Strong genes

First let me say, there is never a dull moment in this house - ever. Even when trying to have a simple family movie night. There are arguments, tantrums, and fighting over where to sit, whose allowed to talk, and of course which movie to watch.

Now much to my own chagrin, I will tell you that my three-year-old is not the best TV watcher. He rarely makes it through a whole movie. When he is done and wants to move on to the next activity he is prone to standing smack dab in front of the TV - and not moving. I happen to know where he got this from - me.

My brothers and sisters, should they read this, will attest to that fact. I was the middle child. That's my excuse! No one wanted to play with me and when all else failed I was always guaranteed a fight, I mean attention, by standing - smack dab in front of the TV.

There are lots of other things my three-year-old inherited from me, like my chin. But it is so crazy to watch your children develop and think, Holy Cow! I do that. My six-year-old son will stand at the table working on yet another very large messy craft project with his right foot resting against his left knee. Kind of like a flamingo. He will also turn on the radio or a favorite CD and stand in front of the sliding glass door and dance - so that he can see himself.
(I promise I haven't looked at myself in a full length mirror since before I had children!)

So many things good, and bad, come to the surface to remind us that they truly are a chip off the old block. That the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. That when they turn 16 - I am in soooo much trouble!

Thanks, but no thanks...

It's so cliche, but as women don't we all take on certain things around the house because it's just easier. In our house, it is just easier for me to do all the cooking because my husband can't. Really, really can't!

Now that the boys are three and six my husband is really after me to take more time to exercise and do things for myself. He's been trying to free me up on Sunday afternoon, the trouble is dinner still needs to be cooked. It is truly our only afternoon together as a family; since he's always out in the morning mountain biking or running, then there's lunch, then naps, then family time. You see what I'm dealing with here.

So the other day everyone was so grumpy and I was tired of hearing myself scream, "Why can't you say those words with love in your voice!" that I took off - after I prepped dinner. I had pork chops marinating in the fridge in an 8x8 Pyrex dish covered with saran wrap, french fries cut up and soaking, and instructions for my husband on the counter.

With very little confidence but a lot of enthusiasm I left for the gym. The only instructions I left were as follows:

1. Turn on the oven at 5:15 to 425 degrees
2. Make a Greek salad

I tried to enjoy my time at the gym knowing the kids were not in the germ infested child-care center watching that idiotic Sponge Bob Square pants and learning all about God knows what from someone elses kid.

Last week my three-year-old said he wanted to marry me. I remember my sister telling me her son said that at three and she cherished the moment. Mine of course was quickly squashed when he announced we had to get married so that he could sleep in my bed- that's what Molly said.

After 35 minutes on the treadmill I debated going on to the weights. Something inside of me was saying - Go home. I tried to ignore that voice and headed for the weights. I did 50 or so sit-ups and the voice was no longer nagging at me to go home - it was screaming in my ear. Maybe I'll ease into this "alone time" thing.

I called home to say that I was on my way and the first thing my husband said was, "What! Why you not workout longer I got the salad made and dinner started, stay there." Thanks I said, but I think I got all the mental health break I can stand for one day. By the way, what do you mean you got dinner started? All I asked you to do was pre-heat the oven. "I saw the pork in the refrigerator and I put it in the oven already."

"Did you put it on the oven in the marinade with saran wrap over it?" I said trying not to sound too critical. This is what I heard, "Oh Sh!t" - click.

Thanks, but no thanks. I'll do the cooking.

Happy Holidays??

Thanksgiving is over and it is time to bring in Santa and his reindeer. Or in the case of the small town that I grew up in, the reindogs. Our high school mascot is the Bulldog so every year when they bring Santa in to town the marching band comes out, the mascot, and of course the reindogs. There are prizes for the best dresssed dogs, etc...the Fire engines lead the small parade and Santa comes in on a horse drawn carriage. It all takes place on the courthouse lawn and Santa even has a beautiful house to sit in while we take pictures and tell him all the things we want for Christmas.

It's all good - except when grown-ups muck the whole thing up. It's a nice day but still bitey cold so I bundled everyone up, grabbed the camera, and we went up to see the parade. The funny thing about this was we were actually there yesterday - when it was bitter cold. Two days in a row now I've pumped the kids up and then threaten them for the rest of the day if they didn't behave. Today was the day though and we got there about 10:30, the festivities to start at 11:00. The boys ran and played tag with dad in the lawn and looked for dressed up dogs.

By mistake I ended up in line and I was second! Needless to say I was staying put. The boys were getting restless when we finally heard the sirens, then the marching band, the cheerleaders came around with candy canes. Santa made his way to his house and all of a sudden people are pushing, the grandmother in front of me is knocked to the ground and 25 people who've come out of no where are now in front of us in line.

Here's the kicker - One is them is my cousin's wife! Holiday spirit my %($!

It's not a Black Friday sale for goodness sake - there are no $50 TV's or free Wii's. It's Santa Claus and you idiots butt in line. They knocked over a grandmother. Just before we get in to see Santa the little boy in front of us, whose parents line jumped, said, "When do I get to see Santa!" and do you know what his mother had the nerve to say - "You have to wait in line like everyone else." Are you Kidding me??

What is this world coming to? Happy Holidays, I think.

My little manipulator...

We've all become so PC (politically correct) that it's no longer acceptable to call a spade a spade, or a three-year-old manipulative. Three-year-olds are Master Manipulators. From bedtimes to bath, from the potty to pre-school and everything in between.

My three-year-old is no different. Problem is, he's stubborn. Now I know lots of children are stubborn, but, and this is a BIG but, they are distractable. My son will not be deterred. Tonight it was peeing in the diaper NOT in the potty. My husband had a knock down drag out with him over this. My husband (are you seeing this picture a little clearer) could not let it go. He was determined that the child pee in the potty 10 feet away and NOT his diaper. The three-year-old was holding his ground.

Now, had it been a normal Sunday in which my husband takes off before we rise to go mountain biking for 4 hours, then eats, then sleeps for two hours I would have walked away. However, my husband chose to run this a.m. with a client. Then come home to terrorize us all with "quality time" for the rest of the day.

The other reason I could not just walk away was because my husband actually said to our son, "Why do you have to make everything so difficult!" Seriously. This is a man that can turn changing toilet paper into a challenge. A quick trip to the grocery into an afternoon. Home improvement projects into 4-day marathon cursing events. And he is asking his son - Why?

I laughed so hard, I peed a little. Then I had to go point out the irony of what he just said. At least he laughed at me instead of hitting me. He still doesn't think that he makes things all that hard. O.k., but he did spend two weeks painting our 1000 square foot deck with a 3"brush. Not too hard at all.

p.s. the three-year-old did get to pee in his diaper not the potty- gotta give him credit!

Time for Thanks Giving to mom....

I was talking with my mom the other day, which is no surprise we talk at least once a day. I can't imagine not talking to my mom. Our relationship was not always fantastic, like most teenage girls there was a point where I thought she was absolutely idiotic for MANY reasons.

At this point in my life I don't know what I would do without her support, advice, and broad shoulders. She really threw me the other day when she told me that I am a better mother than she ever was.

Says who! She had five children the last a set of unexpected twins. She had a husband who needs more attention than a six month old, she has seven brothers and sisters, and in-laws. She went back to work when the babies got in school and kicked butt selling Real Estate. Along the way there were wrecked cars, drugs, boyfriends, girlfriends, parties, bad grades, bad hair - -You name it we did it.

Who's to say that I'm any better than anyone else. I muddle through just like the rest of us. Fretting over every decision, every action, every punishment. Sobbing after I drop off the crying child at pre-school, cursing after I've lost my temper and yelled for spilled milk, and praying therapy won't cost too much after sending them to bed without a snack for talking back.

Who's to say she wasn't the greatest mom in the world? Not me, because I can't make it through a day without her, she's my best friend. I can only hope 1/2 that much when my boys grow up. I'm praying, anyone know a good therapist?

"Take a little piece of my heart now baby...."

Wasn't it Janis Joplin who sang, "Take it! Take another little piece of heart now baby. Break it! Break another little piece of my heart why don't ya' "....

Children have a way of doing that so quickly. My three-year-old is my most vocal child. He has never hesitated to let the world know how he feels. Just ask our neighbors. He's outgoing, loves to play with (mostly boss around) other kids so I really thought pre-school would be a hit. It's not. He throws a fit, every time.

It's not like he goes everyday. He goes two days a week for maybe 2 1/2 hours and his class is pretty small, there are maybe 10 in the class with two teachers. The teachers always assure me that he is perfectly fine after I leave but he's been ramping up the drama each time I drop him off.

Today was the worst. Last week he was out due to a fever so it has been 10 days since he was there. I thought he was ready to go back, he had even asked to go on Saturday. But today when the time came he through himself down on the floor and had a fit. I ended up dragging him to the car without shoes or a coat on. Held him down to get him buckled and drove all the way there with him screaming, kicking, and thrashing. I was exhausted by the time we got there.

All the way there in the car he was working this hard. I have to hand it to the kid, he's learned the art of mommy manipulation. His line is, "Can we just talk about this?" Of course I say, what is it you don't like about pre-school? "Pull over and let me out of the car and I will tell you." Not happening Jack! I can just see him bolting from the car and belting out a sinister laugh, "You can't caught me now!"

I scoop him up and head into the pre-school. He was not letting go. He had his arms and legs wrapped around me like a spider monkey. His head is buried in my shoulder. He won't look at or talk to the teachers. So I take him over to the corner of the room where they have a puppet stage set up and tried to put on a puppet show. Thinking I am terribly clever I try to play this scene out with puppets but he takes them off my hands and says, "Stop it. Take me home." A little boy in his class was really enjoying my show and keeps trying to open up the curtain to see more. Until my son yelled at him and threw one of the puppets at his head, I intercepted quickly so the teacher wouldn't see, I didn't want to get in trouble!

They finally pulled him off of me and I left, but I got to the car and started to cry. What am I doing? What if he's really not ready? What if he's really scared? What if he cries until he throws up or pees his pants? I finally left the parking lot and went to volunteer at the elementary school checking my cell phone every two minutes.

When I got there to pick him up, he was absolutely fine. I said how was school? "Good. I stopped crying and calmed down. I got a job today. I was flag holder!" I'm glad he was fine but, I just lost another little piece of my heart - I know I did.