‘Real’ Mothers NEVER Yell or Stomp or Spit. Do they?

FUN FACT:  The sound of shrimp chewing on food, as detected by underwater nuclear submarine microphones from a distance of 300 feet, is minus 80 decibels (dB). 

That’s pretty quiet. 

The loudest possible sound ever is 194 decibels (dB). 

If you’re wondering what in the world could ever be that loud, let me give you a hint. 

Yeah, that would be me. 

Yelling.

And when you consider that a jet taking off clocks in at 140 dB, and an ear drum literally breaks in half at 160 dB, I guess it could be said that I have a pretty badass bellow. 

Not that I’m bragging or anything. 

Let’s just call it boasting.

HOWEVER…..

Apparently, real moms never ever ever never ever yell. 

Instead, they always say things like: “Honey, could you please please please not put dog food in your sister’s cereal?” and “Sweetheart, could you pretty please use your magic words when you ask for your fifth helping of that sixteen layer cake I baked especially for you to show you how much I love and care for you, further proof of which can be evidenced by my unwillingness to even consider putting my needs anywhere near first?”

Oh, how I wish I could hear my kids brag about what a good ol’ yeller I am.  I mean, how many other mothers can knock it out of the park at almost 200 dB? 

Besides yelling, I’m also really good at stomping.

I am not kidding.

I am really REALLY good at it. 

Check this: I can do 283 stomps per minute.  With my eyes closed. 

In a green dress. 

On a Wednesday.

Notice how I focus on my strengths?

I mean, what good would it do for me to tell you all about my sixteen-layer cake baking inabilities. 

Guaranteed, you would not be impressed.  And then you might start to judge me.  You might say something like, “Can you believe how incapable she is at baking multi-layered cakes? What kind of mom is she?”

And that would make you look bad.

And I wouldn’t want that. 

‘Cause we moms gottsta stick together. 

No. 

No.

NO.

I was saying stick, as in stick together, not spit together.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t spit. It’s just that spitting is not my forté. It comes out as a drool all the way down my neck and onto my…

But yelling and stomping are most definitely my forté.  

Among so many other wonderful things. 

Isn’t imperfection grand? 

Note: Today’s post is best served with my 80/20 Rule for Moms.

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT:  I am looking for TEN volunteer moms/guinea pigs to test market a new program I am developing based on my theory/undeniable proof that motherhood sucks.  I need moms who are committed to:

1.  Attending a one hour class on Tuesday, April 12th at 9 am Pacific/12 noon Eastern time.

2.  Willing to be honest about their feelings about motherhood (i.e. it can really suck bad! but only sometimes)

3.  Willing to have some fun (i.e. laugh your asses off)

4.  That’s it!

5.  Pass it on. 

For more information go here!

To sign up, please email me at: Lin@LinEleoff.com

——-

*Today’s AFGO moment was brought to you by the (real) green dress, a 194 dB yell and only 137 stomps.  No spitting. I just can’t do it right!

**AFGO = Another F*ing Growth Opportunity.  Have you had one lately?  

A Life Coach by Any Other Name

I had such a great response from so many of you regarding my Kife Loach dilemma, I wanted to personally thank you… each and every one of you… for taking the time to put in your two cents… which added up to something like… a lot. 

The following is a list of your thoughtful suggestions as to what I could call myself instead of… dare I say it…. 

Wow, no matter how I say it, it still sounds so cheesy. 

And yet…

You can never have too much life coaching. Or cheese for that matter.

writerwoman61 suggests I try calling myself a  M.O.M. which she says stands for Maximum Output Manager.  Except I’m having trouble with the words ‘Maximum’ and ’Output’.  

Business Coach Laurie Foley doesn’t feel I should limit myself to any sort of label.  Instead she suggests I introduce myself in the following manner:  “Hi, I’m Lin. I draw and write a wildly popular blog called The Worst Mother and I help other mothers stop torturing themselves in pursuit of unattainable perfection with humor and other secret methods that are shockingly effective in a very short time.”   

Hmmmm…. I like it, Laurie.  Direct and honest while camouflaging my modesty. And I can always shorten it to:  ” Hi, I’m a LIDAWAWPBCTWMAIHOMSTTIPOUPWHAOSMTASEIAVST Coach.”   Still love that talk-texting thing I invented.  So crisp and efficient.

From Sonia I got Sexy Mind Freer.  Welllllll, gee, I suppose I am all that.  You got me there, Sonia.

Katie had a few ideas: Existence Enhancer; Happiness Improver; Path Clearer; Love Giver.  Yes. Yes! YES.  I am all of those too, in a sexy, mind-freeing sort of way.   

Linda suggested  Empathic Genius.  I like it.  After all, I do consider myself a genius. And a very empathic one at that.  Two birds + One stone = Nice Word Play.

1972roses came up with Dutch Uncle, among other things.  Huh?  Look at my hair…. Do I look like I’m from Holland?  (don’t worry, I get it–I’m just messin’ with ya’  Roses)

Julie, who actually commented twice (offering up some wonderful marketing insight), for a total of four cents of input, suggests that I first establish my niche.  Julie, see below. 

Laurie Hawley  says she is still not sure what to call herself, but until she figures it out she’s sticking with Life, Meaning and Creativity Coach.  It definitely helps that Laurie stuck three extra words in between Life and Coach. It helps to soften the cheesy blow.   Maybe I could be a Life, Lip-gloss and Chocolate Coach.   Now there’s a niche that is untapped! Julie, whaddaya think?

Jane, bless her heart, had quite a few interesting suggestions: Psychic Tree Barker; Mental Mule Skinner; Noodge for Hire (noodge?); You-Thought-Your-Mother-Was-Bad Coach; Because-Martha-Said-So Coach; and my favorite: Reiki Schmeiki – Get Your Ass in Gear Coaching Services.  I really like that last one, Jane.  Too many people have asses that are not in the proper gear. 

Judi with an ‘i‘ says she likes the sound of Existence Guru.  Wow! I agree. That definitely has a lot more zing than Knife Poach. 

Max Daniels, also a Kife Loach, is in the same boat as I.  Poor Max.  Same with Sandra, a Virtual Assistant. Who invented that name, she asks? Perhaps Sandra should consider Psychic Tree Barker.

For the record, John, this blog’s token (and cherished) male reader (every blog needs one), doesn’t think I need a title. He thinks it’s enough that I simply call myself The Worst Mother. 

Did someone just complete me? 

Or…

Is it getting warm in here?

And finally, several of you dear readers thought I should just tell it like it is.  Mynakedbokkie and Deb Droz (a wonderful Life Coach) and Naomi Estment (an amazing photographer) all thought that I should just go ahead and call myself a, you know, a thingamabob, whatchamacallit…

 Which brings me to my next point…

Because so many of you have asked for it (okay, I admit that this is a slight exaggeration, but one day soon it will not be!) I have opened a new school where I can showcase my superb life coaching abilities (I refer you back to what Laurie Foley said, above. Listen to Laurie–she knows EVERYTHING!) 

I promise; You will love this. You will never be the same. Friends and relatives will ask you “What happened, you seem soooo (insert a word from the list that follows). 

self-assured     content     grounded      confident       energized      serene   

Click here for more info on the school that will change your life and make all your dreams come true.

This is not hyperbole (well, maybe just a little… I’m still camouflaging my modesty in order to make a point–that you CAN change your life in a pretty big way if you get a Life Coach…like me! (or any of the women I mentioned above who are Life Coaches… they are all terrific).  

And please leave a comment, especially if you know of a good lip-gloss to go with every shade of green. 

You gotta know by now how much I LOVE COMMENTS… and lip-gloss!  

(Now…. go sign up here or I will have to kill you because you know too much!)