Dr. Douchebag

Kids for the most part have no filter. Sometimes that can be a hilarious quality. Or embarrassing. And obnoxious. Aidan is famous for having no filter. At all. When he was little he would repeat everything that came out of my mouth at the most inappropriate time. He would repeat "grown up words" that I used in a completely wrong mostly hilarious way. I was never more aware of how much I cursed than when my son was repeating me. I talk like a truck driver. It is disgusting. I don't care. Douche bag is usually my go to when referring to well your typical douche bag. I used to call my obgyn Dr. Douchebag luckily he was cool with it. He knew the 2 hour wait in his office sucked that much that he warranted that name. My son probably heard me say douche bag a million times for a variety of reasons. Especially since my pregnancies were high risk and poor Aidan spent many hours waiting for Dr. Douchebag with me. I used it so much I should have known it was only a matter of time until he said it too. So we are shopping in home goods. At the time Aidan is oh about 3 years old. I am bent over trying on some cute BCBG summer wedges when I hear my sweet sweet boy say EWWWWWWWWWWW! I turned to see what happened. There was a woman standing less than a foot away from him. I said to Aidan what was that about? Clear as day. With the volume of a megaphone my 3 year old child announced in the middle of a crowded store... MA THAT LADY SMELLS LIKE A DOUCHE BAG! Oh the horror! The shame! I looked at the woman standing by Aidan and began some sort of nervous babbling apology. All I remember saying was "Oh my god I am so so so so SO SO SORRY! I don't know where he heard that word?! He doesn't even know what that means. I am so so so SORRY!" and I was sorry. Sorry that I had ever uttered that word in front of him. Sorry I was naïve enough to believe that telling a 3 year old that these are "grown up" words would at all deter him from saying them himself. I was also horrified. I totally looked like the face of a girl in an awful Lifetime movie. I stood there paralyzed in my horror and shame. I couldn't move. My mouth on the other hand wouldn't stop. Over compensation... the tell tale sign of guilt! Luckily she was just as embarrassed as me and she didn't need anytime at all to process the situation. Her fight or flight mode kicked right in and she bolted out of that store like Aidan looked at her and said... RUN FOR YOUR LIFE THIS STORE IS ON FIRE!!!!!
Kids will almost always with out hesitation tell you exactly what is on their mind. The other day we were in the mall. On line in Stride Rite waiting to pay. The woman in front of me turned around and said "Oh my your kids are so well behaved. Good job mom!" then she bent down to Seark's level and said what is your name handsome? Seark's response... not his name. That would have been way too ordinary. No. When complimented and asked his name my child responds "Ry just tarted... you smell dat?" accompanied by a maniacal laugh. I'd like to say I was mortified. I wasn't. There is not very much left that my kids do that carries any major shock value anymore. I just smiled and said his name is Seark and he is very amused by farts. I could see in her eyes she wanted take back her compliment from a few moments ago in the worst way. Seark's fart comment took her so off guard she didn't even make a comment about the name Seark and that never happens. Or maybe she did smell that and just wanted to get away from us. Ry can be pretty stinky.
So the moral of the story... if you are prone to potty mouth, try your best to be mindful of what you say in front of your little darlings. Not because hearing the occasional douche bag or whatever your favorite bad word is will damage them but because at some point they will repeat it too. Regardless of how awesome you are in every other aspect of parenting the minute your baby drops the f bomb in public... you suck. Why would I share a story that makes me look bad? Because let's face it we all have one. I don't curse (nearly as much as I used to) in front of my kids anymore. The important thing is we take our worst moments and let them make us better.
The moral of the second part of this story is kids really do have no filter. Brace yourself because your child's mouth will someday make you cringe. Just go with it. Follow up with something just as crazy and unfiltered. If nothing else you will get a good laugh... even if not in the moment I promise sometime down the road it will cross your mind and make you laugh your ass off. If someone asks what's so funny just tell them I am a mom... everything!

The parent I thought I would be...

You have got to be kidding me?! Which one of you colored all over the wall again?!

(jumping up and down) MOMMIA MOMMIA ME DID IT ME DID IT!!!!

SEARK!!!! WHY?! WHAT DID MOMMY TELL YOU FOR THE HUNDREDTH TIME?!

Only. Color. On. Paper. (as he smiles and gives me a thumbs up)

Why if this child knows and understands what I said to him is he still coloring on the walls?! The furniture. Himself. Why?! I have taken away the crayons and the markers and put them on shelves too high for him to reach them. He still manages to get to them. I swear he has a secret stash somewhere hidden away he is using to drive me insane. I have told him a thousand times or so it feels not to color on anything but paper. I have put him in time out. I have yelled. I have sat and talked with him about how much mommy dislikes seeing marks on things they don't belong on.

I tawry. I no wanna make you tad mommia.

{sigh} I find it so hard to stay mad at the little face that so resembles mine attached to that sweet voice. Until I walk past another colorful wall. I have in fact given up. I have learned to pick my battles. To find a happy medium that works for both of us. As much as this solution genuinely made me cringe in the beginning I have kind of grown to love it. Seark is allowed to color the walls and pretty much whatever he wants inside his toy room. It satisfies his compulsion to color on everything but paper and saves the rest of the house from Art by Seark. And as happy as I am to not have any future art work randomly drawn around the house there are times I can't help but laugh at what is already there. Like when we have new company over for the first time and they pull out the dining room chair over by the window and realize the seat is covered in blue hand prints from the time we painted ceramic trains. Or when I show someone around the house and then we get to the nursery where all of the stuffed animals are carefully placed and blankets neatly folded and the unstained natural wood closet door are covered in black and blue lines.

My house is far from perfect but it has been decorated and furnished with a great amount of care. The blue scribbles and red lines. Smeared marker that I tried to wash and only succeeded in further destroying the intentional paint. The super hero stickers that continually appear like magic. Once upon a time all of these things would have driven me insane. They don't anymore. I now have a love/ hate relationship with all of the art by Seark. It is a reminder that our house is more than it once was. Just like the stretch marks on my belly they are marks left with love. Soon Seark will out grow this phase just like all the other ones but the Sharpie marker will remain. You can't even paint over that shit with out some serious effort. The toy room looks clumsy and careless. It has little boy written all over it. Literally. And I love it.

It is funny how things change. Before I had any kids if I had went to someone's house and they told me they allow their kids to color on the walls in their toy room I am sure I would have assumed that their unruly children had finally worn them down. So much that the idea of them destroying the house for entertainment purposes had become acceptable if it meant they didn't have to deal with them for that hour. They were clearly failing at this parenting thing and I for sure would pity them for having to live with this small beast that was calling all the shots. Some of my friends probably think that about me. That's okay. What they see as a tiny beast to me is a beautiful creative boy. I am not worn out and although it is not the décor I had in mind it fits right in. I am not failing as a parent I am taking the approach I never thought I would but it works for us. The parent I thought I would be is far from who I am. My kids all have different needs that require me to be a different mom to each of them. They have changed me. Taught me to be more flexible. Have an open mind. Not sweat the small stuff. Seark in particular has given me a new appreciation for art.  

Milestone madness

    This time I am not going to buy into it. This time I am not going to read the monthly what your baby should be doing emails from Baby Center. I am going to put away the "What to Expect the First Year" baby book. I will not compare my baby to anyone else's baby. I will be honest with my pediatrician about what my baby is and is not doing (for the most part). This time. The third time. I am just going to enjoy this year and not buy into this milestone madness because I know by now after doing this already that every baby does things in their own time and in the grand of scheme of things the timing doesn't really matter.

Ahhhh but so and so's baby is smiling. I guess Ry smiles. I mean he does he smiles, but are they just reflex smiles or real I find you funny smiles? I will have to pay more attention to what is going on with that smile.

Ok he is definitely smiling purposefully. Whew. From this point on I will not worry over these silly things. Ry is perfectly healthy. I know that. I am going to enjoy that. Hmmmm what's that mark on his leg? Has that always been there? I think it has. It must have been. Did it just get darker? Well whatever it is it can wait until his next well visit which is on the 22nd. Oh god the 22nd is so far off. Maybe we can go sooner. Hi... this is this Rylan's mom we have an appointment for the end of the month but he has this weird mark on his leg and I'm not sure what it is and I would really feel better if we could just get it looked at... no rush though. Okay when would you like to come in? Ummmm let me see. I can be there in 15 minutes if you can squeeze us in. Aaaaaand just what I suspected (by suspected I mean secretly feared it was something more)! It's a birth mark. That totally could have waited. Ugh why do I do this to myself?!

Okay he's smiling, engaging and babbling. Right on social target. That little spot that only I can see is a birth mark. We are good to go. So let's go. Let go get out some toys he can sit and play with on the floor. He's now 7 months old. He loves toys that have bright colors. Oh and the ones that make noises. I love that little face he makes every time the toy makes a sound. Almost like he surprised it did that even if it's the hundredth time. We will just sit you right here.... woops maybe this way is easier since you seem to be kinda flopping over like that. Okay nope. Not this way either. Oh my god he can not sit up on his own unassisted! But the email that I didn't read said in the subject "your baby is 6 months and sitting unassisted". Why aren't we sitting unassisted? Should I be concerned. Don't freak out. Let's ask on the "mommy group" board if anyone else's baby isn't doing this either. I'm sure we aren't the only ones. Log in. First picture to fill up my computer screen with the caption "look who's sitting by herself?!" Shit. Maybe we are the only ones. Don't freak out! Do. not. freak. out! This is the only time we even attempted sitting up. Practice makes perfect. We will try a little while everyday and I am sure by the end of the week he will have the hang of it. If by then no progress I will call the doctor. Or maybe I could just shoot her a text. No. It's not an emergency I can wait the week. I can wait the week. I can wait the week. I can wait the week! I. will. wait. the. week. But she did say call with any questions.

The milestone madness!!!! It drives me crazy! I try not to let it. My first baby was what I now call the over achiever. He did everything early. Of course because he is a genius. A brilliant little babe walking and talking well before his time. My little baby Einestein. Clearly capable of achieving all of these milestones early because of my stellar parenting. I was that awful gloating obnoxious my baby is smarter than yours mom. I have no patience for that mom anymore. Because after my over achiever I had Seark. Seark is my I will do it when I am ready baby. And Seark was not ready to walk until well after his first birthday opposed to Aidan who was running around the house at 11 months. Seark had me questioning his hearing and whether or not he needed speech therapy when he didn't utter a single word until he was 2 years and 7 months old! Why?! Why wasn't Seark doing things early, or even on time. I will take on time. On time is perfect. Or even a little late. A little late would be awesome. No. Seark was on Seark's schedule not mine and I needed to adjust. And you know what I read Seark all the same books. Held him up and helped him get around the house. Put things out of his reach to motivate him to go get them. I did all the same things that I did with Aidan. Does this mean it wasn't my fantastical mom skills that got Aidan doing it all early?! Not possible. Or absolutely possible and true. As parents all we can do is give our babies the tools they will need to grow but it is totally up to them when they will decide to use them. And after all I never wanted the smartest baby on the block just happiest and of course healthy. Rylan is in no rush to show up his peers. He is happy. He is healthy. He will get where he is going in his own time. I need to sit back and enjoy the journey. Take it with him not push him through. I need to stop worrying. Stop comparing. Stop reading. Stop harassing my pediatrician. STOP GOOGLING. I need to remember that when it comes to milestones my kids are in the driver seat and I am just a cheerleader along for the ride.

I just want to sleep

I just want to sleep. Soundly. Uninterrupted. No one else in my bed. No phantom baby cries. Sleep. I don't think that I have really slept in 7 years. Yes I have gotten sleep. A little bit every night. But I wanna sleep the way I slept when I was in college. Sleep until it is time for lunch. Sleep with out getting up to pee 3 times because my bladder is shot from having all these kids. I just want like one good night sleep once every six months.

Before my kids. Before Aidan. Over 7 years ago I was the queen of sleep. My whole life I have loved to stay up all night and sleep all day. Everyone told me when I was pregnant get your rest now you will need it for when the baby comes. Almost implying if you could just sleep an adequate amount now you will save up the energy for a later date to make up for the lack of sleep you will encounter once the baby comes. Not true. I slept. Like the dead. I will not dare say like a baby because whoever said that did not have a baby... babies NEVER sleep! EVER. And once you have a baby you never get sleep either. Like a kid at a sleep over you get to rest your eyes. 

Sleep when the kids sleep. Sure. Even if all my kids went to bed and slept the same duration of time there are things that I would like to do while I have a little while to myself. By a little while to myself I mean time to clean up the toys. Do the dishes. Start the laundry. Possibly shower and or pee alone. Time to think. Think about adult things like grocery shopping and if I paid all the bills. Ugh the bills. Who can keep track of those things anyway. I sure can't. In fact last week my sleep deprived brain went on a bill paying sabbatical. For the first time ever I forgot to pay the property taxes for our house. The car payment. The mortgage. I forgot to pay them all!!! Who does that?! A mom of three boys and two dogs running on very little sleep. That's who. 

By the time I finish every thing that is easier to do when everyone else is getting in their fair share of sleep I sit down to watch TV. TV with out the kids. The only hour that I get to watch something other than Disney or Nick Jr. Who am I kidding by the time I get situated on the couch with my sleepy time tea and realize the remote is still on the fire place... I am just too tired to even think about getting up to get it. Ya know what Doc McStuffins ain't so bad and right after that is Dog with a Blog. Dog with a Blog has real people in it so it is practically an adult show and a dog that can blog is right up my alley. There probably isn't anything good on anyway. I am going to have to pee in 10 minutes so I will just the remote and change the channel then. Oh yeah I do have stuff on my DVR to watch. Mostly lame lifetime movies. I will watch a lifetime movie. And now it is 2am. 2am?!?! shit. I might as well just stay up until 3 and feed Rylan so I can just go to sleep when I get in bed. 3:30am finally going to bed. I have to get up in 3 1/2 hours. Did I lock the door? Maybe I should go check. No I locked it. Or did I? Oh god I'm not getting to sleep tonight until I check the stupid lock. Even if someone were gonna rob us they probably got tired of waiting for me to go to bed and at this point it is needless to lock the door. That is how almost every night goes. 

Even on the nights that I do go to bed at a decent time I don't sleep soundly. I hear every noise especially if it is one of my kids. If someone gets sick in the middle of the night some how I hear it loud and clear while my husband snores through the commotion. I want to sleep like him. He can sleep through cries, kids crawling on him in the bed, pretty much anything. The only thing that wakes him up is if you pinch his nose mid snore... ask me how I know. 

Then there are the rare times like yesterday that your sleep wish is granted. The baby went down for his nap. Seark asked to watch "The Nut Job" and I started to write. I was struggling to keep my eyes open when Seark said mommy lay down with me. I thought about all the things that I needed to do but what's a few minutes snuggling on the couch? Before I knew it 3 hours had passed! 3 hours!!! Granted I was on the couch with Seark's head on my chest and 2 dogs on my feet. I couldn't feel my legs. My shirt was soaked with toddler drool. My contacts were dried to my eyes making impossible to see for a few seconds. I was completely disoriented. And then panic set in. WHAT TIME IS IT? AM I LATE TO GET AIDAN? IS RYLAN STILL SLEEPING? Everything was fine my body was just in shock because... I SLEPT! Better than I have in such a long time! I woke up feeling surprisingly.... MORE TIRED?! What the hell?! But you can't catch up on 7 sleep deprived years in one afternoon. 

Moms of boys

I couldn't wait to find out if I was having a boy or a girl with all my pregnancies. As soon as they could tell I wanted to know. 

2006 

It's a boy!

A boy? Really a boy?

Yes really it's a boy. You see right there? It's a boy.

(Silence)

I honestly didn't care either way boy or girl. Healthy baby was all I wanted. But a boy? I guess I just always thought I would have a girl. I am happy we are having a boy. But what do you do with a boy? I am as girlie as they come. I love make up. High heels. Gossip. Pink. I don't know a thing about sports. Dirt. Bugs. Dinosaurs. Wrestling. What do I do with a boy? Yup... stupid question. Thankfully boys aren't born with a baseball bat in hand wanting to know the ins and outs of the game. They don't want to pick bugs out of the dirt (and sometimes taste them) for years to come. And the only wrestling I would have to worry about was a match between me and my chunky six month old trying to get his clothes on his squirmy little body. There was no specific special care for a boy. I was fine. I knew what to do. And by the time we reached any foreign territory I realized he is a blank slate and my word was gold so I could totally make the shit up as we went along and he would think I was well versed in just about everything. And then he started school.

I had been dreading school pretty much since the day he was born. For a few reasons. Here are the ones I was aware of. I am not a morning person. I don't like the birds chirping. Sunrise. Orange Juice. Anything morning related except for coffee which is really just liquid survival. The thought of going back to early mornings for the sake of school was nauseating. Dragging this little boy's unwilling body out of bed and dressing it with eyes closed while crying for 5 more minutes I knew would be torture for both of us and I was right. If it was anywhere near acceptable at my age I would behave the same at 7am. 

He would make little friends. I know most of you are thinking " awww yay little friends" not me. Little friends meant forging relationships with parents I didn't really care for. Having kids over that I cared for even less. Play dates (Free babysitting). All of it just made me cringe. 

As it turns out I was right I hated all of those things. While some people are happy to get the break from their kids for those few hours I was the opposite. Don't get me wrong the break is nice and sometimes much needed but for the most part I felt like school interfered with our routine. The lazy, late sleeping one we were both happy with. And it interfered with my life. All my days would have to revolve around and be planned according to the school schedule. How annoying? I basically want to sleep late and spend our days at the zoo. school didn't permit either one of those things to happen very often. 

So aside from having to finally get myself together and be an organized mom (gag) it was the first time that being the mom of a boy felt tough. 

Before your kids go to school they live by your standards and rules. They are genuinely them self and it doesn't matter if that means sensitive or quite. School aged boys are a strange breed. They are loud. Rambunctious. Fresh. Rough. Quite the opposite of the boy I was raising. I learned there was a very fine line between a boy being sweet versus being a sissy. Easy going would often be easily mistaken for being weak. Respectful of personal space meant you were afraid to fight (back). Being a mom of boy is hard because well I am not one. I am an emotional girl which is perfectly acceptable and almost expected because I am a girl. A highly emotional super sensitive boy is unaccptable. How do I teach him to be any other way? I myself don't know how to shut off the things that I am feeling. 

2011

It's a boy!

No it's not. This one is a girl.

No it's a boy.

No. 

(laughing) You are either having a girl with a penis or you are having a boy.

It's a boy.

Again I was happy to be having another boy but I still thought at some point I would have a girl and was for sure this time was it. Nope. We were having another boy. 

Mom's of boys have to make tough decisions from the day they are born. Do you want your son circumcised? I don't know. I never really thought about it until we were having a boy. That's a tough decision for a mom to make. I don't have a penis. I don't know what I would want done if I did have one. All I know is that it's not fair to have to decide. 

You might have a boy that likes to watch the girl shows on the Disney Channel like Doc Mc Stuffins, Sophia the First, and good old Dora. He might also want the corresponding toys to play with. For me it was simple. This is the stuff he likes so this is what he gets. Not so simple. Everyone has an opinion even on what a boy should be allowed to play with. I don't have a girl but I know from friends that have girls there is no toy dilemma for the opposite sex. If you buy a girl a race car.... "oh how cute she likes what daddy likes". Little girls are encouraged to like what daddy like from sports cars to football teams. And oh Lord ain't it just the cutest thing if she does love football. That's daddy's girl! But what if your son wants to wear your high heels? Well your not gonna let him are you?! He just wants to be like mommy. What's so wrong with that??? For some people everything. It's hard being the mom of a boy that wants to be like mommy. Even if it is a phase. Everyone has an opinion. My opinion... my kids will be who they will be whether I "allow" them to or not. My son can wear my shoes and we can laugh about it and have fun or I can waste my time trying to change him into what society says he should be and like. Either way he likes what he likes. It's tough going against the grain but I like him the way he is so we march on...up hill together... which is really hard in heels. 

2013 

Before you go I have the results to your test. 

I already know it's a boy.

You don't know that (opening the results to my materni 21) .... it's a 

boy. 

Yes it's a boy. 

I am not meant to have anything but boys. At this point I wouldn't know what to do with a girl. And as silly as that sounds because I am one it is totally true. My best friend left her baby girl with me for the day. She pooped. It was a mess. I called her mom and explained the poop was all the way up the back and front of her and then said "what am I supposed to do?" She of course laughed and said what do you mean what do you do? You have all the same parts as her!!! To which I responded. Yes I do. But I don't poop in my girl parts. I don't know what to do with this! 

So having all boys is sometimes hard. Harder than I thought. I have learned to love (watching) them play in the dirt. I don't know a thing about sports and never enjoyed them until I had a kid that did. Wrestling is something that we do watch now and ya know what it's not all bad. The acting is horrendous but some of the wrestlers aren't terrible to look at. As it turns out I am better at being one of the boys than I ever thought possible. 

You love him more

Ai-han Ai-han we went to da zoo today! 
Oh wow Seark that's so cool (as he walks away muttering  while I was stuck in school all day)
Ai-han we taw a horse, and a pig, a 6 7 8 monties!!!! 
Aren't you a lucky boy...

Mom, you love Seark more than me. 
Don't be ridiculous. I love you all the same. 
Really?! All of us the same?! You sent me to school and took them to the zoo!!! 
Aidan, you have to go to school. And for the 5 years before you went to school I did the same things with you.
Whatever. If you loved me as much as him you would let me skip school and take me to the zoo with you. 

This from the child that was thoroughly unimpressed with the Bronx Zoo. The biggest zoo in our area. The zoo where we saw a baby gorilla that had been born just days before. The zoo so big you can't even see all they have to offer in one day. Unimpressed. Bored literally to tears. Would rather be ANYWHERE BUT HERE which apparently meant anywhere excluding school. Clearly I love Seark more for taking him to a local "zoo" which is really a very small park with a as in one horse, two pigs, and a few monkeys, among other very ordinary animals. I love Seark more because I felt bad that he spends most of his days waiting for Rylan to nap so I can play with him that to make up for it I took him for one hour to this local basically barn while Aidan was in school. 

Why does Seark get a birthday party? How many of my friends are invited.
Seark gets a birthday party because it is his birthday and that's what he wanted. I invited one of your friends so you have someone to play with and that is it. It is a birthday party for Seark not you and your friends. 
I didn't even get a party when I turned 3!!!
No you didn't. When you turned 3 we took you to Walt Disney World for 10 days!! because that is what YOU wanted for YOUR birthday!!! 
Well that was a long time ago and I don't even remember it. I didn't get a party this year either.
No you didn't. This year we took you to all your favorite places in New York City. Lunch at the restaurant you picked was $300+ alone. We took you to FAO a world famous toy store and let you buy whatever you wanted. All because that is what YOU wanted to do. And just in case you forgot you told us all day that it was the best birthday EVER!!! Seark is having a party in the woods for god sake. A small party in the WOODS! Catered by a small Italian Deli. The highlight of the day is making felt capes that were insanely cheap! 
Still he is getting a party and I didn't. Just admit it you love him more. 

This kid has got to be kidding me?! He can not be serious! More than a week in Disney! 
FAO Schwartz!!! He has had the best birthdays ever! I am jealous of his birthdays. How could he possibly feel like he is being slighted and that I love Seark more?! 

Scenarios play out like this more than I ever expected. Have I really spoiled Aidan to the point that he genuinely feels cheated simply because his brother is having a birthday. And the answer is YES! Aside from ridiculous birthday celebrations and big gifts both before and after Seark was born I tell my kids how much I love them everyday. Several times a day. Even when they aren't behaving. Has he missed that?! All of the time. Effort. Patience. Projects. Toys. Trips to the zoo and parks. Nights reading stories (over and over and over and over). Band aids and kisses on boo boos that most of the time weren't even visible. Did none of that count?! At first hearing Aidan say "You love him more than me" or anything along those lines would honestly hurt my heart. I would never want any of my kids to feel that way. I would immediately stop what I was doing and tell Aidan how much I loved and adored him and try to do something to make him feel extra special that day. Unbeknownst to me my son was child con artist. 

I am sure the first time he uttered those words he felt that way (for a moment). It is hard sharing everything including mom after 5 years of having everything to yourself. And God did I feel guilty for having put him in that situation. Which I realize is laughable. I let my 5 year old guilt me into trips to the ice cream parlor, toys that he didn't need, watching tv well after his bed time before I finally realized he was one step ahead of me. So absorbed in trying to prove my love for him which is just ridiculous I was being conned by a 5 year old that was smart enough to realize those were like the magic key to getting his way! 

Nothing terrible happened to Aidan. Our family is growing as most do. Yes it is an adjustment for all of us and now I realize not one that requires rewards and constant pity parties which only confirms the feeling that we need to make things up to him because he now has a brother. Aidan KNOWS that he is loved. There is no way that he couldn't . But damn is he good and milked that for all it was worth. He stills gives it his best effort. The sad lip. Puppy dog eyes. An almost inaudible you love him more. Even though I know better there are still times he almost has me. But I will be damned if I take one more trip to Toys R Us after being guilted by this little flimflammer. No. I have cut down on his hustle by simply saying I love you. I love you all the same. I love you so much I do not need to buy you a thing to prove it. I will show you my love by giving you hugs and kisses at every single opportunity. Like when you come out school after I haven't seen you all day I will scoop you up and hug and kiss you for all the world to see how much I missed you and love you. We can hold hands every where we go. I love you so much I want to be with every second of every day even when your friends com over to play. To which he responds "Your such a weirdo! Fine. YOU LOVE ME. I GET IT." He also dodges me like a bullet outside of school and walks a block of head of me everywhere we go now just in case I decide he is in need of a little extra love. 

Another trial and error lesson in parenting. I always knew more toys and or giving into your child's every whim is not the answer but when you haven't figure out a logical solution like how to balance the new family dynamic and you so desperately want your baby to be happy anything sounds good even if it is a temporary fix that will really just blow up in your face if you let it continue. I wanted Aidan to be happy more than anything. Which isn't a good thing. Learning that  life changes and you have to adjust is just as important.  Understanding that the love we have for him is all consuming and unconditional no matter what changes around us with out making a trip to the toy store is paramount. As long as he gets that we can get through anything. And we will even if I have to learn as we go.   

you were warned

I have been contemplating writing a blog for so long I might as well say forever. Normally I'm funny. I mean like stand up comedian, definitely "NickMom Night Out" funny material. Ya know what I'm gonna go out on a limb and own it. I'm a f*cking riot especially if there is vodka involved. And it comes naturally. My witty sarcastic humor is the one thing I really love about me. So it figures that I would finally get my ish together to start this blogging thing just in time for everyone else I know to decide it's their time to blog too, and simultaneously lose my mojo. Lately the funny I used to see in everything just escapes me. So here goes... this is not going to be my finest piece of reading material. Should you continue after this point and make it all the way to the end only to stop and think "what the f*ck was that?" come on back to this sentence and remember that you were forewarned. This is going to be more reflective of my current mental state which at the moment feels overly exhausted, highly emotional, border line hysterical, bitch get some sleep and come to your senses before you type another word kind of reading material. And now that is two times you have been warned so I will say thanks for stopping by see you next time or welcome aboard this unstable roller coaster oh yeah and buckle up I'm not sure where the crazy train is headed at the moment. 

"I wish I was that asshole that gets really bad news and goes well that was sad and moves on." That was a text message I actually sent my mother. Yes my mother. My rock. The woman who brought me into this world and passed on much of her own neuroses to me. She is also at times probably more than she cares to be... my therapist. I unload so much crazy on this poor woman I often wonder at what point she will need to be medicated in order to take my phone calls. Anyway back to that text. I do. I wish I was that asshole. I am not. I think life for that asshole must be infinitely easier. I know that asshole. That kind of person easily makes up 90% of the population. If your reading this and think really?! I don't know anyone like that than it is probably you and you are just such an asshole you don't even know it. Or not. I could be way off. And of course I don't want to be an asshole. I also don't always want to be me all of the time. I am the person that gets bad news or even reads a sad story and gets stuck. Stuck in the sadness even if doesn't remotely directly affect me. I get stuck wondering why? How? Where is God? Is there a God? Where is my faith? Like Cindy Lou Who singing where are you Christmas... you get the picture. I don't get over things easily. At all. 

As my mind spirals one question that I always come back to is what is the meaning in all of this?  I believe in a higher being. The connectedness of all things. Coincidence is just a word we use to describe the mysterious alignment of happenings that are beyond what we can understand. Like a child never satisfied with the answer you have given them to unending question of why. I feel as though I am always longing for a better understanding, a more clear cut answer. I want to know/ hear X happend so Y could take place which both lead to Z which could not have been if the other two had not come together exactly when and the way they did. I want the missing puzzle pieces. A glimpse of the big picture. Which clearly is the opposite of faith. 

I want science. Minus the experiments, equations, and frog dissections. Maybe what I want is Scientology. I want something that I believe so strongly in it has me jumping on my couch like Tom Cruise on Oprah. Of course not so enthusiastic that I want to lock my wife away from the world. Which I wouldn't do anyway because I don't have a wife. Aaaaaand if my husband didn't work our car would get repossessed and our house foreclosed on. None of that sounds like anything I would want to sign up for. Maybe not scientology but I like what I feel that word sounds like it should mean (fact based religion) which is basically an oxymoron. 

I want this unpredictable sadness to not feel so random and yet undeniably strung together. I want to not take anything for granted. Which contradictory just the thought of that gives me anxiety. To not take anything for granted one would have to live with a hyper awareness of the ticking clock. The sand slipping through the hour glass. I want to take a zanax and chase it with a whipped cream vodka at the mere thought. I want to enjoy life and these beautiful miracles I have made with out worrying that it could all be over tomorrow, or next week, month, year. I want to not mourn the loss of a friend taken too early by the recklessness of that asshole that does something horrible and goes well that was bad and moves on. I want the world to make more sense. I desperately want faith.  I want my mojo back. I want to find the funny in the everyday stuff that makes up my life. I want to write about it.... 

Being a mom is so hard...

For as long as I can remember I knew I wanted to be a mom. I wanted babies. Just like the dolls that I had as a child I couldn't wait to dress them up in their cute little clothes and rock them in my arms. I of course knew that being a mom was more than that but I didn't know how much more. You have already heard a million times the resume of a mom so we can skip the daily rituals and routines that life with three boys consists of. Although if you are not aware and think it is easy I would like to invite you over for a weekend to try it. For that matter I extend that invitation to my husband also. 

Being a mom is hard. And not for the reasons you think I'm gonna say. I am sure you have heard that having a baby changes every thing. It does. For a mom bringing a baby into the world is life changing. It doesn't just change your sleep pattern and the amount of free time you will never have again. It changes who you are. For one you realize that your are capable of the impossible. For a moment you are David Blaine. Even you will wonder if you really just pushed a human out of your very tiny vagina or if you are in fact you are an illusionist. I warn you don't take a mirror and look down there to try to figure what just happened. You will be scarred for life if you do. Some magic tricks are meant to remain a mystery. 

A baby will change the way you see the person you made him/her with. In the first few days after giving birth, together you will gaze at that tiny miracle that is equal parts of you both and discover a higher love for one another. Suddenly the science of genetics will be more fascinating than you ever imagined and you will spend an infinite amount of time trying to determine how each piece of that little one fits  into your inherited make up or that of your  significant other. That wonder and awe will shift in the weeks to come. If your lucky months. Soon you will be in awe of how clueless your partner can be. Becoming a mom makes you a 24 hour a day care giver. A responsibility you will happily assume. Until exhaustion sets in and all you want is one hour. Just one hour of solid uninterrupted not oh wait is that the baby crying sleep. Surely that is not too much to ask after all its been six weeks and you haven't asked yet. Only to find out dad has no clue what to do with your little bundle of joy if you are not supervising. 

But more than any of that being a mom is hard because it's not anything you think you signed up for. Mom's don't bring babies into the world. What they bring into the world is an extension of them self in the physical form of a tiny being. Mom's bring into the world a love they grew inside of them. A love that is now part of who they are. They give to the world the greatest gift and at the same time make the biggest personal sacrifice... sharing that piece of who they are with everyone else knowing how vulnerable that makes them. 

Being a mom is hard because with out voluntarily doing so you are inducted to the oldest sorority in the world. "mama beta be ready" You will be hazed, mocked, and judged by some of the senior members. Some will be quick to tell you what you are doing wrong without offering any advice on how to do it right. At times the uncertainty will be overwhelming. Don't worry that will change. You will find someone willing to show you the ropes. If your are lucky like me it will be your own mother. At some point you will realize you fit right in. You have an unspoken bond with everyone else in this mommyhood club. A bond so strong it will make you weep for children you don't know because you understand the heart of their mother even if you never met her. At times this can be overwhelming too. The loss of someone else's child even if it be a world away will break your heart and hand you an unsettling realization about just how fragile this thing called life actually is. 

Being a mom is hard because you feel everything that your child feels... times ten. It will bring you back to unpleasant times in your own life. Times that even though you made it through and you know your baby will too feel like they may kill you because reliving your own pain and feeling theirs is just too much. The fact that you can't protect them from everything feels like it will break it you. It won't. If you don't let it. You have to be the light at the end of their tunnel until they can see it on their own. In the mean time you will learn to put up with the abuse they inflict upon you until they work that shit it out. Despite doing everything right and always having their best interest be prepared to wear the name tag that says "worst mother ever".

Being a mom is even harder if you have more than one child because you won't be the same mom to both of them. Each one of your kids will be different in personality, and capabilities. In order for them to be well adjusted you too will have to adjust. Constantly switching gears can be exhausting but parenting is not universal. Don't accept advice as gospel and don't turn it away because you think you know better. It's like being the ring leader in the circus. You can't tame the lions with the same technique you used to teach the monkey's to juggle. It's not easy but you will figure it our after you make a million mistakes. 

Being a mom is so hard there should be more than one day a year set aside for us. But there isn't and that is because as hard as it is.... it's amazing. It's rewarding in ways that are not measurable. Being a mom is knowing there is a purpose to the world we live. It is faith in miracles. Because after all it is pretty miraculous that we get to experience this all consuming, life changing, one of a kind LOVE every day. Happy Mother's Day today and everyday. 

Are you done yet?

I love when I am at a restaurant and the waiter/ess
comes to the table with my plate full of food and says are you done yet? Why yes I am. Don't I look done visibly masticating my food, bouncing a baby on my hip, plate barely touched. I look done right? No, no I am not done and I am going to take my sweet ass time I don't care who is waiting for this table. I am going to finish this cold plate of food as soon as my husband is done eating until he is content and takes this baby. So, why don't you ask him if he is done yet?! 

Hey your son is 2 right? Are you potty training? Are you done with that yet? Hmmmm. Yes we are potty training. I would love to also answer yes to are we done with that too. But I know that it will be just my luck that if I do he will totally piss himself the next time we are out with you and your completely potty trained baby Einstein who was done with diapers by the time he was six months old and I will look like a liar
. So I will say thoughtfully.... no we are not done but doing really well. Well enough to not wear diapers anymore. Not well enough to forego the extra pair of pants in my diaper bag. 

Mom are you done in there? 
Am I done? Can't you hear the water running still?! I'm still in the shower if you can hear the water. When I come out is when I will be DONE! 

Wow three boys?! Are you gonna try for a girl or are you done now? I know that this is just a question that people ask just to make some kind of awkward small talk and by now I am armed with my standard small talk answer which has nothing to do with how I really feel. 

Whether or not am I done having kids has nothing to do with a boy/ girl ratio. To have another baby just to have a girl which is only a 50/50 chance would be silly. Besides if I was having more kids for the purpose of having a girl how would that make the next boy feel?

The real question though is am I done having children. The real answer....
After I had Aidan I was certain I was done. DONE. PERIOD. Anyone asked if we were having anymore kids I would say nope... one and done. Well almost done. Of course I had no idea that five years later I would be having Seark. To my surprise I went from one and done to two and I think want one more. Baby number three just wasn't meant to be. Miscarriages were unfortunate things that happened to other women not me. Until it was happening to me. Why was this happening to me? Was another baby just not in the stars? Was I asking for too much? Maybe it doesn't matter if you think you are done. Was this some divine intervention, some higher power's way of telling me I'm done? It could be or it could be just one of those things. If everything happens for a reason I can't rest until I know the reason. Why did I lose a baby? Why did it happen to me? Annoying but that is how my brain works. It tends to spiral. My thoughts were so out of control, my mind so preoccupied I had no idea what was going on inside my body. While I was questioning the universe and a God I doubt, there was a baby already growing in my belly. Clearly we were not done and I didn't even know it. That baby is now here. Am I done now? I am 99.9 % sure that Rylan is the last baby I will give birth to. Do I feel like I am done? No. I am not even sure that another baby would make me feel done. I am not unsatisfied. I don't feel incomplete. I feel like saying I am done puts a period in a place it doesn't belong if that makes any sense. I do not plan on having any more babies, but truthfully I am not much of planner unless you are talking about my kids bed time on a night I am going out. That I have a plan for. 

faster than angels fly

When I was in the 8th grade I told my mother I wouldn't make it another four years in the school I was in. I begged her to send me to a private all girls school. Of course at the time I was what... 13 years old. I had no idea that I was asking them to pay for a $20,000 high school education. They didn't hesitate. They sent me to the private school. 

I guess it is no surprise that my son is struggling to keep his head above water in the same school system now. The one I begged almost 20 years ago to take me out of. Sadly not much has changed. As much as I could write about the failing public school system in my town and how nothing is being done to change it, that is not what this particular blog is about. It's about the school my parents sent me to because I knew I would drown here and the girls I met when I got there. 

My home town is cliquey. Mean girls are an abundant breed here. Even when I was younger I knew I didn't belong here. As I have said in other posts I managed to fly under the radar through much of grammar school. Even that was stressful. Always wondering when they would set their sights on you. Never knowing if you were next to be the butt of every joke made. I couldn't take it. I knew it was inevitable. The humiliation train had already run over every other possible victim. It was only a matter of time until it hit me. I had to leave before that happened. Thank God I had parents that took me seriously and were willing to sacrifice for me. 

My freshman year of high school I started ICHS. An all girls school. I didn't know anyone and no one knew me. It was the change of scenery I so desperately needed. I made friends instantly. Surprisingly those instant connections would last through out my high school career. Everyday I sat with and chatted the time away with the same girls. One thing that stands out is how much we laughed and genuinely enjoyed each other. I looked forward to school. I looked forward to seeing my friends. Our class as a whole was small. I think there was something like 40 of us the year we graduated. We were a tight knit group. Even so we were all from different towns and about to attend different colleges. We all swore that we would all stay in touch. For a while we did. But like everything else in time we drifted apart. 

Then there was Facebook. For the most part everyone that I wondered or thought about over the years was on line. We all became Facebook friends and began to catch each other up on our lives.... virtually. Some of us got together and picked up where we left off. There was one girl in particular that I was hoping to reconnect with. Of course she was the one I couldn't find. No one else could either.  Every time I saw someone from ICHS the first thing I would ask them was if they knew where Danielle was? or how she was? Nobody knew. I knew her old house number by heart and would from time to time call it to see if maybe she had come back home, to no avail. 

Danielle (along with a few others) was  one of those people that for whatever reason you just click with. They are more than a friend. You connect with them on another level. I guess what you would call a soul mate. One of those people that you can't just shake off because they hold onto a deeper part of you. The part that has nothing to do with logic or circumstance or even commonalities. They are part you. They own that little piece of your heart that they managed to grab hold of. Dani was one of those people. 

Until a few weeks ago the last time I saw or heard from her was the year 2002. For 12 years we had not seen or spoken to each other. Regardless I always thought about her. Wondered what she was up to and wished her well. I honestly didn't know if our paths would ever cross again. Of course I always held out the hope they would. And then they did. 

I got the chance to spend a night with her. Tell her how much I missed her and how I always thought about her. She expressed the same to me. We were in two very different places in our lives but that didn't matter. For this one last night we were two friends, soul mates, in sync, overjoyed to reconnect. We exchanged numbers and promised to keep in touch. Made plans for her to come meet my kids. And oddly enough that night felt like good bye.

Last night she was killed by a drunk driver in a head on collision. What are the odds I would get to see her after 12 years of thinking about her. After 12 years of asking about her, trying to find her, I would get to see her one last time before she was gone forever. My heart is so heavy with this news I feel like I can't breathe. I am incredibly grateful for the chance that I had to say goodbye and incredibly devastated.  I am often not sure where I stand with my belief in God. I know there is no way that our meeting again was a coincidence. Or by chance. I feel like the universe or some higher being is trying to tell me something... but what? Could it be so simple that it was just a chance for our souls to say goodbye. However sick with sadness I feel in this moment I know had I not had that opportunity my soul would not be able to bare this. 

Danielle was a one of the most beautiful people I have ever known. Long blonde hair. Green eyes outlined in the boldest black. Her skin fair and flawless like a porcelain china doll. Beautiful. She was petite and sweet. Smarter than she would ever let on. She was happy and that was contagious. She would always say exactly what was on her mind even if it was off the wall. If she loved you... you knew it because she would never miss an opportunity to tell you. Danielle was also restless, daring, carefree to the point of dangerous. Qualities that often lead her down rough roads. She was a beautiful mystery and I loved her. I always will.  

"Some souls only know one speed, faster than angels fly." That was Dani. It took me 12 years to catch up to her. We were in the same space and time for a brief moment before she had to go. I will forever remember that night, when she slowed down long enough to tell me goodbye. 

Cry "it" out

So if you read my "Dear first time mom blog" ( if you didn't you totally should) you know that my first year with Aidan was not quite what I thought it would be. By the time I had Seark Aidan was almost 5 years old and I thought that I had done, seen, and learned from it all. I knew never to say never. I learned that it is all trial and error. I felt like I knew better this time around. And for the most part I did. 

With Aidan cry it out never worked and I suppose it was because I never really let him cry it out. I thought moms that used that method were one of two things. Heartless or deaf. Perhaps both. Who could stand outside their babies room knowing they were crying and not go in there and get them?! Mothers that value their own sanity that's who. When Seark was born, 5 years after not letting Aidan cry it out... he was still in our bed! Determined to not have yet another body in our bed I set out to let Seark cry it out. I couldn't. I really tried. That whole 5 minutes felt like an eternity. But at least I tried.
 In one queen size bed there was my husband, my five year old, me and my baby. Oh and our severely overweight snuggle smothering dog. It was crowded to say the least. And hot. And starting to feel claustrophobic. I was a slave by night to children who depended on me to fall asleep. By the time Seark was six months old I couldn' take it anymore. These uncomfortable, barely sleeping, over heated, senselessly suffocating  nights needed to come to an end. And they did. The idea is seems to be universally babies need to cry "it" out to go to sleep. Once they get the mystery "it" out of their system they are off to dream land and you will not hear from your sweet baby turned screaming exorcist until the sun comes up. Really?! I mean REALLY?! Eh what the hell? At this point I will try anything!
The first few nights were BRUTAL!!! For everyone involved. It is a battle of wills. As Seark would cry it out I would come in periodically and rub his back and shush him. He would mock me. Laugh in my face. Then continue to cry it out the minute I left the room. He knew I was weak. He was trying to break me. I almost let him. But I didn't. I was determined. Every night the crying time got shorter and shorter. The "it" needed to be cried out less and less. Then one night like magic... no crying. Just sleep. I waited incredulous staring at the monitor. Where was the "it"? Had he cried it all out? For good? Was the "it" his firm belief that I would come back for him and he no longer believed that?! Had I broken his will?! Have I damaged our bond? Is he breathing?! I NEED TO GO CHECK ON HIM!!!!! I crack open the door. Creep in. Lay my hand so gently on his back. Oh thank god. He is. He's breathing. He's fine. Whew. I creep back out. Shut the door. Harder than I anticipated. And WAAAAAAAAAAA WAAAAAAAA yup there's the "it". A slamming door will bring the "it" right back! But only for a second and he was back to sleep. Holy shit my friends were not cruel heartless hard of hearing moms. They were well rested. They were smart. They knew all about the "it" and how to make it go away. For years they had been passing on tried and true knowledge and it was falling on deaf ears of this non believing mom. I wanted to call them all and tell them they were right and I was sorry I hadn't taken their advice 5 years ago with Aidan. Who am I kidding I have way too much pride for that! 
And then there was three. By the time I had Rylan I was wise(r). I had years worth of trial and error under my belt and 2 solid years of no kids in my bed. I wasn't going backwards. Rylan never got the co sleeping luxury. There were so many nights after nursing him, all swaddled like a little burrito, looking so peaceful and beautiful all I could think about was snuggling the night away with him in my bed. I knew better. If you start them in the crib from the very beginning apparently there is nothing to cry out. Rylan just goes to sleep. Naps. Night. Doesn't matter. I put him down wide awake and minutes later he sound asleep. Having a baby that sleeps soundly, independently, on a routine schedule is a whole different life. A whole different wonderful life. I do not regret even one night of snuggles with Aidan or Seark and there are nights I feel like I missed out on them with Rylan but with three kids sleep is a necessity!

 

Sweetest surprise (if you think you are done having kids you may want to think again)

May 4th 2011

It is 3:26 am and I have yet to get any sleep tonight. I can't seem to sit still long enough to close my eyes. Partly because I watched a YouTube of a c-section earlier in the day so I knew exactly what I was getting into  and I am fearful of the nightmares it is going to give me. Everyone kept telling me it's the fear of the unknown that has me so on edge. I can now tell them they are wrong. It is for sure the fear of having my organs tossed on me after they cut my belly open to get you out while I am basically wide awake and paralyzed. The fear of the unknown was much better. Strangely enough compared to Aidan's delivery that still sounds like the better option. Maybe it's the trauma from that day that has me wide awake. I have been sitting here stroking Aidan's hair for hours. Thinking about how I almost died bringing him into the world. Thinking about his tiny unresponsive body on the day he was born. Thinking about the miracle it is that we are both here and healthy. God I am scared to death. What awful thoughts to be having hours before heading to the hospital to have another baby. But then I think of you and it calms me. You... the surprise of my life.  I am so anxious to see your little face. I wonder if you will look like your brother. It won't be long now until you are in my arms instead of my belly. It so strange that in a few hours I will have to share you with the world. As much as I hate being pregnant there is something indescribable and overwhelmingly amazing about being the only person to truly know you. I would keep you all to myself forever if I could. Selfish as that sounds its true. 
It's 3:46 am now. I have to wake your dad up in a 30 minutes. Before I do that I am going to put my make up on. Yup make up. I realize how vain that sounds and it is but if I am going to be terrified, naked, strapped to gurney paralyzed from the chest down in a room full of strangers at the very least I am going to look doing it. It would be pointless to try to sleep now anyways. So my love that is all... I will see you soon. 


 May 4, 2014 

It is hard to believe I wrote that 3 years ago. My c section was flawless. Seark was perfect and so beautiful and chubby. He had the smallest quietest cry. Seark just like Aidan from the moment I laid eyes on him it was instalove. After everything that went wrong with Aidan's delivery I was so sure I was done having babies. So sure I was fine with that. Then he was here in my arms and I couldn't imagine that life could be any other way. This babe was meant for me. I was right where I was supposed to be with him in my arms. Strange how something you never knew you were missing could make you feel that much more complete.
 The last three years have flown by. Everyday Seark makes me smile. Teaches me something new. Makes my heart swell.  Reminds me that you never know where life it going to take you. Gives me faith that there is something bigger than us that blesses us with sweet surprises when we are least expecting them. Today we celebrate him.

Happy 3rd Birthday my love....  

Your kids don't care

Mommy me wanna do to da zoo.
We just went yesterday Searkie.
Yederday?!
Yup, Yesterday. Don't you remember we met mommy's friend there and her baby. You played on the dinosaur rocks?
Oh yeah. Searkie wanna do to da zoo adain. TODAY!!!
Sorry bud probably not today, Mommy has to go grocery shopping and get the stuff for your birthday dinner tomorrow, and buy all the things we need to make your spider man cupcakes. I got to do laundry and clean up this place. The the dogs need to go for a (I stopped mid sentence. Realizing Seark has already checked out) I'm sorry Seark there is just too much to do today. Okay?
Otay mommy. 
Wanna get your shoes on and you can come to the store with me?
No tanks. Me wanna do to da zoo today. 

All of the things that I planned on doing today were for Seark. I wanted to straighten up the house so it didn't look like a bomb hit it when my mom and dad come over tomorrow  for Seark's birthday dinner even though they don't care what my house looks like. I planned on going grocery shopping to get all Seark's favorite things for a his special brithday dinner. Also on the list was blue cake mix and spider man decorations because he asked for spider man cupcakes. I figured I cold make the cupcakes today so tomorrow isn't too hectic. After all that is done I have to go buy Seark's birthday present because I loooove last minute shopping. I will get him to bed on the early side. Wrap his gifts. Decorate the cupcakes. Throw on a load of laundry while that stuff is getting done. Hopefully finish everything by 10 pm and go to bed at a reasonable time.

I threw on some make up. My flip flops. Grabbed my keys and headed out the door. Seark was laying on the couch. I told him daddy and Aidan are in the toy room playing he should go join them and I will be right back.

No tanks. Me wanna do to da zoo for my bertday. 

I stand there thinking for a minute about all the things I have to do and that if we go to the zoo none of them will get done. It's noon already and I have not gotten a thing accomplished. Truthfully although most of the things on my to do list are for Seark he doesn't care about any of them. Tomorrow we I could spend all day cooking the perfect dinner or I could grab McDonald's. Seark wouldn't care. I could create the most perfect spider man cupcakes made with love and just the right amount of food dye or I could run to Walmart in the morning and buy pre made crapcakes. Seark wouldn't care. He would eat and enjoy either one. All the things I wanted to do today to make a perfect tomorrow for him are clearly more for me and what I want. Seark doesn't care. He wants to go to the zoo. Today.

Your right Searkie it is your birthday and we should do what you want to do. Let's go to the zoo today.


I could totally end this right here. Short and sweet. I am sure you have already gotten the point of this story is that your kids have different priorities and theirs may be more in order than yours. I could just end it right here.... or I could tell you about our day at the zoo.

I won't bore you with every last detail but here were the highlights.While today I learned that dinner and cupcakes are things that Seark doesn't care about I also learned that Aidan doesn't really care for the zoo. Mostly the walking. Also that I wouldn't let him buy another toy. Oh yes and lets not forget the lack of "entertaining" animals. Perhaps Aidan had the word zoo confused in his little brain with circus. He was expecting juggling orangutans, lions jumping through fire hoops, something. Something more than these "boring" "lazy" animals that were JUST LAYING THERE!!!! They were soooo lame. Lazy animals. Because it is everyday you get to see a baby gorilla. That was so not cool at all.

Seark loves butterflies. I really had no idea the butterfly house would be such a big hit with him. He couldn't get enough of these fascinating, brilliantly colored little creatures. He was thoroughly enjoying himself. Went as far to take his binky out to smile for a picture. Unfortunately just as I went to snap it his brother came barreling through like a bull in a butterfly garden knocking Seark's face into the giant metal butterfly sculpture resulting in a fat lip. Up until that point Seark was loving it. He wasn't the biggest fan as he left there with a bloody swollen top lip and tears streaming down his cheeks.

Not everywhere in the zoo accepts credit cards. We paid for our zoo membership with a credit card. we paid for the pictures of the kids on the dinosaur safari with a credit card. We paid for popcorn, a pretzel, and two bottles of water with... you guessed it a credit card. We passed a stand selling dipping dots. That disgusting not really sure what it is "ice cream" that my kids are drawn to like flies to light. Two very small cups of this chemical cream cost $11.43. I hand over the credit card I have been using at the zoo ALL DAY. The cashier pushes the card back to me shaking her saying "no. sorry. no credit. jut cash." what? why? there is a visa/master card logo on her cart. I point to that and she says again the same as before. Shit. I NEVER have cash on me and apparently neither does my husband. The boys have already dug into their tiny bowls of little frozen balls so it is too late to pass on them. The line gets longer by the second as I frantically dig through my bag. I manage to scrounge up $10.75 between singles and sticky change. Don't ask I have no idea what was on that money. I am short 68 cents. 68 freakin' cents!!!!! You gotta be kidding me?!? The cashier begins to explain where the atm is. Not the woman next in line or the one behind her but the woman three people down the line walks over to me and says "How much do you need? The atm is a hike from here."  I tell her 68 cents. She hands the cashier $1.00 and says to me "I got it. Don't worry. Enjoy the rest of your day." I have never been so happy to receive such a small amount of money. I could not thank her enough. She assured me she was happy to help and then said something I will never forget. "It's really no big deal. It has happened to me before too. Besides you look like you have your hands full with all those boys.... I don't even think you noticed your little one threw up in your shirt." I was smiling and nodding already knee deep in embarrassment when I realized what she said. I was wearing Ry in the baby carrier on my chest. Indeed he had puked all over my "boobs full of milk" cleavage and I had not even noticed. Awesome. I wished me and my short changed, pukey boobed, baby wearing, ass could just disappear.

During all of this Seark and Aidan were completely oblivious. I looked over at them and their messy faces, filthy hands, and now stained shirts and had to laugh... clearly they didn't care. It's a shame that they are so carefree and not wise enough to know what a luxury that is. There are some days I wish I could be more like them... and just not care.

Dear First Time Mom....

This is written with love and affection for all new mommies.who think they know it all

I was at one time this mom. I owned damn near every pregnancy book out there. "What to expect" was like the bible around here. Well not really I have never actually read the bible, but you get the point. It was my sacred go to book. I felt as if whoever wrote that book knew it all. Each time a new month was starting I read the next chapter. So anxious to see what my baby might look like or weigh at that point. What new things were starting to develop. If the book said your baby can now hear, you may want to start reading to your baby that's what I did. In hindsight that seems incredibly silly. My baby may be able to hear but clearly didn't know the difference between being read a nursery rhyme or me gossiping with girlfriends. 

I was so anxious to get to the end of that book. I did everything it told you to about writing a birthing plan. Packed every thing they suggested. Went over that bringing baby home check list a million times. Contraptions for our little one were beginning to take over my tiny apartment. We had a swing, a rocker, a bassinet, a soothing vibrations chair. All things other moms swore by. We used none of them. Why? Because my baby didn't like a vibrating mattress like a hooker at a cheap motel, nor did he like swinging side to side while obnoxious birds flew in a circle over his head. You know what he liked.... being held. All day every day. 

If I wasn't holding Aidan he was crying. How could this be? I was going to have a well adjusted, non clingy, independent little man. Who is this frantic creature that is in hysterics if I have to pee? Although I swore I wouldn't be that mom... You know the one who eats with one hand so she doesn't have to set her baby down cause it may make him upset, masters peeing with a baby sleeping on her chest so she doesn't wake him, definitely not the one that co sleeps or sits in the back seat of the car (despite my own motion sickness) to keep baby happy on a long (more than 5 minutes) ride. I will NEVER be that mom. Never? Well maybe sometimes I will do those things. Or as it turned out ALL the time. I would soon make a shocking discovery. I didn't know shit about being a mom before I actually had a baby to care for all of the time. Nothing prepared me to my dismay. Not "Happiest Baby on the Block" or the "No Cry Sleep Solution" not even "What to Expect the First Year". This couldn't be I totally knew what other people should be doing with their kids before I had mine. Why was mine such a mystery?! I must have gotten the defective one. No cry sleep solution??? Was she raising a baby with no vocal chords? Maybe she just  shut the monitor off and pretended not to hear the riot going on in the crib. Happiest baby on the block??? I read it. I put those words into action. Where the hell was my happy baby?! What to expect?! No one can predict what you should expect. That book should be called "I think this is what you can expect based on my experience as a first time mom which is somewhat hazy because I was rocking a crying baby that never slept or got in the car without freaking out". Then at least if that didn't happen to you, you would feel like you lucked out not got lied to.

Despite our first year of unexpected firsts and me eating my words more than I cared to, we survived. If I ever write a book about being a first time mom it will be called "We survived you most likely will too".

Aidan turned one. He was still sleeping in my bed. Crying in the car. Always had to have me in his sights. But something was happening. Slowly but surely he was becoming more independent. He was walking by now and didn't "need" to be held all of the time. His sleeping pattern was less unpredictable and finally I could start to do somethings for me like showering regularly and shaving my legs. 

This wasn't so bad after all. Aidan was a quiet, sensitive, well behaved toddler. When you told him no he stopped what he was doing. He was not the type of kid to be into everything. I never even baby proofed the house. I didn't have to. He had no interest in going in cabinets or sticking objects in sockets. He never climbed the furniture. Smooth sailing from here on out. 

I would see parents with older children at the park or in the mall. I would watch them trying to reel in or talk down their unruly, loud, obnoxious, fresh, tantrum throwing beast and pity them. Thank God Aidan is well behaved. I will NEVER tolerate any of that nonsense. And I wouldn't.... for oh about another year and half. 

Aidan was about to turn two. I had been forewarned about this age. I braced myself for "THE TERRIBLE 2'S". Although I admit I thought that term was 1. an exaggeration and 2.the result of poor parenting skills. Which only says something about how little I knew. 

I will NEVER be that mother that "let's" her kid throw an all out kicking, screaming, face in the floor tantrum while we are in the public eye.  NEVER.  I couldn't imagine this sweet boy that followed me around like a puppy would ever behave in that manner anyway. Until.... he did. 

Lesson number one, no mom let's her child throw a tantrum. They happen.You have no control over them. Once in the midst of a tantrum there is only one option. Ride it out. A tantrum is similar to a psychotic break. You cannot reason or even speak to child mid tantrum. The more you try to stop it the louder, more embarrassing, and extreme it will get. You can try to remove them from the situation only to find out your child has become dead weight. Gravity draws them to the floor like a magnet and they are unmovable. 

Aidan was about to turn three. We were days away from escaping terrible two unscathed. I had no idea my little darling was a terrorist laying in wait. He was about to launch full blown tantrum warfare for the first time... in public. 

We went to get his picture with Santa. I didn't bring the stroller because I didn't think I needed it. We weren't shopping or walking around the mall. One picture. Simple. In and out. Aidan waited on the extended line like and angel. People complimented how well behaved he was. I bragged about how lucky I was and what a good boy he was. He sat an Santa's lap and smiled like a chubby little cherub. Oh I was so in love with this little person. We paid for the picture. Then you had to walk through Santa's toy shop to exit. Brilliant marketing. Mom's worst nightmare. 

Aidan of course needed a toy. His birthday just passed and Christmas was just days away but he NEEDED A TOY. Fine. One toy. No big deal. He picked something out. We paid. Out we go. Until another toy caught his eye. 

Mommy I want that one too.
No you already got one.
I WANT THAT ONE TOO!!!!! I WANT IT!!!! I WANT IT!!! IWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTIT!!!!!
(oh my god what is happening)
I understand you want it but you already got something. No more toys today okay buddy?

What followed was my never say never realization. Aidan began kicking and screaming and holy shit throwing himself on the floor.  In the process he knocked over an entire shelf of toys. They came crashing down along with any shred of dignity I may have had moments ago. I tried talking to him, shushing him. I attempted to lift him off the floor. I couldn't. He suddenly weighed 100 more pounds than he did on the way in. I was embarrassed, sweating, scrambling for how to stop this madness. I felt like a hostage to this little insane person who was not going to let us escape this crowd of judgmental glares until his negotiating terms were met. FINE. YOU WANT THE TOY. I WILL GET IT. JUST GET OFF THE FLOOR. It was pointless. He didn't even want the toy anymore. He was delusional. I dragged him to the car. Mopping the floor of the mall with his almost three year old body. 

Finally the endless walk of shame had come to an end. We were at the car. His body rigid, unbending, I could not get him in the car seat. Dear God if you let me get this child in the car 
I will never say never again. I don't know if my prayer was answered or Aidan just ran out of steam.

Dear FTM, 
I know you think you know it all. I was at one time you. Don't look at other mother's that don't have it as together as you and your sweet immobile nonverbal bundle of joy with a scornful eye. You can't imagine it now and perfect as you are as a parent,  at a time you are least expecting it your little one who has been taught so well will totally lose their shit, probably at the most inopportune moment. So throw out your preconceived idea of what the perfect child is like and learn to adapt to who yours will be. No one is exempt so don't ever say NEVER.

 Sincerely, 

The mom that learned the hard way