’d like to present my “Damn you, Hayden’s mom!” answer to this crazy, expensive, and time consuming lunch fad:

 

The “I ain’t got time for that. Here’s some lunch money” Bento Box

Step 1: Get lunch money from your purse.

Step 2: Arrange money and tape down

Step 3: Use a Sharpie to draw the rest.

Olaf says…don’t “flake” on your test!

The "I ain't got time for that. Here's some lunch money" Bento Box - www.OneClassyMotha.com

 

Screw making little broccoli trees with an “I love you!” tediously carved into their stalks with an X-Acto knife while freebasing your blood pressure pills and trying to remember your insurance provider’s Mental Health co-pay. No thank you. Besides, unlike a scene from The Lion King made out of graham crackers and Russian caviar, my “I ain’t got time for that. Here’s some lunch money” Bento Boxes provide the perfect canvas for real communication between you and your child:

 

Confronting potty issues:

The "I ain't got time for that. Here's some lunch money" Bento Box - www.OneClassyMotha.com

Offering friendship advice:

 

The "I ain't got time for that. Here's some lunch money" Bento Box - www.OneClassyMotha.com

 

Calling them out:

The "I ain't got time for that. Here's some lunch money" Bento Box - www.OneClassyMotha.com

 

I realize the “I ain’t got time for that. Here’s some lunch money” Bento Box still requires a minimum amount of effort on your part, which is something I’m normally against, but just think of the look on your child’s face when they open their lunch box and see something like this:

The "I ain't got time for that. Here's some lunch money" Bento Box - www.OneClassyMotha.com

Arachnophobia, cured. “Thanks, mom!”

Ladies, even if your child doesn’t buy lunch, I’m here on my linoleum floor, begging you to step away from the melon baller and to embrace the beautiful quadrilateral simplicity of a square cheese sandwich. After all, you don’t need to win the “MOM OF THE YEAR” title because, as far as your child is concerned, you already have it.

Please send me your “I ain’t got time for that. Here’s some lunch money” Bento Box pictures so I can pin them to my Pinterest “I ain’t got time for that. Here’s some lunch money” Bento Box idea board!

Dear Ladies, Fall is here, relax and let your body hair down!

Now that bikini waxing season has come to a close and leg hair maintenance has slowed down, I find I have a lot more time on my hands. Frankly, I’m kind of relieved, as weeding both my yard and my body was getting rather exhausting.

Every summer, I waste precious time and money trying various ways to eradicate my body hair. I’ve used messy home waxing kits, a god awful EpiLady that literally ripped the hairs from my nerve endings, and I’ve even performed a sad duct tape experiment which did little more than exfoliate my skin. But in the end, I always come back to good ol’ Nair.

“Nair?” you ask. Well, for those of you not “in the know”, Nair is a wonderful, deadly chemical that melts away body hair in ten minutes and burns a hole through the ozone layer in five- so you know it works. I love it! (This is not a sponsored post. If it were, it’d be the worst one ever.)

The instructions say to put it on your hairy parts for a maximum of 6 minutes, but I treat that as more of a suggestion than a warning because chemical burns are hardly noticeable when you have an awesome tan.  So I spend a full 15 minutes naked, cold, and covered in white cream, while avoiding furniture and doing squats. Hey, if I have 15 naked minutes to kill, it’s either have a drink or do squats…and unfortunately, the Potassium Thioglycolate fumes interfere with the bouquet of my wine.

* I highly recommend you lock the bathroom door while doing this otherwise you might burn your kid’s eyes out…and I ain’t talking from the fumes. Here, want to see a pic of me getting my Nair on? click here.

I’ve discovered that it’s important that you remain upright while waiting for the Nair to work on your bikini bits. I once dropped something on the bathroom floor and bent down to retrieve it, ten minutes later I was bald in some areas and had crop circles in others. Not the look I was going for.

And because I really like you, I’m going to tell you something that many women will not share…when you’re bare down there…are you ready for this?…your pee goes everywhere! It’s so disgustingly true! I realize some women like to line the public toilets with toilet paper, so for them this may not be a problem. However, I prefer to hover in public restrooms, but (make a note here) you CANNOT hover with a Brazilian or even a Nair-Brazilian knock off. A ship needs a rudder, if you know what I mean. Show me a pee splattered toilet and I’ll show you a “bald down there” girl.

I can’t even imagine getting a Brazilian. Having someone so up close and personal, and who probably doesn’t even want to be there in the first place, is totally awkward and not unlike some of my past dates. When would I schedule it anyway? First thing in the morning?  I don’t even go to the dentist without brushing my teeth in their lobby first. So how could I get a Brazilian without the opportunity to shower seconds before stripping?  I guess I could always shove an Altoids up there?  Though, I pray I remember to pee first…ever put an Altoids in your mouth then drink a glass of water? Cold flames from Hell, my friend. Cold. Flames. From. Hell.

Oh screw it, I’ve got at least 8 months to worry about this. So back to my original point: Fall is here ladies, relax, enjoy the long pants, and let your body hair down!

Ladies:This post will make you grateful that the pool is finally closed.

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