While perusing the expansive internet and reading other articles that moms have written, I came across an article called "10 Things My Kids Would Be Surprised To Learn about Their Mom" (here's the link to that 10 things). This made me think about all the things the kids don't know about me yet. Let's see what I can come up with!
1. I once got really drunk in Russia and rode a horse down the beach.
2. I'm not physic. I just know them, and what kind of trouble they are capable of. I also have gotten pretty good at figuring out the different thud sounds that come from upstairs.
3. I am not a morning person. I hate getting up that early in the morning and I wish that they didn't get up that early.
4. I think Star Wars is boring, sorry Cole. I can't watch it. I don't really want to hear about, but I pretend to love it because you think it's so cool.
5. I know that you guys think laundry is really fascinating. I feel like I don't even need to finish this thought, because you know where I'm going with it.
6. I love love love all the trashy reality tv that I would never ever let you watch.
7. Pizza every night is not a good dinner plan. Although right now, I'm starving and that sounds great.
8. Dessert is my favorite meal. Yes, I called it a meal. If it's the right kind of dessert, it could be a meal.
9. I love musicals. Movies, plays and all that. I love to sing along with them. And I don't really care if it's embarrassing. In fact, as they get older, it might add to the entertainment factor.
10. As much I tell them to put on their shoes, I hate wearing them. I never wore shoes growing up. I even graduated high school barefoot.
There are many more things about me that they don't know. More things then I could think about. Feel free to share some of your own little tidbits.
kiddos
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Mommy Guilt Explored
Every mother experiences mommy guilt at one point or another. Whether a mom decides to stay home or go back to work, the guilt is there. Seeing as I have done both, I feel like I can speak of both, from my point of view of course. First I'll talk about staying home. I stayed home for a year with both of my children, which I'm grateful for, I know that sometimes it feels like I don't appreciate the time that I got to spend with them, but that guilt is to be saved for later in the conversation. While I stayed home with Cole and Olivia, while I did love being able to spend time with them while they grew up and had all their firsts, I found that I really missed my job. I missed working and contributing financially and just having that fulfillment that comes with working. And I'm sure that some of you will think that I should have gotten that fulfillment from my children, and I do! I loved watching them grow and experiencing all the first's. It's kind of a vicious cycle of guilt. First it starts out with something innocent like 'man, I miss adult conversations.' Then it graduates to, 'When I was working I used to have so much fun there' (even if you hated your job at the time). Then you catch yourself wishing you could go back to work and start to feel terrible about it. How could you possibly want to leave your precious little baby? Maybe because you're tired of getting puked, peed, pooped on all day. Sick to death of Dora the explorer (where are her parents by the way? And why is she allowed to wander around the jungle all day? And don't even get me started on Diego who teaches little kids to hug jaguars!). You've lost yourself in the everyday shuffle of momhood. The daily routine of diapers, feedings, nap, picking up toys, lunch, picking up toys, naps, dinner, picking up toys and so on and so forth. You, if you're anything like I was, start to feel like 'why should I pick up the toys for the 15th time? You're just going to make a mess in 36 seconds anyway!' Until of course you trip and about break your neck on one of those stupid toys and then you're cursing yourself for not picking it up.
Staying at home and wishing you were somewhere, anywhere else is enough to make any mom feel guilty. It's just that sometimes you need to get away. Sometimes, you need a break. We push ourselves so hard all the time, and sometimes, you just need to sit your fat ass on the couch and watch lame reality tv and let the laundry sit there for 15 minutes. It's not going anywhere, it's not hurting anyone or anything, but I might if I don't get to take a breather for a second! Then of course, my mind starts to beat me up. Why am I not playing with the kids all day? Why am I not a better housewife? (Well, technically now it would be house-girlfriend.) If I don't stop that thought process in it's tracks, then I'll be a hot mess in about 4 minutes. I could only take being at home for so long before I had to go back to work. I just had to. Think what you want about me, I'm woman enough to admit I'm no Betty Crocker.
So that brings me to the guilt that comes with going back to work. I decided to go back to work after Cole had his first birthday. Olivia was about a year and half when I went back to work. It would have been sooner had I not lived in the middle of nowhere previously. After the divorce, I didn't have a choice but to go back to work. But that's a whole separate blog post! Anyway, with each of them the guilt was the same. Even though with Olivia, I knew that I would eventually need to go back to work, it was still hard. I feel terrible that someone else is teaching my children to do things. I feel terrible that sometimes, I'm not there to put them to bed. I'm lucky enough now to have a job where I can be there in the mornings to get them ready for school, but sometimes I have to stay late, so I'm not always there for bedtime. I know deep down, that this is what I have to do to help support them and give them the life that I want them to have. It doesn't stop me from feeling guilty that I'm not with them all the time. It's not really possible though. At some point, I have to let go and let them go to school and learn and be independent and blah blah blah. That day is not today though. Today, they are still my little babies and I just want to be there for everything. I want to be the one to calm them down when their having a fit, the one to discipline them, the one to tuck them in every night after they do their homework. The reality is that you can't always be there. I can't always be there to do all of those things. And if I stayed home, I wouldn't be able to afford a house to put them to bed in. I wouldn't really be happy anyway. I understand that I need more from myself. Plus I hate to cook....and clean.....and everything else that comes with a stay at home mom. I'm working on the guilt factor, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't ever go away. It's just going to be different things to feel guilty about. Like, man, I feel terrible I just embarrassed them in front of all their friends like that. Or I can't believe I told Cole's first girlfriend about the time he peed off the front porch in front of the whole neighborhood. I just feel awful. At least there is hope that someday, I get to enjoy that guilt. Even if it's just a little.
Staying at home and wishing you were somewhere, anywhere else is enough to make any mom feel guilty. It's just that sometimes you need to get away. Sometimes, you need a break. We push ourselves so hard all the time, and sometimes, you just need to sit your fat ass on the couch and watch lame reality tv and let the laundry sit there for 15 minutes. It's not going anywhere, it's not hurting anyone or anything, but I might if I don't get to take a breather for a second! Then of course, my mind starts to beat me up. Why am I not playing with the kids all day? Why am I not a better housewife? (Well, technically now it would be house-girlfriend.) If I don't stop that thought process in it's tracks, then I'll be a hot mess in about 4 minutes. I could only take being at home for so long before I had to go back to work. I just had to. Think what you want about me, I'm woman enough to admit I'm no Betty Crocker.
So that brings me to the guilt that comes with going back to work. I decided to go back to work after Cole had his first birthday. Olivia was about a year and half when I went back to work. It would have been sooner had I not lived in the middle of nowhere previously. After the divorce, I didn't have a choice but to go back to work. But that's a whole separate blog post! Anyway, with each of them the guilt was the same. Even though with Olivia, I knew that I would eventually need to go back to work, it was still hard. I feel terrible that someone else is teaching my children to do things. I feel terrible that sometimes, I'm not there to put them to bed. I'm lucky enough now to have a job where I can be there in the mornings to get them ready for school, but sometimes I have to stay late, so I'm not always there for bedtime. I know deep down, that this is what I have to do to help support them and give them the life that I want them to have. It doesn't stop me from feeling guilty that I'm not with them all the time. It's not really possible though. At some point, I have to let go and let them go to school and learn and be independent and blah blah blah. That day is not today though. Today, they are still my little babies and I just want to be there for everything. I want to be the one to calm them down when their having a fit, the one to discipline them, the one to tuck them in every night after they do their homework. The reality is that you can't always be there. I can't always be there to do all of those things. And if I stayed home, I wouldn't be able to afford a house to put them to bed in. I wouldn't really be happy anyway. I understand that I need more from myself. Plus I hate to cook....and clean.....and everything else that comes with a stay at home mom. I'm working on the guilt factor, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't ever go away. It's just going to be different things to feel guilty about. Like, man, I feel terrible I just embarrassed them in front of all their friends like that. Or I can't believe I told Cole's first girlfriend about the time he peed off the front porch in front of the whole neighborhood. I just feel awful. At least there is hope that someday, I get to enjoy that guilt. Even if it's just a little.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Pardon the interruption.
I know I've been neglating the blog lately, and I'd like to apologize. It was the first week of school and before that I just come back to work since the whole hurricane incident. I worked about 47 hours in 5 days. I'm exhausted. Between working overtime, getting up early to make lunches, get Cole ready and drive to school and all the other fun stuff that comes with going back to school. Now it's that time of year that when I was in school, didn't matter. It was just another day. But now, it's our generation's JFK. Where were you on Sept 11th? For me, I was active duty Navy and was stationed in Japan. It was about 230 in the morning and I got a call from the man I was dating at the time. I was 19 years old. When he called me, all he said was 'Let me talk to Brent.' I was tired, young and selfish and I didn't want to get up and get dressed and give him the phone! I kept pushing it until he finally told me why I needed to get up. At this point, the second tower hadn't gotten hit yet, and no one really knew what all was going on. 'Someone blew up the Twin Towers in NYC.' I thought he was just making it all up just to get me out of bed.
Reality came the next morning when we got off the train and started to walk to the base. The base was in lock down. There was a huge line outside of the gate and every person was being searched. Every bag checked. I just remember being confused and not really grasping what all was going on. As we walked to the ship, the base was a swirl of confusion. No one knew what was going on. Rumors flew, and as crazy as they all sounded, most of them were true.
Walking up to the ship was just unreal. Every other ship was getting ready to get underway and leave port, but our lovely ship (which to this day I swear is held together by duck tape and paint) had a huge hole in the side due to renovating and we were unable to get underway. Walking into my workspace, which is like the brain center with 4 huge projector screens to have total awareness, was unreal. There, projected on a screen that was about 4 feet tall, was the scene from New York. All I could do was sit down and watch. What else could I do? There is nothing anyone could do. Then they showed the Pentagon and the field in Pennsylvania. It just crazier and crazier. As the morning went on, more and more people gathered in our space watching the events over and over again. It all just became too much. Everywhere you look, there is someone on the phone, convincing their family that they are fine. Checking on their families and making sure they are fine. Everyone just needed to touch base with their families. I remember the relief on my friend's face when she found out that her brother, who was suppose to start his first day at a new job at the towers, received a call to tell him to come into work late that day.
The next few days were madness. They didn't let anyone leave the ship unless they were authorized to live off base. Since I was just living with my boyfriend, they wouldn't let me go home. I had to have him bring me a toothbrush, and underwear and the whole works. People had to wear helmets and bulletproof vests to stand watch outside. It changed everything. Life has since returned somewhat to normal, but it's always in the back of everyone's mind. Well, everyone who's old enough to remember. We have this whole generation now that knows nothing other a world of terrorists and war. A world that has crazy security checks at the airport. They never knew what the world was like before all of this ever happened.
To this day, I can't watch anything having to do with 9-11. I just can't. If it comes on the tv, I have to change the channel. I can't seem to bring myself to watch the towers fall, see the people running through the smoke and debris. Hear the stories of great heroes and great loss. Tomorrow is 9-11 and all over the tv there are specials and news stories and movies all about that day, and I can't watch it. Does that make me a bad person? I hope not. Maybe someday I'll come to terms with it, and be able to watch this specials without having a damn near anxiety attack. Just thinking about it is making my heart race and breath quicken. I just hope that we never forget the change that that day had on all of us. I know I never will.
Reality came the next morning when we got off the train and started to walk to the base. The base was in lock down. There was a huge line outside of the gate and every person was being searched. Every bag checked. I just remember being confused and not really grasping what all was going on. As we walked to the ship, the base was a swirl of confusion. No one knew what was going on. Rumors flew, and as crazy as they all sounded, most of them were true.
Walking up to the ship was just unreal. Every other ship was getting ready to get underway and leave port, but our lovely ship (which to this day I swear is held together by duck tape and paint) had a huge hole in the side due to renovating and we were unable to get underway. Walking into my workspace, which is like the brain center with 4 huge projector screens to have total awareness, was unreal. There, projected on a screen that was about 4 feet tall, was the scene from New York. All I could do was sit down and watch. What else could I do? There is nothing anyone could do. Then they showed the Pentagon and the field in Pennsylvania. It just crazier and crazier. As the morning went on, more and more people gathered in our space watching the events over and over again. It all just became too much. Everywhere you look, there is someone on the phone, convincing their family that they are fine. Checking on their families and making sure they are fine. Everyone just needed to touch base with their families. I remember the relief on my friend's face when she found out that her brother, who was suppose to start his first day at a new job at the towers, received a call to tell him to come into work late that day.
The next few days were madness. They didn't let anyone leave the ship unless they were authorized to live off base. Since I was just living with my boyfriend, they wouldn't let me go home. I had to have him bring me a toothbrush, and underwear and the whole works. People had to wear helmets and bulletproof vests to stand watch outside. It changed everything. Life has since returned somewhat to normal, but it's always in the back of everyone's mind. Well, everyone who's old enough to remember. We have this whole generation now that knows nothing other a world of terrorists and war. A world that has crazy security checks at the airport. They never knew what the world was like before all of this ever happened.
To this day, I can't watch anything having to do with 9-11. I just can't. If it comes on the tv, I have to change the channel. I can't seem to bring myself to watch the towers fall, see the people running through the smoke and debris. Hear the stories of great heroes and great loss. Tomorrow is 9-11 and all over the tv there are specials and news stories and movies all about that day, and I can't watch it. Does that make me a bad person? I hope not. Maybe someday I'll come to terms with it, and be able to watch this specials without having a damn near anxiety attack. Just thinking about it is making my heart race and breath quicken. I just hope that we never forget the change that that day had on all of us. I know I never will.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Phone conversations with kids....counter-productive at best.
I actually had a suggestion for today's post, so I know now that it's not just me that this happens to! More often then not, the kids are playing peacefully (well as peacefully as they can possible play together) and I decide that I'll take this opportunity to catch up with some friends or family, or possibly even handle some business over the the phone if I need to. It's usually around this time, and I have yet to find out how they could even know how I'm on the phone in the first place, that they need something, anything. They must hear me talking through the vents or something. Or maybe they have a scanner or something up there that lets them know....I mean, have you met their dad? It wouldn't surprise me at all.
So I've dialed the number and it starts to ring. It's usually around this time that all hell breaks loose. Cole won't share his cars. Livi doesn't want to watch whatever movie or show is on. Cole is thirsty. Livi punched Cole in the face. The excuse is always different, the result is always the same. Whoever I am calling gets to hear "knock it off, I'm on the phone...oh hello, sorry." It's not like I could just hang up when the ruckus started, then I would just be prank calling people all day long.
The worst is when I have to make a phone call in the car. Save me the lecture on how I shouldn't talk and drive, we all do it. I use speaker phone usually, usually when I don't have the kids in the car. This is almost worse then trying to talk to someone on the phone at home. They can actually see me on the phone now. All I can hear when I'm on the phone is, "Who are you talking to? Can I say hi? I wanna talk. Why can't I talk? You're not nice. You're hurting my feelings. That's not a good idea. Who are you talking to again?" For this reason, I rarely make phone calls in the car with the kids. If I do have to call you, just be prepare to speak to the kids. I'm just going to apologize now to my family, friends, customer service agents, work or whoever else I have to talk to on the phone that have to say hello to my crazy children in order to continue the conversation. I truly do hate yelling at my kids while I'm on the phone. I know the people I'm talking to don't want to hear it, even if they have kids and totally understand. I get flustered and frustrated trying to have a conversation, whether it's for business or for my own sanity, and deal with whatever trouble the kids are cooking up at the time.
I know the kids just want some attention, but it's funny to me how they don't need anything from me until I start to do something else. Can't I just have a minute or two to have some adult conversation? I can't talk about Star Wars the Clone Wars or princesses or anything else they they decide to ask me about. That makes mommy into a crazy person. Sometimes, I need to talk about shoes, or gossip ,or whatever else comes to mind! I think I just need to invest in a soundproof booth. Maybe then I'll be able to accomplish a conversation without having to put someone in time out.
So I've dialed the number and it starts to ring. It's usually around this time that all hell breaks loose. Cole won't share his cars. Livi doesn't want to watch whatever movie or show is on. Cole is thirsty. Livi punched Cole in the face. The excuse is always different, the result is always the same. Whoever I am calling gets to hear "knock it off, I'm on the phone...oh hello, sorry." It's not like I could just hang up when the ruckus started, then I would just be prank calling people all day long.
The worst is when I have to make a phone call in the car. Save me the lecture on how I shouldn't talk and drive, we all do it. I use speaker phone usually, usually when I don't have the kids in the car. This is almost worse then trying to talk to someone on the phone at home. They can actually see me on the phone now. All I can hear when I'm on the phone is, "Who are you talking to? Can I say hi? I wanna talk. Why can't I talk? You're not nice. You're hurting my feelings. That's not a good idea. Who are you talking to again?" For this reason, I rarely make phone calls in the car with the kids. If I do have to call you, just be prepare to speak to the kids. I'm just going to apologize now to my family, friends, customer service agents, work or whoever else I have to talk to on the phone that have to say hello to my crazy children in order to continue the conversation. I truly do hate yelling at my kids while I'm on the phone. I know the people I'm talking to don't want to hear it, even if they have kids and totally understand. I get flustered and frustrated trying to have a conversation, whether it's for business or for my own sanity, and deal with whatever trouble the kids are cooking up at the time.
I know the kids just want some attention, but it's funny to me how they don't need anything from me until I start to do something else. Can't I just have a minute or two to have some adult conversation? I can't talk about Star Wars the Clone Wars or princesses or anything else they they decide to ask me about. That makes mommy into a crazy person. Sometimes, I need to talk about shoes, or gossip ,or whatever else comes to mind! I think I just need to invest in a soundproof booth. Maybe then I'll be able to accomplish a conversation without having to put someone in time out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)