Have you ever had one of those times in your life when everything just came at you in such a way you thought - What the ???
I am so there. It started last weekend. One by one my family started dropping like flies. Well, more descriptive to the situation they started losing their minds. It started with the youngest, apropos. He was just not ready for school to start or daddy to leave on his trip. Too much stressful stuff all in one box for my beautiful little boy. Hence, he became The Shrieking Banshee. Every time I turned around that child was screaming at the top of his lungs.
It didn't take long for my other son to follow him down the rabbit hole. He suddenly realized that there was a reason I had been asking him to finish his summer homework assignments a little at time all summer long. He now had about three days to get it all done and Mom wasn't feeling very altruistic at this point. He became Eeyore. Humphing, sitting in his room, finally resorting to tears. OK, trying to use a glue stick with one hand due to the broken elbow was probably pushing it, I caved in to help him get that done.
My husband feeling the stress of leaving me all alone with the kids while they were both falling apart, oh and maybe the fact that he was just realizing what all needed to be done before he left decided it was his turn. He turned into The Incredible Hulk. He could be fine one minute but then the Shrieking Banshee would start in and suddenly The Hulk would appear.
I literally felt like I was in the middle of a bad Avenger's episode as someone like Pepper Potts. No super powers, special suits, or real talents- just good looks. (Don't know about you but I just cracked myself up!! Ah, that was a good one, give me a minute.)
But feeling the stress of all that was happening myself, running from one mess to the next, and to totally top this hot mess off- I was PMS'ing. I swear our house looked like the scene from Ghostbusters where the ghost has taken over the roof of the apartment building and it's now glowing green and swirling with clouds.
It was not my finest moments...nor is it winning me Mother of the year. But you know what they say about a Perfect Storm - it can only happen once a century. Thank God!
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
my baby, my big boy, or both
So you would think after my ten-year-old's two foot fall from a tree, broken elbow, and consequent surgery I would be writing all about the dramatic event. Maybe later.
Needing to separate the boys today my husband took the little man on a marathon errand run. I really could have used a nap, a drink, or a valium maybe. I was just completely stressed out and not even sure why. OK well that is not entirely true, but as I said that story will have to wait for another day.
My son asked what he and I were going to do since it was just us....um, nothing? That wasn't going to fly so I said, Well we should try to return your soccer jacket. YES! So off we went with only one thing in mind, well one thing on my mind anyway. After returning the jacket his question was "Where to now?" So I asked if he was in the mood to go clothes shopping because, silly Mom, I figured he would want to wait until he got his cast off.
You see, about a week ago my ten-year-old son who wore nothing but shorts and t-shirts all last year, in fact the same shorts and t-shirt but that is neither here nor there asked if we could go shopping. My first reaction was "For what?" Duh mom! Clothes. Really-duh?
So off we went today to the mall in search of clothes. I was still a bit tentative but my son walked confidently into the boys department. He knew what he wanted. Starting with a black Fedora, black skinny jeans, and a plaid button down. I was dumb struck. We went into the dressing room to try on the outfit.
I will admit my absolute bias but damn he is so cute! and the confidence with which he put that outfit together then proceeded to strut around the dressing room broken arm and all. He looked at me and said "Mom, I look good! Like Bruno Mars." Better than Bruno baby. He also picked out some red jeans and a graphic t-shirt.
All I could think was almost 48 hours ago I was literally cradling this boy in my lap, singing in his ear, feeding him, taking him to the bathroom and now here we are - on the edge of seventeen. Heaven help me.
Needing to separate the boys today my husband took the little man on a marathon errand run. I really could have used a nap, a drink, or a valium maybe. I was just completely stressed out and not even sure why. OK well that is not entirely true, but as I said that story will have to wait for another day.
My son asked what he and I were going to do since it was just us....um, nothing? That wasn't going to fly so I said, Well we should try to return your soccer jacket. YES! So off we went with only one thing in mind, well one thing on my mind anyway. After returning the jacket his question was "Where to now?" So I asked if he was in the mood to go clothes shopping because, silly Mom, I figured he would want to wait until he got his cast off.
You see, about a week ago my ten-year-old son who wore nothing but shorts and t-shirts all last year, in fact the same shorts and t-shirt but that is neither here nor there asked if we could go shopping. My first reaction was "For what?" Duh mom! Clothes. Really-duh?
So off we went today to the mall in search of clothes. I was still a bit tentative but my son walked confidently into the boys department. He knew what he wanted. Starting with a black Fedora, black skinny jeans, and a plaid button down. I was dumb struck. We went into the dressing room to try on the outfit.
I will admit my absolute bias but damn he is so cute! and the confidence with which he put that outfit together then proceeded to strut around the dressing room broken arm and all. He looked at me and said "Mom, I look good! Like Bruno Mars." Better than Bruno baby. He also picked out some red jeans and a graphic t-shirt.
All I could think was almost 48 hours ago I was literally cradling this boy in my lap, singing in his ear, feeding him, taking him to the bathroom and now here we are - on the edge of seventeen. Heaven help me.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Oh the pressure....
My husband and I are embarking on our first grown-up weekend away - ever. Our oldest is ten. My husband is a tightwad. But it gets worse.
The more people that know about our little get away, and you can thank my husband the mouth for telling everyone he trains at the gym, sees on the street, or within shouting distance of this plan, the more stressed I get.
Everyone has an opinion. From "What took you so damn long!" to "Get the weekend started right and give him (sorry I absolutely will not repeat it) in the car." And just the questions - where are you staying, what restaurants are you going to, what will you do there????
OH the Pressure!!!
Have I failed to mention over and over again in this column that my husband and I are Lucy and Ricky Ricardo. Have I also failed to mention we can not go somewhere in the car without fighting? And the fact that we have 2 totally different philosophy's on what is fun?
Left up to my husband we would be staying 45 minutes outside the city in a tent where would could bike in everyday for a bootcamp class, then a hike, forage for nuts and berries for lunch in a free park and ride back to the tent for 6 hours of sex. He's good.
Left up to me we would stay in a 5-star hotel order room service, get massages, watch Audrey Hepburn movies and cuddle with a bottle of champagne.
Considering it is less than 5 days away and we have yet to book a room or finalize a city or a plan.....we're gonna be in that damn tent I just know it!
The more people that know about our little get away, and you can thank my husband the mouth for telling everyone he trains at the gym, sees on the street, or within shouting distance of this plan, the more stressed I get.
Everyone has an opinion. From "What took you so damn long!" to "Get the weekend started right and give him (sorry I absolutely will not repeat it) in the car." And just the questions - where are you staying, what restaurants are you going to, what will you do there????
OH the Pressure!!!
Have I failed to mention over and over again in this column that my husband and I are Lucy and Ricky Ricardo. Have I also failed to mention we can not go somewhere in the car without fighting? And the fact that we have 2 totally different philosophy's on what is fun?
Left up to my husband we would be staying 45 minutes outside the city in a tent where would could bike in everyday for a bootcamp class, then a hike, forage for nuts and berries for lunch in a free park and ride back to the tent for 6 hours of sex. He's good.
Left up to me we would stay in a 5-star hotel order room service, get massages, watch Audrey Hepburn movies and cuddle with a bottle of champagne.
Considering it is less than 5 days away and we have yet to book a room or finalize a city or a plan.....we're gonna be in that damn tent I just know it!
Homey don't eat that way!
We are going to attempt to go away and leave our two sons with their Aunt and Uncle for the weekend. OK, truthfully I don't know if it can even be considered the weekend because we'll have to pick them up Sunday and hustle back home for the Summer Basketball League finals but Thursday to Sunday a weekend doth make.
So in prepping myself and my Sister-in-law for this endeavor I start an email with, "The Seven-year-old can NOT have Citrus, chocolate, caffeine, or carbonation or he gets a urinary tract infection and stops peeing. Also he has never drank cow's milk only drinks soy but will eat cheese and ice cream. And by the way will try to only eat ice cream and sugar if he can get away with it but will then get sick and the ten-year-old will tell you he only eats steak and hot dogs in order to try and consume as much as possible while not in our house........"
You can see where this is went, quickly and the longer I sat the more I typed because I have never left my children for more than one night at a time and even then I had food prepped and ready to ensure they did not eat 3 meals in a row at a restaurant and then get explosive diarrhea. (Thanks Nanna!)
Anyway 6 paragraphs later I started to feel like perhaps I was quantifying my sister-in-laws theory that I am crazy so I stopped mid sentence and typed "Thanks" and hit send. I should have hit delete. My beautiful, patient, kind, and hopefully not totally offended sister-in-law was nice enough to sit down and reply to my 3 page email. Simply put she said, "Homey don't eat that way!"
Oh thank goodness! I thought we were the freaks? We are here anyway. People have stopped inviting us over because my husband is a vegetarian and they are not sure how to feed him. HINT- Vegetables. She said that Organic is not a bad word in their house and that she does not believe sugar is a food group. Almost apologetically she wrote, "but we do have goldfish crackers" thank God! Cause it's pool season here in our house and when I have to drag everyone to the store I bribe them with "you can each pick out 2 pool snacks" so we now have Pringles, chocolate covered granola bars, Swedish fish, and Doritos in our pantry.
The bottom line in our house is You are what you eat - so everything in moderation. Considering I heard my ten year-old repeat that to his brother who was setting out a breakfast of Pringles and Swedish fish, I think we are doing OK.
So in prepping myself and my Sister-in-law for this endeavor I start an email with, "The Seven-year-old can NOT have Citrus, chocolate, caffeine, or carbonation or he gets a urinary tract infection and stops peeing. Also he has never drank cow's milk only drinks soy but will eat cheese and ice cream. And by the way will try to only eat ice cream and sugar if he can get away with it but will then get sick and the ten-year-old will tell you he only eats steak and hot dogs in order to try and consume as much as possible while not in our house........"
You can see where this is went, quickly and the longer I sat the more I typed because I have never left my children for more than one night at a time and even then I had food prepped and ready to ensure they did not eat 3 meals in a row at a restaurant and then get explosive diarrhea. (Thanks Nanna!)
Anyway 6 paragraphs later I started to feel like perhaps I was quantifying my sister-in-laws theory that I am crazy so I stopped mid sentence and typed "Thanks" and hit send. I should have hit delete. My beautiful, patient, kind, and hopefully not totally offended sister-in-law was nice enough to sit down and reply to my 3 page email. Simply put she said, "Homey don't eat that way!"
Oh thank goodness! I thought we were the freaks? We are here anyway. People have stopped inviting us over because my husband is a vegetarian and they are not sure how to feed him. HINT- Vegetables. She said that Organic is not a bad word in their house and that she does not believe sugar is a food group. Almost apologetically she wrote, "but we do have goldfish crackers" thank God! Cause it's pool season here in our house and when I have to drag everyone to the store I bribe them with "you can each pick out 2 pool snacks" so we now have Pringles, chocolate covered granola bars, Swedish fish, and Doritos in our pantry.
The bottom line in our house is You are what you eat - so everything in moderation. Considering I heard my ten year-old repeat that to his brother who was setting out a breakfast of Pringles and Swedish fish, I think we are doing OK.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Blame it on the rain....
yeah yeah
You can blame it on the rain
Ooh, ooh (ooh)
I can't, I can't. I can't, can't stand the rain
I can't, I can't. I can't, can't stand the rain
Yeah, yeah
I'm dating myself with this totally 80's reference to Milli Vanillli but that's what happens when it rains for what 12 straight days! Holy High Waters Batman.
It would be nice to blame my lack of interest in reading, writing, cleaning, and organizing on the rain but this has been since January. Surprise? It's not that I haven't dealt with the surgery and all that surrounded it, it's just that it left me foggy for quite a while, and tired. And then I was playing catch-up, and then I was just in the weeds, now I'm not even on the field. I'm totally sitting on the sidelines. I've given up. I'm just an observer.
I look at my life and my family and I am grateful and happy and know that I should get back in the game, but it just seems like so much work. I'm not afraid of hard work though, in fact the opposite is true, I love that sense of accomplishment in making a list and checking things off. Perhaps it is because there is one list - and I check it off over and over and over again.
Laundry
Cleaning
Grocery
Cooking
drive the kids to sports
entertain the kid who's not playing the sport
scream everyone into a shower
wrestle them into bed and spend quality time with husband (or vise versa)
Since my surgery in January I have been determined to make time for myself and do things for myself no matter what the "push back" is...it's harder than I thought. Over vacation I kept wondering why we sounded like the Bitchinstein Family and then it hit me. Maybe I'd actually changed. Not drastically, but a subtle change in what I will and won't do for them, what I will and won't accept, and in what I am doing for myself. And they have all just figured it out.
All this time I've been so hard on myself that everything and everyone is falling apart and it's all my fault, which, well, it kinda of is. But given some more time we'll all figure it out. Meanwhile, I am going to keep writing this blog even though there are now three boys standing behind me waiting for me finish. Hold you horses men, mamma's gotta get her groove back.
You can blame it on the rain
Ooh, ooh (ooh)
I can't, I can't. I can't, can't stand the rain
I can't, I can't. I can't, can't stand the rain
Yeah, yeah
I'm dating myself with this totally 80's reference to Milli Vanillli but that's what happens when it rains for what 12 straight days! Holy High Waters Batman.
It would be nice to blame my lack of interest in reading, writing, cleaning, and organizing on the rain but this has been since January. Surprise? It's not that I haven't dealt with the surgery and all that surrounded it, it's just that it left me foggy for quite a while, and tired. And then I was playing catch-up, and then I was just in the weeds, now I'm not even on the field. I'm totally sitting on the sidelines. I've given up. I'm just an observer.
I look at my life and my family and I am grateful and happy and know that I should get back in the game, but it just seems like so much work. I'm not afraid of hard work though, in fact the opposite is true, I love that sense of accomplishment in making a list and checking things off. Perhaps it is because there is one list - and I check it off over and over and over again.
Laundry
Cleaning
Grocery
Cooking
drive the kids to sports
entertain the kid who's not playing the sport
scream everyone into a shower
wrestle them into bed and spend quality time with husband (or vise versa)
Since my surgery in January I have been determined to make time for myself and do things for myself no matter what the "push back" is...it's harder than I thought. Over vacation I kept wondering why we sounded like the Bitchinstein Family and then it hit me. Maybe I'd actually changed. Not drastically, but a subtle change in what I will and won't do for them, what I will and won't accept, and in what I am doing for myself. And they have all just figured it out.
All this time I've been so hard on myself that everything and everyone is falling apart and it's all my fault, which, well, it kinda of is. But given some more time we'll all figure it out. Meanwhile, I am going to keep writing this blog even though there are now three boys standing behind me waiting for me finish. Hold you horses men, mamma's gotta get her groove back.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Figure it out!
I was having a conversation with my husband this morning, but you could insert Number One or Number Two Son here. I get so frustrated because I hear the same phrase over and over "What should I do?"
Perhaps I am hearing, "Will do you this for me?" or maybe I hear "Will you figure it out and give me the answer?" And that annoys the hell out of me! It's not like I have it figured out - I'm a hot damn mess why are you giving me your crazy.
But late last night I got an email from a great neighbor and dear friend that said -want to walk in the morning- and that I know exactly how to read "I need to talk". Absolutely! So after two miles and two hours this morning I'm not sure which came first we had solved most of the world's problems. Well, at least ours. At least for now.
That's when it hit me, I have all boys. They are not going to call a buddy for a walk or a beer (at least at seven and ten years old I hope not). It's not manly to talk about things or ask for help or heaven forbid say I'm freaking out.
But woman do. I guess that's why to them I'm not the hot mess I see in the mirror. All they see is someone who takes care of things, they don't see all the talking, praying, angst, processing, and even research I do to "figure" it out.
One more reason it's good to be a girl...and one more virtue to pass along to my sons. I hope.
Perhaps I am hearing, "Will do you this for me?" or maybe I hear "Will you figure it out and give me the answer?" And that annoys the hell out of me! It's not like I have it figured out - I'm a hot damn mess why are you giving me your crazy.
But late last night I got an email from a great neighbor and dear friend that said -want to walk in the morning- and that I know exactly how to read "I need to talk". Absolutely! So after two miles and two hours this morning I'm not sure which came first we had solved most of the world's problems. Well, at least ours. At least for now.
That's when it hit me, I have all boys. They are not going to call a buddy for a walk or a beer (at least at seven and ten years old I hope not). It's not manly to talk about things or ask for help or heaven forbid say I'm freaking out.
But woman do. I guess that's why to them I'm not the hot mess I see in the mirror. All they see is someone who takes care of things, they don't see all the talking, praying, angst, processing, and even research I do to "figure" it out.
One more reason it's good to be a girl...and one more virtue to pass along to my sons. I hope.
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