37 thoughts on “But I Bake a Mean Cookie”

  1. I hear ya: Lula (17 months old and running) hasn’t worn shoes for a few weeks. Every time we go out David says we (I) really need to get her some shoes. It’s just such a hassle, though. She’s always losing one and then the other.

    Like

  4. Oddly ill-equipped? Never! Did you think about napkins and/or paper towels? I know they can be a tad “rough” but they are a part of the family of paper products accepted and endorsed by the NETPA (National Emergency Toilet Paper Substitution Committee.)
    Just you wait missy, the oddly ill-equipped doesn’t hit until you have gone through the TP, tissues, you use your kid’s last toddler wipe and then find yourself saying to your 4 y/o “yes, I know it’s a napkin, it’s all we have right now and it’s better then NOTHING!”

    Like

  5. Been there, done that. There’s always baby wipes, but they don’t flush very well…..
    The best is running out of milk and trying to convince your toddler that what he really wants is water.
    I take the lazy way out on the socks and buy all white.

    Like

  6. I guess I’m lucky – hubs is so paranoid about running out of tp (traumatic childhood incident? Recurring nightmare? I really don’t know) that he stocks up on those ginormous packs of, like 193 rolls of tp from the warehouse store.

    I’m not sure I think of myself as “lucky” when I open the bathroom cabinet and eighty rolls of tp cascade down upon me. Lucky, lucky me.

    Like

  7. Been there…I think every mom has, even if she won’t admit it. Mismatched socks and toilet tissues aside, if your kid is happy, healthy, and relatively well adjusted, you’ve done an amazing job!

    Like

  8. No worries, about the second or third time you wake up with peanut butter in your hair while wearing underwear for the third day in a row wiping will seem totally secondary.

    Like

  9. There isn’t a mother alive, well there are the super judgmental ones but who cares about them, who looks at a mismatched kid and doesn’t know that they’ve insisted on there own clothes.

    We are down to the tiny travel size kleenex in my house.

    Like

  10. Actually, good friends of mine have a one year old, and they’ve decided to give up on the matching socks and bought a bunch of colorful pairs, then mix and match. It’s actually really cute (especially when they’re stripey and different colors) in an endearing sort of way.

    Like

  13. Wait until you forget parent teacher conferences. Or forget to return the signed permission slip for the field trip.

    Like

  14. My favorite is the third trip to MD for pin worms in one year. Barefoot, thumbsucking toddler is a magnet for pin worms.

    Like

  17. We ran out of toilet paper, moved to tissues, then paper towel.

    We ran out of paper towel in the house so I went out to the garage and got that roll.

    I seriously have no right to call myself an adult much less a mother.

    Like

  19. I’m there, sister. Mine:

    Realizing when I’m in a public place that both The Dude and Giant Baby have messy faces. Not like, a smudge. Like, boogers, oreos, waffles and Goldfish crackers encrusted. Then I feel the need to exclaim every 2 steps: “Wow, your faces are dirty.” Because I know people are whispering about my dirty children.

    And wait until Hank is proud of his morning wood. PROUD. When The Dude (who is 5) ran into our room to show me “how funny it is!” I laughed. And laughed. And laughed. Until my husband said, “Babe, it’s a hard-on. Get over it.” Sigh….

    Like

  20. funny how you can whip right thru a double sized, three ply roll of tp in about five minutes when you think you have more – just fritter it away as if, as if it grows on trees . . .
    yet in the end, when you are faced with an empty cupboard and nothing but the sticky stuff at the end of the roll – somehow i can make that last for days. imagination is a powerful tool and it doesn’t take too much of it to convince myself that the one inch single ply strip of tp is ENOUGH. my finger is NOT wet. and there are still three strips left. ha, i am giddy with enoughness.
    as for socks – i taught monkey to wear flip flops as soon as humanly, toddlerly possible.
    the thing that makes me feel all loser mommish, is that i frequently forget to feed my kid. i’m always running late, so usually i forget to bring lunch to the park, we constantly have snack envy and we’re really fucked if there is no drinking fountain nearby . . .

    Like

  23. I can’t even keep houseplants alive. I have no idea why I thought I’d be able to handle a baby.

    When my little boy Luke was a newborn and I was having a bit of a breakdown about how poorly I felt I was looking after him, own mother told me she that she used to use tea towels when she ran out of cloth diapers. She went on to tell me about how she used to leave laundry in the washing machine for days, until it went mouldy. The fact she told me this just when I needed to hear it was an excellent piece of mothering — she is, and always has been, beautifully well-equipped for mothering, even when we were wearing mouldy-smelling tea towels instead of diapers.

    Like

  24. I ran out once, and borrowed a roll from work, only to run out of the borrowed roll, and still not have picked up more. Needless to say, I had to make an emergency trip to the store.
    It happens.
    Oh yes, and I’m not a mom, unless you count my 30’something husband.

    Like

  26. You learned absolutely nothing from me, did you.
    As for the socks, the washer will eat 1 of each pair. Buy all white.

    Like

  27. Hey – my uncle taught all his boys that the only place you need to wear matched socks is to a wake (because when you kneel in front of the coffin, people can see your socks…)

    Like

  28. Yeah, I thought I was having one of those Supermom days today. Got both kids down for a nap, then started making dinner. Marinaded the salmon, made salad dressing, started a batch of homemade gelato. Paused to congratulate myself for being such a domestic goddess, then realized I hadn’t changed the baby’s diaper in HOURS. Ew.

    Like

  29. I went to work more than once in mismatched shoes. Granted the were the Dansk clogs, one in blue and one in black. Yes, I chalk it up to that!

    Like

  31. Comment #14 oh no, I hope that never happens.
    comment #19 gah! I hope the hubby isn’t deployed when that happens!

    in my prior life I secretly thought “what is wrong with that mother?” when I saw crusty kids. Then last week at the grocery I had 7 month old Henry the Fifth in my carrier. When we got to the car, I took him out and realized people weren’t laughing at him for being so stinking cute. Turns out he had a huge dried up crusted booger stretching from his right nostril, up his cheek and around his eyebrow where he had wiped his nose and then rubbed his eye. I was dismayed to discover that MY kid is the crusty one.

    ooh oh- I think I smell a poopy. He had corn yesterday. wiping someone else’s corn poopy is the worst!

    Like

  32. You’re doing pretty good there, yah. It’s more of an occasion when one of my kids actually wears two matching socks. Now that I have two, the “ill prepared moment” comes when I realize that I have put a pair of socks on the 4-year-old that belongs to the toddler, or vice versa. Or one of each.

    Messy faces? Puh-lease. I had such a kindred spirit moment with a mom at the Y this morning when I heard her say to her kid, about to enter the pool area: You call that a shower? You still have blueberry on your face!

    Like

  33. mismatched socks are called “switched socks” in my house. Part of a daily uniform, pulled from a basket of unfolded, unmatched socks. I highly recommend the freedom this brings Life is too short to sort and fold socks. My house rule — If you dress yourself, you can wear what you want.

    Like

Comments are closed.