Job Title – Mother Extraordinaire. No Experience Necessary

Job Title – Mother
Experience – None necessary.
Duties – Caretaker, nurse, cook, housekeeper, educator, disciplinarian, therapist, security guard, events planner, dot. dot. dot.

*Note- Candidate must possess flexibility similar to the human pretzel lady at the circus, as the above description is subject to change without notice.

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Let’s face it, kids keep a running tally in their minds of every chore or good deed they’ve ever done – to be used as leverage when they’re campaigning for something.

They all do it.

For shits and giggles, lets closely examine a mothers job description.

In fact, let’s be completely outrageous and pretend the level of acknowledgement bestowed upon her on Mothers Day depends on it.

JOB DESCRIPTION – short version

Incubate alien life for 10 months (40 weeks = 280 days = 10 months) which is likely to cause nausea, vomiting, indigestion, strained and sprained muscles, back pain, hemorrhoids, constipation and weight gain.

This is the EASY part.

Deliver alien offspring – don’t worry, if you can’t manage to push the melon sized package through your peep hole sized opening, because the valiant obstetrician will just cut it out for you.

And quit whining – you have a baby to take care of. This is no longer about you.

First five years at a glance- feed, bathe, dispose of stinky waste products, ensure minions get enough rest or they’ll morph into rabid Gremlins and eat you alive. And oh yeah – keep those adorable little buggers out of harms way.

It’s all on you Mamacita, you’ve been enlisted for a 24/7 special ops assignment that will stretch into the better part of two decades.

Believe it or not, it doesn’t get much better than this. This is the tender era of hopes, dreams and endless cuddles. Embrace it with both hands – these sunny days are numbered.

Ages 5 – 12 The fruit of your loins are becoming more independent. Add education, socialization and extra curricular activities to the above basic needs list and you have a pretty accurate picture of your new job description.

At this critical point you’ll be forced to re-evaluate and adjust goals accordingly. You’ll be comparing your initial expectations set out of sheer blissful ignorance versus the reality of your child’s actual development.

This can be a bitter pill to swallow. A colossal bummer even, as most parents have a certain ideal vision of how they’d imagined their child to be.

Newsflash – Special needs and unique circumstances happen.

If you haven’t read the incredibly witty poem Welcome to Holland written by a parent faced with a special needs child, pause here and take a moment.

http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Welcome_to_Holland#External_links

Ages 12 – 18 The slow painful transition to young adult. The good news is that your brood is now independent in hygiene, dressing and feeding themselves. Although some days this may be highly disputed. Your role becomes supportive- in addition to holding the gavel as wise counsel and disciplinarian, you’re their primary source for nourishment, clean clothes and transportation.

You perfect the art of eating on the run, prioritizing laundry into emergency loads like towels and underwear versus the rest, and that bucket in the laundry room once designated for potty accidents is replaced with a black caldron for panties caught in the red tide.

It’s important to state here that installing an aerosol form of Xanax in your home would not be overkill.

As your child nears the date of their high school graduation you learn to thank God every single day for the little things-

My kid is NOT…

*on drugs
*pregnant with innocent life
*incarcerated
*fighting for his life in the ICU
*runaway or lost
*suicidal
*DEAD

For some, these simple things are suddenly enough. Thoughts of college and it’s importance in the big scheme of things may be shuffled to the back burner.

Again you pause to re-evaluate your once naive parental expectations versus the reality of raising actual free-thinking creatures with intricate brain wiring and complex chemistry.

Ages 18+ The struggle for independence. For a few, the transition is relatively smooth. The honor students and those gifted with superior athletic or artistic talent may not miss a beat diving into this exciting next chapter. For others, it’s the beginning of a long painful journey through a dense cloudy tunnel filled with uncertainty.

You are the parental rock that keeps them focused, encouraged and grounded.

It’s important to remember that a person in crisis cannot always see the forrest through the trees. The stress of chronic crisis often leads to tunnel vision. Life is a game of survival.

That said, common afflictions like chronic anxiety and depression amongst other mental illnesses and special needs blow a dense fog into an already hazy and uncertain forrest. It’s not uncommon for the afflicted to become self absorbed.

Most moms with a special child or situation knowingly waive any hope or expectation of being lifted onto the sacred Mom pedestal every Mother’s Day, simply because it’s not in the cards… and it never was.

The rearing of special offspring requires a delicate yet potent combination of unconditional love, dedication, endurance and often times complete selflessness.

It’s the nature of the beast.

You were given this hand in life because the powers that be – knew you were up to the challenge; you were carefully chosen to participate as a member of the Parental Special Forces.

That’s like regular parenting, except with the grit of a Marine and stamina of a Navy Seal.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of the special moms most deserving of exceptional recognition – who are also the least likely to receive it.

Hats off to you… the few and the proud.

May the sun shine on your face today and always.

You’re loved and appreciated more than you will ever know.

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Secret Mother’s Day… Shhhh!!

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I’d like to propose a new holiday called Secret Mother’s Day, because we absofuckinglutely deserve it, that’s why.

Secret Mother’s Day would be just that.

A big fat secret.

After careful consideration, I’ve determined that it would be absolutely necessary to conceal it from our offspring, because God knows they’d just fuck it up.

It’s what they do best…. which is precisely why we’re keeping them in the dark.

In addition, we’d also keep it from our own mothers because (no offense or disrespect to them) but, obviously, you can’t thoroughly enjoy your own day as Queen Mother her Royal Highness, if you’re obligated to kiss someone else’s ass. That shit just cancels itself out and makes this day very confusing, not to mention disappointing.

Don’t give me that look.

You know it’s true and I did clarify… no offense or disrespect to them intended.

It just doesn’t mesh.

Nothing like winning a weekend to a five star resort and being asked to scrub the hot tub when you’re finished.

Just no.

This lets the air right out of the balloon of intended appreciation.

So there you have it… Secret Mother’s Day.

It would be an entire day, as in 24 entire hours and not just say a two hour block for brunch– if you’re lucky enough to be on the receiving end of that particular gift.

Alone.

No kids, no spouse or significant other, no relatives.

You’re welcome to bring the dog though, because dogs rock.

I said so.

Dogs are incredibly therapeutic, unconditionally loving and awesome in so many ways where humans essentially fall short. every. single. time.

So, it’s you and the dog.

All you have to do is chose the location (my venue is definitely a beach with warm surf and seashells) the type of lounging device you wish to recline in and what you’d like others (who aren’t your family— remember, they’d just fuck it up and for this reason, they’re not allowed within 100 miles of your special Secret Mother’s Day celebration) to do for you.

My short list includes a massage (that’s not in exchange for sex), cold drinks in fancy crystal glasses with pretty little umbrellas, chocolate covered strawberries presoaked in vodka, a stack of books to be read to me by Channing Tatum, an unlimited supply of chocolate peanut butter ice-cream served in waffle cones and a 20-something boy decoration to fan and water my dog, so he doesn’t get overheated.

That’s all I want.

Scratch that, not done.

Throw in a photographer to capture the evidence of our extremely secret and awesome adventure, as well as an Internet connection to plaster this red carpet day all over social media like the rest of the faux Internet moms who-are-most-likely-full-of-shit.

That’s all I want.

Just writing this proposal relaxed me.

Imagine that.

It’s the little things in life, people.

Grab your imagination by the mammary glands and run with it.

It’s Mother’s Day… Dammit

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As Supreme Ruler of the Kingdom, I hereby proclaim that Mother’s Day be celebrated the entire weekend this year… and forever.

It’s been a rough one, that’s why.

No way is one lousy day of cleaning up your own shit and being on excellent behavior gonna cut it, girls and boys.

Not this year, my precious offspring.

Extreme mom is going completely proactive this Mother’s Day to guarantee that it doesn’t SUCK.

You have been hereby enlisted… as a GIVER.

Therefore, specific TO DO lists will be distributed to each of my brood.

We’re gonna get it right this time.

Here we go.

Mother’s Day… Take 21!!

(The number is accurate. No. Shit.)

ACTION!!!

Here’s a preview of my short list of demands:

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*You will bathe the dogs with excellent smelling shampoo, then scrub the entire bathroom including the tub.

YES, this does need to be spelled out.

The powder room and pets shall smell like a fresh meadow.

*Clean my car- that was incidentally trashed by YOU.

You shall vacuum the resident floor rubble and debris that you dragged in, clean all dog slobber off the windows, dispose of dead insect carcasses from the dashboard and remove sticky goo from the cup holders.

Again, sparkly clean.

•Vacuum both sets of stairs in the house and do not attempt to make a new family member out of the pet hair.

NO, I wouldn’t mention this if history hadn’t dictated already that it’s was absolutely necessary.

Plus, we already have our limit of dependents.

Use care not to clog the vacuum. I’m tired of performing a colonoscopy on the Dyson every single time I attempt to turn it on.

This is a proactive exercise, because unfortunately some things do have to be spelled out.

Remember, this is only my short list.

*grin*

Had my children had the foresight to say… toast me a lousy poptart, scribble HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY on a sheet of paper or pluck me a few daffodils from my own garden, I wouldn’t have been forced to make these heinous demands.

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I shall also, hereby be completely EXEMPT from partaking in any of the following on Mother’s Day weekend, which absolutely includes Friday and Saturday… from this year until the end of time.

I shall not cook or touch unprepared food.

I shall not go to the grocery store.

I shall not do laundry.

I shall be exempt from driving you anywhere.

I shall not do dishes… or even look at them.

I shall not answer questions or engage in conversations beginning with:

Will you?

Can I?

I need…

I’m hungry…

I’m borrrrrrred…

It’s not fair…

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Things that YOU can do for me:

Pretend to be unmiserable.

Make me coffee

Do not complain… about anything.

Most importantly, do this shit WITHOUT being told or reminded.

Anyone breaking the rules of Mother’s Day Weekend will be exiled to the back yard and forced to live in a tent.

I know my expectations are ridiculously high this year.



A girl can dream…



NOTE- This post was from 2013 and my children failed miserably that year.

That’s entirely different post.

You’re not alone fellow moms.

I, and almost everyone who’s not your kids, appreciate the Hell out of you.

Rock on, mamacita’s!! The world as we know it would come to a screeching halt without you.

Word.

The Ugly Truth about Mother’s Day

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Now that we’ve all had some time to recover, I think it’s time to talk about why Mother’s Day sucks rotten eggs and stinky baseball cleats.

Better yet, let’s have a “My Mother’s Day Sucked Worse than Yours” contest.

I’ll try not to win THIS one.

It’s like this…

You’re mom- The Family Goddess, Supreme Ruler of the Kingdom, The Almighty Healer of EVERYTHING that goes awry.

You’re pretty much the shit.

Nobody can begin to do it quite like you do.

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Men and children (yes, they belong in the same category) are dropped on this planet oblivious and many never overcome this perpetual state of cluelessness.

It’s okay because we love them dearly.

Mom’s clearly have the edge. It’s just the way it is.

The good news is, it’s UNIVERSAL and misery loves company.

(((group hug, neighbor)))

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I remember having big hopes and dreams for a perfect Mother’s Day filled with rest, peace and pampering, just like the dorky Hallmark commercials.

Then Mother Nature laughed..

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!

Good one, but no. Not unless you clone yourself.

Dear Hallmark, you’re a bunch of dream shattering lying bastards and I hope you get a paper cut on your eyeball from one of your own over dramatized and sappy cards.

Let’s scratch out REST.

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The Stages of Mothers Day-

When your offspring are still lovable tator tots, you may get breakfast in bed which consists of Frootloops, coffee, a hand picked daffodil and a gluey mess of a card they made in school. (thank you teachers)

I’m not really sure it ever get’s better than THIS.

Embrace this, because THIS is IT.

Then they get older.

The coveted handmade gifts and cards come to a screeching halt and they may or may not stick around for breakfast.

Boooo.

If you’re lucky, they take you out to breakfast and Big Daddy pays.

The thoughtful bucket has sprung a leak. From here on end, it’s all down hill.

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Now, you’ve become grateful if they can manage to refrain from swearing and fist-fighting in your presence for one lousy day and possibly show a shred of appreciation for good measure.

You taught them better, right?

Crap. Now you’re guilty of THAT too.

They suck and it’s all YOUR fault.

It’s the full circle of always-the-moms-fault.

Which is why I’ve adopted the proactive approach to Mother’s Day.

It doesn’t feel right to unleash my brood into the world until they’re properly trained in Mother’s Day etiquette.

Their spouses will thank me some day and if they don’t, obviously it’s their mothers fault.

*giggle of irony*

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I gave each of my four children a sort of multiple choice list of (mostly) stuff I’d like done around the house, and for my artistic girls, drawings and such that I’d enjoy.

Easy peasy. Spelled it right out.

Are you ready for my miserable report?

#3 finished vacuuming at 10 pm Mother’s Day night and only because I lost my shit.

#2 completed 50% of his offerings. He washed the dogs. I’ll take it.

And, #1 and #4 have been granted extensions because no way am I letting them off the hook.

So there you have it.  The ugly truth.

My rug is clean and my dogs don’t stink. At least we’re making progress.

I guess they REALLY don’t know what to do or how to act without the Queens guidance, which is why I will always reign as Almighty Mom-  Supreme Ruler of the Kingdom.

It’s a mom thing…

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Welcome to the club.

How was YOUR Mother’s Day?

It’s Mother’s Day… Dammit!

249140_594994640513692_22311113_n

As Supreme Ruler of the Kingdom, I hereby proclaim that Mother’s Day be celebrated the entire weekend this year… and forever.

It’s been a rough one, that’s why.

No way is one lousy day of cleaning up your own shit and being on excellent behavior gonna cut it, girls and boys.

Not this year, my precious offspring.

Extreme mom is going completely proactive this Mother’s Day to guarantee that it doesn’t SUCK.

You have been hereby enlisted… as a GIVER.

Therefore, specific TO DO lists will be distributed to each of my brood.

We’re gonna get it right this time.

Here we go.

Mother’s Day… Take 21!!

(The number is accurate. No. Shit.)

ACTION!!!

Here’s a preview of my short list of demands:

imagesCASLN407

*You will bathe the dogs with excellent smelling shampoo, then scrub the entire bathroom including the tub.

YES, this does need to be spelled out.

The powder room and pets shall smell like a fresh meadow.

*Clean my car- that was incidentally trashed by YOU.

You shall vacuum the resident floor rubble and debris that you dragged in, clean all dog slobber off the windows, dispose of dead insect carcasses from the dashboard and remove sticky goo from the cup holders.

Again, sparkly clean.

•Vacuum both sets of stairs in the house and do not attempt to make a new family member out of the pet hair.

NO, I wouldn’t mention this if history hadn’t dictated already that it’s was absolutely necessary.

Plus, we already have our limit of dependents.

Use care not to clog the vacuum. I’m tired of performing an endoscopy on the Dyson every single time I attempt to turn it on.

This is a proactive exercise, because unfortunately some things do have to be spelled out.

Remember, this is only my short list. *grin*

Had my children had the foresight to say… toast me a lousy poptart, scribble HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY on a sheet of paper or pluck me a few daffodils from my own garden, I wouldn’t have been forced to make these heinous demands.

 

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I shall also, thereby be completely EXEMPT from partaking in any of the following on Mother’s Day weekend, which absolutely includes Friday and Saturday… from this year until the end of time.

I shall not cook or touch unprepared food.

I shall not go to the grocery store.

I shall not do laundry.

I shall be exempt from driving you anywhere.

I shall not do dishes… or even look at them.

I shall not answer questions or engage in conversations beginning with:

Will you?

Can I?

I need…

I’m hungry…

I’m borrrrrrred…

It’s not fair…

 

imagesCAPTJU22







Things that YOU can do for me:

Pretend to be unmiserable.

Make me coffee

Do not complain… about anything.

Most importantly, do this shit WITHOUT being told or reminded.

Anyone breaking the rules of Mother’s Day Weekend will be exiled to the back yard and forced to live in a tent.

I know my expectations are ridiculously high this year.



A girl can dream…



NOTE- This post was from 2013 and my children failed miserably that year.

That’s entirely different post.

You’re not alone moms.

I and almost everyone who’s not your kids, do in fact appreciate the Hell out of you.

Two thumbs up, mamacita’s!!