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The TRUTH About Motherhood

Tag: toddlers

  • PMS and Motherhood

    PMS~ There is Premenstrual Syndrome, more aptly called the one week a month that I hate all living creatures for even having the gall to breathe, little lone have the audacity to speak to me or ask me for anything at all.But then there is the ever so lovely, PMS and having the responsibility of mothering. Are you effing kidding me? Who ever thought this was a good idea? Come on, it is not an understatement to say it is potentially as deadly a mix as pills and booze.

    My dearly beloved husband has departed (no he’s not dead…yet) to the great state of Virginia, for business leaving me, with my last shreds of sanity, alone with my two beautiful girls.

    ALONE with PMS!

    I have been trying my best to keep them occupied, so they don’t feel the void of their father’s presence as much as they might, say sitting around the house doing nothing. We have been running to and fro, engaging in every last activity I can come up with. This is being done for a dual purpose; 1) to keep my daughters’ completely preoccupied with other activities so they are not missing daddy too much ( and constantly whining about it, as they have so boldly demonstrated they are quite capable of doing) and 2)to keep my house in spic and span condition on the rare chance that there is someone in this world who is actually looking to buy an awesome house in a great subdivision in this awful economy. This has been my life since my husband has made his departure. And if I may say so, myself, I have been doing a damn good job at both, though tiring and nerve racking as it has been.

    PMS you Sneaky Bitch! I’m busy! Go away!

    Then, from out of nowhere, since I myself have been so preoccupied with all of these activities and have forgotten the beast from within that never misses her visit, she arrives and she is taking no prisoners. I have been ripping heads off of cable companies, phone companies, and even the occasional bystander for 2 days now.I had the good sense of self awareness to realize what was happening, while I was visiting my parents and my 4 year old, who has decided she can’t hear anymore, had a sleep deprived melt down and wanted to leave my mothers house…at bedtime. Yes, at bedtime! This happened after, the previous night, her 2 year old sister had decided that she wasn’t caring for sleeping (all three of us) in Grandma’s full sized bed and proceeded to punish me by screaming ,sporadically, without cause, at the top of her lungs… all night long. Yes, ladies, all night long. Remember those nights with a newborn, when you were so sleep deprived that you prayed for death, just so that you could sleep? This was way worse. Anyways, back to the meltdown, so rather than calm her down, soothing her, and coaxing her to lay down at Grandma’s like I normally would have done. I said, “OK, go potty!” and I proceeded to chuck every bit of crap we brought into the back of my SUV..with the speed of lightening and the fury of the a goat on crack. My parents watched silently and my children, being that they are apparently aware that Mommy gets a little crazy once a month, were unaffected. They simply said their good byes to the grandparents and ignored my mood completely.

    Driving home, completely besot with myself, and completely over my kids meltdown, it hit me…” You crazy bitch, calm down. It’s PMS week” We, Ella, Abbi and myself (Sybil for the week) made it home without any real incident. That night, as I put them in bed and looked at their sweet little faces, I thought to myself, do these kids know how truly dangerous their Mama’s PMS really is? Luckily not. Normally, my husband is here to offset the true glory that is my PMS but with him gone, I was left to deal with it all on my own and it was not pretty. I spoke with my husband and let him know that I am having my beast visit this week. He is coming home, after two weeks of being gone, his response to me was ,”Oh God. Can it be over by the time I get there?” Luckily for him, I was not in the throes of the syndrome or that could of warranted him a tongue lashing to not soon be forgotten, at the very least. I have come to the conclusion through this ordeal that it should be a law of nature that once you have children you no longer can experience the “syndrome.” It truly is quite counter productive and very much as reckless and deadly as “Pills and booze”.Of course, if pills and booze were involved I believe I would be much more likable this week anyways. But alas, as does mothering and PMS not mix neither does mothering and pills or booze. As all good mothers do, I will suck it up and put on a happy face. My girls are awesome blessings and as long as I can keep that in perspective maybe I can keep the beast at bay, at least until my husband gets home:)

    PMS, You may have Won the Battle but Not the War!

  • Road Tripping with Toddlers or Hell on Wheels

    Road Tripping with Toddlers

    Road Tripping with Toddlers  is not for the week. We are on a mini vacation/ look see around town for my husbands potential new job, in Virginia. First, let me start by saying, this is one of the most gorgeous parts of the country that I have been to thus far in my life. The weather is awesome, the foliage abounds, large cities are concealed by an enveloping plethora of greenery. Essentially, you have big city life with the look of the country and all the amenities of a Beaches all inclusive resort. So, that is where we are Today!
    On Saturday, however, we were road tripping with toddlers for 12 glorious hours. Yes, that is correct, 12 hours with a 4 and newly turned 2 year old.Can you say a little touch of hell on earth. My ,otherwise, sweet loving girls do not like to be confined in those 5 point harnesses on a good day on a trip across town. So, imagine their state at taking their very first long drive trip imprisoned in those wonderful harnesses.

    My oldest, rambunctious as ever, insisted on asking, every 20 minutes or so,”Are we there yet?” I always thought that was a funny spoof on parenting but now I realize that it is, in fact, the truth of traveling with children. I never realized how frazzling that could be to me as a person. I thought “those” moms have no patience. Just say ,”Not yet, in a little while.” Why all the overreaction? Then I realized that it can actually bring you to the brink of insanity and make a grown woman, such as myself, cry, almost inconsolably, if asked in the right voice and enough times over a 12 hour period.

    While the oldest was hitting us with the barrage of “Are we there yet”s the youngest was freaking out of her ever loving mind about a gnat. Yes, a gnat, that supposedly must have been the scariest, meanest, baby eating gnat you ever did see because , god bless her little bitty heart, she screamed bloody murder for at least 3 hours of the trip.Oh, the humanity! So, to sum it up, my 4 year old is wondering if we are there yet, every single second of every single minute we were on the road, my 2 year old is being terrorized by a gnat and screaming so highly pitched, that all the dogs of the world were seeking her out to eat her and end the misery, I am at the brink of insanity on the verge of losing the battle and my poor beloved husband is trying to plot his course to the nearest gunsmith to rent a gun and buy a bullet.
    Then I pull out my bag of tricks because obviously the 1200 DVDs that I brought are not holding their attention. First , we color ( you know those Wonder Crayola colors that magically appear on the special paper but nothing else..that’s what you think, but that’s another story entirely), then we color the glittery ones, then we color My little Pony. We sing, only the songs that they know so we had Bella’s favorites, “Twinkle ,Twinkle” and “Mary had a little Lamb” and Gabi’s favorites “Happy Burtday to you!” and ” Five, Five DOlla..Five Dolla foot long!” Yes, my 2 year old is obsessed with the Subway commercial jingle. Have you any idea how many times they play that thing? I do , because she sings it incessantly. Don’t get me wrong, in the right context, it is absolutely adorable. She is the cutest thing that has ever walked this earth, besides her sister, of course, but everything in moderation. Interrupted only by the “Are we there yet?” inquiry of her sister. OK, so brink of insanity on way to gun shop, we stop at lunch and we try and let them stretch there legs at some wayward Wendy’s in West Virginia. Not my idea, have you seen Wrong Turn?
    We get lunch, they have ants in their pants and can’t keep still. We get the food, the chicken flavored whatsamanuggets are not done, still doughy,”EWWWW, gross”, as my daughter like to say. I return them. We wait, I return with nuggets, all is good in the land.

    Road Tripping With Toddlers

    Road Tripping with Toddlers is Hell on Wheels

    A ‘fly” dares to descend upon the table. All hell breaks lose. Toddlers jumping everywhere, screaming, crying, running away in terror. I did mention it was a fly and not Godzilla, right? Not a horsefly, just a regular old house fly! In true fix the situation fast fashion, I take off my flip flop and the untimely death of one unsuspecting fly ensues. All is good in the land, and then Gabs, because all of the attention we just received was apparently not enough for her, screams, at the absolute top of her lungs “EWWWW, FAARTED.Stinks”. Absolutely, mortified , I say ” OK, honey, it’s OK.” Then I realize, amongst all of the commotion, she did not have any kind of flatulation incident. Apparently, she just thinks it’s funny and likes to take credit for such occurrence. She is really better than the dog. This is a quirk I am hoping she outgrows.

    Bella, my older one starts asking, “Mom, what are we going to do on our vacation?” I say, because I am out of the car and somewhat rational and overly sweet because I am trying to gain redemption from being “Crazy Mommy” from in the car,
    “Well, sweetie.we’ll look around the town and eat out, maybe go to Busch Gardens, and we will take you girls to the pool at the hotel.” She look at me with wide eyes,” Even you, Mommy?”

    First lets put this into context, I am a Mommy in my mid 30’s, I am a little over weight and a little out of shape, and I hate swimsuits with a passion. I have since I was a teenager. It’s like a taunting suit, it takes every possible flaw you can possibly have and flaunts it to the discriminating eyes of the world. But I do occasionally wear these horrible contraptions to play with my children and because I am determined not to pass my body issues on to them. In response to my daughter, I say “yes, sweetie, even Mommy.” I look at my husband and say ” What the heck, I don’t know any of these people.I’m going swimming!” To which my daughter responds in her most defiant voice “Yeah,I don’t know these people either, so I’m going swimming too!”

    How funny, she has no idea about the context but dammit, she’s going swimming!! I’m still in the throes of this mini vacation that teeters between heaven and hell, I’ll post more when we all arrive safely at home, by passing any and all asylums and gun shops…save for that poor Godzilla fly at the Wrong Turn Wendys. The only thing more difficult than Road Tripping with Toddlers is road tripping with TWO toddlers.

    How have you survived road tripping with toddlers?

    Road Tripping with toddlers Only the Strong need Apply

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  • Breaking up is hard to do

    Breaking Up is hard to do~ We’ve all been there. That’s moment in a relationship when you know its not going anywhere, and its certainly not moving forward, that’s the moment that you know its over. Your challenge is to decide whether to let it die a slow painful death or to end it quickly, and just pull it off like a band aid on a hairy arm and pray for not too much collateral damage. After the breakup, you might even need some coping tactics, such as a breakup recovery course, just to revitalize yourself. We expect these situations when we are dating but not when we are play dating. But alas, it happens, and more often than not, I suspect.

    It starts off innocent enough, you have a friend whom you know, however well, and one, or both of you, has the brilliant idea to form a sorority of friendship held together by the glue that is our children. Then one, or both of you, decides to enlist other friends or acquaintances into said group because, after all, the bigger the better. A seemingly perfect scenario of coffee amongst the pitter patter of little feet, quickly evolves into headaches amongst screaming children, at the very least. There you are with a group of strangers, that you may or may not have anything in common with, vying for one anther’s attention. People start to clique off but amongst it all there is an eerie façade of equal friendship. That “OMG, we are all so great. I love you all so much” bullshit that you keep spoon feeding one another because you are afraid if you are human and don’t love every single one of them, or at least pretend to do so, you will be known for the truly horrible bitch that you really are. It’s frigging high school with babies. Now, there are a lot of benefits to joining these groups for example; you meet women who are , at the very least, in the exact same situation as you are, as far as having children and raising them ( most times that is where the similarities end. It is sorta like lobbying to your family why you are dating a certain gentleman with the only weapon in your arsenal being that he is a human being. Not much of an argument after all).

    Joining play date groups gives you an opportunity to get advice, share war stories, feel safe, get guidance in where to go and what to do with your lovely, beautiful fruit of your loins. It sounds fantastic doesn’t it? It also gives us a place to be judged at every choice we make concerning our children, its like inviting other women into your life and licensing them to insult you, not only with their words but with their thoughts and actions. After all, they are Super Moms and you are a mere human so if you don’t see it their way and have no remorse about your imperfection, well then , you deserved to be damned to hell. How could every single woman in the world not want this peace, loving ,warm ,frigging, fuzzy feeling? Have we been idiots up until now and where would we be? How would we function without the great invention of play dates?
    We’d be happy and a lot less insecure and probably less judgmental and a little more caring and fulfilled. I love my “play date moms”, that’s what we refer to one another as because God, knows we seldom evolve past that point. If you can maintain superficial friendships, and hang out with women that you have nothing in common with ( other than both having children), and this doesn’t bother you…then play dates are the place for you. I have made a couple of truly remarkable friends amongst my “Play date Moms”. Real, honest to goodness friends who I would like whether they had children or not. It just helps that they have kids because that way we have one more thing in common( partial sanity) and we are in a similar place in our lives, which is always beneficial to a friendship . The other way around being friends only because you both have kids, is sorta like being friends because you both have brown hair or teeth. It’s ridiculous.

    My experience has been not unlike that of my experience with my boyfriend at 15, somebody is crazy for somebody and someone else doesn’t care. You both start out in a relationship all excited about this journey and then about 15 minutes in , you realize that you are truly up a creek without a paddle; only it feels more like you’re in the ocean. One person wants to spend every waking moment together, infiltrating every single facet of your life and the other is running for their life in the opposite direction. It’s like there is no in between, there is no common ground so there is only one thing left to do, break up.
    The word is so dreaded; all the connotations are negative. There is nothing positive about breaking up. It is admitting failure and you know how us women are, we hate that. So, we try to force them to break up with us, after all, we know we want out so they are not really ending it; we are, they just don’t know it. Seldom does that work. We try avoiding them, not returning phone calls, emails, we even simply just don’t show up. But it doesn’t work. You know why? Because she won’t give up either, she doesn’t want to admit failure that she couldn’t make this relationship work. It is a vicious cycle. The children are being drug all over town, why Mommies smile their Vaseline smiles with absolutely no sincere feelings , at all, behind them. Rooms are filled with the buzzing of absolutely nothing of importance being said, mixed with the latest gossip of those who had the misfortune of not attending and it is all thinly veiled as concern. Pish Posh , I say. Finally, some one’s got to be the adult and put an end to this madness. In your most grown up, unbiased, level headedness, you excuse yourself from the group. You simply inform them that though they are wonderful, (they are not for you:) something has come up and it is better to remove yourself from the play date roster. In the end, you are still going out revealed as the ” the truly horrible bitch that you are.” That which you tried to avoid from the get go. So, you see breaking up is sometimes almost impossible to do, even with the best intentions. Who knew breaking up with a group of ladies was going to be harder than breaking up with an obsessed 15 year old boy?

  • Hell on Wheels in Taffeta and a Pink Helmet

    As I have mentioned, I am the mommy of two super girls. Bella has recently turned four and her baby sister, Gabs, is about to be two. Saying my hands are full is an understatement, to say the very least but I feel that I handle it well, on most days. But despite my best attempts, I can not be everywhere at all times. It is simply an impossibility.This is an issue because, although Bella is a graceful, princess,ballerina, girly girl, Gabs is a tiny hell on wheels full on daredevil. This is not to say she is a tom boy, not that there is anything wrong with that, she is a daredevil clad in puffy skirts and pig tails, which is much worse because when she does all of her crazy reckless tricks, all you see is bloomers and bruised knees.The thing about Gabs is, and I’m not sure if its her daredevil antics or her unusually large toddler, dome of a head ( although it is absolutely beautiful) but something has absolutely altered her center of gravity. Couple her off quilter gravity with her bad luck and sheer clumsiness and she is truly an emergency room visit waiting to happen. Let me just mention a few of the stunts that have landed us in a mad dash to the pediatricians office, in her almost two years; falling off the changing table, tripping over her own feet and busting her head on the bottom of the bed frame ( yes, the bottom..under the mattress), she has fallen into the corner of a coffee table ( the only one in the house without one of those wonderful child protection corner poofs) busting her head wide open.She has fallen into the wall, fallen off the ottoman onto the wood floor and busted her face, fallen face first into the corner of her sisters dresser because she was climbing over the edge of the bed trying to switch the channel on her sisters TV, and many many other spills and falls while scaling the walls of our house. She is like Spider man without the spidey suction power. Now that I list some of her accidents out loud, poor baby really did inherit Mommy’s clumsiness.She is my joy in life and my smile but she scares the hell out of me, on a daily basis. Today, this one was especially classic and true to Gabs form, she was standing at the window watching the birdies. Screaming “Mommy, buurdie”, when all of the sudden a blood curdling scream. I know what you’re thinking,”Oh,God. She fell through the window”. Thank God, no. So ,I get up to go over to her and she turns around..still screaming. And I swear to you, the metal hair clip that was in her hair ( you know the little metal ones that look like an alligator’s mouth) was attached to the corner of her lip. How it got there or why she didn’t take it off, I have no idea and unfortunately, I cannot ask an almost two year old and get a logical or coherent answer, especially not in that state. What I would give to know the answer to that particular mystery of my life. The moral of the story is…NOW, I know why some little kids walk around with helmets on. Next time you see me, I’ll probably be at Target scoping out a pink princess helmet for everyday wear:)

  • Play Dates, What Every New Mom should Know

    Play Dates, What Every New Mom should Know

    Estimated reading time: 3 minutes

    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.

    At the time we entered the world of play dates we we’re new parents who had recently relocated to a new part of the country with a tiny baby. Honestly, I didn’t know which way was up. Play dates were quite possibly the link to my sanity. Being bound and determined to give my child the “best childhood ever” ( because that was my quest), signed Ella and I 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.( *insert sarcasm font here!)

    Play dates are the great equalizer.

    We went to our classes and I cast my net far and wide. I tried to 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.

    Play dates are a necessary evil of motherhood.

    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. Don’t feel too bad for these throwbacks because just as sure as I threw some back, I was thrown back by some. We all are. Just sometimes we don’t even know it because we are too exhausted to know…or care.

    Unfortunately, just having children 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, even less so as Mommies because then we are dragging our 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 could never, at its inception, perceive or fathom what twilight zone like situations we may soon find ourselves in on a play date. I could talk about the phenomena of play dates for days, but we’ll save that circus for another day.

    Why do we subject ourselves to play dates?