Literally.

Through so many tissues I should have stock in Kleenex.

But it’s fine, I’ll just take a couple of sick days, rest up, and be back to my normal….wait, what?!

I don’t GET sick days?!

Of course I don’t, I’m a mom.

And on the list of benefits a mom DOESN’T receive for a job that DOESN’T pay (except for love and wet, slobbery kisses which are what got me sick to begin with…thanks kids) is being able to call out when you’re sick.

And even if you have a super supportive husband, as I do, who will lend a helping hand you still have the brats (I mean sweet children) to contend with.

I can look like death warmed over, upstairs, trying to rest and those people will STILL walk RIGHT PAST their father, tromp upstairs with a frozen Go-Gurt and ask me to open it for them.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

You know you have another parent, right?

Does he have some invisibility cloak I’m not aware of?

GO ASK YOUR DAD!

And then I lay there, tissues in my nose to avoid that annoying feeling of something dripping down my face, blood pressure through the roof…

(This is a hot visual, no?)

And now I can’t even rest.

Because moms can’t rest.

Even if they try.

We’re always waiting for a kid to start screaming, listening for footsteps coming down the hall, or for the fire alarm to chime in.

We also don’t think anyone can do our job like we can.

Because, well, they can’t.

Sniff…

It was one of those grocery shopping trips.

Just me and the baby. He sat contently, spreading gooey sunshine via teething smiles through the store.  Chatting away in a language that resembles Vietnamese. Strangers tilted their heads and smiled and I just knew they were thinking, “Now THAT is the cutest darn kid in the world!”.

I was strutting my stuff, full of pride over my nutritious selections that filled my cart. Whole-grain goldfish instead of those “regular” ones. Gogurts that I still pass off as popsicles to my 5 year old. Lucky Charms that are “NOW with more fiber!”.

Then it happened. Like Christmas in July I spotted those fluffy, pure white goodies. All snug in that bag looking so comfy and delicious. Hostess powdered mini donuts. I toss a pack in the cart. One from the back of the display. Because those are fresher. And I’m all about fresh. I eye the big bag that is on sale…oh no no no. That would be glutinous.

I finish and load up the conveyor belt. The checker asks every-so-politely if I’d like that little pack of pleasure for my purse.

Um.

NO.

Because THAT would imply that I intend to scarf these down the instant I leave this store.  And someone with my obvious nutritional values would never do such a thing.

Instead I take note of which bag he just put them in. With the bananas. Good call sir.

Out the door we go, just me and my cherub, full of anticipation.

At the car I unload and, like a ninja, slip those donuts into my purse without any passersby noticing.

Because I DO intend to devour those  perfect, soft dinghies of delightfulness right here in my car. Why? Because I have 2 children at home that I need to hide these from. The baby in the back? He’s young and still distracted by shiny things that make lots of noise.

So he plays with some fake keys while I sit ever so carefully eating the powdered goodness, listening to Richard Blade on the New Wave station, and remembering a time when I could consume an entire box of these bad boys and never worry about what my behind would look like the next morning.

Yeah, it was a good grocery shopping trip.

Thank you to Crocs for sponsoring this blog post. Please click HERE to learn more about Crocs’ new Back to School line. I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective. All opinions expressed here are my own.

I know what your thinking! “What do you need to Back to School shop for, aren’t you home schooling?! Don’t you just lounge in your jammies all day?!”

And the answer is, smarty pants, yes and no. We’re in our pj’s only half of the day.

The kids are still taking classes outside of the home and, while they’re comfy, jammies are not socially acceptable attire.

Back to School shopping is always tricky in Southern California because, without fail, the end of summer is marked by a heat wave and the stores are chock full o’ sweaters, jeans, and boots. Blech. I’m sweating just thinking about it! Plus, all of the summer clothes have been picked over, marked down, and all I can really find are clothes I would never dream of buying for my kids.

Because of this, our favorite thing to shop for are new shoes. The kids have been living in flip flops. This, unfortunately, is also not acceptable in schools. Turns out the slap-happy footwear is not approved at school. Something about dismembering toes or bleeding heels…what-ev!

Side note….remember when we called them ‘thongs’? I can’t even bring myself to say that anymore without the disturbing image of one of my fellow mommies bending over in her too-low jeans exposing more than anyone in the general public needs to see invading my brain. So ‘flip flops’ they are.

Anyhoo, jeans and sweaters will have to wait until the weather actually dips in temp. Should be in November when the stores start stocking Spring fashions and all of the fall/winter clothes are on clearance. Yippee!

Shoe shopping it will be! Deet especially needs them. They need to be lightweight, comfortable, and school-approved.

Enter Crocs’ new Back to School line.

I know, you think Crocs are like summer time Uggs. Yeah, they might be comfy but, meh, not so cute. Au contraire , mon frere!

Check these out!

Stinkin’ cute, right?

They have 13 new styles for boys and girls in grades K-8.  They are school-approved on the outside because of the closed toe and heel but the best part, in my opinion, is that they have the same comfort on the inside. You can check them out HERE and while you’re there you should enter the sweepstakes for a family trip to San Diego! Keep summer alive! (no purchase necessary, of course).

I’m not one to promote something I’ve never tried out so Deet and I went shopping today to check them out in person. He tried on the Hover style in slip on and lace up. Both have canvas uppers. We were partial to the slip ons. The best thing about these shoes are what you can’t see. The insoles. They are made of the signature Croslite material that is especially wonderful for stinky boy feet.

For those of you that like a little interaction, check out the video at the below. You can click on the shoes at any time and it will take you directly to the Crocs site for the individual shoe. Also, there is a hidden gem in the video. Click on it and see what happens! (I promise, it will be worth it! (Hint, hint). Here’s a little clue for you:

Yesterday was Deet’s first day of Kindergarten, home-school style.

He will be attending a charter school learning center twice a week but that doesn’t start until next week. So this week is all on me.

The last two days have been full of CLUNKS.

A “clunk” is the sound of my jaw hitting the floor.

Just in case you needed a visual.

Let me preface this by saying I didn’t know my son as well as I thought. You know, when you have three kids you’re so worried about having enough love for all of them (which you totally do) that you forget about making time for all of them. And by “time” I mean one-on-one, get-to-know-you time. The baby and the teenager demand it and so, middle child has been lacking it. That’s the Reader’s Digest version, I’m sure I’ll be doing another post on how I’ve damaged my middle child for life.

Worst. Mom. Ever.

So when picking out curriculum I told his teacher, “We really need practice writing because he hates it and still can’t write his name.” We did a phonics computer game yesterday and he gets up, grabs a pad of paper and some crayons, comes over to me and says, “I’m going to write all of the letters I know.”. He proceeds to write the entire alphabet. Then his name.

CLUNK.

He randomly says, let’s think of words that start with “M”. OK….I say milk. He says metamorphosis. I had to use spell check just to type the damn word.

CLUNK.

I ask, “Do you even know what metamorphosis means?”. He says, “Sure I do! It’s like when a caterpillar turns into a butterfly!”.

CLUNK.

Today we do a math program online called Baseball Math. The kid answers basic addition and subtraction problems using numbers 1-10. When they get one right the program decides if they get a single, double, etc. If they get it wrong it’s recorded as an “Out”. When he got tired of doing it I checked the score box. 21 runs, 0 outs.

CLUNK.

Did I mention he can read?

CLUNK.

While I am THRILLED at the level of intelligence he is displaying I am ashamed to say I have had NO part in getting him there. Do you know what has? T.V. I’m not joking. More specifically channels like PBS and Qubo (since we don’t have cable). He also loves to watch old episodes of Blue’s Clues and Backyardigans on Netflix.

My only saving grace is that from this moment on I plan to have EVERY part in nurturing and growing that intelligence while really getting to know my little caterpillar before he turns into a butterfly and flies away.

I think I’m in the middle of my own metam…..(whatever). You know what I mean.

I’m THAT mom.

The mean one that doesn’t let her teenager have a Facebook account (along with other social media).

I’m not sure why any teenager needs one.

For one, teens these days have enough distractions. Facebook just opens up a whole world of new ones.

It also provides yet another opportunity for our teens to say or do something that they will regret; in a public forum. I read an article some months ago about the teenage brain and how scientists believe there is a portion of the adolescent brain that doesn’t fully develop until they are in their 20′s. The portion that can foresee consequences. When talking about teens parents often complain about how selfish they are, only thinking about themselves and making rash decisions without thinking about the effects of their actions. Turns out it may be mentally impossible for them. In the age of texting, tweeting, FB-ing, Skyping, and whatever else-ing, our teenagers are given ample opportunity to ruin, expose, hurt, and completely embarrass themselves or their “friends”. I see this lack of fore-thought every day in my teen. And while I understand that every person needs to make mistakes in order to experience the consequences, I would like to narrow down those opportunities for my daughter.

I also do not “friend” the friends of my teen. First of all, I don’t want to expose them (on purpose or accidentally) to anything inappropriate. I am prone to rants and some occasional foul language. And while I understand that they are exposed to this every day, I do not want to be the guilty party. Secondly, I am an adult. You are a child. I am Mrs. Cole. We are not “friends”. Social media and texting has blurred the line between adults and kids; giving teens the illusion that they are on the same level as the adults in their lives. Don’t get me wrong, I love the girlies in my daughter’s life and I have a blast with them. But I’m the adult, you will respect me and my rules and you will know when you’ve crossed the line. The rudeness of some kids astounds me. Frankly, I don’t blame them (although I will set them straight), I blame their parents. If a child is never taught to respect the adults in their life, how can we expect it from them?

I used to laugh when my daughter was little and would yell at me, “You’re not my friend anymore!”. Child, whatever gave you the idea that we were friends to begin with!?

So no Facebook, no Twitter, no Skype, and her phone is subject to “text-checks” at any given time. She will have plenty of time to be an adult when she’s an adult.

Until then it is my job to protect her, not be her “friend”.