Rants From Mommyland Likes Me!

It's been kind of suck-y week, with things being super-busy at work and at home and me getting hit by the Queen of Cold Viruses. (Thank you, back-to-school-bugs!)

Enter into my life a little sunshine via my favorite blog, Rants From Mommyland, which decided to post a submission I sent them last week, titled, "Domestic Enemy of the Mom with Mixed Race Kids." Honestly, it was something I drafted up for fun during an insomniac evening, highlighting some of the most interesting moments our mixed-race family has experienced. I sent it in, not expecting much of a response, but I was astonished to get an reply from Lydia (of Lydia and Kate fame) THE VERY NEXT DAY indicated that they planned to post it.

To me, Rants From Mommyland captures the joyous highs and hair-pulling lows of parenthood and neatly presents them with amazingly funny artwork (witness the one above, which ran with my post). Some people take parenting way more seriously than I do, and that's fine. I'm not into competitive parenting so I leave that for others.

My philosophy: If the kids are puking while the dog is having an accident, or if you have 12 sugared-up kids bouncing off your walls during a home birthday party while your hubby conveniently lays in bed sick (all true things that have happened here, by the way) ... you might as well laugh. And maybe have some wine. I have long suspected that other moms existed who felt the way I did, and when I discovered Rants from Mommyland, I knew I had found my asylum.

If you haven't checked out Rants From Mommyland, do it now! Now! Before the wine is gone.

Awesome artwork from Rants From Mommyland

Going to the Dogs

I am ready to either sell my preteen or ship him off to military school. My husband wanted kids so it's technically his fault. I wanted more dogs.

Just needed to get that off my chest. Feel free to commiserate or ignore.

Didn't I Feed You Yesterday?

If you're not a Project Runway fan (and why the heck not?) you may not be familiar with Laura Bennett, season three finalist, mother of six and style/parenting icon. When I grow up I want to be just like her.

I try to keep in mind that I shouldn't idolize her because the woman has money, nannies, a fabulous New York city apartment and at least one Martha-worthy country home. Still, she does have six kids, which I think balances everything out.

Today she has a hilarious article on The Daily Beast (thedailybeast.com) titled, "Didn't I Feed You Yesterday?" She describes her hands-off parenting style (lets her kids eat chemical junk, buys them go-carts and doesn't know where their classrooms are) and even attributes it to a genetic disposition to laissez-faire parenting.

I love it because I am descended from an overprotective mom. She never allowed me out to play with neighbor kids (they were too rough) or join a sport (in case I got injured and possibly paralyzed for life) or go to friends' homes (should any family members living there possess hidden criminal records). I think I was finally allowed to cross the street by myself during seventh grade.

That's the family legacy I've been handed and it's one I'm trying to break. I think I'm making an admirable effort and it helps that my husband grew up in one of those homes where kids were allowed to roam outdoors all day and just return for meals.

I'm also trying hard not to be a helicopter parent at school. While I do volunteer with my kids' classrooms and know their teachers, I try not to hover around the schoolyard or obsess over their homework and friends. Our schools have enough neurotic parents; they don't need me to join their ranks.

Several years ago, on the first day of school, my friend Adrienne and I kissed our kindergartners, watched them march into class, left the weeping moms and went shopping. We might have left tire tracks in the school parking lot in our haste to get out of there.

There was another time a group of us moms decide to celebrate the kids' return to school by canoeing out to a small island with contraband margarita-fixings and snacks, only to find a work-party of prison inmates already there. We still had a splendid time.

So there is hope for me!

Want Some Whine With Your Cheese?

My daughter, Miss Thang, has not slept much this week, due to a combination of the hot weather and the fact that she is physically incapable to slumbering past 7 a.m. Since she refuses to sit still and rest for even a second during the day, she has been alternately hyper and whiny.

Today it came to a head. She was whiny through a movie, whiny through a playdate and whiny during a shopping trip. I finally lost it at Fred Meyer. I was looking for groceries and laundry detergent in a store that has changed its layout for the umpteenth time due to remodeling, and while I tried to concentrate on finding things this buzz-buzz-buzz kept going in my ear: "Mommmmmmmm ... I was trying to find this toy ... can you come and look at this toy ... I want some of those hairbands ... no, I want more than six ... waaaaahhh..."

I gritted my teeth, glared at her and uttered the first word that came to mind: "Naptime!" She stopped in her tracks and became fearfully quiet. Her eyes got big and she whispered, "I don't want to nap." The image of Guantanamo detainees flashed through my mind. Keep in mind that she is 7 and has not napped since the age of 3.

So we have made a deal: Whenever she is whiny or annoying or hyper this summer and can't calm herself despite several warnings and/or good-parenting attempts on my end, "Naptime" will be the code word for, "This is your final warning. Any further attempts to whine or annoy will result in being sent to your room for a good snooze."

So far it's working. If it works through the entire summer vacation, I may have to start a parenting-advice blog (just kidding).