My 4 year old daughter has wanted to be a “movie star” since she saw Eloise goes to Hollywood. Not that I think she really knows what that means or what it entails but I have convinced myself that I will never be the shatterer of hopes and dreams when it comes to my girls. If they want to do it or be it, I’m going to support it because we all need a cheerleader.To help her achieve this lofty, if not almost impossible goal, I submitted her photos to a prestigious modeling agency, they called us in, and then they agreed to represent my 4 year old.She is pretty cute, if I do say so myself:), and I figured what a better place to start than some print work. Of course,fast forward a couple months later, she books her first job. Its a commercial. Amazing right? No, well, it was to us. She was excited, our friends were excited, our family was excited, myself, I was too exhausted from organizing an unexpected relocation to really comprehend how exciting it was. It was to be a commercial for a local car dealership. We were in set the mandatory 15 minutes early, of course we had been sitting outside in the car for a 1/2 hour before that but we couldn’t come in, per instructions from our agency. Apparently, its unprofessional.We walk in the door with our 4 outfits they asked me to bring, of course they left her in the faded jeans, ugg boots, and long sleeve t-shirt and navy polo she walked in with. Oh, that is with the exception of removing the polo (which was the only cute part of the entire outfit because it was the riding to the shoot outfit..not the actual outfit for the shoot:) I was all very surreal, hair and make up on my 4 year old.She sat straight in the chair , jibber jabbing the make up artists head off. We exchanged niceties and she told me how bright and beautiful my daughter was, something a mother can never hear too much of. Then we began the actual shoot, or what I’d like to refer to as “the train wreck of 2010”. My daughter was “the daughter”, to the family in the commercial. There were like 10 adult actors and my 1 child, did I mention she had never even done a print booking. Talk about putting all of your eggs in one basket. Jeez. It starts out the pretend Dad has to lift my little girl into the back of a pickup.Oh my, poor guy. My daughter is very tall for her age, she is like 45 inches tall and around 53 lbs. She is rock solid. This guy was about 5’10” and having trouble lifting my child. She was more than half his length and its awkward to lift a kid that tall, I should know. I looked on with pity and horror as this man struggled.My daughter just sat there, like a deer in headlights, except for the occasional cheese she tossed in the general direction of myself or the camera ( which she was not suppose to be looking at because she was supposed to be looking at her damned fake parents!)But I stood there, silent watching it all happen because Mom’s (like children) are on set to be seen and not heard. I was there strictly for moral support and legal reasons.They eventually finish the 15 or so takes, my daughter is totally confused by the people moving their mouth feigning conversation with no actual sound coming out.It was all very overwhelming for her. The bright lights,the strange man lifting her up..which by the way, every time he lifted her up, her shirt lifted up on her belly.She’s 4, so she paid no attention, but the adults (not even the fake Mommy…oh, you so know she doesn’t really have children)not one of them thought to pull her shirt down or tell her to do it. It was very frustrating.This could go on for days and it felt like it did. Let’s just sum it up by saying she is 4! She was tired , she was hungry, and she was overwhelmed but she didn’t have a meltdown, and she didn’t cry, and she didn’t act like a brat.She did everything they told her to do, to the best of her 4 year old ability. That was a long day and there is so much more that I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you:) She did ,however, at the end of the day, as we were leaving the shoot look me in the eyes and say, “Awww, dang it Mommy.It was my first commercial and all I got was this sparkly new hairpin!” I chuckled to myself, I guess that paycheck and all that excitement didn’t count for much..because , in her mind, all she got out of the day was “that sparkly new hairpin”. I asked her if she wanted to still be a “Movie Star”. She said ,”Sure Momma. I bet when I’m on Disney channel, they’ll give me all kinds of sparkly(SPark-A-LEE) new hairpins!”LOL. Keep on dreamin big, baby!
Disclaimer: This is in no way, shape, or form a dig at the process or my agency, this was about the train wreck that I had to watch my kid be part of because of her inexperience. It was like helplessly watching a car slide off into the ditch.Or watching your baby fall when learning to walk for the first time.It was inevitable, and you couldn’t stop it, it was just the circumstances and our naivete. We are looking forward to the next time, we’re going to fishtail…on purpose!
Category: Parenting
Parenting is nothing you expected and everything you could have imagined all rolled into one. I have been spit up on, pooped on, vomited on all before 7 a.m. in the newborn years. I’ve watched my toddler shove a pearl up her nose and poop in her mouth, and I’ve even masticated food. Not as fun as it sounds. I’ve survived breast buds and the sex talk. I share everything I ever learned and you might want to know about parenting from pregnancy to labor thru to the teens years. It’s is hard but it’s the toughest job that you’ll ever love but the salary sucks.
My first commercial and all I got was this sparkly new hairpin
I am so tired that I just washed my hands while drying my hair!
Ever hav
e one of those weeks where you are so tired that you can’t even see straight? I’m sure, as Mommies, you have all been there. Those nights when you are up all night with a sick child, or feeding a newborn, or if you are really blessed both. Yes, we have all been there. I am not asking for pity:)LOL I am merely sharing the very interesting, albeit scarey, scenario that I experienced a couple days ago in a hotel bathroom . Wow, that sentence sounded way more exciting that what actually happened. No, there were no seedy actions taking place in the Somerset Pennsylvania Hampton Inn. Seediness would imply that something of interest actually happened.What I am referring to is something that has probably, in one shape or form, happened to most of us. I just got so darn busy, juggling so many things,that I had a week where I actually forgot to eat( as unbelievable as that does sound)and I’m pretty sure I forgot to sleep..well, except for those 3 hours I caught on at least 3 out of the 5 nights of that week.Anyways, apparently if you keep this schedule up for more than a day or two, it can be dangerous. Really!I know this because I was so tired after arriving at the hotel that I literally stumbled into the shower, with barely enough strength to lift the shampoo bottle, then rinse, lather and repeat…ok, I lied, I didn’t repeat…way too much work. This all was the culmination of a week of packing, parties, MNO’s, trying to spend as much time as possible with the people we loved and were leaving behind, and just life. It was totally worth every second of sleep I had forgone, or so I had thought. That was until, after steppig out of the shower and grabbing the nearest clean thing to me to put on, I decided to dry my hair. Not until my 2 year old daughter came into the bathroom and looked at me like I was completely insane( you know the look I give her when I walk into the bathroom and she has about 3 inches of handsoap on her 2 tiny hands) did I realize that I was running my hands under the water in the sink, while I was drying my hair! Now, isn’t it bad to play with electrical devices while immersed in water? I have decided I must get more sleep, no matter the cost. I know I am a crazy brilliant multitasker (LOL) but I don’t want to die for it! So, the moral of the story is Mommies need sleep1 Repeat after me, Mommies need sleep!
Mom, Dad’s a Boy, he has a peanut!
“Mom, Dad’s a boy, he has a peanut!” What you may ask yourself is my 2 year old talking about? Well, lets just say our 2 year old, like all 2 year olds I know,likes to follow us absolutely EVERYWHERE we go. This includes the bathroom, the shower, the closet… you get the picture, there is no hiding anything from this kid. SO, today I just need to take a second and share some of the Gabi-isms that make her so special. I may even make you privy to some of our Bella-isms.
Here are a few from today.
“Mom, Dad’s a boy, he has a peanut!” this was told to me after walking in on Daddy coming out of the shower.“Momma, GYNE(JI-NEE) Plié!” This was said when I was rinsing her off after her shower. This came about because, if boys have a peanut ; girls have a (JI-NEE)/ the “Plié” comes from the fact that her 4 year old sister takes ballet and she knows what that stance looks like.
“Oh SHit” yes this nugget came from an unfortunate run in with a Fergie song.
“Momma, me Love you!” this is my favorite, except she was saying it to her 4 year old sister, who was playing the role of Mama in their imagination play time.
“Dad….DDDAAAAD….DAAAAADDDEEEEE……………Come wipe me!” Hey, better him that me:)
Those were just a few of the words that flew effortlessly out of her mouth today.
Now, here are few of Bella’s that I have to share.
“Honey, dreams don’t come true…dreams are for sleeping” she says this as she grabs me by the chin,and oh so seriously informs me of the ways of the world, while looking me directly in the eye. I think she was trying to break it to me gently, my little cynic.
“Why do you make my life so miserable,” this was told to me, with all the theatrics of a teenager being told they can’t date, when I told her that she could not wear her dress up tutu to bed.
“Mom, well, its OK..if you die (WTH!) take this (She hands me the keys to her Happy meal diary) and you can come back to me” Wow, I had no idea it was so easy. My bigger concern is why is she not very concerned.
“Its OK if you die Mom,( its a recurring theme. WTH are they teaching her at preschool? LOL) I’ll just go stay with Sarah or Nicole (my friends, the mothers of her friends)! I think I really need to explain what the word “die” means! I think she thinks it means some kind of a night out:)
Well, that was today. I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings. My girls, revolutionizing my life, 1 moment at a time.
What’s the craziest thing your kid has ever said?
.5 You Never stood a Chance
. 5 ~ To be or not to be, that is the question. Tonight, though I obviously have 107,000 things that I ought to be doing, I have baby on the brain. I think it was the combo of visiting my friend and her new puppy ( get your panties out of the bunch), I am not comparing your little miracles to tiny hairy beasts and all this talk recently of whose pregnant and whose not. Anyways, apparently , I am in that stage of Motherhood where I have 2 perfect daughters and I am undecided about a third
OK, lets’ be honest, brutally honest. Let’s just rip it off like a band aid and put it out there.After all, you girls are my friends and you’re not telling anyone, right? I am in my mid thirties, two kids feel like 10, I am always tired. In fact, there has not been a day in the past 5 years, that I have been not tired.
.5 , Should we or Shouldn’t we?
I am finally doing something proactive about getting back into shape and shedding these pounds that I put on with marriage. Oh yeah, you know what I’m talking about. People blame it on the babies but really, babies like the weight are just a symptom of our happiness. Us women, at least me, I spent years trying to get in shape and look good for my man, whomever he was at the time. And I’m no half asser, I got a full on eating disorder and everything (another blog entirely) but my point is that women go to extremes to look good.
Then we get married, we get happy, we loosen the get ready ritual, and next thing you know the pants are a little snugger. Then we get pregnant,and the poor baby gets the blame. No, its not the baby its all that cuddling and canoodling instead of dancing in clubs,its all the fancy rich restaurant dates, its being comfortable in your own skin because you are unconditionally loved.What a sad state it is that we have to be threatened with the possibility of being an unloved cat woman to get our asses to the gym. Anyways, I digress.
My point is I have finally figured this out and am actually working out and getting back in shape. Do I really want to set the reset button? On my body..here comes the weight, there’s no escaping it with pregnancy. There is 4 more years I have to stay out of the real world, that’s more years of no sleep, walking around with spit up on me, someone at my knees calling incessantly.”Mommy, Mommy, Mommy,mommy……..”
The Illusive .5
It’s all that and more that makes me want to take my “aw, baby” Debi..who appears in moments of insanity and hit her over the head with a skillet. Sure, babies are cute, and they smell good, they have that delightful apple breath, they do somehow complete me:), and they are so helpless and beautiful and I won’t lie, I would adore being the Mommy of a baby boy. But lets be real, the Dr assures me that the chances of me having another girl are 75 % on the 3rd child, but promises me that I would have a boy on the fourth. Is he insane?
Do I look like I could handle 4 kids? Do I look like my IQ is below 70?? Are there actually any clothes left in my wardrobe that have not yet been spat, puked, pooped, and/or peed on? Come on My mom had 6 children, and I love that woman. But I am convinced of two facts 1) that all 6 were not intentional (whoops) and 2) that she must have been just the tiniest bit crazy to start with. Furthermore, if she wasn’t before she had us, she surely has been made so over the years, courtesy of us.
So, when my friends are having there 2ND babies and bring over these brand new shiny objects, I am attracted to the challenge.I hate the feeling of losing my babies as they evolve into toddlers, and then preschoolers. I miss that adorable way they run to your arms and you can see that you are there everything. I do. I feed off of that shit. But then I remember, 1 am, 3am, and 5 am feedings, I remember not being able to pee or shower by myself. I remember the crazy smelling ability that I had during my pregnancies and the poor smelly kid that I taught and how every day for 3 months he made me vomit..just a little. I remember feeling so enormous that I felt that I warranted my own solar system, and I especially remember going through my entire transition labor without an epidural!
Then I think, Yeah..maybe, for me today, I’ll take my 2 perfect kids and not be greedy.2.5 is overrated anyway.LOL, I always wondered how they said 2.5 kids,I mean how can you measure kids in a half? Now, in my great wisdom, I realize that 2.5 means Mommy has 2 and wants 3, Daddy says his vote’s for the vasectomy, and the .5 is the middle.
.5 You Never stood a chance.
FYI, 4’s the new 16!
Have you heard that new saying that 40’s the new 20? Well, I don’t know who’s believing that load of crap but I’m pretty sure its not the 20 year olds and I’m fast approaching the 40 year end of the spectrum and I’m not believing it for a second. So, Oprah..please stop perpetuating this myth. First, there was the Million little Pieces guy and now this. Come on Oprah, just because you are spoon feeding it to us…some things I just refuse to believe. So, to be straight 40 is not the new 20, no matter how bad we want to believe it and 50’s not the new 30 either Oprah:)However, I am beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, 4 is the new 16. The other day, my 4 year old, who very frequently throws around “fact of the matters” and “Actually Mom…” spat out a “FYI..Grandma…” and then soon thereafter, floored me. We were on a road trip, we stopped at a rest area to avoid some bad weather, during a brief round of chit chat, I , funny Mommy that I am, cracked a very tiny joke at my 4 year olds expense. Now mind you, I thought this joke was about 100 miles above her head. No way she knew what I was talking about or even remotely that I was speaking about her. As far as I was concerned, all she knew was I was speaking to her in what I assumed sounded like Chinese (because it was so far out of her grasp of understanding) and I amused myself. It was late, I was slap happy, I giggled. To which my dear sweet 4 year old, with all the attitude of a 16 year old about to flee the premises with her newly issued drivers license ( or what I remember me being like at 16) looks at me, with her hand on her hip, her hip popped out, and her eyes rolling back in her head.These are the words that came flowing out of her mouth so seamlessly that I had to check myself for my own hearing, ” LoL Mom, LOL!!” Complete and utter silence, followed by the eerie sound of crickets. WTH??? Are you kidding me? I was so baffled that I was speechless. She used it in complete context. I don’t know where she learned to speak in IM language or if she really understood what she said but I do know that I don’t want to know the truth and I want my 4 year old to be 4. In a world where heels are made for newborns, low rise jeans are made for toddlers, and make up is almost a pre requisite for preschool….I choose to believe that this was a complete coincidence.as a sidebar, I have also decided I am going to make a concerted effort to not use the term “LOL”… ever again.
Today, there is Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy
Yesterday, I was shocked by the news of the day. I spent the next 24 hours “feeling” my feelings. I’d be calm, then cry, then sad, then shocked some more, then irate.As I was packing the girls room up, while Bella was at preschool (so she wouldn’t notice that it was being packed up), I packed while she was at school so she would have no idea things were going into boxes rather than into drawers and closets. While I was rushing to do this before she got home, I couldn’t place why I kept getting angry and falling to pieces. Surely, cleaning their room wasn’t anything to cry about.I just couldn’t place what was making this time, the third time in 17 months that my husband had gotten the news of a lay off, so much worse.Then ,I figured it out. This time was different because this time one of the people that I love more than anything else in life, my 4 year old, Bella was old enough for this to actually affect her. I have been reassured that children are resilient .In my mind, I know this. I know that when she is a teenager, she will have no recollection of this entire situation. She won’t be scarred for life, need therapy, or even care but that doesn’t help me ..now.See, this has happened before.The first time, she was pretty unaffected. She was 3, she was oblivious. But the second time, I was so distraught myself that I forgot to filter my actions and words and she knew exactly what was going on. Bad, bad Mommy. I felt horrible about the whole thing.No 4 year old should be aware of finances and the family economic situation, let alone be afraid of going without..anything. When we had to relocate, she was sad and full of trepidation at the thought of leaving “her” best friends, “her” ballet class, “her” swing set, “her” bedroom, “her” toys,”her ” house etc. etc. It was all very overwhelming to her and it was all my fault. If I would have kept “MY” mouth shut, she would have been unphased. It’s kinda like when your kid falls, if you don’t gasp and run to their rescue..its as if they never even fell. They usually don’t even cry. They are tough, they are resilient. We, however, are not apparently. So, last time we had to uproot, I kicked and screamed all the way ( metaphorically, of course) and she did it literally. Good example Mommy. Worse, above all else, was the fact that she was so afraid of the whole experience. I did that. This time, I promised myself that I would hold my tongue and she would not see me cry. She would be blissfully unaware. Her and her sister will not know that Daddy got laid off and we are scared to death in this economy. No, this time I will smile and just tell her that we are going home to be closer to our old friends and family. This time, I will be an adult and spare my child the fear and uncertainty that she does not need to experience at the ripe old age of 4. This time I will be the adult and protect her from this awful thing called life. She has the rest of her life to find out that life is not perfect and we don’t always get what we want and sometimes we have to struggle. But today, she is four and today, there is Santa, the Tooth fairy, and the Easter Bunny. Daddy is the strongest man in the world and Mommy is the most beautiful woman and we both are perfect..in her eyes.Life is perfect.Today, I will guard her innocence with my life. She is my baby and she has the rest of her life to be disappointed, but for today I refuse to let her be anything but happy. Today, I will be your Mommy and your umbrella from all of life’s rain. I love you Bella and Gabs! You are my sunshine!!
Hey,Look at that Fat Girl
Let me preface this by saying, I am so paranoid about my girls developing body issues that if you ask them ,”What are you?” Their standard answer, with absolutely no conceit, is, “Perfection!” Or as Bella likes to say ,”Perfectional!” I am trying to raise them to know that they are perfect as is; to know that people come in all shapes, sizes,and colors and we are all of the same worth. We are all the perfect us that we are suppose to be.I stress this point to them. Though, of course, being that I am human, I am uber critical of myself but I am conscientious not to exhibit that behavior in front of them, or so I thought. It’s a 24 hour a day job, just trying not to be a bad example :)I thought that I was succeeding at this job.I guess I thought wrong.
The other day, out of the blue, my 4 year old, Bella looks at me and whispers, “Mom, I want you to be tall and straight like Daddy.” With that, she smiled a little sheepish smile. So between the whisper and the (please don’t hurt me, on the brink of a flinch smile) I concluded, she was trying to say something very diplomatically that was in fact an insult. But I wasn’t sure what. My husband is 6’5″, so I understand that he is taller than me but what did she mean by “straight”? I’m married to a man and she has to idea of the implications of the words “straight or gay” ,so this left me wondering, what in the hell exactly she meant. So, I said,”Bella, Mommy is a girl and sometimes they are shorter than boys.I can’t do anything about that.” She said,(in her whispering/defensive stance/hands actually up to her mouth to signify a secret) “But you can get straight!” I look at her, and again, that same impish smile. I’m curious and I’m confused. “Honey, what do you mean that you want me to be “straight like Daddy”? Bella, looks me up and down and says, “You know, straight,with none of this!” By this, I inferred by her hand gestures and the fact that she was rubbing my love handles, she meant my lovely chunkiness. OMG, this is the moment I hoped would never come. I’m not obese, but I’m no size 5 anymore.I am certainly a well established resident in double digit land. I took a mental note and decided that it was in fact time to get back into shape. I want to be a good role model, and all that:)She wasn’t trying to mean, but she obviously knew, at her young age of 4, that Mommy’s weight was a sensitive subject. We’ve had the occasional,”Mom you’ve got a big butt!”, which of course, compared to hers, I do. Let’s face it, I got a big butt. I have always responded, “Well Bella, Mommy would look crazy with a little butt like yours.I’m too big for a bootie that size, but its perfect for your little girl body:)” Which, indeed, I would and it is. Her response is always, “It’s OK Mom, I love your big butt!” So, overall, its all good. My ego gets a little bruised, but I bounce back. That was then.
Today,at dinner, Bella is engaged in a full on monologue with herself, as four year olds are known to do from time to time. Then she leaps into her,I’m pretending I’m somebody else mode.OK, I’m used to this. I hear her having a conversation with herself about her Mom being “straight”. I turn slowly, and my ears perk up, like a nosey dog.I can’t resist,”Bella, you still love me even if I’m not “straight”,right? Families love each other no matter what.” To which she responds, “Yeah, Mom! But some people are like ‘Hey look at that fat girl!’ ( Imagine my aghast face and sheer horror) and she continues ,”But I’m like ,’Hey don’t say that, she’s my Mom and she’s perfect!” And then she looks me dead in the eye, serious as I’ve ever seen her, and says,”I still love you anyways,Mommy!” At this point, I am in shock and mortified that this is the conversation that her and her ‘imaginary friends are having’:) Continuing, as an equal opportunity child that she apparently is, she looks at me and (again with that smile and whisper, since Daddy’s out of earshot) says ,”It’s OK Mom, they say it about Daddy and Saffaron (the dog) too. They’re like ‘Hey, look at that stupid guy walking that dog!’ OMG, all I want to know is who are these horribly evil little imaginary people that live in my daughter’s head and what do I have to do to shut them up? LOL I laughed so hard that I did in fact cry, part, laughing my butt off at her imagination and her keen sense of decorum to know that she needed to be delicate with her Mommy’s feelings, and part at the sad fact that my daughter has, in fact, noticed my imperfections and thinks I’m perfect anyways…or at least that is what she has chosen to let me believe , in spite of the facts.I love my daughter, she is ‘perfectional’ to me, and I am starting a diet tomorrow! I’ve also realized that I have to fight the urge and be more conscious of the “does my butt look big? Does this make me look fat?” comments that slip out of my mouth undetected. But like they say, ” I can lose weight, but poor Daddy..well, what do you do for being stupid?Permission Granted
I don’t know about the rest of you, but some days I feel like I don’t know who I am. Not the familiar, my worlds turned upside down and inside out because I am so busy shuttling kiddies to and fro, and planning and prepping their lives but honest to goodness,”Who the hell is this person in the mirror? Who have I become?” Somewhere between not knowing what I wanted to be but anxious to take on the world with no fear of failure and now, I have evolved into some lesser form of myself. Definitely not who I hoped I would be or who I even thought I might be. I feel like I’ve gotten wrapped up in the day to day minutia of being a Mommy and wife and have sincerely forgotten how to be or even who “Debi’ is? Oh yeah, that’s me! I don’t look like I used to, who has time? My children always look impeccable, but sometimes ,I’m embarrassed to say, I look like I just don’t care. I do in fact care, but there is always so much to do and so little time, I end up at the end of my own list. And so I have decided that I am tired of being at the end of my own list, and I give you permission to do the same! Don’t get me wrong. I am not complaining. I am blessed with a wonderfully loving, caring husband and two beautiful, if sometimes a big whopping handful of craziness, daughters. Everyone is healthy and happy except for me. I am happy with what I have, but I started taking inventory and I am not happy with who I am and I can certainly stand to be in better shape. More importantly, I am not happy with the role model I am for my girls. They say a daughter’s father is her role model of what a man should be and how men should treat women, and we have discussed this and my husband is fully aware of his behavior and how it affects what our daughters will look for and expect from the men in their lives. He is a great model of what they should demand from their partners. Now, they ( by they I mean studies have shown:) also say that a daughter’s mother is her role model of how she should treat herself. That is huge and it has hit me like a ton of bricks. Do I want my daughters to grow up thinking that they should be at the bottom of their own list? Certainly not. I want them to have it all. I want them to have the wonderfully loving and caring husband, the awesomely loved and healthy children, and I want them to know its OK to take time for themselves because they are as important as everybody else in their lives. I want them to know that they can be and do anything that they have the desire to do. I have been so caught up in being the perfect Mommy that I have forgotten to be the perfectly strong woman, to be happy with who I truly am, to be my best me. This has been the catalyst to my new quest. I am going to take time for me. I am going to take the time to workout and put on make up. I’m going to make time to fix my hair and read a book. I find myself going through the motions when it comes to myself. I mean, come on, in what world is it acceptable for grown women to use a ponytail as an excuse for a hair style? None, I am pretty sure that if it were up to my husband, he’d cut it off while I slept except for the fear that my hair would look even worse with a chunk missing. I suppose its the same world where we occasionally think there is an acceptable reason that we can allow ourselves to wear our pajamas when we drop our kids off to school. I personally have never done this one but have seen it done many times and ,God knows, I am guilty of trying to rock the ponytail at the age of 36. And aren’t those “yoga pants” just a clever marketing ploy to allow us to wear our pajamas in public without wearing our pajamas in public? The scary thing is that this is all acceptable to us Mommies until we spend a little time with our single or non Mommy friends. Then it hits us, “Wow, look at her hair, with the great style, and the highlights that don’t start 2 inches from the crown!” This is usually accompanied by a wonderful manicure and pedicure, remember those? I used to love those. And of course she is wearing something that fits appropriately, is actually in style “this” year, and doesn’t have food, smudge, spit up or any other sticky baby residue on it. And of course, her face is flawless and rested ,with no signs of circles under her eyes, because she actually slept the night before. Those are the times when I am left feeling a little short. Which is crazy because I used to have and do all those things and I have a masters and can speak 4 languages but ,yet, I feel embarrassed. I feel like I snuck into the party and am waiting to be found out. Any minute, all the people in the real world are going to be like “Hey, aren’t you suppose to be at that ‘other’ party over there? The one with all the ponytails and pajamas!” Really, I am lucky because the party with the ponytails is where all the fun is.That’s where my kids are at, but sometimes I want to be able to go to the grown up party and I want the transition to be seamless. The whole appearance thing is just a part of it. It is symbolic of the rest of the package that is me. I’d occasional like to be able to have a conversation with an adult about something other than what our children are doing. Maybe do something that utilizes some of that education that I have acquired. I need to create a solution and only I can do it, because it’s my problem. I’m the one who has let myself become a second class citizen in my own world. Remember the good old days when you had the time and energy to actually figure things out or put the effort in to fix those things in your life you were wanting to be better? That’s why I have decided that I have to make time to take care of me, or I am not as good as I could be for everyone else. I am going to pursue my dreams with all the passion that I have pursued acquiring perfection as a Mommy. I know that being a Mommy is the most important thing that I will ever do, because to me, there is nothing more important than raising great human beings that are an asset to the world but part of that is raising strong women who have a strong sense of self. So, in order not to fail them and myself, I have given myself permission to make myself a priority in my own life…at least one of the top 3:) Here’s to being who we really are, and being a priority in our own lives! Now, go forward and take the time to find yourself again; permission granted!
Incapacitated and Dominated; Whack Back Pain Leaving you at the Mercy of your Children
Back Pain ~This morning was a morning to end all mornings. I woke up, in our apartment in Virginia, where we are residing temporarily until we relocate from our home in the Midwest. The morning was progressing normally until the coffee machine, percolating my much needed fuel for the day, decided to explode. As I was texting my friend, back at home, having a great chit chat I heard a gurgle, followed by a distinct sputter, followed by a pop and a long hiss. I turned around, just in time to see my, much needed, life line turn into an eruption of Mt Saint Dunkin Donuts coffee…all over the pristine white cabinets in the corporate housing that my husband’s new company is paying for.
Back Pain is incapacitating
In true “Mommy can do everything” mode without breaking a sweat, I turned quickly, discarded my phone ,mid text,ran for the laundry room and grabbed a towel to soak up the mess and avert any real damage. I was on it, little did I know that in my haste, I had pulled my back. All that animated mad dashing was not tolerated so well by my not yet fully awake body. To add insult to the back injury, the aforementioned towel that I used to throw on the floor to soak up the eruption, it was fully loaded with sand from our weekend beach trip.
Amidst all the chaos that is unfolding, my 4 and 2 year old are eating breakfast and watching cartoons, looking over at me only briefly, as if to say ” That nutty Mommy, there she goes again.That crazy kid is always into something!” Not until midway through cleaning up the mess did I realize that I had pulled my back. While I was soaking up the mess, I was putting the shrapnel of the morning away. As I half heartily set my large, toffee flavored coffee creamer into the fridge ,atop something or other, it came tumbling back at me and crashing onto the floor, where it oozed its contents all over my newly cleaned floor. To be honest, it was more like it was hurled at me by some unforeseen, Mommy hating entity living within the confines of my refrigerator.
Back Pain is violating
When I tried to clean that mess up, that is when my back began to spasm uncontrollably and I could not regain the upright position. As I inched across the kitchen floor, walking in a position that very closely resembled the evolution of man, whimpering and wincing in pain, I called to my eldest to come to my aid. “Bella, help Mommy! Please get another towel and soak up the creamer.” Her response,”Shua Momma,” I don’t know where or how she does it but sometimes she speaks with a distinct Brooklyn accent.What a little angel, I thought to myself.
I make for the bed and lie down, and try to gently stretch the charlie horse that is in my lower back out, but it is refusing to cooperate. In tears, I roll myself out of bed, after all I am home alone with my 4 and 2 year old. I slowly make my way back to the scene of the crime, the girls are back to eating breakfast. I choke down 3 ibuprofen and realize , I am in a strange place and do not have access to my heating pad and my husband won’t be home for about 8 hours so I’m definitely going to need to get some physiotherapy done.
Oh, the humanity! At this point, I realize I am so far beyond being up a creek without a paddle that I am more closely to being in the ocean without a life preserver. I know for sure that I needed to opt for osteopata savona to end this agony.
Back Pain is Humiliating
Up until this point, my girls were behaving pretty well. Then they finished breakfast and realized that I was incapacitated and could not effectively enforce any of my rules;like no running in the house, no writing on each other with marker, no eating snacks like Cheetos and cookies before lunch, no wearing your bathing suits around the house as clothing, no laying every DVD in the house out on the floor as you play hopscotch on them, no yelling every single sentence at the top of your lungs, or no washing your entire body down with the foaming hand soap if you can’t reach the faucet to rinse off. Yes, they realized I could do nothing and they did everything they wanted, and all I could do was watch and cry a little.
I never thought coffee could leave me completely incapacitated and totally dominated and at the mercy of my children. Now that I do, I may have to give it up.That’s a pretty heafty price to pay for a little get up and go! I got no coffee but my morning sure got up and went… straight to hell real fast, taken there by my two ,otherwise, little angels. Lesson learned; apparently when Mommy’s incapacitated (back pain running rampant), there is hell to pay.
How to Survive Potty Training
How did you go about potty training your little ones?
Two years ago, I first embarked on this lovely little fact of life, we lovingly refer to as Potty training. It was my first time and I followed the advice of all the parenting books. I constantly , from the age of 18 months, stalked my daughter for any indication that she was ready to start the dreaded Potty training regime.
So, as soon as I noticed that she 1) absolutely hated her diaper being wet 2) told me that her diaper was wet 3) did not want to wear diapers anymore; I got right on the potty training. So, at first I tried the whole “take her diaper off and let her run around commando”, all that did was let her pee all over my carpet. I thought it was embarrassing the first time I caught myself sniffing her butt in public to see if she pooped, holy guacamole, that was nothing compared to the fact that her urinating on my floor didn’t even phase me. I simply thought to myself, “Yeah, that’s going to have to be shampooed tomorrow!” When did I devolve into this butt sniffing, urinating not caring, vomit and spit up wearing person?
Anyways, back to the task at hand..”potty training”. Yeah, the peeing on the carpet wasn’t working for either of us. She was wet and irritated, I was annoyed and somewhat grossed out and I felt really bad for her. Next, I tried the “put on some panties and take her to the potty every 15 minutes” approach. All attempts and approaches were coupled with lots and lots of praise, her Dad and I would jump for joy and sing the “Go,Bella! Go, Bella!” song. She loved it and squealed with delight and pride, asking for more, each and every time we did it. This seemed to work and after only a couple of mishaps and near misses, she totally got the hang of it. We were so proud. So, of course, the Diaper fairy had to pay a visit. I stole this gem from Jo Frost of “the Nanny”..but hers was a pacifier Fairy, luckily, we had no need for that Fairy.
In effect , what happened next was my husband and I had our dear, sweet almost 2 year old put all her “daytime” diapers in a Fed Ex box and mailed them off to the “Diaper Fairy”. Well, that was our story and we are sticking to it. It just so happens that the Diaper Fairy is one of my other alter egos. The next day, the Diaper Fairy sent our girl a Fed Ex box full of goodies for her accomplishment. All was good in our household.
Baby # 2 was coming in a couple months and baby #1 was on her way to making life, for Mommy, a little easier. What a little rock star she was to me.
Fast forward 2 months, Baby #2 is here.Life is fantastic.Baby #1 decides that “No, not feeling this potty training stuff. That baby’s not stealing my thunder.” She completely regressed. I knew it was too easy.So, fast forward almost an entire year and finally, it stuck! It was a long haul but totally worth it!It’s always worth it not to have to change diapers or shampoo pee out of the carpet, thank God that we never had the privilege of having to shampoo a “poo” out of the carpet, or she still may have been wearing diapers to this day.
Now here we are, almost two years later and guess what? Baby #2, that awesome, rock star Gabs, is ready to be trained. But the most amazing thing has happened.Having learned from my previous fiasco and the “Year of the potty”, I have decided that I will just wait until she is ready… really ready . Well, she follows her sister everywhere, to the ends of the earth and that includes to the potty. So, one day she just comes to us, rips off her diaper, “Mamma, potty!” and she takes my hand into her little hand and pulls me to the potty. She sits on the potty and promptly pees. A huge smile, ear to ear, and she is beaming with pride.We are shocked and amazed.I was seriously expecting to fall over and pass out from shock. But in true Truthful Mommy fashion, I scream for my husband, who rushes into the bathroom ( probably thinking that one of the girls has fallen in the tub or maimed herself in some horrible accident) only to find me smiling from ear to ear. I point to my little genius on the potty and we immediately break into that old familiar chorus of “Woohoo!Go Gabi!Go, Gabi!” and we clap and tell her how proud of her we are and her sister tells her what a big girl she is. We are ecstatic. The thought of no longer having to buy or use diapers, thrills us all, beyond fathomable belief but it has to be a fluke.
Then the next day, she does it again, and then so on and so forth. Now, 2 weeks into her doing this on her own and her big sister constantly reminding us, the Diaper Fairy is finally making an appearance at our house again.She’ll be 2 tomorrow and she’s potty trained, all by herself. Oh my God, SHE IS POTTY TRAINED!!! Seriously, there is a silver lining to every cloud. Life is good.Diapers be gone, come again no more!!!
We survived potty training..TWICE!