This guest post comes from Melissa, a working mom who lives in New Jersey with her two sons, 4 and 7, and her husband who is a loving and patient man who forgives the fact that their lives are usually one dropped ball away from domestic disaster.
Melissa doesn’t have a blog but I hope to post more from her in the future. She totally won me over when I did a post last week about wanting to start a Q and A with guest bloggers on my site and I asked for suggestions while also mentioning two I had at the time. Before I even asked her, Melissa sent an email with her answer to the zombie question.
Here’s more about Melissa in her own words: I have no pets or houseplants, because I’m just too lazy. I love playing with my boys, reading, crafts and reminding fellow moms that we’re all just doing our best and that’s good enough. Sometimes I even believe it myself.
While being a working mother of two boys, wife, sister, daughter, and friend keeps blog fodder coming, it simulataneously reduces my capacity to actually do the blogging. I haven’t even thought about having a blog.
I suspect if I had a blog, all of the entries would start with “I’m sorry it’s been so long since I last posted…”. However, having a guest spot now and again may just be right up my alley!
Q and A
Elle: If the zombie apocalypse happened tomorrow, which weapon would you want to have to fight these brain eaters?
A. A flame thrower.
B. An unlimited supply of ninja throwing stars.
C. A chainsaw.
D. A shoelace because you’re bad ass.
E. Other and what would it be?
F. None of the above, I want to be a damn zombie!
Melissa: E. Other. I’d want the “Bad Guy & Monster Spray” I use in my four-year old’s room at night before he goes to bed. Sure, it’s just an old hair care product spritzer refilled with water but he doesn’t know that cuz he can’t read. AND NEITHER CAN THE ZOMBIES BECAUSE THEIR BRAINS ARE ALL ROTTED, RIGHT?
Plus it works. We haven’t had any bad guys or monsters in my house since I started using it when he decided he didn’t like his room anymore.
Elle: If you could be stuck in an elevator with anyone (living or dead but not actually dead in the elevator with you because that would be pretty messed up) who would it be?
Melissa: Can I stay alone in the elevator? I can’t remember the last time I had a few hours of quiet time.
Elle: If you could drop everything and go anywhere (real or fantasy) in the world, where would it be?
Melissa: I’d like to go to Hogwarts. I can think a million uses for wingardium leviosa around my house and I hear the robes are slimming.
Elle: Favorite guilty pleasure?
Melissa: Buying coffee instead of making it at home and one hit wonders from the 1980s (see #7).
Elle: If you could send any celebrity/reality star into space so you’d never have to hear about them again, who would it be?
Melissa: I’d wait until there was a 3 for 1 sale and I’d send the Kardashians. They make me feel inadequate and superior at the same time. It’s very confusing for me.
Elle: Which would you rather win? An Oscar, a Grammy, or a Tony.
Melissa: A Tony. It would make my Mom the happiest. Plus I hear the Oscar is heavy and who wants to risk a back injury shlepping one of those around?
Elle: What song(s) makes you want to dance around your house?
Melissa: Anything by Enrique Iglesias. “You Spin Me Round” by Dead or Alive. “Obsession” by Animotion. “Relax” by Frankie Goes To Hollywood. I’ll stop now. It’s getting embarrassing.
I am the working mother of two goobers (aka: boys), one of whom has developmental delays. For now, that’s all you need to know about me. I’d share other interesting, funny things about myself but I need to hold back in case this guest blogger gig works out.
When your child has developmental delays you are so focused on catching him up that you are completely gobsmacked when he is the first to do something. This is what happened when Elder Goober lost his first tooth at the tender age of 5 ¼.
It’s after work on this fateful day and I’m trying to pry some details about Elder Goober’s day from him, when I notice a gap in his mouth. All he’s told me so far is that his day was fine and that his favorite part of kindergarten was recess. There was no mention of body parts falling out AT ALL!
He opens his mouth for further evaluation and, yes indeedy, something had changed since breakfast. I ask him what happened to his tooth. He says, completely matter of fact, it came out.
I ask why he didn’t tell our nanny. He responds that she was driving. He picks now as the time to obey the Don’t Bug the Driver rule?
At this point, I realize I have totally neglected the “Tooth Fairy” chapter of the Mom Handbook and Elder Goober is clueless that this is a milestone. None of his friends have lost teeth so he doesn’t know that this was an official big deal—much less a money-making one.
From his point of view, stuff comes off of or out of his body all the time–ear wax, boogers, shards of fingernails, hair. So what did he do with the extra bit? What he does with most of the other body parts he sheds: he flicked it. In this case, it was onto the floor of our car. I suppose I should be grateful that he didn’t eat it as he has been known to do with boogers*. That would have made the search much more unpleasant.
While this was a non event from his point of view, it was a major parenting failure from where I was sitting. He’ll get at least three therapy sessions from this when he’s grown.
Riddled with guilt, I traipse off to the car to see if I can find the tooth. Of course I can’t find it. He’s pretty good at flicking things, and the interior of my car is on loan to the scientific community as a giant, mobile microorganism culture.
So we write an explanatory note to the Tooth Fairy and she leaves Elder Goober a really good present. We warn Elder Goober, who has now informed us that some of this other teeth are wiggly, that he needs to save the teeth in the future. And he’s all: yuck, but the incentive of a cash payment elicits a promise to save the next one. He didn’t. Flicked the second one too.
And I am left with a valuable lesson: Never underestimate your children. Just when you think you know what they’re capable of, they’ll gobsmack you all over again.
Isn’t it fabulous?
*Don’t judge. If you have a boy, you know they do it sometimes no matter what you try. It’s in their DNA and I pick** my battles.
**Heee heee, Get it? Pick my battles?
~If you would like to write a guest post, send me an email at elle dot mommyhood at gmail dot com.