Ta-da!

Okay, so there’s this thing that happens when you realize you’re 28 with two children and a minivan. At least it happened with me. It’s not that I am unhappy or regretful by any means. I love my life. And, in fact, I think I am as happy now as I could ever be. It’s just, I guess, I needed to rebel a little. I was feeling like I was starting to fit into a soccer mom mold a little too comfortably and I needed to separate myself a bit from that. So, I got it into my head to get a tattoo. I’ve talked about it for years. I guess I thought it would help me recapture some sense of lost youth.

I thought the best time to get one would be on our trip to Hawaii and I managed to sucker Thomas into doing it along with me. We headed down to Hart & Huntington (the tattoo parlor featured on the show Inked) and made our appointment. Here’s what I didn’t know. Getting a tattoo is not nearly as spontaneous as one might think. First, we had to go down and look at portfolios. We needed to have a clear idea/picture of what we wanted. We had to pick the artist. Talk to the artist. Get a price quote and make an appointment after giving a non-refundable deposit. Not exactly a spur of the moment experience. But, once we made our appointment, I had the best time. We showed up the next night at 9pm and my tattoo artist, Max, was everything your first tattoo artist should be. He was my dad’s age and seemed to have only one eye. He was very sweet and considerate. In fact, in a strange way, he was quite the gentleman. I say in a strange way, because while he made sure to pull out the chair for me and praise my decision to be a stay-at-home mom he also filled every bawdy story he told with enough expletives to shock even me. But, he did a great job and made my experience awesome.

I know these things have to be addictive because I am already thinking about what I’d do if I got another one. So, take that soccer mom image. It turns out I don’t fit quite as comfortably as I might have seemed...

Worst Toys Ever!

Okay. So I know I put way too much thought into things sometimes and overestimate the importance of certain kid related issues. But, I cannot manage to go to Toys ‘R Us without being completely disturbed by the toys on the shelves. So, I’ve decided to start sharing these horrors with my friends and family (though you probably hear me rant about them all the time anyways - anyone remember my fury at only finding pink butterfly soccer goals for my daughter? darn those gender role stereotypes!).

Worst Toys #1 - Ultimate Aggression. Yes, that’s the name of the toy. Not some sarcastic name I gave it. It is some WWE or WWF action figure for boys. And his name is ULTIMATE AGGRESSION! Seriously? Regular aggression isn’t enough for impressionable young boys? Nope. They need the Ultimate version. Don’t even get me started on why any parent would want to encourage their child to imitate the antics of steroid guzzling wrestling superstars. I’ve decided I am going to give all of Kai and Ivy’s potential boyfriends questionnaires that specifically ask if they ever owned this toy. A yes gets then an automatic denial to date my girls.

Worst Toys #2 - Digital Makeover. Yep, one for the girls! A computer program that allows girls ages 5 and up to scan pics of themselves in and - of course- completely change their entire appearance. Because it’s never too early for self-loathing!

What’s next? Girls plastic surgery programs? I can see the ad now, “Why wait for puberty when you can design the body you’ve always wanted? Simply scan in your photos and enhance your figure to match your favorite Barbie doll! Comes with a convenient print option that allows you to take the photos to your mommy’s favorite plastic surgeon! Ages 3+”

These toys are in addition to the HORRIBLE Bratz dolls that I am convinced were designed by Satan himself. What could be better than giving little girls some over-sexualized stripper dolls to play with? They even have their own cartoon where these Bratz babies (and I mean babies as in toddlers) walk around in belly shirts and platform shoes. To steal a quote from Will Ferrell in Zoolander, “Come on! Am I the only one who sees this? I feel like I am taking Crazy Pills!”

Staying sane while staying home...

It is no easy task. I am constantly asked by people (most often men) we know how I am liking staying at home. They ask me with this genuine and hopeful look on their face expecting a blissful answer about how wonderful it is to be home all day every day. And, most times, I give these people the answer they want.

“Oh, I am loving it. It is so good to have more time to spend with the girls!”

But, what I am thinking is:

“Oh, it depends on the day or (more specifically the minute of the day) that you ask me. On days when I get everyone up, dressed and out the door for some sort of activity before 10am and no one hits, bites, screams at or maims the other, has no unfortunately timed dirty diaper or urgent trip to the potty that leaves me navigating the world’s most disgusting public restroom while yelling “stop touching that and do NOT lick anything!”, steps in dog poop at the park and drags it all over the already messy van exclaiming innocently that she has got mud EVERYWHERE then yes I enjoy it. However, on the days when one (or more often all) of the above happen I do not love it so much and I think perhaps they would be better off in the care of strangers all day.

Being a mom is much like any other job. There are days when you love your job and can’t imagine doing anything else. And there are days when you spend every free minute searching every single job category on Monster.com. The only difference is that when you spend the day scouring the job market you end up feeling exceedingly guilty for not being one of those women who blissfully goes through the day covered in baby throw-up and finger paint and never regrets a moment of it.