Archive for the ‘life’ Tag
December 02 2010
I’ve been a mother for over 7 years now. In all honesty, most days I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I have learned a few things, though.
- If you tidy up one room, the others just get messier
- Keeping your house clean for longer than 10 minutes is a lesson in futility
- Hearing “I love you” from your child never gets old
- Nothing ever goes as planned
- Car rides are no longer relaxing; they are stressful and possibly reek of vomit
- No toy is ever as fun as the box it came in
- Your kid will inevitably roll his eyes at the grand excursion you’re excited to take as a family
- Mothers do have superpowers, such as noise-tuner-outer and clairvoyance
- It’s amazing how fast siblings laughing together can turn to tears
- Your toes, they will be kept upon
- Accept help: whether from your kids, family, or friends
- It’s fun to splash in puddles, it’s even more fun to splash others
- There is bound to be someone out there who thinks you’re parenting wrong
- If your kids are quiet, check on them
- You may wish your kids to be older when they’re babies, only to wish they were babies again when they’re older
- What you used to find annoying in other people’s children, you may now find adorable in yours
- No two kids, even when related, are alike
- Potty-training sucks
- Kids like to be pantsless, especially when company’s coming over
- There are good days and there are bad days: the good days are pretty good, the bad days are really bad
- Contrary to what your younger self thought, “Because I said so” is, in fact, a suitable response
- Just when you think you have it all figured out, you realize you still have no clue
November 23 2010
Dear Mirena,
How are you? I hope this letter finds you well. We’ve been through some times, you and I. On the surface, our courtship was wonderful. In fact, I barely even remember you’re there on most occasions. The promises you made when we first got together after the birth of my daughter have been kept. It’s been almost too good to be true, actually.
At first, we were so giddy together. You’ve never given me any trouble, aside from some light spotting on occasion. You seem to like surprises and I’ve learned to go with the flow. Pardon my pun.
Recently, however, I’ve began taking more stock in my feelings. The truth of the matter is, I think you’re making me crazy. Moody, upset, irritable, lack of interest. I wouldn’t say depressed, exactly, but definitely not happy. Not to mention the acne of an oily 14 year old girl, my hair falling out in sprawling clumps, and a perpetually bloated 4 month pregnant appearance that by all accounts should have gone away by now. It’s your fault I’m ugly and mean, Mirena.
Upon doing some research, I found that you were like this with a lot of girls. I don’t know why I never put the two together before. You could have at least warned of your incompatible ways. It might have saved me from a few, let’s just call them “episodes”.
Which is why I scheduled an appointment to have you removed from my life. It’s not you, it’s me. Well, it is you, actually. Or at least I hope it is. Because I’m really looking forward to feeling like myself again.
It was fun while it lasted, kind of.
Me
November 18 2010
The overwhelming consensus from mothers of school-age children is that it isn’t fair to write about their kids now that they’re in school. Once they have a life of their own, it’s time to leave it to them. I agree to an extent. The fact that I try to keep their identities protected might give an inch more leeway, but the details of what happens to my son while immersed in the land of worksheets and recess are his. Which is why I had a fight with myself over whether to post this little tidbit. Except it technically isn’t what’s happening at school, but at his bus stop. Loophole!
My 7 year old Jedi has a crush on a little blonde girl at his bus stop.
“Oh, that’s Brandy!”, he remarked excitedly, the first day we saw her there. “She has a cute laugh! It’s the cutest laugh in school!”, he kind of nervously revealed. “Can I go stand next to her?”, he asked. Sure, I answered, though a tad insulted that I could so easily be replaced.
There he stood at her side until the bus came. She didn’t pay a lot of attention to him, but he continued smiling, anyway.
The next day, when we saw her again, he repeated devotedly, “Isn’t she cute? Do you think she’s cute? She has such a cute laugh!” I’ve been replaced ever since, instead planting himself next to Brandy, my son’s first apparent object of elementary affection. She still doesn’t pay him much attention, but he’s persistent and doesn’t seem to mind. I want to tell him it’s going to happen a lot, girls are funny, you might want to get used to it. But it seems we both have some things to get used to.
November 16 2010
For his birthday, Jedi received the game Battleship. We’ve played it online together quite a few times. I had asked for the electronic version since I thought that might be easier for him, but my parents got the original setup instead. The one with the familiar little gray boats that need aligned with pegs just so lest they fall out. Whoever designed the new vertical stand that comes with the game needs a lesson in practicality for kids.
Suffice to say, it took 30 minutes for Jedi to position 5 little boats on his board, and those boats continued to fall out of place the duration of our battle. Our friendly game almost ended in a disgruntled tear-filled tantrum on more than one occasion.
After awhile, though, as naval war marched on and we were already immersed in strategy and boat-bombing, he became accustomed to simply putting his playing piece back on the board once it fell off. And fall off a lot they did. As was the theme of the game. I just assumed he was putting them back in the same location.
After striking 2 hits on one of his boats, then finding nothing else nearby, I crinkled my brow in confusion. “Did I sink your little submarine?”
“No, those are misses now”, he informed. “That one fell off so I put it somewhere else.”
My son, THE CHEATER, then had the audacity to mock me. “I think you’re going to lose”, he teased. Really? You think? He plays innocent, but he knew what he was doing. On that note, I wonder how he’d react if I just happened to drop his shelf of video games then hide them somewhere else? All is fair in love and Battleship, and it’s on now, kid.
November 15 2010
Saturday morning, the first thing I did was remark on how rested I felt. Now, this was not an amazing 8 hours of sleep rested. More like, I forgot how nice it can be when my daughter doesn’t wake me up 20 times a night rested.
The next thing I did was wonder how sad it was that I think being woken up 5 (6?) times a night makes for a decent stretch of sleep.
In all honesty, I awoke that morning with an energy I hadn’t felt in months. Where I’ve been accustomed to feeling like I’d rather crawl back under the covers, I was instead ready to go. The majority of my day wasn’t spent half-dozed in front of my laptop, but being productive. My daughter and I read books together, multiple times over. I even managed to sympathize with Buzz’s outbursts in place of raising my voice. I broke up fights without yelling. I gave hugs and played tag and divvied out cupcakes. I was cheery and laughing and damn right chipper, considering.
If I didn’t know better, I could have sworn I could fly.
Which isn’t to say that I still didn’t have my moments. But I wasn’t wallowing in my normal fit of despair before 11 a.m. My head managed to stay above ground until almost 3. That’s 4 extra hours of being present. Of being the kind of mother I wish I was more often.
All because my daughter didn’t wake me up the night before as much.
It’s been so long, I don’t even know how I’d react with 8 full hours of sleep. If I can feel this accomplished after still being riled awake every hour, though, just imagine the possibilities. It’s a scary thought, actually.
