Yes, motherhood brings about changes - some of them drastic, some of them small. And while some of these changes are a huge pain (see http://imperfectliving.blogspot.com/2010/03/ch-ch-ch-changes.html and http://imperfectliving.blogspot.com/2010/03/more-changes.html), in many ways, motherhood is a good way to improve upon the original you and the life you led before the kiddos entered the picture. Take for example:
Caffeine intake:
BC: Caffeine was imbibed, but not fully appreciated for the legal wonder that it is.
AC: Caffeine is now a staple in my house. And while most mornings, until I get some sort of caffeinated beverage coursing through my bloodstream, I am a beast not to be reckoned with, there are the glorious moments I can occasionally steal away, in a quiet coffee shop, sans children, sans responsibilities and truly appreciate the goodness of a simple cup of coffee...or a super fancy half-caff, skinny mocha chocha latte supreme...or whatever those things are called.
Naps:
BC: As I've said before, I'm a napper. I love to sleep. I love my bed. And all of this was true before I had kids.
AC: I still love to sleep. I still love my bed. And while most days I am deficient in some level of sleep, there are days, glorious days, where I can get in a nap. And not just any nap. The kind of nap where I wake up with lines on my face, my hair is a disaster, I'm the perfect temperature, there's nary an ache in any muscle and I wake up refreshed and ready for the rest of the day. Now that, my friends, is a nap.
Laughter:
BC: Sure, I laughed. Sometimes really hard. Sometimes so hard I lost my breath and cried hysterically.
AC: Holy crap, do I laugh now. Sometimes because the kids are being silly. Sometimes because they've gone and done something so completely out of control, I have to laugh or I'll be hauled away to the loony bin. I mean, really, how can you not laugh when your 2-year old comes down the stairs buck-ass naked because she just pooped on the floor and when you go upstairs to survey the damage, said floor poop turns out to be leprechaun green? Seriously people, does it get any funnier than that?
Tears:
BC: I hardly ever cried. And when I did, I was either at a funeral, stressed to the gills or so tired I could barely see straight.
AC: I cry all the freaking time. Not all out bawling, but I'm constantly tearing up. Sometimes it's a hormone thing. Those suckers are out of control once you've been pregnant. Sometimes it's because my kid just head-butted me in the nose. Sometimes it's because I'm at a funeral, stressed to the gills or so tired I can barely see straight. But more often than not, it's because my baby is smiling and talking to me, or my 3-year old just wrote "Mom" for the first time, or because my little angel-demon just made me laugh so hard I couldn't take it anymore.
So, yes, motherhood changes you. It certainly changed me. But I don't think it's changed the essential me I've always been. Some days I just have to look a little harder to appreciate the improvements upon the original.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Warm Fuzzies
Every one and a while, the stars align, the heavens open, the angels sing and the impossible happens...you have a lovely dinner with your children.
I know! You've all heard of the mythical "perfect family dinner" scenario, but as much as you wished for it, you weren't sure whether or not it truly existed. Well, my friends, I'm here to tell you, it does exist. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it can make even the most cynical mother all gooey inside.
Picture it: A weekend at the cabin. Dinner time on Saturday night. The menu (an integral component of the "PFD"): mesquite rubbed t-bone steak, grilled to perfection; seared scallops with a Chardonnay butter sauce; wilted spinach; mashed potatoes; and for dessert, peanut butter M&M cookies. The food turned out perfectly. The children sat at the table, looked at their plates, grabbed their forks and...wait for it...ate. Not only did they eat, they tried everything; they did not whine; they did not complain; they were utterly pleasant; they said "please"; they said "thank you"; they finished their food; they asked for more food; they did not spill anything. It was absolute dinner nirvana.
After dinner, we sent the kids downstairs to watch cartoons for a little bit. My husband, the baby and I sat in the living room, reading our books and basking in the PFD afterglow.
It was good. It was great. I can only hope it happens again...sometime in the next 3 1/2 years.
I know! You've all heard of the mythical "perfect family dinner" scenario, but as much as you wished for it, you weren't sure whether or not it truly existed. Well, my friends, I'm here to tell you, it does exist. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it can make even the most cynical mother all gooey inside.
Picture it: A weekend at the cabin. Dinner time on Saturday night. The menu (an integral component of the "PFD"): mesquite rubbed t-bone steak, grilled to perfection; seared scallops with a Chardonnay butter sauce; wilted spinach; mashed potatoes; and for dessert, peanut butter M&M cookies. The food turned out perfectly. The children sat at the table, looked at their plates, grabbed their forks and...wait for it...ate. Not only did they eat, they tried everything; they did not whine; they did not complain; they were utterly pleasant; they said "please"; they said "thank you"; they finished their food; they asked for more food; they did not spill anything. It was absolute dinner nirvana.
After dinner, we sent the kids downstairs to watch cartoons for a little bit. My husband, the baby and I sat in the living room, reading our books and basking in the PFD afterglow.
It was good. It was great. I can only hope it happens again...sometime in the next 3 1/2 years.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
More Changes
I don't know about you, but my life changed drastically once my kids entered the picture. I went the traditional route in many ways: grade school, high school, college, work, momentary panic about what I was going to do with my life, grad school, wedding and kids. But no matter what path you take, I'm fairly certain that when kids enter your world, you're in store for some major life changes. We looked at a few changes yesterday. Here are a few more:
Work:
BC: I worked constantly. All the time. It was rare that I wasn't working at least 2 jobs. And I had money.
AC: I still work constantly. All the time. I'm not really sure how many jobs I actually have on a daily basis, but I do know this...I have NO money. For some reason, nobody pays me to be a mom. Something is very wrong with this picture.
Money:
BC: Because I worked constantly, I had money. Money to pay my bills and money to buy what I wanted, when I wanted it. I had a savings account. I had a credit card that wasn't maxed out. I had cash in my pocket on a daily basis and didn't blink an eye at buying that 2nd latte at the local coffee shop.
AC: I have no money. I now have to consider whether or not I REALLY want something and if it's going to be worth the purchase in the long run. Money used to be fun - it got me stuff I wanted. Now, money is no fun - it pays the bills. Bills are for the birds.
Milk:
BC: Milk was something I was supposed to drink to make me grow big and strong.
AC: Milk is something I produce after I attach myself to the milking machine several times a day.
Food:
BC: Food was something I enjoyed. I liked to go to new restaurants and cook new recipes. I considered myself a foodie and wasn't one of those girls you took on a date and watched eat a salad with no dressing.
AC: Food is something I pick up off the floor. And wipe off faces. And clean from hair and ears. Food is something I rarely eat at the temperature at which it was intended. Food is something I have to be careful not to make condemning statements about, for fear the children will not eat it. Food is akin to money these days.
Children:
BC: I babysat in grade school. I thought babies were cute, but they never really did anything for me. I had no intentions of having children.
AC: Not only did I have children, I had 3 of them! And as crazy as they can make me on a minute to minute basis, I honestly (and, yes, I know everyone says this) can't imagine my life without them. I haven't been a mom for very long (3 1/2 years), but I feel like I've been one for my whole life. My kids are beautiful, hysterical, difficult little geniuses.
BC: I babysat in grade school. I thought babies were cute, but they never really did anything for me. I had no intentions of having children.
AC: Not only did I have children, I had 3 of them! And as crazy as they can make me on a minute to minute basis, I honestly (and, yes, I know everyone says this) can't imagine my life without them. I haven't been a mom for very long (3 1/2 years), but I feel like I've been one for my whole life. My kids are beautiful, hysterical, difficult little geniuses.
And every word of that last sentence is the god's honest truth. Just ask Nana.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes
The other day, I asked if any readers had any topics they were interested in reading. One reader, Nana, (my mother, for those of who hadn't already figured that out) wrote in about wanting to know how motherhood has changed me. I'm willing to bet my mom wants the mushy answer to that question, but we'll just see what happens, shall we?
My Hair:
Before Children: My hair was dark blond.
After Children: My hair is dark brown with more gray than I'd prefer to see on a regular basis. The children, throughout 3 pregnancies, literally sucked the blond out of me.
My body:
BC: In high school, I was a size 2. In college a size 4-6. I was in pretty good shape and could wear pretty much anything I liked.
AC: I have stretch marks. I'm familiar with the term "muffin top" on an intimate level. I've gotten to know my lady bits in new and terrifying ways. And I have to work, and I mean WORK, to get back into quasi-decent shape.
Sleep:
BC: I would nap when I wanted for as long as I wanted. I reveled in napping. I would wake up on a Sunday morning, eat breakfast and go back to bed. I was known to get a little pissy if someone interrupted my sleep.
AC: I revel in my children's nap and bedtimes. I miss naps. Whereas before I was known to get a little pissy if someone woke me up, now you better run for it if you interrupt my sleep and plan on continuing to breathe.
Cartoons:
BC: I never watched cartoons. "Adult" or otherwise.
AC: I can sing the theme songs to Curious George, Little Einsteins, Dora, Diego...you get the picture.
Name:
BC: I answered to Maegan, Maegan Ellen, Meg, Megs and occasionally Babe (although that was sure to get you a dirty look and a snide comment)
AC: I answer to Mom, Mommy, Mama, various cries, screaming children, other people's children and if someone calls me Babe, chances are good I'll be flattered.
Those are just a few of the changes I've experienced with motherhood. More to follow!
My Hair:
Before Children: My hair was dark blond.
After Children: My hair is dark brown with more gray than I'd prefer to see on a regular basis. The children, throughout 3 pregnancies, literally sucked the blond out of me.
My body:
BC: In high school, I was a size 2. In college a size 4-6. I was in pretty good shape and could wear pretty much anything I liked.
AC: I have stretch marks. I'm familiar with the term "muffin top" on an intimate level. I've gotten to know my lady bits in new and terrifying ways. And I have to work, and I mean WORK, to get back into quasi-decent shape.
Sleep:
BC: I would nap when I wanted for as long as I wanted. I reveled in napping. I would wake up on a Sunday morning, eat breakfast and go back to bed. I was known to get a little pissy if someone interrupted my sleep.
AC: I revel in my children's nap and bedtimes. I miss naps. Whereas before I was known to get a little pissy if someone woke me up, now you better run for it if you interrupt my sleep and plan on continuing to breathe.
Cartoons:
BC: I never watched cartoons. "Adult" or otherwise.
AC: I can sing the theme songs to Curious George, Little Einsteins, Dora, Diego...you get the picture.
Name:
BC: I answered to Maegan, Maegan Ellen, Meg, Megs and occasionally Babe (although that was sure to get you a dirty look and a snide comment)
AC: I answer to Mom, Mommy, Mama, various cries, screaming children, other people's children and if someone calls me Babe, chances are good I'll be flattered.
Those are just a few of the changes I've experienced with motherhood. More to follow!
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Goin' Buck
Ok, I realize this is a totally, utterly and completely un-PC posting, but I feel that it must be said. I say it as a matter of humor and not to belittle or make light of those with the diagnosis. I say it because it's partly true and because part of me wishes it to be true. I say it because it must be said and because I'm probably not the only one who wishes it. So, here goes:
I wish I had multiple personalities.
Now, before you get all up in arms, hear me out. We don't have cable in my house, so we have a subscription to Netflix. Recently, we rented United States of Tara. If you haven't seen it, the show is about a wife and mother of 2 teenagers who suffers from DID. Now, in order to suffer from this, you have to have suffered a horrible trauma in your life. Something so bad that your brain splits into different personalities in order to help the original person deal with said trauma. That's an over-simplified explanation of the condition, of course, but you get the general idea.
Now, you would think a show about a woman with DID would be totally disturbing and make your heart bleed, but I've gotta tell you...the show is freaking hysterical. I mean, it's funny, it's honest, it's heartbreaking, it's a whole lot of things wrapped up in a not-at-all neat package. But the part I've really come to appreciate is the humor of show. And while I'm happy to report I've not suffered any horrendous traumas in my life, there's a certain appeal to having different people hidden within your personal recesses.
My favorite character is Buck and he's the reason I want to have multiple personalities. Or maybe it's really that I already have multiple personalities (because, really, don't we all?) and I just want to be able to really utilize them productively and, quite honestly, more often. I want to use them in the outside world, where they'll do me some good, and not just in my head. Sure, they're entertaining to me, but shouldn't I really share them with the world?
But I digress.
Buck is Tara's alter who is basically the ass kicker. And when he comes out, you can bet some asses are gonna get whooped.
I have an inner Buck. But he doesn't come out to play nearly often enough. I think that's why I get headaches and achy shoulders at the end of a long day.
Instead of just whoopin' some ass and takin' names, I grit my teeth when the deli clerk at Wal-Mart takes 20 minutes to simply locate the sliced turkey, while my infant wails in his car seat, the 2-year old starts pulling bread off the racks and the 3-year old whines about the doll I told her she couldn't get.
Instead of getting on the phone and reaming out the customers who've decided they don't need to pay my husband in a timely manner for the floors he so kindly installed in their houses or stores, I wait quasi-patiently for the mail man to arrive with a handful of junk mail and NO CHECKS.
Instead of telling the people who refuse to hold the door for a woman with 2 toddlers attached to one hand and a car seat slung over the other arm what I REALLY think about them, I sigh, mutter obscenities under my breath and sigh some more.
Now, I have a very dry sense of humor, and I realize not everyone appreciates this. I've also been known to speak my mind a time or two (hundred thousand), and again, not everyone has appreciated this. I can be too blunt. I can be too forward. I can be a lot of things. But by and large, I'm a head talker. If you could hear the arguments I've had (and won) in my head, you'd be amazed.
But if I had a Buck, all my head talking would come to light and boy would that be a day of reckoning.
And it would feel good.
I wish I had multiple personalities.
Now, before you get all up in arms, hear me out. We don't have cable in my house, so we have a subscription to Netflix. Recently, we rented United States of Tara. If you haven't seen it, the show is about a wife and mother of 2 teenagers who suffers from DID. Now, in order to suffer from this, you have to have suffered a horrible trauma in your life. Something so bad that your brain splits into different personalities in order to help the original person deal with said trauma. That's an over-simplified explanation of the condition, of course, but you get the general idea.
Now, you would think a show about a woman with DID would be totally disturbing and make your heart bleed, but I've gotta tell you...the show is freaking hysterical. I mean, it's funny, it's honest, it's heartbreaking, it's a whole lot of things wrapped up in a not-at-all neat package. But the part I've really come to appreciate is the humor of show. And while I'm happy to report I've not suffered any horrendous traumas in my life, there's a certain appeal to having different people hidden within your personal recesses.
My favorite character is Buck and he's the reason I want to have multiple personalities. Or maybe it's really that I already have multiple personalities (because, really, don't we all?) and I just want to be able to really utilize them productively and, quite honestly, more often. I want to use them in the outside world, where they'll do me some good, and not just in my head. Sure, they're entertaining to me, but shouldn't I really share them with the world?
But I digress.
Buck is Tara's alter who is basically the ass kicker. And when he comes out, you can bet some asses are gonna get whooped.
I have an inner Buck. But he doesn't come out to play nearly often enough. I think that's why I get headaches and achy shoulders at the end of a long day.
Instead of just whoopin' some ass and takin' names, I grit my teeth when the deli clerk at Wal-Mart takes 20 minutes to simply locate the sliced turkey, while my infant wails in his car seat, the 2-year old starts pulling bread off the racks and the 3-year old whines about the doll I told her she couldn't get.
Instead of getting on the phone and reaming out the customers who've decided they don't need to pay my husband in a timely manner for the floors he so kindly installed in their houses or stores, I wait quasi-patiently for the mail man to arrive with a handful of junk mail and NO CHECKS.
Instead of telling the people who refuse to hold the door for a woman with 2 toddlers attached to one hand and a car seat slung over the other arm what I REALLY think about them, I sigh, mutter obscenities under my breath and sigh some more.
Now, I have a very dry sense of humor, and I realize not everyone appreciates this. I've also been known to speak my mind a time or two (hundred thousand), and again, not everyone has appreciated this. I can be too blunt. I can be too forward. I can be a lot of things. But by and large, I'm a head talker. If you could hear the arguments I've had (and won) in my head, you'd be amazed.
But if I had a Buck, all my head talking would come to light and boy would that be a day of reckoning.
And it would feel good.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
30 Days
So, they (whomever they are) say in order to make something a habit, you need to do it for 3o days.
Therefore, as of today, I'm taking on the challenge. As of today, I'm going to blog every day for 30 days.
I'm doing this for several reasons:
1. I need a break from the children every once and a while throughout the day (like every 17 minutes or so) and this is a productive way to do it.
2. I feel like I'm supposed to be a writer, but in order for that to actually happen, I actually need to write. Physically write and not just in my head. Apparently, the good ideas in my head need to be placed on something concrete in order for other people to partake of them. Who knew?
3. I'm actually starting to get some energy back into my post-pregnant body and with that energy has, amazingly, come some quasi-coherent thoughts!
4. Did I mention needing a break from the kiddos?
5. It gives me a chance to drink my coffee while it's hot...or at least reheated.
6. I've got some sass in me that desperately needs to get out...otherwise my husband will really start complaining. And the kids aren't quite big enough to truly appreciate my sass-ness. Although something tells me they'll be getting it, and dishing it, sooner than I may like.
7. Caffeine is a very important component of my day...see #5.
8. Again...MUST have a rug rat break!
9. If I can get the hang of writing every day, perhaps I can get into the swing of exercising? Dare to dream I say!
10. Just because it's good to have a goal.
So, there you have it. 30 blog entries in 30 days. Have a topic you'd like addressed? Let me know! I'm always up for suggestions. Talk to you tomorrow...Day 2!
Therefore, as of today, I'm taking on the challenge. As of today, I'm going to blog every day for 30 days.
I'm doing this for several reasons:
1. I need a break from the children every once and a while throughout the day (like every 17 minutes or so) and this is a productive way to do it.
2. I feel like I'm supposed to be a writer, but in order for that to actually happen, I actually need to write. Physically write and not just in my head. Apparently, the good ideas in my head need to be placed on something concrete in order for other people to partake of them. Who knew?
3. I'm actually starting to get some energy back into my post-pregnant body and with that energy has, amazingly, come some quasi-coherent thoughts!
4. Did I mention needing a break from the kiddos?
5. It gives me a chance to drink my coffee while it's hot...or at least reheated.
6. I've got some sass in me that desperately needs to get out...otherwise my husband will really start complaining. And the kids aren't quite big enough to truly appreciate my sass-ness. Although something tells me they'll be getting it, and dishing it, sooner than I may like.
7. Caffeine is a very important component of my day...see #5.
8. Again...MUST have a rug rat break!
9. If I can get the hang of writing every day, perhaps I can get into the swing of exercising? Dare to dream I say!
10. Just because it's good to have a goal.
So, there you have it. 30 blog entries in 30 days. Have a topic you'd like addressed? Let me know! I'm always up for suggestions. Talk to you tomorrow...Day 2!
Friday, December 18, 2009
New Best Friend
I have a new best friend...and I don't even know her name.
Tricky, eh?
So, I'm in my 33rd week of pregnancy. It's the holiday season. My girls just keep getting bigger and smarter and harder to physically handle. And I'm tired. Not just a little tired. But bone-numbingly tired. Especially at the end of the day, which coincidentally, is when the girls have their dance classes.
Tuesdays is my youngest daughter's day for dance class. Her class starts at 5 pm, which is when my energy is pretty much all spent for the day.
This past Tuesday was gift exchange day, so I had quite an armload of stuff with me when we arrived at the dance studio. I got my daughter into her class and my oldest and I sat down on the bench outside the studio. One of the other mothers looked over at me and asked how long I had left. I told her I was due Feb. 1 and she said something that made me truly happy:
"Oh, you're really getting to the hard part now, aren't you?"
Why, you ask, would such a statement make me happy? Well, I'll tell you...BECAUSE IT'S TRUE! And someone, other than myself, readily acknowledged the fact that the end of pregnancy can be really hard, physically if nothing else. Particularly when one already has children on the outside.
This will shock you, dear reader, I'm sure, but I am not one of those gushy pregnant women. Being pregnant does not give me a glow of happiness. I do not feel incredibly bonded to the tiny creature inhabiting my womb. I do not feel the best I've ever felt. In all honesty, I feel as big as a house, my bones ache, I'm tired, I have zero patience and I'm just ready to be done. And people do not want to hear this kind of honesty from a pregnant woman. People want to hear gushy stories about how much I love my unborn child...how wondrous it is to grow a child...and all that kind of crap.
And so, this unnamed woman, who commiserated with me about being in the final stages of pregnancy, who told me she has 4 kids and none of them resulted from a love of pregnancy, is my new favorite person. Just that little bit of understanding from a virtual stranger made my day...and made me want to buy her presents.
Tricky, eh?
So, I'm in my 33rd week of pregnancy. It's the holiday season. My girls just keep getting bigger and smarter and harder to physically handle. And I'm tired. Not just a little tired. But bone-numbingly tired. Especially at the end of the day, which coincidentally, is when the girls have their dance classes.
Tuesdays is my youngest daughter's day for dance class. Her class starts at 5 pm, which is when my energy is pretty much all spent for the day.
This past Tuesday was gift exchange day, so I had quite an armload of stuff with me when we arrived at the dance studio. I got my daughter into her class and my oldest and I sat down on the bench outside the studio. One of the other mothers looked over at me and asked how long I had left. I told her I was due Feb. 1 and she said something that made me truly happy:
"Oh, you're really getting to the hard part now, aren't you?"
Why, you ask, would such a statement make me happy? Well, I'll tell you...BECAUSE IT'S TRUE! And someone, other than myself, readily acknowledged the fact that the end of pregnancy can be really hard, physically if nothing else. Particularly when one already has children on the outside.
This will shock you, dear reader, I'm sure, but I am not one of those gushy pregnant women. Being pregnant does not give me a glow of happiness. I do not feel incredibly bonded to the tiny creature inhabiting my womb. I do not feel the best I've ever felt. In all honesty, I feel as big as a house, my bones ache, I'm tired, I have zero patience and I'm just ready to be done. And people do not want to hear this kind of honesty from a pregnant woman. People want to hear gushy stories about how much I love my unborn child...how wondrous it is to grow a child...and all that kind of crap.
And so, this unnamed woman, who commiserated with me about being in the final stages of pregnancy, who told me she has 4 kids and none of them resulted from a love of pregnancy, is my new favorite person. Just that little bit of understanding from a virtual stranger made my day...and made me want to buy her presents.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Unsolicited Advice
So, this morning I took my kids to school. It's a new class for them, one they get to attend together. The class was pretty full and most of the kids/parents were people we hadn't encountered in past classes.
Well, about 10 minutes into class, one of the parents (actually one of the kid's grandmothers) decided to jump right in and offer me some unsolicited advice...about my kid's hair, of all things. My youngest has super fine hair and most mornings she wakes up looking like Albert Einstein stuck his finger in a light socket. Some days it's a little more tame than others, but by and large, the back of her head looks like a Brillo pad. And I'm perfectly fine with it. In fact, I think it's pretty cute. Besides, she's 2. Who really cares what the back of her head looks like? Honestly, I don't even care what the back of my own head looks like all that much.
So, this grandmother starts telling me that I should have Anni sleep on a silk pillowcase (this is the same child who stripped herself naked the other night and proceeded to go potty all over her pillow) and I could easily construct one out of an old slip (of which I happen to have a drawer full...or no, wait, that was my mom, when I was little. I've never owned a slip in my life!). She also instructed me to put a bit of conditioner in Anni's hair and then not rinse it out and that would really help with the "problem".
Now, I've never been a person to readily receive advice and I am pregnant and hormonal, but honestly, unsolicited advice drives me absolutely batty! If I ask for advice, by all means, dish it out! I'm willing to listen and retain. But if I didn't ask, why would you even bring it up? Why do you care what the back of my kid's head looks like?
I realize most unsolicited advice comes from a good place. People like to be helpful and they feel good helping other people. But for some reason, once kids enter the picture, it's like open season on the advice front and of all the seasons, Christmas is really my favorite. I try really hard not to offer advice, unless someone asks for something specific, and I'd enjoy having the same courtesy extended to me. I don't think that's too much to ask, do you?
How about you, readers? Gotten any "good" advice lately? Perhaps you had your kids 20 years ago and you still recall some advice shot your way?
Well, about 10 minutes into class, one of the parents (actually one of the kid's grandmothers) decided to jump right in and offer me some unsolicited advice...about my kid's hair, of all things. My youngest has super fine hair and most mornings she wakes up looking like Albert Einstein stuck his finger in a light socket. Some days it's a little more tame than others, but by and large, the back of her head looks like a Brillo pad. And I'm perfectly fine with it. In fact, I think it's pretty cute. Besides, she's 2. Who really cares what the back of her head looks like? Honestly, I don't even care what the back of my own head looks like all that much.
So, this grandmother starts telling me that I should have Anni sleep on a silk pillowcase (this is the same child who stripped herself naked the other night and proceeded to go potty all over her pillow) and I could easily construct one out of an old slip (of which I happen to have a drawer full...or no, wait, that was my mom, when I was little. I've never owned a slip in my life!). She also instructed me to put a bit of conditioner in Anni's hair and then not rinse it out and that would really help with the "problem".
Now, I've never been a person to readily receive advice and I am pregnant and hormonal, but honestly, unsolicited advice drives me absolutely batty! If I ask for advice, by all means, dish it out! I'm willing to listen and retain. But if I didn't ask, why would you even bring it up? Why do you care what the back of my kid's head looks like?
I realize most unsolicited advice comes from a good place. People like to be helpful and they feel good helping other people. But for some reason, once kids enter the picture, it's like open season on the advice front and of all the seasons, Christmas is really my favorite. I try really hard not to offer advice, unless someone asks for something specific, and I'd enjoy having the same courtesy extended to me. I don't think that's too much to ask, do you?
How about you, readers? Gotten any "good" advice lately? Perhaps you had your kids 20 years ago and you still recall some advice shot your way?
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Hunting Widow
It's been a while, dear readers. I apologize. But I also have a 3-year old, a 2-year old and another one on the way, so I can only keep up with so much at this point. I'm sure you understand.
It's that time of year again...hunting season. This year, hunting season is a tough one for me. I know my husband LOVES to hunt and basically lives for this time of year. I know he works his tail off for us and has a really tough job and certainly deserves to have a break. But when the weekends roll around, I'm in desperate need of a buffer these days, and hunting season simply does not comply with my needs. The hubby and I have worked out a pretty good system so far, but it's still tough on the weekends he's not around, because all the days essentially run into each other and then it's the start of a new week already.
It gets tiring, frustrating, boring, irritating...but then the hubby rolls in on Sunday evening with a truck full of monster-sized pumpkins for the girls and plans for the following weekend that involve my mother-in-law agreeing to watch the girls while I stay home and do whatever I want. Makes the crazy weekend a little more bearable in hindsight. And makes me think the hubby just might be able to read minds after all.
It's that time of year again...hunting season. This year, hunting season is a tough one for me. I know my husband LOVES to hunt and basically lives for this time of year. I know he works his tail off for us and has a really tough job and certainly deserves to have a break. But when the weekends roll around, I'm in desperate need of a buffer these days, and hunting season simply does not comply with my needs. The hubby and I have worked out a pretty good system so far, but it's still tough on the weekends he's not around, because all the days essentially run into each other and then it's the start of a new week already.
It gets tiring, frustrating, boring, irritating...but then the hubby rolls in on Sunday evening with a truck full of monster-sized pumpkins for the girls and plans for the following weekend that involve my mother-in-law agreeing to watch the girls while I stay home and do whatever I want. Makes the crazy weekend a little more bearable in hindsight. And makes me think the hubby just might be able to read minds after all.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Appearances are not so Deceiving
I learned something new about my kids last night...they apparently make no judgments based on appearances. I'm fascinated by this realization.
Last night, we met up with a friend of mine and her two kids. My friend is due with her third baby in mid-October and is very visibly pregnant. As we were leaving, my eldest wanted to give my friend's eldest a hug, but the other little girl wasn't interested, so to appease my daughter, I told her she could give my friend and her baby a hug. My daughter looked at me like, "What are you talking about you crazy woman. There's no baby here." When she asked about the baby, I told her my friend had a baby in her tummy, just like mommy does. I'm starting to show, and the girls like to kiss the baby through my tummy, but I'm not showing quite as much as my friend. But apparently it hadn't even occurred to either of my children that my friend's stomach was anything other than her stomach. And they were fine with that.
We have another family that we play with on occasion. We met through ECFE classes this past fall. There are twin boys and a younger girl. The boys just turned 4 and the little girl is about 18 months. One of the boys has Downs Syndrome and although he doesn't look the "same" as the other kids in class or like my girls, the girls have never once mentioned anything about this little boy looking or being "different".
I know at some point the girls will start to recognize that not all people are the same. But I'm going to hold out hope that when they do start to realize this, and they might even realize it at some level right now, they'll simply take it for what it is and not use peoples' differences against them. I suppose this is a parenting issue as much as anything, so I'm going to have to keep my game face on, but I think we're off to a pretty good start.
Last night, we met up with a friend of mine and her two kids. My friend is due with her third baby in mid-October and is very visibly pregnant. As we were leaving, my eldest wanted to give my friend's eldest a hug, but the other little girl wasn't interested, so to appease my daughter, I told her she could give my friend and her baby a hug. My daughter looked at me like, "What are you talking about you crazy woman. There's no baby here." When she asked about the baby, I told her my friend had a baby in her tummy, just like mommy does. I'm starting to show, and the girls like to kiss the baby through my tummy, but I'm not showing quite as much as my friend. But apparently it hadn't even occurred to either of my children that my friend's stomach was anything other than her stomach. And they were fine with that.
We have another family that we play with on occasion. We met through ECFE classes this past fall. There are twin boys and a younger girl. The boys just turned 4 and the little girl is about 18 months. One of the boys has Downs Syndrome and although he doesn't look the "same" as the other kids in class or like my girls, the girls have never once mentioned anything about this little boy looking or being "different".
I know at some point the girls will start to recognize that not all people are the same. But I'm going to hold out hope that when they do start to realize this, and they might even realize it at some level right now, they'll simply take it for what it is and not use peoples' differences against them. I suppose this is a parenting issue as much as anything, so I'm going to have to keep my game face on, but I think we're off to a pretty good start.
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