My little girl’s “daughters”.

While my daughter was at soccer practice, (my off night for carpooling) I was in charge of “babysitting” her imaginary family. Yes, the standing sister is a vintage doll my parents conveniently discovered at a garage sale a while ago. I helped my daughter give her a makeover Friday night. Her look was a little too Betty Boop meets Mrs. Cunningham. (Amazing what an elastic band can do.) I keep wanting to call her Pat Benatar, but she has no clue who that is and she’s already annoyed by the fact that I use the word “hip” so frequently. The big sister is apparently 10 years old, my daughter says, but not quite old enough to babysit. Try folding five loads of laundry and fixing dinner while keeping four dolls from being trampled by a hyper active two-and-a-half-year-old Golden Retriever. They can’t exactly help me set the table or put clothes away, but I have to say, they’re refreshingly quiet.

When my daughter comes home from school, the first thing out of her mouth is, “Mom, did you feed the baby?” I smile and nod. “I remembered, honey.”

My daughter adores babies. She always snuggles the baby, feeds it, wraps it in a blanket and strolls it around the house.

Before taking a shower, she fills the sink with water and gives the baby a bath. And I blow-dry her damp cloth bottom and dress her in a clean paper towel diaper.  Yes, the “baby” I’m referring to is a doll. Which makes my daughter a Baby Doll Mama. And me? A 41-year-old Baby Doll Grandma. It’s been a lot of fun, and I can’t stop smiling as I take in every last drop of my youngest child’s sweet imagination.

She likes to include the family in her baby doll world too. Even our Golden Retriever has learned to respect the baby (by playing nice and not chewing on it). I have to say, she has a pretty amazing system. She does homework while the baby sits in a mini playpen. She goes on play dates and practices while the baby naps. I “take care of her” (a-hem) during the day. On a typical week night, you’ll hear her ask, “Dad, can you please wrap the baby in a tortilla blanket again?”

“Mom, can you please read her a story?”

“Mom, can you please watch the baby while I go to the bathroom?”

It’s all I can do to not tear up because it’s so precious.

But I can’t lie, I do have my days. Maybe I can’t hold her when I’m cooking dinner? Or heading out? And when we’re in a hurry, don’t worry about getting HER ready! Just get dressed for crying out loud! The other day, when I picked up my daughter from school, she found the baby in the back seat, as hot as Austin in August. “Mommy, did you leave baby in the car?”

“No, she was just running errands with me honey,” I fib, frantically wiping my saliva on her plastic face to cool her down.

Don’t even get me started on the two American Girl dolls that are the baby’s big sisters.

Are your kids picky? As a kid, when dinner was served, I finished everything on my plate. No questions asked. There was no, “I don’t like this, can I have something else?”. Those were the days when you waited a year to watch a movie on TV (or else you weren’t watching that movie for another year).  After playing outside for five hours, there was no room to complain. Not about Sloppy Joes or cooked spinach. I poured salt on that green glob and prayed that I’d be as strong as Popeye the next day. My kids are picky eaters. Good sleepers. Well-behaved. And they are so quick witted. But they are picky about what they eat.  I could fill a phone book with the reasons why I feel guilty about this, stemming back to the first spicy fish taco that I consumed during my pregnancy.

So, anyhoo, during a recent family trip, we decide to grab lunch at a small bar inside our hotel that claimed to offer lunch selections. (If you count maraschino cherries as an appetizer.) We were seated and glanced down the menu. We passed on the oysters and calamari and decide on the sliders. Yes, the mini-burger sliders. Unfortunately, these cute, tiny burgers were grilled with 40 kinds of spices, an imported cheese that smells like feet and some green-colored unmentionables. Trying to get my daughter to eat one slender patty is what I like to refer to as the Hennessey version of Fear Factor. We sat there for nearly an hour, waiting for her to stop complaining. She started taking bites, but it would be another week before we could get this child to finish her meal. I thought she was going to barf right there on the table. But she did it. Not puke. I mean, she ate her lunch. Well, most of it. OK, half of it. Maybe she didn’t finish it and I freaked out and let her have some chips so she wouldn’t feel weak or make a scene. In my eyes, she did it. In my maternal eyes, she was trapped in a glass box filled with snakes and never screamed once.

Seriously. If you had asked me this simple question 12 years ago, I’d be calling friends from the office trying to figure out where to meet in downtown Seattle. Either Smokey Pesos or Tini Bigs. Those were the days. But I love being a mom. And my husband and I may not be partying every weekend, but that doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy sneaking away for a fun date every once in a while. There’s no crime in getting a sitter at 4:30 p.m. and getting home in time to see your kids before they go to bed, right? 😉

Are you a natural at decorating? When it comes to interior design, the women in my family have a knack for making something from TJ Maxx look like it’s imported from the south of France. Or they spend weeks sewing drapes that look like they were flown in by a Hollywood designer. You may need to take a seat for this one: My maternal relatives still CHANGE their drapes with the seasons. Who has the patience for this? God bless them. (I hope my daughter gets some of their genes.) I, on the other hand, inherited my dear paternal grandmother’s instincts when it comes to décor. Let’s just say I like to play on the safe side. I buy my own drapes. And they stay hanging ALL YEAR LONG. My couch is the color of crap for a reason (something that I go into further in my book, How to Spread Sanity on a Cracker). I’m not into big trends, silk flowers or anything too mix-and-matchy, which for the record, is exactly what the designers recommend. If you were to describe my style? Post-college dorm meets eclectic desperation. I adore my friends and family, but I tend to invite them over when it’s too dark to see the dog hair on my rug and my staid décor in the bright sunlight. About six years ago, I painted everything known to man in my house white because I wanted it to be cottagey looking to go with the rest of my house. Jackie’s version of Design on a Dime if you will. Through the years, that cottagey look, along with the fresh paint, has faded RIDONKULOUSLY. I’ve been calling it shabby chic for so long, and although it was never really shabby chic, I’m too stubborn and practical to admit that I need some decorator love. I have a tendency to take a while to embrace trends. (I think I learned a lesson growing up in the suburbs of Texas with puke green colored carpets and appliances. Things do go out of style over the years.) Or I’ll go overboard. Carson, from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, if you ever come to Rhode Island, please make my house (and me) your next project! I would love for you to tear me away from my bad designer habits.

And by the way, I totally miss this show, which went off the air years ago. But I have been happily watching repeats lately thanks to Netflix (when everyone is out of the house and I need some mommy sanity). http://www.tv.com/shows/queer-eye/ Miss you guys!

How did your week go? Did you get through the first day of school OK? I can’t lie – I was a little stressed out the night before. Oh, I don’t know why. Maybe because my daughter was starting the third grade and my son, my first born, was starting junior high school. Yes JUNIOR HIGH. As in Diary of a Wimpy Kid first day of school, only I was the one stressing, not my son. Although there were no middle of the night panic attacks involving Captain Crunch, I did what I usually do when I’m nerve-wracked about something. I get all excited, eat chocolate and can’t get to sleep. I think I slept about three hours (if that), (in fits) the night before. These were the thoughts going through my head:

“Will I wake up in time?” 

“Will the kids remember to wake me up if the alarm doesn’t go off?”

“Will he find his locker?”

“Will he remember his combination?”

“Will he get to home room OK?”

“Will my daughter know where her classroom is?”

“Will she know what her teacher looks like?”

“What if I forget to pack something?”

“What if we miss the bus?”

So, yes, I woke up in a panic, and drank way too much caffeine. The kids woke up, all excited too, with PLENTY of time. They got dressed. They ate their breakfast, and I packed their lunches (and yes, I remembered to place them in their backpacks). They listened and brushed their teeth on time. It was a dream. Then I hugged them goodbye. I thought I’d die. Some tears spilled out, but I tried to keep my composure for their sake. They both got off to school JUST FINE. Then I carried on with my work-from-home day, trying not to obsess.

I picked up my son from school. I see him across the parking lot and he is fine, smiling ear to ear. He starts going on and on about all the cool things he did, from lockers to lunch with all his friends. I was so excited for him, and so proud. He did it. He got through the big day without any hiccups! (My daughter had a wonderful day too without any issues.) After my son finished, I was so happy, but cried a little on the inside. All I kept thinking was, How can it be? How did this happen? I remember being in the sixth grade like it was yesterday. It just amazes me how fast they grow up. I’m so proud of them, so proud to be their mom. I have a feeling this is just the beginning. Don’t even talk to me about high school. I may be all cried out now, but I’ll be a big mess when that time comes.
PLEASE DON’T FORGET: I’m still accepting mommy story entries and dessert recipes for my next book! YOUR mommy insanity tale or dessert recipe could be featured in my next book. The deadline is August 31! Please send your entry to jackie@ventingsessions.com. Please include MOMMY INSANITY in the subject line. Thank you! And thanks to those who have already sent in some great stories & recipes – you rock!

I haven’t even had a chance to finish my tea, but I woke up with these thoughts, so you’ll have to forgive the un-caffeinated, grammatical error of my ways. But, please, someone throw me a bone: Why are Halloween decorations already on display? I haven’t even had a chance to get my end-of-summer-oh-my-goodness-my-hair-looks-like-hay roots done, and we’re already getting ready for Halloween? What happened to living in the present? Why does everything have to feel so rushed all the time? I know I’ve been totally impatient about things all my life.
“How long until I get that promotion?”
“What sex is the baby?”
“Why can’t I have an epidural now?”
“Why isn’t he potty trained yet?”
“How did the Terrible Twos suddenly fast-forward to the eff-in fours?”
Well into my 30’s I was kind of an impatient spaz. Okay, so I felt that way last week. But today, as a 40-something mom with old-phart tendencies, I’ve started to chill a little. To learn to take things as they come. To, as my kids say, “Chill-ax” a little. (At least before my kids become teenagers!)
And speaking of impatience, I find this so enlightening: When it’s Spring Break, the kids are beside themselves because they have a WHOLE week off. But the week before school starts? It’s like we need to start splashing Vitamin D juice to the masses. “We only have a week of summer left?” my daughter asked yesterday. The look on her face said it all. And she likes school! “Only a weeeeeeeeeeeek before school starts?” It’s like the Great Depression has swept through the neighborhood. Yet you can sense a euphoric cloud hover above the mothers, as we wait oh-so-patiently for the school bus to arrive. “Oh, yes, honey, school starts in a WEEK!” Only a week until momma can get back on track.
(I would like to mention that this does NOT relate to mothers who have not yet experienced the trauma of sending their little ones to kindergarten. I too was one of those blubbering mommies who bawled when the yellow school bus left, carrying my back-packed cutie.)

I’m loving the last couple weeks of summer with my kids. (And reading the last 100 or so pages of 50 Shades of Grey.) Yes, I shamelessly purchased a copy of this controversial book last week. It helps keep me sane. I bought it the other day when I was at the mall purchasing some kid-movie posters for my 11-year-old son. Who knew I could find this book where they sell mini figurines of Marge Simpson? Comic book stores sure have changed. So, I’m a sucker for mindless summer beach reading? I can’t help it!  

Speaking of mom-appropriate reading,I’m still accepting mommy story entries and dessert recipes for my next book! Remember, YOUR story of mommy insanity or recipe could be featured in my next book! The deadline is August 31! Send your entry to jackie@ventingsessions.com. Please include MOMMY INSANITY in the subject line. No entries over 1,000 words. Thank you! And thanks to those who have sent in some great stories & recipes already!

Be honest. Do your eyes hurt? Exactly how late did you stay up last night? What time do you think you went to bed the night before? I ask you this, with circles under my eyes. Granted, my kids are 8 and 11. I have not had a night feeding in 7 1/2 years. And speaking of bottles, I’ve barely had a beer since we came back from vacation. I have discovered something about myself the past couple of weeks. I am an old lady. An old phart. I have been staying up way past my oh-so-over-40-with-kids bedtime. And it’s not because I’m out partying. I get tired just watching the cast of Jersey Shore go out until 4:30 a.m. for crying out loud. I have been staying up late almost every night watching the NBC prime time coverage of the Olympics. Now, we had an adventurous summer. We white water rafted along the Arkansas River and biked down the Colorado Rockies as a family.  We spent a week at the Vineyard too. But all I want to do lately, after I put the kids to bed, is watch who wins what on NBC. I don’t want to break for popcorn or the girls’ room. I want to watch Team USA make their dreams come true. I want to hear who sacrificed what to get to the Games. (And then shamelessly spot a celebrity in the crowd). I even bought myself an adorable Alex and Ani Olympic Games bracelet recently to show my team spirit. For I am and always will be an Olympics addict. Now, I wake up the next morning a little groggy, dying for my Green tea fix. I even went on a Diet Pepsi binge in an attempt to erase my self-induced insomnia marathon. I may not be an athlete. (I’ve done occasional 5Ks and triathlons and love Pilates.) But there’s nothing quite like a comfy bed, some extra pillows and the Olympics on the tube. I will gladly endure sleep deprivation a little longer until the Games are over. Then I’ll go back to being my normal, get-up-and-go-mommy-who-tries-to-do-too-much and get to bed on time self. Go Team USA!

We’ve been traveling a lot this summer as a family. And I must say, all kidding aside, we’ve been having a blast. I’m so proud of my kids for withstanding long car rides, curly Colorado roads, oxygen-depleting altitudes, and oh-so-off-the-routine sleep and snack schedules. My body is going to cry when I get back to Pilates! I’m still on CO time and boy was I starving for lunch at 3 p.m. yesterday. Although we all felt grateful we had a chance to spend time with cousins in the mountains, we were all secretly excited to get back home. I came back to loads of work, an inch of non-highlighted roots, 10 pounds of water weight, a dog barking for our attention, and toes that so needed a pedicure yesterday. Not to mention a lonely looking blog. Thanks to my dear friends at Merely Mothers, I was able to write a guest blog for them that I could re-post for you here! Yay! Thanks, Merely Mothers – you gals are the bomb! Guest Post