Scary Mommy http://www.scarymommy.com A parenting community for imperfect parents. Thu, 31 Jul 2014 14:08:27 +0000 en-US hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.9.1 15 Things Moms Say… And What We Really Meanhttp://www.scarymommy.com/things-moms-say/ http://www.scarymommy.com/things-moms-say/#comments Thu, 31 Jul 2014 03:00:51 +0000 http://www.scarymommy.com/?p=50696 Image via Shutterstock 1. “Don’t make me come over there.” I really don’t want to get up or stop what I am doing to come over there. 2. “Because I said so.” And I can’t think of another reason. 3. “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” I am hoping that […]

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1. “Don’t make me come over there.” I really don’t want to get up or stop what I am doing to come over there.

2. “Because I said so.” And I can’t think of another reason.

3. “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” I am hoping that you won’t come up with anything to say at all for at least 30 seconds.

4. “Stop that this instant!” If you stop now, before I have to get up and come over there, we can forget this ever happened.

5. “Don’t make me turn this car around!” I am totally bluffing, if we turn around now we will be going home without any groceries, diapers or wine. We need to keep this car in route to it’s destination, so please just fall for my bluff and I’ll give you a cookie at the grocery store.

6. “Don’t forget to say please and thank you.” I’m not really sure what I’m going to do if you don’t say these things, so please just say them. You will look polite, I’ll look like a good Mom and we will all win.

7. “Eat your veggies and you’ll grow up to be big and strong!” I really don’t want to have to admit to your pediatrician that I can’t get you to eat healthy foods, but I also don’t want to have to lie, so please eat just a couple bites. I’m begging you. I’ll give you a cookie.

8. “You are just fine.” You are okay, right? Go run around and play, jump off the couch or refuse to eat your veggies, so I know that you are acting normal.

9. “Do you want a little cheese with that whine?” I wonder if I could teach you to go pour me a glass of wine?

10. “I am the parent and you are the kid.” I am aware that this is super condescending and that you already know who’s who around here, but I’m actually just giving myself a pep talk out loud, I’m not really even talking to you.

11. “Let’s try to not eat off the floor.” I don’t really care if you eat off of the floor, just don’t tell anyone that I let you.

12. “I would never have gotten away with that when I was your age.” I don’t actually remember ever being your age, but it sounds legit anyway.

13. “I am going to count to three and then you better be in your bed.” I literally have no energy left, it’s the end of the day and I just want us all to go to bed. I’m going to count to three very slowly and hope it works, because after that, I’ve got nothing.

14. “Goodnight, stay in bed.” Please, please, please stay in bed. I’m so tired tonight that I may actually pretend to think you’re in bed if you get up to play with toys, but please just close your eyes and go to sleep. Please?

15. “I love you.” I love you more than you can know. And I really hope I’m doing okay at this Mom thing.

Related post: 10 Things I Said My Children Would Never Do

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18 Tips For New Moms of Multipleshttp://www.scarymommy.com/new-moms-of-multiples/ http://www.scarymommy.com/new-moms-of-multiples/#respond Thu, 31 Jul 2014 01:06:04 +0000 http://www.scarymommy.com/?p=53318 Image via Shutterstock They say life doesn’t give you more than you can handle, a notion which new moms of multiples must remind themselves of daily. Whether you’ve got (or are expecting) two, three or – gasp – even more babies at a time, you’ll need all the help you can get. Here’s the top advice from […]

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They say life doesn’t give you more than you can handle, a notion which new moms of multiples must remind themselves of daily. Whether you’ve got (or are expecting) two, three or – gasp – even more babies at a time, you’ll need all the help you can get.

Here’s the top advice from our community to help you along the ride:

1. Add an extra hour to any arrival/return estimates. See #2.

2. Get ready to be a public curiosity. You can just go ahead and prepare your answers to hand out for the (sometimes intrusive and sometimes funny) inevitable questions that strangers at the store will ask, like “Are they twins/triplets?” “Are they natural?” “Can they read each other’s minds?” “Are they identical?” “How do you tell them apart?” Try to remember that they don’t realize that they are the 700th person this week to ask these very same questions.

3. Prepare to be broke for a really, really long time. Ever heard the term “rich in love”? Embrace it.

4. Keep the babies on the same schedule as much as possible. This includes feeding, bathing, sleeping, etc, so if one baby wakes up in the middle of the night needing a clean bottom and a bite to eat, go ahead and do the same for the other(s).

5. Invest in a dishwasher, if you don’t already have one. You’ll go crazy otherwise.

6. Make sure you have baby supplies on every floor. Otherwise, you get to pick between leaving one or more of the kids alone while you run upstairs for the baby wipes, or you get to carry all the kids up the stairs to change one diaper.

7. Even though you’ll want to get used to a synchronized schedule, don’t fall into thinking of your multiples as one unit. Each child is their own person, with their own likes and dislikes, and may develop at a different rate (they may even outgrow their clothes at different speeds!), so comparisons will achieve nothing.

8. Join a wholesale club, immediately. 

9. Realize that you are outnumbered, and accept any and all offers of help, no matter how small. Remember to say “thank you” … even if they “did it wrong.”

10. Everybody in the house should get at least 10-30 minutes of one-on-one time. It’s not their fault they’re a multiple.

11. Invest in a crockpot and learn how to use it. It will save you years in cooking time.

12. When one of your kids gets sick, it’ll probably be easier to skip the whole ‘trying to keep them separate so the other ones don’t catch it,” and just go ahead and get it over with. It’s inevitable.

13. Make sure your diaper bag stays packed. Have a backup diaper bag packed, too. You might even get a third emergency diaper bag and put it in the trunk. And then go ahead and put at least 2 extra diapers per kid in your purse, along with a small travel pack of wipes.

14. Buy multiples of everything. If one baby has a toy, the other kid(s) will also decide exactly 1.5 seconds later that they want that exact same toy, even if there are 62 other toys right there at their feet. Note: Color coding saves lives. Know that this won’t always be helpful, especially when one child decides that she wants all the red legos and then one Tuesday refuses to drink from the yellow sippy cup ever again.

15. Find other moms of multiples and make friends. Singleton parents can try, but nobody really gets it like a fellow multiple mom.

16. Buy a third-row vehicle. Sadly, even the largest, roomiest minivan on the market will feel like a matchbox car with all your baby crap piled in it.

17. The first time you successfully manage to take your multiples out in public alone and make it back home in one piece, you will feel like an Olympic medal winner. And you really do deserve the freaking gold.

18. Keep a sense of humor. You will have days, some more often than others, when you can either laugh or cry. Laughing is always better. Crying will just make your eyes puffy and waste precious baby wipes.

Related post: 10 Reasons It’s Awesome Having Twins

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40 Candleshttp://www.scarymommy.com/forty/ http://www.scarymommy.com/forty/#comments Wed, 30 Jul 2014 21:30:35 +0000 http://www.scarymommy.com/?p=53290 Image via Shutterstock My family did not forget my birthday. Today, the morning of my 40th birthday, my parents called my cell phone at 8:29 AM and sang “Happy Birthday” to my voice mail while I tried desperately to squeeze in a few more moments of sleep (and, maybe, denial). My husband had the 6-year-old and the 2-year-old […]

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My family did not forget my birthday.

Today, the morning of my 40th birthday, my parents called my cell phone at 8:29 AM and sang “Happy Birthday” to my voice mail while I tried desperately to squeeze in a few more moments of sleep (and, maybe, denial). My husband had the 6-year-old and the 2-year-old in the nearby family room of our rental house in North Carolina, where we are on vacation. They came bursting in the room about fifteen minutes later, bearing gifts: rocks from the gem mine we visited yesterday and a new gold necklace.

Later in the day, there was a chocolate birthday cake ordered by my mom from a nearby bakery, the words “Happy, Happy Birthday POOPSIE” emblazoned across the chocolate frosting, almost as if the letters themselves couldn’t believe they were spelling something so ridiculous. “I had to spell ‘poopsie’ to the baker three times!” my mother exclaims when I thank her. She doesn’t seem to think it is strange at all to call a 40-year-old mother of four “Poopsie,” and I guess it’s not. My 6-year-old will likely receive a chocolate cake with “Happy Birthday BEN-BEN!” on it when he turns 40, if I have anything to do with it.

This, I suppose, is 40 – and as much as I did relate to parts of Judd Apatow’s movie by the same name, it’s different than I expected, and different even from the 39 I knew six months ago.

Forty is being thrilled but dubious when people don’t believe my age… and crushed and indignant when they do.

Forty is finally accepting that I need to have some kind of actual skincare routine, even if all I can muster is committing to washing my face every night. It’s spotting those tiny wrinkles right above my lip – wrinkles that, until now, I have associated with my grandmother – and making the dermatologist a regular castmember in my life as opposed to the guest star role she had in the past.

Forty is walking into a baby store and realizing that I know very few people that might have a need for sleep sacks or pacifier clips anytime soon. After over a decade in the “baby zone,” I have graduated; by this time next year, none of my children will even have a need for diapers. That’s exciting, a little sad, and a little terrifying, because public restrooms. Mostly exciting. But still. Still, and maybe always?

Forty is seeing the Fifty Shades of Grey trailer and simultaneously feeling complete revulsion and also, okay, maybe a niggling bit of curiosity, because are they really going to show that stuff? And Sonny Crockett’s daughter is the star? OMG. (Sidebar: could we consider a middle-age version starring Rob Lowe and, I don’t know, Cameron Diaz? I don’t really care who plays the female lead, if we’re being honest. Just Rob Lowe.)

Forty is having an account at caringbridge.org to follow all your friends’ cancer treatments. Yes, I said “friends,” plural. And you hate it, even as you are grateful for the chance to be on the journey with them and support them however you can from afar. Cancer is an asshole.

Forty is embracing Facebook, maybe Twitter, and even Instagram, but I’m sorry: Snapchat is just… no, Vine sounds like work, and Tumblr confuses me. Don’t even talk about Kik. I don’t even know how to pronounce that.

Forty is wondering if maybe it’s just too late in life to learn to apply eye liner correctly.

Forty is being too old to take crap from people anymore or to spend time with people I don’t enjoy. It’s easier by the minute to take my 2-year-old daughter’s advice and “let it gooooo.”

Forty is not too old to be a little bit upset that Adam Levine just got married.

Forty is wondering if the sweatpants with hearts on them are too “young” for me to wear in public. They are subdued hearts, in my defense. But maybe I shouldn’t wear them while I voluntarily watch a third episode of Good Luck Charlie, just to be safe.

Forty is accepting that kale and brussels sprouts might be here to stay, and committing to eating them, but only with enough cheese involved. Maybe.

Forty is, I’m sorry, still not always accepting my body for what it is. I wish I could be all rah-rah me and say that I love my body and all its foibles, or that I am amazed by it and how it produced my four babies. I would be lying if I said I don’t still beat myself up for eating too much, or the wrong things, or not exercising, because I am vain enough that I want to look and feel better than I do. But 40, for me, means that I am making strides in accepting myself as a true work in progress. I am finally believing, however tentatively, that my weight does not equal my worth to the world, no matter the message the world sends to me. Forty means that despite my issues, I still eat ice cream for dinner alongside my kids on a summer day, because screw it – life is short, and we only get so many summer days with our kids to eat ice cream for dinner.

Forty is, unfortunately, having a designated funeral dress and wearing it this summer to say goodbye to my 38-year-old sister-in-law, an amazing person, wife, and mother of one toddler son. It’s learning that we don’t just need “Move a Body” Friends – the kind who would help us move a body, no questions asked – but also friends who will speak over our own bodies, should that terrible need arise. We need friends who will remember us so vividly, and with such obvious love and understanding, that the children we leave behind might know their mothers even so. Forty is knowing, viscerally, that our friends, our people, are who create the stories of our lives with us, and who will tell those stories in our absence. It is knowing that our connections to other people are all we have, in the end. They are what makes us alive, and what keep us alive, and we must make them a priority.

But 40 is also realizing that most of us are lucky enough to have so much more time left. It’s not the “big dead end” that Sally bemoaned in When Harry Met Sally; it’s the beginning of another chapter of life, and it’s a good one. At 40, I know who I am, I know what and whom I love, and I am not afraid to go after it. So at 40, the world is even more mine for the taking than it was when I was 20, and I know so much better what to do with it.

Forty is realizing that aging is not something to mourn nor something to endure. Aging is a privilege, full stop. All I care about is my time on earth with my people. I might have the tiny wrinkles. I might be too old for pop stars. I might have to start thinking about my own mortality and, worse, that of the people I love. But in any case – no matter what – I still win, because I am here, and as long as I am, anything can happen.

My friends tell me that forty is fabulous. I can’t help but agree, and I don’t need Jake Ryan showing up with a birthday cake to believe it. I’m just as happy to have my almost-40-year-old husband, my perfectly imperfect children, and a birthday cake with “POOPSIE” written on it instead.

Related post: This is 39

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10 Reasons Water Parks Are Just Like Barshttp://www.scarymommy.com/water-parks-are-just-like-bars/ http://www.scarymommy.com/water-parks-are-just-like-bars/#comments Wed, 30 Jul 2014 16:00:22 +0000 http://www.scarymommy.com/?p=52282 Image via Shutterstock Summer is in full swing, and with that comes the task of finding ways to entertain the kids while simultaneously wearing them out. If you can manage to get a tan in the process, it’s just a bonus. Enter water parks. Amidst the fun and foot fungus, water parks are a great […]

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Summer is in full swing, and with that comes the task of finding ways to entertain the kids while simultaneously wearing them out. If you can manage to get a tan in the process, it’s just a bonus.

Enter water parks.

Amidst the fun and foot fungus, water parks are a great way to get the kids out of the house while allowing you to lie down and read a book…for about three minutes.

When I was a kid I loved going to the water park. The slides and snack bar are enough to make any kid happy. They’re also enough to break the bank, but it’s a good sacrifice if you can get rid of that farmer’s tan, right?

As an adult, I now view water parks a little differently. Instead of seeing wave pools and water slides, I see potentially drowning scenarios and urine in the pool. Seriously. Sometimes I swear I can actually see the pee in the pool.

Recently I took a stroll down memory lane, and realized that going to water parks when I was a kid was a lot like going to bars in my 20s. Granted, they don’t seem to be similar, but hear me out on this. I was an expert in each arena during the appropriate times in my life. I also frequent each locale occasionally as an adult and am reminded that things are a lot more enjoyable when you’re young.

I’ve got 10 solid reasons why water parks are just like bars:

1. You don’t want to go to the bathroom barefoot. The restroom floors are covered in various bodily excrements and there’s always at least 3 used and abandoned Band-Aids on the floor.

2. Someone is wearing something inappropriate. From ill-fitting string bikinis to crop tops, one thing is certain; either way, you’re going to see someone’s boobs.

3. There are guys scoping out chicks. Perhaps this is just the way of the world, but either location has men staring at skin and hoping someone’s boob will fall out. Fortunately for them, it’s a strong possibility. See #2 above.

4. You get toasted—either by the sun or by the drinks. Spending a day at the pool may cause you to get a little more sun than you wanted to, sending you home in pain with a headache from dehydration. The same is true with a bar, only the pain is from the high heels and the dehydration is from Lemon Drop shots.

5. Food and drinks are overpriced. Both places are going to charge you at least 3 times what you would pay anywhere else…and you’ll pay it.

6. You get a wristband upon entrance. They’re almost like a badge of honor, showing you passed the test (and paid the fee) to get in. They’re also both crappy paper bracelets whose color bleeds as soon as you spill that first overpriced drink on it.

7. The music is horrible. From cover bands of accountants and engineers pretending they’re rock stars to the obnoxious teeny-bopper radio station blaring at the water park, either place comes with a guarantee that the only feet tapping you’ll be doing is when you’re trying to keep them from kicking someone.

8. Someone ends up in tears. Whether it’s a dispute about whose turn it is to use the water gun or whose turn it is to buy shots, someone always ends up crying and throwing a fit.

9. Your hair looks horrible when you leave. Most of the time, it’s because it’s hot and you’ve sweated out your leave-in-conditioner. Other times it’s because someone spilled something on you in the midst of an argument. See #8.

10. It’s best to attend with a girlfriend. Neither location was designed for you to go solo. You need the support of a girlfriend to remind you of all these rules, and to entertain you when the obnoxious people around you start screaming.

Convinced? I thought so. Now go pack your bag and get ready for a day at the park (or a night on the town.)

Or, you could just stay in and watch Netflix. At least if you do that no one cares if your boob falls out.

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Cry It Out: Who’s Suffering More?http://www.scarymommy.com/cry-it-out/ http://www.scarymommy.com/cry-it-out/#comments Wed, 30 Jul 2014 04:04:14 +0000 http://www.scarymommy.com/?p=52150 Image via Shutterstock Cry It Out, or CIO as some parents call it, is not a fun way to spend a Saturday night. Or any other night, for that matter. I’m no stranger to the CIO phenomenon, as I somehow managed to survive it with our twins a few years ago. I didn’t think I’d ever have […]

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Cry It Out, or CIO as some parents call it, is not a fun way to spend a Saturday night. Or any other night, for that matter.

I’m no stranger to the CIO phenomenon, as I somehow managed to survive it with our twins a few years ago. I didn’t think I’d ever have to do it again, but then I had that surprise miracle baby in 2011.

Well, last night I got schooled all over again, a refresher course since someone must’ve decided I was a little rusty. For anyone who’s not yet had the pleasure of this experience, you can live vicariously through me and my account of last night…

Look at clock to log official start time: 2:39 a.m. This becomes very important later on. Flop back onto pillow and tell yourself sweet little lies like, “I could just fall back to sleep if I put this pillow over my head.” Nevermind that the screaming is so loud that you can still hear it underneath said pillow and your denial.

After ten minutes of carrying on, get up to pee. May as well empty the old bladder since clearly sleeping is not in the cards. Maybe she’ll even stop while I’m sitting here on the — DAMN IT! Fall into toilet (husband left seat up) and my ass has been contaminated by sitting on his urine dribbles. Ewww.

Crawl back into bed, take a deep breath, and convince myself that she cannot keep this up forever. She’s wearing herself out. Smile smugly. #winning

At approximately 2:59 a.m., get up again, pad down the hall to make sure other children are still asleep. Stand outside CIO kid’s door. Debate going in to make sure there’s not a REAL reason she’s hysterical. Real reasons include: blowout diaper, vomiting, limb stuck in crib rails. Unacceptable reasons (but by no means is this list exhaustive) include: whining for a drink of water; wanting another stuffed animal; being unable to locate a particular lovey due to the overwhelming crowding issues already in the crib; claiming to be poopy when in fact, one is NOT poopy. Determine that going in will only exacerbate the issue and since she keeps saying, “THIRSTY!” as if she’s been staggering around in the desert for twelve days, there’s not a true need to go in. Head back to bed.

While tossing and turning, decide I may have some heartburn. Go downstairs in search of Tums. Might as well grab my cell phone to take back upstairs and catch up on Words With Friends since sleeping is not a viable option. Manage to score some serious points despite severe exhaustion and the darkness and the irritability setting in.

Husband is snoring loudly. Feeling resentful of his sleeping through this nonsense. Kick him in the shins maybe a tad harder than necessary.

Mini poodle is whimpering through a doggie dream and doing some excessive snoring of his own. Nudge him. Envy his easy life. Why can’t I just be a dog?

Keep checking the time. How much longer can this shit last? Isn’t she TIRED? God knows I am! WTF?!

When the clock flips to 3:39 a.m. (a full hour of CIO, which is why it’s super important to note the start time!), fling back the covers, stomp out of bed and race to her room. Throw the door open and hiss, “WHAT IS GOING ON?”

Tearstained cheeks and snot dripping, she waves her stuffed Olivia the pig at me. Olivia is naked. “Olivia? Dress? Dress on? Help, Mommy?” Sniffles. Bedhead. More dramatic sniffles. Rakes her little arm across her face to catch the drips.

Seriously? THIS is why you’ve been acting a fool for the last SIXTY MINUTES?! Because you stripped your doll and you can’t put her clothes back on?

I snatch the pig and the stupid red dress out of her hands. I stand there for a minute arguing with myself internally; if I get the pig dressed again, I may actually snag some shut-eye. And if I don’t? I risk another hour (or more) of bullshit crying.

No contest.

In 13 seconds, Olivia is stuffed back into her dinky sailor suit, and my kid happily snuggles into the corner of her crib, sighing contentedly.

Wearily I return to my room. I heave myself into bed for what I’m hoping is the last time until morning. And what feels like the fortieth time.

Oh wait, it is morning.

And it takes me at least another 1/2 hour to unwind and relax enough (in the sweet, newfound silence) to fall back to sleep myself.

Related post: How To Ensure That Your Children Become The Worst Possible Sleepers, Ever, In The History Of The World

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20 Times Toddlers Should Be Supervisedhttp://www.scarymommy.com/toddlers-should-be-supervised/ http://www.scarymommy.com/toddlers-should-be-supervised/#comments Tue, 29 Jul 2014 20:10:56 +0000 http://www.scarymommy.com/?p=50869 I have two children. One happens to be rocking out her toddler-hood like a boss. And since she is our second child, I might have gotten a little lazier with supervising her every activity like I did with my first. You know, I gotta shower sometimes. But… from my own experience, there are some situations […]

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I have two children. One happens to be rocking out her toddler-hood like a boss. And since she is our second child, I might have gotten a little lazier with supervising her every activity like I did with my first. You know, I gotta shower sometimes. But… from my own experience, there are some situations where your toddler should most definitely have a rational-minded person present guiding them away from acting on their every curious whim:

1. When there is a source of butter close by.

2. When they find a pen. But no paper. And then an artistic inspiration strikes them.

3. While next to a dog’s butt during their button-pushing phase.

4. While eating chocolate.

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5. When they have food in front of them that they don’t like. And they want to hide it.

6. While gardening. Because sometimes they like to see what flowers look like when they get smooshed in the mud.

7. When they have had an accident. In their pants. And you had to run out of the room for one second to get some wipes. And you specifically said, “Please don’t put your hands in your pants.”

8. While painting. Obviously. I mean who would give their toddler paints and then not properly supervise them. Only a crazy person.

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9. When pouring crackers from a box into something much smaller than a box.

10. When they decide to wash clothes while you are taking a shower. And then you open up your washing machine to find one pair of underpants and a very clean Archie comic book.

11. When they are watching Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood on Netflix. On your computer. While eating yogurt.

12. While making certain fashion choices.

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13. When they are learning how to blow their nose.

14. When they have a toothpick.

15. When they are running down a hill in flip-flops.

16. While playing with stickers.

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17. The moment after they learn about spitting.

18. The moment after they learn about peeing outside.

19. The moment after they figure out they are finally tall enough for the water dispenser on the refrigerator.

And…

20. When they are bored. And they know where you keep the syrup.

Related post: 5 Perfectly Understandable Reasons For Toddler Tantrums

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Dad to be Produces the Best Maternity Pictureshttp://www.scarymommy.com/best-maternity-pictures/ http://www.scarymommy.com/best-maternity-pictures/#comments Tue, 29 Jul 2014 14:14:04 +0000 http://www.scarymommy.com/?p=53206 What happens your wife is adamant about not wanting any maternity pictures taken, but you have your heart set on them? If you’ve got a sense of humor, this… {all photos from Imgur} Sir, you’re just glowing.

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What happens your wife is adamant about not wanting any maternity pictures taken, but you have your heart set on them? If you’ve got a sense of humor, this…

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{all photos from Imgur}

Sir, you’re just glowing.

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25 Ways You Know You Went to Overnight Camp in the 80shttp://www.scarymommy.com/overnight-camp-in-the-80s/ http://www.scarymommy.com/overnight-camp-in-the-80s/#comments Tue, 29 Jul 2014 12:56:34 +0000 http://www.scarymommy.com/?p=53078 1. Shaving your legs was a group activity. I’m talkin’ on the steps or porch of your bunk with a bucket of cold water (it didn’t stay hot long), a can of shaving cream and four or five other girls you shared said bucket with *gags* (maybe this is also true for women’s prison — […]

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summer-camp-1980's

1. Shaving your legs was a group activity. I’m talkin’ on the steps or porch of your bunk with a bucket of cold water (it didn’t stay hot long), a can of shaving cream and four or five other girls you shared said bucket with *gags* (maybe this is also true for women’s prison — haven’t been there yet, so I can’t say).

2. You can finish most of these songs: Oh I went to a donut shop to get… Everywhere we go-oh people wanna know-oh… John Jacob Jingle… Hello Muddah, hello…

3. You understand the utter and complete joy of receiving a care package. I mean, equal to winning the lottery kinda joy. And hoped-for booty like: Easy Cheese, Pop Rocks, Ring Pops, Dweebs (Nerds’ cousins), Whistle Pops, Wax Bottles, Dots… and the mother lode — dry packets of Kool-Aid, Jello or Fun Dip.

4. You went to bed freaked out by some guy named Cropsy or whoever haunted Cabin 13 or something that lives in the lake and steals little kids… which a grown-up told you about around a campfire (with the sole purpose of scaring the crap out of you).

5. Most of your summer jewelry was made of gimp or lanyard.

6. You truly comprehend that having Canteen Credit is the equivalent of having cigarettes in prison.

7. You know the other meaning of canteen, and you actually had one. Not some BPA-free suction release Camelback, I mean a hard rounded metal container with a cap and a strap.

8. You blew out fuses every Saturday night before socials drying your hair with your Conair Yellow Bird, or using your trusty diffuser for your perm or awesome Windmere crimping iron that only singed your hair a tiny bit, so it was worth it.

9. You can’t recall the smell of the singed hair, but would recognize the aroma of your go-to hair spray (feather finisher, perm scruncher or bang freezer), i.e. Aussie Sprunch Spray, Paul Mitchell Freeze & Shine or Sebastian Shpritz Forte’ or good ol’ Aqua-Net.

10. You have a clear understanding of the four food groups: Cereal, popsicles, bug juice and s’mores.

11. You ever watched underwear run up a flagpole and prayed they weren’t yours.

12. You know the tune and words to Reveille and Taps, yet you were never in the service.

13. To this day, the song “Leaving on a Jet Plane” makes you cry.

14. You were initiated into some cult-like group around a fire with chanting and maybe Indian terms or fake names... and you were not at Waco.

15. People asked what you wanted to be when you grew up and you didn’t say president, you said “color war captain.”

16. Your mom had tons of those tiny woven pot holders that were too small (and frankly too hole-y) to ever actually hold a pot.

17. You tried to never touch the bottom of the lake because you were pretty certain there were things down there that could eat you. The bonfire stories and your recent Jaws viewing did not help.

18. You traveled with a hard-sided trunk that could fit a body. And you knew this because you had to see if you could fit in it before you let your mom pack your stuff.

19. Said stuff you packed included: flip-up collar Izods/polo shirts, pleated shorts, striped rugbys, overalls, denim skirts/shorts that were acid washed, stone washed, or shredded and jeans that had to be pegged and tapered to sit atop your scrunchie EG socks and awesome velcro high tops.

20. Picking out stationery to take to camp was an actual event. I’m lookin’ at you, Snoopy, Hello Kitty and Precious Moments…

21. All your letters on said awesome stationery ended with K.I.T. and they were S.W.A.K. and didn’t involve a single LOL, TTYL or LMAO.

22. You mastered the two-minute cold shower with your Caboodles caddy in tow.

23. Your camp mixes trumped any “Best Of” album and they had at least one song from these artists: The Bangles, Depeche Mode, Madonna, Michael Jackson, Foreigner, James Taylor…

24. You felt your rendition of “Like a Virgin” and Madonna’s were identical except for the lion. Also, your version went “Like a Bass Weejun, worn for the very first time,” and you were flat-chested with braces. But they were close.

25. You cried for days upon re-entry to society as if you could not function without someone addressing you each morning at a flagpole.

P.S. This summer, in an unexpected twist of events, I went back to camp with my kids. Yep, I’m a Gen X mom who likes morning lattes and pillow top beds with box springs… and roads — yet, I followed the kiddos 1,300 miles away from home to Camp Lenox in Massachusetts to write a humor/survival series called: Jenny From the Bunk — I Followed My Kids to Camp, Now What? Here’s hoping I don’t get eaten by a bear.

P.P.S. Got a kid in summer camp? Don’t forget to enter the Great Camp Letter Contest hosted by Scary Mommy and me!

SWAK!

The post 25 Ways You Know You Went to Overnight Camp in the 80s appeared first on Scary Mommy.

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