Learn the rules like a pro, so you can break them like an artist

At least that’s what Pablo Picasso said. He seemed to be pretty smart, so I’m taking his advice.

Check out the latest post I wrote on www.liesaboutparenting.com, because you know, parenting is all about lying, cheating and breaking the rules!

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A post about nothing. Seinfeld would be so proud.

'I'm not a neurologist, but according to this X-ray, you have no brain.'So I just realized my brain has turned into spaghetti and I haven’t been able to form a single coherent sentence since the holidays. Hence, my absence from the blogging world and I’m sure your lives. Rrriiight…

Let me start by apologizing for this post before you even read it because I have no idea what it’s going to be about, I’m going to wing it, just like I’m winging my children’s upbringing. I’m keeping my fingers crossed and hope they grow up to be descent human beings.

As I was saying, my mind is completely blank and it’s been that way since the holidays. January has been like one big massive hangover, and not precisely from drinking too much, those days were left in the past, along with a face that doesn’t have permanent puffy eyes.

I think I lost my brain sometime between getting over the initial shock of reading my daughters’ Christmas list, making one VERY realistic list of my own, Christmas shopping, and trying to figure out how to make a Christmas expense excel spreadsheet.

I thought about making a spreadsheet so I could find a way to organize my holiday shopping budget and not go haywire like I did last year. Dear husband, this is where you need to stop reading.  Actually, I’m not going to say how much I spent, because if I know my husband well, he is still reading even though I just asked him not to. But why should he start listening to me now?

Anyway, excel spreadsheets are hard. And I went over my budget. Again.

So this post will not be about my adventures in computer land.

Back to where I was telling you about my non functioning brain.

Right in the middle of that mess, I figured I should at least start laying out ideas on what to write next. So I started looking everywhere for all these random notes I’m usually jotting down on any writable surface. I checked my phone OHMYGODCANDYCRUSHISGONE!!!  I checked the palm of my hand Buy toilet paper and tampons. I checked the bathroom stalls Get a new writing pad. I checked my purse and surprisingly, all I found was an overdue speeding ticket and thanks to my zombie brain* I now have to pay double the amount.

Since it was still December, I figured I would write about how excruciatingly exhausting it is to keep lying to my kids about Santa. Not only does it drill a hole in my pocket every single year because my kids think Christmas is a toy free for all, but I always have to take it up a notch and start making up all these stupid “magical” stories about how all the reindeer send them letters every night without thinking first that I was going to be the one doing all the writing and printing, which in itself wasn’t hard work because who am  I kidding, I got the pre-written letters from the all mighty Pinterest. The real hard work was waiting for my daughters to fall asleep and not forgetting to roll up the letters and stick them in their stockings. That was too much of a commitment.

Do not even get me started on the as*hole that invented the elf on the shelf. This person clearly had too much time on her hands. Also, who designed this toy? What is the same person? And does she know that this creepy elf is just waiting for you to go to sleep so he can murder you in your sleep?

My daughters got theirs as a gift from someone who hates** me and we decided our elf, Nancy, was NOT going to be reporting back to Santa. They couldn’t stand the pressure of another set of eyes watching them, Santa’s eyes are enough.

So Christmas Eve rolled by and after partying until 1 am (and by partying I mean eating like a pig), mama here went to bed at 3:30 IN THE MORNING putting together a desk because my 7-year-old “absolutely needs an office”, and making sure “Santa” laid all the toys in a perfect semi-circle by the Christmas Tree. Naturally, two of my last working brain cells died that night. I swear to God when these kids find out the truth about Santa I better be getting a trip to the jewelry store as a thank you.

So this post will not be about the magic of Christmas.

Let me tell you about our crazy New Year’s Eve partaaaay!!!

We got all sorts of ready for NYE. I got party poppers, party hats, we had sparkling cider for the girls, soda for us (we’re boring, deal with it), ordered pizza and wait for it…. my husband fell asleep at 8:04 on the couch wearing a glitter party hat.  I have the picture to prove it but I can’t show it because he threatened to post a picture of when I thought I looked cute in a pixie cut, sooo…yeah…whatever…I rang the new year at 9:45 pm with my daughters and my mom while watching Disney reruns. Whoop Whoop!

So this post will not be about our New Year’s Eve fiesta.

On new years day, I sat down in front of my laptop (not hangover and totally refreshed from a good night sleep) and decided that for the first time ever, I was going to make some new year’s resolutions and all I could come up with was this:

1- Stop eating chocolate bars as a midday snack.

Because “joining the gym” would be just setting myself up for failure. And guess what? Chocolate is still my best friend forever.

So this post will not be about my New Year’s resolutions.

Also, this post will not be about how much weight I gained during the holidays. I don’t want to talk about it OK?!?!?

This post will NOT be me complaining about the weather. It’s January and it’s freezing cold and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks.

So what should this post be about?

 

*I don’t think Zombies have brains.

**I’m kidding S, I know you love me!

 

Dear Santa…

Dear Santa,

First of all, I just want to tell you how proud I am of you. Not only do you survive this crazy holiday every year, but you hand deliver every single toy to all the believers out there. I know it must be hard to keep up with the demand and all these new complicated video games and tablets. It must have taken you forever to learn how to assemble all these games with the chips and the 3-D and the gigas and the bytes. Whatever happened to the good old wooden rocking horse? I know. I feel the same way. I must say, you’ve adapted wonderfully and all while rocking the same red suit. Kudos to you!

Anyway, you must be confused as to why a grown ass (OMG! I’m soooo sorry for cursing) woman is sending you a letter. Well, the truth is, I have lost all hope and was hoping you could restore it for me. You see, the other day I asked my husband what he wanted for Christmas and he said he didn’t want anything (bless his heart). However, I think he was expecting the same answer from me. That didn’t happen of course, because I want lots of things. Now, don’t think I’m being selfish or anything; I’m actually the complete opposite of that. I always put everyone’s needs before mine and only expect to get rewarded at the end of the year. Never mind, that does sound really selfish. Let me rephrase that. I think I deserve to get everything on my list because I take care of my family without asking for anything back except hugs, kisses and the occasional compliment here and there.  So when I showed my husband the list, he laughed uncontrollably and walked away. And this is when all my hope went down the drain.

So this is where you come in, Santa. I’m sending you this list in hopes I wake up on Christmas morning and find that not only my daughters’ wishes came true, but also mine.

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It’s not that long Santa, just wait until you see my daughters’.

1 – Endless supply of toilet paper – Santa, do you know that I am buying a 24-pack of toilet paper on a weekly basis? I mean, I know there are more girls than boys in the house and that we have more…err…”stuff” to keep clean, but come on!! I’m starting to believe my daughters are trading toilet paper rolls for candy. It’s no coincidence that I keep finding more candy and less toilet paper around the house. So if you give me an endless supply of TP it would mean fewer trips to the store, which means I would have to drive less, which means less pollution to the environment. So really, it’s a win-win situation.

Actually, while you’re at it, can you add a couple of nanny cams? I’m going to catch the little suckers!

2 – 30 hour days – Not to get more done. No. I need 30 hour days in order to squeeze in a few more hours of sleep. Don’t you just feel like punching people that only need 4 or 5 hours of sleep and yet they still wake up radiant and full of energy? Probably not, ’cause you’re Santa and you’re perfect and fluffy. But I do! Sorry about all the aggressiveness, it’s the lack of sleep. If I get more hours of sleep, I’ll probably wake up singing “It’s a beautiful morning” and make pancakes for the whole building. Again, a win-win situation.

3 – The ability to cook – I’ll just get straight to the point. I have tried to learn and have failed miserably. So this is why I need you.  I need to be able to make a grilled cheese sandwich without this happening:

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Who feeds their children plastic? Me.

 

 

 

 

 

Or cook a simple pasta dish without burning it like this:

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I seriously give up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is pathetic and I need you to fix it please.

4 – The power to transform into Martha Stewart or at least suck all the talent out of her: I for once would like to be able to sew my daughter’s Girl Scout badges on her vest and not run like a little girl to my mom asking her for help. Anything that requires sewing, I will staple. Anything that asks for frosting, I will buy pre-made. Anything that involves paint will end up on the carpet and up my nose. All I want is to be skillful enough to redecorate my living room by only using a wooden crate, paint and tape. I’m sure Martha can do it.

5 – 24 hour concierge service: I know some buildings do have it, but I’m neither rich nor live in NYC.  So what if sometimes I crave ice-cream at 2 in the morning? Or forget to buy more juice boxes for my daughter’s lunch box. I don’t want to leave the house at 6 pm. That’s so late for this old body. I need someone to go fetch me stuff at a moments notice and my husband has already said no.

6 – Healthy junk food – Santa please, I beg of you!! Not everything healthy has to be boring. I need junk food in my life but I need it to be healthy because I hate the gym and I can’t stop eating cheeseburgers from the mall and my waist is paying for it. Also candy and carbs. No matter how much I eat them, I need you to make all this stuff super extra healthy because I have no plans of stopping.

That’s it Santa, I only want these 6 things. After all, my parents taught me not to be greedy.

Sincerely,

Me :)

 

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what I really wanted to say was…

If you’re on the have a baby, they said blog bandwagon, you’re awesome and also hopefully read my last post on the eternal road trip I had to endure to get to my brother’s wedding in Indiana.  If you’re not on said bandwagon, I’m not going to judge you, but seriously, get on it. And if you’d rather read the newspaper, a book, or the back of a cereal box for that matter than to read my endless, pointless rants, well then you my friend, are one smart cookie.

Anyway, my brother and his wife decided to celebrate their elopement by throwing a pretty amazing party at her parent’s house, which by the way, it’s the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen and Scarlett O’Hara would be totally jealous.

When I got a call from him a couple of months ago telling me about the celebration, my big mouth asked him if he wanted me to say something at the party. He was VERY excited. I would do that for him any day of the week, don’t get me wrong, but the fact that I don’t get drunk anymore (because I’m lame) and would have to do it sober in front of 150 people was giving me panic attacks.

How could I get out of it? I couldn’t, he’s my brother and I had promised him, and then he would not teach my daughter how to swim like I was planning.  Damn it. The sacrifices you make for your children.

Of course, two months pass by and I didn’t write a word because procrastination runs my life. Actually, scratch that, I did write down a few ideas of what I wanted to talk about, but never really got around to putting together a coherent paragraph, not even a sentence. In my mind though, I had the perfect speech, people would fall off their seats laughing and the bride’s parents would fall in love with me, adopt me and offer me a room in their Gone with the Wind house.

I planned on writing it when I got to the hotel the night before, but after an 11 ½ hour road trip, 8 of which were spent watching 2 of my kid’s movies on repeat, I was beat, I couldn’t feel my legs and my brain was fried. So the morning after was my last chance, but then I realized I had left both my daughter’s sweaters at home and hello target! 2 hours later I was back at the hotel getting ready to write and procrastination happened…again.

Fast forward to that night and the bride’s dad gave the best speech ever. In Spanish! I don’t even think he speaks Spanish, he even had his own personal translator (my brother).  People laughed, people cried, how could I ever top that? At least I looked pretty (I hope).

Time for my speech, I was handed the microphone in what seemed to be slow motion, I take it and say:

“I’m not drunk enough to do this.”

Those were the words I chose to introduce myself to my brother’s new family. Not good evening, not Hello, my name is Linda and I’m the groom’s not alcoholic sister. Nothing.

I start to ramble, of course, and then both my daughters decide to stand by me while I disgraced my family join me and mid speech literally grab the microphone from me and start to display their multiple talents, which completely threw me off my train of thought, not that I had one to begin with. I don’t remember much of what I said after that, but it must have been amazing because ONE person laughed.

When it was finally over (again, I would do it over and over. I know you’re reading. I love you.), I sat down and realized I didn’t say what I really wanted to say. I really just wanted to give them both some marriage advice, because being married 9 years obviously makes me an expert.

I wanted to tell her that as soon as they say I DO, men develop a serious case of Selective Hearing. Even when they say they heard you, they didn’t. Whatever it is you want or need, you better get it in writing.

I wanted to tell him that no matter how many times we say nothing is wrong, something is wrong. And you better figure it out and fix it. Fast.

I wanted to tell her that you should praise him every time he completes a chore, like doing laundry or cooking (yes, for some of us, cooking becomes a tedious chore). Give him a kiss or a high-five, whatever you choose. Kinda like giving a puppy a snack when you’re training them.  Get what I’m trying to say here?

I wanted to tell him that he better think twice before asking her if she really needs another pair of shoes.  We ALWAYS need another pair of shoes, as well as boots, jeans or any other item of clothing. Just don’t ever go there.

I wanted to tell her to run as fast as she can every time he gets sick. Because a sick man is like having 6 sick toddlers and 8 teething babies together at the same time. Hire a nurse or call his mother, just run. I’m just kidding, please take care of my brother.

I wanted to tell them both to choose their battles carefully.  Sometimes the dumbest things can start a massive outrage. Remember what happened when The War of the Worlds was narrated on the radio way back when? Same thing can happen if you leave the toilet seat up or you forget to put the leftovers in the fridge (I forget all the time, no worries).

And finally, I wanted to tell you both that you are now part of an equal relationship, neither of you should wear the pants in your marriage. Seriously, no one should wear pants, its way more fun that way, until you have kids of course, then it would just be weird. Put some pants on!