Don’t you love summer? The lazy mornings. Sand in the sheets. Shell collections throughout the house. There are a million things I love to do with my kids in the summer. From being buried in the sand to riding to Starbucks in our PJs (so our dog can get a free cup of whipped cream). We go to the park, diner, ice cream shop, beach, pool, gift shop, movies, library and even the museum. We do so much together, I’ve often been called the FUN FACTORY. And I love it. Except when I’m on deadline and have five loads of laundry, dog hair everywhere and a ton of conference calls. Then I get frazzled. And I refer to myself as the EFF-IN SUMMER FUN FACTORY. And I turn on the TV to help take a load off. And then the mommy guilt sets in. If one of my children dares to spew out the words, “I’m bored” (especially after hours at the beach) don’t even try me. I will get cranky.  And if you know what’s good for you, don’t EVER ask me to weigh myself during this time of year either. During the summer, if I dare to skip just two days of exercising, what I’ve eaten over that 48-hour period is somehow planted on my hips, butt and bloated belly. Oh, I may jog with my dog and keep up with the Pilates planking. I may eat my veggies every day. But mark my words, I will retain every frozen lemonade, cherry Popsicle and lobster roll that I indulge in until September 2.

Because I get how busy moms are in the summer, I’m extending the deadline for MOMMY INSANITY STORIES & DESSERT RECIPES to August 31! Remember, your story or dessert recipe could be in my next book! Please contact me today at jackie@ventingsessions.com! https://ventingsessionsdotcom.wordpress.com/2012/06/05/sanity-by-chocolate/

Do you try to do too much every day? No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop yourself from doing one more thing? Washing another dish? Folding another pillow case? Answering another email? Cramming in another conference call? Do you tire yourself out and then snap at everyone? Do you volunteer for too many things and then find yourself overwhelmed? Is the word “No” not part of your everyday vocabulary? Girl, you are sorta, kinda…a mommy martyr and it sounds like you need some mommy martyr re-hab. (Or a night out with the girls!) I’ve tried to create more of a balance in my life lately, but I still have my days. There are times when I have three minutes to spare to pick up my kids from practices or playdates, but for some reason, I run late. All because I’m trying to cram in one more thing. I have a neighbor who admits you can count on her to be EXACTLY five minutes late for everything. Why do we do this to ourselves?  What goes on inside our heads? We’re moms, not martyrs!

I had about 10 bags worth of groceries stuffed into a tiny hand-held cart the other day. I swear it weighed 45 pounds. You’d think I would have grabbed a shopping cart with wheels. A young cashier even asked me if I wanted a big cart and I STILL said, “No, thank you!”  (As my 40-something back started to ache.) As if I had something to prove to a 17-year-old grocery store employee who calls me “Ma’am”! It didn’t dawn on me until I was in my driveway that I was TOTALLY acting like a mommy martyr. Quick sidebar and mommy martyr justification: My kids weren’t with me, so I actually got more shopping done in that 12-minute span than I would have in an hour WITH kids.

Are you sorta, kinda…a mommy martyr too? Let it out, moms!

You know that your babies aren’t babies anymore. But there’s nothing like staying in a state of mommy denial. (Or daddy denial for all those wonderful fathers out there who celebrated Father’s Day yesterday! Happy Belated Father’s day!) At least for a little while. Like a distant relative used to say (who saw me and my brother once every two years), “They’re growing like weeds!” My two kids honestly are growing like weeds. There, I said it. But they’re still my babies. I see that they’re growing up. I know they’re big. They are 11 and 8, not 2 and 5. I don’t treat them like babies. I get that they are saying things I used to say to my parents (in a way that’s a lot cooler than my 1980s Texas Valley girl slang, thankfully). But I still can’t believe it.  Over the past few weeks, with all their end of school year events & activities, I’ve managed to stay in a perpetual state of mommy denial. And recently, as I unintentionally fried my forehead sitting through my son’s 5th grade end of year celebration, it hit me. Slathering on some sunscreen a few hours too late, I realized to myself, “This is really happening.” My son is actually heading into the 6th grade. I started to tear up a little. I remember 6th grade. It can’t be. He is not a baby anymore. I’m outwardly happy that he’s excited to go to junior high. That he sings along to Flo Rida the way I listened to Madonna when I was 11. (And last week.) But inside, I’m a mess. A wreck. It comes on at the most random times too. I was fixing a peanut butter sandwich the other morning when my son casually reminded me that he was heading to a field trip at the Middle School. The Middle School – where he’ll be going to school at the end of August! “Oh,” I heard myself say. And then, before I could finish cutting my whole grain masterpiece into two triangular wedges, it hit me again. My baby boy is growing up. I dropped the butter knife and sat on the tile. I was embarrassing myself, sitting there all emotional, like ….like Mrs. Cunningham in Happy Days. As I sat, wiping my tears with a totally-on-sale-at-Target-and-not-name-brand-or-soft-in-the-least paper towel, my husband turned to my son and said, “If you know what’s good for you, you better go hug your mom right now.” I embraced my 11-year-old for a few seconds, looked into his eyes and apologized for losing it. Then I started laughing. We all started giggling. I went into the bathroom, blew my nose (with a totally awesome soft tissue that I did NOT buy on sale), washed my hands, and walked back into the kitchen like everything was hunky dory. At least for a little while. Inside, I was still asking: What the heck happened? When did my baby boy become a tween? And when, for the love of Joanie Loves Chachi, did I start crying like Mrs. C?

I’m so thankful that my husband and I no longer have to spend vacations in random airports hoping and praying we land on time in the right city with the right luggage without missing connections because of bad weather. Let’s just say we had our fair share of issues in the frequent flyer department when our son was little. The “red eye” can kiss my behind and so can eight-hour flights with three stops with a baby that gets random bouts of motion sickness during take-off and landing. In honor of those times, we recently popped on a movie that really hits home for anyone traveling – Planes, Trains and Automobiles. You know, the one with Steve Martin and John Candy? I will let this TRAILER speak for itself.

I managed to polish off yet another jar of dark chocolate covered almonds today. It took a few days, but I did it. In my mind, it’s all good. It wasn’t a candy bar. Or a Ho Ho. Or a piece of Death by Chocolate Cake (that stuff is better than ….ya know). Well, maybe not, but, it IS pretty amazing. OK, so I admit it. I’m a chocoholic. When it’s not in my pantry, I tend to get a little desperate. I may head for brownie mix, dry Ovaltine flakes or even unsweetened baking chocolate to get my fix. Some people have their issues. I’m addicted to chocolate. Sue me. At least I eat healthy otherwise. I exercise at least four times a week too. But if I don’t have chocolate every day, you honestly don’t want to be around me. Nor do you even want to have a phone conversation with me. I get a little, how do I put this nicely? Cranky. I once tried to go cold turkey. Eight hours later, my daughter found me sitting in the pantry shoveling down stale crumbs from an old bag of chocolate chips. It wasn’t pretty. So this is where you come in. No worries, I’m NOT asking you to supply my pantry with a week’s worth of chocolate, I promise. I’m not THAT desperate. (It could actually be dangerous.) But I would love it if you could share your favorite dessert recipe for my next book. I’m writing another book with more mommy whines and recipes! To help spread MORE sanity to moms! And the recipes I’m featuring will be DESSERTS! If you have a dessert recipe you’d like to share, one that you like to indulge in when you get together with the girls, please email me today at jackie@ventingsessions.com. It does NOT have to have chocolate in the ingredients. But it does have to be sweet. It could be healthy too! Please make sure to put Mommy Desserts in the Subject. Send in your recipe & it could be chosen for my next book! And you could win a signed copy of my book, How to Spread Sanity on a Cracker. Please enter your recipe soon! And please include your name, home town and email address. If you wish to remain anonymous, please indicate that in your email. Deadline for dessert recipe entries: July 10 at 5 p.m.
I’m still accepting mommy story entries for my book. And because I’m a sucker for moms with busy schedules, I’m extending the deadline for “Mommy Insanity” entries to June 18! Remember, YOUR story could be featured in my next book! Send your entry to jackie@ventingsessions.com. Please include MOMMY INSANITY in the subject line. No entries over 1,000 words. (The shorter, the wittier, the better.) Think back to an experience that you’ll NEVER forget. Something that makes you laugh today. Something that can help other moms feel a little less insane. Please make sure to include your name, home town and email address. Thank you! And as a special thank you, I’d like to re-post one of my favorite SNL skits celebrating chocolate with Tina Fey: The Brownie Husband. https://ventingsessionsdotcom.wordpress.com/2012/03/05/the-brownie-man-can/

There are so many witty and wonderful moms I’ve connected with since launching this blog, it makes me smile. There’s nothing like meeting genuine moms. You know that feeling you get when you meet a fellow mom for the first time and you can instantly tell if she’s a total bi**h? As if her kids’ diapers don’t stink? As if you’re the only woman on the planet that’s a flake at times? Sorry, but it’s true. Hello – like a snotty mom I keep running into in town who pretends I don’t exist? (Oh, I’ll vent about this another time, believe you me.) Well, this mom is not a snot. She’s genuine. She is a friendly mom blogger and her name is Kelly Bevan McIlquham. You may know her as Renaissance Mom. We have a ton in common, including our love of “Just Jack” from Will & Grace. And SNL’s Mary Catherine Gallagher. I could go on and on. Kelly is a mother of three and her attitude is positively contagious. We met via the Blogosphere and she of all people won my book in a recent giveaway from RhodyMamas (two other very awesome blogging mamas I’ve gotten to know who are sponsors of Julie Loffredi’s Give and Glam event. A girls’ night/book signing event I’m participating in with fellow author Raina Smith on June 7 at NYLO Lounge in Warwick, RI.). And I digress, of all people, she won my book. AFTER we got to be bloggy mom friends. Then she asked me to do a guest post! And she did a review/giveaway of my book. How awesome is that? Here is a link to my guest post featured this week on Renaissance Mom. Enjoy – and thanks again, Kelly. You are a SUPER STAR! http://renaissance-mom.com/tag/jackie-hennessey/

You’re a mom. Your body has been through hell in a hand basket. (Not to mention many pairs of God forsaken netted hospital panties.) At some point, your body is done with the whole “Before” and “After” crap. Thanks to Jillian Michaels and other ass-kicking fitness experts, we finally settle on a lifestyle where we feel healthy and happy with our bodies. We run. We walk. We cut back on crap food. We do exercise classes. God knows we try. But what the eff, may I ask, is up with the “Arm Dangle”? You know, that abundance of fat on the inner arm. For this mom who recently turned 41, I didn’t realize that I’d be so young when I would be introduced to the Arm Dangle. No, I thought I would be 88 when my arms would wave along with me. I’d have white hair and teach stretching at the senior center. Every time I’d lift my arm, it would jiggle and smell like Sanka. And all the other blue-hairs would lift their Arm Dangles along with me. No, it was not until I recently saw a picture of myself and had to ask, “Who is the old chick on the right with the fat arms? No, really, whose arm is that? WTF, what’s wrong with this picture?” Then I saw another picture, and yet another, with white mounds of flesh looking like they were stretching out to sea. “Holy tamale, that’s ME!” I will admit I like to eat. Always have, always will. But I exercise a lot too. Someone please tell me what’s happening to my body. And WHY is it necessary for extra flab to gravitate to this random (but oh so obvious) part of my body at this time of my life – especially when the summer is quickly approaching? And cute, colorful sleeveless blouses are finally on sale? Why is it that no matter how much I work out, how careful I am about the food I eat, it’s inevitable that the camera will capture this particular part of my arm in such a way that it looks like both arms are ready to set sail? And no matter how hard I try to crop the photo, these repulsive mounds of useless flesh stretch on and on and on, beyond the crop line. Flash back 1,800 years ago. Say I’m wandering the wilderness with my baby wrapped in animal skin, I can see the use for this excess flab. Subsisting on nothing but berries and bark, that extra body fat could come in handy on day four of an involuntary fast. I could live off of it for several days, weeks even. But what purpose does it serve now and how the heck can I get rid of it? I recently tried a week-long tone up and work out schedule. I was pretty proud of myself. Then in yet another picture, I caught a glimpse of my winged friends. Thankfully, I did find a trick in a magazine that says if you place your hand on your hip, it diminishes the appearance of inner arm flab. Please make a note of this the next time you see a photo of me. It’s my new pose, girl, and I’m stickin’ to it!

I have to shout out a big thank you to all the familiar faces who showed up at my book signing event at Hollies in Barrington last night. You all rock! I co-hosted the fun “Whine, wine, cheese and jewelry” book signing event with one of the most beautiful moms I know, Diane. Yes, she is one of those women who is genuine and effortlessly gorgeous. She doesn’t wear make-up because she doesn’t need it. Her hair is naturally light blonde. She pulls her hair into a pony tail and looks better than any gal that just came from a salon. (Meaning me.) She makes incredible jewelry and I’m wearing her fab metal earrings right now. Aside from the back fat I’ve gained practically over-night since turning 41, I feel awesome in them! Thank you, Diane and thank you, Holly Smith, (the fab owner of Hollies who had to put up with me in my oh-for-the-love-of-Christmas-planning mode over the past few weeks)! You both rock! XXOO

Do you live in Rhode Island? Then you won’t have to drive far! (Or as the locals say, “Faaah”.) I hope you can join me Thursday, May 17, for a mommy’s night out-style book signing & retail therapy event at Hollies gift shop in Barrington from 7 to 9 p.m. My mommy friend, Diane Stratton, is a talented artist, RISD alum and she’ll be showing her gorgeous line of metal-smith jewelry. It’s all about whine, wine, cheese and shopping, my friend. So I hope you can stop by! www.holliesontheavenue.com/

Were you treated like a movie star on Mother’s Day? I’m sure you were, because you deserve it. Happy belated Mother’s Day to you! You GO! So, I woke to sweet hugs and hand-written cards from my 8-year-old, breakfast in bed, balloons, flowers, cards, more hugs (even a precious embrace from my 11-year-old son) and lots of giggles. Then on to a busy but fun day visiting family, including my beautiful 85-year-old grandmother who has a way of lighting up my day despite her reflections on every depressing news story known to man. Bless her heart. I know she can’t help herself. After a long and eventful day driving from one side of the state to the next, I put my children (and husband) to bed, grabbed a cold bottle of beer and proceeded to rent the most appropriate movie to watch on Mother’s Day (without anyone else around, of course), Mommie Dearest. If you ever feel like you’re a bad mom, watch this movie. If you ever feel like you’re getting a little soft in the parental disciplining area, watch this movie. No word of a lie, you will feel like the world’s most loving, giving mother. You will be up there with Mother Teresa. Faye Dunaway is so good at playing a crazy, obsessive and abusive Hollywood mother, I spent the better part of my childhood thinking she actually was insane. (But I know now that she’s just one heck of an actress!) I would like to take this opportunity to say to my children that you can have all the wire hangers you want. All the toys you want. I honestly don’t care how you hang your clothes. Nor do I ever want to see either of you scrub the bathroom floor until your knuckles burn. Because I love you unconditionally. Happy Mother’s Day! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XOILKHmZBwc

I want to extend a big thank you to The Savory Grape in East Greenwich, RI for a wonderful book signing and wine tasting event Wednesday evening. Thank you, Jessica Granatiero and Sabrina Solares-Hand. The turn-out left this mom speechless. (In a good way!) So many familiar faces, such fine wine (fittingly sponsored by The Girls in the Vineyard from California), so little time. Thank you! And Happy Mother’s Day!