20 Ways to Start a Fight with Your Man

I’ve said it before: the hubunk and I are just plain different. And in the time since acknowledging that fact, I’ve noticed something:

There are a lot of ways to start a fight with a man.

And so I put together this comprehensive list for those of you who may not have learned these things yet. Please, ladies, use these words to your advantage.

20 Ways to Start a Fight with Your Man

1. Expect him to know and follow all of your “house rules,” whether you’ve told him the rules or not. Like not hacking mucus into the sink without washing it down. Like hanging the towel back on the rack the way I had it so it will actually get dry. Like picking up your own dang clothes off the floor. THE RULES. I mean, who doesn’t just know The Rules? Men, apparently.
2. Hang around and “supervise” whenever he gets a hankering for doing some chores. Make sure he does it the “right (your)” way.
3. Nag/whine/complain about how you do all the housework, and then criticize the way he works when he finally does some.
4. Unintentionally (or intentionally) insult his favorite people, whether they are family, friends, acquaintances, or celebrities.
5. Assume he is ogling the skinny chick in the Daisy Dukes and hassle him until he admits it. Of course he is. You are. Everyone is looking at her. That’s her point. And give him the silent treatment for an hour. That’ll teach him.
6. Assume he remembers what you told him a week ago.
7. Neglect to lay out your children’s clothing and show him where you put it, but still expect him to meet you in public with all of them dressed appropriately with hair combed and faces washed.
8. Make jokes about gifts he gives you, even if it’s a new gun that he really thought you needed.
9. Be a martyr. This is my signature move Me: “Can you go turn off the bathroom light?” Him (joking, as usual): “No.” Me: “Fine, I’ll do it.”And proceed to do it in an irritated manner, even though­ you know he would have gotten around to it eventually.

10. Act as though your own family is better than his in any way.
11. Expect him to listen to the words coming out of your mouth while he is watching epic fail montages on YouTube, when he is absorbed in his hobbies, or when a Victoria’s Secret commercial comes on TV. Or that T-Mobile ad with the (formerly) cutesy gal in skin-tight black leather, riding a bullet bike.
12. Explore a multitude of innovative organizing, parenting, dieting, crafting, homemaking ideas and expect him to be just as excited about “starting totally fresh” as you are.
13. Be a little too much like your mother.
14. Don’t be enough like his mother.
15. Summarize, interpret, or otherwise bend his words and repeat them to another person while he is within earshot.
16. Try to convince him to do what your father thinks you should do
17. Complain to others about how many problems your vehicles may have. This is particularly painful for him if he already knows how to fix it but just hasn’t had time yet. Plus, how much do you really know about cars?
18. Allow your children to play in his workspace while he is away and feign ignorance when his belongings disappear.
19. Twist everything he says into a personal insult. Him: “You look nice today.” Me: “What, I don’t look nice all the other days?”
20. Put semi-complicated furniture together and put little faith in his man-skills. This was one of my first mistakes as a newlywed. Me: “Did you read the instructions? Where are the instructions? Are you sure you don’t need the instructions? I just think you need to look at the instructions.” BIG ARGUMENT FOLLOWED. A week later, his dad came over and pointed out the fact that we put the table legs on backwards. Guess who told him to do that? Yeah. So much for instructions.

So what are your favorite ways to start a fight? Please share, that the rest of us may glean knowledge from your mistakes.

Sometimes, You Just Don't Win

Today, we experienced a little tragedy. One of our new pets, a sweet baby chick, passed away, for whatever reason baby animals sometimes do. I, of course, was quite distressed. Believing that my children would also be distressed, I took the proper measures to ensure that Chicken Little received a viewing and memorial service.

(Cue emotionally moving piano ditty)

I wrapped the tiny bird in a tissue and laid her in a box, put her name on it, and prepared myself to explain to my children what had happened, and how we’d never ever see the chickie alive again, and death is a part of life, and of course little birdies go to heaven, and sometimes those we love die, and we miss them, and we hope to see them again some day, and we will all feel better in time.

They could have cared less.

Oh, initially they were concerned, and my daughter even said “I so sad, Mommy,” but it was nothing compared to the tears she shed a short while later when I wouldn’t give her a jelly bean.

But despite my dismay at their lack of emotion (and the unfortunate amount of emotion I dealt with), it got me thinking.

Sometimes, you just don’t win.

In the third grade, I was in a spelling bee. I’m not going to lie – I was G-O-O-D good. I could spell words like arrogance and vanity without so much as the bat of an eyelash. Over the course of the bee, I beat out every other girl, and most of the boys. It was down to the final three. I was up first. The word was: “rhyme.”

I had studied. I knew this one. But for the life of me, I could not remember if the word really had an “h” in it. I mean seriously. What kind of a word is that? A silent “h”?

“Rhyme… r…” I stared into the audience at my mom, half-hoping she’d give me a sign. Come on Ma – H, or no H?

“…y… m-e. Ryme.”

Sometimes, you just don’t win.

I’m not the only one who doesn’t win. We’ve all had our moments. Even our beloved celebrities have had theirs. Like when Britney Spears went loony and shaved herself bald. Like when Tiger Woods wrecked his SUV and simultaneously revealed that he was a lying, cheating scumbag and forever stained his title as “Only Professional Golfer 50% of Females Can Name.” Like when Taylor Swift dated Taylor Lautner and no one could make up a celebrity couples’ name for them.

Sometimes, you just don’t win.

Like when my younger brother was playing with my daughter, tossing her back and forth, over and over… and she threw up all over him. Or when I slaved over a homemade cake for my mom’s birthday, didn’t let the layers cool long enough, and the buttercream filling melted and spilled out all over my car on the way to her party. Or when I was clipping my baby’s fingernails in church and totally snipped the tip of his finger, causing him to bleed and scream murderously until my husband took him out and left me to sit in shame for the rest of meeting.

Sometimes, you just don’t win.

And really, isn’t it true, that we are all fighting, every day, in a battle we will never win? Just like our sweet baby chicken, we live as best we can, battling against age, against illness, against death – until the moment comes when we are expected to give it all up, to willingly secede from one life and move on to an unfamiliar place.

But, you remember, my children weren’t overly concerned with this loss. Maybe it’s because they haven’t had enough experience in real loss – in death – just yet. Maybe they’re ignorant. But maybe, in their innocence, they are simply more accepting, more resilient, and more prepared to give up what was never theirs to begin with.

Sometimes, you just don’t win. And that’s ok.

10 Things You Don't Want to Hear Your Small Children Say

I’ve been a mom for a little over four and a half years now. I’ve had my share of joys, sorrows, and poopy diapers (some days it feels like more than my share in the latter). I’ve been through illnesses, sleepless nights, and more shouts of “You’re making Mom psychotic! You’re making Mom psychotic!” than I’d like to admit. I’m not saying it makes me an expert. I’m just saying you should listen to every word I say in case I slip in some golden nugget of magical mom advice you will never survive without.

So almost five years into the job, there are days I feel like I’ve got it down. I am, after all, a casual parenting master. I’ve figured out the Zen of Motherhood – 10 dirty diapers balanced by 5 minutes of giggling and tickling, 5 hours of sleep balanced by 10 minutes of staring at the ceiling during naptime – Zen. It’s great. But then there are those days… Those days when my kid pees in the Walmart checkout line, those days when even having sister wives wouldn’t be enough, those days when words come out of my child’s mouth, and I have to deal with the consequences.

10 Things You Don’t Want to Hear Your Small Children Say

1. Mommy, I need to go potty. It’s always in a store with no public restroom, one where you can’t find the restroom, or one where you have to ask for a stupid key to open the restroom. By the time you can get to the potty, you’re risking hearing the next line:

2. Mommy, I peed. I bet you wish you’d packed that extra pair of pants now, don’t you?

3. Mom, (insert child’s name) is bleeding really a lot! But kids exaggerate, right? Doesn’t matter. Whether there is actually a lot of blood or not, someone is bound to be screaming, there will be no Band-Aids in the house, and you will threaten to take them to get stitches just to make them stop crying.

4. Mommy, it was an accident! It wasn’t.                    

5. Mommy, I don’t feel good. Once this has been said, it is almost always too late. You might as well jump out of the way, because it’s likely to be only a matter of seconds before your child pukes. And it’s likely to be projectile, and you’re likely to be somewhere with carpet.

6. Don’t be mad… Has anything good ever followed this line? NO.

7. Mommy, (insert child’s name) broke your (insert valuable object).

8. HOLY S***! Oh yeah. Right in front of Grandma.

9. Mommy! (Insert child’s name) is playing in the toilet! There’s definitely pee in it. Probably more. And you may or may not have to fish valuables out.

10. Daddy said I could! Since when is the sperm donor the boss? I grew your little body inside of mine and pushed it out when you were fully developed and not a moment sooner.

I am the boss.

If you hear these things from your kids a lot, keep your chin up. It could be worse. In fact, from what I’m told, I’ll be re-writing this list when my kids are teenagers, but the consequences will be way worse. So I’m just going to sit back and enjoy this while it lasts! And if you want my expert advice  humble opinion, you should too.

The Things I Like to Lie About

I’m feeling a bit exposed as I write this in the deafening roar of my kids’ morning playtime. It's a bit revealing. Some might say a little too revealing. 

But I’m all about honesty here – even honesty about my dishonesty.

 This wasn’t my first choice in subject matter, mind you. I’ve been thinking all week about what I would write. But for whatever reason, I kept noticing all of the little fibs I have been telling lately, whether to save face, save others, or because I just plain did not want to share.

I’m not saying I’m proud of myself. But I’m not saying I’m 100% ashamed either. So, for the record, I'm coming clean to all of you who have been subject to my lies. 

To the cashier at the grocery store:

My lies to you are more… indirect lies. You talk to me. I don’t really want to talk to you… but I do. And I act really thrilled about it. But I’m not. Your need for social interaction is affecting my ability to tackle my 4-year-old to the ground before he scales the toilet paper display.

To my church leaders:

I love you guys. But, as I’m sure you know, church callings can be – well, as the grandmothers in church say –  a learning experience. I tell you I’ve “enjoyed my calling the past five years,” and “I’ve learned a lot about myself,” but what I’m really saying is “HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME HERE SO LONG???” and “I AM REALLY TIRED OF GETTING TO KNOW MYSELF.”

To my dentist:

I’m not sure why I lie, because I know you can tell. But I just can’t bring myself to tell you that my flossing habits are less than acceptable. As in, twice a week. If I'm lucky. Gross, I know. And I wonder why I keep having to pay you.

To my child’s pediatrician:

I lie about the milestones my kids have reached. Call me ambitious, but no, he/she may NOT be saying 10 words. Or even 5. I round up.

To my parents:

I [still] lie about what I’m doing. 90% of the time, I’m NOT cleaning the house when you call. Or doing anything productive, really.

To my husband:

I’m sorry honey. Although I’m sometimes a little too honest with you, I continue to lie about how I really feel when I, the lone soldier, wake up in the middle of the night with the kids AGAIN… while you snore peacefully in the 3 a.m. darkness. Most nights, I want to beat you up. And if I wake you up to help (like you tell me to) but you’re pretty much uselessly incoherent, I often still want to kick you on accident when you climb back into bed.

To my children:

I’m not scared to teach you about sex. I’m not going to lie to you about death or why bad things happen to good people. It’s true that there are no such things as zombies, monsters under beds, and vampires -- particularly the vegetarian variety (*sigh*).

But do NOT ask me anything about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy.

I. Will. Always. Lie.

Probably until you’re 30.

Anyone else need serious forehead Botox at my age???

I Almost Became a Minimalist

I've mentioned before that I'm not much for trends, trendiness, and/or being trendy. I'm the type of gal who can never justify buying ten different colors of skinny jeans because I'm afraid the trend will be over in a year and I'll have nothing to wear again. I mean, really... retro can only be retro for so long, right?

 Anyway, there's a parenting/life trend going around these days, and I must admit I've been interested. It’s all about de-cluttering your life, simplifying your lifestyle, living greener and swapping all your children’s stuffed animals for lessons in needs vs. wants.

Maybe you’ve noticed some of these great people. They call themselves "minimalists." I’m pretty sure most of them live in big cities, because I certainly don’t know any personally. In my experience, we country folk tend to be a bit less… enthusiastic when it comes to free-thinking, world peace, make love not war kinds of ideas. Most of us are like… well, “Heck yes I will spank my child! And in public, just to avoid stares and judgment, I pinch their thighs instead!” I’m not sure that’s a minimalist method.

Anyway, these minimalists. 

Bless their hearts. 

They set out on a journey to simplify their lives in every way, and many of them blog about the whole process. I got started reading a few of these blogs. I enjoy reading tips from a minimalist blog called “Zen Habits.” 

But it’s written by a man. And a man don’t know nothin’ ’bout being a woman in this here crazy world. 

So I thought I’d check out some minimalist women too.

I must say, when I began to read, the idea really appealed. Wouldn't it be great to throw out all my worldly distractions and focus on what really matters?!!! 

Wonderous idea.

I am not a clutter-lover. I mean, I like a few things lying around. Toys, usually. I feel like my house is just more “homey” with a few things out. But I’ll tell you what I hate. Wall to wall junk that I can’t get the energy up to sort through (aka: our basement). So reading through all these wonderful minimalist proposals was motivational, to say the least.

But as I continued reading, I began to realize something. 

I just don’t think I can commit. 

These people have every reason to be admired. They are frugal, enjoy their families, and try to live without going AWOL and breaking the bank to pay a shrink like the rest of us. I’d still like to be like them. But there a few things about the minimalist lifestyle that I found to be 

BIG. FAT. DEALBREAKERS.

Minimalist Living Dealbreakers: A List

1. Some of these brave people actually combine households with other people. I’m talking move in with their in-laws. As much as I love my in-laws (don’t smirk, that’s a true statement), it ain’t gonna happen.
2. Minimalists tend to become vegetarian or vegan in the long run. Girl, please. My husband spends hours in the woods killing wild animals with a bow and arrow. We will be eating meat.
3. These guys give away everything. My husband worked hard and I shopped even harder and we paid for our crap. We paid money. I have approximately 23 plastic garbage bags full of clothing for children ages 0-6 in my basement at this very moment. We need that stuff. Preparedness and all. Not to mention the boxes of maternity clothes, baby blankets, winter coats, and camping equipment. All needs. You don’t give away what you need, right? Validate me here, please.
4. Minimalists practice a lot of discipline. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not too bad at self-discipline, but when it comes to cookie dough, well… self-discipline what? And I’m really, um… chill, you might say, when it comes to my kids, too. If they want to ride bikes in Walmart, I really don’t put up much of a fight – unless they crash into something. Then the fun’s over and it’s time to run in the opposite direction. Seriously. Run.
5. Minimalists hoard nothing. I’m not a messy hoarder. I don’t {think} I belong on TLC’s Hoarding: Buried Alive. But I am an organized hoarder. A file box with pages and pages torn from magazines on every topic imaginable (perfectly categorized, thank you). A (surprisingly heavy) box of National Geographic Magazine. Books of all kinds. Craft supplies. Fabric for sewing projects I want to do. Boards upon boards of "stuff" on Pinterest. Things that will surely be useful… someday.
6. Minimalists don’t spend a lot of time in front of a screen. I live in the middle of nowhere. It is winter. It is cold. I have three young children. I have no car. I have no friends. We are going to watch TV. Possibly all day. The noise calms me.

And perhaps the biggest dealbreaker of all:

7. Minimalists learn to disconnect emotionally from their crap… and I just cannot do it. I’ve always had a problem. I was one of those little girls who would pile all of her stuffed animals on her bed at night because I didn't want one of them to feel left out. In fact, I still have some of those same stuffed animals. They have feelings too. And that scribble (one of millions) on a scrap of paper that my daughter drew for me? Heaven forbid I should ever carelessly discard a sweet memory of my sweet child.

Ah, the simplicity.

Bless you, those of you who live as minimalists. I envy you. But I’m just not ready to give up my crap. 

Ah, the crap.

Unresolved

Ah, a fresh new year! It feels great, right? Have you all got your shiny new resolutions of losing weight, living in the moment, quitting smoking, and getting out of debt polished and sitting on your mantel so you can sheepishly hide them away in two weeks when you’ve given up?

I almost put mine out. Almost.

There are a million resolutions I could have chosen to start this here year of 2013. I am just as full of imperfections and problems as I’ve ever been. Usually, I make resolutions. Usually, I put mine up with bright lights, flags, and trumpets in the darkest corner of my basement for all (aka: me) to see. Usually, I am so busy thinking and writing resolutions down that I never actually get around to doing them (hence the reason I hide them in the basement in the first place). Usually, my resolutions list starts like this:

1. Be a better person
2. Be healthier
3. Be a better wife
4. Be a better mom
5. Be a better homemaker
6. Be a better daughter/sister/granddaughter/cousin/relative/whatever
7. Do more in my church callings
8. Learn new things (any number above 25 new things will do)

And then, after defining and specifying each category,

combing the net for inspiring blogs, Pinterest boards, and web articles,

breaking each category into multiple subcategories, 

defining and specifying each subcategory, 

listing [tentative] dates of completion, 

writing stepping stone goals for each,

and then lacing it all with good intentions, 

I end with this:

9. Simplify my life

I know. And then I subcategorize that one too.

I’ve tried not making resolutions. It doesn’t work. I write so many self-improvement lists, so often, that I eventually find myself titling some random page “New Year’s Resolutions,” and then my resolve to not make resolutions crumbles and, yet again, I am staring at a list of things I wish I already was.

So, as I am quite tired of my ring-around-the-rosie, never-accomplish-much resolutions, I have decided to make something called an “Un”-resolution.

What is an “Un”-resolution, you ask?

Well, I figure that in the past, I’ve always made resolutions to change myself, to do something new, to break a bad habit. And it doesn’t work very well for me.

So, what if I did the opposite of that? What if, instead of doing something to make myself a shining, wonderful example of all things beautiful, selfless, and healthy, I did something that could make me seem… worse?

That’s right. I’m gonna stick it to The Man (who is he anyway???) and drop the façade I have so carefully constructed over the years to make people love me. I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do this year. I’m going to do things that will make people wonder what the heck kind of crazy I really am. I’m going to do things that will make other people (particularly my mom) embarrassed for me. I’m gonna do things like… like… like lick the spoon from the cake batter in someone else’s kitchen and then put it back in and do it again.

If making an un-resolution sounds like something you’d like to try, I’ve got a few more ideas for you, just to get you started. Pick one. Or make up your own. But don’t subcategorize, don’t research, don’t make a list, and don’t think about it. Just do it.

Some ideas for “Un”-resolutions in 2013:

• Eat a cookie every day. Or a donut. Or chocolate. Or all three.
• Scream at the top of my lungs once a week for no good reason.
• Say “no” to whomever I please, whenever I really don’t want to do something.
• Spend money on whatever I want once a month (the catch - there has to be money to spend).
• Let my kids get whatever it is they beg for in the store once in a while.
• Let people do things for me, even if I know I can do it myself.
• Stay in my pajamas all day and don’t put on any makeup (gasp!) whenever I feel like it.
• Don’t clean the house for a day or two once in a while.
• Take the biggest slice of pie/pizza/cake/whatever once in a while – before all the men come into the kitchen.
• Roll down my car windows every time a Taylor Swift song is on the radio and force everyone else on the street to listen as I sing along.

I hope you’re inspired. I can’t wait to get started.

Emergency Preparedness: 10 Things You Need to Survive the Imminent Zombie Apocalypse

I am a member of a church that places a lot of emphasis on a little something called “Emergency Preparedness.” I am encouraged by my church leaders to collect non-perishable supplies, stock up on space blankets and flashlight batteries, and have a plan for every emergency under the sun. Mormons don’t mess around, people.

Personally, I’m glad I’ve grown up with the motivation to be prepared. Preparedness is important. Preparedness keeps you safe. It keeps you alive when disaster strikes. It keeps you from showing up on the news after said disaster screaming, “Where’s Fema?! Where’s the Red Cross?!” It keeps you from being stuck with nothing but a foam cup of dry noodles when the Mayan Calendar ends.

           

Preparedness is serious stuff.

We’re all about preparedness at my house. And not just because our religion encourages it. I am personally motivated to stockpile 25 lb. buckets of dehydrated milk and egg products when a hurricane strikes on the other side of the country. I’m motivated to purchase large amounts of Betty Crocker cake mixes and Fruit Roll Ups when my local grocery store has a 4 for $5 sale. My husband is motivated to stuff a cabinet full of weapons and ammunition when a Democratic president is re-elected.

But nothing has ever motivated me more than watching this TV show:

Image courtesy AMC TV

If you haven’t heard of it yet, you probably will. I’m pretty sure it’s sweeping the nation (and if it’s not, it should be). The first two seasons are on Netflix as we speak. The third season is currently underway, and as the title suggests, it’s all about a seriously disturbing zombie takeover of our precious planet earth.

Honestly, although I’m totally into end-of-the-world, apocalyptic-type stuff, this is not a show I would normally dive into. It’s pretty darn gory, for one, and there’s enough cussing in it to make a dairy farmer squirm. Ok… maybe not.

But I was curious. Oh so curious. And I paid the price for my curiosity.

I COULD NOT. 

STOP. 

WATCHING.

That’s right – for two days, huddled in front of our 37” screen with the blinds closed and the kids watching mindless hours of Disney in their bedroom, the hubunk and I inhaled all 19 episodes of seasons 1 and 2. When we finally emerged again into the light of day, I knew our lives would never be the same again.

I have never been more motivated to prepare.

And I have therefore created this handy list of items you, too, will need when the world ends and a horrific zombie infection seizes all mankind. Call it a “Zombie Apocalypse To-Do List,” if you will. You’re welcome.

IN CASE OF ZOMBIE TAKEOVER YOU NEED:

1. Food, water, clothing, shelter, fuel. All your basics. Knowing how to grow and/or kill food yourself will also come in handy.
2. Tools, nails, screws, and boards to block all possible entrances to your stronghold. If you rely on a vehicle as your stronghold, you’d better be sure you’ve got enough gas in the ole tank to stay mobile.
3. LOTS AND LOTS OF GUNS. And please don’t forget the ammo.
4. To make friends with a doctor/surgeon and make sure this person will be a part of your survival group. Veterinarians may be substituted for doctors if needed.
5. Besides guns, you need weapons of silence (so as not to attract unwanted zombie attention). Swords, knives, hatchets, baseball bats… all valuable. Pointy sticks, screwdrivers, and other tools will also become useful in a bind.
6. To make yourself too valuable to leave behind as zombie bait. Are you a good watchman? A superb zombie-killer? Do you have a wide base of survival knowledge? Cultivate your skills.
7. The ability to break into abandoned buildings quickly and quietly to obtain supplies. Locksmiths and robbers survive well because of this.
8. To practice running, climbing, swimming, and otherwise keeping yourself fit. The fat kid always gets eaten first.
9. To be good at keeping your head in life-threatening situations. Quick-thinking. Anything you do (or do not) under severe stress (zombies chasing you through the woods, zombies trapping you in cars, zombies swarming your home) can make or break.
10. Hope for the recovery and future of the living. If you don’t have that, you’re just one bad zombie encounter away from driving yourself off a cliff.

Oh, and one more thing you’re really going to need in the Zombie Apocalypse – a strong stomach. Zombie blood/guts/bodily shrapnel get all over the place, ya’ll. No joke.