How I want nothing more than to have good things transpiring and rainbows and positivity coming out my ass, but alas, I do not (and seriously, that would be so NOT me.)

I’m also dieting and haven’t had a carb in 11 days, yet haven’t lost a pound, [...]]]> I’m there again. That bad, stressed out, avoidance stage.

How I want nothing more than to have good things transpiring and rainbows and positivity coming out my ass, but alas, I do not (and seriously, that would be so NOT me.)

I’m also dieting and haven’t had a carb in 11 days, yet haven’t lost a pound, which is SUPER encouraging. Coping with crap was a hell of a lot easier when I could drown my sorrows in chocolate and pastries. Which actually, is starting to make my weight issues make a bit more sense now, come to think of it.

I’m busy second guessing and doubting everything I have a hand in.

I have a 17 year old that hates me (that’s a give in) but he also seems to be getting off track as of late.  I have just taken away his car privileges in an effort of consequences (still trying to decide which one of us this is punishing more as I’m back to being a chauffeur for one more kid.) It’s scary hard finding that place of being there, but not being there too much. I’m fairly certain I’m failing him.

I have a baby that won’t ween. I may go postal the next time someone asks, in that condescending, wow that’s gross, he can walk and say a couple words so he’s too old tone, “are you still breastfeeding?” Yes, I am. It’s infrequent, usually at night or when he’s otherwise inconsolable since he doesn’t take a binky or suck his thumb. It’s a shame that I feel this need to justify it, but just as women that feed their babies formula and feel the need to back up their decision, that’s how I feel now with the judgement surrounding me.

Being a mom is fucking hard and I’m so sick of feeling like I’m doing the wrong thing. Apparently, there’s just no way to win, especially when there’s no chocolate.

I have a husband that has a stressful job and no stress management skills, AT ALL. I end up trying my best to fix things, make him feel better, coddle, tough love; I come from every angle and usually just end up taking the burden of his worries on, as well.

Essentially, I am trying to be everything to everyone, constantly feeling the need to be more, to do more and do it better. In the process, I’m wearing thin (unfortunately, not literally.)

Co-dependency, party of 1. I get it, thankyouverymuch. I don’t need lectures or even advice of how I shouldn’t be doing what I’m doing or taking it all on or being so hard on myself. I know it more than anyone. It’s pretty much sucking the life out of me and it’s just a pattern I get into.  Hoping it passes. Or I will fall off of the wagon and the chocolate will win.

I haven’t raised my kids to be those kids. Mine have been taught to be gracious, probably too much so. Gush [...]]]> I’ve seen ungrateful kids open presents. They seem to have a look of expectation and boredom on their face as they are looking forward to a next, bigger and better present. It makes me sad.

I haven’t raised my kids to be those kids. Mine have been taught to be gracious, probably too much so. Gush over a gift, tell the person how perfect it is for you and how you can’t wait to use it. Times are tight and I let my kids know that. I remind them how much someone is put out to have thought of them at all. I tell them to not expect much of anything- and then they’ll be pleasantly surprised, God willing.

And they are really good at accepting gifts. I don’t think there’s much that I could give them that they wouldn’t appear grateful for…well, maybe an old banana.

I LOVE Jimmy Kimmel and I’m all for joking around with your kids and exploiting them in good spirit. But the kid in the striped shirt would have been on my “naughty list” too! I can say with certainty that if my kid reacted like that 1.) I wouldn’t have been laughing behind the camera 2.) I wouldn’t have sent it to You Tube and 3.) I would have been busy returning the other stuff I got him! COME ON! He got a Hello Kitty sweater, it’s not as bad as the kid that got a half eaten sandwich!

I was always taught to act like I ABSOLUTELY love a gift when I receive it, whether I did or not. It was something that we always did at my house. We never really had much, so whatever we got, was extraordinarily special to us and we were abundantly grateful for everything. We would ooh and ahh over the gift NO MATTER WHAT. If I just bought the exact same thing- doesn’t matter. If it were 4 sizes too big- doesn’t matter. If it were a rainbow sequined tie from my step dad’s parents (I assure you, they do exist)- YOU ACT LIKE YOU LOVE IT AND COULDN’T LIVE WITHOUT IT. And so I did.

I remember one year, my sister won a $25 gift certificate to a toy store and at the age of 12, had outgrown “toys”. So she decided to buy our 9 year old step sister a Barbie Doll with it.  I was 19 and remember thinking what a sweet gesture it was of her to do that. When my step sister opened it, she seemed underwhelmed, tossed it aside, and made mention of being too old for Barbies.

My heart broke in a hundred pieces for my sister at that moment and I realized why my mom had instilled in us to put on a show, show our gratitude, and even exaggerate it.

I’ll admit, there have been times when my kids have opened up something that they already had and my heart stops for a second, waiting to see how they’ll respond. Once, when my daughter was five, she looked like a deer caught in headlights as she opened up a duplicate board game that she asked for. I gave her the it’s OK, we’ll take care of it look, knowing that I had bought the other one and could easily return it.

I think, I hope, I have taught my kids to do the same. Whether it’s sincere or not? I really couldn’t give a shit. Because that’s just what you do.

Christmas is stressing me the fuck out. I am an anxious ball of crazy surviving on Diet Dr. Pepper and chocolate [...]]]> As I understand it, people don’t do a lot of blog reading around the holidays which is lucky for me, because I clearly don’t do a lot of writing around this time of year either.

Christmas is stressing me the fuck out. I am an anxious ball of crazy surviving on Diet Dr. Pepper and chocolate chips, and let me tell you, it’s good for my physique. I’m always rather anal around this time of year, but this year, I’m extra off. I’m shaky. I’m chewing the inside of my mouth and my fingers RAVENOUSLY. Raw. The only way it could be worse is if I were a meth head and I was picking the imaginary bugs off of my face till it bled, but then I’d be high on meth (and probably skinny, to boot) and I wouldn’t know any better or care. Sigh. No meth. Oh well.

I’m not sure exactly why this year is hitting me harder, but it is. I don’t think I’m yet recovered from my PPD 100% and daily obligations and trying to keep everything afloat sucks balls.

Keeping people fed and clean fills up most of my day. My mind is running a mile a minute and I’m trying my best to multitask and keep it all together. Like making sure I get to the sippy cup full of old chunky milk before the baby drinks it all because when I don’t, it subsequently leads to cleaning up puke, more laundry and more baths. I’m trying to remember to wear pants and matching shoes when I drop kids off at school because it’s a sure bet that if I’m not, my automatic door on the minivan will not work and I will have to explain pajama pants and slippers to the assistant principal as I’m picking up a prescription bottle and an empty McDonald’s fry container that falls out of the car as I manually close the door.

I am busy policing the Christmas trees and porcelain village from little hands that throw things surprisingly well. We are already at a record 7 ornaments broken and have gone through 2 tubes of super glue and we still have almost two weeks till Christmas! He’s quite a savant.

Christmas shopping is a form of Chinese torture, in my book. And the mall? Is simply… hell. I don’t go there. Which is great since my daughters are at that fabulous age where the labels on the clothes suddenly mean something. So hooray for superficiality. They’re going to be really pissed when they get irregulars from TJ Maxx with labels marked out with a sharpie.

One of the things keeping me sane is the baby’s love for the sights and sounds of Christmas. His excitement is contagious. He says “Santa” all day. He loves it all especially the music… and he’s a dancer.

(quality bites the big one, I know, but you get the idea of how he drops it like it’s hot.)

She is a walking Saturday Night Live skit. She has [...]]]> My 12 year old daughter is, to put it nicely, high maintenance. She always has been. Colicky baby, whiny kid, and now very verbal and, still whiny, tween. She’s sweet, she really is, but if things don’t go her way, she can blow, FAST, and does.

She is a walking Saturday Night Live skit. She has many recurring characters and does a kick ass Jersey accent. I’ve had handfuls of parents tell me how funny she is when she’s at their house. And on her best behavior, I enjoy her, I really do, but I’m her mom, so 75% of the time it’s the law of the Universe that she hate me and not be on her best behavior.

When she was little, we tokened her our little actress. It was our way of putting a positive spin on her crazy moods and putting them to good use. It worked. She started taking on roles and hasn’t stopped.

When she was three, she saw the movie Beauty and the Beast for the first time and by the time the credits were rolling, she was, for all intents and purposes, Belle.  She dressed like her, she spun around the house and sang I want peanut butter and jelly for lunch instead of I want much more than this provincial life. I have videos of her singing into a fake microphone entire songs, word for word, when many other kids her age were barely speaking in full sentences. For two Halloweens, she dressed up as Belle. All of her toys were Belle. My mom even brought us all to see the Broadway performance of the musical when it came to St. Louis.

The girl was, simply, obsessed.

Last year, we learned that her school would be doing a musical this year. And a few months ago, we learned that it would be Beauty and the Beast. I LITERALLY got chills. I could not have written the script of her life any better. In my mind, though it seemed reaching, I felt it was meant to be. The part was hers to lose.

Now it was me who became obsessed. It was kinda ugly. I was morphing into cooky stage mom and it ran through my mind more than I like to admit, but I had no control.

When I was a senior in high school, I tried out for a musical. I had never acted, only sang. I was painfully shy and it was way out of my comfort level (way different than my daughter.) Somehow, though, I got the lead and the experience doing that play and the comraderie with the cast and crew during that time is one of the best memories in my life. I knew she was better than me and that she could do this and she would love it.

I stayed up nights watching youtube videos of performances of Belle so she could watch them and be ready. She prepared her song and we ran through it often. She had no idea how badly I wanted this for her.

This week, she had auditions. 79 girls auditioned for the role of Belle. That made me nervous. That is major competition, so I prepared. I started practicing consoling her upon her coming out of school and being disappointed and started thinking of awesome things to say about any other part she may have gotten.

The two days waiting for the cast to be posted were agonizing. For both of us.  I sat in the car, sweating bullets, waiting to see her come out of school and read her face or notice a skip in her step or a slouch of her shoulders. I saw her, but couldn’t read her. As she got in the car, “SO?” I asked.

I just got a small role.

“That’s OK, what is it?”, as my heart secretly sunk for her.

BELLE!

Her mad acting skills got me again. She totally fooled me.

You’d think I’d won the lottery. I banged on the steering wheel and teared up with joy! I couldn’t have been prouder of her at that moment if I tried.  She showed her excitement for me with a big smile and we were giddy together for about 90 seconds and then, “OK, stop it now, mom, just drive, people can SEE you.”

And with that, the bonding moment was over and all was right with the world again.

My life went in a direction that I thought I was done with. My body was mine. My kids dressed themselves and my sleep was mostly uninterrupted. I was just starting to find my footing again as more than just mom. I feared being pulled back into where I had gotten [...]]]> A year ago, this happened.

My life went in a direction that I thought I was done with. My body was mine. My kids dressed themselves and my sleep was mostly uninterrupted. I was just starting to find my footing again as more than just mom. I feared being pulled back into where I had gotten lost. I was hesitant to throw myself back into that life and maybe even a little resentful of sacrifices that I would inevitably make.

But I did. Without question. I am powerless to the smell of his skin. Weakened by his chubby little fingers grasping onto mine. Endlessly entertained by watching him sleep, play and develop.

My heart skips a beat at the way he hums himself to sleep. I get countless joy from the way his face lights up at the sight of his siblings. I’m convinced there’s no better sound on earth than his giggle.

All that doubt and fear melts away when he’s around. My “me” time being a little delayed is worth it every time I see this face.  I’m lucky.

This week would have also been Maddie’s 4th birthday. Learn more here… She explains it so much better than I could. Out of their loss came a charity in their daughter’s memory, Friends of Maddie.

Perspective. If you’re lucky, too, consider downloading my friend’s song on iTunes to benefit families that might not be quite as lucky.

Several months ago, he had tied himself [...]]]> The baby’s curiosity is entertaining, in theory. He gets himself into predicaments (like wedged behind the toilet) that make for good stories and picture ops. With a watchful eye, he’s fun. When in his bed, left to his own devices, however, when he should be sleeping, it’s getting tricky.

Several months ago, he had tied himself up trying to take off his jammies while in bed and ended up in a Houdini-like straight jacket. I heard him struggle in the monitor and no harm was done. Then there was the time when he somehow ripped off the “do not remove under penalty of law” tags from his mattress and was chewing on it and started gagging. Again. Trusty monitor to the rescue.

We’ve pretty much resigned ourselves to the fact that this kid likes to get into things. He must be watched. We are fully expecting ER visits in our future.

He hates being restrained. The walker lasted for about 10 minutes, until he figured out his footing and tried to weasel himself out- head first, luckily, I was right there to see his brain working and stop him before it got ugly. He forces through baby gates like a football player pushes through a blocking sled at practice. He’s a brute.

Monday night, at 4am, I heard a shrieking cry over my husband’s snoring. It was harder than the-middle-of-the-night-wakes usually are. I ran down the dark hallway as fast as I could. When I opened his door, he sitting up was on the floor, crying like I’ve never heard him cry- heartbroken,scared, and completely uncontained.

At first, in my sleepy stupor, I thought, my God, did I forget to put him in bed!? It quickly dawned on me that he had jumped out of the crib. In the pitch dark. I have no idea what possessed such motivation in the AM. I can barely wake up to go pee in the middle of the night.

If I think about it too much, I get teary-eyed at just the thought of how devastating it could have been! I look at the rocker near his bed, the wall, the end table with it’s hard wooden corners and get nauseous and have to remember that within minutes of picking him up and pressing on parts of his body to check for injury, he was giggling at my touch.

I didn’t let him out of my sight, held him REALLY close and gave him way more kisses against his will the entire day. The costume that he was in just hours earlier suddenly seemed so apropo…