nor will my body for that matter.
Today is Parker's birthday. What better way to mark the anniversary of the birth of your children than by reminiscing about how ridiculously awful their entrance into this world was. Wait- am I the only one who does that? Surely not. I have always heard people say that you forget all about the pain once you lay eyes on those little blessings. I call bullshit. Was it worth it? Of course. Do I remember every minute of the hellish 17 hours of labor? Nope, but neither have I forgotten the pain!
Way back when I was just a child of 19 and preparing to give birth to Will, the hospital where I would be delivering required you to pay for your epidural in advance. Feeling very much like, 'this is what my body was created for', I opted against one. Right before I went into labor, I remember telling my mom that since she had five kids, I knew childbirth couldn't be that bad. Her response? "Oh honey, I was knocked out when you were born. The whole family knew what you were before I even woke up." Yikes. This did NOT sound promising, but again, I fully believed in my ability to give birth without an epidural- and I did. I did have a couple shots of stadol. I'm not sure in what dimension that is supposed to block the pain of your uterus turning inside out, but whatever.... Mostly they just made me see double. At any rate, I not only survived labor and delivery without an epidural, but it wasn't anything that I felt like I couldn't handle. I only lost my cool once- when I overheard my grandmother telling someone, "They might send her home." This was after they'd broken my water and inserted internal monitors. The mere mention of going home without a baby turned me into the exorcist. Sooo things I remember about the day Will was born:
1. Trying to stay focused on my 'focal point' while remembering to breathe. During much of this my sister was standing right in front of me with a sympathetic look on her face while she bobbed up in down in front of what I was trying to focus on. On second thought, she might have gotten snapped at too.
2. My mother repeatedly looking at the blood pressure monitor and then taking off running for the nurses. I had mild pre-ecclampsia. Let's just say, Mom didn't help my blood pressure.
3. Being hungry. Very hungry.
4. Finally having the baby and looking at Will for the first time. I was instantly hit with the feeling that he was his own person. My entire pregnancy I'd thought of him as an extension of me. Seeing him and realizing he was more than just my extension was amazing and oh so scary.
5. Begging for a cheeseburger, which I can be seen eating in the videos Vanessa shot. It was a long day for her too ;) But yes, most of the film from after Will's birth is people passing him around while oohing and aahing, and me sitting in bed shoving a burger and fries in my face while looking like a deer in headlights.
6. And finally, Will being taken to the nursery for the night and me being taken to a room to get some blissful sleep. Instead I stayed up all night waiting to lay eyes on my boy again.... Becoming a mother was sobering and scary, but the single, best moment of my life. It was love at first sight...
Fast forward a few years, and I'm expecting Parker. I'll never forget telling Will he was going to be a big brother, and more importantly his reply: You need to get fixed or something. You know like when we took the dog to the vet? Sadly our dog passed away while being spayed. I'm just going to assume Will wasn't thinking about that when he suggested that I go. I'd like to think that he changed his mind when he first held his baby sister, but I think I'd be fooling myself. Just a couple months ago he said, "When it was just me, I got 100% of your attention. Then you had Parker and I was down to 50%. When Jace came along I got 33.333333333% (I'm pretty sure that's the number he used,) of your attention, so it's a good thing you can't have any more or I'd be knocked down to 25%." That's my Willio... always thinking of others hahaha.
Anyway, while pregnant with Parker, I obviously had no intentions of having an epidural because labor and delivery with Will was fine. Throughout the years, I'd even scoffed at friends that had epi's because I thought they were weenies. It's probably occurred to you by this point that Karma would be biting me in the ass at any moment, and yes she did.
Labor with Will and Parker was remarkably similar. With both I started contracting at around 3-3:30 in the morning. Both were born within minutes of each other that evening. One at 7:39 pm, and one at 7:41. (Don't ask me which was which. These are the things I forget.) With both they had to break my water, and with both I was given pitocin to speed things up. Here is where things start to change- With Will I was ok with no epidural. With Parker, I would have traded her for anything that might possibly numb me. I didn't just think that, I actually said it at some point. Thank goodness no one took me up on the offer. I declined stadol because it didn't work with Will and just made things fuzzy. In the end, I went from 7 to 10 in a matter of minutes. Literally, 5-10 minutes. At some point in there they gave me a shot of something. When Parker came out I was pretty much high and afraid to hold her. I had to put a hand over one eye to try to see just one of her. It was bad business. This is where I start to forget, because I don't have a clue what happened for the next few hours, other than the only thing that was truly important to me was that Will be the first person to see her.
Sooooo after the horror of Parker's childbirth, I was NOT going to rule out an epidural when Jace came along. I hadn't firmly decided one way or the other, but it was definitely staying on the table. With Jace I had pre-e again, only this time worse. I started losing part of my field of vision, and so they admitted and induced me at 37 weeks, 5 days. At some point I did get an epidural, for two reasons- 1. Thomas talked me into it, probably so I'd stop yelling at him for just sitting in a chair eating anything he could find in a vending machine while playing on his iPhone, and 2. Because a lot of what happened after Parker was born was a blur, and I kept hearing these stories about women who had epidurals and had glorious, pain free deliveries and actually knew what the hell was going on. Even with Will, the end was just a blur of pain and 'Please God make it end', so I wanted to see what was different.
First off let me say that so far I universally hate military hospitals. There may come a time when I feel differently, but I wouldn't put money on it. With Jace, first of all no one knew how to hook up the internal monitors. Because I was on pitocin and magnesium for my bp, it was important to be able to monitor him... I don't remember how many people were crouched down there trying to hook it up, but I wouldn't be surprised to find out they were bringing in the cleaning ladies to 'have a go at it'. Then came the epidural man. I had been assured that he was the best in the hospital and I was soooo lucky that he was working. Well I'm not so sure, because it took him two tries to get my epidural in the proper place. He then started accusing me of my spine being strange, because clearly he couldn't have just made an error... I don't know if it is or not, but I do know that you don't accuse a woman in labor of anything if you want to keep breathing. Finally with monitors and epi in place, I drifted off to lala land, and I liked it. I can remember as I was drifting off to sleep thinking, "Why didn't I do this with the first two?!" Famous last words.
At some point they came in to wake me up and check me. I had completely stopped dilating after getting the epi. I'd been at 4 when I went to sleep and now 5 hours later, I was still at 4. They bumped up the pitocin, and that's when things started getting crazy. First the internal monitor started going crazy. I think it beeped for at least five minutes before I noticed because the epi had worn off... Oh yes.... Pain, like a mind-numbing, primal, someone put me out of my misery pain, took over my entire body. At this point they are trying everything to get Jace where he can breathe. I spent what seemed like forever on my hands and knees while they tried to reposition him. I'm positive everyone in the hospital was in my room. There were at least 10 people at this point. The horror of all horrors was the fact that my cervix started swelling, and so instead of dilating I actually went from 8 back to 7. I vaguely remember someone giving me a shot in my arm to stop my contractions because Jace couldn't handle them... All this time the monitors were still going crazy, and when I could think, it was, "Why aren't they just getting this baby out?!" Apparently that's because none of the doctors in the hospital at that time were OBs. Yeah... It was a couple family practice doctors. When the OB finally showed up all I can remember thinking was "Praise Jesus, Hallelujah". I think I kissed the anesthesiologist. By the time I hit the OR, everything happened so fast that Thomas walked in right as they were pulling him out. He was completely purple. Thank God he started screaming and turning pink immediately, but to this day I think, 'What if the OB had been any later?!"
So while Jace was off being weighed and measured and all that good stuff, I was left with the doctors who were trying to repair the fact that they cut through my cervix when the made the incision. Oh, and btw I could also feel them sewing me up. Not like, "OMG I have a knife tearing into my abdomen pain!" But I could feel stinging every time they stuck the needle in and I was petrified it would suddenly get worse. The anesthesiologist insisted that I could not be feeling pain.... Since I begged to differ, his answer was to shoot me up with some versed so I'd shut up and go to sleep. Worked for me. We'll skim over the fact that I was severely anemic in the hospital and yet no one checked my blood again before discharging me. That trip back to the hospital a couple days later to be offered a transfusion so that I could walk up my stairs without feeling like I was having a heart attack was fun. You know in movies when someone is bleeding to death and they say, "It's so cold..." Yes, it is.
Soooo how does all this relate to today, Parker's 11th birthday? Because despite ridiculous pain, having total strangers up in your hoo-ha, stretch marks, ever present maternal guilt, and saggy boobs seems like a hefty price to pay, but it's not. I would have given more. I still would. Each of my children is the best part of me and the best thing I ever did. I would die for them. I will love them forever, without fail. I will immediately think of them any time I count my blessings. They are my everything, and the fact that I have given them life, feels like nothing compared to everything they've given me. No matter how many mistakes I've made, no matter whether I deserve them or not, God has given me these babies and they are amazing and the most perfect children for me. They are funny, smart, and perfectly imperfect, and I could not ask for more.
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Monday, November 7, 2011
17 years of experience, and yet I still don't know what I'm doing...
Yesterday I had a nervous breakdown. Just a mini one unfortunately. It would be kinda nice to have one of the major ones that would result in a vacation at the local psych ward where I am sure I would find more sanity than my home offers most days.
Most of my life is spent in a "kumbaya" state of mind where I 'don't sweat the small stuff' and all those other cute li'l sayings that make me wanna vomit on the days when my 'attitude of gratitude' is MIA. Why is it that life can being rolling along nicely and then suddenly you are hit with just an overwhelming feeling that the only thing missing in your life is you?! While 99% of the time I am fine with being known as someone's mom, or SFC Hollen's wife, that 1% of the time when I miss just being me can come out of nowhere and hit pretty hard. Yesterday was one of those days. I really, really hate it when those days hit, because I don't believe in living life wishing for anything other than what I have, but there is a little catharsis in being the one crying, "What about meeee????!!!!!" every once in a while :)
I've been a parent for a while now. Over 17 years to be exact. (Hmmm, I guess "over 17 years" isn't what some might call 'exact', but it works for me, and this is my blog gosh darnit.) In any other 'profession' 17+ years of experience would make you an expert at what you do. When it comes to being a mom, not so much. It's all trial and error, and mostly error. I think most of us have a list in our heads of what we will not do as a parent that is based on our experiences growing up. As an adult, that list shrinks because you realize stuff like having to clean your room isn't a form of torture and/or abuse. There is stuff on my list that I still feel is valid though. I just can't seem to find the middle ground between being the type of parent who would do anything for their children, and being the family doormat. In my quest to try to remember what it's like to be their age, and the value in supporting their dreams even if I know the odds are against them, it seems like I've not done a very good job of teaching them that in this family we are all a necessary part of the team, and no- you are not the MVP. Basically this means I have three kids who have no idea that the world does not in fact rotate around them. My life in a nutshell:
If I lie down, someone needs something. If it's Jace, the older two have either A) suddenly become deaf and can't even hear him asking, or B) help him out but make sure to complain loudly because their TV watching, book reading, game playing, etc. has been interrupted. If I start to jump in the shower, Parker was just headed that way. If I have to use the bathroom, someone else needs to more. If the dog needs to go out, it's ok if I have to completely get dressed first, because Heaven knows that expecting one of your kids to do the same is like a fate worse than death.
You know our current living situation is little old lady in the shoe meets any given episode of Hoarders, but Parker refuses to believe that she can in fact get dressed in any room other than the bedroom. She fully expects anyone who's in there to immediately stop what their doing and evacuate so she can get her clothes on. Will on the other hand, will drop his towel no matter where he happens to be and just yell for everyone to avoid that room 'til he's dressed. Both of them seem to believe that taking their clothes to the bathroom with them and getting dressed there after they shower is foolish and emotional abuse. Jace is just Jace. His middle name is after Thomas' great-grandfather who was nicknamed Boss. Had I known that Jace would feel compelled to live up to that reputation, I would have named him something else... Obviously somewhere along the way I have failed them big time as a parent. What else is new?
What does all this have to do with yesterday's breakdown? I'm getting there, I promise. Yesterday was like any other day. Will and Parker were celebrating the life of leisure that they feel is their birthright, (seriously the princes Wm and Harry probably feel less entitled than my kids,) and Jace was being a holy terror. I had mountains of homework, a house that wouldn't let me rest until it was clean, and a flatulent dog with diarrhea. What happens when you mix flatulence with diarrhea, you might ask. One word: Sharting. FML. Add to that the fact that I am so popular in my home that no one can be more than two steps away from me at any given time, and you get a basket case waiting to happen. As I was trying to get ready to go to a movie (Footloose. Funny stuff, though I'm pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be. Angry ballet, anyone?) the dog needed to go out one more time so I asked Will to take her out. Cue scene of dramatic collapse:
Will: Ok, but I'm not going in the yard because I don't want to get my new shoes dirty.
Me: Well you have to go in the yard because she uses the bathroom in the very back.
**I look outside and see Will trying to figure out a way to hovercraft himself to the designated bathroom area. By all appearances he thought he could simply Go Go Gadget the arm holding the leash and Molly would be able to reach the back of the yard. In a move that pretty much sums up my entire parental shortcomings, instead of making him prance his ass out there, I succumbed to my usual, "I'll do it myself!" huff. So now I'm back there trying to get Molly to go to the bathroom- btw, what is up with all the turning and sniffing??!! Anyway, as I'm at the back of the yard with Molly, Jace decides he has to have a ball that is dangerously close to Molly's 'bathroom'.
Me: Jace, don't go back there, you'll step in dog poop.
Jace: I have to get this ball.
Me: No, you don't. We are getting ready to leave. Go back to the house.
Jace: But I 'meed' it.
Molly- turning, sniffing, turning, sniffing, turning, sniffing.....
At this point for some reason I start crying. Not full fledged boo-hooing, that came moments later. I give up on Molly using the bathroom, tell Jace to get in the house, and I sniffle my way across the yard. The only good thing is that even though Jace wouldn't stay away from the ball, he didn't step in poop. The only bad thing? I did. Wth? By this point, I'm on the front porch, where I am full on sobbing, while kicking my shoes off and hurling them across the yard. Parker, Jace and Will are staring at me like I've grown another head. If I could have heard the thoughts going through their minds, I'm sure it would have gone something like this: Ok, is Mom hurt, or is the nervous breakdown she's been threatening for years now? Which totally reminds me of the other day. Apparently anytime my kids are fighting I say either, "I'm running away, or I'm gonna blow my brains out." (Go on, add that to the parental failure list. See if I care.) This particular day, I used the brain blowing threat to which Will replied, "All talk, no action." Ahahaha, yes. Retched little monsters that they are, I love my kids..... At least they "get" me.
Anywho- so while I'm lying in bed sobbing hysterically and saying stuff like, "I can't do it all myself, and I never have a second to myself," Jace is on top of me saying, "Aww Mommy, it's ok." Cute in retrospect. Parker decides that she should get Jace off me and let me have my tantrum in peace. After a minute I pull myself together and start trying to undo the mess caused by my torrential downpour. Like it really matters what I look like. I'm barely even human... I'm the mythical creature known as a mom.... Anyway, I look out the window and there is Jace getting that effing ball that he was after in the first place. In between my first thoughts of "who will watch my kids while I go on an adult's only all inclusive retreat" and my gut impulse to beat my head against the wall I hear this:
Jace: Ewwwwwww!!!!! There is poop on my toes! It's diarrhea!!!
Which brings me to my final parenting bummer. In every other situation in life there is such joy in saying, "I told you so." Not so for a mom. All it means for a mom is that there's another mess to be cleaned....
If only all this had happened after I watched "Footloose". I could have avoided all the tears and just stomped around pulling at my shirt and tossing my hair. Added stress release if you can find a chain hanging from a ceiling somewhere that you can swing yourself around on with lots of smoldering drama.... At least it seemed to work in the movie. **sigh**
Most of my life is spent in a "kumbaya" state of mind where I 'don't sweat the small stuff' and all those other cute li'l sayings that make me wanna vomit on the days when my 'attitude of gratitude' is MIA. Why is it that life can being rolling along nicely and then suddenly you are hit with just an overwhelming feeling that the only thing missing in your life is you?! While 99% of the time I am fine with being known as someone's mom, or SFC Hollen's wife, that 1% of the time when I miss just being me can come out of nowhere and hit pretty hard. Yesterday was one of those days. I really, really hate it when those days hit, because I don't believe in living life wishing for anything other than what I have, but there is a little catharsis in being the one crying, "What about meeee????!!!!!" every once in a while :)
I've been a parent for a while now. Over 17 years to be exact. (Hmmm, I guess "over 17 years" isn't what some might call 'exact', but it works for me, and this is my blog gosh darnit.) In any other 'profession' 17+ years of experience would make you an expert at what you do. When it comes to being a mom, not so much. It's all trial and error, and mostly error. I think most of us have a list in our heads of what we will not do as a parent that is based on our experiences growing up. As an adult, that list shrinks because you realize stuff like having to clean your room isn't a form of torture and/or abuse. There is stuff on my list that I still feel is valid though. I just can't seem to find the middle ground between being the type of parent who would do anything for their children, and being the family doormat. In my quest to try to remember what it's like to be their age, and the value in supporting their dreams even if I know the odds are against them, it seems like I've not done a very good job of teaching them that in this family we are all a necessary part of the team, and no- you are not the MVP. Basically this means I have three kids who have no idea that the world does not in fact rotate around them. My life in a nutshell:
If I lie down, someone needs something. If it's Jace, the older two have either A) suddenly become deaf and can't even hear him asking, or B) help him out but make sure to complain loudly because their TV watching, book reading, game playing, etc. has been interrupted. If I start to jump in the shower, Parker was just headed that way. If I have to use the bathroom, someone else needs to more. If the dog needs to go out, it's ok if I have to completely get dressed first, because Heaven knows that expecting one of your kids to do the same is like a fate worse than death.
You know our current living situation is little old lady in the shoe meets any given episode of Hoarders, but Parker refuses to believe that she can in fact get dressed in any room other than the bedroom. She fully expects anyone who's in there to immediately stop what their doing and evacuate so she can get her clothes on. Will on the other hand, will drop his towel no matter where he happens to be and just yell for everyone to avoid that room 'til he's dressed. Both of them seem to believe that taking their clothes to the bathroom with them and getting dressed there after they shower is foolish and emotional abuse. Jace is just Jace. His middle name is after Thomas' great-grandfather who was nicknamed Boss. Had I known that Jace would feel compelled to live up to that reputation, I would have named him something else... Obviously somewhere along the way I have failed them big time as a parent. What else is new?
What does all this have to do with yesterday's breakdown? I'm getting there, I promise. Yesterday was like any other day. Will and Parker were celebrating the life of leisure that they feel is their birthright, (seriously the princes Wm and Harry probably feel less entitled than my kids,) and Jace was being a holy terror. I had mountains of homework, a house that wouldn't let me rest until it was clean, and a flatulent dog with diarrhea. What happens when you mix flatulence with diarrhea, you might ask. One word: Sharting. FML. Add to that the fact that I am so popular in my home that no one can be more than two steps away from me at any given time, and you get a basket case waiting to happen. As I was trying to get ready to go to a movie (Footloose. Funny stuff, though I'm pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be. Angry ballet, anyone?) the dog needed to go out one more time so I asked Will to take her out. Cue scene of dramatic collapse:
Will: Ok, but I'm not going in the yard because I don't want to get my new shoes dirty.
Me: Well you have to go in the yard because she uses the bathroom in the very back.
**I look outside and see Will trying to figure out a way to hovercraft himself to the designated bathroom area. By all appearances he thought he could simply Go Go Gadget the arm holding the leash and Molly would be able to reach the back of the yard. In a move that pretty much sums up my entire parental shortcomings, instead of making him prance his ass out there, I succumbed to my usual, "I'll do it myself!" huff. So now I'm back there trying to get Molly to go to the bathroom- btw, what is up with all the turning and sniffing??!! Anyway, as I'm at the back of the yard with Molly, Jace decides he has to have a ball that is dangerously close to Molly's 'bathroom'.
Me: Jace, don't go back there, you'll step in dog poop.
Jace: I have to get this ball.
Me: No, you don't. We are getting ready to leave. Go back to the house.
Jace: But I 'meed' it.
Molly- turning, sniffing, turning, sniffing, turning, sniffing.....
At this point for some reason I start crying. Not full fledged boo-hooing, that came moments later. I give up on Molly using the bathroom, tell Jace to get in the house, and I sniffle my way across the yard. The only good thing is that even though Jace wouldn't stay away from the ball, he didn't step in poop. The only bad thing? I did. Wth? By this point, I'm on the front porch, where I am full on sobbing, while kicking my shoes off and hurling them across the yard. Parker, Jace and Will are staring at me like I've grown another head. If I could have heard the thoughts going through their minds, I'm sure it would have gone something like this: Ok, is Mom hurt, or is the nervous breakdown she's been threatening for years now? Which totally reminds me of the other day. Apparently anytime my kids are fighting I say either, "I'm running away, or I'm gonna blow my brains out." (Go on, add that to the parental failure list. See if I care.) This particular day, I used the brain blowing threat to which Will replied, "All talk, no action." Ahahaha, yes. Retched little monsters that they are, I love my kids..... At least they "get" me.
Anywho- so while I'm lying in bed sobbing hysterically and saying stuff like, "I can't do it all myself, and I never have a second to myself," Jace is on top of me saying, "Aww Mommy, it's ok." Cute in retrospect. Parker decides that she should get Jace off me and let me have my tantrum in peace. After a minute I pull myself together and start trying to undo the mess caused by my torrential downpour. Like it really matters what I look like. I'm barely even human... I'm the mythical creature known as a mom.... Anyway, I look out the window and there is Jace getting that effing ball that he was after in the first place. In between my first thoughts of "who will watch my kids while I go on an adult's only all inclusive retreat" and my gut impulse to beat my head against the wall I hear this:
Jace: Ewwwwwww!!!!! There is poop on my toes! It's diarrhea!!!
Which brings me to my final parenting bummer. In every other situation in life there is such joy in saying, "I told you so." Not so for a mom. All it means for a mom is that there's another mess to be cleaned....
If only all this had happened after I watched "Footloose". I could have avoided all the tears and just stomped around pulling at my shirt and tossing my hair. Added stress release if you can find a chain hanging from a ceiling somewhere that you can swing yourself around on with lots of smoldering drama.... At least it seemed to work in the movie. **sigh**
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Who is that crazy lady chasing the school bus??!!
Oh, that's just Will's mom... **sigh**
So Will is my forgetful child... When I say 'forgetful' I mean to the extent that I've often wondered if one can be born with Alzheimer's. He regularly forgets everything from where to put his dirty clothes, to any and everything needed for school that day. You know the expression, "You'd forget your head if it wasn't attached"? That's Will. Seriously. The fact that Will forgets stuff CONSTANTLY means that people are pretty much fed up with it. At this point, even if it is an honest mistake there are consequences.
Yesterday morning Will texts me from his dad's to ask me about his soccer stuff- half of which was at my house, half of which was at the other. I told him that yes, his red shorts were at my house. A little bit later when Will rolls in for b'fast (welcome to Mom's Diner!!) I show him where I've laid out his shorts. He tells me he doesn't need the red ones because they are wearing white. Ok... well I would go ahead and put them in my jumbo sized soccer bag, but whatever. I go on about my day.
Yesterday afternoon I get the following frantic phone call:
Will: (mumble, mumble, unintelligible,) supposed to be wearing red shorts, (mumble, mumble,) thought they were at my dad's, now I don't have time to come by your house so please meet me at the school!
Me, being the good mama that I am, hop in the car to take them to the school... When I get there, the entire team is already on the bus, so I circle around and pull up behind it and call Will. While the phone is ringing, the bus starts pulling off....
Me: Will, tell them to stop for a sec and I'll run these up to you.
Will: No, they can't, just try to get beside us.
Uhhh... ok... is that even legal? And do I look like I went to the Dukes of Hazard driving school?! But whatever, I think I'll just catch them at the stop sign. So I tell Will to ask them to hold 2 secs at the stop sign. I'm seriously riding their bumper, shorts in hand. Will says, "No, they can't."
Hmmm... at this point, I'm thinking something is a li'l shady. I mean for one, I haven't heard Will ask anyone to hold, and for two, who doesn't have a spare second? At any rate, the bus blows through the first two stop signs. Well, I mean, the bus stopped, but for reasons that can only be attributed to Murphy's Law, there was no traffic, so everytime I got my door open, the bus was taking off again.
Ok.. there was one more stop coming up that was still in town, and it's at a busy crossroad, so I felt confident that I could accomplish Mission Shorts Toss. I call Will again:
Me: Ok, tell the kid in the back seat on the left to put his window down and hold his arm out when the bus stops.
Will: No Mom, I can't.
Me: %&$^$#&$ (a word most people probably don't say to their kids, but then again most people don't have my kids *sigh*) why can't you?? Tell him now!
Will: Mom, I didn't want anyone to find out I didn't have my shorts! I'll get in trouble.
Me: (^*&%$(*&()**^%$%#$%#@#$^&(*&)(*)(&*&%%&$$$# tell him to stick his arm out NOW!
Will: Please Mom, just follow us to Mayfield! (20 minutes away, 'cause gas is free ya know?)
Me: TELL. HIM. NOW.
Will: Ok....
Sooo by this point, the bus is stopped, the kid puts down his window, I jump out of my car and run. I've got the shorts all rolled up for maximum flight potential, and I'll be damned if yet again there was NO FREAKING TRAFFIC!!! This is UNHEARD of! **sigh** So here I am running beside the bus, while the entire team is staring out the window (but obviously not the bus driver). My efforts were fruitless, and at this point I said, forget it.
**ring ring**
Me: What do you want Will?
Will: Mom, I didn't want anyone to know. Now I probably won't start and it's all your fault.
::banging head into dashboard::
I'll spare you lecture that followed, including but not limited to, "It's MY fault you forgot your shorts??"
Ahhh Motherhood. The only role one can have in life in which everything that goes wrong in anyone else's life is all your fault. Well, that and being a wife. **sigh**
The Daily Jace: (said to anyone who will listen) The school bus kept running away from Mommy!!!!
So Will is my forgetful child... When I say 'forgetful' I mean to the extent that I've often wondered if one can be born with Alzheimer's. He regularly forgets everything from where to put his dirty clothes, to any and everything needed for school that day. You know the expression, "You'd forget your head if it wasn't attached"? That's Will. Seriously. The fact that Will forgets stuff CONSTANTLY means that people are pretty much fed up with it. At this point, even if it is an honest mistake there are consequences.
Yesterday morning Will texts me from his dad's to ask me about his soccer stuff- half of which was at my house, half of which was at the other. I told him that yes, his red shorts were at my house. A little bit later when Will rolls in for b'fast (welcome to Mom's Diner!!) I show him where I've laid out his shorts. He tells me he doesn't need the red ones because they are wearing white. Ok... well I would go ahead and put them in my jumbo sized soccer bag, but whatever. I go on about my day.
Yesterday afternoon I get the following frantic phone call:
Will: (mumble, mumble, unintelligible,) supposed to be wearing red shorts, (mumble, mumble,) thought they were at my dad's, now I don't have time to come by your house so please meet me at the school!
Me, being the good mama that I am, hop in the car to take them to the school... When I get there, the entire team is already on the bus, so I circle around and pull up behind it and call Will. While the phone is ringing, the bus starts pulling off....
Me: Will, tell them to stop for a sec and I'll run these up to you.
Will: No, they can't, just try to get beside us.
Uhhh... ok... is that even legal? And do I look like I went to the Dukes of Hazard driving school?! But whatever, I think I'll just catch them at the stop sign. So I tell Will to ask them to hold 2 secs at the stop sign. I'm seriously riding their bumper, shorts in hand. Will says, "No, they can't."
Hmmm... at this point, I'm thinking something is a li'l shady. I mean for one, I haven't heard Will ask anyone to hold, and for two, who doesn't have a spare second? At any rate, the bus blows through the first two stop signs. Well, I mean, the bus stopped, but for reasons that can only be attributed to Murphy's Law, there was no traffic, so everytime I got my door open, the bus was taking off again.
Ok.. there was one more stop coming up that was still in town, and it's at a busy crossroad, so I felt confident that I could accomplish Mission Shorts Toss. I call Will again:
Me: Ok, tell the kid in the back seat on the left to put his window down and hold his arm out when the bus stops.
Will: No Mom, I can't.
Me: %&$^$#&$ (a word most people probably don't say to their kids, but then again most people don't have my kids *sigh*) why can't you?? Tell him now!
Will: Mom, I didn't want anyone to find out I didn't have my shorts! I'll get in trouble.
Me: (^*&%$(*&()**^%$%#$%#@#$^&(*&)(*)(&*&%%&$$$# tell him to stick his arm out NOW!
Will: Please Mom, just follow us to Mayfield! (20 minutes away, 'cause gas is free ya know?)
Me: TELL. HIM. NOW.
Will: Ok....
Sooo by this point, the bus is stopped, the kid puts down his window, I jump out of my car and run. I've got the shorts all rolled up for maximum flight potential, and I'll be damned if yet again there was NO FREAKING TRAFFIC!!! This is UNHEARD of! **sigh** So here I am running beside the bus, while the entire team is staring out the window (but obviously not the bus driver). My efforts were fruitless, and at this point I said, forget it.
**ring ring**
Me: What do you want Will?
Will: Mom, I didn't want anyone to know. Now I probably won't start and it's all your fault.
::banging head into dashboard::
I'll spare you lecture that followed, including but not limited to, "It's MY fault you forgot your shorts??"
Ahhh Motherhood. The only role one can have in life in which everything that goes wrong in anyone else's life is all your fault. Well, that and being a wife. **sigh**
The Daily Jace: (said to anyone who will listen) The school bus kept running away from Mommy!!!!
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
No, those aren't boogers on my lips
and other things that make me sigh...
If you look at pictures of me when I was about 3 years old, in most of them I'm sporting what looks like a kool-aid mustache. The reality is that my lips were chapped, along with all the skin around my lips... I said all that, to say this: At the moment I don't look much different than those old pics... Just a few more crow's feet, but the mouth? Definitely the same. My lips are so majorly, uncomfortably dry right now. I've been putting chapstick on like a mad woman but it's not been helping... Sooo last night as I was trying to fall asleep, I kept licking my lips. I knew while I was doing it that I was going to look like Lisa Rinna this morning, but did that stop me?? Nooooo.... So here I am with my not-so-cute inflated lipped, kool-aid mustache thingy going on. Sexy, I tell ya.
Why do kids have a knack for finding something you are self conscious about and making you feel like your worst fears are being realized? For instance, when Will was small he loved to tell me that my legs looked like "tree trunks". I'm sure it was relatively innocent in his li'l mind, but I felt like a lumberjack and often wondered how I even managed to get around with those massive redwood thighs of mine... **sigh**
So today, as I slather on copious amounts of chapstick and try to avoid licking my lips at all costs, I turn around to notice Jace up in my grill. Here's how it all went down:
(Jace peering intently at my top lip) (I'm trying to set a scene here, but I'm not a screenwriter, so use your imagination.)
Me: What are you doing?
Jace: There are boogers on your lip.
Me: ***sigh** No Jace, those aren't boogers, my lips are just chapped.
(More intent staring by Jace...)
Jace: No, they're boogers. Here, let me get it.
(Insert tiny hand rapidly approaching my lip with it's li'l pincher-like fingers.)
Me: No! Don't touch Jace! They hurt.
Jace: Mom, you have boogers on there, just let me get them!!!
Me: Wahhh... Wahh... (insert sobbing, moaning and gnashing of teeth.)
That pretty much sums it all up. I could go on about the fight that ensued, because that kid is not unlike his dad (a dog with a bone, I'm tellin' ya!) but I'm sure you get the picture. So now I have to get ready to take Jace to an appt and I feel like my lips are about as obvious as the hunchback's, er... hunchback. I don't guess it really matters, since I'm JustAMom after all, but damn.
On the plus side, I've lost 5.5 lbs since Saturday, go me! I only ate one cupcake at the bbq. (If you were there and saw me licking every bit of icing off the cupcake liner, don't judge.)
I'm off to take my sick kid to the doctor, and to perhaps invest in some heavy duty lip stuff while I'm out showing my disfigured self to the world. Enjoy your day~
If you look at pictures of me when I was about 3 years old, in most of them I'm sporting what looks like a kool-aid mustache. The reality is that my lips were chapped, along with all the skin around my lips... I said all that, to say this: At the moment I don't look much different than those old pics... Just a few more crow's feet, but the mouth? Definitely the same. My lips are so majorly, uncomfortably dry right now. I've been putting chapstick on like a mad woman but it's not been helping... Sooo last night as I was trying to fall asleep, I kept licking my lips. I knew while I was doing it that I was going to look like Lisa Rinna this morning, but did that stop me?? Nooooo.... So here I am with my not-so-cute inflated lipped, kool-aid mustache thingy going on. Sexy, I tell ya.
Why do kids have a knack for finding something you are self conscious about and making you feel like your worst fears are being realized? For instance, when Will was small he loved to tell me that my legs looked like "tree trunks". I'm sure it was relatively innocent in his li'l mind, but I felt like a lumberjack and often wondered how I even managed to get around with those massive redwood thighs of mine... **sigh**
So today, as I slather on copious amounts of chapstick and try to avoid licking my lips at all costs, I turn around to notice Jace up in my grill. Here's how it all went down:
(Jace peering intently at my top lip) (I'm trying to set a scene here, but I'm not a screenwriter, so use your imagination.)
Me: What are you doing?
Jace: There are boogers on your lip.
Me: ***sigh** No Jace, those aren't boogers, my lips are just chapped.
(More intent staring by Jace...)
Jace: No, they're boogers. Here, let me get it.
(Insert tiny hand rapidly approaching my lip with it's li'l pincher-like fingers.)
Me: No! Don't touch Jace! They hurt.
Jace: Mom, you have boogers on there, just let me get them!!!
Me: Wahhh... Wahh... (insert sobbing, moaning and gnashing of teeth.)
That pretty much sums it all up. I could go on about the fight that ensued, because that kid is not unlike his dad (a dog with a bone, I'm tellin' ya!) but I'm sure you get the picture. So now I have to get ready to take Jace to an appt and I feel like my lips are about as obvious as the hunchback's, er... hunchback. I don't guess it really matters, since I'm JustAMom after all, but damn.
On the plus side, I've lost 5.5 lbs since Saturday, go me! I only ate one cupcake at the bbq. (If you were there and saw me licking every bit of icing off the cupcake liner, don't judge.)
I'm off to take my sick kid to the doctor, and to perhaps invest in some heavy duty lip stuff while I'm out showing my disfigured self to the world. Enjoy your day~
Monday, September 5, 2011
Target Practice
or potty training boys... whichever you prefer. Because quite frankly, they are both fitting.
When you are expecting a baby boy, no one tells you to expect to come into contact with their pee at various times in their lives- some more than others. Even now, 17 years later, we still laugh about Will spraying down my mom's entire kitchen- including a colander full of home grown tomatoes. I had no idea that A) a newborn could hold that much, and B) little weinies are not unlike pressure hoses... if you aren't hanging on to them, they're gonna spray everywhere! Fast forward to Jace, 13 years later.... Changing his diaper involved various special ops movements to ensure that air never touched his man part. Air, it seems, acted as an immediate pee-inducing agent. Who knew? Naturally that strange air/pee situation resolved itself around the same time that I perfected the two handed remove and replace. Little did I know what was to come....
I don't remember having such issues potty training Will. I mean, other than the fact that I thought I'd have to send him to high school in adult diapers. Despite a fierce stubborn streak, when he was finally ready, in my memory, it was all good. Jace on the other hand... well it's really typical Jace- not what you're expecting, and just cute enough to keep the edge off my frustration. Jace started off stubborn like his brother. Sad, because the ease at which I potty trained Parker, (in about 2 days the week of her 2nd birthday,) lulled me into a false sense of "Hey, I got this motherhood thing!" Being a parent who tries to choose battles wisely, I would try, have no luck, and then proceed to give it a bit longer before trying again. The joy that came with the knowledge that no occupants of my house would ever be in diapers again, (Lord willing) is slightly dampened, (no pun intended,) by the amount of mopping I'm doing these days... In Jace's defense, he does claim that his "pee pee" is just "too big" to aim properly. Not being a man, I can't be sure how well that theory holds up. From the looks of things, it's a li'l shaky... but what do I know?
We started Jace out sitting down to pee, because he's not tall enough to stand. When it soon became clear that I'd be mopping 'til the day I die, I decided to buy him a step stool to see if standing up would help. Perhaps I should have been more specific about the purpose of the step stool:
Me: Jace, you wanna stand up and pee like a big boy?
Jace: Yes!
Me: We'll get you this step stool so you can reach!
Uhh...yeah... I so wasn't expecting to hear Jace yell, "I peed like a big boy!!" only to discover he'd turned the step stool upside down and peed in it... *sigh* On the plus side, he did hit the intended target. For what it's worth...
At this point, I'm considering leaving him in diapers until he gets married, at which point his wife can take over the mopping. In the meantime, I will take any suggestions, or pointers haha, on how to successfully teach aiming of li'l members- so fire away, but please hit the target.
When you are expecting a baby boy, no one tells you to expect to come into contact with their pee at various times in their lives- some more than others. Even now, 17 years later, we still laugh about Will spraying down my mom's entire kitchen- including a colander full of home grown tomatoes. I had no idea that A) a newborn could hold that much, and B) little weinies are not unlike pressure hoses... if you aren't hanging on to them, they're gonna spray everywhere! Fast forward to Jace, 13 years later.... Changing his diaper involved various special ops movements to ensure that air never touched his man part. Air, it seems, acted as an immediate pee-inducing agent. Who knew? Naturally that strange air/pee situation resolved itself around the same time that I perfected the two handed remove and replace. Little did I know what was to come....
I don't remember having such issues potty training Will. I mean, other than the fact that I thought I'd have to send him to high school in adult diapers. Despite a fierce stubborn streak, when he was finally ready, in my memory, it was all good. Jace on the other hand... well it's really typical Jace- not what you're expecting, and just cute enough to keep the edge off my frustration. Jace started off stubborn like his brother. Sad, because the ease at which I potty trained Parker, (in about 2 days the week of her 2nd birthday,) lulled me into a false sense of "Hey, I got this motherhood thing!" Being a parent who tries to choose battles wisely, I would try, have no luck, and then proceed to give it a bit longer before trying again. The joy that came with the knowledge that no occupants of my house would ever be in diapers again, (Lord willing) is slightly dampened, (no pun intended,) by the amount of mopping I'm doing these days... In Jace's defense, he does claim that his "pee pee" is just "too big" to aim properly. Not being a man, I can't be sure how well that theory holds up. From the looks of things, it's a li'l shaky... but what do I know?
We started Jace out sitting down to pee, because he's not tall enough to stand. When it soon became clear that I'd be mopping 'til the day I die, I decided to buy him a step stool to see if standing up would help. Perhaps I should have been more specific about the purpose of the step stool:
Me: Jace, you wanna stand up and pee like a big boy?
Jace: Yes!
Me: We'll get you this step stool so you can reach!
Uhh...yeah... I so wasn't expecting to hear Jace yell, "I peed like a big boy!!" only to discover he'd turned the step stool upside down and peed in it... *sigh* On the plus side, he did hit the intended target. For what it's worth...
At this point, I'm considering leaving him in diapers until he gets married, at which point his wife can take over the mopping. In the meantime, I will take any suggestions, or pointers haha, on how to successfully teach aiming of li'l members- so fire away, but please hit the target.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Beauty is Painful...
I learned that from watching "Toddlers and Tiaras"... So says my 10 yo daughter Parker :) It's true, she's right, and thank the Lord that I have a daughter who's level headed and beautiful just the way God made her.
Me on the other hand? I could use some work! Today begins the 9 bazillionth dieting attempt. I'm not really sure how I got so out of control, but I am determined to fix it this time. I will say the chocolate chip cupcakes with home made chocolate buttercream frosting that I made today are not helping my cause ;) Fortunately they are for a bbq tomorrow so I'll have plenty of help eating them. *sigh*
Is home made one word, or two? That's really been bugging the shiz outta me today... I keep making it two, but it doesn't look right!
Soo I'll wrap up with another cute li'l story from Parker. She wore a dress to school two days in a row. A girl in her class asked her why she had been dressing up, and her teacher said, "She's trying to find a man!" A little boy in the classroom threw his hand up in the air and started yelling, "I'm a man! I'm a man!" Ahhh, I love kids! I love their honesty, I love their energy and I love their confidence. Here's to little boys who aren't afraid to wear their hearts on their sleeves :)
Me on the other hand? I could use some work! Today begins the 9 bazillionth dieting attempt. I'm not really sure how I got so out of control, but I am determined to fix it this time. I will say the chocolate chip cupcakes with home made chocolate buttercream frosting that I made today are not helping my cause ;) Fortunately they are for a bbq tomorrow so I'll have plenty of help eating them. *sigh*
Is home made one word, or two? That's really been bugging the shiz outta me today... I keep making it two, but it doesn't look right!
Soo I'll wrap up with another cute li'l story from Parker. She wore a dress to school two days in a row. A girl in her class asked her why she had been dressing up, and her teacher said, "She's trying to find a man!" A little boy in the classroom threw his hand up in the air and started yelling, "I'm a man! I'm a man!" Ahhh, I love kids! I love their honesty, I love their energy and I love their confidence. Here's to little boys who aren't afraid to wear their hearts on their sleeves :)
Friday, September 2, 2011
I'm back!
Woo hoo! Two in one day! Yes, well I'm bored and what am I gonna do? housework??
Actually I just remembered something my goof ball three year old did last night. We were at the airport picking up Daddy... As we're standing in the baggage claim area waiting for him to show up, my son was hiding behind my legs... I thought he was just being his usual shy self until I felt warmth on my booty. Yeah... he was licking my a$$... in the middle of the airport... *sigh* Does this happen to other people? My 10 yo was hysterical over the fact that I now had a wet spot in the middle of my butt.
The Daily Jace (the infamous 3 year old):
Me: Jace why don't you have your undies on?
Jace: Because they are wet.
Me: Why are they wet??
Jace: Because they were in the ass.
Ummm... I'm not certain that's what he was saying, but I asked him three times to repeat himself and each time it sounded the same. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to home school him when the time comes 8-0
Well I'm off to feed people. Perhaps it will be Jace's favorite- pb and jellyfish sandwiches!
Actually I just remembered something my goof ball three year old did last night. We were at the airport picking up Daddy... As we're standing in the baggage claim area waiting for him to show up, my son was hiding behind my legs... I thought he was just being his usual shy self until I felt warmth on my booty. Yeah... he was licking my a$$... in the middle of the airport... *sigh* Does this happen to other people? My 10 yo was hysterical over the fact that I now had a wet spot in the middle of my butt.
The Daily Jace (the infamous 3 year old):
Me: Jace why don't you have your undies on?
Jace: Because they are wet.
Me: Why are they wet??
Jace: Because they were in the ass.
Ummm... I'm not certain that's what he was saying, but I asked him three times to repeat himself and each time it sounded the same. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to home school him when the time comes 8-0
Well I'm off to feed people. Perhaps it will be Jace's favorite- pb and jellyfish sandwiches!
In The Beginning
God created Heaven and Earth... I'm not going quite that far back though. I'm not even going to go all the way back to 1975, which is the year I was born. This life begins in August of 1994, when my first child was born. My life hasn't been the same since, and I'm pretty sure I haven't stopped laughing...
Ok, in all honestly, my oldest is 17 now. As far as he's concerned, I stopped laughing about the time he hit puberty and decided I was ridiculously clueless about any and all subjects. While I wait for him to like me again, I'm fortunate enough to have two more kids who make me laugh, including Jace, my 3 yo who is widely (well as wide as my facebook friends list,) known for the stuff that comes out of his mouth on a regular basis. Whether it's mispronunciations that make me giggle- (don't even get me started on the wisdom of naming a child's train "Percy", knowing many if not most toddlers have speech impediments!) or just the quick wit that my kids are known for, I'm such a lucky mom!
The Daily Will (my 17 yo):
Me: Will- did you see on the news where this man has been arrested twice for having sex with a horse?!
Will: Yeah... you know what they say... Neighhhh means neighhhh!
Man, I love my kids!
Ok, in all honestly, my oldest is 17 now. As far as he's concerned, I stopped laughing about the time he hit puberty and decided I was ridiculously clueless about any and all subjects. While I wait for him to like me again, I'm fortunate enough to have two more kids who make me laugh, including Jace, my 3 yo who is widely (well as wide as my facebook friends list,) known for the stuff that comes out of his mouth on a regular basis. Whether it's mispronunciations that make me giggle- (don't even get me started on the wisdom of naming a child's train "Percy", knowing many if not most toddlers have speech impediments!) or just the quick wit that my kids are known for, I'm such a lucky mom!
The Daily Will (my 17 yo):
Me: Will- did you see on the news where this man has been arrested twice for having sex with a horse?!
Will: Yeah... you know what they say... Neighhhh means neighhhh!
Man, I love my kids!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)