Motherhood Martyrdom & Costco Runs Read online

  Praise for Motherhood Martyrdom & Costco Runs

  “Being a mom is tough, but it’s wonderful, funny, and the most exhausting thing ever. Dineen captures this humor-bordering-on-despair with an acute sense of comedic timing and a keen awareness of the often nonsensical world that is raising kids in modern society.”

  —San Francisco Book Review, 5-stars

  “. . . Whitney’s book, her voice, and experiences shared [are] hilarious but also raw, honest, and beautiful. I highly recommend Motherhood Martyrdom & Costco Runs. It is a fun, easy read, but is also realistic. If taken to heart and mind, this book can help drive you to do good in the world and in your own personal life as a mother and as a person.”

  —Portland Book Review

  “Whitney Dineen serves up an honest and hilarious portrayal of motherhood. Motherhood is tough and you’re going to laugh or cry; you should always choose to laugh.”

  —Jen Mann, NYT Bestselling Author of My Lame Life

  “Erma [Bombeck] would probably get the biggest charge out of Motherhood Martyrdom & Costco Runs. It’s beautifully written and a joy to read, even the parts that are embarrassing for some Victorian throwbacks like the author’s husband. Dineen works a bit of magic here in this authentic, inspiring and very human collection of humorist writing. Motherhood Martyrdom & Costco Runs is most highly recommended.”

  —Jack Mangus for Readers’ Favorite, 5-stars

  “Laugh-out-loud funny, endearing, and so spot-on!”

  —Bestselling Author, Becky Monson

  “With Motherhood Martyrdom and Costco Runs, Whitney Dineen has given us a beautiful, comical, and often poignant look into what raising children is really like. I found myself laughing and shedding a tear or two as I devoured the pages of this fantastic book. I absolutely adored it. And now I’m off to renew my membership at Costco!”

  —Bestselling Author, Jennifer Peel

  “Dineen and I are kindred spirits - modern day mothers who tell it like it is. She beautifully expresses her successes and failures as a mother, while making us all feel a little better about our own parenting failures. Although we are very similar - I applaud her ability to have a 5 & 7 year old that have only ever heard her say the word “hell.” This is what I call a GREAT mother!! This is a great read for anyone with children - and is looking for a light-hearted, humorous take on the reality that is parenting today.”

  —Blogger, Laydee Googoogaga

  “A must read for every seasoned, new and expecting mother. Whitney shares her journey through motherhood with such raw honesty that will make you laugh, cry and possibly even tinkle a little.”

  —Book Mama Blog

  “I have one word of advice for anyone preparing to read Motherhood Martyrdom and Costco Runs before they get started: use care where you read this book. The reason is simple. You see, you are likely to laugh out loud . . . repeatedly. As laughter makes for good medicine, I encourage you to grab your copy of this little gem soon. We could all use a little humor and a little healing!”

  —Patricia Reding for Readers’ Favorite, 5-stars

  “…seriously this book is hilarious! I mean if I was [reading it] in public and people saw me they would think that I have lost my mind!”

  —Bethany Clark, Books and Wine are Lovely

  “Whitney explains motherhood in a way that all moms, young, old and in-between, can relate too. This book is a fabulous inside look at all the things we hope no other more seemingly put together mother will notice.”

  —Aimee Brown, For the Love of Chick Lit

  “Whitney Dineen keeps the parenting struggle real. Each chapter is like a Costco sample, you’ll keep coming back for more super-size laughs and a jumbo dose of honesty.”

  —Barbara Kahn, Baer Books

  Motherhood Martyrdom and

  Costco Runs

  Whitney Dineen

  Other Books by Whitney Dineen

  Romantic Comedies

  She Sins at Midnight

  The Reinvention of Mimi Finnegan

  Mimi Plus Two

  Middle Reader Adventures

  Wilhelmina and the Willamette Wig Factory

  Who the Heck is Harvey Stingle?

  Beware of the Basement (Coming in the fall of 2017)

  Children’s Books

  The Friendship Bench

  This book is dedicated to all you breeders out there.

  Copyright © 2017 Whitney Dineen

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval systems, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the publishers.

  Published in the United States by Thirty-Three Partners Publishing.

  Library of Congress Cataloguing-In-Publication Data

  Dineen, Whitney

  Motherhood Martyrdom & Costco Runs: a memoir / Whitney Dineen

  ISBN: 978-0-9988620-0-2

  Table of Contents

  Praise for Motherhood Martyrdom & Costco Runs

  Other Books by Whitney Dineen

  Author’s Acknowledgments

  Introduction

  It’s All Relative

  Meanwhile, Somewhere Back in the Colonies

  I Walked Barefoot in the Snow!

  Finding the Balance

  I Swear!

  You Have to Go Potty Now?

  I’M NOT YOUR MOTHER!!!

  Dear Costco

  Can I Help You Find Your Shoe?

  Crazy Lady at Costco

  How Motherhood Broke Me and Turned Me Into David Sedaris

  To My Darlings

  Why We Can’t Have Another Snow Day and I Don’t Mean Maybe

  I Would Walk 500 Miles

  The Good Mother

  Give to Those in Need

  Good Old-Fashioned Programming

  Ahoy, Matey!

  Booby, Booby, Booby!

  Say Goodbye to Hollywood

  No Test for Me

  Hormoaning

  It’s a Magical World

  Stop It, Stop It, STOP IT NOW!!!

  I’m Sorry, What?

  The Better to See You With

  Calling a Spade a Spade

  Pick Up Your Room!

  Order Up!

  Great Big Blue Balls!

  On the Way to Costco

  Along for the Ride

  Bat in the Cave

  Martyrdom

  I’ve Lived

  Weeding Watermelons on Wednesday

  The Most Boring Women in the World

  The Packrats

  Judge Not

  Growing Up Royal

  Postpartum Prepper

  A Trout By Any Other Name

  That’s Just My Finger

  The Best Thing You Can Do

  Meet the Littles

  About the Author

  Excerpt: The Reinvention of Mimi Finnegan

  Excerpt: Wilhelmina and the Willamette Wig Factory

  Author’s Acknowledgments

  A million thanks to my family and friends for being a part of my rollercoaster ride into motherhood. I’m not sure I would have ever made it without you!

  To my husband, Jimmy, you’re an amazing husband and wonderful daddy to our littles, and I’m thrilled to be on this journey with you! You’re also a lot of fun to tease. Sorry I had to rat out some of your peculiarities (I cite ding ding and your extra finger), but they were irresistible.

  Mom and Dad, I adore you! I’d probably still call child protective services on you, but please know that it’s nothing personal. I’m full of gratitude for everything you’ve done for me and continue to do for me. Who knew I’d be such a handfu
l?

  Dearest family and friends that I’ve used for fodder, you’re welcome for changing your names. I know you’re probably going to try to distance yourselves from me now, but I’m going to cling to you like wet toilet paper on the bottom of your shoe, so don’t bother.

  To my readers, I love you! Thank you for getting me and reading me and supporting me. I know you’re probably just doing it because you’re relieved there’s someone out there crazier than you are, but that’s cool. I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  To my writing buddies, Becky Monson, Jennifer Peel, Kathryn Biel, and Rich Amooi: who knew I could be so needy? A million thanks for your patience, advice, and friendship; they mean the world!

  I’m lucky enough to be a part of several online writing groups which offer endless author resources. I’m thankful to all of them, but to Tracie Banister and my other friends at Chick Lit Chat, you continue to be the best support around!

  Marlene Engel and Paula Bothwell, thank you for making me sound semi-literate by offering your proofreading skills. I’d be lost without you.

  Karan Eleni, you rock socks like a fox eating lox on a box! Thank you for all your hard work on my website and every other thing you do for me.

  Thank you to my dear friend, Jen Ward. I can honestly say I tried very hard not to write this book, but you’re such a big nag, I had to. Now that it’s done, I’m really glad you were so pushy. There’s nothing like honest reflection to make you grateful for all the stops on your journey. And above all else, I am grateful!

  Introduction

  This book is titled Motherhood Martyrdom and Costco Runs for one obvious reason. If you happen to be a mother of young children, you know your life is either spent hanging on the cross of said motherhood or running your entire brood to Costco for more toilet paper. It’s who we are.

  Many of the moms from my childhood were the stay at home variety. These ladies gave up a lot of personal and professional desires to be Johnny-on-the-spot for the home front. They scheduled everything from doctor’s appointments to music lessons to extracurricular activities. They made sure the wash was done, the house was clean, and meals were put on the table.

  My mom found ways to express herself and cultivate her interests within the confines of her role as the CEO of our family. She wrote an article for a local Chicago paper and taught gourmet cooking classes. She did yoga with her friends and ran the hospital auxiliary. She also entertained on a grand scale and kept a big garden. She was one busy lady.

  Today, most households require two incomes to function properly. We’re scrambling in a million different directions trying to get everyone everywhere they need to be, and still the laundry needs to get done, the house needs to be cleaned, groceries have to be purchased and then there’s basic yard maintenance, so your neighbors don’t rat you out to the homeowners’ association for neglected weeds and an unruly lawn. And darn if your kids don’t expect you to feed them every day! Add making a living and the full social and academic calendars of children and what do you have? The answer is very tired parents.

  I’m not saying parenthood was easier for my folks. Having children, no matter the generation, is full of highs and lows, stresses, and worries. Kids are a gigantic, wonderful, exhausting, excruciating endeavor. And they are worth every harrowing second of the journey.

  This is a book about my rollercoaster ride into middle-aged motherhood. There are self-pitying tales of dirty clothes and dishes, sleepless nights and bad hair. I regularly nail myself to the martyrdom cross and occasionally come down and get real. I laugh at my kids and I love them. I share the good, the bad, and the ugly. I also go to Costco, a lot.

  These vignettes are all relatively quick reads as I know you’re most likely enjoying them on the toilet or in the three-and-a-half minutes you can still focus at the end of the day. I figure if you block out five minutes a day, you can have this book finished in a month. Hopefully, at the end you’ll have had some laughs, perhaps a couple of tears, and an eye roll or two. I’m guessing you’ll also feel a lot better about yourself as a mother, because the truth is, no one makes motherhood look harder than I do.

  It’s All Relative

  I used to think I’d have all the children I was going to have by the time I was thirty. Then thirty hit and I didn’t have any so I adjusted my deadline to forty. By the time I was thirty-seven I was having miscarriages every ten to twelve months. That’s when my deadline turned into more of a plea. It went something like, “Dear God, please let me hatch out one or two of these eggs, successfully, before they’re all hardboiled. Please!”

  Then the negotiating started. “God, if you let me have kids, I’ll be less vain. I’ll donate eighty percent of everything I own to charity. I’ll give up french fries for life!” We all know I couldn’t possibly hold up my end of this deal, especially the french fry thing, but I was desperate enough to mean it at the time.

  I never wanted to be an old mother. I wanted to be a young, cool, hip mom that all the kids wanted to hang with. They’d clamor to me like barnacles on a boat just to learn the secret of my awesomeness. They’d bask in my magnificence like Oregonians on the first sunny day after a long winter’s rain.

  Ultimately, two things made my dream unattainable. One, I’ve never been cool. I’ve acted and dressed like a forty-year-old since I was fifteen. Young, I could be, but hip was never in the cards. Number two, I had my first live birth at forty. You know, the age some are experiencing a rapidly emptying nest, freedom to travel the world, and large enough bank accounts/investment portfolios/IRAs to buy Porsches and other sundry toys they’ve always longed for.

  Aside from not being perceived as the cool parent, my other concern about old motherhood was how I’d cope as the geriatric crone in a pack of young hens. Would I be able to find friends? Would the cool moms shut me out like a freak pledging the wrong sorority? Would they keep forgetting I was my child’s mother and not her grandmother?

  It turns out, my fears were for naught. Apparently, age has very little to do with how we deal with motherhood. My mom friends range in age from thirty-two to fifty-two and here’s the fundamental truth about all of us: we’re all overwhelmed, we’re all tired, we all scream at our kids, and we all dream of a clean house.

  Here’s the difference. Some of the young moms actually leave their domiciles looking like they’ve brushed their hair and teeth. Some even wear clean clothes. Some have the energy and desire to fit into their pre-baby jeans and go to yoga regularly in their delightfully patterned LuLaRoe leggings.

  Conversely, the forty-eight-year-old mother of two young grade schoolers will often wake up, look down at the faded Old Navy yoga pants she slept in, and deem them clean enough for another day. She’ll use coffee to mask her morning breath and somehow putting on makeup will devolve into making sure the most noticeable chin hairs get plucked. Yes, she will occasionally fall into downward dog, but that mostly has to do with tipping over, and not actual yoga.

  Two of my older daughter’s BFFs have moms that are the same age as me and I find this enormously comforting. We’re drawn to each other at school functions and are gladdened by the knowledge there’s another in the room old enough to know who Edith Bunker is. Sometimes we’ll throw out band names like Devo or Depeche Mode for the same reason. After all, actually being sixteen when Sixteen Candles came out is way different than watching it only after it had earned retro cult classic status.

  I guess what I’m really trying to say is this: the age you are when you become a mother is irrelevant. There will always be younger, cooler, hipper, thinner women than you. But you can bet your butt if these women also happen to be mothers, they’re just as tired and frustrated as you are. It’s all relative.

  Meanwhile, Somewhere Back in the Colonies

  Imagine accidentally slipping through a crack in the space/time continuum and falling smack into Colonial America, sometime circa the American Revolution. Now envision yourself walking down a picturesque tree-lined brick
street and strolling into a quaint little mercantile. The offerings are unimaginably modest by our modern day standards, but no one seems to notice. Our forefathers/mothers are bustling around purchasing necessities like tea, sugar, and muslin. You with me?

  Okay, now imagine striking up a conversation with someone. You know, “Hey there, how’s it going? Seen any Red Coats in the area lately?” that kind of thing. Once you’ve established a thread of comradery, I want you to try to explain Costco to this person. I’m just going to pause to give you a moment to try to conjure such an insane vision.

  If it were me, I think I’d start with, “You should see what the stores look like where I come from. We have this one called Costco that’s about ten thousand times the size of this store. I mean it’s HUGE!” Then I’d launch into all the crazy stuff you can buy at Costco. “They don’t sell fabric because the clothes are already made and they’re available in every size you can imagine. They even sell shoes, socks, and unmentionables. And the books, SO many books!”

  I’d steer clear of talking about the photo and computer departments, lest they hang me for witchcraft. But I’d make sure to venture into all the glassware, bakeware, and dish selections. Not to mention the assortment of fruits, vegetables, bakery items, and jewelry. Then I’d hit them with, “They sell hundreds of chickens already killed, plucked, roasted, and ready to eat!” I’d regale them with tales of their succulence. “They’re the most tender and juicy birds you’ve ever put in your mouth. Did I mention they were already dead?”