Five Things Friday – Things I don’t feel guilty about

photo credit: bclinesmith

(Meet Spongebob – the sometimes sitter)

As a mother, and as a person who attended Catholic schools I have a very guilt-ridden conscious.  Most of it is self-inflicted due to my perfectionistic tendencies.  Some is based on what I perceive to be expected of me as a wife, mother, friend, sister, daughter and all the other manifestations of Michelle that co-exist inside of me.

But as a more productive exercise in self-awareness, I thought it might be better to focus on those things that I don’t feel guilty about.

1.   My evening glass(es) of wine – I figure if my kids get to have their whine then so does Momma.  And besides the only reason I partake of the jolly juice is because it is good for me heart.  Let me just say that my heart is doing pretty well these days.

2.   Staying in the bathroom for over 30 minutes – I consider the bathroom my refuge.  I have been known to get comfortable on the rug after my very quick bath with my wine and my current read.  As far as anyone knows, I’m just soaking in the tub.  When the kids were babies, I would pretend to have stomach problems so I could escape momentarily.  Don’t judge me.

3.   Letting my kids  watch TV when I need a break – I used to fret over this one when  Jacob was younger.  I was sure it was some form of neglect to let Spongebob Squarepants be my babysitter for half an hour, but I got over that one pretty quickly.  There are simply times when I am out of give and a quick bathroom retreat isn’t enough to refuel my mom engine.  So what if my kids can recite nearly every episode by heart.  I owe a great deal of my sanity to the folks of Bikini Bottom.

4.   Having a DVD player in the car – I live about 25 minutes from my kids’ schools on a good day.  Throw in traffic, accidents, and police with speed radars and it can turn into a good 45 minutes.  Throw in a four year old and a 12 year old and it can turn into hell.   Popping in a movie keeps them both happy long enough for me to navigate my way to the drop-off points.  Thanks to the library I am often able to sneak in some really cool educational videos like Bill Nye and Popular Mechanics for Kids.  Of course, Mr. Squarepants gets a fair amount of air-time too.

5.   Letting my kids play video games – Again this is one that I was very unsure about.  When Jacob was 3 he was playing computer games like The Incredible Machine.  He graduated to video games shortly after that and I saw pretty quickly how the games we chose for him engaged his mind.  Many of the games required pretty elaborate problem solving capabilities that Jacob took to immediately.  Video games also helped him learn to read.  When a dialogue box or directions would pop up on the screen, he’d ask for my help.  I’d tell him I was busy and I’d help him when I was done.  By the time I got there he had sounded out the words and moved on in the game.

When Jacob is playing a video game, he rarely tics.  It’s a nice break for him on days when his tics are severe.

Nick is following in Jacob’s footsteps and is able to navigate the game world with ease.  And with the added benefit of Wii active games we can throw in a little exercise here and there.

What things leave you feeling guilt-free?

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All yell’s breaking loose

photo credit: showmeone

Three weeks left.  Three weeks left and I feel like I am going to spontaneously combust.  Our two story house has collapsed in on itself like a black hole, sucking all the light out of my world.  Dramatic?  Maybe.  True?  Yeppers.

I’ve spent the last two months trying to entertain a 12 year old, and a 4 year old 12 year old wanna be.  Troubles abound…daily.  Maybe even minute-ly.  Is that a word?

If I wake up to hear what do you have planned today one more time, I will implode.  I’m not sure when my name became Little Miss Day Planner, apparently that memo got colored on, or made into a paper airplane because it sure as heck didn’t find it’s way next to my morning cup of coffee or my evening glass of sanity.

There’s the pool, but when it’s 105 degrees outside and the pool feels more like a bath without bubbles, it looses it’s appeal.  I enjoy solitary, not communal bath times.  Pretty much everything else costs money – and if it’s truly “fun” it costs lots of money.

When I was a kid – oh God, did I really just say that?  When I was a kid no one entertained me.  That’s not to say my parents didn’t do things with me, but they weren’t responsible for my daily agenda.  Mostly I rode my bike and did a bit of hairbrush singing in between.

Today I reached the end of my rope – it was a jump rope so it wasn’t very long to begin with but it was a rope nonetheless.  (Okay, it’s been frayed for a long time, but that’s another post.)  Anyway, Jacob and Nick both had my remote and kept pushing all the buttons.  Nick is easier to deal with – he’s only four.  Jacob, on the other hand, won’t let up.

As a result I found myself raising my voice – something I swore I would never do.  And now I feel horrible.

I think summer has had it’s last hurrah in our house.  I think we are too together – it’s time for a break and not the summer kind.  I never thought I’d be one of “those” parents who looked forward to school.  After all, I used to homeschool Jacob.  But this summer, I’m ready for it to be over.

Today kids seem to need more.  At least mine do.  Maybe that’s my own fault.  I’m not sure.  But I do know that right now I’m thinking “the most wonderful time of the year” comes way before Christmas.

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Five Things Friday – Reasons I hate Summer

photo credit: calleecakes

Summer turns me upside down
Summer summer summer
It’s like a merry-go-round

- The Cars, Magic

I’m a Summer Grinch. At least some of the time. I don’t hate summer all the time, but I have to say it’s taken on a whole new meaning since I’m 42 and not 12.

You’re probably thinking what a buzz kill that Moxie is. To that I say pshaw – yeah, that’s right, pshaw. You’re not being honest with yourself if you think summer is all bubbles and sunshine giggles.

For one thing neither bubbles, nor sunshine giggles require batteries so they have no entertainment value in my household of Teeks (Tech Geeks).

But rather than be the Grinch who stole summer, I do my best to make nice and create some happy childhood memories for my kids. Once the sun goes down, a nice glass of pinot grigio helps me make some nice summer memories of my own.

So what makes Summer such a suck-fest for me?

1. Hot Momma – When I walk outside at 9am to get the mail I prefer not to melt on the way to the mailbox. Opening the front door in a Savannah summer is like opening the door to Hell only minus the Devil, unless you count the shirtless, red-bellied, sun worn neighbor brandishing his weed-eater as if it were a pitchfork.

2. School is Out - Funny how the very thing that made summer so grand in my younger, unmoxified days, is the one thing that makes me cringe now that I have two boys who are 8 years apart in age. When school is in session each one of my boys has his own little world to report to, where things are relevant and make sense. Once summer forces itself upon us, the elder child is thrust into a world of preschool mayhem made up of brightly colored crack-happy characters who are so sweet it makes your teeth hurt. The resulting household friction is enough to make Smokey the Bear nervous. Attempting to occupy both boys is damn near impossible unless I pay exorbitant amounts of money to take them to an arcade where said money will be spent in 30 minutes leaving us with a handful of plastic prize crap and an entire day of hours left to fill. Lose, lose situation.

3. Come on in the water’s fine! – Well, the water’s not fine to me unless it’s non-chlorinated, nicely heated tap water that is waiting for a few bubbles and a nice glass of Pinot. It’s not really that I mind the pool so much. It’s the pool costume and sunshine that unhinge me.

I’m not a huge swimsuit person. Fortunately, some woman got hold of the fashion reins and made a little number called boy shorts. I’m sorry but if I’m going to be clambering in and out of the pool every 2 minutes I don’t want to have to adjust my butt cover to ensure that my jiggly parts are behaving. I’ve had two kids. Bikinis are not something I’m even remotely interested in. If I could swim in jeans and a t-shirt I would.

I’ve tried to convince myself that the tankini is tres sporty and not just a granny suit. My little skirt is a tad bit flirty but it covers what I deem necessary to cover. I am no longer interested in achieving a nice caramel glaze; I prefer to maintain my Edwardian paleness so as to prevent further spotting. Dot to dots are so last year.

4. What schedule? – There’s something to be said for spontaneity, but when being spontaneous means deciding to use spray on sunscreen rather than lotion it sort of loses its allure. Wandering through the day in an overheated stupor with no real plan makes me want to militarize my family. All of a sudden 5am PT never looked so good.

5. TMS – Too much skin. Ahhh, summertime, the time to get to know people a little too well. Do I need to know that you have a tattoo on your belly button? I think not. Do I need to know that you have stretchmarks mapping out your muffin top? I think not. For God’s sake people, cover it up. Mystery is a good thing. Haven’t you heard of leaving something to the imagination? Unfortunately, the sweltering heat brings out the inner whore in way too many people. It’s the one time of the year when clothing seems to be acceptably optional.

When I do choose to go to the beach with my children I would prefer not to have to explain why someone’s ass is making a special appearance, or why the Boob-sy twins are “hanging” out all over the damn place. And Speedos? Guys, let’s get one thing straight, NOBODY wants to see that train wreck. Trust me on this.

Why do you hate summer?

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My Life in Letters – “S” is for speed

Jacob and Nick at Camp Twitch and Shout

Built for speed. Hooked on speed. The need for speed. Full speed ahead.

Seems like speed is something everyone is trying to get. The faster the better sort of thinking. I used to think that too.

When I was in high school I couldn’t grow up fast enough. I trudged through each day with my sights on the horizon, looking forward to when I was old enough to do my own thing, no strings attached.

I miss those strings. I wish someone had told me they were simply there to keep me connected, not to tie me down.

And now I have two kids of my own – one who is nearing his teenage years and probably feels a bit tethered at times.

Today we dropped him off in Winder, GA for a week-long overnight camp for kids with Tourette’s- Camp Twitch and Shout. As I was hanging out in his cabin with him, making his bed, fiddling around he sort of turned to me and said, “Well, okay, bye.”

Subtle, right? Here was the child who slept in my bed for the first 7 years of his life. The child who clung to my leg as if it was the only thing keeping him from floating away most days. The child who made my heart beat with a whole new rhythm the day he chose me. Here was my first born fraying the edges of his own strings.

And there I was thinking why in the world did I ever pray for time to move more quickly, because it appears that God was listening and now I can’t seem to get it to slow down enough.

Now I’m all about slowing down, making time stretch as much as I can.

I was reminded of just how quickly times passes on Saturday when we took Nicholas to his first movie – Toy Story 3.  Jacob’s first movie (9 years ago) was the first Toy Story,  so it was a bit bittersweet for me.

On top of that initial heart-tugging memory was the fact that this was the last  Toy Story because Andy is all grows up now.  By this time I was feeling all tangled up in strings and it was nearly too much to bear as I watched Andy part with his beloved Woody and Buzz before he left for college.

College? C’mon Disney give a mother a break.  I can only take so much, you know.

So it’s been a weekend of strings being pulled, wings being stretched, hearts being tugged.  But it’s all good.  I know it’s the way life unfolds – at breakneck speed, once you move that tassel from one side of the mortar board to the other.

But I also know that I need to slow down and enjoy each day I have with my boys.  I need to soak up the moments, even the difficult ones because there will come a day that I wish I could have just one more argument over why Jacob feels the need to litter the floor with pieces of his electronic deconstructions.

I’ll try to remember two of my favorite quotes as I go about each day.  I will try to remember that life happens whether I pay attention or not,  whether I savor the sweetness even when it’s tinged with a bit of bitterness or not.  But I’ll have so many more memories when my boys are gone if I slow down and take it all in.

Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans. – Lennon

Nothing is worth more than this day. – Goethe

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Five Things Friday – Ways to avoid Karmic destruction

photo credit: Pink Sherbet Photography

Or how not to let your actions/words come back to bite you in the sass.

1.  Don’t EVER respond to the question “How’s your day going?” with “You know it’s really not all that bad.  The kids are actually behaving today.”

If you do you can rest assured that things will go awry.  Someone will break something be it a leg, a flat screen TV or your heart.  Something will break and the world will fall apart at some point.  I guarantee!

2.  Don’t EVER tell your four year old that he can have fill in the blank or do fill in the blank when it’s fill in the blank just knowing he’ll forget it by the time that particular day rolls around.

He will NEVER forget it.  In fact, he will ask to create a damn paper chain to count down the days.

3.  Don’t EVER tell your 12 year old son to clean his room and then walk out the door and leave him unsupervised because you trust his innate ability to create order in the midst of chaos.

Trust me, there is no such thing. The only order any 12 year old  is capable of  is when it applies to a drive-thru or a 4 year old brother who aims to please in the hopes of obtaining some token of appreciation in the form of whatever unwanted, broken toy is littering the floor.  When you come back his room will look suspiciously devoid of all that was cluttering up said room.  And the closet door of said room will be trembling under the weight of all things plastic and crappy that have found their refuge behind it.  When you ask the pleased 12 year old where he put his stuff and he says without pause, “Away”, you can be certain that the closet door is now a weapon of mass destruction for anyone who dares to open it.

4.   Don’t EVER say, “I can’t wait until the kids are fill in the blank“  because that day will come way too fast.

I promise.  And you’ll wonder why you ever wanted to rush it in the first place.

5.   Don’t EVER promise yourself that you will never do fill in the blank like other parents, or criticize other parents for their obvious parental pitfalls.

I will never bribe my children into behaving.  I will never let my children sleep with me. I will never tell my children they sound congested and give my them Benadryl because I NEED them to sleep. I’m here to tell you that the parental pit is more like a black hole and there is an abundant amount of room for all of us to fall in.  I did.  And you will.

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Five Things Friday – Deadly Sins of Motherhood

I’ve been out of the Moxing ring (I’d like to thank my blog buddy Greta for coining that phrase) for a week or so now, so I thought that it would be cool to come back on Five Things Friday with a little video Moxie.  There’s a bit of wind in the background, but I think you should be able to hear me just fine.

Let me know if you like this format. I’m thinking of adding more video to Moxie Momma just to shake it up a bit.

Thanks for watching.

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Moxie’s Mommas – Guest Post 2: Laura Easterling

This is a post by my new friend, Laura Easterling. Her son attends preschool with Nicholas and we have found that we have a great deal in common including our tendency towards sarcasm!

Being a mother means never having to say you’re sorry. Wait, wrong story. It means having to say you’re sorry a lot. I will get back to that. But, in the beginning, being a mother means braving the unknown and sacrificing your sleep and sanity to care for a helpless little creature.

For years my husband and I discussed having a baby. We knew we had enough love to offer a child even though we were not sure our dog, a 5 year old boxer, would be willing to share. For years we waited for the right time but that never came because there were always outside forces saying to wait.

I was quite clueless about babies when my husband and I decided to have one. I just assumed that I would learn to change diapers when the time came and I could handle losing a few nights of sleep. The only babysitting job I ever had was when I was 14 and I helplessly watched as a 4-year-old girl violently attacked her 7-year-old sister with a pool stick.

Fifteen years later I became pregnant and began to realize that I was a little naive. People, total strangers, began to approach me with stories of just how much having a baby changed their lives. This was not done out of kindness and was followed by maniacal laughter. Our electrician asked me, “Do you and your husband enjoy going out?” “Yes” I replied. (queue maniacal laughter) “You’re not going to be able to do that again for a long time”. What the hell? Why would someone say something like that to an expecting mother? On top of that, the appliance repair lady mentioned how sore her nipples used to get when she breastfed, ewww. Too much information. I was prepared to karate chop any stranger who touched my belly but I was not prepared to field such comments.

In retrospect, they were right but nobody wants to be too honest about how much babies change your life because it can be terrifying at times. I get it, I really do, but the good outweighs the bad and no one wants to deny a future parent the opportunity to feel so much love and to be loved so unconditionally in return.

The first few months went by and I was amazed by what I was able to do. I still cannot believe that I went so many consecutive nights without sleep. Constant feedings, diaper changes and pacing around the house wondering why this little creature would not stop crying. Does he need food? Does he have a stomach ache? Does he have a hair wrapped around his penis (I was told in baby school that it could happen)? Could I teach him to blink once for yes and twice for no? But you do all you can to help them and get through it because you are madly in love with them. You just do it.

Being a mother means giving and receiving love.

Shortly after my sister had her baby girl we were discussing how difficult it is to stop watching, holding, and loving them. It really is a magical time. I told her that before long her baby would return that affection. It is the greatest feeling in the world for your child to wrap their arm around you , or pat you on the back just as you did for them. To lean against you when they are tired or just for support. To offer you a hug or kiss and say, “I love you”. This is when you know you have built a strong foundation of family, love and support. I was recently reminded of this when, on a particularly down day, my 3.5-year-old son walked in, put his hand on me and said, “Aww, Mommy, did you fall down? Do you need a bandaid”? Yeah, I fell down.

Being a mother means having to make very difficult decisions, possibly dealing with life or death. It means trusting your instincts and accepting the support from those around you.
When my son was 15 months old we discovered that he had a 4cm cyst in one of the ventricles of his brain. The technical term was Intraventricular Arachnoid Cyst. It appeared to be causing a considerable amount of pressure on the surrounding brain tissue and possibly discomfort and pain. He had issues with balance and acted as thought he was falling from great heights when I laid him down to change his diaper or to go to bed.

It was not easy to know what to do about the cyst. Some doctors said to wait until he was older to see what happened. Others said to operate as soon as possible for fear that the pressure from the cyst could cause permanent damage, seizures, migraines and any number of impairments to his motor skills. One even said that there was no cyst at all but instead my son had a “bad brain”, an area void of brain tissue and filled with cerebral fluid in instead.

Obviously that was not the case. He had total brain function and was an extraordinarily happy and active child. A shunt was also a possibility but it would mean having to be extremely cautious of otherwise normal falls and bumps plus he would have to have future procedures as he grew.

So it was left up to my husband and me to decide what to do. Do we take this healthy acting child and risk his life for what may or may not happen? With the support of our family, doctors and each other, we decided to do just that. We gave the neurosurgeon the go ahead to perform brain surgery on our baby because we believed deep down that the cyst would cause him harm.

The surgery did not last very long but it felt like an eternity. I did not cry because I had already cried enough throughout all of my research and days and nights of worrying about making the right decision, through the multiple CT-scans when we had to physically hold him down and all the MRIs. Tears would not help him. By the time the surgery came around I just zoned.
His surgery went very well but few days afterwards he developed a fever so we had to return him to the hospital to receive a spinal tap to rule out meningitis. Again fears arose and again I had to watch as my son was held down under the weight of adults. Luckily there was no infection, just a poorly timed virus.

The greatest lesson of this experience was how incredibly resilient children are. I would have wallowed around in self pity for days, but not my son. He was back to his normal self 2 days after the surgery, grinning from ear to ear. Currently he shows no symptoms from the cyst or surgery, just a small scar from the incision.

Being a mother means loving the entire package that comes with having a child; the good, bad, happy and sad. It occasionally means saying, “I’m sorry”, and taking the necessary steps to make it all better. It means getting in touch with your nurturing side and changing your life in whatever ways are necessary to make sure your child grows to know and practice compassion towards others and the knowledge that happiness is the ultimate goal in life. It means being open to learning from your children how to live again.

This brings me to where I am today. My son’s surgery coincided with several other stressors and I became physically and mentally exhausted. I withdrew from my family and friends, I experienced panic attacks, insomnia and anger which I have been dealing with for some time now. I realized that my negative emotions would cause harm to my son and I could never forgive myself if I destroyed his loving and outgoing nature. I needed to be more emotionally present.

After much reflection I decided to cut out all possible negative influences. I no longer watch the news but read it on my own terms and have asked those who insist on bombarding me with gossip and spewing hate to please kindly stop. This includes filtering emails and hiding people on Facebook. I am trying to cut out passive, mind numbing activities and replace them with more creative and fulfilling activities like reading, writing, Yoga and meditation. Most importantly, I am just trying to be aware of all the positive things like the sweet voice and laughter of my little boy or gestures of support and affection from my husband.

I never knew that I was capable of loving anyone as much as I do my son. Every night I sit by his bed while he is asleep and I hold his hand and try to take in how much he means to me. I wish him all of the wonderful things that life has to offer. He has an outgoing personality and a contagious smile. He loves to sing, dance and “play” instruments . I am proud to say that he has the tendency to be one of the goofiest people I know. Goofy is good.

Laura Easterling is a writer and Massage Therapist living in Savannah, GA.
She is a mother of one, a wife of one and a pet owner of two obedience challenged dogs.

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Five Things Friday – Truths about motherhood

photo credit: happyworker

There are some things you know.  Some things you don’t know.  Some things you should know. Some things you will know.  And some things you wish you could un-know.

I entered motherhood thinking I had a pretty good store of knowledge set to unleash on my newborn.  I read What to Expect When  You’re Expecting, What to Expect Once You Bring It Home, What to Expect During Baby’s First Year, and What to Expect For the Rest of Your Life.  In other words, I knew what to expect.  Or so I thought.  Some things they keep out of the books and now I know why.

1.   Missile Impossible – I was aware of projectile vomiting.  I had seen Linda Blair in The Exorcist spread her pea soup spigot style around a room.  And I was aware that babies come with built in spew tubes and can wreak vomit havoc at any time.

What I wasn’t aware of was that there is such a thing as projectile poop.  But there is.  Oh believe me, there most certainly is.  And it is not pretty.  And it is not easily removed from walls or curtains.

One of my children ( I will not give names so as not to embarrass any specific person) had been planning such a missile attack for days as was apparent from the solidity and magnitude of the launched rocket.

Fortunately, my husband, and not myself, was on the enemy lines at the moment of attack.  But I could tell from the sound of his voice as he called for reinforcements that the fortress of parental trust had been breached.

I ran upstairs and could not believe the degree of destruction.  My walls were covered in shit and my curtains, and the changing table and…my life.

I mean, what the hell was that all about?  No one told me about shit bombs.  And if they had…maybe I would have chosen a different, less stinky path.  Maybe.  But probably not.

2.   The pain, oh the pain – The birth of both of my boys was pretty painless thanks to some heavy-duty spine-numbing, happy drugs.  I did have some discomfort after, of course, but that was expected.

I also knew that becoming a mother opens up your heart to all kinds of new hurts, that no one  has developed drugs for.

However, I had no idea that there would be times that I would fight for breath because the pain in my heart was too much to bear.  I had no idea there would be times that I would beg for his pain so that it might be taken from him.

No idea that  the hurt that would move its way through my body bruising cell after cell when I realized that I couldn’t make his pain go away, was not nearly as bad as the hurt that came when he locked eyes with me, smiled and said, “I love you, Mommy.”

Is the pain worth it?  Absolutely.

But it kills me inside a little bit every single time to realize that there is a world out there, a world that can hurt him inside and out, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

3.   Wine is a mother’s birth right – The moment I gave birth I earned the right to drink.  Responsibly, of course.  And mostly just to prolong my life through the heart-healthy benefits of reservatrol.  I owe it to my kids.

I never realized the benefits  of grown-up grape juice until I had kids.  There are just some nights that call for something a little stronger than Diet Coke to ease the nerves that have been wracked from a day of mothering two boys.  The endless hours of don’t hit, don’t kick, don’t bite, don’t watch You Tube videos on how to make tasers – you get the drift.

Momma needs wine, to ease the whine.  It’s the truth, it’s actual, give me wine and everything is satisfactual.

4.   I used to be smart – Really, I did.  I used to be able to answer real questions like what’s the difference between an acronym and an anachronism? Now I find myself answering questions like who lives in a pineapple under the sea?

I used to hang out with literati.  Now I hang out with the little ratty kids at the mall playground.

What happened to my brain?  It was sucked dry when I gave birth…TWICE!  I am in negative numbers now.

5.   You will eat your words – Not to mention loads and loads of LO carbs – that’s leftover, not low-fat just in case you’re wondering.  LO as in cleaning your child’s plate because it’s just a little bits and pieces and you really don’t think they could possibly add up to a healthy 6 month old baby named FAT you carry around your waist now!  Yeah, those LO carbs – the Pokemon mac and cheese, the PB&J triangles, the Teddy Grahams.

But back to the words.  If you’ve ever uttered the words, I would never (fill in the blank) with my child, I’m saying just give it time sweetheart.  The bribe fairy will hit you just as hard as she hit me.

You think you won’t bribe your child.  You will.  I promise.  I swore that  I never would.  And yet on any given day you can hear me utter the words, if you can just keep it together for 5 more minutes while I finish shopping, I’ll get you a treat, or something from the dollar bin, or an elastic replica of me that you can wrap around your finger!

I used to say I would never yell at my child.  That’s so horrible!  Gasp!  The horror!  And now I have become one of those Momster mothers.

Yes, I have yelled at my child.  And you will too.  One day when your name becomes something you wish you could change to Esther or Lulu or anything but Mooooooom, you’ll know exactly what I mean.

Here’s a video that a friend of mine sent to me that fully illustrates my point:

What truths about motherhood have you found out since you’ve joined the club?

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My Life in Letters – “P” is for Parent

As a parent we all want what’s best for our kids. It’s just that some of us want it a bit too much. When Jacob was born I was determined to be the best mom I could. So I watched him and each time he did something normal or abnormal, cute or disturbing I would rush to Barnes and Noble and find a book on it.

I’m not kidding. In fact, the very night I found out I was pregnant, after telling Warner, I drove my newly pregnant, not even showing self to the book store and proudly bought What to Expect When You’re Expecting. I wanted to get a head start on this whole expecting thing…in case, something unexpected happened.

When Jacob began to exhibit his stubborn nature, I bought books like Parenting the Difficult Child, Your Spirited Child and several other books along the same line.

I read, highlighter in hand, ready to crack Jacob’s code. And as soon as I’d figure him out, he’d change on me again. So I’d move to the next set of books determined to “fix” him, as if he were sick.

Illness came in many forms during Jacob’s younger days. But it usually didn’t come in the form of stomach upsets or rashes.  It was more along the lines of random upsets and rash behavior. I discovered that Jacob was an Indigo child, a spirited child, a gifted child.

When I was a kid, well, I was just a kid. I had an attitude, was a bit sassy at times but my mom didn’t have any books telling her who I was and what she should do to with me. She decided for herself – belt in hand sometimes.

But it seems I turned out pretty okay despite the fact that, since she had read no books, she probably had no idea who the hell I was. I mean she was practically parenting a stranger, right?

When Nick came along I decided that maybe I could do this thing on my own this go round. I was pretty certain that if he was anything like his brother I could rely on the whole been there done that notion.

Turns out he’s very much like Jacob. Turns out I sort of do know what to do – maybe there is something to this whole intuition thing after all.

I’m proud to say that I haven’t bought one parenting book since Nick was born and I haven’t even reread the highlighted parts of the books I bought about Jacob. It’s quite nice. I am finally realizing that Barnes and Noble isn’t just a How-To-Parent store. They actually sell books NOT on parenting.

Now maybe I can find a book to tell me who the hell I am!

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The Bathroom Monologues – repost

photo credit: Magnus D

*I’m so glad that Nick and I are past this stage. But I am forever witnessing other mothers as they act out their own “Bathroom Monologues”. This is a post from May 2008.

Why is it that whenever I go out in public with Nicholas, no matter how many times I have excused myself prior to our outing, I always have to visit the restroom again?! And inevitably I do not have a stroller with me, so Nicholas is free to roam the stall and cover himself with every germ imaginable. And this he does with much gusto. Let me recreate one such experience so that you can fully appreciate life with Nicholas. Keep in mind that this conversation is purely monologue, Nicholas may as well not even be there. Also consider that there is usually someone else in the stall next to mine. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you The Bathroom Monologues.

“Mommy has to go potty, Nicholas.” We enter the restroom (there will be no resting with Nicholas in tow).

“Okay Nick, now don’t touch anything.”

I have to interject here and let you know that while I am sitting here writing this Nicholas is eating a PBJ sandwich. He managed to get PBJ on his dirt encrusted big toe, and proceeded to stick his toe in his mouth to clean it off. Perfectly acceptable means of cleaning to him.

Back to my story…”Don’t touch anything okay. This place is yucky and can give you a boo-boo.” I quickly try to take care of business. “Oh no, Nick, give me your Bah (pacifier – it fell on the ground)” I reach from my position as best I can and try to retrieve it. “OH NO NICK! DON’T PUT IT IN YOUR MOUTH! IT’S GROSS!” It’s in his mouth. “Okay, Mommy’s almost done.”

Nick is eyeing the lock on the door. Diversion tactics begin. “Hey buddy, what do you want to do after this? Do you want to play? Are you hungry? Do you want a snack?” Nick begins to move to the door. Again, I try in vain to reach out for him from my position and again I fail.

He is unlocking the door!!! “HEY NICK! Come here and let me show you something.” I have no idea what I am going to show him, I just know I still need to pee and he’s about to expose me to the world. So over he comes and I scramble and stutter. “What’s this Nick?” It’s the toilet paper. He shows no interest. Instead he finds the tampon trash receptacle. I panic. “NO NICK, NO!”

I pull out the big guns….”Do you want an ICEE Nick, an ICEE? A big, red one?! Yeah, okay you have to come over here now and let mommy finish though. I’m almost done.” Finally I am done and he is standing so nicely in front of me waiting for his reward for doing all the stuff I’ve asked him not to do. Good parenting, huh?

So I turn around to flush and he’s dangling his frog over the toilet with an evil grin spreading across his face. “Do you want your frog to get sick??!” What I want to say is “Are you out of your freaking mind? Can I just pee in peace for once in my life??” But I don’t. Instead I remind him of the ICEE grab his hand and get the hell out of there as fast as I can.

But we aren’t done yet. We still have to wash hands. So I wash mine quickly so I can lift him up to wash his. I turn around to get him and he’s sitting on the floor. ON THE FLOOR! WITH HIS HANDS TOUCHING THE FLOOR! Surely he has contracted some type of flesh-eating disease and his days are numbered! I pray I’m wrong and proceed to scrub his chubby hands with as much antibacterial soap as I can fit into his palms. Okay, now after what feels like an hour we are ready to leave. And guess what…I have to pee again!

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