ad hoc MOM

Aug9Movin’ On Up?
Tonya

It’s been so amazing here at adhocMOM but, sadly, we are moving on. Moving up.

I can now be found at my new blog: Going To Mensa and on twitter: @Going2Mensa.

I can also still be found at The Mouthy Housewives.

Unlike Weezy though my move won’t come with an apartment in the sky.

Anyway, since Gwyneth Paltrow has a cookbook and J.Lo seems to be up for Single Mother of the Year award I’ve decided to branch out into poetry. After a few attempts with a “Man from Nantucket” I moved on to the haiku.  I’ve written one for all you lovely folks out there in the blogosphere:

A train to catch. Now.

I know not where it travels.

Maybe back to you?

I know; it’s pretty damn deep.

Seriously, I just want to say I feel so lucky to have met such amazing people! I will miss everyone so much! And I really hope that you all come over and visit me on Going to Mensa and The Mouthy Housewives. But most of all, though, THANK YOU for all of the awesome comments, the wonderful advice, the amazing support, and, most of all, the huge laughs!!!

Love,

Tonya

 

Filed Under: Milestones


4 Comments

 
Jun13The Strange Case of Doing Nothin’
Tonya

I apologize for my flaky blogging lately. At first I thought it was just the on coming Summer that was dragging me down into some sort of strange pudding-like dimension where my body and my mind are always 10 steps behind where I know they should be. Then I thought maybe I’d woken up in a Twilight Zone episode except Rod Sterling was now a 3 year old boy yelling at me to get him some juice. But recently I went to see a doctor and apparently I have some sort of auto-immune disorder, which is quite frustrating and definitely makes me think I should have gone to the movies instead of keeping that appointment. Anyway, I just wanted to write a brief note to all of you out there so that you didn’t think I just went off and ditched you because I found something else better to do…I mean, no offense, if I win the lottery I might take off…but then again I think I could blog from a beach in Bora Bora?

In the meantime here’s a pic of Rod Sterling enjoying his Summer (you can’t see it but he needed 2 baths to get all the sand out of his hair):

Also, it may be hot here and I may be super duper out of it but I’m still giving advice (I’m a giver) so check it out at The FABULOUS Mouthy Housewives! I will now be there every other week!!! Yay! Thanks Ladies!!

Filed Under: Apologies, Blog Love, Summer
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7 Comments

 
May30Things I Need Like A Hole In The Head
Tonya

Things around here at ad hoc MOM have been a little, well, ad hoc. As long as ad hoc stands for crazy and hectic and lots of wine consumption, which I’m almost positive is the exact definition of the word given in the latest Oxford Dictionary.

While I try and make my life (read: my brain) run more efficiently (read: run…just run) I’ve been trying to do things that may help. Such as, buying self-help books (I don’t actually have to read them to get their usefulness though, right? Cuz I don’t have the time for that), cleaning out books, toys, and clothing, and purchasing other items which may help me get more done in a day, like meth. In my search for such products, I‘ve come across a few things that I would buy ONLY if I had a hole in my head. Carrie’s hilarious post this past Friday inspired me to put together a list to help those of you avoid such ridiculous purchases while out for some relaxing retail therapy:

Kim The Talking Clock

Not only does it look like some creepy machine out of a Terry Gilliam movie but it voices the time! Can someone please tell me who needs this thing? What the hell is it going to say that I don’t already know?

- It’s 3:45, you have 15 more minutes of free time before you have to pick up the kid from preschool. Enjoy it while you can, Sucker!

- It’s 4 am and the kid is wide awake! Hahaha! I’m sleeping in, Bitch!

- It’s 8pm and you haven’t gotten shit done today. Also, maybe you could shower this week? Your hygiene is just despicable.

I imagine that if you disregard Kim, she will, of course, kill you in your sleep.

 

Fancy Espadrilles

There was, once upon a time, a me that would totally have worn these and loved it. That me never had to go to the playground and climb up a slide to extract a child who is trying to climb over a bunch of bars made for climbing under. Nor did that me have to run top speed after a wayward 3 year old on a scooter and a sugar high. And I’m pretty sure that me didn’t have to carry that same bruised, crying, now on a downward spiral from the sugar rush child home 15 blocks with the scooter in tow.

But what about date night you ask.

Ah, you crazy young folk, date nights are for relaxation, which means no dressing in anything uncomfortable, it also means not doing anything uncomfortable or taxing or far away or that requires a bathing suit. Screw it, basically, it means a movie with lots of movie candy. Don’t. Forget. The. Damn. Candy!

 

Hip Tube Top and Shorty Shorts


See reason above. As well as, police code 314, which states: Don’t Nobody Nowhere Need to See Any Of What Chu Or What Chu Ain’t Got Goin’ On! Also, I have to point out, that should anyone take me up on what my tube top suggests I would have to kill them, which, of course, would then be a police code 187 with some 314 thrown in, I think I’d get life?

 

Marie Claire Magazine May 2011

There are brief moments where I fool myself into thinking that such a magazine will make me feel better or give me some really helpful life tips. But then I open the cover only to find that it says things like this:

Anal, really? How about a Hotel Room ALONE is the new oral? That would work! I love that right above this “hey, all the cool girls are doin’ it” article there’s a snippet of info about how women want more personal space. Thanks, for the clarity, Marie Claire!

And I must a HUGE thank you to the mag for helping to continue women’s fight for equality with articles that suggest alimony, when paid to husbands by their much higher earning wives, is wrong.

Then, of course, (best for last) there’s the super duper helpful piece interviewing real women (who refuse to give their names) about how to successfully balance motherhood and a career. I really don’t think anything makes me feel better than knowing there are flourishing professional women out there who have to hide away their families and their own identities like they are in Witness Protection in order to get ahead…all this under the heading: …Get Ahead Tips…

I don’t think I have to tell you what orifice I think Marie Claire should shove it…

So, for the moment, I’ve put away the credit card, picked up a more respectable mag like US Weekly and retreated back to this here Interweb.

It feels good to be back.

And, HEY!, check me out over at The Mouthy Housewives where I’m pitching in every now and again (like today!) with some advice! (I’m not sure why they picked me…I think they drink…but I’m soaking it all up until they sober up!)

Filed Under: ad hoc LIFE, Rants
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15 Comments

 
May5An Open Letter to My Brave In-laws Who Have Agreed to Watch the Kids for the Weekend
Carrie

First off, let me just say that I will consider this weekend a success if:

1) the children are alive when we return and

2) you have not entered yourselves into a witness protection program at the end of the weekend.

Some helpful hints for you about the kids.

1. Wake up time is anywhere between 4:30 and 7:00am. Make coffee the night before.

2. The only way to survive the morning is with television. I have typed up a 36 page, single spaced instructions manual  for how to access basic cable, free on-demand cable, Apple TV and DVDs. I have hired a technical television concierge to be on call for the weekend. His number is in the book. He’s ready for your call.

3. When A asks to watch the “Birthday One” he is referring to Blue’s Clues Season 1, 4th episode titled “Mailbox’s Birthday.”

4. When A asks to watch the “Present One” he is referring to the Care Bears Giving Festival Movie available on Netflix via Apple TV.

5. For definitions of “The Truck One”, “The Dolphin One,” “The One With the Man,” “Pickle Car,” “Rosie,” “Rory,” “Ses,” “The Animal Man,” “Bobdabilda Onsite”, “Dora Fire Truck One,” and hundreds more…please see television instruction manual.

6. A eats 3 breakfasts. The first one is to assuage your conscience–a nutritionally balanced offering of eggs, fruit, whole wheat toast or perhaps oatmeal. The second one is a more toddler-friendly version of this–take away everything but the fruit, then add more fruit. The third one is cookies. Anything A doesn’t eat, give to his little brother. Watch him throw it on the floor. Give the baby a banana. Spend the next hour cleaning. Turn on the television (see items #2-5 above.)

7. At 8:50am you will run around the house trying to make yourself look like a capable caregiver before the babysitter arrives at 9:00am. Put all the liquor bottles in the recycling bin. If you have found yourself smoking a cigarette at any point (even though you aren’t a smoker and you don’t even remember taking the kids to the corner store to buy them), flush the butts and ashes. When she arrives, go hide for several hours. Try to forget what just happened.

8. Babysitter returns at the end of the day. Steel yourselves.

9. A eats 3 dinners. The first one is a bold attempt to make up for the morning’s nutritional failures. Broccoli, grilled chicken, carrots, apples, milk. Dinner number two is a more toddler friendly version with everything but the apples and milk taken away. Dinner number two is cookies with a healthy squirt of chocolate syrup dumped into the milk. Give the baby everything else that wasn’t eaten. Repeat TV/cleaning cycle from breakfast.

10. 7:00, all of their unmet needs of the day rise up in a torrential wave of hysterics and tears. Bath will be protested. Furniture will be vandalized. Poopy diapers will happen back to back. Bottle parts will be missing. Wine will be poured. You will black out and come to around 9:30 where you will finally collapse in front of the TV and most likely find yourself watching an episode of The Backyardigans (aka “the Dolphin one”) without any energy or thought to change the channel. You find it hard to keep up with all of the plot twists.

11. At this point, you can call and yell at us for leaving you this letter–a highly idealized version of events. In reality, it’s much worse.  We’re sorry. Thank you. Please don’t leave.

Filed Under: Correspondance, Insanity
Tags: ,


16 Comments

 
Apr21Mousegate 2011: Run For Your Lives…Over to The Mouthy Housewives!
Tonya

I’m guest posting at The Mouthy Housewives today (check it out here) so I should be over the moon! I can’t tell you how excited I was when Kelcey from The Mama Bird Diaries bestowed this honor upon me! Let’s just say I held my head pretty high and I might have told a few of the riff raff to suck it. (Note to self: the cat doesn’t know the meaning of the phrase “suck it”)

But what happened to all that euphoria? Well, at the moment it’s been replaced by mind numbing fear. It’s midnight, the hubs is out of town and there’s a…mouse…in the kitchen, or at least what I think is a mouse, it could be a serial killer, same thing really. Currently, I’ve barricaded myself and my son in his room. While he sleeps soundly, completely unaware that we could be ripped to tiny little pieces at any moment, I’m curled up in a shaky ball of anxiety and perspiration, rocking myself back and forth in the corner trying to figure out how the hell we’re going to get our breakfast in the morning! If we are still alive, that is.

Some people tell me (my best stink eye is currently aimed in my spouse’s direction) that there’s nothing to be afraid of…they’re more afraid of you than you are of them…blah blah blah…lies lies lies…I know for a fact that this is not true! And by fact I mean gut instinct/psychic intuition. Rats and mice will totally devour you in 30 seconds flat! I know! I’ve seen what they can do on documentaries like CSI and Supernatural. And can you just imagine the kind of survival instinct it takes to be vermin in New York City??? Seriously, whoever it is that’s making all that noise behind the fridge, they’ve probably already done hard time at Rikers. And not Lil’ Wayne-like time but grim, solitary confinement because you-just-killed-3-men-with-an-inch-of-dental-floss kind of time!

So, I guess, while I try to MacGyver our asses out of this place without angering the beast, head on over to The Mouthy Housewives and take a gander at what may be the last advice I ever give! Also, can you send me some gum, tin foil, and a hanger?

Filed Under: Blog Love, Fear, Insanity, Rants
Tags: , ,


12 Comments

 
Apr5The Unfortunance of Being Nauseous
Tonya

I’m a little worried that the next time I step foot in the Y down the street from my house they will take my ID away and escort me back out. I didn’t exercise in the nude or hit on any of the members or try to score coke in the ladies’ toilet (maybe I should have?) but I’m pretty sure I did something just as bad.

Last Sunday at about noon I decided, after a weekend of pure gluttony (ok, no Twinkies were had but that’s only because I couldn’t find them. Seriously, I really love Twinkies.) I decided I should make my way to the gym for a run. Once there, I very “smartly” situated myself between a Jessica Biel look-a-like and a more feminine Madonna.

Ok, so I didn’t have their biker shorts and racer tank tops. Nor did I have the matching sports water bottles and pedometers surgically implanted into the wrists. Instead I was in pajama bottoms (they’re kind of like running kulats: fashion forward and sporty!), a t-shirt with a picture of a refrigerator running (because that’s true comedy!), mismatched socks, and the largest bottle of water I could find, about the size of a small child.  But I was still feeling pretty good. I was in the game! Hey, I figured, if they could run 4 minute miles so could I! Before I had P, I was in awesome shape and could totally wipe the floor with these two yahoos (well, at least in my revisionist history) so I can totally keep up with them now. How hard can it be?

No one told me running that fast in a hot room without any ventilation feels like death. It does…or at least what I’m pretty sure death feels like if you were beaten to death with your own shoe while being force fed horse manure. Yea. It feels like that.

This sad sojourn to the Y also happened to coincide with a period of time where my body and I have been playing a nice little game of pretend. I make believe it looks like it did pre-baby and it acts as if it is also that body pre-baby.

Ok, so maybe this is not me, per se, pre-baby. But you don’t have any pictures that say otherwise!

After about 30 minutes of this charade my body finally cried uncle. I hit the emergency stop button on the treadmill, the one that I’m pretty sure they put there for the old folks whose glaucoma has gotten so bad they can’t really see. I grabbed my 3 foot tall bottle of water and stumbled out of the room. I didn’t make it far though before my body started retching and my mouth began producing excess saliva. I was a rabid dog with turrets. It’s amazing the kind of personal space folks allow you if they think you’re drunk, crazy, and about to vomit all over their New Balance!

Since my house is only 2 blocks from the Y, I thought, if I really hurried, I could make it. I did not.

I didn’t even make it a block.

On a sunny afternoon, in a well-crowded street, mere steps from my gym, I lost my entire breakfast and what I’m pretty certain were some of my more vital organs. And now the Y thinks I have bulimia while my neighbors, I’m pretty sure, think I’m a drunk. The good thing though is my body and I have finally realized it’s time to head to some couples counseling because post-baby things are NOT the same.

On a side note: my son pooped in the potty! It’s like he got into Harvard ya’ll!! I’m so proud!! And, yes, I do realize that I should put away a little money each month for all of the therapy he will need later in life.

Filed Under: ad hoc LIFE, Exercise?
Tags: , ,


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