Today was another crazy day. A house that would make junk yards look
good, a to-do list a mile long. So being the woman of action that I am,
what did I do? Took the little guy and went to the park.
What's the big deal with that?
The following bad parenting confession should clear that up: As you
may know, our little guy is the youngest of four. I'm an older parent.
And that's not the best combination for doing fun, kid-oriented stuff
on a regular basis.
Unlike his siblings before him, we don't do playdates, he has no friends his own age, and his usual outing consists of driving his older siblings to and from THEIR activities. And the time we do have alone together is usually the only time I can run errands, go grocery shopping or clean house.
That said, I don't know what got into me today. After leaving
SuperCuts I just didn't want to go home to my growing mound of work.
It's a beautiful day (compared to the snow two days ago) and the sun
was shining. So to the park we went.
The little guy's reaction kinda surprised me. Suspicious and unbelieving, he kept asking, over and over again, "Why?"
That's when the mommy guilt really hit. Note to self: I've got to get out with him more often.
Now this wasn't the normal,
sit-on-the-bench-exhausted-while-the-little-guy-runs-around-like-a-banshee
type outing. Contrary to my usual MO, I was right out there with him,
sliding on slides, swinging on swings and yes, I even did the monkey
bars. Some of the teens ditching class at the local high school looked at
me as if I was certifiable, but today, nothing could stop us.
The best part was the game. My highly imaginative little man wanted to play Monsters. Tickle monsters, scary monsters, Frankenstein, mommy monsters -- you name it, I played it. And the corresponding giggles could be heard 'round the world. His were pretty loud too.
To sum it up, a good time was had by all. This is one of those days I want to hold onto for a long, long time.
The moral of the story? Get out with your kids more. Not only does it
do wonders for their disposition, but it might just make your day.
Today, I have a bone to pick. And a confession to make. Boy, I think I confess more to you folks than my priest. Actually, I know I do. Well here goes the confession de jour:
I AM TOTALLY OUT OF MY LEAGUE!
Where the hell do you find the time?
I don't get it. Most of you out there are moms like me. And, unlike me, some of you even juggle family life with full time jobs. So how do you find the hours in a day to get this all done?
It takes everything I've got to get a post out every other day or so, let alone research HTML and CSS to make clever tweeks to my sidebars or get the newest widget. Don't get me started on the whole social networking thing.
And although I love all the comments and good wishes that have been posted along the way, I'm usually too scattered to reply to each one. I'm ashamed to admit, that right now I have two awards that were graciously given to me by fellow blogging friends and I haven't gotten around to passing it on -- or even posting about it. A fine image I'm painting, don't you think?
Maybe I'm just not in the know. Hey, it wouldn't be the first time, and probably not the last either. So what am I missing?
The thing is, I like this new world I've entered. I want to be a part of it. And I want to be good at it. But you, my friends have given me some pretty hard acts to follow. So, tell me. What are your secrets? What tips and tricks allow you to balance your real-world lives and the cyber alter egos we all create?
Can you tell?
Well, we've had our reasons. As I posted before, my oldest son came home with the Swine Flu a couple of weeks ago. After a week, it looked like it passed over the rest of us. Pheww! But by a cruel twist of fate, the incubation period is 7 to 10 days, and on about day 9, the swine hit the fan.
The two girls got it, followed quickly by me and then my husband. The little guy is the only one in the clear right now. Not to be outdone though, he got an ear infection from hell instead. It threatened to rupture, but so far, so good.
The worst part for him has been the medicine. Because of the severity, the doctor prescribed a new antibiotic. Not the normal pink, bubble gum flavored kind, lets just say it didn't go over too well. The first time I tried to get the syringe into his mouth, he happened to pull back just as I squirt it into his eye. I'm pretty sure that wasn't in the little directions packet that came with the bottle. The second time (and third and forth and fifth for that matter) it got into his mouth, but was quickly launched across the room as he spit it back at us.
You try telling a three year old to drink something that tastes like crap. All the "but it will make you feel betters" in all the world won't make a lick of difference. Its gross and that's that. We even tried mixing it with some chocolate milk. It worked once, but now he'son to us yet again. So right now, we've back to the drawing board, trying to find new and ingenious ways of sneaking the smelly stuff past him.
If this wasn't enough, I found out a couple of weeks ago that I have mono. That's right, the Kissing Disease. The problem is, with all the bugs going around here, nobody's been kissing anyone. How do you like that? If I'm going to end up with the stupid ailment, you'd think I could at least have some fun doing it. Oh well, such is my life.
What I'm left with is a fine combination of fevers, chills and the unrelenting urge to go back to bed. Come to think of it, my eyes are feeling a bit heavy as I type, so time to sign off and say Good Night -- or Good Afternoon or Good Morning. Whatever.
Night. Night.
Now these meetings are a far cry from the ones I remember as a kid. We'd spend a good week drawing pictures, cleaning out our desks and printing our names as neatly as we could in preparation for the big day. The babysitter would be called and my parents would leave for the evening. At school, my parents would visit the classroom, talk to my teacher and look at all my work. Back at home, us kids would wait nervously, hoping and praying that Mom and Dad would come home happy.
Fast forward more than a few years and my kids conferences come in several varieties.
Then there's the Take a Seat in the Gym and Wait in Line to Talk to the Teacher Who Has No Idea Who Your Kid Is kind.. Rearing their ugly heads in middle school, these conferences (I use the word loosely here) has all the warmth and charm of a trip to the DMV. The teachers all sit at tables lined up in the gym or cafeteria, while us parents wait patiently (or not) for our turn to confer. When you finally make your way to the front of the line, you get the pleasure of an oh-so-intimate conversation while the growing line of equally impatient parents breathes down your neck. All this trouble to speak to an educator who fumbles for your child's name, and basically regurgitates the same information you found on Infinite Campus earlier in the day. But its all worth it when you here them tell you that your beautiful child is "right where they should be."
Now my personal favorite is the We're Gonna Let Your Kid Run the Show and Tell You How Great We're All Doing conference. Affectionately known as the Student Led Conference, your sweet angel sits in front of you, flashing that sweet, sweet smile. She'll show you her work, reads you her list of goals (dictated by the teacher earlier that day) and tell you how much she enjoys her class. And if little Suzie's not doing so well? Are you going to be the one to break her little heart by pointing it out? Nope. And the teacher knows it. So there you sit, when to your horror you hear the words leave your lips. "That's great, kiddo. Looks like you're just where you should be."
I've been whistling this classic from the Wizard of Oz all day long -- with a skip in my step and a smirk on my face no less.
Lately, I've been feeling even more scattered then usual. My addled mind cannot
seem to remember the smallest of details (which my kids take immense pleasure in reminding me, over and over again) Focus has been non-existent, as well as planning, cleaning, cooking -- you get the idea. I was beginning to wonder if something was seriously wrong with me.
Then today, like manna from heaven, a beautiful gift dropped from the sky. When I saw the sign at the Little Stinker's preschool announcing their "Lunch Bunch" I almost knocked the other moms out of the way to sign up.
Whoever came up with this little perk was a bonified miracle worker. They sure didn't have it when my older kids were little. Basically, instead of rounding the little guy up after the whopping 2 1/2 hour session is over, he gets to stay for lunch and play with his friends. The result? Five glorious hours to myself.
I haven't had this much time to myself since school started. Come to think of it, I haven't had this much time to myself since I had my little guy. I ran errands, did chores around the house and even went for a run with the dog. I was quick, efficient and productive. Its amazing what a block of time without any interruptions will do to you.
Its during this time of uninterruped thought that I had a personal epiphany. I CAN think. I CAN concentrate. I CAN accomplish something . OK enough of the CANs -- I'm having visions of the Little Engine That Could. And that can't be good!
Whoops, I digress. Back to my point. I realized today that I don't have ADHD or Alzeimer's afterall. I just have kids. And the four of them have a way of distracting me into oblivion.
So for all those days when I wondered where my brain had gone, I realized it was here all along. Just like our friend the Scarecrow. I just needed a little peace and quiet to coax it out of exile. Way to go Lunch Bunch. And to my much maligned mind -- I look forward to seeing you again next week.
When I first started this blog, it seemed inspiration was everywhere. I found myself stealing away every chance I got to recapture moment after moment. I was cracking myself up.
Then came the school year. All the kids gone, hours without interruption. So why is it, I can't seem to find the time to write? Or even worse, anything to write about? It makes no sense. But then again, having an uncanny knack for doing things a tad differently than most, I shouldn't be surprised.
I have several theories forming at the moment. First, we've all been sick, and boy, nothing kills creativity like the flu. Then there's the fact that now that I'm here by myself, I'm noticing all those pesky projects that have gone unnoticed for a very, very long while. They keep calling me like some sick stalker.
I've also had the fleeting thought that maybe, just maybe, I'm just losing touch with my creative side. Fleeting is the operative word in that last sentence, 'cause I'm not ready to go there yet.
Of all these ideas, the one that keeps coming back to me is material. Let's face it, with four kids under foot this summer, we were swimming in it. Chances were good that at any given moment there was someone doing something that was worth noting. Now, with all the peace and quiet, all I seem to have left is,,,peace and quiet. And while this might be the road to personal fulfillment, it sure can be boring. So what's a girl to do?
Right now, I'm going to enjoy my moments of solace. A rarity in these parts, I liken them to those days of youth. They'll be gone before I know it.
Then, I'll start tackling some of my projects. Knowing my luck with power tools, or tools of any type actually, I'm sure the material will present itself quickly enough. And then those creative juices will flow.
In the meantime, I'm just going to lay my head down for a quick nap....Ah, you gotta love peace and quiet, don't you?.
My kids sure know how to push my buttons. They take this perverse pleasure in testing just how far they can push me before the veins in my neck heave, my nostrils flare and my head spins round on my neck like a top.
This week, I think we hit speed records in this little experiment of theirs. You see, the relative tranquility of the school day only amplified the decibel level upon their respective returns from school. Just as I became acclimated to the calm, I was rudely jolted back into the wonderful of the world of insult hurling, food flinging and tears streaming -- yes, it always seems to end with tears streaming. Or maybe its door slamming, I forget.
But anyway, back to my point. The normal chain of events goes something like this. Kids yelling. Kids rough-housing. Kids breaking objects or each other. More yelling. Repeat.
During this cycle not one dares to heed my futile attempts at keeping the peace.
"Kids, keep it down."
"Don't do that."
"Someone's going to get hurt, you know."
That is until I make the following statement...usually in an extremely forced, carefully measured tone. "If you keep this up, Mom's gonna blow."
That's when they realize the lady means business. Maybe its the calm in my voice, the strength of my convictions, or maybe its the fact they've all seen me blow like a volcano and it ain't pretty. I like to think of it as Mauna Loa. You know the one. Mighty and fierce, the majestic crater need only send a hint of black smoke into the air, thus sending everyone shaking in fear. Hey, a woman can dream, can't she?
Well so went our week. Except for the fact that more than once I screamed the above statement at the top of my lungs. So much for cool and collected. Seems my top had already popped by the time the words left my lips.
When it happened yesterday, my oldest son started running around the house, hands waving in the air, "Duck and cover, mom's gonna blow. Duck and cover, she's gonna blow." Did I mention he was laughing hysterically?
Soon his sisters joined in, along with the toddler, the dogs and the cat (held against her will by the toddler). All forming a conga line from hell, now adding leg and arm movements as they wound around the house. Thankfully, the procession finally ended at the dining room table, where they curled up underneath, feigning fright and laughing uncontrollably.
It was at this very moment I realized I have lost all semblance of order and authority. Sad as it is to say, I am Momma Loa no more.
First I have a confession to make. I'm definitely not the picture of calm. Blame my Mediterranean heritage, but I'm not exactly what you'd call even-keeled. That doesn't stop me from trying though. In the crazy, mixed up world that is my life, I keep searching for a place where peace, calm and tranquility rule.
This is a challenge because of confession #2. I'm no Super Mom either. Organizationally-challenged is more like it. I leave the house without makeup, am not the best housekeeper on the block and am often afraid to look in my purse for fear of what might be growing inside.
Pretty pathetic, I know. But I do have one thing going for me. Four kids, two dogs, one cat, a guinea pig and a salamander -- and whatever pond creature my son happens to bring home -- make our house a source of constant amusement. Not always ours, but someone's.
With entertainment like this, who needs perfection? Join me in my fight against chaos and hopefully my crooked journey will offer some humor, fun and inspiration along the way. After all, if I can find my Happy Place in this life, I'm pretty sure anyone can.
