Posts Tagged ‘mom’

My mother is my hero.

She is my hero because she is funny.

When we drove into Manhattan yesterday to take the kids to a museum, we passed the area of Grant's Tomb. She asked, "Who's buried in Grant's Tomb?" Then she giggled, "Grant." Like she's 10.

She is my hero because she likes desserts.

As soon as we sat down at Burger Heaven, she eyed up the desserts. Soon, the boys were picking out their desserts before they'd even ordered lunch.

She is my hero because she orders desserts.

When I ordered a spinach salad for lunch, she frowned and said, "I didn't raise you right." Then she ordered the red Jello with whipped cream for dessert.

She is my hero because she plays while the other grandmothers hold the coats and watch.

My mother played just about every game that my kids played at the Sony Wonder Technology Lab yesterday afternoon.

She is my hero because she’s not afraid to win.

We played a hip-hop song in the music section. When we whipped through the museum in an hour, she suggested we go to Grant's Tomb. So we did.

When the kids asked her who this was a statue for, she replied, "Some guy's horse's butt." It's educational rolling with my mom.

She is my hero because she has great ideas. 

When we got close to Grant's Tomb, she suggested we get close to this tour bus and roll down the windows. "Maybe we'll learn something," she said.

She is my hero because she doesn’t give up.

We had to walk a ways from the car to Grant's Tomb, so I thought my mother, who has Parkinson's disease, might need help climbing the stairs. I put out my hand for her, but she was already skipping up the steps like a school girl on a class trip.

She is my hero because she knows history.

She was right: Grant is buried in Grant's Tomb, along with his wife, Julia. My mother also knew much of the history surrounding the general, whom she lamented, "wasn't our greatest president," a little too loudly near the park rangers who work in the tomb.

She is my hero because she has patience.

She didn't tell me not to buy it for him, nor did she complain when he practiced it on the George Washington Bridge and beyond.

She is my hero because she’s my mom.

Share, share, that’s fair. Tell us what you love(d) about your mom.

Note: I was paid by no one for any mentions in this post, nor did I receive any swag. This was just a fun trip into the city during my kids’ spring break. But with all the hoopla over FTC guidelines, I felt I should make that clear. (Want a bugle?)

Pssst! Hey, you! We’d love to hear from you. Anything. A little hello. A “that was funny.” A “I’ve been a long-time fan” or “I’m new here.” Let’s get the conversation started. Some of you provided such great quotes for my books, that I’d love for everyone to hear from you here, too. You are such clever fans, all of you. Thanks!

Momma went away. Momma went away without the kids, without the husband.  Momma almost went away without the plane (or rather, vice versa), but I didn manage to make it to the gate on time nevertheless.

It’s not like I’d never traveled before, like I’d never been to Newark Airport. Excuse me, “Newark Liberty International Airport.” And yet, there I was, missing my turn for the off-site parking lot and heading toward Port Newark, which would have been handy only if I was planning to board a petroleum tanker. But they don’t sail to Kansas City, and that’s where I was trying to go last week. (more…)

Enjoy these MommaSaid classics of “The Back Fence,” funny things that happen to Mom:

Food Review

Thanks to Kim Kreis of Fairfax Station, Virginia, for this story:
Kim and her family were visiting friends. Her friend had made a nice dinner of vegetarian burritios. They all sit down for dinner when her son, Greyson, 4, starts picking at his food.
Then he blurted out, “Mom, this is horrible food.”

Mortified, Kim yanked him up from the table, left the room and gave him the polite behavior lecture. Then she told him he had to go back in, eat his dinner
and apologize to Miss Sandy.

He sat back down at the table and said, “Miss Sandy, I am sorry the dinner is so horrible.”

Free Puppies

Thanks to Kelly Beauchemin of Putnam, Connecticut, for this story:
Luke, 4, has been asking for a puppy. While Kelly love puppies and dogs, she’s explained to him that they just don’t have the time to spend with a puppy right now, and they’re expensive.

One day, in the car, he said, “Mommy, I have a great idea. I’ll take some of the money that I’ve been saving and buy YOU a puppy. What kind of puppy would you like?”

Smooth, Luke.

Potty Training

Thanks to Stephanie Savoie of St. Paul, Minnesota, for this story:
After spending a long time reading in the bathroom, and an even longer time washing his hands, Stephanie couldn’t wait any more for her 4-year-old son, Jacob, to be done.
(She really had to go.)

Right after she sat down, Jacob, who was watching her in the mirror, said, “You should stand up when you pee, Mommy.” She started telling him that Mommies had to sit. He replied, “Daddy can show you how!”

Share your funny stories with us!

At least my house wasn’t on fire. My neighbor’s house wasn’t on fire, either, but that didn’t stop the fire department from bringing out the big trucks for what turned out to be an overworked motor on the house vacuuming system. As they pulled up in front of my house around three yesterday afternoon, I thought what every busy mother would think: Please don’t block my driveway. (more…)

By the time the boys in front of me at church yesterday got to “forgive us our trespasses,” they really needed it. The older one, likely a college kid, was digging his fingers into his younger brother’s hand throughout much of “The Lord’s Prayer,” a time when we’re all supposed to join hands and ask to be delivered from evil. But on the last day of the holiday break, at least for his high school-aged brother, perhaps they were both being a little evil. I know the feeling. (more…)

My hastily produced rendition of the card in question.

My job, as it always seems to be on Cub Scouts outings, was to protect the children from all things of and having to do with sex. I’m not sure how I keep falling into this role, but I do, and it happened again yesterday at the Cub Scouts tour of the supermarket, of all places.

Sigh. (more…)

The Maytag’s dead, and yet I feel nothing. Other people, it seems, are very excited for me to get a new washer, but I don’t get excited over new appliances. New computers, yes, and the Tivo makes my heart go all aflutter. But I really didn’t want to shell out $900 for a new washer and dryer. (It was knocking on death’s door, too.) If I’m putting out that kind of cash, it better involve a flight to somewhere good, like a Caribbean island or Park City, Utah in February.

(more…)

If moms had their own new math, this would have been mine the other night:

 (1 child + 1 nightmare x 2 elbows) + (1 child + 1 virus x 23 tissues) = ?

The answer turned out to be: Mom catches the virus, yet does the same things she does every day anyhow.

The math later that day:

1 sick kid + 1 Maytag repairman + 1 playdate x 1 conference call – leftovers = ?

This one was more complicated, because it involved the following scenario:

The Maytag repairman arrives shortly before my conference call time and declares the washer dead. He gives me the damage report — $400 to repair it — at the very same time I am talking to a client on the phone. I am texting the amount to my husband while talking on another phone , when the playdate’s mother arrives to pick him up and my other son asks where he can find more tissues for day 2 of his virus. My husband texts back questions, which the Maytag repairman answers verbally, and then I text it back while simultaneously talking to the client, waving to playdate’s mother and pointing to tissues.

So the answer to the equation can be only one thing: Math is hard.