Such a “McCoy” Mother’s Day

HappyMothersDay

Yeah, yeah, yeah… I know I’m Momma Bish… but before I was Momma Bish, I was (and always will be) a McCoy. If you aren’t a McCoy, you just don’t really get it when it comes of oddball luck, “go figure” moments, roadfinds, and the general shiznit that seems to happen to our family members. Since a couple of our McCoy men have left this world, we have started to feel as though they are orchestrating some of these shenanigans now. One recent example… the WTF Mother’s Day flowers.

Two things… my mom LOVES getting flowers… and I think sending flowers is the stupidest idea ever. They are overpriced. They die way too fast. I would rather cook someone a meal. BUT… whatever… it’s Mother’s Day… so my gift to my mother isn’t about me. Right?

So… I scour the internet and find the PERFECT flowers to send her. An arrangement of three POTTED perennials, arranged in an ombre fashion, that are PERFECT for the Maryland climate, and absolutely adorable. I literally spent a good 45 minutes researching these damn flowers to ensure they would last a LONG time.

Even better – I have a COUPON! I input all my information, the price gets knocked down to $24, I pick a FREE SHIPPING day… and select PayPal. I log in, click the purchase button… and I’m taken to a screen that confirms my $53 ORDER?!?!?!?! Wait… WHAT THE FLIPPIN’ SCRAMBLED BANANAS IS THIS SHE-OT?!?!

Oh, hells no. I pick up my phone, call their customer support number, and demand my order be cancelled. (You don’t charge someone more than TWICE the amount they agreed to pay!) The sweet flower lady informs me that my order has been locked in and she can’t cancel it. This requires contacting another department. She puts me on hold. Five minutes later, she returns to the line, apologizes for the wait and offers me a 20% discount. Um… no. She explains there is only one person who can cancel the order at this point and asks if I mind holding again. I’m placed back on hold. (No worries, I didn’t have anything else to be doing at 6:30am on a Saturday morning.) Again, she picks up, apologizes, and offers me a 20% discount and $5 off the shipping. NOOOO.

“Ma’am, I can go to Costco, buy my mom eight times as many flowers, and deliver them myself for this price. I just want my money back!” The poor woman is obviously growing frustrated with the fact she can’t do anything for me. In total, we are on the phone for 30 minutes.

Then, she makes an offer. “Sweetie, I can’t speed this up, but what I’m going to do is issue you a refund and stay on the line with the other department until they cancel this order. I’m going to warn you though, there is a chance we won’t be able to stop the shipment and the flowers will still be sent out to your mom.”

WAIT… WHAT?!?! This was a FABULOUS OFFER! YES, I WANT THAT, PLEASE! We finished up the call and was SOOO eager to share my story… but it wasn’t even 7am. I waited… waited… waited… okay… 8am. I picked up the phone, called my mom, told her the fabulous tale, and informed her she “may or may not be getting flowers for Mother’s Day.”

“Emily Marie, it is just like you to tell me what I’m getting for Mother’s Day.”

“But Mom, you might not get it.”

With a giggle, “Well, now if I do, I know you didn’t pay for it… so you still have to get me something else, too.”

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On Wednesday, my phone rings… it’s Mom.

“Emily Marie – I had totally forgotten about these flowers and they came and I was so surprised!” She continued to go on an on about the package and the card (which included a heartfelt thanks for pushing me out of her lady bits) and she was thrilled… but didn’t mention the flowers.

“Mom, tell me about the FLOWERS! I spent forever researching them… aren’t they beautiful?”

“Ummm… I guess? I don’t know.”

“Wait… what do you mean you don’t know? Aren’t they cool looking? Do you like the different colors and how they fade from hot pink to white? It’s ombre – totally “in” right now.”

“Uhh… I think they’re yellow.”

Oh shit. My mom must be losing her mind… or they sent her the wrong flowers.

“Mom, they are in a box that fades from pink to white, right?”

“Yeah.” Okay… she wasn’t losing it. What in the world did they send her? Maybe they found out I got a refund and stuck something else in there.

“But… the flowers are yellow?”

“Oh, there aren’t any flowers.”

“What the sh*t? They sent you an empty box?”

“No, it isn’t empty. I think I have to grow them or something. It’s just a box with some peat moss in it… and three bulbs under the peat moss. This one looks like it’s starting to come up. Kinda looks like a penis.” (Sorry Mom, it’s pretty much the funniest part of the story.)

Awesome… I’m trying to be a good daughter… and I send my mom a “Grow Your Own Penis” kit. WHAT HAVE I DONE?!?!?

I requested a picture of the “not flowers,” just to see what had arrived. Ready folks?

FLOWERS

I will admit, these little buggers are growing rather quickly… and I’m enjoying daily updates on their progress. Perhaps this wasn’t the biggest fail ever… oh dear… no… not a fail at all… just another ridiculous “McCoy Mother’s Day” story.

flowersgrowing

Cheers – and a very happy and beautiful Mother’s Day – to the woman who pushed me out of her lady bits, and raised me to be a totally awesome, sassy, piece of work. On behalf of the world, I would like to thank you for raising a couple of awesome members of society… who aren’t afraid to voice their opinions, stand up for what’s right, and truly make a difference in the lives of others. Well done! (Now go water your free penis flowers.)

Homemade Felt Food… Because… Diabetes.

Felt Food

Oh, I’m sorry… does that title come across as a little extreme to you? Well, it’s not. Did you know the CDC is predicting that 1 in 3 Americans will have Diabetes by 2050?!?! That is freaking terrifying. Over the last month or so, I have been tediously sewing felt food by hand for Munchie, Sweet Cheeks, and any other kiddo that comes over to play. After spending an HOUR sewing together a slice of bread, I figured it was time to pack up and just invest in some manufactured play food.

I began my search with some basic criteria. I wanted to find healthy foods (so eventually, we can work together and learn how to create well-rounded, healthy meals), decent quality, and sizes that were somewhat proportionate to one another (a whole roasted chicken is not the same size or smaller than an apple).

First stop – IKEA. Their selection of felt food offers a healthy variety and we already own their felt vegetables, so I know they are of good quality. Unfortunately, the fruit basket is nearly impossible to find and there is a serious lack of protein options. (But, I did manage to find some AWESOME pots, pans, and tools for our little kitchen.)

Second stop – Dancing Bear. They offer a decent selection of Hape felt and wooden foods and play kitchen accessories. I also learned they have a birthday registry, where kids walk around with a box and fill it with the items they want. (Umm… after already sending out a birthday invite that specifically requested presence, not presents.) The price is a little more than I was looking to spend… but the foods are healthy, the quality is lovely, and the foods are proportionate.

Third stop – Walmart (because we needed allergy meds). The selection was disappointing… the quality was almost humorous, and the proportions? I saw a pineapple smaller than a strawberry. SKIP! (Whatever happened to the super awesome Little Tikes kitchen stuff that we grew up with?!?)

Fourth stop – Toys R Us. Their online selection was half decent… but in store?!?! I was appalled. I have literally NEVER been so enraged by the toys I saw on a shelf until Friday afternoon… and I felt a little silly… because… who gets this passionate about pretend food for their kid? I DO. I had two choices. On one side of the store, I could spend a fortune on Melissa and Doug foods that, for the most part, fit my criteria… but I had read the reviews on these. They are heavy and dent floors, kitchens, little pots and pans, etc… so, no. And the other side of the store? You can get pretend processed foods, junk food, or a giant multi-pack that includes both… with a few TINY fruits and veggies tossed in. Awesome… heart attacks and diabetes in a box. (Over half the food was either fried, dessert, or some other unhealthy junk food.) Also… WHY are there ONLY PINK picnic baskets and tea sets? (Angry feminist side came out, too.)

I got home, turned to Amazon, and realized that BUYING healthy, decent quality food for Munchie’s imaginative play kitchen would cost more than a month of organic produce… so I’m back to stitching felt together… to promote healthy food choices among the kids I love so very very much. Cheaper. Healthier. Full of LOVE.

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Note: I’m not trying to condemn parents who expose their kids to unhealthy pretend (or real) foods… but I do encourage you to be cognizant of what your children are playing with (and consuming), discuss nutrition, provide healthy food choices in your home during snack and meal times, etc. (Heck, I made a felt hot dog and we don’t even buy hot dogs anymore because of the nitrates. I’m not going to talk to my toddler about nitrates… but I will surely talk about other foods we can grill, like chicken, shrimp, and steak… which I will eventually sew… but I started with the easy stuff.)

My C-Section Was… Necessary.

c-section

Two copies of my birth plan were tucked inside a manila folder… the last thing I packed in my hospital bag… it sat on top of everything else, for easy access. I had poured my heart and soul into that thing… I had spent month contemplating the events that were mere moments in our future. We arrived, I handed my plan over to the nurse… and we reviewed it together. In it, a note to my medical team… “We have no idea what we are doing. I know I’m carrying a giant baby. Please just be honest with us. I understand a c-section may be medically necessary.”

After three hours of active pushing, the news came. “You can keep pushing, but your baby isn’t coming out this way without injury. Dislocated shoulders, broken collarbone… he just isn’t going to fit. My recommendation is that we get you scheduled for the OR before this turns into an emergency.”

Tears… and an overwhelming feeling of defeat. WHY? WHY CAN’T I DO THIS? ISN’T MY BODY DESIGNED FOR THIS? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? Three hours of pushing has gone by… surely, just another 30 minutes would be enough time to push this little guy out, right? I remember looking at my husband… apologizing. (Looking back, perhaps he should have been the one apologizing for impregnating me with a tiny giant… my family makes little babies.) But, in that moment… he just looked at me like I was crazy. He reassured me of how awesome I was, as he stepped into his OR outfit.

I didn’t WANT a c-section. This isn’t the outcome I would have selected… but, I knew it was the best option. I was exhausted. I was terrified. Truthfully, I don’t remember much… except accusing the anesthesiologist that he was trying to kill me (because I couldn’t feel myself breathing)… and then I fell asleep.

I remember my husband walking in and asking if I was okay. “Oh my God! Is she dead?” Just what everyone wants to hear while they are already fairly convinced they are dying. The anesthesiologist must have thought we were both crazy… but he calmly explained that I was exhausted and just sleeping.

I remember blurred chatter… as if Charlie Brown’s teachers were speaking. I remember my head was turned left and Patrick was sitting on my right. Then, I assume I fell asleep. I am completely unaware of what was probably the most important and most traumatic part of my birth experience. THANK GOD.

The next thing I remember is Patrick telling me to look at our son… and I simply didn’t think I had the strength to roll my head over and open my eyes… but I did it… and as soon as I saw that adorable child… I didn’t think there was any possible way that could be OUR baby. He was just too damn cute!

Was it my ideal plan? No. Would I have done anything differently? Absolutely not.

The way your child(ren) entered this world… or your family… these are details… intimate details that weave the intricate pattern of your family bond. All people are different. All stories are unique. No one person or story is more important or better than another. In the world of parenting, we are all warriors. So as long as you LOVE your child(ren)… and do your BEST to raise awesome humans… you have my unfailing support.

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Post inspired by: Three Truths About C-Section Mamas

Last Minute Basket Boppity

Easter Basket Boppity

Dude, seriously? It’s like 11pm the night before Easter and you TOTALLY forgot about that ding dang bunny you child is expecting to get treats from in the morning… but you have been too busy working/cleaning/checking FB/etc and neglected to push your way through the crowds this year. Perhaps you literally forgot… or maybe you are still in therapy over last year’s fiasco of taking an elbow to the face while reaching for the last Reese’s Peanut Butter Egg (no, I feel no remorse for my actions… those things are my primary springtime food group… #sorrynotsorry).

Honestly, I don’t care why you have been caught empty-handed tonight… but whatever your reason, just thank your lucky stars it’s just an Easter basket… and not as severe as waiting until Christmas Eve to start shopping for gifts. I can totally help you out… so, let’s begin.

Okay, your kid(s) is/are in bed. If this is a two parent household, someone can just run out and scavenge the shelves of the local pharmacy, grocery store, Target… or (because these are desperate times) the gas station. Easter related or not… just grab it!

If you are the only adult… you might have to get a bit more creative. Perhaps a neighbor will take pity on you and stay with your kid while you follow the shelf scraping scenario mention above… but if not, prepare to get creative!

Depending on the age of your kids, you might be able to pull a few quick ones. Go take a look in your snack cabinet. See anything good? (Heck, I put apple pouches and gummies in my kid’s basket. I literally took them OUT OF THE PANTRY!)

Now head over to the creative/art/crafty area of your house. See any new-ish stickers? Coloring books? Bubbles? Sidewalk Chalk (not even a whole box, just a couple new sticks)? New art stuff that hasn’t been opened? It’s all fair game! If they’ve had it for a couple of weeks and haven’t touched it… you can pretty much bet they have forgotten about it.

Same goes for toys they haven’t seen or played with in a while. Dig deep in that toy box!

Have kids who are a bit older? Hop online and start printing out tickets to local museums, events, etc.
– Mini Golf
– Laser Tag
– Train Museum
– Trampoline Park
– Rock Climbing
– Movie Tickets
– Pump It Up

You can even make your own coupon book with stuff they might actually enjoy.
– 30 extra minutes of screen time
– Ice cream date with Mom
– Dinner at Chuckie Cheese (Yeah, I know it sounds like hell… but keep in mind… YOU SCREWED UP! Bet you’ll remember the chocolate next year!)
– Go shopping for a new kite
– Family hike/bike/run
– Picnic in the park
– Trip to the garden center to pick out flowers for spring

Another idea for kids who are a bit older is giving them cash… and then taking them shopping the day AFTER Easter… and they can get twice as much candy/toys with their money.

In terms of the basket? Grab a basket, bowl, box… whatever you can find! Skip that stupid Easter grass (you can tell your kids you are saving the environment or something)… and arrange everything nicely.

Now, set it on the table, take a couple bites out of that carrot they left for the mystical beast, and leave some flour footprints on the table. If you hooked them up with a “unique” gift, you can write a note explaining that you thought it would mean more to them than candy.

OH, SUPER IMPORTANT… if you fail to find any sweets for that basket… either bake something immediately, or stick $5 in their basket so they can buy some.

If you read this and don’t think you need the advice… I bet you know someone who does… so you might want to share it, post it, pin it, tweet it… whatever… because you could save a little kid’s Easter and keep the magic of that mystical furry rabbit alive.

Send Auntie K to HARVARD!

auntiek

Auntie K has been selected to attend a Leadership Summit at HARVARD! Get more details about this opportunity here.

Don’t know who Auntie K is? Um… pretty much one of my favorite people in the world. She’s a high school student with incredible aspirations, hopes, and dreams. Remember that age when you truly believed you could do ANYTHING you put your mind to? Well, she’s there… and she really does have the determination, drive, and brains to achieve pretty much anything she could possibly want to do (like, legit smart).

She’s also one of the only teenagers I trust to care for Munchie (there are literally only three or four high school students I will leave him with) and he loves her to pieces. Oh, and did I mention she’s my editor? That’s right – she edits everything I post, so I don’t look like a total fool on the interwebs. (Which, I totally did look like at one point… before she cleaned up the evidence.)

To sum it all up… Auntie K is AWESOME and I want to do whatever I can to support her in reaching her goals and achieving her dreams. She has the opportunity to attend a Leadership Summit this summer at Harvard through People to People (I’m sure a LOT of us have some sort of connection to this organization).

The catch? This adventure comes with quite a hefty price tag… so, she’s asking for our help. If you’re looking for a way to help a promising young woman continue her transformation into a strong leader, I encourage you to kick a few bucks her way. Think of it as an investment in the future!

A lot of times on these online fundraising sites, people are hesitant to make a donation because they don’t know the person… but now you do… and she’s fabulous! Sometimes, people feel like there is a minimum amount to donate… but there isn’t! Heck, skip your latte today and send her a fiver… grab a handful of paper shreds from the office recycle bin for your kid’s Easter basket and send her the two bucks you saved on Easter grass… that twenty you keep in your wallet for emergencies, send her that – our future is pretty freaking important and this kid is our FUTURE! Trust me, every little bit helps… and Auntie K won’t disappoint. (Hmm… maybe I’ll have her recap this adventure in a guest post upon her return!)

BEST WISHES TO OUR FAVORITE AUNTIE K! Your leadership abilities, passionate attitude, incredible determination, and creative “out of the box” mindset will take you far in life. Cheers!

I Love Pizza… and Mommy

PIZZA

After 30-minutes of NOT napping, I rescued Munchie from the torturous confines of his room. He had tossed all the contents of his crib over the rails, including his beloved binkie, buddy, blankies, and CRIB SHEET… because I guess throwing out the crib sheet is the toddler equivalent of an adult throwing in the towel.

All he wanted was OUT of his crib. He immediately requested we “sugg-le” together on the floor and read some books. Freaking adorable. He proceeded to poke the eyes of every character in the pile of books we read. Then, he insisted on a song. After “You are My Sunshine,” he said, “AGAIN!” About 27 encores later, he let me off the hook.

We came downstairs and I offered him an early lunch. “Pizza or bock bock chicken, Alex?”

“Chi-chin!” – This is pretty much his go to… so we always double-check, if another option is available.

“You want bock bock chicken? Or do you want pizza?”

“EEEEZZZZAAAAHHHH!!!!!” Yeah, I was pretty sure he didn’t initially comprehend (or hear… because he is already perfecting the skill of ignoring adults).

I reach into the fridge, grab a slice of cold pizza, plop it on a plate, and hand it to him. (He freaks out if we put it in the microwave and part of it gets hot… so don’t judge.)

Taking his plate to the table is his new favorite thing… so he carefully grabs the plate and starts walking toward his seat. He then stops, turns, and says, “Tanch you, Mom!” (Two things… tanch is thank… and he started saying Mom and Dad before Mommy and Daddy.)

I respond with, “Aww, you’re welcome, Buddy,” and kiss him on the cheek.

He marches to the table while saying, “I yuvoo.”

*Momma Bish melts into a puddle.*

This new thing of giving kisses and saying, “I love you,” independently and not as a parroted response is freaking precious. Kind of makes me happy he refused to go down for a nap. It was worth it.

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Please note: Despite his charm, this kid WILL MOST DEFINITELY be napping this afternoon.

Staying Home with Kids… and Maintaining Sanity

Staying at Home

Staying at home with kids IS NOT for everyone. (Gasp!) I’m serious. You would be shocked at the number of times people have looked at me and said something like, “I don’t know how you stay at home with kids all day. I COULDN’T DO IT.”  I’ve read countless articles, blogs, comments… blah blah blah… from other stay at home parents and childcare providers that have the same message, “If you had to stay home, you would… and you would be just fine.”

Yeah, sure… when you look at it in terms of survival… the vast majority of the population could stay at home and care for children… if they had to. But, that doesn’t mean they should… especially if you don’t want to. What people are really trying to say is that they couldn’t handle it… and that’s totally fine! If staying at home with kids all day would result in you driving to the closest mental health institution and checking yourself in, then please… don’t stay at home with your kids.

“But, Momma Bish… I stay at home and sometimes feel like checking myself in at one of those places… it sounds like a vacation!” Oh, don’t you worry… I think every parent EVER has felt like this at times. It just makes you normal. That’s why parents (all parents, not just stay at home parents… because even working parents are stay at home parents on the weekends… or days off) need to create a “HOLY SH*T ESCAPE PLAN.” Put it in your phone, tape it to the fridge, tattoo it on your arm… I don’t care… but in a moment of “OMG, I’M SELLING MY CHILD(REN) TO THE GYPSIES” panic/rage/disbelief… just read through your plan and find an alternative solution. I’ll share mine with you… feel free to adopt similar strategies.

MOMMA BISH’S HOLY SH*T ESCAPE PLAN
1. Lock yourself in the bathroom/outside for three minutes and calm down with some of that focused breathing sh*t they taught you in those birthing classes.
2. Call/Text/Message a parent friend for a 60 second vent session. (If my friends and I need to vent, we typically start the conversation with OMG… I NEED THE NUMBER FOR THE GYPSIES!) While this contact doesn’t have to be a parent, they are often able to relate to your situation a bit better.
3. Leave the house. Don’t leave the children… this is illegal… but get out of the house and go do something. A change of environment might just be what everyone needs. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy… go to Target, the park, for a walk… just GET THE EFF OUT.
4. Ditch the kid(s). That’s right… have a list of people to call if you just need a break. (We ALL need breaks. If you don’t know anyone… go to family events and activities, find a parent group, church, etc…) Our list consists of grandparents, aunts, uncles, family, friends, neighbors, teenagers, etc. (Hell, last week, I posted on FB that we needed a sitter and within about 10 minutes I had seven people offering to help.) Taking a break doesn’t make you weak… asking for help is a necessary part of parenting.

As a preventive measure, always have something on the calendar. “Play date” is a fancy term we use to not only socialize our children… but so we can socialize with other adults, too.

The key to staying at home is to form allies… and helping each other out. But remember… being around kids full-time isn’t for everyone. There are plenty of people who have the skills and passion to do so. Find what you love and do it… I’ll sit here and watch your kid(s) while you do. (Umm… except that’s a lie… because I’m at capacity… but you can find someone else who will.)

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One more thing… this whole post has me thinking about how I COULD be an accountant… but that would drive me crazy… and I would just start punching people in the face… which is why I’m not an accountant. Let’s all do stuff that makes us (at least moderately) happy.

Don’t Be Jealous I’m So Glamorous

Glamorous

I know that I always look glamorous as hell… in my yoga pants (that hopefully don’t, but probably do, have food crusted to them or milk spilled on them) and old t-shirt (which most likely has chocolate finger prints on it, thanks to a granola bar that I fed my grubby little kid…with the name of an organization scrolled across the front/back of it that I once volunteered/worked for, proving at one point in my life I really did have my sh*t together) and my (not so) flawless complexion which doesn’t even need (but could really use) a fresh application of makeup (which I never wear… like ever… even before I had a kid or two to tote around… because it’s just not my thing) and my hair up in a perfect ponytail/bun (and by perfect, I mean it’s a hot freaking mess… because fine and thin hair doesn’t stay in place when you are wrestling toddlers to the ground as you calmly explain why they need to wear pants in public… as they continue to struggle and wiggle like a snake, acting as if wearing those pants will cause their legs to fall off).  So… I mean… it’s pretty hard to nail this look… but I do it daily… like a boss.

You’re welcome world!

Brownies for Breakfast

brownies

“I’m sorry, you can’t have four brownies for breakfast. You can only have one.” Yes, these words really did (truly) come out of my mouth this morning.

Two years ago, as the size of my ever-growing belly stretched into new dimensions that challenged the laws of physics, I was on a mission to feed my kid healthy, organic foods and raise him with a picture perfect and incredibly wholesome diet.

Yeah… I laugh at that fat lady… riddled with nonsensical ideas floating about in her brain… something that can only truly be described as a hallucinogenic state brought on by an overwhelming amount of crazy pregnant lady hormones.

Don’t get me wrong… we eat a well-rounded diet, buy organic when it comes to the most important foods… but there’s no need to deprive my kid of a brownie for breakfast… especially one that he painstakingly went through the effort of procuring himself this morning, during a quite intense mission… using MacGyver-like tactics… until the holy grail of chocolaty carbohydrate goodness was in his grubby little hands. (I know… because I sat at the dining room table and watched the whole thing happen… but he didn’t know I could see him.)

He grabbed the plate, removed the foil… and exposed his prize. With fists full of brownies, he rounded the corner toward me, shoveling piles of deliciousness into his face. Oh, and what a face treat they were… I could tell from the elated grin on his face… all the larger since he had indeed discovered these treats on his own. Independence is rich.

Rather shockingly, he shared a handful of brownie with me… as he consumed his portion. Then, back round the corner he went… emerging with even MORE brownies.

*insert the scratching of a record here*

I don’t think so kid. I mean, yeah… brownies aren’t much worse for you than syrup soaked pancakes (actually… they may even be a little better for you)… but your limit is one.

So sure, I let my kid eat brownies for breakfast sometimes… and for the record, leftover cake is also a perfectly legit breakfast food… but who cares? The key is moderation… special treats… and balancing it out with plenty of nutritious meals the rest of the day.

I know I’m not the only mom feeding my kid “non-meal foods” at meal time. So come on… share the love… what do you let slide as breakfast/lunch/dinner on occasion? (Yes, this would include feeding your kid an entire meal of Goldfish crackers… which is usually covered up nicely by saying, “We had fish for lunch!”)

Proud Mom Moment – My Kid Discovered Bubble Wrap

Bubble Wrap

Okay, let’s be honest… he didn’t like invent the incredibly entertaining, ingenious material that is so amazing… it has its own virtual apps… but he did figure out how to pop it… and for me… that’s pretty much the same thing (aside from the fact his type of discovery doesn’t result in any money in the bank… yet).

Seriously though… how freaking awesome is bubble wrap? The travesty is that most companies are opting to “save the plant” by using alternative shipping materials (like those stupid bags filled with air that aren’t any fun to pop… but you still have to pop… or they don’t fit in the trashcan), so the rarity of bubble wrap actually arriving at my door to cuddle the contents of my precious packages is truly depriving my child (and all children, for that matter) of the genuine fun (and an added risk of suffocation, I suppose) that is part of the joy one feels when opening a package. I mean… I might have gone straight up hippie and consumed my placenta… but that doesn’t mean I want to give up my bubble wrap. (Get with it Amazon Prime… I don’t want my sh*t delivered within the hour via drone… I want it in a giant box filled with an unnecessary amount of bubble wrap! Shoot… I will even let you get creative and select the size of those bubbles!)

And now that this post has turned into something of a rant… what ever happened to those freaking awesome environmentally friendly, cornstarch packing peanuts? Those things are incredible! You can get them a little wet and stick them together. I imagined creating towers… no, that’s thinking too small… EMPIRES with those things when I had kid(s)… and now… I have to pay a freaking fortune for them at the craft store? No bueno.

Ugh… whatever… refocus. (As I scroll back up to look at my child, brimming with excitement, as he stomps on 1″ plastic bubbles, squealing with joy.)

The day my kid learned to pop his own bubbles (and not in a dream crushing sort of way… or any of those soap bubbles that I try to avoid blowing because it makes me dizzy) was one of my proudest moments to date… and a true milestone (take that baby book publishing companies).

Cheers Munch-a-rino! Thanks for always sometimes usually making Momma proud. (I mean… you did Sharpie the television this week… so I have to take that into consideration.)

The Twists, turns, and true tales of a mom and her pint sized human

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