Mama sees naked people!

Stripper pulls granny on stage, granny jumps on stripper

I had a rare day out and what better way to spend my day: watching hot, young things take it off! Yes, I am not ashamed to say it, I went to a male strip show! But let me say I'm not really into strippers, I like my men hetero and with a little fur!

A fellow mama asked me to join her and her girlfriends to the show: 10 euro tickets and the show started at 2:30pm! PERFECT for Mama to have a few drinks before the nakedness, enjoy the nakedness and be back home in time to feed the snot noses and put them in bed!

Wow, only 10 euros to go see a bunch of men take it off...but not all off of course. At least that's how its done in America (from what I can remember). The strippers NEVER take it all off. They tease you down to their thong and try to get as many dollars in stuffed inside.

WRONG! You don't even stuff money in their undies! Talk about cheap thrill!!

Thank goodness I had on my Depends undergarment pee-pee pads or my pants would have been soaked (from pee)! I don't think I have ever laughed so hard in my life. They do things much differently in Amsterdam!

First of all, we get into this very sheik restaurant/bar and there was no stage. We had no idea where the hotties would appear, but it wasn't long before we realized that the small step up incline was gonna be the stage.

Ok, its no secret Dutch women are generally tall so the only thing my midget self could see was the head of the first stripper in a zombie mask presumably dancing to Michale Jackson's Thriller. Whoohooo, a dancing Zombie head, I was so excited (NOT)! And that's when my friend grabbed me by the arm and lead me to the dark, secret corner, just next to the door where the hard bodies ran up on stage.

Of course I had seen my share of male strip shows and every time it was the same: Mr V. Gina the Gyny or Officer Pull over and Bend over comes out, dances around and slowly teases the audience with taking piece by piece his uniform off.

Well that is North America, they do things a lot different over in the Dam! Holy baby oil! The next thing I knew, I saw a police hat fly off and what looked like male body fluids shooting through the air over the crowd.

WHAT???  I squeezed myself in a hole to get a better look. Mr Police Officer was completely naked! His unbelievable large male appendage was flapping around the stage like a Dutch windmill during a hurricane.

First of all, I couldn't believe what I was seeing! A naked man gyrating on stage and his firehouse ready to put out the nearest fire. Yes, you heard me right! He was pumped and ready. Not fully ready, but definitely he was really excited about his job.

After I picked up my jaw from the floor and wiped away the drool (sorry Baby Daddy) I decided I was gonna have to see the next guy (fully) to see what he had to offer. I didn't even know what character he was suppose to be because as soon as he came on stage, he ripped every thing off and he wrapped a Dutch flag around himself pulling off his panties and hurling them into the audience!

He then poured baby oil all over his boy bits and a half bottle of white lotion and that was when I got the shock of a lifetime. He unwrapped his flag and started beating his "drum" while this lotion/baby oil concoction went flying all over the faces of the girls on the front row!

This was too much for Mama! Thank goodness this was the finale act! So I pulled up my Depends diaper and waddled off into the sunset...back to reality...where the men are lumpy, bumpy and furry. Ahhhh, but I will never forget my adventure and the day I saw it all!

Relax Mama, relax...

Phone booths still exist? and in the middle of forest?

For my birthday, Baby Daddy treated me to 80 minutes of relaxation with a facial and neck/shoulder massage. Ahhhh, an hour and half lying in a dark, quiet room with no children around. No screaming. No fighting. Nothing to do but get lost in peacefulness!

I climbed up on the massage table and surrendered all my stress to do nothing but relax. So I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and surrendered my thoughts to the process of relaxing :

• If I had known I was gonna take my shirt off I would've worn a clean bra
• Wow my boobs have gotten saggy, the Miracle bra ain't what it used to be
• Wonder if she will notice my fat rolls, God Dutch women are skinny
• Can't wait to relax, no kids...ahhhh
• I cant believe I forgot to eat, I was too eager to taste my freedom.
• Jez, I feel a storm brewing in my belly. Diarrhea? Gas? Yep, gas..
• Gas...I forgot to fill the car up before we left, gonna pay twice as much for gas.
• Ok, I am ready for my massage, please massage me! Touch me! Touch me!
• Ahhh there she goes...deeper girlfriend, mama is stressed
• Worked sucked this week but at least it was a break.
• God what a rough nite with the kids. I am so tired.
• I shouldn't have had that one beer. One beer!
• My God i'm hungover.
• Why dont my kids sleep?
• I really have to let one fly, hope it doesn't make a sound.
• There it went, silent but hopefully not violent.
• Please don't let it smell, please don't let it smell...
• I'm so tired of cleaning poop out of the bathtub.
• Why do my kids poop so much?
• Wowww that feels so good, ahhhhhhhh harder, harder!
• Time for a new bra, gotta order a new bra. No, new boobs, gotta get me some new boobs.
• Can someone shut that baby up in the hallway im relaxing in here!
• Someone please feed the baby.
• I am so hungry I could eat these cucumber slices off my eyelids.
• Hope the kids are having fun.
• Hope baby daddy is having fun.
• Awww the kids are so sweet, I love them so much.
• This would make a great blog post. Gotta remember, gotta remember...
• I forgot to send an email
• I forgot to hang out the last load of laundry.
• What is this stuff she just put on my face, tingles
• Didn't know she was gonna pluck the eyebrows. Holy shizzle sticks!!!
• Keep going girl, I know I have more than 4 hairs in that uni-brow.
• Ouch, that hurt, hello, i'm awake now.
• It was raining when I woke up today.
• I'm sick of the rain, please don't rain on my birthday.
• Did I bring the kids rain boots?
• I need to buy Luca new rain boots.
• Hope I don't develop anymore skin cancer on my face.
• Forgot to buy the sunscreen dermo recpmmended
• Charly has an appointment with doctor this week.
• This is my last day being 38
• Where did my 30's go?
• I'm gonna have a blowout party next year.
• No I won't, too much work!
• Yes I will, I deserve it!
• Ahhhh this feels so good.
• 40!!! i'm gonna be 40
• Over the hill, over the hill!
• Kids will need a nap.
• Gotta let some more wind out...who cares if it smells, I feel good!
• I should relax more often, this is amazing!

Facial girl: "Mevrouw, you can sit up now. Did you enjoy?"
Me: "You have no idea..."

Mama was just misunderstood

This is where it all went down, my grocery

I told a homeless man to die last week. Bless his heart, he was standing in front of the supermarket trying to sell his homeless society newspaper to make enough money to sleep in the homeless shelter and I told him to die.

As I walked out of the supermarket he said "Hi" and I happily responded with a big friendly grin on my face in a my slow southern accent "Die" (which probably sounded more like Dyyyye) So not only did he get insulted but nice and slow in case he didn't understand.

Of course I didn't mean to tell the guy to drop dead, what I meant to say was either "Dag" (the Dutch equivalent to hello or goodbye to someone you don't know) or "Hi" which was what I normally said in English. Instead he got one of my brain dead Mama Denglish combos "Die".

I walked past him feeling good about myself hoping that my sweet smile and salutation would maybe somehow just make this guy's day a bit brighter. It wasn't until a few seconds later that I realized what I had said. Jezzzzz! What an idiot I was, how could I get so confused! But then again I had just put pure coconut oil on my hair thinking it was conditioner, so obviously the elevator was not going all the way up.

I stopped walking away and thought to myself, maybe I should go back and explain to him what I was trying to say. But then again maybe he wasn't really paying attention. Besides, what would I say to him, "Hello mister, I am a mother who speaks two languages and I haven't slept in two days, my son has been awake all night last night and my daughter the night before and my hair is dripping with coconut oil and I had two really busy days at work and actually I haven't really slept in five years and I never know what language to speak in anymore because I am so confused because I can speak two languages.

Why would this guy care about my problems? At least I had a roof over my head and money to buy food. God, I felt terrible but I decided it was best to keep walking. I hoped that he didn't hear me or the blinding warmth of my smile made him temporarily deaf to my faux pas. I hoped that if he did indeed hear me that he wouldn't remember me the next time he saw me. I hoped and hoped feeling rotten all the way home...and then it faded into the back of my subconsciousness...

Until I went to the supermarket today and he was standing at the door. My heart raced when I saw him standing there, but surely he saw hundreds of people a day so how could he ever remember what each person said. So I sucked it up and began my walk of shame into the supermarket. I was brave and looked at him in the eyes and said "Hi".

He glared back and turned his head! He remembered! And he snubbed me! He snubbed me the way I often saw others snubbing him! Jez, I felt terrible! I wondered, was this how terrible he felt every time people turned their heads when he said hello.

As I walked around filling up my shopping basket, feeling horrible, I thought to myself, I was just misunderstood. I could fix it! I had to fix it! Besides, I can't afford to shop at the other supermarket and he was at the door everday. I had to face the problem and solve it!

So on my way out of the door I took a deep breath and walked straight up to the man. I touched his arm gently and looked deep into his eyes and gave him a slow wink and the word "Hi" rolled off my tongue like a bowling ball getting ready to go into the gutter.

With a surprised look he said hi and then a smile spread across his face and his eyes began to sparkle. SCORE! Forgiven! Finally, Mama was no longer misunderstood...so lesson learned...gonna stick to my trusty mother tongue, FLIRT!

Peer pressure in pre-school?

My kids version of Jurasic park

I consulted with psychologists. I followed advice from parenting books, friends, teachers, other mothers, my mother, grandmothers...Nothing seemed to help for much longer than two bowel movements! No reward system, consequence or bribe was big enough to keep my 4 year old son from pooping in his pants...every day. For over a year.

Then just as I gave up the battle, my son comes home from school and says to me "Mama, I'm not gonna poop in my pants anymore."

Halleluja! Miracles do happen! So I say, "That is great news sweetie! So why have YOU decided not to poop in your pants anymore?"

"Mama, I don't want to be Luca Poopy Pants anymore. The girls say I am vies (dirty). Mama, I don't want to be vies."

I couldn't believe my ears! First I wanted to cry, how dare these little bullies say such things to my baby but then came the anger. So for the past YEAR I worried myself day and night trying to figure out how to solve this most annoying problem and a group of 4 year old still-in-training-panties little girls say a few words and its solved. Noooooo, couldn't be...peer pressure in pre-school? I don't remember worrying what anyone said to me in pre-school. The only thing we cared about was who got to be the Mama when we played house. My god he is only 4, what is gonna happen in high school when he has a face full of zits and a body full of teenage hormones? God help me. Well, after I got over my frustration I thought ohhh it will only last a few days...

Nope that was two weeks ago, and no massive blowouts in the dino drawers! Just a skid mark or two...which I am fine with that after a year of shoveling s*it! But I am not fine with the fact that Mama has officially lost her little man!

Mama's dam break

And Strom Troopers police my street! Im lucky he wasnt around

Call the police, Mama peed on the street today! Yes, I peed  in broad daylight just after crossing the street in front of my house. Not behind a bush or tree, but in the middle of the sidewalk, leaving a tiny puddle just in front of my neighbor's door (thats what she gets for not saying Hello).

It came out of no where, the dreaded SNEEZE. And until you have squeezed two watermelon-sized kids out, you have no idea how dangerous a sneeze can  be for a woman. Knowing this handicap, I always prepare: once I get the twitch in the nose just before a sneeze, I quickly bend over, and, if I have an audience, I pretend to pick something up from the ground and then I sneeze. Saves me everytime!

But this time was different, with no warning at all, "ACHHHOOO" and the dam broke! And it didn't help that for once it was warm enough in Amsterdam to wear a short summer dress. I guess I was so distracted by screaming kids that I really didn't realize what had happened until I felt the puddle in my brand new sandals. My kids shut up with the fighting long enough to observe my shame and chant "Mama pee peed in her pants."

"No," I said.."Mama didn't pee, its just sweat, Mama's legs are fat and they get really hot."

"Wow, Mama you are fat then!"

"Yes, sweetie, lets get ice cream upstairs." And that was it from the peanut gallery.

Thank goodness, because I could see a neighbor walking up the street. I knew I had about 30 seconds to find my keys and escape inside. He would see the puddle and hopefully think one of the snot noses did it (they are often having accidents as I turn the key, Murphy's Law of Potty training).

I made it inside and none the wiser. Sandals in the trash and I am forever traumatized. Looks like it's yoga pants and Depends from now on...God I love being a mother!

The Mama race

Well Bruce is doing OK in his child rearing race, wonder how MLR is?

I remember all the moments when I was preggers, rubbing my belly and dreaming about being a mother to my precious babies. I remember imagining moments with them like strolling through the park, cuddling and snuggling...ahhh, a life full of nothing but little giggles and pure bliss.

But no one ever discusses that besides these magical moments, raising a child would be like driving a car without wind shield wipers or brakes, through a hurricane on a highway...and everyone is passing you by, you are trying so hard to just get to the next place to stop safely...but you can't stop. I never in a million years ever thought about all the challenges I would face once my sweet babies developed communication skills and became real people.

Fast-forward and here I am...struggling in a world where my almost 5 year old poops in his pants all day and my 3 year old thinks she is a boy and refuses to wear clothes unless they are "boyish" and pink. I spend my days on "skid-mark underwear" patrol and trying to convince my daughter to get dressed. Just another phase of challenges and of course "they too shall pass".

By now, I have learned this is a mother's saving grace. Life goes on and eventually solutions are found. It's just getting to these solutions that wear on my patience and sometimes I feel like I am running the Mama race to find them but my legs (unshaven of course) are duct-taped together and I have to pee terribly. AND you are watching all the other perfect (hair brushed, shaved legs and painted nails) mothers in the race pass you by with smiles on their faces, while you are getting no where. Your kid doesn't listen no matter what tactic you try and you feel like the biggest failure in the world.

Of course special moments with my babies are battery re-chargers and overall I enjoy every moment, I know time will fly-by and I soon will be attending their high school graduation. My only goal is to get to that point without screwing them up too badly and hopefully, they will end up happy people...but right now, my greatest achievement would be for them to finally learn how to sh#t in a toilet!

Mama lost her baby!

For almost 2 hours, I thought this would be the last pic of my baby

It has taken me four days but I can now finally write about the worst two hours of my life. I lost my precious baby boy for almost two hours during a family outing to the beach this past weekend. He escaped my attention for literally two minutes and BAM he was off the radar.

We had just walked up from the beach to one of the "strand tents" as they call them here in Holland. It's basically a temporay retsuarnt/cafe on the beach. We had met some friends and we were kissing them hello (good excuse not to kiss anymore) and my four-year old vanished. It was that fast.

I have to admit I am a hawk when it comes to my kids and have been criticized by some that I need to even let go, give my babies more freedom. So when my baby boy disappeared, one can imagine how hard I began beating myself up.

I immediately looked around the outdoor cafe, in every nook and cranny that I could find. No snot nose anywhere! My heart began to beat so fast and the panic started. I ran over to our table and told Baby Daddy and he said "Don't panic, we will find him." Ok baby daddy said not to panic, I won't panic, this is his country he knows. So I thought fast and went to the manager of the restaurant and told him my son was missing.

The manager pulled me behind the bar and into his office and immediately called Emergency Services and reported my son as missing. Because I am psycho paranoid Mama, I was able to give a very detailed description of his clothes and even that he was barefoot with his jogging pants rolled just under the knee.
So within 10 minutes of the last time we saw him Dutch Baywatch (with temp crew member Baby Daddy) was out combing the beach for my lost baby boy.

Meanwhile, I was at the restaurant with our friend and her 4 month-old baby. I sat there for a few minutes and the panic started to creep into my thoughts again....I had to do something. The restaurant had dispatched a few of its staff to search the beach so I decided to go out on the beach myself. I couldn't just sit around and wait.

I frantically asked everyone in the restaurant if they had seen my precious and then journeyed out on the beach. And that was when it hit me...my son had been missing for one hour at this point. Kids who get lost on the beach or run off are found by now. I knew the stories. I knew the stats. And I knew my baby was out there somewhere all alone or even worse...someone had taken him. Then I thought to myself, no one would take him it's Holland, its safe. But then again no one is really safe anymore.

I chocked back the tears as I thought about the last time I held him and smelled his fluffy blonde hair. I thought about his little mischievious giggle and his obsession with sharks. I couldn't be brave any longer, there was a chance that I might not ever see my baby again, ever.

I began to think about the parents who have missing children that they never find and I couldn't imagine going through the rest of my life with that feeling, that uncertainty. I began to blame myself...if only I hadn't turned my head to say hello to my friends...if only I had't agreed to meet them here...if only we hadn't come to the beach...if only I had been a better mother. I couldn't breathe. Someone had my baby and I would never see him again...

I wandered up and down the beach asking everyone I came in contact with and with each passing person my hope was diminishing. I tried to stay positive but as I made my way back to the restaurant I felt like I was going to die. I just wanted to skip ahead in time...or I wanted to go back and do things differently so my little boy was safe in my arms.

My stomach began to feel sick and I was about to collapse into a weeping ball on the beach when I got a call from Baby Daddy:  Hallelujah, Luca found HIS way back to the restaurant! My baby was safe and waiting for his Mama!

But instead of being overjoyed...I was angry! He FOUND his way back! WTF...he told my friends that he never left the restaurant (which later I found out was a lie). He was unaffected by his disappearance act...he was amused...no trauma, no lesson learned (because he did it again the next day in the park!)

I am sure my "newbie parent" friends thought I was a B-I-T-C-H because I didn't immediately cuddle my baby boy...instead I started in on him. Matter of fact, it took me about an hour before I could hold him. And I was still shaking two days after the incident and today I am still traumatized to tears when I think about what could have been. The first thing I did when I got home was eat a pint of chocolate ice cream. Screw all the emotional eating therapy...Mama was traumatized.

The positive thing is that by talking to other parents about it, I found comfort and I also found out that it takes maybe even weeks to recover. AND after almost two hours of beating myself up for being a bad mother realizing that I'm not a bad mother, it happens to even the best parents. But I will go back to my neurotic, psycho surveillance of every move my babies make until they are from under my roof! I would rather be a psycho then ever having that feeling again of a mother who has a missing child. Matter-of-fact, I think i will just "chip" my kids like the do for cats in this country...maybe a GPS chip...And maybe one day I will set them free, but in the meantime it's psycho for me!

Lessons learned:

• Missing kids on the beach walk with wind and sun behind them
• Holland has an amazing child rescue system
• It's hard to stay positive in a real-life situation
• Drill your kids on your address
• Teach your kids a plan if they are missing
• Unconditional love: You can love and totally want to ring your kids neck at the same time
• Not to judge parents who keep their kids on a leash
• Really read the missing kids adverts
• Count my blessings everyday
• Kiss my babies everyday and cherish every moment

More than Red Lights: Mama's Community garden

Every week I will add to a series of posts called "More than Red Lights" to share my personal experiences on why I believe Amsterdam is an amazing place to raise a family and why it is so much more than it's international red light reputation! This week's post is just the latest reason why I love this city and why I am so lucky to live here raising my babies!

We had to make one of the most difficult decisions three years ago after I found out I was preggers with #2...whether or not to move out of the city and into the 'burbs, so that the snot noses would have a garden and room enough to play.

Baby Daddy and the city guy working on the garden

We couldn't afford a bigger apartment with a garden on the ground floor in Amsterdam. So it was either a big move to the 'burbs or find something affordable in Amsterdam. We took a leap of faith that our kids would be happy no matter where we chose, and we decided to stay in "the city." We bought an apartment on the first floor with the only outside access being three small balconies. Not practical for the little ones, so the first few years was full of walks down the street to Vondelpark.

But that all changed last week! Baby Daddy hooked us up with our very own (ok we share with two other neighbors) garden in front of our house. We noticed that one block down the street the residents had turned their strip of bushes into a garden with a picnic table and vegetable garden. We thought well if they could do it then we should be able to do the same. After extensive research Baby Daddy found a contact with the "gemeente" or city government and he emailed the guy asking what we could do to have the same "garden".

Immediately the city representative answered us back and set up a meeting to discuss. All it took was for Baby Daddy to send an email around to the surrounding neighbors to have their input, and then the project was underway.

The wasted strip of bushes full of weeds and dog poop slowly turned into our community garden. This city rep pulled out all stops for us to have everything we needed...at no expense to us, we just had to help out. And the city even removed the bushes and tree, put down woodchips, supplied us an old picnic table and wood to refurbish it with and park benches. Ok, maybe it's not for free, but for once I don't mind paying so many taxes. It was amazing how much this rep helped us out. He even came by on a Saturday to help Baby Daddy put up the fence (which he also supplied) and re-work the picnic table.

And it was a success from the very first day! We met neighbors we hadn't met in the three years living here. We all sat together, drank wine and the kids had a blast playing in the "garden" and sidewalk. Matter-of-fact one of our neighbors has lived here 33 years and she said this was the best thing ever to happen to this street.

For me, finally after almost 10 years of living in "the city" I feel like I live in a community. I now know my neighbors and we have a place to meet together to BBQ, have a drink or enjoy the sunshine without sitting on the sidewalk. Most importantly, my kids have a little piece of green in the city to play safely in front of their own home! And it is all thanks to the City of Amsterdam and of course all the hard work Baby Daddy put into making it happen!

I know I have said it a 1,000 times but Amsterdam is an amazing place to raise a family and so much more than just a city full of red lights!

A massage for Mama or a MASSAGE for Papa?

One of the most confusing things about living in Amsterdam for me is which massage salon is a place for Mama to get a massage and which one is for Papa to get a "MASSAGE"? Of course, Mama could go to the same salon as a Papa, but why would a Mama pay for a MASSAGE if she could just get one from Papa for free?

This may sound like a silly thing to wonder about and maybe I'm naive, but it really does bother me. Maybe because I think my 'hood is one way and really it's not. Just in two blocks of my family packed 'hood, there are 3 massage salons. So are there more stressed Mamas in my 'hood or more stressed Papas? I decided to analyze the salons for myself:


Massage Salon # 1:
                                                                                

Windows: Completely blacked-out. And check out the middle above window. I have never seen a window so blacked-out. Maybe that's where a Papa goes when he is bad!

Door: Also blacked out, no flashing welcome sign to draw attention. You could walk by without taking notice. A Papa would have to be "invited" to such a place.

Sign: Either Lanna Thai really likes her name or Lanna Thai is code name for something that requires no peeking, thus blacked out windows and doors.We know its not Lanna Thai food or there would be spicy smells filling the street. Instead it normally smells like trash since the trash spot is just in front. And there is no "Open" sign so how would a Mama or a Papa know when Lana was home?

Misc: Well  I live close-by so I have seen from time-to-time Lanna and her "sister" sitting in front painting their toenails. "Daddy" probably doesn't like the smell of the polish so they have to go outside.

Conclusion Mama or Papa: Definitely a place for a Papa, but not just any Papa. Maybe a place for really naughty Papas who need to go to Time-out. This Mama would never go into a place totally blacked-out unless its the closet and she is trying to get away from the kids.

Massage Salon # 2:

Windows: The windows are a bit friendlier than Salon 1, even though you can't see what's going on inside. There are legit massage posters in the windows, too. However, I'm not sure how safe I would feel in a place with brown paper bag covered windows.And the windows/doors above are open and inviting if they even belong to the salon.

Door: The door is also covered in this brown paper stuff, so I couldn't even get a little peeky-poo inside. There is actually a door on the other side that looks the same. So I think you have to really be a regular to know which door to-go-a-knockin on. I would hate to disturb someone in the middle of their MASSAGE.

Sign: Either the owner is Arabic or inside you get to massage someone who has just gained Thai citizenship. It really makes me wonder what happened to the old Thai massage. Then again you know some Papas really like their Thai new. And there is an OPEN sign and it was flashing red...hmmmm...but no opening hours posted outside. Which leads this me to the conclusion: when the red lights a burnin'...

Misc: Even though this salon looks a bit friendlier, I have never seen a Mama or a Papa or a New Thai, for that matter coming, going, or hanging around outside. But we know someone is inside to turn the sign on...hmmm

Conclusion Mama or Papa: Again a place for a Papa to go, and I think this salon is actually more Papa friendly. Even though the massage posters look relaxing, I'm not sure a Mama would get too much relaxation locked up in a brown paper bag.

Massage Salon # 3:

Windows: Mama likey! Nice poster in the corner of the window, yummy! I know he won't be massaging Mama  but it gives a Mama something to dream about. And look, open windows! There is life inside! And sweet little plants and flowers! There is actually air in this salon!

Door: You can't see the door from this side, but on the opposite side there is a non-blacked out door. Its all glass and it has a big "Welcome" sign on the front with actual opening hours. LEGIT! LEGIT!

Sign: The sign says it all! There is no cryptic meaning, no special secret massage code. Xini-lai has a massage salon! If you walk in,  Xini-lai will give you a massage. Or maybe you will get a Xini-lai massage. No matter, I saw two very friendly girls smoking outside and one inside sitting looking all professional (and not in a Debbie Does Dallas kind-of-way) sitting at a reception desk

Misc: This place is legit for the simple fact that Luca's pre-school teacher was standing just outside of the salon when I took this photo (you can see half of her around the pole). She must think I'm a looney tuney because I quickly illegally parked my car, jumped out and started snapping photos. I tried not to make eye contact, and if I was lucky she didn't notice me (as I almost mowed over her shopping bag in the process). A pre-school teacher would never hang-out in front salons like the previous two.

Conclusion Mama or Papa: Mama, Mama, Mama! Finally a place in the 'hood for a Mama to go for some relaxation! You can see through the windows, there are living creatures inside, Juff Mary is standing just outside, hot naked man on window...all good reasons for a Mama to get a massage! So at least 1/3 of the salons in the 'hood are for Mama...that's not fair!

The biggest mama cliche

Our KnutselMuur or craft wall in the dining/living room

I was getting my daily dose of celebrity gossip today and I read somewhere that Charlize Theron can't remember what life was like before motherhood. I guess she has recently adopted a little boy and now her life is complete, blah blah.

It really irritates me when mommies use these cliches. I am sure it could be true for some, but come on, be real, of course life doesn't begin when you have kids. Hopefully you had a life before kids. Hopefully you have lived and gained valuable experiences that you can share with your kids.

So I honestly asked myself the question (as I climbed down from my soap box): Do I remember what life was like before motherhood? Heck yeah I remember:

• Lying in bed until I felt like getting up
• Making last minute plans to meet my girlfriends
• Having girlfriends and having plans
• My waist and having to wear a belt to hold my pants up
• Wearing normal pants and not having to wear yoga pants and circus tents
• Brushing my hair
• Shaving my legs
• Painted toenails (being able to see my toenails!)
• Hangovers
•  Money
• Yelling "shit" when I stub my toe
• Not having to give a narration of my bowl movements
• Taking a shower alone (or better yet taking a shower with just Baby Daddy, but thats how we got snot noses in first place so maybe not good idea)
• Watching TV/Movies that would make Walt Disney blush
• Reading, Reading, Reading (books that would make Seuss "Hop on Pop")
• Conversations about politics, movies,and other superficial things
• Ahhhh, being superficial!
• Fertility problems and the fear of never having snot noses
• The life long dream to have a family
• The hole in my life until I pooped out the first snot nose

It's Mine!

Once upon a time, there was this mama who was shopping with her two perfectly misbehaving kids in the supermarket when she passed by the candy aisle. And what a coincidence, just at that moment PMS struck this poor mother making her do the unthinkable: buy a nice king size chocolate bar all for HERSELF.

She knew the only way to accomplish this mission was to distract the little snot noses, so she quickly sent them on a milk run, giving her just enough time to slip the bar into the basket undetected. Phase One of her Mission accomplished! The chocolate was hidden away in the shopping basket and the two little snot noses were none the wiser. Now for Phase Two: paying for the chocolate and somehow getting it from the basket to shopping bag without discovery.

Bells went off in this most desperate mama's head with the perfect plan...she gave the kids money to ride the toy train at the front of the shop where she could still keep an eye on them while checking out. Off they went and the chocolate was paid for and safely placed in the bottom of the shopping bag. "All mine," she thought!

By the time this PMS crazed mother reached home, her mouth was almost dripping just thinking about that first bite of her own little piece of heaven. She imagined how the chocolate would melt on her finger tips just before she could get it into her mouth. She would chew slowly each little square savoring the pure ecstasy of her treat. Ahhhhh a mother's ultimate orgasm.

So inside she rushed and by the time the groceries were unloaded (except that one bag) and the kids all settled, she had to come up with another diversion so she could slip away undetected!

Desperate times called for desperate measures so she quickly put on Dora the Explorer on the laptop. Her good friend Dora would keep their attention for at least 10 minutes, and that was all she needed.

She all but crawled away and hid in the last place the kids would ever look for her...the shower! She quietly slipped the bar out of the grocery bag under her shirt and tip-toed to the solitude of the shower room.

She passionately ripped off the paper exposing the smooth darkness of her very own special dark. She took one last look at the perfectly chiseled squares, each bulging with the sweet cocoa aroma. "My precious", she said and she couldn't take it any longer. They had to become one. Her hands quivered. Just before the drool began to cascade down her chin, she sank her teeth into her creamy piece of escape.

The rich, bitter-sweetness filled every corner of her mouth and her taste buds screamed out in pure bliss. Just at that moment the door flung open. Busted. The two little weasels probably smelled the chocolate the second the wrapper came off. And she knew they wouldnt leave without at least one piece of her Precious. Sure enough, the begging began and she was defeated. Each grubby hand was rewarded with a chunk and they scurried off leaving the poor mother broken in her defeat.

She stepped out of the shower back into reality and held on tight to what was left of her guilty pleasure. And at that moment she smiled and realized it was one of the many truths of being a mother: sometimes a quickie is better than nothing!

One bad Mama

This is how the daycare walks the babies to the park, its a stroller for 4 kids.

I just realized today that I am one bad mama. No, not "bad" in the cool sense of the word, but bad in the not-so-great sense. I'm not at all the mother I thought I was gonna be when I sat on the couch every nite stroking the growing alien in my belly.

Way back in 2007BC (Before children) I thought I was gonna be one bad ass mama. I was gonna be this really cool chick who just happen to be a mama giving motherhood a new meaning. I was gonna have it all, especially holding on tight to "Me"". I was gonna walk the streets pushin my very expensive buggy and all the other mamas would whisper, "Wow how does she do it? She is the coolest mama in the hood!"

And then I gave birth...

And then instead of wearing clothes, I wear my yoga pants everyday.

Instead of having the perfectly styled hair, my scalp goes days without seeing a brush.

Instead of me strutting down the street proudly pushing my babies in the buggy, I am so insecure sometimes, I just stare ahead.

Instead of everyday being a celebration of life, I often spend the entire day fussing, disciplining and trying not to smile.

Instead of being the coolest, laid-back mama at the playground, I'm constantly worried if my daughter is gonna fall off the slide head first.

Instead of enjoying every precious minute with my babies, I'm prayin for bedtime to come quickly.

Instead of keeping the romance alive with Baby Daddy, I'm watching the back of my eyelids by 10pm every night.

Instead of a glass of wine in my hand at the end of the day, I have a poop diaper in one and a snotty tissue ball in the other.

Instead of being a Bad Ass Mama, I am a real Mama...insecure, tired, disheveled, yelling but HAPPY!

My neighbors were abducted by aliens

Just down from our house on our stroll to the Vondelpark

Well, maybe not by aliens but somehow my next door neighbors disappeared overnight. They vanished into thin air sometime between the last time I saw them on the street (just a few days before the abduction) and the moving truck in front of their apartment.

Ok, to be honest I knew they had sold their apartment to childless yups, (yay the guilt I will now feel when my kids are screaming and beating against their walls). My abducted neighbors just had baby #2 and were short one bedroom and desperately wanted to live in the countryside, where the grass and boredom are plenty. Its not like I knew them very well, matter of fact I never even saw Baby #2 except once and he was so bundled in his buggy I could only see a nose. I did give them a beautiful card when he was born, I hope they got it!

They bought the apartment next to ours just before we bought ours and she had her first baby (in that apartment BTW) just before I had my baby girl (which I opted for the hospital where the drugs were plenty). Baby Daddy maybe went into their apartment once to look at their paint job in the stairway. But that was it. The only time I saw their apartment was on-line on the real estate site. Matter of fact, as soon as I saw the For Sale sign go up in the window, I went on-line to check it out.

So we were neighbors for almost 3 years and not so much as a goodbye. This is what lead me to the conclusion that they were abducted. Surely, they would have said goodbye. Especially since our kids grew up next to another but never once played together. And we never had afternoon tea when our babies, just a a hello wave through the bay window.

Don't get me wrong, they were sweet-as-pie and were always friendly when we saw them either on the street or in the supermarket, but thats where the neighborly love stopped. Strange. I think Baby Daddy and myself are normal likable neighbors (I guess no one told them rednecks are the best neighbors). Maybe it's the culture,  or maybe my kids were too wild. No matter, they were our neighbors for almost 3 years and they just suddenly one day disappeared, all four of them.

I bet if I travel to the green, green land of BoringDam and on the corner of Sigh and Yawn straat, I will find them! But until then, I will stick to my original theory...my neighbors were abducted by aliens...

Nit pickin mama

I received the most horrifying email today. I received an email asking if I would like to be the official nit picker of Luca's pre-school class, or the aka in Holland as "The Luizenmoeder".
 Yes, today "class parents" Chantal and Nadine kindly sent me just the sweetest email introducing themselves,  mothers of Snotty Nose and I Don't Care, blah, blah and then graciously asking for volunteer help. It started off like a sip of Jaegermeister, nice and warm in the beginning with a vomit inducing ending.

Darling Chantal and Nadine just wanted to know if maybe I was interested in helping with parties, sportsday or the most popular volunteer job of class 1/2/C, picking through nappy pre-schooler hair looking for eggs.

Yes, Chantal and Nancy please sign me up for this job! I can't wait! Just in case my kids don't get the Lice, please let me pick through some strange child's crusty scalp so these bugs can crawl up my arm or jump (because you know they can jump up to 6 feet) into my hair. Please, I would love the experience.

First of all, I had to go around all day wondering WTF a "luizenmoeder" did in the class. I thought to myself, did I read this correctly? Litterally translated, it means a Lice Mother. Were they asking me if I was a mother to some lice? Or maybe if i could mother some lice? And I had no one to ask until after work when I was able to ask the daycare teachers. Yep, they needed a nit picker!

So, one could only imagine what was going through my head since I am certifiably psycho paranoid about my kids and/or especially myself, ever hosting these creatures. Not to mention my fear that the "new girl" in the class might be pressured into taking on such a task.

I would love to email back and say "Girls, in America we have nurses that do that sh#t!" But of course, I wouldn't want to give them the impression that I think I am too good for such a job (which I am), or God forbid, that I am a redneck (which of course I am, but still in the closet). I am sorry, I just don't see myself being the Lice Mother and not ending up in an institution. I am already shredding my scalp just writing about it.

Besides my mom used to always say to us growing up: You can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friend's nose. I think it should apply to Nits too !