17 different women, 36 crazy children, 0 babies in utero
Adventures, Advice and Questions from a group of Mormon women who met in Queens, NY and have now scattered all over the place.

Friday, November 16, 2007


Lately I have been feeling out-of-body. Like, I am totally in my life, but every once in a while, I have a moment, and I take a step out and just observe it from behind someone else's lens. And frankly, I find it kind of hysterical:

Poopy on the toilet trying to "get the juice out" of her bum, me sitting on the floor in front of the toilet, alternating turning the sink faucet on and off (to stimulate that tingly feeling) and giving her sips of her not-too-chocolately-it's-more-a-mental-thing chocolate milk, and Pukey standing in front of the bathtub playing a D Major Scale on her violin for the fourth time.

Poopy on the toilet, trying to "get the water out" of her bum for 20 minutes, me, sitting on the floor, up against the wall trying to eat my cereal with fresh raspberries that oddly were on sale for only $2.99 in the middle of November, Poopy wanting bites, but only WITH those precious raspberries.

Me, in the car...having dropped Pukey off at dance, and needing to get Poopy at school. The drawbridge is up 200 yards away, and apparently stuck. I put the car in park and start to finish my book, hoping that some miracle happens and I am actually able to pick up both children in the appointed time. After much waiting, reading, New York Driving, and hope in my heart, I made it with about 25 seconds to spare.

Me, at the post office. Strategically going at 11 am (after the morning crowd, before the lunch crowd), with ipod and two sets of reading materials in hand...waiting. No children. Lady behind me engages in this conversation:

Lady: (disgruntled). This post office always takes SO long.
Me: (smiling, nice). I don't complain.
Lady: Well, that's what we New Yorkers DO.
Me: Not me.
Lady: Well, maybe when you're 80 you'll have something to complain about.
Me: It's my goal not to. (smile).

Me at Gracious Home, trying to find a star to top my Christmas tree. In 10 Christmases with my DH, I have NEVER had a proper star. I have two requirements, it must be silver and reasonably priced. I hear the employee behind the counter say: "Should I label it Ms. Ripa?"
The woman checking out, NOT Ms. Ripa says: "No, Consuelos, C-O-N-S-U-E-L-O-S"
Employee: "That will be 1000 some odd dollars. And it will be delivered to Ms. Ripa tomorrow."
I look at the price tag of my star, $18.00 and think....that's a little pricey, but buy it anyway.

Me again, this time walking in the rain, choosing to not wear my rainboots because it's just drizzling and severely regretting it. Later that day, getting wise to the rain, switching my flats for the boots only to take them off again b/c now I am driving, and it is too difficult to drive in those boots. The doorman graciously comes out in the rain to open the heavy gate to our parking lot, only to close the door to the building so I have to fumble for my keys and get pretty wet in the process. Ugh.

Me, allergic to latex, faced with blowing up a balloon to start our paper mache turkey centerpiece. Idea! non-latex cleaning gloves on hands, thick layer of vaseline on lips. Door rings, in comes my handyman I am sure wondering why the gloves and scary vaseline. oh well. I blow up the balloon then promptly wipe the vaseline off my lips...no reaction. Hazzah! outsmarted my allergies, and we have a turkey breast in the works.


  • So is the life of a mother. Today I had a similar experience. As I was changing my sons diaper, my daughter was wondering if his poop would be as good as chocolate. Chocolate is brown, poop is brown, therefore poop must taste good. I found myself panicing as I am trying to explain the poop won't taste good, all the while worried that if I don't explain it well and in a way she understands I will soon find her with a mouth full of her brother's diaper. Yuck. My husband was the one to really help me see the humor. Good thing to have a husband to put things in perspective.
    posted by Blogger Chantel at 11/16/2007 02:28:00 PM  

  • I agree- your life is pretty hilarious! It's great that you have such a fun sense of humor through it all. Thanks for sharing it and making me laugh today.

    I always thought you looked a little like Kelly Ripa too, but prettier and without the fake blonde hair. :)
    posted by Blogger LJ at 11/16/2007 03:18:00 PM  

  • um, Kelly Ripa's husband's name is mark CONSUELOS.
    so maybe it was her.
    posted by Anonymous Anonymous at 12/18/2008 10:27:00 AM  

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