Do you read Amalah’s blog? You should, if you don’t.

It is much more lively than mine. Also, she frequently posts pictures of Noah, her extremely cute baby, and you’ll never get that here. Wacky Mommy is much too verbose for pix. When her little guy was born she got approximately 8,052 posts congratulating her and her honey of a husband, Jason. Anyhoo — her maternity leave is up and she’s heading back to work, and of course this opens up the whole “If you don’t stay home with your kids you are evil and suck” discussion. Rilly, does any discussion get stupider than that one? Here’s my input:

re: Kasey, an Amalah reader who is all nyah, nyah, why have kids if you don’t want to stay home with them? She said, and I quote, “You will have what, a whole two hours after dinner to play mommy, right?”

My response: I “play mommy” at home with my two kids and we are lucky if we get two hours of playtime a day. Because I am a busy girl cooking food they refuse to eat (“That is some yucky kind of food, Mommy!” — Wacky Boy. Another WB quote: “You are the kind of bad mommy who never feeds her kids.” This, when I was making him homemade mac and cheese. Little ingrate!), cleaning up puke (dog/cat/kid), washing peed-on laundry, doing yardwork, trying to, maybe, do an hour of g.d. yoga so I can stay limber enough to keep up with my babies, volunteering at school and in the community (cuz I’ve got oodles of free time, right? so of course I’ll do the PTA newsletter, go on field trips, do neighborhood clean-ups, help build playgrounds, spend time in the class, etc.) and…

(this part was a surprise for me) staying at home is like any other g.d. job. Except you go more in debt with just one income. Woo-hoo! I do love the “lovebucks.” (Wacky Boy just came in to give kisses.) But staying home full-time isn’t like when you take a snow day and lie around in your jammies. It’s a job. My kids were mad at me all day long today and it wasn’t cuz I was “abandoning” them. It’s cuz I didn’t let them eat cookies all day in their jammies. I forced them to get dressed and go to the library and Santaland and they howled like I was torturing them. They got over it. Kids can deal, they do it well.

Be supportive, Kasey, would you? We’re all just trying to do our best.

Kisses, Amalah, and all you other mothers, from the whole Wacky Family. Happy Year of the Dog! Aroooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo…

From our friend Homer J —

“I’ve always wondered if there was a god. And now I know there is — and it’s me.”

An old friend of mine, who was something of a screw-up, worked at a place where they were all screw-ups. He fit right in. It may have been a papermill, I cannot recall. It was some big factory-type establishment, at any rate, with lots of big, limb-threatening equipment. Which makes this little anecdote all the creepier.

Their company motto: “We do it nice, cuz we do it twice.” Yes, that’s right. They re-did every single job they undertook cuz they just couldn’t get shit right the first time.

(more…)

Whew, Hockey God got an earful yesterday.

From Wacky Boy, as he resisted, well, everything: “This is what I call cooperating.” (ie — he was completely refusing to cooperate.)

From Wacky Girl, when WD was trying to talk to her: “You don’t understand the life of a woman.” (His response: “No, and I never will.”)

more, more, more…

Dear Wacky Mommy:

Too Poor to Pay Attention

(more…)

Dear WackyMommy:

Help! My boys are acting like my brothers did when they were their age. This would be okay, but my brothers grew up to be total geeks! Are my boys destined to be total geeks too? Or can I change this? If so, how?

Signed,

My-Mother-Was-More-Neurotic-Than-Yours

(more…)

“We can’t solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them.”

— Albert Einstein, physicist, Nobel laureate (1879-1955)

Too tired to blog — Wacky Boy is a handful. God love him, but he is a handful. He won’t eat. He punches the dog in the head. He leaves a trail of marbles behind him, wherever he goes. He’s like, a marble addict. I finally hid them all from him. He walks down the stairs with a Duplo bucket on his head. He’s had three concussions so far cuz he completely has No Fear. The only creature he loves in our household is Wacky Cat, who crawls into his bed and sleeps, even when Wacky Boy won’t. Here is Wacky Boy, 10 p.m., setting up a train track, overhead light turned on, singing his happy little Music Together songs, and here is Wacky Cat, peacefully snoring in the middle of the Hello Kitty comforter. (He borrowed it from his sister — it’s purple.)

He refuses to go to sleep until 11 at night, then flips out in the morning when you wake him up. Big surprise.

Yes, I get him up early, anyway, and no he doesn’t nap, and yes we do all of our cuddly little nighttime routines, right down to the music quietly playing, the books, the teddy bears, the snuggly blanket… (Although he did fall asleep in the car yesterday and I was so blissed out to not have him SCREAMING AT ME “NO, MOMMY! I SAY NO! I TAKE THE ‘NO’ TRAIN, MOMMY! KNOW WHY? CUZ I SAY NO!” (Direct quote.)

Walk me down, Jesus. I mean, help?

And Wacky Girl can’t breathe. Inhaler is helping a little. Wacky Daddy informed me last night of Report on News (so you know it’s true — ha) that stated the following: “Vacuuming doesn’t help.” Why? Because the little dust mites, the ones that make us sneeze and wheeze, are being eaten up by Bigger Version of Dust Mite, and THOSE are the ones that you vacuum up!

Fantastic news! All these years, I’ve thought I was helping her asthma by attempting to keep the house clean, and now I find I was only killing off the beneficial dust mites.

Everyone can kiss my ass. Present company excluded, of course.

love

WM

Oh — and two quotes of the day, from Wacky Mommy N:

“There are very few personal problems that cannot be solved by a
suitable application of high explosives”

OR

“I don’t have an attitude problem. You have a perception problem.”

I second that emotion.

World’s Shortest Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, a girl asked a guy, “Will you marry me?”

The guy said, “No.”

And the girl lived happily ever after and went shopping, dancing, camping, drank martinis, always had a clean house, and never had to cook.

The end.

(My version: I bought a Kate Spade handbag tonight. It’s gorgeous. The end. WM)