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I STILL Just Want to Pee Alone: I Just Want to Pee Alone, #3

Di Jen Mann, Kim Bongiorno e Bethany Thies

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Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle3/5 (12 recensioni)

Lunghezza: 236 pagine3 ore

Editore:: Throat Punch Media
Pubblicato:: Mar 27, 2015
ISBN:: 9780988408074
Formato:: Libro

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Don't miss the 3rd book in this bestselling series!
Motherhood is STILL the toughest – and STILL the funniest – job you'll ever love. We know that raising kids is hard work. The pay sucks, your boss is a tyrant, and the working conditions are pitiful – TGIF means nothing to a mother!
You said it before and you're saying it again, “I STILL just want to pee alone!”
I STILL Just Want to Pee Alone is ANOTHER collection of hilarious and heartwarming essays from 40 MORE of the most kick ass mom bloggers on the web.
Including: People I Want to Punch in the Throat, Bad Parenting Moments, Let Me Start By Saying, and The Sh*tastrophy.
Find essays like:
It's Not Pee. It's You.
Open Letter to My Daughter: My Mother was Right and You Should Think I Am, Too.
And Then God Laughed
Flames, Knives, and Fear: A Family Dinner
Let's Piss Off the Babies
This is Volume 3 of The Pee Alone series.

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Informazioni sul libro

I STILL Just Want to Pee Alone: I Just Want to Pee Alone, #3

Di Jen Mann, Kim Bongiorno e Bethany Thies

Valutazioni:

Valutazione: 3 su 5 stelle3/5 (12 recensioni)

Lunghezza: 236 pagine3 ore

Descrizione

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Editore:: Throat Punch Media
Pubblicato:: Mar 27, 2015
ISBN:: 9780988408074
Formato:: Libro

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Jen Mann

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I STILL Just Want to Pee Alone - Jen Mann

978-0-9884080-7-4

Introduction

Parenting is hard ! Remember those commercials for the Peace Corps where they'd say it's the toughest job you'll ever love? Yeah, I don't think those people were ever parents. I mean, I haven't been in the Peace Corps, but there are many days where parenting seems a lot harder than digging wells in third world countries. O.K., being up to your waist in mud does sound miserable, but have you ever been up to your elbows in poop and then had your nose itch? That is pretty miserable too.

I've had many jobs in my life―no, digging wells was never one of them, but I did have to pick up my employer's dirty underwear from behind the bathroom door once. I've had many jobs in my life and parenting is one of the hardest. Think about it. Your hours are the worst, your boss is a tyrant, the pay sucks, you must work all holidays, and TGIF doesn't mean a thing to you.

Motherhood can be a hard and lonely job and if you can't laugh at yourself and your family, you're going to cry, so you might as well laugh.

This book is to let you know that you're not alone. We're not laughing at you, we're laughing with you.

Jen Mann

People I Want to Punch in the Throat

The Interview

By Amy Flory

Funny Is Family

Ishift nervously in the waiting room chair, discreetly checking my pits for the moisture that is my constant companion in stressful situations. They’re still dry, for now. The magazines in the waiting room aren’t holding my attention, and as I wait for my job interview, my mind wanders. Do I even want this job? I ask myself for the hundredth time. The hours are horrible, and the pay is even worse.

Motherhood.

I know people who do this job. They seem to like it, and those broads are always recruiting.

You’ll love it! they say.

You’d be so good at it! they encourage.

It’ll change your life! they promise.

But that’s the thing. I like my life. I don’t think it needs to change. I’m good at my job and I make more money than the zero dollars per hour that motherhood boasts.

Yet, here I am. Drawn to the idea of this new path, compelled almost, I sit on an uncomfortable chair waiting to see if the hiring committee is going to see me as a welcome addition to the club.

Amy Flory? A brunette woman with glasses on her nose and spit-up on her shoulder peeks her head out of an office door and smiles.

I follow her in and take a seat at the table with the woman and two of her coworkers, all three of them with pads and pens in front of them, ready to take notes.

I mentally prepare my list of strengths, ready to insert them into every question I can.

I love to read, and if I’ve learned anything from watching television, most of parenting is reading to kids.

I’ve spent eight years in retail, so I can fold clothing and pick stuff up off the floor like a boss.

I’m lighthearted and like to laugh.

I’m not afraid of a challenge. (Now this isn’t actually true, but I fake it well, and can appear quite brave when really I’m fighting back the nervous diarrhea.)

I make a mean box of macaroni and cheese.

I’ve never been arrested.

Tell me why you’d be well-suited for the job of being a mom? I imagine them asking.

Well, I brag. I’ve never been arrested.

Upon quick inspection, my list seems woefully lacking, and honestly, having been arrested probably has no bearing on whether or not someone will make a good mother. And it’s not like I’d never had the opportunity to be arrested, I just hadn’t been caught. I pragmatically decide to keep this to myself.

What am I doing here? I begin to panic. I can’t walk out, I think, doing that pretending to be brave thing I mentioned earlier. So I smile and try to ignore the bead of perspiration that snakes its way down my spine, blessedly stopping just before my crack.

Tell me about the last time you changed a diaper. The first question is lobbed to me after introductions and weather-related chit chat. They think they’re starting off easy.

Uh, well, I watched my husband change our niece’s diaper three years ago, I offer. I handed him a wipe, I think. Seeing their faces, I hurriedly add, I babysat in high school! I changed diapers back in the nineties!

The women all make a quick note on their notepads.

Okay, how are you at managing your work and home responsibilities on very little sleep?

I laugh. They do not.

Oh, sorry, I thought you were joking. I’m not ready to lie this early in the interview. I don’t work on very little sleep. Sleep is important. Haven’t you guys heard that sleep is, like, crucial to a healthy lifestyle? I did not mention that what with all of my happy hours and poor eating habits, I really needed this sleep thing to keep me balanced. Because I care about my body, that’s why.

Their pens scratch furiously.

How patient are you? The question is asked in a way that suggests they already know they won’t be impressed by my answer.I’d say I’m an eight.

They brighten. On a scale of one to ten?

Oh, my bad. That’s on a scale of one to one hundred. I’m not terribly patient. I continue, Especially when I’m waiting for someone to get ready. I’m all, ‘What the hell? Get your damn shoes on!’ I’m surprised by the question. Is patience an important trait for parents?

So you swear? one asks.

And yell? another pipes in.

I sigh. Yeah. Sorry for the language. I do that. And yes to the yelling. Only when I’m pissed, though. Or when I’m talking on the phone. My husband says I talk super loud on the phone. I grinned, giving them the Husbands, am I right? shrug.

Looking for a safe question, they peruse the list. Encouragingly, one offers, How do you feel about chicken nuggets?

I love them! I smile enthusiastically. My husband and I always hit the Wendy’s drive-through on our way home from the bar. It’s hard to beat a nugget straight out of the fryer.

How about cold nuggets that are half eaten with the breading sucked off? And while we’re at it, are you willing to eat cold fries dipped in ketchup? Don’t worry, the ketchup is licked off. You need to eat the fries and nuggets or else they end up on the floor and your dog will eat so many he’ll puke. Speaking of puke, where do you stand on catching vomit with your bare hands?

I stare, feeling the armpit faucets turning on. Good? I choose this question rather than lying my face off, completely unconvincingly.

Attempting to bring it back, they toss me what they think will be a softball. You like to snuggle, right?

Weeelllll, I falter, Sort of. I mean, my mom said I wasn’t very snuggly as a baby, and I like to cuddle with my husband, but not for long because I get hot, and my arm cramps up, and my legs feel trapped, and … I look at the faces of the women across the table and blurt, I can’t help it! I’m claustrophobic!

Finally, the woman in the center leans in. I have to know, she asks, gently. Why are you here? You don’t like to snuggle. You don’t change diapers. You yell, you’re impatient, and you swear ―even in an interview. You can’t function without a full night’s sleep. Did you even read the job description?

I let her question sink in.

I did. And I’m not sure I want to do this job. My friends tell me I’ll like it. They say I’ll love it, even when I hate it, and that intrigues me. I like holding little hands, and I like reading Shel Sliverstein. I make a killer mac and cheese, and my husband can change the hell out of a diaper. I like adventure and I also like staying in on a Saturday night. I like elastic waistbands, and I hear that your boobs get really big when you’re pregnant. My A-cups like the sound of that. I am a fast learner and even though the pay blows, I’ll bet I can do my current job and this mom thing, too.

The three women look at each other and smile.

Amy Flory?

Hearing my name, I’m pulled back to reality; to the OB/GYN waiting room and to the uncomfortable chair I’m sitting in, and my eyes settle on a woman a few chairs away, her hands resting on her enormous belly. She sees me touch my still-flat stomach, the one that won’t be flat for long, and she offers a nod and a smile.

I smile back as I stand and walk in to the appointment where I’ll hear my baby’s heartbeat for the first time.

I can do this.

AMY FLORY is a contributor to the popular books The Big Book of Parenting Tweets, You Have Lipstick on Your Teeth, I Just Want to Pee Alone, and I Just Want to Be Alone. She has been featured on multiple parenting sites, and was named one of Mashable’s 17 Funny Moms on Twitter in 2013, and World’s Meanest Mom by her kids in 2014. You can find Amy sharing slow cooker recipes and embarrassing stories about herself and her family at FunnyIsFamily.com

Flames, Knives and Fear: A Family Dinner

By Kim Forde

The Fordeville Diaries

There are phrases you say as a parent that come from a place of complete desperation or delusion. And the moment you speak the words out loud, you know you are making a mistake of epic, regrettable proportions.

Things like, Sure, you can take out the Play-Doh while I'm in the other room.

Or, I saw some great birthday cake ideas on Pinterest.

And then there was a recent favorite of mine: Hey, let's all go out to dinner!

I said it almost with a sing-songy, cheerleader-ish quality that was, in retrospect, more to convince myself than any other family members that my plight was worthwhile. I wasn't looking for a fancy night out by any stretch. It was a regular Saturday to wrap up a regular week and, frankly, I just needed a change of scenery. I needed to be the one not preparing the food, not cleaning up the table, and definitely not negotiating the border control between food groups touching each other on my kids' plates.

I wanted, for one night, to be on the receiving end of service and the production end of the part where you sit down and chew food.

I wanted out of my kitchen.

Now, to be clear, I had seen this movie before. I knew that taking my kids (ages seven, five, and one) out to eat is not for the faint of heart. It requires skill, finesse, patience and, above all, the ability to cut food with one hand while drinking wine with the other. (Husband = designated driver.)

On this particular night, after my suggestion to go to a restaurant, my husband looked squarely at me with a raised eyebrow that silently said, You have completely lost your shit, but I will play along since you're clearly not going to cook anything here tonight.

(Subtitle: Do not complain to me later when you cannot look any town resident in the eye who dined in the same room with our children.)

If you have small children, you know how it is―that terrifyingly fine line between confidence, ambivalence, and anxiety over how this meal in public is going to go down. The real problem is that, once in about every thirty-two attempts, the whole ordeal goes kind of O.K. and nobody wants to kill each other and you get lulled into a false sense of security that maybe you've hit that point where it just might be getting easier.

NO. NOT TRUE. Listen to me very carefully: these are evil lies that our brains tell us when we have no groceries or wine left at home.

Because, really, is anything with a one-year-old in tow going to be remotely approaching the getting easier phase? Sure. Relative to a scene from Braveheart, maybe.

And yet, every now and then, I make the attempt.

This time, I thought maybe we could try something new and mix it up for the kids. Why drag them to a buffet where I must play Whack-a-Mole with their little hands grubbing after the common food source? And clearly we weren't aiming for fine dining. Sure, I could have gone to a kid-themed restaurant but, damn it, it's my night too. What could possibly keep them entertained while my husband and I eat an adult-ish meal?

A hibachi grill.

I remembered I had an unused Groupon for a hibachi place near our house. Then I learned that it was Kids Eat Free Night. These must be signs.

I figured my kids would marvel at the fun hibachi displays that the chefs put on. You know, a little knife throwing. Some fire. Tossing food into patrons’ mouths. Hell, it’s not unlike how we eat at home.

Plus, there was a big bar at this place. Just saying.

And so, I began my preparations. Because you just don't walk into a battle unarmed.

Now―and this is important―the trick is not to appear insane in one's prep. I packed the diaper bag―you know, the one that looks casual, average-size and carefree from the outside, like a normal person would tote. But hellllll, no―its hidden contents secretly rival that of an FAA-mandated checked bag for a trip that twice circles the Earth. People, I have everything except a tent in there, but I'd never let you know from your dining perch. I need you to believe, at least until my party has betrayed me completely somewhere around the entree, that we don't need a bag of tricks to enjoy a simple family meal.

Because who really wants to wear their crazy on their sleeve?

Inside my Secret Bag of Crazy, I had an arsenal of baby distractions, with the items grouped into tiers:

Everyday toys (everything is fine).

Go-to favorites (borderline crisis).

Secret stash (CODE RED―GET THE CHECK, GET THE DAMN CHECK, STAT).

The two older kids still needed a few things in the bag to stay out of trouble, like some books, along with Stormtroopers who were fully prepared to battle Disney Princesses to the death on a bread plate. I distributed these items with a long, I-mean-it stare and reviewed, in pointed detail, the rules we laid out on the drive over. This may or may not have included a bribe for extra screen time later at home. (Of course it did.)

I strapped the baby into the shaky, questionable high chair that was probably covered in plague spores, and then began the cardio component of my meal: entertaining him. (Upside: burning calories as I consume them.)

I looked around the restaurant and, inevitably, recognized a handful of local families. This meant a quick mental assessment of how much I cared about alienating them forever before they reached dessert. Like any student of rationality, I arrived at the following formula, based strictly on random female mood volatility driven by sleep deprivation:

If my care level is in the medium-to-high range, a quick dose of friendly small talk is in order to minimize the collateral damage.

If you tried to sucker me into a crappy role with the school fundraiser last week, I remain seated and wait for the shit show to play out within your hearing range.

Once I completed this highly scientific evaluation and determined we'd have at least one less holiday party to attend next December, my husband and I began the ordering process. You know the process, people with small children, the one where all of the food for the entire excursion gets ordered upfront. Where your first drink has traveled with you from the waiting area to the table, in the name of efficiency. Where appetizers become optional at best so that we have more than a snowball’s chance in hell of chewing our entrees. Where kids' desserts are strictly stalling tactics to buy silence and time for us to finish our cocktails in peace. Where we are basically asking for the check before you've poured us any water. Where, if you'd let us, we would have ordered every morsel of our food and its ridiculous kid-specifications two weeks ago on the Internet. Food for thought: If you would just upgrade your technology, you would barely have to interact with us at all.

As we placed our order and got situated at our hibachi table, I have to say that I was feeling pretty pleased with myself for coming up with this idea. New experience for the kids. Booze for the parents. Fried rice for all!

What could be bad about this?

Please, stand back and let me count the ways.

First: Never, ever go somewhere during Kids Eat Free Night. Ever. I honestly can’t believe I made such a rookie mistake. The noise level was just beyond anything the human ear can tolerate. If you don't believe me, let me explain it another way: My kids had their hands glued to their ears. My kids. Thought it was too noisy. Oh, the irony. And the schadenfreude. You can't hear yourselves think, kids? Heyyyyyy, what's that like?

Also? It turns out that the knife tossing and fire display were not entertainment as much as, shall we say, abject terror for my older kids. I don't have a real photo to share from the evening, but I can paint a detailed mental picture that will give you

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Recensioni

This is an interesting mix of essays, wry and humorous. Some stand out with their original voices, but not all of them do. The collection made for an engaging read into the lives of mothers and also gave me the impression, that the first few parenting years are all about genetalia and defecation. Hmmmmmm... good to know!

Rating: 3

Background: This anthology is brought to you by a vast array of mom-bloggers who are awesome enough to share their stories and troubles of parenting with the world.Review: I have to say that I am not a parent, but this book was really insightful. These moms are hilarious, entertaining, and educational in their short stories about their parenting lives...and I do mean all parts of parenting. From baby birthing stories, to woman doctor visits, how to live with young kids and how to keep your sanity. I really enjoyed reading theses stories and feel like I have learned a lot from these moms. I am not ready to be a parent but I feel like having the opportunity to hear their voices will make me a better parent...hm no...a better prepared parent down the line.If you are a parent, read this book. If you aren't but want to be someday...read this book. If you just want something light to laugh at...read this book. Are you seeing the trend? I hope so, go read it:)

Rating: 4

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I STILL Just Want to Pee Alone: I Just Want to Pee Alone, #3

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I STILL Just Want to Pee Alone: I Just Want to Pee Alone, #3

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Titoli di questa serie (7)

I Just Want to PEE Alone: I Just Want to Pee Alone, #1

I Just Want to BE Alone: I Just Want to Pee Alone, #2