Suburban Diva

Proof The Ice Cream Man Is The Fifth Horseman Of The Apocolypse

July 8, 2009 By Blonde Mom 12 Comments

True mom confession: I have never bought my kids ice cream from the ice cream man.

Before you pass judgment and think I am some sort of frozen treat Nazi or have banned my children from eating junk food, that’s simply not the case. I may or may not have eaten Blue Bunny banana split ice cream straight from the carton the other night and I let Miss A eat cheese puffs for dessert until her fingers were stained nuclear orange.

It’s just the ice cream man, our ice cream man, has horrific timing. He always drives by blaring his annoying cheerful ice cream man van music just as we are sitting down for dinner, and I have a difficult enough time achieving dinnertime Zen, thank you very much (shakes fist in the air). Either that or he cruises through our subdivision when literally the only money I have on me is 72 sticky cents, usually with a pony tail holder thrown in for good measure, in the cup holder of my car. This is a guaranteed formula for a whine fest since I have to deny the girls ice cream. It’s gotten so bad that I’ve actually shut our front door if I so much as hear the cheerful carnival type music in the distance, not that our front door and storm door really seal out the noise that much. Plus there’s something in me that just can’t quite fork over a couple of dollars for an orange push up out on our front lawn when I can turn around, walk into my house, open the freezer, and raid an entire box that cost less.

To make matters worse, the ice cream man has gotten fairly aggressive in his marketing techniques. The hubby bought Miss C ice cream from the ice cream man earlier this year and he handed the hubby his business card along with his change. It’s now posted on our refrigerator.

That’s right. I can have ice cream man on demand!

I think I’ll stay strong, and cheap, and buy them buy the boxload.

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Filed Under: Parenting, Suburban Diva 12 Comments

Schnockered In Suburbia

May 28, 2009 By Blonde Mom 9 Comments

It’s officially pool season and if you don’t have kids I suggest you run straight to your neighborhood pool with your favorite paperback, magazines, beverages, and iPod and relax and enjoy the freedom of being responsible for applying sunscreen to no one’s backside but your own. Personally I think a very effective birth control would be to force teenagers to babysit a hyped up on Kool Aid 2-year-old at the pool for the day in 90-degree heat to experience the full blown swim diaper experience in all its heat rash glory.

Once you have kids your leisurely poolside time will be usurped by the application of sunscreen (usually against a very unwilling wriggling child), fetching drinks and snacks because being near chlorinated water turns children into ravenous beasts who can down a sack of Cheetos in 5 seconds, inflating pool toys and water wings, and assisting your child to the restroom every half hour as they do the “I gotta GO POTTY” dance. It’s pretty much a win/win for your kid who has the time of their life while you turn into their personal slave for the day.

There is a turning point, however, when your child swims well independently (thank you Jesus) and no longer needs you to watch them like a hawk. And there is much rejoicing during your first family vacation where you can actually spend down time at the pool sipping an ice cold beverage while your kids play without needing you every two seconds. Some parents apparently carry this too far, however. They get totally hammered at the pool, or so I’ve heard.

This past weekend at Miss C’s end of season soccer party the kids were whooping it up in on a backyard water slide and we parents were discussing which neighborhood pools were already open. The conversation ultimately led to how some kids act like total banshees in the pool, running over toddlers and little old ladies doing laps, while their parents choose to be oblivious. One mom interjected, “Oh at our neighborhood pool it’s not the kids that cause problems, it’s the adults. Some of them get totally drunk. They put their kids in swim vests and just let them do whatever while they drink all day.”

I’m not a big proponent of helicopter parenting and I’m definitely not anti-drinking, but a swimming pool is one of those places, oh I don’t know, where if you don’t supervise your kids, you know, they could drown or hurt other kids.

So are there parents who take the whole party scene too far at your community pool? We don’t have a neighborhood pool and I’m fairly certain our neighborhood YMCA frowns upon sneaking in a kegerator.

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Filed Under: Parenting, Suburban Diva 9 Comments

SAHMs Gone Wild

March 6, 2009 By Blonde Mom 17 Comments

We’ve ditched the Britney Spears routine in my weekly hip hop dance class and we’re now learning dance moves to Justin Timberlake’s Sexy Back that include the snake wave ya’ll (said in my best Britney Spears voice). I don’t run into any problems during the warm up but there is once stretch called a pretzel stretch that, as you can imagine from the name, nearly kills me. The other night during the pretzel stretch I started to get the mother of all Charley horses up the back of my left leg. Thankfully I circumvented it before I ended up face down on the floor crying like a baby.

There were only three of us in class Wednesday and the other two moms are SAHMs. They remarked that although it was a blessing to stay home with their kids, it was definitely a tough job. To which I gave a hearty Amen. They both said they really enjoyed hip hop class because it was a break and a chance to get out of the house. As one mom said, “I told my husband, this is my time!”

I have to admit that one of the nice benefits of going into an actual office four days a week is the luxury of sitting and checking my e-mail and drinking my coffee in the mornings without someone asking me to wipe their bottom.

We don’t have dance class the week of spring break. While we’ll be at the beach the other moms mentioned they’ll be in town. Our instructor said, “Ladies DON’T tell your husbands you don’t have class! Go do something fun!”

And because I am so incredibly spontaneous and wild I immediately added, “Yeah, go to Starbucks!”

So the next time you find yourself out on the town, footloose and fancy free, don’t get a tattoo, don’t go dancing on a table…just hit the caffeine on a weeknight.

What would you do if you found yourself with an hour to yourself on a week night? All kidding aside, Starbucks solo sounds nice. I’d probably hit Target or TJ Maxx, too. Be still my beating heart.