if i'd known then what i know now...
every little girl buys into the fairy tale. her prince charming is going to come riding in on a white horse to rescue her, put her up in a palace, and the two will live happily ever after.
i call bullshit.
cynical much? nah...just realistic.
i used to be THAT girl. i have a decent job. i work for the state. i was fine with having retirement and a 401K. that's cool; i can work for twenty some odd years and then retire and do what i really want to do. i'm thinking i'll work in a coffee shop or a cool cafe. and my hubby would pay for the rest. yeah, that's my future.
but then he leaves you. "he", being the man who was supposed to supply the fairy tale that everyone buys into. the prince charming that was supposed to put you up in that palace.
yeah, exactly. your prince charming decides to leave you. someone younger, prettier. whatever.
there were several months in which i wallowed in self pity. how did this happen to me? why is god punishing me?
and then i realized that i wasn't being punished. i was being blessed.
until now, my blogs have been light and fluffy. humorous. but today, i'm feeling real. so here you go.
there's no way to glamorize single motherhood. well, unless you're a freaking kardashian or something. ooh, look at my perfect preggo belly and my nursery that louis vuitton himself designed. i mean, seriously...being a single mom is hard. but having no money makes it considerably harder.
i didn't marry for security. i married for love. but sometimes, it doesn't always work itself out as planned. i do what i can. i make ends meet...barely. i work hard. and i get child support, which is more than a lot of women get. i'm thankful. but still..it's hard... and that's not the life i envisioned for myself...or my girls. i mean, who does? who wants to just get by?
i'm sorry...but think about it, ladies. what if you had to do it all yourself? no hubby to get the kids in the bath, no 2nd income, nobody helping with homework.
i always admired my single mommy friends, but i never appreciated them. really appreciated them. dear god, i do now.
you girls rock!
i wish i had it all together. i wish i could say that i can do it. but i can't. hell, i'm far from it. i do well to get us all dressed in the morning. but my kids are fed, they're dressed, and they're loved beyond belief. i'd say they're better off than most.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Sunday, August 25, 2013
a little bit of bad in the best of us
i remember saying my first curse word. i was in the 5th grade. i was playing with my best friend in the creek beside her grandmother's house when i forced that four letter word from my lips. truth be told, she made me say it. we still laugh about it, because the only reason i said it--aside from always having VERY easily given in to peer pressure--was because she had called me a "goody two-shoes".
really? what does that even mean? the phrase doesn't even make sense. but to a 10 year old wanting to seem cool, being a goody two-shoes is most definitely NOT the way to go about it. so i said it. i think it was damn. maybe hell. but whatever it was, a funny thing happened; after i said it, i wanted to say it again. it was like being just a little bit bad felt just a little good. i mean, it's not like it all went downhill from there. cussing wasn't my gateway sin into hard drugs or robbery or anything major. but let's face it; everyone has a little mean streak. a little bit of bad.
i remember ella's first curse word. i think she was 4. we were frantically searching for the car in walmart's parking lot, a pastime in which i regret to say i've spent way too much time participating. finally, exasperated, ella sighs, "well, where the hell is it?"
i was mortified. my sweet ella, as fed up as i was with pacing down each aisle of cars looking for our own, had verbalized what i was thinking. i briefly scolded her, but the shame on her little face broke my heart because i knew that she had quite possibly heard the word from me, and that she didn't realize it was wrong.
that was just her first time. the second was when she couldn't pass a level on one of her nintendo ds games. we were waiting in line for an oil change and the girls were getting antsy. she had been grunting and mumbling under her breath, so i knew she was becoming aggravated with whatever it was she was doing in the backseat. all of a sudden, i hear "what the hell?" and almost immediately following came sobs of guilt. oh geez. what is it with that word? what is it with saying something wrong so that we can feel just a little better? even if we end up feeling even worse afterwards?
now, madelyn is different. she's always been about as straight-laced as they come. a couple of times, she's gotten tongue-tied and accidentally let one word slip, but meant another. and even that unintentional slip of the tongue has made her so embarrassed and ashamed that she nearly bursts into tears. but for the most part, she knows right from wrong and does her best to never stray from these truths. i see so much of myself in that child. the people pleasing, rule abiding, trouble avoiding 10 year old that i once was. don't get me wrong, she has her vices. she loves to get mad and scream at the top of her lungs when she doesn't get her way, or lose her temper and shove her sister when she gets on her nerves, just because it feel good to get out the frustration. for a brief moment, there's a sweet release in just being mean.
but i see something in both of my girls that makes me so proud. despite our penchant for huffing and puffing and the occasional ugly word, my children possess a genuine sense of empathy and compassion. they have a conscience. they have such a love of others and a true understanding of they should and should no do. they are good, good kids. the other day, we were in a shopping plaza and saw an old man sitting in the doorway of an unoccupied space. he may or may not have been homeless, but he did appear to be lonely, perhaps down on his luck, and both girls sensed this. ella grabbed my hand as we walked. "what if he doesn't have anything?" and then madelyn, upon returning to the car, dropped her head and prayed. she didn't have to tell me she was praying for the old man, though she did. i just knew.
i worry about raising my girls. every day, i'm scared to death of what this cruel world is going to do to them. how cold and jaded it may turn them. and raising them alone only exacerbates these fears. i thank god every waking hour that i have someone who shares my morals and core family values and helps me instill these in my children, but wow...parenting is not easy. all i can do is pray that i'm doing a good job. i'd even settle for decent job. but every once in a while, god gives me a little sign that maybe, just maybe, i am. every time my child prays without being told before a meal or sheds a tear for a man asking for change, i get a little confirmation. maybe i need to stop beating myself up and accept that i'm not doing as bad a job as i sometimes feel that i am...
...even when my 6 year old swears at her video games. :)
really? what does that even mean? the phrase doesn't even make sense. but to a 10 year old wanting to seem cool, being a goody two-shoes is most definitely NOT the way to go about it. so i said it. i think it was damn. maybe hell. but whatever it was, a funny thing happened; after i said it, i wanted to say it again. it was like being just a little bit bad felt just a little good. i mean, it's not like it all went downhill from there. cussing wasn't my gateway sin into hard drugs or robbery or anything major. but let's face it; everyone has a little mean streak. a little bit of bad.
i remember ella's first curse word. i think she was 4. we were frantically searching for the car in walmart's parking lot, a pastime in which i regret to say i've spent way too much time participating. finally, exasperated, ella sighs, "well, where the hell is it?"
i was mortified. my sweet ella, as fed up as i was with pacing down each aisle of cars looking for our own, had verbalized what i was thinking. i briefly scolded her, but the shame on her little face broke my heart because i knew that she had quite possibly heard the word from me, and that she didn't realize it was wrong.
that was just her first time. the second was when she couldn't pass a level on one of her nintendo ds games. we were waiting in line for an oil change and the girls were getting antsy. she had been grunting and mumbling under her breath, so i knew she was becoming aggravated with whatever it was she was doing in the backseat. all of a sudden, i hear "what the hell?" and almost immediately following came sobs of guilt. oh geez. what is it with that word? what is it with saying something wrong so that we can feel just a little better? even if we end up feeling even worse afterwards?
now, madelyn is different. she's always been about as straight-laced as they come. a couple of times, she's gotten tongue-tied and accidentally let one word slip, but meant another. and even that unintentional slip of the tongue has made her so embarrassed and ashamed that she nearly bursts into tears. but for the most part, she knows right from wrong and does her best to never stray from these truths. i see so much of myself in that child. the people pleasing, rule abiding, trouble avoiding 10 year old that i once was. don't get me wrong, she has her vices. she loves to get mad and scream at the top of her lungs when she doesn't get her way, or lose her temper and shove her sister when she gets on her nerves, just because it feel good to get out the frustration. for a brief moment, there's a sweet release in just being mean.
but i see something in both of my girls that makes me so proud. despite our penchant for huffing and puffing and the occasional ugly word, my children possess a genuine sense of empathy and compassion. they have a conscience. they have such a love of others and a true understanding of they should and should no do. they are good, good kids. the other day, we were in a shopping plaza and saw an old man sitting in the doorway of an unoccupied space. he may or may not have been homeless, but he did appear to be lonely, perhaps down on his luck, and both girls sensed this. ella grabbed my hand as we walked. "what if he doesn't have anything?" and then madelyn, upon returning to the car, dropped her head and prayed. she didn't have to tell me she was praying for the old man, though she did. i just knew.
i worry about raising my girls. every day, i'm scared to death of what this cruel world is going to do to them. how cold and jaded it may turn them. and raising them alone only exacerbates these fears. i thank god every waking hour that i have someone who shares my morals and core family values and helps me instill these in my children, but wow...parenting is not easy. all i can do is pray that i'm doing a good job. i'd even settle for decent job. but every once in a while, god gives me a little sign that maybe, just maybe, i am. every time my child prays without being told before a meal or sheds a tear for a man asking for change, i get a little confirmation. maybe i need to stop beating myself up and accept that i'm not doing as bad a job as i sometimes feel that i am...
...even when my 6 year old swears at her video games. :)
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
a real life happily ever after?
i like a good chick flick every now and then. what can i say? i'm a chick. it's funny, though--sad, actually--that for every romantic movie that i've watched, every loving glance shared between the movie's main characters that has made me sigh, every tear that i've shed, my emotions weren't so much for the lovers on screen, but more for the lack of those feelings in my own life. just the other day, as a quote from "the notebook" showed up on my facebook newsfeed, i got to thinking how watching love stories actually used to depress me more so than give me that warm, fuzzy feeling. but that was then...
coming to the realization that a relationship you're in is destined for failure is a hard pill to swallow. forcing something that isn't meant to be and lying to yourself is even harder. i've been there; i know.
i'm not a dating or marriage expert by no means, but i know what i know, and this is what i've learned. rocky starts are often doomed for rocky endings. if you can't imagine the thought of growing old with somebody, most likely they aren't 'the one'. happiness shouldn't be forced; lying to yourself and others that you really are happy is even worse. if you can count on your fingers the good times, but lost count of the bad times, cried more than you laughed, then it's time to move on.
it seems like i've always been lacking something. something has always been missing. sometimes a relationship may seem perfect, but the two people just drift apart or realize that friendship is better than a romantic relationship. sometimes a relationship may have one or two really good qualities, but are lacking in other aspects. and yet others are nothing more than two complete opposites trying desperately to create something out of nothing.
about 6 months ago, i met foster. he was a friend of a friend. cool guy. sweet as can be. good looking. fun. i didn't seek him out, nor did i want anything more than to hang out a few hours so as not to be alone, have a drink or two, and say my goodbyes, perhaps making an acquaintance that i could say 'hi' to if i saw out in public or if we were ever in the same company again. but apparently god had his own agenda because something strange happened. here i was, depressed and in the midst of a divorce, had been crying for weeks, stopped eating, had to take some time off from work...and during that first meeting with foster, i actually really enjoyed myself. i smiled for the first time in a while. in the weeks that followed, we shared hours upon hours of phone conversations about every subject under the sun. some of my favorite memories from the summer and fall were nights spent talking on my back patio. he gave me advice. we laughed harder than i had laughed in ages. we found out that, despite an 11 year age difference, we had so very much in common, from career and life goals to both being born in april. he actually makes me talk about issues that arise instead of sweeping problems under the rug; funny, because i have always been the one who wants to talk things out, but after years of communication issues, i've learned just to bottle things up. and he said something that really resonated with me, something that makes perfect sense, yet something that had been missing in my most recent relationships:
foster isn't perfect. neither am i. far from it, actually. but we fit together perfectly. amazingly, god created someone who is like me only of the opposite sex, put him on this earth 11 years and 2 days after i was born, and i found him. i've been told that i just exude happiness. i have a sparkle in my eye and a genuine smile again.
just like in the movies, life is full of a plethera of storylines; falling in and out of love; plot twists; good guys and bad, and supporting characters...and sometimes, when you least expect it, the start to what looks like could be a very happy ending.
coming to the realization that a relationship you're in is destined for failure is a hard pill to swallow. forcing something that isn't meant to be and lying to yourself is even harder. i've been there; i know.
i'm not a dating or marriage expert by no means, but i know what i know, and this is what i've learned. rocky starts are often doomed for rocky endings. if you can't imagine the thought of growing old with somebody, most likely they aren't 'the one'. happiness shouldn't be forced; lying to yourself and others that you really are happy is even worse. if you can count on your fingers the good times, but lost count of the bad times, cried more than you laughed, then it's time to move on.
it seems like i've always been lacking something. something has always been missing. sometimes a relationship may seem perfect, but the two people just drift apart or realize that friendship is better than a romantic relationship. sometimes a relationship may have one or two really good qualities, but are lacking in other aspects. and yet others are nothing more than two complete opposites trying desperately to create something out of nothing.
about 6 months ago, i met foster. he was a friend of a friend. cool guy. sweet as can be. good looking. fun. i didn't seek him out, nor did i want anything more than to hang out a few hours so as not to be alone, have a drink or two, and say my goodbyes, perhaps making an acquaintance that i could say 'hi' to if i saw out in public or if we were ever in the same company again. but apparently god had his own agenda because something strange happened. here i was, depressed and in the midst of a divorce, had been crying for weeks, stopped eating, had to take some time off from work...and during that first meeting with foster, i actually really enjoyed myself. i smiled for the first time in a while. in the weeks that followed, we shared hours upon hours of phone conversations about every subject under the sun. some of my favorite memories from the summer and fall were nights spent talking on my back patio. he gave me advice. we laughed harder than i had laughed in ages. we found out that, despite an 11 year age difference, we had so very much in common, from career and life goals to both being born in april. he actually makes me talk about issues that arise instead of sweeping problems under the rug; funny, because i have always been the one who wants to talk things out, but after years of communication issues, i've learned just to bottle things up. and he said something that really resonated with me, something that makes perfect sense, yet something that had been missing in my most recent relationships:
relationships require a foundation of friendship. you have to have something to build upon. just like a building has to have a firm foundation or else it will crumble, if a relationship isn't built on a firm foundation, it's just going to crumble.
foster isn't perfect. neither am i. far from it, actually. but we fit together perfectly. amazingly, god created someone who is like me only of the opposite sex, put him on this earth 11 years and 2 days after i was born, and i found him. i've been told that i just exude happiness. i have a sparkle in my eye and a genuine smile again.
just like in the movies, life is full of a plethera of storylines; falling in and out of love; plot twists; good guys and bad, and supporting characters...and sometimes, when you least expect it, the start to what looks like could be a very happy ending.
Monday, September 3, 2012
...and then there were three...
for the past few years that I've been writing, i've regaled anyone who cared to read them with stories of life as a married working mother of two feisty little girls. but three months ago, something changed; i was informed that i was going to be a single mother. my husband wanted a divorce.
these things happen every day. marriages fail, spouses bail. but of course, nobody ever counts on it happening to them. how? why? what went wrong? the list of questions and doubts and fears is endless. now, I've got a whole 3 months worth of sob stories to tell, but this isn't all about me. it isn't all about the sadness. it's about overcoming. and it's about them.
them. the girls. my babies. the greatest accomplishment that was created from mine and my soon-to-be ex husband's 9 year relationship. how would they react? would they understand? how would they feel to have 2 homes, be split between parents, not wake up every morning to both mommy and daddy living under the same roof? well, let me tell ya...kids are resilient. they're also very perceptive. and i've learned that they can be your rock when you need them to be...even if it's something as simple as curling up beside you in bed at night or telling you they love you.
so what's changed? the income, for starters. having to completely restructure your budget and spending habits to accommodate having one less salary in the household is a tough pill to swallow. marking 'divorced' on the girls' school forms and listing a separate address for their dad hit me pretty hard for some reason. and the fear of not being able to do it all alone is, well, frightening.
but as scary as all of this is, i've learned some valuable lessons. don't ever rely too heavily on anyone else for money or any other support, because they could walk out in the blink of an eye. know that you're not alone...there is always someone you work with or live beside or a friend-of-a-friend who has gone through the same thing and has a wealth of knowledge and advice to share. rely on friends and family; even if they can't offer first-hand wisdom on what you're going through, they can offer a shoulder to cry on or plan a "girls' night" to help you laugh and forget your troubles, if only for an evening. don't lose faith; god has brought you to this place in your life for a reason and he never makes mistakes. and above all, put those babies first. let them see that it's ok to be sad, but that in the end, you're going to be stronger because of the struggles, and so will they.
these things happen every day. marriages fail, spouses bail. but of course, nobody ever counts on it happening to them. how? why? what went wrong? the list of questions and doubts and fears is endless. now, I've got a whole 3 months worth of sob stories to tell, but this isn't all about me. it isn't all about the sadness. it's about overcoming. and it's about them.
them. the girls. my babies. the greatest accomplishment that was created from mine and my soon-to-be ex husband's 9 year relationship. how would they react? would they understand? how would they feel to have 2 homes, be split between parents, not wake up every morning to both mommy and daddy living under the same roof? well, let me tell ya...kids are resilient. they're also very perceptive. and i've learned that they can be your rock when you need them to be...even if it's something as simple as curling up beside you in bed at night or telling you they love you.
so what's changed? the income, for starters. having to completely restructure your budget and spending habits to accommodate having one less salary in the household is a tough pill to swallow. marking 'divorced' on the girls' school forms and listing a separate address for their dad hit me pretty hard for some reason. and the fear of not being able to do it all alone is, well, frightening.
but as scary as all of this is, i've learned some valuable lessons. don't ever rely too heavily on anyone else for money or any other support, because they could walk out in the blink of an eye. know that you're not alone...there is always someone you work with or live beside or a friend-of-a-friend who has gone through the same thing and has a wealth of knowledge and advice to share. rely on friends and family; even if they can't offer first-hand wisdom on what you're going through, they can offer a shoulder to cry on or plan a "girls' night" to help you laugh and forget your troubles, if only for an evening. don't lose faith; god has brought you to this place in your life for a reason and he never makes mistakes. and above all, put those babies first. let them see that it's ok to be sad, but that in the end, you're going to be stronger because of the struggles, and so will they.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
diary of a self-described couch potato
looking back at old photos, i can honestly say that i was always a pretty slim child. i never went through a 'chubby' phase (although i do recall wearing a 2-piece during my spring break of '93 trip to florida, and i swore i was THE fattest human being alive). in elementary school, i was long and lanky. in high school, i was tall and of average weight. and apparently, i always had a high metabolism because i ate like a horse and didn't exercise one bit.
well, guess what? obviously, with age comes weight. and a slower metabolism. and, at least in my experience, a lack in the desire to be active whatsoever.
for the past several years, summertime has become an increasingly dreadful season. not that i don't love the sunshine and gorgeous weather, but with summer comes the pressure to wear shorts and skirts and (gulp) a bathing suit. do you know how horrible it feels to decline invitations to pool parties and water parks simply because you don't want to bare your fat butt for all the world to see?
i'm sick of it. sick of having a so-so body. sick of muffin tops over jeans, love handles, and cellulite on my thighs. fed up with my arms flapping. and fat knees. did you know that a person can have fat knees? i've never been "built" or had a rock hard body, but when your 5 year old spanks your bottom and sticks her finger in your belly and says, "ooh, it jiggles!" you know you have to do something.
i've tried exercising before, but it seems that i always lose interest and motivation. i don't like workout videos because i don't like looking at the women leading the workouts. rather than being motivated to continue exercising in the hopes of one day looking like them, i'm instead ticked off at them for being so freaking thin in the first place. and i owned an exercise bike at one time, but ended up selling it on craigslist because, although i did use it some, it was just so dang boring.
so then i decided i'd give running a shot. it's something i can do alone without having to watch some skinny chick show me how. and since it's not an activity in which you stay in one spot (say, in the middle of your living room where you can easily just call it quits after 5 minutes and lie on your couch instead), you can't just give up in the middle of it. after all, if i run a mile from my house, i'm forced to run that same mile to get back, right? i have several friends who are runners. and they love it. i've heard that running becomes addictive. so here i go.
my first step was to downloaded the c25k app to my phone. i barely walk, much less run, so i knew that i would need to start off slow. and this program is really awesome for beginners, so i hear. after my first run, during which i spent the majority of the time pushing my bra straps back on my shoulders from where they continuously slipped down my arms for 30 minutes straight, i discovered the need to invest in some sports bras. ah, the sports bra. now i really felt like an athlete. i also discovered just how out of shape i really was. i almost passed out in a neighbor's yard. and the air was so cold that i was convinced that my lungs were bleeding, if that's possible. but wow, did i feel amazing afterwards! and i was in such a great mood! must have been those endorphin things that i've heard about.
unfortunately, i'm one of those people who want to see quick results. so, being in my 2nd week of my exercise routine, i'm expecting to see a slimmer physique when i look in the mirror before getting in the shower. and i'm thinking my jeans should be a tad bit looser. and the running should be a little easier. um, that's a negative. in fact, i may even be flabbier. and the running is getting harder. and my scales are still sitting at the highest number they've ever registered, unless you count my pregnancy weight.
so...what now? give up? decide that trying to do something good for my body isn't worth the trouble? tell myself that if i don't see any results after 2 weeks then i never will? nope. believe it or not, i'm actually going to stick with this. because when i close my eyes, i can see myself sporting a rockin' bikini bod this summer...and that's well worth the feeling of bleeding lungs, lack of sleep, aching shins, and calloused feet. oh yeah. bring it.
well, guess what? obviously, with age comes weight. and a slower metabolism. and, at least in my experience, a lack in the desire to be active whatsoever.
for the past several years, summertime has become an increasingly dreadful season. not that i don't love the sunshine and gorgeous weather, but with summer comes the pressure to wear shorts and skirts and (gulp) a bathing suit. do you know how horrible it feels to decline invitations to pool parties and water parks simply because you don't want to bare your fat butt for all the world to see?
i'm sick of it. sick of having a so-so body. sick of muffin tops over jeans, love handles, and cellulite on my thighs. fed up with my arms flapping. and fat knees. did you know that a person can have fat knees? i've never been "built" or had a rock hard body, but when your 5 year old spanks your bottom and sticks her finger in your belly and says, "ooh, it jiggles!" you know you have to do something.
i've tried exercising before, but it seems that i always lose interest and motivation. i don't like workout videos because i don't like looking at the women leading the workouts. rather than being motivated to continue exercising in the hopes of one day looking like them, i'm instead ticked off at them for being so freaking thin in the first place. and i owned an exercise bike at one time, but ended up selling it on craigslist because, although i did use it some, it was just so dang boring.
so then i decided i'd give running a shot. it's something i can do alone without having to watch some skinny chick show me how. and since it's not an activity in which you stay in one spot (say, in the middle of your living room where you can easily just call it quits after 5 minutes and lie on your couch instead), you can't just give up in the middle of it. after all, if i run a mile from my house, i'm forced to run that same mile to get back, right? i have several friends who are runners. and they love it. i've heard that running becomes addictive. so here i go.
my first step was to downloaded the c25k app to my phone. i barely walk, much less run, so i knew that i would need to start off slow. and this program is really awesome for beginners, so i hear. after my first run, during which i spent the majority of the time pushing my bra straps back on my shoulders from where they continuously slipped down my arms for 30 minutes straight, i discovered the need to invest in some sports bras. ah, the sports bra. now i really felt like an athlete. i also discovered just how out of shape i really was. i almost passed out in a neighbor's yard. and the air was so cold that i was convinced that my lungs were bleeding, if that's possible. but wow, did i feel amazing afterwards! and i was in such a great mood! must have been those endorphin things that i've heard about.
unfortunately, i'm one of those people who want to see quick results. so, being in my 2nd week of my exercise routine, i'm expecting to see a slimmer physique when i look in the mirror before getting in the shower. and i'm thinking my jeans should be a tad bit looser. and the running should be a little easier. um, that's a negative. in fact, i may even be flabbier. and the running is getting harder. and my scales are still sitting at the highest number they've ever registered, unless you count my pregnancy weight.
so...what now? give up? decide that trying to do something good for my body isn't worth the trouble? tell myself that if i don't see any results after 2 weeks then i never will? nope. believe it or not, i'm actually going to stick with this. because when i close my eyes, i can see myself sporting a rockin' bikini bod this summer...and that's well worth the feeling of bleeding lungs, lack of sleep, aching shins, and calloused feet. oh yeah. bring it.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
the cup of death
this past monday was a typical monday. almost rear-ended 3 separate vehicles: check. forgot to pay ella's daycare payment: check. sat in coffee: check. ruined iphone in said coffee: unfortunately, check.
you've seen movies where a character is screaming and then it flashes to a screen shot of a mountain top or forest or some distant place, indicating that the person's scream can be heard that far away? well, that's how i felt. and in slow motion. when i returned to my car after dropping ella off at daycare that morning and my brain registered that the foreign object bobbing in my coffee cup was in fact my phone, i could just picture birds in a far off wooded area flying out of the trees from my shrieks as if a rifle had been shot. sure enough, my phone had slid from the console where i had set it into the cup of death below.
now, i'm not super trendy when it comes to gadgets and technology. i don't have an ipad. i don't twitter. and for the longest time, i refused to get an iphone. but in the year that i've had it, i've become addicted. i facebook from it. i pay my bills on it. it contains all my appointments. i can't travel without its map app. i listen to music on it at work and in my car. it holds the phone number of everybody i know. and if i decide to ever start exercising, i've already downloaded the "couch to 5k" app.
so after a trip to at&t on my lunch break and hearing the devastating but predicted verdict ("i'm sorry...there's nothing we can do until you're eligible for an upgrade on february 1st..."), i decided that maybe God was teaching me a lesson. maybe he was telling me to lay off the coffee. or perhaps to be more responsible with my belongings (much as i try to drill into my own children's heads). or maybe, just maybe, he was saying, "hey...stop being a slave to your phone. it doesn't own you!"
so what great revelations have i made during my week sans iphone? well, i've learned how annoying it is to try to have a conversation with somebody who has an electronic device glued to her hands (madelyn and ella, i'm talking to you...) and now understand why my parents gripe about me having my phone at the table during meals. i've learned that i CAN live without facebook. i've realized that i should memorize more of my friends' phone numbers. i've learned that i really need a hobby. i've discovered that there is always going to be a photo opp when you don't have a camera handy. i've determined that at&t doesn't care if you've been a loyal customer for 8 years, that doesn't mean you'll get any sympathy or special treatment if your phone is subjected to water damage. and i've learned that i really, really need to invest in some travel mugs. really.
you've seen movies where a character is screaming and then it flashes to a screen shot of a mountain top or forest or some distant place, indicating that the person's scream can be heard that far away? well, that's how i felt. and in slow motion. when i returned to my car after dropping ella off at daycare that morning and my brain registered that the foreign object bobbing in my coffee cup was in fact my phone, i could just picture birds in a far off wooded area flying out of the trees from my shrieks as if a rifle had been shot. sure enough, my phone had slid from the console where i had set it into the cup of death below.
now, i'm not super trendy when it comes to gadgets and technology. i don't have an ipad. i don't twitter. and for the longest time, i refused to get an iphone. but in the year that i've had it, i've become addicted. i facebook from it. i pay my bills on it. it contains all my appointments. i can't travel without its map app. i listen to music on it at work and in my car. it holds the phone number of everybody i know. and if i decide to ever start exercising, i've already downloaded the "couch to 5k" app.
so after a trip to at&t on my lunch break and hearing the devastating but predicted verdict ("i'm sorry...there's nothing we can do until you're eligible for an upgrade on february 1st..."), i decided that maybe God was teaching me a lesson. maybe he was telling me to lay off the coffee. or perhaps to be more responsible with my belongings (much as i try to drill into my own children's heads). or maybe, just maybe, he was saying, "hey...stop being a slave to your phone. it doesn't own you!"
so what great revelations have i made during my week sans iphone? well, i've learned how annoying it is to try to have a conversation with somebody who has an electronic device glued to her hands (madelyn and ella, i'm talking to you...) and now understand why my parents gripe about me having my phone at the table during meals. i've learned that i CAN live without facebook. i've realized that i should memorize more of my friends' phone numbers. i've learned that i really need a hobby. i've discovered that there is always going to be a photo opp when you don't have a camera handy. i've determined that at&t doesn't care if you've been a loyal customer for 8 years, that doesn't mean you'll get any sympathy or special treatment if your phone is subjected to water damage. and i've learned that i really, really need to invest in some travel mugs. really.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
college vs adulthood...the similarities are uncanny
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!
* 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 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.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
nose art
i've mentioned before that driving with my children can be a hectic and stressful event. but the most driving that i usually do is 30 minutes at a time, tops. 30 minutes isn't nearly enough time for my girls to prove just how over-the-edge they can drive me. this weekend, however, was my oldest sister's birthday, so my middle sis and i took a road trip to louisville for a "sister's weekend". and ella and madelyn went with us. it was during this excursion that my children reached their full annoying backseat passenger potential.
i knew that the drive wasn't going to be a pleasant one when madelyn's first reaction upon learning that she'd be visiting her cousin abigail for the weekend was, "but it takes soooo long to get there!" had abigail been coming to visit us, she would have been ecstatic. but there's something about riding for 2 1/2 hours in a car that drains the fun out of everything for a child. when she realized that she had left her nintendo ds at gran and papaw's house, it became all that much worse. i mean, she might have to read a book or color or something else old-fashioned and un-electronic. god forbid.
but madelyn isn't the one i was really worried about, it's ella. because she's younger, ella tends to be a little less tolerable in the car. or at mall. or walmart. i attribute much of this to her age. but honestly, lots of it has to do with her personality. not that she doesn't have an amazing one. in fact, she has tons of personality. she is smart and spunky, a little mischievous, a total ham, and absolutely hilarious. but she is also extremely short tempered.
madelyn's only real fault during the whole trip was her incessant talking and need to be entertained. she loves her aunt jen dearly, and insisted that the two either be playing hangman, or was constantly bugging her to play some sort of game on her iphone. then of course, there's the whole "i'm hungry" complaint, although both had eaten breakfast before we left the house. jennifer brought sausage balls, so i was set, but the girls complained that they didn't want sausage balls. so when we stopped in bowling green for gas, we also bought slim jims and mt. dew (at madelyn's request...what was i thinking? as if madelyn needs any more energy...). and jennifer and i, who had already sucked down one red bull a piece, also bought 2 cups of coffee.
ella first got mad when i attempted to listen to a song that she didn't want to listen to. she is currently into the pixies, red hot chili peppers, and eartha kitt's version of "santa baby." so a screaming fit ensued. she got mad when madelyn spoke, when it was too hot, when her coat bothered her, when her drink was empty, when the sun shone in her eyes, and when jennifer and i tried to carry on a conversation. no matter what happened, she was ill.
but the icing on the cake was when i glanced in the rearview and noticed that she was drawing on her window. she had been very good and quiet for some time, and jennifer and i had actually enjoyed getting the chance to talk and laugh with each other for the first time since we left olmstead. normally, i wouldn't have said anything, but the windows weren't fogged up, so i wasn't quite sure how she was drawing anything. curiosity got the best of me so i had to ask. "ella, what are you drawing on the window with?"
about that time i saw her reach her pointer and middle fingers up into each nostril and proceed to paint her masterpiece.
"oh my gosh, are you snot painting on my window!!!" i screamed.
wrong response.
for the remainder of our ride--30 minutes which seemed to last for an eternity--we got to hear the yelling and screaming and crying of an insulted, embarrassed, and ticked off 3 year old.
moral of the story: if your child is being good, don't bother them. no matter what they're doing or what they're smearing on your car window.
i knew that the drive wasn't going to be a pleasant one when madelyn's first reaction upon learning that she'd be visiting her cousin abigail for the weekend was, "but it takes soooo long to get there!" had abigail been coming to visit us, she would have been ecstatic. but there's something about riding for 2 1/2 hours in a car that drains the fun out of everything for a child. when she realized that she had left her nintendo ds at gran and papaw's house, it became all that much worse. i mean, she might have to read a book or color or something else old-fashioned and un-electronic. god forbid.
but madelyn isn't the one i was really worried about, it's ella. because she's younger, ella tends to be a little less tolerable in the car. or at mall. or walmart. i attribute much of this to her age. but honestly, lots of it has to do with her personality. not that she doesn't have an amazing one. in fact, she has tons of personality. she is smart and spunky, a little mischievous, a total ham, and absolutely hilarious. but she is also extremely short tempered.
madelyn's only real fault during the whole trip was her incessant talking and need to be entertained. she loves her aunt jen dearly, and insisted that the two either be playing hangman, or was constantly bugging her to play some sort of game on her iphone. then of course, there's the whole "i'm hungry" complaint, although both had eaten breakfast before we left the house. jennifer brought sausage balls, so i was set, but the girls complained that they didn't want sausage balls. so when we stopped in bowling green for gas, we also bought slim jims and mt. dew (at madelyn's request...what was i thinking? as if madelyn needs any more energy...). and jennifer and i, who had already sucked down one red bull a piece, also bought 2 cups of coffee.
ella first got mad when i attempted to listen to a song that she didn't want to listen to. she is currently into the pixies, red hot chili peppers, and eartha kitt's version of "santa baby." so a screaming fit ensued. she got mad when madelyn spoke, when it was too hot, when her coat bothered her, when her drink was empty, when the sun shone in her eyes, and when jennifer and i tried to carry on a conversation. no matter what happened, she was ill.
but the icing on the cake was when i glanced in the rearview and noticed that she was drawing on her window. she had been very good and quiet for some time, and jennifer and i had actually enjoyed getting the chance to talk and laugh with each other for the first time since we left olmstead. normally, i wouldn't have said anything, but the windows weren't fogged up, so i wasn't quite sure how she was drawing anything. curiosity got the best of me so i had to ask. "ella, what are you drawing on the window with?"
about that time i saw her reach her pointer and middle fingers up into each nostril and proceed to paint her masterpiece.
"oh my gosh, are you snot painting on my window!!!" i screamed.
wrong response.
for the remainder of our ride--30 minutes which seemed to last for an eternity--we got to hear the yelling and screaming and crying of an insulted, embarrassed, and ticked off 3 year old.
moral of the story: if your child is being good, don't bother them. no matter what they're doing or what they're smearing on your car window.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
mornings at the roberts house...enter at your own risk
my weekday mornings are treacherous. sometimes i wonder if anybody else goes through the insanity that i do on a daily basis, but then i remember that i'm not the only mother in the world who has 2 young daughters. somehow, though, i'm convinced that there can't possibly be any 2 children in the world more dramatic, more demanding, and more emotional than my own.
madelyn has finally gotten to the age where she is fairly responsible in regards to getting up, dressing herself, and fixing her own breakfast. some mornings, she has on her jacket and her book bag is on her shoulder before i've even gotten out of the shower. but there are other times when she is so very, very slow. earlier this week, for example, it was time to walk out the door and she wasn't even close to being ready...because she had spent 20 minutes braiding a section of her hair and she hadn't even eaten yet. or there are times when she's in the middle of eating pancakes and she feels the need to run into the bathroom where i'm fixing my hair just to tell me something funny that a student in her class said 3 days earlier. it's the random, time-consuming tidbits like this that make me long for the day when she finally understands the concept of time.
and then there's ella. if i think back really hard, i can probably remember a time when mornings with ella were easy. or at least a time when they didn't make me want to pull out every hair on my head. but for the time being, those memories are lost, replaced only by kicking, crying, screaming fits of rage.
ella tends to have anger issues from time to time. she gets very upset over very minute details. i can't blame her; she comes by it honest. but at 6:30 in the morning, while i'm wrapped in a towel with wet hair and frantically running around trying to let the dog out to pee and put waffles in the toaster and brush my teeth, the last thing i want to do is deal with ella screaming about a pair of socks.
a few weeks ago, i made the mistake of answering ella's question, "what do i wear?" with the response "i don't care...whatever you want." minutes later she appeared in the doorway of my bedroom wearing a floor length satin dress that madelyn had worn when she was a flower girl a couple years earlier. i couldn't help but laugh. but that was the wrong reaction.
"dooooooon't laaaaaaaugh at meeeeeee!!!"
for the next 30 minutes, the ceiling in our bathroom felt like it was about to cave in, as ella lied on the floor in her bedroom kicking and wailing at the top of her lungs. and if she's not mad about an outfit, she's ticked off that she has to get out of bed because she's "sweepy"...or that she doesn't want to brush her teeth because the toothpaste is too "spicy"...or that madelyn looked at her wrong....or that she put her panties on backwards.
but it's not all my children's fault that i can never make it to work on time. or that i'm stressed out beyond belief before 8:00 every morning. i have to take some responsibility for my own actions. perhaps i hit the snooze button a few too many times in the morning. and maybe it wouldn't hurt to pick the girls' outfits out the night before. heck, it wouldn't hurt to pick out my own clothes the night before. just this morning, as i desperately attempted to button a pair of my skinnier jeans and then screamed "never get fat! you'll be miserable!" at my 7 year old as i flung the stupid things back in the closet, i wished that i had already decided upon what i was going to wear...preferably a pair of sweatpants. a little organization and preparation on my own part would probably cut the stress factor in half.
but i'm a self proclaimed procrastinator. i used to start on research papers the day before they were due. last sunday, i woke up early, but then mopped floors and cleaned house up until the last minute and ended up being late for church. but i've often found that not planning tends to work out pretty good for me, too. spontaneous, carefree nights of just hanging out at the house are always more fun than a pre-planned evening out. and the birth of my oldest child, madelyn--one of the two most precious gifts with which i've ever been blessed--wasn't exactly planned. but oh how much joy she has brought to my life.
so maybe i scream like a crazy lady every morning before work. and maybe my coworkers avoid me until my coffee has kicked in. maybe i go to work with mismatched socks, occasionally send my oldest to school with crazy hair, and let my youngest wear a flower girl dress to gran and papaw's house. all moms do that...right?
madelyn has finally gotten to the age where she is fairly responsible in regards to getting up, dressing herself, and fixing her own breakfast. some mornings, she has on her jacket and her book bag is on her shoulder before i've even gotten out of the shower. but there are other times when she is so very, very slow. earlier this week, for example, it was time to walk out the door and she wasn't even close to being ready...because she had spent 20 minutes braiding a section of her hair and she hadn't even eaten yet. or there are times when she's in the middle of eating pancakes and she feels the need to run into the bathroom where i'm fixing my hair just to tell me something funny that a student in her class said 3 days earlier. it's the random, time-consuming tidbits like this that make me long for the day when she finally understands the concept of time.
and then there's ella. if i think back really hard, i can probably remember a time when mornings with ella were easy. or at least a time when they didn't make me want to pull out every hair on my head. but for the time being, those memories are lost, replaced only by kicking, crying, screaming fits of rage.
ella tends to have anger issues from time to time. she gets very upset over very minute details. i can't blame her; she comes by it honest. but at 6:30 in the morning, while i'm wrapped in a towel with wet hair and frantically running around trying to let the dog out to pee and put waffles in the toaster and brush my teeth, the last thing i want to do is deal with ella screaming about a pair of socks.
a few weeks ago, i made the mistake of answering ella's question, "what do i wear?" with the response "i don't care...whatever you want." minutes later she appeared in the doorway of my bedroom wearing a floor length satin dress that madelyn had worn when she was a flower girl a couple years earlier. i couldn't help but laugh. but that was the wrong reaction.
"dooooooon't laaaaaaaugh at meeeeeee!!!"
for the next 30 minutes, the ceiling in our bathroom felt like it was about to cave in, as ella lied on the floor in her bedroom kicking and wailing at the top of her lungs. and if she's not mad about an outfit, she's ticked off that she has to get out of bed because she's "sweepy"...or that she doesn't want to brush her teeth because the toothpaste is too "spicy"...or that madelyn looked at her wrong....or that she put her panties on backwards.
but it's not all my children's fault that i can never make it to work on time. or that i'm stressed out beyond belief before 8:00 every morning. i have to take some responsibility for my own actions. perhaps i hit the snooze button a few too many times in the morning. and maybe it wouldn't hurt to pick the girls' outfits out the night before. heck, it wouldn't hurt to pick out my own clothes the night before. just this morning, as i desperately attempted to button a pair of my skinnier jeans and then screamed "never get fat! you'll be miserable!" at my 7 year old as i flung the stupid things back in the closet, i wished that i had already decided upon what i was going to wear...preferably a pair of sweatpants. a little organization and preparation on my own part would probably cut the stress factor in half.
but i'm a self proclaimed procrastinator. i used to start on research papers the day before they were due. last sunday, i woke up early, but then mopped floors and cleaned house up until the last minute and ended up being late for church. but i've often found that not planning tends to work out pretty good for me, too. spontaneous, carefree nights of just hanging out at the house are always more fun than a pre-planned evening out. and the birth of my oldest child, madelyn--one of the two most precious gifts with which i've ever been blessed--wasn't exactly planned. but oh how much joy she has brought to my life.
so maybe i scream like a crazy lady every morning before work. and maybe my coworkers avoid me until my coffee has kicked in. maybe i go to work with mismatched socks, occasionally send my oldest to school with crazy hair, and let my youngest wear a flower girl dress to gran and papaw's house. all moms do that...right?
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
"it's the most [hectic, stressful, expensive] time of the year..."
oh my gosh, the christmas season is upon us. i can't believe another year has come and gone. it sounds so cliche, but the older i get, the faster time flies. i mean, it's been a month since halloween and it seems like only yesterday i was painting madelyn's face as a cat and forcing ella to wear her bee antennae. it's been almost a week since thanksgiving, and it seems like just this morning i was frantically rushing around walmart, finding the ingredients to make my 7 layer salad (which stressed me out, by the way...this is the first year i successfully prepared a dish for a family function. i'm officially an adult!)
so...back to christmas. this is the first year that madelyn has told me what she wants. last year, i desperately tried to squeeze out of the child any ounce of a clue of anything that she might want. nothing. so we bought what we wanted. same for ella. this year, it's a whole different ballgame. madelyn wrote a list a mile long, partially misspelled, filled with everything from hair bows and lip gloss to video barbie and orbeez (which forced me to search google to find out just what the heck "orbeez" are). ella also wants everything under the sun, but since she can't write yet, i just get to listen to her say "i want that" after every commercial she sees on tv. i did have to veto the fur real friend dog that you walk on a leash, pointing out that she has a real dog that she could walk on a leash if she just would, and that the one we have pees, poops, eats, and everything else. she didn't like my response.
being a parent at christmastime is tough. being a parent of multiple children is even tougher. not only is there the monetary factor to consider, (one almost has to take on a second job just to afford all the gifts his or her child wants) but have you ever gone to toys r us during the holiday season? oh my lord, it's miserable! and don't even get me started on black friday. i don't do it...i think it's the worst concept ever created. this year, my husband forced me out of the house and i almost died. i was one breath away from a major panic attack by the time we finally left walmart. fortunately, he rewarded me with hananoki afterwards.
then there's the whole "how much should we spend" saga. honestly, it doesn't matter how much you say you're going to spend, because it always ends up being more. either one child ends up with more gifts, so you buy the other something else to "even it out", or you get home and it doesn't look like you bought very much, so you go out and buy "fluff" gifts. you know "fluff" gifts...you spend $300 on one electronic, so you have to buy a bunch of cheap crap to create the illusion for your child that you got them a whole bunch of stuff. let's face it, no 3 year old is going to understand that the reason they only got 1 big present is because it cost more than 20 little gifts.
so christmas for parents is stressful. i think i've driven that point home. but wow...how rewarding it is! have you ever been woken up by an eager, ecstatic child at 4 a.m. on christmas morning? have you ever seen the excitement on a child's face when they realize that santa visited the night before? remember how fun christmas morning was when you still believed? these are the things that make it all worthwhile...the hundreds of dollars spent, the lines at the register, the constant questioning of "how many days until christmas?"
...but i still refuse to ever go black friday shopping again. a line must be drawn somewhere.
so...back to christmas. this is the first year that madelyn has told me what she wants. last year, i desperately tried to squeeze out of the child any ounce of a clue of anything that she might want. nothing. so we bought what we wanted. same for ella. this year, it's a whole different ballgame. madelyn wrote a list a mile long, partially misspelled, filled with everything from hair bows and lip gloss to video barbie and orbeez (which forced me to search google to find out just what the heck "orbeez" are). ella also wants everything under the sun, but since she can't write yet, i just get to listen to her say "i want that" after every commercial she sees on tv. i did have to veto the fur real friend dog that you walk on a leash, pointing out that she has a real dog that she could walk on a leash if she just would, and that the one we have pees, poops, eats, and everything else. she didn't like my response.
being a parent at christmastime is tough. being a parent of multiple children is even tougher. not only is there the monetary factor to consider, (one almost has to take on a second job just to afford all the gifts his or her child wants) but have you ever gone to toys r us during the holiday season? oh my lord, it's miserable! and don't even get me started on black friday. i don't do it...i think it's the worst concept ever created. this year, my husband forced me out of the house and i almost died. i was one breath away from a major panic attack by the time we finally left walmart. fortunately, he rewarded me with hananoki afterwards.
then there's the whole "how much should we spend" saga. honestly, it doesn't matter how much you say you're going to spend, because it always ends up being more. either one child ends up with more gifts, so you buy the other something else to "even it out", or you get home and it doesn't look like you bought very much, so you go out and buy "fluff" gifts. you know "fluff" gifts...you spend $300 on one electronic, so you have to buy a bunch of cheap crap to create the illusion for your child that you got them a whole bunch of stuff. let's face it, no 3 year old is going to understand that the reason they only got 1 big present is because it cost more than 20 little gifts.
so christmas for parents is stressful. i think i've driven that point home. but wow...how rewarding it is! have you ever been woken up by an eager, ecstatic child at 4 a.m. on christmas morning? have you ever seen the excitement on a child's face when they realize that santa visited the night before? remember how fun christmas morning was when you still believed? these are the things that make it all worthwhile...the hundreds of dollars spent, the lines at the register, the constant questioning of "how many days until christmas?"
...but i still refuse to ever go black friday shopping again. a line must be drawn somewhere.
Monday, October 11, 2010
pointing fingers
each of my girls are quick to point out the faults in her sister, yet i don't think they realize their own shortcomings. it's really quite humorous, actually, hearing them tell on one another for something that the other said or did. just the other day, my holier-than-thou eldest child scribbled me a quick note on a post-it. it read (and i'm writing this in her own spelling) "i think ella just said damit". i had to laugh. not that my 3 year old had said a curse word (which may or may not be accurate; i decided not to confront her since i didn't hear it myself and because sometimes madelyn over dramatizes things), but because madelyn is so proper that she refused to say the word herself. so she wrote it instead. sadly, ella probably did let this profane word slip from her tongue, but that's another story.
although madelyn would never think of uttering such a word, what she does say (and oftentimes what she doesn't say) is sometimes just as bad, yet she doesn't realize it. madelyn has recently developed quite the attitude that i thought only teenagers possessed, and it frightens me that this personality trait will probably only worsen with age. the other night, madelyn was in the bathroom and i heard her talking so i innocently asked who she was talking to. the response i got was "none of your business!" and i can't begin to count on both hands the number of eye rolls, disgusted sighs, and evil glares of pure hatred that have come out of this otherwise sweet and adorable 7 year old.
i know the saying "what goes around comes around" is cliche, but it is so true. my mother smirks when i tell her stories about the girls because she's been there. three times, she's been there. but especially with me, the youngest child, she experienced every glare and eye roll and hateful word spoken in anger than i am dealing with now. so i actually think she delights in the fact that, on any given day, i'm ready to pull my hair out. believe me, i adore being the mother of my two amazing little girls, but i have to wonders sometimes...are boys easier?
although madelyn would never think of uttering such a word, what she does say (and oftentimes what she doesn't say) is sometimes just as bad, yet she doesn't realize it. madelyn has recently developed quite the attitude that i thought only teenagers possessed, and it frightens me that this personality trait will probably only worsen with age. the other night, madelyn was in the bathroom and i heard her talking so i innocently asked who she was talking to. the response i got was "none of your business!" and i can't begin to count on both hands the number of eye rolls, disgusted sighs, and evil glares of pure hatred that have come out of this otherwise sweet and adorable 7 year old.
i know the saying "what goes around comes around" is cliche, but it is so true. my mother smirks when i tell her stories about the girls because she's been there. three times, she's been there. but especially with me, the youngest child, she experienced every glare and eye roll and hateful word spoken in anger than i am dealing with now. so i actually think she delights in the fact that, on any given day, i'm ready to pull my hair out. believe me, i adore being the mother of my two amazing little girls, but i have to wonders sometimes...are boys easier?
Monday, September 6, 2010
sibling rivalry
last night, i heard the most blood curdling scream coming from upstairs in one of the girls' bedrooms. minutes later, ella emerged and came hobbling down the steps as if she'd been shot, her face red from either crying or just from getting mad, or maybe both. and streaking down her face, all the way from her cheek down her chest, was a fingernail scratch.
"sissy scratched me!!!" she shrieked.
from upstairs, i heard madelyn defend herself. "she scratched me first!"
madelyn ran down the steps and curled up beside me on the recliner. "see, look..." although madelyn was pointing at what she claimed to be a scratch on her knee from ella, it was so minuscule that i could barely see it.
after playing a rousing game of "who started it?" and visualizing the catfight that had just taken place upstairs, i finally made the girls kiss and make up. they were reluctant, especially ella.
of course, mine are not the first children to experience sibling rivalry. mom has told me stories of how aunt virginia used to sit on her and smother her face with a pillow when they were younger. and i remember alecia slapping me when i was about 8, and jennifer kicking me in the ankle with a pointy toed boot (which was apparently very traumatic at the time because i wrote about it in my diary). i'm sure i wasn't innocent in all of this, and probably deserved more than a slap and a kick.
i just didn't think they'd start arguing this much this early in life. it was only a few months ago that madelyn insisted upon ella sleeping with her at night because she didn't like sleeping alone. yet the other night, when ella crawled into madelyn's bed, madelyn started yelling.
"i don't want her in here! make her get in her own bed! she's always in my room!"
as the weeks pass, i get more and more of a taste of the jealousy, rivalry, and overall dislike that my girls feel for one another. not that they don't have moments where they get along great and absolutely love each other, but lately they've had it out for one another. today alone, i've dealt with madelyn not letting ella in her "fort"; ella taking madelyn's spot by me on the couch and madelyn crying about it; ella getting mad that madelyn's cinnamon roll had more icing than hers; and madelyn accusing me of loving ella more than i love her because, according to madelyn, i "hug ella more".
when they're older, i know that they'll be the best of friends, just as i am with my older sisters. but until that time comes, all i can do is throw my hands up and ride out the storm. the screaming, fighting, nail scratching and hair pulling storm.
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