A Case of The Mondays

After a 2 hour delay for snow, after a 4 day weekend: this morning the older kid was all, I don't feel well. And I'm all - go to school, we stayed up late. So much candy. Pull it together. This is what a Monday after a long weekend feels like.

An hour later, I get a call from the school nurse. She has “my daughter” in the office. She isn’t feeling well, no fever – but tummy hurts. I note, she wasn’t feeling 100% this morning – but between the candy & staying up late – I thought it was a Holiday Hangover. 

(pause for laughter- though there was none)

She sent her back to class after some tums and solid advice to go sit on the toilet (I'm paraphrasing). Within 20 min, the teacher sent her back saying she wasn’t herself. She’ll leave it to me; do I want to pick her up. Here's the twist in the story where in I find out, it's not my oldest. 

I decide to pick her up, and head to the nurse’s office, where a kid named Riley was checking his blood sugar chit chatting with the nurse. My kid comes around the bend, looking like walking death. Says … “I don’t feel well I think I’m going to…”

We made it to the bathroom in time, but not the toilet. Riley is yelling about how this is terrible, walking toward us. All of this, while she shakes, getting sick in this time warped bathroom – I pull her hair back and sooth her. She looks up and asks, “If I used to be a doctor or a nurse – cause I’m so good at this.” No kid, just have held a lot of hair back while vomiting. Wink.

I clean up my kid. Me. And head home.

An hour later: call from the school nurse. She has the other kid in the office. She isn’t feeling well, she doesn’t have a fever… 

Same verse, same as the first - only less vomiting and no Riley. 

Both girls are home now. Passed out on different couches. With bowls next to them – while I sit here and await this plague to take me. Tick tock. Tick tock.

Pro tip: Don't ask questions you can't want to hear the answer to.

A few weeks ago, the kid told me she knew the D word. More on that here. The long & short of it? Totally innocent.

So when the kid said, "I know the F word." I figured:

• Fudge
• (At worst) freak or frig maybe a little 
• Friggin

Lesson learned, don't ask. Cause out it came, and it went a little like this:


I went through the motions. "What's the F word, kid?"

Her, matter of fact in face & tone: "F_CK."

Me, {silent shock - this, my friend, was no innocent dang } 
Her, "That's it."
Me, "Yes, it is. But don't say that again - ok. It's kind of one of the worst words you could use - where did you hear that?" {silently thinking - please don't say me. PLEASE don't say me.}
Her, "Missy* told me."
Me, {thanks G, it wasn't me. Just a little buddy at school. I can't even be mad at her hooligan friend, I'm too excited it isn't me. Or my hooligan friends.  I had a phone call on speaker the other day and didn't say "you are on speaker" and F bombs were thrown. Good, I'm glad it's a friend. Better her than me. Better her than me.} "Ok, well listen - it's not a nice word, please don't say it again. Don't tell others about it - it's not OK."

*Names changed to protect the guilty. Did I mention, I'm so f'ing glad it isn't me?

The day I ruined my kid's love for rollercoasters

In preparation for Disney World, we watched a slew of documentaries. They showed us what to expect, the parks, the rides - it's on Netflix. It was perfect. Since she was tall enough to go on most rides we got to hear all about them, and this kid loves details. She decided which rides she would want to go on and others she would skip out on. Space Mountain was one she wanted to go on.

July 2012: when her spirits were free & full of love.

Background: when she was 3 we went to Disney. She rode the Barnstormer kid coaster and loved it. Since then at every carnival or fair she rides all the rides. Fast and nauseating - she's into it.

Back to Space Mountain: we got a Fastpass, and when it was time to go - the ball&chain let me go on with her. He'd been before, but I haven't. And when it came to rides JJ couldn't go on we took turns. As we walked through the endless twists and turns of what should be the line it got darker and darker. That's her kryptonite. Darkness. Outside & fast? She's in. Dark? She isn't a fan. I started to get nervous, but she saw the video clip about it? And she was still into it? I tried to play it cool. Then we saw the loading dock.

It's here I realized that I wouldn't be able to sit next to her. It's here I remembered a story a friend told me, about bringing her nephew on this very ride and how she and his mom spent the entire ride trying to reach him across the car. How they had to stretch out to reach him as he screamed, "I am not having fun. This is the worst idea ever!!!!!!" She still seemed into it, so I went with it.

Notice how far above t
he seat back her head was.

I put her in front of me - so I could reach her easily. If anything, I could keep my hands on her shoulders at least she'll know I'm there.

We sit down. She's still excited, though slightly nervous. But there is no out now - we are going.

The first few minutes, we are talking to one another.

Her, "I don't really like this. It's dark."
Me, "It's cool, kid - just enjoy it! It'll be over soon."
Her, "When. It's really dark."
Me, "Love you kid - isn't this fun!!! WEEEEEE!"
Her, "No."
Me, "Are you having fun??? Do you love it?" (I knew the answer to that - was trying my hand at reverse psychology.)
Her, {silence}
Me, "Babe, I'm right here. Don't be scared!"
Her, {silence}
Me, "Hello. L. You there?"

The answer was yes & no. Perhaps in body she was there, but her spirit? Was far far away.

By the time we got off the three minute ride, she shut down and scooted so far down so far that the T bar

The scoot down begins.
Notice her face? Dead inside.
Not seen: the worst picture possibly ever taken of me -
trying to get to her & failing.

that should be in her lap was up to her shoulders. She went to a far away place. She wasn't crying. She wasn't upset. She was shut down. 

It took a few minutes for her to come back, knowing that she was now safe - not in a darkness spiral. She came back to us, but was forever changed.

That's how my once roller coaster loving child lost her love for roller coasters. I jacked her up so hard, she wouldn't even go on the kid coaster she loved so dearly 2 years previously. In related news, I'm still awaiting my "Mom of the Year" award, surely this puts me in a strong lead {sarcastic font}.

Failing at motherhood, example #ILostCount

You know when you are in argument with someone and you walk away dumb founded and then hours or days later you're like: GAH! If I only said X Y and Z.

That happens, and it's life.

What's horrifying is when in that moment, whether it is an argument or not - a moment in time - something happens where you fail your child. And moments, even hours later you think - I could have done that better.

I failed mine. Hours later, I thought, SHIT. Why didn't I say anything? And days later, I'm still thinking about it.

In comment to my kindergarten CHILD the following was said, in front of her: "Look at her! She lost some weight!"

I blinked.
There is no defense to my (non-re)action, but in that moment I remember thinking. Wait. Is this OK? Am I over thinking that this is wrong? I'm tired. I must be tired. 

Another lesson learned: listen to your gut. Always listen to your gut.

If I could do it all over, if I could be the mother I want to be my girl, it'd go a little like this:

Excuse me,  I'm sorry. Are you seriously commenting on my five year old's body? Providing her with a flashback where she is able to pin point where her body issues began to her therapist that I will gladly foot the bill to. I will be pissed, though, when I find out it's YOU that started it all. With all of that said, she's beautiful. Inside & out. And not that thing that people say, she is. She has enough pressures and she will - between kids - that's right children who barely have an excuse, television, magazines, the Internet - the god damn world will hand it to her. Perhaps during our "family time" we can lay off the fucking body issues. 

Ok fine, I probably shouldn't drop the F bomb - but I wish I could. I wish I could have said any portion of the shame on you speech that I now have in my head. Even if it cost me an F bomb, I should have. Sorry, kid. Some days I'll make you proud and other days I'll fail you - but I'll always love you and work to make it so the days of pride heavily outweigh the failures. The only fucking mass that matters.

The day I was on time for school...

Disclaimer: If you follow me on the twitter or the 'book - my apologies. This is a rerun for you. I debated, do I tell this story again? The answer is yes. 

Wednesday was the first day back to work. I didn't take a lot of time off this holiday season, but enough. I was excited to get back into the routine, finish out this week with a strong start to the 2013. That was the plan.

The best laid plans. ALWAYS with the plans.

To start, I had a super busy day, a ton to do. Whenever I take time off, there is always catch up but particularly around holidays. I never finish it all before I sign off, and I always have a long list to do when jumping back in. Imagine my joy {sarcastic font} when I get a phone call from our au pair saying she missed her bus back to the Cleve. She went away for NYE. She was going to be home super late Tuesday night or super early Wednesday morning - however you want to break it down. The moral of the story is: she was going to be home by the time my work day started. With this curve ball, she'd be late - coming in around 11:30 - 12pm. I could work around that. But the morning; the morning is tough. It's one thing to get the kid ready, but add to that bringing JJ along it just requires more. More organization, more rushing, more scrambling, more chaos. I know, moms & dads all across America get their kids out the door everyday - but it's a pain in the ass. It's even worse when you are out of practice for a school day. School days add to it a whole other level of things to remember.

Is it gym day? She has to wear sneakers. Is it library day? Don't forget the book. Don't forget the lunch. And the drink. And the backpack. And the school folder she has to bring in everyday. Gloves. Mittens. Hat. FREAKING SO MUCH.

We are almost always late. Running to catch the bell & line up, or worst case scenario running in before they start their first class. So this fine day, with the amount of work I had to do, I also had to race the clock with two kids and get L to school. And it was gym & library day, so double the preparation.

We get on the road (for the 10 minute walk, 3 minute car ride... it's almost always the car ride - see previous comment about almost always being late) and we are going to be on time! I am Mother of the Year! 2013... I'm coming for you!

We get a wee bit closer to school and I suddenly am acutely aware that there is no one walking to school. There are no cars parked. The parking lots are free and clear of cars.

School.is.closed.

I immediately pull over and check out the school's website. Yup. Winter Break... through this week.

Follow up to this/ cause this wasn't the end... our au pair's flight got further delayed. I lost track of how many times. She took a train home, got off the wrong stop, had to walk who knows how long, and when she tried to call me her phone died. 2 hours later (14 hours after originally expected) a frozen Colombian who walked into the house after a who knows how long walk, in the snow & cold, with luggage. I'd say it was a pretty bag up day for us all. 

Mommy (dearest) Moment

Sunday was a tough day. Can't (don't wanna) go into all of the details (yet) but long story short: it sucked. A big ass stress ball of suck. It was nap time for the kids, and as it happens when they are both going down at the same time - sometimes it's easier to put L in our room and JJ in their room. No distraction, JJ doesn't try talking to L - sometimes gaining a second wind, thus nap time being a colossal fail. And this particular Sunday, I wanted them to nap. I wanted to sit on the couch and do nothing. I didn't even have the TV on. Just sitting. In quiet.

They haven't been feeling well, so that doesn't actually help matters - everyone is a scooch too whiny and cranky. It's awesome. I put L in our room and JJ in hers and all was right with the world.

For 5 minutes.

L comes down stairs about 5-10 minutes later saying she can't sleep without the smoke machine. Meaning her humidifier, which is in the girls' room - not ours. Which is where she should be sleeping in that moment. It doesn't make sense for me to go in their room, try to unhook it, and move it at this point.  I tell her to shake it off and go to sleep, but she's whiny and cranky - and to be fair - stuffed up. I concede; she can go in her room but we have to SO quiet because we can't wake up the baby.  She agrees and creep into the room we go.

I set up the humidifier and L starts whining saying she wants her cat stuffed animal that is currently in our bed. Home girl has about 49,865,374 other stuffed animals in her room - so I tell her to choose one of those, I'm not coming in and out, the baby is sleeping. Be quiet. She asks again, the same kind of exchange - we are whispering - and at this point I'm hissing at her to be quiet. Right as I go to leave, a 3 foot tall stuffed raccoon comes crashing down on the stupid ass smoke machine and not only spills water everywhere but wakes up the beast JJ. Somehow she falls right back to sleep (first time ever) and I turn to leave, hissing to L to be quiet, go to bed, and stop with the cat. Go to sleep.

5 minutes later I hear the bitter patter of lead foot L coming in and out of their room into mine, doors are slamming (accidentally, but slamming none the less) and the baby wakes up (shocking). I go to run up the stairs yelling "L, that BETTER NOT BE YOU!" And I hear something drop, like plastic to the floor.

I go in the girls' room and survey the scene.

The baby is screaming and crying. L is (pretending to be) sleeping. And positioned as only road kill can be positioned, the f'ing cat is laying out on the floor. That was the plastic dropping. She heard me scream, panicked, and left the cat on the floor as road kill.

I picked up the cat and launched it at her, not hitting her with it (because I have horrible aim) and hissed something about "are you happy now?"  I took the baby out, brought her downstairs and starting making her a bottle. Before I fed my poor over tied, sick, and hungry kid I marched up the stairs on a (crazy mom) mission.

I busted into her room like a bat out of hell - dropped JJ in her crib (crying) and took crazy mom to a whole 'nother level. Muttering in angry phrases like:

• You want to not listen to me? 
• I'll show you to not listen. 
• You wanted the cat, and now you will snuggle with NOTHING!
• Wake up your sister. Are you kidding me? 
• Unbelievable. 

As the crazy words came out of my mouth I took armfuls of stuffed animals, toys, and dolls and took them all out of her room. In my crazy haze, I even took whatever was in JJ's crib out. I launched them into our office. The strange thing (well, actually there was a lot of strange going on - if I'm being honest) was that she didn't even really freak out. It's like she knew she was lucking out. She knew she messed up, so while she teared up a bit - she wasn't melting down that all of her beloved animals and dolls were being forcefully removed from her room.

She can earn a few animals back at a time and our office will look like the toy aisle for a bit, but I believe my point was taken. Apparently parenting like a lunatic really works, who knew?

Toy (story) graveyard. Where good toys go when their is girl is bad.

Criminal Moms

I figured, might as well get this down - so when it comes time for therapy we can point to the root of the problem, quickly.

Here's how it went down. Judge for yourself, do you agree with me? I shouldn't have been provided with the opportunity to nurture and raise children.

I went upstairs to put JJ down to bed. Home girl was tired and it was time for b e d. 

Side note, just yesterday I was telling the ball & chain that while I appreciate his help at bed time I don't need it. Let this be a lesson to us all. I do need him, my children need him. He can never leave again.

As I went upstairs, L was watching something on the DVR.  She's a fan of the Big Bang Theory. And as I type it, I get it. It's not My Little Pony's or terribly appropriate, but as long as there is no blatant sex talk - she thinks it's funny and it's innocent enough.

Seriously, maybe I shouldn't be allowed to raise these kids.

When I came back down stairs, knowing what is to come - I found her terrified on the couch. At the time, I thought she was trying to stay up later.  Stall tactics. I was cold, told her to pull it together; we were not watching another episode of the Big Bang Theory.

That's when I realize, the episode she was watching on the DVR ended. As the TV does, it flips to whatever was on TV "behind" the recorded episode.

The TV was on CBS. Criminal Minds. The first 5-6 minutes (always the worst) of Criminal Minds. I'm not entirely sure how much she saw. It could have been seconds, it could have been 6 minutes. I asked her what she saw and she said, "I don't want to talk about it."

Awesome. And by awesome I mean: worst.parent.ever.

I let her watch another episode of Big Bang Theory.  I even offered a My Little Pony episode or two.

She went to bed surprisingly okay. I'm hoping she only saw seconds, maybe the first 6 minutes weren't that bad? 

I was told by a friend, that some things are better left unknown. Don't watch the first 6 minutes of the episode. I think we can all agree, I don't make the best decisions. I watched the first 6 minutes.

By minute 3 there was a woman taped to a bed and stabbed with an ice pick cut to a firing squad style execution of a man on death row. By minute 6 a second woman was walking around her house, scary music enters the scene and she thinks someone is in her closet. There wasn't anyone in her closet. Just then? A man dressed in black comes from the side, throws her on the bed, ties her up with tape, and stabs her. With (another) ice pick. 

Yup. DSS can come right over and pick up my children.  I think it's about time, at least until my husband gets home.

Scarring Children & Finding My Way

What you need to know: 

• I get lost. I get lost anywhere. Everywhere. Any how. I get lost. Some say that I get lost from the bathroom to my bedroom - and those people? They would be right. Sometimes I turn the wrong way.
• My kid asks a lot of questions. Like your head explodes a lot of questions.  
• We are committed to speaking the truth with the kids as much as possible. It isn't always pretty - but we are committed to be real.

The story at hand: on our way home from a play date the other day this happened. Word for (pretty much) word. Out of nowhere.

L: "How did you get the baby out?"
Me: "You mean JJ? Well..." {silently thinking - where is this going, how do I get out of it, what do I do? You need to STALL.}

L: "When you had the baby. When JJ got here. HOW did she get out of your belly? HOW did the baby get out?"
Me: "Well..."{silently thinking - where is this going, how do I get out of it, what do I do?}

L: "You know! How did JJ get OUT of your BELLY?! HOW?"

Me: "Well... {Feeling pressured.  Frankly at this point I'm feeling like perhaps the whole parenting principle of that pesky "honest" approach isn't the way to go. I'm thinking child birth would encompass what I SHOULD be truthful about? So off I go...} so, remember when Mama had that booboo? Well {SHIT I'm doing this thing.... nope. I'm not.} I had a surgery and the baby was born!"

{Please let that be good enough. PLEASE.}

L: "What is surgery?"
Me: {F}

L: "Mama, WHAT is SURGERY?"

Me: "Ok, so the doctors gave me medicine and they took the baby out."
L: "How?"

Me: "I don't know, L, they took the baby." {LIE, you are lying to your child.}

L: "Where did they take the baby? How did they get the baby out?"

Me: "I had surgery."
L: "What is surgery?"

Me: "It's when the doctor uses something like a knife to make a cut to get the baby out."
L: "A KNIFE?!"
Me: {crap} "Well, not a real knife - that we use to cut things - but a doctor's special knife for surgery."
L: "Did you feel the knife?"
Me: "No. The doctor's gave me medicine so I didn't feel anything. And L, it's not the same kind of knife that you know."

{Please let that be good enough. PLEASE.}

L: "So the baby was cut out of you?" 

Me: {Inner monologue: well, when you put it like that I have sufficiently f'd you up. Honesty, you are a son of a bitch. Silver lining? We're done here.} "Yup."

L: "But how did the baby get there? In your belly? Before the doctor had the surgery in you."

Me: "Um." 

{head explodes}

L: "Mama, how did the baby get into your belly?"

Me: "L. Um. I'm lost I need to pay attention to where I'm going, OK?"

I totally punked out. Good news? She's 4 so I'm sure I can find somewhere on this here Internet it's too soon. Also? Since I get lost pretty much everyday she is none the wiser that I wasn't actually lost.

What's worse? You be the judge.

Saturday my dreamy husband gave me the day off. While normally mothers do not get the day off - I got a vacation day.  The ball & chain took the girls for the day while I went off to get my Breaking Dawn on.

Maybe you didn't know, but I am a MAJOR fan. Twi-hard. Major, people. And I know how ridiculous it is. I love their love, however ridiculous you find it.  I don't care.  I have read the books more times than I can count (yes I realize it isn't the best quality of writing, but you are reading this, aren't you?). It is one of hand full of movies (The Goonies, anything John Hughes, Drop Dead Gorgeous, Dirty Dancing, do not count) that I will see more than once. I will buy the DVD with digital download. I will see in the theaters at least three times. It's a sickness. I embrace it.

You think that's a problem? Get a load of the new problem I have on deck. 

Saturday morning, as I was getting ready to leave - I told the kid I was "running errands." This, is the truth. 

Courtesy of Merriam Webster:

errandsplural of er·rand (Noun)

Noun:

A short journey undertaken in order to deliver or collect something, often on someone else's behalf. The purpose or object of such a journey.

I was on a journey to tween oblivion. I was going to get my geek on. I was going to swoon. I was likely going to cry. Smile. I was going to collect some good warm & fuzzies and stare off to a dreamy state of mind. 

My swooning was interrupted by a little voice....

L: "Mama, where are you going? Errands? Where? Shopping?"

My well meaning, albeit dumb, husband: "First she's going to the movies, then shopping."
Me: {Totally silent.}

L: "The mooooovvviiees??!!?!? I WANNA GO!"

Movies to my kid is like a beach vacation. It's Christmas. It's fireworks. A movie AND popcorn? It's EVERYTHING to her. She would do just about anything to go to the movies.

Me: "Well, yes - we'll go to the movies soon, I promise. (We're planning on the Muppets at some point -so this isn't quite a lie.)

She seems to take that. 

My well meaning, albeit dumb, husband:"It's a movies for adults only.  An adult movie."

Great, so the chances of my kid going into school on Monday talking about how her Mama saw an adult movie this weekend. 90-10.  

And just when you thought it couldn't get worse?

Hours later - when I get home from bliss (the movie) & food shopping (sure it wasn't the pairing I would have hoped for - but it was HOURS alone and that was lovely):

L: "Mama. How were the vampires? Did they eat blood?"
Me: {blink. blink.}

My well meaning, albeit dumb, husband:"What? She had questions. I wasn't going to lie to her."
Me: {blink. blink.}

Just when I thought "My mama went to an adult movie" was the weirdest thing my kid was going to regurgitate at school?

Monday morning:

Me: "L, what do you want for breakfast?"

L: "Blood."Me: {blink. blink.}

We couldn't just stick with running an errand, could we?

Need your baby to sleep? Put them in a dirty bag.

Pre-sleep smiles

September 27th: We put JJ to sleep as we normally did. Some cuddles, I nursed her, topped her off with a little formula and a cozy PJ. Just a normal bedtime routine, though the PJs were a new addition.

Another hand me down from her big sister - maybe that's why L's sleep good juju took over. That night, JJ slept 7 hours. SEVEN STRAIGHT HOURS. Glorious. Do you know what 7 hours feels like after months of not have 3-4 hours of sleep? It's amazing. I was a new woman.

September 28th: Listen, if it isn't broke don't fix it. We Groundhog's Day that baby. Same routine. Same amount of formula. Same PJs. What? She didn't run a marathon? She didn't leak through her diaper- why not just throw on the sleep sack again?  That night, she slept 6 straight hours. 

September 29th: See September 28th.

(rinse & repeat)

October 8th: It's been over a week and it's been working. JJ is sleeping anywhere from 6-7 hours straight at night and it's glorious. Not so glorious? The PJs. There remained unwashed. Listen - would you tell a winning football player to wash his jersey before the series play offs? (I know, different sports - I did that for effect.) The ball & chain had a harder time putting her in the crusty PJs night after night. Me? Not so much. Of course, I would have washed it if she had an accident in them - but beyond that? What's a little drool, spit up and wear between friends? When the top started to get cardboard stiff - he started talking about washing our lucky PJ. I put it off for as long as possible. Finally, reason (and the husband) won - and we put her in a 'similar' pair of PJs.  The warmest ones we had because we are convinced it's the fact that she is toasty and warm that lets her sleep. 

A substitution that work

October 9th: I'm pissed. I was up all damn night with the kid - every 2-3 hours. It isn't being warm. It's the magic of the sleep bag. It's warm, like a blanket but there needs to be more. Maybe but the fact that it's a bag bottom - she has the freedom to kick around. I don't know if it's the 8 day old drool on the damn thing that lets her sleep - but what I do know is we need another sleep bag because we need her to wear these PJs everyday.

We spent our day driving around looking for a complimenting PJ.  Keeping in mind the original is circa 4 years ago it wasn't easy. We found a Babies R Us and Target that carried the sleep bag - but at two different levels of thickness. We kept the thicker one and now have her wearing that one or the original.

True story: the more worn (some might say dirtier) the PJ is, the sounder she sleeps.

True story: If it were up to me, we'd wash the sleep twins less.

When Good Ideas Go Bad

Last week was our girl's birthday. It was her first birthday away from family.  We wanted it to be special. More on that, later. One of the things we did was set up some of her current favorite animals having a tea party waiting for her, after school - including a drawing on her chalkboard saying "Happy Birthday, L!" Cute idea, right? So. Cute. 

She loved it.

The next day was her first day without our au pair - she went home and of course that's sad for our girl. More on that, later.  I thought it would be special to make this something we (sometimes) do. Day two I set up the tea set again, different animals, another one sitting on the couch reading a book and changed the picture. We made it look like the troll was up to mischievous good.

The first full day without L's Annie was nothing short of a sht show.  L was sad and acting out. It was awesome (alert: that's sarcasm). There were tears (hers not mine, yet). There were time outs. There was a lot going on. We finally got out of the house (plan: 2 pm, actual departure: 4:30 pm) and before we set sail for our errands I sent C a text.

"Can you do me a favor? If you get home before us - rearrange the tea party - make them play a game or something... and add some kind of message to be a good girl and give me a damn break. Maybe she will listen to her animals."

He responded with, "On my way home - will do that as soon as I get home!"

Fast forward: it turns out a tree came down behind our neighborhood and of course our (side) of the block was affected. After L & I finished our errands, we picked up the ball & chain- went out to dinner - thinking that the electricity would be on by the time we got home (company said 8 pm).  We arrived home at 8:45 pm. Lights out. Total darkness. We spun it as an adventure! We'd all sleep in bed together, hang out - read a book by flashlight. It's just like camping! Everyone loves camping!! (Except us - we left that out) It'll be awesome!

When we came back in my dear husband thought... oh wait - let's be sure to see if the stuffed animals have been up to anything while we were gone. Yeah, nothing like a severe creep factor to add to an already scary situation for our newly but very emotional four year old. I WISH I could have taken a picture of what the scene was... in the dark... being spotlighted by a flashlight - but you can imagine it, can't you? 

(picture this in TOTAL darkness)

Nothing creepier than Rudolph & Paddington Bear going head to head in the dark in an aggressive game of Candy Land while being looked over by a fairly aggressive and threatening note sent by two sociopath trolls. Just when you think we have a great idea? We go and take it too far.

Needless to say she slept with us that night and the trolls have a new creepy factor to them, I'm not sure will wear off.

Good Talk Bad Talk

My baby grew up. When did that happen? Our oldest, turning four in a mere hours by the time this is posted is growing up faster than I might like. It's happening everywhere in every way and when I least expect it. Example: I brought her to a birthday party - her first in the area.  It was another first for her: I was to leave. 

I think there was one other parent there, might have been a neighbor? But all the other parents? Left. Gone. 

I was frantic.  At first the kid was clingy and shy but within seconds she had found a friend from her class and while confused that I would leave (because I had never left her at a friends before let alone a party) she was fine with it.  Me? I was not. I was totally freaked but I left anyway, because I'm not going to that parent hovering over her, when everyone else left.

What's a girl to do? I called my mom.

My fear was this: sometimes L gets upset - for what would seem like 'no reason.'  Example - kids accidentally bonk into each other. She accidentally hurts someone... the other kid- who ACTUALLY got hurt - cries.  L then cries because she feels bad that she hurt the other kid and/or she is so embarrassed and/or overwhelmed and she cries.  I don't know where she gets that from {looks around innocently}...

I was so afraid, she was going to get overwhelmed, cry, and since the other kids so much more mature? I don't know - I thought it would carry over in school or something (mean girls exist and they start at 3. FYI) and she is so jammed right now about making friends - I was nervous for her. Yes I realize these are all messed up sentence structures, ongoing and don't make sense - but I think they paint the picture of my insanity thought process. 

So back to the story at hand:

I call my mom... to just be like, "Can you believe it? She's 4! They have drop off parties already? I had no idea!"  

Her response?
First thing she says?

"Have you had the good touch, bad touch conversation yet??"

Awesome.

Here I am, worried she might cry or just have a weird social moment ... and now that's escalated to possible molestation.

What's a girl to do? I had a beer at 2pm. 

That night, C & I decided to attack the "good touch bad touch" conversation - completely unprepared. I have 2-3 reference books to choose from that likely touch upon this subject (ba-dum-cha) or I don't know the world wide web?  There has to be an about.com page on how to talk to kids about this? Perhaps a youtube.com video? Nah - we go at it - totally unprepared and frankly I'll be surprised if we didn't scar her. In related news: this whole parenting gig is difficult. How the hell are we not required to have some kind of operating license to do it?

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year to Be Scarred for Life

Dear L, 

Remember when you were unfazed by the horrifying nature of the crazy man in red? Maybe his belly made you think of your mama? Who knows, but year one you were calm, girl.  Those. Were. The. Days. 

"What's all the hubbub about?"

Last year, we went to the same Santa. You would have thought we were throwing you down the highway to hell. Sure we took a year off, in-between the seemingly enjoyable experience, maybe you didn't remember you had a chill time the last time? Last year, what a different reaction. Sure, I am a horrible parent for allowing Santa to pin you down as I laughed (and cried) on the sidelines to capture the shot. I think I was trying to prove a point to Nana Lu, who insisted on these dang pictures. This is what she got for pressing the Santa issue.  This is what I get for giving my mother a hard time. Side note: don't do this to your mother, ever.

 "Get me OUTTA HERE!"

This year. OH this year.  I thought it would be different. You've been wanting to see the big guy for weeks. You were ready to sit on his lap and tell him all of your hopes and dreams (that we carefully placed in your head as parents we are licensed to do).  It was going to be magical, to watch the magic (not horror) in your eyes. Despite a rough night out on Saturday, Mama & Daddy pulled ourselves together with one mission for Sunday: see Santa.   

We waited on an (almost) 2 hour line to wait for the same Santa that you had been with for the last two years; he's legit. As soon as we got there, we realized either Santa got a serious surgery to shrink himself by 35 elves or a totally different guy altogether. You waved to Santa, you didn't notice.  You had a great time on the ridiculously long line.  It didn't hurt that the adult to you ratio was 4:1.  Nana Lu & MyUncleChris came and entertained you for the 2 hour line, but all was looking up. You wanted to review all the things you were going to ask for, you were READY. As the line twisted and turned around the mall all was well. There were smiles, laughs, giggles, dancing; it was holiday time magical.  We turned the corner and it was your turn to talk to Santa.  As we turned that magical corner, we entered the vortex of Christmas year's past. Last year to be exact. 

You held on to me as if I was about to jump out of a plane. I could barely pull you off of me to throw you on the Southern Belle of a Santa before us - but pull you off and throw you I did. If faced with a choice - I would take a warm & fuzzy picture showing you having the time of your life.  Mama didn't have that choice. My choices were limited. 

My choices, as I saw them were as follows:

A) Sit down in the picture with you.  First of all, Santa may have been Southern, but he was no gentleman - it's not like he scootched over.  Secondly, and really more to the point, with the night Mama just had it isn't even fair to put this as a choice because this was not an option, Mama looked like a hott tranny mess. 
B) Bag the picture altogether. See talk of 2 hour wait, not an option, Sweetie. 
C) Throw you on Santa and hope for the best (worst) picture to add to our collection.

"No. No. No. NO. NO."

You see my dear, childhood scarring aside, Mama had no choice. Throw you I must. I hope you get what you want for Christmas, kinda a missed opportunity here - not getting the big man's ear when you had the chance? (see last week's post - I'm channeling Rudolph's dad here).

Next year, we'll try again if you want - it's your choice, dude. But know this:  if you are going to have me wait on a line like that, I'm going to get a picture out of it.  Adorable or horrifying - that's up to you.

Love,
Mama

P.S. Don't worry. I put in a good word with Santa, turns out you are getting EVERYTHING you want and more.  Mama used a little bargaining when I had the chance. Santa had some choices too.

A) Give you all that you are dreaming of. 
B) Leave you there with him.

He decided on A - spoiling you. You appear much more unruly than you really are. Way to go girl. 

She's Nothing but Honest

A friend wrote me today commenting on how homegirl is adorable... but she sure does have a naughty look.

Does she ever! Last night - while taking a bath is a perfect example.  L is SUPER independent. She has to do everything herself.  In theory I am a proud mama bear she has this in her spirit - don't get me wrong - but sometimes  mostly it slows down the whole process of what you are trying to do. She likes to wash her own hair - basically we let her futz around and then we tell her we get a  turn. Getting shit done and teaching sharing all at the same time, you can send me your #1 Mother award now.  Really, I'd rather not have a turn but it's that or soap scum hair.  She wouldn't start washing her hair and she wasn't listening - at a certain point in the discussion...

Side note: yes we had a discussion. Don't judge. You try forcing her to do anything.  Go ahead, try it.  It will be mayhem for the rest of the night - unless of course you are Nana Lu.  Her solution involves bribery - currency tic tacs.  My strategy is it is best to just let her think she is in control of her own destiny, when in fact you are really manipulating the situating (insert evil laugh).

Back to tub time,  "L, listen, if you don't wash your hair I'm going to have to do it, OK?" She looks up - dead serious and says... "Mama. I not listening. OK?"

Me, in my head, "No shit."
Me, in reality, "Yeah, I know you aren't listening. Why? We have to get going here, it's getting late."

L "Yeah. I don't know. I no listening. OK. I'm a good girl, but don't want to listen right now." 

Totally seriously. Totally matter of fact. I totally bust out laughing, which tic tac pusher, Nana Lu would frown over.

Naughty girl, indeed.

Just Call Me Kate

Daycare thinks we are divorced. Jon & Kate Plus 8 ... minus the douche husband, bad haircut and 7 kids.

It's official. I am a horrid mother.

I thought - if you got things out there, it made you feel better. Communicate and all that. Not so much.

Last week (I think) I brought L in the for the first time in a few days possibly weeks because I've been traveling. As I was putting her lunch bag away in the refrigerator I heard the teacher say, "Oh L, are you staying with Mommy this week?"

I didn't really connect until I was in the car, and what was I supposed to do? Go back in, pop my head in the class and say what?

"Um excuse me, it's me, Kate. I just want to clarify we're actually happily married. Sure we travel all the dang time, and while our plan was to move so that this wouldn't be the issue and it has in fact been compounded and worse than it has ever been... but anyway. The best laid plans.... anyway so we are happily married. FYI. OK - by L see you later, love you! Bye!"

But I could have been mistaken. Right?

Yesterday, it was confirmed yesterday.

When I went to pick up L and found a poster on the cork board with the question:

"Do I have a house and who lives in it?"

EACH and every kid in the class is listed with their answer. Well each and every kid...with the exception of L.

Think I'm making this up?


Yup. That's right. I took a picture of it - to show you I wasn't crazy. It's really blurry because I was sneaking it but you get the idea. Either she has no idea who she lives with or they didn't want to ask her? I don't know.

Just call me Kate. Looking forward to the contract negotiations, lipo, and the paparazzi. I love those bastards.

Terrible Twos : Come Early

I started writing this SEVEN months ago... 7. Damn.

I'm breaking out the parenting books. We were going along swimmingly and it's all a shift. There are temper tantrums, jumping up and down, crying, screaming if the word N O is uttered. There is destruction and mayhem if homeslice doesn't get what she wants and she will not be that girl. We will not be those parents (yes. I'm judging.)

That being said, I am convinced we are alone with discipline here. Through out the day I am 110% sure she is getting what she wants when she wants it. I have talked about discipline a lot, how to do it, why to do it, when to do it - but the more L freaks the more it shows me that she isn't getting it anywhere but from me. Short of flipping my household upside down, it is what it is until the end of the year. I know Cat loves L but she isn't helping her grow or learn to be a good little girl, or a little girl that can be tolerated on day where she doesn't get everything she wants.

7 months later - we're still getting up from the terrible two monster and we're less than a month away from the big day. It takes a village to raise this kid, it's just too bad the whole village isn't on the same page. There are temptations everywhere - for her and for us but we'll get there. And if all else fails she'll be 3 soon enough.