Organized Chaos, that is my life. My mother will most likely agree with that statement. Many of you know I have some weird quirks and OCD habits. Okay the operative word being “some”.
Many years ago or maybe yesterday, I used to believe as long as no one could see the mess; there was no reason to clean it up. As I’ve grown, or maybe through listening to many of my mother’s complaints, that a clean house is a happy house. I wouldn’t say I’ve gone as far as my mother, carrying around a travel size container of Murphy’s oil or rubber gloves, to unsuspecting people’s houses. I love my mom, if her habits, err, Monica Gellar like OCD wear off on me, someone might have to call hoarders on me.
On to today’s post. So I decided to do a multi-family garage sale. This of which, I waited till the last minute to prepare. Like I always say “There’s no time, like a procrastinator’s time.” I am pleasantly surprised at how organized I was this go around. Mainly because no one wanted to buy the stuff I was selling last time and for whatever reason I held on to the unsellable. Therefore, already priced and ready to go.
Now anyone with young children, with the hoarding abilities of the best hoarders, will understand the true dilemma of preparing for a garage sale. My kids don’t just hoard toys, its McDonalds Toys, papers with pictures of two different colored lines, used stickers so on and so forth. I wish I could blame this on my husband; unfortunately I’m probably one of the biggest sentimental saving pack rat. I have a story for every single piece of clothes, book, picture, card…you name it. It’s rather disgusting and slightly interesting, if that’s even possible to put together?!?!?!
So today I began gathering up things that were unused, grown out of or unwanted. Sadly once I had a decent pile-o-shit, did the riots of tears and sadness begin. My son was distraught over the fact I was going to sell his size FOUR, Buzz Lightyear suit. My husband and I forced him to try it on, over his clothes, in hopes he would see it didn’t fit. Yeah, NO. That damn suit, made it over the clothes and you could still zip the back. Damn it. When will this costume EVER leave our house? Before I knew it my daughter was upset at the possibility of losing her Hannah Montana shoes, mind you they never been worn…EVER. She’s swearing they’re her favorite. RIGHT!!
It was from that moment on, I told the kids they could save one item for the time being and that’s all. This began the haggling. Anyone ever seen a five year old haggle?? No. Let me draw you a picture then, because they are not the best deal makers- by any means. In the midst of the pile of items I was selling, his snowsuit and a size 4T Spiderman shirt.
Now mind you, he is very attached to his Super Hero items, but come on…he looked like Chris Farley in David Spade’s suit jacket in this shirt. So he then says “Mom, I can keep my buzz costume and you can have my snow suit.” I explain to him that he’s already saved the costume, but the snow suit goes. This leads to the haggling…”okay, I will keep my snow suit and buzz costume and you can have my Spiderman shirt.” AGAIN, I explain he’s only keeping the costume, this in leads to his final offer “I will give you two dollars for my snowsuit.” I’m really hoping after this conversation and in the future, his bargaining skills improve. I don’t need him paying for items, he already owns. I can see it now, “Look mom, this kid at school told me he’d give me my backpack back for only $10. It was a really good deal!” Lord, please help this boy!
Moral of the story folks, if you’re going to sell, give away or throw out unused or unwanted items- send the kids away. You’ll end up keeping half the stuff you planned to sell and in another year, be in the same boat. It truly is a vicious cycle. It probably doesn’t help, that I have a hard time with parting with things. I mean, I’m going to be able to re-use all 30 years worth of birthday cards, one day, right??
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
When we give birth to our children, all we see is what is right in front of us. No, not the OB/GYN stitching your girl downstairs back up, our child. Get your mind out of the gutters.
No one prepares us for what is to come. I’m sure when we were young, our parents attempted to, at some point they gave up. I can see it now, “My parents left me in the dark and look, and we made it.” Note: one of us kids was most likely licking a window during this conversation or eating paste…who knows.
As I sit here and type this, I am realizing my babies are growing up. I know, crazy right. Who knew they wouldn’t stay babies forever?!?! Tomorrow I send my youngest off to kindergarten. However, if you saw me, you’d think it was 1945 and I just sent my boy off to war, white kerchief waving in the air as the old Buick pulls down the gravel lane and him waving out the back window. What’s really going to happen tomorrow though is he’ll most likely push me down and run into his teacher’s arms, leaving me like chopped liver. Who does he think he is?? Okay, I’m ahead of myself, that won’t happen. It better not!!
I find every year, since my daughter started school that, it’s harder to let go. However, around about May I’m finally used to the idea of them being in school. Last year, I began to enjoy my three hours to myself as jack was in preschool. Not this year, this year I am going to be all by myself for EIGHT straight hours. Okay, not completely alone. Three days a week for two hours I will be the ‘Old Lady’ surrounded by college students.
Still, it’s hard to grasp, that this year, my baby is officially going places. Next thing you know, he’ll be 16 and….okay, I don’t even want to contemplate those years. Mainly because he’ll be driving and hopefully I won’t have taught him anything behind the wheel related. Pray, that his father teaches his sister and him. Seriously. You should pray now!
Once again, totally sidetracked. So here I am, 30 years old, my days as a stay home mother are officially numbered. What happens when you no longer have a child at home during the day, for EIGHT HOURS? One thing I know is it will be super quiet, and anyone who knows me, knows this will be a rather hard adjustment. My children’s normal tone is at def-com levels. They get it from their father….
My other issue is I have to eat lunch alone, on the couch, watching iCarly or Good Luck Charlie by myself. I know, sad, sappy Alyson…what will she do now?? I have absolutely idea… Seriously, outside school, I’m slightly confused at this new concept of having ‘ME’ time. I’m actually scared. Maybe I should take a part time job as a Wal-mart greeter, just to get some sort of crazy daily interaction? No?
Moral of today’s story kids…relish your children. Be thankful, if you had the opportunity to stay home fulltime, with your children. Too soon, they will be up and going to school.I know I'm truly thankful for my two beautiful children tonight. I’m hoping they make it through school, no gets knocked up and no one ends up in jail. They are my children, so my future as a mother will definitely be sure to keep me constantly on my toes. Jealous??
No one prepares us for what is to come. I’m sure when we were young, our parents attempted to, at some point they gave up. I can see it now, “My parents left me in the dark and look, and we made it.” Note: one of us kids was most likely licking a window during this conversation or eating paste…who knows.
As I sit here and type this, I am realizing my babies are growing up. I know, crazy right. Who knew they wouldn’t stay babies forever?!?! Tomorrow I send my youngest off to kindergarten. However, if you saw me, you’d think it was 1945 and I just sent my boy off to war, white kerchief waving in the air as the old Buick pulls down the gravel lane and him waving out the back window. What’s really going to happen tomorrow though is he’ll most likely push me down and run into his teacher’s arms, leaving me like chopped liver. Who does he think he is?? Okay, I’m ahead of myself, that won’t happen. It better not!!
I find every year, since my daughter started school that, it’s harder to let go. However, around about May I’m finally used to the idea of them being in school. Last year, I began to enjoy my three hours to myself as jack was in preschool. Not this year, this year I am going to be all by myself for EIGHT straight hours. Okay, not completely alone. Three days a week for two hours I will be the ‘Old Lady’ surrounded by college students.
Still, it’s hard to grasp, that this year, my baby is officially going places. Next thing you know, he’ll be 16 and….okay, I don’t even want to contemplate those years. Mainly because he’ll be driving and hopefully I won’t have taught him anything behind the wheel related. Pray, that his father teaches his sister and him. Seriously. You should pray now!
Once again, totally sidetracked. So here I am, 30 years old, my days as a stay home mother are officially numbered. What happens when you no longer have a child at home during the day, for EIGHT HOURS? One thing I know is it will be super quiet, and anyone who knows me, knows this will be a rather hard adjustment. My children’s normal tone is at def-com levels. They get it from their father….
My other issue is I have to eat lunch alone, on the couch, watching iCarly or Good Luck Charlie by myself. I know, sad, sappy Alyson…what will she do now?? I have absolutely idea… Seriously, outside school, I’m slightly confused at this new concept of having ‘ME’ time. I’m actually scared. Maybe I should take a part time job as a Wal-mart greeter, just to get some sort of crazy daily interaction? No?
Moral of today’s story kids…relish your children. Be thankful, if you had the opportunity to stay home fulltime, with your children. Too soon, they will be up and going to school.I know I'm truly thankful for my two beautiful children tonight. I’m hoping they make it through school, no gets knocked up and no one ends up in jail. They are my children, so my future as a mother will definitely be sure to keep me constantly on my toes. Jealous??
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
SIbling Rivalry....
Sibling Rivalry. We have all been through it. Some of us being the younger siblings, or like me, the oldest…of six!! Thankfully we didn’t all grow up in the same house. It wasn’t until recently, I finally feel for what my parents went through. You know that little rain dance our mothers do as we are children in the midst of yelling at us, stating “One day you’ll have children and they will be just like you, except ten times worse!” Yeah, about that, Thanks a lot mom!!
On to today’s post. I have two children; of this, some of you are aware of, who are my exact DNA make up-personality wise. Looks wise, well I could probably only claim one. Thank God, I make a cute little boy, I’m just saying… I’m not sure I could claim ownership of an ugly kid, just kidding…maybe.
I’m off track. So the summer is beginning to wind down. Actually, it’s officially over as of tomorrow evening. Well, since the beginning of the summer my two children have grown. My daughter is wanting more alone time to just play with her friends, and well, my son is the only boy on the street- if we’re not including toddlers. So I find, throughout the day, he’s doing whatever in his power to either A. makes his sister scream or B. intentionally hurt her. Now mind you, he does have a slight upper hand in the harming situation. You know, considering his sister round house kicked him in the face this past spring and knocked out both his front teeth. While it was an accident, I can tell you it was most definitely not an accident when I launched a rollerblade at my sister’s head. Don’t worry, she’s fine…we visit her in the hospital to this day. Only kidding…
Sidetracked, ONCE AGAIN. So today I found myself in an awkward situation. My daughter wanted to play with her friend by herself; typically I grab Jack’s attention and keep him from bothering the girls for awhile. Not today. Today, my son came down, dressed in my daughter’s shorts and her tank top; he even went as far as putting on a head band. He then goes to our front door and rings the doorbell. I answer the door unsuspecting of what I’m about to encounter. SURPRISE! Here he is and he says “Hi, my name is Jack, I mean Kevin, and I want to play with the girls please?” I couldn’t contain my laughter and just stared at him. Should I be concerned that he will someday become a cross dresser? Or is he really that desperate for some playtime with his sister? Either way, I really wasn’t sure how to respond.
He plays with his sister all the time. I think some days, after he’s been given the boot from my daughter for being a typical 5 yr old and crashing batman’s motorcycle through Barbie’s beach house, he’ll try anything to get back in there just to make her screech. However, his cross dressing to get him a ticket back in today. Plus, he really needs to find a better alias, than Kevin.
Moral of the story today folks is, be prepared. You most likely, mom’s, gave birth to yourself. While the first couple of years are joyful and full of new experiences, brace yourself. Once five hits, it’s like another dimension. You’ll never know what’s around the corner, and to be quite frank sometimes it’s better if you just don’t know. I’m just saying!
On to today’s post. I have two children; of this, some of you are aware of, who are my exact DNA make up-personality wise. Looks wise, well I could probably only claim one. Thank God, I make a cute little boy, I’m just saying… I’m not sure I could claim ownership of an ugly kid, just kidding…maybe.
I’m off track. So the summer is beginning to wind down. Actually, it’s officially over as of tomorrow evening. Well, since the beginning of the summer my two children have grown. My daughter is wanting more alone time to just play with her friends, and well, my son is the only boy on the street- if we’re not including toddlers. So I find, throughout the day, he’s doing whatever in his power to either A. makes his sister scream or B. intentionally hurt her. Now mind you, he does have a slight upper hand in the harming situation. You know, considering his sister round house kicked him in the face this past spring and knocked out both his front teeth. While it was an accident, I can tell you it was most definitely not an accident when I launched a rollerblade at my sister’s head. Don’t worry, she’s fine…we visit her in the hospital to this day. Only kidding…
Sidetracked, ONCE AGAIN. So today I found myself in an awkward situation. My daughter wanted to play with her friend by herself; typically I grab Jack’s attention and keep him from bothering the girls for awhile. Not today. Today, my son came down, dressed in my daughter’s shorts and her tank top; he even went as far as putting on a head band. He then goes to our front door and rings the doorbell. I answer the door unsuspecting of what I’m about to encounter. SURPRISE! Here he is and he says “Hi, my name is Jack, I mean Kevin, and I want to play with the girls please?” I couldn’t contain my laughter and just stared at him. Should I be concerned that he will someday become a cross dresser? Or is he really that desperate for some playtime with his sister? Either way, I really wasn’t sure how to respond.
He plays with his sister all the time. I think some days, after he’s been given the boot from my daughter for being a typical 5 yr old and crashing batman’s motorcycle through Barbie’s beach house, he’ll try anything to get back in there just to make her screech. However, his cross dressing to get him a ticket back in today. Plus, he really needs to find a better alias, than Kevin.
Moral of the story today folks is, be prepared. You most likely, mom’s, gave birth to yourself. While the first couple of years are joyful and full of new experiences, brace yourself. Once five hits, it’s like another dimension. You’ll never know what’s around the corner, and to be quite frank sometimes it’s better if you just don’t know. I’m just saying!
Monday, August 15, 2011
Dum question or Dumb Husband
There are three things that seriously chap my ass!! Here they are, in no particular order. 1) Moms who think they know more than you do, and their child is one, while you have a seven and five year old. I mean really?! 2) When people let their kids go outside and automatically assume, since there are parents out there, they can just send the kid out for free daycare. Now least, but definitely not last 3) When my husband asks if he can help me, after I’m ¾ of the way through whatever I’m doing. Really, you waited till now to offer help. Bad timing? No. Stupid Husband? I want to say no, but…..
I love my husband, I truly do. I swear to Baby Jesus, he does it on purpose. Almost like he waits till I’m finished, to offer help, knowing I’ll say “No, thanks. I’m almost done.” What I would really like to say, oh who am I kidding-I say it, is “Seriously, you saw me lug in a 40lb of dog food, before asking if I needed help?!?” This is where things most definitely go seriously wrong with his life…
I find myself, usually after screaming at him, wondering where the hell they get this. Are they born with it, is it their mother?? While in college the brain cells lost to pot smoking and beer drinking, are the common sense brain cells, the ones that prevent him from asking idiotic questions. Yep. I was probably all the pot smoking…kidding…maybe….
This leads me to this evening; err, more like the last few days. So since Saturday I have been deep cleaning our house. Normal every day to day things. Mopping, vacuuming, dusting, bathrooms and the most dreaded…LAUNDRY. So anyone who knows me, knows I will wash the laundry, but will let it go unfolded, until say, it’s impossible to open the laundry room door. Then I know it’s time to fold clothes. I liken it to a ‘Before” scene on Hoarders.
So as I fold clothes this evening, while the kids are showering, my husband attempts to do his usual lay on the bed research geek stuff or sports on his iPhone. However, tonight since I was folding laundry and using the bed as my setting area, sitting on the bed was a stupid idea. So note, this was the first thing to get the “ticked” itch moving. So I immediately tell him to move, he say “I just wanted to keep you company.” Right. If company is what I needed, where the hell were you when I was scrubbing the shower or picking up dog poop?? No, he just figured the bed was still useable.
Anyway, he then goes to the floor and returns to his phone and asks, “Is that batter?” This really got the “ticked” itch more into a contemplating kicking him in the nuts.
So I do what comes first to my head, I ask for his help of course. Wouldn’t you believe it, that’s not what “he” meant by keeping me company. This of course turned into me calling him lazy…..BUT, he got up and hung up the clothes anyway. I enjoyed continually adding to his pile….thoroughly.
Moral of today’s post is, if you are going to offer help every other time and attempt to be lazy while I’m busy cleaning the house. You bet your ass I’m going to tell you to do something. I mean, seriously, sometimes I think our husbands think a magic fairy comes in and does all the work. Or well, so my husband acts anyway, bet he won’t ask me to help anytime soon, you know, if he knows I will answer yes!!! Smart wife, Happy Life!!!
I love my husband, I truly do. I swear to Baby Jesus, he does it on purpose. Almost like he waits till I’m finished, to offer help, knowing I’ll say “No, thanks. I’m almost done.” What I would really like to say, oh who am I kidding-I say it, is “Seriously, you saw me lug in a 40lb of dog food, before asking if I needed help?!?” This is where things most definitely go seriously wrong with his life…
I find myself, usually after screaming at him, wondering where the hell they get this. Are they born with it, is it their mother?? While in college the brain cells lost to pot smoking and beer drinking, are the common sense brain cells, the ones that prevent him from asking idiotic questions. Yep. I was probably all the pot smoking…kidding…maybe….
This leads me to this evening; err, more like the last few days. So since Saturday I have been deep cleaning our house. Normal every day to day things. Mopping, vacuuming, dusting, bathrooms and the most dreaded…LAUNDRY. So anyone who knows me, knows I will wash the laundry, but will let it go unfolded, until say, it’s impossible to open the laundry room door. Then I know it’s time to fold clothes. I liken it to a ‘Before” scene on Hoarders.
So as I fold clothes this evening, while the kids are showering, my husband attempts to do his usual lay on the bed research geek stuff or sports on his iPhone. However, tonight since I was folding laundry and using the bed as my setting area, sitting on the bed was a stupid idea. So note, this was the first thing to get the “ticked” itch moving. So I immediately tell him to move, he say “I just wanted to keep you company.” Right. If company is what I needed, where the hell were you when I was scrubbing the shower or picking up dog poop?? No, he just figured the bed was still useable.
Anyway, he then goes to the floor and returns to his phone and asks, “Is that batter?” This really got the “ticked” itch more into a contemplating kicking him in the nuts.
So I do what comes first to my head, I ask for his help of course. Wouldn’t you believe it, that’s not what “he” meant by keeping me company. This of course turned into me calling him lazy…..BUT, he got up and hung up the clothes anyway. I enjoyed continually adding to his pile….thoroughly.
Moral of today’s post is, if you are going to offer help every other time and attempt to be lazy while I’m busy cleaning the house. You bet your ass I’m going to tell you to do something. I mean, seriously, sometimes I think our husbands think a magic fairy comes in and does all the work. Or well, so my husband acts anyway, bet he won’t ask me to help anytime soon, you know, if he knows I will answer yes!!! Smart wife, Happy Life!!!
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Back to School
Ohhhhh...
Back 2 School
Back 2 School
To Prove To Dad That I'm Not A Fool
I've Got My Lunch Packed Up,
My Boots Tied Tight,
I Hope I Don't Get In A Fight
Ohhhh...
Back to School
Back To School
Back To School...
It’s been awhile since I have updated this blog-o-mine, but here we are…so just read my latest post already!
It is that time again, where the children are at each other’s throats, my patience is long gone and probably already crossed the Mexican border…SCHOOL TIME. Yes the beginning of a new school year is once upon us. I should be somewhat sad, as my days as a stay at home mother, are numbered. My youngest is going to kindergarten. Sad? Yes. Excited? No.
This, however, is not the most case for all mothers. First day of school, you’ll see these mothers I am talking about. They pull up to drop off their kids, almost to give them a swift kick in the ass, out the car door. Blowing sweet kisses out the window as they drive away to their nearest Target or Starbucks…or if they’re cool like me, home to go back to bed. Kidding…maybe!
However, I will not be the mother shoving my children out of the car; I will be that mom hyperventilating into a paper bag, clinging to him like a spider monkey, because my baby is all grown up. My husband will be there with me, nudging me and saying “Alyson, knock it off, you’re embarrassing me”. Dads just don’t understand.
My real reason to be extra sappy this is year, is, I will be heading back to school.
I mean, who knew that when I was five and told my teacher, “When I grow up I want to be a-Insert unrealistic dream here”, that I would be 30 by the time I actually grew up and am aiming at a big girl, real life job. A JOB, oh shit. I have a job, I’m no real housewife of Beverly Hills, with a nanny and house cleaner, or personal chef…I do all these jobs and more…now school work AND then a job. Shoot me now!!
I give props to all the single moms out there. I don’t know how you do it. Well, some dance on poles and Umm, no one wants to see me shaking my thing up on stage for money…I’m not even sure my husband would watch that.
I’m off track. As I was saying, I’m now entering a new phase in my life, err, more of our entry into a long extended absence of an earlier life. I am only taking some basic classes, with most likely a bunch of 18 yr olds fresh out of high school. You know the ones, ditzy girls wondering what to wear to Friday nights bash and young, dumb boys only going to school to meet a girl. Its Heartland folks, not Johns Hopkins, most ambition is aimed low…for the youngins, that is.
Who knows, maybe I’ll be the cool girl once again…if by cool, you mean the girl who shows up early and excuses for missing class are due to illness’ with my children or something of that nature. That and most likely my need to advise certain kids on the no-no’s to their actions. I can see it now, a kid walks in and I will most likely find myself saying “did you wash your hands after you went potty?” Oh yeah, I’m so going to be the coolest kid in school.
So there you have it, I’m going back to school. Back to the books. Adding on to my anxiety level most likely and cause for an increase of meds and most likely alcohol. Lots and LOTS of alcohol. There is real no moral to today’s post. Well, the moral of the story could be, don’t get knocked up at 22 and finish college the first time around, but with this day and age, I was pretty old when I had Bella…compared to how it is now. Hey. At least I graduated high school.
Let’s be honest, I’m doing this so my children don’t end up being smarter than me one day. Trust me; I have two children who you don’t want to outsmart you!!
Back 2 School
Back 2 School
To Prove To Dad That I'm Not A Fool
I've Got My Lunch Packed Up,
My Boots Tied Tight,
I Hope I Don't Get In A Fight
Ohhhh...
Back to School
Back To School
Back To School...
It’s been awhile since I have updated this blog-o-mine, but here we are…so just read my latest post already!
It is that time again, where the children are at each other’s throats, my patience is long gone and probably already crossed the Mexican border…SCHOOL TIME. Yes the beginning of a new school year is once upon us. I should be somewhat sad, as my days as a stay at home mother, are numbered. My youngest is going to kindergarten. Sad? Yes. Excited? No.
This, however, is not the most case for all mothers. First day of school, you’ll see these mothers I am talking about. They pull up to drop off their kids, almost to give them a swift kick in the ass, out the car door. Blowing sweet kisses out the window as they drive away to their nearest Target or Starbucks…or if they’re cool like me, home to go back to bed. Kidding…maybe!
However, I will not be the mother shoving my children out of the car; I will be that mom hyperventilating into a paper bag, clinging to him like a spider monkey, because my baby is all grown up. My husband will be there with me, nudging me and saying “Alyson, knock it off, you’re embarrassing me”. Dads just don’t understand.
My real reason to be extra sappy this is year, is, I will be heading back to school.
I mean, who knew that when I was five and told my teacher, “When I grow up I want to be a-Insert unrealistic dream here”, that I would be 30 by the time I actually grew up and am aiming at a big girl, real life job. A JOB, oh shit. I have a job, I’m no real housewife of Beverly Hills, with a nanny and house cleaner, or personal chef…I do all these jobs and more…now school work AND then a job. Shoot me now!!
I give props to all the single moms out there. I don’t know how you do it. Well, some dance on poles and Umm, no one wants to see me shaking my thing up on stage for money…I’m not even sure my husband would watch that.
I’m off track. As I was saying, I’m now entering a new phase in my life, err, more of our entry into a long extended absence of an earlier life. I am only taking some basic classes, with most likely a bunch of 18 yr olds fresh out of high school. You know the ones, ditzy girls wondering what to wear to Friday nights bash and young, dumb boys only going to school to meet a girl. Its Heartland folks, not Johns Hopkins, most ambition is aimed low…for the youngins, that is.
Who knows, maybe I’ll be the cool girl once again…if by cool, you mean the girl who shows up early and excuses for missing class are due to illness’ with my children or something of that nature. That and most likely my need to advise certain kids on the no-no’s to their actions. I can see it now, a kid walks in and I will most likely find myself saying “did you wash your hands after you went potty?” Oh yeah, I’m so going to be the coolest kid in school.
So there you have it, I’m going back to school. Back to the books. Adding on to my anxiety level most likely and cause for an increase of meds and most likely alcohol. Lots and LOTS of alcohol. There is real no moral to today’s post. Well, the moral of the story could be, don’t get knocked up at 22 and finish college the first time around, but with this day and age, I was pretty old when I had Bella…compared to how it is now. Hey. At least I graduated high school.
Let’s be honest, I’m doing this so my children don’t end up being smarter than me one day. Trust me; I have two children who you don’t want to outsmart you!!
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
It's not all about size...
Everyone loves a baby. We love to hold them, baby talk to them and most importantly, if it’s not yours, give it back to their mothers when we’ve got our fix. I am one of those people. My youngest is 3 years old. Any holding or cuddling is going to cost me a trip to my local chiropractor and some vicodin, so I cuddle the nearby babes as often as I can. For the simple reason, I have a 45lb 3yr old and he’d rather wrestle that cuddle. Shocked?!?! Well then you’ll enjoy today’s latest post…
I’ve noticed over the last couple of years, the bigger the baby, the more the questions about the delivery and a whole bunch of mommies clenching their legs together at just the thought of pushing something out bigger than 8 lbs. First things first, my son was a 10 pounder, delivered naturally and yes, he took my cervix out when he came. It’s funny, you go a whole nine months hoping for a healthy baby and trying to make sure you do everything right, as to keep baby in said belly warm, comfortable and healthy. It’s at the end of those nine months, when you’re pushing, and rather than seeing this tiny little newborn, out pops a toddler with luggage!! Trust me; your girl downstairs will never be the same. I say the bigger the baby, the sooner they sleep through the night though. So bring on the taco bell while pregnant!!
Today’s post isn’t just about big babies and their birth weight; it’s all about how they come out. Size doesn’t really matter; I just thought I’d add a little bit on current conversations had with several mommy friends and first time mommies. My real topic is on how babies get out, or rather, how they come to be. We, as mommies, always discuss size and our birth stories in front of our kids. I don’t think we have ever grasped the thought, they themselves are wondering how they or their sibling got out or what they got out from. While we think size, they think, “What’s a cervix?”
Tonight after dinner, my son came up to me and said “Mommy, you’re a girl and daddy is a boy.” I felt the need to ask him how he knew I was a girl and how he knew daddy was a boy. Upon questioning, he replied “Because daddy is a boy, so I am a boy!” I really should have seen this next part coming, but unfortunately I didn’t and left a door wide open for my 5 yr old.
My daughter then explains to my husband and I that I delivered her and my husband delivered my son. She explained that, after questioning how he got out of daddy, he (our son) was teeny tiny and just popped out of daddy and then grew into a baby. This is where I thought in my head, “Then what hell did I spend 5 hours for in the hospital that day if it was so easy??” I didn’t find it the right time to explain where babies come from. I did however find it necessary to explain the real difference of how mommy is a girl and daddy is a boy. This went over with giggles…from me! My children have grown up calling their parts, shooter and hoo-hah. For the simple reason, I can’t say penis and vagina without laughing like a 12 yr old school girl. I know! Delaying the inevitable I thought, turned into a conversation on difference tonight, in which my daughter tells me “boys have sticks and girls have lines!!”
Moral of the story and today’s lesson folks…when talking about size, remember the little people in the background. Who knows when they are going to come home and start questioning when, where and how they came to be. If you’re cool like me, you ‘all tell them a brown truck dropped them off and if they don’t listen, that brown truck will come back to get them.
I’ve noticed over the last couple of years, the bigger the baby, the more the questions about the delivery and a whole bunch of mommies clenching their legs together at just the thought of pushing something out bigger than 8 lbs. First things first, my son was a 10 pounder, delivered naturally and yes, he took my cervix out when he came. It’s funny, you go a whole nine months hoping for a healthy baby and trying to make sure you do everything right, as to keep baby in said belly warm, comfortable and healthy. It’s at the end of those nine months, when you’re pushing, and rather than seeing this tiny little newborn, out pops a toddler with luggage!! Trust me; your girl downstairs will never be the same. I say the bigger the baby, the sooner they sleep through the night though. So bring on the taco bell while pregnant!!
Today’s post isn’t just about big babies and their birth weight; it’s all about how they come out. Size doesn’t really matter; I just thought I’d add a little bit on current conversations had with several mommy friends and first time mommies. My real topic is on how babies get out, or rather, how they come to be. We, as mommies, always discuss size and our birth stories in front of our kids. I don’t think we have ever grasped the thought, they themselves are wondering how they or their sibling got out or what they got out from. While we think size, they think, “What’s a cervix?”
Tonight after dinner, my son came up to me and said “Mommy, you’re a girl and daddy is a boy.” I felt the need to ask him how he knew I was a girl and how he knew daddy was a boy. Upon questioning, he replied “Because daddy is a boy, so I am a boy!” I really should have seen this next part coming, but unfortunately I didn’t and left a door wide open for my 5 yr old.
My daughter then explains to my husband and I that I delivered her and my husband delivered my son. She explained that, after questioning how he got out of daddy, he (our son) was teeny tiny and just popped out of daddy and then grew into a baby. This is where I thought in my head, “Then what hell did I spend 5 hours for in the hospital that day if it was so easy??” I didn’t find it the right time to explain where babies come from. I did however find it necessary to explain the real difference of how mommy is a girl and daddy is a boy. This went over with giggles…from me! My children have grown up calling their parts, shooter and hoo-hah. For the simple reason, I can’t say penis and vagina without laughing like a 12 yr old school girl. I know! Delaying the inevitable I thought, turned into a conversation on difference tonight, in which my daughter tells me “boys have sticks and girls have lines!!”
Moral of the story and today’s lesson folks…when talking about size, remember the little people in the background. Who knows when they are going to come home and start questioning when, where and how they came to be. If you’re cool like me, you ‘all tell them a brown truck dropped them off and if they don’t listen, that brown truck will come back to get them.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Patience is a virtue...
The man who first qouted that, obviously had no children. Possibly not even a mother! I find the older my children get, the less patience I actually have. I find the more patience I lose, the more swear words my children learn.
Which brings me to my latest entry. My son has just recently been potty trained. Okay when I say recent, I mean within the last year. Every time he goes "poo" he politely screams from the bathroom "I'm DOOOOOOOONNNNEEEE" at the top of his lungs. Normally I am in the middle of something important, cleaning, laundry, whatever. Today it was mastering the art of Super Mario Brothers on my daughters Nintendo DS. Thankfully my husband was off and home today. He went to the bathroom to help my son wipe in which my son stated "I can wipe my own damn butt!" My husband finds it necessary to relay this message to me and tell me I really need to take my swearing down a notch because our 3 yr old is picking up on it. I'm just thankful he said butt instead of ass. Seriously, because that sounds more like me.
I mean it's not like he walks around cussing up a storm all day. He rarely lets a swear word out, unless he has just heard me say it. I can tell you this, he repeats one probably once in a blue moon and for this house, that's a god damn miracle, because I swear like I just got off a ship with a bunch of sailors.
Why is it people find swearing such a horrible thing to do around your children? They have no real idea of what they are saying, let alone comprehend what you have said. My kids know, if I say it, it usually means I have managed to injure myself or have just come across some crazy mess my kids just made. Say a full size mattress completely moved from your sons bed and propped up against a wall. The "Nanny" tells us to talk quietly to our children, treat them as equals. Seriously folks, if you walked into a room and saw your had children just moved a mattress that took your husband and male neighbor to move, pretty sure your not going to gently talk to them. You are going to react like I did and say "How the hell did you do this??"
Now my son yelling "What the hell?!" at a car honking at another car in the Target parking lot. Toatlly uncalled for!! I did reprimand him for that. I see no harm in my son repeating something right after I have said it though. I feel the words hell and damn are not that bad. If you want to get technical, once they hit a certain age and you have never sworn around them, they will use the phrases/words out of context in the wrong place at the wrong time. My children however, will be bored of those words by that time and know the difference of when they should be said and when they shouldn't.
Today's lesson folks and the moral of this story. Say them now. Otherwise you're going to be the mommy called to the office in a couple of years, because your child told thier teacher, "they don't give a damn!!" I however will be the mommy sitting at home politely cussing to myself, after I have stubbed my toe, like a crazy person. Like I always say, no harm, no foul. Sometimes a foul mouth is what keeps the harming from being done and gives you just a little bit more patience.
Which brings me to my latest entry. My son has just recently been potty trained. Okay when I say recent, I mean within the last year. Every time he goes "poo" he politely screams from the bathroom "I'm DOOOOOOOONNNNEEEE" at the top of his lungs. Normally I am in the middle of something important, cleaning, laundry, whatever. Today it was mastering the art of Super Mario Brothers on my daughters Nintendo DS. Thankfully my husband was off and home today. He went to the bathroom to help my son wipe in which my son stated "I can wipe my own damn butt!" My husband finds it necessary to relay this message to me and tell me I really need to take my swearing down a notch because our 3 yr old is picking up on it. I'm just thankful he said butt instead of ass. Seriously, because that sounds more like me.
I mean it's not like he walks around cussing up a storm all day. He rarely lets a swear word out, unless he has just heard me say it. I can tell you this, he repeats one probably once in a blue moon and for this house, that's a god damn miracle, because I swear like I just got off a ship with a bunch of sailors.
Why is it people find swearing such a horrible thing to do around your children? They have no real idea of what they are saying, let alone comprehend what you have said. My kids know, if I say it, it usually means I have managed to injure myself or have just come across some crazy mess my kids just made. Say a full size mattress completely moved from your sons bed and propped up against a wall. The "Nanny" tells us to talk quietly to our children, treat them as equals. Seriously folks, if you walked into a room and saw your had children just moved a mattress that took your husband and male neighbor to move, pretty sure your not going to gently talk to them. You are going to react like I did and say "How the hell did you do this??"
Now my son yelling "What the hell?!" at a car honking at another car in the Target parking lot. Toatlly uncalled for!! I did reprimand him for that. I see no harm in my son repeating something right after I have said it though. I feel the words hell and damn are not that bad. If you want to get technical, once they hit a certain age and you have never sworn around them, they will use the phrases/words out of context in the wrong place at the wrong time. My children however, will be bored of those words by that time and know the difference of when they should be said and when they shouldn't.
Today's lesson folks and the moral of this story. Say them now. Otherwise you're going to be the mommy called to the office in a couple of years, because your child told thier teacher, "they don't give a damn!!" I however will be the mommy sitting at home politely cussing to myself, after I have stubbed my toe, like a crazy person. Like I always say, no harm, no foul. Sometimes a foul mouth is what keeps the harming from being done and gives you just a little bit more patience.
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