Dear Old Navy,
It is not okay that you are already getting Spring merchandise in your stores. It is currently December. We still have January and February to get through before people start thinking about floral prints.
Get it together.
Thank you,
Harmony
P.S. Today I mistook one of your tiny mannequins for an actual child. I did not enjoy that.
I haven’t exercised in a month. Until today.
I was thinking … maybe if I post a picture of myself in spandex, it will motivate me to work out more often. As a good friend of mine always says, “the cure for laziness is to stop being lazy.” It’s really irritating, but it’s the truth.
Today I broke the cycle and I exercised. It was quite the spectacle. Also, a toddler was crowding me on the yoga mat.
40 minutes of “Body By Bethenny” later, my arms were so shaky I couldn’t lift a plate. THAT is more motivating to me that seeing my butt in the above photo.
Happy December!
How is it only Wednesday?!
I feel like I got run over.
I have quite the gregarious two-year-old.
On Saturday I took him with me to the mall so I could get some MAJOR shopping done. He was in good spirits. He entertained himself in the following way:
A stranger walks by.
Today I want to pay tribute to the man who has put up with me for almost 8 years now. 5+ of those years have been in holy matrimony.
I have issues. Who doesn’t? He loves me and my issues and my ridiculous wardrobe that just keeps growing and my fanaticism over cleanliness.
The other night I was washing my face and I noticed that I’m getting fine lines. Nothing serious, but they are there. I freaked. I said “WHAT IS THIS?!” And promptly started my descent into The Pit.
He came over, wrapped his arms around me and said “of course you’re getting wrinkles. We’re going to get wrinkled together.” That made it seem sort of romantic, and now I am fine (until the next sighting).
Meet the man who is going to fund my Botox in 10 years.
I love Publix.
Today was a long, crappy day, putting the icing on the cake of a long, crappy week. I left work and sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic for 30 minutes. Then I arrived at the daycare to learn that my little angel has been anything BUT angelic. For like a week now.
Eventually we made it to the car. He pitched a fit the entire way to Publix. I dreaded going to the store, and would have avoided it altogether except we were completely out of diapers, toilet paper, milk, and bananas. I didn’t want to have to go first thing in the morning.
So we went.
This is the reason why I love Publix: they truly do make shopping a pleasure. In fact, when the Toddler saw the green sign up ahead he said “Pubbix!” and instantly stopped crying. He likes to ride in the cart that looks like a big green car. The employees smiled at us, oblivious to the chaos that had preceded our visit. They offered samplings of food and gave him a balloon.
As we checked out, another meltdown began. He was hungry. I told him we would have dinner as SOON as we got home. He insisted he wanted a snack. I said no, dinner was very soon. The bag boy witnessed it all and bless him, tried to distract my son into forgetting about his hunger. And then … then. That boy loaded my groceries for me.
I have never accepted the loading service at Publix. I just prefer to do it myself. Even when I was hugely pregnant, I said no thank you. I figured there were plenty of elderly patrons who needed to be loaded up instead. I have a pride issue. But today — today I accepted.
And it was AWESOME.
* for those of you who don’t know me personally, and may not understand that “beat his ass” is just a figure of speech, I wanted to let you know that I only mean popping his butt quickly three times and that is all. Just wanted to clear that up.
Something may be wrong with me. I have been physically incapable of exercising lately. At first I thought it was just that I’ve gotten out of the habit. Then I thought maybe my immune system was low and that’s why I have no energy.
My friends asked me to run a 5k with them this Saturday. I laughed — heartily.
Then, yesterday I thought — I have the winter blues! That’s what it is. Short, chilly days make it impossible for me to exercise outside during the week. So I decided to do a workout video.
I put on my exercise clothes, put my boy to bed, moved the furniture out of the way and approximately ONE minute into my yoga DVD, I folded myself into “child’s pose” and never got up again.
Advice and tips are welcomed. I’ll be napping while you are thinking.
It has come to my attention that in order to effectively discipline a child, you must first discipline yourself.
The Toddler has started to yell at us. Loudly. First, it was just “NO!” Then it was “HUSH!” And now … it’s something that truly makes me cringe. He has learned the phrase “SHUT UP!” and he did not learn it at home. As irritated as I sometimes get at my husband I don’t think I have ever told him to shut up. Mostly because I feel that it would be ineffective.
I did once yell “F*#K YOU!” at him in front of our child, but that was a long time ago and it was a very dark day in my personal history. It was one of those moments that still makes my stomach knot up when I think about it. Luckily, the Toddler was still just an infant and therefore incapable of repeating it. Thank goodness.
We have tried different methods of discipline. We are spankers — but that form of punishment is reserved for major offenses or used as a last resort. For the past several days, we have tried to get him to stop saying “SHUT UP!” by firm reprimands, time outs, reasoning, calm reminders, and finally, spanking.
Usually spanking works. Not this time.
Yesterday, he was spanked three times in a row for saying “SHUT UP!” By the third time, I told my husband that it looks like our child is some kind of masochist in the making. Today, the cycle began again when I picked him up from daycare. He said it and I looked at him with that crazy look I get when he does something that he knows is wrong. He immediately said “I sorry.”
He looked at me with those huge round eyes and as he mouthed “I sorry” again I wanted to just burst into tears or ignore the whole thing or tell him “It’s okay, as long as you’re sorry.” But instead I had to look him in his little eyes and tell him that I knew he was sorry, but I had to spank him anyway.
It. Sucked.
Then, approximately 10 minutes later, he did that exact thing again. And then AGAIN. During dinner. I calmly removed him from his highchair, looked him in the eye as he said “I sorry. I sorry Mommy,” and then, I spanked him. For the third time. For the second damn day in a row.
During times like these I question myself as a parent. Am I doing the right thing? Am I causing permanent damage to him or breaking his spirit or preventing him from expressing himself? He DID say he was sorry …
The truth is, I know in my gut that even though it’s awful and I hate it, I am doing what is best for my son. There are a lot of times when I want to throw in the towel and just let things slide, but then I think about all the people I know who are obnoxious, bratty, inconsiderate, or just plain crappy and I bet it’s because their mothers were lazy.
Being a not-lazy mother is really tiring. I’m just saying.
It’s not even December yet, and I am ON IT.
The tree is up, Christmas cards are ordered, presents are arriving in the mail and I am feeling pretty proud of myself. I am owning Christmas this year.
I might look harmless, but let me tell you … I can be hardcore when I set my mind to it. Don’t mistake my niceness for weakness.
My husband, who I had to force into wearing this striped sweater, will back me up on this.
Yesterday, a terrible thing happened.
Let me preface this by saying that I am struggling to adjust to summer break. Struggling. Like … it’s good? But also horrible? Can something be good and horrible all at once? Because I’m pretty sure that is exactly what parenthood is.
Making the transition from having all three kids in school for 6+ hours per day (and working during those hours), to having them home all the time and trying to get my work done in addition to mothering in a loving fashion, is not going great. As I have already established in multiple blog posts from previous years, summer is effing relentless.
Pepper is obsessed with two things: outlets and babies. Here she is showing her baby doll the outlet in her bedroom. #multitasking
Thankfully, this year is somewhat easier than previous years simply because my children are getting older and more independent. Pepper will be 3 next week, so I think we’re finally on the upswing after a very dark time in the Valley of Motherhood.
Yesterday afternoon, we got home from playing at the park. The boys jumped out of the van, heard some kids next door playing, and asked if they could go over to play. I granted them permission and took Pepper inside. Her clothes were filthy — covered in layers of peanut butter and dirt — so I stripped her down to a diaper.
I ran to the bathroom with her trailing behind me, always my little shadow. And then, my mom called. She’s not feeling well and I can barely hear her on the phone. I was straining to understand what she was saying — did she just say she needed to go to the hospital?! — and naturally, my toddler got really loud at exactly that moment. As her shouting drowned out my mother, my stress level started to rise.
I went to my bedroom and closed the door. My daughter cried from the hall, and when she stopped, I was thankful. When I emerged only a few minutes later, the house was quiet. A panicky feeling started to rise in my chest, and then it felt like my heart stopped.
Just.
Stopped.
Beating.
Our back door was standing wide open.
Screaming her name, I ran outside. She was gone. Or hiding. Or missing.
I heard a woman’s voice — our across the street neighbor — yelling at me that she just saw a little girl cut through the fences in the backyard.
“She went that way, sweetheart! I was standing here watching her!”
I was barefoot and it did not matter. I ran. I ran until I found her. I couldn’t feel my feet. I couldn’t feel my body. All I could hear was my own voice screaming her name, and my heartbeat deafening my ears. That is what blind panic feels like.
My 2-year-old was wandering one street over from ours, wearing nothing but her diaper. She was holding a toy pet carrier with a little stuffed dog inside. I will never forget the way her face looked when she saw the horror on mine.
“NEVER AGAIN,” I said to her.
“Not with my dog?” she said.
“NEVER, EVER. Do not ever leave this house without a grown up,” I said, as I wiped away my tears.
I’m sharing this story to demonstrate how quickly children can disappear. How many times have I heard stories of toddlers wandering the streets and thought to myself, WHERE WAS THE MOTHER?
That mother is me. I was right there. It happened anyway.
I’m a damn good mom. I am capable. I am aware. I am not negligent. But children are fast. And sometimes quiet. And things happen. So today I’m hugging my babies tight, grateful for their safety, knowing that sometimes other mamas aren’t so lucky.
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Modern Mommy Madness 