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

 
Jun16Decisions, Decisions….
Tonya

Recently, on FB, I read some inspirational little ditty about “being the sum of one’s experiences” and me, being the kind of gal who hates optimistic musings, I blocked that FB friend because, really, I’m more of a glass is half empty and filled with cyanide sort of person and I hate it when people rain on that parade. Except now I can’t stop imagining myself as some amalgamation of my own decision-making. And from what I remember – there are a lot of hazy moments – it’s mostly poor decision-making. I guess not in a selling-my-body-for-crack-rock sort of way, so there is that, but it’s still questionable:

- There was my gang member boyfriend in high school. And while, yes, I know, teenagers shouldn’t even be allowed to choose breakfast cereal due to their crazed hormonal states, I’m not sure that breaking up with your first boyfriend because he’s doin’ 2-5 in the clink is really the same as letting some jock, playboy get to 3rd base.

- Then there was the clothing-optional, vegetarian co-operative (read: drug fueled hippie commune) I lived at in college. Certainly fun, but probably not the best for my G.P.A., although I was getting 2 art degrees so, really, it’s not as if the extracurricular activities interfered with all of the studying I had to do. Perhaps, though, if I had put down the peace pipe, I would’ve realized that I was most definitely NOT cut out to be a struggling artist. I’m a neurotic, overly-sensitive, germaphobe, who’s most certainly not cut out to live in the trenches, existing solely on the belief that art can change the world.

- And recently, I got rid of cable. It’s true. I thought I’d get more done. I’d finish my Pulitzer-prize winning novel. I’d become a yogi master and a meditation expert. I’d finally read Ulysses all the way through…and get it. The simple stuff, really. But it has quickly become apparent that all is not as it should be. Instead of mornings watching NY1 I now rely on podcasts and the hope that my 3 year old’s mouth will be so full of bagel he won’t be able to make a sound for 3 minutes.

Alas, most morning info sessions now go a little like this:

“Today in Pakistan, officials…” “…need chocolate cake? Because I like chocolate. It is my favorite.” “It has been confirmed that Gabrielle Giffords has been released with…” “…10 dinosaurs. They eat meat. Except for the brachiosaurus he eats plants. I don’t like green stuff so I must be a T-Rex.” “President Obama has…” “…colored on my table. It was an accident. And I colored on my shirt. That was an accident too.”

Also, I realized that without cable my confidence in both myself and my mothering has fallen dramatically. Unable to compare any daily activities to those of Snooki, a RHNJ, or some family desperate for the guidance of Supernanny, I’ve lost my way. How am I supposed to congratulate myself for making it through an entire day without throwing a table across the room or vomiting all over some policeman’s shoes?

At least there is the comfort of knowing there are some things I properly resisted:

The M.C. Hammer Tramp Stamp

Totally a picture of my back side.

The Kickin’ Kid N’ Play haircut

I do look good though. Could be the dope jacket.

The Chance to Rock Bret’s World

Perfect example of the crazy shit that gets created when there is no cable.

One of my best decisions to date has been to join the fabulous ladies over at The Mouthy Housewives! They, on the other hand, may view their decision a little bit differently…

Filed Under: Life Lessons, Milestones, My Neuroses
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15 Comments

 
Jun14Suburban Living 101: Or, Has Anyone Seen My Car?
Paula

It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost three months since we left Brooklyn.  While we miss our friends, the restaurants, the coffee shops and the bars (even though we haven’t set foot in one in years), I’m pleased to report that there’s much to like about living in the suburbs.  We eat dinner outside more than inside (and sometimes even breakfast!).  We have so many windows that we haven’t had to turn on any air conditioners, if I get annoyed with June I can demand that she “go play upstairs.”  However, there are some basics to living out here that have taken me awhile to grasp.  For instance. . . .

Maybe trading in our car for a shopping cart car would solve all of my problems?

  • When you park your car in a huge parking lot, like at Target or Home Depot, it seems you’re supposed to make a mental note of where you left it.  I forget to do this EVERY TIME.  Every time!  Like a total idiot, I am always walking out of Target with bags of stuff I don’t need, a cranky toddler, and a puzzled look on my face because I have NO idea where my car is.
  • Speaking of stuff I don’t need.  Let’s talk about Target briefly.  The second you put something in your cart, whether it be an $8.00 Merona t-shirt or an economy size box of goldfish crackers you have just committed to spending at least $120.00 at that store.  It is IMPOSSIBLE to spend less than $120.00 at Target.  Try it.  Seriously.  I challenge you to spend a penny less.
  • Okay, shopping carts.  Why is it they barely move in the actual store. . . they are all squeaky and difficult to push, yet the second you get the stupid cart out to your car and dare look away from it for two seconds while opening the trunk the damn thing is flying down the parking lot at about 50 mph toward like a major highway or a Mercedes?  Seriously, I am always sure to remove my child from the cart, like, immediately upon reaching the car (as soon as I find it that is).

I’m sure there’s more stuff I’m screwing up – and I have much more to learn.  We’re off to the store, so please wish us luck.

And hey, if you want to horrify your friends and family by writing a memoir, I’m giving a free webinar next Monday!

 

 

Filed Under: Life Lessons, Motherhood: The Job
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10 Comments

 
May23Mom Without Routine: Brain Without Leash
Carrie

As readers may have noticed in the past few weeks, we at ad hoc MOM have taken a break from routine. For me, the break  hasn’t just been from the blog–it’s been from all of my life’s regularly occurring activities. The month of May has been a crazy one for my family–a kid-less trip to Montreal, my husband’s 40th birthday, lots of family visits, our 7th anniversary, Mother’s Day and soon, our youngest son’s first birthday.

The kids have also been keeping us busier than usual: our oldest is no longer taking a nap (horror!!!) and our youngest is transforming into a thrill-seeking toddler. Their entertainment requirements have spiked, resulting in awkward adult/child dance parties, messy craft projects, lego skyscrapers to nowhere and an unsettling parental policy of appeasement doled out via chocolate milk, cookies, and new trucks. It turns out, we do negotiate with terrorists in our house.

With all of the craziness, I have found myself deviating from my normal day-to-day activities: regular blog posts, freelance assignments, coming into the office space, playdates, cleaning, dinner preparing, showering, keeping up with friends and making sure the house has enough baby soap, baby carrots, bananas, juice boxes, wine, garbage bags, toilet paper and laundry detergent to get through the week. After several weeks of unscheduled chaos,  I find myself feeling adrift, and perhaps (despite the festivities galore), a little sad. I realize that without a routine, I am without sanity.

A routine’s best gift comes in the morning when you wake up and can start the day without any existential panic about your life’s meaning. With a routine in place, you can go about your business on auto-pilot–completing tasks and getting stuff done. In the absence of routine, my mind goes to dark places and my body goes to…Ikea. Lowe’s. Home Depot. The Container Store.

Yes, that’s right. Apparently, when the kids aren’t around and I am avoiding productive work like the plague, my eyes dart about my house looking for projects that will take all day and yield minimal life-improving results. To wit: this past Friday. As soon as the babysitter left with both kids, my brain was besieged by a jumble of home improvement “ideas” courtesy of a mind doped up on HGTV and too much coffee:

Put all of the kids’ artwork in frames, rotate them on a weekly basis, just like Genevieve Gorder said to do on Dear Genevieve. Can’t afford a big piece of artwork? Frame lots of little things in discount frames spray-painted the same color just like that weirdo stubby guy told me to do on Design on a Dime. In the event that I have to sell my house (which we have zero plans of doing in the next 10 years), I better damn well get rid of all that clutter in the basement just like Lisa LaPorta would have me do on Designed to Sell. If my block was featured on Curb Appeal the Block, I’ll be damned if my house is picked by John Gidding and his lackeys for a makeover! I gotta get to the nursery and buy some window boxes STAT!

“Take a breath,” the rational part of my brain whispers. “Where are the &*$% are the car keys, Ikea is opening in 15 minutes and all the good parking spots are going to be taken, so you better MOVE IT MOVE IT MOVE IT sister,” the panicked part of my brain screeches.

Thanks to the abandonment of my routines, here’s what I have to show from last week:

1. A net gain of 3 pounds (from eating all of leftover birthday cupcakes.)
2. Three vases of rotting flowers from birthday/mother’s day extravaganzas.
3. My three year old’s favorite new game is called “Iron Man”, since he was allowed to watch anything he could point to on Apple TV. Iron Man Game (™) consists of him getting into an aggressive fighting stance, scrunching up his face in a threatening manner and yelling “Iron Man!” and attacking anyone who comes near him.
4. Six cans of spray paint in Lowe’s bag, placed on kitchen table.
5. Six discount store picture frames shoddily spray painted all different colors, stacked up akimbo in dining room, posing a great threat to anyone who brushes by them.
6. Weird, unpleasant artwork in Ikea purchased frames (which, of course, are already falling apart.)
7. Unwanted baby Gear lined up in front of the house that’s so busted up, nobody will take it. The rain-streaked Free! sign tempts not a soul. The front of my house looks like a garbage dump.
8. Dying window boxes.
9.20 minutes of billed time
10. Zero blog posts.

Sometimes, we all need a break in routine to re-calibrate our brains. But I think it’s important for me to remember how too much of a break from routine is a dangerous place for me to go. So while I am not promising you the world, I submit to you this jumbled up, rambling blog post as my white flag. Deliver me from the chaos of an unorganized day and into the safe arms of an office, a blog and some billable hours. Thanks for waiting.

Filed Under: Apologies, Disorganization
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13 Comments

 
May9I Think I Finally Figured Out Mother’s Day
Paula

I love Mother’s Day.  Any holiday that involves me being left alone in bed with coffee is all right by me.  But like many holidays – say Valentine’s Day or New Year’s Eve, Mother’s Day came wrapped in some pretty big expectations at first.  Naturally this led to some minor – okay major, disappointments.

Mother’s Day #1

I look fairly normal, but I assure you I was anything but.

June was only a couple of months old, so Peter is too tired make any real effort and I’m too tired to care.  Nevertheless, there is a little thing called INTERNET SHOPPING.  Peter gets the cute idea to take the baby to a local vintage store to “select” my gift.  Since our child is 8 weeks old, this actually involves dipping our baby into a pile of bracelets and jiggling her around until something snags onto her hand.  It’s much like something you’d see at a dirty carnival – or maybe Chuck E. Cheese.  What catches is a hideous orange bracelet from the Avon catalog circa 1980.  I’m presented with the gift along with a much appreciated pain au chocolate from my favorite bakery.  I’m equally charmed and horrified.  We move on with our day and don’t speak of it again.

Mother’s Day # 2

Based on last year’s carnival games it’s clear to me that I have to be specific with the gift thing (even though I know motherhood is a gift in itself!  Hahahahahhaha!!!)  It was a tough year.  I decide I want the following:

  • Pancakes
  • Bacon
  • Coffee
  • Orange juice
  • 3 magazines
  • a black Longchamp shoulder bag

The bag is easy peasy.  Hello!  Internet shopping!  Breakfast not so much.  My husband is a perfectionist.  This means that in addition to the above he aims to include a cloth napkin folded in the shape of my favorite flower, a rose in a vase (naturally hidden in the back of some god forsaken cabinet), and he sweetly decides to serve said breakfast in our wedding china which is covered in dust because it hasn’t been used since the week after we returned from our honeymoon.  These extra steps result in complications.  Bacon burns, fire alarm goes off, baby freaks out.  Need I say more? However, the bag is great.  I still use it almost every day!

Mother’s Day #3

We are on vacation.  Family is asleep.  I go down to hotel buffet and procure my own Mickey Mouse Belgian waffle and a giant coffee.  I cannot wait for these people to get up and get my coffee!  Have I mentioned I’m in god damn Disney?  However, husband buys perfect gift.  Progress indeed!

Mother’s Day #4

Mother’s Day 2011?  I’d have to give it an A+!

Peter does ask me what I want (we’re kind of over surprising each other with gifts) and I tell him.  I wake up, and there are chocolate croissants!  And they’re warm!  There is a pretty big difference this year, namely that we’re not crammed into a tiny apartment.  And we have a yard.  It’s nice out, and I sit outside with my family, and as awful as this sounds it’s easier to like the people you live with when you’re not standing on top of each other all the time.  Don’t misunderstand me.  I always love them.  But when Peter offered to take June away to the playground for awhile so I could be alone, I didn’t want him to.  I was happy just watching him cut our grass with our new lawn mower – and watching our daughter get filthy in our dirt.  We have dirt!  And as much as I loved my new crocs (the cute ones that look like real shoes), and my sun hat – I was thinking that freshly cut grass, a husband with a lawn mower and a dirty kid were the best mother’s day presents a girl could get

 

Filed Under: Celebrations, Life Lessons, Musings, Surprises, The Holidays
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11 Comments

 
May4The Nap That Destroyed My Kitchen
Paula

You know that sweet relief you feel when your child goes down for a nap?  If I had to describe it to someone who doesn’t have kids, I guess I’d say it’s like being granted three wishes by a magical genie; You can now do WHATEVER YOU WANT!  You can pee, eat, talk on the phone. . . work, send emails, clean something. . . OR EVEN WATCH REALITY TELEVISION.  It’s totally up to you!  This is your time.  Nap time is precious – and cursed are those who impinge on a mother’s precious nap time!  However, I will never experience this sweet relief ever again.  In fact, should June take a nap it’s likely I will stand guard outside of her bedroom door to make sure the child doesn’t destroy our bedroom. . . or maybe our living room.  Who knows what this kid is capable of?  So here’s what happened.

I put June down for a nap, which is a bit of a rarity these days since she’s now three.  It was a beautiful day, and I hoped all of the running around outside would wipe her out.  I was hoping for a bit of outside time to write or read or – I dunno, have ten minutes where I wasn’t asked for a goldfish cracker.  The hubris!  After hearing her mess around with her toys for about 15 minutes things got quiet.  Success??  Not totally convinced, I stuck around long enough to make sure she was sleeping and not trying to trick me.  I grabbed some iced tea and went into the back yard.  This was my fatal mistake people.

At approximately 3:38 p.m. I heard something that sounded a helluva lot like running water.

“Sleeping child” + running water = PROBABLY SOMETHING BAD.

It was raining in my kitchen.  Raining, and I mean heavily. .  in a get out your Wellingtons kind of way.  I ran upstairs to find a very puzzled toddler standing outside of the second story bathroom where the toilet was bursting forth water like the god damn fountain at the Bellagio.

WTF? Happened here?

After shutting off the water and a massive cleanup. . . my husband (who was summoned to come home from his office immediately) and I tried to ask our three year old what happened.

INT: RECENTLY DISINFECTED BATHROOM

Toddler wearing pajamas, freshly bathed after being scrubbed clean of toilet water.  She gestures wildly:

TODDLER

I threw the paper in the pottie and the toilet started FREAKING OUT AND SCREAMING.

FATHER

(exhausted, holding martini)

Did you, put anything else in the pottie?  Like a toy maybe?  Tell us!  We won’t be mad.

TODDLER

(continuing)

Then there was a tiger.  He snuck in.  He put a dog in the pottie.

MOTHER

(annoyed, still dripping toilet water from every limb)

Forget it.  Seriously, I need a god damn shower.

Around 3 a.m. my husband and I are woken up by a ridiculously loud crash.  I have recently watched Capote, so I prepare to be murdered in my bed with my husband.  Great.  Why exactly did we buy this alarm system?  It is obviously a total waste of money.  I mean, we’re about to be knifed in our home!  Seriously, these will be my last thoughts?  About the shitty ADT system?  I decide to inform my husband that our throats are about to be slit by thieves when he spits out this gem:

“Oh, Don’t worry.  That was just our bathroom ceiling collapsing onto our kitchen floor.”

Well okay then!  Back to sleep!

Good morning!  Aren’t you glad your throat wasn’t slit?  And that you have this awesome mess to clean up?

And he was right.  Our ceiling was on our floor, and we spent all of the next day cleaning it up.  And needless to say, June did not take a nap that day – and we really didn’t mind for once.

Filed Under: Cleanliness, Fear, Insanity, Life Lessons
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13 Comments

 
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