The Bearded Iris

A Recalcitrant Wife and Mother Tells All

Tag: mother’s day

…and that’s how a ballsy woman scrapbooks.

In honor of Mother’s Day tomorrow, I want to share with you one of my favorite posts from 2011 about my own incredible mother… a woman who continues to inspire me every day. Happy Mother’s Day!


 

Going through my baby pictures recently really got me thinking…

Are you a perfectionist?

I am.

Not in every part of my life, but in many ways, yes.

For instance, I don’t finish most of the projects I start because I fear they won’t be good enough. Or perhaps I am waiting to buy the perfect tool to make the perfect ____________ (scrapbook page, stained glass window, hand woven basket, quilt square, granny square, beaded chandelier… pick a craft, any craft).

This is a very common trait in people with clutter issues. Oh fine, I’ll say it, hoarders.

My mother is not a hoarder or a perfectionist.

Continue reading

Dysfunctional Mother’s Day Cards

Ah Mother’s Day—a special day set aside just for us, and the women who ruined us.

Dysfunctional Mothers Day Cards by The Bearded IrisMom—wait, where are you going?

You know I’m just kidding, right?

(*cough cough cough*)

Sorry. I didn’t mean to wheeze on your St. John Knit. Sometimes I just have trouble breathing at my full lung capacity. Oh, no reason.

Anyhooo.

Sorry I haven’t called. I’ve just been so busy with my breathing treatments, and cranial reshaping therapy, and all. No—it’s okay! You didn’t know! It was 1970. Nobody knew not to pick babies up by their heads back then. No worries!

But my cell block mates and I have been working really hard on a collaborative article over at In The Powder Room today about passive aggressive greeting cards. It’s a series of Mother’s Day Cards that should exist! I think you’ll really enjoy it and possibly even forgive me for that time I quit graduate school and moved back in with you and bought a brain damaged pet store puppy who shit all over your house.

Please know that my one lung and I were totally not thinking of you AT ALL when we were brainstorming about the various mothers in our lives. You are a saint, and everyone in my shock therapy waiting room knows it.

With nothing but love, Mama, (and a teensy bit of pent up resentment for that time you “forgot” to come to my arraignment and went on a Booze Cruise with “Uncle” Paul and his battalion instead.)*

-Leslie

(*None of this is true. I just have an overactive imagination…probably because I was so grossly unsupervised** as a child.)

(**Again, I’m kidding. My mother is totally awesome and anyone who says anything negative about her is going to hear from me, my cell block mates, and a sock full of nickels.)

 

Career Day

Nature Boy (the 12 year old) said to me the other morning, “Oh Mom, I forgot to tell you, today is Career Day at school.”

So I did what any Stay at Home Mom/Writer/Blogger would do.

I put my coffee cup down, turned off the news, got up off the couch, and started gathering supplies. I picked up someone’s dirty socks off the floor, grabbed my laptop, and then headed to the kitchen for a scouring pad, a frying pan, a fire extinguisher, and a first aid kit.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Well you obviously want me to come to Career Day to speak to your friends about my job, so I’m gathering visual aids.”

The look.

Oh dear God in Heaven, the look of terror on this child’s face…you would have thought I had just ordered him to go to school naked, pedaling a tricycle.

“No Mom. That’s not why I’m telling you. I just need you to sign my permission slip.”

“You don’t want me to speak to your class?”

“No thanks.”

Oh crap. Cue the PTSD flashback about that time I overheard my daughter saying “When I grow up, I’m going to have a real job, not like Mommy.”

Wow.

My kids clearly have no idea that I quit a lucrative job ten years ago for the express purpose of being at home with them. And now here I am, with three kids, the paltry remnants of a long neglected 401K, a ten year gap on my resume, and a very clear message that I’m not invited to Career Day.

Move over, Self-Pity; it’s Rage’s turn to talk.

“Why not? My job is important. My job is interesting. I’m successful at what I do, you know.”

“It’s not that, Mom.”

condescending willy wonka on blogging

“I was just in The Huffington Freaking Post, dude. And so were you! They quoted us both, remember?”

“Mo-ooooooooooooom. All the Career Day speakers are already lined up. It’s too late to get on the schedule.”

“Well, ask me earlier next time, Hon. I’d love to talk to your class about my job. There are so many cool things I could discuss!”

“Really.” (Sarcasm?! He knows sarcasm?! Well played, my boy, well played.)

“Uh-YUH! Like how to remove stains, reduce photo size for faster webpage loading, cut brownies perfectly, code with HTML, auger a toilet, boost SEO, get kids to school on time, use social media for marketing, erase water marks from coffee tables, install WordPress plugins, remove a tick, burn a blog feed, finger whistle, vlog, manage a household budget, build your brand, dress a wound, understand and comply with FTC regulations, ooh – my raw kale salad recipe!….”

“Mom. I have to go. Maybe next year. Okay?”

“Well, what parent presentations have you signed up to attend?”

“Cooking and Insurance.”

“Excuse me?” (Did he just say what I think he said?)

“I said Cooking and Insurance. There’s going to be a real restaurant chef there and also a former college football player who now sells insurance.”

“THOSE ARE THE CAREERS THAT INTEREST YOU? Are. You. Frickin. Kidding. Me?”

“Mom. I have to go.”

“I was expecting you to say Paleontologist or Criminologist or Film Director.”

“MOM. I’m going to miss the bus.”

“Do you even know what I do all day? Shoot, honey, I can teach you how to cook, for Pete’s sake. Do you want to see our insurance policies after school? Geez, I had no idea you were so interested in those things.”

“Mom.”

“Hold up. You think selling insurance is more interesting than running a household, raising children, and writing comedy? I feel like I don’t even know you.”

“Mom, I have to go. Can we talk about it after school?”

“Okay. Fine. Have fun learning about those exciting careers.”

“I love you Mom. Have a good day. Oh Mom? I’m out of socks. Can you please do my laundry today?”

“We’ll see. I’m live Tweeting the Dr. Oz show. He’s doing a whole episode about gynecological mysteries and I can’t miss it.”

(There’s that look again.)

Oh snap.

*****

This one’s for all the hard working mothers and bloggers out there who never get asked to speak at Career Day. Fuck that fucking shit.


Source: Know Your Meme

The Truth about Motherhood

read me in the powder room
I’m over In The Powder Room today telling my truth about Motherhood.

It’s a little bit of everything…kind of like those three freeloaders who came out of my vagina.

See you over there, m’kay? I’ll bring the hand sanitizer, you bring the air freshener.

-Leslie (aka Iris)

Jam on Your Mother’s Day Gift Giving!

I hardly ever do product reviews or giveaways.

Actually, I’ve never done a product review or giveaway.

And I’ve been blogging for nearly 4 years, so that’s a lot of free shit I’ve turned down.

Nothing against bloggers who do these things on a regular basis, it’s just not my thang. For starters, I’m pretty lazy. Secondly, I’m in a life-or-death battle against clutter; the last thing I need is MORE stuff in my house to sample and review. And thirdly, I am very picky. Honestly, for my first sponsored review, I am holding out for something epic like a Showcase Showdown prize package on The Price is Right. (Wish me luck.)

Sure, I’ve named a few products out of the goodness of my heart over the past few years that I love, like thisthis, and this. And there was that one time I accidentally offered free sex in exchange for some unbroken taco shells. Actually, I got some coupons out of that hot mess, so that was cool. (Hi Jeff. Call me.)

Also, one time? (At Band Camp?) Because I was naive? And didn’t realize it was a slimy thing to do? I let some guy slip his link into one of my old posts for 50 bucks. It felt as dirty as it sounds. Oh well, live and learn.

But I’m getting to the point in my blogging career where I’d like to try different kinds of writing and maybe even eventually earn some fun money to support my addiction-du-jour.

So today, I’m going to attempt my first ever product review and giveaway! I’m doing it for a friend, fo’ free, because I need the practice, I love her, and she’s willing to be my guinea pig.

Meet Emily.

Isn’t she lovely?

She’s really funny too. If you follow her on Twitter, you already know this.

Emily makes jam.

But this is not your grandma’s jam. Oh no no no.

Emily has her own company called Emily G’s Jam of Love. She makes badass jams, sauces, and seasonings.

Jalapeño Raspberry and Strawberry Chipotle are my two favorites so far.

I like to serve the Strawberry Chipotle over a brick of softened cream cheese with crackers for an easy appetizer that is slap-yo-baby-good.

And you haven’t really lived until you’ve tried a Brie Quesadilla with Jalapeño Raspberry jam.

Emily sells her unique jams at retail locations all over the USA. She also partners with chefs and restaurants who want to use Jam of Love in their menus. Because FYI, jam isn’t just for PB&J sandwiches anymore! (*eye roll and tch-sound*)

With just a few basic ingredients, you can turn one of Emily’s jams into a sophisticated sauce that will liven up any dish. And she’s got a whole page of recipes and cheese pairings to make it easy for you.

Twice now, I’ve made Emily’s Salmon with Wine and Mustard recipe. As if a jam made with Cabernet Sauvignon could be anything BUT lick-the-plate worthy. This is my new go-to salmon dish…so easy, but so gooooooood. Even Bucket Head gobbled it up, and he tends to only eat paste-colored foods as a general rule.

Emily G's Salmon with Wine and Mustard, served with roasted broccoli and rice.

Check out the professional grill marks. My husband rocks.

So get this. Emily has offered to send one of my readers a custom gift box of three full-sized jams! Look how pretty:

This lovely gift box is valued at $29.99 and would make a fabulous Mother’s Day gift! Emily will even ship it directly to whomever you’d like, including a card if it’s a gift.

To enter the giveaway, just leave me a comment below (one comment per person, please). If it were any easier, you’d need a washcloth and a cigarette afterward.

And let’s make it interesting, m’kay? I want your comment to include a line about a time that your mom helped you out of a jam. (See what I did there?) If you can’t think of anything (for whatever reason)…

…you can tell us of a way that someone else helped you out of a jam.

Okay fine, just tell us about a jam, any jam. Keep it clean. Kidding. Go for it. Whatever.

I’ll start.

My mom sent her boyfriend to get my car out of an icy ditch before the cops could arrive and discover I was an underage driver.

That’s a true story, by the way. My mom’s boyfriend eventually became my step father, and the two of them have been regularly helping me out of jams for the past 27 years.

Okay, your turn!

I will randomly draw a winner on Friday 5/4/12 at 12:00 EDT. I will then notify the winner via email. If said winner doesn’t respond within 72 hours to said email, I will randomly pick another winner, rinse, and repeat. Don’t make me work too hard. Emily and I have things to do, people.

Garsh, did I mention this is my first giveaway. I hope I don’t muck it up too much. Please be gentle with me.

Oh yeah, there are rules:

  • No duplicate comments.
  • No purchase necessary.
  • Void where prohibited.
  • Always wipe from front to back.
  • This giveaway is open to US Residents age 18 or older. Do you know how hard it is to ship food out of the country? It’s hard. Sorry. Get over it.

Please note, I have NOT asked you to “like” The Bearded Iris on Facebook as part of this giveaway. It is my understanding that the FTC frowns on such behavior. But it wouldn’t kill you to show people how you feel. Be a mensch. It’s two clicks. And take a sweater; you never know.

with unconditional motherly love,

-Leslie (aka Iris)

 This is not a sponsored post. I have received no compensation or goods in exchange for this review. All opinions are my own. Yes, they are real, and they are spectacular. 
 
COMMENTS ARE NOW CLOSED. 

One for all the Moms…

Father Bob read an abridged version of this Blessing for Mothers at mass today. Even though I had heard it before, it gets me every time. Sure wish I knew who wrote it.

This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, “It’s OK honey, Mommy’s here.” when they keep crying and won’t stop.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON’T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they’ll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal bleachers at football or soccer games Friday night instead of watching from cars, so that when their kids asked, “Did you see me?” they could say, “Of course, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,”…. and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet like a tired 2-year old who wants ice cream before dinner.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the mothers who wanted to but just couldn’t.

For all the mothers who read “Goodnight, Moon” twice a night for a year. And then read it again. “Just one more time.”

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for all mothers whose heads turn automatically when a little voice calls “Mom?” in a crowd, even though they know their own off spring are at home or have long grown up and left home.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches, assuring them they’d be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can’t find the words to reach them.

For all the mothers who bite their lips sometimes until they bleed -when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

What makes a good Mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a buttonon a shirt, all at the same time?

Or is it heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?

The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M.to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

The need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying? For all the mothers of the victims of all these school shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shooting.

For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

This is for mothers who put pinwheels and teddy bears on their children’s graves.

This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation.

And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers. Single mothers and married mothers. Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all. So hang in there.

 

Or for you more visual people:


Wishing all the Moms in my life a beautiful Mother’s Day filled with love, relaxation, and much deserved appreciation!

-Iris

© Copyright 2011, The Bearded Iris.

 

 


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