i've undoubtedly grown up a lot since college. time, children, and adulthood in general will do that to a person. and lately, with every new crows foot I spy in the mirror and every creak of my bones when I get out bed, I definitely feel like i'm getting older. but sometimes when i hear a song or run across a photograph, i'm transported in time to a carefree place in my youth. a time so different from today. yet, as strange as it may seem, i've come to realize there are some things that haven't changed that much from my college years.
* i still remain broke most of the time.
* i sometimes eat cold pizza straight from the box for breakfast, only now it's by choice and not because it's the only thing in the fridge.
* ramen noodles still occupy my pantry.
* i continue to procrastinate like a champ, only now it's with house chores and returning signed permission slips instead of completing projects and papers.
* gorgeous weather will always give me the urge to sit on the patio and have margaritas with friends.
* i've been known to still leave home in jammie pants. guilty as charged.
* i'm still in love with eddie vedder and jim morrison, though their posters are no longer plastered on my bedroom wall.
* coffee was and always will be my best friend.
* i still have to deal with puke. but it's a whole lot easier to handle when it belongs to your child instead of a drunk friend.
* i still have 3 loud, crazy, lovable roommates. one of them I married and the other 2 I gave birth to.
well, what can i say. i guess some things will just never change!
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Saturday, November 5, 2011
the quest for the elusive goddess mommy
one day last week, during one of my hurried, mad rushes to make it out the door by 7:05, i had an epiphany. as i searched in futility for matching black socks and heaved a sigh of disgust at the pile of dishes i was leaving in the sink, it occurred to me that i will never be one of those flawless, put together moms who seem to have it all figured out. and though i've tried, this is just something I'm going to have to learn to accept about myself.
i've heard it said that these mothers don't exist, that they're created in hollywood along with other such fabled creatures as the perfect husband. but i disagree. i've seen them. i know they're out there. with their SUV's, their perfect hair and trendy outfits, their impeccably dressed children and their spotless homes.
of course, i don't look hideous when i go in public...at least most of the time i don't. nor does my house look totally unlivable when guests come over (though that probably wouldn't be the case if they were to drop by unannounced). and i must say that i have rather adorable children, though they're rarely dressed in mitchy-matchy boutique apparel with coordinating hair bow. which makes me wonder if perhaps these perfect mothers aren't so perfect after all, but rather just appear as such to the naked eye? behind the scenes, in their not-as-spotless-as-we-may-think homes, maybe they're as thrown together and out-of-control as i am. at least this is what i'm hoping.
i've even attempted a system to achieve becoming supermommy. or rather, i've attempted to attempt a system. i see all of these amazing and simple ideas of becoming organized in home magazines and more recently on pinterest. and i've tried to implement some of my own: planning outfits the night before, down to the hair barrette; special boxes and baskets to put each and every paper that madelyn and ella bring home from school and daycare; laundry hampers for each family member and assigned days of the week for each person's stuff to get washed; rules on cleaning up after oneself and washing each dish you dirty as soon as you dirty it; trying to have a place for every single item that is brought into the house so that nothing is ever just lying around. yet every morning, there's a meltdown over shoes, madelyn has inevitably lost her jacket (again), and i discover in the daycare parking lot that ella didn't wash her face and her leggings have a hole in the knee. and at the end of the day, there's a sink of dirty dishes and the kitchen table is littered with school papers.
maybe being the perfect goddess mommy is a trait you're born with; some have it and some very obviously do not. maybe they really don't exist at all, outside of the hollywood hills. or maybe, just maybe, these moms are as crazy as the rest of us. maybe this facade of perfection is so exhausting that they look at moms like me--with my blue sock on one foot and black on the other--secretly thinking that maybe being the perfect mom isn't all it's cracked up to be.
i've heard it said that these mothers don't exist, that they're created in hollywood along with other such fabled creatures as the perfect husband. but i disagree. i've seen them. i know they're out there. with their SUV's, their perfect hair and trendy outfits, their impeccably dressed children and their spotless homes.
of course, i don't look hideous when i go in public...at least most of the time i don't. nor does my house look totally unlivable when guests come over (though that probably wouldn't be the case if they were to drop by unannounced). and i must say that i have rather adorable children, though they're rarely dressed in mitchy-matchy boutique apparel with coordinating hair bow. which makes me wonder if perhaps these perfect mothers aren't so perfect after all, but rather just appear as such to the naked eye? behind the scenes, in their not-as-spotless-as-we-may-think homes, maybe they're as thrown together and out-of-control as i am. at least this is what i'm hoping.
i've even attempted a system to achieve becoming supermommy. or rather, i've attempted to attempt a system. i see all of these amazing and simple ideas of becoming organized in home magazines and more recently on pinterest. and i've tried to implement some of my own: planning outfits the night before, down to the hair barrette; special boxes and baskets to put each and every paper that madelyn and ella bring home from school and daycare; laundry hampers for each family member and assigned days of the week for each person's stuff to get washed; rules on cleaning up after oneself and washing each dish you dirty as soon as you dirty it; trying to have a place for every single item that is brought into the house so that nothing is ever just lying around. yet every morning, there's a meltdown over shoes, madelyn has inevitably lost her jacket (again), and i discover in the daycare parking lot that ella didn't wash her face and her leggings have a hole in the knee. and at the end of the day, there's a sink of dirty dishes and the kitchen table is littered with school papers.
maybe being the perfect goddess mommy is a trait you're born with; some have it and some very obviously do not. maybe they really don't exist at all, outside of the hollywood hills. or maybe, just maybe, these moms are as crazy as the rest of us. maybe this facade of perfection is so exhausting that they look at moms like me--with my blue sock on one foot and black on the other--secretly thinking that maybe being the perfect mom isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
motherhood: check your modesty and weak stomach at the door
this past week, as i instinctively cupped my hands in front of my 4-year-old's mouth as she vomited in the middle of a grocery store aisle, i was reminded that there's nothing a mother won't do for her children.
when I became pregnant with my first child, and then with my second, I quickly discovered that pregnancy isn't all butterfly flutters and glowing skin and a cute little basketball belly. it's cankles and face flab and gagging every time you stick your toothbrush in your mouth. it's breast pads in your bra to prevent mortifying accidents, and a doctor stitching parts of your body that you rather him not even see, much less stitch. but millions of women go through the 9 months of discomfort and embarrassment, many of us more than once in our lifetime, all for the sweet little miracle that it brings.
and then comes baby. ah, babies. sweet little bundles of joy with their soft skin and baby-smellling heads. and all too soon, babies grow into toddlers. and then into big kids. any mother will tell you that children, much like the joy of pregnancy and the miracle of birth, can be, well, kinda gross.
motherhood is definitely not for the faint of heart. looking back over the past 8 years, i'm amazed at the things i've managed to stomach. i've cleaned and cared for umbilical stumps. i have been puked and pooped on. i've eaten green pea baby food from a jar to convince a hesitant baby that it tastes delicious. i've wiped snotty noses and stinky bottoms. i've smelled the stench from a sippy cup found under the couch after being lost for a week. i've had half-eaten food spit out into my hand, and i've found half-eaten chicken nuggets in my purse. and i've withstood it all without thinking, without flinching, and without griping. ok, so maybe a little griping.
there are a multitude of books that tell you what to expect during pregnancy and throughout the first years of your child's life. but there are few, if any, that tell you the not-so-pleasant things that you REALLY need to know. like how humiliating all those prenatal doctor's visits really are. the necessity of carrying wet wipes at all times, if not to clean your own child then to clean the unidentifiable gunk from a walmart shopping cart seat. the insane amount of antibacterial hand gel and band-aids you'll purchase. and how after you've experienced it, no matter how gruesome it may be, you'd do it again, no questions asked. because once you've become a mom, there's not much you can't--or won't--handle!
when I became pregnant with my first child, and then with my second, I quickly discovered that pregnancy isn't all butterfly flutters and glowing skin and a cute little basketball belly. it's cankles and face flab and gagging every time you stick your toothbrush in your mouth. it's breast pads in your bra to prevent mortifying accidents, and a doctor stitching parts of your body that you rather him not even see, much less stitch. but millions of women go through the 9 months of discomfort and embarrassment, many of us more than once in our lifetime, all for the sweet little miracle that it brings.
and then comes baby. ah, babies. sweet little bundles of joy with their soft skin and baby-smellling heads. and all too soon, babies grow into toddlers. and then into big kids. any mother will tell you that children, much like the joy of pregnancy and the miracle of birth, can be, well, kinda gross.
motherhood is definitely not for the faint of heart. looking back over the past 8 years, i'm amazed at the things i've managed to stomach. i've cleaned and cared for umbilical stumps. i have been puked and pooped on. i've eaten green pea baby food from a jar to convince a hesitant baby that it tastes delicious. i've wiped snotty noses and stinky bottoms. i've smelled the stench from a sippy cup found under the couch after being lost for a week. i've had half-eaten food spit out into my hand, and i've found half-eaten chicken nuggets in my purse. and i've withstood it all without thinking, without flinching, and without griping. ok, so maybe a little griping.
there are a multitude of books that tell you what to expect during pregnancy and throughout the first years of your child's life. but there are few, if any, that tell you the not-so-pleasant things that you REALLY need to know. like how humiliating all those prenatal doctor's visits really are. the necessity of carrying wet wipes at all times, if not to clean your own child then to clean the unidentifiable gunk from a walmart shopping cart seat. the insane amount of antibacterial hand gel and band-aids you'll purchase. and how after you've experienced it, no matter how gruesome it may be, you'd do it again, no questions asked. because once you've become a mom, there's not much you can't--or won't--handle!
Sunday, September 18, 2011
brown paper lunch sack, coming up!
i am going to preface this post by making a couple of disclaimers. the first is that, although i may bitch incessantly about him, i do love my husband beyond measure and the things about which i am about to argue make me love him no less. i've just come to realize that some things cannot be changed. secondly, my complaints pertain to him and him alone, and i am in no way making a blanket statement about the inadequacies of all hubby/daddies, only my own. this being said, let the gripe session begin.
i have no doubt that, given the sole responsibility of raising our daughters, my husband would be able to handle the task with no problems. granted, there have been times when he has dressed our youngest daughter and fixed her hair and you could just tell that the entire ensemble was done my a male (my apologies to all of you guys who actually know how to put up a ponytail or add a barrette to their daughter's hair and it look good). nonetheless, if he had to do it all, day in and day out with no help, i know he would rise to the occasion.
this being said, having established that he could raise our girls by himself if need be, i have to question why it appears that he has no clue whatsoever what it takes to raise them whenever i'm around?
here's a snapshot of any given weekday morning at our house:
alarm goes off...attempts to take shower thwarted by ella's numerous trips into the bathroom telling me she's hungry...shouts made from the bathroom at madelyn to fix her sister some breakfast...showering complete, after numerous interruptions...30 minutes of wardrobe change in madelyn's room...ella screaming because she doesn't like the way madelyn has fixed her hair...refixing of ella's hair, which often requires cutting out a tangled ponytail holder...refixing of madelyn's hair because, although she thinks she can do it herself, it's questionable whether or not she actually used a brush...10 minutes of chasing delilah around the house to put her back in her crate...stumble out the door, 10 minutes past schedule, oftentimes with mascara streaked down my face from a stress-induced sobbing fit that occurred at some point between realizing that we forgot to do homework the night before and discovering that i failed to dress ella in the right "color of the day" for daycare.
and where is daddy during this morning ritual? in bed. either genuinely asleep, or just pretending to be asleep and oblivious to it all so that he doesn't have to participate in the school morning madness.
a few weeks ago, when he was signing madelyn up for soccer (yes, i must commend him for this feat, as taking care of registration, fee pay, and buying her equipment was all him) he started asking me questions as part of the registration process.
"who's madelyn's pediatrician?" he asked.
i had just found the girls a doctor since moving to bowling green, so this wasn't such a far-fetched question.
"bowling green pediatrics and internal medicine," i responded.
"ok..now, let's see...where does she go to school?"
"what? are you kidding me? you don't know what school she goes to?" i was seriously beside myself. how on earth could he not know? had he not been the one to register her for school because he happened to be off work that day? did he not look at the name of the school plastered on the side of the building? what was he going to ask next, her middle name?
it was a few weeks later that he decided to pick ella up early from daycare. i usually pick her up after work, as well as drop her off before work. as well as take madelyn to school at 7:00 every morning. but i digress.
"where does ella go to daycare?" he questioned.
"seriously? um, she goes to first baptist...you knew that."
"uh, no i didn't, you've never told me where she goes. where is it? i think i'm going to go ahead and pick her up."
i was dumbfounded. first, he didn't know what school his oldest child attends, despite the fact that he physically drove to the school and registered her. and now he has no clue who cares for his youngest child during the day?
little did he know that this simple question would initiate an infuriated text (because i am so much better at writing how i feel than verbally expressing it) that would ramble on about him needing to be more active in his children's lives, and questioned how he could be so oblivious to what goes on around him; how i feel that i do everything myself and that i shouldn't have to tell him or ask him to do something when it comes to the girls, he should just automatically do it. like get up in the mornings and help me get them ready instead of assuming i have it under control (does the threat "if you don't get your shoes on right this second, i'm going to take every shoe in that closet and give them away" sound like i have it under control?) maybe the text was a bit extreme, but at that moment, i felt it was warranted.
i have no doubt that, given the sole responsibility of raising our daughters, my husband would be able to handle the task with no problems. granted, there have been times when he has dressed our youngest daughter and fixed her hair and you could just tell that the entire ensemble was done my a male (my apologies to all of you guys who actually know how to put up a ponytail or add a barrette to their daughter's hair and it look good). nonetheless, if he had to do it all, day in and day out with no help, i know he would rise to the occasion.
this being said, having established that he could raise our girls by himself if need be, i have to question why it appears that he has no clue whatsoever what it takes to raise them whenever i'm around?
here's a snapshot of any given weekday morning at our house:
alarm goes off...attempts to take shower thwarted by ella's numerous trips into the bathroom telling me she's hungry...shouts made from the bathroom at madelyn to fix her sister some breakfast...showering complete, after numerous interruptions...30 minutes of wardrobe change in madelyn's room...ella screaming because she doesn't like the way madelyn has fixed her hair...refixing of ella's hair, which often requires cutting out a tangled ponytail holder...refixing of madelyn's hair because, although she thinks she can do it herself, it's questionable whether or not she actually used a brush...10 minutes of chasing delilah around the house to put her back in her crate...stumble out the door, 10 minutes past schedule, oftentimes with mascara streaked down my face from a stress-induced sobbing fit that occurred at some point between realizing that we forgot to do homework the night before and discovering that i failed to dress ella in the right "color of the day" for daycare.
and where is daddy during this morning ritual? in bed. either genuinely asleep, or just pretending to be asleep and oblivious to it all so that he doesn't have to participate in the school morning madness.
a few weeks ago, when he was signing madelyn up for soccer (yes, i must commend him for this feat, as taking care of registration, fee pay, and buying her equipment was all him) he started asking me questions as part of the registration process.
"who's madelyn's pediatrician?" he asked.
i had just found the girls a doctor since moving to bowling green, so this wasn't such a far-fetched question.
"bowling green pediatrics and internal medicine," i responded.
"ok..now, let's see...where does she go to school?"
"what? are you kidding me? you don't know what school she goes to?" i was seriously beside myself. how on earth could he not know? had he not been the one to register her for school because he happened to be off work that day? did he not look at the name of the school plastered on the side of the building? what was he going to ask next, her middle name?
it was a few weeks later that he decided to pick ella up early from daycare. i usually pick her up after work, as well as drop her off before work. as well as take madelyn to school at 7:00 every morning. but i digress.
"where does ella go to daycare?" he questioned.
"seriously? um, she goes to first baptist...you knew that."
"uh, no i didn't, you've never told me where she goes. where is it? i think i'm going to go ahead and pick her up."
i was dumbfounded. first, he didn't know what school his oldest child attends, despite the fact that he physically drove to the school and registered her. and now he has no clue who cares for his youngest child during the day?
little did he know that this simple question would initiate an infuriated text (because i am so much better at writing how i feel than verbally expressing it) that would ramble on about him needing to be more active in his children's lives, and questioned how he could be so oblivious to what goes on around him; how i feel that i do everything myself and that i shouldn't have to tell him or ask him to do something when it comes to the girls, he should just automatically do it. like get up in the mornings and help me get them ready instead of assuming i have it under control (does the threat "if you don't get your shoes on right this second, i'm going to take every shoe in that closet and give them away" sound like i have it under control?) maybe the text was a bit extreme, but at that moment, i felt it was warranted.
but the icing on the cake was last friday when it was "brown" day at ella's daycare. i had already screwed up earlier in the week by sending her in yellow on "orange" day, so i had to make sure i was prepared for this day's events. they had been studying vegetables, and all week they had dressed in autumn and veggie colors (greens, reds, yellows). on this particular day, her calendar said that she was to wear brown (check!) and pack a healthy lunch, complete with a veggie snack (check!) and bring it in a brown lunch sack. oh...ok. we didn't have any brown lunch sacks because, well, we don't use them. madelyn has taken her lunch to school once this year, but she took it in a lunchbox. the night before, i had decided that i would stop by the dollar general market by our house and pick up a package of lunch sacks the next morning. no biggie.
the problem is that i was running late on friday. it all started the night before when brian begged me to stay up and watch a tv show with him, and after i continued to decline because i was tired and had to get up early the following day, he made me an offer i couldn't refuse.
"i'll take madelyn to school tomorrow morning, how about that?" he asked. "that will give you an extra 30 minutes."
so i stayed up.
first, he acted shocked when i shook him awake on friday morning.
"what do you want?" he asked, half asleep.
"um, you're taking madelyn to school, remember?"
"aw...ok... [sigh]...i didn't know you were serious..."
"well, you offered, so yeah...i mean, i wouldn't really care, but i'm kinda running late."
so he took her. but before he left, i mentioned how i really needed to stop by the dollar store because ella had to have a brown paper lunch sack. he acknowledged my comment and left.
somewhere in the back of my mind, i thought that he may stop and get the brown sack. i mean, he was going to be out anyway, and he knew that i had to have it. so i stuck around the house for a while before leaving. and i waited....
at about 7:30, which is about 5 minutes earlier than the very latest conceivable time that i need to leave my house in order to drop ella off at daycare and make it to work on time, brian walks through the door. with a sack of breakfast from hardees. i watched as he removed a few wrapped breakfast sandwiches and set them on the counter and then handed me the empty sack.
"there ya go! ella's brown bag!"
at that very moment, i didn't know whether to be mad or whether to feel sorry for my husband for not having a clue. so i decided to semi-calmly explain that i wasn't taking our daughter's lunch to daycare in a used, greasy fast-food restaurant sack, and then i walked out the door.
my husband is wonderful in so many ways. he cooks like no other, which is awesome because i don't. he goes grocery shopping. he knows his way around a kroger store like the back of his hand. he knows how to bargain shop. the other day, he was so proud when he bought 2 carts full of groceries--meat included--for $120. he keeps his closet neat and does his own laundry. he takes madelyn to soccer practice when his work schedule allows. and if he's off work, he'll have dinner cooked and madelyn's homework will be finished before i even get home. and he loves his girls with all his heart. but god bless him, sometimes he just doesn't get it. and i have a greasy hardees sack in the trash can to prove it.
Friday, September 16, 2011
boys are stupid.
boys are stupid. and yuck. and "eww". at least they were the last time i checked, which was last year in the 2nd grade. but apparently a lot can happen over the course of a summer. or maybe it was the switch from one town to another, one school to another. whatever the reason, it appears that my sweet madelyn has stopped hating boys. hmpf.
i remember when i used to despise boys. i mean, seriously, they frightened me. i think it had something to do with how shy i was, and still am. i remember a boy tried to kiss me on the cheek in kindergarten and i cried. bawled my eyes out. all of the classes had gone into one classroom to watch a movie, and we were all sitting there in little chairs watching the tv when he did it. it apparently scarred me for life since i wrote BAD across his picture in my yearbook that year.
i remember when i used to despise boys. i mean, seriously, they frightened me. i think it had something to do with how shy i was, and still am. i remember a boy tried to kiss me on the cheek in kindergarten and i cried. bawled my eyes out. all of the classes had gone into one classroom to watch a movie, and we were all sitting there in little chairs watching the tv when he did it. it apparently scarred me for life since i wrote BAD across his picture in my yearbook that year.
and so it was with madelyn. last year, i accused her of having a "boyfriend" because the name of a boy in her class kept coming up. i finally teased, "oooh, do you like him??" which of course elicited the response, "eww, nooooo!!"
so imagine my surprise when i picked her up from school last week and she nonchalantly told me about the 3 boys who like her, and she wasn't disgusted by it at all.
"so then he was like, 'so-and-so likes you!' and i was like, 'really?' and then the other boy said, 'yeah, well so does he!' and he pointed to this other boy. but he was like 'no i don't!' and i'm like, 'um, ok, so do you or don't you?' but he used to date my friend, alex, and she said that he cheated on her and that's why they broke up..."
ok, hold up. he cheated on her? they dated? we're still in 3rd grade, right?
"what do you mean, 'he cheated on her'?" i asked.
"he was going with two other girls while he was dating her!"
"ok...so how did they date if neither of them have a car? did their parents drive them places?"
"no...."
"so what do you do when you 'go together'?"
"i...i don't know..."
"do you, like, hold hands and stuff?"
"uh...i don't know...i guess..."
"i see...ok, so this boy was holding hands with other girls while he was 'dating' your friend?"
madelyn giggled. "yeah...i guess..."
got it. ok...
by the time we got home, i had almost forgotten the ever-so-informative guide to 3rd grade dating of which madelyn had so graciously made me aware. then, as i was sorting through the school papers in her book bag, i found it: a big wad of love notes from her not-so-secret admirers.
"hey, mad...what are these?"
she smiled. "i told you they liked me!"
that night, after brian all but losing it over the thought of boys writing love notes to his baby, and after serious consideration of sending her to a private all girl school, i gave madelyn some words of advice.
"don't get too interested in boys right now, ok? you're gonna kill your daddy. i mean, it's perfectly fine to be friends with them. but holding hands and kissing is gross. so just don't do it. k?" so there ya go...kissing is gross. what can i say, i'm pretty blunt in my parenting style. remind me to tell you later about the discussion we had on babies, boobies and deodorant...
"ok."
i realize that this is just the beginning of a very long and bumpy journey to raising daughters. and that innocent love notes in the backpack are nothing compared to the text messages of the future (i mean, not that i'm going to sneak peeks at my children's cell phones...just sayin'...) i know that our brief, mother-daughter talk isn't going to keep my 8 year old away from boys until she's 18. but maybe it will buy me a little time until i come up with some more insightful advice than "kissing is gross". sigh....
Saturday, August 13, 2011
rachel: the next generation
i know this may come as a shock to some of you, but i can be snotty. it's true. in fact, there are times when words come out of my mouth that i know are going to be hurtful before they even leave my lips, but it's like i just have to say them. like i have this overwhelming compulsion to be mean. and pouting? ha, i'm a pro. my specialty is throwing a fit about something until the other person caves in, and then changing my mind about it so that i can pout that i didn't get to do whatever it was that i was throwing a fit about. "cutting my nose off to spite my face", as my mom would say. yes, i'm a 2 year old.
it's not like i do this all the time. and i'm only this way with certain people. namely, my husband. if we're in an argument and i have the option of saying something that is going to be really hurtful or keeping it to myself for fear of hurting his feelings, 9 times out of 10 i let the insults fly. and i'm notorious for keeping on and on about something until he gives in, only to say "well, never mind...you don't want to..." and then getting upset that i didn't get my way.
i'm not proud of this trait, but i've possessed it all my life so i guess it's here to stay. hey, at least i can admit it.
unfortunately, although my children did inherit some of my positive characteristics, they also got some of my not-so-appealing traits as well. last week, my parents and sister came to bowling green to visit and we went out to dinner when i got home from work. the car ride was pleasant, but when we got to the restaurant, madelyn wanted to take her purse in.
"no, just leave it in the car. there's nothing in it that you really need, and it's still kinda too big for you." case closed, no big deal. or so i thought.
somehow i missed the evil glares that were drilling holes into my back as we walked into the restaurant, but when we sat down in our booth, madelyn scooted all the way in and turned to face the brick wall.
"madelyn, what's the matter?" i asked. silence.
aunt jen tried. "talk to me, madelyn! are you excited to start school tomorrow?" nothing.
"fine," i said, "don't talk. i don't care."
"you wouldn't let me bring my purse in, now i have nothing to do!" she finally exploded.
"um, you could join in conversation with your family," i suggested. that did nothing but earn me the meanest, ugliest scowl you've ever seen.
after that, she complained about the appetizer i ordered ("why did you get that? i don't like chips and salsa! why can't we get cheese dip with it?"), almost cried that she couldn't play on mine or jen's iphones because mine was dead and jen's was in the car, and then got mad because the server brought her and ella free vanilla ice cream out of the goodness of his heart ("i don't like vanilla! i like chocolate!"). she changed her tune when i suggested that he not give her any ice cream at all if she wanted to keep up her little attitude.
"hmm," jen remarked, "she reminds me a lot of you."
"yep...she's got her rachel impersonation down pat," i replied.
and it was true. looking at those furrowed eyebrows and clenched teeth on my 8-year-old's face, i saw myself so very clearly. and it wasn't pretty.
later that night, in true "mini-rachel" fashion, madelyn apologized.
"you didn't act very nice at cheddars tonight," i commented.
madelyn lowered her head. "i know. i'm sorry..." and i knew that she was. she genuinely was. because i feel horrible whenever i act snotty, too. and i also knew that sometime in the upcoming week, she would probably keep on and on about something to get her way and then change her mind once i gave in. because that's what i do, too. and sure enough, after a heated discussion about which shoes she'd be wearing to school on thursday, and insisting upon wearing flip flops until i finally caved, she ultimately declared, "fine! i'll wear the tennis shoes because you want me to!" sigh.
it isn't easy raising rachel.
it's not like i do this all the time. and i'm only this way with certain people. namely, my husband. if we're in an argument and i have the option of saying something that is going to be really hurtful or keeping it to myself for fear of hurting his feelings, 9 times out of 10 i let the insults fly. and i'm notorious for keeping on and on about something until he gives in, only to say "well, never mind...you don't want to..." and then getting upset that i didn't get my way.
i'm not proud of this trait, but i've possessed it all my life so i guess it's here to stay. hey, at least i can admit it.
unfortunately, although my children did inherit some of my positive characteristics, they also got some of my not-so-appealing traits as well. last week, my parents and sister came to bowling green to visit and we went out to dinner when i got home from work. the car ride was pleasant, but when we got to the restaurant, madelyn wanted to take her purse in.
"no, just leave it in the car. there's nothing in it that you really need, and it's still kinda too big for you." case closed, no big deal. or so i thought.
somehow i missed the evil glares that were drilling holes into my back as we walked into the restaurant, but when we sat down in our booth, madelyn scooted all the way in and turned to face the brick wall.
"madelyn, what's the matter?" i asked. silence.
aunt jen tried. "talk to me, madelyn! are you excited to start school tomorrow?" nothing.
"fine," i said, "don't talk. i don't care."
"you wouldn't let me bring my purse in, now i have nothing to do!" she finally exploded.
"um, you could join in conversation with your family," i suggested. that did nothing but earn me the meanest, ugliest scowl you've ever seen.
after that, she complained about the appetizer i ordered ("why did you get that? i don't like chips and salsa! why can't we get cheese dip with it?"), almost cried that she couldn't play on mine or jen's iphones because mine was dead and jen's was in the car, and then got mad because the server brought her and ella free vanilla ice cream out of the goodness of his heart ("i don't like vanilla! i like chocolate!"). she changed her tune when i suggested that he not give her any ice cream at all if she wanted to keep up her little attitude.
"hmm," jen remarked, "she reminds me a lot of you."
"yep...she's got her rachel impersonation down pat," i replied.
and it was true. looking at those furrowed eyebrows and clenched teeth on my 8-year-old's face, i saw myself so very clearly. and it wasn't pretty.
later that night, in true "mini-rachel" fashion, madelyn apologized.
"you didn't act very nice at cheddars tonight," i commented.
madelyn lowered her head. "i know. i'm sorry..." and i knew that she was. she genuinely was. because i feel horrible whenever i act snotty, too. and i also knew that sometime in the upcoming week, she would probably keep on and on about something to get her way and then change her mind once i gave in. because that's what i do, too. and sure enough, after a heated discussion about which shoes she'd be wearing to school on thursday, and insisting upon wearing flip flops until i finally caved, she ultimately declared, "fine! i'll wear the tennis shoes because you want me to!" sigh.
it isn't easy raising rachel.
Monday, July 4, 2011
country girls
i was raised in the country. my house was surrounded by fields on all four sides, and i used to hide and play in the bare spots in the middle of corn fields. i drove my 4-wheeler on back roads, rode with my daddy in his 18-wheeler, climbed haystacks, and went "swimming" in trailers full of soybeans.
when i met my husband, he found it so strange that i had never ridden my bike to the minit mart for a coke, never gone door-to-door trick-or-treating, that i grew up without cable tv. minit mart? seriously? the closest convenience store was 10 miles away. if i walked door-to-door for candy, i'd be walking a good 30 minutes from one house to the next. and watching mtv was a treat that i got only when i would spend the night with one of my friends who lived "in town".
but even though i grew up in rural america, there are plenty of things i've never done. i never worked in tobacco. i couldn't tell you the first thing about it. i've never baited my own fishing hook. worms are gross and i prefer not to touch them. i've never shot a deer. i went hunting once in high school, and though i'd practiced for a week shooting pumpkins with a 30 alt 6, i just couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger when the time came. and i couldn't tell you at what time of year one plants beans or corn or wheat. heck, i can barely distinguish one from the other.
so imagine my surprise and delight when mom and dad watched the girls for a couple of weeks and turned them into some little country bumpkins. after the first day, they had acquired the skill of making the best mud pies you've ever "tasted". that weekend, they decided to camp out in the backyard. amazingly enough, they stayed in the tent the whole night. madelyn learned to drive the kubota back on the farm, they chased lightning bugs every night until it was too dark to see, and ella became quite distinguished at the art of frog catching. she named one of them "hoppy".
kids have too much "stuff" these days, and i feel that we as parents are partially to blame. we put a tv in every room, hook a wii or a playstation to each of them, give them ipods and nintendo ds's to keep them occupied on-the-go, and then wonder why they don't listen to us when we tell them to go outside and play. so thank goodness when mine go to gran and papaw's, they learn to enjoy the simple things. maybe we should all take the time to that every once in a while!
when i met my husband, he found it so strange that i had never ridden my bike to the minit mart for a coke, never gone door-to-door trick-or-treating, that i grew up without cable tv. minit mart? seriously? the closest convenience store was 10 miles away. if i walked door-to-door for candy, i'd be walking a good 30 minutes from one house to the next. and watching mtv was a treat that i got only when i would spend the night with one of my friends who lived "in town".
but even though i grew up in rural america, there are plenty of things i've never done. i never worked in tobacco. i couldn't tell you the first thing about it. i've never baited my own fishing hook. worms are gross and i prefer not to touch them. i've never shot a deer. i went hunting once in high school, and though i'd practiced for a week shooting pumpkins with a 30 alt 6, i just couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger when the time came. and i couldn't tell you at what time of year one plants beans or corn or wheat. heck, i can barely distinguish one from the other.
so imagine my surprise and delight when mom and dad watched the girls for a couple of weeks and turned them into some little country bumpkins. after the first day, they had acquired the skill of making the best mud pies you've ever "tasted". that weekend, they decided to camp out in the backyard. amazingly enough, they stayed in the tent the whole night. madelyn learned to drive the kubota back on the farm, they chased lightning bugs every night until it was too dark to see, and ella became quite distinguished at the art of frog catching. she named one of them "hoppy".
kids have too much "stuff" these days, and i feel that we as parents are partially to blame. we put a tv in every room, hook a wii or a playstation to each of them, give them ipods and nintendo ds's to keep them occupied on-the-go, and then wonder why they don't listen to us when we tell them to go outside and play. so thank goodness when mine go to gran and papaw's, they learn to enjoy the simple things. maybe we should all take the time to that every once in a while!
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
battle of the bulge
i don't like taking showers. no, it's not because i don't like being clean. it's not because i'm lazy. nor is it because my children inevitably bust through the bathroom door every morning just as my clothes drop to the floor (although i long for the day they stop doing this). it's because i hate seeing myself naked.
i'm sure there was a time in my life when this didn't bother me. like when i was 13 and a size negative zero. although i specifically remember being self conscious about my body even then and thinking that i was "fat". boy, i wish i could go back in time to all the times i thought i was such a cow, slap my scrawny back-in-time self and say, "you think THIS is fat? ha! just wait 'til after you have kids! you ain't seen nothing yet!"
i remember the way my body looked about 4 hours after i had madelyn. i had been lying in a hospital bed for 2 weeks, barely able to breathe or move. i had lost blood, stayed drugged most of the time, and barely ate a bite during my entire hospital stay. but when i first got out of bed and looked at myself in the hospital room's full length mirror, i remember thinking "dang, i look good!" my boobs were huge, by legs were toothpicks, and my post-baby belly was almost non-existent. of course, i was also so sick i probably could have died. but wow. my body didn't look like that even before i got pregnant.
and then came my second child. mom took a picture of me the night before i gave birth to ella, bare-bellied with my shirt raised, and it is absolutely hideous. i mean, i knew i was big, but pictures really put proportions into perspective unlike any mirror ever could. my face was fat, my stomach was gigantic, and my swollen ankles didn't regain their normal size until ella was about 2 months old. i remember asking for a pair of furry-topped knee boots that christmas before ella was born, thinking surely this would be a safe bet. um, no...i couldn't fit them over my puffy feet.
i haven't quite been the same since then. i have a "pooch" that refuses to go away. my arms have become a bit on the flabby side. and i now refuse to wear shorts--even in front of the hubby--because i have knee fat. that's right, knee fat. it exists.
luckily, i have a bossy 7 year old who gladly obliged when i asked if she would be my personal trainer. we have started a 'biggest loser' competition at work, so i decided that now would be the perfect time to start working on my less-than-stellar bod.
after 60 jumping jacks, 30 sit ups, 20 crunches, and some body ball maneuvers, i was spent. but i felt awesome. my new found exercise regimen, combined with a 1300 daily calorie diet was sure to drop the pounds.
i gained 1 pound that first week.
needless to say, i cussed like a sailor for the next several minutes after the scales had returned their cruel verdict. i hated the scales. i hated my coworkers who had lost weight that week. i hated the vegetables i had eaten that week. and i fired my personal trainer.
"why don't you want to exercise anymore?" madelyn asked me that night.
"i just don't. not this week. maybe we'll start back in a few weeks."
"ok. but i don't think you need to exercise anyway. you're not fat."
i smiled. there it was...my honest little madelyn had given me the greatest compliment ever, and she didn't even realize it. and i knew it had to be true because she doesn't lie...at least, not well.
let's face it: i'm not an exerciser. i'm not a dieter. i don't enjoy doing things that don't come easy for me. i've never had to work out or watch what i eat, and i don't really want to start now. according to a recent complete checkup, i'm in pretty good health. do i wish i had the body i had 10 years ago? yes. do i wish i had a better body than i did 10 years ago? definitely. am i going to kill myself to look that way? um, probably not. so although i still refuse to look in the mirror when i get in the shower, my hubby thinks i'm pretty and my daughter thinks i'm "not fat". so there. now, pass the cheesecake.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
"awwww, i'm telling god!"
parents are supposed to be leaders. unfortunately, ever since i can remember, i've always been a follower. as a child, as a teen (much to my parents' dismay...can we say "peer pressure"?) and even today i would rather "go with the flow" as opposed to stepping up and taking the lead. but as a mom, i realize that it is my duty to be an example for my children. sometimes, however, i find that they set more of an example for me.
i was reminded of this last week when it appeared that a strange "freaky friday" type turn of events had transformed my 7 year old into the mother and me into the child. it began when i let a not-so-nice word slip out of my mouth while in madelyn's presence. it wasn't a horrible word, but keep in mind that this is the child who reprimands me for saying "oh my gosh".
"awwww, i'm telling god!" she said, her eyes and mouth wide open as if she'd seen a ghost.
"i'm sorry, i didn't mean to. and you don't have to tell him, he already knows...and he's not happy with it, either." i smiled.
at some point during the day, i changed into a t-shirt that i've had since spring break 2001. what can i say, i'm a pack rat when it comes to getting rid of clothes, especially novelty tees. it's a dr. pepper shirt, as indicated by the dr. pepper logo on the back, but the front of the shirt simply has 2 words printed across it: heavy drinker. madelyn stared at it and sounded out the words.
"heavy drinker. hmm. you're a heavy drinker? what's that mean?"
"no, it's a dr. pepper shirt," i said in my defense.
"do you like dr. pepper?"
"um, well, no. but the shirt was free and i...i don't know...it's just a shirt!" hmpf. strike 2.
but never have i been so proud, or felt like it was madelyn who was setting the example for me than when i went to tuck her in bed that same night to find that she had fallen asleep with her bible wide open beside her. my baby had fallen asleep while reading god's word. i stood in the doorway and smiled. but then my smile of pride turned to tears of guilt. how long has it been since she found me reading my bible? here i was, a 31 year old woman staring at a 7-year old child who is probably the greatest example of how i need to be living my life.
madelyn is forever keeping me in check according to her own standards. like scolding me if i say something that she deems inappropriate. or reminding me that "it's against the law to text and drive". i have to laugh at how completely straight-laced and proper she is sometimes. but for the most part i am extremely proud of the young lady she has become. because although she may be innately good, i'd like to think that i can take some credit and hope that the way i've raised her has led her to become the way she is today.
i was reminded of this last week when it appeared that a strange "freaky friday" type turn of events had transformed my 7 year old into the mother and me into the child. it began when i let a not-so-nice word slip out of my mouth while in madelyn's presence. it wasn't a horrible word, but keep in mind that this is the child who reprimands me for saying "oh my gosh".
"awwww, i'm telling god!" she said, her eyes and mouth wide open as if she'd seen a ghost.
"i'm sorry, i didn't mean to. and you don't have to tell him, he already knows...and he's not happy with it, either." i smiled.
at some point during the day, i changed into a t-shirt that i've had since spring break 2001. what can i say, i'm a pack rat when it comes to getting rid of clothes, especially novelty tees. it's a dr. pepper shirt, as indicated by the dr. pepper logo on the back, but the front of the shirt simply has 2 words printed across it: heavy drinker. madelyn stared at it and sounded out the words.
"heavy drinker. hmm. you're a heavy drinker? what's that mean?"
"no, it's a dr. pepper shirt," i said in my defense.
"do you like dr. pepper?"
"um, well, no. but the shirt was free and i...i don't know...it's just a shirt!" hmpf. strike 2.
but never have i been so proud, or felt like it was madelyn who was setting the example for me than when i went to tuck her in bed that same night to find that she had fallen asleep with her bible wide open beside her. my baby had fallen asleep while reading god's word. i stood in the doorway and smiled. but then my smile of pride turned to tears of guilt. how long has it been since she found me reading my bible? here i was, a 31 year old woman staring at a 7-year old child who is probably the greatest example of how i need to be living my life.
madelyn is forever keeping me in check according to her own standards. like scolding me if i say something that she deems inappropriate. or reminding me that "it's against the law to text and drive". i have to laugh at how completely straight-laced and proper she is sometimes. but for the most part i am extremely proud of the young lady she has become. because although she may be innately good, i'd like to think that i can take some credit and hope that the way i've raised her has led her to become the way she is today.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)