smockmomma: August 2007 Archives

cell phone madness

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have we all just completely lost our minds? for a short while there cell phone dependency was a humorous idea, but i'm beginning to think that somewhere along the line the devil got involved and this is a serious addiction that no one wants to admit. think about it...

you're in the midst of a delightful conversation with a friend when suddenly la cucaracha begins to emanate from your friend's purse. her eyes widen as she realzes it is indeed her phone techno-tronically butchering what was once a delightful margarita tune, she abruptly halts her end of the conversation as she lunges, at breakneck speed, for her bag. fumbling madly for her phone, her forhead begins to glisten with the first signs of perspiration as she twitters on apologetically, and rather nervously, that this call may be important. a barely audible squeal of triumph escapes her as she finds the phone. hello!?

i know that i am guilty of this myself -- and i admit it truly baffles me when i feel this undeniable urge to just answer the phone when it rings. even when i am in the middle of a conversation. why?

i do try to limit my answering to a call from smockdaddy, one of the smocklins, or -- gulp -- the school because (at least to my mind) these could be emergency calls. of course, more often than not they're "the-baby-has-a-poopy-d-and-she-took-my-grilled-cheese-sandwich-no-hon-i-don't-want-to-talk-to-the-dog-thanks" calls. and considering the alternative, thank heavens! but the question remains, when did the person on the ether become more attention worthy than the person in front of our face?


ewwwwwwww. okay ladies, is this the ultimate ick rite of passage or what? i have started to grow things out of my chin. and not just cute little fuzzy stuff -- today i found something very light, but very hard!


i'm too young to have hairs grow out of my chin. only old ladies with gray buns and "granny beads" get hairs on their chins, right? not hot young mommas who still sport sexy stilettos. old women with hip-replacements need the tweez, not hip young women who can still shake their shimmy! #$%#&! i'm still in the fairly desirable demographic range of "between 35 & 55" -- why is my chin all the sudden turning on me and thrusting me into the "between 65 & death" category of facial hair? i mean, it's not braidable or anything. no one is calling me mrs. burnside yet; but still, this is really putting a damper on my hip-factor.

so the question is pluck or bleach? any advice will be greatly appreciated.

well that's just boloney!

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no way mamaT and i are this polar. but i do contend that, as a grilled cheese of course, i'm yummier!

You Are a Grilled Cheese Sandwich

You are a traditional person with very simple tastes.

In your opinion, the best things in life are free, easy, and fun.

You totally go with the flow. And you enjoy every minute of it!

Your best friend: The Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich

Your mortal enemy: The Ham Sandwich

excuse me but your reasoning sux


i'd be hardpressed to find a current news headline that would immediately make my blood pressure jump a dozen notches more than this one:

Man Sues Florist for Revealing Affair

the adulterer's attorney claims, "This is not a moral issue." oh really, counselor?
the mouthpiece goes on to claim "The issue is, is 1-800-Flowers in the business of causing divorce or are they in the business of sending flowers ... ?" what? are you high? seems to me the whorehound brought about his own divorce.

what makes me want to vomit is the fact that this lothario and his shyster are ignoring the absurdity of their case. and what really rashes my chaps is the fact that the letch is projecting his own immorality onto the florist -- and begging fidelity and trustworthiness. can anyone say extreme irony?

chalk this one up as another case of no good deed going unpunished.


as the summamamas' resident "avon lady" i'd like to be the first to announce that avon just named their first global ambassador last week. she's my favorite shmoopy-star the mega-beautiful and mega-kind and mega-talented mommy reese witherspoon. she recently held a press conference with avon ceo andrea jung (pictured with reese above) to anounce her new position.

"avon calling!"

not surprisingly, forbes magazine just named reese one of hollywood's "ten most bankable stars." kevin frazier [of entertainment tonight] asked reese if she'll be selling door to door. "what do you want?" she asked. "i'll take your order!'

mom: drink your milk.
dewey: it‘s lumpy.
mom: then chew it.
~malcolm in the middle

the other day an acquaintance of mine told me that she takes great pride in the fact that she's fooled her entire family into thinking she can cook. she uses boxed and frozen foods exclusively, but her family thinks everything is made from scratch. when i told her, "but, you do cook. that's cooking." she was floored and a little depressed. she thought she'd been getting away with something.

but then it was i who became a little depressed. i began to think, i rarely even box-cook for my family. everything we eat is drive-thru, carry-out or delivery. of course, it doesn't help that when my children see me whip out an apron, they groan and say, "you're not cooking again are you, mom?" okay, i'm using poetic license -- i don't even own an apron. but the smocklins do moan and they do emphasize the word "cooking" as if they're doing me a great favor using the word so loosely whenever i start hunting for cooking equipment. where's that flat black thingy with a handle again? the thing for the top of the oven ... er, thing with the red circles, what’s that thing? the stove!

i once admitted to another mom that i’d stapled the hem of my daughter’s skirt as she was running to the car -- late again -- for school. the woman didn’t even blink. she winked. masking tape works wonders, too. the first time our principal sent home a note about excessive tardies -- back when I still thought that all good catholic moms had to be true smock moms -- i was mortified. last year it got so bad the principal sent us a letter informing us that he was going to charge us $5 per tardy slip. i emailed him and asked if that fee was “per family” or “per child” -- he never responded.

i found out that there is a “label” for moms like me: beta mom. the “beta” doesn’t mean we’re being tested, although i think many of us would say we are … daily. and, to the max. rather than being a term that attempts to define what we are, it defines what we certainly are not, which is an “alpha” mom. some ladies took great exception when the word was first introduced, but i sorta liked finally having a label. it gave me a sense of camaraderie. oh, i’m not the only sucky mom on the block. cool.

some of you may be asking yourselves, is this posting a boast or a plea for help? it’s neither really. i just think that if more beta moms spoke up the others wouldn’t feel like they had to beat the crap outta themselves daily. and they wouldn’t feel the need to pretend. trust me, i know more than my share of beta moms who pretend -- badly -- to be alpha moms. they just can’t seem to pull it off and, really, it demeans us all. when you tell me, rather proudly, that you spent an entire morning building a chicken coop all i can think is ... well, why? i don't want to be ugly. i just don't understand it. and i know there are great alpha moms out there thinking, you poor woman. but really, more than once i’ve had to bite my tongue with fellow beta-wanna-be-alphas. i want to say, just go with the flow, honey. i brought the same "homemade-tasting" cookies from the same super target. and that macramé with the “made in china” sticker you missed isn’t fooling anybody.

don't get me wrong. i greatly admire truly domestic women. and, i’ve tried to be more domestic myself. truly i have. i’m just not good at it and i’m beginning to think that at the age of 36 and with 6 wee ones afoot, not much will change any time soon. i think it was albert einstein who once said “the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” that pretty much sums it up for the smock.



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This page is a archive of recent entries written by smockmomma in August 2007.

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