Lost & Found: One Mind

©Lisa Barker

Many times my husband will come home from work and ask me how my day went and I will tell him, “I know I was busy all day, but I don’t have any idea what I did!”

Well, I finally figured it out. I’m not losing my memory I’m losing my mind.

Every day I make a list of things to do and every day several things get crossed off the list, but I can’t even remember doing them. Now I know why. My four-year old has been checking things off my list behind my back.

See, I told you kids are out to get their parents by giving them gray hair and dementia!

Another thing he does is un-do everything I’ve done right after I’ve done it. I’ll clear the table, leave the room to fold laundry, then come back and see the table set again. While I’m second guessing myself in the dining room, he’ll be in the hallway dumping clean clothes into the hamper.

I think he’s ready for school. It’s time that he messed with the mind of some other adult. The teacher will collect papers, then turn around and see more papers to collect. Where did they come from?

While she’s collecting those papers, my son will be taking out blocks. Before she sees who did that he’ll be doling out snacks. And knowing my son he’ll recruit helpers.

I thought it was an odd coincidence that each teacher my eldest son had was only one school year away from retiring. Well, they better hire a bunch of fresh recruits because his little brother has been a great understudy.

My mother calls him a leprechaun. My sister, who calls her son Wheels, just shakes her head. One of the last times we visited her, my four-year old tore through her house getting into things at breakneck speed, grabbing her cell phone for the great finale and speed dialing before she could catch him. Apparently he was calling command central at 666-####.

This is the same child that takes off running the minute we open the van door when we arrive somewhere. If we walk anywhere near a patch of dirt he drops and rolls in it. If there are buttons to push and switches to flip, he’s doing it.

I used to want more babies, but now I just want a nap. Some people hire a ‘mommy’s helper,’ but I can’t imagine having another adult in the same room I’m in telling my son what to do while I veg out. Oh, wait. Yes, I can. I do that the minute my husband walks in the door at the end of the day.
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane… Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom™, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom, Mom Humor

Cooking Up a Comedy of Errs

©Lisa Barker

On September 6, 2007 I, Lisa Barker, did not burn, cut or maim myself when I cooked dinner.

Don’t laugh. This is a big feat. If there were chain mail I could wear while cooking dinner my husband would buy it for me. But he would have it asbestos-lined because, he reminds me, metal is a great conductor of heat and without him to look out for me, I might be writing a future column from the burn unit of a hospital somewhere.

So the next day I ventured into the kitchen, perhaps with a bit too much confidence, and burned my finger and stabbed it twice before I got dinner to the table.

My body is a battlefield of scars and nicks from the culinary wars. The end result is usually a great meal, but not without sacrifice.

Take cheese graters for example. I never know which knuckle I’m going to sacrifice that day. Hot oil. That’s a burn waiting to happen whether it’s a splash, a spill or worse, a deep fried fingertip. So I try to limit the amount of deep fried food we eat—for my own longevity. I don’t think our insurance covers accidentally french-frying yourself.

I can’t even cook toast without injuring myself. How, you might ask? It’s very simple. My hand is drawn to the hottest spot on the toaster. Yeah, that’s right—the part where the bread is supposed to go.

The most injuries happen just before I serve. It never fails. While kids are clamoring and tripping over themselves to either help or get first dibs on the food, Mom is earning a new scar. I’m in a hurry and the kids are congregating and the same thing happens every night.

“Mom, what’s for dinner?”

“Food!” everyone else replies.

I don’t have to say anything anymore because the rest of the family chimes in to give the same answers to the same questions asked every night while I drop a hot potato pancake on my foot.

“What kind of food?”

“Edible food!” they chorus, while I cut my hand on the sharp edge of the lid of the applesauce can.

“What did you do now, Woman?” My husband is tallying the bruises, blisters and cuts for the evening.

“Nothing,” I always say.

“Do you need any help?”

“No, I can kill myself just fine on my own.”

Later the kids are inspecting the sausages carefully and wondering out loud if any looks like a finger. “Tastes like chicken, right?”

You know, after an evening of this I need something I can do to relax. My husband suggested I get a hobby. I like to do home improvements.

So I bought power tools….

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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane… Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom™, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom, Mom Humor

Look Out! It’s The Estrogen Express

©Lisa Barker

My husband is a manly man. He takes great pride in being the head of the household and he does a great job as a husband and father. I don’t mind deferring to him…but he’s about to be dethroned.

There are three women living in our house. Any sane man will tell you that that is two women too many. No longer will Mars rule this household because Venus is rising.

Very soon the moods of we women will wear down my stalwart husband and drive him underground into the dark recesses of a male mind hiding behind the sandbag wall of computer games and sports. This is the season when the head male of the household learns to grunt and retreat, while the lionesses roar…and burst into tears, their emotions in sync, locked together like train cars charging through the night. It’s the Estrogen Express.

Already, my daughters and I make late night runs to the store for chocolate, the darker the better. And don’t be thinking about touching that ice cream. It’s ours.

Oh, we make sure there is some token bucket of ice cream out there for the men folk, but it’s one bucket for the three of them and one for each of us. And chips.

And yes, we cry. A good cry never did anyone any harm. And we don’t have to have a reason for crying. We just do it.

We also hug. And we fall over each other cooing and crooning over babies, puppies and kittens because they’re so cute! Because instinctively we know how precious life is. We have the capacity to bring forth life. We have power.

We have cramps.

So stay out of our way. No, wait! Make us orange juice and pick us up some headache tablets. And those other things. You know, the ones with wings, but not too long, or too thin! And no perfumes, but make sure there are at least 18 in a pack.

Please don’t grumble. Just turn up your collar and pull your hat down low and go. Be back soon. Thanks for running to the store.

Now let us be. Let sleeping lionesses lay. It won’t be long before these days pass and storms gather again, some exploding into thunder and lightning, others passing quicker than you can blink.

Don’t flinch. We just want to hug you. We love you. Really. You did remember to pick up that magazine and a Crunch bar, right? Well, did you?? How could you forget! You don’t love me, do you?

No, that’s okay. I’m fine. Really. Nothing’s wrong.

If you really loved me, you’d know what the matter was.

And so it happens. The Estrogen Express has run down another man.

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom, Mom Humor

Top Signs of Volunteer Burn-out

©Lisa Barker

One of the best things parents can do for their children is to volunteer in the classroom or for an after school sport or club. But sometimes parents, especially moms, can over-commit and that can quickly lead to burn-out and resentment. Post the following list on your refrigerator to help keep your volunteerism in a healthy range.
You might have volunteer burn-out if.

1. You know the teacher’s planner better than she does and she has to ask you where to find such and such in her classroom.

2. Whenever you eat pasta you think of a dozen wearable art projects you can make with it.

3. On the average there are more kids at your house daily than you have actually given birth to.

4. You have a PDA to keep track of all the things you volunteer for.

5. Your husband, sitting next to you, has to call you on his cell phone just to schedule some snuggle time.and you have to clear it with the P.T.O. first.

6. Whenever you hear the timer on the stove or the alarm in the morning you snarl because it reminds you of how much time you DON’T have.

7. You’ve started volunteering for more projects to get out of the ones you are already committed to.

8. You realize that you’re in this for life, which is funny because you no longer even have one.

9. You spend more evenings out than you do at home but you’re not having any fun.

10. You’re away from home so much you need to be reminded where it is.

11. You know exactly how many days, hours and minutes until the next holiday break.

12. You’re thinking of committing a petty crime so it will show up on your next background check and prevent you from volunteering.

13. Your child innocently asks for dinner and you give a thirty-minute speech on how all you do is give and you’ve got nothing left to give.

14. You fantasize about sending a bill for your time to those you volunteer for or wonder if your time and talent are worthy of a tax write-off.

15. That sarcastic voice in your head is demanding to be heard and you’re only too happy to oblige.

16. Every time somebody praises you for your volunteer work you eye them suspiciously, certain that they will give you more to do.

17. You’ve decided that the Golden Rule is for sado-masochists.

18. The kids want you to volunteer for some activities on the weekend. At home.

19. You’ve contacted the witness relocation program to hide you from the committee chairperson.

20. You’re thinking of going back to work full-time just to cut down on your workload.
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane… Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom™, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom, Mom Humor

Signs That You Are a Chocoholic

©Lisa Barker

1. You like to dip strawberries, cherries and bananas in chocolate so you start experimenting at dinner with broccoli and cauliflower substituting chocolate for cheese.

2. You buy a bottle of chocolate syrup and carry it around in a small paper bag for a quick nip when you need it.

3. You pour yourself a cup of coffee in the morning and use twelve chocolate spoons. You never touch the coffee.

4. You were delighted to discover that they make a chocolate bar for PMS, so you buy yourself three every month to get you through pre-menstrual, present-menstrual and post-menstrual syndrome.

5. Your significant other buys you a five-pound box of chocolate for Valentine’s Day and you eat the whole thing in one night. The next morning you try to call in sick, but you can’t dial the phone because your sugar levels are so high you can’t calm the tremors. So you nurse yourself back to health with little nips from that chocolate syrup bottle.

6. Whenever you see ‘Back-to-school’ advertisements you drool because you know there will soon be kids at your door selling the World’s Finest Chocolate bars for a dollar each.

7. When kids come to your house on Halloween you ‘make change’ by depositing hard candies in their pumpkins and withdrawing Snickers, Crunch, Hershey’s and 3 Musketeers bars.

8. Whenever there is a morning meeting scheduled at work you grab a double chocolate monster-sized muffin to go with your cup of cocoa, then sit on the edge of your chair all through the meeting waving your arm calling, “Me, me! I know, I know!” and they have to call a break so you can walk off some of the effects from all the sugar.

9. You actually call it a ‘hit’ at three o’clock in the afternoon when that chocolate craving strikes and you need it to get through the rest of the day.

10. You’ve eaten all twenty-four pieces of chocolate in your advent calendar by December 1st.

11. You think the best after-holiday sales follow Halloween, Valentine’s Day and Easter.

12. You think Hershey’s 65% cacao bars are for rookies and Lindt’s 85% cacao bars are for professionals.

13. You think it’s great when you go on a diet and the breakfast bars, snack bars, protein bars, and shakes come in chocolate and you’ve actually tried diet chocolate-flavored cola.

14. You plan to start a grassroots movement to get the cacao bean listed in the protein section of the food pyramid.

15. You think the woman in the Dove commercial who’s satisfied with just one piece of chocolate is faking it.

16. You’ve got ‘Chocolate Forever’ tattooed on you somewhere.
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane… Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom™, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom, Mom Humor

I’m A Soul Woman

©Lisa Barker

I tried one of those self-tanning gimmicks. It took me almost an hour to choose from all the products and if I had just spent that amount of time in the sun, I wouldn’t have had to spend twenty dollars on an experiment.

Everybody’s going to know I got a tan out of a bottle if it goes bad. 1) I’ll have a complete body rash. 2) I’ll look jaundiced, or… 3) I’ll look like George Hamilton.

It turned out to be none of the above. Instead I developed a fascinating case of upper body acne. Lovely. Now I know what I missed out on in high school.

It’s been two months and the acne still hasn’t cleared. It’s like my skin said, “Let’s party!” and my pores said, “Bring it on!”

You know a lot of women my age—pushing forty—go under the knife to look twenty years younger. Ha! I have them beat by five more years. And now I have a sudden urge to read Teen magazine and join the Drake Bell fan club. Okay…I joined the fan club two years ago.

Have you ever done that? Have you ever expressed an interest in the younger generation? You can really creep your teens out when you express an interest in a celebrity their own age. Of course, you can’t slobber all over the guy’s picture—or marry him unless you’re a forty-year old and a celebrity yourself—but you can say, “My he’s quite a talented young man!” right?

Pbbft. I have Drake and Josh dreams.

Now I’m not saying I need to start staying 30 feet away from children, I’m just saying that occasionally I dream of a television episode. In its entirety. I think the boys are cool. I think they’re talented. I think it has something to do with the Nickelodeon station being on 24/7. I think I need to move this column along.

So I got the tanning products. I loyally slathered it on and worked the cream into my skin. I denied that I was on a carrot-only diet. I gave up. The inside of my clothes were not stained (because it washes off), but I certainly wasn’t about to let my husband see my grimy laundry. “Geez, woman, don’t you shower??”

“Hey, I wash!” I yelled down the hall after my husband, just as my eldest emerged from their bedroom affecting their best “Yea-ah, whatever,” look. I hate to lose.

“Hey, I had one of THOSE dreams last night…”

“Mother!”

“I’m a soul wo-man, dada da dada da, I’m a soul woman!”

One thing is for sure. I might be a pimply old woman with an odd orange hue to her skin, but I can dance!

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom, Mom Humor

Parenting Teens: Next Will Come A Plague of Locusts

©Lisa Barker

It happens every day at 3:20PM. I brace myself behind the kitchen counter, the door opens and I defend myself with apples, peanut butter and pretzels.

They mow through them like linebackers then retreat to their rooms where they unburden themselves of the three hundred pound backpacks they lug everywhere.

I prepare for the second wave. Milk, cookies, and fruit are strategically placed on the table and are quickly devoured as they descend on them like voracious insatiable locusts.

Thirty minutes later, I hear squabbling and toss out samples of a spice cake I baked earlier. This calms the hungry beasts for a few more minutes and then they start to howl, “When’s supper, Mom?”

“Soon!” I try to placate them. “If you’re done with your homework, go out and play.” It’s a strategic risk. Playing will only make them hungrier.

My husband arrives with the wolves on his heels. I deal plates out on the table like a blackjack dealer. I barely get the food on the table before the beasts are drooling over their place settings.

“Amen.” And they’re off! Firsts, then seconds, then, “What’s for dessert?”

This will continue until snacking tapers off just before bed. But after eight hours of sleep, they will awaken and it will be as if they have never eaten. They prowl through the kitchen stalking yogurt cups, bananas and bagels.

No, these aren’t boys; these are my thirteen-year old twin daughters. They are growing so fast that their bodies and minds are just burning up fuel by the second.

But this growth spurt is not just affecting my daughters; it’s affecting me, too. As I watch my babies grow there’s a part of me that misses the little girls that they used to be. They eat for nourishment and I eat for consolation.

The girls are spurting upward and growing taller by the second. I’m spurting horizontally and in a circular fashion. People have stopped asking me when the baby is due…because I’ve been carrying it for four years now.

Note to self: Just because the kids are having a growth spurt, doesn’t mean you are, too, woman.

Isn’t that the truth?

They say stock your kitchen with healthy food and for the most part I have because I want the kids to make good choices. And I am doing that for myself…but four servings of something good for me is still three servings too many.

It’s funny that I started my vocation as a mom eating for three and now I’m doing it again as I watch my babies grow into adults. But I’m calling this stage of parenting the plague of locusts.

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom, Mom Humor

Things That Make Children Deaf

Any parent knows that the moment a child sees water there will be instantaneous deafness. It doesn’t matter whether it’s an ocean, lake, river, stream or mud puddle. Even a Dixie cup full of water is a child magnet…because children cannot hear parents when they see water.

Suddenly, the brain sends a signal that bypasses the ears and goes straight to the child’s legs and tells the child to jump, dive, stomp or splash in the water. Not until the child is soaking wet and shivering do parents’ voices register.

“What did you do that for? I told you we were NOT getting wet today!”

Come on, parents. Did you ever get near water yourself as a child and NOT get wet?

The minute the car stops so the family can take a look at the water, all bets are off. Somebody is going to get wet and it’s going to be a total soak. In fact, the amount of soaking will be directly related to the lack of towels and dry clothes on hand, meaning the less prepared you are the more soaked your child will be.

Unless the water is in a sink filled with dirty dishes, your kids will not be able to resist its magnetic pull.

Another great distraction is the television. The third parent has far more command over children than do mom and dad. Television ON = child’s hearing OFF.

“Junior, how was your day?”

No response.

“Did you enjoy the lunch I made you?”

Still no response.

“Your father and I decided to buy you a pony….”

It doesn’t matter. It could be the news and even a three-year old will stop, pivot toward the tube and the eyes will glaze over, the jaw will go slack and there’s no getting through to him.

“I’ve got ice cream!” you sing. Who cares? No child can resist television. You’d do better if you made a commercial. “We interrupt this broadcast so Timmy’s dad can say, “Tim, it’s time for bed. Now.’”

And try talking to a child delving into a sack of candy. A child cannot see, grab and stuff candy in his mouth AND hear at the same time. It’s biologically impossible. Cookies, pizza and soda have the same effect.

Children mean well, but there are certain things a parent must avoid in order to keep a child’s attention. So put away the candy, turn off the television and drive to the middle of the desert where you can use these things to negotiate with your child (some call it bribery). They’ll be putty in your hands as long as you can stand the whining—something that tends to make parents deaf.
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Jelly Mom™ is written by Lisa Barker, mother of five and author of “Just Because Your Kids Drive You Insane… Doesn’t Mean You Are A Bad Parent!” and is syndicated through Parent To Parent™. To publish Jelly Mom™, buy the book or leave comments, please visit http://www.jellymom.com. Sign up for the complimentary Jelly Mom™ weekly newsletter and receive a BONUS GIFT!

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom, Mom Humor

It’s A Boy Thing

©Lisa Barker

If something is broken around here I know that one of the boys did it. I don’t even have to ask. The girls would never do such a thing. If they break something, they tell me. If the boys break something I discover it piece by piece.

They also build things. Boys are like carpenter ants. They feed on protein and sugar and then destroy things in the house in order to build nests that are otherwise known as forts.

Another thing boys do is give parents heart attacks. Last week my four-year old son ran away. But this time it was different. He meant to run away. In the past if the door was left open, he’d run out and down the street willy-nilly like a dog on the loose. You know the kind. You spoil the mutts, give them treats and then the door opens and they run off like they don’t know you from the dog catcher. Some dogs just trot around the yard and then go right back into the house. Others run for it and up until last week so did my son.

This time, though, it was deliberate; he had a plan. And two hair-graying hours later, after a big ta-doo that involved police and concerned neighbors searching, he was finally home and we were finally de-stressed enough to talk about it.

“Why did you run away?”

“Because I don’t want to live here anymore.”

“Why? Why don’t you want to live here anymore?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?”

And then we slowly came to understand that this poor little kiddo was dealing with his older sister’s illness in the best way he knew how. He saw an older sister lose the ability to walk, run and play, to eat and drink and he was scared to death it would happen to him…unless he ran away.

You bet we loved and hugged him up. Thankful that this latest escapade only aged us twenty years and we still had our youngest boy, we spoiled him with treats and attention. The whole family did.

And we thought all was well until the next morning when he said to his father: “Dad, I’m done with my life.”

“What?” Immediately my husband conjured a bazillion reasons for this statement. He wondered if there more trouble on this little one’s mind.

“I’m all done with my life. I don’t want any more.” And he showed my husband his empty cereal bowl. He didn’t want any more Life cereal.

See? I told you boys give parents heart attacks.

I had to call my sister, mother of two delightful daughters and one boy nicknamed “Wheels”. I knew she’d understand.

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom, Mom Humor

Of Pirates, Plunder and Great Accessories

©Lisa Barker

He had on his pirate cape, his pirate hat…and a pink purse slung over his right shoulder. He was ready for action.

Until the ants attacked.

Little girls keep tissue, lip gloss and hair barrettes in their purses. Little pirates keep Goldfish Crackers and apples. Ants like Goldfish Crackers and apples.

Ever hear a pirate scream? It’s a bloodcurdling cry that sends shivers up a mom’s spine. I came running. “What’s the matter?”

“Ants! Ants!” he screamed and danced in place. Pirates don’t like ants. Rolie-polies are okay. And butterflies. But not ants.

We shook out his purse, but the ants kept coming. So we had to hang it from the swing until the ants had their fill and left.

The next day my little pirate was dressed and ready for action again. This time he had his hook and a sword.

“Where’s your purse?”

“Oh.” That’s my youngest son’s way of omitting information he doesn’t want to give. He didn’t want the purse anymore. He’d surrendered it to the plundering and pillaging ants. But now he had my pink sequined flip-flops. A pirate is never fully dressed without some sort of pink accessory, don’t you know.

But he needed something in which to carry his Goldfish Crackers. This time he made do with a sandwich bag. I gave him two treats for the dog as well and off went Pirate Boy and his loyal companion.

Later he tells me that Pirate Dog loves Goldfish Crackers and that dog treats taste great.

“Dog treats? Those are for the dog!”

“Oh.”

“What else have you and Pirate Dog been up to?”

“Nooooooooooooothing.” This is the second stage of pirate denial. A quick scan of the back porch step revealed some clues.

“I thought I told you to leave the dog’s water dish alone.”

“It’s mud.”

“It is now. What’s the dog going to drink?”

“Apple juice!”

“And I suppose he wants a sippy cup, too.”

So I arranged some refreshments for Pirate Boy and Pirate Dog and they left to scour the backyard for treasure. Soon, my kitchen counter was lined with interesting pirate treasure for me: odd shaped rocks, a dried weed flower and something unidentifiable that only Pirate Boys can name but I was too prudent to ask.

“Can I have my shoes back?”

He relented, embarked on another pirate adventure and soon returned jubilant. “I found my cowboy hat!” he crowed, with it perched on his head, dusty and sprinkled with cobwebs. And off he went to seek treasure and hidden dog treats at great peril.

But I didn’t worry. He’ll not be bested or vanquished. That’s because all pirates know the power of accessorizing.

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom, Mom Humor

To Love, Honor and Suffer

©Lisa Barker

Being accused of snoring is one thing. Being accused of honking is completely ridiculous.

“I don’t honk in my sleep,” I told my husband.

“Yes, you do.”

He told me to get some of those strips that you put across your nose to help reduce snoring. I’m game, but I said, “It might not work. I’m fat and I can’t sleep on either side very well anymore so I have to sleep on my back.”

“And honk.”

“I do not honk!”

“Yes, you do.”

Fine. I went to the store and perused the remedies. I found some sprays and what little I read surprised me. Was my husband supposed to squirt my throat or give me a shot up the nose when I snored? I wasn’t about to give him that kind of power. Happily married couples don’t give their spouses the power to blast them with anti-snoring spray just willy-nilly. And knowing my husband, that kind of power would go straight to his head.

I’d be lounging on the sofa watching my favorite show when all of a sudden I’d get a blast of anti-snoring spray in the face.

“What’s that for?”

“Just testing.”

“But I’m not snoring.”

“You honked.”

“Yeah, that again.”

So I studied the boxes of strips. None of them guaranteed a thing and I figured since I was at the ‘honking’ stage of snoring I definitely needed something far superior. That’s why I chose the nose rings. Yes, I did because there comes a time in a married person’s life when they love their spouse so much they are willing to try the ridiculous just to please their beloved.

Besides, I’m afraid of the dark and can’t sleep without my husband in bed and he was threatening to sleep on the sofa unless I found a way to stifle my nightly Canadian goose call. And, the box guaranteed that their product blew all the others away. Pun intended?

As it turned out the nose ring really worked and I didn’t snore at all. It kept me awake most of the night because I forgot I was wearing it and kept swatting my nose while my husband got the best night of sleep in his life.

I, on the other hand, had to listen to him snore all night long, if that’s what you want to call it. It sounded more like somebody trying to start a weed whacker. At least I can honk steadily and not have this burst of sound like ripping sheets, followed by dead silence and then another quick burst. Who can fall asleep to that?

I think I’ll get some of that spray stuff. I’m sure the power won’t go to my head.

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom, Mom Humor

Back-To-School Derby

©Lisa Barker

It’s that time of year again. I half expect to hear Target announce my arrival when I walk into the store with the kids in tow.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 13th running of the Back-To-School Derby for the Barker Family. Mom is in good form as she reads each child the riot act even before they get themselves into trouble.

They’re on the main track now and you can hear the store manager roar – it’s going to be a profitable day for the Target store!

Mom’s taking up her shopping cart. She’s in the gate…and her toddler’s off running helter-skelter through the aisles taking an early lead. It’s Toddler out front! This looks to be a promising shopping spree folks!

And here comes Teenager One by a nose, now by a head. She’s leading Teenager Two in a smooth and sophisticated dash to the Junior Miss department while Middle Child presses on a neck behind…and then suddenly breaks away in a dead run to the Electronics department!

Cutie Pie carries on at an even gait in her suped up hot pink wheelchair cooing at each sighting of SpongeBob while mom brings up the rear pushing both shopping cart and wheelchair.

They enter the backstretch, Mom is now neck and neck with Teenager One and Teenager Two who quickly try on every item of clothing and reject all but three as they fight over the fourth item (I saw it first! I touched it first!). Now on the backstretch Mom is still with the lead…it’s now Middle Child! It’s Middle Child! Out of nowhere Middle Child takes the lead!

Middle Child has made his selection in electronics and now sprints for the toy aisles with Mom pressing at the neck whipping undies, socks, notebook paper, binders, pencils, erasers and shoelaces into the cart as she presses on…now neck and neck as they go down the backstretch. It’s Mom! Now Middle Child! Now Mom! Now Middle Child!

Here comes Cutie Pie with Teenager One and Teenager Two in a dead heat! This is going to be tight folks, too close to call, but now it’s Toddler in the lead! Toddler stumbles into Mom’s sights and it’s Toddler going away, Toddler pulling away, Toddler wins!

I’m sure that none of the employees at Target appreciate my style of shopping, but with all of us panting at the checkout and me ready to fork over a paycheck for school clothes and supplies, I know they’ll smile and bid me a good day just the same when we’ve finished our Back-To-School Derby.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to take a picture with my youngest that is now draped with a horseshoe of roses.

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom, Mom Humor

Fleeting Youth, Fleeting Sanity

©Lisa Barker

When the kids aren’t present sometimes judgment falters and we parents do things that maybe we shouldn’t.

When I was ten years old I had a skateboard. My father found it in the garage and, perhaps feeling a bit younger than his thirty-five years, hopped on to give it a go…and landed flat on his back.

The moral of the story is: Parents aren’t as young as they think they are.

Time marches on. Now my dad is sixty-five. Recently he visited, and was amazed by the flexibility of my youngest daughter who is almost six years old. Even though she is wheelchair bound she is able to stick her right foot above her head and is quite comfortable, leaving it there for hours on end.

Well, my dad got to thinking about this later on when he got back home. Did it hurt? How did she do that? If she can do it, then so can I….

So he got down on the floor and tried to raise his foot above his head…and immediately cramped up because sixty-five year old bodies don’t work like that. Thank goodness he got his leg back down before my mom had to call the paramedics.

“What’s the problem, Ma’am?”

“My husband’s leg is stuck in the air.”

“Ma’am?”

“His foot is stuck behind his head.”

“Oh-kayyy.”

Can you just imagine them wheeling my father out on a stretcher, covered with a sheet and his leg still in the air?

Well, to prove that the nut doesn’t fall too far from the tree I went ice-skating with my daughters one year in recent memory. It was probably on the 25th anniversary of the day my dad tried the skateboard. At thirty-five years of age my curiosity kicked in and I tried to ice skate for the first time in my life.

I soon learned that the faster you go, the better you balance – until I accidentally hit the brakes and did a tremendous belly flop and slid ten feet.

It wasn’t the fall that bruised my ego; it was the shock on the faces of my children. You know the look. It’s the one that says: You’re so old! Did you break everything? Are you dead?! Lucky for me the only thing that died on the ice was my pride and a fleeting memory of my youth.

So kids, do your parents a favor. Don’t leave your roller blades, skateboards, pogo sticks and other parent-crippling devices around. Who knows when one of them is going to feel like a kid again and leap to their doom?

On second thought, just put the family doctor on speed dial. You’ll need it.

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom

Fat No, Chocolate Yes

©Lisa Barker

I decided to eat healthy. Two hours later I got the results back from a blood test declaring that I am a prime candidate for a heart attack. Is there a better sign that eating healthy is the right direction to go in?

So I cut the fat and cholesterol out of my diet and increased whole grains, veggies, fruits, beans and lentils. This is not a problem for me because I’m not a picky eater and I am happily eating as much as I like from these food groups. That is until the craving hit.

On day six I heard, “C-H-O-C-O-L-A-T-E!” whispered in my ear. I didn’t need to look around. I knew no one was there. Women have an organ called a chocopendix. It’s a tiny organ located directly between the ovaries. It’s practically invisible to the male eye and to those who do not believe women should be stereotyped.

Its purpose it to regulate cacao in the bloodstream. The level of cacao in the bloodstream is determined by the hormonal messages detected from the ovaries. Pre-menses, menses and post-menses states of a woman’s body demand certain levels of cacao.

If those levels are not met, then the female brain goes into chocolate arrest. This is when the entire brain shuts down and women resort to a primitive gathering state (as in hunters and gatherers). She must have chocolate. She must stop everything she is doing and seek chocolate. It’s that simple, but it can be deadly for those witless males and children in close proximity.

Symptoms of chocolate arrest generally include eyes narrowed to slits, a deep frown and scowl, a pointing finger and rapid aggressive criticism of anyone and everything from all time. Symptoms may also include abrupt bouts of crying and despair creating a mixed state of anger and depression.

At this point the brain induces an audio-hallucination which is what I was experiencing.

“Chocolate!” My brain screamed at me again.

What could I do? I hurried to the van and drove myself to the store and ran to the ice cream aisle. (See? I’m exercising, too!) I selected a fat free ice cream. Proud of myself, I rushed home and plopped two scoops in a bowl and drowned it in fat free chocolate sauce.

Well, I satisfied two things – my craving for something sweet and cold and my curiosity about ‘diet ice cream’. Is that an oxymoron or what?

I just wonder how long it will be before I desperately start spooning baking cocoa into my mouth in desperation. It’s a fine line when balancing cholesterol and cacao levels.

For now the voice is quiet. It’s not happy, but it’s quiet.

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom

Rules For Visiting With Little Ones

©Lisa Barker

I love visiting family, but I’ve done a lot of thinking and I now know why my little ones are like mice on speed once we arrive at our destination.

When families travel the children sleep but the parents don’t. We don’t mean to let them sleep but we relish the quiet. I mean, how often does it happen that the kids are asleep and you are awake with enough energy to do more than just grunt and sit on the sofa with the remote slipping out of your hand?

Unfortunately, at the final destination the parents are tired and the kids are wired.

And now parents must go on double-duty making sure little fingers don’t poke into things they shouldn’t or shatter items that are just too difficult to resist. Still, little ones slip under the radar from time to time and nothing puts a damper on a visit than little ones who are quicker than the adults present.

So I made up a list from my own experiences to help tired parents and bewildered grandparents who aren’t used to having little ones wreck the place…I mean, visit. I hope these tips help.

1) Frequently poke the children when traveling to encourage them to stay awake. Invest in a spray bottle and use it often.

2) Offer ample drinks when traveling. You may have to make more stops, but everybody stays awake. You’ll have to weigh the pros and cons of caffeine.

3) Duct tape oven mitts to children under the age of three. This prevents them from picking up miniature collectibles. It also keeps fingerprints off sliding glass doors…and really discourages nose picking.

4) Bring a stake and leash for wandering toddlers. Stake the child in the backyard. She can run and play as she pleases, without slipping out the front door and down the street to play with the nice puppy in a stranger’s garage.

5) Wrap the clumsiest children in bubble wrap as a preventative measure for when they forget to walk and run through the house and then collide with inanimate objects.

6) Bring a playpen for the youngest to coral them when they just won’t leave the untouchables alone. Use the above stake and leash for older children that do not stay out of rooms that are off limits.

7) Bring a whistle (or an air horn) to get the attention of children feigning ignorance and deafness due to the special occasion of visiting.

Bring an IV. This is the best way to prevent unnecessary spills.

9) Bring videos the children have not yet seen. Make that television babysitter work for you!

10) Bring plenty of aspirin because you’ll need it.

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom

Teens Train Mom

©Lisa Barker

My thirteen-year old daughters are leaving a legacy for the other kids. There are some unspoken rules that I’ve come to respect.

1. When the door is closed to our room and you hear music, please knock.

2. When the door to our room is closed and you don’t hear music, please knock.

3. If you hear music and you like it, you’re more than welcome to listen…if you sit outside the closed door. Please, don’t sing.

4. When we shop for clothes, just leave us to ourselves. We have good taste and a fabulous sense of propriety and modesty. We’ll find you when we’re ready for you to pay. Please, don’t page us again.

5. Thank you for being courteous and prompt when one of our friends telephone. But try not to sound so shocked when you find us still on the phone forty minutes later…at least don’t be so dramatic that our friends hear you gasp and fall over in the hall. And stop singing show tunes!

6. We’re starving when we get home. And while don’t mind rice cakes and pretzels, Mom, you’re the one on the diet and we need something more…something more cookie-like?

7. Just because we are straight-A honor roll students, don’t expect us to exhibit any academic genius at home. We’ve got to be total airheads somewhere sometimes.

8. Yes, we still play with B*rb**s, but if you ever print that information again in one of your columns, be prepared to pay. We’ll take tens and fives. No make that a crisp twenty since you slipped this one in your column…and take us clothes shopping.

9. An iPod is nothing like a tripod, trust us, Mom…and get us one each.

10. Chores. We’ll get to them. We’re not on the same timetable that you are. When the things on our bedroom floor reach hip-level, then we’ll clean.

For better or for worse, the teen years are coming for all my kiddos. For now, I’ll just enjoy them as they are—

“Momma! JD won’t give me my truck back!”

“It’s mine!”

“No, it’s not! GIVE IT BACK NOW!” (Whack!)

(Thump, thump!)

The youngest bursts into tears and comes running. He cleaves to my leg. Maybe it won’t be so bad when these two lock themselves up in their room and blare their music.

“Give me the truck,” I tell them, and up it goes on the refrigerator with several other confiscated items. Suddenly they are best friends. Just in time for the teens to barrel in the door, bickering. Rule #11 – Let them work it out.

So, I turn on my stereo to drown them out. I have no idea who they get that from.

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom

How To Determine The Future Vocation of Your Children

©Lisa Barker

Have you ever wondered what your children will grow up to be? Following is a list of possible vocations based on the behavior of children.

Child screams at top of lungs to get other children to play his way. Occupational aptitude: Drill sergeant or parent. Take your pick.

Child scales all furniture stepping on anything to get to the top. Occupational aptitude: Fireman, mountain climber or CEO.

Child constantly finds your stash of chocolate. Occupational aptitude: Detective or personal fitness trainer.

Child avoids telling the truth by asking questions and going off on tangents. Occupational aptitude: President of the United States or any politician.

Child eats more cookies and snacks than anyone else taking more than his fair share. Occupational aptitude: The federal government.

Child stuffs veggies up his nose but he insists he ate them. Occupational aptitude: I don’t know, but I hope there is some sort of future for the child of mine that does this.

Child gets caught sneaking candy out of the house and then tells you he was planning to give it to all the children in the neighborhood that didn’t have any. Occupational aptitude: Spin-doctor.

Child gets younger siblings to do what she wants by speaking with a low growl through clenched teeth. Occupational aptitude: Mother in a shopping mall with misbehaving children.

Child gives his/her all at school, then comes home and leaves a trail of shoes, coat, backpack, books and socks from the front door to the bedroom. Occupational aptitude: Husband, bachelor or working mom.

Child constantly talks over others speaking for them and telling others what they really mean. Occupational aptitude: News commentator, talk show host or mother-in-law.

Child constantly whines. Occupational aptitude: An actor that plays a disgruntled caveman in television ad for an insurance company.

Children today have more opportunities to become anything they want to be more than at any other time in history. As parents we need to nurture their latent talents. A friend of mine’s son colored all over her newly painted wall. He was promptly punished…and grew up to be an electrical engineer. He might have been the next Picasso.

At least this is what I tell myself when I see the writing on the wall…in all 64 wonderful Crayola colors. I try to see the artist, engineer, doctor, lawyer, librarian, mother, father or chef in each child.

Who knows what the next generation will become? I’d ponder that but the sound of breaking glass alerts me to the fact that young Sir Isaac Newton just discovered gravity while Ms. Pavlov conditions our poor Chihuahua with the cookies I was saving for snack time.

And I wonder…did Einstein’s mother ever ground him?

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom

Another Day, Another Migraine

©Lisa Barker

I know it’s time to get up in the morning when I hear Miss I-haven’t-pooped-in-three-days-and-need-to-poop-right-now is hollering and Mr. I’m-so-quiet-you-just-know-I’m-into-something isn’t making a peep.

As soon as I open my bedroom door, Mr. I’m-so-quiet comes skipping down the hall and darts quickly into his room. He looks both elated and guilty and then confirms that he’s been up to something by shouting out before I can even ask, “I didn’t do it!”

Realizing that I am awake, Ms. I-haven’t-pooped belts out her request in an ear-piercing wail that makes the skin on my skull wither away. And so begins another day in the Barker household.

It doesn’t take a genius to determine that the last of the plastic Easter eggs have been looted for candy. Little scraps of tin foil litter the floor and there are smooshed peanut butter cups on the kitchen table along with some sticky, wet rejected jellybeans.

Of course this is when Miss I-haven’t-pooped DOES and greets me for the day with a diaper blowout. Joy.

As soon as I am up to my elbows in that mess Mr. I’m-so-quiet sneaks out of his room to get himself a glass of water. This means that when I return to the kitchen the refrigerator door will have been left open and the cats will be browsing the leftovers and there will be a large slippery puddle on the floor. The dilemma? To determine whether it’s a puddle of water or the result of a lazy pet.

Finally, I send Mr. I’m-so-quiet to the corner so I can catch up on the catastrophes. He starts wailing and Miss I-haven’t-pooped giggles and coos. There is a cosmic law that states that no household shall exist without one crying child per hour, so naturally the kids take turns being miserable to make sure they cover every hour of every day.

At last I have it under control. Even though I won’t be getting a shower until the evening when my dear husband returns home there is some semblance of order.

Now it’s time for the rest of the children to return home. “Can I have a snack?” “She got more than I did!” “Get out of my room!” “Do I have to do my homework now?” “Sign my reading sheet, Mom.” “The dog just ate my eraser!”

It’s enough to make a mom run stark raving mad out of the house and down the street. But I am a woman of considerable restraint. Not.

I assume the position. Slack jaw, drool on my chin, hair frizzed and wild, eyeballs slowly rotating in different directions…so that when my husband walks in the door he’ll say the magic words: Pizza night!

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom

If The Shoe Fits, Hide It

I said good-bye to the floor in my daughters’ room a few years ago and I don’t expect to see it again until they turn 21.

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom

This Mom Is Out Of Order

I’m going to make an ‘out of order’ sign and hang it around my neck. After a day of screaming (not me, one of my kids) I don’t have the wherewithal to deal with anybody else who doesn’t stand taller than my belly button. Read more

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom

Toughing Out Toddler Torture

Living with a toddler that talks non-stop is fun. No, seriously.

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom

The Unbearable Un-coolness of Being Mom

My middle school-aged daughters recently talked me into going shopping. Our second stop was the music store.

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom

Homemaking Hijinks

My house is decidedly a ‘deconstruction zone’ where each child and pet tries to outdo the other in wrecking the place. “Mom, I slid on the floor and accidentally put my knee through the wall.”

My dinners are done when at least three smoke detectors go off and my sheets haven’t been washed in so long they don’t need to be ironed.

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom

The Unfit Mother

No matter how competent a mother is, her child is sure to do something that makes her feel completely inept.
Read more

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom

One Smart Family

Have my husband and I muddied the gene pool or are these moments of unexplainable lunacy the side effect of genius?
Read more

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom

Do You Hear What I Hear?

When little ones pipe up in public, it can raise a few eyebrows.

It’s time for our many pets to get their annual check-up and shots. The best way to handle this is to schedule an appointment each week with the vet and bring them in two at a time.

As always, I have at least three kids in tow. One of those kidlets is my three-year old who has been seriously studying the vet and all his equipment.

Written by Lisa Barker · Filed Under Jelly Mom