The shoes didn't fit. It was an omen.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Sorry No Post Today

The day started out on the wrong leg.My daughter, No-No and me waited for her friend’s flight which was delayed a couple times. While waiting, we were hurrying to get the house in order. Not to mention, Glowstick threw up several times all over himself. He’s went through five outfits today. And now, my tale is totally whipped.

So I’ll see you guys next Tuesday. I’ll be yacking about evil mother-in-laws.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Wicked Brows, Mommy Dearest, and Wire Hangers

eye browsThis post is to further my celebration of mothers. Mostly bad ones since Secondhand Shoes portrays two different kinds of mothers. Both bad. Both unforgettable…I hope.

Let’s start with eyebrows. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, a brow properly arched or cocked coupled with the perfect evil stare can kill you without a word spoken. Ask, Lila.

Mom cocked a wicked brow at Mrs. Butz’s back, giving her a laser-gun look. If it would’ve been real, the woman would’ve landed on the floor dead.

In fact, my own mother had perfected it. She could put the fear of God and Satan in me with that thing in one full extension toward her hair line. There were times she maneuvered it just right, and I ‘d confess to things I never even did. That old heavily,painted brow was a horrific thing to deal with. It could make you believe you were in the worst kind of trouble no matter how good you were that day.

Mom never had to call on dad for any discipline intervention. Her eyebrows were the ultimate weapon of mass destruction. Those suckers were an inspiration for one of Babs’s many quirks.

Oh, did I tell you my own mother pulled all her of eyebrows out one day because she hated them. Neurotic. I know.

Lila like myself was simply horrified by those auto-pilot-operated-brows.

Mom squeezed herself through the gap between him and the door. “You really worry me.” She pushed herself into the room, racing toward me. “Were you talking to another imaginary person?” Her eyes shot to the scissors. “What are you doing? Are you cutting up your wrists?” She squinted her gray eyes at me, cocking her heavily painted left brow. “You’ll do anything to stop this wedding. Won’t you?”

Joan crawford brows

So what does Mommy Dearest have to do with this novel? Um, it was another inspiration in creating Babs. The movie was a perfect display of a psycho-neurotic-personality-disordered mom that would keep any child or adult awake all night for fear they might be pulled out of bed over too many wire hangers in their closet. (I know. I know. Long sentence here.)

Imagine waking up out of a deep sleep in the middle of the night to some psycho-foaming-at-the-mouth-mother. YIKES!

Hope you all have a great Mother’s Day on Sunday.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

My Moronic Motherhood Adventures

Okay. I promised you all a post on my own personal moron moments as a mother. And I’m hoping if you’re between the ages of fifteen and twenty-one, please take note so you don’t make the same mistakes.

1.Be Careful Who You Pick to be the Baby’s Daddy. Are you asking yourself what this has to do with being a MORON? Genetics is one. And what they do with their free time as a hobby is another.

At 18, I married the epitome of demon spawn. A mama’s boy hooked on everything from bug spray huffing to snorting Drano-exaggerating here but not far from the truth. This was the beginning of my moronic moment in motherhood. Choices can make or brake you, ladies and gentlemen. And in my moronic euphoria, I had three daughters by this sub-human-alien.

Needless to say, I haven’t been married to the walking-toxic-waste-dump for a good 20 years now. Bad boys with residual mother issues do not make good husbands or ex-husbands for that matter. Nor do they make Father of the Year. They’ll cost you your life’s savings and your sanity. And they’ll embarrass their own offspring.

2. Baby Bottle Lids and Microwaves. This is a moment I’ve never forgotten with my first daughter, Fred. She must’ve been 5 months old. I remember suffering from sleep depravation in this moronic moment. In fact, it gives me nightmares in my waking hours when I recall the hall of motherhood memories.

It was way too early in the morning. Dark, in fact. I kept the lights off to keep Fred from screaming up a lung before I could get her bottle properly filled and warmed-that’s what some baby book suggested. Stupid me maneuvered like a blind person through the act of pouring  formula into the bottle, sticking it in the microwave, nuking, and removing it. With one hand I THOUGHT I screwed the lid on it. THOUGHT!

So after I get Fred and me into a comfortable position for the feeding, the baby lets out this blood curdling scream and EXTREMELY warm liquid runs down my lap. The poor baby’s face is covered in formula. I thought for sure I had scalded and drowned her in one feeding. Thank God she’s 27 and has no memory of this moronic moment.

Oatmeal Balls. At 6 weeks old per my mother’s advice, Fred needed to be introduced to rice cereal from a spoon. OMG! This took coordination on both parts and some kind of confidence from me. Mom said to make it watery but I couldn’t keep the cereal on the spoon long enough to get it into her mouth let alone off me.

So I decided to make it thicker, pasty-like. It stuck to the spoon and it pretty much made it into her mouth. Problem solved. Right?

Maybe three weeks later, around 8 P.M., Fred went into a crying to screaming tirade. It lasted all night long. Nothing helped. Changing her diaper. Feeding her. Holding her. Patting her. All of this seemed to make it worse. I was beside myself.

Finally, at 6 A.M. the next morning a miracle happened. She let out loud, thunderous burp- I believe the house shook- and a ball the size of an orange popped out of her mouth.

It was several weeks worth of cereal formed into a nice tight ball. What a MORON!

3. My Two-Year-Old Driver. Yes. Daughter number four, Tinkerbell, decided to drive her and her sisters out of a parking lot one day. Why? Because her MORONIC and pregnant mother made the bad decision to leave her and sisters unattended in the van.

On my way back from talking with a teacher, I watched my van coast toward the school. HOLY SH@#$%!

Me and my 7 month-old pregnant belly ran like no other woman with child ever had. I did an Angelina-Jolie- jump onto the open door on the driver’s side and screamed REALLY, REALLY loud, and landed on my bottom, knocking every once of breath out of me watching the van careening closer to the school’s office.

But Fred saved the day-she was 9 then. Some how she managed to climb into the driver’s seat and drive it over a parking lot bump before she slammed the shift into park.

Yes. Fred had more sense than her MORONIC mother that day.

So dear followers have you ever had a few MORONIC mother moments? Do share.