Don't get me wrong. Being a stay-at-home mom is hard. Sometimes it downright sucks. It definitely makes you crazy: shifty eyes, an unfocused gaze, slurred speech, an inability to comprehend anything beyond a first-grade level. Lots of yelling, some swearing, possibly tears and moments of violent aggression. A state-of-mind similar, perhaps, to drunkenness--or some forms of mild retardation.
Some stay-at-home moms start to look pretty crappy, too. You know one when you see one. The token spit-up stained sweatshirts, oily hair, over-grown eyebrows. It's even scarier when you see it in the mirror.
Not to mention the pressure of surviving each new day...changing diapers, doing dishes, surviving a grocery store trip with two wild children, one of whom is intent on knocking over every display in the store. Excluding passing banter with your husband, sometimes conversations with another bonafide adult are days apart. It's not easy. Its actually really, really hard.
Whatever. It's still not the hardest job in the world. Here's why.
1. I know what my goals are. Keep the kids alive. Don't burn down the house. I set the bar pretty low, but at least I know what my expectations are.
2. I'm my own boss. Not some asshole in a suit.
3. I can't get fired.
4. If I'm feeling really lazy, I can wear jammies all day. And so can my kids.
5. I might not have time to shower, but I can still make time to order some awesome shit online.
6. I can start drinking wine at 5:00pm. Heck, some people are still at work at 5pm!
7. I can work out every day! If my kids are healthy, and weather is agreeable, I can load them up in the Double Bob, hit up Stroller Strides and go for a run. Or throw those little fuckers in the bike trailer and ride uphill. It might not be Pilates, but it burns a boatload of calories.
8. I don't have to worry that the nanny isn't spending enough time reading to my kids. Those days when we watch back-to-back movies all day on Apple TV? I've only got myself to blame!
9. Each new day is a new adventure! That's right. It's never the same. Today your baby barfs when you give her milk. Tomorrow it's soy products. You never know what you're going to get! Wow! That's the beauty of it!
To be sure, it's a thankless job. No one comes home and says, "Hey, the house isn't on fire! Both kids are still alive! Honey, great job!"
But if something goes wrong, I'll know it's my fault. There's some freedom in that. And those tears, those blowouts, those tantrums, those projectile-vomits...I'm the one that's there to see it, I'm the one that's there to witness it. I'm the one that's there to chase the tears away, to clean up the puke, to sanitize every corner of the crib. And when the smiles come, when the "I love you's" come, when those absolute squeals of happiness come, it makes it all worth it.
Almost. :)
P.S. And if you think I wrote this to cheer myself up after being stuck inside with two sick kids for almost three weeks, you might be right.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Thursday, January 10, 2013
I'm Going to be a Reality T.V. Star!
Just kidding. But I was asked to try out for not ONE--but TWO reality T.V. Shows! So put that in your pipe and smoke it.
The first casting call is from a company in New York called Castle Pictures. According to the link they posted on my blog page, they are casting moms in a new reality cable show. "This ain't Real Housewives, this is more like Actual Housewives," reads the website. "As in women who live in the actual world, have actual Cheerios stamped into their rugs and wipe actual snot out of actual noses."
So far so good. We have a lot of "actual snot" in our house.
The site goes on to describe how they're looking for four mom-bloggers who will invite camera crews into their homes to capture the humor in their daily lives and to document their "real, unfettered mothering moments."
Then I'm asked to send in a 2-4 minute video that demonstrates both my "talent for monologue" and my "situational humor."
Wait...it gets better. The SECOND casting call was from a British outfit called KEO Films. They are looking for families who would take the "once of a lifetime opportunity" to spend a week living with the Amish--and being filmed for a reality show. Living with the Amish! Oh, the humanity.
Both these casting calls were posted either in the comments section of my blog or on my QuestionableParenting Facebook page, both of which have been hugely neglected for the last four months. So it was a kick in the pants to see them. But if there is one thing that would make really, really boring and ugly reality T.V., that is me being a mom. And so, for your reading pleasure...
Top 10 Reasons I Will Never Appear on a Reality T.V. Show
1. When I catch a glimpse of myself in my bathrobe, inch-thick glasses and a juice mustache--yelling at one of my kids or stubbing my toe on the highchair and cussing--I wonder how I manage to keep my husband from running away with a waitress. Frumpy moms do NOT make good T.V. Let's keep it pretty, folks.
2. I don't want NO ONE, not NO ONE witnessing my "real, unfettered mothering moments." No one wants to watch a baby sling a shit-filled diaper all over the living room or see me hang too many groceries over the back of my double Bob and flip it over with my kids inside. I'd like to maintain custody of my children, thank you very much.
3. I'm not exactly drowning in a "talent for monologue" or "situational humor." Sure, sometimes I write funny shit, but I'm not very funny in person, unless I'm really, really drunk. Which brings me to point #4.
4. No one needs to see me select and uncork my bottle of wine at 4:55pm so I can pour myself a nice glass at precisely 5pm without breaking stride.
5. The camera would rarely get a clear shot of my face, since it is always hovering over my iPad while I do some online shopping. In fact I'm pretty sure when my kids are asked to draw a "picture of mommy" in school there will be an iPad where my head should be. (Hello, Amish.)
6. Princess-speak runs rampant in our house and gets really old, really fast. Sure, it's cute the first time you overhear Strawberry Shortcake say to Princess Aurora, "I went to the grocery store and bought some cheese." "You did, Strawberry?" "I did, Aurora! I followed my heart!" But when your kid wants to play, "Pretend I touch the spindle, and I die" 50 times in one day or play "Under the Sea" on repeat, you kind of want to walk into a fast-moving truck.
7. No one needs to follow me to Zumba class where the average age is 50 years old and there are belly dancing belts are involved. NO ONE NEEDS TO SEE THIS.
8. I spend a good part of my day unpacking my online purchases, then repacking them and emailing my husband the shipping labels so I can return them since we don't have a printer. That's just not good t.v.
9. On the rare occasion that my husband and I go out to dinner and I'm looking good, it's only a couple hours until my eyelids fall to half-mast from drunken fatigue and I appear to have some sort of speech disorder. Again, not good t.v.
10. I love going to Stroller Strides, but I don't think the general public needs to see moms breastfeed and do power lunges at the same time. (Actually, some perverts would probably be into it, but that's just messed up.)
Get it, people? No one will PROCREATE if we unveil the ugly truth about motherhood and being a stay-at-home mom. Writing about it is one thing but seeing it in all its glory is quite another. There is no more unglamorous job in the world. True, the benefits are out-of-this-world...the unconditional love, the perfect moments of sheer joy..but that mushy stuff won't translate.
If you see a frumpy mom on T.V. taking their kid to soccer practice, you're not going to say, "Wow, she's a great mom!" You're going to say, "Wow, she looks like shit." At least I would. So I will do the world a favor and keep my frumpy ass off television and in my living room, drinking wine and online shopping, where I belong.
The first casting call is from a company in New York called Castle Pictures. According to the link they posted on my blog page, they are casting moms in a new reality cable show. "This ain't Real Housewives, this is more like Actual Housewives," reads the website. "As in women who live in the actual world, have actual Cheerios stamped into their rugs and wipe actual snot out of actual noses."
So far so good. We have a lot of "actual snot" in our house.
The site goes on to describe how they're looking for four mom-bloggers who will invite camera crews into their homes to capture the humor in their daily lives and to document their "real, unfettered mothering moments."
Then I'm asked to send in a 2-4 minute video that demonstrates both my "talent for monologue" and my "situational humor."
Wait...it gets better. The SECOND casting call was from a British outfit called KEO Films. They are looking for families who would take the "once of a lifetime opportunity" to spend a week living with the Amish--and being filmed for a reality show. Living with the Amish! Oh, the humanity.
Both these casting calls were posted either in the comments section of my blog or on my QuestionableParenting Facebook page, both of which have been hugely neglected for the last four months. So it was a kick in the pants to see them. But if there is one thing that would make really, really boring and ugly reality T.V., that is me being a mom. And so, for your reading pleasure...
Top 10 Reasons I Will Never Appear on a Reality T.V. Show
1. When I catch a glimpse of myself in my bathrobe, inch-thick glasses and a juice mustache--yelling at one of my kids or stubbing my toe on the highchair and cussing--I wonder how I manage to keep my husband from running away with a waitress. Frumpy moms do NOT make good T.V. Let's keep it pretty, folks.
2. I don't want NO ONE, not NO ONE witnessing my "real, unfettered mothering moments." No one wants to watch a baby sling a shit-filled diaper all over the living room or see me hang too many groceries over the back of my double Bob and flip it over with my kids inside. I'd like to maintain custody of my children, thank you very much.
3. I'm not exactly drowning in a "talent for monologue" or "situational humor." Sure, sometimes I write funny shit, but I'm not very funny in person, unless I'm really, really drunk. Which brings me to point #4.
4. No one needs to see me select and uncork my bottle of wine at 4:55pm so I can pour myself a nice glass at precisely 5pm without breaking stride.
5. The camera would rarely get a clear shot of my face, since it is always hovering over my iPad while I do some online shopping. In fact I'm pretty sure when my kids are asked to draw a "picture of mommy" in school there will be an iPad where my head should be. (Hello, Amish.)
6. Princess-speak runs rampant in our house and gets really old, really fast. Sure, it's cute the first time you overhear Strawberry Shortcake say to Princess Aurora, "I went to the grocery store and bought some cheese." "You did, Strawberry?" "I did, Aurora! I followed my heart!" But when your kid wants to play, "Pretend I touch the spindle, and I die" 50 times in one day or play "Under the Sea" on repeat, you kind of want to walk into a fast-moving truck.
7. No one needs to follow me to Zumba class where the average age is 50 years old and there are belly dancing belts are involved. NO ONE NEEDS TO SEE THIS.
8. I spend a good part of my day unpacking my online purchases, then repacking them and emailing my husband the shipping labels so I can return them since we don't have a printer. That's just not good t.v.
9. On the rare occasion that my husband and I go out to dinner and I'm looking good, it's only a couple hours until my eyelids fall to half-mast from drunken fatigue and I appear to have some sort of speech disorder. Again, not good t.v.
10. I love going to Stroller Strides, but I don't think the general public needs to see moms breastfeed and do power lunges at the same time. (Actually, some perverts would probably be into it, but that's just messed up.)
Get it, people? No one will PROCREATE if we unveil the ugly truth about motherhood and being a stay-at-home mom. Writing about it is one thing but seeing it in all its glory is quite another. There is no more unglamorous job in the world. True, the benefits are out-of-this-world...the unconditional love, the perfect moments of sheer joy..but that mushy stuff won't translate.
If you see a frumpy mom on T.V. taking their kid to soccer practice, you're not going to say, "Wow, she's a great mom!" You're going to say, "Wow, she looks like shit." At least I would. So I will do the world a favor and keep my frumpy ass off television and in my living room, drinking wine and online shopping, where I belong.
Monday, January 7, 2013
My Christmas Was Better Than Your Christmas
Most families do boring shit on Christmas, like happily opening presents, lounging around in jammies, eating turkey and drinking egg nogg. LAME. Not my family. We like to spend it in the emergency room.
This is the SECOND YEAR IN A ROW we've gone to the E.R. on Christmas Day. It's pretty awesome, and it could be the start of a catchy new trend. I know, you're totally jealous. But before you start hating me, let me fill you in on all the gory details.
Last year, my husband stabbed himself in the hand with a wine bottle opener. True, we'd been drinking mimosas since we woke up, and it was probably the second bottle of wine we'd cracked. (For some reason, various family members think our house is a free-for-all on Christmas Day, and they come over and booze it up. While Ian and I are very light drinkers, as hosts, we like to make wine available to those members of our family with drinking problems.)
It was an epic and bloody battle, but let's just say the wine bottle opener won. Ian staggered into the dining room with blood spurting from his hand, then promptly sat down on the floor and passed out. (Disclaimer--he didn't COMPLETELY pass out but he ALMOST passed out.)
Luckily, we live two blocks from the hospital, so we jumped into the Jeep and cruised right into E.R. The doctors laughed, stitched him up, billed us heavily, and before we knew it--we were back home.
This year, we weren't so lucky. Holland, our 19-month-old, got a balance bike for Christmas. (I know, I know, she's pretty young for a balance bike but RELAX that's not how it happened.) After many long hours of eating, opening presents, and more eating, we decided to go for a "nice family walk" by the Bay. Holland quickly tired of cruising on her balance bike and wanted to walk, while Marley rode her Disney Princess bike with training wheels. Marley asked me if she could go down the "steep hill" down the road, which she has ridden down many times with no problems. I said, "Sure!"
I got a weird feeling in my stomach, but she'd gone down this hill so many times, what could go wrong? I ran ahead to the bottom of the hill to watch for cars, and Ian walked with Holland and the rest of the family.
"It's clear Marley, go!" I yelled, and Marley sped down the hill like a bat out of hell. But she handled it like a true champion and made it to the bottom. Then, a scream rang out.
It was Holland! She had tripped over Ian's foot and face-planted into the asphalt. Ian quickly scooped her up.
"She's OK, she's OK," he yelled. I took a closer look.
"She's NOT OKAY!" I shrieked. "SHE'S MISSING HER TOOTH!"
Well, I guess that's an exaggeration, because there was a broken, bloody stump left where front tooth used to be. It looked terrible. It looked painful. It looked like MY BABY KNOCKED OUT HER FRONT TOOTH HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?
"Weren't you holding her hand?" I asked, which is apparently the WRONG THING to say to the person who was supposed to be watching the baby when she fell and knocked out a tooth. A family fight promptly ensued.
So we all jumped in the Jeep and drove to the emergency room on Christmas. Again.
24 hours later, after one trip to the E.R., one trip to the dentist, one traumatizing tooth extraction, three doses of antibiotics and two doses of Tyelnol with codeine, my baby was happily toddling around like nothing had happened, sans a front tooth.
As the dentist pointed out, it could have been worse. She could have broken her nose, or part of her jaw. She could have had a concussion.
Now she's my little Toothless Wonder. I like to think it gives her character. And her smile still lights up a room, gap-toothed and all.
So when people ask me, "How was your Christmas?" I like to think I have the better story.
This is the SECOND YEAR IN A ROW we've gone to the E.R. on Christmas Day. It's pretty awesome, and it could be the start of a catchy new trend. I know, you're totally jealous. But before you start hating me, let me fill you in on all the gory details.
Last year, my husband stabbed himself in the hand with a wine bottle opener. True, we'd been drinking mimosas since we woke up, and it was probably the second bottle of wine we'd cracked. (For some reason, various family members think our house is a free-for-all on Christmas Day, and they come over and booze it up. While Ian and I are very light drinkers, as hosts, we like to make wine available to those members of our family with drinking problems.)
It was an epic and bloody battle, but let's just say the wine bottle opener won. Ian staggered into the dining room with blood spurting from his hand, then promptly sat down on the floor and passed out. (Disclaimer--he didn't COMPLETELY pass out but he ALMOST passed out.)
Luckily, we live two blocks from the hospital, so we jumped into the Jeep and cruised right into E.R. The doctors laughed, stitched him up, billed us heavily, and before we knew it--we were back home.
This year, we weren't so lucky. Holland, our 19-month-old, got a balance bike for Christmas. (I know, I know, she's pretty young for a balance bike but RELAX that's not how it happened.) After many long hours of eating, opening presents, and more eating, we decided to go for a "nice family walk" by the Bay. Holland quickly tired of cruising on her balance bike and wanted to walk, while Marley rode her Disney Princess bike with training wheels. Marley asked me if she could go down the "steep hill" down the road, which she has ridden down many times with no problems. I said, "Sure!"
I got a weird feeling in my stomach, but she'd gone down this hill so many times, what could go wrong? I ran ahead to the bottom of the hill to watch for cars, and Ian walked with Holland and the rest of the family.
"It's clear Marley, go!" I yelled, and Marley sped down the hill like a bat out of hell. But she handled it like a true champion and made it to the bottom. Then, a scream rang out.
It was Holland! She had tripped over Ian's foot and face-planted into the asphalt. Ian quickly scooped her up.
"She's OK, she's OK," he yelled. I took a closer look.
"She's NOT OKAY!" I shrieked. "SHE'S MISSING HER TOOTH!"
Well, I guess that's an exaggeration, because there was a broken, bloody stump left where front tooth used to be. It looked terrible. It looked painful. It looked like MY BABY KNOCKED OUT HER FRONT TOOTH HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?
"Weren't you holding her hand?" I asked, which is apparently the WRONG THING to say to the person who was supposed to be watching the baby when she fell and knocked out a tooth. A family fight promptly ensued.
So we all jumped in the Jeep and drove to the emergency room on Christmas. Again.
24 hours later, after one trip to the E.R., one trip to the dentist, one traumatizing tooth extraction, three doses of antibiotics and two doses of Tyelnol with codeine, my baby was happily toddling around like nothing had happened, sans a front tooth.
As the dentist pointed out, it could have been worse. She could have broken her nose, or part of her jaw. She could have had a concussion.
Now she's my little Toothless Wonder. I like to think it gives her character. And her smile still lights up a room, gap-toothed and all.
So when people ask me, "How was your Christmas?" I like to think I have the better story.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Field of Shame: When Soccer Practice Attacks!
I was at Marley's soccer practice, and I was already feeling like sort of a douchebag.
I signed her up for the Coronado Soccer League at four-years-old, thinking it would be pretty awesome to get her on a team sport. The kids look soooo darn cute in their little soccer outfits. And how awesome would the GAMES be? Four-year-olds playing eachother? Hilarious! I envisioned quaint team practices with the mommies trading parenting secrets, and Saturday mornings drinking Bailey's and coffee out of plastic cups while our delightful offspring scored goals in matching hair ribbons.
Um...yeah.
On the first day of practice, I showed up 30 minutes early with both girls in the Double-Bob to find no less than 8 different groups of 4-to-5-year olds practicing soccer at Tidelands Park. I felt like a big ass trying to find her group. "Are you with the Coronado Soccer League?" I'd ask. "Yes, I think all of us are." "Oh....I'm trying to find our group...it starts at 4:30?" "Oh, well, that's 30 minutes away...they probably aren't here yet!"
Finally I did find her group, and I was a little bewildered to find that there were only 3 other girls on the team, and one of the girls was like a 3-foot-tall-David Beckham with pigtails. These kids knew how to PASS THE BALL. They knew how to TRAP THE BALL. They knew how to STEAL THE BALL from other kids and SCORE A GOAL.These kids were 4 and 5 years old. What the fuck?
Now Marley's played soccer before, with Little Rascalz, which is a different program entirely. They talk about taking the "shark food" (soccer balls) and bringing it to the "shark cave" (the goal.) Now I felt like a child abuser, throwing her in the midst of such talent and skill, such sportsmanship and synergy, such...well, real SOCCER.
To be fair, Marley did great. She stepped her game, kicked the ball, and had fun with the other kids. I, on the otherhand, was a little bit of a mess--chasing after 15-month-old Holland as she trolled from stroller to stroller, digging around for snacks like a drug dealer looking for drugs--and on some occasions scoring (I found her with half a granola bar in her mouth and a bag of Cheetos when my back was turned.) But Marley was amazing.
Until today. Our third practice. We were two minutes late. Marley does NOT like to be late. I know this, and always get to everything early. But today, I couldn't get organized, couldn't get the snacks packed fast enough, the water bottles full enough, or the diapers and wipes in the stroller quickly enough. And we were late.
Marley arrived on the scene and the kids were already kicking the ball around. Marley was NOT PLEASED.
"Mommy, my finger hurts, I can't play soccer today," she said.
"Marley, you can totally play soccer, you played at the playground all morning.Your finger is fine," I said.
"I have a hang nail!" she protested.
"Marley, you play soccer with your feet, not with your hands. Go play!"
After some reluctance, Marley reported for practice out on the field. By the grace of God, they started with a game of "Duck Duck Goose," her favorite.
Finally some kid picked Marley and she raced after them until....SMACK! She fell on the ground.
"WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" She screamed and ran torwards me.
"It's OK Honey," I said, giving her a big hug and comforting her.
"WAHHHHHHH!!!" screamed Marley. Now everyone was staring at us. No matter, I told myself. She's only four, shit happens.
"OK Marley, it's time to go back out," I said.
"NOOO!! My head hurts! My belly hurts! My eye hurts!!!!" she screamed.
"Marley, you are fine, let's go play again," I said, walking her back to the field.
"NOOOOOOO!!!!! AGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!" She yelled.
"This is NOT OK," said my mom who had joined us for practice. "She is FINE, and she's making a huge scene! This is just EMBARASSING."
""Come on Marley, time to get back out," I said.
"WAAAAHHHHHHHH MY HEAD MY EYE MY BELLY!!!!" Screamed Marley.
The coach came over. "Come on back, Marley,. we're going to play a new game! It's super fun, come and play!" he said.
"WAAAAAAAAAA NOOOOO!" Screamed Marley. By now parents from other soccer practices are watching us from across the field.
"You HAVE TO MAKE HER GO, "said my mom. "She has to learn the world does not revolve around her!"
"I KNOW!" I hissed. "Marley, I know you fell, but you are OK. You are going back onto the field RIGHT NOW!"
"NOOOOO!!!!" screamed Marley.
I grab Marleys hand and drag her out to the field kicking and screaming the whole way. She runs back after me.
That's it! It was time to pull out the big guns.
"If you don't go, you don't get to play MarioKart ALL DAY TOMORROW. Do you hear me? NO MARIOKART!"
Marley turned and looked at me. "Mommy, I don't CARE about MarioKart. And I don't CARE if you take away ice cream either. No matter what you do or what you take away, I'M NOT PLAYING SOCCER TODAY."
"Fine," I said. This is IT! "I'm putting Holland in the stroller and we're LEAVING YOU HERE BY YOURSELF." I pick up Holland (who promptly starts screaming because I've removed her from a bag of soccer balls she was trying to chew on.) I start walking away with Holland in the double stroller.
"NOOOO MAMAMA!!!!!" Marley starts screaming a shrill scream and runs after me, dragging onto the stroller and throwing her body around like a possesed demon. Ok clearly this approach was not working.
"Marley, you are acting like a BIG BABY and you are EMBARASSING THE FAMILY," says my mom. "GET OUT THERE NOW." And my mom drags Marley out to the field.
"Oh my gosh," I mutter to the moms sitting next to me. "This is crazy. What do you do when your kid does this?"
"It's hard," one mom answers. "Did you threaten to take away something she loves?"
"Yes," I sighed.
"Did you threaten to leave?"
"Yes," I confirmed.
"Well, you just have to do what your mom did...walk her out there and make her stay."
"Yeah, but there is NO WAY she is staying out there," I said. "Watch, Marley is going to come running back any second. She is so strong-willed."
I looked up, and saw my mom walking back.
And guess what? Marley stayed. In two minutes she's out kicking the ball around again, smiling and playing, not a care in the world.
"I'm proud of you!" one of the mom's said to my mom.
"Thanks," said my mom. "Now Christine, you just have to be more firm with her! I told her she had to stay, and she stayed!"
And now I'm feeling like a huge MEGA DOUCHE-BAG. I can't control my own children and have to rely on my mom, who is a bonafide senior citizen, to take charge. I want to curl up in a ball and cry. I SUCK!!!
"Mom,"I say. "I could do that, but I'm always worried about what Holland's getting into, I have to watch her too you know. Watching two kids is hard!" I say, trying to salvage some self respect.
Wait, where IS Holland? I finally find her, she's climbed into someone else's stroller and is eating cheerios. Just then the stroller tips over with Holland inside.
"WAAAHHHHH!" She screams.
All I can think about is going home and drinking wine. I'M SUCH A LOSER!!!!
Anyone else have a strong-willed child who defies your every effort to take charge, and makes a huge ass out of you in public? Any advice, please?
I signed her up for the Coronado Soccer League at four-years-old, thinking it would be pretty awesome to get her on a team sport. The kids look soooo darn cute in their little soccer outfits. And how awesome would the GAMES be? Four-year-olds playing eachother? Hilarious! I envisioned quaint team practices with the mommies trading parenting secrets, and Saturday mornings drinking Bailey's and coffee out of plastic cups while our delightful offspring scored goals in matching hair ribbons.
Um...yeah.
On the first day of practice, I showed up 30 minutes early with both girls in the Double-Bob to find no less than 8 different groups of 4-to-5-year olds practicing soccer at Tidelands Park. I felt like a big ass trying to find her group. "Are you with the Coronado Soccer League?" I'd ask. "Yes, I think all of us are." "Oh....I'm trying to find our group...it starts at 4:30?" "Oh, well, that's 30 minutes away...they probably aren't here yet!"
Finally I did find her group, and I was a little bewildered to find that there were only 3 other girls on the team, and one of the girls was like a 3-foot-tall-David Beckham with pigtails. These kids knew how to PASS THE BALL. They knew how to TRAP THE BALL. They knew how to STEAL THE BALL from other kids and SCORE A GOAL.These kids were 4 and 5 years old. What the fuck?
Now Marley's played soccer before, with Little Rascalz, which is a different program entirely. They talk about taking the "shark food" (soccer balls) and bringing it to the "shark cave" (the goal.) Now I felt like a child abuser, throwing her in the midst of such talent and skill, such sportsmanship and synergy, such...well, real SOCCER.
To be fair, Marley did great. She stepped her game, kicked the ball, and had fun with the other kids. I, on the otherhand, was a little bit of a mess--chasing after 15-month-old Holland as she trolled from stroller to stroller, digging around for snacks like a drug dealer looking for drugs--and on some occasions scoring (I found her with half a granola bar in her mouth and a bag of Cheetos when my back was turned.) But Marley was amazing.
Until today. Our third practice. We were two minutes late. Marley does NOT like to be late. I know this, and always get to everything early. But today, I couldn't get organized, couldn't get the snacks packed fast enough, the water bottles full enough, or the diapers and wipes in the stroller quickly enough. And we were late.
Marley arrived on the scene and the kids were already kicking the ball around. Marley was NOT PLEASED.
"Mommy, my finger hurts, I can't play soccer today," she said.
"Marley, you can totally play soccer, you played at the playground all morning.Your finger is fine," I said.
"I have a hang nail!" she protested.
"Marley, you play soccer with your feet, not with your hands. Go play!"
After some reluctance, Marley reported for practice out on the field. By the grace of God, they started with a game of "Duck Duck Goose," her favorite.
Finally some kid picked Marley and she raced after them until....SMACK! She fell on the ground.
"WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" She screamed and ran torwards me.
"It's OK Honey," I said, giving her a big hug and comforting her.
"WAHHHHHHH!!!" screamed Marley. Now everyone was staring at us. No matter, I told myself. She's only four, shit happens.
"OK Marley, it's time to go back out," I said.
"NOOO!! My head hurts! My belly hurts! My eye hurts!!!!" she screamed.
"Marley, you are fine, let's go play again," I said, walking her back to the field.
"NOOOOOOO!!!!! AGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!" She yelled.
"This is NOT OK," said my mom who had joined us for practice. "She is FINE, and she's making a huge scene! This is just EMBARASSING."
""Come on Marley, time to get back out," I said.
"WAAAAHHHHHHHH MY HEAD MY EYE MY BELLY!!!!" Screamed Marley.
The coach came over. "Come on back, Marley,. we're going to play a new game! It's super fun, come and play!" he said.
"WAAAAAAAAAA NOOOOO!" Screamed Marley. By now parents from other soccer practices are watching us from across the field.
"You HAVE TO MAKE HER GO, "said my mom. "She has to learn the world does not revolve around her!"
"I KNOW!" I hissed. "Marley, I know you fell, but you are OK. You are going back onto the field RIGHT NOW!"
"NOOOOO!!!!" screamed Marley.
I grab Marleys hand and drag her out to the field kicking and screaming the whole way. She runs back after me.
That's it! It was time to pull out the big guns.
"If you don't go, you don't get to play MarioKart ALL DAY TOMORROW. Do you hear me? NO MARIOKART!"
Marley turned and looked at me. "Mommy, I don't CARE about MarioKart. And I don't CARE if you take away ice cream either. No matter what you do or what you take away, I'M NOT PLAYING SOCCER TODAY."
"Fine," I said. This is IT! "I'm putting Holland in the stroller and we're LEAVING YOU HERE BY YOURSELF." I pick up Holland (who promptly starts screaming because I've removed her from a bag of soccer balls she was trying to chew on.) I start walking away with Holland in the double stroller.
"NOOOO MAMAMA!!!!!" Marley starts screaming a shrill scream and runs after me, dragging onto the stroller and throwing her body around like a possesed demon. Ok clearly this approach was not working.
"Marley, you are acting like a BIG BABY and you are EMBARASSING THE FAMILY," says my mom. "GET OUT THERE NOW." And my mom drags Marley out to the field.
"Oh my gosh," I mutter to the moms sitting next to me. "This is crazy. What do you do when your kid does this?"
"It's hard," one mom answers. "Did you threaten to take away something she loves?"
"Yes," I sighed.
"Did you threaten to leave?"
"Yes," I confirmed.
"Well, you just have to do what your mom did...walk her out there and make her stay."
"Yeah, but there is NO WAY she is staying out there," I said. "Watch, Marley is going to come running back any second. She is so strong-willed."
I looked up, and saw my mom walking back.
And guess what? Marley stayed. In two minutes she's out kicking the ball around again, smiling and playing, not a care in the world.
"I'm proud of you!" one of the mom's said to my mom.
"Thanks," said my mom. "Now Christine, you just have to be more firm with her! I told her she had to stay, and she stayed!"
And now I'm feeling like a huge MEGA DOUCHE-BAG. I can't control my own children and have to rely on my mom, who is a bonafide senior citizen, to take charge. I want to curl up in a ball and cry. I SUCK!!!
"Mom,"I say. "I could do that, but I'm always worried about what Holland's getting into, I have to watch her too you know. Watching two kids is hard!" I say, trying to salvage some self respect.
Wait, where IS Holland? I finally find her, she's climbed into someone else's stroller and is eating cheerios. Just then the stroller tips over with Holland inside.
"WAAAHHHHH!" She screams.
All I can think about is going home and drinking wine. I'M SUCH A LOSER!!!!
Anyone else have a strong-willed child who defies your every effort to take charge, and makes a huge ass out of you in public? Any advice, please?
Friday, September 7, 2012
Hello, Bliss.
I'm floating in a beautiful, serene silence. I don't hear anything around me except the rustling of palm tree fronds. Occasionally, the chirp of a small bird reminds me that I'm not alone. There's nothing to bind me, nothing to hasten me, nothing to stop me. I exist only in this moment of complete peace and harmony.
Where am I? Laying on the beach in Tahiti? Zenning out in yoga class? Tripping out on acid?
No, I am at HOME! Today is the FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL, Holland is NAPPING, and I am alone in my house of harmony!!! THE DAY HAS COME AT LAST!!!!
Now there are lots of things I COULD be doing. I could be paying our estimated taxes. I should empty the dishwasher. I could pick up Pekingese turds from our front patio area. I really, really, really need to clean out our kitchen pantry, the one that barfs out plastic utensils, flour, and dog treats every time I open it. (Sorry Ian, I will do the pantry tomorrow, I promise!)
But today...THIS moment, THIS nap time, THIS first day of school, this is MY TIME!!! I shall twirl through the house like a fairy! I will smooth out the covers on my bed! I will start the second book in the 50 Shades of Grey series! I will try on my new wrap-around-visor that was cheaper than the Helen Kaminski visor I wanted, but still pretty cute! I will TAKE A SHOWER!
Ahhhhh. Life is good. It is moments like this that make me very, very, very happy to be a stay-at-home mom.
Anyone else experiencing similar moments of back-to-school glory?
Where am I? Laying on the beach in Tahiti? Zenning out in yoga class? Tripping out on acid?
No, I am at HOME! Today is the FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL, Holland is NAPPING, and I am alone in my house of harmony!!! THE DAY HAS COME AT LAST!!!!
Now there are lots of things I COULD be doing. I could be paying our estimated taxes. I should empty the dishwasher. I could pick up Pekingese turds from our front patio area. I really, really, really need to clean out our kitchen pantry, the one that barfs out plastic utensils, flour, and dog treats every time I open it. (Sorry Ian, I will do the pantry tomorrow, I promise!)
But today...THIS moment, THIS nap time, THIS first day of school, this is MY TIME!!! I shall twirl through the house like a fairy! I will smooth out the covers on my bed! I will start the second book in the 50 Shades of Grey series! I will try on my new wrap-around-visor that was cheaper than the Helen Kaminski visor I wanted, but still pretty cute! I will TAKE A SHOWER!
Ahhhhh. Life is good. It is moments like this that make me very, very, very happy to be a stay-at-home mom.
Anyone else experiencing similar moments of back-to-school glory?
Friday, August 31, 2012
Top 7 Parenting Mistakes I Made This Summer
Yes, this was my FIRST summer being mommy to two mildly-functioning humans. Marley, 4 years old, and Holland, 15 months, are both little people now....there's some talking, a little walking, and a lot of pooping.
True, I was a mommy of two last summer also. But that didn't really count. With a newborn, I was in a sleepless-haze-stupor and have no recollection of what transpired during those warm, dewy months of craziness. (I think I was just glad to have the baby out of my body. All I remember is the Darth Vader-esque haaaa phoooo, haaaa phoooo of the breast pump gathering precious drops of goodness from my leaky boobs.)
This summer though....oohhh...I was fully awake! Awake for all of the happy-face-plant in the sand-and-seaspray moments of ecstasy. I witnessed precious first steps, squeals of delight, and the budding bloom of a beautiful and colorful big sister/little sister relationship.
But I was ALSO awake for "let's rip our diaper off and take a shit in the park." I was introduced to "toddler negotiating" and privy to hours of loud squawking from the backseat when any car trip exceeded 2.5 minutes.
Now that the 80-degree heat has retreated and cooler air is breathing some fresh life into my bones, I can see what went wrong...
Here are the Top 7 Parenting Mistakes I made this Summer.
1.) I signed up for too many camps.I guess I was nervous. With school ending and the prospect of endless hours of entertaining two kids, I freaked out. I signed Marley up for 6 weeks of camp at our local community center. The problem? It was from 9am until 12pm. Too freaking short!!! Basically, I rushed to drop off Marley, was late for Stroller Strides at 9am, worked out, went to the store, rushed home to feed Holland, and then rushed to pick up Marley. Marley was starving, rushed home to feed her. Rushed to put Holland down for a nap so I could wake up her in 2 hours to go to Marley's swimming lessons. Which brings me to #2....
2.) Signing up for swim lessons 30 minutes away. What the f-ck was I thinking? OK, this one is actually my mom's fault. She sold me on the classes and promised to help me with the girls. I think she "helped" three times, and then I was on my own...driving 30 minutes each direction in rush-hour traffic and chasing Holland around the perimeter of the pool while Marley splashed around. We lasted 6 lessons until we found something local.
3.) Taking my kids on a week long boat trip on a 39 foot boat. AM I FREAKING CRAZY? I still cannot BELIEVE I did this. For this fiasco, I will blame my husband, Ian. "It will be fun! Live it up, don't be so afraid!" My husband is a yacht broker and has a company "retreat" in Catalina each year. My dad was going on the boat too. I was a little nervous about staying the entire week, but also nervous about leaving the island alone and wrangling both girls onto the ferry by myself. So I went. To be fair, the girls did great! They fell asleep during the 5-hour crossings to and from the island. They slept all night, every night. My dad had a great time. My husband had a great time. Still, I GOT MY ASS KICKED. There is nothing crappier than changing shitty diapers and watching your wild offspring bounce off the walls in cramped quarters. Or watching them figure out various ways to throw themselves off the boat into the ocean. Yes, we spent plenty of time on land, at the beach, getting sandy (I was getting drunk) while my husband took cell phone calls. (Not his fault, just work.) There were some beautiful, fun, amazing moments, but it took a year off my life. So next year...I will go again, but brave the ferry and stay only....3 nights!
4.) Having ANOTHER ginormous party for Marley's 4th birthday. This was the LAST TIME we will every have a huge party in the park. Mark my word. If I do it again, SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD. Yeah yeah, the bouncer was fun, the kids were great, grandparents pitched in and helped out, and most importantly Marley had a blast, but it's too much work. Done and done!
5.) Forgetting that summertime is my husbands busy season and I would feel like a single mom all summer. It's not Ian's fault people want to buy boats in the summer and sales is a round-the-clock job. It's my fault for forgetting it! In the months of July and August he had about 4 days off. 4 days off where he was with us--but not with us--constantly on the phone, the email, setting up a showing or trying to keep a deal together. Next summer I will hire a special summer nanny who will help my tired ass out!
6.) Overestimating my ability to handle stress. Yeah, I think I'm kinda a badass. Turns out...I'm NOT!
7.) Over scheduling everything and not having time to just BE. I screwed up big time on this one. The last week before school has been so slow and beautiful...lazy late afternoons at the beach, fun splashing at the pool, feeling so free and liberating because we didn't have to RUSH anywhere. Next summer we will keep schedules to a minimum and embrace those slow, lazy moments. I promise...
So yes. It was a glorious, memorable summer, full of happy and joyful moments......but...oh hell, screw it.... I'm so glad this summer is over and school is starting!
Did you make any parenting mistakes this summer? Do tell!
True, I was a mommy of two last summer also. But that didn't really count. With a newborn, I was in a sleepless-haze-stupor and have no recollection of what transpired during those warm, dewy months of craziness. (I think I was just glad to have the baby out of my body. All I remember is the Darth Vader-esque haaaa phoooo, haaaa phoooo of the breast pump gathering precious drops of goodness from my leaky boobs.)
This summer though....oohhh...I was fully awake! Awake for all of the happy-face-plant in the sand-and-seaspray moments of ecstasy. I witnessed precious first steps, squeals of delight, and the budding bloom of a beautiful and colorful big sister/little sister relationship.
But I was ALSO awake for "let's rip our diaper off and take a shit in the park." I was introduced to "toddler negotiating" and privy to hours of loud squawking from the backseat when any car trip exceeded 2.5 minutes.
Now that the 80-degree heat has retreated and cooler air is breathing some fresh life into my bones, I can see what went wrong...
Here are the Top 7 Parenting Mistakes I made this Summer.
1.) I signed up for too many camps.I guess I was nervous. With school ending and the prospect of endless hours of entertaining two kids, I freaked out. I signed Marley up for 6 weeks of camp at our local community center. The problem? It was from 9am until 12pm. Too freaking short!!! Basically, I rushed to drop off Marley, was late for Stroller Strides at 9am, worked out, went to the store, rushed home to feed Holland, and then rushed to pick up Marley. Marley was starving, rushed home to feed her. Rushed to put Holland down for a nap so I could wake up her in 2 hours to go to Marley's swimming lessons. Which brings me to #2....
2.) Signing up for swim lessons 30 minutes away. What the f-ck was I thinking? OK, this one is actually my mom's fault. She sold me on the classes and promised to help me with the girls. I think she "helped" three times, and then I was on my own...driving 30 minutes each direction in rush-hour traffic and chasing Holland around the perimeter of the pool while Marley splashed around. We lasted 6 lessons until we found something local.
3.) Taking my kids on a week long boat trip on a 39 foot boat. AM I FREAKING CRAZY? I still cannot BELIEVE I did this. For this fiasco, I will blame my husband, Ian. "It will be fun! Live it up, don't be so afraid!" My husband is a yacht broker and has a company "retreat" in Catalina each year. My dad was going on the boat too. I was a little nervous about staying the entire week, but also nervous about leaving the island alone and wrangling both girls onto the ferry by myself. So I went. To be fair, the girls did great! They fell asleep during the 5-hour crossings to and from the island. They slept all night, every night. My dad had a great time. My husband had a great time. Still, I GOT MY ASS KICKED. There is nothing crappier than changing shitty diapers and watching your wild offspring bounce off the walls in cramped quarters. Or watching them figure out various ways to throw themselves off the boat into the ocean. Yes, we spent plenty of time on land, at the beach, getting sandy (I was getting drunk) while my husband took cell phone calls. (Not his fault, just work.) There were some beautiful, fun, amazing moments, but it took a year off my life. So next year...I will go again, but brave the ferry and stay only....3 nights!
4.) Having ANOTHER ginormous party for Marley's 4th birthday. This was the LAST TIME we will every have a huge party in the park. Mark my word. If I do it again, SHOOT ME IN THE HEAD. Yeah yeah, the bouncer was fun, the kids were great, grandparents pitched in and helped out, and most importantly Marley had a blast, but it's too much work. Done and done!
5.) Forgetting that summertime is my husbands busy season and I would feel like a single mom all summer. It's not Ian's fault people want to buy boats in the summer and sales is a round-the-clock job. It's my fault for forgetting it! In the months of July and August he had about 4 days off. 4 days off where he was with us--but not with us--constantly on the phone, the email, setting up a showing or trying to keep a deal together. Next summer I will hire a special summer nanny who will help my tired ass out!
6.) Overestimating my ability to handle stress. Yeah, I think I'm kinda a badass. Turns out...I'm NOT!
7.) Over scheduling everything and not having time to just BE. I screwed up big time on this one. The last week before school has been so slow and beautiful...lazy late afternoons at the beach, fun splashing at the pool, feeling so free and liberating because we didn't have to RUSH anywhere. Next summer we will keep schedules to a minimum and embrace those slow, lazy moments. I promise...
So yes. It was a glorious, memorable summer, full of happy and joyful moments......but...oh hell, screw it.... I'm so glad this summer is over and school is starting!
Did you make any parenting mistakes this summer? Do tell!
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Mommy Meltdown: When Birthday Parties Attack
Must we do this to ourselves? Must we?
Every year, I say, "That's it! No more complicated, expensive, stressful birthday parties for the kids. We're keeping it simple!"
And this year, I thought I was. For Holland's first birthday, we were keeping it cheap and chill! We decided to hold a picnic-style party at our local Coronado Concert-in-the-Park. It's basically a mellow night of music (played by musicians and bands of varying talents ranging from Pretty Good to Totally Shitty) on Sunday nights at our local park. Everyone brings wine and snacks,and the kids run around and cause a ruckus where the parents sip and pass judgement from a distance.
We would offer guests champagne and cupcakes, sing happy birthday, and that's it! Everyone would bring their own food and bevies, and they could hang and enjoy the music.
Could it be any chiller? Why yes, it could.
Here is what the birthday girl's face looked like for the duration of the party:
Need I say more?
To be fair, this was not my fault, nor was it due to some grotesque error in party planning. Poor Holland (who is usually quite a jolly, happy little baby) decided to get her canine teeth in (or suffer the brunt of the pain) on the very day of her birthday. Her afternoon nap was short and screwy, and for some reason she decided to scream in horror whenever her beloved Gampy approached her at the party. WTF?
So yes, I was a STRESSED-OUT SPAZ at my child's birthday party.
I was already mildly stressed and tired from packing up all the champagne and cupcakes and trying to make sure that all needs would be accounted for in the park, while my husband decided to NAP ALL DAY.
And yes, Ian dutifully helped me load the car up and get things organized when it was time to go...but still...HE NAPPED ALL DAY. He shouldn't be allowed to do that while I'm packing up watermelon in tupperware and filling a cooler with juiceboxes and booze. He shouldn't be allowed to SLUMBER while I'm wondering, Do we have enough cups? What if no one comes? What if we run out of cupcakes? What if I slice off my finger cutting watermelon?
Thank goodness my mother-in-law was there to help me (and yes, Ian pulled through at the end) but I was still a spastic mess.
And, for whatever reason, this was the face we saw for most of the party. (I'm showing it to you again in case you missed it the first time.)
So I'm feeling like shit because my kid is clearly NOT enjoying her party. Whenever someone over 3-feet-tall approaches her to wish her a happy birthday, she bawls in horror.
Then big-sister-Marley, who was having a great time, representing for the family, spills the bubbles out of her bubble wand, then promptly sits down in the bubbly grass. She leaps up screaming "NOOKS AND CRANNIES!!!! MAMMA MY NOOKS AND CRANNIES! THEY ARE BURNING!!! MY NOOKS AND CRANNIES!!! FIRE!!!" So we had to haul ass to the port-a-potties to make sure her nooks-and-crannies were ok, despite the stinging interlude with the bubbles (they were.)
Yeah. Well, it WAS great to see all my friends and their little kiddos, and Marley had a blast. Even Holland perked up when she got her cupcake.
But at the end of the night, I was sweaty, exhausted, pissed-off, and drunk from pounding champagne in plastic cups to block out the sound of Holland's crying.
Whew....anyone else do this? Get stressed out throwing their kiddos parties, even when they're trying to keep it all mellow and SIMPLE? GAW!!!
Every year, I say, "That's it! No more complicated, expensive, stressful birthday parties for the kids. We're keeping it simple!"
And this year, I thought I was. For Holland's first birthday, we were keeping it cheap and chill! We decided to hold a picnic-style party at our local Coronado Concert-in-the-Park. It's basically a mellow night of music (played by musicians and bands of varying talents ranging from Pretty Good to Totally Shitty) on Sunday nights at our local park. Everyone brings wine and snacks,and the kids run around and cause a ruckus where the parents sip and pass judgement from a distance.
We would offer guests champagne and cupcakes, sing happy birthday, and that's it! Everyone would bring their own food and bevies, and they could hang and enjoy the music.
Could it be any chiller? Why yes, it could.
Here is what the birthday girl's face looked like for the duration of the party:
Need I say more?
To be fair, this was not my fault, nor was it due to some grotesque error in party planning. Poor Holland (who is usually quite a jolly, happy little baby) decided to get her canine teeth in (or suffer the brunt of the pain) on the very day of her birthday. Her afternoon nap was short and screwy, and for some reason she decided to scream in horror whenever her beloved Gampy approached her at the party. WTF?
So yes, I was a STRESSED-OUT SPAZ at my child's birthday party.
I was already mildly stressed and tired from packing up all the champagne and cupcakes and trying to make sure that all needs would be accounted for in the park, while my husband decided to NAP ALL DAY.
And yes, Ian dutifully helped me load the car up and get things organized when it was time to go...but still...HE NAPPED ALL DAY. He shouldn't be allowed to do that while I'm packing up watermelon in tupperware and filling a cooler with juiceboxes and booze. He shouldn't be allowed to SLUMBER while I'm wondering, Do we have enough cups? What if no one comes? What if we run out of cupcakes? What if I slice off my finger cutting watermelon?
Thank goodness my mother-in-law was there to help me (and yes, Ian pulled through at the end) but I was still a spastic mess.
And, for whatever reason, this was the face we saw for most of the party. (I'm showing it to you again in case you missed it the first time.)
So I'm feeling like shit because my kid is clearly NOT enjoying her party. Whenever someone over 3-feet-tall approaches her to wish her a happy birthday, she bawls in horror.
Then big-sister-Marley, who was having a great time, representing for the family, spills the bubbles out of her bubble wand, then promptly sits down in the bubbly grass. She leaps up screaming "NOOKS AND CRANNIES!!!! MAMMA MY NOOKS AND CRANNIES! THEY ARE BURNING!!! MY NOOKS AND CRANNIES!!! FIRE!!!" So we had to haul ass to the port-a-potties to make sure her nooks-and-crannies were ok, despite the stinging interlude with the bubbles (they were.)
Yeah. Well, it WAS great to see all my friends and their little kiddos, and Marley had a blast. Even Holland perked up when she got her cupcake.
But at the end of the night, I was sweaty, exhausted, pissed-off, and drunk from pounding champagne in plastic cups to block out the sound of Holland's crying.
Whew....anyone else do this? Get stressed out throwing their kiddos parties, even when they're trying to keep it all mellow and SIMPLE? GAW!!!
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