Category: marital blissishness

humor, life in pictures, marital blissishness, parenting

A Chili Day for Football

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It was late in our day and we made the unfortunate decision to take the boys to Chili’s for dinner. It’s not that they were being bad, they were being themselves. I wasn’t tolerating their normal hyper state as well as I usually do. I mean by this point, I know full well what I am getting myself into when we are dining out with the boys. I couldn’t blame it on not knowing what to expect. I just wasn’t in the mood. Sometimes I’m like that. Lucky, lucky Mad Dog.

When I married Mad Dog, I also had full disclosure. I knew that realistically our weekends during football season would revolve around Buckeye games. I can’t complain about it or wish it away. It is what it is.

The part that trips me up is that not only do we have to watch the Buckeyes (and dress in Buckeye jerseys every time they have a game) but we have to watch a bunch of other meaningless (my opinion) games. I don’t understand why we have to watch the Arizona Cardinals simply because the former Buckeye, Beanie Wells, is on their roster. Or why we have to make sure USC is trampled so the Buckeyes reputation can be redeemable in the land of the BCS (I don’t even know what the BCS stands for, all I know is where the Buckeyes rank in the BCS determines the mood of my husband). Can’t we only watch a nice, tidy re-cap of all these other games when it is convenient? Granted, nothing is ever convenient when raising a family. Still, I am holding out for that dream.

So, there we were. Eating our incredibly healthy fried and cheese covered meals, and I’m not having it.  T.Puzzle is especially over-the-top. He keeps running his car along the wooden blinds which I tell him not to about forty-seven times. The blinds are dusty and unstable and I keep picturing the whole of them crashing on our table and the table behind us. He keeps on doing it. Then he grabs his napkin and puts it on my head and says, “Hat, Mommy, hat.” Yes, yes, I understand it’s adorable. Again, I just wasn’t in the mood.

Almost on cue as my frustration with T.Puzzle is rising, Full Speed announces he has to use the bathroom. Mad Dog and I knew this was coming. How, you may wonder? Well, Full Speed did ask us once we were seated and strapped in our car on our way to the restaurant if they had bathrooms at Chili’s. We tried to convince him to try to go at home. He said, no, he was just WONDERING if they had bathrooms. It was no wonder to us when he needed to use them.

As Mad Dog and Full Speed leave the table, T.Puzzle is upset. He wants to go with them and dives over me and lunges towards the floor. I manage to redirect him and again, he starts with the gross blinds and the car.

When Mad Dog and Full Speed return, I am now silently praying that our waitress will bring us our check. It’s clear the boys are on the edge. So am I. I feel pretty confident Mad Dog is clued in to the situation and I am relieved when he leaps up from the table. Good, he must be going to track down our waitress and the check.

Oh, no. Oh no he is not. He is animatedly jumping up because he can see the USC game and apparently something great is happening (as if I give a damn!). He does this to me two more times. Each time he jumps a tiny part of my heart is hoping he gets the check instead of the score. Never happened. Instead, I am forced to not so gracefully escort T.Puzzle  from Chili’s as he has reached a point of no return. Ah, football and tantrums, they apparently never go out of style.

marital blissishness, mommyhood

The Rookie

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It’s official, my blog is good. How do I know this? Mad Dog’s Nan told me so. She said I have a best-seller on my hands. If Nan says it, then it is so!

Mad Dog took yesterday off from work (and thank you to Mad Dog’s colleagues who are my regular readers; he’s a brave man to allow you this peek into a small window of our lives!). He claims it’s because my birthday is this weekend. I am inclined to believe it has a little something to do with the NFL kick-off (starring his beloved Steelers) that went late into the night on Thursday and so he can mentally prepare himself for the Ohio State vs. USC game on Saturday. He loves the Buckeyes even more than he loves the Steelers. Hey, a day off is a day off. I’ll take it no matter the circumstance.

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In theory, Mad Dog was going to make drop-off of the boys easier for me yesterday. I think Moms fall into this trap sometimes of believing that someone other than ourselves can do our job in our overly micro-managed way. This isn’t always possible. We Moms have to let go of some control and realize that if something is done a different way than our normal routine, we need to be thankful that it is done at all. Therefore, I was glad to have the extra muscle when dropping off T.Puzzle who has been challenging to get to his classroom due to his screaming and kicking.

When we get the boys to the school, we head into the lobby. I go over to the sign-in area to write in the time the boys are being dropped off. While I’m doing this, Mad Dog sees the door is open to the classrooms and holds it. He tells the boys (who are messing around) to head to their rooms. I tell him to hurry up because…. and even before I finish the sentence, the piercing door alarm goes off. You have to have lightning quick reflexes to get in the door before the whole world knows of your arrival.

I turn to the receptionist and simply say, “Rookie!” She smiles a knowing smile. She’s seen other Dads do the exact same thing countless times.

We head to T.Puzzle’s room first. He immediately starts screaming “No!” and hurls himself into a limp heap on the floor. Mad Dog tries to reason with him. I know that is not going to work.

“Pick him up and carry him!” I shout over the screaming. Mad Dog scoops him up and manages to peel him off and place him with his class. We exit as quickly as possible. Of course Mad Dog is amazed that Full Speed’s drop off is nearly flawless. He still remembers when Full Speed was in his terrible twos and the difficulties we used to have with him at drop off. Times have changed. I’m glad Mad Dog is getting to see this slice of life with the boys.

We head to the exit and before I can say ‘press the green exit button’ Mad Dog swings the door open and the alarm goes off. Again.

I look at the receptionist. She looks at me and says, “Rookie!”

We both smile. We all were rookies once.

marital blissishness, mommyhood

The Best Train Ride Ever

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We are always looking for suitable family outings on the weekends. Since we were in the middle of a long holiday one, we were already starting to run out of ideas (at least of ideas I  wanted to participate in, I had reached my limit of arcade games and go-carts). Mad Dog came up with a lovely solution. He suggested we go to the fancy outdoor mall and check out a new eatery for dinner. His thought would be that we could check out the stores for my benefit (if I was really lucky maybe even a purchase for me), have the boys walk as much as possible (to tire them out of course) and eat outdoors (always a good choice when dining with the rambunctious Full Speed and T.Puzzle).
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As we pulled into the main complex and drove around a bit to get our bearings, we ended up behind a miniature train. Of course the boys went berserk (especially T.Puzzle who has an undying love of all things train) and I died a little inside. Let me give you some history.

This is the type of train you see at most malls. It’s a new-fangled one that doesn’t run on tiny track. Instead it peruses the ENTIRE mall. I have already ridden the exact same type of train at our nearby indoor mall dozens of times (much to my dismay). The thing I hate (I know it’s a strong word, it’s honestly how I feel) the most about these rides is cramming my adult body into a minuscule train car and then having everyone in the mall stare at me while I pretend to enjoy my discomfort and wave Miss America-style to everyone we pass. I’m a rather self-conscious person and this is utter torture for me.

With a heavy heart, I knew we were going to have to go on the train ride here. I didn’t even know they had one. I may have reconsidered this entire outing if I had full train disclosure (I blame no one but myself).

We made it through dinner and it was mostly enjoyable. There were a few tense moments with T.Puzzle and some asparagus. We got through it. Then it was train time.

Having only been to this outdoor mall once before and never noticing a train, we didn’t know where to get aboard. As we began walking, Mad Dog tried to flag down the conductor to no avail. So we began to high-tail it through the masses of people and car covered side streets. The train seemed to move slowly. It was an illusion.  The boys were frantically trying to keep pace with Mad Dog as the train slips farther and farther from view. We were dodging people left and right and I began sweating profusely. Even an early September evening in Florida can be rockin’ hot. Needless to say, I’m not happy.

We catch the train at a corner only to see it slither away and make a wide u-turn. I’m staring to get angry. The boys are beside themselves fearing all is lost. I turn to Mad Dog and say, “I’m done chasing this stupid (I know, I know, I try so very hard not to use the stupid word in front of the boys) train.”

Mad Dog is single-minded in his quest and does not hear me (he better not have been ignoring me!). He keeps pushing forward. Full Speed is now on Mad Dog’s shoulders and T.Puzzle is weaving back and forth dangerously close to Mad Dog’s legs. In an instant, T.Puzzle gets tangled in the middle of Mad Dog’s stride and falls flat on the paved side-walk with a sickening thud. He lets out a wail and I want to cry right along with him.

After some quick consolation, we are all ready for the train. We pile in the teeny-tiny caboose and I angrily announce to Mad Dog to not make any inappropriate comments about my denim skirt and the awkward angle of my legs. I wasn’t in the mood. He immediately is defensive. “Don’t you start with me,” sort of dealy is what he said. He claims he wasn’t going to say anything, I think his past behavior speaks for itself and I will leave it at that.

So, there we are, Mad Dog and I are fuming at each other and then the boys began to bicker and fight. That’s when I knew this was going to be the best train ride ever.

good grief, marital blissishness, self-discovery, self-image/self-acceptance

My Penance

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I went to get my hair cut (a teeny trim since everyone knows I’m growing it out) and colored. I started getting gray hair when I was thirty years old (I’m approaching thirty-five now). This is something I inherited from my Mom (early gray, that is). Yes, I did get her sense of humor (which is good if you think I’m funny) and her slightly imperfect yet glorious, beaming smile, but …..I also got this. I was able to deny it for a couple years by getting tedious and time-consuming highlights. My denial process had me believing that these highlights “blended away” my gray hair. They did not. A couple years ago I made the decision/commitment to single-process hair color. It is faster, less expensive and I love that I have hair color now that is similar to that which I had when I was four years old (golden and delightful).

If I lived in Hollywood and anyone actually gave a damn about what I looked like, I would have to get my hair colored every three weeks. Since I am a Mom who lives in the real world, I go more on an every six-to-eight week basis. My stylist, Cris (misspelled for her enjoyment), is a talented and lovely young (emphasis on the young for her enjoyment as well, which she really is since she’s still in her twenties) woman who I have found to be a kindred spirit. So, not only does she make my hair fabulous, I get to have a real, enjoyable conversation while I’m there. That’s priceless.

As usual, we spent our time catching each other up on each other’s lives (hers could be a whole other blog, I’m telling you) and it feels great. I tell her about the boys and some of their adorable antics and then dive into the not-so-great dynamic I’m currently experiencing with my own Dad. I thought I handled it all fairly well until later.

I was scheduled to take the boys over to Grandma and Grandpa’s since their Great Uncle and Great Aunt were in town for a short visit. I picked them up from school having relished my break from them during the day and took them home to get them ready for our visit.

You would think that having them with me for only an hour-and-a-half before Grandma and Grandpa’s would be a cake walk. It was for the most part until it was time to leave. Some sort of fracas started over who was going to open the front door and before I knew it, fists were flying and teeth were bared (T.Puzzle is famous for his biting shenanigans). I sent both to time-out and they begin screaming and crying in unison begging me wildly not to leave them (I’ve never done that to be clear), that they really wanted to go to Grandma’s and that they were super sorry. As I loaded up the truck with the diaper bag and I could hear them carrying on inside, I had a fantasy of getting in my truck and simply driving away. However, I fought that instinct and I went back and retrieved them.

We arrived and overall, they did well. There was only one biting incident involving T.Puzzle and his cousin (so sorry to their cousin, Lil’ Superman) which never ceases to mortify me, T.Puzzle’s glasses almost were broken (twice!) and general mayhem ensued (mostly in good fun). The boys spent time with their Great Aunt and Great Uncle, enjoyment was had by all and we were on our way.

Upon returning home, an ugly mood that I didn’t realize had been brewing in the pit of my stomach started to show itself. Today, as I write this, I can see it with more objectivity that it has to do with feeling sad about losing my Mom and being confused about my new, shifted family dynamics. Since I had shared it all with Cris the stylist, it sort of brought it unwillingly to the forefront of my consciousness. Last night, I did not see that.

How did I handle it? Not well. I took it out on Mad Dog and said some things I didn’t mean. It was along the lines of how I wanted him to be more hands-on with the boys (he is very hands on – I think maybe I wish he could be home more is all). I didn’t say it so nicely though. I was more accusatory and I was not open to hearing anything he had to say. I wound up shooting myself in the foot. Normally, on the weekends, Mad Dog will get up with the boys in the morning so I can have a break from the breakfast routine. I got up with the boys instead today. It was my penance.

marital blissishness, mommyhood

Date Night

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Why is it that as soon as a hysterical, screaming two year old hits the pillow in their Mom and Dad’s bed they are instantly out like a light? You would think it would take a moment or two to calm down. Apparently, it does not.

One of the things I love about parenthood is that you can bond with almost anyone else who is a parent. This is especially helpful for a stay-at-home Mom like myself because it gives me permission to engage in conversation with adults throughout my day. Like yesterday when T.Puzzzle and I went to the grocery. He was having a joyful blast “driving” the cart shaped like a car. We talked to a Grandma who worked in produce who said he was “a very good driver”. We then chatted with a man who had the most adorable little girl dressed in head-to-toe pink. I commented on her attire a little wistfully. I told him having boys does not afford me the pleasure of buying clothes with lace and bows. He thanked me for my compliments and T.Puzzle told him he had started kindergarten this past week. Remember, T.Puzzle is only two years old.  He is such a liar sometimes and the world at large eats it right up no matter what he says. I think it’s his glasses, they are too cute.

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So when Mad Dog and I had a much anticipated date night last night, it only made sense that I bonded with our waiter who happened to be a father of a very active three year old boy. It’s nice when some of the challenges you have experienced raising your own family can help another parent out. Our waiter was concerned that his son was not talking enough for his age. I said not to worry. He sounded so much like Full Speed.  Full Speed’s previous school in Wisconsin kept harping on me to have him evaluated by a speech pathologist. I think he was so busy mastering the physical world he couldn’t be bothered to take the time to talk. We moved to Florida before he was officially evaluated and the rest is history. Now you can’t get the kid to be quiet and he talks in complicated sentences that sound oddly like an old man who is a member of the Republican Party. I’m serious. As we left the restaurant I could tell the waiter seemed heartened by my story and that felt really good.

Here’s the thing about date night when you are a parent, it is hard to stay out to a respectably late hour. Our babysitter, who is a patient, energetic, lovely young woman whom I’m deeply indebted to, thinks Mad Dog and I are teetering on the edge of senior citizenship. Oh, she is much too polite to say it out loud but it is covertly implied. We didn’t even crack nine o’clock last night. Granted, I drank more wine when we got home so the date did continue for a little while. Regardless, we were in bed by ten.

When I drink a little too much wine I inevitably start asking Mad Dog ridiculous and redundant questions that he always answers the same way. He has much patience for this kind of thing. Which is good since it seems I drink too much wine on occasion.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” I’ll ask in a sort of pleading way.

Which he always dutifully responds “Yes,” or “Of course.”

“Will you still love me when I’m old and wrinkled?”

“Absolutely,” he replies without so much as the raise of an eyebrow.

“How can I be sure?” I throw the question out like a challenge.

“Hang around and you’ll see.” Good answer. It’s to the point and I found it to be pragmatically romantic if there is such a notion.

It’s a date Mad Dog, just don’t expect me to stay up past ten o’clock while doing so.