5 Things Husbands Should Never Say To Their Housewife/Stay At Home Mom

1.  What did you do all day?

     Oh no you didn't!  If you weren't here, you can't judge! 

     You didn't see the countless hours I spent comforting a sick baby, cleaning up after the dog, running boys to and from practices, cooking breakfast and getting that cleaned up just in time to start lunch, starting Monsters Inc., refilling sippy cups, wiping up spills, starting Monsters Inc. (again)...It's amazing that these four walls are still standing.  Thank you very much!

2.  So, I see you're still wearing your pajamas.

     I'm so sorry I didn't take time out from wiping other people's butts and getting last nights spaghetti noodles off of the window sills to get dressed and put my face on.  What ever was I thinking?

3.  It must be nice to be able to sit around, watch Dr. Phil, and crochet all day.

     Oh it is.  It's amazing that I can do that and I still manage to have supper on the table every evening, clean laundry, and you can get through the front door when you walk in.  It's almost like I'm Super Woman!

4.  You know what would have made this meal so much better?

     Um...let me see.  If you had cooked it yourself?  Or maybe if you had to go hungry for a few days and learned to appreciate what you get and how you get it?  

5.  Why are you going to bed so early?  You don't have any reason to be tired.

     Let me tell you, if all I done all day every day was watch every move that these kids make, that's enough to make me want to turn in early.

     I don't think dads understand that mommys work never ends.  Even if I'm not physically doing something, my mind is in constant motion.  It's exhausting.

     So husbands, take a minute to think before you speak.  It'll work out better for you in the end.  I promise.

    

Cheesecake Or Bust

     There are several questions that get asked on a regular basis in our home. Some of the more common ones are;

Mommy, do you have to work today?  Do you have any money?  Can _______come over?  Are we going anywhere?  

     But the number one question asked by everyone is....drumroll please...."What are we gonna have for supper?"

     I've grown to HATE this question!  I know, hate is a very strong word.  I get that.  Well, I hate it!

     Eating is pretty unimportant to me for the most part.  I basically do it to survive and to get that loud, uncomfortable noise that my stomach makes once in a while to shut up.  

     So, a few nights ago when Curtis asked me what was for supper, before the top of my head blew off I said, "I don't really care what you and the kids have but I want cheesecake!"

     We sat here a little longer and he said, "Seriously Jenny.  What are we gonna feed these kids?"  

     We had our five, the boys had two friends staying the night and I was babysitting my neighbors little boys.  So with nine hungry kids, all that was going through my mind was ......

     

You guessed it.  CHEESECAKE!  

     Curtis went to the store.  Incase you all want to know the answer the the question.  Chili dogs! We had chili dogs for supper.  That's always a big hit around here.  It's fast and easy. 

     Oh, and yes.  He brought me my cheesecake.  Now this is where the story gets good.

     I told him before he left NOT to let the kids see him carry it in.  I was sending him on somewhat of a secret mission.

     I'm not, by nature, a stingy or selfish person.  I love to share things with others.  But sometimes I just need a whole entire New York Style Cheesecake to myself.  Is that too much to ask?  I think not.

     So, I fixed supper.  Got all nine of the hungry little animals fed.  And waited. 

     I felt like what I imagine a teenager feels like when they're waiting for their parents to go to bed so they can sneak out of the house.  Thirty minutes felt like two hours!  

     The kids finally scattered and I made my break for the kitchen.  I had to play it cool.  

     If I lock myself in the bedroom they'll know something's up.  If I eat it in the bathroom that's just gross.  Besides, my big brother, Tim always told me when I was little that if I didn't quit eating in the bathroom I would go blind.  To this day, I'm not willing to take the chance and I have perfect eye sight.  Just sayin'.

     So, what does any other mature, respected, adult do?  I sat on the couch with the cheesecake on my lap, under a blanket.  Every time the room was evacuated I crammed a bite in my mouth. Until my craving was satisfied. Mmmmmm.....then put it back in the box...in the grocery sack...in the back of the fridge.  And that, my friends....is how it's done;)

     As a mom of five children I've learned a lot of things.

     I've learned we sometimes have to make sacrifices that family's with one or two kids don't have to make.  I've learned it takes us three times longer to get ready to go somewhere than it does some of our friends.  I've learned we eat from the dollar menu, and we share drinks.

     I've also learned, if I want something to myself, I better hide to eat it or I can promise you whether it be oysters, spinach, or cheesecake, somebody will want it worse than mommy does.

     Fast forward two days.  The boys discovered my cheesecake, looked at me with very judgemental eyes, grabbed forks and the rest is history.

     They still don't know about the Oreos!

     

     

     

     

     

     

Christmas At The Coffee House

     I woke up Christmas morning before daylight, so I could monitor the present opening.  

     Every year I know that if anyone  rolls out of bed before mom, we'll miss all the excitement.  

     One of the first things I found was a note to "The Coffees" from Santa on the stool where we left his chocolate chip cookies and milk.

     

 

     As busy as ole' St. Nick is, he still took the time to stop and visit me at work and leave us a note saying thank you for the cookies.

     I found it rather odd that Santas writing looked identical to my oldest son, Daymonds.  But I just dismissed this as a crazy coincidence and went on with my morning.

     Before long the sleepy eyed little monsters started making their way down the stairs one at a time.

     Let the somewhat organized chaos begin!

     As I sat there and watched the boys open their video games and the girls their Barbie dolls, I started thinking about Christmas's when I was a kid.

     Every year until I turned about 14, my big brother Tim and me, always slept in the same bed on Christmas eve.  It's just too exciting not to share it with someone!

     He always built a wall between us out of pillows and he only had one rule.  "You stay on your side and I'll stay on mine."  

     He was scared to death I would touch him.  Eeewwww!  But even more afraid that I would pee on him.  I had a slight problem with bedwetting.  (You'll all be glad to know that I finally got control of my bladder issues).

     There were times that we would be in bed by 8:00 because time goes by a lot faster when you're sleeping.  We talked and talked (mostly I talked) until Tim would finally tell me to "SHUT UP and GO TO SLEEP!"

     Growing up in the Zimmerman household, we had one major Christmas rule.

Rule:  NEVER pick up, pat, stare at closely, or guess what may be in that big box that says, To: Jenny, on it. 

     

     If we ever did happen to guess, Dad flipped out!  He hated it when we knew what we were getting and the surprise was ruined.  I see myself carrying on that trait.  I absolutely hate it when the kids guess what their gifts are.  

     While watching the ripped paper fly through the air and the kids showing each other what they got, I started reminiscing.

     Every year for about 12 years, my best friend Dawn and I would call each other as soon as our last gift was opened.  We just had to share our excitement.

     It's so funny because its been about 15 years since we've done that but I still catch myself thinking, "I wonder what Dawn got this year."  

       For some reason, the only gift that really sticks out in my head from my childhood is this horribly ugly, blue, sweatshirt.  With a cat appliqué on the front if it!  Of all things.  A cat!  I'm not even a cat person!

     What was my mom doing?  Trying to get me beat up?!  I already had a mullet.  She might as well have stuck a sign on my forehead that said "Punch me...HARD."

     That's the only gift I remember getting that I hated.  But for some reason, that's the only gift I remember getting...EVER!

     So I now know, as a mom NOT to get my kids ugly sweatshirts, and not to give them mullets!  Because they'll never forget it!  Thanks again Mom.

     Hope you all had a very Merry Christmas!

     Happy New Year!

    

The Boy Who Cried Concussion

     Anytime somebody in my house starts crying, My first reaction is always, "What did Devin do this time?" 

     A few nights ago we were all relaxing, watching Duck Dynasty re-runs.  And I heard a loud THUMP.  Then Dustin started screaming bloody murder!  The bedroom door flung open and in runs Devin.  "I didn't mean to hurt him!  We were just playing!"  Devin's always "just playing."

     Still in the bedroom, Dustin is screaming, "OH MY GOSH!  OH MY GOSH!  My head!!!"  

     I've learned by this point in motherhood not to panic. More than likely he's overreacting.  

     I went to check on the injured.  He was thrashing around in the floor, holding the back if his head, screaming.  

     I made him get up.  By the way he was acting, I was just sure he was bleeding profusely.  

     I was a little afraid to look.  But upon further inspection I found no blood, no knot, no cut, NOTHING!

     The story I got was this;  Devin and Dustin were not wrestling!  They were just playing but Devin doesn't know how to play without breaking something.  Wether it be a lightbulb, a plate, or his brothers head.  Something will get broke.

     I have always discouraged the boys from watching WWE.  For one, I think it's ridiculously stupid!  Two, no matter what boys watch, they think they need to play it.

     When Jimmy, my little brother was small, no matter what he watched on t.v., he "played to it."  

     Power Rangers, Dukes of Hazzard, Rugrats.  Didn't matter what it was.  He just had to play to it!  Thank God he didn't watch Americas Next Top Model!

     At one point our dad threatened to make him stop watching Power Rangers altogether because we were all sick of him kicking, punching, and karate chopping everyone in his path.

     So, the boys know that wrestling is NOT allowed at our house!  Which is really too bad.  Because wrestling is a blast.  But my boys don't know how to do it without causing serious bodily harm to one another.  

     After the incident with Dustin's head and the wall, I separated them and told them to "stay away from each other!"  Time out for unnecessary roughness.

Devins defense was, "He pushed me first." The truth comes out.  Wow!

     Dustin laid down on the couch and started to dose off.  He was complaining of being dizzy and light headed.  So Curtis told him he better not go to sleep.  Ya know, just incase he wasn't overreacting.

      For the next hour, every time Dustin got up, he stumbled all over the place and his eyes went a little crazy and he kept saying really strange things and crying hysterically.

     Daymond and Devin were very entertained by this Dustin.  

     After the 5th time of them laughing at him and him bursting into tears, I finally told him to just go to bed with me.  They couldn't bother him in there.

     So, we went to bed.  He lifted his head up once in a while, look around kinda goofy eyed, then layed back down.  He finally went to sleep.  I woke up a few times during the night and checked on him.  He was still breathing.

     The next morning he claimed that he didn't remember anything from the night before.  

     I finally said, "Dustin, look at me!  Why were you faking last night?  I know you remember."

     He lost it.  Died laughing and fessed up.  Yes, it hurt.  But maybe he had laid the act on a little thick.

     When I ask him why he would do that.  He just smiled, shrugged, and walked away.

      Me, being the good mom that I am, told him that liars go to hell and eternity was a very long time to spend with Devin.  Not really!  But I might use that next time.  Because I assure you, there will be a next time. 

     I did try explaining to him that if he was ever seriously hurt, we wouldn't know wether to take him to the emergency room or push him into a corner and ignore him.  

     I have learned that no matter how well you think you've raise your kids.  They're still going to mess up.  

     Wether it be a lie, stealing a candy bar when their 4 years old, spray painting the side of the house, or texting a potty word and denying it for a year.  (Yep...all Dustin) They WILL mess up!

     Guess I better go see what today holds.  Wish me luck;)

     By the way, Dustin's getting a copy of "The Boy Who Cried Wolf" for Christmas.

     

     

Confessions Of A Wahlberg Addict

     My name is Jenny.  I will be 34 years old on the 27th of December.  I am a child of God, a wife to Curtis, a mother of 5, and I suffer from an unhealthy obsession with Donnie Wahlberg.   

     The obsession began in 1989.  I was nine years old and my mom bought me the "Hangin' Tough" concert on VHS tape.  I watched and watched and re-watched that video until it was completely worn out and had to be replaced.

     That was 24 years and 3 video tapes ago.  

     My friends and I all had our favorite "New Kid." Amanda liked Jordan, Crystal liked Joey....but me?  I LOVED Donnie!  

     I loved that when all the others were dressed like your normal, everyday guy.  Donnie had holes in his jeans and wore a t-shirt that said, "Drugs Suck."

     I loved that while the rest of the band was singing and in the middle of their choreographed routine, Donnie was off by himself dancing, kissing girls in the audience, and making little girls feel like the only person in the room.

     I'm almost certain that it's all D-Dubs fault that I developed "a thing" for bad boys.  

     As my parents worried about this newfound fetish, I made it my goal to collect every magazine, pencil, ink pen, notebook, t-shirt, nightgown, poster.....that I could find with a picture of Donnie's face on it.

     My daddy did NOT approve!  I was raised in a conservative, Christian home. By a Southern Baptist preacher.  He said that "filth" didn't need to be in our house.

     So, from 9-5, while dad was at work, I was rockin' out to some NKOTB.  Mom always allowed it.  I now know, that it was because I came by my love for bad boys honestly.  I think she enjoyed it almost as much as I did.

     In 1994 when the boy band decided to part ways I, along with a million other "sisters" slipped into a deep depression. 

     In time the sadness faded, new boy bands came along, but one thing never changed.  I <3 Donnie!

     I watched his movies, continued to buy NKOTB cd's, watched my Hangin' Tough video, and longed for the day that they would reunite.

     It finally happened!  In 2008 they released a new album, "The Block."  Oh...My...Gosh!!!  

     If my dad heard this, he surely wouldn't approve.  But I was 28 years old and it didn't matter.

     Of course there was a lot of negativity surrounding their comeback.   "They won't do any good."  "This album will crash."  "They're too old to start again."  Blah blah blah!  But I knew better.

      The obsession grew!  My husband was so supportive of my Wahlberg addiction, that he made it possible for me to see NKOTB in concert this year.  

     When planning and getting ready for the concert, I was just certain that when Donnie layed eyes on me, this girl that had loved him for 25 years, he would instantly feel the sparks!  

     The concert was amazing!  I was a little, okay a lot depressed when it ended.    I went back home to my 5 children, my non singing/dancing husband, my 3 foot high pile of laundry, and sink full of dirty dishes.

     I've been on a mission since that day to get @DonnieWahlberg to follow me, @JenRCoffee on twitter.   

     I feel like, I've devoted almost 25 years of my life to this man.  The least he can do is click "follow."  

     So starting today, with your help, it's GOING to happen!  If you're on twitter, tweet a link  to this blog (www.chaoticcoffees.blogspot.com) to @DonnieWahlberg and title it "Confessions of a Wahlberg Addict." 

     Thanks so much for your help.  I'll keep you informed:)

     

     

Before Pinterest There Was Martha Stewart

     As I sit here cuddled up with my blanket by the fire place, sipping my pumpkin spice coffee, watching The Today Show, (sounds like a Christmas commercial, huh?) a thought crosses my mind.  How did I survive in this world before I discovered Martha Stewart?

     I'm going to go out on a limb and say that Martha Stewart is the Dr. Phil of home decor, cooking, and crafts.  Yes.  She's that good!  They should have a show together.  Just imagine, "She'll clean up your home while He cleans up your act."  Oh, consider the possibilities!

     I've learned so many things from Martha over the years that I feel like it would be a great disservice to her and to all of you if I didn't share some of those things.  So, here we go.

    I struggled for countless hours with the dreaded fitted sheet.  I finally got to the point that I would just, fold, fold, roll, roll, roll.  Then stick the fitted sheet behind the nice, pretty, flat sheet on the shelf.  Until...one day several years ago Martha done a whole segment on "How to fold the fitted sheet."  Oh...My...Wow!  I'm positive that I could now teach a class on folding fitted sheets and probably, no definitely be nominated teacher of the year!  Who knew?  Martha, that's who!

     Unless you're a penny pincher like me, this one probably won't be of much use.  But this is one I've shared with some of my friends over the years.  Did you know that when using fabric sheets in your dryer that half a sheet works just as well as a whole one?  Nope?  Neither did I until I heard it on The Martha Stewart Show.  So, rather than buying cheap, store brand dryer sheets that don't smell very good, cut your Bounce or Snuggle sheets in half.  Make them last twice as long and if you want to look at it this way, they're half price!

     We don't go on many vacations or weekend getaways but when we do, I learned a way to pack that saves room and keeps our clothes wrinkle free.  This is the easiest way for me with a big family and limited luggage.

     Pick out your outfit.  Example: Pants, dress shirt, under shirt, underwear, and socks.  Lay your pants out.  Fold in half length wise, then shirt, undershirt, undies and socks.  Starting with the end of your pants, roll whole outfit up in a tight roll.  This makes them easy to pack, saves room, and keeps them from wrinkling.  Do this for each day you'll be gone.  Then getting ready in the morning is easy.  You just reach in, grab a roll per day, and go.

     When I'm packing for my kids my O.C.D. kicks into high gear and I put post-it notes on the outside of each roll with the days of the week on them.  This helps prevent any unwanted chaos.  Lord knows we don't need anymore of that!  Side note:  Curtis loves it when I coordinate our outfits to match for the entire trip.  (hint the sarcasm)  He loves it even more when I refer to his clothes as "outfits."

     Okay, you all know I love to bake.  A lot if recipes call for "sifted flour."  So, I went to Walmart and bought the cheapest sifter I could find.  There's a reason it was so cheap.  It only worked for about five minutes.  Martha taught me that you don't have to have a sifter.  Just put your dry ingredients in a bowl and stir  them together with a wire wisk.  So easy.  Lumps gone.  Voila!

     Last but most certainly not least.  When baking a cake and the directions say to flour your pan to keep the cake from sticking, use cocoa powder instead of flour for chocolate cakes.  This will keep your pretty chocolate cake from getting all white!

     Before Pinterest there was Martha Stewart!  She has taught me so many things and the ones I've shared with you are just a few of my favorites.  But the most important thing she's taught me?

Never cheat the system.  And black an white stripes are only cute if they're in zebra print! 

Snow Day!!!

     No matter how old I am, when I get that phone call from the school or see our schools name scroll across the bottom of the television screen, the little girl inside of me screams with excitement!

     We lived in town, behind the Skyline Cafe, until I turned twelve years old.   Anytime somebody wanted to know where we lived, Mom or Dad just said, "Right behind the ole' Skyline."  Everybody knew where it was.  

     The minute it would start spitting snow, my brother Tim and me drove our mom crazy!  "Have they cancelled yet?"  "Can Dawn spend the night?"  "Let's build a snowman!" 

     As we watched the news and waited for the cancellations, the excitement built.  "Fordland cancelled.  Yes!  Oh, there's Mansfield.  If they aren't having school, neither will we." Salem, Sarcoxie,......SEYMOUR RII SCHOOLS!  Woo hoo!!'

     Every year without fail on our first snow day Mom just had to go "check" the roads.  So, after Dad was off to work, Mom, Tim, and Me (Jimmy wasn't born yet) loaded up in the single cab truck and went out for a drive.

     I soon learned that every road lead back to the highschool parking lot.  And that "checking the roads" really meant, being the first to cut cookies in the freshly fallen snow in the parking lot.

     Thinking back on it, at a very young age I was the voice of reason.  While we were spinning out of control, I was rolled up in a ball saying, "What if the cops come?  What if we go off the parking lot and hit the light poll?  If Dad finds out you're in sooo much trouble!"  

     During my moment of panic, Mom and Tim were laughing histerically!   

     Well, the cops never came.  Luckily we never hit the light poll.  And if dad indeed found out, Mom must not have gotten into too much trouble.

     During my 6th grade year, we moved to our farm on BB Highway.  Dad called it "The old home place."  That's where my grandparents raised him and his 11 siblings.

     We had not enjoyed a snow day until we experienced our first one on the farm.  We were surrounded by wide open space and huge hills!...Sledding hills!

     I believe it was our first winter there that Dad built us a wooden sled for Christmas.  It looked just like one that you would see in the movies.  It even had a rope in the front to steer it with.  He painted it cherry red.  The only bad thing about it?  It weighed a million pounds!  

Okay, maybe 30 or 40 pounds.  But that's really heavy for a scrawny little girl.  So, Tim had the job of dragging it up the hill over and over and over.

     We spent, what seemed like forever preparing for our sledding trip.  First we put on long johns, then came the sweat pants, then coveralls.  Two pairs of socks, rubber boots, stocking caps, and more socks on our hands for gloves.

     We had a blast!  And we knew it was time to go back to the house when we could no longer feel our feet and our sock gloves were frozen solid.

     Mom always had blankets warming in the dryer for us and Dad could build a hotter fire in our wood stove than any other dad in the world!

     I loved wrapping up in that staticky, brown and white striped blanket, and standing in front of the wood stove that was so hot it almost hurt, until my extremities were thawed out.

     So....today's the first snow day of the winter.  I woke up to about five inches on the ground and five very excited kiddo's.  

     They're scattered throughout the house.  Each doing their own thing.  

     Daymond's in the bedroom playing X-Box.  Devin is sitting beside me watching t.v.  Dustin's in the bedroom with Daymond.  Dani's tormenting the dogs.  And Dakotah is probably in the bathroom making some kind of mess.   While I just sit here, lost in the past.  

     I love my family and having lots of kids was always my dream. But what I wouldn't give to go back in time.  

     Just for one last snow day:)