Ten Reasons why Mothers have Mixed Feelings about Labor Day

Momlaughs with two, expecting #3 - eventually a total of 6 Blessings!


Ten Reasons why Mothers have Mixed Feelings about Labor Day

Momlaughs monthly syndicated humor column, featured on many online magazines
including Families Online Magazine

1. Their husband was still snoring when the contractions were less than a minute apart.

2. The childbirth coach promised the contractions wouldn't hurt any more than holding an ice cube in her hand. She's never been able to take ice in her tea, since then.

3. Rather than playing soothing music in the birthing room, her husband listened to ESPN Classics rerun of the 1987 Super Bowl.

4. The doctor decided to play an additional nine holes and ordered the Pictosin drip turned down to one drip per hour.

5. Her husband took a picture of her facial expressions, during hard labor and used it for their family Christmas letter.

6. The hospital mistakenly delivered a taco supreme with Tabasco sauce, instead of clear broth and ice chips for lunch.

7. The florist tied five dozen helium balloons to the end of the bed, causing it to rise at a 45 degree angle for over an hour.

8. The nurse mistakenly wrote the name of the prescription on the birth certificate -- making her the proud mother of a girl named Tylenol 3.

9. Your husband promised the entire delivery room staff a sit down Thanksgiving dinner the day after you arrive home.

10. She overheard her husband in the hallway saying, "I don't know what the big deal is about labor...I think she's being overly dramatic..."

Read the Instructions or Else

Kenzie's dream was a lofty one -- to sit upon her own throne on her 9^th
birthday and unwrap her gifts. So she talked me into buying a
Strawberry Shortcake inflatable chair to be used to fulfill not
only her royal ambitions but another dream as well. When we moved into
our current home four years ago she exacted a promise that I would
decorate her room in pink. As you guessed it is still blue, but for one
Strawberry Shortcake throw pillow, a Strawberry Shortcake poster, and
an inflatable pink throne she would consider her room officially decorated
until she reaches the age of 13.

How could I resist?

I must have been blindfolded and taken by a UFO because in a matter
of minutes I found myself walking through the aisles of Party City. It was
there I bought her the apparently indestructible Strawberry Shortcake
Inflatable Chair.

It was now the day before the party and time to blow up the inflatable
throne because -- well -- it's inflatable.  Being a gifted mother however
I informed Kenzie we must read the instructions first.

That’s when the trouble began.

The instructions promise that if the item is inflated properly it may
last up to 10 years (the perfect gift to send my daughter off to college
with). In fact, the instructions promise, if you take proper care of the
chair it can become a cherished family heirloom (“Yes, dear, it’s
true. Your great grandmother, Queen Cheryl, sat upon this very
inflatable throne and ruled the upper waste water management
district of the state of Illinois in the early 21st century. Her portrait
is down the hallway”). 

The instructions also warn you that if you want your Strawberry
Shortcake Inflatable Chair to look like the one on the box you need
to look at it under normal light. (Do you know anyone who looks
at chairs with abnormal light in their homes? If you do, put this
down and calmly dial the police giving their address and
description). 

Perhaps they’re talking about extreme weather conditions.
Let’s say there’s a major tornado in your area and you just saw
Dorothy and Toto fly by outside. Apparently the throne will change
colors. 

Back to the instructions: “To preserve this chair for future
generations you must do the following: 

Do not use around sharp knives or objects.  (Oh, no. I guess
I’m going to have to resign my activities with the Shopping Mall
Mama Gangstas.) 

Do not touch with a cigarette or open flame (And I wanted to
sit in my inflatable chair and have a fondue party.)

Do not rub against a rough wall or a rough wall surface.  (Now
they’ve taken all the fun out of life. Haven’t you ever been to a party
where everyone rubbed an inflatable chair against their head to form
static electricity -- then watched how long they could get their chair
to stick to the wall?)   

Do not jump on your Strawberry Shortcake chair. (So we can’t
do cannon balls off our sofa onto the chair anymore either? What do
these depressed, lonely, joyless shells of human beings who
invented the inflatable throne do for fun on their long winter nights at
home anyway?) 

Do not use in your pool as a flotation device.  (I guess that means
the 5,000 inflatable thrones on the USS Abraham Lincoln are all
going back to Party City – another awful case of wasteful government
misuse of our taxpayer monies). 

If you are sitting out in this chair in a cold climate added inflation
will be needed.  Now, I understand why in the movie March of the
Penguins (filmed in Antarctica) the mother penguins all pushed their
inflatable thrones 400 miles across frozen wastelands to the warmer
waters of the ocean. It was so they would need less air when they sit down.
Aren’t Mother Nature’s instincts nothing less than amazing?

This chair is made to last but caution is required to avoid damage
to this or any other inflatable product.  (At least I am not reading
this in vain since these principles are transferable.)
 

Please follow all of these instructions carefully and enjoy your
new inflatable furniture (What if I deliberately choose not to enjoy it
– does that void the warranty?)

You know, just thinking of having to follow all these instructions just to
enjoy an inflatable throne made me want to sit down, no, stand up, take
a nap, Oh, whatever.

Where is my sharp object?

Too Tired for Technology

As a mother of preschoolers, I fell behind the curve when it comes to technology. While other women were sporting Blackberries, Palm Pilots, and Blue Tubes dangling in their ears, all I could manage was a small spiral notebook from the dollar aisle in Walgreens. However, just to stay in the game I decided to refer to it as my Papyrus Pilot. My Bic ballpoint pen is my Cylinder Inkjet 5000.

These are some of the things that I have put in my Papyrus Pilot. First of all there's a listing of overdue library notices (now in the thousands of dollars, carrying with them threat of foreclosure on our home); the birthdays of all our relatives that I missed while taking anti-nausea drugs for throwing up during pregnancies.

Are you wondering what I was doing while you were updating? While other people were updating, I was scraping out the remainder of my mauve lipstick with the cap of my ink pen so I could make it last one more week.

While other people were updating, I was spending an hour walking around the block. That's how long it took me to walk around the block with preschoolers.

While other people were chatting on their newest equipment, I was chasing Pooka out of a drainage ditch. Every time I would ever start a conversation with another human around my age, Pooka would head either for a wet ditch, a river, a lake, a train track or a tollway. Pooka makes Curious George seem satisfied.

While other people were updating, I was dating my husband.

While other people were updating, I was laboring in childbirth.

While other people were updating, I was handing out hugs and kisses for all sorts of boo boos that preschool kids can get into.

While other people were updating, I was making dinner. I don't have a palm pilot to plan the family's menus. My Papyrus Pilot does a good job recording the grocery list. I always use my Papyrus Pilot in meal planning. I need help because the three words that I fear most in the English language are, "What's for dinner?" I have trouble deciding what's for dinner. And it's a question at least one of the kids hits me with before 9:00 Am. I can't think pasta primavera before the Cheerios are scraped off the floor. And I know the clock will keep ticking toward 6:00 Pm and I'd better have someth ing steaming, stewing or grilling.

Over the years I've decided a number of meal planning methods. My least favorite was to open the freezer and make whatever fell out and hit me on the head. It had spontaneity going for it, but the lump on my head grew monotonous. Besides, we couldn't afford the monthly brain scans this home making method demanded.

Even with this failsafe method there are certain things I won't make for dinner. Because when I was pregnant with six children, not all at once mind you, I calculated that I threw up a combined total of 2000 times. I am not kidding. One of the combinations of foods I will not eat together is potato chips and milk. Why? Because I refuse to eat something that at one time has come out of my nose

I finally settled on deciding what was for dinner according to the days of the week. Monday is for M so we eat meatloaf or meatballs; Tuesday is for T so we eat tacos or turkey, Wednesday is for W which limits us to watermelon and watercress sandwiches. And how do I remember what day it is? I use my Papyrus Pilot, of course.

So buy a papyrus pilot, simplify your life and enjoy your husband, your children, sunsets, fresh air and the important things in life that really do last.