©Lisa Barker
I’ve been exercising to some of Richard Simmons' exercise videos.
Let me tell you. I thought I had it all worked out. I’d wait until anyone old enough to laugh at me had gone to school or work for the day, but nooo. Were all my problems solved by that little strategy? Not on your life.
At first the toddlers happily plunked themselves on the sofa. I guess they thought we were going to watch a new movie.
Then the action started and they looked agog, then bewildered by my strange movements. What in the world is mom doing?
And then they started throwing obstacles in my path: sofa cushions, toys and the remote. It was as if to say, "Change the channel!" They even attacked my legs and tried to hold me still.
So being the devoted mom that I am, I put them in their room to play with a billion toys so I could do this little thing for myself for thirty minutes. Oh, the protests and the wails! What a terrible mom am I!
But I jiggled on (that’s what happens after you have a few kids and don’t exercise) ignoring their pitiful cries and even the phone.
And when I was done, I’d successfully sweat buckets and had the old heart pumping nicely.
The next day I tried again. Immediately, the kids cried out when they saw the little man with the puffy 'do.' He was not as motivating to my toddlers as he apparently was to the group exercising with him. My one-year-old quickly turned off the television.
I turned it back on.
"Spob," I was told, which translates to SpongeBob.
"No Spob. Momma needs to exercise."
So the other grabbed the remote and managed to change the channel to The Wiggles. And then THEY started dancing around in front of the television. "Move over, Mom. This is how it's done!"
Gee, I bet Richard Simmons never thought of his exercise routine as outdated. But, it's true. Next to The Wiggles, who can really work up a sweat of their own, Richard is an oldie.
So much for the video, Mr. Simmons! Today we're going to "point our fingers and do the twist...then we're gonna go up and back down, get back up and turn around...can you point your fingers and do the twist?"
Yes, I can! Apparently, if Momma wants to exercise while the Wiggles play, then she can exercise all she wants.
So now the toddlers and I are in sync. And it's working into our daily routine pretty well. I'd write more, but right now I have to 'do the monkey, elephant and tiger,' right after I dance with hot potatoes, mashed bananas and cold spaghetti.
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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!
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Can’t Be Shy Around little Brother
©Lisa Barker
My oldest daughter is shy. Writing this column probably won’t help things either, but you know parents just can’t resist telling a great story no matter what.
So there we were at church on Sunday, visitors just passing through. We chose a neutral seat somewhere in the middle and my youngest, the wiggle-worm, proceeded to wiggle right on down the pew. The family in front of us immediately got up and moved ahead a few rows and my daughter remarked, “That can’t be a good sign.”
She was right, so I thought it prudent to move my little one to the ‘cry room’ that wonderful room they seal you in while kids scream and tear around at breakneck speed. Usually the room is soundproof, the service is piped in and one wall is made of glass so desperate parents can see what is going on. At this particular parish it was directly behind the altar.
I hadn’t intended the older kids to follow me in, but they did, and to her horror, my shy one found herself face to face with the entire congregation. While she tried to pray quietly in the shadows the wiggle worm ran straight up to the glass wall and launched himself at it, sticking like a bug on a windshield.
Father prayed as if a million sticky little children had hit that window before. He didn’t miss a beat. My son, nose and open mouth pressed up against the window imitated with hands held high in praise. I furtively snapped my fingers and growled under my breath, catching his attention, and the wiggle worm hopped over to me then hopped in place for the next twenty minutes.
My daughter wept silently letting her long hair fall forward and hide her face.
“Hey, Rachel!” Wiggle Worm whispered as loudly as a whisper can go. He waved at her, he waved at the whole congregation, but little by little he coaxed a smile and a giggle from his shy stricken sister. It’s hard to stay angry with him especially when he tries so hard to do the right thing. And he was trying.
He waited patiently for the collection basket to come our way and when we were overlooked, he yelled out, “Over here!” The acoustics are marvelous at this particular parish, and with the door to the cry room open his little voice ricocheted from stained glass window to stained glass window.
My shy one may regret this column. She may regret the antics of her little brother in public, but someday this daughter is going to be a great leader. My youngest is just breaking her in to the public life one humiliation at a time.
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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 oldest daughter is shy. Writing this column probably won’t help things either, but you know parents just can’t resist telling a great story no matter what.
So there we were at church on Sunday, visitors just passing through. We chose a neutral seat somewhere in the middle and my youngest, the wiggle-worm, proceeded to wiggle right on down the pew. The family in front of us immediately got up and moved ahead a few rows and my daughter remarked, “That can’t be a good sign.”
She was right, so I thought it prudent to move my little one to the ‘cry room’ that wonderful room they seal you in while kids scream and tear around at breakneck speed. Usually the room is soundproof, the service is piped in and one wall is made of glass so desperate parents can see what is going on. At this particular parish it was directly behind the altar.
I hadn’t intended the older kids to follow me in, but they did, and to her horror, my shy one found herself face to face with the entire congregation. While she tried to pray quietly in the shadows the wiggle worm ran straight up to the glass wall and launched himself at it, sticking like a bug on a windshield.
Father prayed as if a million sticky little children had hit that window before. He didn’t miss a beat. My son, nose and open mouth pressed up against the window imitated with hands held high in praise. I furtively snapped my fingers and growled under my breath, catching his attention, and the wiggle worm hopped over to me then hopped in place for the next twenty minutes.
My daughter wept silently letting her long hair fall forward and hide her face.
“Hey, Rachel!” Wiggle Worm whispered as loudly as a whisper can go. He waved at her, he waved at the whole congregation, but little by little he coaxed a smile and a giggle from his shy stricken sister. It’s hard to stay angry with him especially when he tries so hard to do the right thing. And he was trying.
He waited patiently for the collection basket to come our way and when we were overlooked, he yelled out, “Over here!” The acoustics are marvelous at this particular parish, and with the door to the cry room open his little voice ricocheted from stained glass window to stained glass window.
My shy one may regret this column. She may regret the antics of her little brother in public, but someday this daughter is going to be a great leader. My youngest is just breaking her in to the public life one humiliation at a time.
---------------------------------------------------
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 9, 2009
Love Is In The Air
©Lisa Barker
My youngest son has fallen in love hard. He is completely infatuated with one of his older sisters. No doubt the treats she shares with him, the trips to the park, the piggy back rides and the stories she reads him has all made her the light in his eyes.
He informed her twin the other day of his devotion. “I dreamed I was in love with Nicole and I made her a delicious dinner!”
Rachel was heartbroken. I understand how she feels. Not long ago, I was his princess!
He’s been a laugh a minute with some of the things that come out of his mouth lately. And here I thought that the funniest times with him were over now that he is in kindergarten this year.
The other day he cleared his place at the table without being asked. “Wow! That’s so nice of you to do that all by yourself!” I praised him.
That’s because I like the color purple,” he informed me. What? Sometimes I can’t follow his thinking.
Another time he came running into the kitchen to tell me, in the throws of a hearty fit of laughter, the best joke in the world. “Tubby the motorboat!” he shouted, while doubled over, tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. “Pbbbbfft! Pbbbbfft!” he said, and ran off.
Apparently, our cat Tubby would make a great motorboat and the sounds she would make are just hilarious.
He’s cute. Who wouldn’t fall in love with him? I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with him minus those who know that his nickname is ‘Leprechaun.’ He’s a trickster with the ire of the Irish. The boy can pitch a fit that makes that makes a hurricane look like a gentle breeze. But as soon as it starts, it’s over.
So now he’s in love with his older sister. The rest of us are chopped liver – or so it would seem. On the sly he gives us a smile or a hug, but not if the love of his life is in the room. He must defend his love for her ever gallantly. “No, I love only Nicole!”
But the true measure of his love was lately discovered. Like the pets in the house, it’s only ‘tummy love.’ He found his favorite sister’s stash of chocolate, corn nuts and gummy worms and ate his fill.
“Mommmmm! Keep him OUT of my room!”
The little one marches out of the room undeterred and quickly sidles up to his other sister. Is it true love this time? “Rachel, you can buy me an ice cream from the ice cream man.” I swear that kid batted his eyes.
Such is the love of a baby brother.
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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 youngest son has fallen in love hard. He is completely infatuated with one of his older sisters. No doubt the treats she shares with him, the trips to the park, the piggy back rides and the stories she reads him has all made her the light in his eyes.
He informed her twin the other day of his devotion. “I dreamed I was in love with Nicole and I made her a delicious dinner!”
Rachel was heartbroken. I understand how she feels. Not long ago, I was his princess!
He’s been a laugh a minute with some of the things that come out of his mouth lately. And here I thought that the funniest times with him were over now that he is in kindergarten this year.
The other day he cleared his place at the table without being asked. “Wow! That’s so nice of you to do that all by yourself!” I praised him.
That’s because I like the color purple,” he informed me. What? Sometimes I can’t follow his thinking.
Another time he came running into the kitchen to tell me, in the throws of a hearty fit of laughter, the best joke in the world. “Tubby the motorboat!” he shouted, while doubled over, tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. “Pbbbbfft! Pbbbbfft!” he said, and ran off.
Apparently, our cat Tubby would make a great motorboat and the sounds she would make are just hilarious.
He’s cute. Who wouldn’t fall in love with him? I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with him minus those who know that his nickname is ‘Leprechaun.’ He’s a trickster with the ire of the Irish. The boy can pitch a fit that makes that makes a hurricane look like a gentle breeze. But as soon as it starts, it’s over.
So now he’s in love with his older sister. The rest of us are chopped liver – or so it would seem. On the sly he gives us a smile or a hug, but not if the love of his life is in the room. He must defend his love for her ever gallantly. “No, I love only Nicole!”
But the true measure of his love was lately discovered. Like the pets in the house, it’s only ‘tummy love.’ He found his favorite sister’s stash of chocolate, corn nuts and gummy worms and ate his fill.
“Mommmmm! Keep him OUT of my room!”
The little one marches out of the room undeterred and quickly sidles up to his other sister. Is it true love this time? “Rachel, you can buy me an ice cream from the ice cream man.” I swear that kid batted his eyes.
Such is the love of a baby brother.
---------------------------------------------------
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!
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Telemarketers Save Mom’s Sanity
©Lisa Barker
Why is it that when you want to talk on the phone, the kids show up in droves and make enough noise to drown out a marching band but when a telemarketer calls not one child can be found?
Ten minutes into the call a child strolls by. You motion fervently for him to start squawking and a miracle happens. He starts to get along with his brother who also happens to enter the room and then the two proceed to be nice to each other and share.
“Start bickering!” you whisper harshly at them so you have a good excuse to get off the phone quickly. They give you blank stares as if chaos and calamity are foreign concepts to them.
To encourage them you toss one child a cookie and ignore the other, hoping they will go at one another’s throats and provide you with a great excuse to get off the phone. Amazingly, they split it evenly in half. So an idea begins to form. You realize now that you will never get off the phone and will end up sending the Society to Stop Some Abomination a check for fifty dollars, but you’re on to something.
What if you pretend to be speaking to a telemarketer the next time the kids start bickering? You can call yourself by using your cell phone to dial your landline. Then, you can sit there looking bored out of your mind and desperate whenever the kids start at it. The trick is to look like you want to get off the phone as soon as possible.
These are the machinations of a mother gone truly mad.
“He stole my car!”
“I did not!”
“Give it back!”
Rrrring! “Hello? Firefighters For Smokey The Bear’s Retirement Fund? Can I send you $100?” And suddenly peace descends on your household.
It’s either that (pulling a ruse the children might see through especially if the catch you with two phones in your hands) or signing yourself up to be called by as many telemarketers, pollsters and solicitors as possible. Do you think they actually have lists with times of day to call haggard moms? If not, what if we started one? I could post it on the Jelly Mom website.
Free phone numbers for people too cheap to pay for advertising. Just call these numbers and make your pitch, PLEASE. I know I could really use a call just before all the kids arrive home, hungry and raring to pick an argument. They’d come home, see me with a phone stuck to my ear and my eyes rolled back, not saying anything, and they’d tip-toe about hushing one another.
At last, there's a reason to welcome calls from hell.
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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!
Why is it that when you want to talk on the phone, the kids show up in droves and make enough noise to drown out a marching band but when a telemarketer calls not one child can be found?
Ten minutes into the call a child strolls by. You motion fervently for him to start squawking and a miracle happens. He starts to get along with his brother who also happens to enter the room and then the two proceed to be nice to each other and share.
“Start bickering!” you whisper harshly at them so you have a good excuse to get off the phone quickly. They give you blank stares as if chaos and calamity are foreign concepts to them.
To encourage them you toss one child a cookie and ignore the other, hoping they will go at one another’s throats and provide you with a great excuse to get off the phone. Amazingly, they split it evenly in half. So an idea begins to form. You realize now that you will never get off the phone and will end up sending the Society to Stop Some Abomination a check for fifty dollars, but you’re on to something.
What if you pretend to be speaking to a telemarketer the next time the kids start bickering? You can call yourself by using your cell phone to dial your landline. Then, you can sit there looking bored out of your mind and desperate whenever the kids start at it. The trick is to look like you want to get off the phone as soon as possible.
These are the machinations of a mother gone truly mad.
“He stole my car!”
“I did not!”
“Give it back!”
Rrrring! “Hello? Firefighters For Smokey The Bear’s Retirement Fund? Can I send you $100?” And suddenly peace descends on your household.
It’s either that (pulling a ruse the children might see through especially if the catch you with two phones in your hands) or signing yourself up to be called by as many telemarketers, pollsters and solicitors as possible. Do you think they actually have lists with times of day to call haggard moms? If not, what if we started one? I could post it on the Jelly Mom website.
Free phone numbers for people too cheap to pay for advertising. Just call these numbers and make your pitch, PLEASE. I know I could really use a call just before all the kids arrive home, hungry and raring to pick an argument. They’d come home, see me with a phone stuck to my ear and my eyes rolled back, not saying anything, and they’d tip-toe about hushing one another.
At last, there's a reason to welcome calls from hell.
---------------------------------------------------
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!
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