learning to love the new comer

Is it weird that the relationship between my senior dog and the new puppy remind me so much Aidan and how he felt about Seark when we brought him home from the hospital?

We "adopted" Chachi from some con woman 7 years ago. When we got him he was about 3 years old or so at least that is what the vet told us. I saw his picture on petfinder.com. He was so ugly he was cute. I had to have him. The woman that was "fostering" him was close by. I took Aidan who was a baby at the time with me to meet him. I knew right away he was ours. He came right over to me and crawled on my lap and just sat there like he already knew he found his forever home. Or so I thought. Turns out he just knew the drill by now. I would soon come to find out he had already found quite a few forever homes.

The woman that had him said we could take him that day. The adoption fee was $350. She told me she could only accept cash because so many people had screwed her with bouncing checks and no credit cards cause she didn't have a machine to process them. Okay. Cash it is. I handed over the money and she gave us the dog. I just finished strapping Aidan in the car seat when she came running out and said "Oh so glad your still here I almost forgot he has an appointment to be neutered on Friday. That was part of the adoption fee. So just bring him back here. I will take him to get it done and call you when you can pick him back up."

We had him home for three days before we had to bring him back to be fixed. He was the sweetest little thing. Happy. Playful. Affectionate. I didn't even want to hand him over for a day, but knew he had to have the procedure. I dropped him off in the morning and she told me she would call me when he was ready to come home sometime that afternoon. I checked my cell phone it felt like every 10 minutes all day anxiously waiting for our pup to come home. By evening when I hadn't heard anything I called her. No answer. Hmmmm. I waited awhile and called back. No answer. I called again and again leaving message after message. No answer. Oh my god what if the dog died during the procedure and she didn't want to tell me? What if something went wrong? Why wasn't she answering the phone?!

The next day I called her like you would when you are calling a radio station trying to when tickets by being the hundredth caller. To no avail. No answer. What he hell?! I texted. Called.Called and texted again. Nothing. I went where I dropped Chachi off with her which also happened to be her dog grooming shop. She wasn't there and neither was the dog.

I started to get the feeling that something wasn't right. I went to the local police station to see if they could help. Help how? I didn't know her full name. I gave her cash and had no receipt. She was gone and so was the dog. As I started to give the officer the description of the dog he stopped writing and said "oh that dog." Turns out I wasn't the only looking for "that dog". The scam was she would adopt the dog out. Give you the story about the neutering. Have you bring the dog back and then never return him. Oh she was good. The whole I don't take checks cause people have screwed me. I took the dog that day so I didn't think to ask for a receipt. The officer explained that since it was under $500 I would have to take her to small claims court myself. With no proof of any exchange of money it would be hard to prove that I actually gave her anything. Oh she was really good. But I was better. I went back to her shop and waited for her. When she finally showed up I snapped her picture with my phone. Told her I knew all about her and if I didn't get that dog or my money before I left I was making flyers and hanging them all over town with her picture on it. Suddenly like pulling a rabbit out of hat she produced the dog.

And that doesn't really have anything to do with the rest of this post but you have already read it so now ya know the background on how Chachi came to be ours whether you wanted to or not.

For the next 7 years Chachi would be our only fur baby. Until this past weekend when we adopted Nacho Rocky. (Rocky's adoption was totally legit) Chachi and Rocky had a meet and greet at PetSmart to make sure they were compatible before we brought the puppy home. Chachi appeared to be cool with it when we were on neutral ground. Just like Aidan with Seark when we were in the hospital. Right after I gave birth to Seark I couldn't wait for Aidan to meet his little brother. Everyday Aidan would come to the hospital with his dad to see the baby. He would hold him. Hug him. Kiss him. Tell me and the baby how much he loved him. The tide turned when we got home as it would Chachi and Rocky.

I couldn't wait to get home to Aidan with his little brother in tow and settle into what ever our new normal was going to be. I so clearly remember walking through the door with Seark and Aidan just blankly staring at me. I sat down on the couch with the baby and Aidan just turned and walked away. He went in his toy room and started playing alone. What was that about? I hadn't been home in four days that was the longest Aidan has ever been away from me EVER. He wasn't even excited to have me back to say the least. About 30 minutes passed and Aidan came back into the living room and said to me "Can you put that down and play with me?" Ummmm "that" being his little brother. That? Really? What happened to my little sweet heart that would patiently wait to feel his baby brudda kick. My bestest friend for the last five years that talked about nothing for the last month other than what a big helper he was going to be and how much he couldn't wait to have "his baby" here.

I will tell you happened. A side of Aidan I never knew existed surfaced. My little love bug told me daily how much he hated me. HATED ME?! WHAT?! he never even used that word before. I mean there was this one time when we were at the movies that he called me an asshole but he didn't even know what that word meant and it was during a tantrum. Totally different. "I hate you" he said with conviction I didn't know a boy his age could possess. "I hate you" those 3 little words tore me up inside. He would say "why don't you just take YOUR baby and leave?". As for Seark he pretty much pretended that he didn't exist for a good month or so. If Seark cried Aidan would go in another room. If he was watching something on TV he would just turn the volume up.

Chachi is going through the same thing right about now. He isn't fresh with the puppy and thank the Lord he cannot talk cause I couldn't take verbal abuse again. At the moment Chachi is just trying to pretend this little pup didn't come with us. He avoids him at all costs. Even if it means passing up a cookie. Chachi pass up a cookie?! Unheard of. He is an obese senior dog there is nothing that could make him pass up food. Nothing except for a puppy who is not as cute or amusing as he was the day they met at PetSmart.

Eventually Aidan came around. He stopped putting Seark's car seat by the door and asking when I was going to bring him back. Most days he doesn't hate me anymore. He has accepted that Seark is a part of OUR family and not just MY baby. I'm hoping Chachi comes around too, I am sure he will.   

Let's not play that game...

I am sure if you have a child old enough to manipulate a crayon you have been here….

MOM!!! MOM!!!! I MADE YOU A PICUTRE!!!

Oh yay, I can’t wait to see it!

HERE YA GO! GUESS WHAT IT IS???

Errrrrr….. Uh it’s a ….. let’s not play that play game. Why don’t you just tell mommy what it is?

NO! YOU HAVE TO GUESS! CAN’T YOU TELL?!

Uh yeah sure…. It is a uh ummmmm a potato? And multi colored party streamers?

What? It is not a POTATO! What are party streamers? (puppy dog eyes) How do you not know what that is… guess again?

Of course it’s not a potato! Mommy was kidding. I am no good at guessing games so let’s not play them (because I may crush your artistic spirit if this goes on any longer).

NO! Just one more guess PLEASE!!!!

It’s the planters peanut guy with a rainbow wig instead of a hat…. Ahhhh it’s his wife. It is a planters peanut girl!!!!

 It’s you… I made it brown like your make up. I gave you different color hair, you know like when you first dye it. It looks just like you.

Of course it’s me! Great job buddy!!! (Holy SHIT!!!! Brown like my make up?! Freaking rainbow hair?! My kid thinks I am a f*ucking circus clown!!!!)

I cannot even begin to tell you how many times we have played that game. It's the game with no winners. I am usually way off. Abstract art is apparently not my forte. In most cases even after I have been told what I am supposed to be looking at I struggle to see it. The four or five failed guesses make me question if I should visit the eye doctor or if my brain is losing cells with age. Worse they make my kids question their art and obvious talents.

 A few weeks ago my son was drawing a chart of various facial features that he was going to use to make new super heroes. He gave me and my husband the paper with several noses he had drawn and asked which one was best. One of the noses had a striking resemblance to a penis. The sight of this cartoon penis drawn amongst noses had me and my husband in tears from laughing so hard. My son bewildered and annoyed kept asking what was so funny. Obviously we couldn’t tell him. We were choking on laughter. We couldn't say anything. I reeled myself in and looked at my husband who had himself reverted back to  the state of an immature giggling boy and had two thoughts. One I will let him explain what is so funny. And two we are awful parents. I mean really who behaves like this?

STOP IT WHAT ARE YOU GUYS LAUGHING AT?!?! ARE YOU LAUGHING AT MY DRAWINGS?! YOU GUYS ARE SO MEAN!!! STOP LAUGHING!

Oh buddy you didn’t hear that … mommy farted!!!

No she didn’t mom said girls never do that.

That’s why it was so funny….

Thanks… great save. In hindsight I guess it was the conversation totally shifted and took a whole new silly turn. The focus was off the penis nose and our ability to act like mature adults. Aidan bought his dad’s crazy explanation. We were off the hook… this time. Aidan is really a very talented kid and his drawing ability is well beyond his years at this point. For the most part our days of “guess what I made for you?” with him are over. But now there is Seark, and the art by Seark segment is just beginning. After Seark will be Rylan.I would be lying if I said I wasn't  looking forward to many more years of awkward wrong answers.  

Some birds arent meant to be caged

Some birds aren’t meant to be caged

“Some birds are not meant to be caged, that’s all.

Their feathers too bright, their songs too sweet and wild.

So you let them go, or whenever you open the cage to feed them they

Somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows that it is wrong to

Imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.”

Stephen King

 Came across that quote tonight and can't help but think about how much I miss my friend Melissa. If you knew her you would know how fitting that is for her. One of the most beautiful people I have ever known. Inside and out. A spirit so bright, so bold you just can’t keep it contained.

We were close friends in grammar school and into high school. I transferred to a private school and lost touch with a lot of my childhood friends including her. Years went by and I heard she was living here or there and doing this or that but we never seemed to be in the same place at the same time. A few years ago I’m not even sure exactly how but we got back in touch with each other. It was like no time passed at all. We caught each other up on everything and anything that had happened in our lives over the last decade. Everything. The good. The bad. Even the ugly. Our conversations were easy and honest. I began to realize not just how much I missed her but how much I missed having that kind of friendship. A friendship free of any kind of judgment. I could tell her anything no matter how silly and always feel heard. We spent countless hours talking on the phone and over coffee.

It wasn’t long before we both found out that we were pregnant. A surprise to both us. Really what were the odds that after all these years of never even crossing paths that we would be having babies within days of each other? We spent every day of our pregnancy together. Every day. Melissa would come here in the morning and we would spend literally the whole day together. Commiserating over how uncomfortable we both were. Planning for our newest additions. Sharing in each other’s excitement. Even rubbing each other’s swollen feet. We talked about everything from baby names to how crazy I thought she was for planning a home birth. We watched each other’s belly’s grow and felt our little ones kick before they were here.  When I was on my way to the hospital to have Seark I called her. Right before they took me in for my c-section I called her. The first phone call I made after he was here was... to her. Our babies that were due just days apart wound up being born a month apart. Seark was 2 weeks early. Her baby Saige was 2 weeks late. She spent most of that very long month waiting for Saige on my couch snuggling Seark. He would lay across her belly contently as Saige wriggled and moved. When she finally made her way into the world I couldn’t wait to meet her. To hold this little peanut I felt like I already knew. She was perfect. She was only a few hours old when I went with Seark to introduce him to his new friend and celebrate the birth of her baby with my best friend.

After the babies were born we were inseparable. Together we passed the time watching our babies grow. Exchanging advice. Laughing at ourselves and the silly things Seark and Saige would do. We spent our days by the pool playing with Aidan and getting tan while Seark and Saige napped together side by side in the shade. It was one of the best summers. Before we knew it a year had passed and we had toddlers. They stumbled around each other like little drunks. Me and Melissa enjoyed every second watching them explore their little world together. Side by side. As Seark and Saige grew up Melissa and I grew closer and closer. Melissa is the closest to a sister that I have ever had.  

But just like some birds that aren’t meant to be caged neither was she. I always knew that. Still I was devastated when out of the blue she told me she was moving across the country. She was ready to move on. I knew she had to. I was so happy for her and so sad for me. My world feels empty without her. I miss spending our days together and having someone to talk to. She was that once in a lifetime friend that would answer the phone and 2 am and drop everything if you needed her. The crazy friend that would ask for your left over breast milk and eat a cricket to entertain your 5 year old. The one that let me cry and sent me flowers when I was hurting in a way no one else understood. Defend you even if she knew you were wrong. That once in a life time friend. I miss her but know I am lucky because not everyone gets to know what that kind of friendship feels like. Not everyone gets to experience something so sweet and wild.

boys will be boys???

Boys will be boys. Or will they? What does that even mean? If boys will be boys surely girls will be girls? Although I have never heard anyone say girls will be girls to describe any certain type of female behavior. Is it because they won’t be girls? What else would they be? Boys will be boys seems to have become a blanket statement to explain away any and every bad behavior exhibited by a boy (young or old). Are boys just expected to be messy, crude, aggressive, unruly, obnoxious? Or is that girls are by nature sweeter, tidier, more thoughtful, classy?

Hmmmm…. I have three boys. I don’t find that they are genetically predisposed to possess any of those less desirable qualities. I think all children boy or girl can. All babies are born I think with a blank slate as far behavior goes. They learn what is acceptable and not over the span of their little life. They learn by doing. They learn not to only if consequences follow.

 All kids will do, let’s say questionable things. Like color the walls, put toys in the toilet, bite another child, smell their own feet, be so proud of their poop they want everyone in the house to come see it before the potty “eats” it. I think universally kids will do strange and not so loveable things. My boys have done all of the above and much, much more. They tend to be messy. At times loud. Even heavens for bid fresh. They giggle about farts and burps and other bodily functions that make me wonder what is going on their little brains. Is this because they are boys?

I have never met a child that is not messy. Mine are maybe the messiest I know but I don’t live with anyone else’s kids. Sometimes the mess comes from lack of coordination. Basic hand to mouth action doesn’t go as smoothly as you would think. “Oopies” is something I hear frequently when my 2 year old is eating or drinking from a cup that I have given him hesitantly without the lid. He is after all as he reminds me constantly “a big boyee”. A big boy that cannot manage to get the yogurt in his mouth or keep the milk off the floor. I find it hard to believe that this is simply because of his gender. I imagine if I had a girl the age of two she would have the same skill set in the coordination department. Maybe the difference would be what they do with the mess. Seark likes to finger paint with the spilled yogurt.

If I had three girls instead of boys would I have never called a plumber because of a flushed toy? Perhaps little girls are not as curious about what size toy will make it all the way down the toilet. Maybe they don’t find farts funny. When little girls are fresh or hit another child often their mother will immediately apologize for their behavior as if they are the first little girl to ever exhibit this unwanted behavior.   “Oh my I am soooo sorry she is NEVER like this. I don’t know what came over her. She didn’t get her nap in today… that must be it.” Same scenario involving a little boy. The mother often shrugs her shoulders and mutters “well, boys will be boys.”  My boys are not perfect. But I refuse to be that mother the one saying … boys will be boys. My boys will defy that statement. I will let them play in dirt, and pretend to be cops and robbers, and all the other things boys will do. I will also hold them to a higher standard. They will be boys that turn into respectable gentlemen, productive members of society, maybe even someone’s prince charming someday. Set the bar too low and they will step over accepting that is all that is expected of them. Raise the bar to new heights and watch them soar trying to reach it. 

Welcome to the circus Nacho Rocky

So lately things have been super hectic and stressful around here. Aidan's troubles at school are enough alone. This dang stomach virus that keeps making it way back to us. (My littlest one just had it again this week) We are remodeling some of our home. It's just been a lot in a short period. Well nothing says de-stress like three boys a senior dog and a puppy and so I decided to pack up the troops and adopt a dog today.

I filled out the application for our newest member a couple weeks ago. I got an email Thursday saying after reviewing our application we could go ahead with next step in the adoption process which is a meet and greet. I mentioned the possibility of a new dog to Aidan at that time. BIG MISTAKE. For the next 48 hours all I heard was are we getting him? When? Is it time? Will he like Chachi? Will he like me? Can we go? Can you call whoever has him and ask them to come here NOW?!
GOOD LORD CHILD STOP IT!!!!

Finally after the longest 48 hours we were going to meet the dog and possibly take him home today. We went and bought a harness, leash, crate, bed, blanket, food and water bowls, food, treats, chew toys, and milk bones. After all morning in Target and too much money this meet and greet better be awesome. So awesome this little fur baby will be sleeping in the new bed tonight. Also Aidan may need therapy if we come home with no dog.

My husband is working today so I am going to bring my three boys and our dog chachi to Petsmart by myself for the meet and greet. No big deal. Yup no big deal if I had just maybe say one extra pair of hands.

We get to Petsmart where they are bringing the rescues for adoption day. Hell must have frozen over because we got there early! EARLY! I'm still not sure how that happened but fairly certain it won't be a regular thing for us. 99% of the time I am late. Someone is always waiting on me. Which I hate to say kind of works for me. I have been taking for granted how much that works me lately. So we got there early. About 30 minutes early. 30 minutes must be a breeze to kill in a pet store with three kids and a dog that loses his mind in public.

Normally my kids would spend 30 minutes just looking at the fish. Not today. Today the only mission we are on is operation new puppy. Forget the fish! We must stand right where it says "adoptions" the whole time. Well Aidan anways. Seark is almost always more or less in his own world. Today is no different. There were things that looked like igloos for dogs with in feet of us. Seark spent a good portion of the waiting time alone inside the plastic igloo doghouse while Aidan's obvious impatience and Chachi's repetitive territory marking had me day dreaming about zanax.

Did I already mention that we were early??? So of course the dogs were late. Seriously inconsiderate puppies!!! By the time they got there Aidan was close to a melt down, Rylan was actively in melt down mode, Seark was hidden away in an igloo, and Chachi was about to pass out from all the excitement. And I was wondering if we should just leave. I looked like a hot mess foolishly thinking I could pull this off. Surely  they would take one look at this shit show and deny us the dog. And probably wonder who filled out the very well written application. Yes I look better on paper.

Luckily the girl from Animal Rescues R Us took pity on me. She must have realized I was serious about this adoption to be patiently waiting with a wailing infant, twitching dog, and seven year old incessantly asking me IS HE OURS?! I was almost glad she didn't realize I had yet a third child lurking around in the doghouses. That may have been the deal breaker. 

We started to fill out the adoption agreement. And it was only another HOUR before we got to take our new pup home. He was part of a littler called the "Taco Bell Pups" and his name was Nacho. My kids felt bad to totally rename him but had already been set on Rocky. So we are calling him Nacho Rocky. 

Since bringing the dog home everyone has been telling me I am crazy. Why do I need another dog? Don't I have enough going on? So to them I say. Of course I am crazy and that has nothing to do with adopting another dog. You have to be a little crazy spending every day all day with little people that bombard with you questions and demands from the moment you open your eyes and love just about every minute of that madness. Do I need another dog? Does anyone NEED another dog.... no. I could live with out one but I wouldn't want to. Chachi has brought us joy like any other member of our family with a bonus... he doesn't talk back. Why not add to the joy we already have? And i will tell you this little three pounds of pure sweetness is already adding smiles on the faces of my little guys. And finally don't I have enough going on? Yes I do. I am also more than willing to live in this happy chaos. Puppies are work just like babies. If you don't know how much I LOVE caring for all of my babies you don't know me. They say if you find a job you love it doesn't feel like work and that is how I feel. The kids. The dog. They are work. The best kind. So with out any further adieu we officially announce the newest member of our family....

Welcome to the Circus Nacho Rocky

I may have failed my son

I haven’t posted in a few days because my mind has been preoccupied. Preoccupied by thoughts that I may have failed my son. I spend every day pretty much every waking moment with Rylan and Seark. Rylan reminds me so much of Aidan as a baby. His big blue eyes. His fuzzy hairless head. His want for independence despite the fact that his legs cannot physically hold him up yet. The same happy yet serious disposition. The love in his eyes when he looks at me.  Aidan just like Rylan would get hysterical when I walked out of the room. When I return his cries turn to smiles in an instant. Those seemingly small moments remind me just how much I mean to my kids. My mere presence put them at ease. As long as I am near everything is okay. All fear dissipates with the sight of my face. For a mom, for me that is an indescribably wonderful feeling. It’s those moments that make your heart melt and hurt. Why hurt? Because as your kids get older they realize along with you that you cannot protect them from everything. You can comfort them when they are distressed. Give them magic kisses that heal boo boos. Hold their hand when they are scared. Wipe their tears when they cry. But you can’t change this unkind world. And you can only keep them from it for so long.

Rylan wakes up happy. I love to lay in bed and listen to him coo and babble to himself before I pick him up.  I lean over the crib and his eyes light up. He reaches up for me in anticipation. He is all smiles and snuggles. I wait for the little pitter patter of Seark’s quick and tiny feet. He comes flying in my room. A tiny ball of energy ready for whatever the day might bring. Like a kid on Christmas every morning is the same. He races downstairs to take out his toys as if they are all brand new and this is first opportunity to get his hands on them. Aidan not too long ago greeted the day like the other two. Not anymore.

Aidan being my first child I now see may have put him at a disadvantage. I taught him at the time what I thought was best for. From the time he could talk he learned to speak with kindness. Of course like any other kid he had his fresh moments but they were far and few between. I made sure he knew his hands were for playing and helping never hitting or hurting. I gave him the love and respect that I expected in return. I corrected him when he was wrong and praised him for jobs well done. I gave him the freedom to be who wanted to. I let him pick out his own ridiculous clothes and wear costumes out to dinner. He understood the concept of acceptance because he was being a raised by a mom that accepted him even if that meant we had to eat dinner with a tiny Darth Vadar.

 I taught him by example all the things I value in a person. Love. Respect. Kindness. Acceptance. Aidan is by a nature a gentle sensitive soul. From the very beginning he got what I was trying to show him. He is the most wonderful boy. He is an awesome big brother. The friend everyone wishes they could have. Loyal to a fault. I prepared him for a world we don’t live in. I should have warned him about the kid that is mean for the sake of being mean. Or the one that won’t let you sit next to him just because. Instead of keep your hands to yourself I should have told him if someone is hitting you, you hit them back even if it means you are going to hurt them. At least they will leave you alone next time. I should have… I didn’t. I didn’t think about mean kids. Indifferent parents. An educational system that tolerates both. I didn’t think to equip him with the tools he would need to navigate the real world. From the time he was born until he went to school I only thought about the world we shared. The one where it was just me and him and there was no need for thicker skin. I feel like I have failed him. The toll these unlearned lessons have taken on him make me sad. Sad for the little boy that used to be happy like his brothers. Sad that I couldn’t find a balance that would have made these days easier. Sad that we live in a world where he feels like he doesn’t belong because he has been taught better. Frustrated that kids like him are such a rare find that they are the ones forced to change. Disgusted that unacceptable behavior is tolerated and good qualities are viewed as weaknesses. A psychological evaluation for sensitivity is more readily available than a plan to correct a harsh situation.

I may have failed my son when I taught him about the world I wished for him. Now that I know the difference I struggle with how I will raise his brothers…  

Just a little while longer

My littlest love is 7 months old today. 7 months. Before I know it he will be one. When Aidan was a baby his first year was all anticipation and excitement. Every milestone only represented something new that he could do and that was exciting. I couldn't wait until he could walk, talk, and really play. I was anxious to see him take his first step. When he did I was over joyed. I loved watching him stumble around our house like a tiny drunk person. I delighted in hearing his first real word. Light. Light was his first real word. He said light probably a million times and I loved hearing it every single time. It never got old. I documented his year of firsts like a news paper reporter. I wrote it all down with the time and date. I made scrap books. Saved curls of hair and ticket stubs from places we visited. I did all this so he could have a piece of the things he was too little to remember. I did all of this for him not me. Surely I would remember these days and milestones for the rest of my life as if they had just happened. Or would I?

By the time I had Seark, Aidan was 5 and I knew that time goes by faster than you anticipate. The things you think you will always remember you start to forget. I was just as excited for Seark's year of firsts but less anxious. I didn't want to rush the year with the excitement of reaching the next milestone. I knew walking and talking would arrive in their own time and once they were here there is no going back. The infant stage is so short lived. Even shorter when you have an older child. Despite my effort to soak up every second and hold onto to the baby stage it passed me by in a blink. So fast I didn't have time to make scrap books and even forgot to write down things like his first smile (luckily i caught it on camera). With Aidan you could ask me anything and I would know exactly when that happened. His first steps were October 11, 2007. Exactly two months before his first birthday I was standing in the kitchen doing dishes when he let go of the couch he had been cruising on for the last month and walked out of the living room, through the dining room and fell right before he reached me. Seark... when was his first steps.... ummmm some time around his first birthday. Like with in weeks of turning one. I can still clearly see in my head Seark walking from Melissa to me for the first time I just don't remember exactly when that happened. I know terrible. How could I not know? Because it happens sooner than you think and even though you take mental note time marches on and the details become... fuzzy.

I thoroughly enjoyed Aidan and Seark. I loved spending my days with them and most of the time was not aware of how quickly time was passing. With Rylan I feel different. Maybe because he will be the last baby for me. I don't know. Whatever the reason I feel almost like everyday is bittersweet. I am all to aware that this baby stage is coming to an end. I rock him at night after I feed him and most nights I have a hard time putting him in his crib because I know these nights in the rocking chair will be over soon and I am not ready for that. Everyday he is more aware of his surroundings. I love watching him interact with his brothers. Just weeks ago he seemed unaware that he shared a house with them. While I love watching them together it makes me sad because I know it is the start of a new chapter for him which means the end of one for me. I know that this year of firsts is coming to an end and after that the infant stage will not just be a thing of the past for Ry but also for me. I am so not ready for that. I know I am not having anymore children and although I am okay with that it is a strange feeling that all of these firsts that are happening now will also be my last.

It is bittersweet watching your babies grow. I wish I could pause time. I know I can't keep them little forever. I just need a little while longer. A little longer to have them all to myself. A little longer to spend nights rocking them to sleep. A little longer to soak up these days.... just a little while longer.

I blame the parents

Sitting on a park bench at the school playground waiting for Aidan to get out of class three little girls run by. They are in kindergarten. I know this because the kindergarten kids get out 15 minutes before the older kids. Adorable 5 or 6 year old girls with their pig tails and school uniforms. I hear the one say to the other “run faster so Holly can’t catch up to us. She isn’t allowed to play with us today.” The girl that she is talking to looks over her shoulder at the one who is trailing behind as she picks up the pace. The first two girls get to the jungle gym at the same time. They both race up the stairs and sit at the top of the slide. The third girl “Holly” goes up after them. They are all still in ear shot of me. “Sorry Holly you can’t play with us today”. The members only mean girls Monday club of two go down the slide and take off running again. Holly just watches as they leave her behind. Looking defeated she sits with her back against the tic tac toe board. You can hear the other girls obnoxiously giggling in the distance.

Part of me so wanted to tell Holly… You do not need them. You are better off without them. The only reason they need to make you feel like crap is because they have their own self esteem issues that they will work out in high school by sleeping with very zit faced teen boy that smiles at them. Trust me they just did you a favor.  As much as I wanted to I didn’t. I did look around to see who and where were the mothers’ of the mean girls. They were there. The whole time conversing with each other over iced lattes oblivious to their children’s’ rotten behavior. I wondered if they knew what little brats their cute little girls were. They probably do. Children tend to mimic their parents.

You always hear people say “kids today”….. What about kids today? They are no different than kids of my day. Kids were mean back when I was grammar school. There were the girls that wouldn’t let you be in their made up club and there were girls that would purposely invite you to humiliate you. And then there was the Holly’s. By now I am sure you have guessed I was a Holly. Luckily as far as school aged torment goes I flew under the radar. I was also never one of the cool kids. I was excluded a lot left standing on the jungle gym alone wondering what I did wrong. As it turns out for the better. In grammar school I felt the sting of exclusion and longed to be part of part of the crowd. By the time I reached high school all the cool girls were sleeping with the cool boys only to be labeled whores and eventually turn on each other.  So as it turn out all I missed out on was lame sleep overs in grammar school and awkward teenage sex in high school. Both of which I would have opted out of on my own free will had I ever been invited.

So what is the problem with kids? Why are they so damn mean? Maybe the problem is not and never was the kids but the parents. I mean kids will be kids right? Every kid even my kid will at some point be mean. Rude. Obnoxious. Of course they will they are kids. Curious little beings testing the limits and each other to see what is socially acceptable. The job of every parent is to teach them. Correct them. More importantly to show them. It’s the way you talk to your significant other. How you treat your pets. Build your child’s self-esteem in the way you interact with them so that they feel big without having to tear someone else down. Don’t preach about respect. Respect them. Be kind…. Even to strangers, just because. Don’t tell them treat others the way they want to be treated. Live that rule and they will get it. Don’t turn a blind eye to their bad behavior address it the same you would address someone mistreating them.

So I do I blame the parents. Not because I’m perfect I am far from it. My 2 year old curses every now and then because mommy has potty mouth and I don’t always remember to sensor myself. My 7 year old talks back from time to time because kids do that. My kids aren't perfect and neither am I. That doesn't mean I give up. Every day I am a better mother than I was the day before. I learn from my mistakes and theirs. Every day I take the opportunity when it arises and the time to correct my children if they are doing something unacceptable. We learn from each other. It is a tiring process some days. That aspect of this parenting job will never be done. In the end my kids and everyone they meet on their path will be better off for my efforts. I hope. So yeah, in my opinion it starts at home. Please feel free to correct me if  I am wrong but I blame the parents. 

Everything changes

I remember the first Good Friday I spent with my husband’s family (now my family). It was 15 years ago. It is a family tradition of theirs to make spinach pies. More specifically his dad makes them with a little help from everyone. This is the only day of the year that my father in law cooks. He makes dozens of pies. This day of pie making requires lots of shopping. Lots of prep. Loads of clean up. I remember the first year so well mainly because of the mess. My mother in law was a woman that kept her house very clean. She would vacuum at three in the morning if she got up to have a cigarette and noticed that floor had crumbs or anything on it. She was also a woman that rarely slept. I remember coming into her house and the kitchen was the first room you would walk through. There was spinach everywhere. Pots boiling over. Flour and dough covering the counters and her dining room table and the floor. A mess. I remember thinking this woman is a saint to let this go on. Since that first Good Friday my mother in law has passed away and the tradition for the last 8 years has continued on at our house.

I am also like my mother in law. I like the house to be clean and in order. I love the tradition and thoroughly enjoy the day. The thought of the aftermath gives me anxiety. Aside from the mess, and the happy chaos this day brings it also makes me a little sad. I am happy to carry on the tradition and that we have a home that can accommodate it but it is a reminder that my mother in law is not here. So much has changed over the last 15 years. For one I am not a 17 year old girl anymore. 15 years ago all I saw was the mess today I know days like these are the glue that hold things together. Families change. Almost constantly. Babies are born. People we love pass away. Friends that felt like family move. Some faces are a constant. Some come and go. Usually on a day like today we will reminisce about prior years. Today we didn’t do that. Just recently my husband’s grandmother passed away. Even more recently his sister in law. I think in light of these losses old memories were too much for today. Sometimes change is so rapid it leaves no time to adjust. No time to prepare for the lack of someone’s presence.

Two years ago Seark was just a baby and it was his first Good Friday. My best friend Melissa was here with her baby who is the same age as Seark. At that time I thought our babies would grow up together. Always know each other. Maybe even have traditions of their own. She moved to California a few months ago. We keep in touch but not like we used to. 3,000 miles and different time zones will do that to a friendship. I always miss her but today I really felt the absence of her presence. Aidan was busy playing with his friend. Seark came out of the toy room with the saddest face and said “dose duys wont pay wit me.”I couldn’t help but think about how up until Melissa moved Seark and her baby Saige were inseparable.  Although they were babies they had a closeness. A bond. Even when they had no words you could tell they shared a secret. I missed her for him and wondered how different the day would have been if they could be here. I missed them both… more than most days.

Today I was wishing I was my 17 year old self again. A time when friendship was forever. When I was blissfully unaware of the impending circle of life cycle. I watch my kids enjoy this day without pondering such things and I envy them. I look at the empty chair where Grace (my husband’s grandmother) would be sitting and I miss her. She was a pain in the ass. She complained. A lot. About everything. Half of the time it was too hot in the house and she would ask if we were trying to kill her with the heat. “You know I can’t breathe in the heat! Do you want me to die?!” You would open a window to cool it off a bit and she would complain about the draft and her arthritis and tell you how rude you were for not already getting her a blanket. She would talk sternly to the kids and make jokes that they didn’t understand and then say they never want to visit with me. She was impossible, never easy to please, not having to accommodate her anymore brings a strange sadness. An awareness that things have once again changed.

Yes things have changed since I was 17. Not all change is bad though. Just as some of the faces we love have disappeared new ones are beginning to fill up those empty spaces. Aidan, Seark, Rylan, and my nephew make this house and holiday alive with laughter and a sense of new beginnings. I look at them and it seems to all make sense.

 

philosophy times four : Bunny Trauma

philosophy times four : Bunny Trauma: First things first and this is neither here nor there but as I write this I am drinking an iced Caffe Mocha from Starbucks home discoverie...

Bunny Trauma

First things first and this is neither here nor there but as I write this I am drinking an iced Caffe Mocha from Starbucks home discoveries and it is so good. Kind of like crack for the coffee drinker. So there is that.

Yesterday all day my little Seark who is going to be three very soon talked about getting his picture with the “Eata Bunny”. I wasn’t even sure that I was going to do it this year. Last year Seark wouldn’t get within 10 feet of that giant creepy filthy bunny suited weirdo. This year he won’t shut up about it. Fine we will go get pictures with the bunny. I need to get the kids Easter outfits anyway since Easter is in a few days. All day all I heard was bunny this and bunny that. All the way to the mall all we heard is about the “Eata Bunny”. I’m sure he said some other stuff but between Aidan giggling over Seark’s excitement, the binky in Seark’s mouth, and Rylan sounding the alarm I couldn’t make out much else. With Seark as long as you smile and nod and say things like “REALLY” and “WOW” he is content. Aidan doesn’t buy that anymore. When you start saying those things to him he knows you have check out of the conversation and will start questioning you to make sure you heard and digested every last detail of his never ending story.

We arrive at the mall and once inside we can see the bunny straight ahead. Seark is squealing “MOMMIA EATA BUNNY EATA BUNNY!” Aidan truly finds this hysterical and says “we gonna eat a bunny Seark”. Seark is unaffected by Aidan mocking him. He is skipping and squealing over to the bunny. We get on line and Aidan whispers to me “uh mom, I think I’m too old for this”. He’s right. He is. But he has two little brothers that aren’t and probably won’t have the nerve to get too close to the bunny alone. “What you’re not too old for the Easter Bunny?! Don’t be silly!”

There is only two families on line in front of. The first to get their picture done is twin boys about the age of three. They are cute as can be and loving the bunny. Seark is getting impatient. “My turn, Searkie turn!” They are done quickly thankfully and then the kid in front of us is up. A chubby little 2 year old who you can already see is not so sure of this whole picture thing. As he gets near the bunny he starts to melt down. Literally like butter melting. His knees go weak and he sort of just melted onto the floor. Tears streaming down his face. “mommia is he otay?” Seark is looking seriously concerned. The boy’s mom makes a total motherly fool of herself (something you will probably do at some point so don’t judge). She is petting the bunny, hugging him, high fiving him, and finally sitting on the bunny’s lap to show her little one just how harmless this creepy bunny is. I took this as an opportunity to show Aidan indeed no one is too old for the Easter photo op. As the mother prances around the bunny her son begins to wail. The sight of mommy seducing the bug eyed rabbit is just too much. She gives up walking away ashamed and defeated with no cute picture to show for her humiliating efforts. I felt bad and entertained.

It is our turn. Aidan mopes over and stands where the girl taking the picture places him. I put Rylan on the bunny’s lap. Where is Seark? Seark? SEARK!

Seark is panic stricken hiding behind a fake bush. For toddlers fear has a domino effect. If the last boy was that afraid there must be a reason why. It’s like when you take your pet to the vet and they put on the brakes at the door because they can smell the fear.

Searkie what are you doing?

I stared mommia

Scared… scared of what buddy? You been waiting all day for this!

I STARED OF DA EATA BUNNY MOMMIA (insert sobs)

So Seark is not getting his picture after all. Aidan is being a trooper standing there with a fake smile plastered on his face. And Ry oh sweet Ry not crying (yet), laying across that furry lap gazing up in sheer terror. “Hurry up snap the picture before he cries”.

 

 Later that night the kids were all sound asleep in bed when I heard Seark scream. I jumped out of bed and ran in by him. Seark never gets up in the middle of the night. He is all sweaty and hysterical. Of course my first thought is oh god don’t say you have belly ache!

Searkie what is wrong?

I STARED OF DA EATA BUNNY!!!!!

I think next year we will just skip the pictures.

why doesn't anyone ever tell you?!

The process of carrying and physically bringing a baby into the world is hard. There are all kinds of things that happen to your body that nobody tells you about until they are happening. PUPPPS. A nine month long yeast infection. Bad skin. Stretch marks in places other than your belly. Heart burn. Back pain. A pain in the ass otherwise known as hemorrhoids.  Insomnia. Restless legs. Anxiety. Exhaustion. Countless blood test, sonograms, trips to the doctor, and to the lab. You often hear the birthing horror stories none of which include the “I pooped while pushing” part or the catheter.

After the baby there are all new problems. PPD. Leaky boobs. The feeling like you may just be bleeding forever. Stitches up to your ass that prevent you from sitting properly. Nobody tells you about any of it. Until you mention that you have one or all of those things going on and then they go “ooooooh yeah… that. I had that. It was awful.” Gee thanks for the heads up. Not that knowing would make these things any better but it would lessen the anxiety as you wonder endlessly is this normal? This can’t be normal. And you don’t want to call the doctors office and talk to the cute never had a baby 16 year old receptionist and leave message for the doctor because whatever you have going is not only not normal but embarrassing. Which then prompts you to send your dr. a text message (if you’re lucky enough to have his number) that reads like this… my vajayjay is on fire. WTF?! HELP ME!!!! Ya know cause I heard a friend of a friend had a cousin whose sister sent her doctor a text like that. Not me. My sister’s cousin’s friend or whatever I said before. That’s who sent that text. Oh right, I don’t have a sister! Well it doesn’t matter who sent it. Shit like that happens is the point. Shit like that happens because no one ever tells you the truth. Except for me. I will tell you anything even the stuff that you don’t want to know to save you from hormonal texting. I will just give you all the gory details as recounted by my cousin’s uncle’s wives friend who that happened to. Not me.

Once you bring the baby home you will get all of the unwanted advice you never asked for. My mother in law passed away before I had my children so this doesn’t apply to me but I hear mother in laws are the best source of unlimited “advice”. People will give you tips and tricks on how to feed, burp, and put your baby to sleep. You will hear nostalgic tales about how wonderful their children were and how such and such always worked for me. You never hear someone say “welcome to the mommyhood the club where you will spend every day for the rest of your life second guessing every decision you make”. Or “I remember those first few weeks and how stressful they were”. Yes stressful. For most first time moms the first few weeks are stressful. You are sent home from the hospital with this beautiful fragile little being and all you had to do was sign a paper that you won’t shake him or her. No instruction manual. They should all come with one. Since they don’t moms that have been there and done that should be forth coming with the truth. The truth is when I came home with Aidan I was exhausted! I worried all day every day. I was breastfeeding so my nipples felt like they had been raked over hot coals which is enough by itself to wear anyone down. I was constantly worried if he was eating enough, too much? Did he pee? Should I write it down? Then I would write down the first few feedings and diaper changes. Half way through the day I’d forget to keep up with that and by night be wondering did he have enough. Why didn’t I write it down? Oh right cause I’m exhausted and I cannot keep a thought in my head.

 One night I was so exhausted I was up every other hour feeding Aidan. I remember getting up. Getting the boppy pillow and baby situated on my lap. I started nursing Aidan… and then I woke up. In a panic. I slept for over an hour. I fell asleep while feeding Aidan who was just a few weeks old. I was in such a deep sleep I didn’t even know he had rolled off the pillow and onto the floor. He sleeping at my feet! PANIC!!!! New baby face down on the floor at your feet can NOT be good! Oh my God!!! I felt like the absolute worst mother on the planet. Who lets their baby roll off the couch in the middle of a feeding and doesn’t even realize until an hour later?! I was so ashamed (and afraid I may have damaged this tiny person) I didn’t tell anyone about that for years (when it was clear he was perfectly fine)! I find that when you tell the truth most people will follow suit and confess to their own “worst mommy moment”

Here are some real mommy confessions…

“Stumbling around like a drunk in the early morning hours trying not to wake my second shift husband sleeping in the bed I tried to close the bed room door behind me. In the process I smack my sons head on the door while leaving the room. Not bad enough to make him cry but when I turned to shut the door I smacked his head again. I felt horrible and was wide awake at that point.”

“I was holding my two month old when my 18 month old tipped the vacuum and it started to fall on him. For some reason I threw the baby over my shoulder and grabbed the vacuum. Thankfully the baby was fine but I don’t know why I reacted that way!”

“When my son was a few days old he peed during a diaper change and sprayed my cup. Well you know how in the beginning when you are nursing you are dying of thirst? I decided wth… and drank it anyway!”

“My baby made out with the dog. They just sat there licking each other. My husband was laughing so hard he couldn’t stop it!”

“I was traveling with the baby. I was carrying her diaper bag, a back pack, the carry on and the stroller. I was struggling to fold the stroller so I could board the plane so one of the passengers offered to help. So instead of handing her oh say the diaper bag or the carry on I hand her my baby and folded the stroller. It didn’t hit me that I handed my baby over to a total stranger until afterwards!”

“I got shit…. IN MY MOUTH!”

Doesn’t it feel good to share? I encourage everyone to share these wonderfully awful little tid bits with every new mom you know. When you go to the hospital to meet their precious bundle the first time keep in mind everyone that has stepped in that room has already shoved the joys of motherhood down their throat. They really don’t need to hear “enjoy every second” for the thousandth time. Let them know you too felt like you repeatedly got run over by a truck for the first few days and not to worry that it will pass. Trust me they will appreciate it.

Share your worst mommy moment with me.  

 

 

Pro Procrastinator

 

I am a procrastinator. I don’t know why. It never works to my advantage. Aidan was invited to a birthday party and I had over a week to go out and buy a gift. Plenty of opportunity to go by myself at a time when my husband was home and could stay with the kids. That would be too easy besides I like the rush I get as I try to accomplish a weeks’ worth of tasks in a matter of hours … with three children. Just getting the stroller and car seat and kids in the car is a lengthy process. Especially now that Seark is in “I do myself” mode”.  Aidan has yet to reach that stage. Aidan is stuck in “do it for me”. So leaving the house goes something like this. I tell the kids to wait by the door. Just wait. Don’t touch it. Don’t open it and DON’T LET THE DOG OUT! Two minutes later I am yelling to shut the door and get the dog back in the house. Forget it leave the door the way it is and sit on the couch and I’ll get the dog. By get the dog I mean I will bribe that fat little barker back in the house with cheese. Cheese must be awesome. Out of the hundred times a week I bribe him with it he only actually gets the cheese probably 10 % of the time. Yet every time he hears the words cheese he comes running. After the dog is in the house I get Rylan in the car seat carrier and like a stewardess make the final boarding call before the other two get off the couch and come to the door that they were ready to bolt out of 10 minutes ago.

Once outside Seark has to get himself in the car. I drive an SUV. Seark is 2. He has the legs of 2 year old. Getting in the car by himself is a project. Like mountain climbing. I remind myself over and over independence is good. Independence is good. Independence is good. While Seark is trying to scale the side of the truck I’ll strap Aidan’s seat belt on him. That alone is a reminder that independence is good. Rylan is always the last one in the car because he can only sit inside the car for a limited amount of time before he sounds the alarm. Yes the alarm. In the car where I cannot see him (because he is still rear facing) is the only time he cries to the point that it sounds alarming. By now about 25 minutes has passed since I first said we were leaving. Not to worry the party isn’t until 5:30. It is now 3:25 and I just have to go to Toys R Us and get a gift. Stop at the farmers market and pick up lactaid milk because we are out and that is all Seark drinks. Get dinner for my husband. Feed Rylan. Change Aidan’s clothes. Yeah, safe to say we are going to be late for the party.

Aside from the time constraint it is never a good idea to go to a toy store with the intent of leaving with only a gift for another child.  We haven’t even pulled up to the toy store yet and Aidan and Seark are already asking if they can get something. “Peas peas peas mama PEAS I anna dust det un toyeeee.” He’s so stinkin’ cute who could resist that plea. This is the part where I admit I am that mom. The mom that also bribes her children to behave. I tell them both if you are on your absolute best behavior and I’m talking better than any child has EVER been than you can get a toy. A TOY. ONE TOY. ONE 10$ TOY! Problem with that is at their ages they have no concept of money nor do they care. All they heard was you can get a toy. The other problem with that is there are no toys in Toys R Us for under 10$ or even 20$. Already this “quick” trip for a 35$ gift card has turned into an hour or longer ordeal that is going to cost me at a minimum 75$ by the time all is said and done.

I get Aidan out of the car and then Rylan. And then we wait. And we wait some more for mister “I do” to get his five point car seat harness off. Inside the store they are absolute angels while I pick up some baby stuff that I haven’t bought yet in order to avoid this trip. As we pass the Disney aisle Seark says “mama is me turn, is Searkie turn”. Seark is obsessed with all things Disney. He loves Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, and Jake and the Never Land Pirates, and Doc Mc Stuffins. For Christmas “Santa” brought him the Doc Mc Stuffins check-up center. If you are not familiar with the show Doc Mc Stuffins is a cute little girl who is a toy doctor. Her clinic is hot pink and purple. So is her check-up center. Hot pink and purple, all glitter and girlie, and Seark loves it. My husband… not so much. Lucky for Seark Daddy is not Santa. Any way for Christmas he got a ton of doc stuff. Even the purple coat and pink stethoscope. Four months after Christmas Disney decides to come out the boy version of all things Doc Mc Stuffins. Of course they do. FOUR MONTHS AFTER WE HAE PURCHASED EVERYTHING. Seark was super excited. So excited he peed his pants and not just a little bit. He stood there in a puddle picking out all the new doc stuff he NEEDED.

SEARK YOU PEED YOUR PANTS!!!!

MOMMIA I KNOW!!! I HAD TO PEE NOW MOMMIA!!!

Is this kid serious?! What is the attitude?! I didn’t pee his pants!!! This is NOT best behavior! Don’t MOMMIA ME!

Ugh!!! What to do? Damn it there is someone else coming down the aisle! I push the cart in front of Seark so the mother passing us can’t see the pee puddle on the floor. She smiles at me, smiles at Ry. Thankfully she doesn’t stop. Then I do what any sensible mom would do. I can see the clearance rack of clothes from where we are so I send Aidan over to pick out new pants for Seark. Aidan comes back with pants and I change Seark as fast as humanly possible in the Disney aisle. To which Aidan exclaims…

MOM YOU CAN’T STEAL THOSE PANTS! WE DIDN’T PAY YET HE CANT WEAR THEM!

Aidan SHHHHHHH I am not stealing them! I’m gonna pay when we get to the front. Lower your voice.

Once Seark is dressed and we have way more toys than I set out to buy I find someone who works in the store and tell them there is juice or something on the floor in the Disney aisle and they should clean it up before someone slips in it. I lied. Of course I lied. Who tells someone my son just peed all over the floor. Sorry.

It is now 4:45. Go through my mental check list of things to do. Okay we can order food and have it delivered. That takes care of dinner. I will feed Rylan quick while Aidan gets changed. Or just feed Rylan and Aidan can just wear what he has on. We are going to be late but not crazy late. Just a few minutes late which is basically on time for us. When you have three kids no one really expects you on time anyway. My husband comes home from work. Rylan is fed. Aidan has at least changed his shirt. Dinner is delivered. (sigh of relief) I leave Seark and Rylan with my husband. Get Aidan in back in the car. We arrive at the party only 10 minutes late. I am feeling accomplished when my husband sends me a text “hey Seark wants a bottle I don’t see any milk what should I give him?” Almost… I almost accomplished it all!

I don’t know when I will learn my lesson. This will most likely not be the last time I wait until the last minute and then forget everything I was supposed to do because I am rushing around. On time is over rated, besides I need something to blog about.

 ps. I did pay for the pants

Sams Club with Stan

The school sent a note home that they are in need of some supplies. Among some of the things on the list are paper towels, cups, and juice boxes. All things that I can buy in bulk at Sams Club.  My thinking is I will drop Aidan off at school and then head over to Sams Club with just the two other boys. Problem. Rylan doesn’t sit it independently yet so I can’t sit him in the cart. Maybe I will put him in the baby carrier. I start to get the baby carrier out when I realize it may not be so easy to lift cases of juice with Rylan strapped to my chest. Stroller it is. Do I take the single stroller and just put Rylan in there or the double so Seark can sit in there too instead of the nasty germ infested Sams Club shopping cart. Ok double stroller. The double stroller is a lot harder to push with one hand though. Hmmmmm how does such a simple trip to the store become such a dilemma? I don’t know but when all else fails I can always call Stan.

 Stan is my father in law. He is one of the nicest people you could ever meet. You could call him at 3am and ask him to come watch the kids and he will with no questions asked. He will make trips to the store and let the kids ride him like a circus pony if that is what the day calls for. My kids love him. They also totally abuse him. They play with him like he is another child. He will let them color on him, be their punching bag, and play obnoxious video games while Aidan mocks him for not “getting the game”. So I call Stan knowing that he will undoubtedly say yes and that while his presence will solve the stroller dilemma it will open a whole new can of annoying worms.

I pick him up and we head to store. I get the kids in the double stroller and he gets a cart. We walk through the entrance to be greeted by a young handsome uniformed guy that is collecting money… I can’t even tell you for what. He starts with “mom can your boy have a lollipop?” which he is already handing to Seark. Now of course I have to give him something. Problem is I NEVER carry cash on me. I dig through my bag. Nothing. I search through my wallet. Nothing. Then I remember that when we were at home Seark stuffed a dollar in his pocket. Before I can get the dollar from Seark my father in law hands the guy a 5 dollar bill. The guy smiles at me and says “don’t worry about it beautiful your dad got it, and by the way you got some gorgeous blue eyes you must have got them from him”. Two things he is only being generous with the compliments because he was just given money and my eyes are not blue. I thank him anyway and add I didn’t get his eyes though, he isn’t my father. After saying that the young man collecting money became very apologetic babbling on about why he assumed that he was and that he was so sorry for the mistake when it dawned on me… now he thought that Stan is my husband. “Oh god, he’s not my husband!” I told him less talking would probably get him more money and headed inside. By the way there is nothing wrong with Stan except that he is 40 years my senior and if these babies were ours… well let’s not even go there. He is simply not my father, and definitely not my husband.

Once inside the store Stan encourages Seark to get out of the stroller and walk around with him. I will tell you this no mom brings a stroller as optional seating. I have it because I want you in it.  Much like my children my father in law has no sense of urgency. He does everything at his own pace. His pace being slow-er than I would like but I can’t complain because he is doing me a favor. Well I could complain but he would just tell me I need to relax and carry on at his snail like speed.

There are two reasons my father in law goes a store like this. One because I asked him to. Two so he can troll the store for free samples. So let’s recap. We are walking at a speed of slow working on stop. Seark is wreaking havoc. Stan is making a meal of free samples. Perfect. Just what I had in mind. Finally we get everything that we need and get on line. Stan is the talkative type. Especially to strangers. He strikes up a conversation with the guy at the checkout counter who has apparently nothing better to do than talk about the weather and the outrageous price slim fast. No that wasn’t on the list. No we did not buy slim fast. At some point we did walk by it. My answers to why it is priced the way it is did not suffice so he had to ask someone else before we left the store. Needless to say the rhymes and reasons to our current weather pattern were not uncovered and the slim fast pricing system still remains a mystery but we got to know Mike at register number five and his philosophies on such very well.

So what is the moral of this story? I guess that this mom with multiple children of varying ages is still trying to figure out how to get things done. Alone.  I’m sure there is an easier way that has not dawned on me just yet but when I have my aha moment as Oprah would call it will certainly share it with you all.

THE WORST MOTHER EVER

Mom can I play the wii?

No.

Can I play the Xbox?

Nope.

Can I use your computer?

Sorry no. Why don’t you draw?

What about your phone?

Ugh. No. Go outside and play with Seark.

When will I get my ipod back?

Never. Stop asking. You have hundreds of toys. A huge yard. A bike. FIND SOMETHING TO DO OTHER THAN A VIDEO GAME!

You know what else I have… THE WORST MOTHER EVER!!!

It certainly does suck that my son feels this way however I am by no means the worst mother ever. I remember when I was little we used to play outside. ALL. THE. TIME. We would dig holes and make mud pies. Climb the big tree in the back yard so we could pick cherries and throw them at each other. We rode our bikes. We played tag. In the summer we would catch lightening bugs. Granted we would smash them on our fingers to make glow rings but that’s not the point. The point is we knew what playing was and we liked it. Since my oldest son has started school he has stopped wanting to play. He acts like it is a chore. “Mom no one else is forced to play! My friends all get to use their ipods”. Given the opportunity he would sit in front of the tv for hours on end playing video games. Or on the couch playing his ipod or ipad or ds whatever… anything other than god forbid using his imagination. Unfortunately for him we have rules about that.  There are absolutely no video games Monday through Friday. He is allowed to have them on the weekend for 2 hours. After typing that I realize I may not be the worst mother ever but am probably in the running for the lamest mother ever. That’s okay I’ll take lamest.

It amazes me how many parents let their kids do nothing but occupy themselves with electronics. Don’t get me wrong I see the appeal. Technology is a fantastic babysitter and would most likely make my life a whole lot easier but I just can’t do it. Aidan had a “play date” a while back which is also something we didn’t have when we were little. There was no specified time to play. My cousins lived next door to us and we just played with them when they were outside. Now it is a scheduled thing. So Aidan has three friends over for a “play date” and before they arrive I let him know what they are allowed to do and not. I make him give me his ipod (this was before it got taken away FOREVER) because I tell him you are having your friends over so you can interact with them not so they can watch you on your ipod. He reluctantly handed it over. When his friends arrived to my surprise they ALL brought their ipods with them. I had three six year old boys come over, sit on the couch and watch each other play different games! How is that even fun?! Have times changed that much from when I was a kid that I don’t even know what fun is anymore? Is it a boy thing? I honestly don’t know. So of course Aidan wanted his ipod back so he could join in with not interacting with his friends. For a minute I thought oh well I tried I’ll just give it to him. I don’t want him to feel left out. As I headed to the fridge which is like a graveyard for all the toys that have been taken away I thought to myself this is NUTS. I went back in the living room and told the other boys that if they wanted to stay and play they could but they would have to leave their ipods on the table until their moms came to get them. Now they all looked at me like was indeed nuts!  

Maybe I am. I actually feel bad that my kids are growing up in the age of the ipod. That they won’t know a world without facebook. I think technology is great, but I wish there was more of a balance or at least that other parents were on the same page.  Before I had kids I totally thought that I was going to be the cool mom. The mom that was also your best friend. Through trial and error I have learned that is not possible. In these formative years you can only be one. You can only be the parent. Hopefully when they are older they will want to be your friend. I’m so not the cool mom. Parenting is not always easy. I feel like I am learning to walk tight rope every day. I don’t want to misstep and keep falling down. I don’t want my kids feel like I am the worst mother ever. The one thing that gives me hope is I remember a time when I thought my mother also was too strict, too overbearing, and yes the worst mother EVER. I got over it. Eventually we became not just friends, she is my best friend. Now that I have kids I realize what a relentless pain in the ass I was. Thank God my mother got over that too. I also realize she never wanted to be the worst mother either. She wanted to be the best. She was a tight rope walker. Constantly walking that fine line between keeping my best interest and keeping her sanity because saying no is hard. It’s an incredible balancing act. I never gave her enough credit. I can only hope that someday my boys have the same revelation. Until then and for many years to come I hold the title “WORST MOTHER EVER”.