Tag: Hot Mess

Lisa and Sydney Opera House

The Girl Who Cried ‘Poop!’

In honor of the upcoming Mother’s Day, I asked my mom to share one of her “hot mess” stories with us. It would appear that I’ve had a lifelong appreciation for poop humor…and I was obviously more fearless about shouting in public than I am now!

Enjoy!


I am a mother of two grown children. Motherhood brings so many rewarding experiences and mishaps.  I’d say some of my “mishaps” were just part of the messy, quite normal, day-to-day routine for a first time Mom. It’s been a while – I’ve probably blocked out most of my “hot mess” stories, but I’m confident I did pretty well as you can see them both now.

MattLisa08

Here’s one of our favorite embarrassing stories from Lisa’s childhood.

Children of a certain age – about 2 or 3 years old – take great pleasure in hearing their voice echo off the vaulted church ceiling during Mass. Our church was old, built before the time of special “cry rooms” for children.

On this particular day, little Lisa’s word of choice was “POOP!” Fortunately, our family’s unique dialect includes a number of Filipino words in place of English. So while mildly embarrassed by the shouting, we felt confident that nobody actually understood when little Lisa shouted “Taee! TAEEEE!!”

We finally got her to sit quietly, and the rest of the service was uneventful. Mass ended, and we felt like we had “gotten away with it”. Just then, a small group of nuns came up to us.

“Good morning! Filipina, ka ba? We heard your daughter!” They laughed. “What island are you from?” I told them I was from Cagayan de Oro, in Mindanao, and coincidentally several of the nuns were from the Lourdes College there.

Lisa with Mom and RVM Sisters

So that was the day we met the Filipino RVM Nuns that ran the Parochial School. They became lifelong friends to us. If Lisa hadn’t shouted “POOP!!” at the top of her lungs, we may not have met them!

Lisa and Sydney Opera House
Who, ME??

Happy Mother’s Day, Mamas!!

Hands on Belly

Belly Rubs: A Horror Story

Hands on Belly
Dun-nun. Dun-nun.

 

How to begin this story? I was pregnant. I was at work. I was in the bathroom, as usual. I’ve spent an awful lot of time in the bathroom in the last two years.

I was washing my hands after peeing for the fiftieth time that morning. A coworker came into the bathroom. She was from a different department, so while I knew her name, I’d never actually spoken to her other than passing hellos in the hallway.

“Aww, what a cute belly!” She gushed.

“Haha…thanks.” What else is there to say?

And then it happened. She walked right up, reached right in (I’m still washing my hands) and RUBBED MY BELLY.

Internally, I was blowing my imaginary rape whistle and screaming my head off. In real life, I was awkwardly laughing and backing away. “Uh, heheh, okay…Thanks…Excuse me,” I mumble. My brain was in emergency shutdown mode. GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT.

Now, I don’t have a problem with belly touching. Close friends and family? Fine. Coworkers I actually know and talk to? Ok, just ask first. Strangers? No. Bad touch. Unknown coworkers touching my belly in the office bathroom, right after I’ve peed, while I’m trying to wash my hands? Utterly horrifying.

I get it. Pregnancy is neat. I loved feeling those little kicks and somersaults. One of my favorite prego memories is my son kicking my brother’s hand, and my brother going “Whoaaa!”. But please. PLEASE. Ask permission first. You wouldn’t want me to touch your belly, so it’s also not ok to touch my baby belly.

And for the love of God, not when I’m in the bathroom.

Happy Friday, and thanks for reading!

Toddler Walking Outside

Mud, Coffee, Pee: A Typical Morning

It’s a normal weekday morning.  We wake up, get dressed, eat breakfast, and he plays with his toys while I pack his school bag.

We start to leave the house for school.  He runs around the front yard shouting “Stick!” “Tree!” “Leaf!”.  After days of rain, the sun is finally shining.  It’s one of those perfect “I love being a Mom” moments.  I bask in the adorableness of it all as I carry our bags in one hand, my coffee in the other.

That’s when it all falls apart, naturally.

I open the van door and set the bags down.  I scoop up my son (coffee still in hand, what a pro!).  He immediately flips out, squirming and kicking and “No no no no!!”.  I set my coffee on the floor of the van and use both arms to wrangle this kid into his car seat.  He pulls my hair and kicks me in the chest with his muddy shoes.  Dammit!  Oh well.  I’ll come back home and change my shirt.  He’s in the seat.  Ahhh.  I get in the car.  Off we go.  I back out of the driveway.

Wait.  What is that noise?  Glug, glug, glug….

It’s Mommy’s turn to have a tantrum.  “No no no no!!!”  Back into the driveway.  Open the van door.  Coffee ALL OVER the floor.  ALL OVER the cloth diaper bag.  “Nooooooo!” 

Run back into the house.  Do I have a clean diaper bag?  Err, not exactly.  Crap.  I empty yesterday’s dirty diaper bag into the diaper pail.  It smells faintly of pee.  It’ll have to do.  It’s going to have dirty diapers in it later anyway, right?

Back to the car.  Ignore the coffee spill for now.  We’re running late.

We get to school.  He walks right in, neatly dressed and hair brushed.  Meanwhile, I look crazy, with my ponytail askew and mud smeared all over the front of my shirt.  And I’m carrying a day-old diaper bag, so I probably smell like pee.

I walk back to the car and burst out laughing.  And then I see another parent giving me the side-eye.  Oops.  Better go home and change my shirt.


 

Do you have a Hot Mess story to share with our readers?  If so, we want to hear about it!  Just shoot us an email (hello [at] hotmessmamas [dot] com), or send us a message on Facebook.

That %&#! Minivan

We started this little blog to share the Real.  The Embarrassing, the Funny, and sometimes the Difficult. But despite my endless supply of just such moments, I haven’t actually shared any of them yet.  What?  So, here we go. This will be the first of many. So many.


I drove a used Honda Civic coupe for 8 years.  It wasn’t fancy (it was the “value model”), but it was the nicest car I’d ever owned.  Not only was it newer than the clunkers of my high school/college days, but NOTHING went wrong with it.  Ever.

When I was 6 months pregnant, my in-laws gifted us their old Dodge Caravan. And, we were happy to take it.  I was happy to not have a car payment for a little while longer, and while it was a MINIVAN (blah!), it was free.  Can’t argue with free, right?

But after driving it for a month, the AC broke. Then a door broke. Then the locks. Then a window stuck shut. All in the first 8 months of owning it.  Remember what a mess my morning routine used to be?  Well, I saved this part because it deserved its own post.

I’m not a morning person.  Actually, we’re not a morning FAMILY.  So in the beginning we were late for school a lot.  Which obviously isn’t a big deal for a 5 month old, but the source of my tardiness anxiety was this:  The school gates closed at 9am sharp.

Which wouldn’t be an issue…IF I had a car with functioning doors and windows.  My window didn’t open at all, and my car door only opened from the outside.

So picture this mortifying Chinese Fire Drill scenario:

  • Put the car in park.  Climb around to the back of the van.
  • See another late parent pulling up behind me.  Panic.  Don’t panic!!  Be cool.
  • Open the sliding door and attempt to step out casually.  Did I mention it’s pouring rain?  Crap crap crap.
  • Run around to the keypad.  Step in massive puddle.  Gate opens.  Success!
  • Open my car door. Feel bewildered gaze of waiting parent on the back of my head.
  • Hustle into school to avoid crossing paths with other parent, who surely thinks I’m a moron.

 

As you might guess, this was powerful motivation for me to drag myself out of bed just a little earlier.

We eventually fixed the door/window. But now the van makes a loud robot-fart noise when it locks. And the locks work, but never all at the same time.  It’s a finicky old van, but a gift that I’m grateful for despite its funny shortcomings.

BUT you can bet I’m saving up for my next used Honda.