Archive for the ‘motherhood’ Category

How to make a three year old happy.

Posted 14 Jan 2013 — by Mrs. Jenna
Category Abigail, motherhood, RAD, toddler business

On Wednesday, I’ll be taking Abby to see Yo Gabba Gabba Live – GET THE SILLIES OUT!

YGGLIVE

Read More

How did Santa survive before the Interwebs?

On Saturday, the Hubs, Abby and I headed to the blessed Mall of America to do some Christmas shopping. As with any trip to the MOA, we are required (by unwritten law) to take Abby on three rides, at minimum. She talks about these rides pretty much every other day. It’s adorable, but also CAN I GO TO THE MALL WITHOUT GOING ON RIDES? After the rides, we headed to Noodles for Abby’s mac & cheese fix. As we were leaving with full bellies, I went to hike up my jeans, and hulk smashed the belt loop right out of my pants. DAMMIT. Strike one.

We wove our way through shoppers and some of the best people watching I’ve seen since the state fair. We searched through Nordstrom Rack for a gift for my mom, then made our way to Marshall’s and decided we’d had enough of the crowds already thankyouverymuch. It was at our decision to depart that I realized my jacket wasn’t on the stroller anymore. Dear God.  Strike TWO. My angry meter had reached about a 9. We backtracked and eventually made our way back to the Rack, where I walked through the areas Abby insisted on pushing the stroller. BY HERSELF, Mama. No! Don’t touch it! I’m doing it BY MYSELF. Aye. Lo and behold, my coat was laying across a rack; apparently someone found it and propped it up. THANK GOD.

We headed home, where I decided to go ahead and get this shopping over and done with. AMAZON, I love you.  Santa’s purchases have been made, as well as some other gifts that needed to be in my hands.

(In case you’re wondering what Santa’s got in his sack this year (ha, ha. sack.), we bought Abby a Peppa Pig DVD, some Crayola Washable Mini-Stampers (this kid needs to stamp all the things all the time), Hungry Hungry Hippos, Melissa & Doug Pasture Pals, LeapFrog Explorer Learning Game: Letter Factory (for her LeadPad we bought her last Christmas), LEGO DUPLO Creative Cakes (a Lego cake set? YES PLEASE.), and for the grand finale…a Playskool Classic Sit – N – Spin. SIT. AND. SPIN.) none of those links are affiliate or anything. just an FYI.

ALL of those things I purchased on the Amazon. And I hope all of those things come before Christmas.

I nearly struck-out on holiday shopping. However, I think I’m going to put this year’s attempt on the win list.

The Pot Roast

Posted 08 Nov 2012 — by Mrs. Jenna
Category I am a moron, marriage, motherhood

Hi there. Long time no see. You look thin. Let me make you something.

But maybe not a pot roast.


Monday, I worked from home. It was lovely. I mean, I struggled a bit with the whole working thing. (Eventually I got some work done.) Around 3pm or so, it was time for me to peel some potatoes and throw some carrots and meat into the Crock Pot I had just purchased that morning. I was going to make my first pot roast.

Let me stop here. How well do you know me? If you know me well, you know that I’m no chef. At all. Occasionally I luck out and make something and it’s awesome. My first time shot at a new recipe? It’s questionable, but usually edible. I figure out what I could have done better, and if I make it again, it usually is. In between all this “cooking” I do? I don’t cook. EVER. We eat pizza. Take-out. Spaghetti and store-bought sauce. Chicken nuggets. I’m not winning any parenting awards here. WE GET BY. I’ll repeat – I. DON’T. COOK. Full stop.

So, this past weekend, when I knew I was going to be home during the day, I figure now’s as good a time as any to try my hand at slow-cooking…Crock Pot style. I grab my spice packet from the Target bag, follow the directions (slice veggies and throw into pot, add meat, then combine spice packet + 1 cup water, pour over veggies and meat) and place the cover on the pot. There’s a four or eight hour cooking time options. I set the temperature, and know that when the hubs comes home from work four hours later, this place is going to smell wonderful and dinner will be served. Wife/Mom of the year? STEP RIGHT UP.

(I know that most of you probably do this shit at least twice a week and no one bats an eye. This seriously was like, a huge deal for me. No joke.)

I leave to pick up Abby an hour and a half later, and I can’t smell anything yet. I figure…it’s still got two and a half hours left. It’ll smell good soon. We get back, we play a bit…and I realize I’m still not smelling anything. I check the pot, without removing the cover. (See? I can follow directions!) It’s cooking, but…not what I would expect it would look like. Yet, I question nothing.

Seven o’clock rolls around. The hubs will be home in a half hour. Suddenly…a moment of clarity. Four hours on low. Four hours. On low. That doesn’t make any sense if there’s an eight hour option. Is there a lower setting than low? No. OH CHRIST ON A CRACKER I EFFING SET THE TEMPERATURE WRONG.

I dig the spice packet out of the trash and sure enough: “8 hours on low, 4 hours on high.” See what I did there? Let me show you: “8 hours on LOW 4 HOURS on high.”

All I could do was laugh at this point. I have a half hour to cook a roast another 4 hours. We’ll be eating at 11:30pm.

I managed to fuck up a crock pot recipe. It’s like…fate.

We ate spaghetti that night.


I took the pot out of the cooker around 8:30pm. Let it cool a bit and threw it in the fridge. I’d try again last night. I let it cook (longer maybe than needed but at this point it could only help me) but we still didn’t eat it because ELECTION NIGHT PIZZA WINE PANICCCCCC, but before bed I put it all into a plastic tub and threw it in the fridge. For tonight.

I put some on a plate for Abbers, heated it in the microwave for one minute. When it was done, I tried to cut it up into pieces for her – I swear that meat was so tough it’d kick all your teeth in before the fork passed your lips. TOTALLY inedible. The potatoes and carrots were alright but WHAT THE FLYING FUCK.

I seriously would love to pick up the entire Crock Pot and throw it out the window into the backyard where I could only hope that the squirrels would somehow find a way to make that thing their collective bitch.

(See how I’m mad at the Crock Pot? Like it’s the appliance’s fault I’m a moron?)

Ugh.

We ate frozen spring rolls for dinner tonight.

Please don’t call CPS.

(Side note – did you hear Dax Shepard & Kristen “Sloth” Bell are expecting their first?)

Best Friends.

This weekend, my bestie Martini was in town. We had plenty of things to take care of while she was here, mostly on the wedding planning front because she’s getting married in about a month. (Eeeee!) And, being the responsible Matron Duchess of Honor that I am, I hadn’t purchased a dress yet.

Sidenote: Yes. I am straight out refusing to be called a Matron of Honor because it sounds like I’m 50. Nothing against 50-year-olds, but EFFING YUCK.

So, we shopped (I found my dress and I want to wear it all the time), we drank, we stayed up late and laughed and told stories…it was just the break I needed from reality. She is by all means my best friend, my sister, and one of the few people in life that knows me to my core.

20120925-111503.jpg

At the same time, I have a new best friend. I knew we would be at some point, but when she said it my heart burst out of my chest only to swallow me whole. She said it once while we were shopping with Auntie Martini on Sunday, and again last night while we were falling asleep in her bed.

“Mama? You’re my best friend.”

20120925-111653.jpg

I know she’s only 2 (a month away from being 3), and that this feeling she has for me may not last forever, but it is one of the most wonderful things I could ever imagine her saying to me. I hope she does always think of me as her best friend. She will always be mine. (As long as Martini doesn’t mind sharing the title.)

(Thanks for reading! And if you’re interested, I have a new post over at MamaPop – “The 64th Annual Emmys: An Evening Of Fabric Thievery And Ocular Fashion Assault“)

 

Tomorrow: The end of an era.

Posted 09 Sep 2012 — by Mrs. Jenna
Category Abigail, motherhood, not so much

Tomorrow, I go to work. I haven’t worked a Monday since my return from maternity leave. At the time, 32 hours a week was enough, and I was able to spend an extra day with Abby. Just her and I…Abby/Mama day.

Granted lately, it’s been more like Abby/Mama/Laundry day, or Abby/Mama/Clean the House day. We were still spending time with each other, she’d help me “fold” laundry, or come with me to the grocery store. It was time I cherished, though.

It never occurred to me that I was essentially taking a 20% paycut by not being at work that one day a week. I mean, I *knew* it, but I didn’t really feel it. Now? I feel it. I’ve been struggling to stay above water financially. I’m not in trouble, but I feel like I’ll be there soon if I don’t fix something. So, I decided to go back to work full time.

I technically started back full time last Monday (Labor Day)…which was awesome. Do you know how many holidays fall on Mondays? Pretty much all of them. I haven’t gotten paid for a Monday holiday since 2010.

However, tomorrow I actually have to go to work. Abby actually has to go to daycare. I haven’t really brought it up to her. (Which should really come to no surprise to her since she graduated to preschool last Wednesday and I had no idea. Like – I brought her to her old classroom, only to find all the shit in her cubby, in fact her cubby itself was not there anymore. NO IDEA THIS WAS HAPPENING.) I feel like she might be okay with it, as long as I don’t do something stupid like say “Hey! Instead of Abby/Mama day – you’re going to daycare today. And every Monday from here on out! Yay!”

Although I lost sleep over it last night, I think tomorrow will be okay. I’m going to attempt to ignore the fact that I’m PMSing and I’m probably going to cry, but I’ll be okay! RIGHT?! RIGHT.