How Not To Scar Your Children: Part One

Last night I took a shower at midnight. I couldn’t sleep, I knew I wouldn’t have time for one in the morning and it’s the only way to be truly alone in my house. If everyone is sleeping no one needs to use the potty rightthisveryminute or barge in for eyeliner or knock on the door with questions. This gave me time to enjoy the finer things in life like leaving conditioner on for the recommended amount of time, exfoliating with my daughter’s body wash and other luxuries.

When I got out I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and realized my stay-at-home-mom tan had gotten out of control. I’m a glowing white Irish girl that spends as much time outside with the kids as possible. My flip flop tan lines are enviable but the tan ends just above my knees. My arms are a lovely bronze but my chest is barely beige. After almost no consideration or forethought I decided to use the sunless tanning lotion I had leftover from last summer. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.

How To Use Sunless Tanning Lotion:

  • Make      yourself a drink. I prefer Bacardi and Diet Pepsi but you can switch up  the recipe to fit your needs.
  • Use a  good brand. Sometimes you get what you pay for. Don’t buy this stuff at the dollar store. I like Loreal. The gradual types are wonderful for luminescent girls like myself.
  • Exfoliate. It feels good. Slough off the dead skin cells.
  • Use a light layer of lotion on your wrinkles and creases, around your knees and ankles and such.
  • Wash  your hands after applying it to each area so you don’t get a build up on your hands. Use hot water and soap.
  • When you are done, use a tissue to wipe around the wrinkles and creases and anywhere else the lotion may have built up.
  • Do not get dressed for 15-20 minutes. Let it soak in and dry up.
  • Clean  up mistakes with facial astringent on a tissue.
  • Finish your drink. Look fabulous

Just be aware, you may look fabulous, but you stink. Even the pretty scented tanning lotions I picked up at Bath And Body Works smell awful. Don’t do this before you go out on the town. A random Tuesday at midnight is a good time to start.

I applied my sunless tanning lotion in peace, taking time to make it worthwhile, and on a whim I used some of the leftover lotion from my arms on my face. I have to be really careful with this because even though I have pretty good skin it doesn’t take much to upset the balance and give myself a raging zit. Also, as you can imagine, there are a lot of ways to mess your face up with sunless tanning lotion. (All the same steps as above but use a lot of regular face lotion on your angles and around the eyebrows, ears, mouth and hairline.) Don’t worry, I’ve got this covered.

This particular sunless tanner boasted “instant radiance” and I was indeed able to admire a very light tan immediately. I was quite pleased with it… until I looked in the mirror. My face was not orange or blotchy or even covered in acne.

I was sparkling light a Twilight vampire. I blinked and did a double take but it was not from the Bacardi. “Instant radiance” is apparently code for “enough glitter to relive 1999.” I washed it in hot water, then cold, then scrubbed it with astringent but I already knew it was useless. I lived through 1999 the first time, I know how hard body shimmer is to remove and I know how absurd it looks on a face.

So, here I am on this random Wednesday with my ultra sparkly, mildly radiant facial tan, thinking this is probably one of the least embarrassing looks I’ve sported while dropping the girls off at school. I’m an embarrassing mom sometimes. I try to keep in mind how important their social life and outward image is at this age but they need to respect that sometimes their ride to school is my social life and I rarely have time to remember I have an outward image.

It is for this reason that I decided our family deserved some level of anonymity while I write this blog. I’m aware that most readers came here because I begged you to on Facebook so you know exactly who I am. I’m slowly pulling in more readers though and I’d like to embarrass my children as little as possible.

That is why I am giving them ridiculous, embarrassing nicknames instead of using their real names. I suspect that from time to time I will write things about our family that they do not want to be associated with. Little S is my 10 month old that slithers like a Little Snake and he is little and his name starts with S. Sharkboy is my 2 year old son. He had a full set of teeth by the time he was one and unfortunately he uses them aggressively at times. My 17 year old daughter, Goldilocks, or more likely, Goldy, because I am lazy, has locks of gold. Beauty is incredibly vain. I’m kidding but she did pick her own nickname. I believe her excuse was that she loved Belle from Beauty and the Beast and we often use Belle as a suffix to her real name. (Begging the question, why not Belle?)  Confusingly enough, in contrast to Goldy, Beauty also has dark hair and eyes like Belle. Her “boyfriend” was shocked to discover she would not be having a quinceanera. (Boyfriend is in quotes because, seriously, they are 13.)

The Barkeep was hard to name because I don’t expect him to like anything I pick. I thought about The Grill Master but in case you have not noticed I like to keep it short. I have been up every 5 minutes while writing this to drag Little S away from Sharkboy, the cats, the DVR, the mess in the corner… I can’t be expected to type out long names.

Now that you’ve met my family feel free to tell me a little about yours.

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What Dads Really Want For Father’s Day – A Mom’s Point Of View

What We Really Want For Mother’s Day: Batsmoke was quite popular on Facebook with the moms but not so much with the dads, it seems. (Some dads, other dads were actually the ones sharing it! Thank you.) Yes, I stalk my Facebook shares and read their comments. It’s like an addiction, don’t judge me. I know I should wait and post this in June but the time I spend indoors, near a computer, is dwindling daily. I am a stay at home mother and childcare provider. Sunshine and a big back yard are my two best friends. I have something like a farmer’s tan already, except I call it a provider’s tan. I have lines from flip flops, board shorts and modest neckline tank-tops. That’s a lie. I apologize. On one hand, I want to be honest, but I also want you to think I’m the most awesome caregiver ever. I wear skimpy tank tops when I take the kids out so I won’t have terrible tan lines. They say the truth will set you free but I feel about the same. Anyway… See, the sun is already affecting my writing. I’m all scrambled. June. I won’t be blogging much. So, this one is for the dads to pass around on their special day. Bear with me and my social generalizations, please. I know there are a lot of stay at home dads and moms who work outside the home, too, but it’s much easier to write from one perspective- my own.

You can only buy so many dragon figurines, neck ties, grill accessories, witty t-shirts and such before even you get sick of them. Dads are difficult to buy for. Most men just buy the things they want and need. In their defense, and falling off the feminist bandwagon once again,  this is often because they have a much shorter list. You can’t go wrong with a quality steak, a night out doing something he enjoys or a massage from a professional, but I think there is something higher on his list.

I think that Dad would like to come home and not be in trouble for something, or if he is in trouble I think he would like very much to flash one of these puppies and have it end abruptly. I go to great lengths to not be a nag. By “great lengths” I mean I attempt to count, take deep breaths and meditate away my nagging feelings, but I have to admit sometimes, “I slipped in the cat puke you didn’t clean up and fell face first in your dirty laundry,” just slips out before I can strike a yoga pose.

I’m not a control freak. If I were, I would not have time to blog. That being said, I do have a routine, a system, a way of doing things to keep everything running smoothly in the house that chaos built. I communicate these routines and their minor changes often. I have no idea why. Instead of a lengthy and unnecessary diatribe I will just say that the dad in our house, like dads in most houses, needs reminded of the routine more frequently than I am currently keeping up with. I’m certain he knows this, I tell him often. Yet I am also just as certain he would like to duct tape his “get out jail free” card to my mouth sometimes.

Then there’s the broken stuff. For us, it’s half the house, literally. I would like the addition finished. I would like to take all this junk and spread it out across the finished house. I’d like the dryer to stop squeaking. Ya know, I might just pass him a card on that one, I bet I can figure it out. I’d like our screen doors to make sense and not create a maze on the front porch. Just little things, well, and that half of a house. I’m sure he’s tired of hearing it, even when I dial down, count backwards from ten and say it in a calm voice.

I think dads would like to come home to Batsmoke almost as often as we’d like to use it. I think we should propose some sort of trade. Dad takes the kids at least one night a week while Mom disappears in a puff of smoke. She returns slightly tipsy to a mostly clean house with safe, happy, sleeping children who may or may not have followed their usual routines, but she does not comment on or question Dad’s methods. Dad, meanwhile, enjoys a beer without a single word of nagging about anything, even the laundry.

Do you think it will work? Me neither. Get him one fo these instead.