What Moms Really Want For Mother's Day

Mother's Day is quickly approaching (it's this Sunday, May 11 in case you didn't know) and if you are still wondering what you get the special mom in your life I will tell you the perfect gift for her.

Give her a vacation.

I am NOT suggesting that you pack up the the kids and go to Disneyland. That would not be a vacation for a mom. She would still be working. No, give her a day off.

Do you have a job? Do you enjoy your job? Do you get days off? How many hours do you work a day?

I don't know about all moms, but for me, I love being a mother, but I don't get weekends off. I start working at 7:00 am when I wake up the kids. I am going pretty much non-stop until 10:00 pm when my baby goes to sleep (that's a 15 hour day people!) Then I usually get a 2 am wake up call by Lucas. Even if you love your job, you still need a break, vacation days, and sick days. All day I am bathing, dressing, diaper changing, cleaning, cooking, laundering, folding, vacuuming, entertaining, playing, chauffeuring, helping the kids practice the piano and do homework . . . you get the picture. I never get a day off. If I am sick, Hubs does help if he can (he has a job too you know).

For Mother's Day, I would love a day off. No cooking. No cleaning. No dressing the kids. No changing diapers. And a clean house. (I know Mother's Day is on a Sunday, and we try not to work on Sunday, so this might take a little extra planning on Friday and Saturday.)

Don't get me wrong, gifts are lovely. I think something like this would be sweet for a Mother's Day present, but in my opinion, Mom's just want a day off. And who knows, maybe after seeing all that Mom does for you, your appreciation for her will grow. And you won't throw a fit every time she asks you to clean your room (hint, hint Rosie and John!)

Do you agree? Disagree? Let me know, I don't want to send my two readers astray.

The More the Merrier

Tonight the kids were talking about wanting another baby. I told them that sometimes I can't even take care of the four kids I have. John thought for a moment, then said, "I know mom, just get some more husbands to help out!"

What do you think about that Hubs?

The Other Woman

This is probably not the place to be talking about this, but we live in a world where everyone bears the most intimate details of their lives on Facebook, talk shows, reality TV, and blogs. Since this is a blog, I thought I'd jump on the bandwagon and confess an intimate detail of my life with everyone who stumbles onto this site.

There is another woman in Hubs's life.

I don't think he minds me telling you this, because he doesn't do much to hide the relationship.

She's with him everywhere.

At work.

She's his companion at lunch.

He even brings her home, to our house, when I'm there!

They usually eat breakfast and dinner together (again, at my house).

I've asked and begged that she at least stay out of the bedroom, but some mornings I wake up and there she is, between Hubs and me, his hand draped across her back. 

Would you like to see what she looks like?

I have a picture, if you haven't scrolled down already.

Here she is.








I mean come on! How can I compete with that? She's thin, sleek, cool, young and can do so many things I can't. And, she has great apps (get it? Great apps, like abs?). No wonder he can't get enough of her (sob, sob, sniffle, sniffle).


Now, I'm considering getting a guy on the side for myself.





What do you think? Pretty hunky huh?

My Biggest Fear

So. . .

I have about five drafts I've started, thinking: "Oh, this is hilarious!" Only to type them out and realize, it was not funny. I have tried to bring hilarity to your lives, but if you remember from my first post, I am not funny. I try though, and have had a few people tell me they enjoy this blog, so I will continue. Watching my mom read "Who Wears Short Shorts?" was pretty epic. She laughed so hard she cried. That was on my bucket list, so I can die now. Just kidding. There are other things on my bucket list I need to do first. Like get the green jello with carrots pin from the 2002 Winter Olympics. Anyone know where I can get my hands on one of those babies?

What was my point? I guess it's taking me longer to get good material than I expected, but I will continue to try to put a smile on the face of anyone who wants some good, clean silliness.

Back to the Ranch, as my awesome junior high Spanish teacher, Mr. Harrop, would say. Maybe someday I will have to do a blog about him smacking his yardstick on his table (he broke chunks off several times, it eventually became a ruler), and the other crazy things he did. . .

Now, back to the ranch clase, for reals!

I am sick today.

Boo!!!

So is Hubs.

Double Boo!!! Because now he can't take care of me.

I started feeling sick on Saturday, but, I had to go to church on Sunday, because I had Sharing Time.

If you don't know what "Sharing Time" is, I'll briefly explain. Every three months I give a twenty minute lesson to all the kids at my church, for the whole month.

Wow, that really was brief.

Well, today I thought about how it seems like whenever I'm sick on a Sunday, it's a day that I'm teaching Sharing Time.

Coincidence? Probably not. Can I share a secret with you? I'm sure I can, seeing how this is a public blog for anyone to read. You'll never tell right?

All right, here's my secret. You see, teaching Sharing Time terrifies me!

Okay, now that you've pulled yourself off of the floor from laughing at me, I'll continue.

I'm serious! Being up in front of ten (or so) kids and keep them attentive, engaged, (translation: quiet), and hopefully teach them something scares me to death. I mean think about it. There are ten of them and only one of me.

What if they realize this and revolt against me?!

After all the stressing, fretting, and sweating I do every week it's my month to teach, it's no wonder I get sick!

Now, if you'll excuse me, there is one more Sunday in this month, so I better start preparing for my next Lord of the Flies, I mean Sharing Time.

Right after I finish hyperventilating into this brown paper bag.

"Work"

I'm Baaaack!

Did you miss me? (Insert British accent) We had a jolly good time on holiday in Utah. We attending many gatherings and events with family and acquaintances. (Back to American accent) So if you were anxiously awaiting a new post (ha ha, yeah right!), that's why I haven't written in a while.

Now, here is "Work."

One day, Hubs called to tell me he would be home early, but he was going to do some work at home. He asked if I could occupy the children so he could write some reports (no, he's not a student).

Of course, since I am a loving and supportive wife, I told him, "Of course I will continue to care for the children and keep them away so you can get your work done."

This is him "working."

CAUTION: MAN AT WORK

When he woke up finished working, I told him at 9:30 that night, I would be needing to do some "work" myself, so could he please occupy himself and the children?

I didn't get to "work" until after 10:00.

The Most Embarrassing Moment of My Life/How to Get Rid of a Salesman

Before I get to my post, I just want to thank everyone for checking out my blog, posting comments, and sharing on facebook. Already it's had more views than I ever thought it would. And this is what, my fourth post? I'm so glad that there are others who find my humor, well, humorous. So anyway, thanks.

I will now relate "The Most Embarrassing Moment of My Life" (or at least my most embarrassing moment in the last ten years) aka "How to Get Rid of a Salesman."

Last Thursday, at approximately 6:30 pm I was sitting on the couch nursing Lyla. The doorbell rang, and John excitedly ran to the door. I was expecting it to be Hubs coming home from work.

"John, will you look out the window and see if it's Daddy?" I asked.
He peered out the front window. "Yep, it's Daddy." he said and opened the door, just as Lyla broke off from eating, exposing my --

Well . . . you know.

The door opened and there stood a Comcast guy. "Uh, that's not Dad." I brilliantly noted.

Now, the front door is in perfect view of the couch I'm sitting at. I could see him, and he could see me.

ALL of me.

I tried to use Lyla as a human shield (I don't know why I didn't just pull my shirt down) as Comcast Guy hands John a paper and says, "Give this to your mom. Sorry ma'am." and runs away in record time.

Huh.

Who would have thought all I had to do was flash the salesman to get them to leave? You would think doing that would make them stay. I guess I'm not as young as I used to be, so this might not work with young ladies. But, if anyone is willing to give it a try, I'd love to hear how it turns out.

Who Wears Short Shorts?

Rosie and John are taking swimming lessons. At their class, I noticed a strange new trend in the swimming trunks of their male instructors. They are a little more than a Speedo, a lot less than board shorts, and show pretty much the whole thigh. If you need a visual, click here. (If it makes you feel better, it's just a picture of the shorts, no one is wearing them.)

I was feeling a bit embarrassed, making sure I looked up at the teachers, and almost started giggling at the ridiculousness (spelled right of the first try) of these itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny shorts. I began to have a conversation with myself.

Brittany: Hey Brittany, those shorts are pretty short.
Brittany: Yes, yes they are.
Brittany: Do you think it's a new trend?
Brittany: I certainly hope not. Maybe it's just for hard core swimmers.
Brittany: They are pretty ridiculous.
Brittany: I know! Could you imagine someone we know actually wearing those?
Brittany: Hey, (chuckles) could you imagine Hubs in those shorts?
Brittany: (laughing) Yeah, that would be hilar-


Oh.


I pictured it. 


And it was hot. 


Now, I think everyone who reads this knows my husband, but in case you don't, let me describe him for you. He's 6'3'' and weighs about 150 lbs. I drew an awesome picture so you can visualize how skinny he is. Prepare to be amazed by my art skills.

I know, I know. You are blown away by my talent. Here is Hubs in the shorts, and remember ladies, he's taken.

Now I just need to think of the least awkward way to ask Rosie's teacher where he got his shorts.