web analytics
Search results for

"co-sleeping"

french toast, french toast recipe, french toast recipes, Home is where the heart is, Kings Hawaiian

I love long lazy summer weekends almost as much as I love homemade french toast. You know the ones where you don’t have to be anywhere or do anything in particular? The weekends when everything is easy and slow; the kids sleep in, no one has to be anywhere or do anything. Worries just float away. Weekends with no obligation are my favorite kind. Those are the weekends that you file away in your mind as the best weekends of your life.

Of course, our summer has been filled with constant running since the last day of school. In the past 4 weeks, we have been someplace else other than our home for 3 of those weeks. I’m vacationed out. In fact, I have been spending a lot of time dreaming of my own bed. Me, the insomniac, dreaming of sleeping in is quite funny.

It got me to thinking of one of my favorite weekends ever. The girls were 2 and 4 and it was before my husband lost his job and we started the 3 years of commuter hell. It was a Saturday, just like many other Saturday mornings in our home. The girls slept in until about 10 am (of all the things I miss about them getting older, I miss them sleeping in the most). The Big Guy and I slept until we woke up on our own. You remember those days? Waking up on your own is such a luxury these days.

We both woke up at about 9 am. He made coffee and we enjoyed it on the deck in our pajamas, as the warm late May sun washed over us. I remember his smile as we joked about our girls still sleeping. It felt like we shared a special secret that no one else in the world knew. Then one by one, two tiny beautiful angels emerged from the sliding doors, simultaneously rubbing the sleep out of their eyes and shielding themselves from the suns bright good morning greeting.

We greeted them with big smiles, we know that we are blessed, and to see that the two halves of us could make two such incredible wholes makes our hearts happy. Gabi clamored onto my lap, nearly knocking my sweet, warm coffee to the ground, as her sister did the same to the Big Guy. Soon they were stretched out like cats basking in the sun. All of us, in our pajamas, on a warm summer morning just being.

Everyone got hungry and the Big Guy decided that the occasion demanded French toast and bacon with fresh strawberries. As I cleaned and cut fruit, as the smell of bacon wafted through the kitchen from the oven, the Big Guy and the girls made the French toast.

It’s a very simple French Toast recipe but it bears the most amazing French toast and is our absolute favorite.

Ingredients
• 4 (1-inch) thick slices King’s Hawaiian Bread
• 4 large brown eggs
• 1/2 cup heavy cream
• 1/2 tsp. vanilla
• 1/4 tsp. cinnamon
• Butter for frying
• Pecan Praline syrup

Preparation
1. Slice bread crosswise so that each slice is about 1-inch thick. Set aside.
2. In a shallow mixing bowl, whisk together the eggs, heavy cream, vanilla and cinnamon.
3. Quickly dip slices (do not soak) in egg mixture and cook until golden brown on both sides.
4. Keep egg mixture stirred and spices well blended.
5. Sprinkle with powdered sugar and serve with warm pecan praline syrup.
6. Top with fresh strawberries and a side of crisp bacon.
7. Enjoy.

After we ate, we spent the rest of the day hanging out at our home just the four of us; doing nothing but it meant absolutely everything. I think of this day often, especially on those hectic days when we barely have a moment to kiss each other good morning or ask one another how our day is going. Soon our lives will be back to normal. We finally sold our home and will soon be buying a new one. I can’t wait for another day spent doing nothing with the three people that I love most in this world.

What food reminds you of a special moment in your life?

This is our favorite french toast recipe. What is your favorite dish to share with your family? Comment below and you’ll be entered to win a $200 Grocery gift card King’s Hawaiian.

This is a sponsored conversation written by me on behalf of Kings Hawaiian. The opinions and text are all mine. Official Sweepstakes Rules.

0 comment
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail
birth control

Birth Control, Smirth Control! What a Friday it’s been. My boobs are sore, I’m so freaking irritable that my mom offered up one of her precious panic attack halting Xanax,I’m exhausted and annoyed and craving fruit like it’s crack and I’m Whitney Houston. But for some reason, my Mom is hell bent on asking me..”Are you pregnant?” This only further irritates me. Hell really hath no fury like a woman on the verge of menstruating.

“No,Mom! It’s that time of month…why else are you throwing Xanax at me?”

But then I started thinking, as I do every single month, because I like to play russian roulette with my reproduction…am I pregnant?

birth control

Birth Control

Due to the stress of my life, after many years of EVERY kind of birth control under the sun, I gave up birth control almost 2 years ago. I’ve tried various pills, the patch ( that left a crusty bandaid rash..Ooh so sexxy), the Nuva ring ( which slipped out with increased cervical fluid, effectively defeating its entire purpose), vaginal inserts coupled with condoms ( why yes, it is very attractive when my vagina was frothing like a rabid dog. Why no? My vagina does not have a hangover and I did not insert an alka seltzer into my vagina for this occasion.) Hell, there was even a day in there where I considered getting an IUD (desperate times, desperate measures, my friends.) So when my doctor told me that I’d have to relinquish and go to a natural method, let’s just say I not so much gave it up as had it pryed from my cold dead hands by my gynecologist. Apparently, when you are over 35 and crazy stressed, birth control pills can cause you to stroke out or some shit like that. Well, you know what else can make a woman over 35 stroke out? A surprise baby!

 

Every single month, I spend a good 3 days wondering…”Am I pregnant?” It’s really not ever a possibility because between “other” forms of birth control, abstinence, knowing my ovulation, only seeing my husband on the weekends and being prone to exhaustion and migraines…it’s more of an irrational fear. But still, every month it’s the same thing. 1 day of  wondering where the hell my period is? 1 day of thinking,Oh my God, maybe this could be the illusive little boy ( our unicorn). And the 3rd day, praying to God that I’m not pregnant.Then like magic, with a choir of angels singing in the background, I am visited by the gift of eve.

[fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”]

Birth control

Michal Zacharzewski, www.sxc.hu.

Birth Control

Why do I do this to myself? Maybe it’s that 2.5 dream that’s been beaten into my head since I was a child. Maybe I really do want another kid? Nah, I think I just like having the option and I’ve always liked living my life on the edge. Keeps things interesting. The smell of a friend’s newborn is all it takes for me to develop a sudden onset of amnesia. Luckily, my girls snap me out of it by throwing an epic bedtime tantrum, reminding me that I’m STILL wiping asses and co-sleeping. Worse still I’ve lost half my hair from stress and my mom won’t be around to supply me with Xanax after the summer break.

Birth Control

[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

19 comments
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail

This is something new that I thought I’d share. It is my list of Mommy truisms. I will post a few today and then  let them trickle in as they come to me from here on out. Happy Mothering!

  • No matter how beautiful/adorable your child is~ they are 100 times cuter when they are asleep.
  • Spit up is not an allowable accessory to any outfit, but as another Mommy I will let it slide because it is better than some of the alternatives i.e poop. pee. full on vomit, etc.

  • Modesty is a thing of the past! When in labor with my first, I was so embarrassed because my belly was so enormous that the gown didn’t cover my ass.Now after never peeing, pooping, waxing, shaving, showering, changing a feminine product alone, and a myriad of other so called ‘private’ things that I ‘share’ with my children due to lack of privacy…that modesty has passed. 
  • Mom’s who work outside of the home are brave, courageous, and strong.
  • Mom’s who stay home are braver, slightly crazy, extremely courageous, and in desperate need of a night out and some adult conversation.
  • Waking a sleeping child is like waking a sleeping bear; JUST DON”T DO IT!!!!
  • With the right motivation, Daddies are underrated and capable and willing to do so much more than we want to admit or allow them to do.

That’s all the truisms for tonight but believe me there are a million more. I will be sharing. Please share your with me!

1 comment
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail
blogger, blogging, midlife crisis

I’m Debi and I’m an old school blogger. I started blogging 6 years ago ( well, it will be on May 7th). I’ve seen blogging change a lot.

I’ve noticed a definite trend in blogging lately.I’m seeing blogger “midlife” (of the blog) crisis happening almost daily. Everything that is old is new again. Or at least this is what I’ve seen happening; quit blogging, start a new blog and then make a come back….when you never really left. I’m kind of missing the days of self contrived press releases about being lost in the dessert and rescued by your childhood boy scout leader.

I guess “quitting blogging” is a euphemism for “2 week hiatus” and “new blog” is what’s “on trend” these days. I’m not making light of the desire to quit blogging or feeling like you have stayed past your expiration date, the struggle is real, y’all. And of course it’s easier to start a shiny new blog than to try to restore the old one. That’s expensive and a lot of work.

Hell, I understand wanting a do over. Man, I started my blog way back before I knew bupkis about SEO. When I started blogging, I had one objective and that was to write. I wanted to share my stories with other moms so they knew they weren’t alone in this craziness that is motherhood (because, it is CRAZYTown all the way.)

blogger, blogging, midlife crisis

Then I made friends and built a community because I loved what I was doing. I was making connections by being me. Sure my photos were not professional caliber and I didn’t know shit about what sizes to use and this was way before Instagram, Vine or Pinterest existed.

It was me blogging alone at night after the babies went to sleep and in between constant wakings. Co-sleeping was simultaneously awesome and killing me( especially the random head-butts it the middle of the night). I didn’t sleep a lot in those days but I craved the human interaction that blogging brought into my solitude life of new motherhood. You guys kept me company for two entire years while my husband lived out of state for work. You ladies (and gentlemen) saved my sanity and probably my life. YOU made it all tolerable and I survived.

Back then, I used Twitter like a phone and those 140 characters were my battle cry to whoever would listen. It was my mom 911. I made so many amazing connections; personal and business. There were no concerns of tweeting out links. Hell, I never even considered it. That was absolutely shitting where you ate. I would never text my IRL friends my links 3x plus a day and I would certainly never talk over their tweets or hijack their hashtags for my own benefit. In my defense, I’m not an asshole nor did I know what the heck a hashtag was.

Facebook was for sharing my posts, if I remembered but mostly it was for connecting to my readers. It wasn’t me virtually shouting ,”Look at me! Read what I wrote! Validate me!” It was, “Hey, so-and-so did the baby sleep through the night? How is the potty training going? Hey, you, if you need me, I’m here!” It was fun. It meant something. It was something I looked forward to. It was definitely not bugging strangers to play Farm games, JAMBERRY and poking people. HOW RUDE! I took social media and applied all the rules of real life to it and it was a beautiful thing. It worked.

People commented. We had conversations. I commented. I cared. You cared. We were invested.I craved to know their stories; their real stories. They felt safe enough to say something more than, “True.” I devoured the struggles and the triumphs. When I commented, I felt that it meant something to the person on the receiving end other than just traffic. It felt like community and friendship.

Then money came into it. Money is good and getting paid to do what you love is probably the best job that you can get. For a long time, I was naïve. I still didn’t notice traffic like I should. Hell, I didn’t even know how to check my traffic until Jessica told me to put Statcounter on my site. I had Google Analytics but I had no idea how to use it.

Then more money came and more jobs! Oh the writing jobs. I couldn’t turn any down. I just couldn’t believe someone would pay me to do this. I got to stay home with my girls, write about it and get paid. What??????

More jobs came. Then traffic goals became a thing. My free time was no longer free and soon, I felt like in order to be a good blogger I was becoming a shitty mom and that brought guilt. I decided I couldn’t live with myself in that state. My priority is to be the best mom I can be to my girls and wife to my husband but I want to be fulfilled personally too and it shouldn’t all have to be exclusive. I want to be happy.

By this point, I depend on my money. More money, more problems and all that shite. I found myself having less and less time for conversations and engagement. I started scheduling social and realizing that all of those amazing women that had gotten me through the lean years began to fall through the cracks. I still craved the conversations, the connections; the friendship. I missed every single one of you.

Then I became one of those assholes who checked her numbers constantly. I tweeted links a lot. I shared links on Facebook, Instagram and Google+. I pinned my posts and shared to Tumbler and even Linkedin on occasion. To be fair, I’ve always shared other people’s stuff too but I just didn’t get to read and comment like I wanted to. I shared it so that I could come back to it. My intentions were good.

I was writing everywhere and I began to feel like the Truthful Mommy train was over saturating the market. I’m sure you all got sick of me and I know that you knew that you could find me anywhere so why bother coming to read me on my actual website. It was too much.

I lost touch with many of you because I had so many deadlines and not enough hours in the day. It wasn’t fun anymore, it was a job. I was working really hard to build something but I’m not quite sure what it was that I was trying to build. I lost myself in the middle of my journey.

I’m not quitting my blog to reinvent myself. I’m addicted. I’ve been doing some face-lifting. Last fall, I changed the website. It’s not The TRUTH about Motherhood anymore…it is now simply just The TRUTH (because it’s not been just about motherhood for a very long time) I’ve learned that I need to organize so that I can actually spend quality time really engaging again. I’ve realized there is no shame in admitting that my blog needs some work done under the hood. I also know that some things are worth the price, this is one of them.

I’m going to pass on the Blogger Midlife crisis. I like my husband a lot, I need to give my girls more of my time this summer and I want to keep focusing on my health journey. I want to get back to writing because I love it. I want to have conversations with you. I want to surround myself with my tribe and I want us to grow together. I want my posts to be to the point where sometimes you’ll read 1355 word post and not mind because it meant something. I want us all to get lost in our stories. Who’s with me?

Disclosure: SEO was not considered once while writing this post. This post will never go viral because people don’t share like they used to. I don’t care because I enjoyed “talking” to you this morning. Let’s do it again soon.

 

 

2 comments
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail

You all had such a great response to the throw backs that no one ever read before last week, that I decided to share a few more of these missed gems!Hope you enjoy!

 

Playdates; A brief deviation from my sequence

Four years have passed since the birth of my first child, that means it has been just about 3 years and 3 months ( give or take) since we entered the world of play dates. I know, we were late to the scene. What can I say. Anyways,I digress. So,at that time we had recently relocated to a new part of the country. I, being bound and determined to give my child the best childhood ever ( because that is my quest , you know),signed us up for a couple of the “it” classes that are imperative for children at that age, if they are to become anyone later in life. We go to our classes and I cast my net. I try and gauge from our brief encounters and the public interactions of Mommies with their children, who just might be worthy of our friendship, or at the very least, which other Mommies were on “my” level. I know, it sounds horrible when you say it out loud. Keep in mind, this scenario is very much like freshman year in college. You are scared, alone, new to the area and willing to befriend and accept just about anyone into your “clique”. You’ve got to start a clique so you can be a part of something. So, to recap, we have a need to belong to the best clique (for our children’s benefit, of course) but we are so desperate we end up being play date friends with anyone who’ll have us. That is until we get our bearings and regain our senses. In most cases, the original play date relationship dynamic devolves and eventually ends in a slow, painful death. You see, the original net we cast to catch some play date friends usually has a lot of throw backs.Just like freshman year, we find ourselves floundering to unmake the original friendships because we find that we have absolutely nothing in common, except for our one common denominator, said children. Unfortunately, this is not usually enough to sustain a real friendship but it can foster a false sense of belonging. It seems to be ingrained into our minds that we need to subject ourselves to rejection in order to feel accepted. I don’t know why we do this as people, little lone as Mommies because then we are dragging these poor children into this pit and doing it all under the guise that “this is whats best for my baby”. In our hearts, we mean only good and can never, at its inception, perceive or fathom what twilight zone like situations we may soon find ourselves in! Much more to share about play dates, but we will save that for another day!

Rantings of a Crazy woman; 1st Pregnancy

So, that brings us to the gloriousness of pregnancy. Well, for me, pregnancy was pretty glorious. I only gained 18 lbs. with my pregnancies (of course I started out on the chunky side), mild all day sickness with my first, I had an ass for the 1st time in my life (not so bad), boobs got a little bigger, no hemorrhoids, no excess gas, still loved sex, still slept on my belly, no stretch marks (well, one but it disappeared after birth).No craziness. I just basked in the glory of my pregnancy. It was amazing and I devoured all the attention, ate whatever I wanted (that was allowed), was completely engulfed in the whole experience. Read every book (with and to my husband), sharing facts like they were going out of style. Rented a Doppler, sang to my fetus, played music to it, talked to it, swayed it to sleep. Everything about it was amazing. Took every class, drove a little slower, and kept a journal of my pregnancy. No one told me that I should pamper myself, because it was the last time I’d be able to do anything alone, for the rest of my life. Oh, to go to the toilet without a chaperone trying to eat the toothpaste. Those were the days. But, I wouldn’t trade one moment of toothpaste eating tag to pee alone again, if it meant that I didn’t have my daughters. Alone time is over rated anyways, yeah, just like date nights and spontaneous sex, said the jealous, tired Mommy. That was my first pregnancy!

What really happens the second time around

Fast forward to two years later, we have a beautiful, now demanding toddler (whom I am completely in love with) who wants all of my time, every waking moment. Who decided long ago that co-sleeping was the thing for her, and is still in our bed, with no end in sight? Not that I mind, it’s comforting to see your child’s cherubesque face in the middle of the night when you awaken to pee for the 7th time because you’re 9 months pregnant. But it makes it hard to bask in the glory of the pregnancy of baby number 2, when baby number 1, is still a baby. Still I only gained 18, ok 20, lbs. But for some reason I seemed a lot bigger. Last time, I didn’t even show until I was 8 months pregnant. Seriously, I was thicker in the waist but at my baby shower (2 months before my daughter was born) people were teasing me that I didn’t look pregnant. And I really didn’t, well, only in my ass So here I am, bigger than before, chasing a toddler who has the energy of a boxer puppy on crack cocaine, and I am absolutely drained. I had all day sickness from hell, for 4 months. I had to wear sea sick bands! I looked pretty ridiculous. No one was quite as impressed the second time around. Don’t get me wrong, we were all ecstatic. We planned for baby #2, and got pregnant right away, it was just different because the time that I used to bask in my procreating glory last time, was now being used to shuttle a 2 year old to classes, play dates, and constantly try and explain/prepare her for her new baby sister. I was obsessed with making baby # 1 not feel left out or abandoned by the pending arrival of baby #2. It was exhausting.

2 year old Selective Hearing Syndrome and other nuggets of wisdom

I have began to wonder why none, not one,of the parenting books mentions that around the age of 2 children develop selective hearing.Hearing only the things that they want to hear and specifically those things that you don’t want them to hear such as the occasional stump your toe curse word or the fact that your friend needs to lose a couple pounds. Of course they choose to hold on to these nuggets until the most inappropriate times for instance, said friend’s nervous breakdown over her looks, or they blurt out some unexpected four lettered gem in the middle of mass.Why is this information not labeled with a warning in the parenting books. Is it just another one of those secrets we keep because it is too much fun to watch the provisionals experience the embarrassment and humiliation that we ourselves did, not so long ago?Beware this is quite frequently co morbid with Constant Repeat disorder. In a nutshell, not unlike my child, your child ignores you and repeats anything they say constantly as to make sure that you have not acquired their selective hearing syndrome.My daughter’s favorite repeat phrase is ” M..o..m…m.y…EAT!” It is usually repeated in sets of no less then 7 times. Furthermore, even more concerning then the 2 year old selective hearing syndrome, there is the very common but temporary ( I am hoping) 4 year old complete d
eafness disease. This is a little more frustrating because the onset is normally around the age of 3 to 3 and 1/2 years of age and continues on to about the age of 6, only to reappear at around age 11.So, that is something to look forward to in the coming years. My daughter’s particular strain of the disease leaves her completely deaf to any and all requests from her father and I, of any kind, especially those requests that pertain to the well being of her little sister, aforementioned victim of selective hearing syndrome. Sometimes it can be quite scary when you are asking, repeatedly, for the child to stop beating on their sibling, sitting on their sibling,annoying their sibling, doing something dangerous, to eat, be quiet or clean or pick up anything and the child simply does not hear your voice in any form. They become completely oblivious to the parent who is making said requests. Sometimes, we are overcome with the desire to shake said child but don’t give in. At the very moment you move towards the child, like a bunny, they scamper and scurry to another room. Leaving you even more frustrated because with 4 year old complete deafness disease, once in another room deafness is absolute and there is no hope for said child to hear anything you will ever say fro the remainder of the day..possibly ever again!

1 comment
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail
menstruation, co-sleeping, co-toileting, attachment parenting, humor, raising girls

Today, I am going to tell you a little story about raising daughters and menstruation. No, it has nothing to do with half-naked selfies but it just might be TMI so if you are squeamish about lady parts or feminine hygiene products and the such, I should warn you do not read any further. If you faint at the sight of blood? Stop! Do not continue reading! Back the truck up and run in the other direction.Go. Run. Fast. It’s about to get real up in here. For real, for real!

As many of you know, I have two little girls that I am trying to raise with self-confidence, independence and verve for life. I want them to live life so fully that they just grab it with both hands and jump. I want them to live life on their own terms. I want happiness and equality for them but more than anything else, I want them to always know they can come to me.about.anything. ANYTHING! That includes pubic hair, menstruation, boobs and yes, even sex, masturbation and childbirth.

I parent with honesty and openness. I want them to ask questions. We talk about everything. If they ask, I answer. I am trying to build trust and respect to compliment the unconditional love. I want them to not only be children that I love but people that I like and I hope they feel the same way about me one day but today, I am their mommy and my job is to mother them.

Anyways, sometimes even when you think you are doing it right, things get muddled and you are left wondering WTH just happened? This is what happened to me yesterday in the bathroom at Panda Express. Don’t judge.

The girls had their well visits yesterday and got a surprise Hepatitis vaccination and flu mist sprung on them. That did not go over very well so to “help the medicine go down” we promised them a dinner out. It was the least we could do.

In the middle of dinner, my littlest one informed me that she MUST go to the potty or she will “actually” pee herself. Her words, not mine. Obviously, that’s kid code for four-alarm code yellow. I realized that I could use a little tinkle and check myself, so off we went. Of course, we travel in packs, where one goes, so shall the other and with that, per usual, we had 3 girls in a stall. Only once we got in there, I realized shark week was back with a vengeance.This was a straight up Jaws emergency. If you know what I mean?

FYI, public restrooms are not the place to tackle the subject of menstruation.

The girls have always gone into the bathroom stall with me in public places if I have to use the facilities. Its just the way it’s always been; co-sleeping and co-toileting, attachment parenting gone wild.I don’t want them to get abducted but I also don’t want to give step-by-step directions on how to use a tampon yet either.  I practice discretionary, ninja-like tampon changing skills. They know that sometimes mommy gets a “booboo”. They think a tampon is like a Band-Aid for your vagina and they are sort of right. But they are getting older and we just had the conversation in May about puberty and periods, thanks to a dog that went into premature heat.

I asked the girls to turn around. They do and I successfully execute my quick change and flush. This is nothing I ever thought I would be doing in my life, then again I never thought I would randomly be smelling baby’s butts in public restaurants either. How the mighty have fallen. Remember, a baby changes everything and all that shit?

Only, life hates me and the toilet is one of those green, low-flow, crunchy granola Woodstock, no bra-wearing, hairy armpit bastards and no match for the super duper, no-holds barred, epic nuclear- reactive, cotton torpedo that I needed to use that day to keep the sharks at bay. So everything flushes. Except.the.Damn.Tampon! It re-appears waterlogged and even larger than before and as it does, in slow motion, both girls turn around to see it breaking the surface of the pink toilet water. Then this happened.

Menstruation happened!

Gabs (screaming at the top of her lungs): “Oh no! Mommy, I saw blood!!!!”

Me: “Remember I told you what happened with the dog?”

Gabs (whispering and completely serious): “Oh my God, Mommy, did you just go into heat???”

Me (dying of laughter on the inside, trying my damnest to keep a straight face): “No honey. People don’t go into heat. We have periods.”

Gabs: “Oh because I was scared we were going to have to keep you inside because all the daddies in the neighborhood were going to try to jump on you.”

Then, I died.

And just like that shark week wasn’t so bad anymore. Have you ever been caught in a state of shark week? How did you explain menstruation to your little one?

27 comments
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail

You all had such a great response to the throw backs that no one ever read before last week, that I decided to share a few more of these missed gems!Hope you enjoy!

 

Playdates; A brief deviation from my sequence

Four years have passed since the birth of my first child, that means it has been just about 3 years and 3 months ( give or take) since we entered the world of play dates. I know, we were late to the scene. What can I say. Anyways,I digress. So,at that time we had recently relocated to a new part of the country. I, being bound and determined to give my child the best childhood ever ( because that is my quest , you know),signed us up for a couple of the “it” classes that are imperative for children at that age, if they are to become anyone later in life. We go to our classes and I cast my net. I try and gauge from our brief encounters and the public interactions of Mommies with their children, who just might be worthy of our friendship, or at the very least, which other Mommies were on “my” level. I know, it sounds horrible when you say it out loud. Keep in mind, this scenario is very much like freshman year in college. You are scared, alone, new to the area and willing to befriend and accept just about anyone into your “clique”. You’ve got to start a clique so you can be a part of something. So, to recap, we have a need to belong to the best clique (for our children’s benefit, of course) but we are so desperate we end up being play date friends with anyone who’ll have us. That is until we get our bearings and regain our senses. In most cases, the original play date relationship dynamic devolves and eventually ends in a slow, painful death. You see, the original net we cast to catch some play date friends usually has a lot of throw backs.Just like freshman year, we find ourselves floundering to unmake the original friendships because we find that we have absolutely nothing in common, except for our one common denominator, said children. Unfortunately, this is not usually enough to sustain a real friendship but it can foster a false sense of belonging. It seems to be ingrained into our minds that we need to subject ourselves to rejection in order to feel accepted. I don’t know why we do this as people, little lone as Mommies because then we are dragging these poor children into this pit and doing it all under the guise that “this is whats best for my baby”. In our hearts, we mean only good and can never, at its inception, perceive or fathom what twilight zone like situations we may soon find ourselves in! Much more to share about play dates, but we will save that for another day!

Rantings of a Crazy woman; 1st Pregnancy

So, that brings us to the gloriousness of pregnancy. Well, for me, pregnancy was pretty glorious. I only gained 18 lbs. with my pregnancies (of course I started out on the chunky side), mild all day sickness with my first, I had an ass for the 1st time in my life (not so bad), boobs got a little bigger, no hemorrhoids, no excess gas, still loved sex, still slept on my belly, no stretch marks (well, one but it disappeared after birth).No craziness. I just basked in the glory of my pregnancy. It was amazing and I devoured all the attention, ate whatever I wanted (that was allowed), was completely engulfed in the whole experience. Read every book (with and to my husband), sharing facts like they were going out of style. Rented a Doppler, sang to my fetus, played music to it, talked to it, swayed it to sleep. Everything about it was amazing. Took every class, drove a little slower, and kept a journal of my pregnancy. No one told me that I should pamper myself, because it was the last time I’d be able to do anything alone, for the rest of my life. Oh, to go to the toilet without a chaperone trying to eat the toothpaste. Those were the days. But, I wouldn’t trade one moment of toothpaste eating tag to pee alone again, if it meant that I didn’t have my daughters. Alone time is over rated anyways, yeah, just like date nights and spontaneous sex, said the jealous, tired Mommy. That was my first pregnancy!

What really happens the second time around

Fast forward to two years later, we have a beautiful, now demanding toddler (whom I am completely in love with) who wants all of my time, every waking moment. Who decided long ago that co-sleeping was the thing for her, and is still in our bed, with no end in sight? Not that I mind, it’s comforting to see your child’s cherubesque face in the middle of the night when you awaken to pee for the 7th time because you’re 9 months pregnant. But it makes it hard to bask in the glory of the pregnancy of baby number 2, when baby number 1, is still a baby. Still I only gained 18, ok 20, lbs. But for some reason I seemed a lot bigger. Last time, I didn’t even show until I was 8 months pregnant. Seriously, I was thicker in the waist but at my baby shower (2 months before my daughter was born) people were teasing me that I didn’t look pregnant. And I really didn’t, well, only in my ass So here I am, bigger than before, chasing a toddler who has the energy of a boxer puppy on crack cocaine, and I am absolutely drained. I had all day sickness from hell, for 4 months. I had to wear sea sick bands! I looked pretty ridiculous. No one was quite as impressed the second time around. Don’t get me wrong, we were all ecstatic. We planned for baby #2, and got pregnant right away, it was just different because the time that I used to bask in my procreating glory last time, was now being used to shuttle a 2 year old to classes, play dates, and constantly try and explain/prepare her for her new baby sister. I was obsessed with making baby # 1 not feel left out or abandoned by the pending arrival of baby #2. It was exhausting.

2 year old Selective Hearing Syndrome and other nuggets of wisdom

I have began to wonder why none, not one,of the parenting books mentions that around the age of 2 children develop selective hearing.Hearing only the things that they want to hear and specifically those things that you don’t want them to hear such as the occasional stump your toe curse word or the fact that your friend needs to lose a couple pounds. Of course they choose to hold on to these nuggets until the most inappropriate times for instance, said friend’s nervous breakdown over her looks, or they blurt out some unexpected four lettered gem in the middle of mass.Why is this information not labeled with a warning in the parenting books. Is it just another one of those secrets we keep because it is too much fun to watch the provisionals experience the embarrassment and humiliation that we ourselves did, not so long ago?Beware this is quite frequently co morbid with Constant Repeat disorder. In a nutshell, not unlike my child, your child ignores you and repeats anything they say constantly as to make sure that you have not acquired their selective hearing syndrome.My daughter’s favorite repeat phrase is ” M..o..m…m.y…EAT!” It is usually repeated in sets of no less then 7 times. Furthermore, even more concerning then the 2 year old selective hearing syndrome, there is the very common but temporary ( I am hoping) 4 year old complete deafness
disease. This is a little more frustrating because the onset is normally around the age of 3 to 3 and 1/2 years of age and continues on to about the age of 6, only to reappear at around age 11.So, that is something to look forward to in the coming years. My daughter’s particular strain of the disease leaves her completely deaf to any and all requests from her father and I, of any kind, especially those requests that pertain to the well being of her little sister, aforementioned victim of selective hearing syndrome. Sometimes it can be quite scary when you are asking, repeatedly, for the child to stop beating on their sibling, sitting on their sibling,annoying their sibling, doing something dangerous, to eat, be quiet or clean or pick up anything and the child simply does not hear your voice in any form. They become completely oblivious to the parent who is making said requests. Sometimes, we are overcome with the desire to shake said child but don’t give in. At the very moment you move towards the child, like a bunny, they scamper and scurry to another room. Leaving you even more frustrated because with 4 year old complete deafness disease, once in another room deafness is absolute and there is no hope for said child to hear anything you will ever say fro the remainder of the day..possibly ever again!

2 comments
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail

The other morning I woke up; the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and , by all accounts, it was going to be a beautiful day. I lay there for a moment enjoying the silence.Quiet, the whole house was still. All that I heard was the faint sound of the wind chimes, like the bells from some distant church. Absolutely everything was perfect. Then, from out of nowhere, I get a miniature sized karate chop to the face.It startled me at first, as it does every morning.Then I roll over to see the cherub like visage of my 1 year old, still sleeping. Her light brown hair lay in a ratted jumble, spread out amongst the pillows and she is completely oblivious to the pain in which she has just inflicted. I smile, how could I not at such a face. So, I lay there, still as a mouse, trying to preserve every last moment of the silence. Oh, how I adore my children when they are asleep. They resemble perfect little angels with their perfect milky skin all aglow, their hair tousled in chaotic perfection, as they lie there in complete peacefulness. I am envious and , at the same time, I feel so much love for them that my heart feels as if I can not contain it. I can not leave the bed of my sweet co sleeper, for fear that the moment that my feet hit the ground, the spell will be broken and she will awake. So, I lie there, for what seems like an eternity, waiting for her to awaken on her own. The silence, really is wonderful. I close my eyes and decide to make the best of it. I resign myself to peacefulness and at the very moment that I settle into sleep, the door bursts open and my 4 year old screams “Good morning , Mama!” Waking her sister, breaking the spell, ending the silence, my sunshine has arrived.

——————————————————————————–

0 comment
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail
parenting, how to survive parenting, mom mantra, exhausted mom

Ever find yourself Googling how to survive parenting? My girls are past the toddler years and we even lived through the threenager years…twice! We’ve survived the first days of school and those first years of the insecurity of the early years of elementary school and learning to coexist with others. We are falling fast, headlong into prepubescence and the tween years, which as far as I can decipher is basically a much taller, more vocal threenager who has perfected the eye roll so well that she just may injure herself doing so. It nearly gave me whip lash just being on the receiving end of one earlier this weekend. Yet, at the same time, they are my most favorite people.

It seems like forever ago that we were worrying ourselves silly about every single choice we made when they were newborns and even longer since bringing them home that first day and sleeping with the lights on so that we could watch every breath she took to make sure that she was still alive. I remember the overwhelming fear that I was going to somehow break this precious piece of perfection the minute those insane doctors allowed me to leave the hospital with this brand spanking new perfect newborn.

The point is that parenting is overwhelming at every age. It never gets easier it only gets different. That’s why we mothers have this mantra, and you might not even realize that it is yours, “Can’t stop, Won’t Stop.” I wish there was some sort of mom bat signal that we could shine out to other mothers in the dead of night like a bat mom rescue signal, or there was some sort of letter we could pin on our chest to signal to other mothers that we are exhausted and overwhelmed and in desperate need of a moment of silence, a nap, a hug or just an ear to listen. Instead, we’re all like the little mom that could…just chugging along, praying, “I think I can, I think I can” hoping to survive until our partner gets home from work. We mark our days by putting out metaphorical fires and surviving one catastrophe to the next. It’s not really living so much as its survival.

I’ve been a mom for 11 years now and I can tell you, if it gets easier, it’s not in those first 11 years but I’ve picked up some pointers along the way. Being a parent is hard work, especially when you consider what’s at stake; your sanity, your children’s lives and your quality of life. Oh and your partner, can’t forget about him or her because even if you’re in this shit show together, you’re not really. One of you is doing more work. But who’s keeping score?

How to survive parenting?

When the girls were littler, back in the days when I had a 2 and 4-year-old (and honestly, for a few years after that) every 3 months I’d have a meltdown. I needed the release. Those were my limitations; 3 solids months of non-stop doing my best parenting and then I needed a good cry (a sobbing your face off ugly cry.) In retrospect, I’m not sure if I was crying from feeling like a failure to my children, sucking at making time for my husband, the catastrophic state of what was my home or mourning for my life, the one I knew I would never have again.

I know it had a lot to do with being left on my own to figure it out while my husband worked out of state. I never felt so lonely and overwhelmed as I did in those days even though I was never technically alone (little people had attached themselves to me like barnacles and for 97% if the time I loved it but for the other 3% I felt like I was that guy in the Scream painting by Edvard Munch.) I wasn’t even allowed time alone to hear myself think. Not sure if it was from missing someone to help with the parenting, having someone to talk to about it or the feeling like when he came home on the weekends the Big Guy was secretly thinking to himself, what the hell has she been doing all week…this house looks like a tornado hit it. All I know is that I spent a lot of the early years of parenting feeling buried inside myself; unseen, unheard and invisible (well, unless you consider being a human feed machine, booger and ass wiper and always eating cold food while tiny people asked me a zillion questions being visible…ironically, those were the moments when I really wished I could be invisible.)

The thing is I loved every single moment of it and I hated it too. I loved (still do) my children more than anything else but I put myself on the back burner. I lost myself to a mom uniform (mine was yoga pants and t-shirts, for some it’s a pair of jeans and a sweater or a comfy maxi-dress) and a soft body (because who the hell has the time or the energy to work out when they have little kids). I became unrecognizable on the outside, even to myself. I was in survival mode or maybe it was beast mode, “Can’t stop. Won’t stop!” Because when little people’s lives are depending on you, there is no option even when you want to collapse and say you quit (and we’ve all wanted to. You beautiful exhausted mom reading this, you’re not alone and I see you.) It’s okay. We’ve all wanted to tell the boss to take this job and shove it at one point or another.

The thing is, like I said, it doesn’t get any easier but it gets better. My theory is that babies are born so freakishly cute to us so that when they keep us up all night and take us to the brink of insanity we can be soothed by a coo or a smile. As they get a little older, they get even cuter and that is because those are the real butthole years. Oh if those adorable little smiles didn’t melt our hearts, parents would probably be abandoning threenagers on the carousel at the mall at an alarming rate. Then, they settle in at absolutely freaking adorable from the ages of 4- about 10ish; everything they do is sunshine and out mommy/ daddy hearts almost explode. Then one day, we wake up and they are tweens and they are kind of smelly and starting to perfect that whip lash inducing eye roll that I was warning you about. I hear that over the next few years they become heinous back talkers who know everything and go through a rough patch physically, I think this is nature’ way of making sure our parent hearts survive their departure to college. Otherwise we’d all die or follow them. At this juncture, I can’t guarantee I won’t do both.

The secret to surviving these early years is acceptance. Accept that it really does go by at lightning speed and accept that you love them more than you really want to admit so much so that you worry at night that it might kill you dead if they ever leave you or God forbid, something terrible happens to them. The bottom line is that parenthood is minutia peppered with misery and profound moments of bliss and it’s the most amazing, wonderful thing that any of us will ever be a part of but it also kind of sucks and that’s okay too.

Let it go. Perfection is not attainable in parenting. In fact, it’s a moving target. Do your best, love your children, love yourself and love your partner. Don’t worry so much about the house and laundry, they will still be there tomorrow (unfortunately, I know this first hand). Don’t be afraid to share your struggles with other moms, think of it as your own personal bat mom signal. Talking about it really does help. Why do you think I started this blog in the first place? Believe me, your kids are not the only ones bickering constantly, talking back, not sleeping and living on chicken nuggets and good looks. You are not alone!

Make time to hear yourself think because your thoughts are important. Steal moments to catch your breath and every once in a while, lock the door when you go pee, drive alone with the music you like to hear cranked up 10 decibels too loud for your toddler’s ears and just try to remember that you are still a person and you are not alone. We (the other moms) see you. I promise you, one-day sooner than you think, you will be alone with your thoughts again and you’ll be able to take the time to shower, shave and dress like an adult.  You’ll even get to eat warm food and talk to adults again and you will most definitely miss these exhausted, overwhelming moments of now. Did I mention that I cried like a baby the first day that both girls were in school all day long?

Of course, that’s about the same time your “babies” will start throwing you major shade and rolling their eyes at you like it was their job but it’s also about the time you can have real, meaningful conversations with them because they are becoming adults. There’s that damn misery profound bliss thing again.

I see you. What’s the one moment in parenting that you really wished you could send out a bat mom signal and have someone come to your rescue? Let’s have a conversation, share it in the comments.

What’s your one tip you’d give another mom for how to survive parenting?

0 comment
0 FacebookTwitterPinterestLinkedinStumbleuponEmail

This website uses cookies to improve your experience. We'll assume you're ok with this, but you can opt-out if you wish. Accept Read More