My guest today is another one of my favorite funny bloggers, Ashley from http://www.sorrykidblog.com. I met Ashley last year after several people told me about her hilarious blog. Once I started reading her posts about the daily shenanigans that occur in a house with six kids, I was hooked. I've been telling her ever since that she needs to write a book---the stuff that goes on under her roof would keep readers laughing for a long time.
I am so thrilled to be able to feature Ashley here---please welcome this talented, funny writer to Meno Mama's blog today!
Why be a Supermom when you can be a...
Being a supermom is completely overrated. Pinterest moms are the new and improved June Cleaver's of the world. Hair is perfect, clothes match, teeth are white- possibly lacking all enamel, but soap opera actress white. So damn skinny my 4 year old could hoist them on his shoulder and caveman them hostage for a super-organic-breastmilk-spinach-and chia seed-fortified juice box. And that kid is small for his age.
Everyone thinks I have it all together. It is a lie. I am no Supermom, I am a Survivalmom and I get sh*t done...
Here is the real behind the scenes into my life:
It is 4:50 on a summer afternoon. It has been a lazy day, because tomorrow will blow. Three kids have games at two different places. But I'm good, that's tomorrow. I feel like I am on top of this parenting ish because the chicken is thawed at 4pm.
And then the phone rings...
It's the hubs. He can't make it to pick up the kids for the 6:00 game. No babe you are good, the game is on Wednesday. And then he said it...Today is Wednesday.
The profanities that spewed from my face were uncountable. The kids stopped at 37, half of them were hodge podged together to make new and improved profanic words, so that threw the count off a bit. The baby looked at me, unimpressed.
We had to leave no later than 5:20. Uniforms had to be fished out of the dirty laundry, dinner had to be cooked, kids had to be dressed, baby had to be fed, kids had to eat. I needed to be presentable. I am prone to nervous diarrhea.
I start the chicken, hand it off for the 9 year old boy to watch.
Start the 4 year old sawing off ends of the green beans with a butter knife.
Run upstairs to tell the 11 and 14 year old girls to get their stuff together and get ready. I grab an extra outfit for the baby.
Run downstairs to check on dinner and realize chicken and green beans won't cut it. I boil water for macaroni and start the green beans, pass food watching to the 4 year old with instructions not to touch ANYTHING, just watch and if he sees smoke or flames to blow my whistle. Yes, I carry a whistle.
Run back upstairs to help 9 year old to find uniform.
Whistle blows. Run downstairs, 4 year old wants to blow out all my spit from the whistle. Whatever. Run back up. Uniform found, shake it off and rub it down with a dryer sheet and a baby wipe. Back downstairs to flip chicken and stir some crap.
Back upstairs to find uniform for 6 year old who is currently staring at the baby to make sure she doesn't run off. She was 2 months old clearly the kid wasn't going anywhere, but I am not paying that kid's babysitting fees. He is a pricey little fella.
Find the uniform...And we have a pisser... Oh my holy water and eucharist. The kid had wet the bed IN his uniform. Fill the tub, squirt some shampoo and tell the 6 year old to step in and start stomping and swishing around the urinated uniform.
Run downstairs. Check on dinner. Hubs calls... Don't forget the equipment... I tell him not to trip on shoestrings and quite possibly call him a pet name that shouldn't be repeated without a censor..
9 year old can't find his socks, they are not in the upstairs pile, run down check on dinner and look through the downstairs laundry pile. The dinner referee decided to take an unannounced break to chase a bird or something. He is now blowing the whistle at bees. Fantastic. I go out to bring him in and SCORE, there are the socks. Is that mud or crap? I hold my breath and start rinsing, and throw them in the tub with the urine-iform.
9 year old is not ok with his socks being in the same water as the urine-iform. He gets undressed, he states he is no longer going. Awesome. Pull the socks previously saturated in an unknown substance out of urine-iform bubble bath, which the 6 year old is no longer swishing because he has decided to run through the house with the 11 year old girl's cleat.
Drain the tub, rinse. Put formerly urine soaked uniform in the dryer. Teen girl is now watching baby and dinner and screaming at all the ridiculousness. I inform them that they are lucky I don't believe in child abuse. The cleat is now over the fence and the 4 year old is naked because 9 year old sprayed the back of his leg with windex and told him it was pee. Because pee is always blue and smells like a clean window.
11 year old girl takes 4 year old to get dressed. Baby is crying, I feed her while I load up the baseball equipement into the back of the car. I pretend not to notice the two 12 pound Pinterest moms from my kid's elementary school whispering as they walk by. I know they can see my baby leftovers hanging out. I know they are having a friendly discussion about it...
6 year old can't find cleats or socks. Apparently dad had found the pissy socks but didn't think to search out the matching uniform... High five... I find the socks hanging over my shower, not rinsed, so I throw them into a sink in my bathroom. Baby farts. I feel warmth...
Dinner is done, kids start to eat thanks to the two oldest girls. I put the baby into the other sink, soap her up, redress her. 5:16...
Kids are goofing around at the table, no time to eat so I grab a coffee filter and put it in each of their hands and dump their food in it, we are eating in the car peeps. I use my shirt collar to brush my teeth and tinted lipgloss on my cheeks to attempt to deflect the fact that I have heinous bags under my eyes and get everyone loaded...
5.19 ... I made it. I mean we were drying socks out the window on the ride over but we made it... We showed up on time, everyone was presentable and nobody had a clue. I did have my "painting" clothes on but we were all good.
Like I said, I am no Supermom, I am a Survivalmom. It may not be pretty but it is done. I want other moms who feel the stress to be a Supermom and leave it behind. You have mismatched or ratty clothes, throw some craft paint on them and call yourself an artist.
Keep Wal-mart bags in your car and fill them in the pick-up line at school, shove everything in them and throw them as far back into the car as you can, nothing falls out when you open the door. You don't have to take garbage and dress it up to make perfect storage compartments for everything.
Drink coffee, have a beer, eat a steak. Stop letting an online dream world make you feel less than you are.
You are enough. Unless you wear winter boots with bikini bottom sized shorts, then you are just stupid.
When people ask me how I do it with 6 kids, all in sports, with a husband who works an insane amount I just smile.
In reality, it is caffeine and adrenaline...shhh
Ashley is a mom of 6, ages 14 to 4 months. She writes about her crazy family and sometimes stupid stuff she sees at Sorry Kid, Your Mom Doesn't Play Well With Others. Her friends and family compare her to Amy Duncan, from Good Luck Charlie, while she does not see the resemblance she sees it as a better choice than being compared to the mom on Honey Boo Boo or Sarah Palin, mainly because she refuses to eat roadkill or shoot moose or meese, whatever. If you go visit her website consider yourself warned that she has a colorful vocabulary...