Ma What's For Dinner?

Hello there to my fellow blog hoppers!

If today is your first time here in The Fitzpatrick kitchen, welcome, welcome, pull up a stool…

What can I get you?

I’m Alex…

Otherwise known as Ma…

Yup, Ma, What’s for Dinner?

Nice to meet you,

I’m changing my name…

No not the blog name, not even my real name. It’s Ma I want to lose right now. Or any variation thereof…

You know…

Mom?

Mommy?

Mama?

Mooooooooooooooooooom?

Mamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamamama!!!!!!

It’s all I hear….

ALL

DAY

LONG.

Nonstop. Mama, can I have a drink? Mama, can I have a snack? Mama, can we go outside? Mama, can we go to the park? Mama, Brady hit me. Mama, Keegan kicked Cooper. Mama, Cooper ate dog poop. Ok, so that last one I may pay attention to…

If you’re a mom you know what I’m talking about.

I can’t get anything done around here.

If I’m making dinner it takes me an extra 45 minutes because I  have to stop 72 times to get a snack, fix the Wii, tie a shoe, change a diaper, wipe a nose, change a shirt, or wipe a butt.

If I’m doing the laundry it takes 2 hours to fold one hamper of clothes because I have to open a juice box, make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, find a Batman action figure, locate the DS in the couch, clean the crayon off the wall, and clean the pee off the other wall because little boys have terrible aim.

So I figure, if I change my name, maybe I can get a little work done?  Maybe I can sit and have a cup of coffee?  Maybe I can do my nails?

If I change my name someone else named Mama will wipe some butts.

But then someone else will get the snuggles…

and the kisses…

and the loving looks…

Someone else would get to tuck them in, and wipe away tears, and read bedtime stories.

Hmmm, on second thought, maybe I’ll just keep it.

It’s a pretty good name.

I kinda like it.

It’s grown on me.

It suits me.

Alright, I love it!

And seriously, who wouldn’t want to wipe these butts?

Have a great weekend!

Lots of yummy love,

Alex aka Ma, What’s For Dinner

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Help a mommy out…please!

Notice anything strange about this picture?  I mean other than the retainers that a thirty-something mom wears every night like a teenager prompting the hubs to giggle like a high school boy everytime I have to take them out to give him a big smooch goodnight.  Come on…look close…anything missing from this shot?

Where the HELL is my toothbrush?????

I’m not sure which commandment says that the second you become a mother you need to surrender anything that is yours.  If you have kids then you probably know that nothing is your own anymore, not your french fries, not the book or magazine you’re reading, not your blanket, not the TV show you’re watching, certainly not your ice cream and apparantly…not even your toothbrush.

Now this is not another instance of my kids taking my stuff.  Which, I admit, I have begun to get used to.  As much as it pains me to surrender my last spoonful of Light Jamoca Almond Fudge with whip cream to eager little faces, my thighs appreciate it.  Though I never get to eat a meal in peace I try to promote their little fingers reaching in to try things on my plate like brie or salad or even spinach.  Especially Brady, we call him the seagull, he’s like the birds at the beach who reach for your sandwich when you turn away for a second and scurry off with anything and everything he can grab.  But if you read this blog you already know what a menace he is…

This however is not another swift move by the seagull, it’s not another case of detective Keegan hiding some brush of mine on his make believe mystery case.  It’s not even a case of the little man Coop just looking for something to chew on because he’s teething.  No, no, no…

This is much more devious…

This is the work of an adult…

Who should know better…

Who has alternatives at his disposal…

This has the hubs written all over it!

How do I know you ask?

Because I have been fighting this battle for more than a decade…

and I’m no closer to winning the war.

See?  

This has been happening forever.  I kind of feel like my toothbrush is sacred.  You know?  I mean you’re scraping food and plaque off your teeth, kinda gross.  I don’t want to share anyone else’s used food or plaque…even my adorable hubs…

But he seems to not have an issue with this and if he can’t find his toothbrush at arm’s reach, he’ll use mine.  My sink is closer to the shower where he usually brushes his teeth.  So everytime he takes my toothbrush, I open a new clean one…

Hence we have millions of toothbrushes AND NONE THAT I CAN USE!!!  Because he takes them all into the shower and then at night, instead of taking the extra step into the shower to remove the 900 toothbrushes he has brought in there, he will take the brand spanking new toothbrush that I just opened, and used, from my sink and now we begin the vicious circle all over again!!!!

AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

I mean really?

Any thoughts?

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