The whole Mother Load

The chickens have come home to roost OR Italians love with hate

2014-07-02T14:05:00.000-07:00

One of the wonderful things about writing a blog is that it is incredibly therapeutic for me. I have always used my writing as a means of processing my thoughts and the things that happen. And of course, laughing heartily at myself and the absurdities of motherhood.

That said, I actually forget others might read this blog... really. I assume sometimes I am just writing, but like so many of my students in the upcoming generation learn the hard way- the interwebs, she is PUBLIC. Even if you set things as private or approval only they can find you and read your blog. And it may be a stranger. Old stalker ex. Student with no boundary understanding... or YOUR MOTHER.
Crap.
So.... I have a tendency to forget that my mother is increasing her skills as a interwebs user. She's on here, folks. Be aware. And likely reading this right now with that thin-lipped disapproval I love so much.
Hi Mom!
What this blog is about is that yes, I say (er, well WRITE) and then think often. I put my foot in my mouth so many times I often forgo shoes to make it easier. Still, nothing on this blog is EVER meant to harm or upset anyone. Yet, it will. And this is life, ladies and gentle... er, guys.

My phone conversation with my mother, at which time she revealed that she did, in fact, READ MY BLOG (yikes) was fairly awkward. I sweated. Then I explained it all very simply to her. It goes like this...

Mom- You mentioned me a few times. BLAH BLAH BLAH ( I say this not in disrespect but as truth- I only heard the sound Charlie Brown's teacher makes. I was thinking OHJESUSOHJESUSOHJESUS).
Me (articulately)- Uh... uh... what blog?
Mom- thewholemotherload
Me- Oh, well, gee... BLAHBLAHBLAH...(no idea what I said. Then this nugget of gold.) Mom, you know Italians love with hate.
Mom- What? What was that?
Me- Yeah, I always say, Italians love with hate.

It really is true and a little sad, but thank JESUS it is funny because she cracked up! 40 plus years married to my beloved father and she had never thought of that.

Phew. Crisis averted. I think.

Crap I hope she likes being featured in my blog.

Ah well. Enjoy your time in the spotlight, Ma. Trust me, the girls are doing crazy things as we speak and it will only be a matter of time before I write all about Potty Training, Sex Education for young girls and why lady parts are named many odd things. Until then- have you called your mothers lately?

lots of LOVE!
- Amanda

Mothers are very distr- HEY STOP TOUCHING THAT!!!

2014-02-09T16:57:00.000-08:00

Hello, readers!
So, I wanted to talk for a moment about how distracted mothers are on a constant basis. We women have, as the meme I liked so many times on facebook says, mentally about 2400 plus browsers open AT ONCE!!! Double that for a Mom. Sorry, I won't speak for Dads. I cannot. I a MOM. Have you read the name of my blog???

So anyway, I am a teacher as well. I am a writer, clearly (tosses unwashed hair over shoulder lamely)). I am promoting my new book that is hopefully decent. Amazon- Nora Waite. Check it out! I am also the resident maid, laundress, cook, hairstylist (but not my own. weird) and etc. Thank GOD for helpful men who have evolved from caveman brain or I would never accomplish anything. And... my house is messy and laundry is clean, not folded. You take the good, you take the bad... sing on your own time.
Still, I have several blogs going. Only this one is partially going, the other I promised I would do. Well, I challenged my co-teacher in a BRAVE manner like I am awesome and he has routinely showed my shit up. He is much more regular and interesting than me. Plan backfire! Plan SUCCESS! I cannot decide. His blog is pretty great. He had also blogged previously so neither of us were newbies. I love to challenge myself. I struggle with the finishing part. Secretly just like my children in that regard. SIGH

So anyway, I often remark to people... usually people I know. Uh. At least I hope they are people I know. Otherwise I am just like my own mom and talking to random strangers crazy enough to make eye contact (or open the door to JWs! haha). NO. NO. I am pretty sure I know the people usually. Anywho.... I always remark that mothers rarely finish a sentence.

And thus, dear reader-friends, why I blog. I can be a comedian here and turn a shitty moment into a kaleidoscope of thrills (read my post from last spring about a terrible poop experience). I can rant on and on and don't have to make sure my husband has not fallen asleep while I am talking. I can be this other, more fun and in my mind, yes if not attractive then at least clean, ME.
I heart words. and blogs. and YOU for reading.
WHEE!

Read my book and tweet me, the author

MY WEBSITE
twitter- @apminaker

I am not perfect and neither are you

2014-01-07T03:07:00.001-08:00

So here it is... Not a rant, but a wake up call. I am a chubby mom. I am apple shaped and it could be worse. For some reason I cannot name- ok, I could but I don't have time this morning as I get ready- I have learned to hate the way I look. It has taken me almost 36 years to hate myself, starve myself and obsess every minute and then in the last few years since children learn to reverse the loathing.

When I looked like this at 18, I hated myself the most. The thinner I got, the angrier I was that I was not thinner- and let's face it, starving yourself does not send you to nirvana. However, this happy memory was tainted with how unfinished I was as a person and how desperate I was with longing. I haven't hit nirvana yet but here is me now, days from my 36th birthday. Twice the time, twice the experience. Marriage and kids, degrees and less travel than I would like but still- this face says I have lived.

As a mother to three girls, I want them to NOT self-loathe. They need to put themselves together and be ready for their chosen professions but try don't have to be Gisele-beautiful for me to be happy with them.

Oh, of course not, you think.

Uh huh. So why do you expect yourself to attain that status? Why are we women striving so damn hard to be supermodels? You are not 17 anymore? Stop trying to look that way! Let it go a little and enjoy becoming a person with wrinkles and a grey hair in your eyebrow you cannot explain. I am not saying be unhealthy but I am saying please be more realistic. Driving yourself batty over the pounds you must lose does not communicate to your daughter, sisters, friends that you care about WHO you are, but rather HOW YOU LOOK. Sorry, Ford Models probably wont be knocking. It's ok. Let it go.

In defense of Gisele- that girl is gorgeous and admitted in a photo it takes a team. It is her JOB to look that amazing. We buy her magazines and secretly wish to look like her yet I hear lots of hate press about her. "Who does she think she is?" This is where feminism comes to die, my friends. Not in a song a guy sings about good girls toying with sexuality but in our cruelty to one another.

We women are a force! We go to work with raging cramps and get it done, for less pay than others. We have babies and then proceed to raise human beings with others or alone.

If we stopped buying in to the physical stereotypes and catty teardowns, what else could we accomplish? Woman president? More peace, less war? It is endless possibilities.

Every day you get up, look in the mirror and make a choice. Don't discard all personal hygiene- not my point- but are you only getting ready for someone else? Are you driving yourself crazy and no one expects you to look like you think they expect you to look? What is happening while you are cruel to others and yourself? Are you missing out on the authenticity of life?

It is a brief time we get. I choose to stop hating myself and be a kick ass teacher. It will make me a better wife/mother/ human.

That is what I believe. What do you think?

What is a teacher with no students?

2013-06-28T17:06:00.001-07:00

So the school year has ended and I have survived. My family unit has survived and I have... A good reference. That's it. Well, I have awesome memories of my time teaching, my students surprising me and great fellow teachers I admire and a few... I am glad to escape. (Shudders)

Mainly I am left with many unanswered questions. A lot of "what now?" And "what will I do in September?" I know I have plenty of time and all that but I just can't enjoy my summer with my fall in such doubt. Teacher irony right there.

My aunt is a great believer in St Anthony. She swears he always helps her. She's on the case to find a job for me. I have over 100 applications out. I have to wonder if the universe is telling me something. My uncle who passed away not that long ago would tell me I am an idiot for doubting myself. I wish he were here to tell me so.

And then I think about the way many of my students stay in touch. The way they hoped I had learned my fate before school ended; even the way they actually enjoyed MacBeth- well, some days. I find I am actively editing this as I go, remembering and pestering myself mentally to set a good example as a writer even if this is just my blog. After all, I am an English teacher. If not on staff, then in my soul.

The thing is- I always yearned to be a mom. I am. Now I realize how much I absolutely love the torture of being a teacher as well. The frustration of maybe never getting to do that is a physical weight around my brain right now. All decisions are paralyzed as we wait and see...

What more could I have done for my family? What more could I have done for my students? I wake up thinking these two questions so often, it may have to be the epitaph on my headstone.

Praying for some good news....

2:48 am uh oh

2013-05-22T18:30:00.001-07:00

It was a late night at our house- Bruins hockey and Dancing With The Stars... So we got to bed later than usual.

2:48am.... I was awakened by a smell. A fecal related smell. I heard a distinctive voice calling, "Dadda!!"

So I did the logical thing.

I sent my husband in there.

It was literally a shit show.

Oh. My. God.

Not another one!!!! Our beautiful chubby cherub was sporting poop booties and crap mittens- and that is saying nothing of her bed- poop valley.

Her breath smelled clean.

We were a great team- he took her for a hosing and I did the CSI work cleaning up. Thank god for bleach wipes.

20 hours later and we have swabbed the decks long ago but I tell you I can still smell the poop.

So much poop.

The good side is I learned from a friend that if said cherub accidentally ingested any fecal matter it won't hurt her since it's her own. Not as helpful for the hubby who got a tiny hand shoved in his mouth during the flailing, wailing shower.

I am keeping a onesie on that kid and my fingers crossed for the hubby. I will keep you posted.

Pretty sure I will wake terrified around 2:30 in the morning and check that kiddo. Gonna take me a while to forget.

Motivation

2013-05-18T11:09:00.001-07:00

Oh wisdom you mischievous vixen, you do desert a gal when she needs it most. Ironically, I have been railing at both kin and student alike about motivation lately. "It's the long-term goal, not momentary fun that matters", and now I am looking for my own kick in the pants to get moving so I feel less awful and get all that needs to be done.... Well, done.

I blame the couch. And pretty much everything else. Damn, I think this one is on me, huh?

So what do you do to get motivated? Do tell please, and talk loud so I can hear your wisdom over the Siren song of my couch... Thanks.

It's our day!

2013-05-12T06:29:00.000-07:00

Well, ladies, this is it. It's Mother's Day. Yup, we get one day. And as you know, we get adorable cards and homemade gifts, and even breakfast in bed. Growing up, we didn't celebrate any holidays so my Mom's reaction to the morning phone call was, "It's just another day." WHEE!!!
Here is the thing about that response, there is a kernel of perspective in that anti-fun response to my wishing her a good day. It IS just another day. So many people are appreciative of their moms though they never met, miss their departed moms, and wish they could be moms. For them, this is another day that reminds each of them of what they do not have.
This does not mean I am advocating for all of us to give up our day, but please keep all of the other friends and family who may be sad on this day in your hearts and phone trees.

Oh, and have a glass of wine when you want. It's MOM O'CLOCK!!!! :D

Good help is hard to find

2013-04-17T15:57:00.000-07:00

I am not sure when exactly it happened, but it's official. I have become my own worst nightmare. Is it the 24 hour schedule and grueling chores? Is the inexactitude of the current economic climate? Is it my own chemical compound of crazy and bitch? I don't know but I do know that while I am laboring away trying to maintain "nice mommy", the bitch slipped out the back door and left.

I remember dreaming of being a mom, pining for this like my fat ass now does for flourless chocolate cake. Man, I dreamed and prayed for these sweet, healthy kiddos. So why the hell are they making me so nuts!?!?!? I have no idea but it could have something to do with the insane pacing with which they arrived one every two years until we now possess three mouthy little cutie-pies with my attitude and their daddy's good looks.

When an old woman- or your own mother- warns you that "Motherhood is a tough job", for pete's sake LISTEN TO THAT BITCH!!!! I am telling you, I am grateful. Recent tragedies prove that you are never grateful enough and you never know when your last day could be so you hold those babies tight. Yeah, yeah, yeah.... I know all this stuff. I feel it. I just can't hold onto it when the five-year-old has burrowed her way into my spot on the bed AGAIN for a potentially fake bad dream and I haven't slept well at all. The baby is demanding food or else, the middle one is crying because lint touched her hair and I still haven't had my damn coffee. And then from the minute they wake up it is go GO GOOOOO!!!!

It is no wonder a good friend of mine vacations alone. I said it. ALONE. The closest thing I have had to a vacation in the last few years is... do trips sans children to the grocery store count?!? I think it could be the tragedy in Boston or the presence of a white hair in my eyebrow or just that time of my cranky mood but I am in need of a margarita and a dance floor!!!!

OK.
I have now blathered on and if you are still reading, maybe you need a margarita. I am now cheersing the screen with my tasteful 6 oz of chardonnay. (clink) Listen, all of the things that people warn you about motherhood... they are true. It is the hardest job ever. You will NEVER be paid. Most times you are so run down and tired you forget to put on deoderant or change the pants covered in baby yogurt. You will laugh one minute and cry the next, sometimes for no good reason. You will love and loathe the children and hate yourself for it all. You may think it isn't your style and that I am crazy. Yes, dear, I did admit that. The one thing I am, is brutally honest. Motherhood is NOT for the faint of heart. You better love your husband a great deal and be "on the same page" or you will HATE this experience. You will need good friends to drag you away and force stupid manicures on hands that will be ruined within hours from baby vomit, dish soap or just your own general clumsiness. You will cry when you see Dove's beauty campaign commercials and become overly sentimental anytime you see a child is lost or killed. You will look at your single or childless or woman-with-less-children-than-you counterpart and think... bitch.

So why WHY WHYYYYY do we keep allowing our uteruses to become peopled? I don't know. My husband is extremely attractive and I can't seem to keep my legs together in the early spring. Whatever your reason is, do yourself and your fellow sisters a favor. Stop judging. Don't look at me when I am scolding my adorable three year old at the park and think, "Oh, I am so much better than that psycho." You aren't. We both know that. Don't be a bad single friend who never offers free babysitting. Having kids makes you poor. And we marrieds need a break.

And mothers,please, stop feeling superior. We are badly dressed, largely unwashed, seriously cranky masses. Quit pretending to be 17 when your skin tells the truth. We are over 30. We are not our young selves. Get comfortable in that stretched out skin, chica. It fits much better. Have a glass of wine- I find it makes the wrinkles blur a bit. :D

Be kind to each other and yourself. And Just keep trying to do better. You are doing a good job already.

Uh, okay. That was a pep talk to myself. Hope you enjoyed.

Sh$! I say to my kids...

2013-02-25T14:53:00.001-08:00

Without any preamble or context.. Here are ten good ones...

"Don't put your mouth on your sister's poopy diaper!"

"Where did you get that? We haven't been to McDs in weeks!!! (Honest.)

"I said you couldn't color on your body, and that includes your sister too!!"

"Does that taste like poop? No? Then eat it!"

"Your new mommy will be here any second. I am calling her right now!!!"

"If you are thirsty, suck on your own spit."(Courtesy of my own mother. Perhaps she inherited this goody as well?)

"Don't touch your vagina without washing your hands!"

"Don't rub my sunglasses on your vagina!"

"Where is the baby?!?!" (Hiding right next to me. Dang butt.

"You like it here so much, you can live here. Bye!" (At babysrus, she called my bluff.)

This is only the first edition... You're welcome. :)

Is anything still good for you?

2013-02-20T07:02:00.001-08:00

Sitting here, watching two very sick girls struggle through stomach aches and the pukes and I am wondering wtf? I am reasonably sure this is a reaction to a flouride treatment insisted on at the dentist. We have struggled all winter to fight off cold, pneumonia, RSV, stomach bug, etc so I have seen sick kids. This seems different. Their stomachs hurt and they are throwing up just foam. Sorry for the gross out. The baby did not get the treatment and is fine, btw. I googled flouride side effects and was not happy. As a mother, I want my kids to have clean, rot-free teeth but now I have discovered that flouride is toxic in elevated levels. Toxic?!? And they put it in drinking water?!? Milk?!? Juice!?!? Bottled water?!? What am I supposed to give my girls? Toothpaste is a whole other craziness. I am beyond frustrated. I know, I know you are not entertained by this blog. Usually I am funnier. I got nothing sister. Up since 3 am holding back hair watching two girls writhe in pain, vomit, moan, cry and doze? Yeah, there is funny in there but I am not ready with a laugh yet.
Oh! And I called the dentist. She said it was unusual and they would make a note Of it. Uh, thanks? What good does that do? I asked them to skip it and they acted like I was crazy and insisted on it. Best thing is I got overcharged because our insurance doesn't cover it.
Sounds like complaining, you say? Yeah it might but what I really want to know is why do we accept this? This broken system that treats us and mistreats us- overcharges us and misdiagnoses us constantly. This is insanity!!! I am looking for an exit door to this sick repetition! What's the definition of insanity?
Doing something over and over, expecting a different outcome. Yup. Done with that.
Bring on the alternatives, please.

Just keep swimming....

2013-02-15T04:10:00.000-08:00

Today is not an easy day for me to be funny. It's the one year anniversary of losing a beloved uncle and friend. I also just found out I was passed on for a teaching position- AGAIN. Today all I want to do is lay in bed, moan vaguely and eat chocolates (well, first I would have to buy some... oh look! some chocolate chips. Nevermind.) and cry about my life. Frankly, with how sick the girls and I have been, and how little work my husband has had, I could do just that and no one would say anything to my face and might just feel bad for me behind my back. BUT (and I know you don't start a sentence with BUT, but this is a blog! Informal writing! Chill.) I saw an inspirational quote on Facebook, ah Facebook you evil time-sucking site that I love, and the great Jane Austen sums it up.

"Those who do not complain are never pitied." -Jane Austen

Yup, that sums up how I feel. I DO NOT want pity. There are so many people out there today who are suffering in ways that are unfair and unimaginable and I am sad for some pretty silly reasons. So no complaints. And no pity.

This girl is making lemonade, baby!

and finally....

Spoken like a true lady.

Go out there and kick some ass today, Ladies!
It doesn't hurt that it's Friday, either.

When life hands you snow...

2013-02-11T07:42:00.000-08:00

From the land of the snowed in family...
My dream of being a mom always included heartwarming memories of sharing my love of the cold, white stuff. Snow, that is. In an ironic twist... every single time it snows, I (snow lover for life!) am stuck inside. There is a baby to be taken care of nearby, or a napping toddler, or worse both- neither of whom is interested in snow. The real pip is my husband loves snow too! And so does our five year old daughter. So there they go to the snow.... while I watch from inside. Sure, I am warm (and chubby!) but my vision is a bit on the vermillion side. I am happy for their fun but I want so much to be a part of it out there... This speaks so much to the whole concept of motherhood for me.
   For me, motherhood means forgoing your wants often for your children. It is pretty simple. All the airlines say it but you know we all do the same thing- you would put the oxygen mask on your child before yourself. HELLO!!! Someone needs oxygen and there is your sweet little bundle... Not complicated.
   I know it is a bit of a stretch to say forgoing my love of snow is like depriving me of oxygen for my children's benefit... but on some days when I am logy from the inside air, let me tell you, IT IS! I feel bad even admitting this. I know some of you rugged bears out there are saying "Hello! Bring the babies out!" Yes, yes... well, not when they are napping or ill or potty training... etc. Some days you get to make a snow man and your eyes are aglow! Some days you are the mom, cleaning furiously before the snow bunnies come back inside, warming up cocoa and taking pictures.
   Motherhood, the great trade-off.

Some of you have mentioned you like me, uh, I mean... my blog. Thank you! Feel free to subscribe and read my drivel as often as I can ...um... drivel it (?)

On a side note, I have just read an AMAZING book rife with the theme of motherhood. Khaled Housseini's "A thousand splendid suns".
A Thousand Splendid Suns By Hosseini, Khaled (Google Affiliate Ad)

I cannot stress enough how much it is worth a read!!! I was so inspired by this book, I constructed a Unit (for you teachers, you know how much work that is! Then I found his free lesson plan and was like... DAMNIT! Oh well. Haha.). I also started writing some metz-a-metz poetry again. Feel free to check me out:
allpoetry.com/Poetsoul78

Until next time... enjoy your snow days from wherever you can. These moments are like snow flakes in a hot cast iron pan! See that. I rhymed. I am Mother Freaking Seuss baby! Only without the racist tendencies!

;D

Where everybody knows your name... except the baby

2013-02-01T05:17:00.000-08:00

Happy Friday to you all out there!

Remember back in the day when you walked into your favorite Friday night hangout spot, set your bags down and it was all friendly faces and a drink. Well, when you think about it, Moms, not much has changed. Now, I only work part-time right now. I get to be with my girls most of the day. Yet, despite this fact, when I walk in the door, even if I only ran to CVS for ladies' items, those kiddos are happy to see me (yes, I know that someday soon this will change). They may even offer me a sip of their drink. It is a pretty nice feeling. Now, there are plenty of roller coaster moments- this week has not been an easy one, but which week is? The thing is, it is those little moments of joy and smiling faces that make me want to walk outside (and this sounds silly, even back into the bathroom - they have done it, trust me) just so I can hear it all over again.

Now, I know not all of my friends are moms. That is ok. You have the best of both worlds. I am guessing you have friends or family with kiddos. You walk in their house and it is the equivalent of the Beatles' second arrival (oh, please don't tell me you are too young to know what that means!)- it is an awesome thing. Then, after a nice, rousing stay when you have hyped the children up to a ear-splitting level, you still have time to go grab a drink at your favorite spot.... damn.

Well for a second there I was seeing the silver lining. Huh. :D Oh well! Happy Friday anyway! Haha

Positivity, Vomiting and Motherhood

2013-01-30T08:32:00.001-08:00

Most of the time, I try to remain affirmative, positive and peppy!
Please reread that sentence carefully for the loopholes involved. I said "try to remain" but I do not succeed 24/7 or even 12/3.... I would say there are moments of happy in-the-moment positivity couched in the mostly dull, but simultaneously heart-stopping go-Go- GOOOOOO, goddamnit!! Sorry. Mommy didn't mean to say 'goddamnit', dear.

For example, as I try to write this witty and inspiring blog, I am managing a sick child (my oldest, the Helper who is 5), keeping the middle child (let's call her the Wandering Butterfly, age 3) eating (for the love of god! Why won't she eat ?!?!?!?) and the baby (we call her the Bear, age 1) from escaping her high chair. I am also trying to avoid cleaning while answering phone calls, paying bills and accepting hugs and demands from aforementioned beautiful children... OHMIGOD!!!!

So I started out wanting to write a beautiful blog inaugurating my research on the history of mothering/motherhood. What I am finding in a cursory search is well... kinda pathetic. (Wince, double wince- once for findings and once for pet peeve use of 'kinda'. What can I say? I am a rule breakin' wannabe English Teacher?)

Sorry for multiple digressions but these all prove my point, don't they? I remember some good advice, "begin as you mean to go on". Ok, I start my day thinking and hoping "It's going to be a great day!" Sometimes, I admit, I am afraid to hope, but I continue. And Sometimes, sometimes, I get what I get and I don't get upset. And sometimes, I get vomit. Meh. That's motherhood, I guess.

By the by, I think there has never been a true history of motherhood because we are too busy holding back hair on one child while blocking our youngest with our leg from playing in bathroom trash and simultaneously begging the three year old to not watch her sister vomit!

Just a thought.

Check out one of my favorite positive Mom blogs- Michelle Colasante is my hero!!!
This little light

Urinating as retribution... more potty fun!

2012-08-25T18:31:00.000-07:00

As anyone who has been in the position (parent, relative, caregiver, etc) to train a small person in the ways and joys of the toilet can tell you, it ain't over til.... well... I can't exactly tell you. See, with potty training there is no end date, no gold star that suddenly appears on your chest or your child's bum or anything spiffy like that. Sometimes, you think the potty lady sang her last hooray song and then... you're in Target and it's a five alarm pooping! Regardless of whether you just put your child on the potty... and she is waiting with a small smile of oddly enough, triumph on her face. Ah yes, the days of "I'm in control now so let's see how fun I can make this" have arrived!

I had hoped with daughter number two, my previous experience, my education background and motherly tendencies it might go a wee (haha) bit smoother this time. After all, daughter number one (oh, I just got that- haha) practically trained herself, I mistakenly recalled in nostalgic moments to myself... MISTAKENLY. Ah, how this jaunt down the yellow brick road, as it were, has reminded me of the heartbreaks I once did experience and now relive with renewed vigor as I race with poo filled underwear to the demands of "Don't throw away Ariel undies, Mommy!" As well as cajoling, encouraging, bribing and slightly bullying this lovely creature to get her bum on requested pink urine/feces receptical "for the love of all that is holy!" I am also supposed to reward her? For pooping? It is enough to drive me back to my prayers. Hallelujah there is pee IN the potty! Amen, Sweet Jesus the poo was made not in the underwear (or on the floor). Thank the lord we have such crappy looking carpets anyway. Forgive the pun, of course, God.

So, what prompted this Mad Mother (as in Mad Hatter, although my darling husband can attest to the alternative demonstration of the word by yours truly) to foray into tapping keys and sharing my toilet paper roll of funny? I had the fortune of observing my darling Two year old get into a battle Royale with my darling, usually calm and delightfully democratic Husband. He was mind-boggled when she in fact used her pee as revenge.

As usual, we are in disarray as the new school year approaches and all projects have been left to last minute. Dinner being a bit haphazard always means a struggle with our tiny fury. And so it was no surprise that as a power struggle over the last few bites ensued, a parental gauntlet was inadvertently thrown. To our girl's horror and dismay, chocolate rewards were threatened. Tears. Screaming. Hair was tossed. Chocolate was sadly dispatched to the waste basket. And then... she reminded us that she was in control. My husband found her standing in a wet spot, seemingly victorious. ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!??!

Ah yes, We have reached my favorite phase of potty training. Accidents as parental punishment. She baldly admitted to me this was no accident. Okay.

This is a woman the world needs to watch out for- she will face down the loss of chocolate and then sneakily pee on her own rug in her favorite skirt to let you know- you cannot take it away from her! She will take it away herself! I can't decide whether I should silently applaud or buy some type of insurance... Does Geico sell Parental Insurance?

Please let daughter number three be easier!!! :D

Stay brave and thanks for reading.Boon Potty Bench Training Toilet (Google Affiliate Ad)

"There is no Mommy here"

2012-08-18T07:47:00.000-07:00

Today, I have realized that I am EPICALLY FAILING as a Mother. No, really.

5:42am- awake to pee. Check on husband- occupied with Twitter- back away silently. Check on adorable infant... OH GOD!!! The tiny Bear is stirring- ABORT ABORT!!! Back away silently and hope like hell she has not sniffed out my mammaries. Fall asleep to my inner guilty refrain... Bad mommy bad mommy bad mom....zzzzz......

6:12am- forgot to pack husband's lunch! SHIT!!!! Realize this as he gently kisses me goodbye. Half ass slapping of leftovers together and several kids' snacks. He thanks me adoringly... resume inner guilty refrain/mantra... Bad Wifey Bad Wifey... Oh! Coffee!

6:13am- just going to check facebook and email a second....

7:33am- Whuh- oops. Forgot to drink coffee or eat breakfast... Toddler is up. Oh boy.

7:34am- Baby awakes, cooing ever so gently. I go to her room feeling happy- She and I make eye contact and she starts wailing loudly in manner of- MILK MILK MILK- but really she cries and says Boob. She is not even 8 months. Begins crying and squirming in earnest when I attempt to clean her rear of vegetable smelling defecant. After wiping her dry, she pauses and smiles up at me as if to say, "Thanks." Resume loving her and feeling guilty for angry thoughts two seconds ago regarding the option of a third. Bad mommy bad mommy bad mommy...

7:39am- Find Toddler eating my breakfast. What's next? Is my coffee level lower? Please tell me she didn't... Her breath is just muffin so I breathe a sigh of relief. I remind her to please use the potty...

SCREAMING ENSUES- It is an unusual mix of high pitched, loud wailing and whining that makes me wish for a nearby brick wall to abuse my head against....

8:18am- success on potty! Cheering for feces! My life is so strange. Rewards requested. DENIED. Wailing for that many minutes, resorting to screams on both sides (Mommy is ashamed) has now resulted in trip to nearby Mall denied. This behavior cannot be rewarded plus I do not think popping a potty in your stroller is acceptable at a chi-chi mall.

8:25am- NEW PLAN! We have made amends and Mommy is calm. Maybe a park?... Feeding the beasts

8:27am- breakfast finished and children are whining and demanding things. Feeding baby between filling requests and sipping coffee. Have forgotten to eat breakfast. Appetite gone after several meltdowns. Ugh.

9:19am resolved to good day. Had a lovely talk with girls. They are getting ready to leave the house. Yay! Mommy needs toast- Children ungratefully distract Mommy from breakfast...

9:20am- Mommy angrily vacuums after putting children outside to play in backyard. Baby in exersaucer begins to wail when vacuum turns on. This is new but at least I am getting the carpet cleaned.

9:21am- the neighbor girls call. I mutter indelicate thoughts and continue to vacuum though I have been spotted- creepy kid- through our front window. Answer and she is requesting to borrow cooler. Mutter crankily about this being US and coolers being widely available. Hand over cooler with smile.

9:56am- finally leave for park.

9:58am- arrive, wishing we could have walked but needed potty in car for Toddler. Girls playing well. Even make a friend. Going well! Nice Mom begins conversation.

10:13am Ah. Language barrier. Why didn't I learn Portuguese? Damn. Adult conversation ends.

10:32am- large group of children from the nearby Rec Center INVADE playground en masse, followed by very young looking minders. Not really minding children and mistakes my Toddler for a child in her charge. Gets my child seated and ready to paint until snot nosed child next to her points out she is not part of their group. My child gets bumped from painting and we are back to tantrums...

10:45am- everybody finally in the car and Mommy can't go home yet. I JUST CAN'T! Proceed to craft store to get paint to make it all better.

12:00pm- Everyone is glad we have finished in craft store. Managed not to break anything but accidentally bump into four year old and beg her to make it to car before total breakdown.

12:03pm- Two year old announces she wants a new Mommy....

And here is the real EPIC failure. I offer to call her New Mommy and my dramatic four year old is traumatized. My day isn't even half done and already I am DONE.

You politicians and misogynists who claim Stay-at-home-moms don't work have NO CLUE!!!! Is there a high yield Save for Therapy plan at my bank? I am sure my children will need it more than college.

Do the thing that scares you....

2012-08-18T07:33:00.002-07:00

Ok dear reader,
You few who enjoy this post, this one is for YOU.

A friend of mine describes me as a tough lady. Little does she know, I am afraid to hang my feet over the edge of the bed at night. I am afraid of looking behind the shower curtain sometimes. I am afraid of having no friends (facebook numbers seem unreal, don't they?). I am afraid to put my face under water (it just seems unnatural!). I am afraid of unseen bugs (I like to see my enemy coming. And I never want to accidentally eat them or let them make a nest in my ear, thank you Wrath of Khan!). I am afraid of being a bad mother (let those sweeties memories be short!). I am afraid of making a fool out of myself (because I do it daily). I am afraid of catching a ball (experience is the teacher here and I have a bump on the shnoz as reminder). I am afraid of cockroaches (EW!!! It wasn't my trip to Puerto Rico, but NYC that made this one happen). I am afraid of ghosts- even little girl ones. Sorry, but very true. This list could go on if I listed the things I am afraid of on behalf of my girls. AHHHHH!!!!

There are so many things every day that I might not do because of fear. It terrifies me a little to teach. To be a mother. To be a wife. Mainly I am just afraid of failing the people who I love. I am even afraid to write these words because in a way this is my public diary- to a limited audience but still. Yikes!

My redundant point is this- I am apparently perceived as tough (at least by a few), and my perception of myself is much less optimistic. (That's another fear- being too negative) Still, these fears DO NOT stop me from doing things every day. I also try very hard not to let them be my motivator. Fear is an ugly motivation- its effects? War, Poverty, Racism, Homophobia and Celebrity Breakdowns. Seriously. Did you see Katie Holmes lose tons of weight? Pure terror, I swear.

SO this fall, as I begin teaching, commit to running (just typing it made my chest constrict a little) and blogging more often (with a wittier banter, I promise), I commit to you few who read, who laugh with (or even laugh at, hey at least you are reading) and who may feel like me.

Courage is not the absence of fear, merely the choice to overcome it. I am choosing courage. Here we go!

What scares you? Share if you dare!

Keep your head up

2012-07-25T15:09:00.001-07:00

Dear you,
Today wasn't your favorite day.
You fell down and no one made a big deal.
You felt sad and lonely and had no one to talk to about those feelings.
You were angry and frustrated by the life that has unfolded for you.
You feel betrayed everyday by the person you chose to share that life with and sometimes it make you lay awake and retrace your steps. Shoulda...coulda...woulda...
You took on so much and now you want a break from it for just a little while but you know if you take that break you might not go back.
These are problems we can all identify with and you may wonder how I have the nerve to expose you this way, writing about you in so honest a tone.
Your secret is safe. But please please know that you are not alone. You do have friends. It does in fact get better and from experience it seems it is just after you think it cannot get better. Despair and rage and cry if it will help. But do not ever give up. You will outlast what hurt remains and feel ok, if not soon then just after that.
Do not ever give up on yourself. You are worth the fight.
Keep your head up.

In my darker hour

2012-07-06T17:03:00.001-07:00

When I was a little girl, all I wanted, all I yearned for was a home filled with family. I idolized this idea, filled it with every happy little thought my real life did not have and inhabited that imagined space like it could be real with the right set of circumstances- ie., the right man would somehow make all that wasn't right in me a whole, magically. Poof. Brady Bunch optional.
And ever since the day I began building that dream, reality has been trying to give me less and less subtle clues attempting to abuse me of my foolishness.
But no one could tell me. And now here I am, three kids, a house we can't really afford (a whole cliche) and a life that doesn't wrap up neatly. And I am asking myself why, why, why this doesn't feel good all the time?
Is this just me? Am I alone on a Friday, drinking cheap white wine with a straw watching Eat Pray Love. Meanwhile my adorable husband is bathing our three girls and their conversation filters in between the witty dialogue.
Liz Gilbert got to check out but I am her friend at the gate saying "I wish I could go". Is it our generation that cannot be happy with what we have? Cannot just say "thank you or what I have"?
I am grateful. My oldest two are naked Greco Roman wrestling and giggling up a storm. My husband is holding our baby chasing them around and I am blogging and wishing for travel. I am unfair and mean. I need to get off my ass and jump into the screaming, crying fray out there. And bake cupcakes, and love what I have. Actively. And maybe have some real food. Damn this movie! :)
Anyway my point, my goddamn a-ha moment is that the wish is not 2D, it is beyond that, maybe even 4D. It is multilayered. It has hidden dirt and tears and anger and joy and sadness and dissolution and everything I cannot imagine. It ain't a harlequin novel, that's for sure. It is reality. Wake up!

Motherhood- Welcome to the Jungle (Gym)

2012-05-17T13:15:00.001-07:00

Perhaps this next mamma-logue belongs in two separate rants, however I feel this is related.
When I became a mother, I unwittingly became part of something much MUCH bigger than I. I became part of the all-encompassing "Motherhood". Whether you carry your child in your belly or your heart, being someone's mother automatically guarantees you entrance into all kinds of fun. Your Mamma-kind can be your best or worst friend.
Case in point, you have an entrepreneurial idea. Your fellow Mammas will support and promote you. You have a need, often they will find a way to fill it- clothes, food, shelter or sympathy. It has been a surprising side-benefit of motherhood. But tread lightly sisters, and do not take your fellow females for granted. Because that hand that extends help can just as quickly give you an unprecedented smack-DOWN.
I have seen and experienced and given first hand (ha ha) the smack-down. I never seek out the drama mammas, but if you provoke me, I have little patience for you. We, as women, might not be in some type of declared war but make no mistake. Friends can become ene-mammas pretty quickly.
Don't misunderstand me. I am not decrying the sisterhood of which I am so fond and for which I am grateful. No no. I am merely saying, many if not all of us know how we want to be treated- how we deserve to be treated- and we have no problem demanding that from each other. For example, never over-invite yourself to another mother's home. Especially when said playdate involves your sweet little monsters causing any level of havoc. We all know how much fun it is to clean up after our own, let alone someone else's br... children. And if said ... children happen to so much as lay a hand on our own spaw... sweetlings well then... be warned. Tread very lightly upon the hospitality of the Mamma Bear you just poked. Now, let me be clear. Arguments happen between these adorable little characters as they play. But heaven forbid it become a pattern with any regularity. Your best bet? Do not transfer blame, do not make excuses, do not pretend you didn't see. Woman up. Apologize. And make a hasty retreat. If you value your friendship at all, you will do what is right by your fellow Mamma and her little bear cub. It isn't easy being in the Sisterhood of the Big Girl Pants but it is worth it.
Here are some easy rules. New Mammas, Commit these to memory:

1. Always treat your fellow Mother how you wish to be treated.

2. Don't forget Rule #1 or heaven have mercy on your soul and that of your progeny.

That is all,
Sister Amanda
May the force be with you

Public boob, private boob

2012-05-11T08:49:00.001-07:00

What is it with our society and breasts? Now I am only talking about the United States because that is what I know. That said, what is our obsession? We Bind them, flash them, truss them, lie about their size, fake their shape, hide them, hate them, love em, and ignore them.
There is so much about them as objects, characters, power, etc. it seems the craziest thing. I mean, what are they? Two bags of flesh with a sippy end. What's so great about that? They are objects of importance for nourishment and care. They are designed for babies. They have been made into sex objects and we have taken back that power to manipulate others (I said it!).
All I want to know is- why do we allow them the power? Why can't we remove our Puritan or prurient attachments and allow whomever to nurse or display their body as they wish. Is it possible or not to go back, to deobjectify our breasts?
Discuss while I finish nursing...

Babes in dance class

2012-04-30T06:21:00.001-07:00

Nothing is more adorable than your little one dancing. And nothing is less adorable than the Moms in the wings. Anxious, stressed, impersonating Alice Cooper's makeup as we tear up at every moment and clapping for every turn and step- regardless of timing or mistake. We will cut line to see their photographs and pay any price to preserve the moment in time when they actually smiled. And hopefully looked like we did their hair or wash them sometimes.
Why do we make ourselves into such a wreck for our beautiful children?

Mommy Bragging

2012-04-27T11:11:00.000-07:00

Lol, for my one reader yes, I am back. I, mother of 3 an unemployed teacher am back at blogging!
This week, let's discuss... Mommy bragging. Do you or don't you?
As a rule, I don't. Here's why- a funny story is one thing but going on for longer than a minute about your precious little one is making whomever you are talking to gag. It just is. Here's why- inevitably, you are bragging to another mom (Grandma's/Nonni's/ etc are the exception of course) and that mom is being made aware of her child's faults through your monologue. No one is so confident in her parenting that she is immune to second-guessing her children. We all want the best for our child and want them to be their best selves. Thank you, Oprah.
Here's a thought, what if they were just their average selves? Would that be so bad? What if you heard parents chatting about how proud they were that their child brought home B's and made the cheerleading squad but was the base of the pyramid? Let's face it, they can't all be at the top. So why are we so focused on our children being the best and brightest? If they are all so great doesn't that make them average anyway? Aren't we unfairly setting our future adults up for that moment on American Idol Season 30 when they are inevitably told they are NOT in fact, a rockstar? Why aren't we more interested in letting them play and just be? Not everybody needs nor deserves a trophy. What is there to reach for? Sure, disappointment never felt good as a kid but disappointment is REALITY- not Housewives of CrazyTown reality, REAL reality. You know? Like when you turn off the TV/Computer/Smartphone? Remember that?
I am by no means saying you shouldn't praise your children or be ashamed of your praise. Go ahead but please, be realistic. Your child is NOT a baby Einstein, or a baby Picasso- unless of course he or she is in which case... yay. Good for you. Now stop bragging and have a normal conversation, please!

Hey, it's how many of us feel but are just afraid or too nice to say it. Just putting it out there. Discuss amongst yourselves...

"You aren't mad, Mommy..."

2010-09-15T19:45:00.000-07:00

"You aren't mad, Mommy..."

Those were the beautiful words my almost 3 year old preschool daughter spoke to me today... and for whatever reason they both made me mad and sad.

It made me mad because I could tell that my child had been coached by a well-intentioned adult and family member to say that to me when I seemed upset. She also reminded me that even when I was upset with her, I still loved her. These are reassurances I make her myself when I am rationally explaining why I AM upset.

It made me sad because as the universe was apparently backhanding me upside the head I got an email from another mom friend about parenting without yelling. Oh boy. Have you seen this lovely site?

Frankly, I am more of the "Moms who drink and swear" variety but so. be. it.

I say, Live and let live- or if you piss me off. Live. and let die.... yes, I am a Wings fan because I love Paul. Deal with it.

Anyway, the email from my sweet fellow mother asked the poignant and thorny question, "Would you want YOU for a mother?"

FUCK. Yes? On some days, I know that I am about two donuts shy of a total meltdown. If that doesn't make sense to you then you understand.

Just call me the Yogi Berra of mothers. That's kind of how my logic works.

Moving on... I have to wonder what kind of memories my girls will retain.

Will she remember that I always give up my food, comfort and time for her? Will she only recall my time away?

Will they only remember the curse words in traffic? Or will they fondly reminisce over the way I always said "sleep sweet" at goodnight?

Do I have to deconstruct my parenting as I am doing it?!?!?!

Right now, I am too busy trying to BE a parent and do a good job with my brain cells in tact.

Maybe "You aren't mad, Mommy" is the universe sending me a new mantra or she is practicing what she will say someday when she does something really really bad. Oh god...

Just when you thought you have the whole motherhood thing down... they change on you!

2010-09-08T11:30:00.000-07:00

What is it with this crazy ride? Just when I think- ok, I have the handle on this deal- BAM!! They have changed, moved on to a new, demanding stage! I know, I know- it is a lyrical and magical journey that I must savor since one day they will not allow me to hug them as they drive away in my car loaded with all my best clothes... (actually that does make me tear up a little). The thing is though... I am trying so hard to do the best I can- just like so many of us out there. I am keeping it as organic as I can afford. Reusing clothing and not overconsuming. We compost when we can, grow as much of our own food as possible on an apartment porch and recycle to our utmost. My two and a half year old (as she demands we include the half) is in the midst of becoming a little lady. She's full of opinions, personal timing (as in, no thanks I don't want to do that now, Mother, maybe in a little bit. To which I reply, calmly... NOW NOW NOW! Am I reverting while she matures?) and fashion ideas (But I can wear these pants as a shirt! I really can! Look!). My soon to be eight month old has gone from infant to toddler at warp speed. Last week I was propping her up on a Boppy pillow. This week I am considering wrapping her and my whole apartment in bubble wrap since she now thinks she can cruise! (My chiropractor told me to "discourage" her from walking too early. Whuh???) Just when we got my oldest daughter to sleep in her own room, nightmares began. We got our little one in her own crib and separation anxiety and teething began. Those who swear they do not co-sleep either lock their children in or lie. That's right. YOU LIE.
Ha ha. The universe is hilarious.
I get it. Don't get comfortable. Don't start to establish a routine regardless of what everyone else tells you, books lecture and the SuperNanny insists... (Jo Frost you don't even HAVE children! BLURGH!!!)
I know every bit of sage wisdom experienced mothers pass on is mostly true but still... they are done with this transient thing called motherhood- or are at least through the stage I am in and therefore too smug to be borne... STILL. What other job do you do that never has one job description but ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS changes?
I am not of the opinion that you should get paid for being a mother- it IS a choice for most of us, after all. However, if there were some type of holiday pay/ lunch break/ vacation coverage- or even a bathroom break uninterrupted so I don't have to explain menstruation to my two year old- that would be great. Thanks.