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Sunday, May 10, 2015

For Those Of Us With Ovaries

Happy Recognize-the-Anniversary-of-Ovulation Day! As per mommy blog requirements, I am posting a bit about those of us who have housed offspring. When I was in Junior High, my friend's mom loved Erma Bombeck. I borrowed a book and I was hooked. She had all the pieces of mommy blogging nailed but Bill Gates and Steve Jobs were slacking. 

Twenty one Erma Bombeck quotes because doing the mommy thing hasn't changed all that much. 

Thanks to my mother, not a single cardboard box has found its way back into society. We receive gifts in boxes from stores that went out of business twenty years ago. 

The odds of going to the store for a loaf of bread and coming out with only a loaf of bread are three billion to one.

My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint.

All of us have moments in our lives that test our courage. Taking children into a house with a white carpet is one of them.

When my kids become wild and unruly, I use a nice, safe playpen. When they're finished, I climb out. 

It goes without saying that you should never have more children than you have car windows.

There was a time when the one singular thing that held a marriage together was the threat of getting the kids.

I have seen my kid struggle into the kitchen in the morning with outfits that need only one accessory: an empty gin bottle.

I remember buying a set of black plastic dishes once, after I saw an ad on television where they actually put a blowtorch to them and they emerged unscathed. Exactly one week after I bought them, one of the kids brought a dinner plate to me with a large crack in it. When I asked what happened to it, he said it hit a tree. I don’t want to talk about it. 

Housework, if it is done properly, can cause brain damage.

I'm going to stop punishing my children by saying, "Never mind! I'll do it myself."

I take a very practical view of raising children. I put a sign in each of their rooms: ''Checkout Time is 18 years.''

In general my children refuse to eat anything that hasn't danced on television.

Never lend your car to anyone to whom you have given birth.

I'm trying very hard to understand this generation. They have adjusted the timetable for childbearing so that menopause and teaching a sixteen-year-old how to drive a car will occur in the same week.

Being a child at home alone in the summer is a high-risk occupation. If you call your mother at work thirteen times an hour, she can hurt you.

When your mother asks, "Do you want a piece of advice?" it's a mere formality. It doesn't matter if you answer yes or no. You're going to get it anyway.

Youngsters of the age of two and three are endowed with extraordinary strength. They can lift a dog twice their own weight and dump him into the bathtub.

No one ever died from sleeping in an unmade bed.

Have you any idea how many kids it takes to turn off one light in the kitchen? Three. It takes one to say, "What light?" and two more to say, "I didn't turn it on.

One thing they never tell you about child raising is that for the rest of your life, at the drop of a hat, you are expected to know your child’s name and how old he or she is.

A few final thoughts about maternity. 

My friend's mom is in her 90's. She calls her The Trigger Woman, because as much as you love 'em and relate to 'em they do tend to hit all the crazy buttons. I got email this evening post Mothers Day festivities. "There should be an expiration date on mothers." 

It is nice to see some mom issues are across species. 

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