Things That Have Happened On My Watch While Marcus Is Away

While Marcus has been on travel for the last month I have been keeping my girls alive.  I'm not sure how but somehow they both are still breathing though not without their fair share of bumps and bruises and, perhaps, nicotine addictions.

Just today I was showing Alex how to hula hoop with a weighted hula hoop (the kind with water in it...for whatever reason).  She apparently was entranced by the prowess that is my hula hooping as she walked right into it, head first.  A few minutes later and I'm wondering what the heck she did to her head when I was politely reminded of that one time when I hula hooped into my daughter's face.

Last night Josephine did a full-on face plant after falling off the bed.  I went to grab her as it happened but to no avail.  It sounded painful and I'm sure it was because she did a very long silent wail before letting out the big one.

Still though, I'm not sure that's better or worse than the cigarette butt she put in her mouth tonight.  Yeah.  That happened.  On my watch.  And it was a nasty cigarette butt, too.  Not fresh, clearly been outside for a while.  After getting it away from her she shivered as the horrid taste surely hit her.

Marcus comes home in less than a week and none too soon if you ask me.  Here's hoping both girls have all appendages and various other body parts accounted for by the time he gets back.

Doctorate of Parenting

I am of the opinion that children should be seen and not heard, especially in public.  I probably would have done very well living during the Victorian era.  Because of my, let's call it what it is, ability to be a good member of society I cringe when my children make even the slightest of noises when we're out and about.  There is nothing harder than convincing a two year old she should whisper and as far as the baby goes, well there literally is nothing I can do.  But I try, damnit, I try.

Because of this philosophy on child rearing I found myself one fateful morning receiving my Doctorate of Parenting.  Up until this point I had rightfully earned my Bachelor's of Parenting by learning how to clean a stinky butt in 5 seconds flat or burp a baby and avoid being spit-up on.  As it turns out, all of that was putting me on the fast-track for my Doctorate.

Our road trip to Minnesota became, in effect, my Doctoral project.  Our first night on the road we found ourselves checking into a hotel after midnight.  The girls were a little wary about this new adventure but settled down within an hour only to awaken, ready for the day, 4 hours later.  Marcus, realizing he was about to have a murder-suicide situation on his hands, took both girls out of the room and down to the lobby to watch cartoons and be the first in line for breakfast (which was not a goal he had set for this trip).  A few hours later, Marcus and the girls came back up and I took over Josephine duties and attempted to pack us up while Marcus and Alex left to swim in the pool.

As luck would have it Jo was cutting a tooth at this very time and as such was miserable.  When Jo is miserable the only comfort she can find is in me, as in she had to be plastered to me at all times.  If I even made as if to put her down she would scream making it impossible to get anything done.  Had we been at home I would have let it go but we were in a hotel and it was only 7:00 in the morning.  My child was being horrid and I just knew someone was plotting our demise and this time it wasn't me.

At some point during this ordeal I had to use the bathroom, bad.  Since Jo wouldn't let me put her down I thought I would bring her into the bathroom with me.  The school of thought there being at least she could see me.  Needless to say, she sat on the bathroom floor screaming her head off which was only amplified by the excellent bathroom acoustics.  Eventually, I had to just pick her up and hold her in my lap as I went to the bathroom.  I'll leave it up to you to decide if it was #1 or #2 but the point is, Jo was finally a quiet and happy baby as she sat on my lap and I went to the bathroom.  Unfortunately, I had to put her back down and the screaming started back up again but there are some things that are just simply impossible to do while holding a baby.  Maybe if I figure out a way to finish taking care of business while holding a baby I will be elevated to the Nobel Peace Prize of Parenting.

Not Such A Bad Day

So, I guess some people (*ahem* Marcus) weren't a fan of my last post.  All I have to say is I am entitled to bad days just like everybody else.  It isn't fair to set the standard that a mom can't have a bad day and seriously not like her children.  I don't like a lot of people on a daily basis.  Why should my children be any different?

Anyway, in case anyone is worried or concerned today, I like them.  Jo is currently "singing" into the microphone of a keyboard (thanks, Auntie Maura...we owe you...BIG) and Alex keeps disappearing only to reappear wearing a pair of my shoes.  Oh, goody.  Now she and Jo are both singing into the microphone.

Guess who it is I don't like today?  It's the same person who's step-daughter will probably be receiving an electric guitar for Christmas.

Sh*tty

I was going to sit here and write a post about how much I hated my children today.  Seriously.  Up until about 5 seconds ago I was stewing in my hatred for two children whom I chose to bring into this world.  As I took a shower, Bill Cosby's words rang in my ears "I brought you into this world and I can take you out of it."

All day long I have wanted to throttle Alexandra.  My voice is hoarse from yelling at her mostly to stop hitting, pushing, or choke-holding her sister.  My blood boiled all day long as the hours crept by at a seemingly snails pace.  She went to time-out at least twice though, what sort of impact it is having on her other than she tells her toys to go to time-out I don't know.

Josephine, on the other hand, I have a little more patience for but I still want to put her in her crib, shut the door, and leave.  Like, totally leave.  Like, get in the car and leave.  Alas, the responsible adult in me realizes that to do so would certainly mean jail time and that's enough to stop me in my tracks.

This is all to say, though, that just prior to writing this I read a story about a couple who are getting married because their 2 year old has only weeks to live.  Talk about perspective.  Despite the fact that I can honestly say today I hated my children at least I know that tomorrow morning they both will wake-up.  Both of them will have forgotten the day before and both of them will laugh and play and yes, fight, but the fact is they will be alive.

And now I feel like the shittiest mother in the world.