photography ~ Sleepy Bears

mrfin

Self-portrait 20/52

A quick self portrait from last night with two of my girls…and their furry friends.

 

Like always, all images can be seen bigger on Flickr.

 

“Type hard, like you mean it!”

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52 Weeks Of Photos ~2016~ Week 39

mrfin

‘Adventure Awaits!’

The photo theme for week 39 was “Road Less Traveled.”   My kids seem to find the adventure in everything, here they are “mountain climbing”. Was quite the task for them. I hope they can hold on to that imagination for a long time.

246211638-Imagination-quotes.jpg“Type hard, like you mean it!”

52 Weeks Of Photos ~2016~ Week 19

mr

‘Sugar and Spice’ ~  My two little ones.

The theme this week is ‘Watching’.

These are my two youngest girls watching daddy out the window. They are getting ready to wave good-bye.

None of us can leave the house without it being a big production. The girls need to stop whatever they are doing, run to us while saying, “hug, squeeze, kiss” (sometimes 3 or 4 times) before we go, then they sit in the window to wave good-bye as we drive off. Even if we are just running a quick 5 minute errand, we have to do this ritual.  There are times when it can seem frustrating, especially when we are only running down the street to grab some milk, or if we are in a rush and need to get going.  However, I try to remind myself that there will come a day when they don’t even look up to say good-bye, or acknowledge my existence. So for now, I will always take the time to indulge in this little ritual, even if it takes waaaaaaaaay longer to say good-bye then it does to actually run any errands.

 

“Type hard, like you mean it!”

 

 

Leave me alone! The perfect Mother’s Day Gift.

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“Happily Ever After” Self-Portrait with my two youngest.

What do you want for Mother’s Day?

I want to be left alone. Yes, that does sound selfish, and it is… a little bit, but it’s the truth. What I need though…is a day, a day where I’m not needed. A day to myself, to do whatever I want. Even if that means sleeping until noon, not brushing my teeth, and eating cupcakes for dinner. I want to pee without having a conversation through the door, or better yet… without my kids watching me because they have to be in there with me. I want to grab a snack without having to sneak it or share it. I want to watch T.V., and not only watch it, but hear it. I don’t need to be taken out for dinner. That is not relaxing at all.

“Where’s my food?”

“I’m hungry”

“I want what she has.”

“I need to go potty.”

“She’s kicking me.”

“What’s that?”

“Can I have a bite?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Sigh……..

Please…. leave me alone! I love you all, but go!

I feel guilty saying that I want to be left alone, it sounds as if I don’t love my children, which is not the case at all.

For me, Mother’s Day has always been about the kids though. “What can we do that they’d enjoy?” I know they feel good when they make something for me, get me a gift, or take me out.  Which is why I will sit back, smile, and accept everything that comes my way on Mother’s Day like I do every year. Maybe that makes me a good mom. Maybe that makes me an idiot.

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Mother’s Day 2014, because ‘Rainforest Cafe’ is for me. Not!

To all the mom’s out there who make sacrifices day in and day out, you guys rock!

Happy Mother’s Day!

If you know anyone that can relate, please share this post, and give them a hug, or some wine…or Vodka. Yeah, screw the hug, wine and Vodka makes more sense.

“Type hard. Like you mean it!”

 

 

Vagina, Vagina, Vagina – It’s just a word!

vagina

Unless you work at an OBGYN office I’m pretty sure you don’t say vagina enough during the course of the day. Me? I say vagina all day, everyday. I say it mostly to irritate my 11 year old daughter. Why? Because I’m a jerk like that, that’s why.  Did I mention she hates the word vagina? (hence the me being a jerk part).

See….I’ve been in the process of teaching my toddler that this thing is called a vagina.  Because as a parent, you need to teach your children things and spend time with them every so often so that they think you really care.

I thought about teaching her other names for it, but I think that would really confuse the kid.  Like “wipe your flower”, sounds like you should smell it, or “that’s your pee-pee”– if that’s your “pee-pee” then what do you call the actual pee?  or “that’s your privates”– sounds like it’s that thing we don’t speak of— like Voldemort, Candyman, or how I devoured 10 boxes of Girl Scout cookies on my own over the course of 3 days. So yeah, I think it’s easier to stick with the actual name…..vagina!

Wait….I went off on a tangent there.  Anyway, for some reason my 11 year old thinks that it is completely inappropriate to say vagina, which is strange because she tells me that she looks forward to swearing.  Go figure.  Kids are dumb! Her repulsion to the word and her constant protest, “stop staying that!” is just encouragement for me to say it more, I already told you that I’m a jerk like that. I’m trying to help her get over her disgust with the word vagina and be immune to hearing it. It’s just a word for crying out loud. Right?

During the course of the holidays I had my in-laws over at my home. With the exception of a couple of them, they are far more conservative than I will ever be. By the end of the night however I had everyone saying vagina like it was a common household greeting. It’s stuff like this that makes me feel like I’m winning at life…..pathetic I know. It’s the little things.

I was really making progress with my daughter though, she was starting to see that there really was no big deal with the word vagina.  I mean even her grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles were saying it. But I think my next conversation might have ruined any progress I made with her and I’m pretty sure she lost all respect for me at the same time.

I was in a room with my mother, husband, and my three daughters (my step-daughter was not there):

Me: “Hey! Guess what we all have in common?”
11 year old: “What?”
Me: “We’ve all touched my vagina at one point.”

Aaaannnnnnddd……..that’s where I lost her.

Every once in a while she seems comfortable with me saying vagina, that’s when I take the opportunity to ask her how she feels about the word “penis.”

Muhahahaha……..

It’s a vicious cycle, but I have to entertain myself.

Vagina, Vagina, Vagina! As Dora the Explorer would say, “Say it with me.”

I’ve obviously been watching a lot of Nick Jr. lately. Sigh……

If you could use a good laugh and are curious about what other vagina names there are then just follow the link below for some alternative suggestions. But read all of my shit first….then go there….then come back and read more. Okay? Good. Here you go:

Sloppy list of vagina names (because the list isn’t that neat, not to be confused with sloppy vagina– two totally different things.)

“Type hard. Like you mean it!”

“We don’t put crayons in our vagina”……and other things I’ve said to my kids.

crayons

In case you were wondering, we don’t put crayons in our vagina. Not in my house anyway.

Some days I’m surprised by what I have to tell my kids and other days I’m so immune to the shit that comes out of my mouth it’s not even funny. I don’t remember being taught some of these lessons as a child, but I must have been…..right? I mean—-I’m not shoving crayons up my hoo-ha now that I’m an adult. I just assumed that some things went without saying. I’ve compiled a list of things I have had to say to my kids. Most of them seem like no brainers. Keep in mind that my kids are 7 months old, 20 months old, 11 years old and 14 years old, and all girls. You’d be surprised at which kid had to be told what, not as obvious as one might think. But I’ll leave that to you to draw your own conclusions.

“We don’t put crayons in our vagina.”

“Don’t touch your poop.”

“Don’t repeat that at school.”

“When I said don’t write on the walls……of course I meant the ceiling too.”

Seriously!!  Those are marks left behind from trying to erase all the little drawings and outlines of feet. Ugh!

Seriously!! Those are marks left behind from trying to erase all the little drawings and outlines of feet. Ugh!

“Mumma was just being silly when I said, “eat the baby”. We don’t really eat the baby.”

“Don’t touch the cat’s butt!”

“I don’t want to stare at your poop. Flush the toilet.”

“Did you remember to wipe?”

“We don’t leave used tampons on the sink! I don’t care if it’s wrapped in toilet paper.”

“No- you can’t play with a piece of raw chicken.”

“Don’t lick ______.” The cat, the table, my leg, my feet.

“Don’t smell ______.” The Garbage, the cat’s butt, my feet.

“Fingers out of ______.” Your diaper, your nose, my nose, your sisters nose, the outlet, the cat’s bowl, the cats puke, my face, my ear, my mouth, my hair, the peanut butter, the jelly.

“No- Silly—-you are not a “pot head”, you just have a pan on your head.”

“Oh. No-no. “Douche bag” is a bad word, not a real bag– don’t use that word.”

“Don’t smell that.”

“Don’t touch that.”

“Don’t eat that.”

“Don’t lick that.”

“What is that?”

 

 

“Type hard! Like you mean it.”

My “Princess” Washed a Pan Today. With Her Own Two Hands!

SPONGELOWRES

My “Princess” is 11 years old and one would think that washing a pan at that age would be an easy task. Watching my daughter’s expression at the mere mention of having to actually wash a pan to make herself breakfast was funny enough, but then she went on to do what seemed like a dramatic reading of the bible.  I’m not sure, but there were a lot of Why me’s and Oh My God’s getting tossed around, followed by tears and praying for me to help.  I felt like I was in church, and it was just as painful to sit through.

I don’t ask a lot of my kids and maybe this is part of the problem.  No…..I’m sure this is part of the problem. I’m working on it.  That and some gene which clearly got passed down from my Ex-husband (her father).dig

Princess: “Can I make an egg for breakfast?”

Worst Mother Ever!: “Yes, don’t burn the house down.”

Princess: “The pans are in the sink.”

Worst Mother Ever!: “Thanks for letting me know.”

Princess: “You need to wash them.”

Worst Mother Ever!: Brows raised with an expression that says, “I dare you to say that again.” “Excuse me?”

Princess: “What am I supposed to do?”

Worst Mother Ever!: “Seriously? You’re 11, you don’t know what you should do?”

Princess: “I’m not washing a pan.”

Worst Mother Ever!: “It will be hard to cook an egg without one.”

Now at this point in the conversation, eyes start rolling– her’s and mine.  While she opens the cabinet that we store the pans in and continues to pull out a pot, you know……the kind you boil water in…..for pasta and shit.

Princess: “I’ll just use this then.”

Worst Mother Ever!: “No.”

Princess: “Errrrrrr. Oh my god, you are being so mean.”

The pan gets put away and she turns the water on. I’m shocked because I figure at this point she’s just going to pour cereal instead, but she must really want this fucking egg.  Between huffs and puffs, sighs and errrrs.

Princess: “This is so gross, I don’t want to touch the sponge. This one has stuff on it. We need a new sponge. Why me?”

For the record, the sponge is about a week old. See above photo. I watch in pure amusement as my daughter grabs the sponge with her thumb and forefinger in a dainty effort to pick it up while grumbling the entire time. It’s hilarious. Cruel to watch? No.  I always help my kids do everything, and that’s the problem.

My kid has “Princess Syndrome” and believes that everything should be done for her.

I would have helped if the conversation didn’t start with an expectation that I would do it. My kid knows how to cook an egg.  But wash a dish? Well that’s just disgusting and servant’s work.

Princess: “I’m never washing dishes when I get older.”

Worst Mother Ever!: “I guess I won’t be eating at your place.”

Princess: “I’m going to make my husband wash them!”

Worst Mother Ever!: “I’m sure you’ll make someone very miserable.”

Princess: “Stop it!”

Worst Mother Ever!:  Calmly  “Stop acting like a brat, it’s a fucking pan.  Grab the sponge, put soap and water on it.  Stop touching it like you are going to catch the plague and scrub.” Yes, I swear.

Followed by a loud sigh, she washes the pan, with her own two hands! Un-fucking-believable! It’s a modern day miracle people.

Princess: “What do I do now?” Holding the wet pan.

Worst Mother Ever!: “If you were wet, what would you use to get the water off?”

Princess: “Errrrrrrrr” Reaches for towel.

At this point she carries on while still grunting, turns on the stove and gets the egg in the pan.  I leave the room, because I don’t want to go to jail. Moments later the sound of drawers opening and closing, getting louder and louder with each slam.

Princess: “I CAN’T FIND A SPATULA.”

Me to self: Deep breath, deep breath. Eye Roll.

Worst Mother Ever!: “Look in the sink.”

Princess: “No! No! I’m not washing that too!”

Worst Mother Ever!: ——–

A few more minutes pass and she enters the room with an egg sandwich. I never did hear her wash anything else or turn the water on.

Worst Mother Ever!: “Did you find a spatula?”

Princess: “No, I used a spoon.”

I decide to just let it go, what’s done is done.

Worst Mother Ever!: Being calm and compassionate, I explain why I didn’t help. “I know you are frustrated, I would have helped you if you just asked nicely, instead of expecting me to do it.”

Princess: Eye-roll “It’s your job to take care of me and do the dishes.”

I’m currently writing from jail. :/

“Type hard! Like you mean it!”