DANCE WITH MY FATHER…

It seems like just yesterday that I danced with my father.

I remember when I was 5 years old and running to him the minute I’d hear a Freddy Fender song play and stand on his feet and grab his waist so that we could dance together.  Before the Last Teardrop Falls, was one of our favorites and he would hold me as we danced together across the room…I never wanted the song to end.  And the lyrics were fitting:

 I’ll be there anytime

You need me by your side

To drive away every teardrop that you cried…

 I share a lot of blessed memories with my father along with life long lessons:

-Dad taught me that cleanliness is next to Godliness.  I never had a hair out of place, a stain on my clothes or a scuff mark on my shoes.  If he could carry me so that I wouldn’t touch the dirty ground, he’d do it…even now, if I’d let him.

-Dad could do the laundry, wash all the cars, vacuum the entire house, dust and cook up lunch all before 12 noon.

-Wrinkles were not allowed.  My brother and I walked around in starched and pressed clothes.  Our creases had creases!  Dad was a slave to the iron (it had to be the Navy man in him)

-Dad knew I sucked at math and he was always patient with me.  My math problems never made sense until he’d show me how to do it

-When it came to deadbeat boyfriends, he’d let me fall.  He always trusted that I was smart enough to make my own decisions when it came to guys and in the end I’d always drop the zeros

-My dad was in the military, so there were many times where he’d have to go out to sea — 9 months to a year at a time.  I remember how he’d take the family out for a drive the night before he had to leave and we’d get ice cream and just enjoy driving around with him until the sun set

-I remember when the morning would come for dad to leave to the ship for Westpac and I’d cry uncontrollably after he’d leave.  I never wanted him to see me cry because I didn’t want to make him sad or have his last image of me in tears

-I remember the Grease soundtrack that my dad bought me.  I played it so much that I wore the tape out and he ended up buying me anothe rcopy

-I always looked forward to the road trips we made to San Antonio, Texas in dad’s brown Camaro

-Because Dad was a stickler on having a well manicured lawn, he never let us have a Slip-n-Slide.  “It damages the grass!” he’d say

-I remember the purple bike he taught me to ride without training wheels.  It was the coolest bike ever and I’m sure he was on the verge of having a coronary watching me fall constantly.  I’m surprised I wasn’t wrapped in bubble wrap from the first attempt

-If my brother or I got hurt, Dad would automatically get upset, “WHAT?! What NOW?!”  He immediately went into panic mode

-One of the hardest days of my life was having to tell my father that his dad, my grandfather, had pased away

-Dad was the first person to ever introduce me to rap music!  He had the vinyl record for The Sugar Hill Gang, Rapper’s Delight.  I loved the song so much, that to this day, I still remember every single lyric. (I’m a pretty big hit at karaoke bars)

-My dad always waited up for me when I went out with my girlfriends.  I’d always bring him home a late night treat like a dessert or Mexican food and we’d stay up in the kitchen and just talk

-When my mother would cook live and onions (a dish I despised) Dad would say, “Mmmm, higado (Spanish for liver)…eat it!  It’sll put hair on your chest!”

-My dad is obsessive compulsive when it comes to locked doors.  he’ll quadruple check the front door and garage door before he goes to sleep.  He’d always tell me to keep my car door locked when I went out and made me prove it as I backed out of the driveway

-When I decided that it was a good idea to “bleach” my brown hair in the 8th grade and it turned orange, he said I looked like an Aztec Indian.  I scoffed…but now looking back at the pic-Yikes, it was horrible.

-My dad washed his hair with soap and always smelled good

-Dad could always bake up a mean Bundt cake and cheesecake

-My dad was a stickler when it came to time management.  If my curfew was 12 midnight, he meant 12 midnight on the dot. Not 12:01, not 12:03.  If I wasn’t through the door at exactly 12 midnight, I would expect him sitting and waiting for me on the stairs with a clock in his hand asking me if I knew what time it was

-”Where’s my change?” was his favorite line

-”Dad, do you have a couple a bucks?” was mine

-I remember when The Wonderful World of Disney would come on TV when I was little.  I would grab a pillow and make myself comfy on dad’s lap and we’d watch it together

-I’d always pretend that I was asleep in the car when we’d drive home late from somewhere and he’d end up having to pick me up and take me to my room

-My father was such a great husband to my mother. He loved her and I reveled in the affection he showed her

-When mom and I would get in a disagreement, I would run to him and he’d listen- even though he’d usually be in agreement with my mother, I still felt like he had my back

-Dad was the only one who could make me laugh until my sides hurt

-Even when I visit my father’s house today, the flood of warm memories fill my soul as soon as I walk through his front door.

My father was and still is, the epitome of a great man.  His love and inspiration have transformed me into the woman I am today.  He taught me to never settle for second best and brought me up knowing that I could have anything I wanted with hard work.  His encouraging words and unconditional love continue to resonate.  Every chapter in my life from childhood to adulthood to marriage and children, I continue to look to him for guidance.

The last time I danced with my father, it was during my wedding.  And like the Freddy Fender song, I didn’t want it to end.  Deep inside, I felt that once the song ended and he let go…that I’d have to move on and let go of him.  But …I haven’t…and never will.

If I could get another chance…Another walk, another dance with him, I’d play a song that would never, ever end.  How I’d love to dance with my father again…

Happy Father’s Day, Dad…I love you.

Mom…

 

This picture sits at my office at work.

I can’t help but smile whenever I look at it.

It has all the elements that make me happy: the wind, the beach, the white sand between my four year old toes…and my mother…

I look at this picture and I see a child with no worries in the world with a mother who constantly dotes over her with all her love and support; a father behind the camera who captures the moment on film knowing that one day his daughter will look back on this photo with heartfelt emotion and love.

I still hear the waves crashing in the background and the seagulls fluttering above.

I still smell her Oil of Olay skin cream and the scent of her flowery perfume.

It’s a perfect mixture that dances with the fresh ocean air and warm sun.

Her warm hugs and infectious laughter still resonate within my soul.

The joy, the energy, the light in her eyes when she looked at me.  I was her world.

The smiles…the happiness…the comfort of being a kid.

A blessed childhood.

A moment in time captured to remind me of the cimplicity of life and what really matters: Family-Love-Togetherness

This photo captures the essence of who I am today: a mother, a wife, a daughter, a friend.

Time goes by so fast, I can hardly catch my breath.

I now create these memories with my little girls.

I, now, the doting mommy with all the love and support to give.

In my daughters’ eyes, I’m now the hero.

But…I still need her…my mom…my hero…

When the world seems just too heavy and I want to escape, I think of her…

If I could just hold my mother’s hand and dig my four year old little toes into the white sand once again…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

SANDRA GUADARRAMA-BAUMUNK is the mother of two little girls and through the urging of family and friends, has written about the comical life and times of parenting her children along with the issues the modern day mom faces.  She is currently working on a book to bring the memoirs of her blog to life:  thenotsoperfectmom.com.  She lives with her daughters and husband in Maricopa, AZ.

Today my daughter turned 10

It’s a bittersweet moment for me.  I’m excited that  she’s entered the double digits and has a lot to look forward to come her teenage years…and yet…my heart is heavy with the thoughts of yesterday…

Ten years ago at 9:43 am and four hours of labor, she entered the world - all 7lbs 12 oz. of her.  Like any new mother, as soon as my eyes met hers, the love was instantaneous.  her tiny little hand grasped my finger and she fit so perfectly in my arms; at that very moment, nothing else in the world mattered.

I named her Mia Angelica.  I wanted a name that was short and sweet but exuded confidence and strong will.  After seeing the world renowned soccer player, Mia Hamm on T.V. I knew that was the name I wanted.

When we brought her home from the hospital, she had what seemed like a never-ending bout with colic.  There were many sleepless nights and endless tears (and that was just me).  I thought I was supposed to have one of those “perfect” babies that you see on T.V.-you know, those shiny, smiley babies that never cry.  I was in for such a rude awakending.  She hated sleeping in her crib, always wanted to be held and insisted on falling asleep on my chest every time.

Mia hated to be away from me.  I could not leave the room without her wailing like someone was pulling her toenails out with a pair of rusty pliers.  She always wanted to be carried and had to have me at arm’s length at all times.  I thought this phase would never end and that I would forever be joined at the hip with her.

But as time went on, she started to need me less and less…

She no longer needs me to kiss her goodbye when I drop her off at school in the monring (that just doesn’t happen in the 4th grade).  She pours her own milk in her cereal bowl.  She showers and gets ready for school by herself.  When she talks with her best friend, Jade on the phone, she leaves the room.  She doesn’t need me to hold her hand anymore when crossing the street.  She closes the bathroom door now and can tie her own ponytail.  She has her own opinions…her own thoughts…her own dreams.  What happened to that little hand that grabbed my finger so tightly 10 years ago?

All this time, she had been letting go; without me noticing, she slowly unleashed her grip from my finger and also…my life.

Independence replaced me.

MIA  TURNED 10

As I sit here tonight watching her sleep, I can’t help but feel sad.  My little girl is growing up.  Her little round face has metamorphasized overnight right in front of me.  Her long body frame and her size 5 narrow feet show all the sign s of a beauty in the making.  I no longer see the chubby, fat toes of a toddler or the sticky mouth of a first grader.

I wipe away my “happy tears” and ben dwon to feel her cheek and kiss her forehead…

and out of nowhere…

she reaches for my finger

and holds tight…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

SANDRA GUADARRAMA-BAUMUNK is the mother of two little girls and through the urging of family and friends, has written about the comical life and times of parenting her children along with the issues that the modern day mom faces.  She is currently working on a book to bring the memoirs of her blog to life: thenotsoperfectmom.com.  She lives with her daughters and husband in Maricopa, AZ. 

thenotsoperfectmom.com

MY CAR - THE TRAVELING JUNK DRAWER

Yup.  There is no denying it.  My car is a traveling junk drawer.

The thing about it is…it’s not any ordinary, small junk drawer.

It’s an SUV, TAHOE-SIZED junk drawer.

BUT, I have an excuse.

I travel 36 miles to downtown everyday to drop off my kids and go to work and then I drive 36 miles back home in the evening.  We spend A LOT of time in the car - which means  A LOT of crap accumulates.  I knew it was time for me to clean things out when everytime I took a turn, I felt all the junk slide from one side of the truck to the other.

I took inventory the other day when I attempted to just “pick up” a littel bit and here’s just a few things I came across.

-overdue libary book from the Phoenix library

-Barbie with no top

-Broken yo-yo

-DVDs with missing cases

-DVD cases with missing DVDs.

-Hair clips

-2 tubes of Hannah Montana lip gloss

-2 kick balls

-Half eaten bag of melted M&Ms

-Homework from 2 months ago

-1 empty Capri Sun

-2 quarters, 3 pennies and a nickel with hair

-Pack of Bubbilicious

-Jonas Brothers book

-School uniform top

-Crayons

-4 markers

-Girl Scout cookies in the box

-Pillow

-1 flip flop

-Headband

-Stickers from doctor’s office

-4 goldfish crackers

-Littlest Pet Shop toys

-Nintendo DS game

-Bookmarker

-Movie Tickets

-Farting slime (stick fingers in a bucket of slime and it makes fart noises)

-Sketch books

-Stuffed monkeys

-Stuffed puppy with a hot pink tutu

-A McDonald’s french fry

-Sonic cherry slush stain on rug

Oh…I could go on and on, but you get the idea.  It was enough to start my own little retail business.  I constantly tell myself that I’m never going to let it get like that again!  But I fail miserably every time.

I used to be envious of other people who have spotless cars that smell like crisp, new leather.  No smudges on the windows or sticky residue on the seat.  They were the ones who didn’t have to throw things under the seat or hide all the crap under a jacket when other people rode in the car with them.

I used to be envious.

But now I realize how lucky I really am.

Taking inventory of my car also forced me to take inventory of my life and how blessed I really am.  I have transportation.  I have beautiful, healthy children.  I have a car of things that they love.  It will only be a matter of time before those childhood items will be replaced with memories.  It’s hard to accept that one day I won’t have my “junk drawer” to complain about.  (It was hard enough getting rid of their infant car seats).

I sigh heavily as I hold the stuffed puppy in the hot pink tutu close to my heart.  I place it back in my car…along with the pillow, the topless Barbie, stuffed monkey, Nintendo games, crayons, markers…

and yes…

even the farting slime. 

More on:  notsoperfectmom.com

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

SANDRA GUADARRAMA-BAUMUNK is the mother of two little girls and through the urging of family and friends, has written about the comical life and times of parenting her children along with the issues that the modern day mom faces. She is currently working on a book to bring the memoirs of her blog to life: thenotsoperfectmom.com. She lives with her daughters and husband in Maricopa, AZ.

To Mia & Sofia to Read When You Attend Your Senior Prom

It’s a magical time in your life when you get asked to your senior prom.  I think every girl starts fantasizing about her senior prom as soon as she hits high school.  You think about the dress, your hair, make-up, the limo, the dance, the guy.  You want it to be like the proms you see in movies and Seventeen magazine.  You want to make memories tht you’ll live to tell your kids about.

I want you both to know that you are both special girls and any guy that has the honor of taking you to prom needs to be advised that your father will be waiting, with heavy artillery, if you are not returned in the conditiion you left in.

My senior prom was interesting.  I ended up taking the guy I was dating at the time.  He was alright…a typical jock.  I wore a pink gown with lace gloves and matching heels and corsage.  I wore my hair down but teased it about an inch high.  My date wore a white tux wiht a pink cumberbund with his hair gelled back.  (Geez, it’s starting to sound like the making of a bad 80’s teen movie).

I didn’t go in a limo.  He picked me up in his mom’s freshly washed Nissan Maxima and took me straight to prom.  We didn’t go to a nice restaurant like the rest of my friends did, he said we’d get something afterward.  (Here’s where it get’s interesting…)  We stayed until the end of prom and he took me to Subway for a footlong sub.  (No, I am not making this up)  then he mentions that he got a room at a local motel. 

There I sat at a gross Subway shop in my pink prom dress with matching heels and lace gloves pondering my decision on why I took this guy to my last dance as a senior.  I sat in front of my footlong seafood and crab with a blank stare.  Is this how my senior prom date is going to end?  At a dirty sub shop in San Diego at midnight?  WTF?  He seriously thought that I was going to give it up after going to prom (which we didn’t even dance at) and dining at Subway!

It wasn’t my idea of how I wanted to finish the night.  I always envisioned going to a prom after party with all my friends and hanging out ’til the wee hours of the morning toasting to our impending college life.  I wanted it to be like the ending in the movie Footloose, when Kevin Bacon and the rest of the high schoolers dance the night away under all the glittery confetti raining down.

Unfortunately, it didn’t end that way.  I had him take me right home after the fine dining experience at Subway.

Is there a point to this story?

Yes, there is.

I want you both to enjoy your prom.  I want you to have the time of your lives surrounded by all your good friends.  I want you to have your dream dress and spectacular limo.  I want you to take tons of pictures to capture the magic of the night.  I want you to go to prom with someone who respects you and wants to be a part of giving you the time of your life.

(I don’t want you to give it up to some guy who buys you a sandwich and thinks he can have his way with you.)

But most of all …respect yourself.

You’re my girls and the most precious things in my life.  You deserve the best and no man will ever good enough for you in my eyes.  So find someone worthy of your time and affection.

Becasue…You both deserve the glittery confetti…

Argh-the Grocery Carts from Hell

They really thought they were making our life easier when they introduced this contraption to us.

They thought that every mom with kids under the age of ten would be thanking the Lord from the introduction of this vehicle into the shopping world.

It would be a tool to help make all mothers’ shopping experiences more pleasurable…

so they thought.

If you’re a mother, you know exactly what I’m talking about — the grocery cart from hell.

The makeshift truck, fire engine, rocket ship, whale, police car, grocery cart for kids that holds about $5 worth of groceries.

I’ll be the first to admit that initially, I thought it was a great idea.  What more does a kid want than to be pushed around in a rocket ship shopping cart while mom loads it up with food and snacks?!

Awesome idea, right?!

Not so much.

Here is the real deal of what goes down with these carts:

Mom drives up to the grocery store.

Kids insist on sitting in a rocket ship grocery cart.

It’s a Saturday, so inventory is low on the cool carts.

Kid cries and whines.

Mom scours the parking lot looking for one to shut the kid up.

Mom finds one.

The one mom finds is blocked by 10 regular shopping carts in the cart return area and has a loud squeaky wheel.

Kid is stil whining.

Mom manages to pull it out after getting bumped and bruised.

Kid whines because it’s not the “right one.”

Mom bribes kid with candy.

Kid accepts bribe and gets in cart.

Mom maneuvers the rocket ship with the grace of a bill in a china shop through the small aisles.

Mom barely gets past the fruit and vegetable section and kid is dragging one of his feet outside the side door as mom pushes the cart.

Mom starts to shop a little faster and gets to the dairy section.

Kid is now on top of the rocket ship.

Mom pulls him off.

Kid starts to whine and now insists on sitting INSIDE the cart with the rest of the groceries.

Mom refuses.

Kid whines and asks if she’s almost done shopping.

Kid wants a doughnut.

Mom is frustrated becasuse there is no where to put the 20lb bag of dog food, 12 pack of Bounty paper towels or the Charmin 24 count package.

Kid whines about being bored and tired and that his feet hurt.

Mom picks up kid and carries him the rest of the way while pushing the rocket ship cart.

Kid is no longer piloting the rocket ship - the 20lb bag of dog food is now occupying the space.

Mom’s child-induced scoliosis is aggravated by the weight of the kid on her hip.

Mom doesn’t look forward to check out time.

The kid bagging the groceries shoves $179 worth of groceries into the rocket ship instead of getting a regular cart.

Mom, still holding kid, tries to maeuver the rocket ship cart back to her vehicle in the parking lot.

Mom is swerving left and right.

Kid still doesn’t want to be put down.

Mom bumps and scratches the car with the rocket ship cart.

Mom places kid in car seat and pushes the rocket ship cart back to the return area.

Kid cries for the rocket ship cart.

Mom slits wrists.

Sound familiar?

The mothers of America need to bank together to rid our grocery tores of these contraptions.  We no longer need to be subjected to the abuse of the pimped out grocery carts!

Mothers unite.

Join the fight:  Mothers Against Pimped Out Grocery Carts

And…well…until then jsut leave the kid at home.

SANDRA GUADARRAMA-BAUMUNK is the mother of two little girls and through the urging of family and friends, has written about the comical life and times of parenting her children along with the issues that the modern day mom faces. She is currently working on a book to bring the memoirs of her blog to life: www.notsoperfectmom.com. She lives with her daughters and husband in Maricopa, AZ. Contact Sandra at momchronic@gmail.com.

Not-So-Perfect Mom

Center of the Universe

Last week I caught an episode of Oprah. It was about men who cheat. I thought to myself, ‘What’s else is new?’ The topic has been covered by every Dr.Phil, Maury, and Jerry Springer type show you can think of. But curiosity got the best of me and as my kids played out in the backyard, I sat and watched this particular episode.

The one thing that all these cheating men had in common was that their mistress made them feel “adored”… gave them all their attention without any distraction… was there for them at every beck and call…made them feel like the center of the universe. A few even cried when telling their tales of deception. The mistresses were people like you and me. They were business women, waitresses, day care providers, Boy Scout den mothers, stay-at-home-moms, executives. They weren’t the beautiful ‘bombshell’ images we all have imbedded in our heads when we think of the ‘other woman’. As I listen to these selfish, men cry with their excuses, my blood begins to boil.

Adored? Center of the Universe? Attention starved? No distractions? Is that really why men cheat? Do these men even stop to think about the shoes their wives walk in from day to day? Do these men think about the different roles their wives play? They are mommies, chefs, dry cleaners, carpet cleaners, bankers, veterinarians, doctors, beauticians, teachers, counselors all rolled into one. I honestly don’t think they have an inkling of how ti red and overwhelmed we really are. I found the men annoyingly amusing. I felt like grabbing each one of these guys by the balls and saying, “Listen Bucko, you try feeding and bathing the kids, cooking dinner, doing homework, doing the laundry and going to the office for eight hours a day and then be expected to throw on a thong and some lingerie and make me the center of your universe at the end of the day.” For every one of those men to conceptualize this would be a major feat.

For all you men who read my column, here are a few helpful hints if you want to be ADORED and the CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE:

Nothing is sexier than a man who helps around the house without being asked. Nothing is sexier than a man who helps with the laundry. (This doesn’t mean just throwing a load in the wash and watch the Packers play for the next 3 hours) Let me put in laymen’s terms what “Doing the Laundry” means.  Doing the laundry means separating the colors from the whites, transferring wet clothes to the dryer, folding them, placing them in a basket and then putting them away…without her asking. It doesn’t count if you let the clean clothes sit in the basket until the following Sunday. Sexy is cleaning up the kitchen after dinner…without her asking. Sexy is taking care of the kids and giving them their baths and putting them to sleep so your wife can catch her breath…without her asking. Sexy is letting your wife sleep in while you tend to the kids who wake up at the crack of dawn on Saturday…without her asking. Sexy is letting your wife use the restroom in peace while you keep your mommy-addicted-two-year-old busy with a puzzle…without her asking. Sexy is being the first the one to jump up when the two-year-old screams from the bathroom “Come wipe my butt!”…without her asking.

And you say you want to be ADORED?? Change a diaper… and don’t wait for your wife to ask (don’t act like you don’t smell the poop and let your toddler walk around until your wife smells it). **Sidenote: Changing ONE diaper doesn’t give you a hall pass to play golf all weekend.** Make the bed. Cook dinner once in awhile. Become interested in your wife’s day when she vents (this means actually turning your head AWAY from the T.V.). Nod and ask questions so she knows you’re paying attention. Avoid making fun of her bikini panties when doing the laundry calling them ‘grandma undies’ while you stretch them out with your fingers (not all women wear the fantasy lace and leather butt floss thongs all you men think we should wear). When your wife is on the phone, pry the screaming child off her poor, thigh. When Fido poops by the doorway, don’t walk past it and pretend you don’t see it so your wife will pick it up. When your wife is watching the Lifetime Channel, don’t sit there and sigh and roll your eyes. (Sometimes we need that escape when watching “A Lover’s Revenge”.) When your child wakes up and cries during the night, get up…don’t pretend you’re dead asleep and wait for your wife to get up. When making a sandwich, put everything away after you’re done—the excuse, “I thought you were going to use it” is getting old. After your shower, pick your wet towel off the floor. A hamper is not a decorative fixture for the bathroom. Clothes go IN the hamper, not on top or around. Replace the toilet paper when the roll is gone. Scrub your skid marks off the inside of the toilet bowl after you drop a messy load. Fill her car with gas. Plan a date with her and do all the work from finding a babysitter to picking the place to eat.

DO all this and you’ll be ADORED and the CENTER OF HER UNIVERSE.

It’s not rocket science, guys. There is no room for excuses. Cheating is unacceptable. Cheating is a selfish act. Stay plugged in and stay hooked up in your marriage. You need to be either 100 percent there or 100% gone. A good husband will contribute to the emotional, spiritual, physical and mental well-being of his family.

Marriage is not a 50/50 partnership. It’s a 100/100 partnership.

You get what you give.

SANDRA GUADARRAMA-BAUMUNK is the mother of two little girls and through the urging of family and friends, has written about the comical life and times of parenting her children along with the issues that the modern day mom faces. She is currently working on a book to bring the memoirs of her blog to life: www.notsoperfectmom.com. She lives with her daughters and husband in Maricopa, AZ. Contact Sandra at momchronic@gmail.com.