Aiden has been pushing me at every moment lately. It has been pretty rough.
Just yesterday I was in the other room while he and Cole were playing in the playroom. I heard Cole start his "I've just been hurt" cry and when I came into the room Aiden told me Cole had fallen over a basket. He was right next to the basket, but the way Aiden kept repeating, "he fell, Cole fell," was suspicious.
Since I didn't see it I left it alone and then about 45 minutes later Aiden was running his car on the floor and talking to himself. As I stopped to listen to what he was saying...."I say Cole fell, I pushed him. I say Cole fell on basket, I pushed him." Halarious. He was confessing to himself. When I asked him he immediately gave me the full story about pushing Cole because he was going for his car....of course.
In other Aiden moments...we have screamed for 30 minutes, "I want a cookie," while shopping at HEB then for another 20 strapped in his carseat in the parking lot while Cole and I hung out next to the car.
He clung to elliptical machines and treadmills while we were trying to leave the gym screaming, "I don't want to go home!"
My favorite was tonight when it took 45 mintues to serve one 3 minute time out for hitting me then hiding under our bed for 20 minutes yelling, "I am never-ever coming out."
Fun times here...drinking starts at 5 sharp.
I am a really good parent. I am a really good parent. I am a really good parent....
After a recent visit from a childhood friend (not married and no children) I began to question who the hell I am. I was asked several normal questions about interests, locations to go out, time alone, etc. and I honestly did not know what to say. I really felt like I could not answer anything about myself other than kid stats....who sleeps when and how much, challenging poop related situations, stain removal 101, tantrums, and other such child related information.
After her departure I felt crushed about my lack of self and motivated to get off my ass and do something.
In the five days that followed her departure I accomplished the following:
1. Spent two-three solid days feeling sorry for myself and regretting the birth of my kids. 2. Wrote my admissions essay to grad school. 3. Visited 3 gyms to decide where to join. 4. Planned a girl's night. 5. Shopped for myself. 6. Ran - twice!
In next five days after those accomplishments I have done the following:
1. Decided I like my life and my kids are pretty cool most of the time. 2. Avoided proofing and finalizing my grad school essay. 3. Decided a gym sounds like a big commitment. 4. Cancelled girl's night due to sick child. 5. Returned all fun purchases due to lack of places to wear cute, fun clothes and lack of funds to afford them unless I sacrifice diapers. 6. Basked in the glory of two good runs, feeling a little sore, a little fit, and a little lazy about doing it again. Thank God I have those kids to use as a good excuse.
Here is the thing, I just want to go to sleep. I don't see why this is such an issue. Ever since my first son was born I feel that sleep is the single most important factor in whether or not I will lose my shit the next day. Lack of sleep will lead to me becoming mentally unhinged. Why don't babies and toddlers just go to bed and sleep all night? Does God hate mother's? Is this some sort of cruel pledgeship that we must go through?
I hear through the grapevine that sleeping all night does actually happen for some people but I refuse to believe that this is actually true because it just fills me with rage that other kids sleep and mine don't. I actually feel anger toward my baby in the middle of the night while he is screaming. Is that maternal? Is that safe?
I think I might just have to depart for the La Quinta around 10 pm and come home around 6 am....it is out of my hands.
I feel I need to quickly express my gratitude to whoever put together Facebook. It is currently near the top of my favorite things in life, quickly crowding out my two kids and husband. I can not express in words the joy I get from this website.
First, I get to be reconnected to all sorts of people from my former lives. I have reunited with friends from my early childhood, high school, college, ex-boyfriends, work people, etc. I can't think of anything more exciting than to have someone come back into your life, even in this small way, that used to a huge part of your existence. It is comforting to know they are still out there, they are ok, and that they still think about you from time to time too.
Second, it is just plain entertaining to hear what people are doing in their daily lives. I love that I know that a girl I used to periodically talk to in high school is excited about her upcoming steak dinner. Random?....Yes. Entertaining?...Surprisingly so.
Now, my all time favorite thing about facebook is the feeling I get when someone I used to think of as "cool" asks to be my friend. This is absolutely juvenile, ridiculous and superficial but I will not pretend that I am not excited, no, make that elated when someone I wasn't even sure knew me, asks to be my friend. It is like a validation to my existence as a semi-cool, interesting person in this world. And despite the fact that I shouldn't care at all when someone that I barely knew 15 years ago, and now don't know at all, asks me to approve to let them look at my profile on some website, all that runs through my head is, "They like me! I am so cool."
Don't you remember longing for summertime when you were a kid? No school, no plans, everyone around to just do whatever you felt like doing? It was so wonderful.
I decided earlier today that I officially hate summer now. Hands down it is the worst summer, especially here in Texas. Here are my primary complaints:
1. No school (or mother's day out for my kids) for months! 2. No new tv shows to watch 3. The unberable, constant heat that makes me wonder why more people aren't shot this time of year
I am honestly not sure I will make it the next two weeks until my children start back to their two -day a week mother's day out program. We are bored out of our minds with hours on end of unplanned time to do anything we want....unless it involves being outside between the hours of 9 am and 9 pm because we will melt. This is moving up to number one on my "Reasons We Should Pack up and Leave Texas List."
At night my husband and I are recording all types of crap shows on our dvr just hoping to have something to do after the kids go to bed other than talk....boring! I am ready for new, primetime shows that I can get excited to watch. To be honest I am taping, and actually watching, a soap opera and it is the most exciting thing in my sweaty, bored life right now. I actually found myself discussing the people in my soap opera (daytime drama) with my husband the other like they were real people. I was exhibiting genuine concern for a "character" on the show. What is going on? I think my brain is frying in this place.
About two or three months ago I made a concious decision that I was going to be happy. I truly believe I needed to just made a definitive change in my mindset about life. I was so sick of being angry all the time about everything...constant questions for juice or to fix a car, every journey out of my house taking an hour of preparation to walk out the door, and the lack of any true moments to myself. It was really getting to me and I constantly felt that I was wishing I was someone else, somewhere else and something else.
One day I was sick of feeling like I was going to explode with dissatisfaction and anger so I changed my mind. I decided I was going to be grateful that I get to stay home and see the amazing process of my children growing and learning. I was going to be grateful that I have a home, food, and a husband that loves me and our family so much that he works very hard to provide these things to us all.
It worked. I felt happy most of the time and I could talk myself out of most of my gloomy moments. I periodically would indulge in some bitching about someone pooping on the floor or someone screaming at me in public but even that was just a healthy release. I felt present in my life and it was amazing.
Then yesterday happened...after a week of a sick baby, a tantrum throwing 2 year old, and too many discussions to count about how we were going to financially make it through this down-turn in the housing market, some motherf*#$%* broke into my car while I was playing in the park with my kids. I can not express in words my anger at this situation. I would have to be punching someone to show you how I felt when I saw all the glass shattered in my 2 year old's car seat. Pure rage.
The only thing stolen was a pair of sunglasses which I am sure the theif will be disappointed to realize are from Target. Damm Isacc Mizrahi for making them look close to the high end version! The kicker is that because I drive a stupid Lexus I can't just get a window replacement from anywhere but now have to pay $570 for a window. Stupid materialistic and image-driven America infiltrating my thoughts to make me think I'll be happier if I had brand name possesions. I'm never reading US Weekly again! (Except at doctor's office's because really what else is there?)
I have spiraled into an angry state again and can not seem to talk myself out of it. I feel I am getting screwed and the feelings of self pity are disgusting. I know this will soon pass and I will feel good again but right now I want to find the person that did this and shove my imitation designer sunglasses up their butt. I have all sorts of irrational and mean thoughts going through my head about the person that did this. I imagine a punk kid on a bike looking for something he could sell to buy weed.
I actually returned to "the scene of the crime" this morning to look around for my glasses. I thought maybe they might have thrown them and then I could turn them into the police to dust for fingerprints.... I brought a hankerchief and plastic baggie to maintain the quality of the evidence. What the hell am I doing?
Whoever you are out there with my Isac Mizrahi glasses, I hope someday you'll have some break through and realize your evil ways...or at least that you cut your hand on all the glass while smashing my window.
I just had an altercation with my two year and I seriously feel like I need to go punch something. How can such a small person cause so much anger in me? I made the mistake of allowing him to skip his nap time and hang out with me a little longer....big mistake. He was out of control. He kicked over the laundry I was folding, threw our portable DVD player off the bed (yes threw it,) and hit me with an impressive amount of force twice. Where is Nanny Jo?
I think the reason I feel so angry is because I know that it is actually my fault more than his. Isn't that usually why we get so fired up about things like this? I know that I shouldn't have let him skip the nap since he needs it and so when it blew up in my face I felt like I was failing as a Mom. I know that in an hour this will be no big deal and we will all be fine but now I feel likeCPS should be called on me, my two year old is scarred for life by my erractic discipline and my baby is now headed for a very cranky afternoon as a result of being woken from his nap by the screams of his older brother.
I'm going to sweat in the park and watch my kids get dirty while I drink my $5 drink from Starbucks.
So I have been battling with a virus stricken 11 month old and it has sucked. No one is sleeping much and the doctor basically told me I would just have to ride it out, nothing he could do for the baby. I want to punch him.
I tell my Mom that the doctor thinks it could be roseola, though in the middle of the night I am convinced I am being punished for something I did in my pre-kid life.
In response to that I get the following email which makes me want to drive to Indiana to punch my Mom:
"Roseola. You have got to be kidding me. Kyle had that and he never had a fever of 103."
This is my Mom's typical style of response to almost everything I have to say about my children. All her ideas about raising children are pretty much rooted in two basic beliefs.
First, if you were given guidance by a doctor, child care professional, etc. and it is not exactly what she instinctively would have told you, or found in her child rearing book from 1972, everything they say should be doubted if not disregarded entirely. Obviously their main objective is to try to screw me and my children over.
Next, she believes that all her experiences (or current memories of those experiences from 35 years ago) with my older brother as an infant are the baseline for all normal child behavior. If it didn't happen to Kyle then it is just ridiculous to think that it could happen to another baby.
Why can't I have a Mom that just says, "Gee honey, it sounds like things are tough for you there. I hope you and Cole start to get back to normal soon. Would you like me to fly down and babysit so you can go out?"
So, I have a sick baby. This is the end of the world for any Mom of young children. Seriously, it sucks.
My 11 month old got sick a few days ago with a fever. It started late in the afternoon and he had typical symptoms of fussiness and fatigue. After taking his temperature (103 degrees,) giving him some motrin, and putting him to bed, I relax and think back to my older son's times of fever sickness and how he slept pretty well those nights. He seemed to just go to sleep and let his body fight whatever was going on....or during the worst of times he came and slept with me.
Apparently siblings are really different when sick. The screaming and moaning started about an hour after I put him to bed. I went to him, held him, rubbed his back and got him to go back to sleep, because I am such a loving and nurturing Mom.
Thirty minutes later he is up again and inconsolable. Since it is 8:00 pm, my husband is home, and my 2 year old is in bed, I rally and take turns with my husband comforting the baby for the next few hours. When he still was not able to settle into sleep and his fever was still 103 around 11:00 pm I felt that creeping sensation of genuine concern for my child mixed with a hint of my selfish desire to just leave his room and go to bed....one can only be loving and nurting for so long.
Around midnight, I begin to do what I usually do when faced with one of these frustrating, unsolvable situations with my children...I go frantically search through my baby reference books for the exact instructions on how to make this horror end.
I remembered hearing I could rotate Tylenol and Motrin every three hours so I had started that around 9:00. Now, thinking I could administer more medication I happen to glance at a page in one of my books in which the author explains why they specifically do not recommend this treatment for fevers unless your child is prone to seizures. Shit!
Crap, now I'm overdosing him...unless by some chance he is a child prone to seizures? He could be, how do I know? Am I seriuosly standing in my kitchen hoping that he is prone to seizures so that my medicine dosage could be justified if I have to talk to an ER doctor about an overdose later?
Forget it, I proceed with the rotating of medicine thinking that this author is probably just really cautious since she also states you can't give your child raisins until they are 3, and I decide to go with the voice of my husband's doctor friend that often tells us how difficult it is to kill someone and how overdosing on over the counter medicine is pretty impossible. Fantastic, a much more comforting thought.
By 1:00 am though we still don't have much relief and my husband and I are staring over the crib at our screaming child and seriuosly contemplating the ER. I have hit the point where I am so tired that rational thoughts are no longer even combating the crazy, overtired thoughts I have. All the irrational things my Mom has said to me earlier about the recent news stories she has heard are running through my head: possible kid-killing bacterias found in pools from people peeing in them too much (we were at a free public pool the other day!), a child contracting menengitis from swimming in a lake (we were in the river yesterday!), and my favorite which is that I have been using too much/too little hand sanitizer so now Cole is stricken with deadly bacteria from my incompetent parenting skills. Crap!
An hour later Cole is asleep and I'm ready to end all contact with the outside world for my child and will be looking into placing him in a bubble.
My baby has an upcoming pediatrician appointment and already I am trying to think through all the things I will need to lie about. I have lied about having activated charcoal in our house for the last two years. I greatly reduce the amount of juice I give my child when discussing it with the doctor. I also could not bring myself to admit that I had not started brushing the one tooth that had just appeared in my baby's mouth.
The lies started very early for me. I think the number one thing I heard about taking care of my infant was to be sure to put them to sleep on their back. Even the sleep sack I had purchased had "Back to Sleep" embrodiered on the chest so as to remind me while laying the baby in the crib. That sounds like a very safe and fantastic plan except for the fact that my kids didn't sleep on their backs, sleep only came on their stomachs. I could be very confident about this while talking to other moms or while chatting with family members, but if the pediatrician or one of the Nazi nurses mentioned it I froze and immediately lied.
I can not count the number of compliments I have received on the round heads my babies have had. I am always quick with the lie of, "really believing in tummy time during the day," ....because I am a really good Mom and I know babies need tummy time.
I also have found myself lying when I call the doctor's office to ask about something slightly off with my child like a strange rash, strange poop, strange spit-up, etc. After a few of these phone calls one quickly learns that the question about temperature will come up. I do not take my child's temperature unless he feels like he could have a fever. I do realize that every medical professional and every book I have ever read about this states that you can not rely on feeling the baby's forehead to determine a temperature...but I really think that I can....did I mention that I am a really good Mom? I also firmly believe that I should not have to stick anything up my baby's butt unless there are truly no other options.
So, every time I talk to the doctor's office about one of these problems I lie and say, "yes, I took the temperature rectally and there is no fever."
Lies planned for the next visit include....
1. The 'taken infant CPR lie' (please pray I am not asked any details about compressions and breaths).
2. The 'I have not feed my 11 month old any of the food on the danger list such as peanut butter, eggs, honey, etc. lie'.
3. The 'I am waiting until the baby turns one to turn his car seat around lie.'
I seriously think that a stroke is in my future. I make an effort to take the kids and my dog for a walk most mornings. This used to be a very peaceful way for me to leave the house without having to carry a person, pack a suitcase of gear or try to worry about how I was going to get my children out of whatever fun thing we went to do without a full blown tantrum.
Unfortunately, recently my walks have turned into my time to contemplate how high my blood pressure probably is due to the incessant amount of questions and comments and demands made by my two year old or the volume of the screams from my baby.
Aiden usually begins the walk pretty peacefully with a few seemingly innocent questions about his surroundings.
"What's that Mommy?"
"A street drain," I lovingly reply. I then follow this response with a clear, easy to understand explanation to my child about what a street drain is and how it helps us....since I am such a good Mom and I am always willing and happy to further my child's knowledge of the world.
"Mommy, I want some puffs."
"I don't have any puffs, please sit down." No problem, still walking and feeling good.
"Mommy, please give me some puffs." Aiden breaks into his high-pitched voice he uses when asked to be polite. It is pretty unpleasant to hear, resembling what I can imagine his imitation of a little girl's voice would be but I know he thinks this sound means he is being polite.
"I have already responded to your request for puffs. Please respect my answer. I do not have any puffs we can get some puffs when we get home." Feeling the beginnings of some anger, though feel I have thoroughly explained to Aiden that puffs aren't going to happen, surely there will be no further mention of them.
"Please give me some puffs Mommy. I need some puffs." Full whining now along with a few forced tears.
I suddenly feel so angry that I want to shake the entire stroller. I feel the beginnings of the tightening in my neck and shoulders, the racing of my heart, and pure anger adrenaline fueling all the responses running through my head. All the words in my head are toppling over one another as they often do when I am faced with this type of whining turned screaming.
All episodes of The Supernanny that I have ever watched are playing in my head now. The sound, calm, in control approach that I felt seemed so logical and mirror-like to my own type of parenting if I had been the Mom in any of those episodes completely escapes me and this is the best thing I can come up with...
"Aiden Kyle! If you do not sit in that seat right now you are never going to be able to have another puff again! I am going to go home and throw out all the puffs in our house. You will go to your room and sit in time out until lunch time and there will not be any puffs at lunch time. Sit, be quiet and do not talk about puffs again. Do you understand!?!?"
I'm Leslie Thanks for stopping by to read my blog. I'm a stay at home Mom of four kids under ten. I have no clue what I'm doing so I mostly sit in front of my computer and write about it. I tend to be sarcastic so brace yourself, and if you don't understand sarcasm, you might want to click elsewhere because you might get a smidge uncomfortable and that makes me uncomfortable and it just sucks. If you think I sound really exciting, you are right! You can learn more about me in the 'More Me' section. Aren't I clever?