Congratulations to Jennie for winning a PPA Award!
She received a Bronze Award for humor columns.
The judges' comments said: "Authentic anecdoctes told in a away that will resonate with 'Moms' provide the humor in this column. A chatty, conversational tone makes these entries fun to read."
JENNIE MONTGOMERY anchors the evening news at WJBF-TV.
She's married to Scott and they have three children: Zach, 15, Maddy, 13, and Sky, 12.
She writes our Mom 2 Mom humor column every month. Look for her latest column on stands now!
April 2007 • May/June 2007 • July 2007 • August 2007 • September 2007 • October 2007
November 2007 • December 2007/January 2008 • February 2008 • March 2008 • April 2008
(All illustrations by Michael Rushbrook)
The Dirt on Laundry.....................................................................................
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This is the time of year when Spring cleaning rituals are being carried out across the CSRA. Masters rentals are a huge reason for organizing closets, steam cleaning the carpets and sprucing up the yard, but a lot of people simply enjoy the fresh start that comes with a new season.
The goals are far less lofty in my household. I tend to look at each day as a fresh start. Well, more of a second chance...to FINISH the tasks I started the day before. I do love the idea of a good spring cleaning, but realistically, I just want to keep up with the laundry.
A family of five fills plenty of laundry baskets and I’ve learned the only way to stay on top of it is to babysit each load from start to finish. If I fall behind at all, wet clothes will get plopped on top of the dryer to make room for a new load of teenage clothing. Or, fluffy warm clothes get yanked out of the dryer to be crumpled in baskets that may or may not already have items in them.
My 13-year-old has a habit of pulling out whatever’s in her way so she can whip right through the wash-day routine. Would it be so hard for her to wait her turn? She complains about kids cutting the lunchroom line, but has no qualms about cutting in the laundry line!
At least Maddy gets her clothes back upstairs to her room. Her big brother actually fusses at me for taking clothes up to his room. Zack has some outlandish notion that putting up clean clothes is a waste of time.
“You’re just going to have to wash them again, Mom,” he brilliantly deduces. “If you’ll leave them in the laundry room it will be easier for me to get ready in the mornings...I can just put on my clothes down here before I catch the bus.”
That boy believes the laundry room is nothing more that a community closet. On the bright side, if that spring cleaning bug does bite, I might wind up with one very organized community closet! TOP
Mom Needs a Makeover.......................................................................................................
Having just celebrated another birthday–yet another year past 40–the idea of a makeover sounds pretty good to me. My kids, I call them the ultimate ego tamers, make sure to squash any fleeting moment of self-approval I might have!
My youngest child set me straight some years ago after an evening newscast. I’d called home beforehand to make sure the kids were watching. We were broadcasting from the Christmas tree lighting, back when it was at the 8th Street plaza, and I knew they’d like to watch the festivities.
I also thought I looked pretty cute that night in a red sweater with a black fur collar, carefully applied makeup and fluffed hair. I couldn't wait to get feedback from my girls…so as soon as I got home for dinner I started the questioning.
"How’d you like my outfit?”
“What about the makeup?"
"Did you like my hair?"
They assured me repeatedly that I had looked just fine. But did I stop at that? Oh no, I had to press them further: "But what did you like best?"
Sky thought for a moment, looked at me sweetly and oozed, "Oh, Mommy, I loved your eyebrows...”
“My eyebrows?”
“Oh yes, they looked like vampires."
VAMPIRES?? Good night! Don’t you know I went flying to the nearest mirror to see what the heck I’d done with the eyebrow pencil?
But the child who dubbed my eyebrows vampires had a little makeover of her own, thanks to a pair of scissors and a curl she wanted to eliminate.
Sky was 4 when she whacked off one side of her hair. I told her I’d have to cut the other side to make it match. She seemed OK as I took her out on the patio and started cutting…hoping she wouldn’t realize that cutting curly hair made it springier.
When I finished, she raced inside to a mirror. Five seconds later a voice screamed out the back door, “You made me get more curls!” and she locked me out of the house. She slammed that door, looked straight at me through the glass panes and dramatically turned the lock.
At least she didn’t have vampire eyebrows along with those short curls! • TOP
Mom Rocks!...............................................................................................................................
Every now and then I get the satisfaction of shocking my kids. It seems to happen a lot with music–like when my son wants us to hear something from a “new” band he’s discovered…say, the Eagles!
Zack called me to the computer recently and gave me this big set up about a group he’d found, encouraging me to give their song a chance, not to walk away or anything, and clicked play. Two measures in I said, “Oh yeah, that’s the New Radicals. I love them.”
“YOU know who they are?” Zack asked incredulously.
“I have that same CD somewhere, honey,” I gushed, knowing I had flat blown his mind.
Better yet was the kids’ reaction to concert tickets we’d given them two days before Christmas. The show was that same night in Columbia, a real drag for my 13-year old, who dreaded being away from her network of friends, even for just a few hours.
We knew they would love the Trans-Siberian Orchestra, though the word “orchestra” initially made them roll their eyes.
TSO rocked!! Their music alone was unbelievable, but combined with lasers, pyrotechnics and dancers it was an entertainment extravaganza. Not one to sit quietly, I was yelling and jumping up, occasionally…enough to make my 6th grader pull down my arm each time I threw it up with an enthusiastic, “Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about.”
“Mom, stop it!” she begged. Older daughter Maddy just looked away, acting as if she and her father weren’t with us. He did manage to embarrass her after all, shouting across the kids to me, “This is as good as any Kiss concert I’ve ever seen.”
The best boo-yah of all was my fist crack at Zack’s brand new Guitar Hero III. The game was a big hit at our house over Christmas and when I finally got a turn, I chose Pat Benatar’s “Hit Me With Your Best Shot,” taking me right back to my college days!
When I finished, I saw my son and husband standing there, jaws dropped, as the 86 percent score flashed on the screen.
“Mom, you’re better than dad,” my son foolishly exclaimed.
“Give me that,” Scott mumbled as he took the guitar away from me, “no way she’s beating me on a Kiss song.” • TOP
Holiday Wish Lists.................................................................................................................
These days, it's all about lists. Christmas lists, that is. Every two or three days one of my kids thinks of an item they've left off their “wish list.” That means every two or three days I’m reminding someone that lists are suggestions, not demands!
I’ve got a few things on my list, too (not that anyone has asked)...but you can’t buy them in a store or find them in Santa’s workshop.
First, I’d like one morning to SLEEP UNTIL I WAKE UP NATURALLY. I’ve made this request before, but it just didn’t happen.
Second on my list is a HAIRBRUSH. Of course I have a hairbrush, but it grows legs and walks out of my bathroom drawer. It’s just amazing. No one ever admits to “borrowing” my brush, but it always seems to turn up underneath my son's bed or on the girls’ bathroom sink.
Finally, I would like for my family to be LESS MATERIALISTIC and focus more on the meaning of the season.
That reminds me of the time I thought I’d really made an impact on my son–it must have been about five years ago. I’d taken my mother’s Christmas presents to her house at Thanksgiving. For the first time in years, she wouldn’t be spending the holidays with us in Augusta, but at my sister’s in Phoenix.
Zack seemed confused about the plan and was really upset about the presents I’d taken for Nana. He didn’t like it one little bit that she wouldn’t be with us on Christmas morning. He just kept carrying on and on about it.
Several times he asked, “No Nana at Christmas?”
I explained, repeatedly that she’d be with his cousins for Christmas.
“But what about her presents?”
“She’s going to Phoenix, honey…”
Finally he stopped me cold. “NO,” he said emphatically, “I mean, what about her presents for US? How will we get them if she’s in Arizona?”
Oh. So much for patting myself on the back about making a dent in the materialism thing! • TOP
Has Anybody Seen Mom?.................................................................................................
A couple of months ago, I was out of the country for a week, working on a story in Central America. I missed my family so much, but, thanks to technology, it seemed like I was right at home.
For starters, I was about to board my plane in Atlanta when my husband called. I thought it was one last “goodbye and good luck.” Silly me.
“Uh, Jennie, we don’t have any food. There’s nothing to make for lunch. Did you want me to go to the grocery store or something?”
Thinking to myself, “Duh,” but not actually saying it, I gave him a pep talk: “Honey, I showed you that bank envelope full of cash, remember? It’s for groceries, eating out, whatever you need to do.”
“Well,” he pouted, “I thought there would be food here.”
Scott also thinks toothpaste, paper towels and light bulbs come with the house. He’s never quite nailed the concept of actually purchasing goods to put in the pantry, refrigerator and linen closet.
A few days later, I got this e-mail from my son: “Hey Mom. Where r u?”
So he finally noticed I wasn’t home. This is the same child who often calls my office or cell phone around 6 p.m. What troubles me is that for 12 of my son’s 14 years, I’ve been anchoring the evening news.
“Zack, do you know what I do at work?” I’ll sometimes ask, “Do you know I’m on TV, reading the news at 6 o’clock?”
I only got to talk to my 6th grader one time while I was gone. “Hey Sky! Goats and cows are walking all over the roads and there’s a volcano right out the window…”
“MOM!! I hate Maddy. She is so mean. She took my Hannah Montana CD and won’t give it back.”
“Tell your father. Anyway, the volcano is…”
“MADDY!! Bye Mom, I love you…” her voice trailed off as she dropped the phone.
The best was an e-mail from 13-year-old Maddy. “Hey Mommy. I got an A on my test and Nana took me to the mall and let me go in all my stores. She didn’t make me go in any old lady stores. We had fun. Not to worry you or anything, but did you know there’s a hurricane headed right for you? Felix is gonna be a Category 5 when it hits Nicaragua...Hope you’re having fun.”
A hurricane?
On the bright side, at least one of my kids knew where I was! • TOP
"Beach Baby, Beach Baby Eating the Sand".................................................................
FACT: Nothing rocks your cozy little life as a couple like your first baby.
OTHER FACT: Nothing redefines “vacation” like your first baby.
Our Zack was 8 months old and crawling all over the place the first time we took him to the ocean. I spent half the first day just figuring out what I’d need to take down to the beach, which was a couple of blocks away.
I knew Zack would get sandy—and I wanted to be able to wash off his little hands before he’d try to rub his eyes. In my mind, I’d completely ruled out the option of rinsing his hands off in the ocean, fearing the salty water would make him cry.
I’m so embarrassed to admit this, but I had actually been saving empty milk jugs to fill up with tap water. That way, I figured, I’d be able to pour out fresh water over my precious son’s hands…and that sweet baby boy wouldn’t be scarred for life by a few grains of sand OR salt water. (I’m just dying here…what in the world was I thinking?)
Poor Scott must have felt like the biggest nerd on Hilton Head, following this sombrero-wearing, baby-toting woman, as HE pushed a baby stroller filled to the max with towels, a diaper bag, a small cooler and about eight gallons of tap water.
I spread out a big towel right away for my baby. I started securing the corners with those jugs of water and heard gagging. I looked up and saw Zack EATING a handful of sand. I quickly grabbed a jug of water and poured half of it over his hands. Zack immediately reached for another handful of sand and went straight for his mouth. I could see he had a little game going…and clearly couldn’t care less about getting sandy!
I looked over at Scott, thinking we’d share a laugh about my dumb water bottles, and guess what I saw?
Mr. Hawaiian Tropic was slathering himself in suntan oil, adjusting his mirrored sunshades, preparing to lie back and sunbathe. “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked in a most sarcastic tone. “We’ve got a baby to watch! Were you planning to ask him to sit here quietly while YOU take a nap?”
Even as I spoke the words, I realized that it would be years before I ever relaxed at the beach again! • TOP
Makeup and the 11 Year Old...................................................................................................
Oh my heavy, heavy burden. as if anxiety about drugs, violence, sex, etc., isn’t enough, I’m beside myself worrying that my girls will model themselves after Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton… or Annabelle, my 11-year-old niece.
What a difference a year makes! Last summer, my sister and her girls visited us in Georgia. Ten-year-old Annabelle had cut her beautiful blonde hair for the first time and was sporting a hip little layered “do.” She looked so cute…just perfect for her age.
This year, it was our turn to go to Arizona. From the moment I laid eyes on her in the airport, I knew Annabelle would push buttons I didn’t know I had yet. Before I could even see the whites of her eyes, I was blinded by a shock of silver eye shadow and clumpy black mascara. It was balanced by bright pink cheeks and a thick amount of dark pink lip gloss. For crying out loud, she’s 11 not 16!
The contrast between Annabelle and her cousins was striking. Maddy and Sky are pretty low maintenance. They say they don’t like makeup (these are my kids?). I’ve even had to force my 13 year old to wear it twice: to her Christmas and Spring formals. I personally think long gowns call for cosmetics and hairspray!
Annabelle apparently thinks micro-mini jean skirts and tank tops call for an entire team of stylists from Elle. I know my sister caught the startled look on my face, but I tried to play it off saying, “Oh, Annabelle, you should take modeling classes. You are so tall and thin.”
Once the girls ran off to the baggage carousel my sister looked at me and said, “What do you think of ‘Hollywood?’ It takes her two hours to get ready to go anywhere. She won’t walk to the mailbox without putting on makeup and fixing her hair.”
Amy wasn’t kidding. The entire visit I kept hoping “Hollywood” wouldn’t rub off on her cousins. Not that make up is bad or anything. I know I used to give my mother fits to let me wear makeup “out of the house” when I was their age! But I’m not ready for my girls to look like the high school teens. Not just yet. • TOP
Two Teens.................................................................................................................................
I’m two days away from having a second teenager in the house. My middle child, Maddy, is turning 13. I can’t believe it–a teenager already–one who’s responsible and trustworthy, who cooks and gets ideas from chefs on the Food Channel. You should see that girl decorate a cake!
It’s fitting that she likes being in the kitchen, because as a toddler she spent lots of time there. Maddy was a climber. We couldn’t keep her strapped in her highchair. She was like a baby Criss Angel (the hip, levitating magician). She’d be out of that chair and on the counter before we knew it. Once, my mother got so fed up with the climbing that she plucked her off the countertop and plopped her ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE. Really. She said if Maddy was so desperate to see what was up there, she’d just show her. Mama never kept my babies again–just kidding!
As I write this, I’m on an airplane, watching across the aisle as Maddy helps her younger sister adjust her seatbelt, plug in her earphones and get comfortable for a cross-country flight. Looking at her take charge with Sky, even offering a hand (that will no doubt be squeezed to death upon takeoff) for reassurance, makes me so proud. In that small gesture, I recall the times when Maddy looked to me for reassurance. It seems strange for me to watch the roles change.
I think back to when she was 2 years old. I can still feel her small arms wrapped around my thigh, hands clasped together in a tight grip. That was Maddy’s safe place. Whenever we were standing, Maddy was tucked in beside me, clinging to my thigh. I walked through grocery stores, doctors’ offices and the daycare this way. I stood in church, at ballgames and on the beach with a small blond-haired girl attached to my leg.
It went on for years, an unspoken bond between mother and child. I can’t remember when Maddy finally let go, when she was ready to muster the courage to walk beside or right behind me
I know it’s normal. As parents we have to let go and encourage our children to be independent…but what I’d give to have one more day feeling those little arms clinging to my thigh.
Happy birthday, my sweet, beautiful Maddy Moe! I love you. • TOP
Got Goggles? No...Got Milk? Kinda....................................................................................
“MOM,” a very angry voice shouted, “make Sky give me back my goggles!”
“They’re MINE, Maddy,” interrupted a slightly higher-pitched angry voice. “Go find your own stupid goggles.”
It’s 10 minutes until the first swim team practice of the summer and my girls are practically ripping apart the only pair of goggles they can find. Never mind that we own about 17 pairs of goggles—from those goofy fish eyes to the seriously intimidating “You Can’t See Who I Am” competitive kind.
Why do those morning stress issues that plague the school year always manage to seep into my theoretical “lazy days” of summer?
I should have seen it coming, now that I think about it. The first weekend of their summer break we sat stranded in six lanes of traffic outside Atlanta. I knew it would be bad when I saw the traffic message board flashing, “Seek Alternate Route.” Not a chance. We were stuck deep inside—in that HOV lane—as far away from an exit ramp as possible!
And I was stuck deep inside the family van…the lone adult, stranded with three hyper kids who were fussing over the radio, an iPod and a PSP. One would think there could be peace, seeing that we had three entertainment options for three children. One would be mistaken.
“Eat your snacks!” I suggested.
“We finished them an hour ago, Mom.”
“Play the license tag game.”
“Georgia, Georgia, Georgia. This is fun.”
All of a sudden, my 14 year old starts yelling for napkins. (No one just “speaks” in my family, have you noticed? We just yell and shout.) Anyway, Zack’s carrying on about napkins or a towel…while this vanilla-looking stuff is running down his neck.
“What are you doing? What is that?” I asked.
“My ice cream, Mom. I saved it for last. It’s ok, I can still drink it,” he explained.
For an hour I’d been watching that boy munch on popcorn, pop tarts, even a random piece of fruit. We’d gotten ice cream 60 miles back when I stopped for gas. The girls ate theirs right away. Not my rising 9th grader, though! What was he thinking, saving his ice cream?
My van does have a lot of junk in it, “everything but the kitchen sink” as they say. I’ll bet some of those missing 17 pairs of goggles may be in there somewhere, but I assure you there’s no FREEZER! • TOP
Goin' Round in Circles.........................................................................................................
Those recent spring break trips brought to mind a family beach trip a few summers back. I tried to do something that would be a great memory for my kids–but it backfired big time! We were waiting to be seated at a waterfront restaurant when I spotted a dock and some pedal boats. The surfer guy in charge happily took my money and mentioned that a couple of dolphins had just swum by. My Sky heard that and had a fit–she LOVES dolphins! My son declined (wise move on his part) but the girls and I donned the life jackets and climbed in the boat. “Just do the pedals like a bike and steer into the current. You’ll straighten right up,” surfer dude called out as he pushed us away from the dock. By this time, a few folks had gathered around to watch us sail up the inlet into the sunset.
Only we didn’t sail up the inlet. We didn’t go anywhere but in circles. Hard as I tried I couldn’t get that boat out of its spin! The more I pedaled, the faster we went in circles. Zack just made matters worse. “Mom,” he yelled from the dock, “go STRAIGHT. Stop turning, Mom! Mom, you’re not going ANYWHERE!”
Surfer dude had long stopped shouting out his advice. What did he care if I could only pedal in big fat circles beside his little dock? “Mommy,” Sky started, “I don’t see any dolphins.” Her cousin interrupted, “You can’t see anything because we aren’t going anywhere. This is the dumbest boat ride I’ve ever been on.”
I’m sweating like a pig as we go round and round…pedaling, pedaling, pedaling that DUMB BOAT TO NOWHERE!!! It was like I’d showered, put on make-up and fixed my hair to go jump on a treadmill for 30 minutes. Maddy looked over at my wet face, “Mom, you need some powder. Did you bring a comb?”
I managed to spin us back into the dock after about 22 minutes. No one complained about the 8 minutes we were giving up! In fact, the only comment came from Sky as she declared, “I never got to see the dolphins.”
“Oh honey,” I said, destroying her future faith in sales clerks, “that guy probably says that to everybody, just so they’ll rent a boat.” At least it got ME off the hook! • TOP
Rousing the Rude Teen!.........................................................................................................
I’ve been writing columns about my kids for six years. There are often funny stories to tell, but there are also those—so dark and disturbing—I have to weigh the pros and cons of sharing. Of all the different stages and weird phases, one thing has remained constant: My son’s inability to get up in the morning.
Alas, I am at the point now of shaming young Zack into getting out of bed.
I gave up on alarm clocks years ago. He sleeps right through ’em. Even when I go into his room with a whistle or gag noise makers or a radio turned all the way up, he’ll roll right back over and go to sleep.
Sometimes I spray him with an ice cold water bottle (it makes him mad, but that’s about it). Usually we resort to pulling off the covers, standing him upright and marching him to the shower.
This presents another challenge: getting Zack to put on his clothes. He tends to strut around wrapped in a couple of bath towels, killing time with nothing to show for it. It’ll be time to catch the bus and he’s still looking for his socks or his hairbrush!
My youngest child, who doesn’t have to catch the middle-school bus, has been cheated out of her sleep for years…because waking up Zack amounts to waking up the whole house.
We sank to a new low a couple of weeks ago: wrestling our eighth grader to get him dressed.
People say my husband looks like wrestler “Stone Cold.” Well, he acts like him too. In one swoop, Scott lifted and lowered Rip Van Winkle (aka Zack) to the carpet. Immediately, I straddled his chest and held down his arms, thus freeing Scott to work a pair of jeans over his feet and up his legs. All the while, our two girls stared in disbelief as we “dressed” their big brother.
It sounds absurd, doesn’t it? You know, the last time it took both of us to dress our boy we were wrestling his wiggling legs, trying to figure out how to line up all those snaps on the inseams. That’s also when he was the one waking us up in the wee morning hours! • TOP