Tuesday, September 30, 2014

The Woes of a Sports Mom

Tonight, The Girl's volleyball team plays in the semi-finals of the district volleyball tournament. We're all really excited, here at the Tatted Mom house...

Except... well... there's that one... no, I can't say it.

Wait. I can. It's my blog. I'm here to talk about the good, the bad, and the ugly of parenting. So, (deep breath)...

There's a small part of me that hopes they lose.

(Breathe out) OMG, I can't believe I just said that.

When you become a Sports Mom, you sign on for everything sports-related; morning practices, weekend practices, chauffeur to places in the county (or state if it goes that far) that you didn't even know existed (I'm sure the section of town the school was in for the quarter-finals last night used to be amazing...). Your schedule revolves around the sport's schedule, and for the last few months, we have ate/slept/breathed volleyball.

I love volleyball. I played in high school. And now I know how my mom felt.

Touche, Karma, touche.

Of course I want my child and her team to succeed. They only lost 1 game during the regular season,

Friday, September 26, 2014

Friday Frenzy: Why the Frick Can't I Cuss in Front of Kids?

(I'd like to welcome Melissa from Home on Deranged here for today's Friday Frenzy post. Her family life blog has everything from humor, to crazy life stories, to reviews and giveaways. She has a quirky side I love, and I'm very happy to have her here, and participating in Friday Frenzy! Thank you, Melissa!! Y'all definitely need to check out her website, and stalk follow her on social media sites! ~Tatted Mom)

Why the Frick Can’t I Cuss in Front of Kids?

It’s been said that people who swear a lot tend to be more honest, loyal and upfront with their friends. So I’m about to be a mother-effer’ up in here, m’kay?

When we lived in our pre-children state of marriage, I swore. A lot. I come from a newspaper background, and if you didn’t drink, smoke, swear, tell dirty jokes, you seriously did not fit in the newsroom.

When we had our first girl, I thought, what the heck? I’ll give up all of it. At once. Oh. Mah. Gawd. I might as well have given up food. But I was pregnant, so that wasn’t going to happen.

The second one came only 15 months after the first, so I didn’t have time to do any of the fun stuff. Oh, I’m kidding. I swore like a sailor. Because all the hormones that rushed out of me and then back into me quickly left me thinking, “What in the hell is going to happen next?”

And so….I try not to curse when the tiny little 2 and 3 year old ears are around. I occasionally say “crap,” and have heard the 2 year old say, “Oh, crap.” Never directed at anyone, mind you, but just a general state of her concern, usually over the placement of toys.

But these days, I get rattled. A lot. My anti-depressants aren’t always enough, and lately, I’ve resorted to saying “fuck.” A lot. You know, in its proper verb, adjective, noun, and/or adverb usage. It’s liberating, I ain’t gonna lie to you. But it turns out, the soccer moms, gymnastics moms, and

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Generation Z is For...

Apparently, I'm getting old. Each day, I see or hear something from a member of my kids' generation (yes, sometimes from my kids themselves) that makes me think,

"What is WRONG with the kids of today? That did NOT happen when I was a kid."

Take this past weekend, for example. Hubby and I went to a Godsmack, Seether, and Buck Cherry concert.

I will pause for a second to say, Holy crap, what an AWESOME concert!! 

Now, back to my story. The crowd was filled with people from the age of 3 (yes, you read that right- there were quite a few people who brought their toddlers to the concert, a few of which put their toddlers on their shoulders to make it to the front of the crowd, near the stage- I haven't figured out if that's awesome parenting, or horrible parenting yet...) up through probably 60-something. The largest age group was probably 20-somethings, or early to mid 30-somethings like Hubby and I.

But it was the teenage group that made me want to bang my head against the wall the most.
Pic Courtesy

The first thing I noticed, about 5 minutes after walking into the stadium, was a group of children- yes, CHILDREN- who couldn't have possibly been more than 15 or 16 years old, wearing bras and a simple bandanas tied around their chests as "shirts."

I actually paused in front of them to ask where their mothers were, when Hubby grabbed my shirt and led me down the stairs.

There's no reason in hell- actually, there's 50,000 reasons in Hell, no reasons here on Earth- these MINORS should have left the house dressed like that. And, if they left the house dressed like a proper 15 year old CHILD, and then changed into that, they need to be grounded until they are 18.

Back in my day, it was a short skirt and maybe a midriff top or low-cut shirt that we rebellious teenagers changed into after we left the house- NOT A HANDKERCHIEF.

I wanted to take a picture so badly for you all, but I didn't want my site to be flagged for child porn. Seriously. It was that bad.

And it doesn't really get better, sorry to say.

There were girls walking around in just bras and shorts. Bathing suit tops, I understand. Not bras. Thankfully, though, those girls looked like college students... doesn't make it "better" per say, but it
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