Lies My Mother Told Me

Sure, I teach honesty and integrity same as the next mother. But do I practice what I preach?

Evidence to the contrary:

1) Last week, during a trip to Disneyland, I told my boys they were allergic to cotton candy so they would stop begging for it.

2) At bedtime, in an effort to get my boys to go to sleep by themselves, I tell them that I will be right back. Then I leave the room and stay away until they pass out.

3) I tell my boys that their vitamins/vegetables are magic pills that make them stronger and smarter overnight. In reality, the only thing that makes you instantly stronger and smarter is excessive flattery.

4) Again with the "magic" lies...I tell my boys that there is an invisible force field around their bedroom that makes it impossible for monsters to enter.

5) When Jet asks me if he is going to be big and strong like Daddy when he grows up I tell him yes, even though with a mother who is 4"11, the odds are strongly against him.

6) I allow my children to assume that Darth Vader is real, but have explained to them that the tooth fairy is purely make believe.

7) I told my boys that if they pee off of the top of the backyard shed again the police will come and take them away to jail.

8) I tell my boys that if they pick their noses and fart at school no one will want to be friends with them.

9) I tell Felicia that I'd rather her be a drug addict than an unwed teenage mother, like I was. --- Oh wait, that's actually true.

10) I turn Nick Jr. on for the boys and tell them that Daddy and I need to lock our bedroom door for "wrestling time". This worked until Tru wanted to join us for one of our impromptu wrestling matches. Now I tell him we are making the bed---thank heavens he doesn't find that sort of thing interesting.

11) Perhaps the biggest lie of all: I tell my boys that I know absolutely everything and can tell when they are lying to me.

I mean really, how else am I going to teach my children to be honest, ethical, healthy, well-balanced human beings without bending the truth from time-to-time?

Days of Plenty...late nights and turtle brownies, that is.

Yesterday afternoon could have ended in catastrophe with the dog (Max) running away (again) while I was in the midst of emailing a rate quote for a potential gig, and the boys (Tru and Jet) running away (again) to find him. For any of those who have visited our home and noticed that the deadbolt on our front door serves the double-purpose of keeping people outside from getting in AND people inside from getting out, Tru's frequent escapes to the nearby train tracks with little brother in tow are the reason why. Even a mediocre mother knows curious boys and high-speed trains don't mix.

Fortunately, this time Tru and Jet were discovered hiding out at The Carter/Woody house down the block; who can blame them? They have a trampoline. After being apprehended and returned home, we all sat down at the dinner table (a novel idea) for some freshly baked Dominoes pizza before Danny and I had to jet out for date night.

Date night for us consisted of attending the Days of Plenty Concert at The Historic Murray Theater. Yet another one of my side-jobs is booking events there, although it took Molly Jackson and her incredible organization, A Good Grief, (www.agoodgrief.com) to get me to actually attend something I'd booked. In a nutshell, A Good Grief Organization evolved after Molly begin blogging about losing her little girl Lucy. She gained a following of bloggers who related to her loss and pain, and before long, hope grew from grief, along with Molly's overwhelming desire to help others navigate the emotional and financial hardships that accompany the loss of a child.

There was a whole slew of talented vocalists on the line-up, including Lea Cabrera, a dear friend of mine. At the end of the concert, while Molly belted out "Days of Plenty" from the musical, Little Women, a moving slideshow was shown in memoriam of the "Angel Families" from her organization who have either received headstones or are waiting to receive headstones for their little ones. I'm not much of a public-crier, but looking at those precious little faces--all gone too soon--I couldn't help but think of my own healthy boys and girl back home, and just how lucky I am to have them to hold, even if it's just for a short time. It goes so quickly! (And some days not quickly enough.) I can still remember a four-year-old Felicia singing on a pizza parlor table in exchange for free ice cream, and now we're getting ready to relinquish her to college. I made up my mind on the drive home from the benefit concert to be a magnificent mother most days, as opposed to a mediocre mother more often than not. I would get my maternal shit together and make cookies from scratch, put photos in an album somewhere other than Facebook, iron things with actual starch instead of throwing them in the dryer with a wet towel.

Who am I kidding?

When we got home and Jet (you've been hearing a good deal about his antics lately) came out of his room refusing to sleep, you know what I did? Instead of sending him packing to bed, I brought him into the kitchen and asked him if he wanted to make turtle brownies with me--from the box, of course. Silly question to ask a four-year-old. In the battle of brownies vs. bedtime, guess who won?

We washed down the brownies with milk and the pre-recorded elimination episode of American Idol--between the two, I'm not sure which could be worse for a toddler in terms of overall health and well-being. At any rate, it was after midnight when we finished our sugar and song foray. Tru had migrated from his room out to the couch with Jet, and Felicia fell asleep on the floor next to the space heater.

Now it's the morning after. I know I should feel guilty--although I'm not sure exactly why, just accustomed to it, I suppose--but there was no school today and we ate what was left of the late-night brownies for breakfast. Now if that isn't killing two happy birds with one stone, I don't know what is.





If you are dealing with the loss of a child, or loss of any kind, I strongly recommended following Molly Jackson's moving blog: A Good Grief Blog

Even better, donate to her incredible organization: DONATE NOW

PS. Max came home, too.

Rub-A-Dub Toaster Waffles in the Tub

Call it brilliant multi-tasking or sheer laziness, but this is what happens when we oversleep and the school bus is on it's way, leaving no time for both breakfast AND a bath. Toaster waffles meets tub-time. Bon Appetit!

A personal pat on the back, however, for following Dr's orders by not allowing Jet to get his cast wet.

Spidey Takes a Tumble

Several weeks ago, while I was attempting to bake blueberry muffins from the box, my youngest son, Jet, jumped from our computer chair while wearing his Spiderman outfit. The result: Two broken bones and Jet's teary-eyed indictment, (directed at my husband and myself) that, "You were supposed to catch me!" Of course, we were in the other room blissfully unaware of the dangers of rolling computer chairs combined with toddler Superhero role-play.

Daddy rushed Jet to the hospital while I stayed behind to get myself and my five year old, Tru, dressed for the day--despite the fact that it was almost noon. I hurriedly packed a bag of burnt blueberry muffins to take to Jet in the emergency room, only to be informed that he couldn't have anything to eat until after anesthesia--after I'd already allowed him to take a whiff of the bag, of course! Oops.

In the end, Jet ended up with a barrage of attention from doting nurses along with a souvenir set of X-rays, while I went online and ordered him the Darth Vader costume that I'd previously told him he couldn't have until Halloween because I'd been waiting for a sale.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I don't cook.