Don't Wake Baby...

Do you remember the board game from years ago called 'Don't Wake Daddy?'

Where the object of the game was to sneak into the kitchen, steal a snack, and, in the process, not make a sound that would wake up daddy?

Now, mind you, I never had the chance to play this game as a child. My mother thought it would inspire us to actually try sneaking into the kitchen without permission (as if we needed a game to be inspired).

But I can vividly remember the commercial.

I can remember the excitement I felt when seeing it. The jingle that played (and that I always sang along to), how I'd get so nervous for the kids who were making a break for that kitchen. I can even recall being mad at the little girl in the end who said "by Parker Brothers" too loudly.

Well, this week, I find myself being reminded of this game and I find that after all these years I finally get a chance to play it.

But in my grown up version, I'm not trying keep daddy from waking, I'm trying to keep baby from waking.

You see, recently its come to my attention that my toddler will only sleep for long periods of time if his bedroom door is open.

WIIIIIIIIIIIIIDE OPEN.

_
I'm not sure why this is.....probably because I'm is Mommy and he knows it makes my life harder.

Whatever the reason, I can't shut the door at night without him waking up.

It could be open for hours and he'll sleep wonderfully but THE SECOND you close the door that pathetic, heart wrenching cry of "Mom. MOM!" can be heard across town.

So last night (this is where my connection to the 90s board game comes in), as I'm heading for bed I catch myself tiptoeing past my child's bedroom.

I'm not talking about just a quiet step down the hall here. I'm telling you, this walk looked like something straight from a cartoon.

Arched back, bent knees, hands out for balance....everything.

Every step was perfectly placed. Every sound earned a glare. And every coo from my beautiful child sleeping as I past the room had me whipping my head around so fast I worried about whiplash.

All the while the jingle from that blasted commercial was on repeat in my head.

♪ ♫ "Shhhh....Don't. Wake. Baby."♫ ♪

I'm not sure when I started playing this challenging (and sometimes deadly) late night game.

But I do know that every night I get to experience the same emotions my childhood self did when watching a television advertisement for a board game.

Right down to the pride and the high five given when you've successfully made it past daddy without stepping on a thing.

And people say the there's no thrill in being a stay at home mom.

My SITS Feature Day!

As most of you have realized, I'm not usually a Monday person. I don't look forward to it, I don't enjoying planning for it, and I don't usually post on it.

But today will be the one exception because today is my SITS Girls feature day and I couldn't be more excited or honored for Mommy, In Demand to be featured!!!

But before I go on, let me explain why this is so awesome to those of you who don't know who exactly the SITS Girls are:

The SITS Girls (short for The Secret is in the Sauce) are an online blog networking community of over 40,000 women created to help bloggers learn blogging skills, have an online support system, and to grow their audience (as well as turn your love of blogging into a paying gig). 

Every week day they choose one of their 40,000 active bloggers to be featured, and today I'm it (this is my happy dance)!!!

If you are stopping by from the SITS Girls (yay!) please feel free to snoop around and comment until your little heart is content. I'm happy to have you here! 

And don't forget to click the links to the right to "like" Mommy, In Demand on Facebook and to follow on Twitter and Pinterest. That way you're never too far away from the awesome-ness of Mommy, In Demand.

And if any of you are interested in checking out The SITS Girls, visit their webpage at thesitsgirls.com. I highly recommend them to any blogger looking for an online networking and support community.

So, to the SITS Girls I would just like to say thank-you!

I feel so honored to be today's featured blogger. Truly, I do.

A Place To Shave My Legs

When we bought our new home back in February there was only one thing I was really looking forward to:

Having a child free bathroom.

(Doesn't every Mom?)

No more stepping on toys when showering. No more toothpaste stains on the sink. No more little boy puddles by the toilet (if you know what I mean).

Just a neat and clean adult bathroom with neatly organized adult things.

Its practically my equivalent to a spa day.

Unfortunately for me however, it didn't take long to figure out that my adult only bathroom dreams were slowly dying because of our "Man-only" bathroom.

Yes, Man-only.

I've come to the conclusion over the last few months that the master bathroom was created by a man, for a man, and women aren't supposed to use it.

It only took one time of me using the master shower to realize only an extremely flexible or a really small woman (of which I am neither) is able to shave their legs in there (and not have it look like they'd downed the entire bottle of wine before attempting it).

But to my dear Husband, it's a dream shower. Complete with a dream shower head (that hits him in the chest and me in the face) and a shelf to put his soaps and shampoos (but no where for mine). 

Over time I've also begun to notice a small problem with the location of said bathroom; having it in the master bedroom has slowly become a blessing and a curse.

Because, while it's removed from the hustle-and-bustle of the rest of the house, making it a dream bathroom for a man who just got off work and is tired, for a mother of two young boys it's a problem.

And any mother can understand this.

I love that I can relax and not have to listen to the goings-on in the house while I'm having some "me" time, but that only works well when Husband is here to help with the kids (Ha ha, yeah right).

If I'm alone with them I find I don't shower for fear of not being able to hear what's going on, and it takes twice as long to do my hair and make-up because I'm constantly checking on what they're doing.

There's also the annoying little fact that whenever I need to use the bathroom, hubby is always in the way (and I don't even know why that's an issue since we've shared apartments with only one bathroom for 6 years of our marriage).

It's probably because the bedroom and the bathroom are connected. So he can walk from one room to the other looking for some clothes and go right to playing with his iPad in a single motion.

For me however, I have to try and dress in the cramped space of the bathroom or to try and shove Husband out of his room to watch the kids so I can close the door to get dressed.

And that's not even touching on the fact that he loves that there's enough lighting in the bathroom to shave by (but not enough for applying make-up) so he takes his time and makes sure to do it right.

See?

Made for a man, by a man.

No women allowed.

So what's a girl to do?

Well, for starters, I whine about it here in this post (thanks for listening and being so understanding about that) and then I take action.

I moved into the hall bathroom with my children.

Goodbye dreams of a clean sink.

Goodbye toy-less shower floor.

Goodbye showers without little boy bathroom breaks.

And hello hall bath.

But you know, it's all worked out very well.

There's a place for all of my stuff, the lighting is amazing for doing your make-up, I'm able to hear what's going on throughout the house while I'm getting myself cleaned up, and (the best part) there's enough room in the shower for me to shave my legs (without learning to become a contortionist).

And my children aren't bad bathroom mates either....for now.

**Are there any spaces in your home that were created by a man for a man? Have you had to give up something you wanted for something that works better in your home? Let me know, I'd love to hear about it!**

Totally Buggin' Out

On beautiful summer days there is nothing I like more than opening all my windows and listening to the sounds of nice weather.

Birds signing, children laughing, the neighbors doing yard work. Even the occasional loud base system driving by all screams 'SUMMER' to me.

But there is one down fall to the nice weather that I can never quite adjust to.

Bugs.

They say that these creepy little pests are placed on the beautiful earth to kill each other and keep our ecosystem all balanced out.

What a load of bull.

Sorry.

Not buying it.

I firmly believe that these little irritants were hatched for the mere purpose of making life on this planet miserable and more disgusting.

And to keep people up at night wondering just where they went when they ran as you approached them with that shoe...

And sorry, there's nothing you can say to change my mind.

Case and point.

Last night I was enjoying the wonderful simplicity of having everyone in bed and the house quiet.

We've had company for the last week staying with us (hence the blogging inactivity. Sorry) and they had left earlier that afternoon to enjoy a summer vacation by the beach.

So I decided to settle in and enjoy the latest episodes of The Bachelorette and Mistresses (yes I'm a junky. It's my life, don't judge me) which, due to the stupid cable company, I missed on Monday.

The evenings' temperature was a perfect 74 degrees, meaning it wasn't so hot I needed AC or so chilly that I couldn't have my windows open. (Which was amazing all by itself since, as anyone living in the Northeast part of the US can attest to, our weather this summer has been spastic).

I had all my windows opened, an ice cold glass of pepsi, and some relaxing candles lit.

Now, I'm bad at math. But this is the kind of equation that sits well with me:

Ice Cold Pepsi + Bachelorette - children = bliss.

As I was switching between my shows I happened to notice this annoying clicking sound coming from over by my back door.

Why do bugs in this part of the state have to be so friggin' loud?!

Go bother someone else.

They're recapping how Alyssa Milano did the dirty with that gorgeous lawyer man and you're ruining it.

Needless to say I didn't think much of it. After all, screen doors were invented for a reason.

Suddenly, however, I became acutely aware of a mass amount of bugs buzzing around my living room.

What.

The.

H. E. DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS is going on?

*Pause for Dramatic Effect*

You know that feeling you get when you suddenly realize you've forgotten something REALLY important? How your stomach sorta sinks in and you randomly start to sweat?

At this point in time, that feeling hits me.

I didn't check the screen door on the deck...

(Here is when the theme song to Jaws begins to play)

So I get up.

And slowly approach the door...

All the while knowing that the closer I got to that door the more danger I was putting myself in.

I reached out...

Why did it HAVE so dark out there?!

And...

the damned door is wide open.

Who didn't shut the door as they were running in and out last night I still don't know, but now I was faced with the miserable question...

How am I gonna get rid of all these bugs before they eat me and my children to death?

(And before Husband wakes up and realizes what happened, giving him new material to use against me whenever is convenient for him).

So what does my brilliant butt do? Why, I grab my brand new, really expensive bottle of hairspray and start going at 'em.

I don't know why.

I never said I was good at this stuff.

I just figured, if the stuff is making me choke when I use it then it's bound to kill them off and it's better than spraying a can of Raid throughout my living room.

Right?

So picture me in all my late night glory; jumping on furniture, running through the living room, and practically having a mental breakdown all while continuously pushing the spray nossel on this overly priced can of hairspray.

And trying not to scream while doing it. 

After all, if I wake up the family screaming then the waste of my hairspray was fruitless.

But as it turns out I was wrong about the killing ability of hairspray anyway.

I was still left with a million wiggly bugs on my walls (and ceiling, and I even found one floating in my pepsi....I don't even want to go there) and an half empty bottle of hairspray.

Bugs 1 Kendra 0

The Kindergarten Room Mom

Just like the end of every school year, I find this one to be bittersweet.

My son is now home with me, I'll now have a lot of time to spend with him, and I can sleep in again. But now my days will be busier, crazier, and louder.

There are some things though, that the end of the school year couldn't have brought fast enough. Warm weather, the beach, a new wardrobe, and the end of the daily encounters with the kindergarten Room Mom.

You know the one I'm talking about. The one whose always there, always prepared, and always helping. Whose children can do no wrong, so she looks at you like you're the worst parent in the world when yours gets the red card for behavior that day.

Well, this year at school, I've had that room mom and she's made every day an unforgettable experience.

I can't remember a time when I haven't seen her and her look of absolute pity because my son's hair isn't combed...again. (More about that here).

But what really gets me is that when most of the room moms you meet are extremely overly perky, dressed to the hilt, and incredibly annoying (picture June Cleaver in a classroom), my son's Room Mom is the complete opposite.

Take, for example, the fact that she has the uncanny ability to give you chills with a single glance.

Even as an adult, when I walk into the classroom and she looks at me, I'm scared senseless (and that fear becomes twice as bad if I'm walking into the room late for any reason).


Or that, in the however-many-months that my son was in kindergarten, I've never seen the woman smile.

Not once.

Instead, she's always had this look of absolute contempt on her face; like my mother used to when I'd done something horribly wrong and was going to be paying for it the rest of my life. She'd look at me in the hallways and I could feel my insides shrivel.

It's also noteworthy that I don't think she owns a pair of blue jeans; it was always sweatpants and a baggy shirt/sweatshirt.

Every. Single. Day.

(Not that I can say much. If I was able to pull off only wearing my jammies everywhere I went, you can bet your next house payment I would be!)

But it's not the clothes, the hair, the smile (or lack there of). I think what I find most interesting is that, despite her appearance and lack of social graces, that she made me feel completely inadequate at being a mother.

Now, I'm a hard person to intimidate.

I admit to having great self confidence, good people skills, and an upbeat personality that has won me many things. But when it comes to this woman, I feel like I've dropped the ball in every area of life outside of personal grooming!

AND I DON'T KNOW HOW SHE DOES IT!!!

I've never been late with the class snack. Never. I've always remembered my turn (even if I didn't remember until that morning and had to run to the store before school...but I always remembered!!!).

I've also been to every single party/event that the school or the class has thrown for parents. I was also on time everyday to pick my son up.

I've done it all right, so I don't know what my problem is.

But she just has this vibe about her that makes me feel like I'm an concomitant child. Which only makes me wonder more how the kids felt about her being in their class.

Which, side note, was fine. My son loved her...and for that matter the teacher seemed to too.

So it might just be me (but, in my defense, I've never seen her talk to another parent).

But the school year is over and I can now spend the summer recouping from my daily dose of humility and praying hard that her son isn't in Tyler's class next year.

Perhaps I need to light a candle...