...the anvil of parenthood...

Its official...I have something. Between the migraines, the snotty nose and now the inability to open my eyes without wanting to rub them out of their sockets...I have developed some sort of crud. I'm not dying, and I know people get sick, but currently I just don't have time to enjoy the cold medicine buzz, I have things to do.

I have been mentally carrying around a lot of crap. Maybe it is why I picked up some sort of germ strain when I wasn't thinking and let my Petri dish offspring drink my water...and probably because I was to lazy too get them their own drink when I just sat down with mine. I deserve it I suppose. But the crap I am carrying around I just can't shake. I'm not sure if I need intensive therapy or if single motherhood is catching up with me...I'm worn out.

We said good-bye to the ever present veggie tray yesterday. I'm the one who ends up eating it, and it is too costly to watch a beautiful tray of Gods Greens get overlooked. I guess it was inevitable, out with the old and in with the new, right? Yeah, I haven't figured out the new but I'm working on it. With the spring temperatures in the air, there is bound to be some change in this house...I guess I just wasn't ready with an alternative in time. It will come to me, but first I need to find the Kleenex.

Time...there just isn't enough of it. The time spent doing things to keep my house in order, sometimes I find, is getting in the way of the things I should be doing with my kids. Currently, I have the next two hours to myself, and I keep thinking...get up and clean...but I don't want to. I have a few kids that love to clean, I can use that to my advantage right? Or is that just some sort of child labor law that I am knowingly breaking. I find myself wondering what anvil of parenthood will fall on me next. I never have to wait long, they run like a European train, right on time and nearly every 45 minutes.

After some discussion amongst my children and me about happenings at their school, I felt somehow defeated. I wondered, why in the world is there this much drama for a bunch of kids? When did we stop allowing our kids to enjoy their childhood and not have to be worry about being hurt walking home from school or playing outside? I needed at "parenting tap out"...but it's just me around here. Then I found out that one of my kids was brave enough to go and talk to their principal about something they heard said from one of their classmates. I was speechless at first, very rare for me. Then I bawled in my bathroom for about 3 minutes, okay, not so rare for me. Among the discussion, hours before, they hadn't said a word about it. They had possibly the best poker face I had ever seen, of which I was in awe and terrified simultaneously.

Bottom line, I was proud of them for doing the right thing, and immensely proud of them for not feeling the need to broadcast what they had done. So many things people do in life, ultimately are done for the feeling they get doing it, not for the fact that it is just the right thing to do. I went up to them, and gave them a hug, for which they immediately said, "WHAT DID I DO?" I said you did the right thing, and I need to hug you to make sure that you remember this, because I will not forget it. Sometimes, when I am at my wits' end, I need to remind myself that the crap I carry around, not visible to the naked eye, might be just what I carry around, forever. However, I need to remember that I shouldn't let what I carry, cloud my vision of what is in front of me. It's not a cold medicine buzz, but it might be a parenting anvil that I will willingly take to the head.

Thank you!

Not sure if it is spring that is knocking at the figurative door or not. The temperature is warming, the wind is gentle...it actually SOUNDS like spring outside, it is good for the body and soul and I'm not going to question it...at least not fully. With this burst of spring come along all of the things you almost forgot how to do all winter long. Like riding a bike, you hop back on and suddenly it comes to you...peddle, peddle, and peddle.

Today was actually beautiful enough for the kids to ride their bikes to school. Preteen hairdos conflict with this notion, so Nora was the only one who took me up on the offer. She mounted her bike and said, “I’m going!" For a moment, I was scared. She knows what she's doing, but that mom gene kicked in subconsciously as I remembered a dream I had of her falling off the monkey bars and I couldn't get to her to help. Don't you hate those dreams? They leave you feeling weak, helpless, terrified and knowing that you cannot be everywhere at once. Cut to me circling the block after dropping off the Talls to see if she made it to the school's bike rack...whew, relief!

But this spring, or nearly spring as I know I am getting ahead of myself, strange things are happening. I suddenly have these baby soothing urges. I see or hear a baby crying, and I'm oddly drawn to them. I literally had to audibly talk myself out of helping a grandmother in church the other day who was having a tough go at soothing her grandchild. I didn't know this kid. I didn't know what it liked. But out of nowhere I was flush with feeling the urge to pick this baby up and shush it to sleep...? What the what?

I love my kids, but I don't know if I ever felt like I knew what the hell I was doing when they were tiny. I tried something, crossed my fingers that it worked and prayed I remembered it for the next time it happened. Maybe because my half decade old baby isn't needing lulled to sleep in church? Maybe because I know my baby making shop is definitely CLOSED, never to be reopened? Maybe because I have the confidence mixed with hindsight that I never had when I needed it? Maybe because I could literally hand the child off to their rightful parent when I was finished? It all struck me as odd, I mean I know I'm odd but definitely out of the norm at least for me.

Instead my new norm is wondering, puberty, who's ready? Hormones are raging here and you are lucky if to just stay out of the line of fire. Between the combined hormones of the Talls (terrifying and served chilled straight up) to Nora's new hormones, that somehow have a habit of coinciding with mine...she and I might be a force to be reckoned with one day. Whatever the case, I feel like all the times I was feeling "in over my head..." Yeah, that was just an entry level course. I'm currently enrolled in Parenting-456...an advanced course where the lecturer speaks entirely in a language you can't Google the translation. The constant dance you mentally make of asking questions, but knowing that by asking too many it'll blow your mom-cover. Ignorance is said to be bliss, I’ll get back to you on that.

I found myself smiling yesterday, when I was being assisted in house work by Atticus. Not sure where he was formally trained, but his attention to detail will get him at least a salary increase one day. We moved through the house cleaning and him nearly through a bottle of Windex. When we were finished inside he said, "Next, we need to get out on the porch and get the table cleaned off, we need a veggie tray out there later…" Oh spring, your allure isn't lost on this family and your arrival is just what we needed to quiet the abnormal urges and wicked mood swings. Thank you.

 

...interspersed with sarcasm and mockery

Well, you might not know this…but we have been chosen. We are special, and not like “eats paste” special. Yeah, it is a pretty big deal. I can hardly believe it myself. I’ve woken up every morning for the last week and nearly pinched myself. My family, has been chosen, out of millions of other families and households in the United States…to be a Nielson Rating family. Was it the vast responsibility? Was it the very crisp $7 I was sent in the mail? What was it that made them choose us?

I have literally spoken with someone from Nielson more times in the last 3 weeks more than I have spoken to family members over a year. They are concise, informative and if I wasn’t willingly doing it, I would be terrified as they almost have risen to that of the Columbia House Music Club in their ability to track me down. So, yes, Brenda, Todd and Alex, I appreciate your calls and I will let you know if I somehow lose the ability to write down what I am watching for the next week.

We are driven by TV in this house. I’m not proud of it, but especially during the topsy-turvy mid-west winter season, it is all we have. However, I was blissfully unaware of the fact that we are “flippers.” We like to channel surf as much as watch shows. Cut to me yelling from the kitchen sink the first morning of the TV diary, “What are you watching NOW?? I have to write all of this down!!”

Seemingly, since this week of writing down every damn thing we watch, the TV has barely been on…Odd but good. The lofty responsibility of being informed humans weighs heavy as you don’t want the shows you do watch to really say that much about you. Do I watch HGTV this much?! How is it possible that I watched “Say Yes to the Dress” this much? We need a little PBS in this diary to make sure we don't look like we are watching Cops, Jerry Springer and the Kardashians...thankfully we do not watch any of those, but I digress. Being chosen? How did that happen and is there a lesson here to learn?

We admittedly watch a lot of cooking competitions. It's entertaining and educational if we ever decided to cook duck confit. We also admittedly mock the contestants and their willingness to throw out some sob story when they need to. Oscar actually said last night, "Is it a qualification to get on these shows if your mom/dad/grandma/grandpa/aunt/cat died? It is the same sob story, just different species!" His statement, which not far from the truth, really got me to thinking.

Why are we chosen? Not just for Nielson, but even the bigger picture. Why are we chosen to experience the lives we do? Is it nature or nurture? Is it predestined or do we always make the bed we have to lie in? As a parent, you hope and pray that your best is good enough, and that you have the ability to recognize when it is not. Oscar's statement said a lot more to me about how he views the path that was chosen for him. Clearly, he doesn't hold being the oldest male in this house as some sort of sob story. Clearly, he understands that life happens, and blaming it will get you no further through it. It was eye opening, this little comment, interspersed with sarcasm and mockery, as most things in this house.

So, thank God for HUMP DAY, as it means we have less than 48 more hours to be part of a Nielson Rating Family...please don't invite us to the reunion this year. Was it worth the $7? Not really sure that it was. We're never going to cook duck confit or stop channel surfing, but thankfully, I paid attention to a few nuggets of wisdom from my overly opinionated 12 year old, and that was totally worth being chosen.

 

 

 

 

 

...taxes and tying shoes...

Fear, taxes and five year olds…that is what is on my mind right now. In the hustle and bustle of this house, the first two months of a new year really silently stress me out. Back to back birthday months mean I have to get creative with my budget, hide presents in my closet and hope I don’t forget where anything was hidden. Taxes? Well I guess they are unavoidable, but for a month mental fear incontinence sets in until they are finished. Going to jail for tax evasion just isn’t something I can pencil into my life, ever.

In one week I will have a five year old. Crazy. Like no, really mind-blowing crazy. It doesn’t seem possible that this little fellow is going to be five. However, it is apparent that he is not a baby anymore, and day by day he stretches his independent legs and let’s go of something that he clearly no longer needs. He is developing into this funny, creative, wise little person, and I am so excited to see where life takes him. One the backside of that, the “Birthday Week” has started and he told me before this morning’s first light where he would like to have dinner tonight…clearly, he’s got a plan for the week. Cut to me, mentally accounting for the time I need this week to get everything done: school treats, birthday cake and presents that I should actually be wrapping at this moment. But first we have to go to the tax lady…

I have had to learn how to do countless things since becoming a single mother. There are so many things that I “just didn’t have to worry about” when I had a husband. Taxes was one of them. I learned about how to budget money, paying bills, using power tools, fixing odds and ends and I’m no longer terrified when the talking tornado sirens are tested…but taxes? I’m mentally peeing again. I secretly wish that I had some sort of personal finance person to tell me when/what/where I need to release myself of this fear. I guess I worry because I don’t want to go to jail…it would be difficult to make cupcakes from inside the clink. But, if I can use a drill, I can figure this out, right? Turns out taxes isn’t the four letter word that it emanates in my head. The tax lady was fair, patient and BEYOND helpful, thankfully I can check this off of my ever-present worry list and move on to world peace.

And, that little boy who is turning five very soon, has surpassed his siblings in a milestone that every parent dreads…he has learned to tie his shoes. When Oscar pointed out some “BOSS” clearance shoes to Atticus the other day, my face displayed a less than thrilled look. I thought to myself, great, there’s two hours a day that I won’t get back tying shoes. The next day, I sat down with Atticus, and it was seemingly effortless. No freak outs. Not one ounce of frustration. He listened, watched and did it…stunned. Now, if I could get him to wipe his behind and not put it in the trashcan, I will be throwing a party. In the meantime, I get to see Nora shooting cutting looks because of her surpassed milestone. Exhausted from seeing this I finally announced today, “You all can tie your shoes, the next thing is getting to vote…you’ll all do that at the same age! Move on!!!”

In the process of all of the above, I need to remind myself that I will figure this stuff out…the kids are fed and we have a roof over our head…so far so good. While there is no one I can pass the less-than-exhilarating-adulting onto, it is time to take a deep breath, make some cupcakes and celebrate the last of my precious offspring forging into the milestone of a half decade…blissfully remembering I never have to tie another shoe but my own!

Nature or Nurture...

A couple of years ago I heard a first time dad sort of half question how I do things in this house. He uttered a phrase that, to this day, sends a chill down my spine…”That’s fine, but is it nature or nurture?” Wait…WHAT? Who the hell are you to question the manner I run my house or that I was blessed with one child who willingly says to me, “I’m ready to go to bed.” I have never forgotten that statement and at times I want to find him (actually hunt him down) and ask him how his parenting is going. I would utter the fact that parenting, or ADULTING for that matter sucks at times. How I handle it, or anyone for that matter is relative and considering I haven’t yet picked my kid up from the county lock up, I say I’m winning! In the meantime, these are the things that I ponder on a daily basis. I’ll let you decide if they are nature or nurture…enjoy.

That look my cat gives me mid-day, when I walk into my room and find her laying on the bed. It’s a look that says, “That’s nice…would you please leave, I’m trying to sleep…”

The fact that my four year old MUST painstakingly remove all toe jam that he has before entering the shower, but cannot wipe the toilet seat when he pees all over it.

The attention to hair, second only to what Vidal Sassoon must have dealt with on a daily basis, but yet has to be reminded that deodorant is not an option.

The point that someone has to say, ever, do not crane kick your sister.

The moment your kids hear a song, and it is “their JAM!!!”

The great detail someone will put into a paper sweater for a stuffed animal, but loses all creative ability when faced with writing a thank you note.

The fact that you hear one child call another a control freak…you don’t know if you should be terrified or proud.

The fact that someone feels the need to dramatically fart.

That moment you catch yourself counting down to a night out, knowing that there will be nothing short of an apocalypse you will have to endure in the meantime.

The fact that you possibly wash and dry more Kleenex in the laundry than is actually used to blow a nose.

The ability to repeat any given thing you have said AT THE WRONG TIME but has no recollection of being told to brush their teeth.

The point where you no longer care what your Tupperware cupboard looks like, but become completely anal retentive to if there is toothpaste in the sink.

The fact that you know your 4 year old will leave more toothpaste in the sink than he ever got in his mouth.

The moment you realize the cat is STILL NAPPING…and become jealous.

The ability to justify going to a wholesale store at lunch time either for the $1.50 hotdog or the free samples to feed your kids.

The fact that my 4 year old could write his own chapter in the book The Art of the Deal.

The point where you are about to tell one kid to stop picking on their sister, and her youngest brother chimes in with, “You guys be quiet, she’s a BEAUTIFUL WOMAN!”

The point when one child appreciates another one’s talent, and actually says it to their face.

The moment when you realize that a magazine has an article on achieving the perfect “O” and you know the safest place for it is in the trashcan.

Having friends with no kids, not only because they are the breath of what your life once was, but further because they see all the things in your kids that you take for granted.

The fact that you know where your kids socks are but have no idea where your own have hidden.

The notion of a sticky residue on your floor, will always, ALWAYS be claimed by no one.

The point of the day when everyone is in bed, you survived another 18 hour day, you really just want to get in bed and watch TV and you lock the cat out of your room.

 

The take away from this is simple...Life is tough but so are you...and cats sometimes stink.

I NEED HIGHLIGHTS...

When I was approached last fall about buying some magazine subscriptions, I was sort of instantly thrilled. It has been forever since I have had magazines sent to the house, you know other than the AARP ones that are periodically sent to scare the bejesus out of me. Why wouldn't I want to pull something other than a bill out of my mailbox? Yes. YES, I will order two magazines, only for ME, and enjoy every page.

The first of the magazines come, just in time to fend off the ever-lonesome-post-Christmas-feelings. I read my first one cover to cover. It felt good. It had been a while since I read something that wasn't a Highlights magazine. I was however puzzled, when I went to my mailbox and pulled out a health magazine. Did I order this? Even upon mentioning this story to my own sister, her first comment was, "Why are you getting THAT?" Clearly, my health and fitness reputation need not be discussed among those who have known me all of my life. Not that there is anything wrong with these magazines, it's just not my thing.

I have had an interesting body. Right now, at the age of 41, I'm probably the healthiest I have ever been....but what does that mean, really? I'm not going to ever be a swimsuit model and of course the monthly-female-bloat doesn't discriminate when it comes to me...but I'm happy with my body. I grew up not a small kid. I played, ate healthy and was what I thought, just like everyone else. But, clearly I wasn't. I grew up bigger than everyone else, most would just say, fat. For a long time, I felt like I had to look like someone else to be happy, or make others happy. It was always sort of a quiet sore subject. Always trying to find a quick fix, and it would sometimes work. But, sooner or later, I decided that I had to just be happy with myself, no matter what size I was. You don't tell your weight upon meeting someone, why did it have to be an issue? I could be fat AND happy, and I was...

I was so excited to get these magazines, even if I didn't remember ordering the health magazine. Four pages into the health magazine, I felt sad. I read article after article about women who were trying all of these, for what I felt, annoying things to change their bodies, when what they had to start with was beautiful. I felt like I started to develop body dysmorphia. What? Why? Where the hell were these women, and why wasn't someone telling them that the most important thing for them to do is love their body first...then worry about if they should have 6 or 9 almonds for a energy boosting snack...really? Never saw the article entitled, "Let's Have a Good Self-Esteem." Where's the Highlights? I NEED HIGHLIGHTS!!!

After having kids, I don't know what happened to my body, I mean besides the strange and wondrous things that being pregnant can do. I don't know if it was because I had someone to look after that was way more important than worrying with pant size I wore or if it was because I learned that change can only happen if you love yourself enough first. I wish I could tell the 21 year old me, "You know, the best way to look is confident...the rest will fall into place." Hindsight, it's perfect isn't it?

Now having kids, I am sort of silently vigilant that I try to instill the right way to look at bodies...theirs, mine and others. The most important thing to do for your body is to take care of it and everything in moderation. Not all people are built the same, and every shape is beautiful. Are we a little too sedentary? Yes, but it is winter and we'll make up for in when we can get the devil out of this house and burn off some steam. I would rather make sure I'm teaching my kids about healthy balances in their diet than depriving them of a treat now and then.

The simplest idea, of course a hard concept to develop, is loving yourself frees you off all the bullsh** baggage that get in the way of what ever it is you want to conquer. Plenty of pills out their to take, snake oil, lectures to listen to...none of it will work if you don't find a way to love yourself in the skin you are in. Put down the health articles, page 45 can't tell you how to love yourself...you can.