Endless Inspiration, Zero Energy

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Hello Friends, remember me? I'm the lady who USED to write this blog. Now I'm the lady who wishes she had time to write this blog. I've missed this outlet. I've been trying, I really have. I have about a half a dozen posts on the go: little starts, nuggets of ideas, or things that pissed me off that day. Unfortunately, by the time I get time to go back and finish writing, it's usually 1:00 am and I gotta get up early with the kids, or I get a free hour in the day and decide to read/Facebook/watch a movie instead. Downtime is precious when you have two toddlers. I am having a really hard time keeping up with life right now and the blog was the first thing to get shoved on the back burner.

It's hard. I have my family, who I love and adore and would do anything for. They are my life, my reason for getting up in the morning with a smile on my face (no matter how sleep deprived I might be). My husband is my rock, he's the strongest man I know. CeeCee is precocious and precious and makes me laugh all day long. Parker is sweet and funny and watching her learn new things every day makes me appreciate the little things in life. They are my heart, they are my joy, they are the most important thing I have ever done with my life.

 

Assholes, the lot of them;

Oh good, my kitchen is not as bad as I thought.

I kid, I kid. I don't actually think my family are assholes but I'm also not going to put on airs and act like I have some kind of Stepford family. It's hard work. One is going through the terrible twos on top of being a "spirited child", the other is cutting what feels (and sounds) like six teeth at once and has started terrorizing walking. Mr. Zinga is just trying to keep up with it all without his body breaking down from the effects of Polyarticular JRA while working fifty hours a week to support us all. And me? I'm just here in the middle trying to make sense of it all and trying to be a strong core for my family. I like to think I'm the glue that holds this whole, crazy life together. Krazy glue, undoubtedly, but it's part of my charm. Yeah, sometimes they're assholes. I'm an asshole. Happens to the best of us. I'm not trying to martyr myself, or fish for sympathy. I knew going in that we were going to have tough challenges ahead and I'm prepared for it.

I don't mourn the loss of drunken weekends, perfect hair and a wardrobe that consisted of more than yoga pants and pyjamas.

I love my job and it brings me joy, but right now my kids are my job and it brings more satisfaction than a nine to five ever could.

I do miss my breasts, although they're still down there (somewhere). Their ruination was for a good cause and I wouldn't change a thing.

Who cares that she's hot. I created life. TWICE.

Anyway, what I really miss is my blog. I miss my computer. The laptop just doesn't feel right. I miss sitting at my desk with a fishbowl sized cup of coffee. I miss having something burning inside me that I just gotta get down on paper right then and there. I miss searching for a decent free digital photo and writing a funny caption for it. I miss the rush I get from writing, and the rush I get when someone reads an article and goes out of their way to tell me how much they enjoyed it. I miss it all. There's a whole process to it, editing, revising, marketing...It makes me smile. It makes me happy. It is my second love (just a smidge below my family). One day I'll be able to blog regularly again. In the meantime it'll just sit on that back burner, simmering slowly, gathering flavour and waiting for me to take a big bite.







Image taken from Facebook
Image provided by imagerymajestic/freedigitalphotos.net

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A Letter to my Spirited Child

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Today you screamed for two hours because I wouldn't give you juice.

I try to be patient, I really do. I know deep in my heart that you don't hate me. That you aren't doing this out of spite. I understand that in toddlerland there is no such thing as moderation and the fact that you had already drank your juice quota for the day is irrelevant to you. I get that, in your head, the rules of possession state that apple juice in the fridge belongs to you and only you and that when you saw me pour a glass you saw that as stealing. Unfortunately after the first half an hour of screaming my nerves were shot and I was more short tempered than usual.

I cried.

Just a few tears of frustration. My body's natural release whenever I am stressed. I'm still puzzled by the fact that you continued screaming even after I broke down and finally gave you the juice. What's with that? I think at that point you had forgotten what it was you were crying about and were so worked up you were just crying for the sake of crying. Nice touch with the flopping onto the floor and kicking your feet by the way. Very dramatic. I might have been able to see the humor in it if you hadn't told me to f*** off when I picked you up. You remember? Right after you bit me?

I cried.

More tears of frustration. Some days it is so damn hard to not lose my temper. It takes every ounce of patience I possess to stop myself from yelling. It's not that it hurt when you bit me, certainly not as much as it hurt your sister when you bit her this morning, it's more that when I see you lashing out it makes me question my abilities as a parent. I should have been able to nip this whole biting thing in the bud a long time ago. I feel like I failed you. You can count to ten and sing "Twinkle Twinkle" in its entirety. How am I not able to get you to understand that biting hurts. As far as the language goes, well, you don't know what it means. You probably overheard me on the phone, dropping f-bombs while I chat to my friends. That my fault. I'm not punishing you for swearing. It's the biting. I couldn't just let it slide. That's why I put you in time out.

YOU cried.

I know you hate time outs. I wouldn't like them very much either. They weren't an option when I was growing up. I got a slap across the face when I misbehaved. Or a strap across the back of my legs. Neither was very effective but they sure gave me pause. Mostly I paused thinking about how much I hated my family. It never made me stop and think about what I had done wrong. Apparently I'm supposed to be biting you back. I don't quite get how this is supposed to discourage you from biting, especially since you model so many of your behaviors after me. This is why we do time outs. I gotta say though, the end result seems to be the same. Especially when you told me you hated me.

I cried again.

This time it was ugly crying. Body wracking sobs of pain. I don't know why. You don't even know what you were saying. You're two. What do you know about hate? Besides, of course, your hate for vegetables. I don't know where you picked that up from. TV? Do we need to be more careful of what we watch when you're around? When I am moaning about doing housework do I need to start spelling out my distaste for folding laundry? Especially when you grab a pile of your sisters neatly folded clothes and throw them over the railing.

I stopped crying.

I sat down with you on the couch. I got down to eye level with you and told you I was sad. You put your chubby arms around my neck and told me "Don't be sad Mummy". You went and grabbed your smelly blanket, the one you wont let me wash when you're awake. You climbed into my lap and put the blanket around us both. "Snuggle?" you asked tentatively, as if you were afraid of my answer. The smile that lights up your face when I say "Of course we can snuggle" is priceless. It is the look of a blind man seeing the sun for the very first time. We lay there on the couch, big spoon and little spoon, watching Dora the Explorer. I can smell the oatmeal and vanilla of your shampoo as I kiss the top of your head and breathe in deep. All is forgotten, all is right with the world. In ten perfect minutes we have erased hours of tension and frustration. In ten perfect minutes we reset the clock to zero. You reach your tiny hand out, grab my arm and pull it around you.

I cried.

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Flying Spaghetti Monsters: Deliciously Irreverent.

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What do you get when Pinterest and Facebook collide?

Inspiration:)

I have been Facebook friends (and WTE message board friends) with a girl named Sara for a few years now. If you ask Sara what her religion is she will tell you proudly, FSM. Oh, you have never heard of the Church of FSM? Let me share with you.



Swedish designer Niklas Jansson created this interpretation of Michelangelo's The Creation of Adam

Back in 2005 Bobby Henderson, concerned with the addition of Intelligent Design to the curriculum, wrote an open letter to the Kansas School Board informing them that if ID was going to be taught then he wanted the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster to receive equal representation. The theories are similar in many ways.

• They both refute the logic of Science and Evolution.
• They are both based on books, written by men.
• They both have a (supposedly) fictional character at their helm

For the most part Pastafarians are a peace (and noodle) loving bunch. You will find the occasional one who gets upset when the noodles aren't al dente but as a whole they are very laid back. In fact one of the main tenets of FSM is that there be no dogma and, above all else, not to take themselves too seriously. Sign me up:)

Where am I going with all this?

One day I was putting off doing my housework looking up recipes on Pinterest when I saw this culinary abomination touting itself to be the best snack for kids ever.



Yum! Entrails.

Really? Have we lowered the bar so far that shoving dried spaghetti through tube steak and boiling it passes for a "nutritious" snack? It defies logic, it defies common sense. Calling it nutritious flies in the face of science. It is the Intelligent Design of kids cuisine.

Enter FSM:)

I have long been of the opinion that anything found on Pinterest can either be A) effed up beyond all recognition or B) adapted into something even more wonderful. I got to thinking about how I could make this recipe better. Hmmm, what goes with spaghetti that's healthier than hot dogs? Meatballs perhaps? I mean let's face it, if you can stick spaghetti through a hot dog then ostensibly you should be able to stick it through a meatball. I decided to pay homage to my FSM friends and create a dinner fit for Pastover, or Ramendan. I created my very own Flying Spaghetti Monsters.



...and FSM said unto them "Let there be dinner" and there was, and it was good.

These deliciously irreverent little meatballs can be made either as a snack or a full blown meal. Since there are roughly 6785439 different meatball recipes out there I won't bore you with my version. I will point out that using regular ground beef works a little better than leaner ground beef and spaghettini cooks a little faster than spaghetti. Other than that you're on your own. Use whatever meatball recipe you want, use whatever marinara sauce recipe you want. There is no dogma here. We don't judge.

Skewer the meatballs with pieces of spaghettini. You can use a little or a lot. It's your meal. Boil a big pot of water, add a dash of salt and a splash of olive oil. Once you have a good rolling boil going, drop your meatball/pasta combos into the pot. Let them boil for 7-10 minutes depending on how you like your pasta. The meatballs cook quickly, so don't worry about them. Once the pasta is done, they'll be done (provided you haven't made them too big). As you can see mine are roughly the size of golf balls.




I snap my pasta in half so that there is a hearty meat to carb ratio.

What I don't understand is how the hell the pasta inside the meatball cooks. Maybe its steam, maybe its meat juice. All I know is that it cooks perfectly. Every time. A scientist might be able to explain it but I am no scientist. Besides, science is irrelevant. Every time a scientific conclusion is reached, FSM just reaches out his noodly appendage and changes the results. We're not sure why he does this, we just know that he can. Being ineffable has it's privileges.

Toss the cooked meatballs in a skillet with marinara sauce.

So once you have your pasta strained toss it into a stir fry pan/deep skillet. Add your marinara sauce and toss everything together until the pasta is evenly coated and the sauce is warmed. That's all there is to it. Kids love it, grown ups love it, Pastafarians love it. Whats not to love? It's everything you love about spaghetti and meatballs wrapped up in a satirical little package. I promise you wont go to hell for eating them. Any god that would create the duck billed platypus MUST have a sense of humor. Enjoy.

R'amen:)




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Facebook Bullying: The New Normal?

Pin It ***Warning! Some links contained in this post contain graphic images that will undoubtedly be considered offensive to anyone with an ounce of common decency. I refuse to show the actual pictures (except for one) because it turns my stomach to have to look at them.***


At what point did it become acceptable to plaster the Internet with memes about disabled children? Did I miss something here? I love a good meme as much as the next girl. They can be hilarious and for the most part harmless. They poke fun at public figures, slacktivist causes and other pop culture icons. I'm especially fond of the Gene Meme. You've all seen it. A picture of Gene Wilder looking on condescendingly while pretending interest in everything from Kony 2012 to Northface Jacket wearing suburbanites. Funny shit, it really is.

It stops being funny when the memes turn to ridiculing a 5 year old girls disability.

IRONY!

Adalia Rose is a child with a disease called Progeria. It is a genetic disorder that mimics the effects of aging, causing hair loss (alopecia), thickened skin (scleroderma) and often results in a failure to thrive. It causes her to have an almost alien like appearance: Large head, small features and she is also bald, cause you know, she didn't have enough going on. She might have small features but she has a huge heart.

She told her mother she wanted to be a star. Her mother, like the good woman she is, set about to do whatever she could to make her baby girls dream come true. She hit the Internet running and within a short period of time she was able to drum up a huge following of supporters for this spunky little girl. She has her own website, her own YouTube channel and over 4 million likes on Facebook. Not bad for someone who hasn't even been alive long enough to remember what life was like before Facebook.

Adalia Rose

It's what any one of us would have done right? You have a kid, you do whatever it takes to make them happy. Especially when that kid has the odds stacked so hard against her. Unfortunately, for every story of inspiration on the Internet, there is some bottom feeder looking for their fifteen minutes.

Enter Bree.

Bree (I will only use her first name as she is a minor) created a page called Adalia Rose Memes (link contains seriously offensive...everything. Definitely NSFW). She thought it might be a nice idea to take pictures of Adalia and post them with funny captions. Whats funnier than calling a five year old a whore? Calling her an alien? Really funny, at least I'm assuming she found them funny. Personally I thought they were pretty ignorant and hateful myself but hey, I'm no "comedian" as Bree refers to herself. I'm just a mom.

A mom with a lot of friends.

As most of you know I am a social media enthusiast, everyone knows it. I have been involved with the same core group of moms for three years. I haven't met any of them face to face but I have been there, in our groups/message boards/chat rooms, for the births of their children, through divorces and marriages and sadly through the loss of loved ones. We are tight. We fight with each other like sisters but when the chips are down we band together. It's a beautiful thing.

Do you really want to mess with someone who has over 200 sisters?

One of the mommas brought it to our attention that this Adalia Rose Memes page existed. Immediately we all went over and a few of us had words with the followers. No big deal. The problem was they weren't even a little bit abashed by the fact that they had been caught out doing this awful thing. They were PROUD of it. They truly believe that Adalia's mother is exploiting her so in protest they have created this page. That's their story and they're sticking to it. It's not OK to create a support page for your sick child but it is apparently perfectly acceptable to steal their pictures, slap vulgar captions on them and poke fun at their disability. The logic is astounding.

Wanna hear something even more astounding? I know you do.

Facebook, in it's wisdom, thinks it is perfectly acceptable too!

Sure, post a picture of your child breastfeeding and they drop the hammer faster than an auctioneer at Barrett Jackson but bullying a five year old? That's just good fun. These photos have been reported by all of our group members, on the basis that it violates Facebooks policies against hate speech. According to Zuckerberg's minions there is no hate speech. None of the photos have been removed and the page is still open for business. Never mind that this is being perpetrated against a disabled child, never mind that some of these memes are racist in nature. It's the Internet. Suck it up. Freedom of speech. Yay first amendment.

Freedom of speech? How about common decency?

Not offensive or racist at all *eyeroll*

A friend of the family broadcast an appeal to the haters on YouTube, to no avail. There were hate pages and ugly memes about Bree, which ironically were taken down faster than whores drawers. While we got a kick out of the poetic (karmic?) justice, slacktivism isn't really our style. Why flame someone on a website when you can go national? We are currently in talks with NBC, CBS and other news affiliates. They were repulsed by the fact that Facebook has let this go unchecked for as long as it has. We couldn't get through to the creator of the page or appeal to her nonexistent sense of decency so we are appealing to you faithful reader. One thing about us Internet moms, we don't take this kind of thing lying down. Don't let them get away with this, for Adalias sake. Protest this.

Sign this petition.

Report this page.

Contact your local news.

More importantly, teach your children that this is wrong. Where the hell are this girls parents? Do they think this is acceptable behavior?

Do you?


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No Cure For The Summertime Blues

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I have always believed that summer is a time for relaxation. A time to relax your stringent rules and schedules and go with the flow. Wear floaty bohemian skirts and pile your hair on top of your head in a messy bun. Barbecue things wrapped in tinfoil. Splash carelessly in the surf with your flip flops in your hand. Embrace your inner hippy.

Then I had children.

I freaking hate summer.



"Why no, I don't have kids...How can you tell?"

Did you know that this is the first chance I have had to write in my blog since the end of July? I used to have a faithful following, now they have probably all forgotten me. I cant blame them. Who wants to re-read old blog posts. I wish I could return to those halcyon days when I actually had a spare hour once in a while to write. Now I'm lucky if I have time to have a shower.

Summertime is a never ending flow of visitors and visiting. We have spent a grand total of five minutes at home this month. Every weekend there is another round of relatives to visit, barbeques and trips to the park/beach/fair. A day at the beach requires planning, packing and all the tactical skills of a military manoeuvre. There are no spur of the moment trips when you have two toddlers. By the time you get the kids dressed and sun screened, the diaper bags packed, snacks made and car seats loaded half the day has passed. We are constantly rushing here and there and sometimes, when the stars are aligned just right, we are lucky enough to get the kids home before bedtime. Routines go out the window and are replaced with tantrums thrown by kids who are overtired and overstimulated. Packing the kids into the car after a day at the beach? Be prepared to have people in the parking lot look at you like you're the worst parent ever. It's a reasonable assumption when they see you wrestling your screaming child into a carseat, especially when darling daughter is screaming "No mommy, please, NOOOO" and you are standing there, red in the face with a vein on your forehead about to pop.

Quick, grab her before she gets away again.

I sometimes envy my single friends...the ones without kids that is. They are out there, making the most of the great weather. They are being spontaneous. There they are, sitting on the beach and BAM! A friend with a boat motors up near them:
"Hey, wanna go for a cruise up the lake?"
" Sure, why not. I don't have any plans."

Here's how that conversation goes when you have two toddlers:
"Hey, wanna go for a cruise up the lake?"
"Sure, let me find Mr. Zinga. I'm sure he'll watch the kids for a little bit. Crap, he's all the way out on the dock. I guess I could take the kids. Do you have any life jackets? Oh right, you don't have kids, why would you have kids life jackets. Tell you what, why don't you come back in half an hour, I might be able to get Mr. Zinga's attention and then I might be able to get him to watch the kids and..."
Friend with boat moves on to next group of friends.
"Hey, wanna go for a cruise up the lake?"

Number 67543 on the list of things they don't tell you about being a parent: Your single friends will suddenly abandon you faster than you can say "Someone needs a diaper change."

Hey, where did everybody go?

There are a lot of things that I hate about summer. The hustle and bustle, the stress and the heat. The tourists, the traffic and the overcrowded beaches. Long line ups at the market and longer line ups at the ice cream stand. The fact that I can never wear a two piece bathing suit again.

First world problems I know.

There are a lot of good things about summer too. I'm not a total hater. I like to garden, I like to barbeque and I am not averse to spending time suntanning in the backyard while my oldest daughter runs through the sprinkler. My family loves the summer and because I love them I put on a brave face and pretend to be enjoying myself. Doesn't stop me from eagerly awaiting the changing leaves of Autumn. I tolerate the heat and humidity, for three very good reasons.



CeeCee Zinga (Left), Parker Zinga (Bottom Right) and Mr. Zinga (Top) 

My crusty faced, sun loving babies and my wonderful (thankfully NOT crusty faced) husband.




All Stock Photos: Free Digital Photos
Bottom Photo : Mr. Zinga Pin It

Magnet Puzzle Tutorial

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If you have been reading my blog regularly you probably remember the crafting disaster (of epic proportions) Fun With Magnets:Magnet Board Tutorial. Not my best work, that. It wasn't a total fail, I got some swanky new fridge magnets out of the deal, so there's that. I got those stickers from a coloring book I had bought my daughter. Now that coloring book has long since been abandoned, it's pages scribbled over and the best of the lot saved to the scrapbook. Left behind was a fairly pristine cover.

Can I just say, whoever thought of making tear out pages in kids coloring books is brilliant. CeeCee has the attention span of a gnat and if I gave her the whole book to play with it would be destroyed in minutes.

So anyway, here I am with a Sesame Street coloring book cover and a bunch of magnets left over from the magnet board fiasco when all it occurs to me: That part of the craft turned out OK. I'm good at cutting things out and I am good at sticking magnets to things.

Why not stick some magnets on a picture of Elmo and make a puzzle out of it?

Seriously, that's all you need

You Will Need:

• A picture you want to make into a puzzle
• Enough photo magnets to cover said picture
• A pair of scissors

I don't think it is copyright infringement. After all I bought the book. I'm not making money from it. I'm just upcycling it.

 

Step One: Cut out your image

Furry little bugger was hard to cut out:(


I was pretty lucky here, in that there were two really nice options on this cover. There was a great picture of Elmo on the front and a cute pic of Cookie Monster, Zoe and Elmo flying kites on the back. Since I apparently grow Photo Magnets and I had time to kill I decided to do both. Cutting out Elmo was a pain in the arse, I'm not going to lie. Next time I will keep the shape simple. In retrospect I should have just cut a bubble around Elmo but live and learn. The Cookie Monster picture was way easier.

Step Two: Add the magnets

Cut  the basic shape first, then go back and refine it.

Magnet paper is sticky as hell. You want to make sure you get this part right the first time. If you find you have paper hanging over the edge don't sweat it, you can always add more magnet to it. Just cut some to fit and add it in the areas you need a bit more. The goal here is to have magnet sticking out around the edges so you get a nice flat finish. You don't want paper hanging over the edges, it will just get worn and look awful with wear and tear. Carefully cut out your finished shape.

Step Three: Make it a puzzle

Finished puzzle pieces

This was the fun part. All I did was cut the pictures up into puzzle shapes. That's it! I used a simple six piece puzzle shape and eyeballed it. Next time I might make it a little more complex, since CeeCee got the hang of this one on the first day. She still loves playing with it though, it has become part of our bedtime routine. She puts it together before bed and I mess it up again for her in the morning.






This was a really easy, fun and quick project. The cost was $2.50 and for that I got two magnet puzzles, with high quality images, that are providing hours of amusement and important hand eye coordination. Not to mention bragging rights. Maybe one of these days I will get around to making the magnet board too:) I hope you guys give this one a try and please, share your results with me.

Happy Crafting Everyone:)
Mamazinga Pin It

Avoiding the Grandparent Trap

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You guys ever had this happen to you?

You're having a great morning with your kids: cartoons are on, everyone got fed without incident, your oldest child is running around in a diaper with rubber boots on the wrong feet waving a magic wand (What? That only happens to me?). Everything is going swimmingly and then...BAM. The doorbell rings. Nana pops in for a visit on her way to work. You love her but you can't help but wince internally. There goes your peace and quiet for the rest of the day. She means well but she manages to wind your kids up like clockwork mice every time she see's them. Your children adore her because with her every day is a holiday, drum sets are perfectly reasonable gifts for toddlers and lollipops are one of the four major food groups.


It's not her fault. Her grandmother did it to her, her mother did it to you and one day you will get to do it to your grand kids. It's the circle of life. It is a grandparents privilege...no...it is their responsibility to spoil the crap out of your kids. She is under obligation to every generation of grandmothers before her to continue this time honored tradition, effing up your routines and systems. You see, when she was raising you, her mother made a half joking prediction. She said that one day you were going to grow up to be a handful, and that you were going to give your mother all the grey hairs that your mother gave her. Sound familiar? She probably said the same thing to you when your child was born.

Then she set out to make it a reality.

"I'm not spoiling them dear, I'm just being a good Grandma."

Being a grandmother means never having to say no. It doesn't make sense. She had no problem telling you no when you were growing up. It's as though she was given a finite number of no's and then wasted them all on you. Now everything is yes. Staying up past bedtime? Yes. Candy for breakfast? Yes. Dirt bikes for their birthday. Hell to the yes!!! Grandma is the toddler equivalent of a rock star. She gets to do all the things with them that she wished she could have done with you. The problem was she was too busy raising you and trying to keep you from drawing on the car with a rock and/or licking an electrical outlet. Now she is making up for lost time.

She doesn't have to do the whole disciplinarian thing. That's YOUR job. She gets to play now. They didn't have any of these cool toys when she had you. When you were a baby you had a rattle, a teddy bear and a favorite blankie. If you were really lucky you got a walker with wheels, guaranteed to send you headfirst down whatever set of stairs was closest. Thanks to the combined efforts of both sets of grandparents your kids have toys worth the GDP of a small country. Why the bounty now? Easy. She doesn't have to buy diapers anymore. She can afford the fun stuff. I suspect she might have stock in Toys "R" Us.

"An Xbox is a great present...Yes, I know she's only three, whats that got to do with anything?"

So, how do you avoid a rift in your relationship with your mother while ensuring she respects YOUR rights as a mother? The same way you eat an elephant. One bite at a time. You can't change her and you shouldn't want to. She might drive you batshit crazy but her heart is in the right place. Really, can you ever hold a grudge against someone who loves your kids so much that she is willing to let them use her as a jungle gym for hours on end? Not to mention enduring endless hours of "Ring Around The Rosie" and "Itsy Bitsy Spider". You can't change her but you can change the way you look at her. Here are a few useful suggestions to get the most out of her visits and get some precious alone time while you are at it.

Draw your line in the sand.

Let her know what's negotiable and what's not. She gave your kid a second helping of cake for dessert without asking you first? Meh...not the end of the world. She gave your child a big ice cream cone and a milkshake because she doesn't believe he's actually lactose intolerant, you are just overreacting? Ok, that's crossing a line. Remember that this is YOUR house and as long as she is under your roof she needs to abide by your rules. Just pick your battles wisely. Keeping them up past their bedtime probably isn't worth starting a family feud over. Causing them physical pain or discomfort, albeit unintentionally, is grounds for a showdown. In my house I can shrug pretty much anything off with an eyeroll and a glass of wine BUT when it comes to the safety and health of my children I will pitch a fit (out of sight of the kids of course, they don't need to see friction between the authority figures in their lives).


Make her bring food.

This is especially important if you have new babies in the house. This technique was perfected by my own mother, who realized early on that even the most unwelcome visitor will be graciously received...provided she has Indian takeaway and ice cream. Nothing says "Sorry for dropping by unannounced at the worst possible time." better than a big plate of Butter Chicken and a double scoop of Pralines and Cream.

Get her to babysit.

So, she want's to come for a visit, eh? That is a fantastic opportunity to go get your hair did, do some errands or even just take a shower for twenty minutes, uninterrupted. Shave something, for Pete's sake. After all, she knows how to take care of kids. She raised you didn't she? Granted it wasn't as stressful back then, before the internet made us all paranoid about our parenting skills. Just make sure she knows how to open the childproof locks on the fridge and garbage cans before you leave (trust me on this one)

Let her clean.

Are you like me? Do you shoo people away when they try to help? STOP THAT. Ok, so it is a little annoying when you open your dishwasher and the plates aren't how you like them and the dryer is stacked with a pile of towels folded the wrong way. Suck it up, put it all away and be grateful you didn't have to do it yourself. It's not as easy to bitch about how much extra work grandma visits are if you actually let her pitch in and help. Just because she wants to tell you the "right" way to sort cutlery doesn't mean you have to listen. Just smile and nod and take the help.

Stash the Toys.

She showed up at your house with yet another pile of toys for the kids, despite the fact that you have asked her repeatedly not to spoil them. Who says you have to give them all to the kids at once? Put your foot down. You might not be able to stop her from shopping but you can control how you dole out the gifts. Give the kids a couple and put the rest away in a closet. Wrap them up for Christmas, Birthdays, Groundhog Day. Whatever holiday you want. Did she bring a ridiculously age inappropriate toy? Tell her you will gladly hang on to that electric guitar until your infant is old enough to appreciate it. Make sure it's her name on the tag so the kids know who to thank and make sure there are no live animals involved. Decomposing hamsters make lousy presents.

"They're going to love her...Do you think we should have asked first? Nah, didn't think so"

Finally

Respect Her Wisdom

All jokes aside, as irritating as her behavior can be remember this; Whatever you are going through with your kids, chances are she went through it too. She might piss you off from time to time but she is a sympathetic ear. She understands why you have bald spots, she tore out a few clumps of her own hair when you were a kid too. She knows a home remedy for every complaint and, at the very least, will make you a nice hot cup of tea and listen to you vent. She knows how to get rid of colic, earaches and can diagnose chicken pox and slather your kid in Calamine lotion faster than you can Google the symptoms. She will never judge you, even if she doesn't understand you. She might be their grandma but she will always be your mom.

"You actually WANT my opinion? Really? Are you feeling OK?"

And she did a pretty damn good job with you!



All Images: Ambro at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
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