Birthday.

Well, for the first time in a LONG time I feel like I’m on top of certain things. Not everything, but some things.

Take for example ONE’s birthday. He turns three this year. This event may or may not take place in the very same week that TWO is born, so we’re trying to plan ahead. It will be hard enough for him to be de-throned from his position as Only Child — if we fail to celebrate his birthday then it might cause permanent damage.

Anyway, Husband found his birthday present already. Yep. Three months early. We are awesome.


(http://www.kids.woot.com/)



Desperate Times.

It’s 8:30 on Sunday morning, and I have already pulled out the paint.  Why? Because I have been up for 2 hours and I have run out of ideas of things to occupy ONE so I can have a moment.

Husband was at work all day yesterday and he’s currently sleeping in. I am about to lose my mind.

School Bus Chat.

ONE is what I’m going to start calling my first child. I’ll call the next one TWO. And so forth.

ONE has developed an obsession with school buses. Every day he sees one and exclaims “LOOK! A school bus!” which is shortly followed by “I want to ride the school bus!” He wants to ride a school bus so badly.

I have explained that he can ride it, when he’s bigger. Tonight at dinner, he and I had the following discussion:

ONE: I’m big.
Me: You are getting big!
ONE: I want to ride the school bus.
Me: You can, when you’re bigger.
ONE: Mommy, did you ride the school bus?
Me: Yes, I did.
ONE: When I get as big as mommy I can ride the school bus.
Me: That’s right.
ONE: Mommy?
Me: Yes?
ONE: … Will you ride the school bus with me? When I get bigger?

I think it was HOW he asked me, that got me. His eyes were so wide. And serious. Very serious. And I thought, wow. Right now all my kid wants in the world is to ride a school bus, and the person he wants to ride it with, is me. 

Also, when did he learn to talk like an adult?

All the times I complain because I can’t get anything done, and the annoyance I feel when he follows me EVERYWHERE, and yells “MOMMY!” when I’m not in his direct line of sight, is stupid. Experiences like this humble me. By the time my son is old enough to ride the school bus, he probably won’t even let me kiss him goodbye.

I’m going to soak up all the ONE love I can, while he’ll let me.

OH NO.


Last night I was struck with fear and I can’t shake it.

In approximately five and a half months I’ll have a newborn and a three-year-old and I live very far away from my mother and my mother-in-law. Husband works ridiculous hours. I’ll pretty much be on my own … I think. 

I realized the seriousness of my situation when it dawned on me that I’ll be VERY sleep-deprived and my first child refuses to nap. Ever. Which means I might … what? Lose my mind? Back our car into the neighbor’s house? Put a stick of butter in the silverware drawer?

(I have to give credit to my friend Anna for this concept. She actually did this after her daughter was born. Except I’m pretty sure that the butter was NOT in the wrapper.)
This realization makes me want to pack our stuff up and go running back to Louisiana. Nevermind the fact that we have a mortgage, Husband’s company doesn’t have a location in Louisiana and we would have no place to live. I’m not thinking rationally, you know.
It’s time for me to build my village.

Parenthood and Friendships.

I just read this blog post asking the question, “do parents make bad friends?” and I thought I would share.

In case you don’t have time to read the article, the answer is yes. Parents make terribly crappy friends —especially to people who don’t have children.

I admit, parenthood has zapped almost all of the extra time, energy, and resources that I used to channel toward my friendships. I think I used to be a pretty great friend. I sent birthday cards (handmade, sometimes!) and cards just for fun, little surprises in the mail to my girlfriends who live in other states. I had time to chat on the phone. Now, I send texts from the bathroom because that is the only time I can manage to put together a clear thought.

Other things I do in the bathroom: write things down in my daily planner. 

After reading the responses below the article, I felt validated. I do the best that I can. Surely the people who love me understand that, and those who don’t … well … it was fun while it lasted. Most of the time I have to choose between meeting my child’s seemingly endless demands or doing something else, and the “something else” usually never gets accomplished. And like the author said, one day when my children are older, I’ll have time again to do things like chat on the phone or go take an art class.

I think as a parent, you tend to forget what life was like before a miniature version of yourself learned how to scream “NOW MOMMY!” or cling to your leg, making it nearly impossible to walk. I try to make time for myself. I try to nurture my relationships. But come on — it’s hard to even find time to take a thorough shower some days.

So currently, if I have a free moment, I’ll likely choose to shave my legs … not chat. No offense.

Worst. Napper. Ever.

No, I’m not talking about myself. Although, I am really bad at napping. It takes me forever to fall asleep, then when I wake up I’m cranky and out of sorts for two hours afterwards.

This is in my normal life. But right now, in my pregnant life, ALL I WANT TO DO IS SLEEP. I don’t care where or when. I just need it to happen. Unfortunately, my son takes after me and hates to nap. He never naps. It’s awful, generally speaking … but right now, it’s intolerable.

Today I was almost to the point of tears because I wanted so badly to lie down and not have a small person jumping on me, breathing in my face, putting plastic animals in my hair, banging Thomas the Train on my thigh, or yelling “RAWR! I’M A TIGER MOMMY! RAWR!!!” over and over again.

Basically, I gave up. I got up. I made the mature decision to not be all pissy about it, just to chalk it up to the time of life I’m in right now — and it’s not permanent. One day, my kids won’t want to be in the same room with me and I’ll have plenty of time to nap (or shower, or shop in peace, or read a book, or just disappear) if I want to.

STAGES OF DAYTIME EXHAUSTION: 

Please, just let me sleep. I love you but I don’t like you right now.
















It’s not going to happen, is it? I’m glad that you’re cute.
















Crazy-eyed Mommy arrives.

Thursday.

This week, my kid learned how to open doors. Like, his bedroom door, our bedroom door, the bathroom door. Officially, there is no escape.

Now is the time that I have to set boundaries. I realized this when I was in the bathroom and he came in, all wide-eyed, repeating “Mommy, whatcha doin’? Mommy, whatcha doin’?” over and over. AND OVER. So I said to him, in a very serious tone, that Mommy needed some space.

He said okay, turned around and walked out.

Children are such a mystery to me.

Interesting Hiding Places.

This weekend, we were cooped up in the house because of the icy, snowy weather and I was literally going out of my mind. On the third day, we went outside and played in the ice. My 2-year-old removed his mittens, and my husband declared them missing. So we came back inside.

This morning, I found the mittens. 

They were stuffed in my gas tank.

The culprit.




Mom-Talk.

Today my dear friend sent me a text message from her 4-year-old’s dance class. She was trapped in the sitting area with a bunch of other moms:
“I’m at dance listening to these women. All they talk about is their children. I find it annoying.”
Thus began a string of texts back and forth between us discussing all of the things there are to discuss OTHER than our children. Like food. Or celebrity gossip. I mean, really — it’s endless. Why do some moms constantly talk about their children, when there is so much more to discuss?
I call it Mom-Talk, and it drives me insane.
Yes, there is a place for it. I certainly love to talk about my kid, and love it when people ask me about him. However. Just because they ask, does not mean it’s okay for me to go ON and ON and ON about meaningless tidbits. It’s quality over quantity. No one finds him as fascinating as my husband and I do, and I’m aware of that.
Excessive Mom-Talk is what separates the normal moms from the irritating ones. Some people may find this offensive, but I’m a firm believer in having a balanced approach to life. Just because I’m a mom, doesn’t mean that is ALL I am and all I do. 

If you’re a mom, and you think you might excessively Mom-Talk, take a gander at http://www.perezhilton.com. That will give you something else to discuss.

Ick.

I’ve been fighting off illness since before Christmas, and finally … I gave in.

I’m sick. Like in-the-bed-all-day, coughing-up-a-lung, sick.

Let me tell you, parenting whilst ill is no easy task. The Toddler has been at daycare during the day so I have had peace and quiet to rest, but HOW do stay-at-home moms do it?!?!?!? Seriously. Someone, please tell me. 

My arms are tired from typing now. I’m going to lie down.