Tag: moms

mommyhood

A Screaming Good Time

WFAM

p9013114You would think that Tuesdays and Thursdays with only one child would be a breeze. It’s not.

T.Puzzle’s underlying demeanor is laid-back with a big dash of happy thrown in. I’m hopeful as he grows, this will become a little more stabilized. As of now, since he is only two years old and my boys are big believers in making their second (and third and fourth, you get the idea) year truly terrible at times, yesterday’s trip to the grocery turned out to be a gem of an outing.

It started off fairly routine. I had sufficiently snacked and watered T.Puzzle down before entering the store per my normal prep for any outing. We made our way to the produce section and I innocently queried, “What kind of fruit would you like to have today?”

“Nanas,” he calmly replied.

I grabbed some bananas after scrupulously determining if they had the right balance of yellow and green in them, and placed my selection in the cart.

T.Puzzle lost it. He starts this weird, high-pitched screaming and begins to throw his body back and forth in the cart seat with so much force; I thought it was going to topple over. Through the screaming and tears I was able to deduce that he wanted to HOLD the bananas not simply choose them.

Well, I wasn’t about to let a crazy two year old hold some defenseless bananas. I did my best to ignore him (which let’s face it, was impossible), picked out my other produce and attempted to move forward. To the outside world, I may have appeared unconcerned and maybe even a little flip. Trust me, it was all a cover. I was trying to pretend that this over-the-top tantrum would subside if I could coolly ignore it. Half of me believed that maybe this was true, the other half wanted to start screaming and crying right along with him.

We proceeded stat to the section that held the fruit snacks. Under ordinary circumstances I am a Mom who does not give in to tantrums and crying. I can be as stubborn as any two year old you want to throw my way. On the other hand, T.Puzzle had recently been sick and I wanted to get out of the store with what little reason I still had in me. I didn’t go so low as to open the box, I did let him HOLD the box. Phew! That seemed to do the trick. I reduced my trip to only the absolute essentials and made my way to the check-out.

As T.Puzzle was helping (I use that term very loosely) me unload the cart (thank God he handed over the Spider-Man fruit snacks without a repeat, screaming performance), he started mock-screaming. He does that sometimes because he thinks it’s funny. It’s not very loud and only slightly annoying. I let it go.

Upon hearing this “mock-scream”, a light bulb of recognition went off for the cashier. “Are you the little guy we could hear all the way up here (produce is located in one of the farthest reaching corners from the front of the store mind you)?”

“No,” he replied. He says no to everything. I told you he was a liar sometimes.

“Actually, it was me (there I go again trying to make light of an embarrassing situation). Okay, it wasn’t me, it was him, but I really, really wanted to start screaming myself.”

The cashier and bagger both smiled and they made over him (which he adored) and we went home. Since we have reached the crossroads of napping, I still attempt to put him down for one every day whether he wants one or not. I figured he had to be tired anyway from all that screaming. I know I was. Before he headed upstairs to his room, he grabbed his brother’s doggie to sleep with (if anyone sees Full Speed, don’t mention this, he could either think it’s cool or think it’s a good reason to beat his brother senseless). I thought it was one of the most adorable things a little brother could do while he’s missing his big brother who is off at school. My heart melted and all was forgiven. That is until he started screaming again when I put him down for his nap.
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mommyhood

Choices

WFAM

Life is all about choices. We are unable to control our lives; we can only make choices that respond to its challenges. I have been feeling a little fearful lately as the first of Full Speed’s surgeries approaches. Today, I am letting go of the fear and choosing to be excited and hopeful. I look forward to spending so much one on one time with him and being there every step of the way. Having already gone through some medical procedures with him concerning his vision, I have seen up close that he is a tower of strength trapped in a small four year old body. Even though these procedures have been difficult at times, I am always left with a feeling of awe having witnessed his remarkable self-possession and pride at how willingly he complies with the doctors and nurses (maybe I am doing something right). Today I’m choosing hope.

Yesterday, I chose to pick up my nephew, Lil’ Superman, along with Full Speed from school yesterday. As we left the daycare center, the woman behind the front desk commented, “Good luck to you tonight, looks like you may need it.” Granted, I had T.Puzzle, Full Speed and Lil’ Superman (he’s almost three) in tow and they were so excited to spend time together that their decibel level was capable of causing hearing loss. I got that and could see three high-energy boys might be a bit much to handle. I made a different choice. I knew I would have all three for only a couple hours and even if there were going to be smack-downs, time-outs and some tears, they were going to love to play together. To grow up with cousins around is a huge gift. I chose to be excited to share in their enthusiasm of simply being with one another.
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When they were seated (not so quietly) at the kitchen table eating (only sort of) their dinner, T.Puzzle took a turn for the worse. He had improved throughout the day but all of a sudden his temperature spiked; he lost his appetite and became lethargic. I chose not to freak out about it at that moment. I looked at the facts; he had eaten plenty and drank lots of liquids leading up to this point, he was going to be fine (I had no crazy, swine-flu delusions). I gave him some Tylenol, placed him on the couch wrapped in a blanket and began to referee Lil’ Superman and Full Speed.
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It was hectic and loud and there was a whole lot of laughter. Lil’ Superman kept making pretend phone calls on a toy phone with his feet; when I answered the calls, they were stinky of course. This cracked the boys up endlessly. Despite all the fun and merry racket, three young boys can be a little overwhelming. I stand firm in my decision to only have two. And that’s my choice!!

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mommyhood

Expectations

WFAM

T.Puzzle still was not up to par yesterday after his prior late night vomit session. Overall, he was happier and ate well but still had some interesting colored diaper discharges. Since I was exhausted and so was he, we took a long nap together midday.
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As I layed him down next to me for the nap he immediately got in my face and started saying, “Mommy! Mommy!” I did my best to ignore him and stated simply and firmly that it was time to close our eyes and go to sleep. That didn’t work. He got even closer to my face (as if this was even possible) and started to vary the cadence and tone of how he said my name. First, he started slow and deliberate almost like a long, southern drawl, “Maaaah-meeee! Maaaah-mee!” When that drew no response he tried a more militaristic approach, “Mom! Mom! Mom!” It reminded me of a submarine alarm that alerts its crew it’s under attack. Eventually he realized that I wasn’t reactive and after a few pathetic, whining “Mommy. Mommy. Mommys,” he gave up and went to sleep.

The nap helped us some. As bedtime approached we were still tired and borderline cranky (especially Mom). T.Puzzle only lasted about two hours that night in his own crib and then was promptly relocated to our bed. He was crying miserably and we could tell he was still feeling off.

The first hour or so he was still and we all slept peacefully (oh, how Mad Dog and I wished our queen sized bed was a king!). Then, he started with the fierce dreams where he would randomly start to pummel the pillow and then me. This went on intermittently throughout the night and I was about ready to pummel him. At some early morning hour in the middle of one of his crazy, physical outbursts, he reached over and I swear to you, he tried to rip my nose off my face! That was it. Mad Dog and I couldn’t take it anymore. He was unceremoniously placed back in his bed and that was the last I saw of him until morning. Thank goodness.

I decided to let T.Puzzle sleep in as late as possible in the morning to recover. That meant Full Speed and I had some time alone. He was in a sweet mood which is always mightily appreciated and he told me that T.Puzzle could play with his new, Batman car while he was at school today (T.Puzzle was skipping school, I wanted to wait until his BMs stopped being neon green before he returned). I love it when Full Speed shows his empathic side especially when it’s towards his brother.

Full Speed seemed mellow and excited about school (which is usually a 50/50 proposition on a Monday), that I thought it was time to talk to him about his upcoming eye surgeries scheduled for September. The boys have a rare, genetic eye condition called ectopia lentis et pupillae with lens subluxation. In laymen’s terms it means they are extremely far-sighted and near-sighted respectively (they truly are opposites!) and their lenses are dislocated. Full Speed is going to be the first of my two boys to have the surgery to remove his lenses. We are hopeful this will improve his vision dramatically.

There is a delicate balance with Full Speed.  He is the type of kid who needs to know what to expect or what comes next to get a handle on his world. If you tell him too much he obsesses about it and can’t come to terms with it. If you tell him too little, he gets frustrated and prone to moody, tantrums. I think I did well with him today. I made sure he knew that for lots of the upcoming doctor’s appointments it would just be him and Mom (he loves that) and on the days of the big surgeries (one eye at a time) his Dad would even be there.

“T.Puzzle will stay home?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes, it’s just you and me, kid. You know we make a great team,” I replied.

He high-fived me and said, “Let’s go eat breakfast.” And we did.
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good grief, mommyhood

The Stormy Vomit

WFAM

p8293081Mad Dog and I spontaneously (okay, Mad Dog’s the spontaneous one) decided to take our boys on an overnight trip. In theory it’s suppose to be fun-filled and breezy. In reality, there is fun to be had but with lots of effort and a whole lot of patience.

As we were heading to our destination, the boys began hitting each other and crying while seated in the backseat. I looked at Mad Dog and said, “This is a little different than the last time we went here (Mad Dog and I had gone about a year prior for a weekend getaway sans kids).”

“What do you mean? Is it because this time we have a convertible?” he replied in mock innocence. Yeah, if only it were as simple as a different car. The real difference was attempting to have fun while maintaining a favorable baseline of behavior for T.Puzzle and Full Speed.  Since they are getting a little older and slightly easier to manage, we were up for the challenge.

In the course of a day we went for a bike ride on tree-lined streets, took the boys to the beach (neither was a big fan and T.Puzzle continuously covered me in sand from head to toe which I did not find enjoyable) and let them frolic in the kiddie pool resort-side (their favorite part of the day). As evening approached we had managed to snag a respectable, college girl employed by the hotel that was also available for babysitting. The boys hit it off with her immediately and Mad Dog and I were able to have a late dinner in peace.

We returned to our room after dinner to find T.Puzzle and Full Speed sound asleep and looking extremely adorable. It’s amazing how much love can fill your heart when gazing upon slumbering children. We opened the door to the balcony and let the sounds of the ocean fill our room and proceeded to drift off to sleep.

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At about one-thirty in the morning T.Puzzle woke up vomiting. This was not a little spit-up situation; this was full-on vomit warfare. Mad Dog and I were dazed and confused but you know how that Mommy instinct kicks in and you do what you have to do. I became very directive with Mad Dog telling him how to help (which he did beautifully) and proceeded to catch vomit, comfort my sad, little T.Puzzle and clean him up as best I could.

Naturally, he joined us in our bed and went immediately asleep (again, must be due to the magic of Mom and Dad’s bed). Naturally, I proceeded to freak out. My mind immediately jumped to the conclusion that T.Puzzle had the swine flu and I imagined several worst case scenarios. I think Moms tend to do this sometimes and that’s kind of expected especially when our kids our sick. However, since my Mom died, I go to scary places a lot more quickly and I linger there. My Mom had been complaining of a stomach ache, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and died days later. Talk about shock and awe. I’m fearful something as awful as that could happen at any turn.

I was awake for what seemed like hours. I cried some; I freaked out some more and missed my Mom a whole lot. Mad Dog was patient and comforted me the best he could.

T.Puzzle woke up the next day outrageously happy, wanting food and telling knock-knock jokes (which he is really bad at by the way). The storm had passed; I was back to being grounded in the present moment. All was well, at least for today.

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

My Penance

WFAM

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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.