The Mommy Therapy

My J.O.B. Demands

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Wed, 16 May 2012 02:37:00 +0000

This is the text I received from my friend Scott yesterday.

"What is going on with u...I feel something is "off"

Despite his offensive text spelling and punctuation, which makes me wonder how we went to the same high school, he is totally correct. Something is seriously "off" with me.

Yesterday I even felt apathetic about watching the season premiere of The Bachelorette, almost opting out entirely. Clearly that is symptom worth medicating or listing on a form of some kind.

Fear not though people, I was 110% on board once I saw the man with the bobble heads, the creepy man dressed as Mrs. Doubtfire, and the dude with the jam box.

Can I call it a jam box in 2012? It still feels right.

By the way, I love the water CEO and the former NFL player as of right now.

Over the years many people have suggested I get a part time job to have a break from the kids. I have long loved this suggestion, but in reality it's challenging to find a part time job that pays enough to cover child care, is willing to hire my skill-less self, and will work within my time restraints. I've prayed many a prayer for something to sort of fall in to my lap that fits when the time is right.

Remember my normal sounding pedicure and yogurt friend from yesterday's post, Jessica? She's actually the founder and co-owner of a really cool company that I've probably only mentioned 6,000 times so you might not remember, Noonday Collection.

She casually suggested I should come to her office and help ship packages and stuff.

After a quick conversation from my other life-giving friend Jessica, who watches my kids, I was pulling out my old pantsuits and slipping on my power high heels. This might sound odd because I would just be shipping stuff, but it felt good to reminisce about the days of employment.

Noonday Jessica's sweet friend and coworker Renee, who handles such messes like myself, emailed me the details and offered to send me a job description. The truth is, the job description could say anything and I'm game, but I felt it was a good idea for me to come up with my own list of requirements for any position I fill.

I was just about to email it to Renee, but thought I should share it here first in case you think I should add anything else. All additional suggestions are welcome.

Leslie's Workplace Requirements:

Under no circumstances will I be required to escort any one under the age of 15 to the grocery store, at any time, regardless of the number of items needing to be purchased.

I am responsible solely for my own bowel movements and can not participate in any way, shape, or form with the dealings of any other individual's poop. No exceptions.

Long descriptions of any of the following will be forbidden in my presence: action sequences of fictitious ninjas, conversations between two people under the age of 5 about farts, acts of physical violence performed against someone by someone that can't yet speak, or toy hopes and dreams that one fears will never come true.

My workspace must be free of screaming. Even joyful screaming will not be permitted. If said screaming does per chance occur, I can not be held liable in a court of law for any acts of discipline I involuntarily attempt to implement.

I do not tie shoes other than my own, and even that is not ideal. I would like to formally request someone be assigned to tie my shoes. This feels reasonable.

I am never in charge of snacks, or food preparation of any kind, unless alcohol is involved.

For religious reasons, I can not be asked to push anyone, for any reason, on the swings. I am willing to watch from a safe distance.

No crayons or washable markers. Permanent markers only. I prefer the brand name, Sharpie.

Any music played within my workspace must be free from themes of animals, alphabets, skipping, and all flowers and plants of any kind.

All questions requiring me to explain any of the following; time, death, sex, or any expression such as "it's raining cats and dogs," or "I'm sexy and I know it," will result in my immediate resignation.

All my personal trips to the bathroom will be done without the accompaniment of any coworkers, coworkers family members or friends, or pets that are suddenly welcome at the office that day. I pee alone.

These demands are, of course, non-negotiable.

I'll keep you all posted to see if things actually pan out, but the entire idea of going to such an amazing workplace, where really impactful work is being done, even once a week, makes me breathe a little easier.

Where would I be with out the Jessica's in my life?

Thank you both for helping to try to keep me sane, Lord knows I need it.

There Goes My Mind Again

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Tue, 15 May 2012 03:49:00 +0000

After being the primary caregiver to all the kids for the majority of the weekend, Alex summed up our current feelings toward our children in one statement last night.

"With as much time as you are forced to be with our kids, I don't understand how you don't completely hate them."

This statement brought me great joy. My current frustration with this role was finally validated.

I normally wouldn't have felt such a need for validation, but last Thursday night I had been hysterically crying while storming around the kitchen, screaming things at Alex like, "I can't do this anymore. I'm done. They are too much by myself all the time. I want to leave."

The whole scene just really started the Mother's Day Weekend off right.

Alex had just stared at me. He never said a word.

He was probably a bit frightened of me, which was a very appropriate response.

Most likely he was extra terrified because he had just gotten home and really just wanted to know what was for dinner so he could just eat because he was starving. He's too smart to have asked. I saw him poking under foil, opening doors to all potential food holding devices, even checking the microwave to be sure he didn't miss something.

He didn't talk to me all night. He knew I had tipped over to the dark side and probably assumed what I needed more than anything was just a chance to not have to take care of anything. I needed a little space.

He was wrong. I really wanted him to tell me he'd come home before they were all in bed more often. I wanted him to ask me how he can help. I wanted him to help me figure out a solution of some sort, some way to help me not feel so insane and overwhelmed and angry.

I wanted him to suggest that he and I fly to Barbados and pretend the kids just didn't exist for a while.

I also assume he was desperately rethinking Mother's Day, knowing some HEB flowers and the kids coloring a card wouldn't be enticing enough to calm my apparent rage and guarantee I would actually still be around when he got home from work Monday night so he didn't have to be alone with them all day, every day. Forever.

He's an intelligent man, so he came home early Friday and essentially took over the kids after that. I left Saturday morning to meet with a behavioral therapist for Cole, (Yeah!,) and then spent the day getting my hair cut and colored, my fingernails done, and indulging in the rare and blissful treat of a pedicure and frozen yogurt with my friend Jessica. Girlfriends make everything better.

I topped the day off by having our babysitter come so Alex and I could go out to dinner. It was a fantastic, much needed break from life with my kids. I felt like an actual person and didn't yell or feel like stabbing anyone all day long. It was so strange.

Then Mother's Day came. I essentially believe my Mother's Day was on Saturday. Spending Sunday around my children, regardless of my husband's involvement and efforts to make it nice for me, was so draining. They don't yet grasp the concept of a day for someone else. They are incessant in their requests, activity, complaints, and chatter. They are so very present and all consuming.

The break helped though. I think it helped a lot. I feel slightly more sane, and even handled Cole's freak outs today better than usual, even when he knocked over my bedroom chair.

I didn't cry once today.

That's huge.

I have my high school girls' weekend this upcoming Friday-Sunday in Indiana and there is not another weekend of the year that I look forward to more. I can not wait.

To amplify the excitement, my Mom has generously booked a flight to come back to Texas with me for a little while.

Losing your mind has it's perks.

A huge shout out to my Mom for being willing to spontaneously plan a trip to Austin and take on my three children with me. Just knowing that she is coming brings me great comfort. Moms are the best....but apparently you don't know this until you've pissed them off for years.

My apologies for Mother's Day 1977-1995 to my Mom.

My Mother's Day 2032 is going to be the best!

I Might Make A Really Good Kale Smoothie, It's a Recipe-Ish

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Tue, 08 May 2012 03:53:00 +0000

Stella and I went to the park last Friday with my friend Jennifer. Stella roams the park, completely apathetic about me and my whereabouts, while Jennifer and I chat about forty different topics broken into 3 minute segments, never once concluding our discussion on anything.

It's the way we do conversations as Moms. It's an acquired taste.

While we were sitting on a grassy area discussing the problems of excess in our lives, we are very conscientious, a woman walked by with her very tiny baby boy, chasing an almost two year old little boy. I casually said, "oh look at that tiny baby!" The woman looked and me and essentially sniffed/sighed with a look of exasperation.

I took the liberty of re-enacting this situation with me playing the woman, Alex playing me, and our new dog Bea acting as the baby. I figured this way you would know exactly what I was talking about and it might make you feel better to see someone (me) look like an idiot for a few seconds. I am so nice.

I told you I would look like an idiot for you.

(More idiocy coming soon: Me dancing to xBox's Dance Party III.*)

I assume this woman's reaction was a result of annoyance, exasperation, and a general feeling of "Yeah, tiny baby that has jacked my life. Super cute. Why did I have these two small children so close together?!?!? Why did I think it would be a good idea to unleash the walking one so I can chase it with this tiny, fragile one? I hate that smug lady drinking her Starbucks and chatting with her friend on the grass. Does she even have a kid here? I bet it's the little two year old stealing all the sand toys and pointing in her mouth obsessively about her gum. I need a glass of wine. I wonder if there is an eHow on making meth."

I can assume all of this because I've been there. I have so been there.

As I thought about this woman's annoyance at her tiny baby, my mind naturally drifted to Eleanor Roosevelt. I mean, when doesn't it?

You know how Eleanor thought everything could be fixed with a large kale smoothie? No?

I swear it was her that said, "No kale...No joy."

Kale solves everything. Actually, kale really solves very little except possibly constipation and fights some toxins so it could prevent cancer, but that lady doesn't care about toxins right now.

As Eleanor was whispering in my ear, I knew what I had to do. I had to write that poor Mom a recipe-ish for my kale smoothie.

Dear Sniff/Sigh Mom,

I know you probably don't remember me. I'm just one of the masses of people commenting on your baby and annoying you at the park last week. I don't know you at all, but this aspect of your life, I get.

I totally get it.

I know you are fighting exhaustion and wondering how you ended up dealing with so much poop and chaos when a few short years ago you were able to order cocktails while dining out and jump without peeing yourself. Those days are gone sister, but there can be joy-ish again.

Let's be clear, it won't be real soon, but joy will surely happen...just don't have any more babies for a little while. I assume this isn't on your mind anyway, but I thought it was important to point out.

Also, since I don't know you, it's probably important to point out that having sex is what gets you babies. I feel like I need to be thorough in case you are someone that thinks you can just pray and not get pregnant. Or possibly you are involved in the making of some Lifetime Movie and you think you can't get pregnant if you sneeze after sex, or you are nursing, or if you are in a pool, or any other fun myths floating around impregnating people.

If you are involved in the making of a Lifetime Movie, maybe about postpartum depression, I think I could do a bang up job in a walk on role such as nurse, judgemental lady at grocery store, supportive/unsupportive friend, or really anything. I am relatively bored here at home and being part of a made for TV movie would up the excitement between preschool pick-up and waiting for the school bus.

I'll let you think about that, but for now I think I can help you with your overwhelming sense of frustration about your current situation.

Your first mistake was not having both children strapped down or enclosed in some sort of cage.

Wait, did I say cage? I meant, safe enclosure.

There is lots of fun to be had at Gymboree (not the clothing store), jumping places with blocked off toddler areas, and your car. I'm not kidding, my oldest used to play in the car for hours while I nursed, rocked, or cried with his baby brother just outside the vehicle. Good times.

Your second mistake is that you didn't drink a kale smoothie. Or maybe you did, but it works better for the format of this blog-letter if you didn't.

I figure if you were drinking some kale and could restrict the area of movement for both your kids, you might be really excited about life. I also recently had a fantastic experience with a very nice witch doctor that I think might be able to help you....I'll send you his information.

Given your expression at the park, you probably are thoroughly annoyed by my ramblings now. It's possible you think a kale smoothie sounds nasty and you are just going to give up on me, but that would be wrong. There's ginger in it so it must be good.
Unless you don't like ginger because you hate Asian cuisine, in which case I would again recommend the witch doctor. If you hate ginger you probably have some deep seeded issues, like you won't go to Costco on Saturdays or hate magazines, two things I find impossible to make sense of in case you were wondering what the hell those were about.

Clearly I've angered you in your exhausted state. Let's get to it.

Here's what you need.

1 lemon (small) peeled
1 orange (large) peeled
1 green apple, quartered
1 kiwi peeled - (optional - if you hate New Zealand and all of Asia)
1 1-2 inch piece of ginger, peeled (try to be nice to Asian cuisine, did it every hurt you?)
4 or 5 pitted dates
3-4 kale leaves
2 cups ice

I use a VitaMix to make this and I probably love that blender more than my children.

(I said there would be joy in future, I didn't say it would be constant.)

If you think you are at all interested in blending up vegetables and fruits to make your food, run to the store to buy this. I assume you will make just enough off your made for TV movie to pay for it.

You are probably wondering about the origin of this recipe. Yes?

Or maybe you want to throw something at me, I understand. I'm going to tell you anyway.

My friend Sabra, who looks just enough like someone from a Ralph Lauren ad to intimidate you, but is actually really nice, started me on this recipe with some green lemonade drink she allegedly makes every morning. She uses a juicer and tried to tell me her daughters beg her for it like it's ice cream, but I think she might be a liar...unless she forgot to tell me she serves it with ice cream.

I tried it her way and it was rough for me.

(She also has a little difficulty comprehending the use of the word smoothie here, but I think it has to be a smoothie if I'm blending up whole foods, not just juicing. Can we just agree that I'm right and that Sabra should just stick to intimidating people with her good looks and then surprising people with her kindness?)

I feel I might be losing you, hold on.

Then, I talked to my neighbor Sue and she said she adds dates to her kale drinks.

Throw in an orange, kiwi, and some ice and it's genius!

I'm basically tell you I'm a genius for adding an orange and some ice, and sometimes a kiwi.

Voila!

You can adjust the amount of ginger or add another fruit, like I threw in some grapes the other day so they wouldn't rot and it basically made no difference at all, but I ate those grapes.

All you have to do is blend all that together and then drink the goodness until you no longer want to abandon your children in the park, which would probably mean jail time and you probably couldn't see your kids anymore and eventually you probably would want to, I think.

Just drink the kale and don't leave your kids. Am I inspirational or what?

Just think about what you could become if you met my witch doctor!

*This is probably a lie, but it could happen. Maybe for charity. Or a hostage situation.

So Yeah, We Were Kicked Off 34th Street

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Sun, 06 May 2012 20:45:00 +0000

Where have I been?

Well, this little thing called life seems to be getting in my way quite often lately. I can't seem to get the laundry and food preparation done, much less take the time to stop and tell you all about it.

It affects me when I can't write though. I am cranky and feel extra disorganized. My mind is clogged with a thousand blog post topics and one-liners that are really fantastic, but seem to have disappeared by the time I get to a computer or piece of scrap paper to jot them down.

I've been in a bit of a depressed fog all weekend. My sinuses are killing me, my children are wild, and I haven't had an actual conversation with my husband in over a week...much less any quality time. If you add my lack of writing or time to complete anything on my priority list, I am a mess.

All of this leaves me feeling beyond down.

If I were prone to alcoholism or drug use, I would be hitting it all pretty hard right now.

When I woke this morning I was in so much pain that I immediately started steaming hot compresses on my sinus passages.

(Yes, Mom, I hear you when you suggest such nonsense and I do actually do it.)

As I leaned over my sink with the steaming washcloth I cried and wallowed in feeling trapped in this house and chained to these kids. Lots of self-pity, super healthy and very good for clogged sinuses.

I followed that by the netti pot and some more tears over my lack of clarity about my current place in life.

Next was Mucinex D and self doubt.

By 11 am I had stopped crying though and decided that it's possible that I just need to do something on my massive list of tasks over which I wallow in self-pity every night because non of it is getting done. My former therapist taught me this trick. It is essentially the only thing I remember from my time with him. So after months of therapy and lots of money, I retained the ability to make lists and cross off to-do items. Genius and so innovative!

Nothing fuels my positive energy though like completing something I have put off, so maybe that therapist knew his stuff .

But then Alex suggested we all go eat hamburgers. So what's girl to do?

Eat some hamburger, of course. I think my therapist would have done that too.

(Turns out this also makes me feel happier....Mom, I'd like you to refrain from any comments about how I need to eat more regularly or more often.)

Now that I'm writing though I feel caught up in all the posts I've written in my head the last week or so. The truth is, a lot has been happening and I'm not sure where to start.

For today I'll just cover Cole. I don't know if I have the emotional or humor energy to cover the other topics now.

I took Cole to a whole body health doctor. He specializes in acupuncture, witch craft, chiropractory, diet, massage, and voodoo. Just kidding, he doesn't advertise voodoo or witch craft.

He tested Cole's food sensitivities with a strange, seemingly pretend muscle test that freaked me out and mesmerized me. He could have just been David Blaine, but I believed in what he was doing. He talked to me a lot about Cole as a baby, my pregnancy, Cole's diet, and the stress level in our house.

Uh-oh.

The doctor ordered a brain chemistry test for hormones related to sleep, and then he felt Cole's head a lot, which I am sure had something to do with Cole's spine but I think he was casting a spell. I watch The Vampire Diaries and watched a handful of that show Charmed, I know how things work. This is all out of my normal boundaries and I was fairly certain we were going to have to light a candle and chant until a feather levitated, but I trusted and loved how the whole thing went.

Turns out I really dig witch doctors.

The end result was that Cole has a dairy intolerance which is jacking with his system. Apparently this can change all sorts of things in a young, growing body and cause your balance of hormones to get all sorts of off kilter, affecting things like behavior, sleep, diet, sinus pressure, etc.

Not that Cole has any issues with those things.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

If you would like a quick look back at some of the more noteworthy Cole prompted blogs, here and here and here and here are a few to give you an idea of my life with Cole over the past few years.

Oh, and my personal favorite, here.

Poor kid has dark circles under his eyes constantly, can't hold it together when anything is off kilter or requested of him, sleep is a challenge all around, and he is anxious and fearful of the most insane things...flushing toilets, bathtubs filling with water, new people, dark-ish-ness, being alone, a variety of toys, my hair when it's wet, spiders, and all sorts of other things.

Yes, some are normal kid things, but all of it together is too much. Cole has become a huge issue for this family. We are falling apart here with the tension and stress. It's time to try a witch doctor and if it means taking dairy out of his diet, goodbye cow milk! Hello soy and coconut and almonds!

The doctor does also want to adjust his neck on Thursday and I have gotten a slew of very passionate responses from friends and family members about this one. People seem to love or hate chiropractors. There is not a lot of gray about this profession, and unfortunately I am all gray when it comes to my opinion. I'm still working on the answer to that method of treatment.

For now though, we've removed dairy from his diet and I am experiencing the joy of having a child with a diet restriction. Let me sum it up for you: it blows.

We called four hamburger places before finding one that could handle a dairy free bun AND burger. We all wanted ice cream after, but Alex and I pretended that was an awful idea, even though we both were salivating over the milkshakes, because Cole can't have it. We even called our favorite yogurt place to see if they had a dairy free option, no luck.

I keep thinking of all the things he can't have now and it makes me sad. Nutella, Starbucks hot chocolate, donuts, enchiladas, bagels and cream cheese, butter. Oh butter.

Cole loves his almond milk though, sweetened and unsweetened, and has no problem with the soy or coconut milk yogurts. I prepared almond milk cheddar cheese quesadillas the other night and all three kids gobbled them up like they were full real cheddar! Suckers. We haven't tried pizza yet, but our local pizza place offers soy cheese for an extra $1.50 (all the speciality stuff costs a pretty penny.)

According to the witch doctor though, after four to six weeks without dairy we will have a new kid. I am assuming he means Cole's behaviors will be transformed, but he could actually be working on a replacement kid for us right now. Either way, I'm praying that this makes a difference like I've heard it can, so my sweet boy can feel better and enjoy his life more often.

Or, we can work on getting used to the new kid. I hope that kid likes bunk beds....

I sure pray I get to keep Cole though. Surely the witch doctor wouldn't dream of replacing someone with the capacity to look this adorable.

say SOY!

We Are Essentially on 34th Street

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 03:31:00 +0000

Miracles do happen. I am starting to believe there might actually be a Santa, an Easter Bunny, a genuine chance that my VitaMix might transform my skin into JLo quality glow and beauty.

First, Cole successfully attended, participated in, and completed an entire swim lesson on Tuesday. After being asked to leave his prior swim lesson, and then his gymnastics class on Monday I had little hope this might ever happen. It was pure joy.

Side note: You know what else is pure joy? The adorable factor running rampant around here that has a good chance of assaulting me all summer long. Love.

Second miracle, I am typing this from the safety and joy of MY computer. A nerd-man named Chris came over to my house to replace my hard drive, talked to me a lot about kale, and listened to me threaten him when I told him I wasn't going to let him leave my house until I could surf the web for Gap purchases all night and he had heard every tearful moment of my journey to have the computer fixed.

It's possible I totally creaped him.

He shared a scary tuna melt recipe on his way out the door so I think he actually might have been in love with me. I'm not going to be able to leave Alex for him though because the recipe including spreading mayonnaise on a piece of bread and got worse from there. He claimed he doesn't serve any sides with this, just several tuna melt sandwiches. I was afraid.

He did fix my computer though...

Third miracle, I am actually starting to fall in love with one of the funniest looking dogs ever. I was worried that I might not ever love like I loved Indiana, but we officially have a new dog.

A strange mix of Chinese Crested and Maltese has resulted in...Bea The Wonder Dog.

I can't wait for Christmas now that Santa could actually be coming! I'm going to start writing letters now.

It's also important for you to know, though not important enough to write a post about:

1. I am in LOVE with the new show New Girl. If you aren't watching, you are missing out.
2. I figured out a delicious kale smoothie recipe.
3. I bought three shirts today at The Gap for less than $7. I love The Gap.
4. Ben & Jerry's has life altering fro-yo, raspberry and fudge chunk.
5. I can't stop reading these stupid Stephanie Plumb novels, currently reading about 2 a week.

I Assume Most People Cry At Church For These Reasons...Or Not

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Mon, 23 Apr 2012 02:47:00 +0000

I found myself crying in church this morning. Tears streamed down my face as I sang along to Amazing Grace and listened to some preachin' on the Gospel of Mark.

I would like to say that I felt so moved by the spirit of God, or so humbled by the power of the message being delivered, but I would be lying.

What kind of a church goer would I be if I lied right now?

The truth is that getting ready for church this morning, like most mornings, was an emotional and dramatic process that left me feeling empty and full of rage. Nothing says church like some rage.

Kidding, Mom.

Both boys fought through the highly complicated process of finding socks and basically decided life wasn't worth living if they had to find their own foot coverings. There was much rolling on the floor and dressing in pirate vests without shirts underneath, and crying, and definitive statements about footwear never having a place in their lives again.

I still don't understand what was going on with the shirt removal and pirate vest wearing since they weren't even playing pirates, but that just further goes to so you what I'm up against here.

By the time Alex and I had ditched the kids with better people than ourselves, since they felt called to actually volunteer to spend hours of time with lots of children they weren't required by law to care for, I was spent. The last few weeks, fine years, of struggling with Cole's emotions and then my own had me back to feeling overwhelmed and drenched in failure as a Mother. Yay church!

I'm very uncomfortable with all the rock concert style singing and whatnot that goes on at the beginning of our church service, but I also secretly love it, don't tell. I'm so complicated. This morning was my favorite band, primarily my favorite singer. Hearing his Eddie Vedder- loves-Jesus voice sing Amazing Grace made me feel, well it made me feel more sad honestly, but in a get-it-all-out sort of way.

If this were a college frat party (and often the beginning of church feels a bit like that to me in an orderly and non-drunk sort of way,) I would totally be swooning all over this man and his oh so lovely voice. I might even stand and squeal in front of him or something.

Alex takes great joy and comfort in the fact that I haven't done anything close to that, yet.

So I cried at the beauty of his voice, the words of the song, and my exasperation with my entire parenting situation though the musical intro of church. It was therapeutic and I felt a little better until we reached the part in the sermon where the pastor started talking about his five year old daughter's struggles.

I felt horrible joy at hearing that his own daughter went through a challenging time, (this is why I'm in church people, I realize there are some slight imperfections in me.) I hung on the edge of my seat to hear the solution which had carried her and their family through this difficult time. Since my blog post last week and my repeated Facebook frustration status updates, I have received a lot of really fantastic advice about options to try with Cole. I genuinely don't know what I did before I could just ramble on and vent and have everyone else tell me how to proceed to actually make progress on the trials of life. Thank you Al Gore for the Internet. Amen.

As soon as the magic solution was uttered though, I was right back to tears. Jesus Eddie Vedder might as well have starting strumming and singing again because I was emotionally wrecked again.

You know what had helped her?

Of course it was time spent with the Jesus Storybook Bible and some extra careful censorship of TV, etc. That's great and all, but if there is one thing Cole has down it's his time with Jesus. He often prays when things are bothering him and 99% of the time only wants to read his Jesus Storybook Bible at bedtime. He talks to me about turning away from sin and carries a small New Testament Bible around nearly all the time.

All of his own doing.

I'd love to take the credit for it, but Cole and God have their own thing going on and I'm a very little part of that. Solving Cole with more Jesus? Not what he needs. He needs more reasonable emotional control and some application of a few of those amazing chapters from the Bible.

I've tried to use the Jesus card with his behavior but it doesn't work. (Not to imply that Jesus is a card to be played.) I've even thought about getting Cole a W.W.J.D. bracelet or possibly tattoo to heighten his connection between his choices and his chosen love for all things Jesus.

I've even threatened the wrath of Jesus if he doesn't shape up.

Just kidding.

None of this is working for Cole.

Not yet anyway.

I have received so many amazing suggestions and if you are wondering if I am pursuing your suggestion, the answer is yes. We are doing EVERYTHING.

We have contacted a behavioral therapist for some suggestions and strategies for navigating the emotional and volatile world of Cole. We are going to an ENT to have his tonsil and adenoid size evaluated due to his horrible sleep patterns. We have contacted a whole health doctor to talk about how food might be playing in to how his body and mind are working.

I foresee a dairy free house in our future after reading a good portion of the book, "What's Eating Your Child," which is my current obsession. I find myself wondering about Cole's zinc levels and wondering if we could make all this go away with some kale and quinoa?

We have new charts and rewards and consequences. I'm ordering the behavior books you have recommended and started re-reading the books I have.

I am doing a lot of praying with Cole about ant bites and patience and joy.

Thank you for all your kind words of support and encouragement. Each and every comment, email text, and call was so appreciated...though not all returned due to the evil which is still Dell.

(Computer hard drive allegedly will be replaced in the next few days...ALLEGEDLY.)

The good news is that now my phone is giving me problems with reading emails and doing small tasks like, oh say, turning on. I realize that's not good news but I really wanted to use that phrase somewhere in this post.

I guess the good news could be that if you like Jesus and Eddie Vedder, I've found a guy you should meet....or cry to as he sings Amazing Grace. It's just so freakin'good.

Have You Ever Been Kicked Out Of A Swim Lesson? I'm Asking For A Friend - PYHO

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Wed, 18 Apr 2012 01:00:00 +0000

You must know that my life is currently under attack. My very being is under fire. I'm not sure how things are going to work when all of this ends, assuming that it does end.

Here it is...Cole is trying to kill me.

No, he hasn't found firearms or how to discreetly give someone rat poison, that I'm aware of at least, but he is slowly but surely chipping away at every fiber of my sanity and my sense of self. He is crushing me.

Let's not tiptoe around it and say he's going through a rough phase or he's tired, let's just put it simply...he has some very serious issues that I am failing at figuring out. If I don't get our shit together I'm going to be saying things like, "Cole, did you remember to call your parole officer back?" or "Since Cole's license was suspended" or "Cole's an artist."

I am scared...mostly for him, but also for me.
Yes, there is a small, tiny chance that all of this has absolutely nothing to do with me and I am simply his Mom and therefore at the receiving end of his challenges and it's my role and alleged joy to be the one to help him through this.

Or he's trying to kill me.

This morning was very similar to most days around here, yogurt requests and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, and some profound whining about having to go to swim lessons. Cole doesn't like swim lessons, but for the most part he goes and does it once we are there. I think he even likes it once he's in the water. Today though he was having no part of it.

After kicking and screaming for 10 minutes he was finally asked to leave for the day. Every time an instructor tried to talk to him he screamed louder, in their faces. He also kicked aggressively, at their bodies. There was zero swimming and all sorts of staring.

This was unpleasant all around.

(Yes Mom, I know Kyle and I never did anything like this.)

Doesn't he look sweet?

He is sweet, but lately it's buried under a pile of challenge and obnoxious that you have to routinely talk yourself out of punching in the face.

Cole is difficult. Recently he has been moody, excessively grumpy, verbalizing hatred for everything from his family to his pencils and screaming, a lot...about everything. He almost always pulls it together for other people, almost. He doesn't get in trouble at school and he cooperates at friends' houses according to the other Moms, but they could just be scared of him and lying to me so he won't lash out at them again, there's really no way of knowing.

Around me he's a mess.

A mean mess.

Today shouldn't have really surprised me, but it did. I still can't really believe my child did that. I have a difficult time wrapping my head around all our challenges with him lately. He is sweet and silly and cuddly...and then seemingly over night has become sullen and impossible to work with on even the most basic of tasks, like putting on shoes.

I fear I will soon find him smoking behind the garage, covered in obscene tattoos that say things like, "My Parents Blow." Is there anywhere a four year old can get a tattoo? Surely he'll need me to sign off on any permanent ink slander, right?

He hasn't been an easy child at any point, but the level of disrespect and defiance is so elevated recently that I actually feel frightened. How am I going to help him and save the rest of us from the toxicity of a child acting like this in our home?

The other night, after a particularly challenging exchange turned tantrum with Cole, I snapped at a simple question Aiden asked me. I was so flustered from trying to deal with Cole that I couldn't handle being kind for a moment to my other children.

This is where the fun compounding of Cole's issues displays itself.

I now felt wrecked with guilt on top of my exasperation.

Where the hell is that Nanny Jo lady to give us a Naughty Mat charged with magical powers that can solve all the ailments of the world?

The best/worst part is that shortly after Aiden retreated to his room due to my obvious frustration, he brought me this note.

Can you read his kindergarten writing? I'll translate.

Beer Mom, I know that you are having a hard time with Cole. Love Aiden. To Mom.

I assume he intended to write Dear Mom, but I prefer Beer Mom.

I love and appreciate that Aiden understood that I wasn't' angry with him, just frustrated with the situation with Cole, but it breaks my heart too. Cole unsettles the house.

I unsettle the house when I am wrapped in the chaos and draining nature of Cole.

We're doing charts and rewards and consequences out the wazoo and none of it appears to be making a dent. I am currently looking in to radical diet transformations and professional counseling and possibly even chiropractory, only because I keep hearing about all these random problems solved by someone cracking your back or casting a spell or whatever it is a chiropractor does.

Surely something will give, right?

In the mean time I guess I'll find peace rather than guilt that Aiden sort of gets how difficult things are and Stella is blissfully unaware. I'll keep doing charts and doling out the consequences and bracing myself for the cruelty of the unsympathizing and judging stranger as I wheel a restrained and screaming Cole through the grocery store....again.

I'll keep clutching him to me in parking lots and while crossing the street, obviously driven by some primal love that I currently can't even feel through all my frustration and anger toward him, and I'll pray that's still there when all of this ends because right now I mostly just don't to deal with him at all.

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Linking up to Shell's Pour Your Heart Out. Go check it out!

I Wish There Were Exciting News, But There Simply Isn't

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 03:55:00 +0000

After last week's post, I devised the perfect plan for blogging success and self esteem elevation. My goal was to wait 23 days exactly between all posts, convinced this would elicit an onslaught of the lovely and encouraging messages and comments I received after finally posting last week which caused me to beam and feel so loved.

Unfortunately, I have no self control and am forced to post again about, well…nothing.

My apologies.

Since I think we can all agree that returning to my normal computing life is top priority, I’ll update you on the computer situation. What more can you ask for in blog entertainment?

Bad news everyone, my computer is still rebelling against me. Even after sending it off to the equivalent of one of those scared straight facilities for troubled teens, it still refuses to cooperate in the slightest. I am so disappointed in it. Aren’t you?

So, like the severely troubled teens that are unresponsive to even the harshest punishment, it has to be killed and then brought back to life. That is what happens, right?

I have a feeling this computer saga will last at least through the end of the week.

Michael Dell must HATE my blog.

(I assume someone with his level of power and success has surely been reading for quite some time now. It's probably part of the business plan.)

I'm explaining this to you all so you can go ahead and lower your expectations of hearing the intricate details of every fascinating aspect of my life over the next seven days. You are simply going to have to miss out and I am sorry for you for that. It's surely going to be a doozy.

Or a doozie? Or a duzie? Surely you know what I mean here. I'm a stay at home mom to three kids and possibly a new dog...the excitement level is high.

For example, I just called Time Warner Cable and talked to them for 25 minutes, I'm getting ready to go make a smoothie, and then I'm going to the dermatologist!

I'm not sure how you'll survive without these types of updates.

Very quickly though, before Alex decides his paying job is more important than me sharing the details of my smoothie ingredients and dermatology diagnosis with all of you…imagine, I think it’s vital for you all to see the cuteness I will be forced to endure this summer.

Swimming season has begun here for Stella.

It’s simply painful because it's so cute.

I’ll be back with more updates as soon as possible.

Random thought of the night. I saw Angelina's engagement ring which Brad allegedly spent a year designing and it's really, really ugly. Am I alone in thinking this? Do you think she's pissed? She is the woman that used to wear vials of blood around her neck, perhaps Brad felt the expectations weren't too high?

Discuss amongst yourself....and get back to me on your vote of so ugly that a vial of blood might be better, or Brad designed it so it must be wonderful.

I Feel Like I Could Write A Rap Song About These 23 Days, But Don't Worry, I Didn't

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 03:23:00 +0000

You probably feel as though you are hallucinating right now.
I know I shouldn't assume to know what you feel, but I'm confident at least 60% of you feel caught off guard at being forced to read my every thought again. The other 40% of you could in fact be recreational drug users and you actually are hallucinating due to things completely out of my control....unless you are doing meth due to my previous infatuation with starting that habit, which can be read here or here, to be more productive and skinny, if only I could prevent my teeth from turning into those of a carnival worker.

(No offense carnival employees, unfortunately you guys and the people with the circus have a pretty creepy reputation and obviously are without dental.)

The point is, drugs are bad....but I'm back.

Well, I'm back-ish.

Many* of you have sent emails, tweets, and comments pleading with me to come back so I figured I must. I can't ignore the masses. It's no one's fault but my own that I've spun a web of intrigue and suspense with my always exciting life of child tantrums, dinner preparation, and cleaning woes from which no one can escape.

Where have I been? Very good question.

I think the real person to answer this question is Michael Dell, unfortunately he doesn't know or care about me so I tried to contact Susan Dell. As it turns out, Susan Dell doesn't care about me either. Apparently the whole family has a heart of stone.

My computer, much like the Dell family's hearts is basically a stone now too. It's essentially a very expensive, fun looking accessory for the writing desk next to my bed. It gives the appearance that there could be life and productivity there, but really it's not going to do a damn thing. I hate it.

Why oh why didn't I get a Mac? Never again Michael Dell. Never. Ever. Again.

I assume this threat carries a lot of weight with him, and of course Susan.
So my computer basically won't start. Alex and I have been through Dell tech support, our own very reasonable and ineffective solutions, and now a very costly trip to The Geek Squad only to be told it's probably the hard drive which Michael should have fixed from the beginning. It is so much fun to deal with this that I really hope to never have a fully functional computer again.

Alex has graciously offered me his computer, but I usually write at night (because that's when I am in my zone, if such a thing exists,) but my husband is so selfish that he actually needs his computer to work at night. He is totally underestimating my ability to draw in approximately $10 a month by writing these posts. It's as if he doesn't value my financial contributions to this family. He's so narrow minded.

I don't even know where to start with reporting the last 23 days. I actually feel like I have a ton to share, but we'll just hit some highlights for now in an effort to actually be able to post this before Alex has to take his laptop back from me to "make money."

How about top 5?

One
A few days after my computer officially revolted from being involved in any more of my brain dumps, I became attached to my iPad, knowing it would never turn on me. One would think that I would try to keep at least reading blogs and commenting, or posting photos of what is happening in my life so as to not leave everyone is the dark, but that isn't exactly what I did. I hope no one is scared of the dark like Cole, that's an unfortunate state.

I turned to Netflix, and stayed there for five days. During that time I watched 44 episodes of my newest obsession....The Vampire Diaries. It is as classy as it sounds and oh so very intriguing.

I spent all my time walking around with my iPad and ignoring all responsibilities which could not be handled while following an intricate plot of vampire and witch mysteries entangled with a very emotional vampire-human love story.

This isn't something I'm proud of, but I feel like this show might be a large part of my life now so it's important for you to know that I'm obsessed so you can familiarize yourself with the characters and plot lines so you'll understand my references and analogies moving forward.

It's so good people. Oh so very good. You must watch it.

Two
A few months ago I became infatuated with the VitaMix. I had seen the demonstration at Costco, listened with fascination to friends that owned one talk about how they were better people because they had one, or something like that, and started watching You Tube demonstrations on all the wonderful things it can do....there are only so many Vampire Diaries episodes out there.

Watch this one to get a general idea of it's awesome powers.

I became convinced it was the only thing that could keep me healthy and my more importantly it could transform my lackluster hair and skin into something akin to Jennifer Lopez's or I was even willing to settle for Jennifer Garner. Any Jennifer hair and skin would do.
I priced them and decided to just watch JLo in her fast wardrobe change Kohl's commercials with the knowledge it wasn't going to happen for me. Spending $400 on a fancy blender didn't seem reasonable, to Alex, I was actually surprised they didn't cost $1000 for how much the YouTube videos made me believe it could change my life.

Then I went to the dermatologist because I had some weird skin thing growing on my face and other random parts of my body (try not to be grossed out by me) and when she said they could be from an autoimmune disease, the first thing I thought of was the VitaMix. I would have never been in that doctor's office if I could blend a whole apple and a bunch of kale to a sip-worthy, life saving beverage.

Then Alex surprised me with one and now we are even more obsessed. I use it at least twice a day, we are eating all kinds of crazy healthy things, and I now look exactly like JLo. Also my skin growths are going away and I am convinced it's because of the VitaMix, though it could also be the prescribed steroid cream I apply twice a day.

It's difficult to pin down the true healer here.

Three
Just yesterday we took in a rescue dog. We are currently in the trial period with her, but I have a feeling she's here to stay. She's a 9 pound mix of Maltese and some weird circus looking dog. She's adorable in that ugly sort of way, but I'm sure the VitaMix will quickly change that.

What does JLo's dog look like?

She's as sweet as can be.

She plays with the kids and sleeps all night and is already house broken. She can walk on her hind legs for a really odd long period of time so I'm sure we could put her in the carnival for some extra cash if things get tight or we need another VitaMix. The best part is that she was rescued from a dog hoarder's home so she has very low expectations for cleanliness and regularity of food.

Name is to be determined. The kids are currently throwing out all sorts of suggestions like Italy, Millie, Paige, and Nya (any Lego Ninjago obsessed families out there?) The important thing is that we change her current name...Beyonce.

Four
We just returned from a family vacation to Washington DC to visit my brother and his family. The trip was great, but we have decided that we can no longer fly anywhere, ever. It's going to be a very long boat ride next time we have to go visit family in Greece, but flying is out of the question.

Our departure flight was jacked due to the tornadoes in Dallas last week, which I am sure caused much more trauma for some people than our missed flight, but I would have to actually hear it on a case by case basis before I made the call because we were really annoyed. We didn't get to leave until the next morning...at 4 am, not the ideal travel time for a family with three kids under six.

Thunderstorms also messed with our return flight and made me think that possibly God doesn't want me to see my brother or our nation's capital. My brother is pretty sarcastic sometimes and his daughter chewed a whole pack of gum one day, so maybe he lacks good parenting. Can we really be around someone like that?

(My kids only eat 90% of the pack. Kids need boundaries and I'm good at creating and enforcing them.)

My niece and nephew are all sorts of cute, and bilingual, which makes them more marketable of course. I also adore my sister-in-law so it's always fun to be with her. I usually enjoy my brother's sarcasm too so I guess God's just going to have to work through his issues with the two of us hanging out. My parents made the trip to DC too so it was truly a family event. It isn't a family event without Tractor.

We did all the usual tourist things like walking to bakeries, riding public transportation, and walking by monuments, well two monuments. The kids were infinitely more excited to ride the Metro than to see the White House, I assume they thought they might be able to score some drugs in the subway or watch someone throw themselves on the tracks, they are very dark children.

Here are a pathetic few photos to give you a glimpse in to our DC vacation world. I apologize for not capturing any of our time trapped in the airplane when I thought I was going to vomit, Cole was losing his mind and Stella was wooing nearby passengers, Aiden had my iPhone.

This photo was actually taken at The Austin Children's Museum, which my children haven't yet realized totally blows. We should have been flying over Mississippi when this photo was taken.

Stella was very adamant about having her own seat on the DC City bus. This independence did not quell her curiosity about everyone around her though, particularly the weirdos. (We are trying to teach our kids to not use this word, but the truth is that it's just fun to say sometimes. Don't tell Aiden and Cole, please.)

Aiden was the only child willing to pose for photos in front of monuments. There are approximately 300 photos of Aiden around DC, as if he were our only child. It would have been a substantially less stressful trip if he were in fact our only child. This isn't mean to say because if he were our only child I wouldn't miss Stella and Cole. Right?

Cole and his cousin decided they were far too out of the loop on thier current events, prompting a subway reading of the paper. This is simply adorable.

Do not be deceived in to thinking that Aiden and Cole actually are sweet to one another since this is the second photo of them hugging. I'm reasonably confident Aiden punched Cole after this photo, or Cole might have stolen something imperative to Aiden's existence, such as a Lego.

See how Aiden is basically forcing everyone else to pose with Abraham Lincoln? He's essentially siding with the South. Abe would be so pissed at Aiden.

Alex and I like to pretend that we are on a vacation alone. In this photo we are ignoring all three kids at The Lincoln Memorial, because we think he would have wanted it that way.

Five
This got so much longer than I thought it would be. My apologies.

Today, I took a very brave step. It was pet defense day at our house, not an actual holiday contrary to how it sounds, it is simply the day the bug man comes. I finally worked up the courage to tell him there are little black worms in my shower.

(I confess their existence here.)

It was embarrassing and humbling.

He was very kind and completely restrained from asking me why I was such a crappy housekeeper that there were actual bugs growing where we bathe.

It's been sprayed, I will definitely keep you all updated on the worms.

Please don't stop reading my blog based on my promise to talk about this in the future.

That's the five highlights folks. I promise to make my best efforts to post again sometime before another 23 days have gone by, but we'll see. I did just think of three things I forgot to tell you, who knows, maybe I'll be back tomorrow...

*In this particular sentence the word many will be defined as "three." As in a mere three people were concerned about my lack of blogging. Those are now the three most important people to me on Earth and I have changed by IRA and life insurance beneficiaries accordingly. Jenn Kloubec...you were the first to ask so please don't kill me for the money.

Spring Break Day Five: Of Course Target

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Tue, 20 Mar 2012 02:47:00 +0000

First, I've left you all hanging for three days without the recap from day five of spring break. Please accept my deepest apologies. I can only imagine how your minds have been racing with the endless possibilities of how our day played out.

Let me put you out of your misery...or in your misery, it really depends on how you look at it.

I decided we were all spent by Friday morning. The week had been fun and exhausting and it was time to do something exciting, but not too crazy. I was thinking we needed something that could entertain us, and give us something to go home with and enjoy there too. I wanted all of us to leave feeling like better people for having been, but not depleted at all by the experience.

Target people.

Where else can you find such simple, though at time financially crippling in the most baffling of ways, joy? Target was calling our name.

I made a brief list of things I "needed" to look for there, something I can do at any moment, of any day, regardless of how recently I have visited a Target or comparable store. Target elicits need from me that I didn't even know existed before the potential of a visit there is mentioned.

It's a dangerous place, in a fun way.

I made a secret plan to purchase each of the kids a "surprise" while we were there, as well as a sticker book to buy me some peace during rest time. My list consisted of things like body wash, play-doh, and ambiguous enough ideas that really anything I decided I wanted could be considered "on the list" without too much difficulty like, decor or shirts.

It was going to be beautiful. They were going to call me "Most Wonderful Mom on Earth," and I was going to deserve it for all the joy distributed (purchased) that morning.

Things didn't work out like that.

Big surprise.

Aiden wanted to learn to tie his shoes so we used that as our jumping off point. We headed straight for the shoe section for cheap tie shoes. We quickly found a pair for $12.99 and threw them in the cart. Cole, unfortunately, also found some Darth Maul Star Wars sandals that light up, which he had to have.

I instantly knew those damn light up Star Wars shoes were going to jack with my Target joy...I'm really smart.

Cole started out just crying and quickly moved to the floor of the Target shoe section, refusing to remove the sandals from his feet unless I conceded and purchased them. I could have just sucked it up and made those his fun toy purchase, but after spending $35 on a pair of Crocs for him earlier in the week, my tolerance for over priced plastic shoes was VERY low. It wasn't happening.

I tried to sympathize with him and tell him to put them on his birthday list...for his August birthday. He might drive me bananas with a conversation about the definition of the day after tomorrow, but his lack of time knowledge is really handy during moments like this. For all he knows, August could be the day after tomorrow...and that seems reasonable to him, usually.

He suddenly became an expert in the phases of the moon though and was fully aware of exactly how long six months is and screamed "NO" while clutching the sandals, that's forever!

Which is sort of true, and Target probably wouldn't even have them anymore, which would be a blessing.

I continued to search in my brain for any other strategies of dealing with tantrum throwing four year olds, ignoring the most obvious one, pick up the kid and jet. I didn't want to jet. I wanted to work through my list, buy three fun and reasonably priced toys, maybe grab some Starbucks on the way out. I continued to try.

The entire time I am trying to turn Cole around, Stella is tearing apart the lingerie section. I didn't realize Target had such an extensive selection of lace and sexy unmentionables. Stella tore apart the assortment of Xhiliration mini-shorts that I pray are only meant for sleeping in, but I fear young girls might be out and about in those shorts. Those girls should have to take Cole with him around town for a few days and they will surely revert to the safety of "shorts" my Mom refers to as pedal pushers.

I sent Aiden to rearrange said shorts, which felt wrong, but I needed to "catch" Stella and get back to getting Cole to focus on the prize of a Target excursion. Stella proved very difficult to find and pin down though, further complicating my focus by running among all the adorable spring clothes that I believed could make me happier and forget about all the child madness I am subjected to on a daily basis. I deserved those spring clothes, right?

I pulled it together though, found Stella and got back to Cole.  After re-hanging all the shorts, Aiden was put in charge of watching Cole to be sure he didn't run away,or wasn't kidnapped by some extra nutty child abductor looking for a really cranky child.

I decided my second to the last resort was to lie on the floor next to him and whisper semi-threatening things to him. I think the whisper can have a lot of power during a tantrum because they have to focus to hear, and it sounds extra creepy which keeps them guessing about just what the hell you are going to do.

My threats were pretty weak though because I really didn't want to go so I didn't want to throw that out. I found myself saying relatively ridiculous things like, "Cole, you need to take those shoes off and stop crying or I won't buy you anything from the dollar section."  I don't think he knows what that is, and I was planning on him buying something bigger anyway, I was just still clinging to the surprise factor.

Then, "Cole, get it together or you can't ever play the Wii again." That's just a lie, which I am fairly confident you aren't supposed to do during discipline. Ever. Or maybe ever in general. I think.

Finally, "Cole, Aiden and Stella really want to shop at Target today, can't you just take off the shoes so we can walk around this pretty store and you can be the best brother ever?"

Really Leslie? This kid is screaming on the floor of Target and had recently fought with his brother over who saw a fire truck first, immediately after ripping his baby sister's pacifier from her mouth and thrown it because he thought it was funny. Appealing to his desire to be a good brother might be grasping a bit.

I knew it was going to happen. I knew what I had to do. I finally told him he had to pull it together or we were leaving. I really didn't want to do that.

By this time though, Stellla was screaming from the cart, where she was strapped in tight, and Aiden was gloating about his new shoe purchase and stellar behavior.

"I guess Cole just doesn't want to make good choices today. It's too bad he isn't old enough to learn to tie his shoes since he can't stop screaming." Thanks Aiden.

I did it though. I walked over, extracted the Darth Maul sandals from his tantrum grip, picked him up, and put him in our large, empty cart and headed for the exit. We paid for Aiden's tie shoes and simply left, with nothing else. We didn't have extra purchases, nothing from the "need" list, and very little joy.

Day five was rough. It got better after Target, but not much, and by the time Alex got home I was ready for spring break to be over, forever. Next year I am sending my children to my parent's house like all the smart people I know.

Waking up for school this morning never felt so good. It was fun, or fun-ish, but five days is possibly one day too long for me to be alone all day with all three of my kids. Happy back to school everyone!

Spring Break: Day Four, Berry Good

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 02:59:00 +0000

Today really should have sucked. Cole threw a massive fit in the middle of the night that kept Alex and I up for hours, completely throwing my early exit in the morning.

We were going to leave at 7:30 so that we could arrive at the strawberry farm mere moments after it opened, first on the scene to score the best berries. I envisioned a Starbucks stop and then baskets of bright red strawberries which would allow us to make pie and muffins and smoothies galore. We were going to sing songs the entire van ride. We were going to skip and frolic.

It didn't work out like that.

I kept it together though. I didn't panic, and at 9:30, a full two hours after my desired time to leave, we calmly pulled out of the hood for a day of strawberry fun. I wasn't exactly optimistic, but more apathetic. I figured we had to go or we would be left here all day to pick on one another and no good could come from that....better to pick strawberries.

It took an hour and a half to get there, mostly with someone complaining about radio volume, headaches, water out of reach, snacks, or something small and annoying, and Stella telling me, "done," every 10-15 minutes and handing me a piece of chewed gum which I didn't even know she had.

Where the hell did all that gum come from?

Once we arrived though...it was pretty fantastic. We hardly filled one basket with strawberries so we won't be making anything, but it was fun. I'm exhausted because we didn't get home until 3:30 and then I had a seizure and decided to clean my house. I'm not sure how that happened, but I feel like I can't move so you're getting the day in photos....more or less.

It was very farm like. We would never survive as actual farmers, but we loved pretending for a bit.

Fresh strawberry ice cream. Yummy.

This was marketed as a "train." It was $4 per child. It was insane, but cute.

Goats are fun.

This very interesting young girl would not leave Stella alone. This is what happens when you are adorable in public.

The end of the farming for us. Cole was scared to get his face painted, but Aiden and Stella loved it.

Very....

tired.

It was great. Really, really wonderful day.

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Again, please take a moment and vote for me on the Circle of Mom's Top 25 Funniest Mom blogs. You can vote once a day and I will love you for it. I'm pathetically 40th, which is really lame and not at all in the top 25. Please!

The link is on the right side of my blog, cleverly under the Vote For The Mommy Therapy heading...I should get some points for that for sure!

Thank you!

Spring Break: Day Three Was HUGE, Or Not

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Thu, 15 Mar 2012 02:59:00 +0000

Today was a slow day...a very slow day. We did a whole lot of nothing. I was very worried that some of you wouldn't be able to function though without my daily spring break updates, so I'm hear to tell you officially, very little happened today.
I went to the gym, we got frozen yogurt, there was laundry and soccer practice, and not much else.

There was one, very exciting thing that happened though and I would feel awful if I didn't share this type of joy with you all. There was a big change here, one that makes me smile every time I think of it.

Today, we did....

PIGTAILS!!!!!!

It's just so cute. Made my whole, boring day.

She finally has enough hair to do this for real. So adorable. I think it was enough to make a day complete.

Stay tuned for Day Four of spring break. I think I am taking my three kids, an hour away to pick strawberries. I have sweet images of all of us with baskets and giant smiles and lots of song singing, possibly even whistling....we're going to be so happy in that field.

Or miserable, it seriously could go either way, check back tomorrow night!

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If you have a mere 30 seconds to spare, please click on the Circle of Moms link on the right side of my blog and vote for The Mommy Therapy for Top 25 funniest Mom blogs. PLEASE!

If you don't have a mere 30 seconds what are you doing? Why are you still reading this? You could have voted already.

Thank you!

Spring Break: Day Two, I Discover I Could Find Employment As A Magician

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Wed, 14 Mar 2012 03:44:00 +0000

Over the past few years of writing this blog, several people have suggested I get a job to get away from my kids, which I sort of agree with in theory. I think I could use a break, even if only to pay for the childcare. It would probably be very healthy for my mental state.

I want to be home with my kids, but even two days a week of something I could do that does not involve them, that requires me to think beyond laundry and meals, sounds spectacular.

The idea is full of logistical problems though, like finding employment for my unskilled self which could even come close to paying for childcare. Or, simply finding employment.

I think I need to be a therapist, or a nutritionist, or a physicist...any kind of 'ist' would probably work for easier employment than the laundress, cook, maid, and taxi driver I currently am.

Wait....maybe I could drive a taxi?

Must explore further.

Honestly, the problem really lies with Stella. She may be adorable, but she really puts a kink in tivities or really doing anything at all. I love doing things with the boys. They are both out of diapers, done with naps, capable of eating anything, able to tell me when they need something, understanding-ish of consequences. Stella isn't there yet and it frankly makes doing almost anything exhausting to balance her needs with the boys.

It is life right now though and I swear I will try to not let the complaining dominate this blog, at least when it's not done in a fun sarcastic way....because I know the sarcasm is not going away.

Moving on....

Good news everyone! I tried this new trick I heard about where you think positive thoughts and decide to be happy and see if you actually start to feel happy. Has anyone else done this? I think it's new.

I woke with a fierce determination to not be annoyed or overwhelmed by my kids, but rather just go with the flow today. I was pretty good at being easy yesterday, but I didn't thoroughly enjoy day one of spring break.

Day two was all about enjoyment and positive thoughts. I was basically a yoga instructor, or a hypnotist, or a magician, or something else that is zen and happy. Wait...are magicians happy?

The day started with coffee with this guy.

It usually takes me a few minutes to accept that I will have zero moments without a child in my face, but this morning it was tough to not sit with my coffee and watch this guy color his self made Jesus coloring book. It was all sorts of adorable.

I also agreed to play war with the boys and was rewarded by the Spring Break Magician Gods in the manner of losing almost immediately and getting to just watch and commentate while I read a few blogs.

We then had Cole's first swim lesson. I didn't yell once getting all of them dressed and out of the door, or on the thirty minute drive. I'm amazing!

Cole also swam really well, which I can only assume can be credited to me also. I also kept Stella from jumping in to the pool and drowning, so I am an awesome Mom and maybe even a swim coach.

Maybe I could be a swim coach two days a week?

I then lost my mind and went to the outlet mall to buy all three children the worst shoes on Earth. $115 of plastic shoes that often shrink in the sun and rub Aiden's feet the wrong way. It was fun though, even amusing when Stella continually tried to leave the store wearing her unpaid for shoes.

You know how fun stealing can be.

This is the worst $115 I have ever spent (possibly)...but I kept smiling!

You know who was not very zen though after the shoe purchase? Stella.

She refused to accept that I didn't have money for any of the mini rides in the middle of the outlet mall. She had a full blown fit about the bus she climbed in never singing or bouncing. It's tough.

She was much happier when we got home and she could spend 15 minutes finding a roly-poly to watch. I really tried to stay happy during this time, but this part of the day was really, really boring. The boys even abandoned me and went inside the house to clean up...they were that bored.

I did receive a fun pick me up in the mail from my Dad. Always the source for amusement.

That is my coloring from back in the day when I actually had to use my brain during the day.

I think it was third grade.

This was my Dad's note.

Wouldn't it be super fun if I could figure out how to rotate this picture? It just wasn't happening tonight. Sorry folks.

I would like to point out that my Father didn't try to fit in the word refridgerator on one line. He's particular like that.

The afternoon really tested my determination to enjoy the day when I took the kids to this park.

It's their favorite so I scored big with that, but it's basically a giant wood fort, which creates several problems. Stella isn't big enough to climb through this by herself so I found myself in small wooden nooks and crannies trying to save her life, time and time again, which became a bit stressful.

It's also challenging to know when my own child is screaming, "Mommy!" as opposed to every other child there. They all sound like my kids and I can't see any of them so it was a bit disturbing...but fun! I persevered with the good thoughts. I am a champ. I also am obviously super kind because I comforted and helped several stranger children.

There were also several injuries, surprisingly none of which were splinters, which is what I feel should be happening here every 3-7 minutes. Aiden scraped his back and bumped his head four times. Cole fell off a rope bridge and cried a lot, though the specific pain couldn't be determined. Stella was actually injury free, but she did try to go home with another family when we were leaving. I guess she didn't dig my whole new positive thinking vibe.

I totally agree with Stella. I'm not a positive thinking magician sort of gal.

I am a turkey burger picnic accompanied with wine (only for me because I'm responsible,) sort of gal though.

I think I'll take the day off from forced enjoyment tomorrow for Day Three of Spring Break, but in all honesty the spring break thing is going much better than I thought it would. I'm confident I will survive.

There's still a good chance I'll devote at least 45 minutes to Monster.com tomorrow. Is that still where people look for work? Do people say look for work if it isn't physical labor? I am in no way interested in physical labor, just to be clear. I'd like to be a human resources professional, like the head of HR.

Do you think that requires experience?

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Again, if you have a moment and could vote for me on Circle of Moms I would LOVE you. Seriously.

Just click on the Circle of Moms link on the right side of my blog and then find The Mommy Therapy, and vote! Please. I'd love to get back in the top 25 so I don't have to go be a taxi driver or magician.

Actually, getting in the top 25 wouldn't mean I definitely wouldn't have to have either of those jobs, but it would probably help a little. I think. Let's not take any chance though. I'd probably rarely have time to blog if I had to learn a shitload of magic tricks.
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Linking up with Shell's TWO YEAR ANNIVERSARY of Pour Your Heart Out! Go check it out! Congratulations Shell, you are awesome!

News and Spring Break: Day One

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Tue, 13 Mar 2012 03:38:00 +0000

Bad news first: I was not picked to be in the Austin Listen To Your Mother show. I feel a lot of things about that but, mostly disappointment which seems to be flowing over in to other areas of life.

It felt huge to be rejected, and it felt worse to walk around my house afterwards looking at the insurmountable piles of laundry, the fridge of unprepared food, and the children with constant needs. After reading the email I cried and thought I should never write again, or I should try to get a part time job at Starbucks or the mall, just to get out of the house more without my children.

I am really good at keeping things in perspective when faced with bad news obviously. In my defense I had just started my period and was almost immediately pooped on by Stella. That's bound to elicit a few downer emotions, right?

To be honest, I've been feeling a little bored, and there are few things less productive and happy than boredom with your life. I am trying to regroup, because that seems a lot more reasonable. Unfortunately, being reasonable isn't my favorite action when I am upset, but I'm working on it.

I don't want to do a whole post about it though. I feel a bit embarrassed about it, though I know I shouldn't, and discussing it at length only amplifies everything. No need for that.

Moving on.

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Today marked the beginning of spring break for my two older boys.

(Stella is permanently on spring break, she's so wild.)

I have had mixed feelings about this week. One the one hand, it's spring break and that phrase alone is a powerful expression of fun and excitement. It's supposed to conjure up images of freedom, fun, sun burns and tequila shots.  I have had some of my favorite weeks of life during spring break.

Surely one of my kids will be old enough to do tequila shots. I mean, Aiden's six and a HALF.

One the other hand, spring break, along with summer, vacations, TV watching, shopping, going to the bathroom, going out to eat, etc. have lost their luster since having children. Mostly spring break means five days of all three kids with just me. All it screams to me is. "NO BREAK! NO BREAK!"

It's really loud.

I used to plan my spring break excursions months prior to the prized week. The perfect location, flight, swimsuit, and of course spending money for souvenirs like plastic yard glasses filled with margaritas that I can drink out of until I pass out on a Cancun bus, and then use later to wisely save pennies. I am really good with money.

(Mom and Dad, I did not pass out on a public bus in Cancun.)

(I fell asleep. I was tired, it wasn't my fault.)

No more though. Now I'm just out there searching for a play date people. Desperately seeking the right activity that can occupy ages 1-6 without me totally losing my mind, which is simply not easy.

Today, we went to a new park, which is right by our house and AMAZING. It is gated so no one can run off to the parking lot to be run over, or to smoke, or whatever else kids under six get in to these days. There are also all sort of different sections, including an entire music section, a fantastic playscape, and a huge simulation of a town complete with a grocery store, car wash, school, and house so my kids can learn early how mundane life in the burbs really can be. There is even...shade.

Praise God, someone in Texas realized it's really freakin' hot here and shade is key when you want to take your young children outdoors in July and not have them ignite in flames.

I would like to point out that my enthusiasm about this park is testimony enough that I need to get out.

After the playground we came home and I fed the kids cheese puffs and fruit juice for lunch.

No lie. DO NOT FREAK OUT MOM. I know that menu was difficult to hear, it was difficult to type.

I don't know what I was doing. I can only assume I was in some sort of spring break induced trance when I let Aiden choose what we had for lunch. I am NEVER that much fun.

I reigned them back in though by demanding two hours of silence while Stella napped so I could do things like fill my virtual shopping cart on Land of Nod with $400 worth of kid room accessories which I will never, ever purchase and search for reasons why my leg is itchy. I either have poison ivy or psoriasis or leprosy, Web MD wouldn't confirm my diagnosis, clearly Web MD didn't know it was spring break.

Alex called multiple times to check in on my sanity today. He couldn't care less about what the kids were doing, he called to be sure I would still be here when he got home from work.  I know he's afraid he'll find Aiden distributing cheese balls and Izze sodas while Cole throws Legos on every inch of our floor and Stella walks on our iPad. He's right to be concerned.

He suggested I spend $400 on a blender I want and didn't balk when I told him I opened a Gap Visa yesterday afternoon to save 55% on a bunch of kids' clothes.  He is so scared of me this week. I have all the power for the next five days. I've been working on my list of requests and shopping on line compulsively.

To wrap up our day we went to Sonic and purchased red colored drinks, because I'm clearly brain damaged, right before I hauled all three of them to the grocery store. We had one of those car carts with a bad attitude, refusing to be told which direction to turn. It made the whole experience extra exhilarating, but in all honesty the three of them were pretty well behaved for having to go to the grocery store for their Monday afternoon of spring break activity.

I credit their good behavior with years of teaching them to keep their expectations for fun painfully low when Mommy is in charge all day. All my hard work is really paying off.

Tomorrow I'm going to wear my bikini and bring all the kids' beach toys to Cole's first indoor swim lesson, just to up the spring break fun factor. I assume they don't mind extra family members in the pool. It's going to be an awesome thirty minutes. I wonder what we'll do with the other nine hours of the day?

Whatever it is, it will be WILD for sure. I had t-shirts made for everyone that read "It's Spring Break With My Mommy Bitch."

Mom, I did not. I wouldn't waste my money on custom tees for my children when Alex is giving the green light on fancy blenders and Gap apparel. I'm not that girl passed out, I mean asleep, on the Mexican bus anymore. I'm responsible and probably taking the kids to buy Crocs tomorrow. Nothing says grown up like plastic shoes.

Pass the red drink and cheese balls please, Day Two of Spring Break happens in a mere 11 hours.

Wish me luck!

I'll report back tomorrow night with details, surely even more exciting than today's mind blowing experience. I might even take a photo or TWO. Watch out.

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Also, I have been horrible at harrassing everyone to vote for me on the Circle of Moms Top 25 Funniest Mom Blogs. PLEASE click on the icon under Vote For The Mommy Therapy, then click vote next to my blog...which is currently in a pathetic 44th place.

Sad folks.

Remember how sad it was to hear that I didn't make it in to the Listen To Your Mother Show?

Let's cheer me up, right?

Thank you!

Five Quick Confessions

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Thu, 08 Mar 2012 04:26:00 +0000

I have been having a rough week with Cole. It's been one of those times when he spins out of control at the slightest request for shoe finding or bath taking and it makes me want to run away.

Unfortunately, I usually don't run away. I say unfortunately because I think we all might be happier with a bit of space during these moments of emotional unbalance. I never leave though, primarily because I'm still clinging to the hope that jail for child abandonment might be worse than enduring a few more of Cole's tantrums.

I think.

Instead though, I find myself crying or yelling, and feeling washed in guilt at my inability to help either one of us get it together. We'll have a good few hours and then suddenly I ask him to come talk to me about dinner and he's rolling on the floor and crying about how I'm not ever going to take him to the fair again or let him see his Grandparents.

I can't explain it, but I don't think I can fight that sort of logic...or lack of logic.

I wonder if it's possible that Cole is involved in the use of heavy narcotics?

I'm honestly sick of feeling guilty about not being able to handle it well. I feel as though it's all I think about, all the live long day. It's just not a super fun feeling.

I decided it's time for me to make some confessions that have nothing to do with Cole. It's important for me to remember that there are other areas of my life in which I may, or may not, be jacking things up.

One: I don't believe in fabric softener. I don't use it because I don't understand what it's supposed to do or why I'm supposed to care. Whenever I hear someone talking about dryer sheets, it's rarely in relation to their use in the laundry room, but more how to keep away mosquitoes or de-nasty their shoes. I think the stuff was made up by that company with the cuddly bear, Snuggles is it? Should I be using it though? Maybe I'm failing my family in the laundry realm of our life.

Two: I allow Stella to chew gum. I realize she's only 21 months, but she's really good at it. It just feels mean to not let her develop her talents. What if this is all she has? She usually hands it to me when she's done or throws it in the trash. She's probably swallowed a few pieces, but that's bound to happen regardless of her age, right? I try to sneak it to her in public though for fear of being judged by other Moms. In my defense though, it's Trident, not Hubba Bubba....yet.

Three: I have a stack of serious, non-fiction books to read on my nightstand, but I really just want to read another one of those Janet Evanovich, Stephanie Plumb novels in hopes that there will be some romance in the next one. I'm also craving more vampire novels. Perhaps my literary desires are something I need to work on redirecting.

Four: There are black worms in my shower, which I fear may be leading to these little fly things in my bedroom and bathroom. I feel like I should expand and explain how this is happening, but I'm grossing myself out even bringing it up. If only I weren't too embarrassed to talk to my quarterly exterminator about this situation. I feel like he would judge me and I just can't have that.

Five: When I get my $30 or so check every few months from BlogHer for having such a powerhouse of a blog, I view that money as extra money and basically spend it four or five times over before I've even deposited it. That wouldn't be so bad if I didn't also use this check to try to convince my husband that I am financially contributing to our household, which is a blatant lie. If it can't even pay for the electricity my computer uses, much less my Starbucks habit, am I really even bringing anything in?

Thanks for letting me do a little confessional dumping. I needed that tonight.

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Don't forget to click on the top Circle of Moms link on the right side and vote for The Mommy Therapy to be in the top 25 funniest Mom blogs. I appreciate it!

This Is Where I Tell You I Might, or Might Not, Soon Be Famous

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Wed, 07 Mar 2012 00:46:00 +0000

This weekend was extraordinary. I did something extraordinary.

It had all the elements of normal life with three children out here in the suburbs; a six year old soccer game, lunch at a burger place, lots of time mowing grass and asking small people to pick things up or stop crying, we even got a little crazy and had two families over for dinner. There were sandbox castles and bubbles and lots of messes.

All of that was wonderful, but normal.

What made it extraordinary was that I took a risk. I tried to do something that is beyond my everyday routine, and it was exhilarating. It was empowering.

I auditioned for the Austin Listen To Your Mother Show.

If you don't know what that is, check out the link here. Basically it's an opportunity for about ten or so selected woman to share their live readings of motherhood with an audience. It's an empty stage with a brave woman sharing her, at times, thoughts and emotions about motherhood in general.

I attended the show here last year with a good friend and it was amazing. I was so impressed with the women. The whole show was funny, heartfelt, and honest. I loved it.

I immediately wanted to be a part of it.

So when I saw the tweet (can we all agree that's a horrible word that sort-of sounds like teat?) about auditions for this year's show, I spent hours working on what I wanted to say. In Austin you submit an essay and then are either asked to come audition or not.

I was blessed with an audition.

It felt amazing to even be honored with the opportunity to try out for the show. I loved working on that piece and finding the words that meant the most to me about my story. I loved putting myself out there and doing something that felt like a risk. I loved that it had nothing to do with my children, well except for their existence so that I could have material to discuss, of course.

I loved saying that I had "an audition." I had a reason to curl my hair and put on a dry clean only shirt and leave Alex with all three kids in the middle of the day. I love that he was wishing me good luck. For once I had something big to do and he was being left to make peanut butter and jelly and beg children to nap.

It felt so much more powerful than my blog, and I LOVE my blog.

I write this blog because it keeps me sane. I love dumping all my thoughts and feelings into this blank space and then spending time, sometimes not enough, constructing those emotions and experiences in to something someone might want to read. I'm even OK with that someone simply being me....though the comments and the rising number of page views don't exactly depress me.

(It's possible I absolutely find a thrill from them.)

But I write for me. I sort of write for the idea of leaving a mark about this insane, confusing, and sometimes confining time in my life so that my children and I can all look back at all of it to reflect, but maybe none of us will want to look back? I can only assume the future is going to kick this time in my life's ass...but maybe not.

I also sort of write for the idea that some other woman out there that I don't even know might need me. I love that woman. I like that she thinks she sees a bit of herself in me, or at the very least finds me amusing enough to periodically read. I cherish that. I love you woman I don't know.

I don't know if I will make it in to the show or not yet, but the thrill of trying was so sweet. I would be lying if I said that it was sweet enough that I am OK not making it, but there is something to be said for feeling like I went for something, no holding back, no excuses, no kids....just me and my words.

It reminded me to try more. It brought back a feeling of wanting something that was sort of scary to do, but worth it because of the joy of taking the chance on me.

I strongly urge any of you in a Listen To Your Mother city to go see it. It's raw and beautiful and simply awesome. I think most of the auditions are done, but if you like to write at all, think about auditioning next year. You won't be disappointed.

And if you live in the Austin area, I'll be there either way and would love to hang out.

There's a cash bar after the show so really there are no losers here.

Thank you Ann Imig for staring this very cool opportunity for the very "normal" Mom like me.

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Side note: Despite the fact that this post was not funny at all, unless you have a really strange sense of humor, I would love it if you would mosey to the right side of my screen and click on the Circle of Mom's icon under the Vote for The Mommy Therapy heading. You can then scroll through and vote for me, or someone else, but let's remember who led you there.

I was in the top 25 last year, and though it really doesn't mean much, it was fun to get some new readers from being in it. Also, I make t-shirts that read, "I Voted For The Mommy Therapy, What The Hell Have You Done?" for everyone that votes for me*, and that's difficult to turn down.

Just do it.**

*Lie.
**Nike did not sponsor this post....just to clear up any confusion.

I Might Make Really Good Pot Roast - Seriously, It's a Recipe-Ish

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Thu, 01 Mar 2012 04:52:00 +0000

I feel as though I should apologize. I used to write a receip-ish every week. I would throw one together every week without fail, or maybe sometimes fail, but I usually got it together. You can check out some of the ones from the past here and here and here.

This morning I saw an article on Rihanna though and I felt like writing this because I think she's nuts. Then I checked out YouTube and found one of Rhihanna's new songs and felt pretty disturbed. I do really like her, but something has to stop and surely a recipe-ish can heal everything.

I also have a new obsession with pot roast, and how can I be a good person and still keep that to myself?

Dear Rhianna,
First, I really enjoy your music. I run to a lot of your jams...wait, is it cool to call them jams? I'm assuming yes, of course. I realize I'm a 35 year old Caucasian, suburban house wife, but I think I can rock it out to all your songs. I'm sure you would agree.
I must confess though, I have a difficult time relating to some of your tunes about all the rough sex having and such, though I do like that one about yellow diamonds and finding love. It's catchy in the way repeating the same words over and over again is super fun.
Alex and I watched a Diane Sawyer interview with you not too long after your break up with that violent dancing boy, and I'm not sure if you know this or not, but you are crazy pretty. You had the ugliest haircut since Sinead O'Connor and both of us couldn't get over how gorgeous you are.

What is up with that hair? Please don't cut it that short again. If you can promise me that, I promise to never allow my Mom to chop off my hair and perm it like she did in the third grade. I still shutter when I think of my 3rd year photo. Short hair, perm, white blouse (not shirt) and plaid bow tie.

That's right, bow tie Rihanna.

Do we have a deal?

I am so sorry about all the face hitting you went through with your ex boyfriend, Chris Brown. He really is a good dancer though. I'm sure it was difficult to not go jet skiing with him a few days after he beat the shit out you, who can blame you? I'm happy you made the right decision though and ended that relationship.

As Oprah says, once a beater, always a beater.

That might not be an exact quote. It's possible Oprah was a bit more eloquent, she might have even rhymed or quoted Maya Angelou, but I think I have captured the jist of her message.
It came to my attention earlier today though that you and Mr. Quick Feet have decided to work together on a few songs. A professional collaboration of sorts. That's interesting....very interesting.

Then I read an article about how your friends are concerned that there might be a rekindling of past romantic feelings. I feel confused. Did you forget that he hit your face really hard?

Have you been to an indoor trampoline park? I recently went to a five year old's birthday party at one and I had a difficult time thinking about anything. I was mostly trying to save Stella from plunging into a foam pit, never to be seen again, or from peeing my pants when I bounced.

For your future information, trampolines and jump ropes are not good for those of us that have had multiple babies. Vigorous exercise of any kind will work against your bladder control and should be approached with care and Poise pads. Our lower regions have been to war, and not the kind you sing so passionately about, ours is a bit more actual pain followed up by profound sleep deprivation and a general feeling of trapped sadness for a few years.

Did you and Chris ever talk about having babies together?

Where was I going with this?

Oh yes, I think if Chris Brown took me to an indoor trampoline park, I might have a difficult time resisting him and his cool moves, even if he had given me a black eye. But, I listen to Oprah, so I of course would not be able to be swayed by his flips and such.

Is this making sense?

I think we need pot roast. See, I know you are from Barbados, a beautiful island.

( I was there in junior high, but I don't remember seeing you?)

My concern though is that since you were probably always in your island lifestyle, you probably didn't have a lot of pot roasts and discussions with your family about how you shouldn't stick around after someone punches you in the face a few times, even if they are a really good kisser, or dancer, or singer. Wait...does Chris Brown sing?

(You should know that I assume that everyone living on a tropical island mostly eats fresh fruit and ham, and drinks rum. The discussions at the dinner table mostly center around sun tan lotion and fixing wheels on carts. I can't explain it, that's just how it is in my brain. I blame my adolescent perms.)

I'm going to tell you what I tell my six and four year old around our dinner table, hitting hurts and people don't want to be hit.

Rhianna, you are people...you aren't supposed to like getting hit. Does that make sense?

Have you ever had a perm?

Let's make pot roast and discuss.

I know you are probably busy, but it's really not an excuse for not having a hearty meal, or for finding a man that can dance, do a flip, and not punch you. The answer to all your problems? A crock pot.
You might think I'm over simplifying your life, but really, a crock pot can change everything.

(I also read that you read 97 pounds and that sounds like someone that needs to eat a roast. Often.)
Here is what you need.

2 pounds carrots, peeled and cut into 2 inch chunks (you can wing the 2 inch exactness)

1 bag of small red potatoes washed (we wash our potatoes on the mainland)

1 - 8 oz. package sliced, fresh mushrooms (non hallucinogenic, this isn't LA)

1 large sweet onion, cut in half and sliced

1 3-4 lb. boneless chuck roast, trimmed - NOT THE SAME AS RUMP ROAST, after listening to your music for a while and seeing quite a few of your videos, I have a feeling the rump roast would speak to you, don't do it. Stick with Chuck, he'll be good to you.)

salt and pepper (I don't believe in measurements for anything put on the table for people to dump any undisclosed amount, just shake it a while, I'm sure you'll do great.)

2 teaspoons olive oil

1 - 1 oz envelope dry onion soup mix

1 -14 oz can beef broth (it sounds and is foul, but it's important and will make it all delicious)

1 - 8 oz can tomato sauce (I like the basil, oregano, garlic seasoned one because I'm WILD, I think you would make the same choice.)

3 tablespoons tomato paste

2 teaspoons dried Italian seasoning

2 tablespoons cornstarch

salt and pepper

First, put the carrots, potatoes, mushrooms, and onions in the bottom of a lightly greased slow cooker.

(That's another term for crock pot, but I think it's degrading so I don't use it.)
(Except right there to make a point.)
Sprinkle the roast with pepper. This is awkward and sort of gross because you have to touch a lot of meat, but I've seen your S&M video, you should be able to handle anything.

Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high (again, such a perfect setting because no one wants to be high or plain medium. Wait....maybe they do?) heat and then brown the roast for 2-3 minutes on each side.

(If you have any trouble getting olive oil, please let me know. I receive mass quantities of olive oil from my Greek father-in-law and would be happy to share. I'm really nice, also a potential side affect from perming my hair and/or having too many children so now I just want other adults to like me so they will talk to me about things other than Legos or poop.)

Put the roast on top of the mushroom and onion mix and sprinkle with the onion soup mix. Pour the broth and tomato sauce on top and put a lid on it.

(Put A Lid On It would be an excellent song by the way. I could really help you. We should be friends.)

Cook on low 8-10 hours or until the meat shreds easily with a fork.

While it's cooking, I have to be honest with you Rhianna, because that's what nice people do, your new Birthday Cake song, on which Chris Brown collaborated with you, is pretty horrible. It's offensive and not overly clever. All your sexual innuendos about blowing out the candles, licking and the icing, and eating all the cake are pretty overt and sort of lame. I'm totally not a prude, but this just sucks.

To help you remember:

Chris Brown's part is even worse than yours. Did he really just through a line in saying he wants to f***you? It's like he's not even trying to write a song. Surely there's a better way to express this. I feel as disappointed in this song as my Mom did when she read my use of the f-bomb when expressing my profound hatred of a few things when I had just lost my dog, prompting her to email me pages and pages about how I am a better person than that.

MaryAnn DOES NOT like the f-word.

Maybe my Mom could be the answer to your love for a Chris Brown? Or, she could be Chris Brown's answer to not needing to beat women anymore. I'm sure we can work something out.
Think about it.

Sidenote: I do like the beat.

After the meat is done cooking, it should shred easily with a fork. If it doesn't, you jacked it up, but you should try again. Or you should hire someone to do this, because I bet you can afford that.

Take the meat out of the crock pot and shred it, then cover it to keep it warm.

(Also another song title? Shred the meat? I bet you and Chris could rip that one up.)
Side note: Have you ever heard of Tina Turner? You should totally look in to her story. I think there is a movie or two about her life.

Next, stir the tomato paste and Italian seasoning in to the vegetables. Stir the cornstarch and 2 Tbsp of water together in a small bowl until smooth. (Try not to be afraid of cornstarch. It terrifies me too, I don't understand why it works like that and what exactly it is.)

Add the scary water mixture to the crock pot and stir.

Put the crock pot on high and cook until the juices have thickened, about 40 minutes or so.
Reduce the heat to serve, or turn it off, add the meat back in, salt and pepper it, and then put it in a shallow bowl and eat it with some crunchy french bread and red wine. Amazing.

Right a song about that!

Pot Roast, Pot Roast, Pot Roast.
You can shred with your fork-a.
I like the crunchy bread.
I want to eat it off your head.

Dear Lord Rihanna, you are worse for me than the perm. This is clearly poor work.

It's done though. Go eat your pot roast, talk to Oprah, and possibly look into getting a perm and a blouse, I have yet to be hit by a man, or anyone for that matter, so clearly it worked for me.

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Brace yourself everyone...The Circle of Moms Top 25 Contest is back. You can help me get in the top 25 Funniest Mom blogs just by clicking on the Circle of Moms icon on the right side of your screen. It's right under the Vote for Me Heading. Doesn't it feel good to make a difference? Let's do this together!

This Is Nothing Like Smelling Roses, I Don't Want To Stop And Smell This

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Wed, 29 Feb 2012 04:27:00 +0000

The awful smell of stale urine is radiating from the kitchen trash can every time I open it to dump pieces from my frantic assembly of dinner. It nauseates me and taints my entire perception of the meal I am preparing, but I can't do anything about it. I would change the trash bag, but I fear delaying the presentation of food to my extremely hungry and very cranky children would mean I would no longer be pushing through the evening, but rather retreating to my closet floor to cry.

I have a splitting headache, most likely from all the screaming and my own ravenous hunger, but it could just be that I am being crushed by the guilt I feel for obviously not handling anything well this afternoon. The best example of my lack of skills being my horribly timed preparation of dinner. The pain is awful. Nothing hurts more than realizing you are mostly to blame for your own problematic chaos.

I have an Advil in one of those very mean foil packets teasing me on the counter. It could save me, if I could only get it open with my aggressive, but not at all effective attempts to rip into it. I find myself opening packages and chopping onions and then trying to bite open the pill. I probably look as insane as I feel.

Do you think my kids would be nicer to me if I told them I had an actual mental health issue? Could I train them to only whisper to me, being careful not to startle or anger me?

I realize I am out of two key ingredients for dinner and end up using diced tomatoes rather than tomato sauce and soy sauce rather than Worcheshire. I am confident that both of those substitutions have just created a meal that my children will immediately dislike and not even bother to eat, making me wonder why I'm not just sending them to bed now after a bowl of cereal that would make me the good guy.

This could all be over and I could be pouring a glass of wine to wash down my Advil.

Cereal does sound good.

Aiden is crying at the kitchen table because he doesn't like to draw pictures for his homework, claiming he's a horrible artist so what's the point? I feel like I should be starting some inspirational speech about rising to the challenge of a task or giving everything the best we can, but instead I finally walk over and simply take the paper from him and tell him to pour the milk. I am not winning that battle tonight, I refuse to participate.

Cole is still on the floor of the bathroom where he's been lying since I pulled him out of the bath 10 minutes ago for dumping water repeatedly in his sister's face. He's crying because he's too cold to move from the bath mat to his room where his pajamas are waiting. I sort of understand his lack of inspiration to move, his wanting some one else to handle all the work while he lies there. I want a bathmat.

Today, Cole's already informed me that he isn't going to cooperate anymore, ever, because he prefers to do what he wants. He also has proclaimed that I don't love him anymore. He's thrown playground gravel at me as he sat in time out on a park bench for hitting Stella, while I discussed discipline strategy with a Dad I met about 5 minutes before that when he asked my opinion on how to handle his two year old since he saw I have so many kids.

I am very aware of how little credibility I had in that man's eyes.

I think I saw fear in his eyes.

Stella is screaming at my feet, inconsolable and desperate to be held, though picking her up doesn't come close to calming her down and only slows my progress. I keep throwing random parts to my food processor and a bag of Popsicle molds to her to try to pacify her. She is surprisingly uninterested.

I know she's hungry, but these days she screams to get anything, lacking any real words to convey her needs. We had a massive screaming fit over her wish to have me roll down her window in the van earlier today. Is it that challenging to learn the word window? Can we just get a noun of some sort? I have given her a bowl of peas, a cheese stick, and a few crackers, why am I killing myself for dinner? What else could this child really want?

I can tell you what she won't want in about 10 minutes, soy sauce and diced tomatoes mixed with meat.

I am starting to feel that there is something cosmically working against me today.
All that is moving me forward is that in less than two hours they will all be in bed. I will be alone, this mess will be over. I can dedicate the five minutes required to open that foil package of pain medication. I can stop instructing and assisting and calming and reprimanding and freaking out.

I can eat, only waiting on myself.

Today is not extraordinary outside of the gift of having it. This dinnertime-bedtime scenario is not unusual. It's not always this bad, but it's always rough in some way. It's always exhausting and frantic, regardless of my plans. There are just so many of them and they need so much.

When do they stop needing me so much? I'm looking for a time with significantly less tears.

I'm trying so hard to be grateful for this time with my small children at home. I am trying to put my phone down, cut myself a break on the frequency of blogging, and stop and seriously smell the roses, or in this case my kids, more often.

I am trying. I really am....but all I smell is stale urine and sloppy joes gone ary.

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Linking up to Shell's Pour Your Heart Out.

I'm Smiling About Balls, Scholastic Books, and Old Lady Shoes, It's Been A Good Month

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 05:10:00 +0000

I really needed his today. Sometimes it's good to look back and find all the good, or some of the more absurd and random good, from a month.

Emmy over at Emmy Mom, One Day At A Time has a monthly meme to find ten things to smile about. It always amuses me immensely to write these posts.

I am pretty easily amused though.

I'm also linking up to Dandelion Wishes My Happy List. Check it out too.

1. Scholastic Book Club
For years and years I have had a deep and very real love for all the brochures Scholastic has passed to my children and me. There are few moments in life that can compare to the day your book order arrives at school. Possibly the birth of my children, but I knew approximately when they were coming and they totally jacked up my sleep. Scholastic is always a joyful surprise and has never once cost me a moment of shut eye.

This month I have reconnected with Scholastic in the form of books on CD that I can play in my minivan, creating....silence. Have you heard of this? It's where all your children are simultaneously not making any noise at all, not even a moment of fighting over the addition of two numbers, who saw or did not see a firetruck, or crying of any kind.

Thank you Scholastic. I love you.

2. Energy balls
Do not be alarmed. This has nothing to do with testicles. I swear.
These are small rounded balls of deliciousness (see, nothing to do with testicles,) I found on Pinterest....and then actually made because I am totally conquering Pinterest. Possibly only in the food category, but it's still rewarding. These are fantastic, do not require baking, and are perfect for snacking.

My children even like them, probably because I call them cookies. Find the recipe here.

3. Bows on Ponytails
We've reached a critical hair point at our house. Today, I pulled Stella's hair back with a rubber band and then put a bow on the ponytail....and it was adorable.

4. The Young and The Restless
I used to watch Guiding Light, before the world turned upside down and daytime dramas started dropping left and right. It was difficult to move on after that. I had recorded the show for years, and watched it for years with my Grandmother. It's been a few years now though and just this month I have decided to watch Young and The Restless. It's not the same, but it has brought back all the joy I missed of daytime drama. People in jail, confessing things on their deathbeds, affairs, fake marriages, and very attractive crazy people. It feels good to allow myself 30 minutes a day (fast forwarded on the DVR,) of over the top ridiculous.

5. Bird Earrings
I try to harass you as often as possible about how great my friend Amity is. I think it's important that everyone have someone close by that they know is honest, supportive, funny, and just enjoyable to be around. If you live in the Austin area I would highly recommend Amity, but I fear she isn't accepting any new friends right now.

This might be a lie, but I don't see her enough already, I can't have a bunch of people trying to occupy her time in an effort to get free earrings and stimulating converstation.

She does make some amazing earrings, and she gave me these a few weeks ago and I find that they make me really happy whenever I put them on.

She makes these and that's insane to me.

You can order them here. She also is giving all my readers a discount of 25%, just enter the code Mommytherapy25 and it's magic. Seriously, magic.

6. "Cheeeessseeee"

Both of my boys were saying several words by 18 months. Cole could even repeat complicated words and speak with two or three word phrases. I, of course, assumed all my children would be verbally gifted and go on to find some way to earn a zillion dollars (a million simply isn't what it used to be) using their robust vocabulary. So, imagine my surprise when Stella is barely saying anything at almost 21 months. She says Mama and Dada, and usually says da for yes and nein for mine because there is a lot of German on my side, but that's about it.

I was pretty overjoyed though to hear her master "cheese" when posing for the camera.

I am seriously fearful of how dangerously cute she is these days.

7. Downton Abbey
I have been hearing so much about it lately that I decided to suck it up and watch it once I discovered season one on Netflix. (Alex actually discovered it, but I'm not sure he wants everyone to know that he's watching English period pieces with me...wait, oops.)   I had to see what the hype was about and I'm totally hooked. It's a nice change of pace.

It's like adult Anne of Green Gables. Or maybe not, but it feels the same to me for some reason.
Please though, do not tell my Mom that I am watching this. I've been making fun of her love of all things English and PBS for years now, this is going to tarnish one of my key areas of teasing. We might even have to watch it together in the future. I dare say she probably even knows more than I do about what is going on...I can't wait to discuss cousins marrying cousins with her.

Oh, important sidenote though for those new to the show. It isn't Downtown, it's Downton. I had been thinking it was weird to have such an urban name for an English show, I stand corrected.

8. Girls Weekends
I have two in the works in May and I basically want to pee my pants with joy  when I think of these days away with amazing women.

One weekend is with my best friends from elementary school, the people I crave most outside my family.  They are my family. They are the ones that took me to Vegas last year where I was able to do insane things like drink a large glass of milk and eat a cinnamon roll at 5:30 PM....before dinner.

I can only imagine what we'll do this year at a private lake house. Eat zero vegetables? Drink after brushing my teeth? I'll keep you updated.

9. College Algebra
In college, I earned the highest grade in my college algebra class. It was such a thrill to have grades printed and posted in order from best (me) to not-best (everyone else.) You see, I sucked at trigonometry and calculus in high school, and analytical geometry made my tummy hurt, but algebra was totally my zone. I understood and liked it. So when Aiden had this question, the last one on the page in the picture, on his KINDERGARTEN homework, though shocked that my six year old was starting on stuff I felt such pride over when I was 19, I chose to simply be happy that I could help him.

In case you can't see it reads, "I had some rocks. I found 4 more rocks. Now I have 9 rocks. How many rocks did I start with?
Surprisingly, he could not have cared less about my high grade achievement in college, though I tried to work it in approximately six times. I'll keep trying.

Sidenote: He also didn't care about my questions about why this person has so many rocks. Do they work at a mining quarry? Are they in to geology?

10. Sexy Old Lady Tap Shoes
I bought these shoes right after Christmas and they have been bringing me so much joy this month. They are so fun with my skinny jeans. I feel a little sexy, a little old lady, and a little bit like I should be tapping....how could that not be a huge success?

JOY

What are you happy about from this month?

I Like My Bagels Toasted and My Men Young

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Mon, 27 Feb 2012 05:22:00 +0000

It's Alex's birthday. He's turning 34, while I on the other hand am settling in nicely to a different year. I don't know why I married a man younger than I am. I guess it was all the Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher stuff going to my head. I didn't think I was influenced by her, but what other explanation is there?

He guess he always flushes....and puts the seat down. That's huge.

He's quite yummy to look at and still makes my stomach flip when he kisses me, which he always does when he walks in the door. Best part of the day.

He works hard...on everything he does. He is determined and the complete opposite of lazy when it comes to his job, his kids, or me. He is fiercely dedicated to all those things.

He is passionate and critical in the most productive way. He is honest, faithful, and loyal. He is so full of integrity.

He participates fully in our family dance moments. He is not a good dancer....but there is a slight chance that I am not either so it actually works out very well. Neither of us have any problem busting out our moves to Otis or Beyonce on a Friday night with the kids.

He makes me laugh, and laughs with me. He gets me, and even when he doesn't he attempts to and does so lovingly.

He will watch The Twilight movies or The Bachelor and only make fun of the things I am making fun of, and will genuinely have a favorite at the final rose ceremony.

He's confident.

He's capable of fixing almost anything around here and it never ceases to amaze me that he can just fix the a/c or install a new dishwasher like it's no big deal. These things seem like very big deals.

He is simply awesome. He is my partner in all of this and I am overjoyed that it has worked out like that because I can't imagine doing any of this without him.

I suppose I can think of a few things besides Demi Moore's influence that caused me to go nuts for this guy.

Now I know you are wondering what we did to celebrate?

We celebrated his birthday the way every parent dreams, without our children. We hired a babysitter and got the hell out of our kid chaos house so we could go shoot guns.

No kids and firearms? It was a dream.

To be honest, I was a bit terrified. I had only shot a shotgun a few times at a friend's house, so going somewhere to pay to shoot a gun around a lot of other people with guns sounded sort of horrible, but it was Alex's choice of birthday event so we went.

As soon as we got there I felt a bit overwhelmed by all the people. It was a crowded Saturday and apparently everyone wanted to shoot a gun to celebrate the weekend. I'm fairly confident I was just paranoid, but everyone in there looked like a criminal to me. It's a good thing I looked so bad ass in my protective eye wear.

Can you believe that I don't wear these all the time? Alex could barely keep his hands off me.

We shot a 22 and a 9 mm. I don't really know what either of those mean, but I was OK shooting one of them, fairly confident I could have been part of Charlie's Angels with it, thought the safety guy told me I couldn't pose with it or try to shoot it while turned to the side, lame. The other gun scared the shit out of me and I think I would be a danger to those around me if I was forced to shoot it again.

Alex handled it all much better than I did. He didn't jump every time someone else shot a gun or complain that his thumb hurt while trying to load the bullets. He's very tough.

I'm pretty sure he was the only guy there in a Banana Republic shirt and loafers though. I mean, I think that's some dangerous apparel, but surprisingly no one else was dressed like that for gun shooting.

After the range we went to an electronics store for Alex to put some wall speakers or woofers or something to do with sound for our stereo. I was VERY interested.

We then headed out for sushi, a new love of mine and an old love of his that he finally gets to enjoy because I have decided we should go more often. I still get confused about why things like "whole baby octopus" are on the menu to actually eat, but the other things that I do order are delicious.

All in all it was a great birthday celebration. Unfortunately, Alex decided today that it would be a good idea to install those speaker things in our ceiling. He had to actually take a saw to our wood ceiling, which didn't feel very celebratory.

Please note the blanket he placed on the floor to catch all the debris. It seems like a really nice idea until you see the find coating of dust all over EVERYTHING in this whole room. It was a lot less fun than shooting a gun to clean it all up.

Happy birthday to my favorite husband! I love you Alex!

(I guess honestly he's my only husband, but he is currently also my favorite so let's not get caught up in semantics, OK?)

Has Your Dad Ever Emailed You About A Brillant Scientist?

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Thu, 23 Feb 2012 04:36:00 +0000

I was searching through my yahoo account the other day and came across a cherished email from my Dad from many years ago. It quickly reminded me of a few, very important things.

First, I have the most amazing father in the history of the universe. He has profoundly impacted my life in the best of ways. How did that work out so fantastic for me? Second, going through crappy times really are fantastic for helping to learn a lot about yourself and most often make you a lot stronger. Third, I am so happy to have married Alex because he only periodically gives me need to remember the message of my father's email, and always respects and responds. Again, that worked out pretty fantastic for me too.

The email from my Father was one he wrote to me when I was going through a challenging time with a boyfriend. This boy and I had dated for a few years , he was very intelligent, good hearted, and funny. We had a good time together.

The problem was, there were little ways in which I felt belittled. They were seemingly harmless jokes about my intellect or my taste in music. There was poking at my traditional viewpoint of how I believed I wanted my future to play out, and challenges to so many small things I said. It was not constant, but it was there and it permeated me as a person, changed how I acted.

I felt second. I always felt second. I acted second too. His needs and thoughts were first and I started to believe that was right. I don't think he even knew it was happening though. I was horrible at discussing these sorts of things. I ignored it and ignored it, until I was pissed and unhappy and it had to end.

I wasn't fantastic when I was with him and it took me years to figure that out.

My Dad, always quick to point out the awesome in me, while challenging me along the way, sent me the following email during the rocky time of me trying to end this relationship that just didn't make me as great as I should have known I could be. He knew though, and he is so amazing at reminding me in the most subtle and powerful ways.

(He calls me goofy, just in case you were wondering what that was all about.)

goofy

I promised you this sometime ago.

Background: Richard Feynman(1918-1988) was a brilliant scientist. some considered him the smartest man in the world during the 40s and 50s. he won the noble prize for physics and was a factor in the development of the atomic bomb.

he could master any subject in an afternoon if he wanted to.

Feynman prided himself on honesty, independence, and, of course, logical thinking and knowledge. he was attractive; women liked him and he liked them. his first sweetheart was arline; they married and she died shortly thereafter from tb while he was working at los almos on the bomb.

feynman became concerned about disputes between husband and wife. using his logic, he devised his method for resolving these disputes, to wit: one hour would be set aside to argue the point under dispute. if a conclusion was not reached, he would decide the issue because he was older, more knowledgeable, and more experienced. as a practical matter, feynam would simply give up and arline would decide. an example of the theoretical mind at work. arline knew where his vanities were. once she sent him some pencils emblazoned with 'richard darling, i love you! putsie' and caught him cutting off the incriminating legend. she then sent him the following poem.

If you don't like the things i do

my friend, i say, pecans to you!

if i irate with pencils new

my bosom pal, pecans to you!

if convention's mask is borne in view

if deep inside sound notions brew

and from without you take your cue

my sorry friend, pecans to you!

love you

dad

I can't imagine having navigated life this far without my Father.

Thank you Dad!

I love you!

Please Stop Telling Me About Your Daughter's Relationship, Aiden's Still Single and It's Just So Painful

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 04:47:00 +0000

*****Just for fun, it might be nice to play Beyonce's Single Ladies while reading this.******

*****Or it might be weird and difficult to concentrate. Your call.****

This might come as a shock to some of you, but Aiden does not have a girlfriend. He's currently single. We aren't sure what to make of it. We're afraid he might not ever find his true soul mate if he doesn't start working it a little more on the playground. What kind of a player can he possibly be down the road if he isn't sweet talking at least two or three girls now?

I mean he's cute. What's the problem?

Are you thinking I should implement a Match.com sort of strategy to remedy this? Should I let him watch Hitch? or Boyz N The Hood?

(Not that Boyz N The Hood was really about match making, but it's just such a classic.)

Should I splash some Drakar cologne on his backpack and Star Wars shirts as he heads for the bus? That worked for all the boys I had a crush on back in junior high. I wonder what reeled me in in kindergarten?

Oh yeah...I didn't care at all about boys then.

All too often recently I hear other moms talking about their daughter's boyfriends. Even bragging and encouraging their daughters to chat it up about their "relationships." Occasionally it's a boy's mom chatting about her son's girlfriend, but often it's the other way around and I'm baffled by the whole thing. Why is anyone with a child in kindergarten, or younger, talking about a boyfriend-girlfriend type of relationship of their child's?

I used to have a reasonably clear idea of what the term boyfriend meant, but apparently that is no longer the case. Are these kindergartners holding hands and having deep conversations about their future? Are they passing notes and scribbling on Trapper Keepers with hearts? Are they meeting outside school to make out?

(Not that I EVER did that with a boyfriend.)

I assume they are not. I assume most of them aren’t even able to write the word boyfriend without assistance, much less embrace the idea of it all.

I encourage all my children to play with the kids they enjoy being around, regardless of gender, unless they are annoying, of course. I feel that turning their genuine enjoyment of another child’s company in to something as adult as a boyfriend-girlfriend status robs them of these innocent years to simply enjoy one another, pick their nose in public, and have complete disregard for the embarrassing things their parents can do around them. It's a good time.

It seems challenging enough to navigate the ins and outs of friendship with another person without the added stress of placing labels and terms to the relationship that my six year old should not, and does not, understand.

My kindergartner often mentions that one of his friends has a lot of girlfriends, and he thankfully says this as a fact, rather than a way in which to bemoan his own single status.

(That little boy is not as cute as Aiden anyway, so I've reassured Aiden that he'd be able to easily steal any of them away if he could only figure out why that kid has them.)

(That's a lie people. Remember, when in doubt, assume it's a joke.)

He is being told the whole thing matters though and that bothers me. It doesn’t matter; someday it will feel like it does, but not now. Please not now. Now is the time to be free of the pressures of crushing on, rejecting and being rejected by the opposite sex.

I find the idea of discussing a boyfriend with my daughter particularly dangerous. She is already aggressively targeted with ideas of finding her prince charming. Even gentle encouragement from me to discuss the existence of a boyfriend would feel as though I am telling her that her having a boyfriend, or not, matters. I don’t ever want to send that message.

The other night, I heard Tori Spelling talking to her three year old daughter, unfortunately also named Stella, about her boyfriend.

(To be clear I was watching her on TV, we are not actually close and personal friends. She has a pig and a goat living in her house and it would be tough for me to go over there and hang. Though I love her decor and she throws super fun parties.)

(Also to be clear, I don't usually watch that show, but Alex works really late and sometimes my TV choices get low-class and well, annoying.)

Tori was giggling and little Stella was very serious in her proclamation of boyfriend having. There was even a discussion of a kiss. What the hell? Later in the show, Stella was shown jumping in a bounce house with her love interest and Tori was immensely amused.

I was sort of disturbed.
I get the idea that it could be sweet that your child has developed a strong liking, even a genuine friendship love, for another kid. I fully grasp the potential adorable factor of your cute girl loving on an equally cute and well dressed little boy,like a Gap Kids ad come to life. I feel like it's wrong though to start making them feel like it matters in the terms of boyfriend or girlfriend. Don't we have plenty of time to put forth energy, emotions, and tears to that in years 10-20? or on in to 30?

Cole has an adorable friend in his preschool class that hugs him, very enthusiastically everytime she sees him. He loves to play with her. The two of them really enjoy being around one another and talk about the other one a lot when they are apart. Thank the Lord though, I haven't ever heard this mom refer to Cole as her daughter's boyfriend, and I haven't once referred to her as Cole's girlfriend. The idea is absurd and to be honest, I think it tarnishes the innocent sweetness of their genuine liking of one another.

Is this just another vein of dressing our daughters more provocatively at an earlier age? Is it a matter of our young kids watching too mature types of TV programs? Can we blame all this on Wizards of Waverly Place and ICarly? Is it older siblings trickling down their fascinations with the opposite sex?

Is it the gluten and dairy? I feel those two are to blame for a lot already, we could just lump it in.

Red dye?

The big question though....am I the only one that hates it? Does it really matter? Or am I just easily annoyed and cranky and overly exposed to alone time with my children all freakin' day long?

Wait...don't answer that question.

Answer this....

What do you think? Do you think it's OK to talk to your very young children about having a boyfriend or girlfriend?

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I'm linking up with Shell's weekly meme, Pour Your Heart Out. Go over to her blog and check it out!

Down With Legos! Who's With Me?

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 04:07:00 +0000

I can barely type the word Lego without feeling a surge of anger.

Legos have literally taken over my home. I almost weapt when I saw that adorable new line of Legos geared at girls at the end cap of the aisle in Target. The only thing that had given me a moment of comfort the past few months was that in a few years Cole would be better about keeping his Legos more or less on his giant Lego desk, and this family could just move past this dark time of Lego permeation since our youngest is a girl.

I'm all for my daughter and sons playing with any toys, regardless of the stereotypical gender for which the toy is intended. But Legos? I've been telling Stella over and over that those are the boys' toys, on purpose. I make a clear point to direct her away from the Legos, even if it's toward the basket of cars. I probably should be doing this because I fear that she will put one in her mouth and choke, but more than anything I fear that she'll develop a love for them.

Then there will be more Legos in my house. I can not have more Legos in my house.

I'm probably wrecking her development of spatial thinking and whatever else those Legos are supposed to do, but I'm fine with that. She'll have other skills to survive on, I need to get those Legos the hell out of my house.
Surely there's a scientist doll, or a carpenter doll who can build a treehouse to inspire her. Stella can't possibly need the girl Legos to gain this sort of perspective of a female role in life, right? Doesn't Barbie have a career dream worth copying?
I think the most frustrating part of Legos is that they hurt, not just emotionally, but physically too. Those pieces are small and pointy and can wound when walked on in bare feet. I feel an irrational amount of anger when I hurt myself on one. I try to keep calm, but my mind fights against all the logic I feel like I usually have and I have visions of throwing all the Legos I can find into a large fire in the backyard or taking a very large hammer and smashing them all to bits.

Do not worry, I am not doing either of those things for fear of the pshychological damage to my children, which would probably cost an insane amount of money to treat. Besides, the kids are challenging enough for me as they are, I can not fathom having to put up with extra mental issues which would possibly require even more emotional support from me. I'm just not strong enough for that. I need to continue to supress my Lego rage turning into a truly damaging situation.

I do throw away a fair amount of Legos though. It's my new rule that if somehting looks like it is completely apart from it's intended set, and I don't know immediately where the intended set is located, it's going in the trash. This also holds true for anything broken, missing a piece, or repeatedly left scattered all over, like my children's Old Maid card game that they simply could not keep in a box.

Gone.

The one redeeming quality about Legos is that they can be sucked up in the vacuum. This makes getting rid of the random ones so much easier than larger items. I get a perverse satisfaction everytime I hear the rattle and crack of a primary colored piece of plastic being sucked away with the dirt and crumbs. There's no bringing it back from the vacuum canister, I'm disgusted by emptying that, no way am I ever picking out the Legos.

I constantly read different organizational methods for our family's supply of Legos, and all of them sound fantastic. They all leave out one key element though, my children's' ability to scatter bits of toy all over. Even if Cole did play with his Legos in only one location, Stella is relentless in her pursuit of all things small and scatterable.

Stella will climb chairs, desks, tables, shelves, and pillage any drawer, box or case to find the Legos. She puts them in her adorable purses and shopping cart, then walks around and throws them in different locations. I'm confident she targets my walkways. She has to know she's going to get me or she wouldn't bother. She can be really mean.

The truth is that I am at a loss for how to proceed. The boys are far too enchanted by Legos to ban them from the house at this point. We're in too deep. There's no going back with them...but, please, no one tell Stella that girls can play with Legos too. I'm still holding out hope for her to escape them and give our family our home back.

*********************************************
Congrats to Kelli of Random Thoughts of A Supermom and Emmy from Emmy Mom - One Day At A Time who just won Amity's beautiful earrings. Thank you to everyone who entered to win!

If you didn't win you should still go check out the earrings here, they are pretty awesome. Amity is basically the most wonderful woman on Earth and she is going to offer all Mommy Therapy readers 25% off because you clearly have good taste in reading.

Go to Amity's etsy store and enter the coupon code: Mommytherapy25 and let you amazing earrrings change your life.

Emmy and Kelli, I'll have Amity get in touch with you about where to send the earrings.

If I Could Be Any President It Would Totally Be Chester Arthur, Of Course

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Mon, 20 Feb 2012 04:17:00 +0000

Happy President's Day!

If you are anything like me, this is one of your favorite holidays. Other than Earth Day and Secretary's Day (perhaps this was changed to Administrative Assistant''s Day?), President's Day is the best. I've been cooking all weekend to get ready for our feast.

I've made all of our costumes and I think this year is going to be really spectacular. Stella is dressing like Martha Washington and I decided to be Mary Todd Lincoln. Alex is going to be Grover Cleveland and the boys are going as Polk, Taylor, and Fillmore, because it's fun for no one to have ever heard of you.

The point is, it's going to be a spectacular day of reading the constitution, saying the pledge, and singing the National Anthem. What are your plans?

Nothing? What?!?!?

It's possible I fabricated most of what I just wrote, but it would be really fun to see my children dressed like obscure presidents. Or, maybe it would be pretty lame. It's really difficult to tell so we'll probably just pass and go to park, watch some TV, and have some spontaneous fights over toys and/or being told to do things. It's rough enough around here, we don't need costumes.

I do feel that if my children are not going to have school, I should at least pretend it's going to be a fun holiday for a few minutes. Valentine's Day was a HUGE deal comparatively and school was still in session for that. Just like Martin Luther King Day, our kids would probably celebrate more effectively at school than here where I just pretend to have President related plans on President's Day.

If my husband doesn't' get off work too, it's not a holiday folks, it's just inconvenient and mean.

Obviously, this is one of those nights when perhaps I shouldn't have even opened my computer, but I couldn't resist reminding you all that you need to register to win one of the sets of earrings I am giving away. Random.org and I are picking the winner tomorrow evening. There are two pairs so you have a really good chance of winning and really, all you have to do is leave a comment on the post you find when you click here. How easy is that?

Imagine how nice it would be to have these.

The good news is that you can skip over all my babble at the beginning of the post about my children's annoying sleep issues related to their recent failing health...though I can't imagine why anyone would want to do that. So go now and win some beautiful earrings! Go here now!

Is there anyone with actual President related plans for tomorrow? Please share. Please say someone is dressing like Grover Cleveland. Anyone?

Valentine's Day, It's Not Just For Lovers - PYHO

noreply@blogger.com (The Mommy Therapy) — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 04:59:00 +0000

I like Valentine's Day. I like being told I should take the day to celebrate something. I work well with clear direction. I do not excel in the "find joy in your everyday life," having a holiday is a fun excuse to step it up a notch. Yes, I should remember to celebrate everyone I love, everyday, but that gets challenging with three kids and all sorts of life.

Having a day to be conscious and aware of it is perfect, though the onslaught of Pinterest projects coming home with my kids from their Valentine's parties when I just sent a Star Wars card with a pencil is a bit rough on the Mom ego.

My husband also deals best with very specific instructions. So this morning, I cornered Alex and demanded to know his plans for us. OK, I simply asked if he wanted to do anything special, but the point is, he had nothing.

I took this to mean that he wanted me to take the lead. Here's the quick run down of the itinerary that first came to mind. First, vegetarian dinner with white wine, because I think he secretly really likes the nights I make a "lighter" meal. Over dinner we'd make pros and cons lists about all the major decisions we have on our minds for the near future like colors for the new couch throw pillows, soap or shower gel, buy Stella more or less patterned tights, and do we think Cole is eating too much corn?

After dinner we'd have a staring contest, followed by a very in depth discussion about all feelings and emotions and thoughts and concerns about our relationship. He's been waiting for this, I'm sure. Next, we'd look through the scrapbook I made him to give a visual image to our love. I couldn't wait to talk about each and every picture!

Finally, we'd put on the Notebook, cry, snuggle and fall asleep in our flannel pajamas while we cuddle the night away. How could he not love it? I'm a love machine, clearly.

I had the whole day to work on it, but as it turned out I decided to seize the holiday and actually enjoy my time with my other love. No, not Target, the kids......putting all my Alex plans on hold.

It was a good day.

I contemplated taking Stella and Cole to a jumping place, but that sounded really, really awful. I knew I would soon hate life, Valentines day, inflated houses, and kids in general, so we went to the park around the corner. It was 65 and sunny and all around fun.

Even for me.

Well, except for when an evil two year old demanded his ball back, not even caring about Stella's adorableness factor.

Not even the slide could make her forget that she was not getting her way.

I was feeling so optimistic that I decided to break all the rules and actually pay for my children to eat out in public, and they were awesome.

Maybe Valentine's Day is magical for the mother-child relationship?

It's not just for lovers anymore.

It's a good thing I didn't spend the day planning my onslaught of love for Alex though, because not only could I have not fit it in with all the fun kid times and heart shape pizza for dinner getting, but he turned out to have a little plan of his own.

Sushi and flowers, and the best part? Assistance with bed time. I swooned. I allowed us to skip the entire itinerary, and make up our own.

Happy Valentine's Day!

I'm linking up with Shell's Pour Your Heart Out meme over at Things I Can't Say. Check it out here!

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If you haven't yet, you need to check out my awesome giveaway. You can enter through next Monday 2/20 and you'd basically have the chance to win the most amazing earrings you have ever seen...or at least very, very cool ones. Just do it. Check it out here.