Okay, I'm going to break your heart for a minute or two here...
A few months ago I blogged about a wonderful little angel named Tripp Roth. He valiantly fought EB for 2 years and 8 months before finally taking his eternal rest.
I still follow his mother Courtney's blog. I have been avoiding reading it lately even though she's been understandably absent, only posting a few times since her son's passing.
Today, I took a deep breath and clicked...I'm not even sure why because I knew it was going to be sad. I knew I was going to cry my eyes out and ache for this mother and her son.
I'm so glad I did. You see, I've been having a bit of a pity party for myself lately. When we moved to Texas we had some very intensive family time. It was me, Claire and Zora all day every day. Claire spent 2 days a week at an in-home daycare in Columbia, but in Texas, we hadn't found anyone yet.
Since I work from home I technically don't need childcare, but I think Claire does. I don't stimulate her enough during the day and I have to care for Miss Baby so at times, she's not center stage and she lets you know that this does not please her.
This made me a crazy person. Claire was bored, so she was acting out. The baby is now mobile and, like her sister, a bottomless pit, so I am constantly trying to keep her full.
I couldn't take it. This myth of stay-at-home-mommyhood. I didn't feel fulfilled, I felt drained and at my wit's end. I wasn't cherishing every moment, I was counting the seconds until Rob got home and I could do something like shower or pee by myself.
Then we found our balance. Claire goes to Montessori school every day in the morning. Miss B and I spend a glorious few hours together and bond like I did with Claire when she was a baby. I feel peaceful again. I feel like a sane person.
So why do I feel like an a-hole? It's because I feel guilty not feeling gloriously fulfilled by staying home with my children. This is not my calling. I am as good of a mother as you'll find, I'm certain. (yeah, I'm tooting my own horn) But I'm not a kindergarten teacher and never wanted to be one. I want to play an active role in my children's learning and education. I want to help them learn to read and do math and become world citizens, but I don't want that responsibility to rest solely on my shoulders. It's too much. I'm not cut-out for this gig.
All of that being said, there are people in this world that put me to shame. They are strong and patient and put on this earth to do something special. Courtney Roth is one of them. She spent every moment of her son's short life caring for him. She gave up anything that resembled "her" life and lived for him. This is something I hope that if necessary, I could do. I also hope I'll never have to test that theory.
Now she is without her baby. She has to figure out how to go on without him. It makes me realize that I wouldn't trade a single tantrum or tear, any of those drops of spilled juice or cereal messes, any of those "one more story, please Mommy" moments if it were my last with my babies. They are precious to me. I take the ease of my life for granted. I sweat the small stuff. I cry over spilled milk, literally.
I don't want to anymore. I want to savor each second. I'm going to try my best to take a deep breath and enjoy my babies like they deserve to be enjoyed. They are miracles and they are my angels. Tripp Roth continues to teach me things. Wise beyond his years. Thanks Tripp and thanks Courtney for continuing to be strong and honest for those of us who are neither at times.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Monday, April 30, 2012
It Looks Like a Stripper Threw Up in Here
I've been threatening to write this post for awhile. I've decided to just jump in with both feet and share my honest opinion(like you ever had any doubt).
Kids' rooms. What.the.hell? I remember the days of Strawberry Shortcake and Carebears and when Barbie was more of a plastic doll and less of a slut.
Let's start with a very special word with which everyone should familiarize themselves: appropriate. In short it means "suitable or proper in the circumstances." I like "proper" because it makes me think all Sense and Sensibility or Queen Elizabeth or something.
When I think proper for a baby girl's room or a toddler girl's room I think pretty colors (not necessarily pink or even pastel), educational and stimulating toys, lots of books, and soft things upon which to lie/sit/drool.
This is not the present trend though, as far as I can tell.*Disclaimer: I am basing all of this on what I see on Facebook and Pinterest...oh, and maybe Housewives of Somewhere-or-another.*
Now that we are all familiar with the word "appropriate" let's lay down some basic rules/review some tips for decorating your children's rooms so that you won't be bailing your daughter out of jail/pulling her down off a stage (eh-hem, the kind with a pole) anytime soon.
1. Animal prints should be used in moderation. Okay, so I love a good zebra print or even a giraffe from time to time (synthetic of course, get off my back PETA). However, you don't want it to look like a full-on African safari in there. I mean, hey, what's more cuddly than a bunch of skinned animals, but let's save those for birthday parties and t-ball games, k?
Sidenote: I have to mention that I have a good friend whose daughter, 9, has one of the loveliest uses of zebra print in her bedroom. So props to you, AH, for knowing how to not go overboard when decorating and for raising a delightful, classy little girl.
2. Feathers are actually kind of icky if you think about it. Seriously, whenever I see feathers being used on wedding cakes, centerpieces, etc I always get icked out. That was stuck in a bird, you know. Would you want me to pull out several handfuls of my hair for you to use as decorations? No? It's kind of the same thing except that I wash my hair more frequently than most people wash their birds. I hope.
How does this apply to baby rooms? People are constantly covering things in marabou. Marabou is a stork that apparently has some of the loveliest, fluffiest feathers somewhere on its storky body. So, I guess it's kind of appropriate if you believe children are delivered via bird. Otherwise, take that dust-catching, tacky frame off your baby's changing table and hit yourself in the head with it. Now you have some sense.
3. Google stripper clothes. Do the colors that you see on any of these website match the colors or prints in your child's bedroom? If yes, you have chosen poorly, so go back to Lowe's and pick out something more suitable for a baby girl to look at every time she awakens from her precious baby slumber. Do not, in the alternative, assume that stripper clothes have gotten classier. They have not.
4. If when you step into the room you can see more than four be-dazzled items you have gone overboard. Frankly, I think more than one be-dazzled item for a baby's room is too much, but that's just me. You know that sparkly things look delicious to babies and they come off pretty easily. Choking hazard!
5. Does any of the furniture look like it belongs in the lounge of a swanky hotel or seedy gentlemen's club? Remove said item immediately and get something your kid won't either slide off of or stick to. Gross. What is wrong with you?
6. If you have committed anywhere from 2 to 5 of the previously enumerated errors, just go ahead and buy a pole for your child's bedroom because you may be raising a stripper.
Nothing against strippers, I hear it's good money. But I don't want my babies rolling around in glitter and wearing clear light-up shoes any time soon.
Well, the Devil takes many forms, they say. Mickey Mouse is one of them. Claire has recently become quite addicted to the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. She sings along with the songs and dances. It's cute, I guess. At least it's not Caillou.
Kids' rooms. What.the.hell? I remember the days of Strawberry Shortcake and Carebears and when Barbie was more of a plastic doll and less of a slut.
Let's start with a very special word with which everyone should familiarize themselves: appropriate. In short it means "suitable or proper in the circumstances." I like "proper" because it makes me think all Sense and Sensibility or Queen Elizabeth or something.
When I think proper for a baby girl's room or a toddler girl's room I think pretty colors (not necessarily pink or even pastel), educational and stimulating toys, lots of books, and soft things upon which to lie/sit/drool.
This is not the present trend though, as far as I can tell.*Disclaimer: I am basing all of this on what I see on Facebook and Pinterest...oh, and maybe Housewives of Somewhere-or-another.*
Now that we are all familiar with the word "appropriate" let's lay down some basic rules/review some tips for decorating your children's rooms so that you won't be bailing your daughter out of jail/pulling her down off a stage (eh-hem, the kind with a pole) anytime soon.
1. Animal prints should be used in moderation. Okay, so I love a good zebra print or even a giraffe from time to time (synthetic of course, get off my back PETA). However, you don't want it to look like a full-on African safari in there. I mean, hey, what's more cuddly than a bunch of skinned animals, but let's save those for birthday parties and t-ball games, k?
Sidenote: I have to mention that I have a good friend whose daughter, 9, has one of the loveliest uses of zebra print in her bedroom. So props to you, AH, for knowing how to not go overboard when decorating and for raising a delightful, classy little girl.
2. Feathers are actually kind of icky if you think about it. Seriously, whenever I see feathers being used on wedding cakes, centerpieces, etc I always get icked out. That was stuck in a bird, you know. Would you want me to pull out several handfuls of my hair for you to use as decorations? No? It's kind of the same thing except that I wash my hair more frequently than most people wash their birds. I hope.
How does this apply to baby rooms? People are constantly covering things in marabou. Marabou is a stork that apparently has some of the loveliest, fluffiest feathers somewhere on its storky body. So, I guess it's kind of appropriate if you believe children are delivered via bird. Otherwise, take that dust-catching, tacky frame off your baby's changing table and hit yourself in the head with it. Now you have some sense.
3. Google stripper clothes. Do the colors that you see on any of these website match the colors or prints in your child's bedroom? If yes, you have chosen poorly, so go back to Lowe's and pick out something more suitable for a baby girl to look at every time she awakens from her precious baby slumber. Do not, in the alternative, assume that stripper clothes have gotten classier. They have not.
4. If when you step into the room you can see more than four be-dazzled items you have gone overboard. Frankly, I think more than one be-dazzled item for a baby's room is too much, but that's just me. You know that sparkly things look delicious to babies and they come off pretty easily. Choking hazard!
5. Does any of the furniture look like it belongs in the lounge of a swanky hotel or seedy gentlemen's club? Remove said item immediately and get something your kid won't either slide off of or stick to. Gross. What is wrong with you?
6. If you have committed anywhere from 2 to 5 of the previously enumerated errors, just go ahead and buy a pole for your child's bedroom because you may be raising a stripper.
Nothing against strippers, I hear it's good money. But I don't want my babies rolling around in glitter and wearing clear light-up shoes any time soon.
Well, the Devil takes many forms, they say. Mickey Mouse is one of them. Claire has recently become quite addicted to the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. She sings along with the songs and dances. It's cute, I guess. At least it's not Caillou.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Jealousy Ain't Just a River in Egypt...Wait, That's Not Right
A few weeks ago I had an experience with another mother that, well, rubbed me the wrong way. I've been considering whether or not to blog about it...here we go...
So, while at a gathering of children and adults Claire was having a great time hanging out with a child that is older than she is; more than twice her age, actually. Claire loves this little girl, I mean loves her. She wants to wear the clothes and shoes she wears, play with the toys she plays with, eat the food she eats...you get the idea. If you asked her, she'd probably say she wants to be her when she grows up.
I'm sure this isn't exactly the best time for the older child, though. We'll call her Amelia*. Claire's little. She sort of understands sharing and taking turns. She mostly just says, "Amelia's turn." Then cries until it's her turn again. She'll do it, but she doesn't have to like it. I'm sure Claire's not that much fun to play with, but Amelia graciously indulges her. They play house, dolls, hide-n-seek, torture the cats, and all sorts of other fun games.
So, in the midst of Amelia and Claire playing/fighting/running amuck another mother(not Amelia's) says to me, "Wow, Claire's really has a jealousy thing with Amelia, doesn't she." See how there's no question mark at the end of this? It's not a question, it's a statement.
I didn't really know how to respond to this statement. It seemed all at once condescending, hateful, off-base, and just down-right mean. The word "jealous" has such negative connotations. Claire's not jealous of Amelia. She looks up to her. She's her hero and her mentor. Claire wants Amelia to be her bestest friend in the whole wide world forever and ever and ever. She's not jealous of her though. Can a 2 year old even be jealous? This implies a level of cognition that I don't think we gain until young adulthood.
So, as the day continued, this mom proceeded to scold my child for "crowding" Amelia when Claire wanted to sit next to her and the like. I had to take a few deep breaths.
I'm not sure why this got under my skin so much, but it did. I guess the moral of the story is to be careful how you word things when talking to people about their children. Is this really a lesson that any of us need, though?
Frankly, I would never say to a friend or an enemy that their child was jealous of mine, or anyone else's child for that matter. A statement like this seems to be more of a projection than an observation. Keep the kids out of it, please.
I feel like I often hear other parents criticizing kids when what they really want to do is criticize the other parents and their parenting. Own it. If you're going to be that person that criticizes another mom or dad, do it, but don't try to back into by saying something about the kid.
Examples:
Wow, Sally is really aggressive. Translation: I can't believe you're letting your child push the other kids around in the sandbox.
Has Danny always been so loud? Translation: Can't you keep your kid quiet?
Jenny really likes animals doesn't she? Translation: Your kid is weird and keeps harassing my pet.
At any rate, I'm not sure what the other mother was implying when she made her comment about Claire, but whatever it was, it was neither correct, nor any of her business. She is most certainly not jealous of another child unless that child lives with Caillou, himself...then she might be a smidge jealous.
Thanks blog-o-sphere for letting me get that out of my system. You're a gem.
Stay tuned for my next post...I'm writing about children's rooms that look like strip clubs...get excited!
*Name changed to protect the innocent.
So, while at a gathering of children and adults Claire was having a great time hanging out with a child that is older than she is; more than twice her age, actually. Claire loves this little girl, I mean loves her. She wants to wear the clothes and shoes she wears, play with the toys she plays with, eat the food she eats...you get the idea. If you asked her, she'd probably say she wants to be her when she grows up.
I'm sure this isn't exactly the best time for the older child, though. We'll call her Amelia*. Claire's little. She sort of understands sharing and taking turns. She mostly just says, "Amelia's turn." Then cries until it's her turn again. She'll do it, but she doesn't have to like it. I'm sure Claire's not that much fun to play with, but Amelia graciously indulges her. They play house, dolls, hide-n-seek, torture the cats, and all sorts of other fun games.
So, in the midst of Amelia and Claire playing/fighting/running amuck another mother(not Amelia's) says to me, "Wow, Claire's really has a jealousy thing with Amelia, doesn't she." See how there's no question mark at the end of this? It's not a question, it's a statement.
I didn't really know how to respond to this statement. It seemed all at once condescending, hateful, off-base, and just down-right mean. The word "jealous" has such negative connotations. Claire's not jealous of Amelia. She looks up to her. She's her hero and her mentor. Claire wants Amelia to be her bestest friend in the whole wide world forever and ever and ever. She's not jealous of her though. Can a 2 year old even be jealous? This implies a level of cognition that I don't think we gain until young adulthood.
So, as the day continued, this mom proceeded to scold my child for "crowding" Amelia when Claire wanted to sit next to her and the like. I had to take a few deep breaths.
I'm not sure why this got under my skin so much, but it did. I guess the moral of the story is to be careful how you word things when talking to people about their children. Is this really a lesson that any of us need, though?
Frankly, I would never say to a friend or an enemy that their child was jealous of mine, or anyone else's child for that matter. A statement like this seems to be more of a projection than an observation. Keep the kids out of it, please.
I feel like I often hear other parents criticizing kids when what they really want to do is criticize the other parents and their parenting. Own it. If you're going to be that person that criticizes another mom or dad, do it, but don't try to back into by saying something about the kid.
Examples:
Wow, Sally is really aggressive. Translation: I can't believe you're letting your child push the other kids around in the sandbox.
Has Danny always been so loud? Translation: Can't you keep your kid quiet?
Jenny really likes animals doesn't she? Translation: Your kid is weird and keeps harassing my pet.
At any rate, I'm not sure what the other mother was implying when she made her comment about Claire, but whatever it was, it was neither correct, nor any of her business. She is most certainly not jealous of another child unless that child lives with Caillou, himself...then she might be a smidge jealous.
Thanks blog-o-sphere for letting me get that out of my system. You're a gem.
Stay tuned for my next post...I'm writing about children's rooms that look like strip clubs...get excited!
*Name changed to protect the innocent.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Better Late Than Never and Lessons Learned on the Road to Texas
Alright, alright, I know I haven't posted anything in awhile...okay since March. I've been supremely busy. I will now enumerate why I have been busy so you will feel like an a-hole for making me feel guilty for not posting.
1. We moved. That's pretty much the whole list. We didn't just move across town though. We moved to a whole different state. A whole different country, if you will, e.g. Texas.
I must say that Texas is lovely this time of year, which I'm told makes up for the fact that it is unbearably hot for the rest of the year.
So far we have celebrated Easter in style with my sister and her family(niece projectile vomited Easter breakfast onto floor, couch, Claire's new swimming suit, possibly the cat), moved into our new digs(we have a pool, yay!), dined on the local fair(Chick-fil-A and In-n-Out Burger), and visited local landmarks(DFW airport, Super Target, and Love Field). I'd say we're enjoying it.
The move hasn't been too bad for the wee chubby one, but for the rest of us, it's been a different story. Claire has really been taking this whole terrible 2s thing seriously. I think she's spent more time in time-out than she has doing anything else. It wasn't easy on me either.
First, there was the whole leaving-of-the-old-house. It was really hard on me. I cried several times when I thought about the fact that this was the house where I brought home my babies. This was the house where Claire took her first steps, said her first words, and all manner of other firsts. It was the first house that Rob and I made our home together. Sure we lived a couple of places before this, but they seemed like other people's houses. This house felt like we made it our own.
I'm a sap. What can I say? It was rough and it didn't help that the radio station was apparently sent a memo about me leaving and proceeded to play songs that made me all weepy. It was ridiculous.
The girls and I left before Rob and before all of our belongings so at least I didn't have to see it empty.
So, we stopped off in Joplin for the weekend/beginning of the next week so that my mother could ride to Texas with us for visiting and assisting/child rangling. Yes, rangling is a word.
Whilst in JoMo I had the opportunity to assist with and attend a great benefit concert for a wonderful little boy named Chandler who is the son of one of my closest friends from elementary/middle/high school. Chandler was born with a heart defect and the concert raised money to help with his medical bills.
After driving 4 hours with my crazy children the day before, this was the best medicine for a haggard mother. During the concert(which was put on by a local gospel quartet at a huge-mongous church) one parishioner stood up to offer a blessing and said something so simple, but so profound. He was in his 90s so just being out and about was pretty impressive. He said that he was often caught up with the sadness that he felt for himself and his family's trials and tribulations, but after hearing Chandler's story he wondered what he had to feel so sorry for himself about.
At that moment I felt like a big jerk. Just the day before I had been driving through the heart of Missouri on a gorgeous spring day, sun shining, with my two healthy girls in my newish car, on my way to get my hair done, eat dinner with friends, ultimately move to a new state and a new home, and crying like a fool. What did I have to be feeling so sad about? Not adamn (you can't swear and talk about church in the same post) darn thing. I'm more than lucky.
Our old house didn't keep all those firsts and memories, I took them with me. They aren't packed in boxes, wrapped in tissue paper, or even tucked neatly into a suitcase. They're in my heart, Rob's silly laugh, in my daughters' eyes, and their beautiful smiles.
We'll make more memories in Texas. I'm sure they'll be huge. You know what they say: everything is bigger in Texas.
Just as I thought TV was history(because our cable took forever to be installed and because we don't have Sprout in our subscription), it pulled the old switcheroo. We have Sprout OnDemand. Are you kidding me? You mean all I have to do is press a button and I have Caillou 24 hours a day? Nothing good can come of this. Luckily, I think the pool and the playground within walking distance will keep us out of the house...at least for awhile.
1. We moved. That's pretty much the whole list. We didn't just move across town though. We moved to a whole different state. A whole different country, if you will, e.g. Texas.
I must say that Texas is lovely this time of year, which I'm told makes up for the fact that it is unbearably hot for the rest of the year.
So far we have celebrated Easter in style with my sister and her family(niece projectile vomited Easter breakfast onto floor, couch, Claire's new swimming suit, possibly the cat), moved into our new digs(we have a pool, yay!), dined on the local fair(Chick-fil-A and In-n-Out Burger), and visited local landmarks(DFW airport, Super Target, and Love Field). I'd say we're enjoying it.
The move hasn't been too bad for the wee chubby one, but for the rest of us, it's been a different story. Claire has really been taking this whole terrible 2s thing seriously. I think she's spent more time in time-out than she has doing anything else. It wasn't easy on me either.
First, there was the whole leaving-of-the-old-house. It was really hard on me. I cried several times when I thought about the fact that this was the house where I brought home my babies. This was the house where Claire took her first steps, said her first words, and all manner of other firsts. It was the first house that Rob and I made our home together. Sure we lived a couple of places before this, but they seemed like other people's houses. This house felt like we made it our own.
I'm a sap. What can I say? It was rough and it didn't help that the radio station was apparently sent a memo about me leaving and proceeded to play songs that made me all weepy. It was ridiculous.
The girls and I left before Rob and before all of our belongings so at least I didn't have to see it empty.
So, we stopped off in Joplin for the weekend/beginning of the next week so that my mother could ride to Texas with us for visiting and assisting/child rangling. Yes, rangling is a word.
Whilst in JoMo I had the opportunity to assist with and attend a great benefit concert for a wonderful little boy named Chandler who is the son of one of my closest friends from elementary/middle/high school. Chandler was born with a heart defect and the concert raised money to help with his medical bills.
After driving 4 hours with my crazy children the day before, this was the best medicine for a haggard mother. During the concert(which was put on by a local gospel quartet at a huge-mongous church) one parishioner stood up to offer a blessing and said something so simple, but so profound. He was in his 90s so just being out and about was pretty impressive. He said that he was often caught up with the sadness that he felt for himself and his family's trials and tribulations, but after hearing Chandler's story he wondered what he had to feel so sorry for himself about.
At that moment I felt like a big jerk. Just the day before I had been driving through the heart of Missouri on a gorgeous spring day, sun shining, with my two healthy girls in my newish car, on my way to get my hair done, eat dinner with friends, ultimately move to a new state and a new home, and crying like a fool. What did I have to be feeling so sad about? Not a
Our old house didn't keep all those firsts and memories, I took them with me. They aren't packed in boxes, wrapped in tissue paper, or even tucked neatly into a suitcase. They're in my heart, Rob's silly laugh, in my daughters' eyes, and their beautiful smiles.
We'll make more memories in Texas. I'm sure they'll be huge. You know what they say: everything is bigger in Texas.
Just as I thought TV was history(because our cable took forever to be installed and because we don't have Sprout in our subscription), it pulled the old switcheroo. We have Sprout OnDemand. Are you kidding me? You mean all I have to do is press a button and I have Caillou 24 hours a day? Nothing good can come of this. Luckily, I think the pool and the playground within walking distance will keep us out of the house...at least for awhile.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Life Lessons: The Playground Edition, Part Deux
Yeah I just referenced a semi-crap Charlie Sheen movie with my title...what of it?
Okay, so it has been really beautiful outside in Mid-Mo so we've been spending quite a bit of time at the playground, prompting my second edition. Here we go:
1. While smoking may make you look/feel cool at a bar or french cafe, it is inappropriate for a playground. Seriously? Do I have to point this out? Okay, so let me start by saying at one point in my more foolish life, I smoked. I know, I know, it's bad for you. That's why I don't do it anymore. That, and I cannot stand listening to my sister bitch at me for even one more second in this lifetime. Love you sis. Anyway, there was a woman sitting in the playground area smoking a cigarette that was wafting very rudely right over where my precious, pink-lunged baby was playing on the slide. Smoking is a choice that you are more than welcome to make on your own time, but don't do it around my kid, please. Also, don't bury your cigarette butt in the playground mulch, for the love of God.
2. The sandbox is for playing, not bragging. While Claire was very timidly trying to join in with some other children to "build a road," I had the pleasure of listening to two sets of parents brag back and forth about where they had gotten their child accepted for the coming term. I also learned that Vietnam is lovely this time of year as they were also bragging about their most recent vacation. Tickets to Vietnam are apparently $2,000 a piece. Wow, I'm so glad you're sharing this information while your child runs mine over with his dump truck. I also learned the pros and cons of using a Kindle as your travel guide and that iPads are far superior for this task. Thank God I had on my sunglasses so they couldn't see me roll my eyes.
3. When enjoying a cookie on the swings, it is not necessary to leave part of it behind for the next swinger. There is nothing I like more than finding soggy cookie stuck to my child's butt. It is even more delightful when said cookie was made soggy by someone elses' mouth. Ew. Wipe out the swings, please? I'll try to keep my kid's honey wheat pretzel rod off the playground equipment if you keep the animal cookies off the swings.
4. Pick up your trash. Okay, this applies to more than just the playground. I am always appalled by the amount of trash at the park. There are trash cans and recycling bins every few feet. Just pick one. Please, choose appropriately though. I noticed yesterday that the trashcan was filled to the brim with plastic bottles and soda cans while the recycle bin sat nearly empty. It's like people are trying to not care. Jerks.
5. Judge as you would be judged...or something like that. This one is a bit more complicated. I saw Green Glass Dad at the park today. He had Green Glass Mom with him, this time. I'd never seen her before, but she looked just as I had imagined in my mind: sort of hipster-esque with a side of hippy and probably in the single digits for body fat percentage. For whatever reason this guy had always rubbed me the wrong way. I don't know why. He's never been anything but pleasant to me at the park and at the library. I told myself while I was swinging the girls that it was because he has a judgey air about him. Yeah, that's it. He's all judgey and I don't like it. Look at him there with his reusable bag picnic. Yeah, I've got my plastic bag, what of it? Looking all smug with his metal water bottle and [probably] vegan lunch. Yeck. Then, it hit me: I'm the judgey one. Shit. I was standing there concerning myself with what this guy and his wife and child were doing and not soaking in every glorious moment of a perfectly sunny, breezy day at a park with two of my favorite people. I'm the asshole. I hate these moments. So I stopped myself in my own tracks and did an about-face, literally. I positioned myself on the other side of the swings so that I was facing the two most beautiful faces on earth with my back to the Green Glasses.
Who knew the park could reveal so much to me in such simple contexts? Not me.
On another note, we are moving at the end of the week, so each time I visit somewhere in Columbia, I contemplate whether it will be my last time there. I can't lie, I've teared up quite a few times. I'll miss this little town in the middle of Missouri, in the middle of the country. It's been my home for 8 years. I met my husband here, had my babies, and met some of the nicest, best people on the planet. So, I guess I should say thanks. Thanks, Columbia. You've sucked at times (eh-hem, 24 inches of snow?), but you've been a really nice place to live. As for the people, they know they're awesome and they know who they are.
Hey, so you know how to get your kid to stop watching TV? Turn on something they don't like. This works with husbands, too. It turns out Claire is not interested, even a bit, in HGTV. I see many House Hunters marathons in my future.
Okay, so it has been really beautiful outside in Mid-Mo so we've been spending quite a bit of time at the playground, prompting my second edition. Here we go:
1. While smoking may make you look/feel cool at a bar or french cafe, it is inappropriate for a playground. Seriously? Do I have to point this out? Okay, so let me start by saying at one point in my more foolish life, I smoked. I know, I know, it's bad for you. That's why I don't do it anymore. That, and I cannot stand listening to my sister bitch at me for even one more second in this lifetime. Love you sis. Anyway, there was a woman sitting in the playground area smoking a cigarette that was wafting very rudely right over where my precious, pink-lunged baby was playing on the slide. Smoking is a choice that you are more than welcome to make on your own time, but don't do it around my kid, please. Also, don't bury your cigarette butt in the playground mulch, for the love of God.
2. The sandbox is for playing, not bragging. While Claire was very timidly trying to join in with some other children to "build a road," I had the pleasure of listening to two sets of parents brag back and forth about where they had gotten their child accepted for the coming term. I also learned that Vietnam is lovely this time of year as they were also bragging about their most recent vacation. Tickets to Vietnam are apparently $2,000 a piece. Wow, I'm so glad you're sharing this information while your child runs mine over with his dump truck. I also learned the pros and cons of using a Kindle as your travel guide and that iPads are far superior for this task. Thank God I had on my sunglasses so they couldn't see me roll my eyes.
3. When enjoying a cookie on the swings, it is not necessary to leave part of it behind for the next swinger. There is nothing I like more than finding soggy cookie stuck to my child's butt. It is even more delightful when said cookie was made soggy by someone elses' mouth. Ew. Wipe out the swings, please? I'll try to keep my kid's honey wheat pretzel rod off the playground equipment if you keep the animal cookies off the swings.
4. Pick up your trash. Okay, this applies to more than just the playground. I am always appalled by the amount of trash at the park. There are trash cans and recycling bins every few feet. Just pick one. Please, choose appropriately though. I noticed yesterday that the trashcan was filled to the brim with plastic bottles and soda cans while the recycle bin sat nearly empty. It's like people are trying to not care. Jerks.
5. Judge as you would be judged...or something like that. This one is a bit more complicated. I saw Green Glass Dad at the park today. He had Green Glass Mom with him, this time. I'd never seen her before, but she looked just as I had imagined in my mind: sort of hipster-esque with a side of hippy and probably in the single digits for body fat percentage. For whatever reason this guy had always rubbed me the wrong way. I don't know why. He's never been anything but pleasant to me at the park and at the library. I told myself while I was swinging the girls that it was because he has a judgey air about him. Yeah, that's it. He's all judgey and I don't like it. Look at him there with his reusable bag picnic. Yeah, I've got my plastic bag, what of it? Looking all smug with his metal water bottle and [probably] vegan lunch. Yeck. Then, it hit me: I'm the judgey one. Shit. I was standing there concerning myself with what this guy and his wife and child were doing and not soaking in every glorious moment of a perfectly sunny, breezy day at a park with two of my favorite people. I'm the asshole. I hate these moments. So I stopped myself in my own tracks and did an about-face, literally. I positioned myself on the other side of the swings so that I was facing the two most beautiful faces on earth with my back to the Green Glasses.
Who knew the park could reveal so much to me in such simple contexts? Not me.
On another note, we are moving at the end of the week, so each time I visit somewhere in Columbia, I contemplate whether it will be my last time there. I can't lie, I've teared up quite a few times. I'll miss this little town in the middle of Missouri, in the middle of the country. It's been my home for 8 years. I met my husband here, had my babies, and met some of the nicest, best people on the planet. So, I guess I should say thanks. Thanks, Columbia. You've sucked at times (eh-hem, 24 inches of snow?), but you've been a really nice place to live. As for the people, they know they're awesome and they know who they are.
Hey, so you know how to get your kid to stop watching TV? Turn on something they don't like. This works with husbands, too. It turns out Claire is not interested, even a bit, in HGTV. I see many House Hunters marathons in my future.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Life Lessons, Playground Edition
It was a lovely week here in Mid-Mo and we took full advantage of it. We hit the park several times and had very much fun and even learned a few life lessons.
I will share them with you now, because I know you are on the edge of your seat.
1. Children have no awareness, or desire to become aware, of the line. I like to call it the "queue" because it feels very European. The kids at the park on Saturday not only cut in line, they literally(like actually, not literally like the teens say) pushed others out of the way. Which brings me to my second life lesson...
2. Children who push other children out of the way to use the slide do not have parents anywhere nearby. These apparent park-orphans run a-muck with no regard for rules and order. They will knock your child down right.in.front.of.you. You will want to knock them out, I mean down, to give them a taste of their own medicine. See next life lesson.
3. Knocking another child down, even if they have knocked your child down, is improper and will likely cause the previously orphaned child's parents to come flying onto the scene. Now, I didn't discover this first-hand. I just observed.
4. Little boys like to kiss little girls on the playground. This one was a shocker. Claire was dismounting the slide when a little boy who was likely at least three times her age, planted a kiss right on her cheek. If you are saying, "awwwww," don't. I didn't like this one bit. I try my hardest to keep Claire from touching other kids. Keeping one's hands to one's self is an equally important life lesson. Of course, my library mom friends get a good laugh when I yell, "don't touch that child, Claire." She's like a bull in a china shop. Anyway, back to the drive-by kissing. First, this kid had so much snot on his face...I can't even think of an analogy for this one. Second, where are your parents? Third, just ew, and at least buy her a juice box. Keep your germs and your lips to yourself. Claire just looked stunned.
5. If you are looking to steal a child (which I am not advocating) the park is the place to do it. There were so many nomadic children moving from structure to structure with no parent in sight, it was amazing. I tried counting the parents sitting on benches and allocate at least a handful of kids to those adults but by my calculation every adult there must have been a Duggar because they all had at least 20 kids.
6. When you steal this child at the park, don't worry about the kid screaming and blowing your cover. When we left the park Claire lost her mind. She was tired, she was hungry, and she wanted to stay at the park and at least be tired, hungry, and sliding. She screamed like a banshee. She sounded like the peacock impression my sister does(if you've never had the pleasure, you're in for a real treat) but without the break. It was amazing. I thought for sure we'd draw at least a glare or two. Not a single soul looked our way. You might be asking yourself why this is a problem. Well, if my child is screaming, I want at least one person to look me up and down and remember what I'm wearing, what my child is wearing, and what car I'm getting into. Why? Because if my child is being abducted, I want someone to notice. Look, it might sound all worst-case-scenario, but I don't care. I'd much rather someone annoy me a little by giving me a judgey look than no one notice the time that it's not me taking my kid from the park. See, this is where park moms become quite handy. They're always up in your business. I think I just had one of those Oprah "Ah-ha" moments.
7. If you are waiting your turn for the baby swings, don't just stand there and stare awkwardly until someone gets uncomfortable and leaves. Seriously, this happened. An addendum to this would be don't stand and stare and say to your toddler, "sorry, honey, we just have to wait until someone gets done." That someone won't be me. I waited 30 minutes for one of those swings to free up and now Zora is delighting herself by practicing running in mid-air. So, lay off, lady. No wonder these kids can't wait their turn. Their parents, while they may not push you out of the way, will try to guilt-trip you out of the way. Well, I've got news for them, my mother is a prize-winning guilt-tripper who was taught by the queen guilt-tripper, my granny. Your comments have no effect on me. Joke's on you.
8. Don't play catch with a football in the middle of the play structure. Especially if you suck at the catch part. I think I was nearly taken out at least twice by these two little boys tossing around a full-sized football in the midst of the chaos. Again, where are your parents? I would never let Claire and Zora do something like that(especially since right now Claire and Zora playing catch would mostly be Zora getting hit in the face). I'm pretty sure it's against playground rules, anyway. As I mentioned in a previous post, I am a habitual (heavy on the bitch) rule follower. It pains me to see others breaking such simple rules.
All joking aside, what is wrong with people who take their kids to the park and then set them loose? I'm not saying you have to chase after them, but shouldn't you at least keep an eye on them? This isn't even appropriate at a dog park with four-legged children. Why would it be appropriate with the two-legged ones? Please, keep tabs on your kids. I don't want them to push my kid down, but I really don't want them to be snatched.
Even though going to park can be trying and tiring, it is a great distraction from the Great Distractor, TV(similar to the Great Oz, but with more people working things behind the curtain). We hardly watched any TV this week because we had so many other things to do. Yay! I'll beat you, yet, TV.
I will share them with you now, because I know you are on the edge of your seat.
1. Children have no awareness, or desire to become aware, of the line. I like to call it the "queue" because it feels very European. The kids at the park on Saturday not only cut in line, they literally(like actually, not literally like the teens say) pushed others out of the way. Which brings me to my second life lesson...
2. Children who push other children out of the way to use the slide do not have parents anywhere nearby. These apparent park-orphans run a-muck with no regard for rules and order. They will knock your child down right.in.front.of.you. You will want to knock them out, I mean down, to give them a taste of their own medicine. See next life lesson.
3. Knocking another child down, even if they have knocked your child down, is improper and will likely cause the previously orphaned child's parents to come flying onto the scene. Now, I didn't discover this first-hand. I just observed.
4. Little boys like to kiss little girls on the playground. This one was a shocker. Claire was dismounting the slide when a little boy who was likely at least three times her age, planted a kiss right on her cheek. If you are saying, "awwwww," don't. I didn't like this one bit. I try my hardest to keep Claire from touching other kids. Keeping one's hands to one's self is an equally important life lesson. Of course, my library mom friends get a good laugh when I yell, "don't touch that child, Claire." She's like a bull in a china shop. Anyway, back to the drive-by kissing. First, this kid had so much snot on his face...I can't even think of an analogy for this one. Second, where are your parents? Third, just ew, and at least buy her a juice box. Keep your germs and your lips to yourself. Claire just looked stunned.
5. If you are looking to steal a child (which I am not advocating) the park is the place to do it. There were so many nomadic children moving from structure to structure with no parent in sight, it was amazing. I tried counting the parents sitting on benches and allocate at least a handful of kids to those adults but by my calculation every adult there must have been a Duggar because they all had at least 20 kids.
6. When you steal this child at the park, don't worry about the kid screaming and blowing your cover. When we left the park Claire lost her mind. She was tired, she was hungry, and she wanted to stay at the park and at least be tired, hungry, and sliding. She screamed like a banshee. She sounded like the peacock impression my sister does(if you've never had the pleasure, you're in for a real treat) but without the break. It was amazing. I thought for sure we'd draw at least a glare or two. Not a single soul looked our way. You might be asking yourself why this is a problem. Well, if my child is screaming, I want at least one person to look me up and down and remember what I'm wearing, what my child is wearing, and what car I'm getting into. Why? Because if my child is being abducted, I want someone to notice. Look, it might sound all worst-case-scenario, but I don't care. I'd much rather someone annoy me a little by giving me a judgey look than no one notice the time that it's not me taking my kid from the park. See, this is where park moms become quite handy. They're always up in your business. I think I just had one of those Oprah "Ah-ha" moments.
7. If you are waiting your turn for the baby swings, don't just stand there and stare awkwardly until someone gets uncomfortable and leaves. Seriously, this happened. An addendum to this would be don't stand and stare and say to your toddler, "sorry, honey, we just have to wait until someone gets done." That someone won't be me. I waited 30 minutes for one of those swings to free up and now Zora is delighting herself by practicing running in mid-air. So, lay off, lady. No wonder these kids can't wait their turn. Their parents, while they may not push you out of the way, will try to guilt-trip you out of the way. Well, I've got news for them, my mother is a prize-winning guilt-tripper who was taught by the queen guilt-tripper, my granny. Your comments have no effect on me. Joke's on you.
8. Don't play catch with a football in the middle of the play structure. Especially if you suck at the catch part. I think I was nearly taken out at least twice by these two little boys tossing around a full-sized football in the midst of the chaos. Again, where are your parents? I would never let Claire and Zora do something like that(especially since right now Claire and Zora playing catch would mostly be Zora getting hit in the face). I'm pretty sure it's against playground rules, anyway. As I mentioned in a previous post, I am a habitual (heavy on the bitch) rule follower. It pains me to see others breaking such simple rules.
All joking aside, what is wrong with people who take their kids to the park and then set them loose? I'm not saying you have to chase after them, but shouldn't you at least keep an eye on them? This isn't even appropriate at a dog park with four-legged children. Why would it be appropriate with the two-legged ones? Please, keep tabs on your kids. I don't want them to push my kid down, but I really don't want them to be snatched.
Even though going to park can be trying and tiring, it is a great distraction from the Great Distractor, TV(similar to the Great Oz, but with more people working things behind the curtain). We hardly watched any TV this week because we had so many other things to do. Yay! I'll beat you, yet, TV.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Vomit? No, no, that's not a good blog title
What does one write about when they've had a pretty boring week? Vomit.
It's gross, it smells, it comes out of children at warp speed.
I know I mentioned last week that Claire was sick. That doesn't really come close to describing what went on in this house for 24 hours. There was puke, there was crying, there was dry-heaving.
I must say that this is the first round of pukes we have had. Claire has been pretty healthy for her first 2 years and aside from a few runny noses and a total of 3 fevers, this kid is the picture of health. So you can imagine how blindsided I was by the remake of the Exorcist that was going on in my living room, bedroom, and bathroom.
After six baths to wash bodies and hair, I was ready to throw in the towel. Thank goodness she was feeling well enough to not heave all over the house on her birthday. Although the illness wasn't done with her yet. She spent most of her first full day as a 2 year old filling her diaper. She was a Bear Care that day, though, so darn...I missed it.
Yeah, it's gross. I'm grossed out just writing this. Thankfully, last week I got to spend a much-needed evening out with some fellow mommies swilling wine and complaining about husbands, etc.
What I discovered over the course of 4 hours and a shocking 2 glasses of wine (I usually only have 1) was that I am not the only crazy person. In fact, other mothers are presently being driven crazy by their children. I was surprised. Why, you ask? Because I always feel like I'm the only person who is learning this stuff as I go. Other moms seem to be so put together. I mean some of them even wear make-up and real pants out of the house (as opposed to yoga pants or pajama pants...don't worry, I'm not leaving the house pantsless).
Whilst swilling aforementioned wine, one mom made a great point that had never really occurred to me in all of my infinite 2 years of child-rearing wisdom. She said that as adults, sometimes we have a bad day at work, etc, and we come home and complain to our spouse, friend, family member, whomever. Our kids have bad days, too. They have days when they're tired, feeling icky, feeling sad, or just feeling frustrated. Our kids, unlike us, cannot vent to their chosen soundboard. I don't know about you, but my toddler has never said, "Hey Mom, can you draw me a bubble bath and get me a nice ice-cold chocolate milk? I had a rough day at school."
If she did say that, I'd surely accommodate her because I would know what she was feeling. Instead, I get ear-piercing screams, body-flinging fits, and big, real tears. What do I do? I get upset with her for having a meltdown and sometimes she even gets time out.
Since we started using time out I have tried to not punish emotions because I want her to feel free to express any and all emotions so that we might work through them when she gets older. Right now we're still working on things like keeping her fingers out of her nose. Despite my best efforts, I know I have punished for emotions.
So, I have decided to institute a practice that my sister and her husband use. They have a "crying chair." Whenever their daughter is having a meltdown, she goes and sits in the crying chair until she is done crying and ready to talk about whatever made her melt. She's 5, so self-reflection, while still a new concept, is not impossible. It seems to work and at least they feel like they are doing something for her.
For the past week when Claire starts to do that scream/yodel/whale call thing that she does I ask her if she needs a minute to herself. A few times she proceeded to melt in spite of my question. But, a few times she went in her room and sat in the time out spot. I didn't tell her to go, I didn't even mention time out. A few minutes later, she emerged with a handful of books and a smile.
All of that being said, this isn't news to a lot of parents and I certainly don't think I've figured out some magic formula, or that my child is the picture of behavioral perfection. I just wanted to share yet another week of my daily life.
Claire is now a famous Sprout TV Sproutlet...okay, maybe not...but her birthday card was shown on-air on her birthday and Kelly and Chica wished her a happy birthday. She was thrilled. There'll be no dealing with her now. Oh well, I have to say that more exciting things happen everyday on Fireman Sam than have happened all season on The Walking Dead. Sprout - 1, AMC - 0.
It's gross, it smells, it comes out of children at warp speed.
I know I mentioned last week that Claire was sick. That doesn't really come close to describing what went on in this house for 24 hours. There was puke, there was crying, there was dry-heaving.
I must say that this is the first round of pukes we have had. Claire has been pretty healthy for her first 2 years and aside from a few runny noses and a total of 3 fevers, this kid is the picture of health. So you can imagine how blindsided I was by the remake of the Exorcist that was going on in my living room, bedroom, and bathroom.
After six baths to wash bodies and hair, I was ready to throw in the towel. Thank goodness she was feeling well enough to not heave all over the house on her birthday. Although the illness wasn't done with her yet. She spent most of her first full day as a 2 year old filling her diaper. She was a Bear Care that day, though, so darn...I missed it.
Yeah, it's gross. I'm grossed out just writing this. Thankfully, last week I got to spend a much-needed evening out with some fellow mommies swilling wine and complaining about husbands, etc.
What I discovered over the course of 4 hours and a shocking 2 glasses of wine (I usually only have 1) was that I am not the only crazy person. In fact, other mothers are presently being driven crazy by their children. I was surprised. Why, you ask? Because I always feel like I'm the only person who is learning this stuff as I go. Other moms seem to be so put together. I mean some of them even wear make-up and real pants out of the house (as opposed to yoga pants or pajama pants...don't worry, I'm not leaving the house pantsless).
Whilst swilling aforementioned wine, one mom made a great point that had never really occurred to me in all of my infinite 2 years of child-rearing wisdom. She said that as adults, sometimes we have a bad day at work, etc, and we come home and complain to our spouse, friend, family member, whomever. Our kids have bad days, too. They have days when they're tired, feeling icky, feeling sad, or just feeling frustrated. Our kids, unlike us, cannot vent to their chosen soundboard. I don't know about you, but my toddler has never said, "Hey Mom, can you draw me a bubble bath and get me a nice ice-cold chocolate milk? I had a rough day at school."
If she did say that, I'd surely accommodate her because I would know what she was feeling. Instead, I get ear-piercing screams, body-flinging fits, and big, real tears. What do I do? I get upset with her for having a meltdown and sometimes she even gets time out.
Since we started using time out I have tried to not punish emotions because I want her to feel free to express any and all emotions so that we might work through them when she gets older. Right now we're still working on things like keeping her fingers out of her nose. Despite my best efforts, I know I have punished for emotions.
So, I have decided to institute a practice that my sister and her husband use. They have a "crying chair." Whenever their daughter is having a meltdown, she goes and sits in the crying chair until she is done crying and ready to talk about whatever made her melt. She's 5, so self-reflection, while still a new concept, is not impossible. It seems to work and at least they feel like they are doing something for her.
For the past week when Claire starts to do that scream/yodel/whale call thing that she does I ask her if she needs a minute to herself. A few times she proceeded to melt in spite of my question. But, a few times she went in her room and sat in the time out spot. I didn't tell her to go, I didn't even mention time out. A few minutes later, she emerged with a handful of books and a smile.
All of that being said, this isn't news to a lot of parents and I certainly don't think I've figured out some magic formula, or that my child is the picture of behavioral perfection. I just wanted to share yet another week of my daily life.
Claire is now a famous Sprout TV Sproutlet...okay, maybe not...but her birthday card was shown on-air on her birthday and Kelly and Chica wished her a happy birthday. She was thrilled. There'll be no dealing with her now. Oh well, I have to say that more exciting things happen everyday on Fireman Sam than have happened all season on The Walking Dead. Sprout - 1, AMC - 0.
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