I mainly use social media as an outlet for my sense-of-humor. Unlike most, I do want to see pictures of your children and spectacular vacations. I do not want to see that you are a bigot. Controversy, and the very thought of being attacked for my point-of-view, terrifies me. I do not want to offend anyone regardless of the fact many offend me (and poor Marcus gets to hear all about it when he comes home). For me, social media is not the time or place for arguments and such anonymous, typed-out, meme-producing vitriol takes away from the oftentimes very serious subject matter. Sadly, that subject matter is even more oftentimes about the senseless loss of life.
I cannot explain why the 49 people who lost their lives at a nightclub in Orlando has affected me so deeply, especially given the number of daily terrorist attacks worldwide. When the Paris attacks happened I was saddened and wanted to write but didn't. When the San Bernardino shootings occurred I wanted to speak-out but didn't. I remember watching social media and was astounded at the divisiveness events such as those created. I wanted it to be known that I am a woman, liberal, gun-owning, tax-paying, college educated, mother, anti-feminist, hard-working, bra-burning, welfare/social services proponent, breast feeding advocate, Christian, believer of Evolution Theory, I-don't-care-who-uses-the-restroom-stall-next-to-me, Climate Change activist, and lover of ALL peoples (despite differences) but I was too scared to say it.
I have quite a few family and friends who are part of the LGBQT community and maybe that is why the Orlando shootings have hurt so deeply. No matter your sexuality, the weekend is a time for rest and relaxation. At one point for me, that meant bars and nightclubs. Personally, I enjoyed the gay bars the most because that was where I could go and dance and not be harassed. I also secretly relished the glowing admiration of my shoes or nails by the regular patrons. It was also a sign of a potential significant other's character if he could go to a gay bar and not feel uncomfortable.
I've been reading some of the thoughts my more tolerant social media friends have had to say on the subject of the Orlando murders and one thing has occurred to me: To not voice an opinion is to validate the hatred. To not voice an opinion is to sit back and indirectly teach my children that hatred is tolerable. I cannot stand for it any longer.
So, here is where I do stand, and here is where you can take issue: I do not care if you are a law-abiding gun-owner because I am one as well (and a liberal to boot, imagine that?!). I do not care if you are afraid of your right to the Second Amendment being taken away because it never will be. I do not care if you find homosexuality to be a sin because "...love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love..." (Lin-Manuel Miranda, 2016). I do not care if you believe all Muslims are evil because they are not.
I do care about stopping these atrocities and getting guns out of the hands of those who want to kill me or anyone I love. I do care that with inactivity this will directly affect me one day and I will lose a loved one. I do care that my FUCKING (sorry, mamma bear coming out) FOUR YEAR OLD participates in ACTIVE SHOOTER drills at her school. I do care that your supposed Christian beliefs hold you to certain truths but not to all. Finally, I do care that I am raising children who may one day be the difference. I pray that they find their passion and become genuine, kind, and compassionate unlike so many.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Monday, June 13, 2016
Friday, February 5, 2016
Making Friends: A Sad Story
As my many adoring fans know (Hi, mom!), we've moved a few times in the past three years. In 2013 we left the comforts of Fredericksburg, VA and moved to Jacksonville, NC. My impression of Jacksonville as a whole can be summed-up in a contemptuous facial expression and we'll leave it at that. This past summer we moved to Williamsburg, VA and I have enjoyed this change of scenery so much more. This, however, is not the point of the post. Making friends is the point of this post. Every so often someone will ask if I've made any friends and every single time the answer is "no."
Making friends as an adult is f*cking hard. It's not like I can get up in someone's face and ask if they want to play hide-and-seek with me, thus initiating a lifelong friendship. Making friends is made even harder when you're an introvert. For starters, I truly enjoy spending my time at home no matter how much I want to murder all of the living creatures that reside in it. Putting myself out there is hard when I don't physically go anywhere, anyway. I also feel like I'm a victim of "Resting B*tch Face" and, given my propensity for absolute silence, this can certainly only be viewed by outsiders as unfriendly. Then, when I do come out of my shell, I tend to talk about things nobody cares about and probably tell them highly inappropriate information that leaves them wondering who the hell they just came into contact with and whether the authorities should be involved (and if I've asked them to play hide-and-seek the authorities will certainly be getting involved).
We lived in Jacksonville for three years and I can count on no fingers how many friends I made. I was friendly and tried putting myself out there. One time I was asked to join a mom running group that rotated homes and watched each other's children. I went once. That was hard. I gave myself pep talks the whole night before and while driving over the next morning. For me to go to a complete stranger's home and try and make myself comfortable is vomit inducing but I did it. It's moments like these that I rely heavily on my children as a sort of shield. If you see me in public, white knuckling my child's shoulder and constantly stroking her hair it's because I'm highly uncomfortable and somehow, she's protecting me from the horrors of human contact.
Anyway, that afternoon after I left the first and last running group I'll ever join, I got the distinct impression one in the group didn't like me. The second time I tried to go I was running late and when I got to the house nobody answered the door. Later, I saw the person who was at the house (the one whom I gathered was not a fan of mine) was posting pictures on Facebook at about the same time I was standing at the door with my two girls in tow, a lunch for them packed. No matter how unsubstantiated my feelings were, my paranoid-self just knew that she did not answer the door on purpose and I felt like I had entered the Mean Girls club. Of course, the fact that she was surrounded by about five children with the TV turned-on meant absolutely nothing to me. Needless to say the girls and I continued our regular, solo, running routine though deviated slightly on the days I knew the mom running group would be in the neighborhood.
So, yes, my attempts at making friends have been nothing short of pathetic. I've met plenty of women here in Williamsburg that I think would make great friends but how do I put myself out there? I've met other mom's at some of the girls' activities and we've hit if off but how does one ask another woman for her digits? What if, after spending more time together she realizes what a weirdo-with-really-strong-opinions-about-almost-everything I am? It's like dating but way, way worse because I'm probably not even getting free dinner out of the deal. I've been seeing a dermatologist for the past few months and today I realized we had a lot in common. But, again, how do I ask if she wants to be my friend? Should I do it as she's looking between my butt cheeks for abnormal moles or should I wait until later? Later.
Making friends as an adult is f*cking hard. It's not like I can get up in someone's face and ask if they want to play hide-and-seek with me, thus initiating a lifelong friendship. Making friends is made even harder when you're an introvert. For starters, I truly enjoy spending my time at home no matter how much I want to murder all of the living creatures that reside in it. Putting myself out there is hard when I don't physically go anywhere, anyway. I also feel like I'm a victim of "Resting B*tch Face" and, given my propensity for absolute silence, this can certainly only be viewed by outsiders as unfriendly. Then, when I do come out of my shell, I tend to talk about things nobody cares about and probably tell them highly inappropriate information that leaves them wondering who the hell they just came into contact with and whether the authorities should be involved (and if I've asked them to play hide-and-seek the authorities will certainly be getting involved).
We lived in Jacksonville for three years and I can count on no fingers how many friends I made. I was friendly and tried putting myself out there. One time I was asked to join a mom running group that rotated homes and watched each other's children. I went once. That was hard. I gave myself pep talks the whole night before and while driving over the next morning. For me to go to a complete stranger's home and try and make myself comfortable is vomit inducing but I did it. It's moments like these that I rely heavily on my children as a sort of shield. If you see me in public, white knuckling my child's shoulder and constantly stroking her hair it's because I'm highly uncomfortable and somehow, she's protecting me from the horrors of human contact.
Anyway, that afternoon after I left the first and last running group I'll ever join, I got the distinct impression one in the group didn't like me. The second time I tried to go I was running late and when I got to the house nobody answered the door. Later, I saw the person who was at the house (the one whom I gathered was not a fan of mine) was posting pictures on Facebook at about the same time I was standing at the door with my two girls in tow, a lunch for them packed. No matter how unsubstantiated my feelings were, my paranoid-self just knew that she did not answer the door on purpose and I felt like I had entered the Mean Girls club. Of course, the fact that she was surrounded by about five children with the TV turned-on meant absolutely nothing to me. Needless to say the girls and I continued our regular, solo, running routine though deviated slightly on the days I knew the mom running group would be in the neighborhood.
So, yes, my attempts at making friends have been nothing short of pathetic. I've met plenty of women here in Williamsburg that I think would make great friends but how do I put myself out there? I've met other mom's at some of the girls' activities and we've hit if off but how does one ask another woman for her digits? What if, after spending more time together she realizes what a weirdo-with-really-strong-opinions-about-almost-everything I am? It's like dating but way, way worse because I'm probably not even getting free dinner out of the deal. I've been seeing a dermatologist for the past few months and today I realized we had a lot in common. But, again, how do I ask if she wants to be my friend? Should I do it as she's looking between my butt cheeks for abnormal moles or should I wait until later? Later.
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Dear Husband
Dear Husband,
If you do not have a youngest daughter by the time you get home from work do not be surprised. She would not, WOULD NOT, get out of bed until after 8 this morning. Although, to her credit, she was technically the first of the children out of bed when she briefly got out to scream and writhe around on the floor because I turned on the little lamp. Once her stance on morning lighting was thoroughly discussed she got back into bed, stuffing herself and all of her lovies as far under the covers as possible. I was set to let her ride in the car wearing pajamas but, eventually, she did get out of bed and got herself dressed. There was a slight issue with her cowgirl boots being 1/4 of an inch unzipped which led to them being taken away completely. After she got over the loss of the boots, she made her way to the breakfast table where her attitude slightly changed upon seeing the delicious donut her older sister was eating. She came thisclose to not getting a donut. The ride to and from dropping off her sister at school was fairly uneventful. However, upon returning home, she refused to get out of the car because I killed a spider with her rain boot and she wanted to do it with her bare hands. At the moment, TV is not an option and so she is going around finding things that she thinks will bother me. For example, she yells "I'm going to mess this up!" and she moves the pumpkins on the fireplace around. Currently, she has put herself in her room so I will sit here while I can and sip my coffee and eat my own donut.
Love,
Your Wife Who Will Be Running Away Soon
If you do not have a youngest daughter by the time you get home from work do not be surprised. She would not, WOULD NOT, get out of bed until after 8 this morning. Although, to her credit, she was technically the first of the children out of bed when she briefly got out to scream and writhe around on the floor because I turned on the little lamp. Once her stance on morning lighting was thoroughly discussed she got back into bed, stuffing herself and all of her lovies as far under the covers as possible. I was set to let her ride in the car wearing pajamas but, eventually, she did get out of bed and got herself dressed. There was a slight issue with her cowgirl boots being 1/4 of an inch unzipped which led to them being taken away completely. After she got over the loss of the boots, she made her way to the breakfast table where her attitude slightly changed upon seeing the delicious donut her older sister was eating. She came thisclose to not getting a donut. The ride to and from dropping off her sister at school was fairly uneventful. However, upon returning home, she refused to get out of the car because I killed a spider with her rain boot and she wanted to do it with her bare hands. At the moment, TV is not an option and so she is going around finding things that she thinks will bother me. For example, she yells "I'm going to mess this up!" and she moves the pumpkins on the fireplace around. Currently, she has put herself in her room so I will sit here while I can and sip my coffee and eat my own donut.
Love,
Your Wife Who Will Be Running Away Soon
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Thank Heaven For Little Girls
I've come to realize that one of the hardest parts about raising two little girls is less the fact that they are little girls and more the fact they have a daddy who is clueless about little girls. Certain aspects of girldom simply mystify the lone male in our midst and he remains steadfast in his belief that certain things are not necessary. For example, Alex has hair down the length of her back. It's also baby fine but she has a lot of it. As a result, it gets tangled and needs to be brushed at least twice a day, once in the morning and once after bath time. One of the beauties of living in the modern age is that their are now products made specifically for helping get tangles out of hair. However, getting Marcus to both agree that brushing hair is important and that using detangler makes it easier is like trying to understand why he should brush and detangle his own hair. He just doesn't get the point.
Equally exasperating is his question for clothing and shoes. I think if he had his way the girls would run around in their diaper and underwear forever. The other day I allowed Alex to pick out a pair of shoes for the fall/winter. She was really into a pair of fuchsia cowgirl boots but I subtly directed her towards a pair of brown cowgirl boots with pink trim (something that might actually match her clothes). I thought her choice was cute and proudly showed them to Marcus who then questioned why she needed shoes at all. So, along with running around in her skivvies I guess she could just attach some palm fronds to her feet with twine and we'd be good to go.
The other day we were talking about getting Jo's big girl bed together. My mom gave us an old metal bed frame that needs to be cleaned and painted and I was starting to feel pressure to get it done. However, Marcus reminded me that we could just put Jo's mattress on the floor in the meantime since she is still adjusting to not being in a crib. He then proceeded to state that he didn't understand why the girl's needed bed frames at all and they could just sleep on mattresses on the floor. I'm beginning to suspect he's a caveman in disguise.
Equally exasperating is his question for clothing and shoes. I think if he had his way the girls would run around in their diaper and underwear forever. The other day I allowed Alex to pick out a pair of shoes for the fall/winter. She was really into a pair of fuchsia cowgirl boots but I subtly directed her towards a pair of brown cowgirl boots with pink trim (something that might actually match her clothes). I thought her choice was cute and proudly showed them to Marcus who then questioned why she needed shoes at all. So, along with running around in her skivvies I guess she could just attach some palm fronds to her feet with twine and we'd be good to go.
The other day we were talking about getting Jo's big girl bed together. My mom gave us an old metal bed frame that needs to be cleaned and painted and I was starting to feel pressure to get it done. However, Marcus reminded me that we could just put Jo's mattress on the floor in the meantime since she is still adjusting to not being in a crib. He then proceeded to state that he didn't understand why the girl's needed bed frames at all and they could just sleep on mattresses on the floor. I'm beginning to suspect he's a caveman in disguise.
Friday, March 28, 2014
Happy Birthday To Me
Today is my 33rd birthday and I have a few
thoughts. Things have changed. For starters I now find myself trimming nose
hairs and my light-but-totally-there mustache.
I also regularly pluck a hair or two from my neck which have grown
unruly. Today, I discovered broken blood
vessels alongside my left nostril which no amount of concealer can cover. It makes me wonder if I should cut-out
alcohol altogether so as to avoid looking like a complete wino by my 40th
birthday. Pffftttt! After having the girls it would seem that my
chest (as in ribcage, perv) has permanently expanded as have other parts that
take up a wider area than before. Although,
I will say that I will not be ashamed to put on a bikini this summer provided I
keep-up a workout routine and maybe stop eating multiple bags of Cadbury mini-eggs,
chocolate birthday cake, and drinking glass bottles of Pepsi. Guess which one of those was an impulse buy (and
in case you’re thinking it was the six bags of Cadbury mini-eggs you would be
sadly mistaken). Anyway, things are not
looking good and I can’t wait to see what will happen in the next 7 years…*long
pause*
There are other aspects that aren’t so bad, relatively
speaking anyway. While most people get
their Bachelor’s degree by the age of 22 I am getting mine this summer at the
age of 33. Maybe not what my parents had
in mind but if you ask me I kick-ass more for doing it now than doing it
earlier. I’ve also discovered an ability
to run helped along by the fact that I frequently find myself pushing 60 extra
pounds of weight around. I would say
those are my two biggest accomplishments for the moment.
So, here I sit. This
year my birthday falls on a Friday and in years past that alone would have been
cause for celebration. As it is, the
only thing I can possibly fathom for a fun-filled Friday birthday is to do some
homework and maybe get a movie from Redbox.
So, yeah, things have changed.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Arts And Crafts Are Dumb
Let me just preface this by saying I am not a crafty person. I try to be but the fact is I don't have extra googly eyes, pipe cleaners, or batting lying around the house all of which appear to be prerequisites before starting any arts and crafts project. So, when I do feel like an arts and crafts project is in order for the day it takes a lot of energy out of me because I have to improvise with what I have. Plus, like I said before, I am not a crafty person. I feel like the World's Best Mother just on the days that I break out the crayons so actually executing a real, honest to goodness project is the frickin' Nobel Prize for Mothers in my world.
Another hindrance to arts and crafts projects are the children for which said arts and crafts projects are designed for. Particularly my children. Take today for instance. I found online a cute design for a turkey using the hands and feet of the girls (not their literal hands and feet though at this point I'd say as long as they're participating who cares). So, I take Jo first and trace her foot. For a 1 year old she did remarkably well. Then it's Alex's turn. She refuses, I mean absolutely refuses to the point of tears, to let me trace her f****ing foot. What the f***. I don't know if she thought I was going to stab her foot with the pencil or if she thought her foot would fall off...I really don't know what was going on in her mind but, as per usual, I lost my sh*t and am now sitting here writing this post.
In my attempt to make the girl's day just a little more fun than average I have been thwarted and turned what was a pretty good day into a slightly sucky one. So, here I am, stewing over the whole thing and finishing the project by myself. If Alex and Jo ever say that their mom never did any fun arts and crafts projects with them I'll refer them to this post.
Another hindrance to arts and crafts projects are the children for which said arts and crafts projects are designed for. Particularly my children. Take today for instance. I found online a cute design for a turkey using the hands and feet of the girls (not their literal hands and feet though at this point I'd say as long as they're participating who cares). So, I take Jo first and trace her foot. For a 1 year old she did remarkably well. Then it's Alex's turn. She refuses, I mean absolutely refuses to the point of tears, to let me trace her f****ing foot. What the f***. I don't know if she thought I was going to stab her foot with the pencil or if she thought her foot would fall off...I really don't know what was going on in her mind but, as per usual, I lost my sh*t and am now sitting here writing this post.
In my attempt to make the girl's day just a little more fun than average I have been thwarted and turned what was a pretty good day into a slightly sucky one. So, here I am, stewing over the whole thing and finishing the project by myself. If Alex and Jo ever say that their mom never did any fun arts and crafts projects with them I'll refer them to this post.
 |
| Let's just call it like it is. This is MY stupid arts and crafts project. |
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Shower Time
For a fleeting moment this morning I was the most brilliant mother in the world. So brilliant they would be talking about me for ages. Then, reality struck and I was back to being annoyed and screamy.
You see, I have a hard time determining the best time to take a shower. Nighttime is optimal but I hate taking showers at night because I wake-up feeling dirty (take that as you will). Besides, I started running again so that necessitates a morning shower. I could wait just a few hours after the run and take a shower during the girls' naptime but I'm in school full-time and need that full 15 minutes of pure bliss for studying (aka a nap).
Now, the biggest part of taking a shower after a run is what to do with the girls. Alex is pretty well-behaved on her own for the most part (this does not include yesterday when she got a hold of the permanent marker and inked herself and her sister up) and I don't mind if she's not in the bathroom with me. Jo, on the other hand, I don't trust as far as I can throw her and that's not very far because she's quite the chunket. For starters she likes to stand at the shower ripping the curtain back, filling the floor with water, then subsequently falling because she slips. This is when she's not finding random things to throw in the tub with me like stuffed animals and wooden toys that could impale me if I slipped and fell in a freak accident. In all it makes for a less than luxurious shower experience.
Today, however, I had a brilliant idea. I would take the gate from the bottom of the stairs and prop it against the door to the closet which connects to the bathroom. That way the girls could play in there and I could take a shower completely kid free and worry free.
Fool. Oh, silly, silly fool. I got about half-way through when things started to go wrong. First, Alex was taking all of my shoes and throwing them over the gate into the bathroom. Whatever, that was bound to happen. Then, she figured out she could get through the gate and leave her sister on the other side, essentially taunting her. Jo, of course did not take kindly to this and stood on the other side crying her banshee cry. During this time Alex was going back and forth between the bathroom and closet when finally, I heard the inevitable crashing of the gate as it fell to the floor. My head dropped, defeated. I just wanted to take a f***ing shower. Just a mother f****ing shower. It had been two days since I took one. I really needed it and all I wanted to do was take it without having to hold onto the shower curtain and shave my legs at the same time.
"Out!" I yelled at Alex, "Get out! Just go!" By this point Jo had crawled onto the gate and was making her way out ready for her showerreign rain of terror to start. Instead, because I didn't care anymore, I told Alex to open the bathroom door and let them both go, out into the house. A few minutes later and I realized my grievous error. I had taken the gate from the bottom of the steps, meaning Jo would see her chance to climb the stairs and fall and break her neck laugh in the face of danger once she reached the top. Freaking A. I jumped out of the shower, grabbed the useless gate and ran into the living room hoping none of the neighbors had a pair of binoculars trained on the window of the living room (What? I like to think of myself as potential MILF material).
So, here I sit. Defeated and deflated. Maybe one day I'll have it all figured out. Or, at least the shower part. I won't be so bold as to state that one day I'll have it all figured out because that is certainly foolish.
You see, I have a hard time determining the best time to take a shower. Nighttime is optimal but I hate taking showers at night because I wake-up feeling dirty (take that as you will). Besides, I started running again so that necessitates a morning shower. I could wait just a few hours after the run and take a shower during the girls' naptime but I'm in school full-time and need that full 15 minutes of pure bliss for studying (aka a nap).
Now, the biggest part of taking a shower after a run is what to do with the girls. Alex is pretty well-behaved on her own for the most part (this does not include yesterday when she got a hold of the permanent marker and inked herself and her sister up) and I don't mind if she's not in the bathroom with me. Jo, on the other hand, I don't trust as far as I can throw her and that's not very far because she's quite the chunket. For starters she likes to stand at the shower ripping the curtain back, filling the floor with water, then subsequently falling because she slips. This is when she's not finding random things to throw in the tub with me like stuffed animals and wooden toys that could impale me if I slipped and fell in a freak accident. In all it makes for a less than luxurious shower experience.
Today, however, I had a brilliant idea. I would take the gate from the bottom of the stairs and prop it against the door to the closet which connects to the bathroom. That way the girls could play in there and I could take a shower completely kid free and worry free.
Fool. Oh, silly, silly fool. I got about half-way through when things started to go wrong. First, Alex was taking all of my shoes and throwing them over the gate into the bathroom. Whatever, that was bound to happen. Then, she figured out she could get through the gate and leave her sister on the other side, essentially taunting her. Jo, of course did not take kindly to this and stood on the other side crying her banshee cry. During this time Alex was going back and forth between the bathroom and closet when finally, I heard the inevitable crashing of the gate as it fell to the floor. My head dropped, defeated. I just wanted to take a f***ing shower. Just a mother f****ing shower. It had been two days since I took one. I really needed it and all I wanted to do was take it without having to hold onto the shower curtain and shave my legs at the same time.
"Out!" I yelled at Alex, "Get out! Just go!" By this point Jo had crawled onto the gate and was making her way out ready for her shower
So, here I sit. Defeated and deflated. Maybe one day I'll have it all figured out. Or, at least the shower part. I won't be so bold as to state that one day I'll have it all figured out because that is certainly foolish.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Today Is A Good Day
My day started at 4:30 in the morning when Jo woke up and for over an hour fought going back to sleep. As I listened to her cry I could also hear the neighbors dog barking over and over and over again. I wasn't sure which was more annoying but I briefly considered taking Jo over for a little "Which is more annoying" competition. Eventually, once it hit 6:00 Marcus decided to go to work.
I think I fell back asleep but that was short lived as Alex woke up at 6:30 in her usual cheerful mood *sarcasm* and wondering why, for the millionth time in a row, her Dadda was not there. I'm not sure why this surprises her every morning but it does. In a move straight out of the Lazy Parenting handbook I broke out the Tablet and let her watch "Dora..." on continuous loop until I felt mildly human. I then checked on Jo who had apparently worn herself out to the brink of exhaustion and was still snoozing peacefully. Must be nice.
After checking on Jo I put the kibosh on "Dora..." only to discover that my lazy parenting skills had come back to bite me in the ass and Alex's diaper had leaked. Now I had to change our sheets and mattress pad and get Alex cleaned up which totally ruined the game I play every day which is called "How long can I keep the girls in PJs before it gets ridiculous?" After all of this Jo was awake and apparently she also conspired against me as her diaper had leaked as well. So, I got Jo out of her crib, changed her, stripped her bed, and fed her which she promptly spit back up all over my outfit. Eh, who am I kidding? My "outfit" was actually my PJs and so Jo ruined my other game which is called "How long can I stay in PJs before it gets ridiculous?" (Hint: It's only ridiculous if someone other than your children sees you in the PJs).
As I was taking care of Jo, Alex humped her way across the floor and back again. That's a new thing that we're not really sure how to address so for now I'm just going to ignore it. Now, it's 11:00 and Jo is playing peacefully with the tag of a toy and Alex has passed out on the floor from too much humping. I just smelled something suspicious and Jo is grinning at me and I'm pretty sure I'm not going to like what I find when I pick her up. Yet somehow, despite all of this, I feel rather at peace today. Today is a good day.
I think I fell back asleep but that was short lived as Alex woke up at 6:30 in her usual cheerful mood *sarcasm* and wondering why, for the millionth time in a row, her Dadda was not there. I'm not sure why this surprises her every morning but it does. In a move straight out of the Lazy Parenting handbook I broke out the Tablet and let her watch "Dora..." on continuous loop until I felt mildly human. I then checked on Jo who had apparently worn herself out to the brink of exhaustion and was still snoozing peacefully. Must be nice.
After checking on Jo I put the kibosh on "Dora..." only to discover that my lazy parenting skills had come back to bite me in the ass and Alex's diaper had leaked. Now I had to change our sheets and mattress pad and get Alex cleaned up which totally ruined the game I play every day which is called "How long can I keep the girls in PJs before it gets ridiculous?" After all of this Jo was awake and apparently she also conspired against me as her diaper had leaked as well. So, I got Jo out of her crib, changed her, stripped her bed, and fed her which she promptly spit back up all over my outfit. Eh, who am I kidding? My "outfit" was actually my PJs and so Jo ruined my other game which is called "How long can I stay in PJs before it gets ridiculous?" (Hint: It's only ridiculous if someone other than your children sees you in the PJs).
As I was taking care of Jo, Alex humped her way across the floor and back again. That's a new thing that we're not really sure how to address so for now I'm just going to ignore it. Now, it's 11:00 and Jo is playing peacefully with the tag of a toy and Alex has passed out on the floor from too much humping. I just smelled something suspicious and Jo is grinning at me and I'm pretty sure I'm not going to like what I find when I pick her up. Yet somehow, despite all of this, I feel rather at peace today. Today is a good day.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Fernando
It is a gorgeous day on the beach. The sun is shining as a light breeze caresses the palm trees. The aqua ocean stretches as far as the eye can see and practically melds into the cloudless sky. I take a deep breath and lay back in the chaise lounge. I glance over the top of my sunglasses and see Fernando, the lithe, 20-something, Brazilian underwear model approaching with my pina coloda and bowl of grapes. "Fernando," I say "Peel my grapes before feeding them to me this time. I can't stand grape skin." I close my eyes and relax as Fernando leans over me and one by one peels each grape and pops them in my mouth. "Fernando, what is that smell? Why am I smelling peanut butter? What happened to the coconut oil I asked you to wear?" I open my eyes expecting to see the lithe, 20-something, Brazilian underwear model named Fernando but instead I see the lithe, almost 2-something toddler Alexandra. She is covered in peanut butter and jelly and instead of feeding me grapes she is systematically shoving goldfish down my throat.
And scene.
And scene.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Must. Have. Caffeine/Alcohol
Little JoJo was baptized a week ago. It was all a rather uneventful event though Jo cried almost the whole time and Alex took advantage of no parental supervision to walk up and down the center aisle sizing up her fellow parishioners. Imagine a little blonde baby casually strolling the aisle and peering into each pew as if she's trying to determine whether this would be the pew for her to hang out in. Imagine me, trying so hard not to laugh I'm crying, and wondering why one of the three sets of grandparents doesn't grab her. Either way, we're lucky to attend such a wonderful church that nobody seemed bothered by her curiosity. Of course, Marcus and I both question how much longer Alex will be able to get away with such shenanigans before people start to label her as out of control and us as poor parents. I'm hoping for a few more years because as of this very moment there isn't much Alex will listen to unless it involves food and even then you may not get the desired response.
She's in the middle of the "terrible twos" though they started months ago. I hate to admit it but she's absolutely frustrating on a day to day basis. I'll be the first to admit Alex is me in a miniature version. She has my personality and my quick temper. Put the two of us together and add a bad mood on either of our parts and there is surely trouble at hand. Our relationship is nothing short of bipolar. Our good days are marvelously good but our bad days are by far the worst day of our lives. I love her to death but Lord help me...there are days that I question why the f*** we decided to have children.
Marcus informed me the other day that he's given up alcohol and caffeine for the New Year. My jaw dropped. "But, how could you possibly do that?" I questioned. He didn't really have a good answer for why he decided to do it but I can tell you this: Without the promise of a cup (or five) of coffee in the morning and a glass (or ten) of wine at the end of the day I wouldn't have much reason to live as the situation currently stands. I don't believe the women who claim being a stay at home mom is the best "job" they've ever had. I call bullsh*t on that one because I can tell you, the best job I ever had was the one I just gave up and it didn't involve fighting with a two year old (and losing) or changing diapers 100 times a day. I'm sure I'll grow accustomed to this new found way of life but until then I'll continue my caffeine and ever increasing alcohol addiction thankyouverymuch.
She's in the middle of the "terrible twos" though they started months ago. I hate to admit it but she's absolutely frustrating on a day to day basis. I'll be the first to admit Alex is me in a miniature version. She has my personality and my quick temper. Put the two of us together and add a bad mood on either of our parts and there is surely trouble at hand. Our relationship is nothing short of bipolar. Our good days are marvelously good but our bad days are by far the worst day of our lives. I love her to death but Lord help me...there are days that I question why the f*** we decided to have children.
Marcus informed me the other day that he's given up alcohol and caffeine for the New Year. My jaw dropped. "But, how could you possibly do that?" I questioned. He didn't really have a good answer for why he decided to do it but I can tell you this: Without the promise of a cup (or five) of coffee in the morning and a glass (or ten) of wine at the end of the day I wouldn't have much reason to live as the situation currently stands. I don't believe the women who claim being a stay at home mom is the best "job" they've ever had. I call bullsh*t on that one because I can tell you, the best job I ever had was the one I just gave up and it didn't involve fighting with a two year old (and losing) or changing diapers 100 times a day. I'm sure I'll grow accustomed to this new found way of life but until then I'll continue my caffeine and ever increasing alcohol addiction thankyouverymuch.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Today
Today is a big day.
Today I am 30 weeks pregnant. That gives us 10 weeks to get everything in order. Or, if you're going by Alex's premature delivery date, 5 weeks. I'm still feeling remarkably good despite the fact I'm about as big as I was when 8 months pregnant with Alex. I suppose it's from my belly already being stretched out from before. Ask me in about 2 months how I feel and I'll probably murder you on the spot. No offense. I've still somehow managed to stay active in ballet and glide across the floor with all of the grace of a hippopotamus (when on land, not in water...they seriously are very graceful when swimming). The baby is getting stronger by the day and sometimes surprises me with quick jabs to the belly especially since (s)he has been more of a relaxer than a tae kwon do master.
Today is also Marcus's and my 3 year anniversary. 3 years and almost 2 kids later. It's amazing how much has changed in such a short span of time. Unfortunately, Marcus isn't around to celebrate with me and that's a huge bummer. So far this year he's been absent for Valentine's Day and now our anniversary (I won't even mention the lack of even a card on Mother's Day). I'm going to assume he'll be around for the birth of our second child (which trumps both Valentine's Day and our anniversary combined) but you know what happens when you assume...
Today I signed-up to take both of my psychology classes at the same time in preparation for this next kiddo. My thought process went a little something like this: Hey! You know what sounds like a great idea and not at all stressful?! Taking two classes at the same time because they'll end on October 12th. So, if I do that, and work my a$$ off to finish before October 12th, then I'll have the rest of the year to take-off from school and tend to the baby and Alex. That makes complete sense doesn't it? The only way this could fail is if the baby arrives earlier than expected. Also, this could fail if I end up having a complete break-down which I'm pretty much banking on.
Today I've also realized that I am in a funk. I don't want to go anywhere, see anyone, or do anything. I'm quite content to go to work during the day and hang out at home with Alex during the evening. Anything else is annoying and really, just a burden. To go anywhere at all takes a lot of effort and planning and I just don't have it in me. Even a trip to the library (which is coming because I have a research paper due) sounds like a huge pain in the a$$ to me. Not to mention I have Alex with me all of the time which means chasing after her and constantly making sure she is happy because, despite what most people think, the saying actually goes "If baby ain't happy, ain't nobody happy". Also, I think by now it goes without saying, I'm 7.5 months pregnant. I'm tired. Life can pass me by for all I care just as long as I'm able to sit on the couch and eat my ice cream.
Today I am 30 weeks pregnant. That gives us 10 weeks to get everything in order. Or, if you're going by Alex's premature delivery date, 5 weeks. I'm still feeling remarkably good despite the fact I'm about as big as I was when 8 months pregnant with Alex. I suppose it's from my belly already being stretched out from before. Ask me in about 2 months how I feel and I'll probably murder you on the spot. No offense. I've still somehow managed to stay active in ballet and glide across the floor with all of the grace of a hippopotamus (when on land, not in water...they seriously are very graceful when swimming). The baby is getting stronger by the day and sometimes surprises me with quick jabs to the belly especially since (s)he has been more of a relaxer than a tae kwon do master.
Today is also Marcus's and my 3 year anniversary. 3 years and almost 2 kids later. It's amazing how much has changed in such a short span of time. Unfortunately, Marcus isn't around to celebrate with me and that's a huge bummer. So far this year he's been absent for Valentine's Day and now our anniversary (I won't even mention the lack of even a card on Mother's Day). I'm going to assume he'll be around for the birth of our second child (which trumps both Valentine's Day and our anniversary combined) but you know what happens when you assume...
Today I signed-up to take both of my psychology classes at the same time in preparation for this next kiddo. My thought process went a little something like this: Hey! You know what sounds like a great idea and not at all stressful?! Taking two classes at the same time because they'll end on October 12th. So, if I do that, and work my a$$ off to finish before October 12th, then I'll have the rest of the year to take-off from school and tend to the baby and Alex. That makes complete sense doesn't it? The only way this could fail is if the baby arrives earlier than expected. Also, this could fail if I end up having a complete break-down which I'm pretty much banking on.
Today I've also realized that I am in a funk. I don't want to go anywhere, see anyone, or do anything. I'm quite content to go to work during the day and hang out at home with Alex during the evening. Anything else is annoying and really, just a burden. To go anywhere at all takes a lot of effort and planning and I just don't have it in me. Even a trip to the library (which is coming because I have a research paper due) sounds like a huge pain in the a$$ to me. Not to mention I have Alex with me all of the time which means chasing after her and constantly making sure she is happy because, despite what most people think, the saying actually goes "If baby ain't happy, ain't nobody happy". Also, I think by now it goes without saying, I'm 7.5 months pregnant. I'm tired. Life can pass me by for all I care just as long as I'm able to sit on the couch and eat my ice cream.
Friday, July 13, 2012
My Life
For posterity sake, and so that one day I can look back and think to myself "And I thought I was busy then," because I know that will happen once children are older and more activities are scheduled, I will write down a typical day for myself:
5:00 AM - Marcus's alarm goes off, I contemplate how to murder him and dispose of the body but decide trying to fall back asleep is a better idea
6:15 AM - My own alarm goes off though it's questionable whether I physically get up
6:30 AM - Get up and jump in the shower like an idiot who just wasted 15 precious minutes she didn't have, get dressed and put-on what little make-up is necessary to look somewhat alive, realize that the clock is ticking and my hair is put on the back-burner again (this comes back to bite me in the a$$ when halfway through the day I look in the mirror and realize the Bride of Frankenstein has been walking around), wake-up Alex (if she isn't already), go downstairs to get her milk because she's a frickin' milk junkie and needs her fix ASAP, go back upstairs and change Alex's diaper then get her dressed while chasing her down the hall as she flings her milk around which stains my work clothes but who has time to change at this point?
7:20 AM (if we're lucky) - Go back downstairs, I swallow breakfast whole or make something (i.e. toast) for the road all while trying to get Alex to eat something which generally consists of a banana that she promptly smashes into her clothes, pack Alex's daycare bag, make my lunch, then load about a million bags in the car all while trying to remember Alex is still in her highchair
7:40 AM - Finally leave the house (maybe...that's on a good day)
7:50 AM - Drop Alex off at daycare
8:30(ish) AM - Arrive at work half an hour late as usual, also try to remember how I got there
4:30 PM - Leave work
5:15 PM - Pick-up Alex from daycare, inquire if she had any meltdowns (she did), empathize with the teachers and hope that isn't indicative of how the rest of the evening will proceed (it is)
5:30 PM - Arrive at home and begin making dinner right away, Alex begins her epic meltdown routine at this exact moment which consists of a plank while crying hysterically, I ponder how she doesn't have amazing abs then resume cooking and attempting to discover the source of Alex's displeasure, assume her breakdown is because she needs her milk fix which I procure and which solves the problem up until she somehow dumps the entire cup on herself, strip Alex down and set her loose to continue cooking and keeping an ear out for trouble as the half naked baby wanders the house crying
6:00 PM - Put something on the table (Lord knows what...Alex's pants might be in there somewhere for all I know) and watch as Alex either eats heartily or chews it, spits it out, then throws all of it on the floor in her way of giving dinner her own special "two thumbs up/down" rating
6:30 PM - Bathe Alex and get her ready for bed which may or may not lead to a complete break-down again, depending on whether break-down occurs or not either sit on the couch staring blankly at the wall as she throws herself around on the floor crying hysterically or get an opportunity to love on her and play with her for the first time all day
7:45 PM - Begin the bedtime routine of brushing Alex's teeth, reading a book, then nite-nite time, again, we're walking on eggshells at this point and this may or may not end well depending on if I can trick her into bed without a milk fix which usually works as long as Dada doesn't gallantly show up from his activities at the exact moment I'm putting her to sleep and pokes his head in the door so he can at least "see" Alex for the first time that day
8:00 PM - If nite-nite time ends well then clean-up the house from where Alex left her carnage, clean-up the kitchen and whatever dinner turned out to be, possibly find dried cat vomit and clean that up, then try and tackle various other chores that can be accomplished in a small amount of time. If nite-nite time did not end well all cleaning is put aside for figuring out how to pacify Alex which, generally speaking is, you guessed it, milk
9:00 PM - Get myself ready for bed
9:15 PM - Finally sit down on the couch in an attempt to completely zone out and wonder what's on TV which is nothing so, for about an hour, scroll through the channels not ever finding anything worth spending more than five minutes on
10:00 PM - Go to bed to start the day over in 8 hours. The End.
None of this includes Marcus's 12 hour work days (which are only going to get longer in the next few weeks) or his soccer, volleyball, or flying lessons schedule and nor does it include my weekly ballet lesson. It also doesn't include the fact that both of us are in school, Marcus for his Doctorate in Engineering and me for my Bachelor of Psychology. This also doesn't include the standard household chores, home repairs, vehicle maintenance, or lawn maintenance that all need to take place during the weekend (maybe) (and no, there is still not a bathroom, thanks for rubbing it in).
Needless to say, life is busy and needless to say because of that some things may fall to the way-side because I barely have time to scratch my butt. The other day Marcus remarked that we rarely speak of the new baby to which I almost laughed. No sh*t, considering the only chance I get to spend time with Marcus is when we're sleeping next to each other let alone hold a conversation.
So, there you have it. My life, written down in 800 words or less.
5:00 AM - Marcus's alarm goes off, I contemplate how to murder him and dispose of the body but decide trying to fall back asleep is a better idea
6:15 AM - My own alarm goes off though it's questionable whether I physically get up
6:30 AM - Get up and jump in the shower like an idiot who just wasted 15 precious minutes she didn't have, get dressed and put-on what little make-up is necessary to look somewhat alive, realize that the clock is ticking and my hair is put on the back-burner again (this comes back to bite me in the a$$ when halfway through the day I look in the mirror and realize the Bride of Frankenstein has been walking around), wake-up Alex (if she isn't already), go downstairs to get her milk because she's a frickin' milk junkie and needs her fix ASAP, go back upstairs and change Alex's diaper then get her dressed while chasing her down the hall as she flings her milk around which stains my work clothes but who has time to change at this point?
7:20 AM (if we're lucky) - Go back downstairs, I swallow breakfast whole or make something (i.e. toast) for the road all while trying to get Alex to eat something which generally consists of a banana that she promptly smashes into her clothes, pack Alex's daycare bag, make my lunch, then load about a million bags in the car all while trying to remember Alex is still in her highchair
7:40 AM - Finally leave the house (maybe...that's on a good day)
7:50 AM - Drop Alex off at daycare
8:30(ish) AM - Arrive at work half an hour late as usual, also try to remember how I got there
4:30 PM - Leave work
5:15 PM - Pick-up Alex from daycare, inquire if she had any meltdowns (she did), empathize with the teachers and hope that isn't indicative of how the rest of the evening will proceed (it is)
5:30 PM - Arrive at home and begin making dinner right away, Alex begins her epic meltdown routine at this exact moment which consists of a plank while crying hysterically, I ponder how she doesn't have amazing abs then resume cooking and attempting to discover the source of Alex's displeasure, assume her breakdown is because she needs her milk fix which I procure and which solves the problem up until she somehow dumps the entire cup on herself, strip Alex down and set her loose to continue cooking and keeping an ear out for trouble as the half naked baby wanders the house crying
6:00 PM - Put something on the table (Lord knows what...Alex's pants might be in there somewhere for all I know) and watch as Alex either eats heartily or chews it, spits it out, then throws all of it on the floor in her way of giving dinner her own special "two thumbs up/down" rating
6:30 PM - Bathe Alex and get her ready for bed which may or may not lead to a complete break-down again, depending on whether break-down occurs or not either sit on the couch staring blankly at the wall as she throws herself around on the floor crying hysterically or get an opportunity to love on her and play with her for the first time all day
7:45 PM - Begin the bedtime routine of brushing Alex's teeth, reading a book, then nite-nite time, again, we're walking on eggshells at this point and this may or may not end well depending on if I can trick her into bed without a milk fix which usually works as long as Dada doesn't gallantly show up from his activities at the exact moment I'm putting her to sleep and pokes his head in the door so he can at least "see" Alex for the first time that day
8:00 PM - If nite-nite time ends well then clean-up the house from where Alex left her carnage, clean-up the kitchen and whatever dinner turned out to be, possibly find dried cat vomit and clean that up, then try and tackle various other chores that can be accomplished in a small amount of time. If nite-nite time did not end well all cleaning is put aside for figuring out how to pacify Alex which, generally speaking is, you guessed it, milk
9:00 PM - Get myself ready for bed
9:15 PM - Finally sit down on the couch in an attempt to completely zone out and wonder what's on TV which is nothing so, for about an hour, scroll through the channels not ever finding anything worth spending more than five minutes on
10:00 PM - Go to bed to start the day over in 8 hours. The End.
None of this includes Marcus's 12 hour work days (which are only going to get longer in the next few weeks) or his soccer, volleyball, or flying lessons schedule and nor does it include my weekly ballet lesson. It also doesn't include the fact that both of us are in school, Marcus for his Doctorate in Engineering and me for my Bachelor of Psychology. This also doesn't include the standard household chores, home repairs, vehicle maintenance, or lawn maintenance that all need to take place during the weekend (maybe) (and no, there is still not a bathroom, thanks for rubbing it in).
Needless to say, life is busy and needless to say because of that some things may fall to the way-side because I barely have time to scratch my butt. The other day Marcus remarked that we rarely speak of the new baby to which I almost laughed. No sh*t, considering the only chance I get to spend time with Marcus is when we're sleeping next to each other let alone hold a conversation.
So, there you have it. My life, written down in 800 words or less.
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