The Two Loons are partying… Ultimate Blog Party

by on Apr 05, 2013 (47) Comments

Ultimate Blog Party 2013

We’re breaking out the champagne (actually, it’s sparkling white grape juice), getting dressed in our finest party dresses (actually, just our best pajamas) and slipping into those dangerously sexy stiletto heels (ok, ok, fuzzy slippers) and attending our very first blog party! First we had to figure out just what the heck a blog party was but once we got educated we were ready for fun. The only problem is that a blog party is very similar to what we do for work during the day — sitting in front of a computer. But Pam and Kae are not party poopers so we’re diving right into the new high-tech way that mommy bloggers go wild without ever leaving the house and still get the clothes into the washer, the kids fed and bathed, check homework and put dirty dishes in the dishwasher… but we’re still going to do our hair, put on some lipstick and wear our best pajamas — the ones we only wear for those sleepy-eyed pictures on Christmas morning. Let’s get this party started!The Bird

Who are the Two Loons? As new guests to the blog party we should use our manners and properly introduce ourselves. We’re two friends who for some insane reason, thought it would be a good idea to publicly humiliate ourselves by writing a book about our most embarrassing motherhood moments. Our book, Cookies For Dinner, was written with the intent of helping other moms feel as if they weren’t alone on this wild ride.Cookies for Dinner

As you enter into motherhood you have dreams of holding your precious baby in your arms. No one tells you that your breasts will be treated like a fast food take-out window or that a ravenous infant can create more suction than industrial-grade vacuum cleaners. And what about potty training? Other books give all kinds of “perfect” advice but the truth is that jumping off the cliff into potty training makes you realize you didn’t truly appreciate those diaper years. Once you begin potty training, a toddler’s bottom is just a loaded gun, ready to fire in whatever direction it happens to be pointing. But perhaps our take on motherhood is a little askew… but what do you expect from one mom who went into labor with her first child four months after her soon-to-be ex-husband moved out to live with his girlfriend and precisely the morning that she was having her house tented for ticks… yes, ticks. The other Loon became a mother through adoption at the age of 47, which also happened to be the time she went through menopause and was fighting the hormonal war by opening and closing every window in the house every two minutes while crying over cereal commercials.Chicken Pox Island

Ahh yes, motherhood. It’s messy, gross, joyful, emotional, smelly, funny, frustrating, exhausting, uplifting, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

To read more from the Two Loons, check out our book Cookies For Dinner. It’s available through online retailers such as Amazon, as well as at your favorite local bookstore and here at our website.

Cookies for Dinner

 

 

 

 

Easter Egg Wars

by on Apr 02, 2013 (Comments Off on Easter Egg Wars) Comments

In an effort to keep our three dogs from slurping up all the bright foil wrapped Easter chocolates and strewing green, pink and yellow plastic Easter grass all up and down our hallway, we put the kids Easter baskets on the fireplace hearth in our bedroom.  We would then hide the brightly colored plastic Easter eggs all around the bedroom, sitting area, bathroom and closet.  Each of the kids would get a specific color egg, all hidden in age appropriate hiding places.  Once all the candy filled eggs were found the kids were given the color of their “money” egg.  This egg started out holding jingly change then graduated to dollar bills and by the time the kids were in high school held a prized $20 dollar bill.  One way to keep a family tradition going is to make sure that the participants are well paid.

One year during the candy exchange that always followed the opening of the plastic eggs, Matt somehow managed to chuck one of the eggs at Christi’s head.  Since this was an Easter morning first, all eyes flashed to the bed where I was happily drinking my morning coffee to see if they would get the Angry Mom face or the Happy Mom face.  Unfortunately for me, the sound of the plastic pinking off Christi’s forehead and the arch the brightly colored plastic egg made after impact sent me into a fit of giggles.  Once the Allen kids realized they could get away with throwing the empty eggs at each other, it was game on.  Suddenly the air was full of hurtling brightly colored plastic eggs.  Little pajama clad legs were seen diving behind chairs, under tables and behind the sofa.  The Allen Family Annual Easter Egg War was born.

easter eggs

Years later my brother Wayne moved in with us for a while.  It was his first Easter morning in the Allen house and he sat drinking his coffee somewhat bemused at the college freshman, high school junior and 9th grader running around our bedroom having a ball looking for their specific colored eggs.  We played the hotter/colder game until all the eggs were found.  The kids then pulled all the eggs apart and began their annual candy swap-o-rama.  Words can never explain the look of shock on Wayne’s face as the room suddenly exploded with flying colored Easter Eggs.  Being the newcomer, Wayne became the number one assault target of all three kids.  It took him a second to dive for cover as brightly colored plastic Easter eggs bounced off the top of his head but then he came up hurling colored plastic eggs of his own back at his attackers.  This may have been one of the best Easter mornings ever.

Long gone are the days of the Great Allen Family Easter Egg Wars.  There is no more waking up early on Easter morning to the pattering of young Allen feet on the stairs, the door to my bedroom bursting open followed by only the energy that excited young children can create just before they go on the hunt for brightly colored plastic eggs full of not often had candy.  No matter how many years have passed, it still makes me smile when I pass the display of brightly colored plastic Easter eggs at the store.

 

If you’d like to read more from the Two Loons, check out our book Cookies for Dinner. Available through online retailers and your favorite local bookstore as well as right here at our website.

Cookies for Dinner

Better than dandelions

by on Mar 27, 2013 (Comments Off on Better than dandelions) Comments

Children collect things and often the things they collect, depending on their age, can range from cute to creepy. My son, at the age of seven, became fascinated with creating a rubber bug collection. The orange and bright blue bugs didn’t bother me at all when I found them in his bed but the brown life-like cockroaches scared the you-know-what out of me when I pulled back his white sheets to change the bed on laundry day. He has gone from collecting stuffed animals, bugs, plastic dinosaurs, Pokemon cards and those annoying little chirping hamsters on wheels, to more big boy things such as models of the planets and other science-based objects. I’m very grateful to have survived the bug years without ever having to endure a request to collect real bugs.

My daughter’s collections were more expensive. While Jack was content to collect rubber bugs that were priced under a dime each, Gracie went for the pricey Hello Kitty, Barbie and Polly Pockets. She did go through a very brief time where she collected flowers and pressed them into books but I was relieved when she gave that up because her favorite flower was the dandelion weed. She was crushed when she found out her parents actually paid money to put dandelion-killing products on the lawn. In her mind, we were flower killers.hand sanitizers

As parents we hope to influence our children and take pride when they reflect our values, interests and talents. Of course, if you happen to be someone with OCD, like me, it’s bittersweet when the daughter who diligently knows to wash her hands, cover her mouth when coughing or sneezing and use impeccable germ-avoidance in public restrooms, announces that she wants to start a collection of hand sanitizers. Not just any hand sanitizers mind you, but the pricey ones that come in various scents. It seems a bit strange, even to OCD me, but I guess it’s better than dandelions.

 

To read more from the Two Loons, check out our book, Cookies for Dinner, available at your favorite online retailer, local bookstore and through our website.

Jess is getting married

by on Mar 21, 2013 (Comments Off on Jess is getting married) Comments

It just hit me like a ton of bricks—Jess is getting married!!!

I know that I have known this for the past 7 months.  I know that I stood in the bridal shop while she tried on dresses, finally finding the perfect dress for her.  I know we went with Christi back to the same bridal shop to try on Brides Maids dresses in November.  I know that we travelled to Florida with her to taste the menu and iron out the details for the reception in December.  I know that I have a scrapbook at the ready for all of her announcements and pictures.  I know that her wedding invitation, an invitation in an etched bottle filled with sand and tiny sea shells, is sitting on my piano in the living room perched at the bottom of the frame holding her engagement picture.  I know all of these things in my cerebral brain.

wedding bells

Today Jess had her first wedding dress fitting.  This wasn’t an off the rack size 12 dress she was trying on, playing dress up in a fun bridal shop.  This was her dress.  This is the dress she is going to wear when she gets married to Chambliss next month.  This is the dress that she will wear when she effectively closes the childhood chapter of her life and opens to the first blank page of the story of her adult life.  The life where she becomes the wife and where she may even become the mom.

So just like that, on a cascade of memories of how my beautiful big brown eyed girl had wound her way from babydom to childhood to adolescence to finally being this full grown woman looking back at me from the mirror wearing the most beautiful wedding dress, my heart finally knew what my brain had known for months—Jess is getting married!

 

To read more from the Two Loons, check out our book Cookies for Dinner. Available on Amazon, our website, other online retailers and your favorite bookstore.

Cookies for Dinner

Hidden Talents

by on Mar 14, 2013 (9) Comments

I love my husband. He is an honest, hard-working, faithful, loving man. I can count on him for anything. He makes me feel protected, unconditionally loved and respected. He is my best friend. He’s also the messiest, most disorganized person I’ve ever met. Considering I am a germophobe who thrives on neatness and order, this relationship wasn’t one I would’ve bet on during our dating years but we have somehow managed to make it work. I am patient and tolerant of the fact that he misplaces almost everything and leaves a trail of chaos behind him. He is patient and tolerant of the fact that I am never more than two steps away, aiming my can of Lysol in his direction and leaving him engulfed in a disinfectant fog.

My husband is famous for losing his keys… his wallet… his shoes… his jacket… his cell phone. The list could go on but you get the picture. I can’t even count how many times he has grabbed my cell phone in order to call his cell phone in an attempt to locate it.

Car Keys and RemoteFor Christmas two years ago I bought him a key finder that attaches to his set of keys and beeps. Unfortunately, he lost the remote.

It’s also not unusual for my husband to call me up in the middle of day to tell me he has locked himself out of his truck. My job is to locate the spare key and bring it to him. Sadly, when he called me yesterday to have me bring the extra key I discovered that he has now lost that as well. This is when I discovered something else about my husband. He’s actually really good at breaking into his truck. With a wire and some wooden wedges, this man skillfully and quickly popped the lock inside the driver’s side door.  I stood there with my mouth open as I watched the most honest man I’ve ever known break into a truck as if he’d done it hundreds of times. That’s when he informed me that he had. He just never wanted me to know how often he locks his keys in his truck.

His birthday is coming up. I was thinking of getting him a magnetic hide-a-key holder.

To read more from the Two Loons, check out the book Cookies for Dinner.

Cookies for Dinner

 

Duckie Tenders

by on Mar 07, 2013 (8) Comments

For the last few years my mornings have started with copious amounts of delicate doggie kisses from Fred, my female goldendoodle and a steaming hot cup of coffee from Dave, my sweet husband.  When Matt, my son who works for me, got his first dog, Windsor, my mornings started out with a double helping of doggie kisses and steaming hot cup of coffee from Dave.  Then came Palamaloo and so my morning wake-up call involved triple doggie kisses and a cup of steaming hot coffee from Dave.  Finally the last addition (so far) to the Allen family daily doggie daycare was Little Man.  He is a stray Yorkie that “found” Matthew and knowing when he saw a good thing, has never left.  He was quick to figure out the morning routine of coming in the back door and racing up the stairs to see who got to be first in line for the Grand-human morning kiss feast.

Windsor, true to being an Allen dog, came down with a mysterious allergy.  We have changed his food to sweet potatoes and salmon and banished all treats other than those homemade by his Grand-human.  We have all been in the hunt for a) what is making the poor little guy itch all over and 2) treats that will not make the situation worse.  One day Dave brought home a bag of Duckie Tenders.  These are strips of duck meat that resemble beef jerky.  He put them under our bathroom sink where the rawhides used to live before the itching began.  Every morning, Windsor would get a duckie treat to see if he would start breaking out.  After a few days with no sign of the red, itchy welts we decided that duck was not causing his issues.

Somehow the news that there was a stash of yummy, non-itchy duckie tenders under the bathroom sink spread like wildfire amongst the other dogs in the Allen Family doggie daycare.  In a flash my mornings of waking up to copious amounts of doggie kisses and a steaming hot cup of coffee was replaced with a hurriedly set down cup of coffee and the clamor of dog tags as the three grand-puppies, followed closely behind by Fred, jump up and down at Dave’s feet as he heads to the magic duckie tender cabinet.

I know, jealousy is an evil emotion but sometimes I just can’t help myself.  I still get copious amounts of morning kisses from Fred and a steaming hot cup of coffee from Dave, but when my little grand-puppies hit the door I’m lucky to get a fly-by air kiss from Windsor as he tries to break all land speed records to get to the duckie tender cabinet.  Oh well, I guess Grand-human kisses are no match for yummy Duckie Tenders.

 

Cookies for Dinner

To read more from the Two Loons, check out our book Cookies For Dinner: the tales of two moms in their quest to survive motherhood (White River Press).

 

Duct Tape

by on Mar 04, 2013 (3) Comments

My concept of duct tape was that of the silvery gray tape that solves almost all problems one may encounter in life. Even though I can’t even hammer a nail into the wall to hang a picture without doing significant damage, I am a whiz at fixing life’s mishaps with a strip of duct tape. I know I’m not alone in this and that almost the entire world has learned to appreciate the endless uses of duct tape.

I have, apparently, been living in a cave though when it comes to how duct tape has morphed into a major fashion and decorating statement over the years. Yes, I knew you could find duct tape in different colors now but I didn’t realize that there would be a reason to need polka dotted tape or animal print duct tape.

This is where my daughter comes in. Gracie discovered the seemingly endless ways to be creative with duct tape. Why hide a minor repair to something with a strip of duct tape that matches in color when you can advertise the repair by using pink zebra stripes? I was even taken aback recently when she asked if she could spend her allowance on cheetah print duct tape instead of her usual Barbie doll accessory or lip gloss request.

I’m not sure what she’s planning with the duct tape. She mentioned that she was going to use it with her Barbie doll. I hope the plan is to create some duct tape clothing and that I don’t walk into her room one day and find her Ken doll has been bound and gagged.

On pins and needles

by on Feb 28, 2013 (Comments Off on On pins and needles) Comments

Being a child basically raised on the beach I grew up barefoot and absolutely hate wearing shoes.  When I was a little girl I had callouses so thick on the bottoms of my feet that walking on hot Florida asphalt was like walking across a cool tile floor for me.  When school started, I was the kid walking down the street in my bare feet putting my shoes on only when I got to the school yard line and not a nano-second before I had to.

David, on the other hand, refuses to take his shoes and socks off.  David’s refusal to remove his shoes and socks has become a running joke in the Allen house.  It has been so many years since his tootsies have seen the sun that even when he does take his socks off his sock line is so white and devoid of hair that he looks like he is still wearing a pair of bright white tube socks.

Three years ago, David’s parents moved in with us.  Mom has always been a great seamstress and keeps herself busy by sewing.  I have never looked so put together than I do since Mom moved in.  She has basically tailored every piece of clothing I own.  She even put pockets in a coat I have had for years but didn’t like to wear because it didn’t have pockets.   Now that my cute little gray coat has roomy pockets it is one of my favorite coats.  When the weather turned cold last week I was delighted to pull out my newly pocketed coat.  Excitedly I slid my hands down into the new deep pockets and was rewarded with a prick to my hand.  I jerked my hand out of the pocket in time to see a small dollop of blood start to form.  I took a closer look at the pocket and realized I had pierced my hand on a long sharp sewing pin.  I gave the coat back to Mom and she eradicated the pin and assured me that there would be no more poking coming from my coat.  The next time I wore the coat I pulled it off in a restaurant and left it sitting on the seat of the booth.  Coming back from the bathroom, I slid into the booth and was rewarded with a vicious prick to the thigh.  My first thought was that my sciatic nerve was acting up but then I looked down and there was a huge pin sticking out of the coat and into my thigh right through my jeans!  For the next several days, probably due to post-traumatic stress from being skewered in a restaurant, I was on high alert for pins.  Walking through my family room in one sweep I found a wayward needle on the floor, followed by a wayward 3” sewing pin, followed by, of all things, an open safety pin.  I retrieved all these off the floor and went to put them back in Mom’s sewing basket by her chair.   As I started to sit down in her chair I realized that she was using the seat cushion for a pin cushion and narrowly averted pinning myself in the behind.

Now it all makes sense.  David was raised in a house where pins and needles were left on the ground with no regard for the pain they might inflict if stepped on.  David said the final straw for him was when he stepped on a tack running up the stairs when he was a young boy.  Voila, a life-long phobia of not having protective footwear on was born.  Since we have up to 4 dogs running around the house on any given day, I have discussed with my mother-in-law the importance of not having wayward pins floating around.  But 80-year-old habits are not soon to be broken.  I may be better off just getting the dogs some protective footwear.

For now all I can say is, if Mom is in the midst of a sewing project, we are all on pins and needles.

 

To read more from the Two Loons, check out our book, Cookies for Dinner

Sorry, wrong number

by on Feb 24, 2013 (8) Comments

I had an in-home behavior consultation scheduled yesterday with a client who lives way, way, way off the grid. I followed the winding, treacherous road deeper and deeper into the woods. Even my GPS threw its virtual hands up and surrendered. I was on my own. It was late in the day and there was probably just another 30 minutes of daylight left.

I drove at a snail’s pace in order to remain safely on the narrow road while attempting to read faded mailbox numbers. I tried to follow the natural order of the numbers but I guess that in keeping with the spirit of the winding, strange road, the numbers didn’t make much sense either.

Getting a little creeped out, I decided to call the client to get more specific directions but I couldn’t safely call while on the treacherous road. I was about to just pull into a random driveway when I finally saw it – number 29998. Well, at least I thought it was 29998. The mailbox actually said 9998 but there was a broken off piece of a number before the first 9. It had to be the place. The owner had said she lived in a brown house with a gravel driveway and there would be a horse in the side pasture. Brown house… check. Gravel driveway… check. Horse… check.

I got out of the car and looked around. Visions of the movies Psycho and Deliverance were flashing through my mind. I slowly walked up to the porch – or rather, what remained of the porch. Weather-worn wooden slats criss-crossed in a splintery fashion that made taking each step a good chance for a broken leg. Looking at the front of the house I couldn’t imagine this person had the money to pay for a consultation but it wasn’t my job to judge so I pressed on toward the front door.

There was just a hole where the doorbell used to be so I knocked on the door. I heard movement behind me and spun around as carefully as I could to prevent falling through the front porch and wishing I had remembered to carry pepper spray with me.

Directly behind me were several very straggly-looking cats.

“Are you the official greeting committee?” I asked weakly to the feline group.

I knocked again on the door but still no answer. I looked through the tattered curtains on the door. The inside of the house looked as unwelcoming as the outside. I glanced over to the side yard and saw a relatively new car. Someone had to be home. The hairs on the back on my neck were calling out meth lab, kidnapper, and serial killer. If this owner was really having a cat behavior problem, it was something we’d just have to take care of in a phone consultation. It was time to get the heck out of there!

I carefully but very quickly made my way off the death trap of a porch, past the cats, down the driveway and into my car. Locking the door immediately, I then put the key in the car and roared out of the driveway. I figured I’d drive back down the road a bit and then pull over into a driveway to call the client and announce that I’d be happy to do a phone consultation at a later day. For right now, I was heading back to civilization and safety.

I found a safe looking driveway and started to pull in when I saw it. Right there on the mailbox. 29998. Oops. Brown house. Gravel driveway. Nice-looking horse in the pasture. Nice looking house. Safe porch. I had been at the wrong house.

I turned into the driveway and scurried up the porch to ring the front door bell.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said as I was greeted by someone who didn’t look as if she was operating a meth lab or had a body buried in the basement.

If the person who lives at the other house happens to read this, PLEASE get your mailbox numbers fixed!

Pam and Kae are hitting the virtual road

by on Feb 20, 2013 (Comments Off on Pam and Kae are hitting the virtual road) Comments

Pam and Kae will be on tour in May with Cookies For Dinner. If you’re a book blogger and would like to participate, we’re looking for bloggers to post reviews, guest posts, interviews, and excerpts for this tour. PDF copies will be available worldwide, or print copies will be available for US residents.

Please click here if you would like to be included. Thank you!Cookies for Dinner

Cookies for Dinner

By Pam Johnson-Bennett and Kae Allen

Ever wonder about the poop capacity of the average car seat?

Mothers don’t need another “how to” book on parenting. What they need is to know they’re not the only ones who stand on the supermarket check-out line engaging total strangers in potty training horror stories.

You’ll find plenty of books, relatives and friends who are happy to tell you what you’re doing wrong as a mother. Cookies for Dinner is the antidote to all that! Pam Johnson-Bennett and Kae Allen are two mothers who reveal their imperfections and embarrassments through a series of hilarious true stories.

Pam and Kae bravely tell about how one unexpectedly learns the poop capacity of a car seat, what to wear on Chicken Pox Island and what it feels like to have your toddler lock you out of the house while you’re wearing less-than flattering swimwear.

There’s also the fact that no one tells you that when nursing, your breasts will be treated like a fast food take-out window or that a ravenous infant can create more suction than industrial-grade vacuum cleaners. And, let’s not forget the appropriate technique for removing a crow that is found sitting on the diaper pail while you’re changing your infant’s diapers (hint… don’t use your child’s butterfly net) and how a sausage, egg and cheese biscuit can cause a pregnant woman to do strange things.

What do moms need? Laughter and the comfort of knowing you’re not alone on this roller coaster ride of motherhood. Whether you’re a young mother, experienced mom, mom-to-be, empty-nester, grandparent or still on the fence about becoming a mother, everyone relates to Cookies for Dinner It’s the perfect gift for anyone who will be, is now, has been or NEVER wants to be called… MOM!