I sometimes forget how important it is to have friends. I get so wrapped up in my own mind, with my day to day activities and errands, children, husband, that I completely become oblivious to the things that I need, as me, the person. There is so little time left for that part of me that I forget what makes her tick, her wants and needs. A long time ago, before husband and kids, when I was just “Me”, I used to have a plethora of friends. I was every ones friend and everyone was my friend. I don’t mean those superficial acquaintances that we let pass for friendship , as we get older, but honest to goodness, tell all your business to friends. Now, they are pretty far and few between and damn near impossible to make a true friendship.First of all because who has the time and energy to get above a dull murmur of attention to first finding and then investing in a real friendship.I mean once you are an adult with all these other responsibilities, who has time to form friendships, real ones? Secondly, now its not just you. You have to like them, the kids have to get along, and almost impossible, the husbands have to like each other and not annoy the hell out of the potential friend. So, we are looking at what , a 1 in a million chance?So, definitely near the impossibility level. So, we must cherish the friends we have who knew us when we were us, before we became who we are:)We also must be open to new friendships, no matter how impossible they may seem. Sometimes friendships find us, when we least expect them. I still have my friends from when I was “Me” but we have either grown up, grown apart, moved apart or moved on.Some of the friendships have grown together and evolved into deeper more meaningful friendships and some have devolved or disappeared completely. But every once in awhile, someone comes along and they feel like a forever friend and those are the ones who usually end up in it for the long haul.I have a friend that I met in college and we have been through holding each others hair in college and going to frat parties, being in each others weddings, pregnancies, children, jobs.A hundred years could pass and we always can pick right back up where we left off. That is true friendship. To find that in adulthood, is amazing. When you find a friend, a real ,honest to goodness friend, who you can talk with, laugh with, and most importantly be yourself and not feel like you are being judged or on an interview;nurture those friendships, put your heart and the time into them.They will grow like a garden if you give them the attention they deserve and you will be happier having done so. As adults, we let a lot of the luxuries of life disappear because we feel like we have to give all of ourselves to our families and careers. But if we don’t keep something for ourselves, really what do we have to give them? So, don’t underestimate the power of a good friend. Sometimes they can be your lifeline back to the real “you”.
Search results for: “back school/page/56/”https:/jessicagottlieb.com”/ https:/www.target.com/c/kids-back-to-school/-/N-5xtyp”
A bubonically bitching week
It’s been one of those weeks. The girls have both been sick for a week, I am sick, my husband comes home this weekend and he is getting sick. Everybody feels like crap, we stay in our jams, there’s barfing, coughing up lungs, spitting ( oh yeah..so ladylike), fevers galore, me putting the girls in luke warm baths to bring down fevers ( any idea what that’s like? Its like bathing a cat!) and thermometers sticking out of every orifice in the house. It’s basically been a three ring sick circus and I’ve been designated the damn ring master of Germapalooza. Just for the record, its no fun being the ring master when you feel like shit. Summer sickness? What is that? At least when I am sick in the winter, I feel like the malaise is confined to my body; my person. In the summertime, with the heat, I feel like the entire universe is conspiring to kill me. It is horrendous.Couple that with having to watch more poor babies be sick, the helplessness that comes with that in itself; I feel absolutely miserable! You all know how badly I felt this week, I mean Monday I called my own Mommy for help. (She didn’t come but that’s another story altogether).Here, I am walking around in a fever induced delirium trying to force fluids and keep track of meds for my girls, charting temps, rationing toast,and wiping noses and asses…all week long…all while trying not to pass out myself. Is that even safe? Fortunately for me, a family who is sick and ailing together..naps together. Ahh, naps, you sweet , sweet bastards you helped me survive this week.
Amidst all of this bubonic bliss, I couldn’t help but take a little inventory of my house and myself. Brilliant , right? I look in the mirror and see the crypt keeper with bed head, eye boogers and fever blisters. Pretty , right? What’s more pathetic is I look at my usually adorable kids and the poor babies, they look like..well, the crypt keepers children. Worse than that, I do care but I am too sick and tired to do anything about it. So, I put the kids on the sofas and we lie there in our ugly silence , sipping tepid water, wiping our noses and watching Netflix! Then , my crazy little over active brain takes over. It’s been known to do that. I’m a thinker, sometimes I wish I could just be vacuous…blissfully vacuous!
In true Mommy fashion, I decided that every morning before I started feeling my worst, I would make an attempt to clean my house. As a general rule, I have been working until I feel faint from the cold meds. (I learned that lesson the hard way while trying to place some decor above the kitchen cabinets. I turned around so quickly on the chair that I got dizzy and lost footing. Thank God I caught myself, the hospital would have locked my girls and I away for good if we came into the emergency room looking the way we did.) After almost falling and or collapsing for the third time, I decided to give myself over to the disease and accept that sometimes we just need to take off our Mommy Super woman cape and say,” To hell with it, I need a nap!” Because in the end, who cares what we look like or the house looks like when we are sick..we’re sick. What is important is that we take care of ourselves so that we can get well…and take care of our sick husbands! At least that’s what I’ve been told!Happy and Healthy Mothering!Throat Punch Thursday; THis time its personal
Look closely at the picture, recognize anybody? Yeah, that would be me ( not really) but figuratively I belong right in front of that dang kangaroo’s right hook or maybe he’s trying to choke me out. I’m not sure but after this week, either way….I deserve it!
Yes, I am awarding, none other than, myself the coveted award.Sorry Ladies, you can’t have it this week. Why, you ask yourself. Well, it has something to do with the fact that its 10 pm and my girls are still up ( bad parenting 101) and a lot more to do with this….
Yes, Ladies, to my disgust and shame that is my garage. Fool that I am , I thought it would be a good idea to participate in the neighborhood garage sale ( you know in the spirit of cleansing and moving forward and not backward..blahblahblah..my new mantra). What an idiot I was. Did I mention I just took the picture and the sale is in the morning at around 8 am. This neighborhood sale is no joke..strictly for professionals. I am totally an amateur at this, to say the least. While in my garage pricing merchandise, I had buyers casing my garage as they walked their dogs through our neighborhood ( yeah, they don’t live here). So, that means tomorrow there will be people ready to buy at about 7:55 am and this is the state my garage is in. Nothing is on tables, nothing is hung, I’m stressing out, the kids are running wild.Again, did I mention its almost 11 pm and they are still stirring. I’d better check, don’t want to be like the winner of last weeks Worst Mom Ever award . Nope the girls are still in
theirmy bed. ( yeah, that’s an entirely different post for another night). Oh well, I will get it together in the morning . I do my best work under stress, its a fact! So, this week I am giving myself a nice long punch directly to the throat, with any luck it will render me unconscious and I will get to bed at a reasonable time and be functional at 6 am when Ineedhave to be up to prep the joint for the lovelyvulturescustomers. Here’s hoping I can raise the money to buy the girls one of those giant inflatable water slide thingys…I’ve heard those suckers really tucker the kids out. So, you see, it would really be a gift for Mama!That is if Grandma doesn’t take them and buy out all the neighbors junk, leaving me no room to house the giant water slide. Grandma likes to replenish me for next years sale. Happy Mothering!
Zya, The Ultimate Music Game
Have you heard of the Zya App? Neither had I. But then again, I don’t usually play many games online unless it’s Candy Crush or online casino games on 메리트카지노. Most of my game playing these days is limited to checkers and Rock Band marathons. We love music so when I heard about Zya, it sounded perfect for my girls.
Zya is a revolutionary new music game that allows anyone to create hit songs on their iPhones and iPads.
I particularly love it if we’re traveling with little ones. Give them a pair of headphones and let them go crazy. Give them the headphones or you will be the crazy one by the end of the trip.
My girls love it. It’s like their very own Rock Band game and they don’t have to wait for Mommy and Daddy to play guitar and drums because they can select their very own band. My girls love that they can sing duets with their famous artists and their hit songs like Blurred Lines, She Will Be Loved, Poker Face, and many others. They choose the songs, their band mates, instruments and what they want them to sound like. My girls are at the age where they really enjoy those games that allow you to style Barbie, so being able to choose what their avatars look like and how they sound is right up their alley.
It’ super simple to use and your kids, even the 4-year-olds will be able to figure out how to create music in a few easy steps. With autotune available no one will ever sound tone deaf ever again. It’s cool because it gives the kids a tangible outcome that they can show off to Grandma and Grandpa.
My girls are both musically inclined and love to sing and perform so this game is perfect for them. It gives them a creative outlet to play with and develop new music and sounds. They love the choices and different versions of favorite songs they can create. Here is a one of their creations.
Have you used the Zya app?
Disclaimer: I was compensated for reviewing this product but all opinions are my own.
Queen of the Masses
Lately, its been a real chore to get my 2 year old, Gabs, to sit quiet and still during mass. I’m sure it has something to do with her being 2, her being bored, it being spring, and a laundry list of other reasons. The main reason being that she is 2. I am lucky enough to go to a church with , what I’d consider, to be one of the highest kid to adult ratios. In fact, I am sure there are more children then there are adults. When children’s liturgy convenes, at minimum, 2/3rds of the church disappears. Yes, they are true Catholics. Some parents have as many as 8 children. God bless them. I have 2 and it feels like 10. What must eight feel like? 40? These women look relatively beautiful and composed. I think I may be one of the most disheveled of the bunch. I always come to mass armed; snack, drink, book, baby, barbie. We normally don’t sit in the crying room because well, the entire church is a crying room (refer to inordinate amount of children:) The girls come in and sit right down in their pretty little matching dresses ( yes, I am one of those Moms. My girls match. Hey, they are 2 and 5, really, how much longer will I be able to do this? Don’t feel too sorry for them. I don’t dress them funny or anything.) and they sit down. They look so innocent. I always
thinkhope that this will be the day. This will be the day they behave for the entire mass. One can dream. Gabs normally gets bored about 3 minutes in; as soon as everyone stands up and she can’t see. I offer to pick her up. I really do. But if her big sister is standing, then darn it, so is she. Then we sit. She starts asking for snacks, quite loudly. “MOmmmmmma…me WANT snack!” Me (whispering. dying of embarrassment): “One second sweetie. Wait til Father is finished with the opening prayer,please.” Gabs: “NOW!!” Yes, I am pretty sure all 5 rows surrounding us, front and back have heard. Hell, let’s be honest…Father heard and now my secrets out. I’m letting my kids snack in church. Shame on me. Last weekend, the bulletin asked that “all parishioners” keep their area of pews picked up before leaving mass; not leaving behind any wrappers, crumbs, etc. Yeah, I’m pretty sure he was referring to the Cheerios that rain down all over that church. Oops! At least I’m not the only one. I try to keep them picked up but I swear those things have legs. I am bringing one of those tiny hand held Dustbuster in my purse next time. I wonder how they would feel about me leaving behind a child:)
Anyways, so that is mass. Gabs making up words to all the hymns. Worse yet, she thinks it is hilarious to sing louder than anyone else around her. Her sister, Bella, she doesn’t always sing but she likes to get her groove on at church. She dances and sometimes she tries to make others dance as well (like unsuspecting little copy cat toddlers, who giggle with delight, as I get shot a “can’t you keep your kid still” stare. NO, NO I Can’t. Can you?” As long as it is relatively quiet and and the girls pay as much attentions as their little brains can muster, I am good. A+ for effort. Then, when I think its safe and we are almost outta that joint until the next weekend, time for Eucharist. The most holy time of the entire mass. The receiving of blessings and the body and blood of Christ. I look forward to it. It helps get me through to the next weekend. The girls always want to accompany me; they think the blessing received from the Father is the best (even though they both have been known to try and swipe a little body of Christ). We head up to the front of church in a line that lasts for about 15 minutes (its a huge church with all these wonderful parents and the plethora of children that they are blessed with). The whole time ,I am praying “Please God just let me make it to Father and safely back to the return trip to my pew!” I know you are thinking , why doesn’t she leave those brats in the pew. Seriously, you know what would happen. They’d scream the entire time.
This past week, we went to the front. The girls were perfect. They received their blessings, said amen, and promptly turned to return to our seats. I see the light of the open door at the back of the church and I think to myself..one more week, I made it. We’re safe. Or so I thought. As we are walking back, I am in holy hang your head enjoy the moment mode. I look up and I notice everybody smiling, on the verge of giggling. What the heck. Is my dress tucked in my panties. That’s not very Christian….Help a sister out. Then I see the eyes are fixed on my Gabs. My deliciously wonderful, over the top, not giving a shit what anybody thinks..Gabs! Apparently, she thought she had been elected Queen of the Mass. She was walking down the aisle doing the beauty queen wave to all her loyal subjects, complete with big cheesy Vaseline smile! OMG!!!! I can’t take these kids anywhere.
Can do attitude
I woke up this morning, all keyed up on sleep. I had an entire hour to myself before the girls woke up and boy was it nice. It gave me a false sense of hope and made me think that today, anything was possible. Oh yeah, you know the kind of day I’m talking about. You wake up, the birds are singing, the sun is shining, and you just know that you can accomplish anything.I was on top of the world, then life happened. First, I had my coffee, then I changed into my workout clothes. Of course, I did. Can do attitude told me that today was the first day of the rest of my life. I just knew I was going to power through the day, feed the kids some healthy meals, play outside, engage them in stimulating mental activities, spring clean, return those movies about to be due, pay bills, workout, return emails, make appointments, maybe even get to work from home, post a blog or two, save the world from domination of some sort.You know me…I’m Wonder woman. Sure am, wondering how the hell I am going to get all of this shit done in 24 hours. Don’t you just love it when amongst all of this craziness that is our life, the unexpected constantly happens. And its never anything good; like unexpectedly winning the lottery. No I am referring more along the lines of your pipes unexpectedly bursting, or maybe an unexpected bill. Or maybe a lovely phone call with the other person , way the frick out in who knows where, taking up your precious time to ask, “What cha doing?” “Hmmmm.,UMMMM, everything..and you are taking up my valuable time, ASSHOLE!” That is what this lovely day, so full of possibilites, turned into. Here I sit, just changed out of my work out clothes, never got to work out. Nope, the 3 hours it took to get my 2 year old to sleep at nap time and the 2 hours that it took to get my 5 year old down at bedtime…just about broke me down today. How is today suppose to be the first day of the rest of my life? I don’t want the rest of my life to be a series of dumb luck and complete madness. So, I will go to bed and start all over tomorrow. Can do attitude says it can be done. Failure is not an option and all that rigamarole. I bet can do attitude doesn’t have kids or a life! Damn you Can do attitude and all your false hope and security.Today was so crazy, I’m thinking of changing the name of this blog to the craziness chronicles!
What Role Does Television Play in Your Family?
Have you noticed how the role of televisions has changed since we were children? When I was little we had one television in our house, no cable and 6 kids. You can imagine the battles that took place fighting over cartoons on Saturday mornings. Television wasn’t the white noise of our life like it is now.
When I was a child a television was a luxury; and time spent watching television was entertaining for the entire family. It was something we did together in moderation. Back when there was no childhood obesity. Video game systems were not the norm at every house and kids played outside for exercise rather than ran around shooting zombies in a video game. There were no laptops, iPods, iPhones or I anything. Everything you did was in real time ad you had to interact with actual humans.
When I got my first job at 16, the first thing I bought was a television because I knew it was a way to hang out with my brothers and sisters. It meant late nights watching horror movies with my brother or early Saturday mornings eating cereal and snuggling with my little sisters. As a teen, television was the glue that bonded us in our adolescences with group swoonings viewings of Dirty Dancing or Sixteen Candles.
Television is where our family watched home movies together and laughed at how funny, small or young we once were. Now, it feels like television has lost its specialness and it’s become just one of many pieces of technology to choose from. It’s like another piece of furniture. There are too many channels and nothing good is ever on. People are connecting via the Internet and television has gotten a bad reputation and taken the blame for being the reason our society is fat and our children are unhealthy.
I, personally, still love television. I do think there are too many channels and most of it is filled with stuff nobody wants to watch in the first place but I also know that I still see the glimmer of that special bonding my siblings and I shared when we all laid blankets on the living room floor and watch The Wizard of Oz on Thanksgiving night. I remember the giggles and laughter that filled the room, as we poked and picked at one another as siblings do but I also remember not wanting to be any place else. I want that for my children. So we spend a weekend night, just the four of us, cuddled up on the sectional; covered in pillows in blankies; heads in laps and arms draped gingerly and lovingly over one another and we watch a movie or two in our movie room and there, I hear it. The laughter, the memories being made, with my own children just like I had with my parents when I was little. I guess television is what you make of it and everything is good in moderation.
Today different types of modern televisions with a tv provider are out in the market. There are digital tv, smart tv, android tv, and etc. But if you want to experience watching like you are sitting in a cinema with your family, going here will tell you how.
Disclaimer: This post is written by me in collaboration with a brand partner.
People Without Children Should STFU about Parenting
I love British humor and this comedian, Michael McIntyre, has wrapped up parenthood about as well as anyone ever has. He says what we’ve all thought at one time or another, people who don’t have kids have no idea what they are talking about when they discuss parenting or offer their advice on how you, in your sleep deprived, baby brain, overwhelmed self, can be a better parent if you would only just stop making it so damn hard.
My daughters are 6 & 8, so I have been doing this parenting thing for quite a while now. I love it almost every single moment but there are moments like when my 6-year-old wakes up in the middle of the night, goes to the potty ( in my bathroom after turning on the light in the hallway in my room) sits down and when I go to check on her, promptly develops the worst case of potty rage, I have ever seen. “Get.OUT.MOMMY@!!! I don’t want you in here!” This usually continues for about 30 minutes until I give up and my husband comes in to help at which point she screams at the top of her lungs that she now hates him and wants me.Then she walks past us both and gets in our bed and hogs all of the covers.
Or what about every morning when the same said 6-year-old, who is a complete sweetheart between the hours of 8 am and 7 pm, wakes up shouting that she doesn’t want to get up. She’s tired. I’m mean and her stomach/eye/nose/butt/and/or ankle are all hurting her and I don’t care.You know why? Because it’s hard to care when she does it every day and she spent the previous night waking you up to yell at you that she hates you in her potty rage. Then she stares at her food for 30 minutes, only to complain that it is cold when she takes her first bite. When she does finally make it upstairs, she dawdles around for another 20 minutes which ends in a fast and furious mad dash for the front door with hair being brushed out the door, shirts not tucked, forgetting water/snack/book or homework and usually, her yelling, “Why do you always rush me?” Let’s not even get started on her sister who has mastered the art of the eye roll and walkaway.
Anyways, this comedian has mastered the toddler/preschool years. I know, I’ve been there. Some days we still have to beg the 6-year-old to put on her damn shoes and walk out the door. It’s fun to watch if you’re not in the middle of it and he is so right, people without kids have no idea because they have nothing to compare it to. Just like you can’t explain labor to a person who’s never given birth because they can listen but they can not understand the all consuming pain that comes with evicting an unwilling dweller from your body.
So, 25-year-old lady at the grocery store with the perfectly manicured nails, clean clothes, bright eyed and bushy-tailed because she got laid before her 10 hours of sleep, stop giving me dirty looks when I hand my kid my phone to keep her occupied so I can get the groceries I need to feed her before she decides to go off like a nuclear bomb in this joint because she missed nap time. And never, ever, if you value your life, give parenting advice to a parent if you don’t have children of your own because you might think you know what it’s like but you have no fucking idea of the things we’ve seen and done since giving birth. You should be afraid, be very afraid!
Beauty Hacks to Avoid: When Home Waxing Becomes Deadly
Have you ever had a home waxing go bad?
I mean, we’ve all had the wax burn, accidental over wax of the eyebrows and many of us have looked at that damn hairy strip of cloth and thought for one small second, Really? Why am I doing this? I am married to a man whose back is harrier than my head, occasionally farts when he sleeps and OMG, the man cold. But still, we do it because who the hell wants their partner to think they are gross, plus I don’t want to be hairy. Like I’ve told my girls since they were born, beauty is pain. I want to prepare them for when they are 13 and I want to pluck rogue eyebrows or dark lip hairs. Thankfully they are blonde so hopefully they won’t share in my unsightly five o’clock shadow lip quandary.
Ok, since I am running late..always and can not find the time to spare to take care of myself, in the way in which I am accustom to, I have had to resort to some home remedies. Ok, Moms you know what I am talking about. The Pedegg, home manicures, pedicures, home dye jobs, and even home waxing. God Bless you Nads!
It seems my Pedro has been getting quite out of control…upstairs girls not downstairs. We’ve had the fu manchu mishap, it’s been hardwoods ever since. I am referring to my ever so slightly hairy monkey lip that I so lovingly refer to as my womanstache! OK, so you say you’ve never seen me with this atrocity. Of course not, silly girl. I don’t go in public when the fuzz is a showin. Well, not usually, anyways. It’s just one of my many blessings of being a Latina woman, come on my Greek and Italian girlfriends..you feel me, right? No way we get to have all that flowing hair and curves and not get a sin tax in the form of waxing. Beauty is pain, people.
Anyways, this morning, I hit my hairy monkey threshold. Pedro had to be dealt with. I go to the bathroom to do “the deed”. Waxing. What were you thinking? Oh how I hate being the one to do it. I flinch and sometimes I almost don’t want to pull the strip. I always flash back to the 40 Year Old Virgin..yeah, that’s what my lip feels like when I do it myself. I think its mostly mental, but whatever it is…it hurts.
This morning my 2 and 5-year-old follow me into the bathroom, big surprise. What you think I’ve peed alone in the past 5 years? Nope, I’m just like you. I live under the watchful eyes of voyeuristic little people. They’ve seen me get waxed at the salon, as they are always with me. There is not much I can hide from them. Mommy’s special “Bandaids” for her “monthly vagina booboos”, phantom farts ( because I swear, IT WAS THE DOG) and even my uneven breasts which, I might add my 2-year-old is very disappointed in what gravity and breastfeeding have done to them.We are a very transparent family so if the poor dears have inherited my hairy chihuahua gene they should know what they have to look forward to.
Anyways, my 5-year-old, she is asking all the right waxing questions. How does that work? Does that go on your face? Doesn’t that hurt? Smart cookie. I get into gotta do it mode, put that lovely little wax strip on my face ( I forgot the desensitizing wipe because of the fear and trepidation of pulling the strip..it must be how a soldier feels right before pulling the pin in a grenade). ** I mean no disrespect to soldiers, I know it’s much more frightening handling a live grenade than it is a hairy lip but for me, it’s pretty traumatic.
I glance over at my girls, they both have their hands over their ears like the damn hear no evil monkeys. I’m not sure if its because they are afraid that I am going to scream in pain and anguish or in anticipation of ear muffs due to the obscenities that may accompany such pain. I chuckle. Of course, I chuckle. It’s hilarious that my kids know me so well.
In unison, as I muster the courage to pull the strip, I hear..”Hey! Ho! Let’s Go…to the waxing show!”
My little boogers..I cracked up so hard, I nearly ripped my nose off! Thanks Rock Band. As of late, my 2 year old can put anything to the tune of Blitzkrieg Bop by the Ramones! I am so proud.
Hope my nose grows back.
What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve had to do in front of your kids?
Did it involve home waxing? 😉
A Toddler, a Preschooler and a Petulant Teenager!
With the current living arrangement due to the Big Guy’s career, we decided that I needed some help around the house with the girls. Luckily for us, I happen to know of a super, terrific Joe Jonas look alike ( according to my daughters and to their great enjoyment) a little brother who is a great help, when he chooses to be. The alternative was me a toddler, a preschooler, and a petulant teenager.
A couple of weeks ago my little brother came and helped enormously. It was priceless, the assistance that he gave. He was patient, understanding, funny, sweet, pliable, did I mention PATIENT. I mean way more patient than I think I am, at times, and I’m the Mommy. He’s one of those rare finds, that loves kids and just lets them jump, pull and hang all over him. Needless, to say I was impressed & was looking forward to an encore performance from my little brother.
READ ALSO: New Mom MondayLast Wednesday, I picked him up and he escorted us downtown to a meeting for the girls at a modeling agency. He was very helpful and I couldn’t have managed without his help. Well, I could have but it would have been a much more difficult task.
But by Friday, my little Manny (Male + Nanny) apparently had enough and was evolving into a petulant teenager. He is, in fact, still a teenager. It started with my 5-year-old adamantly refusing to eat her apple sauce ( seems lately they refuse to do anything I actually want them to do). After about 10 minutes of her and
I going back and forth, the Manny looks her dead in her little blue eyes and says, “Eat it or I’ll throw it in your face!”
WTF???? Excuse me, crazy..if anyone is going to throw anything in anyone’s face…It’ll be me and until I reach that moment of complete insanity, it’s not going to happen.
“Excuse me? Don’t say that to my girls!”
Him: “I was just kidding.”
He wasn’t and if he thinks I am stupid enough to believe that well, then let’s say my little brother’s opinion of my intelligence must be pretty low! My five-year-old was in shock, and I think a little scared but mostly she just ignored it and filed his comment away for some future therapy session.
Come to think of it, this complete breakdown may have started on Wednesday when my 2-year-old refused to carry her own apple juice. The doting manny (fabulous uncle) put it in his coat pocket, only to find out that as he was walking around downtown Chicago he was leaving a trail of apple juice that was seeping through his new Pea coat’s pockets. What to do?
READ ALSO: I’ll Love You Forever
Now, instead of having help, I have a toddler, a preschooler, and a petulant teenager. Not fair! I want my sweet, helpful manny back. Do boys get PMS? Maybe that’s it. All I know is that the only way to deal with a toddler, a preschooler, and a petulant teenager is to take into consideration each of their ages and treat them each accordingly. My brother has been so helpful, it’s easy to assume he’s an adult but at the end of the day, he’s still just a giant child and that’s bad on me. The key to having 3 kids at three very different stages in their childhood is to treat them all as individuals; little people with feelings and hopes and dreams of their own.
Hopefully, he will wake up today and it will have passed. No matter what, look at how my girls love him! That’s gotta count for something.
A toddler, a preschooler, and a petulant teenager
