Total Momsense

My life as a wife, mommy and more!

Momsense Nonsense, July 2012

There are some days when blog ideas come to me as easily as a northerly breeze.

There are other days ….. eh, not so much.

Today’s one of those days.

Since I can’t keep a train of thought worth a darn, here’s an installment of what I like to call “momsense nonsense.”

  • How do super heroes and villains get their costumes? No one is supposed to know who they are, and yet they always have colorful, unique clothes that you know didn’t come off the rack. Unless they are seamstresses (like Toby Maguire in Spider-Man) or have a cool butler named Alfred (like Batman), then where are those clothes coming from?!?
  • It’s almost Big Brother time again. Apparently this summer’s twist is that former contestants will serve as mentors to this year’s participants. Please, please, please bring back Dr. Will and Mike Boogie. Bringggg-bringggg!!
  • I’ve been on an ice cream kick this summer. My current favorite is Mayfield’s Strawberry Cheesecake. It’s so good. Too good.
  • July 4, 2012 is just a memory now…. and the next truly major holiday is Halloween. Wondering what dear son will want to be this year. We’ve already been Star Wars characters and Batman in the past, but that’s still what he’s into this year. Thinking cap needs to go on. Heading over to Pinterest …..
  • Speaking of Pinterest, it’s as addictive as the Mayfield’s ice cream. I can’t tell you how many coversations in the past week that have begun with “I saw this pin on Pinterest….” Honestly, there’s some really cool stuff on Pinterest. I’m hoping to use some of the craft ideas I’ve seen in the near future.

OK, that’s all I’ve got for today. Hopefully a spark of creativity will come along and hit the fuse in brain and the next post will have more substance!

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And the shot heard round the world …..

Anyone else remember this?

If you’re a child of the 80s/early 90s, then chances are your answer is yes. It was usually shown at the end of Saturday morning cartoons, just before American Bandstand came on.

Tonight I googled Schoolhouse Rock to help me explain why we celebrate Independence Day to dear son.

I had forgotten that how much Schoolhouse Rock … well, rocks!

We listened to “I’m Just a Bill” and “The Preamble.” This put us on the path to watching “No More Kings” and “The Shot Heard Round the World.”

I don’t know who the writers of these songs are, but my kudos to them for being able to boil down important historical events into a way for a 6 year old to understand, but also for a 35 year old!

In case you don’t remember the impetus for Independence Day – and the real reason you should be celebrating tomorrow – refresh your memory:

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Leave me wishing still, for one more day with you

Being a reporter for the majority of my adult life means I question things constantly – maybe even to the point of obsessiveness. The beauty of being a reporter, though, has meant that most of the time I have the tools at my disposal to find the answers to my questions – and then some.

But there’s one question that will never have an answer, and it’s one that leaves me more than a little sad inside.

What kind of mother might I have been if my own mother were still alive?

My mom died six months before I got pregnant with my son. Those double pink lines on the EPT were bittersweet – I was going to be a mommy, but I was going to do it without the woman who’d nurtured me.

The first few months after dear son came along were r-o-u-g-h. Not only did I have to operate on very little sleep (which makes me quite the bitch) but I had no point of reference from my own mother as to how I was supposed to comfort a newborn. My mother-in-law was wonderful, but it just wasn’t the same as my own mother.

Now that he’s older, rearing him is somewhat easier, but I still long …. no, ache …. for my mother to be here to see all the silly things he does, to tell me how much he’s like how I was at age 6.

All these feelings lead me – and my sister – to read the book “Parentless Parents” by Allison Gilbert. Gilbert nailed the feeling I often have – that I’m adrift in an ocean where I just can’t be reached. I relate to Gilbert because she, too, is a journalist and has shared this experience I am experiencing.

One of the things Gilbert points out is the loss of my mother isn’t just my own. Even though my son doesn’t realize it now, it is his loss as well. He’ll never know what her fried chicken tastes like or how she sounded when she sang along with The Beatles or Statler Brothers.

I’ll have to hope my stories of her are enough.

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