Actually Useful Apps

Welcome to another edition of I Am Overwhelmed Guest Posts. I sent up my distress signal and my super hot (not relevant) blogger friends answered the call.Motherhood WTF distress, bat symbol, bat signal

Today’s guest post comes from Keesha from Mom’s New Stage. Professional dancer turned mom, Keesha writes with humor and heart in between taking care of her family and teaching the next generation of dancers.

10 Apps Moms Wish to God Actually Existed

1. The Whine Converter
Few things annoy parents more than whining. A persistent whine could make the Dalai Lama a Lexapro addict. As soon as The Whine Converter detects whining in close range, it automatically plays one of the most frequently played songs from your itunes library. And talk about smart – this app knows to exclude children’s songs!

 

2. The Sleep Predictor
It has been years since you woke up naturally. As soon as you wake up you are plunged into duty. It would be oh so nice to have some time to pee and get your thoughts in order before you have to be on. The Sleep Predictor app knows exactly when your child is going to wake up, and gently rouses you from slumber 5, 10, or 30 minutes before (more than that is ill-advised), so you can ease into the morning instead of awakening with that oh-shit-he’s-up-already feeling.

 

3. Reality Time Check
You are always late. The problem is not how long things take, but how long you think they’re going to take. You’re basing your ability to get things done on without-kids-time, not with-kids-time. This brilliant app tells you exactly how long common tasks will take with your children in tow. The recipe says prep time is 15 minutes? You need 45. Doing the dishes is a 30 minute job? You need 80! Reality Time Check will even factor in how temperamental your child is, whether your husband is helping, and how sleep deprived you are. Never be late again!

 

4. Parketype
Parketype has mapped and analyzed every playground according to the persuasion of the supervising adults. Is the playground frequented by hipsters who are act like the cast of Rent but rock $1000 strollers? Are the moms sitting around the picnic table with rings the size of a horse’s eyeball and their children running amok? Will the crunchy granola parents shoot you looks dirtier than NYC subway stairs for feeding your child Goldfish® and a (non-organic) juicebox? Parketype will answer these questions so you can be emotionally, nutritionally, and stylistically prepared for whatever playground you choose.

 

5. 555-DINS
Dinner is the bane of my existence. This app is the perfect solution! 555-DINS indexes inexpensive dinner recipes that have no more than 5 ingredients and provide 5 days of leftovers! Yep, you read correctly. A meal that even the pickiest eaters will love just as much on Day 5 as Day 1. It’s nothing short of miraculous!

 

6. It’s Hypnosis, Baby!
Everything is a battle. Diaper changes are a wrestling match; meals go uneaten; and the only thing that could keep your son in his bed is a good strong rope. It’s Hypnosis Baby to the rescue! Just set the app to a desired outcome – such as eat, nap or even car ride – and a pair of mesmerizing googly eyes fills the screen. Your child will be doing just what you want in no time. (It’s Hypnosis, Hubby! is currently in development.)

 

7. Old School Discipline
Let’s face it, some of the disciplinary tactics in vogue these days practically encourage the behavior of your spirited child, kind of like giving a sex offender some skin mags and a dark-windowed van as “punishment.” This app features video footage of old school punishments like bare-buttock spankings, the dunce cap, and having one’s mouth washed out with soap – punishments and humiliations you would never stoop to! Without a doubt, OSD will reaffirm your enlightened discipline choices while helping your spunky risk taker live past her 25th birthday.

 

8. Momspiration
The baby rolled off the sofa. You shouted at your toddler when she spilled her juice. Checking your kids in the rearview mirror brought you inches from hitting a pedestrian. You feel like a danger to yourself; you probably shouldn’t be responsible for small children. Here’s Momspiration to offer words of wisdom and forgiveness. You’ll realize that you’re more than good enough.

 

9. Survival Delivered
If you’ve ever been desperate for a legal-yet-trashy or a calming-yet-unhealthy fix, you must have this app! Survival Delivered brings you whatever you need to get through the day without taking a flying leap off the roof. A barrel of Gummi Bears? A fifth of Wild Turkey? A pizza big enough for a family to sit on? Yes, yes and yes! In your desperate hands in an hour or less! Eat and drink your way to sanity with the Survival Delivered app.

 

10. Apperspective
Being the parent of little children is the hardest thing you have done. It has stomped on your emotional, physical, intellectual, and financial resources with jackboots. When you have your two-year-old sitting on the sofa between you and your spouse on a Saturday night at 10:30, you feel nothing short of oppressed. But there will come a time when at 10:30 on a Saturday night you have no idea where he is, or when he’s coming home. You will long for the day when his little warm body nestled into yours as you Netflixed cartoons instead of Academy Award winners. This app will give you the perspective you need, knocking it into your thick head that life might not be so bad after all.

 

Mom's New StageBefore her two children re-choreographed her life, Keesha was a professional dancer who performed in the U.S. and in Europe. Today she is a master modern and jazz dance teacher in the Chicago area. She is also the human cyclone behind the popular blog Mom’s New Stage. A multitasker at heart, she shows fierce skills at simultaneously writing, choreographing, checking Facebook and Pinterest updates, playing the role of a mother named Joan “Kumbaya” Crawford, and overcooking food.

Foot Massage Gone Wrong (or Right?)

This is the fourth in my series of I Am Overwhelmed Guest Posts. I sent up my distress signal and my super hot (not relevant) blogger friends answered the call.Motherhood WTF distress, bat symbol, bat signal
Today’s guest post comes from Kelley - mom of two, Top Chef enthusiast, prolific blogger,  Texan, and lady who cracks me up regularly.

 

Sit back and let me tell you the story of…

This weekend my husband had to stop by his office, so we all went. I found no picture of me. What I did find was this slip of paper from a fortune cookie he received a while ago:

Something wonderful was about to happy.

Several former co-workers, my MIL and I met up at a Chinese foot massage place on the other side of town later that day. I expected to be sitting in pedicure-type chairs while our feet were ripped a new one.

I was wrong.

After passing through the door with the below sign on it, we were led to a room with reclined chair/beds. It was actually a very, very quiet atmosphere, as you might have gathered…

I was happy to remain silence. Remaining silence and having a relaxing hour or so was something I had looked forward to all weekend.

Once I was put in my fully reclined chair and a towel was draped over my eyes, I waited and waited and waited for my Chinese foot massager to appear out of nowhere. Not being one to disappoint, he dropped out of thin air like a ninja and began his magic.

Magic that made me break out in a silent giggle attack over and over again.

These were some of my thoughts while he was aggressively massaging my…

HEAD

  • Hmmmm.  This is the farthest point away from my feet.
  • Thank God I don’t have a soft spot on the top of my head anymore.
  • How much tip do I leave if I get decapitated?
  • He’s massaging my ears.  For the love of an Orange Julius, he’s rolling my ear cartilage around and around and around and around and…
  • He’s still rolling around my ear cartilage.
ARMS
  • Ouch, man.
  • Dude. Ouch.
  • Alright, he’s trying to pull my arm off of my body. There must be a black market for arms. How am I going to high-five without arms?
  • Now he’s twirling my arm around like a wind sock. It’s swirling around and around. With all the energy he’s creating, he could power an entire Lilliputian town. I’d be Gulliverette on the far side of the island creating energy for all of their tiny, tiny, tiny, tiny little lights.
  • Now he’s pulling both of my arms above my head. This is how it would feel if I were dragged somewhere against my will. (Note to self: Quit watching so much ”I Survived”.)
SHOULDERS
  • This is awesome. All of this for $20?? I swear I’ve been in this massage chair for at least the better part of a week.
  • Okey-dokey, dude. I think you just knicked my scapula.
  • Are discounts given if he takes off my scapula?
LEGS
  • Homeboy is getting close to my crotch.
  • Homeboy is getting awfully close to my crotch.
  • Homeboy, did you just sort of touch my crotch?
  • Now Dude is lifting my legs high in the air aaaaaaannnnnnd letting them fall. And letting them fall again onto the chair. Okay, he just did it again. PLOP! And again. PLOP! We’ve got a real Hulk Hoganfootmassager here.
  • Okay, now dude’s crossing my legs in the air. Now he’s crossing them the other way. Switching back. I’m synchronized swimming alone in a reclined chair.
FEET
  • Oh, that feels nice, Mr. Massager Man. Thank you.
  • Okay, you’re massaging between my toes now. That’s fine. Just don’t spend too much time doing tha- Whoa there, fella! You’re about to saw of my little toe!
  • Hee, hee, hee. That kind of tickl- Okay, ouch.

With an abrupt slap to the feet he lets me know he’s done with the massage. I thank him  in my best Chinese (“Thank you”). Then he motions to a section of the room behind a black curtain where I find a long massage table. The dude directs me to lie down face-first into that little face-hole thingy you find on massage tables.

Huh? Doesn’t this only cost $20? Did I somehow say, “I want an upgraded massage package,” in Chinese?

Because I couldn’t ask, “What in the heck am I doing behind a dark black curtain all alone with you in this foot massage parlor? And why do you have a pencil thin mustache?” in his language, I lay down.

Shortly thereafter, these were my thoughts as he massaged my…

BACK

  • I feel like a human pizza crust.
  • He’s really going after it.
  • Maybe I should move my hands. He’s groin is getting awfully close to my han- AWWWW!  DANG IT!!! Did his jewels just brush my hands?!?
  • Ew, ew, ew!!!
  • Alright…his making his way dowwwwwn my back. Okayheisatmybutt.
  • Heisstillatmybuttquittouchingmybutt.
  • Whew. He’s returned to my back.
  • Nowheisbackatmybutt.
  • Heisreallykneadingthebutt.
  • Alright, he’s massaging my back again. This is good. OH, hold on, brother…my shirt is being moved up and…he just unlatched my bra strap.
  • He unlatched my bra strap.
  • He unlatched my bra strap.
  • He unlatched my bra strap.
  • He knows how to unlatch bra straps really, really fast.
  • This skinny Chinese dude with the pencil-thin mustache is getting way too close to the front. He’s getting close.
  • And he’s returned to the back.
  • Where are my friends?
  • Where are my friends?
  • Will they hear me if I yell?
  • Am I about to be assaulted in a Chinese FOOT massage parlor??
  • I’m memorizing Dude’s shoes in case I have to identify him to police.
  • He’s re-attached my bra strap.
  • Hallelujah.
  • Still massaging the back like a madman.
  • The madman is now on the table. Dude is ON the table.
  • Are you standing on my back? It feels like you’re standing on my back.
  • Okay, no…just some really, really vigorous pushing.
  • Thank God. He jumped off the table.
  • He’s scooting around the side of the table.
  • Was that something kind of ballsy that just brushed my hands again?

Then, just like that, he was finished. I don’t think I have ever been happier to see my friends ever. After paying, I might have exited the facility through the wall instead of the front door in my haste to get far away from Mr. Bra Unfastener.

All in all, though, it was a pretty awesome massage for $20. As much as you might think otherwise, I would totally go back there again.

kelleysbreakroom

Kelley Nettles is a Texas girl and the creator of Kelley’s Break Room, a humor blog meant for everyone: mothers, fathers, single women, single men, teenagers, the elderly with good eyesight and highly developed toddlers. She is a Bravo-sponsored blogger and a writer for NickMom. She has contributed to Nickelodeon’s Parents Connect and Scary Mommy. In 1999, she married her college flame and has two sons that were born in 2004 and 2008 that wrestle, roar and jump from objects every single chance they get. You can find her avoiding laundry and trying to make people laugh on Facebook and Twitter. A lot.

Who Needs Worldly Possessions?

This is the first in my series of I Am Overwhelmed Guest Posts. I sent up my distress signal and my super hot (not relevant) blogger friends answered the call.Motherhood WTF distress, bat symbol, bat signal

This post is from Paige Kellerman who’s so dry she makes the Sahara look wet.

Who Needs Worldly Possessions?

People often ask me, “Paige, what’s your favorite part of having kids?”

And I’ll quickly smooth my three-day-old t-shirt, and reply, “Definitely having all of our worldly possessions destroyed, piece by piece.”

Then they look at me and say, “That’s your favorite part?”

And I say, “Oh, no… I’m sorry. That’s actually my ninety-seventh favorite part.”

And then they say, “Then why’d you say that, Paige?”

And then I say, “I’m sorry. I always give my ninety-seventh favorite of any category. Used to drive my parents crazy. Like…

“Paige, what do you want for Christmas?”

“I dunno. Probably poster board. It’s my ninety-seventh favorite of all things used for recreation. Merry Christmas and don’t forget I’m also a huge fan of twine!”

Sometimes the twins can break so many things in one day it’s almost impressive. I say “almost” because it’s not at all impressive. Putting a hole in a wall is not impressive. No one likes a hole in her wall. But our clear disdain for having our stuff destroyed doesn’t stop them. Therefore, Husband and I have learned to cope.

For example, let’s pretend people ever visit us. I’m not sure what that’s like, but I know that if they asked why our lamp doesn’t work and what it’s doing in two pieces, I’d tell them what I always tell myself: no one really needs light and floor lamps are for the upper class.

Actually, I spend about twenty-two percent of my time opening the front door, sticking my head out, and shouting, “Lamps are so bourgeois, Jim. Now, stop implying things and get the hell off my lawn!”

I only tell Husband about things that broke after he gets home from work, because who wants to come home if everything’s broken? It’s best to trick your man into coming back. When he does, I’m fairly skilled at letting him down easy.

“Hey Honey, how was your day.”

“The kids took all the stuffing out of the couch.”

“They what?”

“It’s ok. I hear the Japanese sit on the floor all the time anyway.”

or

“How was your day?”

“The kids ripped the blinds off the windows.”

“What? How?”

“Don’t worry. Blinds just encourage intimacy. This way we won’t give the neighbors anything to look at anymore.

or

“Hey Honey. How was your day?”

“The kids wrecked the car.”

“What? How’d they get in the car?”

“Maybe you let them in there.”

At this point, the death toll stands at a grand total of:

  • 2 lamps
  • 3 candles
  • 1 couch cushion (helped by the dog, so only half a point)
  • 7 kitchen cabinets, crayoned
  • 1 fitted sheet
  • 2 baskets
  • 1 plate
  • 1 bowl
  • 1 wall
  • 2 dresses
  • numerous shirts
  • 1 fake house plant
  • and my ever-waning psyche.

But whenever I want to feel better, I just go here. Then I realize they’ve only just begun…

Paige Kellerman

Paige Kellerman is a writer/humorist who’s hypochondria is exceeded only by her ability to change diapers. Part sinner, part saint, part gin enthusiast, she spends her days herding three kids under three and trying to call everyone by the right name. You can find her hiding out on her blog, There’s More Where That Came From, or crafting profoundly confusing one-liners on Facebook and Twitter.