©Lisa Barker
(An excerpt from Lisa Barker’s book Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane...Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!)
I rarely take my kids on a clothes-shopping expedition--unless it's for the child in tow and all the rest are at home. This means I have a 90% record in my favor of happy, well-behaved kids when shopping for clothes.
Unlike me when I was a child, my kids aren't running through the aisles or hiding themselves in the middle of a circular rack. I have kids who actually look forward to clothes shopping.
That is, until today.
I haven't been shopping seriously for clothes for myself since my twins (now eleven) were about the age of their youngest sister who's now three. That was back in the days when just about the time I was completely down to my underwear one or both of the twins would whip open the curtain of the changing room, much to my chagrin and the surprise of all the other customers in the vicinity.
So, eight years later, I'm a little wiser and really desperate. I tuck the two little ones in the double stroller and embark on my daring mission to seek clothes for my new body that, after five kids, is a new body.
Well, we're at my favorite store—the one where I mooned everyone eight years ago. I'm relatively sure that no one remembers me. I riffle through the racks like a clerk at the post office sorting mail. Yep, nope, maybe, nope, nope, YES!
Once I accumulate a load of 'yesses', I pile them on the stroller and park the kids just out of arm's reach of the dressing curtain. I'm fast, I'm greased lightening and I'm in and out of outfits so fast I'm busting a sweat. And then it starts.
At first it sounded like the low growl of a finely tuned Chevy. But it begins to build and crescendo with vehemence. I peek out of the curtain just in time to see the sweet blonde head of my three-year old rotate 360 degrees. Her eyes cross, that deep guttural growl sounds again and then—yikes! I duck back in the dressing room before the pea soup can hit my new skirt.
The three-year old tries to take her two-year old brother's head off (she sits behind him in the stroller) while he simultaneously attempts to reach back to scalp her.
Okay. Time to go. Wait—just one more thing!
“BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
“Snorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre.”
One is possessed. One is out cold.
We check out. It'll be months before these two won't shriek when they see a rack of clothes.
But hey, good news! One skirt was half off…and the toys were free!
---------------------------------------------------
Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of "Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane...Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!" and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
Friday, February 22, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
This Old House Has Children
©Lisa Barker
My house is old, it creaks and moans
Like my aging body and aching bones.
It needs new cabinets, paint and flooring.
It's not the house to come adoring.
But yet my house is like my soul,
Aged and accented by life's toll.
What seems 'not new' to some who look
Is really just a sacred book.
Nicks and scratches and carpet stains
Are just clear proof of labor pains.
Just like stretch marks on my abdomen,
My house has borne my chil-der-ren.
There's more than toys sprawled on the floor,
There's creaking, crooked, screen-less doors.
Weeds grow in the garden, too,
Our little house is no longer new.
It'll never show in magazines
With fresh painted walls and color schemes.
Here and there a hole or two,
A sagging sofa that once was blue
But now is covered with a throw,
The very first thing to go
When in come the children to bounce, bounce, bounce.
It's not a museum it's a house.
Bikes out on the patchy lawn,
Hopscotch in the driveway drawn.
A basketball hoop and one crushed rose.
I told those kids to be careful with those!
Fingerprints on all the doors,
A leak or two when it pours.
Windows wiggled off the track,
Artwork on the wall is tacked.
Crooked pictures on the wall
A noisy gang, a boisterous brawl!
They bustle 'round from dawn to dusk,
Making cleaning and repairs a must.
But all these woes must take a number,
It's my children's hearts and sense of wonder
That are number one for happy Mother...
I really doubt I'd like my druthers.
Because....
I sometimes pine for an immaculate house;
When I scrub the floors and walls I grouse.
But the reality is plain to see,
My children mean a lot to me.
Without them I'd be on my own
My house would never feel like home
There I'd sit with pretty stuff,
Temporal trappings and mindless fluff.
So, dear moms, when you are sad and wonder why
Your home will never ever fly
And pass inspection by the stylish kind,
Take a moment to unwind.
And please remember someday soon,
You'll have lots of time to clean each room.
Off to college and brand new lives
Your children will leave before your eyes.
Enjoy them while they're still at home
And maybe one day when they're grown
A knock on the door you'll rush to greet
The happy grandchildren at your feet.
Screams and giggles and cookies, too,
Butterfly kisses just for you,
Fingerprints and tipped over cups...
God has blessed you oh so much!
---------------------------------------------------
Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of "Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane...Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!" and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
My house is old, it creaks and moans
Like my aging body and aching bones.
It needs new cabinets, paint and flooring.
It's not the house to come adoring.
But yet my house is like my soul,
Aged and accented by life's toll.
What seems 'not new' to some who look
Is really just a sacred book.
Nicks and scratches and carpet stains
Are just clear proof of labor pains.
Just like stretch marks on my abdomen,
My house has borne my chil-der-ren.
There's more than toys sprawled on the floor,
There's creaking, crooked, screen-less doors.
Weeds grow in the garden, too,
Our little house is no longer new.
It'll never show in magazines
With fresh painted walls and color schemes.
Here and there a hole or two,
A sagging sofa that once was blue
But now is covered with a throw,
The very first thing to go
When in come the children to bounce, bounce, bounce.
It's not a museum it's a house.
Bikes out on the patchy lawn,
Hopscotch in the driveway drawn.
A basketball hoop and one crushed rose.
I told those kids to be careful with those!
Fingerprints on all the doors,
A leak or two when it pours.
Windows wiggled off the track,
Artwork on the wall is tacked.
Crooked pictures on the wall
A noisy gang, a boisterous brawl!
They bustle 'round from dawn to dusk,
Making cleaning and repairs a must.
But all these woes must take a number,
It's my children's hearts and sense of wonder
That are number one for happy Mother...
I really doubt I'd like my druthers.
Because....
I sometimes pine for an immaculate house;
When I scrub the floors and walls I grouse.
But the reality is plain to see,
My children mean a lot to me.
Without them I'd be on my own
My house would never feel like home
There I'd sit with pretty stuff,
Temporal trappings and mindless fluff.
So, dear moms, when you are sad and wonder why
Your home will never ever fly
And pass inspection by the stylish kind,
Take a moment to unwind.
And please remember someday soon,
You'll have lots of time to clean each room.
Off to college and brand new lives
Your children will leave before your eyes.
Enjoy them while they're still at home
And maybe one day when they're grown
A knock on the door you'll rush to greet
The happy grandchildren at your feet.
Screams and giggles and cookies, too,
Butterfly kisses just for you,
Fingerprints and tipped over cups...
God has blessed you oh so much!
---------------------------------------------------
Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of "Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane...Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!" and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!
Monday, February 11, 2008
Mom’s Rigged Cookie Pot
©Lisa Barker
My cookie jar is a Dutch oven, a big heavy red pot that keeps cookies moist and has a built in alarm system. No matter how quietly a child tries to sneak out a cookie, there’s always the telltale ‘clink’ sound that gives them away no matter how muffled.
“Get out of the cookies!”
“I wasn’t in them.”
“Yes, you were.”
“Well, I was getting a cookie for you.”
Right.
I don’t know what it is with kids these days, maybe it’s only mine, but none of my kids seem to have an aptitude for sneaking into things and getting away with it.
I was smart enough to hire a lookout. I’d have my little sister watch for my mom while I filched snacks and paid her from my booty of stolen goodies. None of my kids have thought of doing that, yet. (And I’d like to see them try without bickering over who got the bigger share.)
My oldest son filches pickles out of the refrigerator, but he either doesn’t twist the top back on or he leaves a jar of pickle juice. And even though I’ve told him about these telltale clues, he still leaves the jar uncapped or empty and looks surprised when I catch up with him.
My youngest son sneaks into my husband’s candy stash and leaves a pile of empty wrappers at the scene of the crime and walks around with chocolate smeared around his lips. These are not criminal masterminds.
“Are you sure you didn’t eat Dad’s candy?”
“Oh, no, Momma. I didn’t touch it!”
One of my daughter’s has a pesky angel on her shoulder. If she even thinks of doing something wrong, her conscience keeps her up at night until she tells on herself. I don’t worry about her.
The biggest giveaways are their eyes. Two of my kids look like they’ve seen a ghost when they’ve done something wrong or when they’re holding back incriminating information—and I’m not saying which ones because I know they read this column. No matter what expression they try to assume they can’t control their eyes.
I like to interrogate them just to for the sheer pleasure of entrapment. It’s what moms at home do for kicks.
“Is there something wrong with you?”
“No....” The eyes get even bigger.
“What were you doing in the kitchen?”
“Getting a drink of water.”
“Why didn’t I hear the water run?”
“I only got a little bit.”
“What cup did you use? The red one?”
“Yes.”
“Aha! We don’t have any red cups!”
“All right! I just wanted a cookie.”
“I know. You’ve got crumbs on your mouth and I heard the cookie pot ‘clink’.”
Huzzah! Nobody steals cookies in my house.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker and syndicated through Parent To Parent™ and is available for newspapers, websites, e-zines and newsletters. Here's all the info you need to publish Jelly Mom™.
My cookie jar is a Dutch oven, a big heavy red pot that keeps cookies moist and has a built in alarm system. No matter how quietly a child tries to sneak out a cookie, there’s always the telltale ‘clink’ sound that gives them away no matter how muffled.
“Get out of the cookies!”
“I wasn’t in them.”
“Yes, you were.”
“Well, I was getting a cookie for you.”
Right.
I don’t know what it is with kids these days, maybe it’s only mine, but none of my kids seem to have an aptitude for sneaking into things and getting away with it.
I was smart enough to hire a lookout. I’d have my little sister watch for my mom while I filched snacks and paid her from my booty of stolen goodies. None of my kids have thought of doing that, yet. (And I’d like to see them try without bickering over who got the bigger share.)
My oldest son filches pickles out of the refrigerator, but he either doesn’t twist the top back on or he leaves a jar of pickle juice. And even though I’ve told him about these telltale clues, he still leaves the jar uncapped or empty and looks surprised when I catch up with him.
My youngest son sneaks into my husband’s candy stash and leaves a pile of empty wrappers at the scene of the crime and walks around with chocolate smeared around his lips. These are not criminal masterminds.
“Are you sure you didn’t eat Dad’s candy?”
“Oh, no, Momma. I didn’t touch it!”
One of my daughter’s has a pesky angel on her shoulder. If she even thinks of doing something wrong, her conscience keeps her up at night until she tells on herself. I don’t worry about her.
The biggest giveaways are their eyes. Two of my kids look like they’ve seen a ghost when they’ve done something wrong or when they’re holding back incriminating information—and I’m not saying which ones because I know they read this column. No matter what expression they try to assume they can’t control their eyes.
I like to interrogate them just to for the sheer pleasure of entrapment. It’s what moms at home do for kicks.
“Is there something wrong with you?”
“No....” The eyes get even bigger.
“What were you doing in the kitchen?”
“Getting a drink of water.”
“Why didn’t I hear the water run?”
“I only got a little bit.”
“What cup did you use? The red one?”
“Yes.”
“Aha! We don’t have any red cups!”
“All right! I just wanted a cookie.”
“I know. You’ve got crumbs on your mouth and I heard the cookie pot ‘clink’.”
Huzzah! Nobody steals cookies in my house.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker and syndicated through Parent To Parent™ and is available for newspapers, websites, e-zines and newsletters. Here's all the info you need to publish Jelly Mom™.
Friday, February 1, 2008
The Ten Chocolate Commandments For Mom
©Lisa Barker
The cacao plant’s botanical name, Theobroma cacao, literally means “food of the gods.” To its many devotees, chocolate is exactly that.
And, chocolate has many positive properties such as antioxidants (good for the heart) and a substance known as phenylethylamine that creates a mood akin to falling in love.
So it’s no wonder that survival of motherhood is directly related to the faith we invest in chocolate to sustain us through stressful times. While chocolate should never replace the rightful presence of a Greater Being, God, in one’s life, from Whom all chocolate flows, one must respect the basic commandments regarding chocolate to ensure harmony among all mothers of good will.
1. Thou shalt have no other foods before chocolate. Chocolate and pure chocolate alone will be thy salvation, the darker, the better.
2. Thou shalt not make for thyself an idol. Leave no chocolate bar untouched. Worship no chocolate bar, but instead eat completely, savoring every morsel.
3. Thou shalt not make wrongful use of the name of thy chocolate. Thou shalt not call it candy. Thou shalt not call it junk food. Thou shalt revere it as the supreme creation of cacao as intended.
4. Remember the holidays that celebrate with chocolate and keep them. Honor Valentine’s Day, Easter, Halloween and Christmas with heart-shaped boxes of chocolates, chocolate bunnies, chocolate bars and chocolate Santas and snowmen.
5. Honor thy Father and Mother. Especially thy mother. Give her chocolate for all occasions especially the holidays in commandment four.
6. Thou shalt not murder for chocolate, but thou mayest threaten others or take hostages especially during PMS.
7. Thou shalt not commit the sin of eating thy friend’s chocolate. The chocolate does not belong to thou and thou must not destroy the sacred bond between chocolate owner and chocolate bar.
8. Thou shalt not steal. Thou shalt keep thy hands off chocolate that does not belong to thou.
9. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. Thou shalt not accuse thy neighbor of stealing thy chocolate when thou hast stayed up all night gorging thyself and hast thus forgotten due to a morning chocolate hangover.
10. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's house filled with chocolate and thou shall not covet thy neighbor's wife’s chocolate. But thou may ask politely for a piece.
Disclaimer: As with everything (munch, mmmph, munch), chocolate is best when eaten in moderation. It should never replace your servings of (munch, mmmph, munch) fruit and veggies and if you enjoy one chocolate (munch, mmmph, munch) bar per week while decreasing your intake of other high-calorie foods, you may be able to enjoy (munch, mmmph, munch) this treat without gaining weight.
LISA BARKER of Greenfield is a syndicated humor columnist and mom of five. Her latest book is "Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane ... Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!" See www.JellyMom.com for more information.
The cacao plant’s botanical name, Theobroma cacao, literally means “food of the gods.” To its many devotees, chocolate is exactly that.
And, chocolate has many positive properties such as antioxidants (good for the heart) and a substance known as phenylethylamine that creates a mood akin to falling in love.
So it’s no wonder that survival of motherhood is directly related to the faith we invest in chocolate to sustain us through stressful times. While chocolate should never replace the rightful presence of a Greater Being, God, in one’s life, from Whom all chocolate flows, one must respect the basic commandments regarding chocolate to ensure harmony among all mothers of good will.
1. Thou shalt have no other foods before chocolate. Chocolate and pure chocolate alone will be thy salvation, the darker, the better.
2. Thou shalt not make for thyself an idol. Leave no chocolate bar untouched. Worship no chocolate bar, but instead eat completely, savoring every morsel.
3. Thou shalt not make wrongful use of the name of thy chocolate. Thou shalt not call it candy. Thou shalt not call it junk food. Thou shalt revere it as the supreme creation of cacao as intended.
4. Remember the holidays that celebrate with chocolate and keep them. Honor Valentine’s Day, Easter, Halloween and Christmas with heart-shaped boxes of chocolates, chocolate bunnies, chocolate bars and chocolate Santas and snowmen.
5. Honor thy Father and Mother. Especially thy mother. Give her chocolate for all occasions especially the holidays in commandment four.
6. Thou shalt not murder for chocolate, but thou mayest threaten others or take hostages especially during PMS.
7. Thou shalt not commit the sin of eating thy friend’s chocolate. The chocolate does not belong to thou and thou must not destroy the sacred bond between chocolate owner and chocolate bar.
8. Thou shalt not steal. Thou shalt keep thy hands off chocolate that does not belong to thou.
9. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. Thou shalt not accuse thy neighbor of stealing thy chocolate when thou hast stayed up all night gorging thyself and hast thus forgotten due to a morning chocolate hangover.
10. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's house filled with chocolate and thou shall not covet thy neighbor's wife’s chocolate. But thou may ask politely for a piece.
Disclaimer: As with everything (munch, mmmph, munch), chocolate is best when eaten in moderation. It should never replace your servings of (munch, mmmph, munch) fruit and veggies and if you enjoy one chocolate (munch, mmmph, munch) bar per week while decreasing your intake of other high-calorie foods, you may be able to enjoy (munch, mmmph, munch) this treat without gaining weight.
LISA BARKER of Greenfield is a syndicated humor columnist and mom of five. Her latest book is "Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane ... Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!" See www.JellyMom.com for more information.
Caller ID Was Me
©Lisa Barker
I called my husband on my cell phone. Just as it rang his office our landline rang, so I hung up to answer the other phone. It stopped ringing before I got to the end of the hall.
So I went back to my bedroom to call my husband again. Just as it rang his office the landline rang again. "Must be the same caller," I guessed, and ran down the hall to answer it. It stopped ringing just before I got there. Don't you hate that?
So I called my husband one more time and as I did the landline rang again and this time I answered before it stopped ringing. It was me.
All right, so I'm not the brightest bulb in the box.
Cell phones are new to me. They may have been around for years, but until recently I never really used one. Far from being a great leap for me into the world of technology, it's turned out to be a source of mental pain for my tech-minded husband.
"Woman, why did you get a cell phone if you never take it with you when you leave the house?"
"I keep forgetting it."
Then, "Woman, why didn't you answer your cell phone today when I called you at home?"
"It was in my purse and I couldn't hear it." I'd put it there so I'd remember to take it with me when I left home.
Then, someone will ask me what my cell phone number is. I'll say, "I don't know," and then ask my husband what it is.
"You don't know your own phone number?"
"I never call myself." Well, not until recently.
I've been pondering the wonder of my cell phone. My husband calls it a 'razor' even though it doesn't look anything like one. It looks more like a cigarette lighter—a bright pink cigarette lighter with flowers on it making it a 'girlie' phone according to my husband.
It does a lot of neat things, but I can't tell you what. I've taken a few pictures and stored them. It took me three months to find out exactly WHERE I stored them.
I tried to turn the ringer down once and took a picture of my eye.
The best thing about the cell phone is that I can call five people anytime I want from anywhere I want. These people are called my 'favorites,' but it wasn't a contest. I don't really know more than five people I'd call anytime anywhere anyway.
So I was very proud of myself when I brought the phone home…until my husband asked me what plan I got. "Plan?"
"Yes. How much will this cost us every month?"
"Uh…."
LISA BARKER of Greenfield is a syndicated humor columnist and mom of five. Her latest book is "Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane ... Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!" See www.JellyMom.com for more information.
I called my husband on my cell phone. Just as it rang his office our landline rang, so I hung up to answer the other phone. It stopped ringing before I got to the end of the hall.
So I went back to my bedroom to call my husband again. Just as it rang his office the landline rang again. "Must be the same caller," I guessed, and ran down the hall to answer it. It stopped ringing just before I got there. Don't you hate that?
So I called my husband one more time and as I did the landline rang again and this time I answered before it stopped ringing. It was me.
All right, so I'm not the brightest bulb in the box.
Cell phones are new to me. They may have been around for years, but until recently I never really used one. Far from being a great leap for me into the world of technology, it's turned out to be a source of mental pain for my tech-minded husband.
"Woman, why did you get a cell phone if you never take it with you when you leave the house?"
"I keep forgetting it."
Then, "Woman, why didn't you answer your cell phone today when I called you at home?"
"It was in my purse and I couldn't hear it." I'd put it there so I'd remember to take it with me when I left home.
Then, someone will ask me what my cell phone number is. I'll say, "I don't know," and then ask my husband what it is.
"You don't know your own phone number?"
"I never call myself." Well, not until recently.
I've been pondering the wonder of my cell phone. My husband calls it a 'razor' even though it doesn't look anything like one. It looks more like a cigarette lighter—a bright pink cigarette lighter with flowers on it making it a 'girlie' phone according to my husband.
It does a lot of neat things, but I can't tell you what. I've taken a few pictures and stored them. It took me three months to find out exactly WHERE I stored them.
I tried to turn the ringer down once and took a picture of my eye.
The best thing about the cell phone is that I can call five people anytime I want from anywhere I want. These people are called my 'favorites,' but it wasn't a contest. I don't really know more than five people I'd call anytime anywhere anyway.
So I was very proud of myself when I brought the phone home…until my husband asked me what plan I got. "Plan?"
"Yes. How much will this cost us every month?"
"Uh…."
LISA BARKER of Greenfield is a syndicated humor columnist and mom of five. Her latest book is "Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane ... Doesn't Mean You Are A Bad Parent!" See www.JellyMom.com for more information.
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