This week end I decided that I should not be the only tortured with the task of grocery shopping. Why not make it a family affair? Oh right because three kids in a grocery store triples the amount of time it takes to shop. And with 2 in the cart there is really no where to put the groceries. And GERMS. Lets not forget about GERMS. 3 kids make 6 little hands that want to touch everything. That multiplies the chances of someone catching something by say... a fucking bazillion! But none of this entered my head when I suggested we all go together... to Wegman's no less... which is a good 30 minutes drive from our house. I know you are probably thinking why drive all that way for groceries. Well one we have no grocery store in town... unless you count Walmart. I do not. Walmart is hell. More specifically the parking lot of Walmart is hell. And you are lucky if you make it out alive. Which I am only half kidding about after the last time I was there when a woman tried to steal my diaper bag as I buckled the kids in the car. Two shoprite which is the next closest thing to us is a madhouse on the weekends and I don't have patients for that and my kids. And finally three... I just like Wegman's.
So we all load into the car. 5 minutes into the ride all of the kids are asleep in the back. Awesome. Except for the part where you have to wake them when you get to the store and none of them want to get out of the car. Thankfully we took the double stroller and could just move them from one seat to the next. Seark is an easy transfer and could sleep through anything. He stays sound asleep... for the entire shopping trip... which he will cry about when we get home thinking that we didn't actually go. Rylan is a light sleeper and wakes at the sound of the trunk opening. He is content for the moment to sit in the stroller. Aidan actually likes to come grocery shopping. He loves to cook and even better his Dad is with us. So win win for him getting to hand pick dinner and spend time with his favorite person.
The kids were shockingly well behaved. We walked down the first isle and an older woman passing by smiled at the baby and then looked in the back of the stroller that was mostly covered to sneak a peek at Seark. "Oh my THREE BOYS... and all so well behaved!" Now if you are a mom of three you know that it is a rare moment that all THREE of your kids are seemingly angelic little creatures. I have learned to take pride in these moments... bask in them if you will. I smiled back and said yes they are good boys.
We walk down the next isle and yet another woman passing by stopped to comment about their lovely behavior. Telling me that when her kids were their age she would never dare to take them grocery shopping and she only had two. I am sure she was exaggerating but hey I will take it. When a third person stopped to compliment my little darlings I was literally about to gush over them and how they are so beautiful and perfect and YES WELL BEHAVED. I mean they have no idea that the sweet face babe sound asleep in the second seat called his older brother a fucker last week. Or that if I take that box of pasta away from Ry we will have to leave the store immediately. Or that Aidan was in time out for the 900th time for being fresh. Just as I was about to begin my bragfest another mother walked by with a screaming toddler and it snapped me back into reality. We weren't even half way done shopping. The tide could turn at any moment. Ill just smile and say thank you.
We were nearing the end of our trip. Seark was still sleeping. Aidan was picking out fish with his dad. And Ry was being incredibly quiet which should have been a red flag. But for whatever reason I didn't think twice about it until some woman approached me. At this point I was sure another compliment was coming my way... "Your baby chewed through the cardboard box and is eating uncooked pasta... he's going to choke." Sure enough Rylan had chewed through the box and had a fistful of uncooked pasta elbows stuffed in his adorable little face. I just shrugged and said he's teething. To which she rolled her eyes and walked away. I managed to scoop it all out of Rylan's mouth and replace the pasta with a cookie and no tears.
What can I say... it happens... shit happens... With each kid you increase your odds of being embarrassed at any given moment. Just as I have learned to take in the praise of my seemingly awesome parenting skills I have also learned to shrug off the eye rolls and sideways glances. So he ate a little uncooked pasta...
Monday, March 30, 2015
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
The beauty in you
The other day I went to that make up class I talked about in the last blog. At the class we were paired with a partner to do a practice consultation. I went first. Asked her all of the questions on the sheet that they gave us.
What is your current make up routine?
What would you like me to help you with?
What feature do you want to highlight?
What feature would you like to minimize?
What colors do you tend to use?
What colors do you stay away from?
What do you like most about your face?
What do like least?
What do you have to gain from this?
She went through her routine. Told me what she likes what she doesn't like. The colors she uses and the ones she wont. When I asked her what she liked most about her face she hesitated and said I guess my eyes. Then I asked what she liked least and with no hesitation she said... my lips...my nose... my skin... I am so pale...
Then it was my turn. I went through my routine which seemed ridiculously long. What did I want to minimize? Nothing I could think of. What did I like the least? I said nothing. To which she replied...really?! Nothing?! There is nothing you don't like about yourself!
Well she didn't ask if there was anything I didn't like about myself because to that I probably could have came up with plenty. Like my boobs... I would like them to be back where they were when I was in my twenties. And my ass... I would be just delighted if some could just take a shrink ray gun and make it half the size. Is there any quick fix to getting rid of stretch marks? If so I will help myself to some of that too! Oh and a tummy tuck. I never loved my stomach but after 3 babies and 2 c sections it makes me a little nauseous. But she asked specifically about my face. And while I realize I am no beauty queen... I kinda like my face. Enough anyway to not complain about it.
For a minute I thought maybe I should change my answer and just say something. I thought shit I probably sound really full of myself which I am not but she doesn't know me. There was this awkwardness between us for a minute or two. And thankfully our time was up and we were onto the next thing. But for the rest of the class I couldn't stop thinking about that question and how she reacted to my answer.
Shouldn't we all love the skin we are in? Its sad that hearing someone say so is not the norm. We are all our own toughest critic but at some point and I am glad for me that it has been sooner than later I have really for the most part stop beating myself up for the things that genetics gave me. We live in a world where nothing is ever good enough. There will always be someone prettier than me... skinnier than me.... has perkier boobs than me... whiter teeth... a smaller ass.... a flatter stomach... the list goes on... so when I say there is nothing about me that I like the least it doesn't mean that I know there are things I could improve upon it just means... I like me as is. Imperfect.
I like my ridiculously dramatic make up. My shaved head. My faded tattoos. My fat ass. I like getting dressed even if my clothes will never be a size 2. And more than that I like that I don't give a fuck.... and not because I am perfect but because I am not and that is how it should be. I think if everyone stopped feeling bad about themselves cause be they don't live up to the impossible standards imposed by society the world would be a lot happier. Before you can truly see the beauty in anything else you have to see it in you.
What is your current make up routine?
What would you like me to help you with?
What feature do you want to highlight?
What feature would you like to minimize?
What colors do you tend to use?
What colors do you stay away from?
What do you like most about your face?
What do like least?
What do you have to gain from this?
She went through her routine. Told me what she likes what she doesn't like. The colors she uses and the ones she wont. When I asked her what she liked most about her face she hesitated and said I guess my eyes. Then I asked what she liked least and with no hesitation she said... my lips...my nose... my skin... I am so pale...
Then it was my turn. I went through my routine which seemed ridiculously long. What did I want to minimize? Nothing I could think of. What did I like the least? I said nothing. To which she replied...really?! Nothing?! There is nothing you don't like about yourself!
Well she didn't ask if there was anything I didn't like about myself because to that I probably could have came up with plenty. Like my boobs... I would like them to be back where they were when I was in my twenties. And my ass... I would be just delighted if some could just take a shrink ray gun and make it half the size. Is there any quick fix to getting rid of stretch marks? If so I will help myself to some of that too! Oh and a tummy tuck. I never loved my stomach but after 3 babies and 2 c sections it makes me a little nauseous. But she asked specifically about my face. And while I realize I am no beauty queen... I kinda like my face. Enough anyway to not complain about it.
For a minute I thought maybe I should change my answer and just say something. I thought shit I probably sound really full of myself which I am not but she doesn't know me. There was this awkwardness between us for a minute or two. And thankfully our time was up and we were onto the next thing. But for the rest of the class I couldn't stop thinking about that question and how she reacted to my answer.
Shouldn't we all love the skin we are in? Its sad that hearing someone say so is not the norm. We are all our own toughest critic but at some point and I am glad for me that it has been sooner than later I have really for the most part stop beating myself up for the things that genetics gave me. We live in a world where nothing is ever good enough. There will always be someone prettier than me... skinnier than me.... has perkier boobs than me... whiter teeth... a smaller ass.... a flatter stomach... the list goes on... so when I say there is nothing about me that I like the least it doesn't mean that I know there are things I could improve upon it just means... I like me as is. Imperfect.
I like my ridiculously dramatic make up. My shaved head. My faded tattoos. My fat ass. I like getting dressed even if my clothes will never be a size 2. And more than that I like that I don't give a fuck.... and not because I am perfect but because I am not and that is how it should be. I think if everyone stopped feeling bad about themselves cause be they don't live up to the impossible standards imposed by society the world would be a lot happier. Before you can truly see the beauty in anything else you have to see it in you.
Sunday, March 15, 2015
No time for me time
Today was the first day in years that I went out for an entire day all by myself. I mean completely alone. No kids. No baby. No diaper bag. I didn't even bring wipes with me?! I almost felt naked! I had Aidan when I was 25. I am now 33... almost (cringe) 34. Since Aidan I haven't really done anything for just myself. Sure from time to time I will go for a hair cut... maybe a mani/pedi... once in a blue moon a massage. Which I will add I almost always go into a coma and wake up to a puddle of drool on the floor and its sadly not even because the massage is so good or the table is so comfortable or the music is so soothing. It's quiet! And if there is anything I miss it is the sound of nothing.
So today I left my house around 10:30 and did not come back until after 6:00! Unheard of! Especially for me I feel like I have been breastfeeding for years and therefore always have a child attached to me literally. The most I usually go out solo for is 2-4 hours and that is really a stretch. My days typically revolve around the kids. Pick ups and drop offs. Homework and dinner. Bedtime and baths. And of course what ever fun we can squeeze into a day.
I love it... most days. Like 99.8 percent of the time I don't even think about it. I wake up. If I am lucky get to drink a hot cup of coffee and the rest of the day I am on auto pilot tending to one thing or another. Recently I started to try and exercise while Rylan is napping. Which I did for about a week then I started to feel guilty that the few hours that Ry naps is usually the time I give to just Seark. It is the only short period of time that he doesn't have to share me with anyone else. Ry is in the crib. Aidan is at school. From 11-2 is the time that me and my little buddy play a board game without Ry trying to knock it over and eat the pieces. Do an art project with out an extra tiny hand dumping the paint or coloring the dogs. We eat lunch at the table and chat about wrestlers and Doc McStuffins and I thoroughly enjoy that time that I have with just Seark. But I really would like to exercise. So instead I squeeze it in if I am lucky after the kids are in bed. And the house has been straightened up. The dogs have been let out. The school clothes are laid out for tomorrow. Snacks are packed away... and who am I kidding by the time all of that is done all I really want to do it take a hot bubble bath or watch "The Good Wife" on my DVR.
The weekends are easier because my husband is home. I get up a little earlier and cook breakfast... like a real breakfast on the weekend. Before anyone else is up I have eggs and pancakes and bacon ready and the table set. We all eat together talk about the week or what we have planned for the day. One by one they all slip away from the table and I am left to clean up the mess. I get done just in time to put Rylan down for his nap. Today is the day I will exercise. Jason is home he can play with the kids... but he needs to go get a hair cut. And maybe get the car washed. He has a few work calls to make and he will probably doze off on the couch... and there is no time for me today but that's okay there is always tomorrow or maybe tonight... or not.
The day flies by and before I know it dinner needs to be made. The house has to be cleaned again. The kids need a bath and bedtime story. And just like that another day is done and I haven't made any time for me. The other night I swore I was going to go to Ulta alone... cause you know that Ulta is my happy place and retail therapy can do wonders. I daydreamed about starbucks and just listening to the radio without turning it down to say " what is going on back there" browsing the newest make up lines for the spring and just being out of the house alone. So I make sure that everyone is fed and bathed and the homework is done early. Of course tonight Ry is not feeling well and I cant leave him when he wants just me. So what I will go tomorrow. There is always tomorrow. Tomorrow comes and I forgot I promised Aidan that he could have a friend over. But I am determined to make this work. And I do. 7 rolls around and I am ready to go. But Seark is hysterical because I am leaving and is begging for me to take him too. I know that if I leave him home he will be just fine but alone time isn't so much fun when you know that there is a sweet little three year old standing at the door in hysterics because you are leaving. I take Seark with me.
On the way home from Ulta Seark falls asleep in the back seat. Its quiet. And dark. And I start thinking about all of the things that I don't do for me. I cant tell you the last time I read an adult book. Had a conversation on the phone with out sounding like I have turrets. Slept a full 8 hours. Exercised. Anything. Something. And then came the opportunity to take this make up training class. First question I asked when and what time. Sunday 11-6. First thought... there is no way that can happen. What if Ry wants to nurse? What if Jason has things to do. Maybe my mom can watch them... maybe I just wont go. By the time I leave and get home including driving time I will be out of the house for over 8 hours. I laughed at the thought alone.
But it didn't feel so funny I started to think about all of things I never do or ever even think about doing because I don't want to inconvenience anyone else. I don't want to disrupt a schedule or ask anyone to help. I have let go of so many of the things I love... so many little pieces of me... to do for everyone else. Which I don't mind... but is this the way it is supposed to be? And what happens when the kids are grown and don't need me the way they do now? Will I even know who I am? I love being a stay at home but do I want my entire identity to wrapped up in the title of suburban house wife?! So I decided to go to the class. Learn more about what I love to do and how it could benefit me... and ya know what it may have only been a few hours but they were glorious. Not because the class was so interesting (although it was good) but because I felt like just me... not the mom of three... or Jason's wife... I felt like Jena... and I haven't felt like that in a really long time.
I came home and Ry was waiting at the door. I got out of the car and saw that big smile spread across his face and was reminded that although today felt great there is really no place I would rather be... but home with my family. I just have to remember from time to time that I am worth the time too.
So today I left my house around 10:30 and did not come back until after 6:00! Unheard of! Especially for me I feel like I have been breastfeeding for years and therefore always have a child attached to me literally. The most I usually go out solo for is 2-4 hours and that is really a stretch. My days typically revolve around the kids. Pick ups and drop offs. Homework and dinner. Bedtime and baths. And of course what ever fun we can squeeze into a day.
I love it... most days. Like 99.8 percent of the time I don't even think about it. I wake up. If I am lucky get to drink a hot cup of coffee and the rest of the day I am on auto pilot tending to one thing or another. Recently I started to try and exercise while Rylan is napping. Which I did for about a week then I started to feel guilty that the few hours that Ry naps is usually the time I give to just Seark. It is the only short period of time that he doesn't have to share me with anyone else. Ry is in the crib. Aidan is at school. From 11-2 is the time that me and my little buddy play a board game without Ry trying to knock it over and eat the pieces. Do an art project with out an extra tiny hand dumping the paint or coloring the dogs. We eat lunch at the table and chat about wrestlers and Doc McStuffins and I thoroughly enjoy that time that I have with just Seark. But I really would like to exercise. So instead I squeeze it in if I am lucky after the kids are in bed. And the house has been straightened up. The dogs have been let out. The school clothes are laid out for tomorrow. Snacks are packed away... and who am I kidding by the time all of that is done all I really want to do it take a hot bubble bath or watch "The Good Wife" on my DVR.
The weekends are easier because my husband is home. I get up a little earlier and cook breakfast... like a real breakfast on the weekend. Before anyone else is up I have eggs and pancakes and bacon ready and the table set. We all eat together talk about the week or what we have planned for the day. One by one they all slip away from the table and I am left to clean up the mess. I get done just in time to put Rylan down for his nap. Today is the day I will exercise. Jason is home he can play with the kids... but he needs to go get a hair cut. And maybe get the car washed. He has a few work calls to make and he will probably doze off on the couch... and there is no time for me today but that's okay there is always tomorrow or maybe tonight... or not.
The day flies by and before I know it dinner needs to be made. The house has to be cleaned again. The kids need a bath and bedtime story. And just like that another day is done and I haven't made any time for me. The other night I swore I was going to go to Ulta alone... cause you know that Ulta is my happy place and retail therapy can do wonders. I daydreamed about starbucks and just listening to the radio without turning it down to say " what is going on back there" browsing the newest make up lines for the spring and just being out of the house alone. So I make sure that everyone is fed and bathed and the homework is done early. Of course tonight Ry is not feeling well and I cant leave him when he wants just me. So what I will go tomorrow. There is always tomorrow. Tomorrow comes and I forgot I promised Aidan that he could have a friend over. But I am determined to make this work. And I do. 7 rolls around and I am ready to go. But Seark is hysterical because I am leaving and is begging for me to take him too. I know that if I leave him home he will be just fine but alone time isn't so much fun when you know that there is a sweet little three year old standing at the door in hysterics because you are leaving. I take Seark with me.
On the way home from Ulta Seark falls asleep in the back seat. Its quiet. And dark. And I start thinking about all of the things that I don't do for me. I cant tell you the last time I read an adult book. Had a conversation on the phone with out sounding like I have turrets. Slept a full 8 hours. Exercised. Anything. Something. And then came the opportunity to take this make up training class. First question I asked when and what time. Sunday 11-6. First thought... there is no way that can happen. What if Ry wants to nurse? What if Jason has things to do. Maybe my mom can watch them... maybe I just wont go. By the time I leave and get home including driving time I will be out of the house for over 8 hours. I laughed at the thought alone.
But it didn't feel so funny I started to think about all of things I never do or ever even think about doing because I don't want to inconvenience anyone else. I don't want to disrupt a schedule or ask anyone to help. I have let go of so many of the things I love... so many little pieces of me... to do for everyone else. Which I don't mind... but is this the way it is supposed to be? And what happens when the kids are grown and don't need me the way they do now? Will I even know who I am? I love being a stay at home but do I want my entire identity to wrapped up in the title of suburban house wife?! So I decided to go to the class. Learn more about what I love to do and how it could benefit me... and ya know what it may have only been a few hours but they were glorious. Not because the class was so interesting (although it was good) but because I felt like just me... not the mom of three... or Jason's wife... I felt like Jena... and I haven't felt like that in a really long time.
I came home and Ry was waiting at the door. I got out of the car and saw that big smile spread across his face and was reminded that although today felt great there is really no place I would rather be... but home with my family. I just have to remember from time to time that I am worth the time too.
Saturday, March 14, 2015
just a girl in a boys world
As a mom of three boys living in a house hold where I am out numbered by males I like to think I get them. I feel like I have an honorary membership to an exclusive all boys club. I get the inside scoop about what makes them tick. I know all about comic books and super heroes. I can build with Legos and make a castle out of those card board brick blocks. I get that gross smells and bodily functions are hilarious. I have even had the occasional laugh at these things myself. I understand that they are rough. Fearless. Impulsive. Loud. I get the lure of good guy bad guy scenario they play over and over. I see the appeal to throwing caution to the wind and laying in a muddy puddle. And just when I think I get it... I totally get it. And them. I realize I don't.
"If I had a tiny tuxedo I would put it on my penis to make it look fancy." That's what my 7 year old said as he stared out the window minutes after waking up this morning.
Did you say you want to put a tuxedo on your penis?!
Yeah... why?
What? Why? Where did that even come from?
My head. Where else? I was thinking about what I was gonna wear today and thought it would be cool if they made tiny clothes to dress up your penis. Like a tuxedo. Wouldn't that be cool?
Nope. I don't get them. At all. I have never had the thought about dressing up my vagina... though I do know a girl that is all about the vajazzling. Which I still think is totally different. When it comes right down to it I may have been granted access to the club but I will always be just a visitor and not an official member. I am girl. Still a girl. Always a girl... in a boys world. 
"If I had a tiny tuxedo I would put it on my penis to make it look fancy." That's what my 7 year old said as he stared out the window minutes after waking up this morning.
Did you say you want to put a tuxedo on your penis?!
Yeah... why?
What? Why? Where did that even come from?
My head. Where else? I was thinking about what I was gonna wear today and thought it would be cool if they made tiny clothes to dress up your penis. Like a tuxedo. Wouldn't that be cool?
Nope. I don't get them. At all. I have never had the thought about dressing up my vagina... though I do know a girl that is all about the vajazzling. Which I still think is totally different. When it comes right down to it I may have been granted access to the club but I will always be just a visitor and not an official member. I am girl. Still a girl. Always a girl... in a boys world.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
Because I miss you
This morning I watched my boys rolling around on the floor. Giggling. Amused by nothing more than the mere company of one another. They would get quiet. Look at each other. Break out into sweet innocent pure joyous laughter. Brothers. Best friends in the simplest form.
Their silliness and easy love makes me nostalgic. Because before me there was him. So when I came all I ever knew was us and since he was so little as far he can remember there was no time before me. So close people would mistake us for twins. The sun is shining out side and as laughter fills the morning air I am taken back to those long summer nights. Catching fire flies and getting eaten alive by mosquitos. Denim shorts. Jelly shoes. And Ice cold pools. Hours spent of me as Marco and him Polo as endless summer days went by. He was my best friend... only I didn't know it. Then he was just my brother.
As this day lingers on I watch the snow in the front yard melt and I can almost picture him throwing a snowball at me dressed like the little brother from "A Christmas Story" ( and yes I realize that is the second time I referenced that movie this week) He always liked to be outdoors. Climbing the cherry that Grandpa built for him or making mud pies. I liked being with him.
I take my kids for a walk and we pass the park me and him used to play in. I stop to let the boys play and watch them chase each other. I wonder if they know they are already best friends.
The rest of the day I can't stop thinking about my brother. The lives we had that were once so intertwined now so separate. The secrets that only we used to share have all been told or long forgotten. He only lives steps away but it sometimes seems hard to bridge the distance. Somewhere between college and life. Marriages and mortgages. Babies and bullshit... we grew up and apart. We started our own lives independent of one another. Somehow along the way although he is still my brother I lost my best friend... before I realized that is what he was.
Awkward etiquette and phone calls replaced casual drop ins. Little slights and petty fights. Turned what once were shared whispers into silence. And silence can be the hardest thing to break when you are afraid of the damage you know words can do. We stayed silent and separate and grew further apart. I lost my best friend... maybe forever. Which is a very strange place when he is still your brother.
We learned to navigate this uncertain territory. Somewhere between life and here... marriages and mortgages... babies and bullshit... we became friends again. We let go of the little slights and petty fights. Chose our words carefully so we could be... friends.
So I watch my boys play. Enjoy each others company just for what it is and I pray that they have the wisdom to know they have already found their best friend. I contemplate explaining it them. Older and wiser I know these things can't be taught. So I just pray that these silly boys... are not ever just brothers... I hope they can keep the best in front of friends and never have to miss what they once had. 
Their silliness and easy love makes me nostalgic. Because before me there was him. So when I came all I ever knew was us and since he was so little as far he can remember there was no time before me. So close people would mistake us for twins. The sun is shining out side and as laughter fills the morning air I am taken back to those long summer nights. Catching fire flies and getting eaten alive by mosquitos. Denim shorts. Jelly shoes. And Ice cold pools. Hours spent of me as Marco and him Polo as endless summer days went by. He was my best friend... only I didn't know it. Then he was just my brother.
As this day lingers on I watch the snow in the front yard melt and I can almost picture him throwing a snowball at me dressed like the little brother from "A Christmas Story" ( and yes I realize that is the second time I referenced that movie this week) He always liked to be outdoors. Climbing the cherry that Grandpa built for him or making mud pies. I liked being with him.
I take my kids for a walk and we pass the park me and him used to play in. I stop to let the boys play and watch them chase each other. I wonder if they know they are already best friends.
The rest of the day I can't stop thinking about my brother. The lives we had that were once so intertwined now so separate. The secrets that only we used to share have all been told or long forgotten. He only lives steps away but it sometimes seems hard to bridge the distance. Somewhere between college and life. Marriages and mortgages. Babies and bullshit... we grew up and apart. We started our own lives independent of one another. Somehow along the way although he is still my brother I lost my best friend... before I realized that is what he was.
Awkward etiquette and phone calls replaced casual drop ins. Little slights and petty fights. Turned what once were shared whispers into silence. And silence can be the hardest thing to break when you are afraid of the damage you know words can do. We stayed silent and separate and grew further apart. I lost my best friend... maybe forever. Which is a very strange place when he is still your brother.
We learned to navigate this uncertain territory. Somewhere between life and here... marriages and mortgages... babies and bullshit... we became friends again. We let go of the little slights and petty fights. Chose our words carefully so we could be... friends.
So I watch my boys play. Enjoy each others company just for what it is and I pray that they have the wisdom to know they have already found their best friend. I contemplate explaining it them. Older and wiser I know these things can't be taught. So I just pray that these silly boys... are not ever just brothers... I hope they can keep the best in front of friends and never have to miss what they once had.
Friday, March 6, 2015
STOP. IT. YOU. F*CKER
Some days my kids are angels. Sweet. Polite. Playing nice. I look at them and think ahhhh yes I am doing a good job. People often compliment their manners and over all disposition. Say lovely things about them and I feel... proud. Like yes... those beautiful little beings are all mine. I made them. They have my eyes. And sense of humor. And sensitive side. They are damn near perfect.... most of the time. But some of the time there are days like today.
Aside from that fact that this brutal winter has kept us home bound Aidan now has a cold. He's 8. 8years old and displays the typical characteristics of a grown man with a cold, the dramatic theatrics. He's just too weak to get off the couch and help himself to a glass of juice but has enough energy to taunt and wrestle his brother. Which of course means he is next in line for the cold that Aidan currently has. It appears that Rylan has already caught it. So if nothing else this day will consist of snot and tears. And as much as I don't really care for either I can deal with it.
But the day has so much more in store for us. Boredom.... cabin fever.... whatever you want to call has brought out the worst in these boys. Rylan... who is admittedly my favorite at the moment.... I know... I know.... you aren't supposed to have favorites but he's currently then only that doesn't talk which also means he can't talk back. And for that I love him. Aidan its seems lately has mastered sarcasm. And perfected his persistence on getting the last word in. The very last sarcastic word. And today it seems as though he is hell bent on sharpening his skills.
The more he talks back... the more I sound like my mother. I find myself saying the same things to him that she did to me when I was a fresh 8 year old. I remember how ridiculous she sounded to me back then and know that he feels the same way about me. As much as the words that come out of his mouth make cringe nothing gets under my skin more than the eye rolling! I suddenly understand my mother in a way I never thought I could.
Then there is Seark. He's so cute. He mumbles all day long with that binky stuffed in face so you can barely make out a word he says. And just when I am questioning whether or not to call the speech pathologist to get him evaluated he takes that thing out and says MOM I SAID I WANT PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY NOW! clear as a bell. Seark for the most part is in his own little world. He does everything at his own pace. He's my little couch potato. If he was the first child I probably would have been concerned about his level of laziness.... seriously questioned his ability to be content with doing absolutely nothing... like all of the time. But he isn't the first... he is the second of three and I totally appreciate how much easier he makes my life. Very little bothers Seark... except for Aidan.
Aidan sees boredom as an opportunity to entertain himself by taunting his brother. Seark does an amazing job at tuning him out for an extended period of time... which I marvel at. I literally need zanax to have the same amount of patience. Then like a switch Aidan will do one last thing that will make Seark flip. Send him into a fit of rage. And then there is no stopping him. I used to spend my time taking turns yelling out them. Separating them. Putting them in time out in opposite corners of the house. Not anymore. I let them carry on as they wish. Eventually they will wear each other down. But not today. Today is one of those days... where the fighting started way too early and there is no end in sight.
As an added bonus Ry is getting to an age where he wants to join in the "fun". Ever watch the Muppets? Remember animal? That's my Ry... a little baby animal. He's entered what we have dubbed the puppy phase. Whenever he isn't getting his way or wants his brothers' attention he resorts to biting. Mostly poor Seark. Ry also likes to climb. On EVRYTHING. Every time I turn around he is trying to or already has gotten on top of something and the worst thing you can do is make eye contact at that point because regardless of where he is he will try to run... which results in a fall.
So its 7pm. Its been a long day of spilling drinks and dumping buckets of toys... over and over again. They have been climbing and biting and fighting for hours on end.... and I just can't take it anymore. And then it happened... like in the movie "A Christmas Story" when the Ralphie says "fuuuuuuuuuudge" only he didn't really say fudge. Aidan was continuing his taunting antics. Seark was whining and crying and telling Aidan to leave him alone... and then clear as day. With the binky still firmly in place he said it... STOP. IT. YOU..... FUCKER!
It was as if we were all jolted with a stun gun. What?! Seark!!!! What did you just say?! He repeated with just as much conviction the second time. And while I can't say I really even blame him... we don't condone that kind of language.... well not from our 3 year old anyway. On the verge of getting hysterical with either tears or laughter I sent them both to bed. Probably the earliest I have sent them to bed and to my surprise they both went to sleep with in minutes. Which of course made me question if I should send them to bed at this time every night... I am aware already that this is just wishful thinking.
By 8 pm the entire house was quiet. My husband had fallen asleep on the couch. All the kids were sound asleep in their own bed. So I poured myself a glass of wine and resumed my nightly ritual of binge watching parenthood... and all I could hear in the back of my mind was Seark's sweet little voice... STOP. IT. YOU. FUCKER! and although I know I should be appalled I can't help but laugh. Which can only mean 2 things I am so sleep deprived and crazy from being cooped up in this house that I am delirious and that I totally need to rethink my parenting.... okay one more I might want to stop cursing in front of the kids. 
Aside from that fact that this brutal winter has kept us home bound Aidan now has a cold. He's 8. 8years old and displays the typical characteristics of a grown man with a cold, the dramatic theatrics. He's just too weak to get off the couch and help himself to a glass of juice but has enough energy to taunt and wrestle his brother. Which of course means he is next in line for the cold that Aidan currently has. It appears that Rylan has already caught it. So if nothing else this day will consist of snot and tears. And as much as I don't really care for either I can deal with it.
But the day has so much more in store for us. Boredom.... cabin fever.... whatever you want to call has brought out the worst in these boys. Rylan... who is admittedly my favorite at the moment.... I know... I know.... you aren't supposed to have favorites but he's currently then only that doesn't talk which also means he can't talk back. And for that I love him. Aidan its seems lately has mastered sarcasm. And perfected his persistence on getting the last word in. The very last sarcastic word. And today it seems as though he is hell bent on sharpening his skills.
The more he talks back... the more I sound like my mother. I find myself saying the same things to him that she did to me when I was a fresh 8 year old. I remember how ridiculous she sounded to me back then and know that he feels the same way about me. As much as the words that come out of his mouth make cringe nothing gets under my skin more than the eye rolling! I suddenly understand my mother in a way I never thought I could.
Then there is Seark. He's so cute. He mumbles all day long with that binky stuffed in face so you can barely make out a word he says. And just when I am questioning whether or not to call the speech pathologist to get him evaluated he takes that thing out and says MOM I SAID I WANT PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY NOW! clear as a bell. Seark for the most part is in his own little world. He does everything at his own pace. He's my little couch potato. If he was the first child I probably would have been concerned about his level of laziness.... seriously questioned his ability to be content with doing absolutely nothing... like all of the time. But he isn't the first... he is the second of three and I totally appreciate how much easier he makes my life. Very little bothers Seark... except for Aidan.
Aidan sees boredom as an opportunity to entertain himself by taunting his brother. Seark does an amazing job at tuning him out for an extended period of time... which I marvel at. I literally need zanax to have the same amount of patience. Then like a switch Aidan will do one last thing that will make Seark flip. Send him into a fit of rage. And then there is no stopping him. I used to spend my time taking turns yelling out them. Separating them. Putting them in time out in opposite corners of the house. Not anymore. I let them carry on as they wish. Eventually they will wear each other down. But not today. Today is one of those days... where the fighting started way too early and there is no end in sight.
As an added bonus Ry is getting to an age where he wants to join in the "fun". Ever watch the Muppets? Remember animal? That's my Ry... a little baby animal. He's entered what we have dubbed the puppy phase. Whenever he isn't getting his way or wants his brothers' attention he resorts to biting. Mostly poor Seark. Ry also likes to climb. On EVRYTHING. Every time I turn around he is trying to or already has gotten on top of something and the worst thing you can do is make eye contact at that point because regardless of where he is he will try to run... which results in a fall.
So its 7pm. Its been a long day of spilling drinks and dumping buckets of toys... over and over again. They have been climbing and biting and fighting for hours on end.... and I just can't take it anymore. And then it happened... like in the movie "A Christmas Story" when the Ralphie says "fuuuuuuuuuudge" only he didn't really say fudge. Aidan was continuing his taunting antics. Seark was whining and crying and telling Aidan to leave him alone... and then clear as day. With the binky still firmly in place he said it... STOP. IT. YOU..... FUCKER!
It was as if we were all jolted with a stun gun. What?! Seark!!!! What did you just say?! He repeated with just as much conviction the second time. And while I can't say I really even blame him... we don't condone that kind of language.... well not from our 3 year old anyway. On the verge of getting hysterical with either tears or laughter I sent them both to bed. Probably the earliest I have sent them to bed and to my surprise they both went to sleep with in minutes. Which of course made me question if I should send them to bed at this time every night... I am aware already that this is just wishful thinking.
By 8 pm the entire house was quiet. My husband had fallen asleep on the couch. All the kids were sound asleep in their own bed. So I poured myself a glass of wine and resumed my nightly ritual of binge watching parenthood... and all I could hear in the back of my mind was Seark's sweet little voice... STOP. IT. YOU. FUCKER! and although I know I should be appalled I can't help but laugh. Which can only mean 2 things I am so sleep deprived and crazy from being cooped up in this house that I am delirious and that I totally need to rethink my parenting.... okay one more I might want to stop cursing in front of the kids.
Sunday, March 1, 2015
pancakes and crocodile tears
4:45am
Mmmmmmmmmoooooooommmmm. Mmmmmmmmooooooommmmmmmiiiiiiaaaaa. Momma. MOMMIA!
shhhhhhhh. Shhhhhhh. Sh sh sh sh shhhhhhhh. Seark shhhhhh. Quiet. Your gonna wake the baby. What's wrong?
MOMMIA MY LEG HURTS. IT HAS THE BUZZIES. I NEED TO TAKE A BAFFFFFF!!!!
oh Searkie just shake it. Its pins and needles. It will go away.
NO. NO. MOMMIA I HAVE THE BUZZIES. I NEED A BAFFFF. PLEASE MOMMIA!
And Ry is up. Looks like our day is starting at 5 am. Take the boys down stairs. Fill the tub. Put them both in. Might as well. Not even five minutes in the tub and the buzzies are gone. Seark is ready to get out. Which means he will throw a fit any second if you don't get him out immediately.
I get them dressed and no sooner is Seark asking for pancakes. "and not the frozen ones". Sure... yeah... what the hell pancakes at 5:15. I really want to....
A. Go back to bed.
B. Go back to bed.
C. Go back to bed.
D. At least have a cup coffee before the shenanigans begin (I realize I'm too late for that already)
Mommia I am hungry. I want pancakes. All the pancakes. Looks like today is not the day that that A. B. C. or D. is gonna happen so pancakes it is. They are just about done when Seark comes into the kitchen.
Oh. My. God. Maaaaaaaaaa. Did you make them with out me?! I wanted to make all of them and eat all of them all by MYSELF!
Lord Jesus help me... Its gonna be one of those days. One of those long days where the whining is endless. And nothing will make him happy. I'm over tired and poor Ry is too.
Searkie don't cry you can put some butter on them. Normally him and Aidan fight over this job... today he does not want any butter. For the most part tantrum #1 seems to have subsided. I sit Ry in the high chair and cut up a pancake for him.
Maaaaaaaaa. Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy????? WHYYYYYYYYY????? WHY ARE YOU GIVING RY MY PANCAKES. I WANT ALL THE PANCAKES.
There are 12 pancakes. If anything Seark will eat 1/2 of 1....possibly a whole one. However we are again mid tantrum because I didn't give him all 12. And now he won't even eat ANY! Seark goes inside to cry and I feed Ry.
While making the pancakes I added chocolate chips to the last few because that is the only way Aidan will eat them. But I forgot that Aidan doesn't like syrup when I poured it on his too and so now Aidan won't eat them either. One dozen pancakes made from scratch at 5am all going in the garbage. Whatever its fine. Wash the all the dishes that no one ate off of. Put away all the ingredients. Clean the kitchen counter and the table.
Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaa I WANT PANCAKES. ALL THE PANCAKES. I WANT TO MAKE THEM. AND EAT THEM. ALL OF THEM.
But I just got done cleaning. And good God I am not in the mood for this nonsense. Its only 7am. We are on tantrum #3. No one has eaten breakfast except for the baby.... pancakes it is. Again. Take 2.
Seark is going to "help". If you have a 3 year old you know help doesn't really mean help at all... it means make a project out of the task at hand. By the time the pancakes are done the kitchen is a disaster. Aidan is about to be late for school and already had cereal. Seark sits down with a plate that has a mile high pile of pancakes. He pours syrup all over them and the table. Takes one bite and says mmmmmmmmm these are yummy. My tummy is soooooo full. And that's that. A dozen more pancakes.... minus one bite.... made for nothing.
Aidan is off to school. Seark is on tantrum #4. The reason is unclear. Ryman is walking around crying just because he is tired. I'd like to cry to but past a certain age apparently it is unacceptable to cry just because you haven't gotten the amount of sleep you would like too. I sit down at the table drink my coffee. Eat cold pancakes and listen to the sound of crocodile tears. I wont lie as I went to get the half n half out of the fridge I contemplated grabbing the wine. I mean who blame me? I certainly would not judge.
Mmmmmmmmmoooooooommmmm. Mmmmmmmmooooooommmmmmmiiiiiiaaaaa. Momma. MOMMIA!
shhhhhhhh. Shhhhhhh. Sh sh sh sh shhhhhhhh. Seark shhhhhh. Quiet. Your gonna wake the baby. What's wrong?
MOMMIA MY LEG HURTS. IT HAS THE BUZZIES. I NEED TO TAKE A BAFFFFFF!!!!
oh Searkie just shake it. Its pins and needles. It will go away.
NO. NO. MOMMIA I HAVE THE BUZZIES. I NEED A BAFFFF. PLEASE MOMMIA!
And Ry is up. Looks like our day is starting at 5 am. Take the boys down stairs. Fill the tub. Put them both in. Might as well. Not even five minutes in the tub and the buzzies are gone. Seark is ready to get out. Which means he will throw a fit any second if you don't get him out immediately.
I get them dressed and no sooner is Seark asking for pancakes. "and not the frozen ones". Sure... yeah... what the hell pancakes at 5:15. I really want to....
A. Go back to bed.
B. Go back to bed.
C. Go back to bed.
D. At least have a cup coffee before the shenanigans begin (I realize I'm too late for that already)
Mommia I am hungry. I want pancakes. All the pancakes. Looks like today is not the day that that A. B. C. or D. is gonna happen so pancakes it is. They are just about done when Seark comes into the kitchen.
Oh. My. God. Maaaaaaaaaa. Did you make them with out me?! I wanted to make all of them and eat all of them all by MYSELF!
Lord Jesus help me... Its gonna be one of those days. One of those long days where the whining is endless. And nothing will make him happy. I'm over tired and poor Ry is too.
Searkie don't cry you can put some butter on them. Normally him and Aidan fight over this job... today he does not want any butter. For the most part tantrum #1 seems to have subsided. I sit Ry in the high chair and cut up a pancake for him.
Maaaaaaaaa. Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy????? WHYYYYYYYYY????? WHY ARE YOU GIVING RY MY PANCAKES. I WANT ALL THE PANCAKES.
There are 12 pancakes. If anything Seark will eat 1/2 of 1....possibly a whole one. However we are again mid tantrum because I didn't give him all 12. And now he won't even eat ANY! Seark goes inside to cry and I feed Ry.
While making the pancakes I added chocolate chips to the last few because that is the only way Aidan will eat them. But I forgot that Aidan doesn't like syrup when I poured it on his too and so now Aidan won't eat them either. One dozen pancakes made from scratch at 5am all going in the garbage. Whatever its fine. Wash the all the dishes that no one ate off of. Put away all the ingredients. Clean the kitchen counter and the table.
Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaa I WANT PANCAKES. ALL THE PANCAKES. I WANT TO MAKE THEM. AND EAT THEM. ALL OF THEM.
But I just got done cleaning. And good God I am not in the mood for this nonsense. Its only 7am. We are on tantrum #3. No one has eaten breakfast except for the baby.... pancakes it is. Again. Take 2.
Seark is going to "help". If you have a 3 year old you know help doesn't really mean help at all... it means make a project out of the task at hand. By the time the pancakes are done the kitchen is a disaster. Aidan is about to be late for school and already had cereal. Seark sits down with a plate that has a mile high pile of pancakes. He pours syrup all over them and the table. Takes one bite and says mmmmmmmmm these are yummy. My tummy is soooooo full. And that's that. A dozen more pancakes.... minus one bite.... made for nothing.
Aidan is off to school. Seark is on tantrum #4. The reason is unclear. Ryman is walking around crying just because he is tired. I'd like to cry to but past a certain age apparently it is unacceptable to cry just because you haven't gotten the amount of sleep you would like too. I sit down at the table drink my coffee. Eat cold pancakes and listen to the sound of crocodile tears. I wont lie as I went to get the half n half out of the fridge I contemplated grabbing the wine. I mean who blame me? I certainly would not judge.
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