mombrain

Mixing It Up

In which MomBrain bemoans her lack of talent in the kitchen and worries that the Little Guy will need therapy if she uses a boxed cake mix ...

The Little Guy is now in Kindergarten, an official Big Boy, and I am seriously earning my June Cleaver Girl Scout Badge. Let me tell you, MomBrain's wooden spoon is getting a workout. The bake sales, the fund raisers, the classroom holiday parties, the potlucks ... oy.

This would not be so bad except that my baking skills define new levels of suckage, which is why I have been relying on Krusteaz "just add water" cornbread. But now I must make four dozen of my favorite cookies and bring the recipe for a party this weekend. I've always been the dork who brings Oreos and gets a laugh. But these are Alpha Moms, talented and energetic and committed, while I am strictly an Omega Mom. I believe in shortcuts. I am all about the B+. Because sometimes "good enough" is good enough. Except that it isn't.

MomBrain is back from a

MomBrain is back from a lengthy absence in which she was held hostage by her other personality, Suzy Snowflake. Suzy is a sad, sad girl who likes to look at her bellybutton a lot. She also sleeps a lot and eats nothing but Oreos. Poor MomBrain is bound and gagged in the corner while Suzy writes very bad poetry about dead leaves in the gutter of life, forgets to shower, and misses all of MomBrain's deadlines.

Eventually Suzy gets tired of herself and MomBrain manages to break free of her restraints. We stretch. Eat salad. Wonder how fast we can lose the three pounds of belly fat that Suzy left behind. And start typing.

Today is the Little Guy's fifth birthday. Every sentence begins with "Since today is my birthday and I'm turning five ..." and ends with some variation of "Can I eat breakfast in front of the TV?" or "Can I not go to school today?" And I can barely squeak "No" because I am so misty-eyed remembering my little peanut.

On Strike

10:30 in the morning and I am proudly, even militantly, still in my pajamas. In fact, MomBrain is so busy collapsing that she cannot possibly shower, get dressed, or do anything except eat jelly toast and drink tea.

It's been a long week, with the Big Guy out of town and the Little Guy sick and housebound. It's been just the two of us, day after day, and I'm sorry but I just cannot play superheroes for one more minute. And so the jet-lagged Big Guy has taken the sniffly Little Guy to Target to buy presents, cards and wrapping paper for the next two birthday parties. Then they will go out to lunch. Then they will go to birthday party #1 until 4:00. And when they return I *may* be dressed.

Lifting the Covers

Today's NY Times Sunday Styles section features mom and dad bloggers, who evidently are quite the self-absorbed lot and mourn the the me-me-me-ness of our pre-baby adult lives. We are obscene narcissists struggling to rise above invisibility and to remind the world that we still exist. Oh, and our blogs are just a primal scream that expose the "dark underbelly" of parenting. To which I say ... DUH. And your point would be?

Of course I am just jealous because the author didn't profile MomBrain. So perhaps I am just exposing my own dark underbelly. But sheesh, since when is it bad to want to exist in the world, to be seen and known and loved? There is so much anti-parent bias in this article it makes me want to scream. Primally.

Or perhaps I just need a little less caffeine and a few more reminders of the joy of being isolated, invisible, and devalued. Oops - there's that underbelly again. MomBrain really must be more careful.

Ethics 101

When I took ethics in college, I was thinking about business. It never occurred to me that parenthood would be full of ethical dilemmas. But MomBrain encounters them every day. For example, what would you do in the following situations?

Question: You are at McDonald's buying a Happy Meal for your preschooler, who does cartwheels when he gets the flying G.I Joe toy. The next customer sees it and starts complaining about war toys. His son looks disconsolate. Do you:

A. Agree and rip the toy out of your son's hands, then smash it to itty bitty bits.
B. Shrug your shoulders and mutter something about boys will be boys.
C. Loudly encourage your son to share G.I. Joe with his new friends.
D. Argue with the man, who is 150 pounds heavier and a foot taller. Show him G.I. Joe's blond hair, note that his wings don't look like a weapon, and suggest that perhaps it is our interpretation that is wrong.

Answer: If you picked D, then you are as reckless as MomBrain. You win two points and a complementary set of body armor!

Question: Same place. Same people. Now you are eating your meal when your son accidentally launches a missile that lands in your fellow customer's french fries. Do you:

A. Smash the toy to itty bitty bits.
B. Shrug your shoulders and mutter something about boys will be boys.
C. Smile at the very large man and apologize.
D. Smile at your son and say "Whoa! Good shot!"

Answer: If you picked D, then you are as stupid as MomBrain. You win three points and a personal security detail!

Question: Same place. Same people. When your son trades G.I. Joe with his new friend for a toy motorcycle, do you:

A. Smash the toys to itty bitty bits.
B. Shrug your shoulders and mutter something about boys will be boys.
C. Smile at the boys and undo the trade, trying to explain the problem without using words like "war" and "weapons" and "bad guys."
D. Loudly praise your son for doing a good job sharing.

Answer: If you picked D, you are as insensitive and oafish as MomBrain. You win four points and a free pass into the witness protection program.

Dear Diary

Here is what the Little Guy did today: Went to the beach. Made the shovel of a real backhoe go up and down. Ate a rocket pop from the ice cream truck. Danced with a purple scarf. Went for a walk in the woods.

Here is what I did today: Cleaned the kitchen. Washed, folded, and put away three loads of laundry. Cleaned up cat vomit. Got stuck in traffic. Arm-wrestled with my computer. Ate yogurt. Scrubbed a toilet.

I am bitter.

The Nadir

Oh my darlings, MomBrain is not able to update nearly as much as she would like to. Due to travel, illness, and spring break, the Little Guy has been in preschool only two mornings in the last month. And with magazine deadlines looming in mid-April, my blogging time is severely limited. Wah.

My idyllic moment of the last post was quickly followed by perhaps the least idyllic moment of parenthood, when the Little Guy threw up for the first time in his life. All over me. In a restaurant. Twice. Of course LG was scared and upset, until I told him that Rescue Heroes throw up, too. Then I told him that grown-ups throw up in the toilet, which was hysterically funny to him. I hope he's always that easy to cheer up.

Meanwhile, I have only recently noticed that the last three letters in Nanny's license plate are PKX. You gotta love a Nanny whose license plate says pickaxe.

Why Ask Why?

MomBrain is in a tizzy trying to find her Good Mommy Uniform. Today is the Little Guy's first official Child Visit at a potential preschool, and I can't help thinking how silly it is -- that the parents will be dressed for competition, knives sharpened and teeth gleaming, while the three year olds roll in the mud. Some of the kids will be well-rehearsed for their performance, most of them will be wearing adorable outfits, and all of them will quickly revert to their usual three-year-old mentality, which is just short of animals in a zoo. And I know at least one of them will be overtired, hungry, and cranky -- the Little Guy, who went to bed late last night and has only recently stopped napping. So we will probably flunk our Child Visit.

More later, but now I must hit the shower and start primping for the competition.