Why is it so hard to cancel a gym membership when it’s so easy not to use it?
In light of the recent findings that say women must workout 1 hour per day, I’ve decided to revamp my workout schedule. First on the list… Leave the Athletic Club, which I have not used in a year…then use the money I’m saving to buy bigger clothes.
Interrupting and finishing other people’s sentences is something that many busy people do, ahhem… like myself, and it’s certainly a bad habit worth changing.
Let’s be honest peeps. Women like multitasking and men like quick results. Neither preference is conducive to dealing with long winded conversations with grace and patience.
MORE HUMOR: 15 Random Things I Wouldn’t Know If I Weren’t a Gen Xer
I’m the typical multitasking mom. I walk into rooms with no clue why I’m there. I forget to switch laundry and have to rerun it… I can barely remember my last thought, as I have already moved on to 7 others. (Something about laundry, right? Sadly they often are. What? There’s a lot of laundry.)
When I talk to people, I find myself wanting the pace of the conversation to fit into my packed schedule. Well, that or I have something to add that is much funnier than what they’re saying and I just can’t wait to say it.
If you’re trying to explain your feelings on a subject and I already get where you’re going, I may ever so “politely” hurry you along by either responding before you’re done or telling you “I get it,” while you’re still speaking. If you’re truly lucky, I may help you get your thought across by finishing your sentence for you. I know, no thanks necessary.
MORE HUMOR: 40 Things Every Mom Should Have and Should Know by 40
So, I recently read an article that discussed the side effects of such lovely behaviors. Not only is it rude (who knew?), but it actually makes the speaker unconsciously feel rushed, nervous, and annoyed; both your pulses speed up, which can cause irritability and a defensive tone to erupt.
That would totally explain the wrestling match I got into with homeless man in the street. What? The light was about to turn, I had to help him along so I could hand him my 26 cents.
What again? I don’t keep a lot of change in my car.
Sheesh, you people are real sticklers huh?
I’m sorry, was I putting words in your mouth again. Well, I’m clearly working on it! SO, BACK OFF!
Moving on, the fix for this embarrassing habit is simple: Be Aware; Be in the conversation on your own end, and allow people to finish their thoughts before chiming in. Make a point to remind yourself of this before going to a meeting, picking up the phone, or having lunch with a friend.
*Make a real effort not to interrupt even if you’re two paragraphs into the next conversation, unless of course, they are boring the crap out of you. There’s just no excuse for that.
Technically, being incredibly boring and wasting someones time with inane mumblings should be considered rude as well, no? In some tribes it’s punishable by death. Death by boredom!
Oh, the irony.
Every women’s magazine has its version of a “How To Have (insert saucy adjective here)” sex list, most of which make me feel like I should keep an extinguisher by the bed, along with a bucket of cold water to douse on myself and my partner when we begin to spontaneously combust from sheer passion. “How to Keep Your Love Life Hot, and Your Sex Life in Flames.” “10 Ways to Reignite Your Marriage.” “How To Turn Up the Heat In the Bedroom, Without Singeing the Sheets.” (Oh, I like that last one)
I will actually disband the relationship myths propagated by magazines, and give it to you straight. The side effect of such truth could be the shockingly unsatisfying revelation that your unsatisfying sex life is just that… unsatisfying. If you are faint of heart or an optimist, stop reading now.
When you have babies, sex is often not so hot… or often for that matter.
Tip From a Writer with No Sense of Reality: Time your trysts around nap time. Snarky Response: There is nothing women like more, when trying to have an orgasm, than the sense of pressure and urgency that having time constraints puts on the experience. Nighttime is better, IF you can work in a romp around heavy eyelids. Little babies make for long days restless nights and disinterest
Do realize that once the kids are out of the crib, the question isn’t if we get caught, but rather when? You’re just counting the days, I mean lays, until you must explain why Daddy is wrestling with Mommy… naked. “Well you see, Mommy tripped and her clothes fell off, and Daddy was trying to help her up. Oh, and he took off his clothes so she wouldn’t be embarrassed.” So, please have a better story than that.
Tip From a Writer Who Clearly Has No Children: “Set the mood.” You know candles, aromatic massage oils, and sexy lingerie. Brutal Honesty Response: If there is no lingering gas odor in the room and you’re in an old t-shirt without any holes, work your dimmer switch and voila… ambiance. Better yet, realize the TV is a beautiful source of ambient light. If you can get the volume to an audible level, you can work in sex without giving up Grays Anatomy. It’s called multi-tasking, something we moms are all too familiar with.
As for a massage, I’m lucky if I don’t get one of my kids’ left over Dorito corners embedded in my thigh. The sexy part is when I ask my husband to flick it out and slide the remaining crumbs off my tush like sand paper. Does that count as a massage? Well, arguably, it’s more like an exfoliation, but it’s undeniably hot.
Tip From a Writer Whose Kids are Not Involved in 500 Activities: A date night once a week. Reality Check Response: I like this one, because in theory it is legitimately a good idea. It’s definitely worth trying every week, but unfortunately, it assumes that there will be a night each week when no one is sick or has an event, that there is a babysitter available, and neither of you are too tired or worn out to go to dinner –A meal in which most your conversation will revolve around the kids.
Tip From a Writer With More Than 24hrs in Her Day: (My personal fave.) Don’t forget the foreplay. Multitasking Mom Response: Really? As it is, I have to have sex while catching up on my Tivo, reading US Weekly, having a healthy protein snack, and repeating the words, “lettuce, milk, eggs” over and over until I can get to a pen. Now I have to add something else to my repertoire? We forgot foreplay a long time ago. Well, my husband didn’t, he calls it brushing his teeth… which I am thankful for.
Tip that Makes me Say, “Are You Out of Your Cotton Pickin’ Mind?” –That’s right I said cotton pickin’ and I meant it! Start Your Day With a Bang So, you’ve had a long day and the odds that you’re going to be up for a raucous romp, or even a guilt induced one, are slim. Set your alarm an hour earlier and have an uninterrupted top-o-the-morning. Bitchy Unsensored Response: First of all, what ambitious magazine writers think an hour is necessary? Six minutes would do the trick and still, I’m not down with that idea. Do you know what I like to do before I wake up in the morning? SLEEP!
Do yourself a favor, throw out those, “spice it up” manuals and top 10 lists. Don’t be too concerned about the quantity of the sex you’re having. You have to figure out what works for you. I recall a friend asking, “Do you ever wake up to your husband having sex with you?” I remember thinking, “No, in my house, we call that rape.” Now I’m thinking, “Hey, whatever works.” If you can have a roll in the hay while hitting the hay, consider yourself a professional multi-tasker.
Question of the Day: What’s the best “Spice up Your Sex Life” tactic you’ve learned since you had children? Please Comment and leave your twitter handle (I’ll be sure to follow:))
They aren’t just for celebrities and evangelist’s wives anymore!
Jessica Simpson rocks her set, JLo’s are said to be made of mink, and even Michelle Obama is in on the trend. iVillage called fake eyelashes the Wonderbra of makeup and I agree. Most people are wary about putting fake eyelashes on themselves, unfortunately if you don’t keep a makeup artist on staff, you probably don’t have a choice. The truth is, it’s not that hard to learn to do and the results will make your man batty. Continue reading
You need special credentials to drive a car, take out a book and get a credit card, but there are no prerequisites to raise a child?
As a fairly normal adult with the means to raise a child, I admittedly had no clue what I was doing with my first child. I remember leaving the hospital thinking, He’s mine? I own him? You guys trust me to walk out that door and raise a child because I made the obligatory poop and demonstrated my ability to put him in a car seat?
Isn’t it baffling that everyday people like us are allowed to procreate without first passing a test or getting some kind of license? Think about it. You need a library card to take out a five-dollar paperback, because you can’t be trusted to return it in a period long enough to read it four times over. You’re also required to pass a test to drive a car, sell a house or be a lifeguard. You can take a class to learn how to give birth, but once that baby’s out, you’re on your own.
There wasn’t even a test at my OB’s pre-pregnancy interview. All he asked was, “Do you have insurance and are you taking folic acid?”
“Of course, I’d never think about bringing life to this Earth without the recommended 3 gagillion mgs of folic acid per day… I’m also shooting heroin, but you didn’t ask me that.”
What if I don’t feed him, bathe him or water him? I could let him swim after lunch without waiting the mandatory 30 minutes, or dress him in generic clothes from the supermarket. I could drop him off on the first day of middle school, roll down the window and scream, “Mama loves her Snuggle Buggle!”
At the very least, there should be some kind of “Mommy Aptitude” screening. During your interview, they could call your mom. Mine would say,
“Jenny always dreamed of being a mother and loved playing house. Her dolls were mostly naked, and she liked to cut their hair down to the hair transplant plug scalps. Sometimes she would detach their limbs and try to put them back in the wrong sockets, possibly to amuse herself, though I found it rather disturbing. Have I said too much? No, really, she would be wonderful. They would be so clean; I recall how much she liked bathing her naked Barbies.”
Doctor’s response: “Put in a 10-year IUD, give her supervised visitation with a hermit crab, and make sure someone counts the legs.”
Not only do gynecologists promote the concept of “Motherhood” to anyone donning a wedding ring with reckless abandon, they encourage us to have more. Otherwise known as repeat business. The second my daughter arrived, my OB said, “So, when am I gonna see you back in the saddle?”
Great, a stirrup joke. “Take it easy Doc, the placenta’s not even cold yet.”
Well, a month and a half later, I ran into my OB again. Actually, I had an appointment, so it wasn’t as random as I’m making it sound. He said, “At six weeks you are extremely fertile, so now is the time for another romp in the stable.” I immediately went home to tell my husband the doctor said, “Now is the time I am extremely unstable, so no romps for at least six more weeks.”
How about a probationary period to see if you’re any good at this parenting thing? When you get a new job, they evaluate you every six months. They certainly don’t give you more responsibility until you’ve proven you can handle your current load, unless you work at McDonald’s.
How does my OB know how I’m gonna solve disputes? When my children are fighting over the last lollipop, who says I won’t shove them all in the closet, lock the door and say, “Last one standing gets it”?
Well, lucky for me, I’ve turned out to be an excellent mother (ask my children), regardless of not being licensed and accredited.
(Please note: this is meant to be a mom humor piece… Though I wouldn’t be opposed to some “What Do We Do Now That We Had The Baby?” classes)
9/16/13 – I just put the share buttons on this post! If you like it … Please use ’em
XO Jenny From the Blog
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I live in a very pristine little city in Florida. The landscaping is always perfectly manicured. If a plant shows the slightest sign of wilting, it’s taken to the Everglades, shot, and replaced with a perfect new plant –that is probably shaking in its britches, well branches. There are bikers riding at all times of day, who are clad in matching day-glow ensembles. They seem to be present, if for nothing else, to prove that the installation of a bike lane was more than necessary. Hordes of people walk their dogs, jog, rollerblade, and do other activities to alert the passers-thru that this is a young and lively community. These excersisers, miraculously never seem winded or even to have broken a sweat. I think if one did, they would be taken to the Everglades, shot and replaced with a new one. Truth is, if the replacement had a rockin’ bod and a large bank account his bored wife or husband, wouldn’t even complain. Continue reading
Today, I took my daughter to the pediatrician for her 5 year check up. I know I probably should have been concerned about how she was going to freak out about the 4 vaccines and finger prick that are required to move on to Kindergarten, but I was too preoccupied what she was touching in the waiting room. I am one of those irrational parents that is forced by serious neurosis to take my kids to the doctor over every phlegmy cough. Unfortunately, I am also one of those parents who is quite sure that bringing kids to the doctor’s office pretty much guaranties that they pick up some other snotty kid’s infection, which is far worse than their own. So, you can imagine how going in for a well-check really throws me for a loop.
As I surveyed the waiting room, I noticed that the plastic kitchen in the corner was dripping with mucus. No, I didn’t bring my black light but, a baby had just finished mouthing the oven handle and I’m quite sure his sister picked her nose and tried to cook her reward in the faux microwave. Continue reading
It has recently dawned on me that somewhere along the way, my sense of accomplishment became a product of my ability to be a good homemaker. The creative energies I once used to design jewelry and dress celebs are now spent trying to build intricate forts and streamline the laundry process. For instance, I’ve found that by rolling towels one can save considerable folding time, while providing the added benefit of a spa-like appearance.
When did this happen? When did I accept the job as Master of the Mundane? I remember the ad, it read: Seeking highly motivated person, who requires little sleep, to cook, clean, wipe tushies, noses, and countertops… oh, and provide occasional sex to employer. Person will be overworked and underappreciated. It is preferred that you have no prior experience or references. Always on duty. Will pay nothing. Continue reading
Today, I learned how quickly you can turn a friend into an enemy. Sure, the obvious ways are rather simple: run up to them, tap them on the shoulder, and when they turn around give ‘em a pop in the kisser. Insult their cooking, their attire or worse, tell them how they should raise their children.
Those are no-brainers, if you’re in the market to lose a friend. They’re also too malicious for my taste. No, today I did the one thing that can make a mortal enemy while trying to make polite conversation. I asked the non-pregnant receptionist at the salon I go to, when she was due.
You hear about people uttering the dreaded, “When are you due?” to those “not” with child or to those who just had a child, all the time. We all know better than to ask that question unless we’re 110% sure. Frankly, I think you should witness the Clear Blue line on the pregnancy test before ever uttering that phrase. But there I was, saying it as if I were a lovely, caring, wonderful person. But when she replied, “due for what?” and then I watched as she processed my meaning while the color drained from her face, I realized, I was no friend of hers. I was the devil!
I can think of so many awkward moments brought on by social ignorance. My daughter pointing to someone and saying “Mommy, that man is sooo fat!” with said man inches away. My son running up to a large black woman, grabbing both her breasts, and yelling across a Foot Locker, “Look at this Mommy, her boobs are HUGE.” Yes, I’ve had my share of explaining to do, but short of my husband grabbing that same woman’s bosoms and yelling across the Foot Locker, I can’t think of a more “foot in mouth” situation than I had today.
“When she asked due for what?” it sent my mind a flutter, holy crap, she’s not pregnant –is there some other way to respond: “Due for a teeth cleaning. Due for a pap smear. Due for a subscription renewal of Cosmo, “Yes, I just took a job doing magazine sales to earn extra cash to redo my kitchen, and I just wanted to give you a great rate on a full year of the magazine of your choosing at half the newsstand price!”
No, there was no other answer, though I stood silent for quite some time, thinking out the magazine salesperson script. I went with, “I am soooo sorry. It’s just that those damn empire waist shirts make everyone look pregnant, frankly you’re the 5th person I’ve asked today. And then when I saw that glow to your perfectly clear skin, I just I… “ (she had walked away mid-sentence, no joke) I think she may have gone to cry or print out a picture of me to throw darts at. Either way, I’m in the market for a new salon –if you know of any!
Question: I want to know. What’s your worst foot in mouth moment??? Feel free to answer in Comment section.
As a child, I too encountered the dreaded “Because I Said So.” It was usually yelled in frustration or hissed between clenched teeth. No matter what the method of delivery, it signified the end of the discussion. I remember wondering, what exactly does that mean and why is that a remotely valid argument? It was a parental trap; there was no way to fight it, and yet you felt unsatisfied in conceding.
Now, at 30 somethingish I know what it means. It means you’re losing the battle with a child. Yep, “Because I Said So” is the phrase used when you are being outsmarted or out-debated by an 8-year -old. The truth is, sometimes their reasoning makes sense … a lot of sense. Sometimes, I listen and think, okay, let’s do it your way. But most of the time there’s a reason I’ve made a particular choice and I have to stick by it, well that or I’m just another stubborn adult standing on ceremony.
I never imagined that I would be losing arguments to 8-year-olds or even 5-year-olds, for that matter. “They’re smart little buggers, aren’t they? Want proof? I recently partook in this exchange: Continue reading
On Monday morning while half asleep and lying in bed, I reached for the remote, as I do every morning before my daughter wakes up and begs to play “Barbies.” I gently squeezed the “ON” button and received a wakeup call that I could not push “Snooze” on. Your lifestyle is going down the toilet, well actually it said, You No Longer Have Direct TV Service. Please Call Us, Deadbeat! Okay, there was no “deadbeat,” but all of the above was implied. In a frenzy, I switched to my “Tivo List” looking for a prerecorded episode of Jersey Shore, to calm my nerves, but the Tivo service was also, no longer available. “WHY?” “Say it isn’t so.” and “What does this mean?” escaped my lips almost simultaneously. Hello, the Bachelor narrows his bevy of possible flight attendants down to 12 ladies tonight, and what am I supposed to do while that’s happening… read?
Maybe this isn’t the first sign of my financial woes. Has the proverbial alarm been buzzing and I’ve been sleeping through it? Is it possible that being down to one credit card, that I randomly opened at Costco, was some kind of indicator that times are tough? Is the credit card Roulette I play at check out not a real game? You know, when you grab a card from your wallet at random and pray you don’t hear the dreaded “You’re Declined” which is followed by mental buzzer, while the contestant –me– fishes through for another possible loser to swipe.
Now, in hindsight I feel almost silly. I think there may have been other signals I missed. Like when we cut out our annual vacations, or when we lost our savings in the market. Darn it, have I just been phoning it in? I’m not sure if those other signs are worth investigating, but the thought of missing the new Grey’s Anatomy/Private Practice crossover (that they haven’t stopped touting) could send anyone into a deep over-advertising induced depression.
In response to my wakeup call, I’ve done what any pop culture/ TV addict would do. I pulled out my Costco American Express and called it in. I know, it’s not tightening the purse strings, but I intend to skip grocery buying this week to make up for the loss. Eating is overrated… especially after the holidays. The truth is, I have a perfectly tasty cat just walking around the house. Taunting me like a steak on wheels. That’s ridiculous, why would I eat my cat when my dog is 40lbs heavier? I may be poor, but I’m not stupid.
So, the holidays are upon us. Christmas has just passed and visitors are abundant, but their welcome is wearing thin. I know, we all look forward to this time of year, but often in the midst of it, we realize the heavy meals have expanded our waist lines and our relatives have stretched our patience.
In-laws can be the toughest during the holiday season. I’m not talking about mine; they’re amazingly wonderful and never bothersome, NEVER. Mine aren’t even in this season, but I have heard tales of other in-laws who cause stress and frustration. The way they handle a turkey, as if it is not a breeding ground for salmonella, or the way they screw with the table settings that you took a painful amount of time arranging to look haphazard and shabby chic. I know, my “friends” sound like a joy to be around over the holidays, right? I am simply relaying their stories, I am in no way referring to specific incidences that may have happened in the past, which have caused me anxiety or to count to 10 by the medicine cabinet, while searching for Zanex .
Let’s face it, it’s harder to have tolerance for those who didn’t raise us: friends and non-immediate family included. We have a certain forgivability factor for our blood relatives; they can get away with more and feel the wrath less. We also tend to offend them less as they too have a forgivablity factor, towards us. Thank goodness.
So, while you count the hours till your guests get on their merry way, I suggest heavy drinking. Use the holiday traditions to mask your quick bout with alcoholism: Manischewitz on Chanukah, egg nog on X-mas, and champagne on New Year’s.
Remind yourself that you’re probably getting on their nerves as well. This is also not a problem I have, as I am always filled with an almost addictive amount of holiday cheer, but logic says: If they’re annoying you, you’re most likely annoying them. (Or did I read that on a fortune cookie?) Well logic or Confucius says that.
Grandparents, especially in-laws, really aren’t there for you in the first place. They’re there for your children. You’re just an obstacle. You and “Your Way” are hurdles to be tip-toed around, not jumped over. They don’t agree with your techniques, your rules, and your methods of punishment — or lack thereof. Though this is a point of un-verbalized contention between you and them, look at the positive. They would love for you to get out of the house, so that they can do and say what they please without feeling like you’re critiquing and judging their every movement – which, by the way, you are.
Don’t over think this one! Go out and let them babysit!!! And while you’re out, drink heavily.
Disclaimer: No in-laws, parents, or guests were harmed in the writing of this article!