mothers nightmare

A Mother’s Worst Church Nightmare


previously posted in 2012 – Munchkin #2 was 4

Well, the big day had arrived! The first performance of the preschool choir (aka The Cherub Choir) in the history of my church was to commence and I was to direct them. These four and five year-olds had been preparing for months and were pumped to sing for the church on Sunday; and if you have them motivated that is 80% of the battle. The rest is … just singing.

The nice part of having a preschool choir is that no matter what, they are going to be cute. Just the walking up to the front of the altar in their favorite outfits and the hand waving to their parents is enough to make you take a bow, say thanks and head home. And right on cue they started grinning and waving, and pulling at clothing and picking various bodily crevices. Great stuff!

So they get through the song and there is applause and laughter. Not bad for our first time out! I just figured people were laughing because the kids were so darling that they were filled with joy and that was their release.

However, that was not the case.

As I was cueing the guitarist to finish the last song, on the other side of the choir a little dancing was going on. One of my students was shaking her bootie in quite a noticeable manner.

Guess whose kid it was? Yep. Mine! Munchkin #2. She felt the rhythm and couldn’t control her hips.

I am soooo doomed.

After the songs are completed, the children go back to their parents to finish the service. Afterwards one of the Reverends, a male who was wearing a long white robe – came up to congratulate my children (the one’s I gave birth to) on a job well done. It was also at this time, that I was informed by the clergy that my daughter could “really shake it.”

Is that a rock over there?

May I climb under you?

This wasn’t the “dinger” though. My daughter started dancing again and the Reverend lifted the hem of his robe and did a dance similar to a low-key Rockette’s kickline. It was actually very cute and a bonding moment with my child in church can’t help. He was making her church experience enjoyable.

Then it happened…my darling cherub shook her head back and forth at him and disapprovingly said, “Oh, Jesus!” When I awoke from unconsciousness, I stared at all persons surrounding us to see who had heard her.

No one. Praise God, we were in the clear!

It is one thing to get in trouble in school, but to take the Lord’s name in vain in FRONT of the Reverend, is way too much for this Mama. I knew I was partially to blame for when my kids do something squirrely, I shake my head in the same fashion and say, “Oh, Munchkin #…” My little squirrel didn’t fall far from the nut!

A few minutes later I finally got it. M2 wasn’t swearing in front of the altar but truly believed the male Reverend was the real Jesus. The white, flowing robe, the glasses, the balding head, old guy – totally could see how she would mix those two up. Oh, well I cut her a break. She was four!

After my heart started beating again, I decided the story was precious, instead of devastating. It was either that or sprint out the vestry doors, leaving my family to fend for themselves.

I haven’t corrected Munchkin #2 yet because I don’t want her to be embarrassed; but we will have a discussion in the near future about who is who in the church and when and where it’s appropriate to gyrate your hips.

Update: Two years later, at our new church Munchkin #2 had another singing performance. I had forgotten about the Elvis situation, so I was prepared to watch my sweet girl sing praises. This is what we saw…

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KCLIVE panel2

10 Ways to Make Your TV Debut a Success

Recently I have joined a panel of women to discuss parenting, wife and woman issues on a morning TV show called Kansas City Live! It is on every day at 10:00am, but the three “Opinionated” Moms (we really need to have more of an appealing name) make an appearance once a month. Snarky in the Suburbs, Paige Kellerman and I make up this humorous panel and we truly get a kick out of each other.

After several of these experiences, I feel I should share what I have learned. If you are required to be interviewed on television, you can be aptly prepared and hopefully you won’t have as much anxiety as I did the first time round.

So here she goes…

10 Ways to Make Your TV Debut a Success

1. Dye your roots at least 4 days before. This way you cover the grey hairs, but they have a few days to mellow so you’re not mistaken for a Monster High doll.

2. Join a Bible study group with hopes there will be more people praying for you not to make a jackal out of yourself.

3. Purchase a new, good bra. If you don’t have the support of family and friends, at least your ladymelons will – and they will look spectacular!

4. Two days prior to filming, sign up for Weight Watchers.

5. Drink heavily and don’t count any of it as WW points.

6. Shower.

7. Locate makeup. Then try to remember which makeup is actually yours and which is the “play” makeup that your young girls got for birthday presents.

8. The night before, eat a slice of cheesecake the size of your husband’s shoe.

9. On the drive to the TV studio, come up with something witty to say for the show – instead of your regular lines of, “I’d like paper” or “I’ll have a Diet Coke, please.”

10. Spanx, spanx, spanx it out!

If any of you happen to see the program tomorrow, February 12, 2014, and have suggestions for what our panel name should be, I would love to hear it. Anything without the word “opinionated” will be considered first.

Oh, and “The View” is already taken if you hadn’t heard.

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delivery man 2

Hey, Peepers! You’re Giving me the Creepers

previously printed in The Kansas City Star – February 8, 2014

I’m not typically a paranoid person. I like to believe there are decent people in this world who are not always out to get or make a buck off of me. But recently, a company I’ve grown to cherish is creeping me out.

It started two months ago, when Amazon developed a drone delivery program. Yes, George Lucas-looking, Star Wars flying arachnids which deliver your package in 30 minutes or less, or your pizza is free. I made that last part up, but the drones are as real as the fear instilled in me by this sci-fi film gone live.

Amazon’s mini helicopters, complete with GPS systems, pick up your package from a distribution site and gently deposit it on your front porch. Apparently, they can do so without killing flocks of birds or your cat waiting to come in for dinner.

Of course, these drones haven’t been sanctioned by the Federal Aviation Administration – the government department which regulates all air space. But in an interview on 60-minutes, Jeff Bezos – Amazon’s Drone Master- says it’s only time before it’s approved.

Well, beam me up, Bezos!

So for the next few months, I tried to erase this picture from my memory and attempted to remove the droning of the Jetson’s theme song which was stuck on repeat.

Just when my dark daydreams returned to bunnies and unicorns, my parents called one Sunday afternoon. They jokingly asked for me by my maiden name.

“That’s odd,” I briefly judged.

Since they are getting older, I gave them a mulligan; but then inquired why they were using the speaker phone to talk to me. My folks have more than one phone in their home, but apparently this new fangled speaker thingy is fantastic for group conversations.

They proceeded to tell me of an email they received from Amazon. It was titled, “What Stacey (my maiden name) would like for her upcoming birthday.”

My confused predecessors inquired why they would receive email from this company who knew their daughter’s birthday. How did a mega-company know who my parents were and my maiden name? Perhaps we were in the middle of some espionage scandal!

My father started reading their suggestions for gifts – items that Amazon thought I’d enjoy based on my prior purchases from their website.

Holy Cow! I’m glad I didn’t buy x-rated items prior to that email.

To the parents of Stacey…
“On your daughter’s birthday, have you considered she might like a copy of ‘50 Shades of Something’ and a pair of golden handcuffs?”

I’m sure these choices were computer generated, instead of Mr. Bezos’ Aunt Bea jotting down a few recommendations for all Amazon customers, but truly this method could be disastrous.

What if another family had been estranged, violent, or under the Federal Protection Services? Good thing Amazon could bring them back together for a birthday.

“Surprise! Here’s a present and aren’t you glad to see me?”

On top of this, the items suggested to my parents were gifts I had put on my wish list before Christmas. Other people in the family had already purchased them for me, but the items remained on the list. Oops.

So my older parents, who might not remember what they gave me for Christmas, might send me a repeat gift thinking, “Oh, I know she would love a new coffee pot? I can just picture how she would adore it!” How many coffee pots does this gal need?!

After solving the problem with my parents, and adding an extravagant amount of expensive items onto my Amazon wish list, I asked my hubby if he received a similar email.

He said, “Yeah, but I deleted it.”

This year’s present should be a winner. I’m all a tingle with anticipation!

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Update on my Icy Lady Bits

If you are new to my blog…welcome and boy, howdy you are probably wondering why in the fritz I’m bringing up my girly cushion. I wrote a post about ice and genitals which you can go back and read here. I’ll wait.

Yesterday was the second snow day of a 3 day quarantined marathon for our school district. Hurraaaaa-ugh.

Yes, at first it was exhilarating, but as of this moment I’ve decided I’m officially done. Actually, yesterday I should have been over it, but the munchkins and I had crafts to do and movies to watch. Renting the Princess Diaries and The Princess Diaries II were great after watching them both twice.

My daughters (Munchkin #1, age 8 and Munchkin #2, age 7) were also able to get their Valentines Day boxes decorated and I’m 100% sure that wouldn’t have happened if we had school and extracurricular activities to attend.

I Eat Valentines! Nom, nom, nom...

I Eat Valentines! Nom, nom, nom…

This would have been the scenario:

“Honey, here’s your Dad’s old shoe box.”

“But Mama it smells like Fritos,” she would wimper.

As I’m irritatedly tapping on the steering wheel, “Get in the van. You can draw hearts on it during free time in class.”

Tomorrow is another story. The doors to the school better be open, for I’m dropping the kids at the drop-off line at 8:30am sharp with sack lunches and water. I’ll pin a note on each one of them that says, “If you keep them warm, they can entertain themselves.”

Come on! The snow’s only 12 inches deep. If they can’t break in, I’m sure they can manage the 1/2 mile return to home.

But, back to my icy parts…

Yesterday was seriously the first time in 8 years I went hardcore snow diving – and that was just trying to pull the trashcans back up to the garage. I don’t have protective clothing like my children do, so I knew if I was going to make it in the elements as long as they were, I was going to have to buck up and put on some big girl panties – OR… big boy pants!

Yes, I found all of my hubby’s ski gear and dressed up so well the neighbors couldn’t tell who was playing with our kids. Except for when I yelped out in a high-pitched girl scream as I plummeted my tush to the frozen earth. If I calculated correctly, it was every 3.467 minutes.

I couldn’t believe how warm I could be in the appropriate dress. I’m sure all you parents are thinking, “Duh!” But since I’d never had the gear before and had never been skiing, I truly was shocked that my niblets didn’t freeze up and fall off.

And to top off the day, I discovered while bonding with my children in our exterior piles of Dippin’ Dots, I can still do the middle splits! My boots just scooted outward on the ice like a cheerleader in her prime.

Please send all prayers my way as soon as possible. They are much appreciated!

As it turns out after my fall, my icy bits are a bit dicey – but they sure could use some ice.

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Falling Snow is Beautiful Until it Gets on Your Genitals

As far as I see it, there are two types of people in the winter:

1) People who love snow

AND…

2) People who know snow sucks.

Tonight while my beautiful children and I are sleeping, the clouds will open and flurries of white, freezing hate crystals will drown my driveway in 8-10 inches.

Come on! I don’t have time for that.

I realize there are people who scoff at that number and say, “You can’t handle 8 inches?” that’s what he said But you crazies people chose to live in a colder climate and chances are…you are #1 from above. I’m sure we have many other things in common, like wine and chocolate.

IMG_0457My hubby is a #1. He loves a good snow blower. that’s what he… He attacks our driveway, sidewalk, neighbors sidewalks, and even the sidewalk by the mailbox down the street so he can spend half the day out in the crap.

He bundles up as if he’s going skiing – basically, the only thing that almost has contact with the elements are his eyes and he covers those with wrap around glasses or goggles…or a viking helmet. I’m not really sure because I don’t go outside during this weather, so how would I know how he looks?

Since our children want to go sledding, build snowmen and do other freezing activities which I would rather watch from the window, seated by the fire; my hubby gets to have that bonding time with our Kansas munchkins. This has been a wonderful tradition where he gets to act like a kid with them, they are thrilled with the snow events and I have popcorn and hot chocolate ready for them when they flop through the door with cherry, red cheeks and runny noses.

Perfect arrangement. Let me grab a new good book and…

What school is cancelled and I will be the only one home with the children during the daylight hours? How did that happen?

I did not plan this!!

It’s not in my “Outlook” calendar.

I have a winter coat, a hat, gloves and some really cute boots – but the rest of the water-proof attire has never been purchased. Why would I need that when it’s my hubby’s job?

Maybe I can shut the blinds, pretend like it’s Saturday and they won’t notice. They’re kids. They’re distractable!

So when I can’t stand the whining and begging to play in the snow any longer, I will quietly put on some leggings, my thickest jeans and shoot a prayer up above that I can last as long as my girls tomorrow.

I hope my daughters know this whole winter-wonderland shebang will be over as soon as I feel ice on my lady bits. This mama will bid Mother Nature adieu, and indoor bribery will begin.

I hope I have enough chocolate.

What kind of indoor projects are you doing with your kids during this snowmageddon? How do you keep them entertained and not killing each other? I would love to hear from you in the comments. Don’t be shy!

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