SacMomsClub.com

Momservation: Moms don’t need more hours in a day – we need more free labor we don’t have to cook for, clean up after, or yell at to go to bed already.

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It seems there is never enough time to get anything done. When I wake up in the morning I’m already behind schedule.

Being a mom, whether working or at home (and I can speak to this because I’ve done both), there is no such thing as the euphoria of crossing that last thing off the big “To Do List.” It is a perpetual, never ending, constantly evolving To Do List (TDL). Cross one thing off, two things have taken its place before you can lift your pencil from the page.

Some days it’s so overwhelming I just want to lie down, go to sleep and not be woken up until the last episode of “Lost” when it will all make sense. These are the days I think Sleeping Beauty had it good.

Unfortunately, we all know that these TDL things don’t go away, but actually multiply when you try to run and hide from them. I recently proved this by seeking refuge in a dark movie theatre with my comforting popcorn, Junior Mints and rootbeer.

For two hours everything seemed right with the world again – especially when you’re staring at that hunky young thing, Zac Efron. But the second the light of day pierced my eyes again, my phone started ringing, my freelance deadline had inched closer, there was still nothing cooking in my oven for dinner, my son was going to have to wear a dirty uniform to baseball, and my daughter was going to need to bum some sunscreen at swim practice from a mom who actually took care of things on her TDL instead of trying to hide from them.

In order to quell the panic of not getting to something important on the TDL, you of course have to prioritize. Every mom knows the TDL is in a constant state of fluctuation and can reshift at lightning speed. What was important in the a.m. could very well be pushed to the bottom by noon.

I have been known to scrounge up a stash of complimentary hotel shampoos because going to the store for shampoo got knocked down the priority list. I’ve also eaten spilled gummy worms from the bottom of my purse when lunch got bumped. I’ve tried to convince myself a vigorous vacuum session could replace the half-hour at the gym I had to scratch. I’ve also grudgingly moved laundry up the list when everyone ran out of clean underwear and no one took my suggestion to just flip their underwear inside out seriously.

Hey, something’s gotta give and it ain’t gonna be my sanity. In fact, I wonder when the next showing of X-Men Origins: Wolverine is. That Hugh Jackman is just so delicious…

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Momservation: Letting your child express their individuality and the pain it causes you to keep your mouth shut is your own mother’s sweet revenge for suffering through acid washed jeans with holes in the knees, black lace gloves and ten pounds of Aqua Net in your hair.

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I knew if I was patient enough it would finally happen.

Of course there were times I thought being patient might kill me or at least cause me to make a midnight raid into my son’s room with clipping shears.

For eighteen months I suffered in silence. Well, not quite silence, but I really tried to reign in the subtle hints, suggestions and bribes.

And each day I cursed Zac and Cody and their moppy heads. The second I saw their shaggy style on “The Suite Life of Zac and Cody” I knew their Disney influence was going to be trouble.

So you can imagine my elation when my nine year-old son, Logan, finally uttered those sweet seven words, “Mom, I want to cut my hair.”

I wanted to shout for joy. I wanted to sob in relief that his phase of looking like a 70’s love child was, indeed, just a phase. I wanted to do a happy dance and burst into song to sing his praises for coming to his senses.

But, I had to play it cool so I wouldn’t undo eighteen months of tortuously supporting his self-esteem and self-image of wanting to look like Shaggy from Scooby Do.

“Are you sure?” I asked calmly while praying feverishly this one question wouldn’t change his mind.

“Yeah. Can we go today?” Logan asked.

“Let me get the car!” I raced for my keys.

“Um, Mom. School starts in 10 minutes. I meant after school.”

“Right. I’ll just call and make you an appointment after I drop you off.” The second his feet hit the school curb I was on my cell phone dialing.

I began to imagine having my adorable, clean-cut, All-American boy back. No more school pictures where I could hardly see those beautiful blue eyes. No more soccer pictures hiding his expressive eyebrows. No more basketball pictures disguising his ghost white forehead that hadn’t seen sun in nearly two years. No more evenings of staring at my son over the dinner table, trying to picture my little baby under all that hair.

Don’t get me wrong, Logan could’ve decided to shave half his head, dyed the other half rainbow, wear only orange and walk backwards on Sundays and I would’ve still seen him as perfect.

But then all bets are off and I wouldn’t have had to keep my mouth shut. I would’ve told him he was being a ding-dong.

Protecting self-esteem and self-image does not trump looking like an idiot.

Momservation: The day after Mother’s Day is like a hangover. It was a great party, but now back to the real world.

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I’ll give my husband an “A” for effort on Mother’s Day. I could see the guy was really trying.

I’m gonna have to give him a “B” for execution though.

Unfortunately, he’s teetering on a “C-“ for demonstrating ability to not make a bigger mess for Mom to clean up when her 12 hours of being pampered are over.

The first thing to go wrong was a supposed breakfast-in-bed start to the day. After lying in bed until nearly 8 a.m. waiting for anyone to wake up and sniffing in vain for the smell of bacon, I gave up and got my own hot chocolate.

Then, since I was the first one up, I got to be the one to clean up the dog and let him back in the house after another night of, let’s just say for the sake of the gross out factor, gastrointestinal problems.

I got my own Sunday paper, snuck something to eat so the kids wouldn’t be disappointed I already ate, and decided to enjoy a beautiful quiet morning outside. Of course, that’s when everyone decided to wake up and interrupt my solitude.

Then since everyone else slept in, we all had to rush to get ready for the next scheduled event – a trip to Sonoma to see my niece at college and gather for a picnic with the other mothers of the family. I could see Hubby was trying not to get annoyed with me on Mother’s Day for my leisurely pace, but on this day – I would not be rushed or lift a finger to get anyone else ready.

We quickly realized people are not just sending cards and calling Mom on Mother’s Day. The highways were jammed with people. Our short trip turned into a long trip turned into grumpy kids and a mother desperate to not yell at her kids on Mother’s Day.

The lovely picnic (because I didn’t have to do anything to organize it) and pick-up game of family baseball helped me return to my Serenity Now. I gave myself a free pass and ate all the cake and cookies I wanted. I didn’t even have to sunscreen any kids myself.

But the return trip home found even more people traveling to see their mothers and it soon stretched past a scheduled BBQ chicken dinner I was so looking forward to. Hubby dashed over to Bel Air to grab a rotisserie chicken when we got home to go with his homemade macaroni salad he prepared the night before in his plans for the perfect Mother’s Day.

The kids showered me with homemade cards and gifts, Hubby picked out a perfect card, and I was sent to bed to watch my favorite shows without having to clean the kitchen or get the kids ready for bed (the best gift, actually).

Then I woke up the next morning and the princess had turned back into the pauper. I had to trudge into disaster rooms (clothes, bathing suits and towels from the day before and card making supplies strewn everywhere), wake up grumpy, overtired kids for school who were back to not listening to me, and before I could make breakfast had to clear off counters covered in dumped picnic clutter and the mess of mommy taking a day off.

There were no spoons because the dishwasher needed to be ran, my son was out of underwear, the dog had pooped on himself again, I forgot to fill out the field trip permission slip, we had no fruit for lunches, kids couldn’t find shoes, my email box was full but I had to take the dog to the vet, my daughter needed more sun screen for swim practice, I needed to get checks in the mail, I didn’t have tortillas for dinner, my husband wanted to know if there was time to squeeze in his buddy’s baseball game before dinner, and everyone was saying, “Thanks Mom,” as they ran out the door.

Mother’s Day is officially over and I have the headaches to prove it.

I can't believe I did it (despite using the "S" word with my son and making my daughter stay at school when she was sick)!

CNNBC: "Kelli Wheeler Announced as 2009 Mother of the Year."

Watch it here:

http://news.cnnbcvideo.com/...

First I'd like to thank Becky for nominating me; my husband, Trey, for putting up with me; my son, Logan, and daughter, Whitney, for still loving me despite my obvious flaws; my mom, Jan, and my dad, Ron, for making me who I am today; my brother, Ron, for keeping me humble by never failing to point out my flaws; my sister-in-law, Sooper Zann, who is just cool; my friends and family for believing in me; Jen who will ALWAYS tell me when I have spinach in my teeth; Creatress who will always read my blog AND comment; Amanda who still wants to be friends with me even after meeting me; Hillary, my fellow teacher and loyal fan; SacMomsClub for giving me a forum to feel like somebody cares, and anyone who reads my blog (and/or comments) making me feel like I'm not just entertaining myself - THANK YOU. I hope I didn't forget anyone... 

TGIF or Happy Mother's Day to all!

Momservation: To say “yes” to any school committee is to forever commit to being taken advantage of in the name of your child’s education.

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I’d have to say one of the down sides to being a SAHM is people have the general feeling that you are just sitting around eating bon bons (especially if your kids are all in school) with oodles of spare time on your hands.

This includes my husband. To him, if there are no dishes in the sink and it appears some laundry has been done, I’ve had a really productive day. If we’re breaking this down to just the basest of concerns - this can be good or bad.

Good – all I have to do to keep him happy is wash the breakfast dishes and do a load of underwear.

Bad – He just doesn’t get what it takes to keep this ship afloat.

But, I love my husband, he’s a pretty great guy, and I will throw him a bone that he’s doing a bang-up job of working his tail off to provide for this family. We’re not picking on him today.

No, the people I’ve got a bone to pick with are the very people who should get me – other mothers.

It is my own friends, my own peers, my own community of (PTA) mothers that are always turning to me and saying, “Hey, Kelli – you’re just at home trying to establish a writing career with actual deadlines and endless marketing demands, plus you need to balance all that with the demands of parenthood – you have time to head the Fundraising Committee, be room parent, organize the set and costumes for the school play and drive on every field trip because no one else will volunteer.”

Actually, they don’t really say that, but that’s what I hear when someone once again tries to recruit me to another school project.

It’s not even a flattery thing where I can at least think of it is a nod to my skill set. It is strictly the need for a warm body and sucker who really thinks they’re just donating some materials for the class play. Only when you go to the committee meeting and no one else shows up that you realize you’ve been duped.

I don’t begrudge my working mother counterparts their stealth at avoiding getting roped into another “simple” school project that morphs into the same level of commitment as single handedly getting someone elected for president. I just wish I had access to standard excuses when someone backs me into a corner again in the name of enriching my child’s academic career:

-         I can’t get the time away from work

-         I’ve got meetings all day.

-         I’m going to be out of town on business.

-         My boss has really got me swamped.

-         There’s just too much going on at work right now

People nod in understanding and back off when they hear these explanations of why they are unavailable to help. Nobody’s giving me the free pass for:

-         I can’t get the time away from the washing machine.

-         I’ve got errands all day.

-         I’m going to be all over town on carpool duty.

-         My kids have really got me swamped.

-         There’s just too much going on at home right now.

But who am I kidding? All it’ll take is one of my working mom friends to say, “I feel so bad I had to miss another field trip,” or beg me to take pictures for them of the class play because they will be out of town on business, and not even the imminent threat of global warming could stop me from volunteering my time again.

If only they could be satisfied with the dishes in the staff room sink being washed.