Let me put down my glass of wine freshly filled from the tap. Yes, I am drinking wine from a box. Parenting three children requires a box. Bottles just will not do.
The inspiration for this entry of the 'truths' of parenthood comes fresh from the nostrils of my littlest babe. I just got done picking the biggest boogers from her teeny little schnozz. This prompted me to think of the things we do as parents that are absolutely shocking to others, whether they're parents or not.
This list is not all-inclusive, obviously, though it is based 100% on truth.
1. I drown out my children's sobs as I extend their nostrils to their very limits getting every last booger out of their noses. I pick any and every booger I can. It makes me feel like a success.
2. I will wait out my husband's arrival home in order to avoid changing a nasty poopy diaper and then pretend the dirty deed just happened.
3. I dole out an extra 1/2 teaspoon of cold medicine in hopes that my children might sleep a little better. I don't feel guilty.
4. I have eaten food that my child has spit out.....without even noticing.
5. I let my eldest daughter watch "Gossip Girl" until the first sex scene. If it never happens, she watches the whole show. She claims it is her favorite show on TV.
6. I ask my children to get me another beer. (and they know which kind I drink)
7. I will let my children watch two hours of TV or a movie just so I can read stuff on the internet or make dinner.....or just do nothing at all.
8. I let my son sit in his booster seat with no pants (or diaper) just because it's easier than fighting him. This is not the only thing I give in about. He also stands on the countertop and spends 30 minutes washing his hands and feet in the toilet.
9. My children don't bathe nearly as often as they should because it's a pain in the ass. I tell them it's because I don't want their skin to dry out.
10. I would rather catch puke in my hands than have to clean it out of the carpet. Nothing makes me run faster than a child who is sick.
On the other hand, while I sound like a shitty slacker parent, I love the absolute crap out of those kids. I hate to see their tears, I hate to hear their cries, and I hate to see their hearts hurting. I would do anything to let my kids know that they are the reason I smile when I'm sitting in the chair staring into space. They are my pride and joy, and every moment I share with them, no matter how rocky it seems at the time, is another moment that I couldn't imagine spending any other way. Parenthood makes you do and say things you never imagined you'd do and is, by far, the most important thing I'll ever do in my life. So while I drink my wine, my heart grows wistful to see their little faces again in the morning and know that they love me like none other. And guess what, so do I.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Confession #6: I drink during dinner.
On the nights that I make dinner for my family, which is most nights, I have to drink to survive. This confession is quite simple: I can hardly stand listening to the whining and complaining emanating from the mouths of my sweet, young babes.
I will NOT make dino chicken nuggets, pizza rolls, or noodles every single night of their lives, and this obviously causes major angst among the 5 and under set. How dare I put together a well-balanced meal incorporating all the food groups? How am I to expect them to eat more than two bites? How dare I ask my children to try something that is not dipped in a hot vat of oil and served in a paper sack? Maybe I should try that next time. Sit in the car in the garage for 10 minutes, walk in, hand them my delicious homemade chicken noodle soup out of a Schlotzsky's bag, tell them I paid $25 for dinner, and then watch them scarf it down. Nothin' else I'm doing is working.
So, the moral of this story? I drink to survive. It's the only way to handle dinnertime on our block. Please excuse me while I go fix another grape vodka and Sprite Zero.....as dinnertime has only just begun.
I will NOT make dino chicken nuggets, pizza rolls, or noodles every single night of their lives, and this obviously causes major angst among the 5 and under set. How dare I put together a well-balanced meal incorporating all the food groups? How am I to expect them to eat more than two bites? How dare I ask my children to try something that is not dipped in a hot vat of oil and served in a paper sack? Maybe I should try that next time. Sit in the car in the garage for 10 minutes, walk in, hand them my delicious homemade chicken noodle soup out of a Schlotzsky's bag, tell them I paid $25 for dinner, and then watch them scarf it down. Nothin' else I'm doing is working.
So, the moral of this story? I drink to survive. It's the only way to handle dinnertime on our block. Please excuse me while I go fix another grape vodka and Sprite Zero.....as dinnertime has only just begun.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Confession #5: I'm gonna miss this.
Please be prepared for the sentimental, sappy thoughts that are prevailing today. If you don't like emotion, it's time to go to someone else's blog for the day.
I was in the bathroom today, looked at the dinosaurs that were watching me, and I sighed at first at the fact that there were toys in the bathroom. Then I smiled. I was in the shower today, saw two dinosaurs watching me, and sighed that there were toys in the shower. Then I smiled. I thought to myself, "Some day you're going to miss the dinos."
*(pause for sniffling and a few tears being shed.....)*
There are so many things about my itty bitty children that I'm going to miss in the next few years, not to mention when they've all moved out of the house. Here's just a random sampling:
*The handprints on the windows
*The toys everywhere: counter, pantry, drawers, bathroom, car, etc.
*Q drinking cheese out of plastic containers
*L helping me bake (really just to lick the beaters, but I don't care)
*Seeing H's smiling face when I get her from her crib in the morning
*Clapping when my little boy goes potty on the toilet
*Helping my kids pick out their clothes for the day
*Solving their problems with a hug and a kiss
*Getting a smile just by singing "I love you, a bushel and a peck!"
*Hearing a little voice shout, "LOOK AT ME!" as he or she does something silly or amazing (or dangerous!)
*Having all children believe in Santa
*Being able to spell the words I don't want the kids to hear
*Picking little boogers out of little noses
*Hearing Q say "dy-soars" for dinosaurs, and "booty" for Sleeping Beauty
*Helping little hands get washed in the sink
*Having children come out of the woodwork to shout at me when they hear the phone ring
*Watching L read books and photo "ottoms" to Q
*Having a dance party in the kitchen when the kids are just a little too crabby
*Naptime
*Hearing little baby noises when H is eating
*Watching Q get mad at the washer because its lid slammed on my hand....yet again
*Seeing all of our bedroom pillows on the landing as the kids play fort or picnic
*Hearing people tell me that I have my hands full. Because when they stop saying that, it means my kids are too grown up to be considered a handful anymore.
With parenting comes the fair share of crabbing about doing everything for your children and having no time to yourself. They need you for almost everything. Their needs are never-ending. Their needs are oh-so-urgent. Yet I know that they won't always need me, so I am going to revel in this time of their lives make sure they know how much I need them, too.
I was in the bathroom today, looked at the dinosaurs that were watching me, and I sighed at first at the fact that there were toys in the bathroom. Then I smiled. I was in the shower today, saw two dinosaurs watching me, and sighed that there were toys in the shower. Then I smiled. I thought to myself, "Some day you're going to miss the dinos."
*(pause for sniffling and a few tears being shed.....)*
There are so many things about my itty bitty children that I'm going to miss in the next few years, not to mention when they've all moved out of the house. Here's just a random sampling:
*The handprints on the windows
*The toys everywhere: counter, pantry, drawers, bathroom, car, etc.
*Q drinking cheese out of plastic containers
*L helping me bake (really just to lick the beaters, but I don't care)
*Seeing H's smiling face when I get her from her crib in the morning
*Clapping when my little boy goes potty on the toilet
*Helping my kids pick out their clothes for the day
*Solving their problems with a hug and a kiss
*Getting a smile just by singing "I love you, a bushel and a peck!"
*Hearing a little voice shout, "LOOK AT ME!" as he or she does something silly or amazing (or dangerous!)
*Having all children believe in Santa
*Being able to spell the words I don't want the kids to hear
*Picking little boogers out of little noses
*Hearing Q say "dy-soars" for dinosaurs, and "booty" for Sleeping Beauty
*Helping little hands get washed in the sink
*Having children come out of the woodwork to shout at me when they hear the phone ring
*Watching L read books and photo "ottoms" to Q
*Having a dance party in the kitchen when the kids are just a little too crabby
*Naptime
*Hearing little baby noises when H is eating
*Watching Q get mad at the washer because its lid slammed on my hand....yet again
*Seeing all of our bedroom pillows on the landing as the kids play fort or picnic
*Hearing people tell me that I have my hands full. Because when they stop saying that, it means my kids are too grown up to be considered a handful anymore.
With parenting comes the fair share of crabbing about doing everything for your children and having no time to yourself. They need you for almost everything. Their needs are never-ending. Their needs are oh-so-urgent. Yet I know that they won't always need me, so I am going to revel in this time of their lives make sure they know how much I need them, too.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Confession #4: My mind is twisted.
Now, if you know me, this is not surprising to hear me profess. I am a little bit crazy. Hopefully it doesn't evolve into something "institution-like," but I'm not ruling out anything. (especially when I'm in the kitchen running my mixer, the sink in the water, listening to a football game being viewed too loudly, a crying baby, and two whining kids asking for a snack)
Okay, so here is the reason I am crazy and twisted: I consider doing things that are inexcusable by society and would love to be able to execute them sometimes without a guilty conscience.
1. Run errands in my robe.
2. Lock my children in their rooms for an entire day.
3. Organize every single family member's closet by color (Okay, this one has already been done.)
4. Not strap my kids into their car seats. What a pain in the ass they are!
5. Just serve my children cookies for every meal until they run out. One batch would go a long way!
6. Put a bow in Quinn's hair and take him out in public.
7. Refuse to make my child lunch to avoid delaying naptime any longer.
8. Wrap the kids (the older two at least) in bubble wrap and roll them down the stairs.
9. Buy them the annoyingly loud toys they ask for....just to make them happy.
10. Not sign my child up for any organized sport, activity, or lesson just to keep life 'simple.'
11. Enter a child into a beauty pageant contest....just to see what would happen.
12. Refuse to pick up after anyone for an entire week.
13. Run out of gas just to see who would come to my rescue on the side of the road.
14. Say "yes" to everything my children wanted for a day....just to see what would happen.
15. Send myself on a vacation for a weekend....just pack my bags and go with a kiss goodbye to my husband. Oh, I don't even know where I'd go!
Those are the things, the thoughts, the general wonderings that cross my mind during the course of a typical week (or so). Some of them I would truly consider doing, and might do, if I knew no one would find out. What have you ever considered doing that would be frowned upon or considered to be a violation of wifely or parental rules? Please leave comments so I know I'm not alone!!!!
Okay, so here is the reason I am crazy and twisted: I consider doing things that are inexcusable by society and would love to be able to execute them sometimes without a guilty conscience.
1. Run errands in my robe.
2. Lock my children in their rooms for an entire day.
3. Organize every single family member's closet by color (Okay, this one has already been done.)
4. Not strap my kids into their car seats. What a pain in the ass they are!
5. Just serve my children cookies for every meal until they run out. One batch would go a long way!
6. Put a bow in Quinn's hair and take him out in public.
7. Refuse to make my child lunch to avoid delaying naptime any longer.
8. Wrap the kids (the older two at least) in bubble wrap and roll them down the stairs.
9. Buy them the annoyingly loud toys they ask for....just to make them happy.
10. Not sign my child up for any organized sport, activity, or lesson just to keep life 'simple.'
11. Enter a child into a beauty pageant contest....just to see what would happen.
12. Refuse to pick up after anyone for an entire week.
13. Run out of gas just to see who would come to my rescue on the side of the road.
14. Say "yes" to everything my children wanted for a day....just to see what would happen.
15. Send myself on a vacation for a weekend....just pack my bags and go with a kiss goodbye to my husband. Oh, I don't even know where I'd go!
Those are the things, the thoughts, the general wonderings that cross my mind during the course of a typical week (or so). Some of them I would truly consider doing, and might do, if I knew no one would find out. What have you ever considered doing that would be frowned upon or considered to be a violation of wifely or parental rules? Please leave comments so I know I'm not alone!!!!
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Confession #3: Blameshifting 101
I blog to you from the comfort of my leather recliner....sporting nothing other than my beloved walking pants....completely ignoring the huge piles of laundry that need to be put away....to revel in the calm of the dark morning while basking in the glow of the Christmas tree lights. Ahhh....this is the stay-at-home trophy wife life!
Here we go on Confession #3: I am raising successful blameshifters. I'm doing a mighty fine job of it, too. I continually marvel at the top-notch ability levels of my older two children to never hold themselves accountable for their behaviors. The baby is just in her apprentice-level phase of life, but I have no doubt that she will excel at this skill as well.
Every situation plays out like this:
Me: Why is this stool in the pantry?
L: Q did it.
Q: I din' do it. L did it.
L: NO I DIDN'T!!!!!!!! Q did it. He wanted to get the cookies down from the shelf, so he scooted it in here, and I just happened to fall on the said stool and accidentally grab down the bag of cookies that we've now been covertly devouring for the past twenty minutes. But Q is the one who brought the stool to the pantry, so I didn't do it.
Me: *sigh*
I sat back to think about why my children absolutely cannot fess up to what they did anymore. First and foremost, they don't want the fall-out of being the one who committed the various offenses. They know that my husband and I believe in consequences, and they will do anything (including lying???) to avoid getting into trouble. Secondly, they have learned this awesome skill of blameshifting from their loving, adoring parents.
Think about it. When you're lucky enough to shuffle your kid off to preschool for awesome learning experiences, we consequently learn how to blame everyone else's kids for various unwanted behaviors.
"L has started lying about things. Must be the kids at preschool. I never lie about anything."
"Q has started biting kids. Must be learning that from someone else's kid."
"L has become more of a smart-aleck than I would like. I am never a smart-mouth to anyone."
"Q and L think shouting, 'POOPY-TOOTY' is funny. Must be the kids at preschool." (Hell, that shit is funny.)
How is it that we would never just attribute it to the fact that it's just what kids do? How is it that we never think of ourselves as role models for negative behaviors, but only the positive ones? It seems to me that the only time I truly want to take credit for the things my kids do is when it's something that would be considered admirable or amazing. No more Blameshifting 101 here.....just Credit-Taking 101.
For example, at last night's Christmas program, the woman who owns the preschool said that she asked the kids in L's class, "What do you love most about Christmas?" She said that most kids said that presents were their favorite things. She said, in front of everyone at the program, "L's answer melted my heart. She said, 'It's my favorite holiday, and we celebrate baby Jesus.'" I was so proud to hear that!
Guess who I patted on the back first? Myself. My husband. Then, in a brilliant revelation, I realized that maybe my kid is just a good kid all on her own, too. So I reached down and gave her a great big hug and told her I was proud of her. I realized that the only time I need to "blame" her for anything from now on is when she does the right thing. Suddenly, whoever put the stool in the pantry doesn't matter so much anymore.
Here we go on Confession #3: I am raising successful blameshifters. I'm doing a mighty fine job of it, too. I continually marvel at the top-notch ability levels of my older two children to never hold themselves accountable for their behaviors. The baby is just in her apprentice-level phase of life, but I have no doubt that she will excel at this skill as well.
Every situation plays out like this:
Me: Why is this stool in the pantry?
L: Q did it.
Q: I din' do it. L did it.
L: NO I DIDN'T!!!!!!!! Q did it. He wanted to get the cookies down from the shelf, so he scooted it in here, and I just happened to fall on the said stool and accidentally grab down the bag of cookies that we've now been covertly devouring for the past twenty minutes. But Q is the one who brought the stool to the pantry, so I didn't do it.
Me: *sigh*
I sat back to think about why my children absolutely cannot fess up to what they did anymore. First and foremost, they don't want the fall-out of being the one who committed the various offenses. They know that my husband and I believe in consequences, and they will do anything (including lying???) to avoid getting into trouble. Secondly, they have learned this awesome skill of blameshifting from their loving, adoring parents.
Think about it. When you're lucky enough to shuffle your kid off to preschool for awesome learning experiences, we consequently learn how to blame everyone else's kids for various unwanted behaviors.
"L has started lying about things. Must be the kids at preschool. I never lie about anything."
"Q has started biting kids. Must be learning that from someone else's kid."
"L has become more of a smart-aleck than I would like. I am never a smart-mouth to anyone."
"Q and L think shouting, 'POOPY-TOOTY' is funny. Must be the kids at preschool." (Hell, that shit is funny.)
How is it that we would never just attribute it to the fact that it's just what kids do? How is it that we never think of ourselves as role models for negative behaviors, but only the positive ones? It seems to me that the only time I truly want to take credit for the things my kids do is when it's something that would be considered admirable or amazing. No more Blameshifting 101 here.....just Credit-Taking 101.
For example, at last night's Christmas program, the woman who owns the preschool said that she asked the kids in L's class, "What do you love most about Christmas?" She said that most kids said that presents were their favorite things. She said, in front of everyone at the program, "L's answer melted my heart. She said, 'It's my favorite holiday, and we celebrate baby Jesus.'" I was so proud to hear that!
Guess who I patted on the back first? Myself. My husband. Then, in a brilliant revelation, I realized that maybe my kid is just a good kid all on her own, too. So I reached down and gave her a great big hug and told her I was proud of her. I realized that the only time I need to "blame" her for anything from now on is when she does the right thing. Suddenly, whoever put the stool in the pantry doesn't matter so much anymore.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Confession #2: Yoga? I don't do yoga.
Me -- cruising through Target with two kids in tow.
Random Stranger Woman (RSW) -- "Oh, where do you do yoga?"
Me -- "Yoga?"
RSW -- "Yes, you're wearing yoga pants. I figured you'd just gotten done with downward facing dog. Hee hee."
Me -- "I don't do yoga. I just am a fan of their pants. Yogettes really know how to live in comfort."
RSW -- "Oh....sorry to have bothered you."
Me -- (thinking to myself) "Maybe I should have lied....she might have been cool to hang out with...."
Here's a secret about me that I don't really keep to myself: I thank God each day when I pray that Old Navy makes yoga pants. Now that they have introduced their new 'walking pants' that have pockets, I truly am living a blissful life around my house and around the town. Finally, somewhere to put the little things I can't carry in my hands without being spotted by my children (i.e. a little handful of M&M's)!!
What I have learned about the aforementioned pants is that you truly can wear them anywhere in this town without getting funny looks or feeling out of place. I wear them to Target, my daughter's preschool, QuikTrip, upstairs, downstairs, and have even worn them to the circus (masquerading as dress pants!). How many pants do you have that rock that same level of versatility? Not many, I'm sure. Jeans just don't have the same comfort level as the stretchy material of the yoga/walking pant.
The point of this blog? There absolutely isn't one. I just had to give homage to my favorite pants and let you know that they have made life as a stay-at-home trophy wife one that just wouldn't be complete without the right mixture of cotton and lycra. In fact, I'm going to go put some on right now, and we'll see if that just doesn't make the day seem a little bit brighter.....or a little bit stretchier at least.
Random Stranger Woman (RSW) -- "Oh, where do you do yoga?"
Me -- "Yoga?"
RSW -- "Yes, you're wearing yoga pants. I figured you'd just gotten done with downward facing dog. Hee hee."
Me -- "I don't do yoga. I just am a fan of their pants. Yogettes really know how to live in comfort."
RSW -- "Oh....sorry to have bothered you."
Me -- (thinking to myself) "Maybe I should have lied....she might have been cool to hang out with...."
Here's a secret about me that I don't really keep to myself: I thank God each day when I pray that Old Navy makes yoga pants. Now that they have introduced their new 'walking pants' that have pockets, I truly am living a blissful life around my house and around the town. Finally, somewhere to put the little things I can't carry in my hands without being spotted by my children (i.e. a little handful of M&M's)!!
What I have learned about the aforementioned pants is that you truly can wear them anywhere in this town without getting funny looks or feeling out of place. I wear them to Target, my daughter's preschool, QuikTrip, upstairs, downstairs, and have even worn them to the circus (masquerading as dress pants!). How many pants do you have that rock that same level of versatility? Not many, I'm sure. Jeans just don't have the same comfort level as the stretchy material of the yoga/walking pant.
The point of this blog? There absolutely isn't one. I just had to give homage to my favorite pants and let you know that they have made life as a stay-at-home trophy wife one that just wouldn't be complete without the right mixture of cotton and lycra. In fact, I'm going to go put some on right now, and we'll see if that just doesn't make the day seem a little bit brighter.....or a little bit stretchier at least.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Confession #1: Fear Follows Me.
I have recently joined the ranks of mother of three children. I never saw myself as a member of this group, but now that I am, I am overjoyed. It's an amazing thing to sit down at the end of the day, look at your blossoming brood, and think, "Wow! They didn't kill me today!"
My first confession is that I see the looks on other people's faces when I enter stores, restaurants, playplaces, etc. with my little trio of fun, and I acknowledge their fear. They see that I am grossly outnumbered, and I can see them getting all judgey and frightened. They presume that my children will destroy said locations. Guess what....I wonder the same damn thing. I have a sassy (but sweet) five-year-old, a volatile (but hilarious) two-year-old, and a two-month-old (who goes from 0 to 60 in two seconds flat). I never have ANY idea how these little ones will act, and I fear them myself, too. I try to present a calm demeanor to not let on the fact that I am terrified that these kids might be little shits in the aisles, booth, or jungle gym. I just cross my fingers and hope for the best....each and every time. To be honest, when we leave the location having experienced WWIII-sized meltdowns, I am not surprised. When we leave, and all has gone well, I am given the false sense of hope that every trip in public will be as pleasant and that we should try this again.....oh, I am continually so naive.
The other part of this confession is that I can also decode what your words means when you say them. I leave the house on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday with only two children. People look at me, cock their heads to the side, and say, "OHHHH, how a-DOR-a-ble....." They think two children is acceptable and cute as heck. When people see me on Tuesday and Thursday with all three, this is the comment I get, "Wow, you really have your hands full!" This translates to, "WTH are you overpopulating the Earth....and taking that crap out into public???" I guess I do have my hands full, but when I look down, all I see is a car seat on my arm and two little hands holding mine, and I realize I'd rather have my hands full than empty.
My first confession is that I see the looks on other people's faces when I enter stores, restaurants, playplaces, etc. with my little trio of fun, and I acknowledge their fear. They see that I am grossly outnumbered, and I can see them getting all judgey and frightened. They presume that my children will destroy said locations. Guess what....I wonder the same damn thing. I have a sassy (but sweet) five-year-old, a volatile (but hilarious) two-year-old, and a two-month-old (who goes from 0 to 60 in two seconds flat). I never have ANY idea how these little ones will act, and I fear them myself, too. I try to present a calm demeanor to not let on the fact that I am terrified that these kids might be little shits in the aisles, booth, or jungle gym. I just cross my fingers and hope for the best....each and every time. To be honest, when we leave the location having experienced WWIII-sized meltdowns, I am not surprised. When we leave, and all has gone well, I am given the false sense of hope that every trip in public will be as pleasant and that we should try this again.....oh, I am continually so naive.
The other part of this confession is that I can also decode what your words means when you say them. I leave the house on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday with only two children. People look at me, cock their heads to the side, and say, "OHHHH, how a-DOR-a-ble....." They think two children is acceptable and cute as heck. When people see me on Tuesday and Thursday with all three, this is the comment I get, "Wow, you really have your hands full!" This translates to, "WTH are you overpopulating the Earth....and taking that crap out into public???" I guess I do have my hands full, but when I look down, all I see is a car seat on my arm and two little hands holding mine, and I realize I'd rather have my hands full than empty.
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