Category: Family Life

Herring family adventures, Jeep life, organic living. Karie Herring, Jeep aficionado, organic advocate and chef, details life as a reformed corporate woman, wife and motherhood to her twins and tween.

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Love ya!!

I just love me some bloggy awards. They are just the coolest because you have bloggy girlfriends who think you are just awesome for being and think highly enough of you to share the honor. My dear bloggy friend Valerie who is the epitome of light bestowed this wonderful award upon me and now, I have the honorable duty of bestowing the award to others.

This award is bestowed on to blogs that are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.

So I have a hard time limiting who I must deliver said blog award to……please do not take offense as I love all the blogs I subscribe, read, follow, and believe me….I read…..takes me forever…..but I read!!! Here are my eight that I think could use and have deserved the honor of this lovely award!!
  1. Linda @ My Trendy Tykes (she is just too cute)
  2. Jen Majors @ The Avon Lady: Avon Calling (she is hilarious!)
  3. April @ Cats, Dogs, Turtles, Frogs (shes just as crazy and fun as the rest of us with all her animals….plus she is a dirty job lady too!!)
  4. Veronica Lee @ Of Mice and raMen (she is just one of a kind!! Love her)
  5. Jen @ Keep It Classy Jen (she is too sweet and I have known her for awhile from the Closet! No…not that Closet!!)
  6. Modern Mom @ Life in the Suburbs (she is just too fun and a truly genuine woman)
  7. Alisha @ Confessions of a Moody Mommy (love all of her honesty…I swear she could be my twin on some days!!)
  8. Brittany @ The Greer 5 (because without my sister I would have never found all of these wonderful blog friends!!)
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Dirty Jobs

Mom’s always have the luxury of the dirty jobs in the house. Not sure why….but we do.

Mine include picking up the land mines my bulldog has strategically placed in the backyard when attempting to play with the kids (poo on foot..YUM), laundry….definitely a dirty job, taking the trash to the curb (DH attempts to on most weeks but forgets), of course changing dirty diapers.

But one job appears to be the taboo in some households…..but not mine.

The other night while giving the Squids their nightly bath, DH was so kind to draw the bath for the little gnomes and proceed to wash them while I did dishes. (Another dirty job)
I walked in just when Pickles Magoo was set to be dried off and readied for jammies (another dirty job…..here is why) when I noticed he had what appeared to be a bit of a rash.
Not your typical splotchy rash, but one that was a solid red…..and in the worst spot.
Right on his “junk” as referred to by Big G and DH.
Yes, the poor boy had a solid red looking rash right on his baby testicles. Upon further investigation I found that he was probably just a tad chapped from his diaper and that the rash would clear once we dried him off and put in a fresh diaper.

So I went about drying him off and lubing him up (what we refer to as putting on lotion) when DH looked over at me and this conversation took place:

DH: You gonna do anything for his rash?
Me: No should be fine, it’s already subsiding.
DH: Well you are already lubing him up…..why don’t you get his junk, just rub it all over and that should help.
Me: (As if I didn’t already know that…..I am a mom!! DUH!! Look that I give him)
Me: *Continued moment of silence
DH: What?
Me: I just realized that I have lubed up every male’s testicles in this house……

It’s a dirty job…..but someone has gotta do it!!

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The Way to a Mother’s Heart

In my meme yesterday, one of the eight things I had done was cried. Now the crying was definitely tears of joy, but tears nonetheless. I am a feeler, I am one of those people who will cry at movies, weddings, graduations, I am a feeler, I feel everything. Now my son, Big G, must know this because he can put me to tears in an instant.

In October of 2007 when we had taken a trip for a wedding I was getting dressed and when DH was helping me zip up my dress the first thing Big G told me was:

“Mama, you look like a PRINCESS!”

Cue tears.

Well the boy had another moment like that on Sunday evening when he was with DH. DH was helping him to take a shower and get cleaned up before bed. As he was drying him off the conversation turned to being a baby. They discussed everyone that is and was a baby. My mother, my grandparents, DH, the Squids, me, and finally Big G. Big G mentioned how he was 14 years old before I gave birth to him……remnants of a memory of a past life maybe? Interesting.

But the boy felt compelled to tell me something and this is how the conversation went:

Big G: Mom I have to tell you something.
Me: Okay buddy.
Big G: No Mom, look at me….look into my eyes.
Me: (holding my composure) Okay buddy, you have my attention.

Big G: I want to thank you Mom.
Me: Thank me for what baby?
Big G: For birth
Me: what? ( I look inquisitively over at DH who is laughing uncontrollably)
Me: Ok, babe do you need a shovel for whatever this boy is trying to say to me.

DH: No, no, he’s just so cute.
Me: Okay buddy what are you trying to say.
Big G: Dad, whats the word I am looking for……
DH: Birth buddy.

Big G: Right, Mom……thank you for giving birth to me.

And that is the way to a mother’s heart each and every time when my boy says something so innocent and beautiful just like that I melt and cry like a big baby!!

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My Quotable Sunday Savior

Be sure to go See Toni @ A Daily Dose of Toni for more great Quotable Sunday Quotes.
This quote has saved me in every way possible…..including my sanity…..from the mouth of the wise Benjamin Franklin who said:

“Believe none of what you hear, and half of what you see.”

Life is about perception. Every person’s perception is different from another. The same can be said about reality. So as to say that perception is reality, my perception is not the same as your perception which means that my reality is different from your reality.

Which in reality, what I am trying to say, is embrace all that is different. No one way is right, no one way is wrong, just what works, and what does not and even then what works for you may not work for me. Anger over differences means that you lack control…you lack control over oneself and others. In reality, NO ONE is in control of anything EXCEPT themselves. Accept it, let it go, move on. Maybe even grieve a little.

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Anatomy 101 for Little Boys

Thursday night was definitely entertaining.
The whole day was entertaining to say the least.

I had lunch, well frozen yogurt, with my dear gal pal who I have not seen in ages. Last time she and I gossiped over food about men, their penis’, and sex she recently had a biopsy done on her breast. Needless to say she is free of her sickness so that made for some happy news. We gabbed about her latest conquests, her financial woes, and then we got to the kids.

Her Spud is all grown up. Sad that I knew when her daughter was a tween and a pain in the ass and now she is a teen and still a pain in the ass but we love her just the same.

So my pal and I are gabbing all sorts. Have to say quite entertaining, made for a great afternoon.

Come home, normal stuff as usual.

My O.G. BFF Brittany, a.k.a my sister, drops in to pick up her spawn and we gab. She is always good for some gossip. She catches me up on all the “behind the scenes” of the blogosphere (*Yawn) and of course some juicy bits about this bar fly who is stalker-esque to an acquaintance of ours….again interesting conversations.

The day and night rolls on. Sister heads home, we have dinner, time for baths. I finally get around to throwing Big G in the shower. He is really good about handling himself in the shower.

He is a boy though so he putzes to no end. I mean I can hear super hero sound effects until he runs out of hot water. So I mosey on in the bathroom and help him wash his hair, I lather up his wash cloth and tell him to get totally clean. If DH and I are not in there….he “says” he got clean. Yeah, which means we made a soapy mess and none touched his body.

I hand him his wash cloth and tell him to wash these parts in this order….leaving his derriere for last. He complies. Fantastic. But then the boy thinks thrusting his hips at me is funny trying to flick soap onto me while I observe outside the shower curtain…….yeah….not so much. I tell him he needs to get washed up. Here is what the boy tells me:

Big G: Momma I really need to get in this junk right? (Pointing and scrubbing his crack and his crotch)
Me: *holding my breath. Try. To. Contain. Uncontrollable. Laughter.
Me: Yup buddy, get clean.
Big G: Yup I gotta really clean all this junk.

Thank you DH for teaching our boy that his penis and rear end is his junk because I found the comment so utterly amusing. But the fun doesn’t stop there!

I help the boy wash all the soap off and help him out of the shower. He is a bit of a spaz. Last time he didn’t have help he has a bruise the size of Delaware on one ass cheek. Yeah, it hurt.

I am drying his hair off and his arms when he stops and this conversation takes place:

Big G: Momma I need to tell you something, stop drying me.
Me: Okay buddy what is it?
Big G: Mom what are these things?
Me: Buddy they are buttons on my shirt. (assuming that is what he is asking since he is staring at the girls)
Big G: No mom, these….what are these? (As he begins to pull down my shirt)
Me: Buddy, what are you doing?
Big G: Mom I am asking you a questions! (very demanding) What are these?
Me: Bud, those are moms boobies….
Big G: No Momma, whats on your boobies?
Me: (assuming he is talking about how my skin was splotchy fron the heat and cold water of the shower) Buddy its just my skin discolored.
Big G: (he’s getting annoyed now, I can tell in his voice) *pulling my shirt a but again NO Mom, what are those, the things ON your boobies. The things that the babies suck on?
Me: (TRY. TO. KEEP. IT. TOGETHER!) Buddy, those are called nipples. You have some too…see? (as I pinch him)
Big G: So Mom, are those like bottles for the babies? They can drink milk from?
Me: (KEEP. IT. TOGETHER. I am flushed at this point) Yes buddy, the babies used to drink milk from them and now they drink from a bottle.

The End.

No more questions, he was totally satisfied once he asked that.
Never a dull moment and we are only one week into the summer…….this is going to be a LOOONNNGGGG summer.

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Truth be told….I’m a Failure

I for one am not a perfect mother, I am 100% WIP (Work In Progress). I have no books to teach me to be a mother, no books to tell me what is what, I just have my simple knowledge to help me decipher my asshole from a hole in the ground. I am humbled by the fact that I love my children whole hearted, that they look to me for everything. They can throw fits for their father and the moment I walk in the room…..all is right with the world again.

I do not have the answers. Any mother who claims to “have the answers”, well sister…..you need to ascend to a higher astral plane because we are clearly, unworthy.

Each child, each mother, each family and situation yields different actions, reactions, and well care handling. I do not expect my sister to raise her kids the way I raise my kids, despite the fact that we were raised in the same home by the same parents. I also for one would never tell my sister “you are doing this wrong” when talking to her about raising kids. I think that NO MOTHER has that right. I for one would not want anyone to tell me that how I am raising my kids is wrong, how I discipline them is wrong, what I feed them is wrong.

I birthed 22 pounds 4 ounces worth of kids. Big G was 8.2, Pickles was 8.2 and Little Bitty was 6 even. I even had two at the same time. But this does not give me any right, the fact I have three or that I birthed two at the same time does not give me any right. But yet I see mothers from my local Costco to the blogosphere who judge women…….ESPECIALLY mothers without mercy and I cannot understand why.

So here are my failures that other mothers call out on:

Truth be told I am a mother who does not spank….while every ounce in my angered body wants to swat my child I do not.
I do not put my child in a timeout in a corner, he is sent to his room….where he has NO toys.
I do not always feed my children organic. (GASP!)
I do not let my kids drink soda, lots of juice, eat certain snacks, so clearly I fail as a mother.
I fail at the fact that when I brought the twins home all Big G wanted to do was play with his siblings instead of hit them be angry and ignore them.
I fail at the fact my five, soon to be six year old son can count to 200.
I fail that my son can count in Spanish.
I fail that my son has known his alphabet and colors since he was three.
I fail that my son asks to be excused from the dinner table each night.
I fail that the twins can show me with their hands, sign language of sorts, that they are all finished with their meals.
I fail that Big G knows how to load the dishwasher.
I fail that he feeds the family dog.
I fail that my 15 month old daughter Little Bitty knows where the trash is located and properly disposes of trash…..and some miscellaneous items too.
I fail that they kiss and hug, without a cue.
I fail that ALL of my kids are in bed generally NO LATER than 8:30p.m.
I fail that at every meal my kids have at least one food group…..somehow.
I fail as a mother that ALL of my kids are happy.
I fail that all of my kids are healthy, well fed, and well cared for.
I fail that I choose to vaccinate my kids, for everything, yup, even Swine Flu (just kidding).
I fail that I want my kids to go to public and private schools.
I fail that I want more for my kids that what I had.
I fail that I work EVERYDAY on my marriage to my love so my kids have happy, healthy, get over it, parents.
I fail that EVERYDAY I work to be a better mother, mom, wife, individual.
I fail that I make self-centered choices, for myself, my kids, and my family…
I fail that I have LOTS and LOTS of faults….and I admit them, embrace them, and learn from them.
I fail that I have cussed in front of my children.
But most of all……..I fail because they know ME as Mom. I fail that I raise them as a mother, as their mother.

I can keep going. Do any of these fit you? Do you fail at any of the aforementioned the way I have?

Please give me my due process if you are one of those mother’s, because clearly, you need to ascend sister and I for one am unworthy. Because of you our world would be perfect, full of codependents, naysayers, and happy people for judgments to be passed by a mere mortal.
Leave the judging to others of a higher power would you please?! Agree to disagree about how anyone raises their children. No parent, no mother, no one on Earth is perfect. We all do the best we can with the tools we are given…which by the way are from another mother…..usually our own. We live, we learn, we pass on. We try to break cycles, create new ones. We love with no end and beginning, no boundaries and no limitations. So the next time you think about saying how you do not like someone because of the way she raises her kids or the opportunities she has been given or failed to receive, just remember we have ALL been there.
We have all had good times and bad, wealth and poverty, sickness and health, life and death, gratitude and ungratefulness, felicity and sadness, crudeness and civility.

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Who? What? When? Why? How?

The questions of any and every child. Though I am thinking these statements are only from my child on an excessive basis. My mother warned me that when Big G would start kindergarten that kids transform.

Transform? Like into Optimus Prime? HA, just kidding.

Anyway, transform into what? Little did I know that he would transform into a know it all who would have to argue at every turn. Seriously, every topic is a debate, up for negotiation, the boy argues until you want to just give him what he wants. I for one want to tear every last piece of blond lock from my head when he does this.

For instance, dinner time:

Me: Finish your dinner buddy and make sure you have some trees (broccoli) we gave you a little.

Big G: Uh…Uh…but…I’m full. I can’t eat any more. Can I be excused?

Me: No buddy, eat a few more bites. You haven’t even come close to getting full. If you don’t finish you don’t get anything later…..this is it!

Big G: Alright! (with complete discontent) I will eat three more bites.

Me: Five okay? that includes your trees.

Big G: No, two.

Me: No I said Five please. (Like “please” will get me anywhere)

Big G: Six

Me: Ok

Big G: No three.

And me, being that I am an aspiring law student and debate extraordinaire just got baited by a five year old into negotiations. At some point in time DH has to jump in because our oldest child syndromes, Big G and I, start to butt heads like a couple of rams battling over territory! I just wonder when he will grow out of this incessant need to argue to the point where everyone starts arguing and then…..he loses privileges. I guess he thought he could win…right up until I take away the Wii for a week. I guess there is a win situation in some arguments. Which doesn’t say much for someone who is arguing with a child!

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The Nerve of Some People…

You know THOSE people. You know the ones that have the nerve, those pots, to call on us kettles? Yes, those rat bastards. I highly dislike them at moments when comments are slung like mud in a wrestling match, I mean, give me some goggles before hand will you!

DH and I were talking today about our typical nonsense. We generally have nothing important to say to each other during the day since he works out of the house. I babble on about housework, kids, bills, and all he hears is “Blah blah…blah blah, yadda blah. Yadda yadda blah.” Then he goes on to tell me about his job and his happenings with his job and all I hear is “Piss and moan, piss and moan.”

Anyway, I mention to him about my loot that I got in the mail today. I mean the mail lady might as well have been Santa in shorts with the packages. I received my products to review on the kids, among other things. So, I being the excited bloggy, tweeting, over-excited, don’t talk to anyone over the age of six during the day, run out to his office to share in my cheerleader-esque tone all my good news and excitement. We banter on about who knows what while I show him all the booty, and I mention how I can’t wait to blog about it.

Then he has the nerve. To tell me. Make sure you don’t forget to twitter that and whatever hell else you do.

Mmmhmmm.

Right. I told him, yes I do have my addiction to blogging, which by the way is more therapy than an addiction. Blogging is much cheaper than my $75 per hour therapist, whom I do love and adore, but heck I’m cheap….I blog! So I have my addiction, but my addiction is yielding some great stuff for the kids and WOM for these companies, thats what matters. Then, in all my wit, I call him out on his pot stance:

Mmmhmmm, and this WoW (World of Warcraft), do I see WoW yielding any goods? Is WoW going to one day pay the bills? (In reference to my writing among other things) I don’t think so, because you have to disconnect to make REAL money….WoW gold doesn’t count.

Then he proceeds to tell me….something….I kind of phased him out, oh right, he asked, so you going to go blog and tweet…….and I turned ever so nicely to close the door. I leaned out the door just enough to still be in the room to tell him:

No dear, I am actually going to make dinner. You know what dinner is right? You know, the meal after lunch and generally before breakfast the following day…..a meal you haven’t made in a while. Then I peer through the window as I shut the door giving him the most Nanna Nanna Boo Boo face ever.

I know…I am such an adult.

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Here you go Mom….

This will be one of my TMI blog posts.

I know other Mom’s who have had these moments…..

And you wanted to blog about it……..

And it was hilarious…..but just TMI

Welcome to the dark side as I tell you my TMI tale.

DH decided he would take Big G to the movies. We debated about the movie because the movie was X-Men Origins: Wolverine. I really didn’t have a problem except for the possible violence, but I know the kid has seen worse and heard worse on the news. Plus he is a HUGE superhero fan like no other. Anyway, the big boys were gone leaving me with the Squids. They were sleeping the entire time. YAY for me. I got to blog, finish an article, surf the net, write another article, write some of my paper that I have no interest in.

Needless to say I got a LOT done. So Pickles and Little Bitty finally wake up and I feed them their lunch and I have an issue. I HAVE to go to the bathroom. Sure no problem right, just go!

Not so easy. You see, Little Bitty is fearless, a trained escape artist and clown extraordinaire. I cannot leave her in her high chair alone, she climbs out and pretends that she is King Kong of the high chair, shaking it wildly, screaming and barking like a dog… you get the picture. So I am fearful she will fall and break something.

So I hurriedly remove them from their high chairs and beeline down the hall to the bathroom.

Here is the deal………………..I’m stalling I know……………………..my Aunt Flo is not kind to me. Never has been. I have NASTY back pain. I mean I would rather have back labor again than to have the back pain Aunt Flo provides. Aunt Flo is visiting me, she dropped in today. Lovely. When Aunt Flo visits she also brings other issues south of the border…..like BM issues. Not the pipes are clogged, oh no, my pipes are runneth over.

I make it to the bathroom and forget to shut the door….easy to do in my house when in a hurry. So Pickles Magoo decides he is going to strollingly crawl into the bathroom and keep an eye on his favorite woman, which happens to be me. While diddling in the bathroom keeping an eye on me he becomes distracted.

WHAT WAS THAT BELLOWING ECHO

COMING FROM THAT PORCELAIN SEAT?

Yes. The boy heard what no woman wants to admit she does…..SHART.

Oh, I could feel the flush in my face. I am not quite sure why it mattered because I was looking straight at a person who craps his pants ALL the time. He has no shame, he thinks his penis is an attached play toy, his butt is a tickle zone, why am I embarrassed.

But then more. More noise, I am a scene straight out of Dumb & Dumber and all I can do is finish so I can not be in this white room with a small child watching me. And then……he tries to help me in my moment of total nature nastiness………..

The sweet little boy with the cutest cheeks, happy smile, pale skin, and bold blue eyes looks up with his precious smiling face and hands me a diaper.

Yes ladies…….my 15 month old hands me a diaper.

At that moment I was so proud to know that I gave birth to such an intelligent child that he knew that what I needed……was a diaper.

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Questionable Questions

These words are words, phrases, sentences, questions, inquiries you never want to hear uttered from the mouth of your loving DH. I have heard these and in most instances I can answer with one word, a smile, or the look with the eyebrow. Ladies you know that look. The one where you look at DH or some other poor dolt inquirer.

You look at them like “Did you really just ask me that and do you expect an intelligent answer to your clearly daft question?”

So here are a few crowd pleasers that I incur from DH, strangers in Costco who cannot help themselves, and other dolts:

1. Are these clean or dirty? (text can be applied to dishes or clothes)

My response is the look, then I tell him….well do they stink? Do they have gunk on them? Which appliance are they in…dryer means they are dry….after being cleaned! Dishwasher, do they look clean to you?

2. Did you feed the kids yet?

Hmmm, no I was too busy blogging, Tweeting, sending emails that I decided to pour Cheerios all over the floor and let them forage for a few hours before I actually got around to making them a meal.

3. Are you already showered?

I generally smell of my designer perfume (Ralph Lauren Glamorous is one of my faves), I have fresh make-up instead of my Frankenstein Bride eyes, and my shoes are on…..what do you think?

4. Oh wow, are they identical?

Considering that identical means the same…..hmmmm….well one has a penis and the other a vagina…highly doubt they are the same.

5. Do twins run in your family?

This is a “digger” as I call them. Some random unknown individual decides they need to know whether you needed invitro or not to start up a lengthy conversation. Believe me if I had invitro, I would be in a straight jacket….born to breed!

6. How do you do it?

I mean really do I have a choice in this life? I was given a couple of peaches, a pear, and other fruits in my life…I made a salad.

7. What’s for dinner?

Let me ask “Cookie” since she’s in there whipping up some gourmet delight with macaroni and cheese, turkey burger…….why don’t you make dinner for once. Oh right, if it doesn’t have instructions you are lost.

8. (laying peacefully, quietly in bed as I doze into my slumber wonderland) You going to sleep?

What was the first clue?

9. Have you seen my shoes? belt? jeans? Other random article of clothing belonging to someone else OTHER than moi.

Let’s see, I tried it on but was clashing with my shoes today and my other ensemble.

10. Are they all your children?

No, I got these two on sale from a lady down the street and this one the UFO dropped off six years ago. We’re still waiting for them to come back for him.

11. Do they all have the same daddy?

Nope….I decided it would be fun to have twins from two different fathers, and my oldest looks nothing (identical) like his father. I got that question from a dude at Home Depot one day.

12. Is that you or the dog?

Do we really need to go there?

13. Did you clean the house?

Nope, a truckload of munchkins, dwarves and fairies swooped in today and did it all for me, then even left a pair of ruby red slippers for me.

14. Are you going to wear that?

Why does it make my ass look any smaller? If so heck ya! It’s black, does it get any better?

15. Are you going somewhere?

Keys in hand, purse (diaper bag) on shoulders, sunglasses….nope…this is how I stroll around the house.

16. Are the twins asleep?

I don’t hear anything…..do you? (*crickets) Oh wait, there they are, duct taped to the wall, no wonder the house was so quiet.

17. (sitting on the comode) What are you doing?

(Do I truly have to answer?)…..I’m thinking. I do my best thinking with my pants at my ankles sitting on the latrine with little people and adults looking at me.

*UPDATE
18. This one is courtesy of Jenjen @ Gotta Love Mom : Are you tired?

Let’s see I am a mom…..first clue….I wear many hats (chauffeur, maid, dog walker, gardener, pool guy/girl, sex goddess, domestic diva, the list is endless)…second clue….and my work seems to never be done is the final clue. So you tell me….are you tired from listening to me?

19. These are from my dear twin Mom blogger Beth @ Be Careful What You Wish For: “oh my god, what are you going to do?” (The question when you tell people you are going to have twins)

Beth and I were separated at birth, twin moms have this sick sense of humor, which is why God deemed us fit enough to bear and care for more than one child at the same time. Here is Beth’s answer and I almost choked I was laughing so hard:

“i always wished i had the guts to say “actually, we’ve been looking into black market baby sales and it seems like a good deal. i think we are just going to sell them on the internet.”

20. Another Beth question and answer that I love! “Are you marrying your baby’s father?”

Can you imagine if i were to ask people this question in reverse?!?! “Oh, is this baby your husband’s?” (Go give Beth some comment love and a follow, she’s got some great stuff going on her blog! Just click on her linky above)

Do you have any obvious questions that never truly need answers, but find a shady form of comedy to entertain the question to keep from losing your mind. Leave your comments, I would love to share with other Mom’s and Dad’s. Happy Friday!

Keep the comments coming ladies….you know you have had some really stupid questions asked that you where you have experienced a hidden urge to slap the person who asked. All in good fun.