P.S. you suck like shit...

I am the target of his anger at the moment, and it doesn't matter that I have done everything right, or did nothing to provoke him, it doesn't matter. I am the target of his anger. All the things that have happened to him today that might have rubbed him the wrong way were collected like shells along the ocean's edge and hurled at me the minute he walked through the door. It doesn't matter that I greet him with a smile or a kiss, or I tell him how proud I am of him. How I am over the moon about his straight A's and his impeding karate promotion. It doesn't matter that I cooked him a hot meal or made sure his drawers were filled with clean clothes, or that his room was neat and clean and that all the things he loved were cared for. It doesn't matter. Today. I am the target of his anger. It doesn't matter that I have put my life and dreams and aspirations aside and dedicated my whole existence to making his existence at least bearable. It doesn't matter. It's my job, and I know this. I fully understood what I was getting into when I got pregnant. I knew that the days were not all going to be filled with kodak making memories, although i did not expect to spend so much time in the abyss, I welcomed whatever this universe threw at me. Or him. And today.. I am the target for his anger.. and apparently I also suck like shit....

But I have to tell you.. I was a little proud that he spelled all the words correctly....

Oh.. and by the way....

I was just organizing some pictures.... aka.. avoiding housework....

and I came across these...

The Little Guy and the future Ms. Little Guy Halloween 2006



The Little Guy and the future Ms. Little Guy Halloween 2007

Sickening.....



Oh.. and here was Jay this Halloween....

Soccer mom from HELL....

That is what I was today... MOM-ZILLA GRRRRRRR......

The lil' guy plays soccer.. It is the cutest thing and the kids have such a blast.

We were enjoying the game when one mother on our team bends down and starts talking to my older son, Jay. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what she was saying to him. So I walked over and I hear her interrogating him about something that happened on the school bus last week. I interrupt her, and ask her what this was all about and she said she heard my son pulled another kid's jacket on the bus, a first grader. Now no one called me about it or even mentioned it to me, so I had no idea what she was talking about.

I got pissed... PISSED...

"Please don't talk directly to my son about anything. I am his mother. If he did something wrong or there is a problem, then please speak to me, not him."

Then she went on about how she didn't mean to be disrespectful, and that she was friendly with my son (since she sees him at daycare in the afternoon) and how she wasn't reprimanding him...

WHAT?

"Oh. No. You are not my son's friend. He is 9. He doesn't have adult friends. I have boundaries with my children. I do not purport to be their friend. I appreciate your input as a member of our community, but it is not appropriate to speak to my son. I have a problem with that, and a major problem with the fact that you don't understand why that is a problem."

Is she kidding me? I then stood between her and my son to ensure she would no longer speak to him and so that she would keep her fucking mouth shut. After a bit, my friend asked me what was going on. I told her briefly and she said that her kid doesn't even go to my son's school, so how would she know what was going on?

WHAT?

I go back over to this woman after the game, and said: "I just want to make sure that you and I are clear about your not talking to my son. And by the way, our kids don't go to school together, so what gives you the right to address an issue your son couldn't have even been a part of or possibly witnessed?"

"Come over here, I'll explain.."

"I'm right here. Talk to me right here."

Where did she want to go?

I never heard someone talk her way in and out of so many knots. I was actually enjoying her squirming.

The conversation ended with my telling her, everything is fine between us, and this "miscommunication" has been resolved. I really didn't have the energy to continue.

Oh.. I asked Jay about what she was talking about and he had no idea. Mind you, he has been sitting in the front of the bus behind the bus driver since the beginning of the year because of his sprained ankle, so I double anything happened at all...


Don't mess with the soccer mom from Hell.....ugh.

Summertime Blues...

They will remember
endless days of
pancakes for breakfast
every morning.

Long luxurious hours
in the sunshine,
Finding crayfish,
diving from the dock
and sunset cruises.
Adventures real and imagined.

Roasted marshmallows,
sticky fingers.
Trips to the seashore,
roller coasters, baseball games,

and sand between their toes.
Fireflies and rubber frogs,
turtles laying eggs,

and rolling around in
luscious thick green grass.

(I hope)

our future......a vision....

I see my gorgeous brown-eyed boy.... as.....

.....a man dressed in a black Armani tuxedo having just married the girl of his dreams in a church surrounded by friends and loved ones, poised at the door with his bride at his side about to enter the reception hall for the first time as Mr. and Ms.

The crowd is on their feet clapping for their happiness as the joy of the moment fills the enormous glittering room. The couple glides in and tears spring to my eyes. My son and new daughter-in-law share their first dance to a song they both adore that perfectly captures the love they have for each other.

Soon, it is time for the other special dances to take place in this traditional affair. She dances with her father as more tears of sentiment splatter dyed shoes..

Then it is our turn....

The band leader calls me to the floor as my son holds his hand out in greeting. So many times I have thought of this moment as I rocked him to sleep in my arms, my precious little boy who is now this amazing young man. The intense emotion of the moment weakens my knees. I wonder if I will be able to dance with him at all, but I know his strong arms will keep me steady.

I look up at him and he kisses my cheek. I hold my breath waiting for the band to start playing, but they do not as he has chosen a very special piece of music, which isn't something the band can play.

The room falls silent... and it begins...


Ma-ia-hii
Ma-ia-huu
Ma-ia-hoo
Ma-ia-haa

yes... that's right.... it is the Numa Numa Song...


*sigh*

It has become his latest obsession...

a sigh....

Feeling that hot dry sun on my arms and face, watching little (and big) boys dream, tasting that refreshing ambrosia known as beer, looking out over history made and in the making, a calm washed over me, and joy flooded my heart...and... I realized.

We got through it. We all got through it. Life is good... Damn good.


Oh, and Derek Jeter is even hot from waaaaay up here.

Wondering

I wonder if you will remember this day.

I wonder how this day will register in your memory banks of childhood. Will you remember what we laughed about or will it just be added to a conglomerate of "happy times?" Will this be something talked about at the dinner table with friends years from now when reminiscing?

How will you describe your childhood to your children? What will you tell them about you mother, their grandmother? How will you describe your dad? I wonder what glorious memories will rise to the top and what horrible things will stick. Will you wait years and years to tell me something that is happening now?

How will the brother's memories compare? Will one remember joy where the other found pain?

So much more to come....

Motherhood is NOT a full-time job! Let's be honest!!!

It’s more like 4 ( 4.2 to be exact). Do the math. Last time I had a full-time job, it only lasted 40-50 hours a week. Now, I work every day, every hour. That’s 168 hours a week or 4.2 full time jobs. Oh, I know, I get to sleep, so lets take off the 3-6 hours I average a night, when I am not tending to my little friend’s nightly needs. So, let's round it off to 4 full-time jobs, because I do get to have an occasional lunch hour as well. I also get the an hour or two when my husband is with the boys before he passes out. He works hard too. When do I blog you ask? My computer is practically in the kitchen, so I read/write in between cooking, cleaning, etc. but mostly late at night when I can actually hear myself think. I am not complaining, I am just stating the facts. I did hear Dr. Phil actually say that staying home with the children was like having 2 full time jobs. (Mmmmm, stooopid?) He said it in that placating I-better-not-piss-off-the-hundred-or-so-women-staring-at-me-or-the-millions-buying-my-books-way. Phil didn’t do the math apparently. Now I’m not putting Phil down, he’s done a great job bringing taboo subjects into the light of day and giving us nifty slogan-like solutions to our problems. He has made it "okay" to seek help. The truth is he has done just as much for the counseling profession as Tony Soprano . After the Soprano’s hit the airwaves, I saw quite an increase in the fellows coming in for some counseling. One guy actually said that if Tony could go to counseling, so could he, like he knew him or something. Unfortunately, when they realize they might actually have to change, well, I suddenly get some available time slots. It’s just not as easy as it seems on television, but I assure you its always worth it.

Did I mention that I love my job(s)?

Anyway, I did the math on the motherhood thing because.........I can’t remember. I guess I need a vacation.

Stooopid

I have brown eyes and brown hair. So does my husband, and most of our family. When my oldest son was born with brown eyes and brown hair, we weren’t surprised. Big deal. Then along came my younger son. He has blonde hair and blue eyes. It’s not so unusual, I mean my grandmother was German, and her brother had blonde hair and blue eyes, so it is possible.

What is unusual about the whole situation is the things people will actually say to me about it. It’s always the same thing. They look at him and say, “Oh he’s sooo cute. Look at those blue eyes!” Then they look at me, to check if I have blue eyes they didn’t notice at first. If I am alone with him, they usually ask me if he looks like his father. I guess because they don’t think he looks anything like me. But if we are all together, I get pulled aside and asked in a very private manner, “So, who has the blue eyes?” Even our families will talk about where the mysterious blue eyes came from. The debate always ends with a sarcastic remark to me about who the “real” father is. My response is usually that if my husband isn’t the father, then I am not the mother. At first I thought it was funny, but now it’s really annoying.

This weekend we went to visit family and there was a relative there I hardly see. In the beginning of the night, she started with the usual friendly inquiry about my son and his blue eyes. Then, after about 10 bottles of wine, she was sitting on my lap swearing she would never tell anyone the truth if I would just tell her who his real father is. This, by the way, is happening at my sister-in-law’s house in front of my all my in-laws. Thanks.

People say such stooopid things sometimes.

Some more stooopid things:

I had a friend who is a stay-at-home mom, and when I was considering to be the same I talked to her about it. She said, “Why would you want to stay home and waste your education?” Huh? I didn’t realize I would be “wasting” my education raising my children! By the way, my education is in child development and behavior.

When I decided to stay home with the babes, a family member said that it was good of me to “give up my career for my husband’s.” What? What am I doing??

When I expressed ambivalence about the decision, my husband said, jokingly, “You just don’t want to be my maid.” Ha ha! Yea, real funny. Not f-ing laughing.

People also think that when you change something about yourself, it’s okay to let you know what they really thought of you before. I always had long hair, and I had gotten it cut shorter, so another family member said, “Oh, I love your new hair cut! I couldn’t stand how you used to keep it long all the time.” Thanks?

So to summarize:

My husband IS the father of both my children.
I have decided to adjust my career and center it around only two children, my own.
I am not the maid.
I really don’t care what you think of my hair.

Anybody want to add to the stooopid list?

Ooooooooo, Sportacus!!!

Watching Lazy Town. I feel so ............dirty.
Oh, my God, I gotta get out of the house.

Weirdest crush? Let's hear it!

Finally, Some Eye Candy for Mommy!!!

If you have a small child or children at home, then you probably have been held captive occasionally by their cute, incredibly annoying, developmentally appropriate television shows. Now I know it's not PC to let the kids watch television anymore, I mean 'what kind of mother are you?!?' Oh, normal, and need to maybe throw a load of laundry in, or wash some dishes, or maybe vacuum, or BREATHE!! Mostly, I just tune out the shows and do what I have to, but every once in awhile, I like to snuggle up to the lil' guy and share in the fun. While I'm singing and clapping along on the outside, I am usually screaming: "shut the f..(bleep)ck up Elmo!" or "Dora, just give it to the damn fox already!" on the inside. The one show we all seem to enjoy is Spongebob Squarepants. Plankton alone is hysterical! Like the time when he was in possession of Spongebob's brain, and he said to Squidward, "you mediocre clarinet player." I'm chuckling now. Funny stuff.

Anyway, back to the eye-candy. I put on my lil' friend's favorite shows, and tried to get some things done, but he is being so snuggly today, so I decided to snuggle. So I am waiting for the annoyance... I mean show, to start, and on comes Lazy Town. A new one for me. It starts with this HOT guy doing some exercises on a space ship. Did I mention he is HOT!! Then there are some puppet-like character things, a bad guy, and of course a main character, and it's about getting fit, or something........... So anyway this guy, Sportacus is HOT. He's got these killer arms, and oh, the butt. Heaven. Check out the Lazy Town link, if you haven't seen him. Finally a show I can actually watch, in fact, I want to watch!! Why didn't they think of that before? It is mostly moms at home (and of course dads, I know!) so why haven't they added some cute guys to these shows? It would be quite a ratings booster, no?

Oh, boy, I think I need to get out of the house. I am starting to scare myself. Sorry honey, if you are reading this, you know I think you are the hottest guy ever!
;)

Little Teacher

When I thought about becoming a parent, I thought I was going to have to be my children’s teacher. I thought that I would have to teach them all the lessons they will need to know to succeed and be happy in their lives. I didn’t expect to become their student, but I most certainly did, and have been since the moment my oldest son came into the world.

My son can make my heart and soul soar to amazing heights with his sweet smile, or big, wet kiss, or his hugs he sometimes calls "squishes." When I was pregnant with him, I did everything I possibly could to make sure he would be a healthy little human. I took my vitamins, read all the books, and went to all the classes. I decided that I would have him naturally, which means, no epidural, or any pain medication during labor or delivery. I was terrified that any foreign substance might harm my baby. I would endure pain to save him any harm (I still will). I even had a doula. (A doula is a like a holistic labor coach.) I trained my husband, we practiced, we planned, we were ready. Finally, when my water broke, I mobilized the troops, and took control.
Lesson # 1:
You are never in control, and that’s okay.

I labored 20 + hours. Let me tell you how tired holistic birth coaching gets after 20 hours! But the time to actually give birth finally arrived. I pushed for 2 + hours. No baby. He was coming out with his little hand resting on his cheek. Not a nice way to have a baby. I remember the doctor telling me after all this time that he wanted to do a c-section, and I was so upset . I told the doctor that if that was to be the outcome, then we should have done that 19 hours ago. No way, as long as it was still safe I wanted to keep trying. I did, he came out and was fine.
Lesson #2:
Stand your ground.

My baby was here. They put him in my arms after they put me back together, somewhat. He was screaming and crying and I touched his cheek with the back of my finger and he quieted down and blinked. The nurse said, "ahh a mother’s love". At that moment I was born. My son gave birth to a mother, me. I remember the feeling of his skin. It was electric. I couldn’t believe how electric it felt. I would ask others, do you feel the energy coming off of him? But only I could feel it. I remember just waves of love washing over me when I held him.
Lesson # 3:
Push through the pain, splendor is waiting.

My son’s bilirubin was high, meaning he was a little jaundiced. I was able to take him home, but I had to bring him back to the hospital for testing the following morning. I did, it was still high. The doctor told us that if it wasn’t lower by the following day, he would have to be admitted. I asked the nurse if there was anything I could do to help him and she said to make sure he fed all night long, because the liquid through his body would help lower the count. I was trying to breast feed, but having a difficult time. I had nurses help, even Leleche on the phone for hours, but he wouldn’t latch. I stayed up that entire night and fed him as much as possible, but he just didn’t want to drink. The sun was coming up, and I was giving up. I was exhausted and hormonal, and losing hope. I couldn’t do the one simple thing my baby needed. It was a dark hour, when all of a sudden he woke up, latched on like never before and started drinking. He didn’t need to be admitted.
Lesson #4:
Don’t give up.

The lessons haven’t stopped. The most recent one was this morning. I was trying to get him ready for school. He tends to lose track of time, and needs to be reminded of what need to be done. So in my usual semi-frantic prompting, "You need your socks, shoes, brush your teeth, let’s go the bus is coming....."He said, "MA!" Snapping me out of my list making. "Breathe!"
Lesson # ? I’ve lost count.
Breathe.