Author

Brooke F.

Howdy! I don't know why I just said that. I never say Howdy in real life. What's up? I'm Brooke! I started this blog as a place for other moms to share their stories and feel supported! Don't take my posts too seriously, I really do love my kids with all my heart and wouldn't trade this crazy life for anything!

Mom Confession Gets Some Lovin’

12565354_10207433997304851_3670471289157973105_nI had the best week EVER! I had the chance to be on a local Lifestyle show called Idaho Living to talk about “getting real” with other moms and this blog. It was so fun. These two ladies have my DREAM JOB so even getting to sit next to them and be involved was so fun!  Click here to watch!

Yes that was me…crying in Wal-Mart on Christmas Eve

20151222_133317I have to admit something. The whole Christmas season gave me PMS this year. I don’t know what it was! I’d be all excited to do something Christmassy like make a Gingerbread house and then we’d sit down to do it and I’d get all cranky and crampy. Ok not crampy but super cranky. It made no sense. But it happened over and over. I had a full-on meltdown when putting up my decorations because I’d just been to a friend’s house who has TWENTY-FIVE Christmas bins and her house looked like the flippin’ Festival of Trees! Even the backs of her kitchen chairs were festive. It was like I went into the season just feeling like I didn’t have the “ho ho ho” spirit. I just had ho.

So this year we decided to take a vacation for Christmas instead of getting together with my family which we have done our entire 11 years of marriage. I was excited for the change and looking forward to it. Then I really did get a visit from Aunt Flo ON the plane ride to Washington. I was seriously MAD. I cursed the very existence of my uterus! We were going to a resort with a giant indoor water park and I was going to be sidelined! I was looking forward to making memories with my kids not sitting 10 feet away from the ladies room all day!

You’re wondering where Wal-Mart comes in right about now, right? So we fly in Christmas Eve and I had the brilliant foresight to use the site-to-store option to send the bigger gifts to the Washington Wal-mart so we didn’t have to take them with us on the plane. I felt pretty brilliant. Then I started feeling super homesick on the way to Wal-Mart and wondered if we had made a huge mistake. I got there an hour before they closed on Christmas Eve and the employee needed my “state issued ID.” I reached for my license and then realized my husband was holding onto the ID’s and the boarding passes in the airport.  I explained this to the guy and then got out my Costco picture ID and asked if that would work.

“No m’am. We need a state issued ID.”- Guy.

“Listen dude, I just flew on a plane with three kids and drove two hours to get here. My hotel is a half hour away and I can’t go back and get my ID. Here’s the confirmation E-mail and a picture ID. This has to be enough!”- Me.

“We need a state issued ID.”- Guy.

“What do you need?! Here’s my picture and I can call and get my ID number from husband if that will work!” -Me.

“No I need to see your state issued ID.” -Guy.

“Don’t mess with me man! I’m in a fragile state!” -Me

It was then that I buried my face in my hands and literally started. to. sob. And I don’t cry! I don’t cry at movies or at Wal-Mart clerks, I just don’t! And I’m usually so nice to workers and waitresses. But I lost it on that guy! Finally he walked in the back, got my frickin’ Baby Alive Doll and I went on my way. I thanked him half-heartedly and walked away. As I was doing so I heard him say “I could lose my job for this.”

And all I could say is “I bet ya can.”

All is well that ends well and my kids were happy Christmas morning but I’ll never forget being the crazy lady at customer service!

Katching Up with the Kardashians

KardashiansMom Confession: When people tell me they “don’t really watch TV” all I can think of is, “What do you DO at night?” So shameful.

Seriously though, it’s 9:00 p.m. I’ve spent the last hour getting the kids to bed and the house is quiet. All I want to do is put on my sweats and watch TV! I’ll occasionally read or blog but my brain is tired and I want to VEG.

So I know this is SOOOO 2010 but I just started watching the Kardashians and I am slightly obsessed. Here’s the best way to watch a reality TV show: Current season first, then go back to the beginning and binge watch from there. It feels like you’re a psychic and you know everything that’s going to happen to them in a few years!

Ever since watching the Bruce Jenner special I’ve been intrigued. Then a few months ago I saw the current season was on Hulu so I gave it a go and I was so fascinated. Just staring at their perfect skin and Kim’s butt was enough to keep me mesmerized. It’s not good for my self-esteem though. What I do like is that Kim full-on shows her getting laser treatments on her butt cellulite. I knew it could NOT be that smooth naturally. That and the fact that she got a “blood facial” and has a daily makeup artist keeps my reality in check. If I poked my own blood platelets into my face I might have a more youthful glow as well.

So I watched the current season and then shamefully Googled all the missing pieces of their lives that I NEEDED to know. Then I realized that the ENTIRE series is on Hulu…plus Kim and Kourtney take Miami and I think even Khloe and Lamar have their own spinoff on there. Literally DAYS on end of Kardashian madness. Bible. (Only those who watch will get that last reference.) The thing is, I’ve never actually heard of anyone ADMITTING to watching this show. I know people do because they add another 10,000 feet to their mansions each year and that money’s gotta be coming from somewhere but no one actually talks about watching. It’s like a dirty little secret. And since I’m all about dishing dirty little secrets on here you can all now come out of the closet and admit you’re obsessed as well.

Or you were in 2010. It still counts.

Bachelor Night Bingo Cards

The Bachelor is BACK! Mom confession: I LOVE the ENTIRE Bachelor Franchise. Bachelor, Bachelorette, alas even Bachelor Pad and now Bachelor in Paradise. The later is my guiltiest of pleasures. But I don’t watch in the hopes of seeing two people fall in love. Does anyone? Nah, I watch for the DRAMA baby! The crazier the girls, the better. The beefier Alpha Male the guys, the better. The sweet Bachelor from the season before who we all fell in love with becomes a slutty D-Bag? YES! (But please not you Ben H. You’re so sweet and untainted from the world. And you look like a grown up Peter Brady.) He really does. SO….drumroll please. In honor of my favorite show and in honor of all the lovely ladies (and gents occasionally) who get together to watch the Bachelor I present to you Bachelor Night Bingo! This PDF should open up 8 unique cards.  Please share and Pin!    Bachelor Night Bingo Bingo CardsBingo 2

‘Twas the Night Before Thanksgiving (A puking limerick)

12107734_10153926687539050_6349785656419824141_n‘Twas the night before Thanksgiving and all through our pad

The excitement was brewing and so dear old dad

Bought a carton of eggnog for all to enjoy,

A big giant glass for each girl and each boy.

 

 

 

They each drank it up with a smile and a slurp.

“Give us some more!” they said with a burp.

So daddy agreed and poured the drinks tall,

More eggnog for everyone! Come one, come all!

 

They were feeling content, their bellies were full

All seemed alright ’til one asked for a bowl.

Dad thought they were joking. How could this be?

“It’s just a little tummy ache, wait and see!”

 

They started to squirm, they started to whine

Then for the toilet, the boy made a bee-line.

“But I need to puke too!” said the cute little girl

So into the sink she made a great hurl.

 

Mom was holding back hair and rubbing their backs

But deep down inside she was hiding a laugh.

With a spew in the loo and upchuck in the sink,

The kids stood there for minutes, still on the brink.

 

Then finally it settled they thought they were done,

Turns out it was only beginning, round one.

At the end of the night, the eggnog was gone

It went into their mouths then into the John.

 

For years down the road they’ll remember the night

Eggnog vs. the kids. You know who won that fight.

And next year when dad asks “Who wants a cup?”

All we’ll think about is the double throw up.

 

The Guilt, Fear and Joy of Motherhood

Is motherhood supposed to be this heartbreaking?
Is it supposed to be so full of this fear, dread and guilt?
We wish the best for our kids. We want them to be the most athletic, the smartest, the most talented and sometimes they’re just…not. Sometimes they’re not extraordinary at anything in the world’s eyes and you have to remind yourself that all you really want them to be is who they ARE. And happy.
We feel guilt that maybe they’re not a piano prodigy because we didn’t play Beethoven to them in the womb with headphones. We worry we didn’t read them enough books when they were toddlers. We feel guilt that they learned to read by watching PBS.
We worry that they’ll be bullied… we worry that they will BE the bully.
We dread the day that the innocent spark of youth will be lost from their eyes.
We fear the day they want to go to dance class in hot pants and a tank top instead of a pink leotard and a tutu.
We feel guilt because we haven’t changed that chore chart in months or even made the kids do chores because it’s too fun watching them play Mermaid-Pirates with each other and we’re so just grateful they get along.
We worry we’re not giving our kids enough of us and too many “things.”
We worry we’re either too hard on them or not hard enough. Sometimes the intense love we feel for them rips our heart out again and again which we would gladly do because when it all comes down to it, we would die for our kids.
Then at the end of the day when we’ve yelled at them three times to brush their teeth and their lights are finally off all they want…at the end of the day… is US. They want mommy. We are ENOUGH for them and they are ENOUGH for us.

It’s my Mommy Purse-onality

20151023_154308A couple months ago at a church women’s group “get to know you” event we were supposed to bring three things that represent who we are.

In the rush to leave I grabbed two random things, couldn’t think of a third and ran out the door.

When it got to me the third time around I started looking through my purse to find something and I decided just to show everyone all the random crap in my purse because that really describes me better than any one item! I came home and immediately de-cluttered that purse.

Then last month I went on a trip and my sister bought me a backpack purse for my birthday, so after that trip and another few weeks I had TWO fully stocked purses floating around and I needed to consolidate. So I took a picture of the contents of both purses for your viewing pleasure.

In case you can’t quite see there are indeed two sticky hands, a chip clip, a rock, chocolate laxatives, multiple sunglasses, cars, pony bands, chap sticks, lip glosses and bracelets. Daniel Tiger, a doll mask, a notepad, gift cards, mints, my camera, vitamins, deodorant, candy and fruit snacks. (Thrown away before the picture were countless receipts, gum wrappers, empty zip locks, tampons out of their wrappers and about an inch of goldfish cracker dust.)

This could be a hidden picture game. I could say find the piece of salt water taffy and you could spend five minutes finding it.

My purse is more than a purse. Apparently it’s a pharmacy, a diaper bag, a toy box, a jewelry box and a garbage can all in one.

The Road Trip When I Finally Snapped

375671-priestley-childrenAhhh the family road trip. Mom and dad in the front…mom trying to listen to talk radio…dad trying to listen to techno.  Kids in the backseat fighting. It’s par for the course, right? Except this past summer when Mom. Finally. Snapped.

There we were- only about an hour outside of Boise when Brighton and Deacon were screaming at each other in the very back of the mini van. Deacon dropped his binky (which we can’t live without in the car) so I asked Brighton to get out of her seat belt and get it for him. He kicks her in the head when she’s bending over and she starts wailing on him. They’re screaming at each other, hitting, scratching, and she’s whipping him in the face with her Rapunzel Barbie’s uber-long hair.

That’s when I had enough. I said “give me that Barbie!” She threw it up to me and in a split second the window was rolled down and Barbie was held hostage out the window going 80 miles per hour. I looked over at Aaron for confirmation about what I was planning to do and he gave me a slight nod like a mob man confirming the execution of a traitor.  I let that Barbie fly.

I see her in the rear view mirror- long hair and purple dress- flying through the air. And I see the car behind me swerve to miss her.  I can only imagine what he’s thinking.  When Brighton realized what I had done (and that I hadn’t just pretended to throw her out the window) she freaked out. I felt terrible but showed no remorse and Aaron looked at me and mouthed “I can’t believe you just did that!!”

For the rest of the trip her prince Ken doll was my prisoner in the front seat. Every time she started misbehaving the window rolled down just a little bit and out his head went. The rest of the trip was a breeze.

The Pile of Shame

20151021_231444Last year, when we moved from a one-story to a two-story house, I was worried about the stairs. Cause I’m lazy. That and I have pooper-knees. So I decided to get a cute basket to keep on the landing to throw things from downstairs that need to be put away upstairs. Smart, right? Well it would be for someone who fully intends on emptying it every couple days.

Mine tends to get filled with lots of shoes, pajamas and clothes. This happens because remember, I’m lazy? Apparently I’m raising lazy kids too because it’s just easier for me to get their clothes from upstairs and come downstairs to get everyone dressed. I also keep hairbrushes, hairspray, elastics and bows downstairs in my kitchen junk drawer for the same reason.  Yes, I do my daughters’ hair at the breakfast bar. Don’t judge.

So because this basket fills up fast and doesn’t get emptied as often as it should, it’s now become known as “The Basket of Shame.”  Don’t know where your flip flops are? Check the basket of shame! Haven’t seen your iPod in a week? Basket of shame!

Last week the basket of shame morphed into something truly disgraceful.  It was a busy week and the basket went un-emptied and un-emptied until it became the unprecedented PILE OF SHAME! As always, I share in hopes that someone can relate and will be relieved in knowing it’s not just you! Please tell me it’s not just me!

Weird Vintage Pics That Make Me Feel Like An Awesome Mom

TurkeyLet’s face it, most days I feel like I’m just keeping my nose above water. My kids have too much screen time and not enough veggies. I have too few showers and too much sugar. But some of these old pictures I found on the internet make me say, “At least I’m not THAT bad!”

Here are a few things I have never done:

Let my kids smoke: So many vintage pics of kids smoking! What the Marlboro Kid? Naturally the one with the chicken is my favorite.

weird-Vintage-photos-kid-smoking-chicken 92574853d709c462f5d3a850c546f885funny_retro_kids_04

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Had a “Mother-Daughter Weekly Weigh-In.”

“See honey? Not eating that cupcake really paid off!”

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Thrown away the “ugly one.”

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Posed my kids with the creepy Easter Bunny.

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They. Are. Terrified. Is that the Easter Wolf?
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You’re surrounded. Resistance is futile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Put my kids up for sale….not that I haven’t thought about it.

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Covered more than my big hips and belly for a picture:

vintage-family-photo-mom-in-sheet article-2274266-176059B0000005DC-634_306x501hidden3_2747581c

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Made my daughter look “sexy.”

vintage-ads-that-would-be-banned-today-17

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Done my daughter’s hair while wearing matching bra and panties.

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“Someday you’ll be as developed and womanly as me… Oh wait.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let my child drink Soda:

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Despicable!
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Deporable!
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What? How did my son’s picture get on here!?

 

 

 

 

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