Category Archives: family

learning how to take soap in the mouth

Posted on by

Me and the two little ones were reading a book upstairs.

We love the “David” series. “David gets in trouble”,  “No! David!”,  “David goes to school”. They are written by a former child delinquent turned successful author….named David…..

This kid David is a horror, eating the dog biscuits, leaving home with no pants on, messing up and breaking things all over the house. At the end of each book he finds his conscience or just starts to realize what a little jerk he is….and apologizes.  the adult he’s been terrorizing, usually mom or his teacher, then affirms their affection for him, lots of hugs going on, and we close the book with a happy little sigh.

Some of the things David does in these books are the SAME THINGS my kids do at times. Crazy, I know.

So today, it was “David get’s in trouble”. We get to the page where he is sitting with a bar of soap in his mouth….saying “But Dad says it!”

david

Sammy is fascinated. Remembering his own single experience with soap in the mouth.

“Momma, how did his mom get him to sit still? Because when you tried to put soap in MY mouth I moved all around!”

“Well, because David is still good enough to know that when his mommy needs to put soap in his mouth, he should sit still”

He looked thoughtful.

The event leading up to getting soap in his mouth was pretty traumatic for both of us. He had just turned 4. We were at the drug store, he wanted me to buy him another gun. I said no. First, those cheap pieces of plastic don’t even last 2 days and they are ridiculously expensive at that. And second, I had recently decided that he was too obsessed with guns, shooting all of us and the babysitter at every chance. I was trying to be a decent mom and so put my foot down and said no more guns.

He didn’t just have a tantrum. He may have been possessed, yelling, crying, gnashing his teeth. I was beyond humiliated, but tried to act unaffected, wishing I knew for sure if there were security cameras in the parking lot or not. I actually had to drag him out of the store, as he tried to lie down on the floor to spite me. On the way home he was still screaming, adding a few “I hate you’s” to spice it up. KICKING the back of my seat the whole time. I recorded it with my phone for my husband who blindly believes this kid is the most innocent and gentle angel ever to exist.

We get home. At that point I am dangerously calm. I drag him into the house, still screaming, and tell my husband not to interfere as I take him upstairs to dole out THE PUNISHMENT. For this temper tantrum, for telling me he hates me, he is going to taste soap for the first time. I tell him this, and bring him to the sink. I grab a bar of Dove, extra sensitive, and tell him to open his mouth.

Are you crazy!???!! His eyes spoke to me as he clamped his hands over his mouth. No threatening would work. I tried to pry his hands away, tried to hold him in my lap, it was like wrestling with an octopus. I could not restrain him enough and finally called it after I got the soap to scrape against a single tooth by pure luck. He choked, gagged, drooled huge amounts of spit as he refused to close his mouth. I let him brush his teeth, then sat on the floor in a sweaty heap of failed motherhood.

He did not have a tantrum again. We both still remember that very vividly. He asks me sometimes if I remember it, and definitely seems to have learned something from it, as there is no more asking for guns at the drug stores. He is learning to be a lot sneakier and working on the guilt factor to persuade me to buy him other things that he wants. Now, when I say no, he gets tearful and says in a lost voice ….”so, I guess you just don’t love me anymore…” I can tolerate this much better, I can deal with the guilt and ever present need to over compensate all the time, lest any child feel they are not loved as much as the others.

But I thought David taught us a valuable lesson today. And maybe the more we read that book, it will reinforce it.

See?… David lets HIS mom put soap in his mouth. Good boy, David. Good boy.

david1

 

 

school sucks

Posted on by

samschool14

 

Oh. Look! There he is.

First day of “real” preschool. Ready to face the world.

Ready to make more friends. Ready to color inside the lines…… ready to LEAVE ME!!!!!

Oh. God. School sucks.

You would think after sending two others down this same path, I would be better with it.

Actually, I think BECAUSE of that, I am NOT better with it.

Look, right now, this kid love ME the most. It all starts and ends with me. Me and him. Us. I mean, yes, I also have this bond with the baby….because like him, she doesn’t know any better. But the older ones, it’s over for me with them. And if I had to pinpoint a time that the separation started…… it was when they started that damn school. Now, well, they laugh at me. Usually, behind my back. But sometimes to my face.

They know…. and he will soon know…. that Mommy doesn’t really control the world.

And that is the beginning of the end.

I just want more TIME!  And it’s crazy because after starting him in this school, my husband and I are panicked that he is already “behind” because we heard about a girl his age already reading at a first grade level. His class will be assessed this month and then the teacher will let us know how he falls within that class at conferences. I feel like I need to cram with him, all the while wanting to keep him home to myself and damn those stupid letters and numbers!

He will make friends. he will color inside the lines. He will leave me.

Never again will I be the beginning and the end for him. Sure, it won’t happen in a day. But it will START to happen, and then continue, snowballing with each grade level. He will question me…..question ME!! Can you even imagine? And just because I tell him something, he soon won’t automatically believe it. He will start to doubt me, and think maybe I don’t know everything. He may even talk about me. Actually complain about me to his friends. Laugh at me too…..

But today, he’s still mine. And I looked into those big eyes, as he talked all excitedly about his day…. and I could not help but smile at his happiness. And then smile 5 minutes later as he passed out in the car, exhausted from his new experience.

sammysleep

He is mine. My special boy, my preschooler, no one will ever love him more.

And if he likes his teacher too much, she will be punched.

kidding. kind of.

I hate that kid

Posted on by

It’s confession time.

Sometimes….. I don’t like your kid.

It’s weird, this dislike I find myself having. I think sometimes these kids I find myself despising might not seem so bad if I didn’t have kids of my own…. but since I do have kids of my own, other kids have-on occasion-become the enemy.

I’m not proud of it. But I also don’t see myself improving until my kids start having the guts to be the aggressive ones on the playground or at the toy table in the coffee shop.  Because that’s how it starts…my inner kid-hate…when I see my innocent little angel looking confused as they are fleeced of domino’s by some little 3 year old bimbo who doesn’t understand the concept of sharing.

That’s what happened the other morning. I had just dropped Sammy off at his new preschool, so I may have already been a little unstable emotionally. I met my bestie at a little coffee place that had a cute little section for kids with some puzzles, books, and other toys. Jenna thought it was great.

gb5

See?!  Look how innocent she is!! So trusting!

So all is going well, until these other moms come close with their own little girls who head right over to the table with Jenna. Now, these girls were a bit older, you could see it in the hardness of their eyes as they looked Jenna up and down, sizing up the competition. They knew an easy mark….. so first the curly haired one moves a globe away from Jenna, so she can’t spin it anymore…. all the while glancing between me and my baby, to see what I would do. I tried the death stare….nothing. These kids were tough. Now, the key is to give a look to that kid that says “step away from my baby before someone gets hurt”…. but at the same time appearing cool and unconcerned to the mom who may or may not be glancing over at the table, waiting for YOUR little one to start something with THEIR baby. *snort*, As IF!

Then Jenna starts playing with the domino’s. There is a whole container of the things, and she’s got a few in hand. Of course, evil kid number 2 decides there are NO other good domino’s to be had…..other than the ones my sweet angel is holding. She creeps closer to my unsuspecting daughter, like a tiger stalking her prey…. watching me out of the corner of her eye, but Oh so boldly continuing on. Her hand comes out, takes one from Jenna. I look at the other moms, Oh, Of COURSE they are not paying attention to the future criminal over here… too engrossed in their own conversation. Now it’s on. Obviously, she’s got no soul. She must be stopped. She takes another one. My GOD…. I can’t take it anymore. For the love of all things holy, I must save my daughter!

“No-No” (in a sing-song voice), don’t take them from her, look, take them from this box!”

So, I sounded sweet. But SHE knew, and I knew what I was REALLY saying. “Do it again. And no one can save you…”

Then I played with them at the table. Just marking my territory…….

Crisis averted. I had rescued my little one. My innocent Jenna-Bean, full of goodness and light. Protected her from the harsh world a little longer…. kept her away from the predators.

Feeling pretty good about myself.

Turn my back for 30 SECONDS.

Glance back at my daughter. My innocent, sweet, perfect example of all that is right with the world.

What?! Is she….. Oh….oh no…..

Curly hair got a cracker from her mom. Jenna honed in like a retriever. Stalked her around the table. I glanced over as she swooped in, and NABBED it. Oh, thank god…it dropped…. Grab it Curly, Grab it and get away! She did, Whew…… made it….

And I watch Jen.  Sharing a stare with Curly’s mom. Licking crumbs off her finger. Pretty sure she’s saying “next time lady…. just wait”…..

So….. we moms shared a laugh.

Mutually despising each others children, and somehow bonding at the same time.

Hibachi Awkwardness

Posted on by

It was a rare night of just me and my two girls, so we decided to go eat Hibachi somewhere.

We love the idea of someone cooking right in front of you,

we love the rice, the shrimp, the vegetables,

we LOVE the Yum Yum sauce…..

But we hate the awkwardness.

You know, the hibachi awkwardness that is bound to happen when you don’t have enough people in  your own party to fill up a table. Walking in there, just the three of us…. we didn’t have a chance. So we follow our hostess, past tables already full of people…. oh, maybe we’ll get lucky and there will be no one to sit with!  Nope, they found a table with about 6 people seated already, and placed us at the end.

There are plenty of reasons this feels weird to me. I felt we were already at a disadvantage, having less people in my party than the one already seated. So THEY are going to dominate the “table talk”.

Not that there is much talk between us…. because we all act like we can’t see or hear each other, at the same time totally seeing and hearing each other. I’ve seen it both ways, either the group you get seated with wants to introduce themselves, shake hands, etc…, or, more commonly…. eye contact is avoided at all cost. It’s acceptable to laugh when someone takes a piece of shrimp in the face instead of the mouth… but just a quick laugh, you can’t fully commit to it.

Bringing kids into the mix can really illustrate how awkward it can be….. because if your baby is being bad, or really good, doing something adorably cute, or falling flat on her face on the floor next to the table….. people WILL look, and sometimes laugh, comment to each other…. but at no point do they say these things to ME… so I never know how to respond, and end up doing what I do best, just pretending that I don’t hear them….because you know, I can’t see them….

Once, My husband and I took the 4 year old to eat Hibachi. I think before the toddler was born, so he was probably not yet 3.  We were seated, of course, next to another family. This one had a couple kids. They were not clued in yet about the whole “ignoring the people next to you” thing…  One took a liking to my husband, and proceeded to run and head butt him several times. His parents then had to acknowledge us, apologized, but could not stop their son from groping my husband with his very greasy hands. And then rubbing his face on him for some reason…. the whole time the parents are begging him to stop, the kid doesn’t want to stop, and hubby is all “Oh, don’t worry about it, it’s ok!”

This was funny to me, because anyone who knows my husband is aware that he is nothing if not polite. Ridiculously polite. Especially to strangers he doesn’t know. AND… he really goes CRAZY about his clothes getting food on them, and kids with dirty hands touching him. Or his clothes. So he sits there, smiles, laughs, Oh, that is so cute….how your son is putting his whole hand in his mouth….and then wiping it on my shirt… Oh, I love it! And as soon as we are out of the restaurant, he is almost shaking, desperate to get out of those clothes, and wash the spit off of him.

So it’s not the ideal situation…. eating at Hibachi. But we still do it, probably for the Yum Yum sauce more than anything. And the fire. And the little plastic guy who pees on the fire, if you’re lucky enough to have a chef with one of those on his cart…..

ebay.com. Weepy the wee wee

ebay.com. Weepy the wee wee

 

The expectation….and the reality.

Posted on by

kidss

 

Having kids is a fun way to learn to NOT have expectations. It’s also funny that my husband always seems surprised and even perplexed when the little ones don’t cooperate with his plans for a fun afternoon together.

Take today, for example.

He had the afternoon off, and wanted to take the kids to the zoo. Perfect day for it, not too hot, still nice and sunny.

His expectation: A beautiful bonding experience, complete with shared laughter and warm feelings, as we all enjoyed our day and each others company.

The reality: Horrible traffic getting there. 4 year old falls asleep 2 minutes before parking and required vigorous waking up. Toddler won’t sit in the stroller, won’t hold hands to walk, wants to run in front of every zoo vehicle, screams like a howler monkey when we are forced to man handle her for her own safety. I carry her under my arm like a rolled up rug part of the time, sick of fighting with her to keep her alive and not flattened by a random tram. We can’t find the seals, where are the damn seals! We give up as the zoo closes. Get stuck in rush hour traffic on the way home, as toddlers shoe falls off in the back seat. And she SCREAMS. On and off, for 40 minutes.

As I drove, in bumper to bumper traffic….. I kept peeking over at my husband. Just waiting for him to start stabbing himself in the eye with something. The screaming from the back was the kind you hear when your child is PISSED OFF….it goes on, and on….slowly tapering off. You start to think you’re safe, you made it through…as she sits quietly for a few minutes. But no…. she was just taking a break. And it starts again, and hubby’s eye starts twitching…. hand desperately clutching a pretzel rod.

Oh, don’t think she’d stop if we would just put on her shoe. Trust me, I WISH it was that easy. When she gets pissed lately, there is no quick fix. Replace the shoe, buy her new shoes, take off both shoes…..doesn’t matter. She will cry until she decides she’s done. Not usually sooner, but later.

Now, ALL of our outings do not suck this much. BUT, I never expect them NOT to suck. Because then I can be happy when we have fun, and not all surprised when we don’t.

But still, my husband just doesn’t seem to understand how the world works with children. I don’t know if I should call it hopeless optimism…. or just feel sorry for him and his lack of ability to deal with reality. Sometimes it’s endearing, and sometimes it’s just annoying.

Like when we get a chance to go out to dinner together, us and the little ones again.

His expectation: We will sit, speak to each other about important or interesting topics, and we will eat our meal.

The reality: we sit. Then I get up about 30 times to take Jenna potty, because she MUST visit the potty every 4 minutes every time we are in a public place. We talk, about why is he letting Sammy run around wearing Jenna’s blanket as a cape when I’m off in the bathroom? I talk a lot to the kids, things like “Stop that!”, “get out from under the table!”, “sit down!”, “please eat your food”, “don’t spill that!”, “leave your sister alone”, “leave ME alone!”….. and between this I steal bites of food.

Sometimes things go better. But you know if you have little ones….going out to eat is not like….easy or fun usually. You have to be ready for anything, which is tiring even if nothing actually happens. Because it COULD happen, and you must maintain order at all cost.

Sounds like a lot of work huh?

At this point, based on my experience, my own expectations are more realistic.

Expectations: I will not participate in any lengthy adult conversation or activity while my children are anywhere around me. I will eat mostly standing up, and my food will usually be cold. I will never pee alone. If walking up the stairs, I will be either carrying a toddler, or a laundry basket. Or, a toddler IN a laundry basket. I will never have time to do my hair. I will steal kisses a million times a day from anyone who has previously resided in my uterus.

The reality: see above. Honestly, not so bad. And one day, I will probably even sleep through an entire night again…..

 

My sick family

Posted on by

So my sister recently blogged about how she is turning into a hypochondriac….like my dad. You can read it here: http://pattyparobek.blogspot.com/2014/08/i-have-my-dads-looks-humor-and.html

But while her self awareness is impressive, I don’t think she quite understands how it feels to be related to someone with her condition.

Here I am, already used to the calls from dad, requiring urgent medical care or at least a quick consult for the superbug he just acquired. His toe’s are numb, there is a twinge in his back, and why does THIS look like THIS???

He once opened a bag of undershirts, just bought from the store, and put one on.  At the end of the day, he noticed some dead type of insect stuck to the T-shirt. As I remember, it was maybe a day or so later, he found some sort of red rash on his skin, and immediately linked it with this mystery insect. He then did some research on where the T-shirts were packaged and came to the conclusion that he had contracted Leishmaniasis, a parasitic disease spread by the bite of sandflies. Clearly there was a hostage sandfly packaged in his T-shirts, just waiting to bite and infect the first person to open them. He went to the doctor, heart in mouth, and probably a little proud of himself for the brilliant diagnosis.

He felt a bit sheepish I believe, on his way OUT of the office.

I love my dad, and I truly love these moments as well. He is a great sport, and will laugh at himself the hardest of all.

the real deal, leishmaniasis...courtesy of wikipedia

the real deal, leishmaniasis…courtesy of wikipedia

Dad is a great believer in popping pills, for anything and everything. He WILL get sick if you happen to visit him and then mention feeling ill at anytime afterwards. His own secretary years ago wanted to test his sensitivity to the powers of suggestion. He came to work in PERFECT health one day, and after she looked at him with concern, telling him he looked a bit under the weather…. he actually felt horrible within mere hours and had to go home and rest.

So, I’m used to this from dad. For fathers day, I found myself scanning the drug aisle at Target, looking for any bright new bottles of special supplements that he might not have….

But now, for my sister to follow in his footsteps….. We are supposed to make fun of him together! I can’t do this alone!!!

I didn’t notice it starting with her, I don’t know how. I do remember some phone calls, but to be fair, I’ve always had her pegged as pretty stable so I’ve given her the benefit of the doubt. Even when she started going to the doctor, the minute clinic….. and plugging way to many things into WebMD. Her eagerness to need antibiotics for something, anything!…. should have tipped me off, but didn’t.

This last call though….. I can’t make any more excuses for her.

A bone, part of her own jaw, noticed for the first time and panic quickly follows. A call to me, just to inform me about her probable mouth cancer or at the very least, her abscessed tooth.  After her visit to the dentist, we talk. Um…it’s not cancer. It’s……my mouth.

Long pause.

Sigh.

Guess dad isn’t the only one getting bright colored pill bottles for Christmas this year.

Friendly advice

Posted on by

So my daughter dropped a bomb in my lap yesterday, there is a boy she wants me to meet.

She didn’t want to tell me because “she knows how I get” about this stuff…… but she already told her dad about him…because he is the cool parent, and believes no bad choices can be made by his children.

I’m already angry with her for lying. Never before has this boy been mentioned, yet somehow they have spent enough time together to cultivate a relationship. Now she wants me to meet him so they can move forward in some way. I KNEW something was up when suddenly she is dressing up and putting makeup on before just hanging out with her best friend. But my questions about what is she doing, where is she going, who is she with failed to bring forth any mention of this boy.

Her response? Well, they’ve been texting a lot… and she went to a couple of his softball games….and you know they didn’t initially plan to see him but other plans fell through and so you know this was just kind of something that “happened” so innocently.

And this is the part that I suck at. Because I can’t tolerate being lied to. I can’t tolerate thinking of my daughter being fully or semi-naked with a boy….and what really is the POINT of going out with someone at that age if not to experiment with things that require a lack of judgment and clothing. And I just don’t think she needs a boyfriend.

I called a friend to vent a little. She listened, and gave me some friendly advice.

“Better go and get her on the pill.”  WHAT? No, I’m not putting her on the pill. Why does this mean she’s going to have sex!  She always tells me how stupid the kids she knows are for having sex! She doesn’t WANT to have sex! This was met with a laugh, because apparently that’s what kids do when they want to have sex but don’t want their parents to know they want to, or are already having sex. According to my friend, they put the spotlight on a friend so you can focus on that horrible person, and never think that your own sweet child is doing the same thing!!!!!  My friend knows this, because she did this herself.

So I’m really uncomfortable right now.

I don’t want to be that ignorant mom who can’t face what is going on. But am I stupid for believing what my daughter claims to think and feel about things when we talk? I have been so proud of her for not being like kids her age who are smoking, drinking, doing drugs, having sex. She talks about the girls in school that she knows are sleeping around, she brings home gossip about who got pregnant, who had an abortion, who got expelled for coming to school drunk.  These conversations have ended with me feeling so thankful that she hasn’t been tainted by the things that happen around her, and I’ve always thought she had a good head on her shoulders.

Am I stupid?

According to my friend…yes.

I was pretty ignorant about what was going on around me in high school. Friends that ended up having sex made me feel that I needed to save them from their low self esteem, because surely that’s the only reason they turned to a boy for that kind of attention. They must have just not felt loved enough. Or so I thought. It wasn’t until many years later that I realized I was probably the odd one, the one not having sex.

Stories my ex husband told me about when HE was in high school made me realize how sheltered I was, and naïve.

Other friends have shared their own stories of being a teenager….things they did.

One friend was raped by her boyfriend several times. She cried through it, but didn’t stop it….this was the first person she had sex with and it almost seems that she just didn’t know what to do about it.

Another friend was curious about things that boys and girls do together…. so she suggested to a co-worker that they team up and use each others bodies for training purposes. Duh, what do you think HE said??

Most of my friends have had some sexual experiences by the time they were my daughters age. I think I am the only one I know who had ONLY been kissed by then. Once or twice.

I want to cry.

I know too many people that have had abortions. Too many people that have had STD’s.

I don’t want that for my daughter. And I don’t want her to feel, as I think she does, that she needs the attention of a boy to really feel like she is worth something. This is not how I raised her. But this seems to be how it IS for so many kids at her age. She has talked about wanting a boyfriend, wanting to know that someone cares about her and finds her special and beautiful. I get this, I know those feelings, I was her age once.

I want her to feel that melting heat when you kiss someone you are crazy about. That fluttering in your stomach when you picture his face, or even whisper his name to yourself. I want her to feel giddy with happiness when she looks across the table into the face of the man she loves with all her heart, knowing he loves her too.

But I really, really doubt she is going to find that person now, at age 17. Instead, she is more likely to find a boy an insecure as she is. Curious about what sex feels like. Wanting to feel like they are grown up and special, and invincible…. and ready and able to spread HPV like it’s going out of style.

I’ve gotten a lot of advice. Friendly advice about how to handle this part of growing up.

But I’m not just putting her on the pill. I just can’t do that. And I don’t think she wants me to do that. I want to believe she still isn’t ready for that.

I will talk with her. I will talk and I will listen. I will pray.

I guess this is where I have to put some faith in her, and God, and myself for being hopefully a good enough parent to her.

I know she will make mistakes. I just don’t want them to be the kind that alters the course of her life, or limits the opportunities she has. I know I can either drive her away or bring her closer to me with my actions. I am hoping for the latter. I love her so much, and I just want to fast forward through this part of parenting. I know I can’t force my beliefs INTO her head and heart. But at the same time I don’t think I need to give her the message that “I know you’re going to have sex, so here’s the pill.” I hope I know my daughter well enough to guide my decisions about what to do with her. My friend, at her age, was having sex. And lying to her parents about it easily. I hope I’m not that parent.

So we are going to talk, a LOT.

And time will tell.

 

 

Sleeping arrangements

Posted on by

family bed

 

At what point after having a baby, do you separate from that child at night?

Does your little bundle have a room all to themselves from the first day? Do you wait a few months? Longer??

How about years? Like…..4, and counting.

I don’t know how it happened exactly, but my 2 youngest have never actually left my room. Well, I do have a pretty good idea of how it came about. Something along the lines of my husband saying “they aren’t leaving”… yep, that’s what it was.

At first, I was embarrassed to tell people. Because when it DID come up in conversation I would get those looks.  Incredulous. Confused. Even irritated. “Oh God, are you one of THOSE moms?”

I have been told I am hurting my children, somehow inhibiting their independence by not allowing them to sleep out of my room. I have been offered sympathy by women who know how my husband feels about having the kids sleeping alone, as I must surely suffer, huddled in a ball in the corner as those three take up all available sleeping space.

It WAS something I thought was wrong….at first. Because I did “the right” thing with my two oldest. At the proper time, dictated by family and society, they were moved to their own rooms. The oldest was fine, but I’m pretty sure she would have been just as great sleeping in the kitchen sink at night. She was just way too easy. Made it REALLY hard to have a normal baby after that. My second was not a great sleeper. I spent many nights running into his room, picking him up and standing next to his crib as I swayed with him until he slept again. He was 3 before I could just put him to bed and night and walk out of the room. My fault? I guess….because I don’t like to let kids cry, so I was willing to do what I needed to comfort him. It WOULD have been a lot easier if he’d have just slept in my room, but I never even thought that was a serious option.

Now with my 4 year old, his daddy kept delaying that move out of our room. At first I was exasperated. I felt like I was stunting his growth somehow by not taking that step, because every 5 month old needs his own place! I got upset over my husbands snoring, sure that it was going to cause a lifetime of sleep disturbances in my precious bundle. I argued that he needed to get used to being WITHOUT us ALL THE TIME, it was time for that kid to grow up! People close to us would ask if we’d put him into his own room yet. My half smile and eyes rolling would be the only answer.

A funny thing happened though. I noticed that every time I finally “put my foot down” about moving the boy out of our room… I would find excuses to delay it. Longer and longer. Well, the hallway was too long, I needed to wait until he was really good on his feet and we got some sort of gate attached to the top of the stairs before I could consider it. Then, I was afraid of him being disturbed by his older brother who had to get up and get ready for school early, surely it would wake him up each morning. After a while, we just stopped even discussing it.

During my pregnancy with the last one, I really thought I needed to move Sammy out….to give him a break from the newborn crying and night feedings that were sure to happen. My husband seemed to think that it would all work out and everyone would find a way to sleep. I dragged my feet, and then it was too late. I worried that moving him out right before the baby came would make him feel displaced and kicked out. So he stayed. And somehow it worked out.

I still remember when the baby was 5 weeks old. The first night I tried actually putting her to bed upstairs instead of keeping her downstairs with me until I went up. I was used to sitting with Sammy at night until he fell asleep. That night, I sat up on my bed holding the baby close in the dark, Sammy lying next to me as I rubbed his back. It was nice, and they both eventually slept. I put her in her crib, so worried she would wake and cry, bothering her brother at any moment. She didn’t wake until I was coming to bed, and fell back to sleep after nursing. That night started our new ritual, and most nights we do the same thing. Both kids fall asleep as we sit in the dark (as I read my kindle..guilty pleasure).

Thank God our room is big enough, although sometimes our bed isn’t. Although we move Sammy to his bed, he often ends back up in mine. The baby too, closer to morning. She gathers up her blanket and her binkie, stands up and waits for me to notice her. I do, her crib is right next to my head, and I pick her up and cuddle her next to me. Most of the time, she snuggles and goes back to sleep. Those moments are golden.

I am comfortable with this arrangement. I no longer feel ashamed, and I wonder why I ever did. Why does it bother people that we keep these guys with us during the night? I don’t think it has affected their ability to sleep at night. I didn’t do sleep training, I didn’t do cry it out. I’m too much of a wuss, really. And maybe I’m just too lazy. It’s a hell of a lot more stressful to listen to your child crying as you fight the urges you were programmed with….to answer them and comfort them.

I’ve already committed myself to broken sleep for years. I can take it. I really like having them in my room. It’s OUR room. Both the older kids went through spells of wanting to sleep in “mommy’s bed” It was a weekend thing for years, and then comes the time when your child doesn’t want that closeness anymore. They will always get to that point, when they want to pull away, and I miss it. So I appreciate it so much more with my current little ones, knowing those little warm bodies won’t be there to snuggle with me forever.

 

 

 

Do you think it’s a good idea to have kids?

Posted on by

 

I have one sister. I’m glad I can say she’s one of my favorite people. My sister is married, going on 3 years now. She’s turning 30 this year.

Shit. That means I’m turning 39.

Ok, I’ll forget about that sadness for a minute. My point is, how many times a week do you think my sister gets asked about WHEN the babies are coming?

She’s passed the point of “enjoying her new marriage” and she’s heading into “I wonder if they can’t have kids???”.

We talk about it.

She seems to still be pretty much on the fence. In the years before she got married, she spoke of hoards of children, at least 6. But, then people around her started having kids. Or in my case, KEPT having kids. Gave her some food for thought.

When we talk on the phone, sometimes about having kids, she is used to the fact that I can’t focus on her completely. Because I am constantly interacting with one or several of my kids at the same time. I’m giving baths, getting them dressed, making them dinner, or yelling at them to clean up their toys…I’ve told her I want her to have kids just so she can be the one going crazy at the other end of the phone for once.

She sees the amount of WORK kids can generate for you. To an “outsider”, that can be pretty scary.

I have to admit, she’s got a pretty good think going right now. She’s got a great job, a great career actually. She’s been able to travel for work and pleasure. She sleeps in when she wants. Goes to bed when she wants. Eats when and what she wants. Goes out when she wants. She can watch ANYTHING she wants on TV, at ANY time. She spends time with her husband, just the two of them. Of course she’s a responsible person, with plenty of other obligations and duties….. but it’s just not the same as when you have kids. They do control your life. Just a little.

I don’t blame her for waiting.

I’m not saying I wish I’d waited. But I can see why someone without kids would want to wait…. And I can even see why people decide not to have kids. It’s the biggest job, the biggest commitment, the biggest THING some of us will ever do.

I will never forget how I felt when I found out I was pregnant for the very first time. SHOCK. FEAR. Excitement, giddiness, followed by that emptiness in the pit of my stomach…that “OH God, what did I just DO” feeling. That feeling that means things have just changed in a big way. The knowledge that there is no going back. I’ll never forget it.

I’ll also never forget the overwhelming sense of love I’ve felt for each of my kids. I’ve tried to explain to my sister as I’ve discussed the Pro’s and Con’s of bringing forth the fruit of my womb into this world. I admit, sometimes I’m afraid the Con’s outweigh the Pro’s, some days they definitely do.

I guess when it ends up being is a series of great moments that make IT worthwhile, those moments swimming in a sea of never ending laundry, diaper changing, missing puzzle pieces, teenage angst, and the impossibility of making everyone happy at the same time. Those moments are what you reach for, and hold onto for dear life, allowing you to keep treading water for a bit longer.

Is it worth it? God, I hope so. Right now, I feel it is. For ME it is.

But say I was someone who never had kids, would I buy all that crazy talk about how just knowing you helped create that little person is so worth the massive change to my lifestyle? Is it really rewarding enough to give up life as you know it?

I DON’T think it’s selfish for someone to not have kids. I mean, yea, it’s selfish in the very basic sense of the word. But that’s not a bad selfish. No one should have kids because they feel pressured to do it. Or because they feel they have an obligation. Or because society dictates that they SHOULD, because they’ve been married long enough and for some reason there is a time limit on the number of years you are allowed to just enjoy living with your spouse. You know why we get pissed at people who choose NOT to have kids? Personally, I think those people just want the rest of the world to be as sleep deprived and bitchy as the rest of us can be. Hell NO, you childless people are NOT going to have all the fun! Selfish bitches! Get pregnant!!

I think it’s ok to have kids, or not. I think my sis will probably end up taking the plunge, I can’t say I wouldn’t be crazy excited if she did. I would love to dote on a newborn without having PPD to ruin it for me! I expect she won’t be able to resist, and one day I will hold that little bundle of brown eyed cuteness that she is sure to produce. Or not. Whatever is ok. Because I definitely have enough to share with her. And now that they can all talk, and remind her that they need things like food and water sometimes…. I would almost trust her alone with them……

 

Afraid of the Dark

Posted on by

 

dark

 

Is anyone really NOT afraid of the dark?

From the time I was aware that I COULD be afraid…. I have been.

It started with that thing under my bed. That thing hiding under there that wants to grab my foot if I step too close. Only at night of course. So after getting ready for bed, I remember standing in the doorway. Turning off the light as I took a deep breath, and sprinted to the bed, launching myself from as far away as possible. Then I had mere seconds to cover up, all the way to the chin of course, and pretend I was asleep. If “the thing” found me awake, things would not be good for me. I HAD to pretend I was asleep to fool it.

Watching Poltergeist was not a good idea for me.

Nightmare on Elm Street…also not smart.

I sang the 10 commandments in the shower, which was in the basement of the house I grew up in. HORRIFYING. I would not sing number 5 (Thou Shall not Kill), because I didn’t want to put ideas into the heads of…..anything….. After showering, there was a gulp as I turned off the light and ran like hell across the dark basement, past the shadowy areas where God only knows what was hiding to grab me if I stopped or fell. Then up the stairs. Jesus, I hated showering in that house.

Freddy Krueger was also my fake best friend. At night, as I lie in bed waiting for his finger-blades to rip through my mattress, I would remind him of what good friends we were. ‘Cause Freddy would totally not kill his best friend. By this time I was 9 or 10. Who let me watch that movie???

Somehow I managed to watch The Exorcist. Scariest movie ever.  I shared a room with my little sister until I was 16.  I remember laying there in the dark, looking at her sleeping in the bed next to mine. Just WAITING for her to sit up, and stare at me with crazy glowing eyes as her head started spinning. I tried not to look at her.

I still won’t say “Candy Man” three times looking into a mirror. If I even think about it while looking in the mirror I get paranoid.

It does not help that I have felt compelled at times to watch horrifying and freakishly scary movies. My oldest and I have watched some together, she seems to enjoy how I fall apart but can’t stop watching at the same time.  She seems immune, she actually sleeps with her closet door OPEN.  And here I am, usually the last one up to bed at night…. As I turn off the lights before going upstairs, I imagine the “thing” in the basement stirring, and starting is ascent up the stairs towards me. Then, in the bedroom….I can’t run and jump into my bed anymore. As I walk to my side I wince before climbing into bed, just waiting for that hand to reach out and grab me.

No, scary movies didn’t cause this….but they certainly gave my imagination a lot to work with.

Is it just me, or do you sometimes think there might be a dead person in the shower with you, who somehow becomes visible only when you have to close your eyes?

Am I really surprised that my 4 year old is scared of the dark? He tells me often at night. “Mommy, I’m scared of the dark”. And I scoff, “Sammy, the dark is nice to sleep in, there is NOTHING to be afraid of!” I promise  him he is safe. I KNOW he is safe. I laugh about monsters, of course there are no monsters!

And I know this. I know I’m not going to wake up at 4am with one of the kids standing at the side of my bed, staring blindly before they attack me.  I know I am not going to be sucked under the bed, never to be seen again. I know a freaky girl isn’t going to crawl down the stairs after me because I drowned her in a well years ago.  There will be no head spinning, no mattress slashing, no clown strangling…..

But…. I’m still scared of the dark. And if I were to be honest with my 4 year old, I would tell him I totally get it when he tells me that he’s scared of the dark too.