A day to remember...

            October 21^st, 2013…a day to remember. My morning began with a quick decision to pull a U-Turn on the highway to reroute to Biggby. I’ve recently fallen in love with the Peppermint Tea Latte, one of my many guilty pleasures. I pull up to the drive-thru…

Me: “Can I have a peppermint tea latte please, grande?”

Biggby girl: “I’m sorry we’re out of mint.”

Me: “Umm, okay, I will have a Salted Carmel latte.”

Biggby girl: “Oh my gosh, we’re completely out of that too.”

Me: “Uh, wow, is this your first day? Umm…I’ll have the…uhhh…Cinnamon Spice latte please.”

Biggby girl: “Oh, I’m sooo sorry, we are out of that too. I’ll make you your drink for free.”

Me: “Mocha latte.”

And then I drive up to the window with a scowl on my face.

Biggby girl: “Sorry for the confusion, did you say peppermint tea latte? We have that. You can have both drinks, no charge.”

And my wonderful day began! My body would be full of artificial flavorings and lots of caffeine, just the way I like it! I arrived at work early (unusual for me) and the door was held for me, the caffeine allowed me to actually get some work done not daydream about a nap all morning, and everyone around me seemed more chipper than usual for a dreary Monday morning. Maybe I was just more chipper, probably the caffeine. Anyway, my day progressed quickly, also unusual in my line of work, and a lunch date was in the works with Mr. Wonderful. Adam had asked me to meet at a locally owned restaurant, purely out of his curiosity regarding the sign out front asking, “Who is John Galt?” But nonetheless, a midday date with my husband is a rarity so I’m always up for good food, good company, and NO KIDS!  Lunch went well, Adam told me that he planned on cleaning the house today when he got home…COULD THINGS GET ANY BETTER TODAY? It’s the small things that rock my world! Two free drinks from the coffee shop and my husband cleaning my house?  Like I said, a day to remember!

After lunch, I headed back to work. Surprisingly the second half of the day flew by just like the first and I was headed home. As I walked in the door with the kids, the smell of freshly grilled steak put another smile on my face! Dinner was fabulous, the kids actually ate, nobody cried all night, and Mr. Wonderful even set and cleared the table! Anyone thinking twilight zone? The curtains had been taken down throughout the house and washed, not a single kid toy could be seen, laundry was all washed, the sink was empty…I may be dreaming! Eventually, or maybe before dinner, it’s all a bit of a blur (probably still the caffeine) I walked into our bathroom to see our large over the sink mirror so cloudy that I looked like a ghost as I tried to see myself. I asked Adam what had happened to the mirror, I had just cleaned it two days ago.

Adam: “I don’t know, I used your green cleaner and it streaked everything up.”

Me: “My green cleaner? What’s that?”

Adam: “That green cleaner you made.”

So I found the bottle of “green cleaner.” The bottle had some green on it, which must be where the “green cleaner” came from, and yes, I had made the contents…but it was not cleaner, it was fabric refresher. Essentially, homemade Febreze, sprayed all over the counters, sinks, and mirrors! Contents included fabric softener, baking soda, and of course water, nothing too harmful, but definitely not glass cleaner! And…no  more twilight zone! Don’t’ worry, my day was still wonderful…he went back and re-washed the mirror, it’s sparkling now!

 

Excuse me please...

It was one of those days, one where you hope that your children (and husband) come down with a sudden allergic reaction to the cat only so you can give them Benadryl and not feel guilty about it. A nice little nap for everyone else in the family would have done mommy a little good. I realize that sometimes it’s just not in the stars to have any time for myself, but a little time to clean the kitchen or wipe down the bathroom sinks would have been great.  Our day started a little late when after a late breakfast, Adam decided that 11:30 AM would be a great time to begin our regular Sunday journey to Menards. I warned him…I pleaded with him…”Maybe we should wait until after lunch and naps to go to the store? I knew pulling the kids out of their normal routine of lunch at noon then naps to follow was a perfect recipe for a disastrous trip to town. You may be wondering about Adam’s response to my plea…. “I’m sick of planning our lives around the kids’ schedules. We can go now.” I tried to be positive, and out the door we went.

Needless to say, our trip was horrendous. Portions of this trip included Adam and I splitting up in the store, each with a kid in tow, racing through the store to get everything that was on the list that I had lost somewhere during the time I had to run back to the car to get a towel to clean Ben and Presley off after they spilled their drink all over themselves in the cart. Oh, and a fabulous trip to the public restroom only to find that we were a few skidmarks too late and Benji’s Superhero themed underwear had to be taken off and stored in a spare pocket inside my purse. (I remember when my purses didn’t have pockets…miss this!) After our necessities were paid for, we raced home…the speed limit is 55?

We tried to feed the kiddos a late lunch, unsuccessful. Presley screamed, cried, exactly what 2 year olds do when they are BEYOND tired. While Adam fell asleep on the couch, Benji filled up on some lunch, I tried to calm Presley.  Keep in mind I have no patience left and if it was acceptable I would have locked myself inside my imaginary soundproof bedroom and watched Keeping up with the Kardashian’s for the rest of the day…alone. I hear this isn’t acceptable as a parent…so I trudged on. I changed Presley, carried her up the stairs and began to sing her sleep time song (Twinke Twinkle Little Star)…and then it happened. I felt something under my foot. I lifted up my foot, still singing, and looked at the human feces that was smeared all over the bottom of my foot and the carpet of her bedroom. OMG! So, that’s why she came downstairs this morning carrying her diaper. She took it off to poop on her floor, and for me to step in. I think this was premeditated.

Excuse me please, for I need to go wash the poop off of my foot.

Thanks Dad

Thanks Dad. Thanks for never taking a day off work. Thanks for making me proud of our last name. Thanks for the road trips. Thanks for teaching me how to play shortstop. Thanks for being so critical of my driving. Thanks for letting me ride on the back of your motorcycle and thanks for teaching me how to ride my own motorcycle. Thanks for taking me to work with you on ‘Take your Child to work day.” Thanks for the many lectures of clouds types and evaporation. Thanks for saying, “You look beautiful” on the night you escorted me for homecoming court. Thanks for loving my mom.

While at work recently, I met with a child and asked all sorts of questions about his home life, school life, and listened while this bright young man talked. My meetings with young children always end with me saying, “I’ve asked you a lot of questions and listened to everything you wanted to say, now do you have any questions that you would like to ask me?” Usually the kids say “no” and the meeting ends shortly after, however this young man answered “Yes.” He asked me a question that tugged on my heartstrings and has left me consumed with the thought of how lucky I have been throughout my entire life. He asked, “Did you grow up with a Dad in your house?” Of course, my rules during these meetings with children are that we can only talk about the truth, so I answered honestly, “Yes, I did.” And then, while looking down at his shoes, he asked, “Was it fun?” Again, I answered, “Yes, it was.” And the meeting was ended. Just two simple questions from a 9 year old and my thoughts have been consumed by those few simple words. He was one of those children that was smart enough to know what he had missed out on, and even smarter to not dig deeper about what he has missed.

The questions made me want to go hug my dad, however we’re not what you would call a “huggy” family. The questions also made me think about how many children grow up without a father in their homes, and how many children grow up without ever speaking to their father. It seems that my “normal” of being raised in a family with two parents who were married to each other and two older brothers who watched out for me, and a family that still loves each one another is not so normal anymore.

So, Dad, thanks for “normal.” Thanks for mowing my lawn every week. Thanks for buying me a crappy little S-10 that I fell in love with when I was 16. Thanks for rescuing me every time I run out of gas. Thanks for buying me pot-bellied pigs when I was in third grade. Thanks for taking such good care of your parents in their old age. Thanks for being such a good Grandpa to my kids. Thanks for bonding with my husband over a beer, nap, and baseball game in your living room every Sunday. Thanks for being my Dad.

Supervising wood cutting
Spring 2013

 

Who's Your Favorite?

            Yesterday was great, Adam and I got home from work and we had no obligations, no plans, just a night in with the kids. We had a wonderful meal of leftovers that the kids shoved around on their plates for 15 minutes and then we read a few books after dinner. Adam and the kids wrestled, and then we sat on the couch to relax before the kid’s bedtime. We watched tv, the kids played, it really felt like one of those evenings that we will think about some evening when Adam and I become “empty-nesters.”

            Now if any of you know my husband, you would know that EVERYTHING is a competition…and if you know me, you would know that I always win those competitions! Adam enjoys torturing our children by asking them who their “favorite” is and then tickling them until they are gasping for air when the much predicted answer of “mommy” leaves their sweet little lips. Whether they enjoy being tickled or not, it’s obvious who their favorite is…always mommy, a little something that I love more than anything in the world, and another sure fire win in the scorebook of Adam and Jody’s competitions!  Well, I have to say that I was a little shocked when the answer was NOT “mommy” last night.

Adam: “Presley, who’s your favorite?”

Presley: “Mommy!”

Adam: “Ben, who is your favorite?”

Ben: “Bob Seger.”

            Really? Bob Seger? He’s started preschool, he’s a big kid now, he worries about being cool in front of his friends, he can write his name by himself…and Bob Seger is his favorite. My lil boy is growing up and I’m not sure that I’m ready for this! Today Benji was invited to go to a football game with a friend, and then I received a text message from the friend’s mother saying, “Ben doesn’t want to come home yet, can he spend the night?” His first sleep-over! He has leg hair and he FINALLY wipes his own butt. He’s practically a man! As hard as it is, I know that he has to grow up and I have to allow that to occur naturally. At least I still have my lil girl, and I’m definitely still her favorite…for a few more years!



Presley and I got to spend the day together recently, she has no idea who Bob Seger is and I intend to
keep it that way for a little while longer!

 

It's been a while...here's an update

            It’s been a while, a long while, but my excuse is that my job sucks the life out of me, and then I have to use my reserve fuel tank (often a caffeinated vitamin or a double shot latte) to get through the evenings with my children who never seem to be tired. I think Ben may be a vampire, however this isn’t yet confirmed, he never sleeps. Lately I’ve caught him awake in his bedroom with the lights on packing numerous backpacks for school, emptying his dresser only to find the one pair of pants that is two years too short for him to wear to school the next day. Apparently he loves preschool, he lets me put his pajamas on him after his shower and then after I put him to bed he gets dressed for the next day. Then there’s Presley, who is lately on a “OMG I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT MOMMY HOLDING ME ON HER EVER-GROWING HIPS AND I’M GOING TO SCREAM AND CRY IF SHE PUTS ME DOWN” phase. Trust me, it’s easier to hold her! I know what you’re thinking…stop judging! So, yes, my children are WONDERFUL!

            I’ve been keeping myself busy this summer with a wonderful garden that produced plenty of food for the raccoons and my family to share, especially since the children would prefer ground up eyeballs, pig tails, and hooves (in the form of a hot dog) to a nice meal of squash, green beans, or potatoes. Ben enjoyed “helping” me in the garden, I’m quite sure that several carrots, green beans, and watermelon were lost to his feet, but it was fun nonetheless. Presley spent much of her time in the evenings while I gardened sitting in the grass screaming because she wasn’t being held. She’s such a princess.

            Also this summer I’ve been training for a half-marathon. Don’t pretend to be impressed, the majority of my training has included pushing a running stroller with Princess Presley riding along and Benji riding his bicycle next to me. You can imagine that I did not get very far…ever…especially anywhere close to 13.1 miles! So, the race is this coming weekend, and I’ve logged about 6 miles in the 6 weeks or so that I’ve been training, I feel so accomplished.

            Softball season was officially ended without any bloodshed between my wonderfully once in shape but now all he does is pushups husband and myself. He says it was the last year of our summers being occupied with fastpitch softball, but I don’t believe that he’s ready to give it up and join a golf league quite yet.

            Now that Benji is in preschool and Princess Presley is starting to talk, I hope to have some great stories to share. I apologize for the long absence, I miss writing every day, but I feel that rest is probably much healthier than the dose of caffeine that would be needed to bust out a 500 word story!

 

The Jiggle

            Yes, I’m that parent who allows my three year old son to pee outside…and yes, sometimes this occurs in public as he’s not quite learned that dropping your pants to your ankles so everyone can see your bare butt is embarrassing. I just wanted to start off with that disclaimer so nobody was shocked or appalled with the following. So tonight, while at a softball game for my niece, Benji shouts out from the top of the bleachers where he was climbing, “I gotta go potty!” The question that always follows this by any parent after scanning the property for a bathroom and not finding one is, “pee or poop?” I should state that there was a porta-potty, however I have a very serious phobia of those things and avoid them like the plague.  Anyway, I was relieved to hear him answer pee, we quickly ran across the street and hid behind a truck and peed into the weeds…and when I say we, I mean Ben urinated in the weeds, not me! He peed, and peed, and peed some more, I was not aware that his bladder could hold a gallon and a half of liquid, but apparently, it can. So after Benji was finished taking care of business he just stood there, keep in mind he’s almost 4, I shouldn’t have to remind him to pull his pants up, but I did anyway.

Me: “Let’s go bud, pull your pants up.”

Ben: “I am”

Me: “No you’re not, you’re just standing there, let’s go!”

Ben: (after a few more seconds of standing half-nude then finally pulling his pants up) “I was waiting for the jiggle. I always wait for the jiggle then I can pull my pants up.”

And then he demonstrated “the jiggle” which appeared to be a full body twitch that apparently all men have when finished taking care of business. The discussion about the jiggle was so nonchalant, I had no idea how to respond, so I didn’t, just smiled and then of course ran to tell my own mom about it!  It never fails, as soon as I start to think that I’ve got this parenting thing under control, a statement jumps out of Benji’s mouth that makes me question how I’m ever going to raise a boy! It also seems like statements like this always happen when daddy isn’t present. I’m quite positive that Adam would have had the perfect response to “the jiggle.”  

It Won't Work...

My goals for the evening:

1. Feed my kids something that isn’t pre-packaged.

2. Vacuum the living room.

3. Fold the laundry.

Adam successfully took care of goal 1! Dinner finished, kids in bed, I make two trips through the entire house and come to the realization that a burglar has broken in and taken the vacuum cleaner. It’s gone, forever. I’ll file the insurance claim for that a little later. And goal 3, well…I just sent a text message to my  niece telling her that there’s $25 in the pot if she wants to clean my house…and she’s in! So, the way I see it, all of the goals will be met….tomorrow! As for my writing, I haven’t done it in a very long time as my mind has been preoccupied, but I’m ready tonight…I think. Here’s my story…

 

As some of you have read before, many of my summer weekends are occupied at the ballpark “supporting” my husband. Now, before the kids, these games and ball tournaments were a great time as it wasn’t uncommon for me to be lounging in the outfield with an icy adult beverage in my hand watching my husband hit homeruns and gossiping with the other girlfriends about who was getting married next or who would be the first to be pregnant.  But in recent years we’ve all had babies and we’re all married…and now we tell stories about who’s kid pooped in the potty and what the best diaper rash cream is. So, here’s my poop story.

We’re on our way home from what seemed like a very long weekend and Adam and I were positive that Benji and Presley would sleep the entire way home providing a nice quiet break for the adults in the car. Well, Benji was asleep in the car before we could even get his seat belt buckled, and Presley…well, she just screamed the whole way home…”Mom, Daddy…Mommy…Daddy…Mom, Mom, Mom….MOMMY…” But about 25 minutes into our trek home, Benji wakes out of a dead sleep screaming, “My butt hurts, MY BUTT HURTS.” After a series of questions it was determined that he had to poop, bad. We have struggled with this child for a very long time, he does not like to poop and gets very upset with his butt when it does poop (I don’t understand, don’t ask), so when he tells us that he has to go, we’re on it like white on rice! Adam pulled off the side of the road, the action was going to have to take place in the weeds, we were on some back country roads with no gas stations in sight. It was a no go, nothing, darn butt. We buckle back in, begin to drive and then….again, it hurts, “IT’S COMING OUT.” So, again, we pull off the side of the road, I go to retrieve Benji out of the car, Adam digs through the trunk for wipes…and then he says it, “I HATE MY BUTTTTTT!!!.” “IT WON’T WORK, IT’S NOT COMING OUT, I DON’T WANT MY BUTT ANYMORE.” And I finally figured it out, this is why potty training has been such a struggle, his butt is defective, it will not work, and he doesn’t want that butt anymore. We’ll be on the hunt for a new butt soon, I hope we can find one that is a little more cooperative, sure would make this potty training thing a little less stressful.

I got a 'prise for you...

            My Monday morning started off with a crying 3 year old not wanting his mommy to go to work. He did not want to go to school, he did not want daddy to stop at the store and give him a chocolate pop-tart, and he definitely did not want me to go to work. Let me tell you, it’s never a great start to the day when you already feel guilty about something before 8 AM.

            Around 10:00 AM I sat and listened as an upset single mother pour out her guilt to me about not having enough time to spend with her kids because of the responsible decision she’s made to work full-time to financially support her family. I assured this woman that later in their lives her kids would appreciate the fact that they had a responsible mother who worked hard to support the family singlehandedly. As the words were coming out of my mouth, it almost felt like a lie. As a child, I had the best of both worlds, my mother was a school teacher so she had three full months off with me each year, Christmas vacation, spring break, everything, yet I was still able to see her work very hard in a full-time position to provide for the family. Not all children have school teachers as parents and I often feel like my kiddos are being raised by our daycare provider. Luckily she is amazing and is more of a grandmotherly figure than a daycare provider, and the small bits of time that I do get to spend with my children is very much quality time, however I still feel guilty about the lack of physical time that I have with my family. Working outside the home is however a conscious decision that I’ve made, honestly I think I may go stir crazy if I were a stay a home mother. Bless the women that are patient enough to make this their job, many times it is easier for me Monday-Friday to go to work than the weekends that I have my children for 48 hours straight!

            Once again on this day, I was reminded of the conscious decision that I’ve made to work outside of the home and the impact that it has on my kids. It was nearing 8:00 PM and here’s what happened:

Me: “Benji, go brush your teeth and go potty, it’s almost bedtime.”

Benji: “Okay.”

Benji: (after racing back into the living room with his hand behind his back) “I have a ‘prise for you!!!”

Me: “Ooooohh, what is my surprise?”

Benji: “You don’t have to go to work anymore!” (And then he pulled a $5 bill out from behind his back.) “Money! Now you don’t have to go to work to buy money.”

    And then I gave my lil man a huge hug and thanked him so much. Adam witnessed this and was a little upset that Ben had found his $5 bill on the sink in the bathroom and watched it disappear into my pocket (where it still resides.) I proceeded to explain to Ben that I really appreciated the money, but that I still had to go to work. I also told lil man that if I could stay home all day, every day and have fun with him and Presley that I would. He had been so proud of his findings that he once again disappeared and returned shortly with a handful of change to give to Adam. So once again, my child has brought me to doubting one of my very important life decisions of working outside the home. I fully intend to remain in the workforce outside the home, but I do sure as hell wish that $5 would get me as far in life is a 3 year old believes it can!

Where did the Confidence Go?

            I distinctly remember being about 10 years old, maybe 14, who really knows, and not afraid of anything. There was no fear in jumping off the school bus and racing to the horse pen only to jump on the back of one of my less than cooperative horses with no saddle, no bridle, nothing. I wasn’t scared to fall off and it never worried me that I was home alone unsupervised and at any time something horrific could have happened and nobody would have known until my mother arrived home from work.  I was fearless in all of the sports I played and never backed down even though I was often one of the shortest people on the team. Slide head first into home plate with a 300 lb catcher…no problem! And when I turned 21 and was able to go to clubs, I never failed to walk through the doors knowing that I was the hottest girl in the bar and if necessary I could beat the tar out of any other snotty girl that said otherwise, or at least take off my 4 inch heal and hit her with it!

            So, now I’ve celebrated the 4^th anniversary of my 25^th birthday, been married for over 4 years and not without some battles, have two wonderful children, survived 4 moves into new homes in less than one year, have tackled a new job, run a half marathon, made some new friends, taken up some new hobbies, and learned how to use the grill (finally)…and I wonder, where did the confidence go? It seems like I’ve accomplished some pretty spectacular things, at least in my own opinion, and yet I walk into a club now and feel completely out of place, put a helmet on when I ride a horse, and sliding in softball or diving in volleyball…simply out of the question! I gained a few years and many more amazing experiences and apparently lost my coolness, or maybe gained a sense of reality. I’m not quite sure which it is, maybe I’m stuck somewhere in the middle.

            I went for a long run tonight, alone this time, because I wanted to think. I thought about how it was when I didn’t have these fears, no sense of real life, and no real responsibilities other than going to the gym and making sure my dog was fed twice a day. It was okay to have some dishes in the sink, and it was okay to skip a day of school or work to watch re-runs of 90210, and sometimes it was even okay to have a beer before going to work! And now…rush home from work, make dinner, wash the kids, put them in bed, do the dishes, get the laundry clean (who cares if there’s no time to fold it), and then…if I’m lucky enough to have any energy left…a glass (or bottle) of wine for the night. And although I’m able to tackle all of that in a couple of hours, it’s still sometimes difficult to get back on the horse!

Ferdinand

It was bedtime for Benji, I was not really in the mood to do much of anything but drink a glass, or bottle of wine. Presley had pooped on the floor, stepped in it, picked it up, then smeared it on her leg about 30 minutes ago. Oh, and then the dog tried to eat it. Don’t worry, Adam sat in the chair gagging, that was helpful…but the last thing I wanted to do was read books to Benji.  He so sweetly asked if I would read him a book, so of course I couldn’t say no without feeling intense guilt for the next three days for knowingly depriving my child of a chance to learn…so, “sure buddy, only one book tonight though, mommy is tired.” He excitedly ran to one of the many bookshelves that we have in our house, he picked up an old, worn book that looked a little rough around the edges. I stood up to see what it was because I did not recognize it which is unusual because I was quite positive that I had read all of the hundreds of books that we have in our home at least 89 times each. It was The Story of Ferdinand, my favorite book from my own childhood. I remember making my mom read this book to me several nights in a row, and I am quite positive that I now know what she was feeling every night when she read to me. After a full day of work and never quite feeling rested, the last thing that sounds appealing in the evening is reading the same children’s book that you read the previous 14 nights. But she did it, because I wanted her to, and because she realized the importance of the quality time and reading to children. Initially I wasn’t too excited to go read, all I could think about was how lonely the bottle of Moscato was looking in my fridge. (Stop judging me.)  As I carried Benji to bed with The Story of Ferdinand in his hand, I began to remember my old bedroom, and my mom sitting next to me reading this exact book. This exact book that started with me, was handed down to my nieces and nephews, and now has found its way into my home and to my own child’s bed. I couldn’t help but to smile a little and read with just a little more excitement than I usually do.  As I read the words, I felt like my mother. The person that I idolized as a youngster and couldn’t stand to be around as a teenager. The person that carried me for the first few years of my life because I screamed if anyone else held me, and the person that I screamed and slammed doors at when I was 14.  I felt a connection tonight, although she wasn’t here, I felt what she felt when I was reading. There’s nothing stronger than the love that a mom has for her babies…babies of any age I’m sure, even the babies that grow to slam doors in your face and “hate” you.

It's like toilet water.

            The evening started off as many of our evenings have lately…Presley insisting on being carried on my hip until dinner time and screaming at the threat of being placed on the floor or in a chair and Benji requesting “different colored cereal” (Apple Jacks…duh!) for dinner…not once, not twice, but 14,002 times within a half an hour. Oh, and to top everything off, Adam is sick, so as much as he tried to pretend to help, he was fairly useless.  Oh, and by sick I mean a runny nose…which for a man is apparently comparable to a woman having diarrhea, vomiting, and giving birth to twins with no epidural all at the same time. Anyway, I hope he feels better soon. J As the night crept on, dinner was finally finished (and it was NOT different colored cereal), we sat together as the wonderfully chaotic family that we are, and then it was time for a quick work out before it was time to come back and put Presley to bed. As Benji and I returned shortly from our run, as you can imagine we didn’t make it very far as a three year olds little legs fatigue quickly, it was time to get Presley into her pajamas. It was apparent that Adam was too unwell to do this…he really should rest.  Presley was dressed in her sleeper and very unhappy about it, she has just recently figured out that a change of clothes in the evening means bedtime and she is far too grown up at age 1 for a bedtime, unfortunately for her and Benji  I need some kidless time for wine therapy at night.  Presley had several songs and a long session of the “mom sway” in my arms before she was laid down in her crib, tonight this was pointless as she is continuing to scream as I write this, there is no consoling a one year old that has the intellect of a teenager.  Continuing on with my evening with a “fake it til I make it” attitude…it’s almost Ben’s bedtime and then I’m FREE, I began to urge Benji to get his jams on, potty, and brush his teeth…of course he’s not tired either. He is a big kid and he’s “tired from going to sleep, it takes too long” (whatever that means.) While I was arguing with Benji to take his clothes off and get his pajamas on, Adam was able to make it into the bathroom to look at himself in the mirror…it’s important for a man to have a visual of how sick he really is. I followed him in, found some Nyquil and demanded that he take it, “It’ll help you feel better!” To my surprise he took the medicine and walked to bathroom sink where he planned to put his sickly mouth under the faucet to fill his sickly mouth with water to swallow the pills, and then he found IT! By this time I had walked back out of the bathroom to continue negotiating with my three year old about putting his pajamas on.

Adam: “BEN! Get in here, what is this doing in here?”

Ben: “What?”

Adam: “Right there, look, what is that doing in the sink?”

Ben: (Giggling) “I didn’t do it.”

Adam: “Why the hell would you do that?” (We don’t make a habit of swearing at our kids…usually)

Ben: (laughing harder)

Adam: “Get it out…now.”

Ben: “No.”

Okay, enough dialogue….but it was a turd. Yes, a turd. Not a big one, but a turd nonetheless and it must have been picked out of the shart stained superhero underwear by hand and placed in the sink. Why the sink? No idea. My mother who I’d like to think is an expert on child behavior (weird that she was never an expert on my behavior), always tells me that as a child’s body is physically growing, their brain tends to stop…and when the brain is growing, the body is stops. So…I have noticed that Benji’s pants are ALL very short on him lately, so it’s confirmed…his body is growing, and his brain has temporarily shut off. Who the hell puts a turd in the sink? I have to brush my teeth there, that’s like brushing my teeth with toilet water. Well, not really…but sort of and I’m forever grossed out by the turd in the sink. Adam was finally able to swallow the pills and now….as I finally finish my story, the whole house is quiet. Time for a bottle of wine therapy!

The Other Parents

            They have red hair. Their shirts are grey. They drive a red car. Their only job in life is to cook spaghettios and chicken nuggets. They are both boys. They live in “the other neighborhood.” Only boys can go to their house, they chase girls away. They put “sparkles” on Ben’s shirts when he visits. No mommies can  go there because the road  to their house is blocked. There are lots of other boys there to play with. They have red elbows…because they colored them red.  Who are these wonderful sounding beings? Well, they are Ben’s “other parents” and that is precisely what their name is…”my other parents.” Ladies and gentlemen, our family has entered a new stage in life and rather unexpectedly…Ben has developed imaginary “other parents.” Presley is not invited to their house, because she is a girl. Their house is full of fun things to do and when you arrive at their house, assuming you are a boy because they only allow boys into their home, you walk down the stairs and the main living space is a family room in the basement. Yes, the details are very elaborate, and comical at times. These other parents allow Benji to do things that his biological parents don’t allow…such as extra ice cream after dinner, which always consists of spaghettios and chicken nuggets apparently. And they teach him how to do push-ups while elevating his feet upon yoga blocks. They have also taught him different techniques to build things when playing with play dough. These guys sound like great parents! So, why does my son have a new set of red-headed gay parents who are women haters? I have no idea. At this point I’m not quite sure if he’s becoming a paranoid schizophrenic or using these “other parents” to manipulate his way into another bowl of Superman Ice Cream, I hope it’s the latter.

            After talking to a few friends and co-workers, the intense changes that little Benji has faced in the past few months were brought up. Changes that would not necessarily affect an adult, but could greatly impact the way a young kiddo views the world. I began to think about what is different…within the past few months we have moved to a new house in the country from a house in a neighborhood, daycare has changed locations, daddy rather than mommy does most of the transporting to and from daycare now, a grandfather that Benji was used to seeing almost daily now visits less frequently since the move, mommy got a new job, and our daily routine has been hectic lately. Yes, these are things that adults face often, but not usually all at once, now imagine a 3 year old trying to make sense of all of this! And there you have it, he’s created a second set of parents that cook him the food he likes, play games and play dough with him, live in a neighborhood, and have lots of friends for him to play with when he visits! They are much more reliable and stable than his biological parents right now…I’m just not sure why they are red headed gay men, maybe someday we’ll be able to figure out that piece of the puzzle!

Spaghettios won't cause brain damage...

                As I’ve probably mentioned several times within the past few months, I’ve recently started a new job that is always high stress, never dull, usually very sad, and seldom rewarding.  Within these few months in this job I’ve seen children living in filthy homes, kids covered with bed bug bites and sleeping in infested bedding, children with broken bones, homes with only a beer in the refrigerator…no food, and a few kids that just like to tell very concerning stories that are often far from the truth and very embarrassing for their parents. Working in this job every day has taught me a few things about my own children…

1. Frozen pizza or spaghettios once a week won’t kill my kids, I’ve found that they actually love me more when I feed them these items!

2. Keeping them up a few minutes past their bedtime (often for some extra snuggle time) doesn’t ruin their schedule permanently.

3. Skipping a nap on the weekends isn’t all that bad…especially if time is spent playing with cousins!

4. Being dirty is fine…bathtime will roll around in a couple of hours!

5. It’s okay for kiddos to hear or see mommy and daddy disagree sometimes…yes, I said MOMMY AND DADDY!  Many children are not fortunate to have both in their lives, mine are.

So, the days when I’m too tired to read 2 books at night, I have learned not to let myself feel too guilty about reading just one to the kiddos, and spaghettios won’t cause long-term brain damage…I hope. 

Yoga Time

            There’s nothing like a child to make you feel a little bit guilty. Adam and I arrived home about the same time today, which is highly unusual, but it worked out perfectly. Benji jumped out of Adam’s car and quickly ran to my car to inform me that “daddy’s car won because it has nitrous.” Now, there was a time when I believed that my husband’s previous vehicle, a kia sportage, was fully equipped with nitrous…until I learned that it was just a passing gear, however I’m very positive that our family Durango does NOT have nitrous! Anyway, I let Benji go on believing daddy’s story. After informing me of the questionable substance used to race mommy’s car home, Benji ran to help Adam unload wood. He was obviously full of energy today. After loading and unloading wood, Ben finally came into the house and walked onto my yoga mat, which had remained on the floor from the last time I did yoga, which was….maybe 2 nights ago. As I’ve said before I’m not in the running for best housekeeper this year! Anyway, Benji asked to do yoga which surprised me because he had only done it with me once before and lost interest very quickly. I informed him that he could do yoga, however he would have to do it alone because I needed to get dinner ready, he agreed. I found my P90X Yoga DVD and pressed play, he began and continued for 15-20 minutes. Rather than getting dinner around, I sat my lazy butt in the chair and watched him. As entertaining as it was, I was quickly reminded that my 3 year old son was energetically performing advanced yoga while I was sitting in the lazy boy! After he was finished he said, "I'm tired with yoga, I feel like I need a snack and I think it needs to be candy." Instead of candy I jumped up as soon as Benji was finished, got dinner around, which consisted of a frozen pizza and dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets (today happens to be Adam’s and my 4 year anniversary…yes, this was our anniversary meal.) After a couple slices of pizza and a handful of dinosaur nuggets, I was feeling incredibly lazy and very full of processed foods. Who ever thought of molding chicken parts into the shape of dinosaurs anyway, why not process them into the shape of chickens? After dinner was cleaned up, baths had been given to the kiddos, and a few other mundane household chores were completed, I felt it necessary to restart the P90X yoga video for myself. This time it was me, a little less energetically, but performing yoga nonetheless, while Adam sat in the lazy boy. I’m quite sure that he didn’t feel the guilt, and I don’t think I’m as entertaining to watch, but it wasn’t long before he left the room and I had 30 minutes of peace and quiet to myself…and a few animals who always feel the need to be a part of everything I do. As I sit here, again on the couch, I’m still feeling that I need to do something more to outdo my 3 year old. Maybe I’ll hold off for tonight and convince myself that I’ll wake up at 5:30 AM to run a few miles!

I'M NOT SICK!!!

            The relationship between siblings is not one that can be described as “typical” or “average” or anything else that we hear on a daily basis when parents talk about their children. Growing up in a sib set of 3 and being the youngest by a great margin, the relationship that I once had with my brothers is not the relationship that I have with my brothers now, and the relationship that I currently have with one brother is completely different than the relationship I have with my other brother. The bond that siblings have, or in certain cases, the lack of a bond is private and intimate, and not something that is really ever verbally discussed, but physically displayed among one another, but I’m not sure that as a parent, you can ever really know how your children feel about each other.  As you all know, I have two children, one boy and one girl and as I have often said…they love each other. I’m always very impressed with how caring Benji is with his sister, and although he feels the need to tattle on his baby sister for pushing him (keep in mind, she’s 1 year old), he takes care of her. It’s not uncommon for me to happen upon him sharing food, toys, and games with her, and tickling her to “make her laugh” if she is crying about something (usually the fact that Benji is in her face and she is annoyed.)

            Last week, I truly realized how blessed I am and how thankful I am to have two kiddos that are so close. I realize that I will most likely be singing a different tune in a few years, but I felt the need to write about this now so it could forever be remembered…and shown to my children when they are 16 and 18 and are fighting about who gets to use the car on Saturday night. A couple of weeks ago the cold, or flu, or “it’s viral, we can’t prescribe anything” type of sickness rolled through our home. Presley first, and then a few days later, Benji.  Adam agreed to take the day off to stay home with our sick cowboy. Well, our sick cowboy did everything his three year old mind could think of to convince Adam and me that he WAS NOT SICK! Although he had a fever from hell and continued to vomit continuously while screaming…obviously he hates to vomit, he WAS NOT SICK! With good reason, we didn’t believe him and couldn’t figure out why he didn’t want to stay home and watch movies all day while Presley went to daycare. He was upset, more than upset, and sad. As I explained to Benji that I was going to take “Pooey” to daycare so he could relax and watch movies all day with Daddy and not have to worry about her stealing the remote, he cried and wanted to go “get his dress on” (this is what he calls getting dressed…someday when I get over the humor of this statement I will address the fact that he needs to re-evaluate what he is actually saying.) As I was putting Presley’s coat on her, Benji yelled out, “she can’t go to school without me, she’s too little.” I’ve always known that Benji loves his lil sister Pooey, but it wasn’t until this moment that it really struck me how much he cares about her and her well-being. Benji was truly upset and concerned that he needed to be around her to watch out for her. I know that once he is at daycare he pays no attention to his little sister, but the fact that he is so aware that he is able to watch out for her hit a nerve in the “mom” part of my heart.

You need to pick up your room...

            As I walked into Benji’s bedroom tonight, it appeared as if a tornado had preceded me. I have never claimed to be a great housekeeper and it is not uncommon to witness my house in disarray, but what I saw in Ben’s room was much, much more than a few toys out of place. I really should have taken a picture, but I was instantly transformed into cleaning mode, and Adam was at my side…and Ben mostly watched us. I did, however, make him put his books away that were scattered all over the floor. Along with the books, there was an entire dresser drawer full of clothes, play dough along with 356 play dough accessories, preschool workbooks, blankets, ripped up board game boxes with the contents scattered everywhere, a batman mask along with several other super hero costumes, action figures all over the bed,  and a ripped up Christmas gift bag of which the origin I don’t know since we’re currently nearing February. My description does not necessarily give a good picture of what the floor of this bedroom looked like, but trust me…it was definitely a fire hazard. After a few minutes of intensive organizing the room was livable, still not perfection, but livable. I began to lecture Benji on keeping his room neat and picked up, still he sat on the sidelines and watched us…I assumed that everything I was saying had gone in one ear and right out the other. Our conversation was as follows:

Me: “Ben, you can’t leave your room a mess every time you come up here to play.”

Ben: “Awwww..”

Me: “It’s been a mess for too long, you need to pick up your room when you get toys out. These books need to be put away before any tv is turned on tonight.”

Ben: “Awww…”

Me: “PICK UP YOUR BOOKS.”

Ben: “Oookay.”

Me: “What happened in here anyway?  This is ridiculous.”

Ben: (throwing his hands down in disgust) “Well, I started to turn into the Hulk.”

            And with that, I laughed. Just when I begin to think that my child needs to have more of an imagination, he throws something out there that is just amazing! I told Benji that although that was probably the best excuse that he had ever given me, and my favorite of all time, he still had to clean up. Adam informed Ben that Hulk cleans up his room, Ben disagreed of course. So, I’ve learned a few things from this… first of all, Benji will not be allowed to wear his Hulk costume or mask while unsupervised in his bedroom….ever again! And secondly, I learned that he’s going to be an excellent excuse maker as he grows up, but at least I got a good laugh out of this one! The teenage excuses make me nervous, but I have a few years before I really have to worry about that.

The Perfect Team

                The more my husband and I grow in our marriage, the more I begin to realize that we were meant for one another. I mean, you always believe that you’re soul mates initially when everything is butterflies and rainbows and every song that plays on the radio seems to be about your relationship, but then you get married…and it’s hard, and not always butterflies and rainbows, and you realize that many of those songs that you thought were so great are actually about heartbreak. I cannot speak for all marriages, but I know that my husband and I have been through some rough patches that have made both of us question our initial “soul mate” status. I’m thankful that Adam and I both faithfully believe in the institution of marriage and have “stuck with it” for lack of a better word. There’s never been a question as to where the love is, however sometimes it seems that the frustration overshadows everything…but still we’ve kept on keeping on, for better or for worse right?

            Well, it occurred to me recently that I may or may not be a terrible housekeeper and my lack of organizational skills in my home is evident to anyone that has come over unannounced, or at times even announced. This is something that was blatantly obvious to Adam the first time he ever came to my house…when I refused to let him inside. I was sure that if he saw my housekeeping skills he would be long gone. He chose to accept me anyway, although I’ve found my things stashed in the trash can or hidden in the basement on more than one occasion when he becomes a little more than irritated with my mess. Yesterday though, I realized that after nearly 4 years of marriage, I’m sure this is going to work out and we’ll still be arguing over the unorganized refrigerator and my clothes on the bedroom floor when we’re 87 years old.  Yesterday, Adam called me while I was at work and asked if I could pick the kids up from daycare because he was cleaning the house. Although irritated, I agreed to pick the kids up. My anxiety kicked in when I realized that it was nearing trash pick-up day and my things were scattered through the house and he was “cleaning” which often means throwing things away that are in the way.  When I finally arrived home with children in tow around 6 PM, I was pleasantly surprised to find dinner almost ready, a fire going in the fireplace, the entire house organized, the dishwasher running, and the trash can; not overflowing with my things! It was then that I realized that we are indeed, soul mates. We are the perfect team. And we will forever be extremely compatible…I’m excellent at making messes, and he is excellent at cleaning them up!

25 Miles out of the way

Typically, driving 25 miles out of the way would cause severe irritation, frustration, and an incredible urge to skip breakfast and stop at McDonalds to fulfill my calorie intake for the day, but today was different. After our recent move that I’ve mentioned in previous posts, it was decided that my husband would now be Mr. Mom and take the kids to, and pick up from daycare because it was much nearer where he works than where I am currently working. I was more than elated! Finally, Adam was going to understand what I go through every morning…the rush of getting two kids around and still trying to make it to work on time. At first, it was amazing to wake up and only get myself ready. I wasn’t sure what to do with all of my spare time…so I slept in of course! It was great. I woke up refreshed, the house was quiet, I had time to make coffee and take a long, hot shower. I had NO responsibilities!

For a few days I was able to fulfill my “motherly instinct” by packing the kid’s clothes for the next day in a “to-go-to-daycare” bag, and preparing a snack box full of fruit, granola bars (Koala bears as Ben calls them), and juice for the car ride to daycare…but then when the snack box was coming home full I realized that the kids didn’t really need that, so I stopped. After a week, I missed my kids and packing their clothes ever night was not quite enough “mom” time for me. I was getting home from work around 5:30 pm, rushing to make dinner, then putting the kids to bed shortly after. It was weird, I wasn’t aware that I would ever miss someone that lived in the same house as me and I’m starting to become a little nervous about how I will handle the time when my kids go off to college or move out of the house.  I decided last night that although it would be much easier for my husband to take the kids to daycare, I needed to be involved too. I would drive the extra 25 miles in the opposite direction if that meant that I was the one that could wake them up, prepare an actual breakfast, and give them their “goodbye, I love you” hugs at daycare. So this is what I did today, it may not be able to happen every day, but as much as I complained about having to do EVERYTHING in the mornings, I missed it when I wasn’t able to do ANYTHING. So, my solution to missing my kids?  Spend an extra hour with them in the mornings. Although there may not be much dialogue in the mornings with my grumpy Benji and my less than verbal Presley, I didn’t realize how much I missed that time until I didn’t have it anymore. I’m so thankful that I’m able to have the option to spend more time with my kids, even if it is only an extra hour…I realize that not all parents have that luxury. So, today was perfect. I was more focused at work as I wasn’t sitting daydreaming about my children all day, and I feel better about seeing them tonight as I won’t have to smother them with constant hugs and kisses for an hour because I missed them all day! Today, I am so thankful for my extra 25 miles out of the way!