Parenting Fun with Smart Phones

I’m a big believer in the golden rule. 

"Do unto to others as you would have other do unto you"

It’s a good philosophy to live by. And a fabulous way to make a lesson stick for teenage children who don’t listen and think they are ever so funny. When they are in fact annoying and not at all funny.

Since acquiring their own iPhones, the Basement Trolls think its is super duper LOL sidesplitting hilarious to swipe my phone when I am unaware and take as many ‘selfie’ pictures as possible before getting busted. And then change my home screen to one of the awesome aforementioned self-portraits.

Side note…what the hell is with the 'duck face' teenage girls are posing with these days? It’s not cute. It's weird. And if you are trying to be sexy, that word should not even be in your vocabulary. 

The whole thing is very quacky to me.

The first phone heist was kinda cute.  By the fourth or tenth time I had spent my time deleting 782 pictures from my camera roll...I was all done there. Get some new material girls…this jokes getting old.

As you are aware, the girls cell phone privileges come with some pretty strict rules and expectations. One of those being that the phones are mine at night to peruse as I please. One night last week after the girls had gone to bed, Dylan and I decided to have a little fun. Not that kind of fun!!! Geesh. Focus people. 

It was time for a little ‘Do unto others’ lesson with a healthy dose of embarrassment thrown in.

What's better than 700 selfies of mom and dad on your phone and as a new pic for your home screen?

701 selfies of mom and dad dressed up in sparkly pink cowboy hats, rainbow disco wigs and multi-colour hula skirts all while posing with duck face’s.

That’s what better.

Oh…and having those pictures shared on their Instagram accounts.

With fabulous captions about how cool their parents are.

That’s what’s even better.

  

Don’t touch my phone again girls.

I win.

Even after all of this, I may have encouraged Peyton to feel free to have a photo session on Dylan’s phone when he was having a nap on the couch. I think she captured a lovely father-daughter moment. 

He was snoring. I was annoyed. 

It was worth it.

Well, payback with a smart phone is a bitch. Click HERE to listen what Dylan sent me the next day.

I don’t snore. It was a set-up. I swear it was the giant dog.

Jackass.

Xo J

Drum Roll Please.....

Well here it is, my very first...

‘I Get a Day Off From Writing and Feeling Pressure to be Funny and Get to Laugh at Your Stories and Share Some Blog Love’

Monday

I tried, but I can’t think of a better name. Meh. Whatever.

When I posted for interested guest bloggers, I was very afraid it would be like sending out invitations to a grand party and no one would come. Or like not being picked for Dodge Ball. Thank goodness I had many responses, because if not I would cry and no one needs to see that. 

I would kick ass at Dodge Ball by the way.

It seems fitting that my first guest blogger is no stranger here. Hook, from You’ve Been Hooked, is a husband, father, bellman and blogger extraordinaire. I read his blog religiously and as of late he has impressed me with a series of Top Ten Lists on a variety of subjects.

He sent me one. It’s about parenting.

I don’t get some of it because I am not as hip to all things pop culture related. But what I do understand is funny, so I’m guessing the rest is equally as comical.

But if its not, don’t blame me. Go over to Robert’s blog and tell him thereJ

_________________________________________________________________________________

Ten Signs You May Have Lost Control of Your Kids.

As a dad, I’ve hit the jackpot: my daughter is respectful, smart and merciful enough to never abuse her intelligence by pulling one over on her old man.

But not every father is so lucky.

Here are ten signs that your own “Little Monsters” – I sure hope that Gaga chick doesn’t sic her legion of undead, blood-sucking lawyers on me – may be planning a revolt.

1)  They check the following books out of the library:

•       The Menendez Brothers’ Guide to Communicating With Your Parents.

•       Lindsay Lohan’s Guide to Parental Emancipation.

•       Everything You Want To Know About Untraceable Poisons.

•       Drew Barrymore’s Guide to Enjoying Your Childhood.

•       How to Train Your Shih Tzu to Kill.

2)  They ask if your kitchen knives are sharp enough to cut a brake line and they ask you to stay out of the garage for a little while.

3)  They start making you breakfast in bed, just as you notice glasses are disappearing from the cupboards…

4)  They ask for Sun Tzu’s The Art of War for Christmas.

5)  They start calling your wife’s old boyfriends up and inviting them for dinner.

6)  Your wife discovers she now has an account on ashelymadison.com – and 197 messages.

7)  They keep asking if your will is up-to-date.

8)  You hear the same question repeatedly “Are you sure we’re not adopted?”

9)  They hide your EpiPen and smear peanut butter all over your pillow.

10)  They continually petition your local YMCA to offer knife throwing classes.

Share some love and support through your comments (please) and tell Robert how great he is then go check out the rest of his blog!

Against my better judgment, I have asked Dylan to write a piece for you to enjoy in the near future.

He grinned like a wee little schoolgirl when I gave him free reign to write a tell-all expose on yours truly. I feel afraid. You should feel ready to pee your pants with excitement.

Stay tuned for another guest blogger next 'I Get a Day Off From Writing and Feeling Pressure to be Funny and Get to Laugh at Your Stories and Share Some Blog Love’ Monday.

I really need to work on that name.

And email me if you wanna join the fun.

Xo J

Hunger Games

My kids have been off school all week. All week. Did I mention since like last Friday? Yes all week.

Seeing as both Dylan and I work full time, this has lead to a lot of unsupervised ‘sister bonding’ time. Please read as: The fighting is gonna put me over the freaking edge.

Its been like the Hunger Games around here.

They are gonna kill each other for sure. Well, at least the little one. Yeah, my bet is she won’t form any alliances for survival, which is too bad as her dimples make her a crowd favorite for the win. She is good for ratings; I hope she makes it to the finale.

Each tribute in my fight-to-the-death-school-break-arena has their own special skills for survival and I am the Games Master throwing twists into the game to mix things up and keep it interesting for the spectators.

By spectators I mean me. Me at work watching it all play out via ‘tattletale texting’. 

It’s been fantastic. No it has not.

Maybe a sponsor will send me booze for my survival. To clarify, I don’t want an AA sponsor. I want the opposite.

Ironically, I was sent an email last night asking me to post a link to "Ideas to Keep Your Teen From Going Stir Crazy Over Spring Break".

Where was this list last Monday assholes?

Then I was mad because they reminded me that it’s not even Spring Break yet. Then I thought about Summer Holidays. Then I started crying. Then I poured a glass of wine.

This list has some naïve, bullshit, resourceful ideas if you are creative and organized and a good mom and give a shit. None of which I am. I made sure their iPhones and iPad’s were charged, turned on the TV, left some cold pizza and went to work.

Oh, I also left them a list of major cleaning jobs. For money.

That's right, I bribed them with twenty bucks to keep busy so they would not burn down my house or require a C.S.I murder investigation. Go ahead and put child labor on your ‘keep busy’ lists you damn super mommies. That’s the stuff that will get parents to buy into this cult of good parenting you are pushing. 

You’re welcome.

The next email in my inbox was from a company that told what an influential blogger I am and as such they would like to send me free designer sunglasses to try out and then write a review about on my blog. This enticed me, as it was clearly better for my self-esteem. I’m a shitty mom but a kick ass blogger! Plus…I love free stuff.

In other news, please disregard any future blogs about sunglasses.

Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to go referee the fighting in the basement while I close my eyes and imagine the school bell ringing.

May the odds be ever in your favour.

Xo J

So ya wanna guest blog?

Happy Family Day to my Canadian Friends! (Except Quebec…get back to work)

Happy Presidents Day to my American Friends!

Happy Birthday to me.

Quinn gave me a lovely card this morning. The hand written message made me melt…and the honest reminder made me laugh. Kinda.

Isn't she just precious? By the way, I am NOT 40 yet.

I use to have a birthday month!! I loved my birthday and all the love and attention that Jessicauary February brought. I loved to celebrate me! But life is funny isn’t it? As I get older I want NO ONE to recognize my day of birth. I actually shut down my Facebook page so I don’t have to deal with the random ‘happy birthdays’ and attention from people that I haven’t seen or spoken to in 20 years.

Birthday bah hum bug right?

So why, you ask, am I announcing it on my blog that is read thousands of times per day? Because I want you all to give me a gift.

Ok, because I am busy and lazy and I need your help and I figure my birthday will guilt you into it.

I am going to start a regular weekly guest post feature. I chose Mondays because well, frankly I hate Mondays and by featuring another blogger I get one thing taken off my plate as the workweek begins. I thought about a cute name, like Mommy Mondays or Terrific Tuesdays or Share the Love Humpdays but that’s all lame, so I shall call it…

‘I get a day off from writing and feeling pressure to be funny and get to laugh at your stories and share some blog love’

Ok, that name may change; it’s a bit long. Consider it a work in progress. I’ll keep you posted.

So, you wanna guest post here? Of course you do!! I don’t have a lot of rules. Ok, I have a few.

·      Please be funny. A least a little bit. Aim for one laugh snort and one pee dribble. Keep it light. I don’t want to read about the Theory of Relativity and its effect on mankind. Yawn. Please don’t be boring.

·      It must relate to parenting, being a mom, being a dad, kids at any age, marriage, relationships, work/life balance etc. Again, this blog is not about chemistry or to debate our views on immunization or breastfeeding.  Tell me the funny in your everyday life.

·      This is NOT for advertising purposes.

·      Please remember my mom and kids read the blog. You know my style and my boundaries…so no XXX rated material. I probably didn’t need to write that rule; after all I have the bloggy power to just not post it. It’s not like someone will be forcing my hand on the computer with a gun to my head and threatening me with no wine ever again to hit the ‘post blog’ button. I digress.

·      I don’t really care about the length; I am a wordy gal myself. But please don’t send me your manuscript to edit and pimp out to agents and publishers.

If you are interested please send me your name, a short bio, blog link (if you have one) and your piece for me to read and post. I will randomly select each week and let you know by at least the Sunday before. Then I will hype the shit out of you and your blog here and on my Facebook page and Twitter. 

What’s that you say? What Facebook page you ask? Umm…have a look to your right and click the like link. Get with the program peeps.

So if you want to try your hand at writing (if I can do it...so can youJ), or you are just starting to blog and want more viewers or have a huge successful famous blog and want to share me with the world, then I figure this is good for both of us right? I’ll scratch your blog if you scratch mine.

Its like blog and birthday love.

Plus, it gives me more time for red wine, and that my friends is the birthday gift that just keeps on giving.

Send to crazymomopq@gmail.com

Please title the email ‘Guest Post’. I get A LOT of crazy emails.

Xo J

Happy Shit Water Day

On a recent weekend when Dylan was out of town I was reminded of our love and support for each other.

Via text.

After one of our beloved children had clogged the toilet.

I’ve removed names for this story. I simply do not have enough money for that therapy fund deposit. Now I’m laughing that I wrote the word ‘deposit’ in a story about a clogged toilet. Brilliant, just brilliant.

Me: Where is the plunger.  She clogged the toilet. Again.

Dylan: Under the sink in the upstairs washroom. Damn, that kid has large logs.

Me: I know right? There’s not even any toilet paper in there. She gave a courtesy flush before she wiped. Then had to waddle with low riding pants to another bathroom to wipe. My life is glorious.

Me: It’s not working. I can’t get it unclogged. It’s not draining at all and now there is shit water rising to the top.

Me: Dylan!! There is shit water everywhere. It’s splashing on me. Where are you???

Dylan: Relax. And do this. Push it right in there and use small short strokes to build up the pressure.

Me: That’s what she said.

Dylan: I love you.

Me: I know.

It was Valentines Day this week.

Dylan and I are not celebrators of this commercial day. I don’t need a day to show my love.  I’m just not very good at the romantic stuff any day of the year. I really don’t need the pressure of February 14^th to point out my shortcomings.

I can do that all on my own.

But as I thought about this text conversation, I have decided to officially declare February 16^th as a new holiday:

“Shit Water Day”.

Because that my friends, is what it’s all about. Being able to celebrate and acknowledge the love of my life that supports me and makes me laugh everyday.  Even when standing in shit water.

Happy Shit Water Day Dylan.

That’s everyday real love and I don’t need roses for that. Screw Valentines Day and its fluffy unicorns and rainbows. Go tell someone you love how much you love and appreciate them through the ups and downs of everyday real life and how much they mean to you on this, the very first official Shit Water Day.

I can’t wait to see what Hallmark comes up with.

I think it may catch on.

Xo J