You’re Hugging Me Too Hard

Sandy Hook. I have cried and cried this weekend for the children of Sandy Hook. I’ve cried for the teachers and the parents and the survivors and the community of Newtown.

It is enough to make you feel helpless.

This weekend, in between Girl Scouts and soccer games and doctoring colds I have loved my children. Yes, I always love my kids but this weekend I didn’t take any moment with my children for granted. I hugged them a little more often and a little tighter.

That is what Sandy Hook has given me; a reminder that my children are a gift.

As I hugged my five-year-old Friday afternoon, she exclaimed, “Mama! You’re hugging me too tight!” in between squeals of laughter.

No, I’m not, baby girl. No I’m not.

 

UPDATE: A commenter left the following message that I wanted to share for any who might be interested. Thanks again, http://robakers.wordpress.com for sharing this!

Thank you for your comments. My kids said the same thing…too hard daddy!

I believe that the pen is mightier than the sword. Several bloggers are encouraging others to send cards and letters to the school. Here is the address:

The school’s address is: Sandy Hook Elementary School 12 Dickenson Drive Newtown, CT   06482

God Bless.

The No-Cabbage Treaty of 2012

The Mother and the Children,

Resolved to develop friendly relations between the Mother and the Children;

Convinced of the need finally to overcome antagonism and to develop cooperation within the household;

Have agreed upon and confirmed the following articles.

Article 1:

Her Maternal Majesty acknowledges that said Children have the right to have input into their food choices, no matter how wrong their input might be.

Article 2:

The Children acknowledge that Her Maternal Majesty, their Mother, deserves the right to have privacy, especially in the bathroom.

Article 3:

It is agreed that the Mother will not serve for consumption:  cabbage, cabbage-like food or anything resembling, by taste or smell, a cabbage. It is further agreed that the Mother will not try to disguise any of the aforementioned food items.

Article 4:

It is agreed that the Children will not stalk or harass the Mother while she is in the bathroom. The Children agree to acknowledge that the act of slipping notes under the bathroom door and/or wiggling hands and/or feet under the bathroom door as forms of harassment. (Mommy will give you a pass if she needs you to grab a roll of toilet tissue from the other bathroom. OK?)

Article 5:

The solemn ratifications of the present treaty shall be expedited between the contracting parties immediately.

It is my prediction that this treaty will be repealed before breakfast. The kids just can’t stay away from the bathroom door!

Open Letter to the Jerkward Who Broke Into My Home

This summer, my home was broken into and we were robbed. I still have a few unresolved issues about it.

Dear Jerkwad,

Thank you for breaking into my home on a Monday. I had spent all weekend cleaning the house and doing laundry. You managed to undo all of my hard work by dumping every drawer, tossing every cabinet and destroying each closet. Oh, and the broken glass throughout the house was a nice touch.

Don’t worry about the money you stole from my daughter. It probably wasn’t obvious to you that it belonged to an 8-year-old girl. I mean, you only found it in a pink wallet . . . . in a gir’ls bedroom. . . in a home that wasn’t yours. I explained to her that it was more important for you to get your crack fix than for her to get the American Girl doll she had hoped to buy. She’s all good now.

Thank you for not trashing the bedroom that my two toddlers share. They had already trashed it that same morning. By the way, I told the cops that you TOTALLY did that. It’ll probably add another 10 to 15 years onto your sentence when they catch  your sorry ass.

The thing that I hated the most about all of this was not the things that you took, but that you frightened my children. Something that you may not understand is that scaring the hell out of my children is MY JOB AND NOT YOURS!

But the thing that I really want to tell you is this: the day that you broke into our home . . . the same day you were tossing our mattresses and slinging Pillow Pets everywhere . . . . my five-year-old was EAT UP with HEAD LICE.

HA!

That’s the way we roll up in here, JERKWAD.

This home is protected by
PEDICULUS CAPITAS.

Here’s hoping that when they catch you that you have a very sweet cell mate who will pick the nits out of your hair. Speaking of being someone’s bitch, ain’t karma a bitch?

With Warmest Regards,

The Great Mama Experiment

What the ELF?

Tis the season for Elf on the Shelf. He’s everywhere. And by everywhere, I mean EVERYWHERE.

I do not own an Elf on the Shelf. I refuse to conform! It’s a matter of principle!

Ok, I don’t want to spend the $29.95 . . . . . and I’m afraid I’ll forget to move the damn elf one night and disappoint my kids.

Plus, he’s creepy looking.

Just look at those eyes!

However, I did stumble upon the New and Improved Elf on the Shelf. I’ll admit that I’m intrigued.

The new version still sells for $29.95 but is a better bargain because he is life-sized. If you know me, you know that I love a good deal.

Naughty or Nice?

He won’t be so squinty-eyed once the drugs wear off. Apparently he put up a pretty good fight while they were putting him in the box. But don’t worry . . . he won’t say a word because nobody talks about Fight Club.