In honor of my rough-and-ready husband, who showed this girl a good time on our weekend getaway, I wrote the “man poem” below to commemorate our trip.
There was a cabin
and there was a lake
there was fishing
and there was steak.
Yes, there was steak.
It was good
for goodness’ sake
we had a grill
and there was steak.
Yes, there was steak.
The view was nice
the company, great
there was beer
and there was steak.
Yes, there was steak.
If my husband remembers nothing else about our getaway, he’ll remember this. Black angus over charcoal is hard to forget. Yes, there was steak.
Our shining star. (Name and happy face compliments of mom.)
If there’s a part of my stereotypical “at-home mom” job I’m failing, it’s the not-so-fine art of crafts (or “crappy crafts” as affectionately called by a friend of mine). You know the kind, cheap, chintzy and usually adorned with some kind of edible item (macaroni noodles, beans, o-shaped cereal).
There are three reasons why I’ve hardly pursued crafty activities since I’ve been home with my girls for the past eight weeks.
1. It seems like such a waste. You use up all of the glue, paper, stickers, etc., and then end up throwing it in the trash after the refrigerator magnets will no longer hold up the weight. I am cheap. I don’t like throwing things away. (Ask my husband, he calls it “hoarding.” Whatever.)
2. I don’t …
We began preparations for the swimming pool at 12:02 p.m. We actually left for the swimming pool at 12:57 p.m. Here is my interpretation of the 55 minutes in between.
Where is your swimsuit? Put on your swimsuit!
Where is your sister? Erica? Erica!
Where are your sandals? Put on your sandals!
Where is your sister? Erica? Erica!
Where is your towel? Go find your towel!
Where is your sister? Erica? Erica!
Where is the sunscreen? Stand still while I put on sunscreen!
Where is your sister? Erica? Erica!
Where is mommy’s phone? Give me back my phone!
Where is your sister? Erica? Erica!
Where is your floatie? Go get your floatie!
Where is your sister? Erica? Erica!
Do you have to potty? Go potty now!
Where is your sister? Erica? Erica!
Where did your sandals go? Put your sandals back on!
Where is your sister? Erica? Erica!
Where is my sanity? …
Today, I took my daughter fishing. For the first time in her short three years on earth, she threw a line into the water, and watched with giddy anticipation as the bobber floated and danced. While I realize a child’s first fishing trip is usually a right of passage reserved for fathers or grandfathers, I felt it was my motherly duty to take her down to the creek.
After all, I’d like fishing to be “our” thing. Something for the girls, an opportunity to bond over waiting and watching. While we may enjoy side by side mani-pedis someday (that sounds pretty good about now), I’d like our quality time to have, well, a little more quality. She’ll learn patience, persistence and most importantly, how to be stronger woman than her mother. …
Yes, these two are actually a full-time job.
These are actual things that people have asked me since I decided to stay home with my girls a little less than two months ago. I’m getting a little tired of pushing my right eye back into my head (it pops out a little when I get angry), so I decided to provide some “education” to those who may come into contact with a SAHM, WAHM, SAHD, WAHD, or whatever term you prefer.
Please, please, please don’t ask me:
1. How are you enjoying your retirement?
My response: “How are you enjoying your ignorance?”
Retirement? Are you kidding? Staying home with your kids is really no different than having a full-time job outside of the home. And why is it that if you have the title “daycare provider,” people understand what you …