- Watch Brooklyn Beckham Surprise Dad On His Birthday And Try Not To Weep
- Elementary Principal Under Fire For ‘Joking’ About Black Student With Special Needs
- The Competition’s Heating Up
- This Is The Reason We Need Mom Friends After Having A Baby
- 10 Reasons Growing Up In The ’80s Was Totally Rad
- 10 Great Apps And Websites For People Who Hate The Gym
- Why It Hurts So Much When People Assume I’m Not My Daughter’s Mom
- 13 Ways I Cut Corners Around The House
Posted: 03 May 2018 07:38 AM PDT
Brooklyn Beckham gave his dad the best birthday gift in sweet Instagram video
It’s a little early in the day for me to have cried all my Kat Von D tattoo eyeliner off, but here we are. It’s all because Victoria Beckham shared the world’s sweetest video of son Brooklyn surprising his dad and after you watch it, I guarantee your eye makeup will also dribble down your face.
Victoria took to Instagram to share video of 19-year-old Brooklyn, her son with husband David Beckham, giving his dad the best 43rd birthday gift. Prepare yourself, this is a rollercoaster of emotions:
Yep. That’s tattooed mega hottie David Beckham practically in tears, smothering his adult son with kisses as he revels in the fact that he has his boy home for his birthday. Did you catch little Harper in the background saying, “I didn’t know Brooklyn was coming!” I can’t even, it’s too much.
Now this isn’t some garden-variety “hey my kid came to my birthday lunch when I thought I wouldn’t see him until later in the day” surprise. Brooklyn is currently a college student at Parsons School of Design in New York City. The Beckhams are London-based, which means the teen must have made a very special trip across the pond just to surprise his dad. Hence, David’s freaking precious emotional meltdown at having his oldest kid home on his special day.
Now, David was already having a pretty spectacular birthday, even without Brooklyn’s arrival. Earlier in the day, Victoria posted sweet video of Harper (with her achingly cute British accent) reading aloud the card she made for her dad.
It’s OK to melt into a puddle on the floor, I’m already there. We can all swoon together forever over the complete perfection that is this sweet family.
Victoria even threw out a little fake with this photo and the caption “Happy birthday to the best daddy!! X we all love u so much!!! So many kisses from us all xxxx we miss u @brooklynbeckham.”
It looks like David’s 43rd birthday might be his best ever.
Posted: 03 May 2018 06:39 AM PDT
She made a ‘joke’ that has many people calling for her immediate termination
Shanna Swearingen, an elementary school principal in Houston, is coming under fire for a comment she made in reference to a student with special needs.
The comment was apparently made during a staff meeting at Ponderosa Elementary School, and since the remark became public knowledge the story has been making waves among the school community.
The child in question, who is black, has reportedly been known to run from class as part of his behavioral issues. Swearingen is said to have told the staff members that the next time the child runs away, “We won't chase him. We will call the police and tell them he has a gun so they can come faster.”
“It's disgusting, that kind of comment is disgusting,” parent Jessica Spoonemore told KPRC news in Houston. “Even if it was a joke, how could you even recant something like that? Children are getting killed by guns, violence. That was very unnecessary and disturbing, especially for an elementary school.”
Discussion about Swearingen’s remark spread quickly among a Facebook group for parents, with many parents and others all over social media calling for her resignation or termination.
Swearingen issued an apology to the school community via a letter sent home to parents. In it, she claims the incredibly offensive comment that has absolutely no validity or place in education isn’t “reflective” of who she is or how much she cares about the students at Ponderosa.
The rest of the letter reads as follows:
“Please know that the same commitment and drive that I had to make things right for our children after the storm, I have today as I work to make things right now with both staff and parents.
“I am truly sorry for the comment I made. It does not in any way reflect the love and care I have for the students of Ponderosa.”
Many people simply aren’t buying her apology, for good reason — the further marginalization of people with special needs and minorities just continues a cycle of societal impairment. Not to mention any “jokes” about guns in schools (especially from an ELEMENTARY SCHOOL PRINCIPAL, FFS) could not be more tone-deaf, inappropriate, and downright cruel amid the gun violence epidemic affecting students in the U.S. And is this woman somehow unaware that police disproportionately kill black people, or does she just not care?
While it’s unknown if Swearingen will face consequences for her breathtakingly callous words, the school district superintendent, Rodney Watson, says he found the remarks disturbing. He says he’s calling for in-person cultural sensitivity training this year rather than the usual annual online course for all district staff members.
“As a diverse school district serving a student population that is 46 percent Hispanic and 40 percent African-American, my top priority is ensuring the dignity, respect and safety for all our students.”
Posted: 02 May 2018 06:30 PM PDT
In this episode of Lullaby League, we meet Hattie, a 5-month-old who "screams blue murder" for up to an hour before falling asleep, according to her mom. Will the New York City Gospel Choir be an answer sent from heaven? Or will Hattie continue to bedevil her mom at bedtime?
Lullaby League is the ultimate bedtime battle where a cappella groups compete to sing a baby to sleep. The group with the fastest time advances to the next round, and the winning group receives a professional recording session. Hosted by the hilarious Jim O'Heir of Parks and Recreation. Lullaby League airs Wednesdays on Scary Mommy's YouTube channel and Facebook Watch.
Posted: 02 May 2018 06:00 PM PDT
You pop out a baby. You get one cut out of your stomach. Or maybe you adopt. Whatever the case, you now have a baby. The world is very excited for you. The world would like to tell you this in great detail. But first, it has a million questions.
First, how is The Baby eating? Not are you breastfeeding or bottle-feeding, which is a whole separate issue everyone would like to discuss with you in great detail with cited statistics, folktale, helpful hints, shaming, and voodoo. No, the entire world would just like to know if The Baby is eating whatever food you are currently shoving in its facehole.
Next, how is The Baby sleeping? No one really cares about the answer, because we all know that babies don't fucking sleep. This is because they are fucking babies and are programmed to wake up every two hours for boob and/or bottle. People just want to see what kind of answer you'll give: if you'll lie and say The Baby is sleeping great, thanks (lying liar who lies) or if the baby never sleeps, so help me god and can you please hold him for three minutes while I fall asleep against this Target shopping cart?
This is really all anyone wanted: to get their grubby little paws on The Baby. Then they can exclaim over its eensy-weensy toesies (and ask The Baby where its socks are), tickle its soft poky baby tummy (and note that it hears some gurgles and are you sure you're feeding it the right stuff?), and pet its soft baby head (both to point out some cradle cap and ask if you don't think you should stick a cap on its noggin).
And at some point, you will want to ball up your fists, snatch back your infant, and scream, "I EXIST TOO, YOU KNOW!"
This is the howl, voiced or unvoiced, of every postpartum mother. She has it the worst, because she's not used to it. She's not used to being ignored in favor of the squirming, crying, barfing, pooping hunk of adorableness clutched to her chest. No one will approach her after the birth, except maybe older moms, practiced moms, moms who have been there, and say, "How are you feeling?" And if they do, she will probably break down because they are the only person other than maybe her partner who's given a fuck since someone placed that baby in her arms.
All of a sudden there's a ice pack in her crotch and stitches on her hoo-ha, or she's sewn up like a football from end to end, or she's finally reached the culmination of a years-long, hellish rollercoaster of adoption and no one is there to ask how she's dealing with it all. They just want to get their (probably germy) paws on the baby, and she's left empty-armed and bleeding out of some orifice or surgical wound.
And even if she doesn't want to talk about her personal physical travails, even if she's cool not sharing the details of her mesh panties and supersized maxi pads, still no one wants to talk about her. No one wants to know if she's managed to catch up on This is Us. No one wants to know if she's into the new season of Queer Eye. No one cares about what’s going on in that head and heart of hers.
Nope, all anyone cares about is the baby.
Congratulations, Mom — that's your name now, by the way, often preceded by your child's name as a possessive. No one gives a fuck about you anymore. It's all about the babes. Unless it's all about your postpartum body, which is partially all about the babes, anyway. You have no more musical tastes, pop culture preferences, interests in art or film. You have not read any good books lately, unless it was about babies and/or child rearing. You have not read any good articles on the internet unless they were about babies and/or child rearing. You can no longer say the f-word, even outside of polite company, and forget that love of artisanal cocktails. Forget your hobbies — no one cares about them anymore. So you sewed that skirt yourself? Yawn — are you doing baby-led solids?
This baby is a cockblock between you and the rest of the world.
This is why you need other mom friends. This is why you will crave mom friends, real or virtual, especially mom friends who have been there, done that. Because not only will they be able to answer your rookie momming questions in a non-judgmental way, they will also care about you. You can share your love of knitting with them. You can talk to them about your garden. You can talk to them about the salacious romance you just read, about sex toys, about how your dog tore up the garbage again. They will care. They will want to know more. They will ask pertinent questions and follow along. Because they, also, know what it's like to be erased. And when they hold your baby while you vomit words at them, it won't feel like they've stolen something from you. It will feel like sweet release. It will feel like coming home.
And suddenly, you will remember that you do, indeed, exist.
Posted: 02 May 2018 06:00 PM PDT
If you've ever fixed a malfunctioning Nintendo cartridge by blowing into it, or ridden (sans seatbelt) in a wood-paneled station wagon, or got totally excited because a folded piece of notebook paper predicted you'd someday live in a mansion, congratulations: you likely experienced the phenomenon known as the '80s.
Those of us who were kids or tweens or teens back then are a special breed, watching the world go from 8-tracks to cassettes to CDs to MP3s, remembering when microwaves and VCRs were fancy. We can navigate Netflix, but we still know the struggle of getting up to change the channel on our boxy Magnavox TV. We are smartphone-savvy, but have spent our fair share of time stretching the phone cord as far away from the wall as it could go.
It was a great time to grow up, free of the pressures and pretenses of social media, where "no filter" was the rule, not the exception – because you never knew how a picture would turn out until you got your film developed, anyway. (Kids today will never know the excitement of finally picking up that envelope from the photo counter.)
If any of this is making you fondly reminisce, you’re in for a treat. Strap on your Reebok high-tops, kids: we're about to step back into some totally rad 1980s nostalgia.
1. Reality shows weren't a thing in the '80s.
We watched family-friendly sitcoms like Family Ties, Diff'rent Strokes, Growing Pains, ALF, Webster, Perfect Strangers, Three's Company, Cheers, and The Golden Girls. Our parents got their drama from Miami Vice, Dallas, and Dynasty – and you knew somebody who watched daytime soap operas obsessively and talked about the characters like they were people they hung out with. And of course, there were the nail-biters of the day, Rescue 911 and Unsolved Mysteries (I swore I wasn't scared of the show, but that theme song though …).
If we were really lucky, we'd get to go to the video store and rent a movie, trying to contain our raging curiosity about what kind of VHS tapes were behind that curtained-off area. If we were unlucky, some asshole had "forgotten" to rewind so we had to wait an extra five minutes before we could watch.
2. Cartoons were a special Saturday morning ritual, not an everyday occurrence.
We'd pour a bowl of cereal – which still had awesome prizes in the box, by the way, the standard by which we chose what cereal to buy – and watch Jem and the Holograms and the Muppet Babies (we make our dreams come tru-uuue) and Warner Brothers cartoons and USA Cartoon Express, and wish He-Man and She-Ra would hook up even though they were actually, like, siblings or something. There were also the non-cartoon exceptions, like Pee-Wee's Playhouse and Punky Brewster. On regular days, we watched PBS: Reading Rainbow, 3-2-1 Contact, Mr. Rogers, Sesame Street. And even that wasn't an all-day lineup – which left us plenty of time to get outside and play.
3. We could just get out and go.
Back in those days (*insert wistful stroking of long white beard*), if we were gone for hours, well, our moms just figured somebody in the neighborhood was feeding us a bologna sandwich and a Capri Sun for lunch. We'd ride all over the place on our banana seat bikes without a care in the world. We'd convene at the house of whoever's freezer was stocked with Otter Pops, and we'd sit in the yard or on the stoop slurping them down with gusto, even though the package felt like glass shards against the sides of our mouths as we tried to suck out every last drop of juice.
4. Our parents didn't seem to worry much about our consumption of junk foods.
Probably because we spent all day running and biking here and there. We ate Jell-O Pudding Pops (blissfully unaware of exactly how slimy their spokesman, Bill Cosby, really was) and Hostess Pudding Pies. We cracked open a bag of Tato Skins or Cool Ranch Doritos and washed them down with a Hi-C Ecto Cooler or some Kool-Aid. We chomped on Fruit Roll-Ups like it was our job.
5. We had the coolest toys.
When we were playing indoors, we were all about the Care Bears, Cabbage Patch Kids, Strawberry Shortcake, My Little Ponies, Popples, Pound Puppies, Barbies, Transformers, My Buddy and Kid Sister dolls, and the coveted talking Teddy Ruxpin that all the cool kids seemed to have. We traded Garbage Pail Kids cards with our friends. We read along with storybooks on record with our little Fisher-Price record players, or just listened while we colored and created pictures of fabulous '80s outfits with our Fashion Plates.
6. Because of course, fashion was fun.
Jeans were acid-washed. Shoulders were padded. Waists were properly fanny-packed. Everything was neon. Earrings were long, gloves were fingerless, and socks were layered. We owned at least one outfit with elastic cuffs. Preppy was a Polo shirt with a popped collar. Jackets were Members Only. Sweaters were colorblocked. Gitano and Jordache, Izod and Esprit. Happiness was collecting new charms for our plastic charm bracelets and necklaces. And even going to the gym was a fashion show; no self-respecting woman of the '80s worked out in anything but a leotard, legwarmers, and sweat bands.
To bring our looks together, we had jelly shoes in every color, with their remarkable capability to make our feet sweaty AF even though they were literally full of holes. (I can still recall the gnarly smell of said sweaty feet.) Très chic.
If we were old enough then to take matters into our own hands, we were trying to get closer to heaven via sky-high hair, sprayed stiff enough to withstand a category-5 hurricane. There was just more hair in the '80s, period. Big, fluffy, feathered, crimped, permed (with an Ogilvie home perm: it curled the hair on your head and singed the hair in your nose). A proper '80s coif was either crispy or poofy; there was no in-between. We did it up with plastic headbands and gargantuan floppy bows and banana clips and – if our moms were still fixing our 'dos in those days – those hair ties with the plastic balls that always snapped against our skulls (pretty sure I still have dents).
7. A trip to the drug store was all you needed for your beauty and skin care needs.
We'd scrub our faces with Noxema and Sea Breeze astringent and wash our hair with Finesse or strawberry-scented Suave, then take out our Caboodles, stocked with the ubiquitous beauty products of the day: blue eyeshadow and mascara, bright blush, candy-pink or fuschia lipstick.
If we weren't yet allowed to wear full-on makeup, we dabbled with kid-friendly cosmetics like Tinkerbell (peel-off nail polish!), Maybelline Kissing Koolers (or their roll-on counterpart, Kissing Potion), Lee Press-On Nails, or Fazz – remember those? They were plastic jewelry, in lightening bolts or other geometric shapes, with makeup in them. WEARABLE. MAKEUP. We smelled like Love's perfumes – Baby Soft, Rain, and the other one that smelled like lemon Pledge. And if you didn't own a bottle of Debbie Gibson's Electric Youth, with the neon-pink plastic spiral inside, were you even alive in the '80s?
8. The roller skating rink was the center of your universe.
We spruced ourselves up to hang out at the roller skating rink, the bowling alley, and the arcade, where we skated or bowled or flirted to the soundtrack of the day blaring over the speakers: Def Leppard, Cyndi Lauper, Michael Jackson, Prince, the Bangles, Madonna, Pat Benatar, Bon Jovi, Springsteen, Queen, Billy Idol (and Chicago for the slow jams, and Kool and the Gang to cel-e-brate good times, c'mon). Speaking of soundtracks, we made our own by way of mixtapes – which we painstakingly waited beside our boomboxes to record when our fave songs came on the radio. And oh, the soul-crushing agony when your favorite cassette unraveled.
9. School in the '80s was a buzzkill, of course, in the grand tradition of education.
We had to tackle school projects by using encyclopedias and thumbing endlessly through the library's card catalog – ugh. But we did have some good stuff, like Trapper Keepers and scented stickers to decorate them with. We passed intricately-folded notes to our friends and played M.A.S.H. during downtime. We had book fairs, where we bought the latest installments of The Baby-Sitter's Club and Sweet Valley High and Choose Your Own Adventure. We could earn our very own personal pan pizzas with the Book-It program from Pizza Hut. On special occasions, we got to play Oregon Trail on those boxy Apple II computers with the floppy disks.
10. If we couldn't talk to our friends in person after school, we called them on our phones.
If we were lucky, we had one of those cool see-through phones and we hoped we wouldn't get a busy signal. We were tethered to the wall, so long phone cords were everything. The better to reach the fridge or the couch or to tangle around our fingers or our feet while we tied up the line for hours.
Yes, the '80s were unique: childhood simplicity, on the cusp of technology. And those of us who grew up in that time are pretty fortunate, because it shaped us into the awesome people we are today. You guys, we not only survived, but thrived through a decade where standard playground equipment could cause third-degree burns and a curly mullet was the height of coolness. Remind yourself of that next time anything gets too tough. We're '80s kids, and I pity the fool who didn't get to experience everything that entailed.
Do you miss the '80s? Check yes or no.
Posted: 02 May 2018 06:00 PM PDT
Exercise. It's such a heavy word for a variety of reasons. Whatever your reasons for wanting to exercise, finding the time to do so is usually one of the hardest things. Between all the shit we have to get done on a daily basis, who can carve out an hour to go to a workout class?
Then when you get there, you feel self-conscious about being in a room with a bunch of people who clearly have more time to get to class than you do, which makes the experience excruciating.
Enter the marvelous world of at-home workouts. You do them on your own time from the privacy of your own home, where no one cares if you're wearing the T-shirt from your high school play in 1995 and have a lop-sided ponytail.
No matter what your level of experience, you can find a workout program you can do. Not a lot of time? There are plenty that you can squeeze in between soccer practice and dinner. Not a lot of money? There are free options too. Not a lot of motivation? There are some that will all but give you a virtual kick in the ass to get started.
These are some of the best apps/websites to find diverse types of workouts. All apps are available for both iOS and Android.
Sure, you can find just about any recipe you're looking for, and you spend hours creating pin boards for everything from your dream wedding to home decor, but you can also find thousands of workout pins. Seriously, it gets addicting. I legit have an entire board of exercise pins simply devoted to trying to get my butt back from when it dropped those two inches after having my kid. Spoiler alert: SQUATS! SQUATS! SQUATS!
As a person who only runs when I’m being chased, the thought of running a 5K seems incredibly daunting. But this app shows even the most novice runner how to build themselves up to be able to run one if they feel so inclined. And if you’re one of those people who would only run if being chased by zombies, there’s even a Zombie version of Couch to 5K.
Yes, people most often associate BeachBody with pushy MLM strategies, like complete strangers accosting you in the dairy aisle or because you're in the same Facebook mom group, but there is a way around that. The BeachBody site has the DVDs of all their workout programs, and you can also do many of them on demand, as well through their subscription service. No pushy sales pitches, no chalky tasting supplement drinks; just some sweet Hip Hop Abs or Shaun T's Insanity.
The Bar Method is a mix of ballet and yoga, while incorporating more traditional workout elements like weights. There are studios all over the country, but if you don't have the time to attend a class, or there isn't a studio near you, you can do the classes online, even if you don't have a barre. I’ve taken a barre class before, and let me tell you, afterward it was difficult to pee and sneezing was hell, but it hurt so good.
Sure, YouTube can be a vast wasteland of Ryan's Toy Review videos and that incessant Finger Family videos, but it actually has lots of other uses too. There are tons of workout videos there, for those who need to be following along with a workout, or at very least need a moving visual aid.
Here are some popular YouTube yoga pages:
Sweat is a workout website designed specifically for women. There are a variety of workouts, from weight training to postpartum exercise, and the flexibility of time. You can also change your workouts and goals as you feel necessary, which is good if, like me, you stop exercising when you get bored with doing the same thing all the time.
As if free two-day shipping wasn't enough, there's yet another reason to love Amazon Prime. There are thousands of workout videos of all kinds that you can access for free through your Prime Video subscription. So, you can chase the adrenaline high of an amazing shopping score with a solid workout. Some faves are Shazzy Fitness: In the Beginning and TheGymbox Workouts On Demand.
Is it worth it, using Sworkit? Put your mat down, sweat, and then you smashed it. But seriously, no matter how little time you have, you can find a workout on Sworkit. You can cultivate your own ideal workout depending on what you're looking to accomplish, whether it’s toning up or to just feel stronger.
Honestly, sometimes there just aren't enough hours in the day to exercise. Enter the 7-Minute Workout app. There are a bunch of different quick workouts that you can do — all in durations of 7 minutes — so even if you don't have much time to commit that day, you can squeeze in a quick sweat sesh.
This workout brings you the joy of taking a class, but without the anxiety of working out with a bunch of strangers. The classes are streamed live throughout the day, and you can adjust for your location. Since you log in to the class, the instructor knows you're there and may actually call you out by your name to motivate you, just like if you were at SoulCycle.
The best thing about working out at home? You don’t feel guilty and won’t feel ashamed for missing a class. If you don’t have time, or you forget (some days I barely remember to brush my hair and put on a clean shirt, much less exercise), you can carve out a few minutes before bed, or whenever you have extra time.
Because working out shouldn’t feel like work.
Posted: 02 May 2018 06:00 PM PDT
I will never forget the first time someone questioned my relation to my daughter. With her beautiful tight brown curls, deep brown eyes and her smooth, dark complexion, I can vaguely understand how one might contrast her to my pin straight blonde hair, light blue eyes and pale white skin, and think I am the babysitter instead of the woman who had birthed, nurtured, and cared for her since conception.
The first time my role as mother to my gorgeous biracial daughter was brought up as a topic of conversation was surprisingly the easiest. I had signed up to volunteer for the morning in my daughter’s kindergarten class. Once I was introduced and assigned my position at the glue table, an adorable freckled little boy sat across from me and silently stared.
I asked him if there was anything I could help him with. Thinking he would ask me to adhere a petal to the flower we were constructing, I was shocked when instead he said, “You’re not really Ryleigh’s mom, are you?”
I told him yes, I am, and turned my attention to the little girl in pigtails two seats down, who had apparently tried gluing her finger to her forehead, and now had glue dripping down into her eye.
However, Freckles wasn’t done with his questioning. He tapped me on my arm and further inquired, “But how are you her mom when she has brown skin, and yours is white like mine?”
I was shocked. This was my first time volunteering, and I had already allowed the sure visual impairment of Miss Pigtails and was now being questioned about DNA and genetics?
I took in a deep breath and explained that while I have white skin, Ryleigh’s father has dark skin, so she ended up being the perfect mix of both of her parents. Freckles looked at me, a little puzzled, and then said, “Oh, do you have a favorite superhero?” And our conversation veered to the superiority of the Hulk over Spider Man. He easily accepted my answer and moved on with his life.
The next time I was assumed to be a nanny, instead of the mother, was a little harder for me to come to terms with. My partner and I had brought our three children to the city library so that I could do some research while they played in the kids’ section. After finishing up with my work, I joined my family and sat down with my son to play with blocks. The elderly librarian watched the entire time.
Before packing up, I brought my daughter up to the desk to help her sign up for her own library card. After asking for the form, the librarian looked back and forth between my 8-year-old and me, and said, “Ma’am, this little girl will need her parent or legal guardian here to sign the form. Is that her father over there? Please send him over and he can fill out the paperwork.”
I felt like I had been hit in the stomach. I carried this child in my body for 9 months, gave birth, woke up with her every single night, read to her, sang to her, bathed her. She was my life. And this woman with her glaring eyes had dismissed even the possibility that I could have mothered her just by looking at us.
I once again took in a deep breath, and replied that there would be no reason to call her father over, that as her mother I was more than capable of filling out the form. The librarian looked at me, baffled, stumbling over her words with apologies that she had “just figured…” and “your daughter is just so much darker…” before she finally shut up and passed me the paperwork.
These two encounters have been etched into my mind ever since. In a predominantly white neighborhood, it was not so hard for me to accept that a five-year-old had never been exposed to a multi-racial family before. It was fairly easy to laugh off his questioning, and move on. But it was much more difficult for me to shrug off the inner-city elderly librarian who used her assumptions and then ignorance in trying to defend herself by openly mentioning my daughter’s skin color as a reason for our apparent non-relation.
Families are made up in so many different ways now. It is well past time we accept the beauty of the uniqueness of our home-bases. From single-parent households to ones with same-sex parents to multi-racial ones, we all deserve the same respect and acceptance in society. After all, each of us is just trying to do the best for our children.
Posted: 02 May 2018 06:00 PM PDT
There has been a lot of talk about hot mess moms lately and I’m starting to have to admit to myself that I might just be one of them. While my house does get a once-over cleaning every Saturday when the whole family pitches in, I have trouble maintaining the stamina to see it through to completion. After I’ve been at it for a few hours, I’m the first to admit that I might cut a corner or two in order to be done before the next millennium. It’s survival. And weekdays are a total write-off with work and extracurricular activities so spreading out the workload isn’t really an option.
Here are some corners that I have been cutting in order to survive. It’s time to stand up and embrace our jagged corners fellow hot mess moms.
1. The pots and pans.
I hate to even admit it, but there are some nights when after I get the dishes loaded in the dishwasher and the food all put away, I’m wiped. Totally wiped. So the pots and pans go into the sink to soak. And they may or may not still be there tomorrow. Just sayin’.
2. The crockpot.
Whoever invented the crockpot was a genius, but whoever invents a self-cleaning one, will be a billionaire. Those things are a pain to clean. So it might just be soaking too.
3. The laundry.
Gets washed, dried, folded and …. Not put away. It sits in the basket until I am forced to empty it to make way for another clean load. It’s a vicious cycle. And hey, 3 steps out of 4 ain’t bad.
4. I vacuum around stuff.
Yup, I don’t always move everything and vacuum underneath. I’m sure that the object on top is affording some level of protection against dirt to the bit of floor under it. I’ll move it all once in a while for a deep clean, but not even close to every time. Sorry. (Not really that sorry).
5. My car.
The entire thing. I have no excuses. It’s not pretty. I’m sure the kids have spilled some milk at some point that they didn’t tell me about too.
6. The steps.
So when we tidy up the main floor, sometimes stuff that belongs on the 2nd floor makes it to the steps and no further. Oops. Maybe time to move into a bungalow?
7. Not making the bed.
Sometimes — okay, lots of times — I’m in a rush in the morning and make my bed at night before I get in. Does that still count?
8. I don’t always follow through when my kids leave crap lying around.
Sure, sometimes I do. But not always. Am I creating a new generation of hot mess moms? It’s possible, but right now I’m too tired to care. They are nice people so far so that’s what I’m hanging on to. Hot mess? I’m not that fussed about it.
9. I don’t put the toaster away.
Or the straightening iron. Or the hair dryer. Anything that gets hot really. I feel uncomfortable putting hot things in a drawer so I leave them overnight to cool. If things don’t get done right away, unfortunately, they go back to the bottom of the list. So if you come over and you see my straightener out but my hair is super curly? I apologize. It’s finally cooled down now.
10. We have two nearly empty bottles of almost every condiment in the fridge.
Ugh, cleaning out the expired and half-empty condiment bottles is a monumental task in a very busy world. I will get to it, I promise. Eventually.
I don’t understand shoes. I’m pretty sure they multiply like rabbits while we are sleeping. And no one seems to put them away without excessive nagging. By the front door? By the back door? There are shoes. So many shoes. And sometimes they stay where they land.
12. The vacuum (or in the case of central vac, the vacuum hose).
On the weekends, I’m pretty great at finally cracking out the vacuum. Giving everywhere a once over (behind careful not to move any furniture of course unless it’s deep clean day) and then for some reason, leave the hose out for the rest of the weekend. Is this my way of proving that I vacuumed? Am I subconsciously bragging? Hmmm… I’ll have to ponder that one — when I finally put the hose away.
13. The mail.
The mail may just live on my kitchen counter until recycling day. Then I can go through it all at once and get rid of it. If you need a timely answer and it’s before recycling day, then best just call.
So if you come over to my house and happen to see a basket of crap on the steps waiting to go up, just quietly take it upstairs for me and no one gets hurt. And I’ll do the same for you. What corners do you cut in order to survive?
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