It is safe to that things rarely ever go as planned. Like they never go as planned. Or even close to the way I envision them. When we first met I had all these plans for me and you and all the things that we would do. The places we would go and the secrets we would share. Surely we would be best of friends.
And for awhile... years... it felt like we were. We talked night and day. Always had a good time together. I couldn't imagine that we ever wouldn't.
And don't get me wrong. There isn't anyone else that I would rather spend my time with. No one else that could fill your place. But I am sorry I am not your best friend.
You see I had the best intentions... for us... and this relationship but it just isn't working out.
I hope I will always be the person you confide in. I will keep every secret you ever tell me. And you wont ever have to worry that anything you say would go beyond the conversations we have.
I pray that when there is a new adventure you want to embark on I am the person you want to take along. I would go anywhere with you... for you. And I do mean anywhere.
When you need advice I will be here for you. With an open door and open arms. Don't ever hesitate to call me.
In years to come when you are reminiscing about the good ole' days I hope your fondest memories are the ones you made with me.
I will always be your biggest cheerleader. Your rock. Your shoulder to cry on. Your safe place. I just can't be your best friend.
And there will be moments when it is hard for me to remember that but I will have to because of all the things you need me to be... your friend is last on the list. At least for now.
The realization of this cuts like a knife and I know you cant understand it today but I hope someday you will.
I wish you knew how much I would like to say yes to every thing you ever ask for. I just can't. It would be so much easier and you would like me so much more.
I wish I did not have to teach you lessons and make you understand the things you would rather not know. Unfortunately it is my job.
I wish I could never hear the sound of your door slamming again, the words I hate you fall from your mouth, I wish I could turn a blind eye to the glaring look you give me at the dinner table when I won't let you have your way... but I can't.
I wish you knew how much it hurts. The end of this friendship. But the responsibilities I have because I am your mom far outweigh the desire I have to be your friend. Just know none of this changes my love for you. In 30 years from now when you have a family of your own you will know just how much love there was to choose the right thing over the easy one.
Monday, December 7, 2015
Sunday, November 1, 2015
fat girl. not on a diet.
Yes you read that right. Fat girl ( that would be me). Not on a diet. Not currently anyway... because at one point or another I have been on all of them.
The first time I decided to diet was right before I got married. I was about 165 pounds. We started shopping for wedding dresses. For some this is the most fun and exciting time of their life. For me, it was torture! I was thrilled to be getting married and seriously head over heels in love. But wedding dress shopping felt more like an exercise in humiliation. All of the dresses at the stores were many sizes too small. MANY! Every dress I tried on had to be clipped closed in the back cause it didn't fit. There is no better feeling than walking out of a dressing room with all eyes on you... stuffed into a dress held to together by industrial size clips. Mind you at the time I was not a "big girl". Not skinny... but not big. I was a comfortable size 10.... which felt like a 20.
I finally found the dress of my dreams. I can still hear the little Filipino woman at the store saying "it's pretty dress... but you too big for that kind of dress". I decided after that I was not going to even think about a wedding dress until I was not too big for it.
I started weight watchers immediately. Weight watchers... aka... AA for over eaters. I exercised and counted points like my life depended on it. I shed 20 pounds fairly quickly. Then I got my wisdom teeth removed and could not eat solid food for some length of time... which totally helped with the dieting. Then I got the flu. Before I knew it I was 128 pounds and in a size 7. Success!
I was 128 pounds for like a whole day... well maybe two. After the wedding I went back up to 140 in no time. Which I was totally comfortable at.
Then my mother in law got sick. Diagnosed with lung cancer. This is when I discovered that I am an emotional eater. I took care of her for one year. Watched her wither away. And comforted myself with a generous portion (a pint) of Ben & Jerry's pretty much every night. I also ate McDonald's and whatever else I could grab on the way to the hospital. My mother in law passed away. And I had gained 50 pounds trying not to deal with it.
So here I am... at my heaviest weight. Nearly 200 pounds! And pregnant with my first baby. A combination that would send me into downward spiral as far as weight is concerned. I don't remember my exact weight... I have made a mental note not too, but it is safe to say I was well over 200 pounds when I gave birth to Aidan.
I lost some weight after I had him. Nothing significant. My recovery from his birth took a long time. I was overweight. Exhausted. And completely unmotivated. I had given up. I just didn't care anymore about my weight or at least that was what I told myself because I really didn't want to deal with how much I hated this new body I was living in. I still laugh to myself when I read these articles about women claiming to love their stretch marks and saggy skin. Yes I had a baby. Yes those are my battle wounds, tiger stripes, whatever the fuck you want to call them... I don't like them. If I was one of those women that miraculously came out of that nine months unscathed I would be perfectly happy. I mean I'd still have my broken vagina to show for all my hard work in bringing a human into the world... that's plenty in my opinion.
I went into my next pregnancy heavier than I did my first. Again I gained more than I should have and left the hospital with staples in my stomach, a baby in my arms, and a number on the scale that made me want to crawl in a hole and eat cake batter, alone, while I cried.
I couldn't take it anymore. I decided to pay a visit to Jenny Craig. I ate their over priced crappy frozen and boxed food for weeks... and lost weight. I stopped going to Jenny Craig and gained all the weight back immediately. Like in 24 hours. Kidding. But that is what it felt like.
I needed to gain control of the situation. I started a diet of Slim fast and salad and exercised religiously. From October 2011 to October 2012 I had lost 100 pounds! YES 100 pounds!
Then I got pregnant again. I managed to keep it together this time and not slip into the morbidly obese range. I gave birth to a perfectly healthy baby boy who just turned 2. Would you believe it if I told you I weigh more now than the day I gave birth to an almost 10 pound baby... sadly that is the truth. Over the course of the last 2 years I have tried just about every beach body program there is. T25 (is awesome unless you have boobs and don't mind getting beat up by them! The amount of jumping that those workouts require is just unreasonable), P90 (yes just plain of P90 no X, cause lets face it if I am doing anything EXTREME its going to be weight loss surgery not a workout that could give me heart attack), PiYo (apparently I do not like Pilates or yoga... I like them even less when they are combined), the 21 day fix (I could never make it past day 7, if I had I imagine I would have been successful) ... I drank Shakeology and despite all of its claims to help me lose weight, reduce cravings blah blah blah... I could not lose the weight. Clearly those programs do work for people and can be a very successful tool... just not for me. I tried cutting out carbs to no avail. I went back to what had worked before. Good old slim fast and salad. How the fuck did I do that for an entire year?! I still do not know. What I did find is that I can not EVER do that again. I joined the rec center and made it to exactly 0 classes... because... well I have 3 kids and there is no good time to leave the house for an hour.
I was feeling hopeless. Then I came across the book "What Are You Hungry For?" by Deepak Chopra. I read the entire book in less than 2 days. What was I hungry for? What was I craving in life? Had I started to use food to fill some sort of void? Ummmmm yes. And so I started taking better care of myself. Restoring balance in my life which also included making time for myself which I had not been doing for nearly the last 8 years!
In the last few weeks I have managed to lose nearly 20 pounds! And this time... this fat girl is not on a diet! A diet to me represents some sort of deprivation. A set period of time that I will live miserably restricted in order to reach a goal. I do not need another diet. I do not want a quick fix. I can not live on a meal replacement program... I like food. I want to eat it.
So what is my secret? In truth I do not have one. If there are two things that I would recommend it is the book I mentioned above and getting a fit bit. Read the book for a little inspiration. A little soul searching is always a good thing. Find what you are hungry for... that has nothing to do with the food on your plate.
Over the last month I have been more mindful of what I put in my mouth. Am I really hungry or am I just bored? I ask myself do I really want this or is there something else I'd rather wait for? I use my fitbit to stay accountable... to myself!
In the book Deepak Chopra says something to the effect that your body is not a reflection of who you are... it tells the story of how it has been taken care.
For far too long my body has been telling the story of neglect. Not anymore.
The first time I decided to diet was right before I got married. I was about 165 pounds. We started shopping for wedding dresses. For some this is the most fun and exciting time of their life. For me, it was torture! I was thrilled to be getting married and seriously head over heels in love. But wedding dress shopping felt more like an exercise in humiliation. All of the dresses at the stores were many sizes too small. MANY! Every dress I tried on had to be clipped closed in the back cause it didn't fit. There is no better feeling than walking out of a dressing room with all eyes on you... stuffed into a dress held to together by industrial size clips. Mind you at the time I was not a "big girl". Not skinny... but not big. I was a comfortable size 10.... which felt like a 20.
I finally found the dress of my dreams. I can still hear the little Filipino woman at the store saying "it's pretty dress... but you too big for that kind of dress". I decided after that I was not going to even think about a wedding dress until I was not too big for it.
I started weight watchers immediately. Weight watchers... aka... AA for over eaters. I exercised and counted points like my life depended on it. I shed 20 pounds fairly quickly. Then I got my wisdom teeth removed and could not eat solid food for some length of time... which totally helped with the dieting. Then I got the flu. Before I knew it I was 128 pounds and in a size 7. Success!
I was 128 pounds for like a whole day... well maybe two. After the wedding I went back up to 140 in no time. Which I was totally comfortable at.
Then my mother in law got sick. Diagnosed with lung cancer. This is when I discovered that I am an emotional eater. I took care of her for one year. Watched her wither away. And comforted myself with a generous portion (a pint) of Ben & Jerry's pretty much every night. I also ate McDonald's and whatever else I could grab on the way to the hospital. My mother in law passed away. And I had gained 50 pounds trying not to deal with it.
So here I am... at my heaviest weight. Nearly 200 pounds! And pregnant with my first baby. A combination that would send me into downward spiral as far as weight is concerned. I don't remember my exact weight... I have made a mental note not too, but it is safe to say I was well over 200 pounds when I gave birth to Aidan.
I lost some weight after I had him. Nothing significant. My recovery from his birth took a long time. I was overweight. Exhausted. And completely unmotivated. I had given up. I just didn't care anymore about my weight or at least that was what I told myself because I really didn't want to deal with how much I hated this new body I was living in. I still laugh to myself when I read these articles about women claiming to love their stretch marks and saggy skin. Yes I had a baby. Yes those are my battle wounds, tiger stripes, whatever the fuck you want to call them... I don't like them. If I was one of those women that miraculously came out of that nine months unscathed I would be perfectly happy. I mean I'd still have my broken vagina to show for all my hard work in bringing a human into the world... that's plenty in my opinion.
I went into my next pregnancy heavier than I did my first. Again I gained more than I should have and left the hospital with staples in my stomach, a baby in my arms, and a number on the scale that made me want to crawl in a hole and eat cake batter, alone, while I cried.
I couldn't take it anymore. I decided to pay a visit to Jenny Craig. I ate their over priced crappy frozen and boxed food for weeks... and lost weight. I stopped going to Jenny Craig and gained all the weight back immediately. Like in 24 hours. Kidding. But that is what it felt like.
I needed to gain control of the situation. I started a diet of Slim fast and salad and exercised religiously. From October 2011 to October 2012 I had lost 100 pounds! YES 100 pounds!
Then I got pregnant again. I managed to keep it together this time and not slip into the morbidly obese range. I gave birth to a perfectly healthy baby boy who just turned 2. Would you believe it if I told you I weigh more now than the day I gave birth to an almost 10 pound baby... sadly that is the truth. Over the course of the last 2 years I have tried just about every beach body program there is. T25 (is awesome unless you have boobs and don't mind getting beat up by them! The amount of jumping that those workouts require is just unreasonable), P90 (yes just plain of P90 no X, cause lets face it if I am doing anything EXTREME its going to be weight loss surgery not a workout that could give me heart attack), PiYo (apparently I do not like Pilates or yoga... I like them even less when they are combined), the 21 day fix (I could never make it past day 7, if I had I imagine I would have been successful) ... I drank Shakeology and despite all of its claims to help me lose weight, reduce cravings blah blah blah... I could not lose the weight. Clearly those programs do work for people and can be a very successful tool... just not for me. I tried cutting out carbs to no avail. I went back to what had worked before. Good old slim fast and salad. How the fuck did I do that for an entire year?! I still do not know. What I did find is that I can not EVER do that again. I joined the rec center and made it to exactly 0 classes... because... well I have 3 kids and there is no good time to leave the house for an hour.
I was feeling hopeless. Then I came across the book "What Are You Hungry For?" by Deepak Chopra. I read the entire book in less than 2 days. What was I hungry for? What was I craving in life? Had I started to use food to fill some sort of void? Ummmmm yes. And so I started taking better care of myself. Restoring balance in my life which also included making time for myself which I had not been doing for nearly the last 8 years!
In the last few weeks I have managed to lose nearly 20 pounds! And this time... this fat girl is not on a diet! A diet to me represents some sort of deprivation. A set period of time that I will live miserably restricted in order to reach a goal. I do not need another diet. I do not want a quick fix. I can not live on a meal replacement program... I like food. I want to eat it.
So what is my secret? In truth I do not have one. If there are two things that I would recommend it is the book I mentioned above and getting a fit bit. Read the book for a little inspiration. A little soul searching is always a good thing. Find what you are hungry for... that has nothing to do with the food on your plate.
Over the last month I have been more mindful of what I put in my mouth. Am I really hungry or am I just bored? I ask myself do I really want this or is there something else I'd rather wait for? I use my fitbit to stay accountable... to myself!
In the book Deepak Chopra says something to the effect that your body is not a reflection of who you are... it tells the story of how it has been taken care.
For far too long my body has been telling the story of neglect. Not anymore.
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Rylan James
Your having ANOTHER baby!
ANOTHER BOY... well healthy is the important thing right?
Your done now... aren't you?
You my darling are not JUST ANOTHER baby. NOT JUST ANOTHER boy. Not the failed attempt in an effort to have a girl. You did not make me throw my hands up and say now I am done.
NO not another baby... another life changing, momentous decision. And never JUST A BABY. Because truthfully they are only a baby for such a short time. A blink. A time so brief it is here and gone before you can fully catch your breath and take in the fact that you... the little girl that played dress up, the one that dreamed of being an artist, grew up to be the woman that loved a man so deeply the only thing that seemed right was to multiply that love and make a family... I (we) made you. Not just another but the only one that was meant for us.
Another implies you could have been one of any... but your not. When I think of all of the things that had to come together... like stars colliding from light years away... I know that the miracle that is you was sent just for me. A little ball of fire that could not wait to leap into my arms and hold my heart.
Another boy. In my wildest dreams there is nothing that could make you more perfect. Your dreamy blue eyes would not be any more beautiful if they belonged to girl. The curls that hug your neck would not be any softer if I could put a pink bow in your hair. Your smile could not be any sweeter. My love for you would not change if your anatomy was any different.
Now that we have you... we are not done, we are complete. You have made my already full heart over flow. Having the privilege of watching you grow I see all you have added to my life, to this family. You are Aiden's little buddy, Seark's best friend, and Daddy's little helper. And to me... just like your brothers you are the air that I breathe. I watch you take on each little task with such determination and think to myself watch out world here he comes... but not yet. I want to keep you to myself as long as I can. My tiny tornado... a little whirlwind of mess, and noise, and far too many toys... and oh, so much joy.
Rylan James... your are one of the greatest loves of my life... and today we celebrate you! Happy 2nd Birthday Baby!
ANOTHER BOY... well healthy is the important thing right?
Your done now... aren't you?
You my darling are not JUST ANOTHER baby. NOT JUST ANOTHER boy. Not the failed attempt in an effort to have a girl. You did not make me throw my hands up and say now I am done.
NO not another baby... another life changing, momentous decision. And never JUST A BABY. Because truthfully they are only a baby for such a short time. A blink. A time so brief it is here and gone before you can fully catch your breath and take in the fact that you... the little girl that played dress up, the one that dreamed of being an artist, grew up to be the woman that loved a man so deeply the only thing that seemed right was to multiply that love and make a family... I (we) made you. Not just another but the only one that was meant for us.
Another implies you could have been one of any... but your not. When I think of all of the things that had to come together... like stars colliding from light years away... I know that the miracle that is you was sent just for me. A little ball of fire that could not wait to leap into my arms and hold my heart.
Another boy. In my wildest dreams there is nothing that could make you more perfect. Your dreamy blue eyes would not be any more beautiful if they belonged to girl. The curls that hug your neck would not be any softer if I could put a pink bow in your hair. Your smile could not be any sweeter. My love for you would not change if your anatomy was any different.
Now that we have you... we are not done, we are complete. You have made my already full heart over flow. Having the privilege of watching you grow I see all you have added to my life, to this family. You are Aiden's little buddy, Seark's best friend, and Daddy's little helper. And to me... just like your brothers you are the air that I breathe. I watch you take on each little task with such determination and think to myself watch out world here he comes... but not yet. I want to keep you to myself as long as I can. My tiny tornado... a little whirlwind of mess, and noise, and far too many toys... and oh, so much joy.
Rylan James... your are one of the greatest loves of my life... and today we celebrate you! Happy 2nd Birthday Baby!
Thursday, September 3, 2015
Life Expectancy
"Turtles have a life expectancy of 150 years." What's that mean mom?
It means that is how long you could expect a turtle to live.
Is that a long time? How do they know that?
It is a very long time. They know based on the life span of the average turtle.
Do dogs have a life expectancy?
Yes... but it depends on the breed. The size. How well the dog was taken care of.
So how long do you expect our dogs to live?
A long time... I hope.
Like 150 years?
Unfortunately no. Dogs don't live quite that long.
We walked the rest of the zoo and there was no more mention of life expectancy. Thankfully.
A day or two later Aidan asked if I remembered the day we found a dead baby turtle on the river walk. I did. He was so tiny. One of the smallest turtles I had ever seen. "Why didn't he live to be 150? I mean that is supposed to be how long they live right?"
I wanted to give him an honest answer. But not one that would scare him. Obviously he'd done a lot of thinking about this whole life expectancy thing.
Well sometimes things happen that are out of the ordinary. And life just doesn't go as expected. Lots of things factor into how long something will live. I don't know much about turtles. So I don't know what happened to him... but I remember he was up on the bridge and maybe he just couldn't get back to where he needed to be and went with out food and water for too long. Babies are fragile and need more care. I think he was just too little and wandered too far.
Do humans have a life expectancy too?
(My heart sank. Growing up sucks... in so many ways. And there is no good way to have a conversation about death with your little boy. )
Yes. They do. Every living thing does. Even trees and flowers. Something's are only here for a season. Or a few days... like a house fly. ( I was trying to deflect... it wasn't working)
How long do humans live?
It depends.
Well look it up. I want to know.
78.8 years is what google says.
What?! That can't be right! Turtles can live to 150... that's... that's... that's half the life of a turtle! And dad is already 40... and Pop Pop is 70! 78 years?! That's all we get?!
No. That's not all we get. Sometimes we get longer. Much longer like closer to 100. And we also get so much more than time. There is so much more to life than days on a calendar and minutes on a clock.
Like what?
Oh baby... so much I don't even know where to begin cause truthfully your gonna just have to experience it yourself. You have so much to learn. For that matter so do I. You know that hunger you feel right now... that desire to know more? Don't ever lose that. Always keep your mind open and your eyes sharp. There is truly something new to learn everyday as long as you are willing.
There are adventures out there with your name written all over them but you wont know what they are until they are right in front of you. And then you have to be willing to leap. Let faith (and common sense) guide you. Don't ever pass by the opportunity to expand your horizons. Spend your days exploring the world. Literally even if it is only the small space you occupy at that moment. Take it all in and commit it to memory.
There are so many firsts waiting to happen... your first dance. First kiss. Your first love... and no I am not just talking about relationships. Fall in love.... over and over. Everyday if you can with music, art, language, nature, science, God, and yourself. Find the things that spark a fire in you and run with them. Be passionate about all the things that make you fall in love. Love hard. And you will find if it is indeed love it will never leave you.
There will be extraordinary days... like milestone birthdays. Getting your license. Graduations. Your wedding day. Maybe even a day when you bring a child of your own into this world. And on those days it will feel as if time is standing still just for you... so you can soak up as much of that joy and excitement and love as your heart can possibly hold.
There will be ordinary days... where you do nothing more than catch up on some sleep, and order pizza just so you don't have to cook and clean (or get out of your pajamas)... enjoy those days too because living a full life can be exhausting.
There will be moments of intense joy and extreme sorrow... times where your heart will feel so full and others when you are running on fumes. Appreciate both. Know those feelings are a sign that you are doing something right.
Don't take for granted the simplest of things... the warmth of the sun on your skin, the cool crisp fall air, the sound of the ocean, the love put into a home made meal. Remember to stop. Breathe. And take it all in.
Be as present as you can be. Take advantage of every offer that comes your way. Follow your heart. Quiet your mind. Don't let anything stand between you and happiness. Live your life and don't worry about how long you can expect it to last... just make the most of it and I promise it will be enough.
It means that is how long you could expect a turtle to live.
Is that a long time? How do they know that?
It is a very long time. They know based on the life span of the average turtle.
Do dogs have a life expectancy?
Yes... but it depends on the breed. The size. How well the dog was taken care of.
So how long do you expect our dogs to live?
A long time... I hope.
Like 150 years?
Unfortunately no. Dogs don't live quite that long.
We walked the rest of the zoo and there was no more mention of life expectancy. Thankfully.
A day or two later Aidan asked if I remembered the day we found a dead baby turtle on the river walk. I did. He was so tiny. One of the smallest turtles I had ever seen. "Why didn't he live to be 150? I mean that is supposed to be how long they live right?"
I wanted to give him an honest answer. But not one that would scare him. Obviously he'd done a lot of thinking about this whole life expectancy thing.
Well sometimes things happen that are out of the ordinary. And life just doesn't go as expected. Lots of things factor into how long something will live. I don't know much about turtles. So I don't know what happened to him... but I remember he was up on the bridge and maybe he just couldn't get back to where he needed to be and went with out food and water for too long. Babies are fragile and need more care. I think he was just too little and wandered too far.
Do humans have a life expectancy too?
(My heart sank. Growing up sucks... in so many ways. And there is no good way to have a conversation about death with your little boy. )
Yes. They do. Every living thing does. Even trees and flowers. Something's are only here for a season. Or a few days... like a house fly. ( I was trying to deflect... it wasn't working)
How long do humans live?
It depends.
Well look it up. I want to know.
78.8 years is what google says.
What?! That can't be right! Turtles can live to 150... that's... that's... that's half the life of a turtle! And dad is already 40... and Pop Pop is 70! 78 years?! That's all we get?!
No. That's not all we get. Sometimes we get longer. Much longer like closer to 100. And we also get so much more than time. There is so much more to life than days on a calendar and minutes on a clock.
Like what?
Oh baby... so much I don't even know where to begin cause truthfully your gonna just have to experience it yourself. You have so much to learn. For that matter so do I. You know that hunger you feel right now... that desire to know more? Don't ever lose that. Always keep your mind open and your eyes sharp. There is truly something new to learn everyday as long as you are willing.
There are adventures out there with your name written all over them but you wont know what they are until they are right in front of you. And then you have to be willing to leap. Let faith (and common sense) guide you. Don't ever pass by the opportunity to expand your horizons. Spend your days exploring the world. Literally even if it is only the small space you occupy at that moment. Take it all in and commit it to memory.
There are so many firsts waiting to happen... your first dance. First kiss. Your first love... and no I am not just talking about relationships. Fall in love.... over and over. Everyday if you can with music, art, language, nature, science, God, and yourself. Find the things that spark a fire in you and run with them. Be passionate about all the things that make you fall in love. Love hard. And you will find if it is indeed love it will never leave you.
There will be extraordinary days... like milestone birthdays. Getting your license. Graduations. Your wedding day. Maybe even a day when you bring a child of your own into this world. And on those days it will feel as if time is standing still just for you... so you can soak up as much of that joy and excitement and love as your heart can possibly hold.
There will be ordinary days... where you do nothing more than catch up on some sleep, and order pizza just so you don't have to cook and clean (or get out of your pajamas)... enjoy those days too because living a full life can be exhausting.
There will be moments of intense joy and extreme sorrow... times where your heart will feel so full and others when you are running on fumes. Appreciate both. Know those feelings are a sign that you are doing something right.
Don't take for granted the simplest of things... the warmth of the sun on your skin, the cool crisp fall air, the sound of the ocean, the love put into a home made meal. Remember to stop. Breathe. And take it all in.
Be as present as you can be. Take advantage of every offer that comes your way. Follow your heart. Quiet your mind. Don't let anything stand between you and happiness. Live your life and don't worry about how long you can expect it to last... just make the most of it and I promise it will be enough.
Saturday, August 15, 2015
I am Cait... and so are you
I am Cait. When it comes down to it... we all are. We are all simply vessels trying to navigate our way through this journey of life. We are not all on the same path but we are all trying to get to the same place... a state of happiness. That state will look and feel different for everyone. Who am I to say what it should be for you.
I am Cait. Just another HUMAN BEING trying to live my best life. Even if no one else understands it. Approves of it. Or likes it. I am flawed. Complicated. And largely MISUNDERSTOOD. But I wont let any of that stop me from being the most authentic version of myself.
I am Cait. Someone who wants to be accepted and loved as I am.
I am Cait and I am not under the impression that putting on make up, wearing a designer dress, or walking in high heals makes me a woman... but I enjoy all of it... so I do it.
I am also fortunate because I was born in a body that feels right. What I see on the outside matches what I feel on the inside. I have not spent my life warring with myself over feelings that although undeniable are also not understandable. I have had the privilege of being comfortable in my own skin and not being scared to death of who I am.
What most people miss about Cait is that this is not who she decided to be at the age of 65. It is who she has been for 65 years and afraid to say so.
I am a woman. Not just based on the sum of my anatomical parts. It is who I am... the way I feel... at the very core of my being. I am a woman and although I know what that means for me I wont pretend to know what it means for anyone else.
Stop letting your fear of the different... and your quickness to judge deafen you. Let her voice be
the one that opens the doors to a new dialogue.... the message is not about courage....its about acceptance. When you hear that then you can begin to realize... in some small way we are all Cait.
Friday, July 24, 2015
Baby Fever
What is baby fever? I've heard it described as the inexplicable unrelenting desire to have a baby. I would have named it OCBP Obsessive Compulsive Baby Psychosis. It's not just a desire it is something I literally ache for. I can feel it through every part of the me. I crave a baby. Like an addict craves his next fix. I crave a baby.
I crave the sweetness that only something so fresh from heaven could possess. I crave the touch of the softest most delicate skin. I crave the scent of a baby's breath... the dreamy look in their milk drunk eyes. My arms ache to carry the weight of a newborn. To hold a baby close to my chest and feel their heart beat in sync with mine. My legs want to pace the floors in the wee hours of the morning while I hum lullabies. I long to lock eyes with ones that resemble mine.
I obsess day and night about my age, finances, how a baby could factor into them. I try to reason with myself. Make endless lists of pros and cons. And whatever sense it all does or doesn't make... in the end I still crave a baby.
I went to see my friends new baby the other day. The cutest little peanut. All snug in his swaddle and rocker. I sat there staring at him in all his perfectness. His mom asked if I'd like to hold him... and although every part of me was screaming yes... I declined. Because I don't want to hold your baby... I want to steal your baby. (kidding... mostly) A few minutes even an hour wouldn't be enough to get my fix and the only thing it can do is bring to the surface my compulsion to make a baby for myself. I realize how fucking crazy I sound which is where the psychosis comes in.
Saying I have baby fever... sounds like something that will pass. Like it is something that is temporarily plaguing me. What I have feels much more like OCBP... an unrelenting desire to have baby... that is not going away or not any time soon anyway.
Raising my children has easily been the best years of my life and they are from over as my littlest is not even two yet. Its just all going so fast I can feel it slipping away... with each passing day. Every milestone is a reminder that all these firsts will also be the last and I can not wrap my head around not basking in the joy of these lazy days that hold endless possibilities.
I crave the sweetness that only something so fresh from heaven could possess. I crave the touch of the softest most delicate skin. I crave the scent of a baby's breath... the dreamy look in their milk drunk eyes. My arms ache to carry the weight of a newborn. To hold a baby close to my chest and feel their heart beat in sync with mine. My legs want to pace the floors in the wee hours of the morning while I hum lullabies. I long to lock eyes with ones that resemble mine.
I obsess day and night about my age, finances, how a baby could factor into them. I try to reason with myself. Make endless lists of pros and cons. And whatever sense it all does or doesn't make... in the end I still crave a baby.
I went to see my friends new baby the other day. The cutest little peanut. All snug in his swaddle and rocker. I sat there staring at him in all his perfectness. His mom asked if I'd like to hold him... and although every part of me was screaming yes... I declined. Because I don't want to hold your baby... I want to steal your baby. (kidding... mostly) A few minutes even an hour wouldn't be enough to get my fix and the only thing it can do is bring to the surface my compulsion to make a baby for myself. I realize how fucking crazy I sound which is where the psychosis comes in.
Saying I have baby fever... sounds like something that will pass. Like it is something that is temporarily plaguing me. What I have feels much more like OCBP... an unrelenting desire to have baby... that is not going away or not any time soon anyway.
Raising my children has easily been the best years of my life and they are from over as my littlest is not even two yet. Its just all going so fast I can feel it slipping away... with each passing day. Every milestone is a reminder that all these firsts will also be the last and I can not wrap my head around not basking in the joy of these lazy days that hold endless possibilities.
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Oh Shit
We sang Happy Birthday. He blew out the candles. I watched his smile light up his face as the flames went out. God I love his smile. His face. And... everything else about him. He looked so perfectly happy. Saying yes Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday to Searkie! So why do I feel so sad? Why this tightening in my chest. Because... I am having on "oh shit" moment. Similar to an Oprah "aha" moment.
Oh shit... my baby... isn't a baby anymore. Oh shit... it's all going to fast! Oh SHIT... is that really a tear running down my cheek! GET IT TOGETHER!
Seark is enjoying his cake and talking about what he wants to do tomorrow. I'm staring right at him. Listening to every word. And not hearing a thing. Lost in my thoughts my mind drifts back to my first "Oh Shit" moment with Seark. When I took a pregnancy test in the bathroom of bagel buffet after getting nauseous from a tuna sandwich. I couldn't take my eyes off that stupid little stick. There is was. Barely visible. So faint. A second pink line. OH SHIT! wait... WHAT?! How could this be? I am one and done! SHIT. I took another test. SHIT. oh what the SHIT?! I took a test every morning for the next week having that Oh shit moment over and over. Disbelief. Panic.
Don't get me wrong I had fantasized about having another baby for the last 5 years... another pregnancy? Not so much. Another delivery? Not at all!
Ready or not...Planned or not.... we were having another baby. Nine months flew by. In a blink he was here. Our unplanned baby arrived via c-section... which was totally planned. The second I laid my eyes on him I knew planned or not... he was the best surprise of my life.
I spent the next few days marveling at him. So tiny. Perfect. I was so completely in love I felt like my heart would burst any minute. And even then I had no idea how much joy this baby boy would bring to our life.
He reminds everyday just how important it is to be yourself. He loves to wear his clothes backwards and inside out... purposely. The way I feel about flip flops is how he feels about crocs... especially the lego ones. He would live in them if I let him. His sense of style is as crazy as his choice in foods. He is the only kid I know that will dip his banana in Ketch Up. It doesn't matter to him what anyone else thinks. He is who he is and it is as simple at that.
Sweet. He is so sweet. He will cry because someone else got hurt. Never misses an opportunity to tell his mama how beautiful he thinks I am. And when it comes to snuggling he is simply the best. He could pass the time content to just cuddle on the couch and watch Doc Mcstuffins.
He possesses a keen sense of humor and has a laugh that is contagious. Everything about his face just says happy. He really is my sunshine.
He adores Aidan and follows him around imitating all of the "big kid" stuff he does. He loves Ry and it is apparent in his every action... always hugging him, helping him, trying to make him laugh...
I look at this amazing boy and can't believe I ever thought "Oh Shit". I look at him... and thank god for making me his mama. I look at him... and can't believe... just like that... he is 4 years old! 
Oh shit... my baby... isn't a baby anymore. Oh shit... it's all going to fast! Oh SHIT... is that really a tear running down my cheek! GET IT TOGETHER!
Seark is enjoying his cake and talking about what he wants to do tomorrow. I'm staring right at him. Listening to every word. And not hearing a thing. Lost in my thoughts my mind drifts back to my first "Oh Shit" moment with Seark. When I took a pregnancy test in the bathroom of bagel buffet after getting nauseous from a tuna sandwich. I couldn't take my eyes off that stupid little stick. There is was. Barely visible. So faint. A second pink line. OH SHIT! wait... WHAT?! How could this be? I am one and done! SHIT. I took another test. SHIT. oh what the SHIT?! I took a test every morning for the next week having that Oh shit moment over and over. Disbelief. Panic.
Don't get me wrong I had fantasized about having another baby for the last 5 years... another pregnancy? Not so much. Another delivery? Not at all!
Ready or not...Planned or not.... we were having another baby. Nine months flew by. In a blink he was here. Our unplanned baby arrived via c-section... which was totally planned. The second I laid my eyes on him I knew planned or not... he was the best surprise of my life.
I spent the next few days marveling at him. So tiny. Perfect. I was so completely in love I felt like my heart would burst any minute. And even then I had no idea how much joy this baby boy would bring to our life.
He reminds everyday just how important it is to be yourself. He loves to wear his clothes backwards and inside out... purposely. The way I feel about flip flops is how he feels about crocs... especially the lego ones. He would live in them if I let him. His sense of style is as crazy as his choice in foods. He is the only kid I know that will dip his banana in Ketch Up. It doesn't matter to him what anyone else thinks. He is who he is and it is as simple at that.
Sweet. He is so sweet. He will cry because someone else got hurt. Never misses an opportunity to tell his mama how beautiful he thinks I am. And when it comes to snuggling he is simply the best. He could pass the time content to just cuddle on the couch and watch Doc Mcstuffins.
He possesses a keen sense of humor and has a laugh that is contagious. Everything about his face just says happy. He really is my sunshine.
He adores Aidan and follows him around imitating all of the "big kid" stuff he does. He loves Ry and it is apparent in his every action... always hugging him, helping him, trying to make him laugh...
I look at this amazing boy and can't believe I ever thought "Oh Shit". I look at him... and thank god for making me his mama. I look at him... and can't believe... just like that... he is 4 years old!
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
Only this time I wasnt dreaming
I'm soaking in a perfectly hot tub. Bubbles spilling over on to the floor. The water is too. I'm intoxicated by the scent of lavender. So relaxed. At peace I just don't care about anything. Not even the wet soapy floor. I haven't felt this good. This still. In... I don't know how long. But it feels so good I just don't want to move. I must be dreaming. I am. I am totally dreaming. Abruptly woken up at the sound of my dogs with their riotous barking at the mail man... I practically fall off the couch as I catch a glimpse of the time... 2:47. SHIT. Aidan gets out of school in 10 minutes. I am not dressed. Seark is sound asleep next to me. Ry also sound asleep up in his crib. Damn I just wanna get back in that tub.
Hi Bob (my father in law) can you come down here for a few minutes and sit with the kids while I get Aiden?
Sure when do you need me to come?
Ummmm 10 minutes ago... but I'll settle for as fast as you can get here.
Bob is 70. He lives on the third floor. Thank god he is only a few houses away but even at that it isn't going to be that quick.
I get to school just as the bell rings. Grab Aidan. Head back home. The boys get up shortly. Aidan is done with his home work. I decide to take them to the park for a little while. I really don't want to. It is nice enough out but it's windy. I'm tired. Still day dreaming about that bubble bath that I wont get to take. We go to the park.
The kids run around. Laughter and screeching fills the air and I feel better about my decision to get out of the house immediately. I watch Ry's little legs climb impossibly big steps to the top of the slide. He looks so proud... fearless. I am in awe. Not just of this perfectly tiny being that I made but of this moment. The privilege of watching something so beautiful... innocent.... Ry stands at the top of the slide like a lion over looking his pride. Watching his brothers run and climb. The wind blows. I shiver. Zip my sweatshirt. And think damn this wind. But then I see Rylan. His hair blowing in the wind. Looking like he's being electrocuted it stands on end. He has the absolute biggest smile on his face. I watch him breathe deeply... taking in the cold. Smiling with delight at the way the wind feels on his face. Magic. I see that look in his eye that I can only describe as magical. Experiencing and appreciating the pure joy of the simplest pleasures... a cool breeze on his face.
I wonder when exactly I lost that. When I stopped taking pleasure in the everyday things that happen quite regularly. I watch his face light up and know that this is one of the best things about having kids... they bring back the magic. They remind you constantly that there are everyday miracles because they are one them.
Ry comes speeding down the slide giggling and squealing. Grabs my leg. Hugs it tight. And in an instant he is off again. I stand in the in the sun. Warmed by the light. I watch my kids play and thank god for days like this. The wind blows. I breathe in deeply the cold crisp air. And for a second the sun and the breeze feel just like the hot tub I was dreaming about. I am still. I am at peace. And it feels so good. Only this time I wasn't dreaming. 
Hi Bob (my father in law) can you come down here for a few minutes and sit with the kids while I get Aiden?
Sure when do you need me to come?
Ummmm 10 minutes ago... but I'll settle for as fast as you can get here.
Bob is 70. He lives on the third floor. Thank god he is only a few houses away but even at that it isn't going to be that quick.
I get to school just as the bell rings. Grab Aidan. Head back home. The boys get up shortly. Aidan is done with his home work. I decide to take them to the park for a little while. I really don't want to. It is nice enough out but it's windy. I'm tired. Still day dreaming about that bubble bath that I wont get to take. We go to the park.
The kids run around. Laughter and screeching fills the air and I feel better about my decision to get out of the house immediately. I watch Ry's little legs climb impossibly big steps to the top of the slide. He looks so proud... fearless. I am in awe. Not just of this perfectly tiny being that I made but of this moment. The privilege of watching something so beautiful... innocent.... Ry stands at the top of the slide like a lion over looking his pride. Watching his brothers run and climb. The wind blows. I shiver. Zip my sweatshirt. And think damn this wind. But then I see Rylan. His hair blowing in the wind. Looking like he's being electrocuted it stands on end. He has the absolute biggest smile on his face. I watch him breathe deeply... taking in the cold. Smiling with delight at the way the wind feels on his face. Magic. I see that look in his eye that I can only describe as magical. Experiencing and appreciating the pure joy of the simplest pleasures... a cool breeze on his face.
I wonder when exactly I lost that. When I stopped taking pleasure in the everyday things that happen quite regularly. I watch his face light up and know that this is one of the best things about having kids... they bring back the magic. They remind you constantly that there are everyday miracles because they are one them.
Ry comes speeding down the slide giggling and squealing. Grabs my leg. Hugs it tight. And in an instant he is off again. I stand in the in the sun. Warmed by the light. I watch my kids play and thank god for days like this. The wind blows. I breathe in deeply the cold crisp air. And for a second the sun and the breeze feel just like the hot tub I was dreaming about. I am still. I am at peace. And it feels so good. Only this time I wasn't dreaming.
Monday, March 30, 2015
He's Teething?
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...
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...
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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