Busy Momma

Reading this story that jelly mom sent out today I go between angry and laughing. This is a big reason why I can’t stand shopping at walmart. There are many other reasons as well. But I always worry that I’m going to be leaving the big W in the back of a squad car. lol I get run over by carts and peoples kids are running all over the place driving me nuts.

So it’s great for me to know that I am not the only one battling that issue. Although I’m happy to say I haven’t stepped foot in that store for well over two years. Ever since we got my beloved Target!

Survival of The Fittest Shopper
©Lisa Barker

It happens all the time. People speed and chat on the phone while they eat lunch—all behind the wheel. They have no problem multi-tasking in the car. But put them behind a shopping cart at Walmart and these same people can’t walk and browse at the same time.

You can see the drool dangling off their chins and the vacant look in their eyes and you’re stuck behind them as they feebly try to figure out how to put one foot in front of the other.

Oh, I love shopping in a packed store. My rear end must look like a shopping cart receptacle because people repeatedly try to park theirs in it. It must be an unwritten rule that states that fellow shoppers who stop to look at merchandise are targets.

And it’s not like I stopped suddenly or that I’m being rammed forcibly from behind. I’m reading birthday cards and the next thing I know I’m being sodomized. The corner of a shopping cart is pressed against me even though I’m standing to the side while there is this whole aisle this other shopper could use to get around me.

But, no, she’s looking at the same merchandise as if she can see right through me and continues to push her way to it. At this point I can either start climbing the card racks or ask her kindly if she would like to remove her cart from my derriere. I get that vacant look again.

What, am I shopping with the undead?

People who defy Darwin’s theory of evolution surround me. They are neither stronger nor brighter than a cumquat and probably couldn’t cause any harm on their own, but once they group together, look out.

I am the fourth person in line at one of the crowded registers. I’ve waited patiently for twenty minutes. Suddenly there is a woman with five kids standing beside me edging closer to the front of my cart. She refuses to look at me as if by not seeing me she’s doing no wrong.

Next, her kids start grabbing at candy and gum and she tries to use that to further claim a place ahead of me in line, little by little pressing ahead until I finally block her by shoving my cart directly into the man ahead of me.

I don’t know what planet she’s from, but here on earth line jumping is a universal no-no. She slowly wanders back to the end of the line and I clamp down on my tongue before mocking her feigned mental disability.

Hey, I’ve got a screaming kid on my left and right and neither belongs to me. I want out of there.

Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker and syndicated through Parent To Parent™ and is available for newspapers, websites, e-zines and newsletters. Here’s all the info you need to publish Jelly Mom™: http://www.jellymom.com/editors-pubinfo.php

I’ve so totally felt this before.  I was much younger when I was home with the kids of course, so my self-confidence was not at the all time high that it is now.  lol  But I just had to be this supermom.  I had to get everything right and the kids needed to look act right and be above average in their learning.

Good grief!  WTF?  Who needs that.  lol  I’m so over that.  If I get to stay at home I do not feel the need for the house to be spotless.  I’d love it to be, but that would require OTHER’S in the house picking up their crap.  So it’s not my fault it’s not.  And my kids are perfect whether they read above or below their grade level.  Since they excel at their own things, it just may not be the “norm” at what they excel at.

So Mom’s, enjoy this Jelly Mom installment!

Stay-at-home Mom Guilt
©Lisa Barker

Stay-at-home moms are under a lot of pressure these days.  Being at home is slotted as such a no-brainer that many women are committing themselves to home-schooling, sewing their own clothes and feeding the homeless to make their time at home valuable…which makes the rest of us seem even more lazy.

So stop it!

Have you seen the commercial with the mother whose preschooler can already read at the second grade level?  Talk about a guilt trip, especially if you are a stay-at-home mom.  Like, what am I doing all day if my kid can’t write a thesis paper before he enters kindergarten?

And what about the commercial where the mom and her kid (age four) are playing a hand held game side by side on the sofa?  She’s speaking in a normal tone.  He’s listening.  They’re having fun and, worst of all, they’re BONDING.

If it were me on the sofa with my son at that age there would be screaming and wailing and gnashing of teeth.  “No, you can’t play!!  I’m going to WIN!!!  I’M winning!!!” he would scream.

Of course, since I am a stay-at-home mom that doesn’t participate in playgroups, doesn’t home-school and doesn’t send her children to pre-school, the reason my child doesn’t behave like the one in the commercial is because he isn’t ‘socialized.’

When did behaving like a normal toddler become a sign of a lack of socialization?

Commercials on television with mom singing how she loves to play with her kid and have a wonderful day really make me doubt my competence as a mother.  How many times have I wanted to do something fun with my kids only to end up being the parent because of the way they behave?

You get them loaded up in the car, drive three blocks and you’ve already warned two of them five times to stop the bickering, whining, teasing and shouting.  By block six you slam on the brakes, flip a u-turn and drive back home, plans cancelled.  I’d love to be their friend, but they need a parent.

Have you seen the babies-only station on satellite television?  Talk about pressure!  My babies are straight-A students now, but back then they would have been labeled total idiots for just lying there and drooling.

How on earth would I have worked ‘educational-interactive-baby-television-time’ into their busy schedule of spitting up, pooping their pants, crying, sleeping, spitting up and pooping their pants?

When my kids got a mom-at-home they didn’t get a nanny/tutor/personal trainer, they got a mom-at-home—somebody they can count on to be there even now when they get home from high school.  And that was the whole point in the first place.

LISA BARKER of Greenfield is a syndicated humor columnist and mom of five. Her latest book is “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane … Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” See www.JellyMom.com for more information.

The Ten Chocolate Commandments For Mom
©Lisa Barker

The cacao plant’s botanical name, Theobroma cacao, literally means “food of the gods.” To its many devotees, chocolate is exactly that.

And, chocolate has many positive properties such as antioxidants (good for the heart) and a substance known as phenylethylamine that creates a mood akin to falling in love.

So it’s no wonder that survival of motherhood is directly related to the faith we invest in chocolate to sustain us through stressful times.  While chocolate should never replace the rightful presence of a Greater Being, God, in one’s life, from Whom all chocolate flows, one must respect the basic commandments regarding chocolate to ensure harmony among all mothers of good will.

1.  Thou shalt have no other foods before chocolate.  Chocolate and pure chocolate alone will be thy salvation, the darker, the better.

2.  Thou shalt not make for thyself an idol.  Leave no chocolate bar untouched.  Worship no chocolate bar, but instead eat completely, savoring every morsel.

3.  Thou shalt not make wrongful use of the name of thy chocolate.  Thou shalt not call it candy.  Thou shalt not call it junk food.  Thou shalt revere it as the supreme creation of cacao as intended.

4.  Remember the holidays that celebrate with chocolate and keep them.  Honor Valentine’s Day, Easter, Halloween and Christmas with heart-shaped boxes of chocolates, chocolate bunnies, chocolate bars and chocolate Santas and snowmen.

5.  Honor thy Father and Mother.  Especially thy mother.  Give her chocolate for all occasions especially the holidays in commandment four.

6.  Thou shalt not murder for chocolate, but thou mayest threaten others or take hostages especially during PMS.

7.  Thou shalt not commit the sin of eating thy friend’s chocolate.  The chocolate does not belong to thou and thou must not destroy the sacred bond between chocolate owner and chocolate bar.

8.  Thou shalt not steal.  Thou shalt keep thy hands off chocolate that does not belong to thou.

9.  Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.  Thou shalt not accuse thy neighbor of stealing thy chocolate when thou hast stayed up all night gorging thyself and hast thus forgotten due to a morning chocolate hangover.

10.  Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s house filled with chocolate and thou shall not covet thy neighbor’s wife’s chocolate.  But thou may ask politely for a piece.

Disclaimer:  As with everything (munch, mmmph, munch), chocolate is best when eaten in moderation.  It should never replace your servings of (munch, mmmph, munch) fruit and veggies and if you enjoy one chocolate (munch, mmmph, munch) bar per week while decreasing your intake of other high-calorie foods, you may be able to enjoy (munch, mmmph, munch) this treat without gaining weight.

LISA BARKER of Greenfield is a syndicated humor columnist and mom of five. Her “Jelly Mom” column appears Monday in Living. Barker’s latest book is “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane … Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” See www.JellyMom.com for more information.

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It’s been a while since I’ve posted one of Lisa’s articles.  This one just can’t be missed.  It reminds me of the fact that we don’t even let my best friend wash the knives at my house.  I’ll try harder to remember to post her stuff for all of you to read.

Cooking Up a Comedy of Errs
©Lisa Barker

On September 6, 2007 I, Lisa Barker, did not burn, cut or maim myself when I cooked dinner.

Don’t laugh.  This is a big feat.  If there were chain mail I could wear while cooking dinner my husband would buy it for me.  But he would have it asbestos-lined because, he reminds me, metal is a great conductor of heat and without him to look out for me, I might be writing a future column from the burn unit of a hospital somewhere.

So the next day I ventured into the kitchen, perhaps with a bit too much confidence, and burned my finger and stabbed it twice before I got dinner to the table.

My body is a battlefield of scars and nicks from the culinary wars.  The end result is usually a great meal, but not without sacrifice.

Take cheese graters for example.  I never know which knuckle I’m going to sacrifice that day.  Hot oil.  That’s a burn waiting to happen whether it’s a splash, a spill or worse, a deep fried fingertip.  So I try to limit the amount of deep fried food we eat—for my own longevity.  I don’t think our insurance covers accidentally french-frying yourself.

I can’t even cook toast without injuring myself.  How, you might ask?  It’s very simple.  My hand is drawn to the hottest spot on the toaster.  Yeah, that’s right—the part where the bread is supposed to go.

The most injuries happen just before I serve.  It never fails.  While kids are clamoring and tripping over themselves to either help or get first dibs on the food, Mom is earning a new scar.  I’m in a hurry and the kids are congregating and the same thing happens every night.

“Mom, what’s for dinner?”

“Food!” everyone else replies.

I don’t have to say anything anymore because the rest of the family chimes in to give the same answers to the same questions asked every night while I drop a hot potato pancake on my foot.

“What kind of food?”

“Edible food!” they chorus, while I cut my hand on the sharp edge of the lid of the applesauce can.

“What did you do now, Woman?”  My husband is tallying the bruises, blisters and cuts for the evening.

“Nothing,” I always say.

“Do you need any help?”

“No, I can kill myself just fine on my own.”

Later the kids are inspecting the sausages carefully and wondering out loud if any looks like a finger.  “Tastes like chicken, right?”

You know, after an evening of this I need something I can do to relax.  My husband suggested I get a hobby.  I like to do home improvements.

So I bought power tools….

. . . . . . . . . . .
Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane… Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom™, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!