Category: Motherhood

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When a parent leaves

My dear bloggy friend Melissa has this awesome little blog which landed her on a little show called Dr. Phil (well not EXACTLY like that, but thats not the point). She was called to be a part of the show because of her very STOUT opinion about motherhood and parenting. Her post and her position on the show resonated with me as a mother and with my inner child.

I am an abandoned child. No, my parents did not necessarily leave me at the firehouse to become a ward of the state. I was raised by both my parents until their divorce. My father moved out and then checked out, emotionally, physically, and mentally. His ties to his children were non-existent, if ever ties were present, hard to tell based on his actions. My mother, her sole focus was to be sure we were taken care of physically and basically. Food on the table, clothes on our back, roof over our heads. I do not blame my mother at all, she did what she had to do as a responsible parent and she went into survival mode. Nurture was not a priority when coming straight out of a nasty and bitter divorce. My mother did right with myself and my siblings, I commend her for all that she endured with raising three kids alone and the trying years we gave her. She could have made the choice to leave. To leave her three children in the care of a man who was not even half able to care for himself, who had (and still has) addiction issues, denial, emotional detachment, strong sense of egoism. While my father was not the fittest parent to care for children he mentally, physically, and emotionally made the decision to leave. Which in my opinion is more damaging than a parent leaving based on a divorce.

While watching the bits of the show I was angry that mothers, MOTHERS, do this to their own children. They make the decision to leave, possibly out of the whole feministic movement, who knows. What I do know is that everytime I leave my house without my children my uterus turns in knots. I know when my oldest does something he should not have before my husband even calls, I can tell when my twins have gotten hurt before I get a call, before I run to their aid I know exactly what is wrong. I feel like something is missing when they are not there. While I enjoy my personal time, I feel my sense of responsibility to them, ALL THE TIME.

I am not saying I am a perfect mother or a mother that has some tremendous bond. As a parent myself I have days, moments, hours where I want to escape. Escape the pressures of being a parent. But only for a moment, until I am brought to center. Where I have my three feet of personal space, to take some deep breaths, to have a moment of Zen. Then I can tackle yet again, this job, duty, the love of being a mother.

I watched as these mothers left. They felt no attachment. None. None to care for their children. To provide. To nurture. To build a protection and level of security that all children need no matter what their age. While my mother provided basics during and after the divorce was finalized she began to nurture again and still does. My mother is the sweetest most hearty woman I know. Her goodness is what makes me what I am today with the balance of my father and his not so stellar qualities. Which segues me back to my father and his detachment. When parents divorce and leave they make the physical decision to leave the shared home, stated fact. Okay, these two people clearly cannot be under the same roof. However, the decision to leave should not include the decision to check out emotionally.

I am tainted goods. I have an inner child with deep rooted damage of a father who left. A parent who abandoned not just because of the divorce, but because he chose NOT to care for his children. Father’s to some degree I can see how this is easy, to disconnect from children, they do not have the internal bonding that a mother shares with her child in utero. At times when I think of my pregnancies I can pin point each rib that each child dug a heel or elbow into. I still get a wince of pain. So I can see how fathers may checkout. But I cannot understand for the life of me why a mother would leave. HOW? How can she live with herself? Is she so delusional to think that she has no responsibility to that child? I commend Melissa for what she does.

She is a step-mother to her step-children that live with her and her husband (children’s father) FULL-TIME. You can read all about her story here. I connected with Melissa because when my father divorced my mother he was immediately “dating” his previous ex-wife. Yeah, my mom was #2. My father makes the wise decision then not even a year after they are separated to “date” and three months after the divorce is finalized in January of 1988, April 1988 my new half-brother is born. O.K.A.Y. But at least my less than acceptable father marries and impregnated (twice) a good woman. Yes in 1989 a half sister arrived. Nonetheless though, my step-mother was my surrogate mother every other weekend that we were in the drunken custody of my father. If not for this woman life would be unbearable, scary, and downright suicidal if not a complete free-for-all. My step-mother took myself and my two siblings in as her own. She loved us, fed us, clothed us even. She would take us on hikes, plan day trips, dance with us, color with us, teach us to cook. Sounds like any normal mom right? Except she did not bear us from her womb, she merely married my sperm donor, who divorced MY mother.

I truly understand and feel the pain of the loss of a parent. The disconnect. The abandonment. But I have to say I would be devastated, I would not be who I am today if I did not have my mother nor my step-mother. I have been blessed to have had TWO extremely beautiful, strong, loving women in my life who taught me love, respect, and beauty. They taught me that even when the going gets tough, you dig in, bear down, and fight. My mother fought for us in the divorce, she fought to not let my father make any attempts to rip us from her. So for those of you who have lost your mothers I am so sorry. I know your feelings, but cannot begin to feel your pain. Your pain is like no other than can be healed. The loss of a parent to death can be grieved through the stages of grief, but a parent and or mother especially lost out of her own self-decision is devastating. Mothers are the world. They don’t call everything her mother Earth for no reason, because a mother is our entire worlds.

For those mothers and fathers who have left I wish I could wrap my head around your reasoning, your disconnect, your emotional detachment, your failure to adhere to the unwritten laws of parenting. I do not judge, I just wish some of us could understand. Are your motives selfish? Are they the inability to cope? How can you abandon your child? YOUR CHILD?

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Using the word STUPID

How to address the word in a child’s vocabulary today? Many kids reach to this word as an easy grasp to define an item, action, state of mind in their daily interaction. However, seems many parents and teachers are a bit too sensitive in the application of the word; almost as if it correlates to the use of the word “retarded” which is highly frowned upon in today’s conversations.

Continue reading “Using the word STUPID”

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Heathens on the Playground

Lately an alarming incident has been taking place at Big G’s school. Not your typical playground Mom and Dad gossip of “Did you know that Jenny is sleeping with Dan while Mary is gone on business?” alarming business but that with our children.

Big G attends a very affluent school. The school is 20 years young in a largely middle to upper-middle class neighborhood. We had him transfered in and a boundary exception because the teachers are of a caliber I have not seen. The students are your typical suburbanites with their Hurley attire and boutique fashion, with the exception of some children who exhibit behavior unlike their outwardly appearances.

I am hoping you know of the children I am speaking. The ones who are the bully, the pusher, the one that makes you scratch your head wondering where the parent’s influence may be in the child. Well these children have been terrorizing my son as well as countless other children of KINDERGARTEN.

bulliesImage Courtesy of SafeNetwork

Yes folks, these children start early. Probably much earlier than kindergarten, however, since this is the first time they are released from the captivity of their own homes the behavior is probably assumed to be normal depending on the home life.

The children start small with pushing, maybe pulling on a backpack, scaling chain link fences as if in some training session, and then the behavior begins to escalate into full body pushing resulting in a child scrambling to catch their footing as the ground quickly approaches their backside. And then….the worst of all fears is when the full assault begins. I also do mean assault. I understand children will play and play fight, but when a child, A CHILD, comes at another child that resembles the actions of a full aggressive punch or attack more than just concern is raised about the children who are the victims and the children who are the attackers. This is what a scene looked like the other day when DH took Big G to school:

right hook, boxing

Now this would make me wonder how the HELL a five, maybe six, year old child knows how to throw a PERFECT right hook into another child’s face! The victim grabbed his nose and face as anyone would who was truly in pain. Tears and then crying. While the attacker stood there….watching as if he were an artist in awe of his work. Truly disgusting! DH ran in between the scuffle to break things up. Waited for the teachers to assemble and grab their students to hurry off to class. DH came home shortly after to explain to me the happenings and how this is the same child that was bullying our son. We talked and agreed that he should talk to the principal. Especially because this behavior should NOT be condoned nor ignored as “child’s play.” I also urged him to use our clout with the school, which was noted by the principal and makes for stronger ground when you as a parent are more than active in your child’s education and school functions.

The situation was addressed, our fears and concerns put to some ease. Until yesterday.

Yesterday when DH took Big G to school again the heathens were at it again. Only this time, LUDE! Not just mean, offensive, assaulting, the typical M.O. for these creatures, no, now as KINDERGARTENERS they have upgraded to lude behavior. These heathens happen to be siblings, twins to be exact, and one twin happened to decide to grab a classmate and HUMP….yes folks….HUMP her with growlings sounds. Need I say more. I heard this and as a MOTHER and a mother to a daughter I was BOILING! If my boys did such an act I would have them by their balls crying for mercy, begging and pleading like choir boys on Sunday for the all merciful to save them from the hell I would put them through.

So as a mother to a daughter I was even more irate. Who let’s their children act like this? Where did these children learn this behavior?  Then the next question was….when will it stop? Will these actions only escalate until these boys are a menace to society? Leeches of our justice system? How the hell can these children go on like this and NO ONE other than the parents do anything to stop them?

Luckily other parents saw this behavior, saw the actions, saw the fighting.
Luckily they had the cajones to say something as well. To take the appropriate actions for these children to be wrangled, parented, taught the fine art of civility.

Now I ask you, how many of you have seen bullies? How many of you take action against bullies? Do you tell your children to ignore them? Walk away? Tell the teacher? How many of you have taken action against your children for being the bully? I truly want to know.

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Raising Arizona

For some reason Mommy Guilt exists in the hearts of moms. I for one have no Mommy Guilt. I am sure you are yelling out, “hogwash,” “LIAR,” “Fraud,” “BULLSHIT!” But really why the guilt? Why do you feel guilty as a mom? What have you done to feel so much guilt? What haven’t you done to instill your feelings of guilt?

The critics and so called “know-it all” authors of parenting put out books every year telling moms and dads alike how to raise better children. More productive children. Overachievers. Perfect children.

Um, who the fuck wants perfect kids?

I know I don’t. Life would be boring. Dull. My children’s lives would lack luster, uniquity, entertainment, thrill, joy, pleasure, and pain. I also would not be challenged as a person to grow spiritually, emotionally and mentally to deal with the day-to-day challenges of being a parent. (Especially a parent of multiples!)

The TODAY show yielded an interesting segment yesterday that caught my attention. A segment on raising kids. My segue into this was yielded in part by my spinning about a post I read about raising kids and how this post referred to an article about an experiment. I should have said to myself…”who cares really about what some quack says in an experiment…..the endless possibilities and outcomes in an “experiment” will possess tons of variables” but unfortunately the underlying theme was the “Mommy Guilt.” Being that I am a glutton I watched the segment.

So this TODAY show segement that I briefly entertained with my shortened attention mentioned parenting items and how to fix parenting problems. Such as praising children. That praising children does not assist in the self-esteem of children.

Now I am not feeling this. While Michelle Borba quickly quoted a Columbia University study that praise is excellent in adults not in children made me think WTF? Children are little adults in my mind. Your mind acts much the same in the way it processes information, however, an adult will be able to synthesize the information a little bit more in depth and to a certain difficulty than a child. Which would suggest to me that children need the same as adults, with the age appropriate spin. She does also say that if a child is praised based on smarts you are NOT suppose to….but to praise based on effort. I for one see this as CRAP. I think a child, especially children who are young and unsure do like to hear both! I for one can speak from experience. I was urged as a child to work harder and praised on my EFFORTS when I was yielding B’s and A’s in school. I personally felt inadequate and not smart enough because of my less than stellar grades. While I may have invested effort, this did not antiquate to smarts. Although the flip side may be that I was told I was smart and then slacked off in school.
My other problem I have with this segment is kids with the very mention of depression. I understand that kids have feelings and those feelings and needs should be acknowledged by the parents. But running your kid to your local psychologist for a diagnosis of depression as young as age THREE BOGGLES. MY. MIND.
If you honestly feel that your child is depressed did you ever stop to talk to them? No wonder you have guilt. You failed to acknowledge your child, to reach out to them and say, “What do you need from me?” “What can I do for you?” And then SHUT the eff up and listen to them. Don’t parent. Don’t judge. Just listen. Most kids will tell you what they need. If you cannot stop to listen to those needs and assist your child in a healthy manner to assist in the productive, emotional, and spiritual growth, then Xanax sure as hell WON’T!!
I am not saying that kids do not get depressed, I am saying that their depression at the RIPE age of three is probably induced by his or her environment which could quite possibly be alleviated by talk therapy, not drug therapy, also by mom or dad not allowing their children to feed on the environment they create. So Mom or Dad…get help first, for yourselves, before you deem that your child needs help. I am also saying as well that parents should talk to their kids, listening to them is HUGE. I am not sure how many times I will say it but listening is amazing. That is all our kids do…is listen. They listen to and pick up on everything we say and do. If you want to know how bad your life is….LOOK AT YOUR KIDS. They will reflect your home-life, your views, your feelings.

Addition to home-life issues is the issue of your child as a person. The mention of a child being materialistic is based on a learned behavior most likely from the parents. This can be solved. How? Quit worrying about brands, material things, the best. If you have to shop at Macy’s for image then that is your perogative, but do  not expect your child to not demand stuff from Macy’s again if you mention clothes shopping. Giving your child everything like toys, nice clothes, the best shoes, does not show them you love them. This will not alleviate your guilt. This does not boost self esteem in your child. This spoils them. If you want to spoil them fine, but do not defend your child when you later learn of behavioral problems, do not deny the capabilities of your child to wreak havoc.

I guess I am lost on the whole guilt thing with raising children. I go to bed every night knowing that my kids are FABULOUS. Not because they are mine, but because they really are great kids. I have come across some real turds of children and really they are good kids, with AWFUL behavior that is not corrected…by the PARENTS. You know them and this is the short list:

  • No manners
  • Expect everything
  • No respect for anyone or authority figures
  • Materialistic because that is all they know from their parents (the more stuff = higher status, when really this just means you are a bigger douche compensating if you ask me)
  • Throw a fit if they do not get what they want, make demands
  • Ignore the rules, pretend the rules do not apply to them.

I also happened across The View. Man, talk about gluttonous jackpot of parenting segments this week for me to watch and read. This was on spanking. I had a problem with this topic. Not about the “to spank or not to spank” issue but the fact that we as a society are truly so wrapped up in judging ourselves and others based on parenting. I mean really, those who are out there writing the parenting books are the ones who probably had the worst parenting.

Whether you spank or not is based on you and your child, not whether or not your parents spanked you. My parents spanked me, but I do not like to spank. My kids do not respond to a quick swat on the tush. Big G used to get swats, he did not respond well and began hitting back. We corrected the whole situation with no hitting and not spanking so he did not correlate the two. His hitting was in part to feeling inadequate about correctly expressing his feelings. We got him a pound a peg and a stuffed toy to take out his anger and frustration. But I think again our society is so judgmental on whether or not we spank, whether or not to “praise” for the right things at the right time, so many rules.

Parenting comes down to the brass tax of common sense. If you cannot common sense parent then you need a license to breed. I cannot tell anyone how they should or should not raise their children but really folks, do we need to read all of these books that contradict or elaborate further on our day-to-day efforts as a parent?

I have a therapist and a lovely one at that. She taught me how to be a better person, to be better, to not react but to act. With her guidance I have learned to be a better parent and better guide to my children. With that they are happy, level, easy going, unexpecting. Because I am a level person and I do the best I can I carry no mommy guilt. None, nada. I have had one moment of guilt as a parent…..on Wednesday when Big G has his early release day….I forgot it was early release.

The school is no more than five minutes away and he was released at 2:25 I got to the school at 2:40. I felt awful only because I thought he might be afraid. But he was not. He laughed at me and said “Mom, you’re late!” I felt guilty for being late that day, however, my guilt was put at ease by the smile on my son’s face and the fact that he knew I was coming, the day itself slipped my mind for early release.

I guess I feel no guilt about raising my children because of the simple fact that they are not like a car. My best analogy….plus many years in the business you can use the analogy A. LOT! But seriously, kids are not like cars with brand new stickers, they may smell new, that lovely smell each has when you bring them home. Your total lust for each, although the car lust for sure fades while the lust and love of children is eternal. They both operate extremely well with no bumps or dings and you protect each one so gingerly until they get a little older and you know, things happen. But the difference with a car and your child, besides the blatanly obvious, is that Handy Dandy Owner’s Manual.

Children are not sent home with an owner’s manual tucked into their diapers. Just your common sense as a person, your comparative knowledge of how your parent’s raised you, how you think you ought to have been raised or your ideals of raising children. THAT’S IT! So each day we do the best we can. We love with every inch of our mortal selves. At the end of the day, we look forward to tomorrow and the new lessons we learn as parents and say to HELL with the guilt. To hell with the whacks and their books. There is nothing more true than a mother’s intuition. Follow it, embrace it, let your soul  be your guide to raising your children and most of all, no guilt. Parenthood is by FAR the most stressful, full-time, hands-on, kiss my ass I am doing the best I can do job out there! Do not feel guilty for doing the best you can, but be sure to give them your best. Give your kids all you have got, because you only have this one life with them.

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To My Oldest Son

My dearest boy. My ultimate lesson. My pure display of life. You grew within me, as me, a part of me for nine hearty months. I could not grasp that you were mine to have. That I had earned something so wonderful, so selfless, so magical. You came into this world with wonder and curiosity. You showed me patience where I thought I had none.

Each day you showed me how I was a good woman to you, I was a good mother to you. But I saw even more how you were such a wonderful, god-send of a gift to me. I had my days and you had yours. I did what I needed as a new mom out of love, out of a so-called duty, working by some manual I had not received. We figured the job out as we went along.

Days were new learning experiences and each passing week still seemed so new. Again such a wonderment of life. Our first child. Our first lesson. My first lesson of life, of undying, unwavering, unconditional love. To give of myself to you in all that you needed. Just a pure awe of what two people can create. Your dad still could not believe who and what you were. Your looks in relation to one another were and still are uncanny. If not for my pregnancy photos no one would know you were mine. Except for my adoration for you.

You showed me how to love and live with each passing day, week, month, year. The joy of living in each moment as if it were all new to me again. Learning all the new details and curiosities and magical wonders of the smallest and largest things in life. All these moments were moments not to be missed. You fought sleep for this simple fact.

My dear boy your smile and laugh were and are contagious. People gravitate towards your giving, loving, and sincere light and energy. Such a unique soul that your dad and I claimed aliens would arrive to take you back home one day.

Your will and spirit can never be broken but with time you have tamed to become a little man. All grown up with your boyish charm. I cannot believe to this day that you are mine. My gift. My gift of life, my new life. I never thought the day would come where I could be a mother, let alone your mother. Your rock in our home, your point of origin to know you are always home wherever we went.. My ease at night after a long day, just to see your face, hear your laugh, and smell your hair.

I yearn for the times where I was the one you always wanted to protet you and tuck you in at night. To fight off all the “bad guys” with my super powers, but I find that I am only your second line of defense. Now you have your own powers, you can do so much on your own. Was it not just yesterday we were fighting diapers and bottles and sippies and underoos? Now I try to fight to keep you forever young. As forever in my heart you will not age, you are my smudge on an ultrasound, my scream in the night, the one who told me I was indefinitely a “mama.” Where has my short time gone with you? Stop growing so fast.

I remember the day I took you to daycare and cried the day I had to leave you. Leave you without me to be there to answer for you and care for you in each and every need. Now I leave you to learn, to become more of the one-of-a-kind you are. Doing things your way. You now leave me to go off on adventures, to grow your self, to gather your identity more and more, and yet I still cry as I watch you grow. I so badly want to experience that with you. To carry your sadness, pain, hurt and fear, but all I can experience is my love to you in those moments where you need me for comfort.

I have never met someone who loved everyone and everything in life the way you do. No mean bone in your body, only a hug to share with all. I have watched you grow into an amazing young man and can only be amazed more and more at how truly wonderful of a person you are. To share all that you do, to love without boundaries, to give when you think someone has nothing, to never expect when your father and I have such higher expectations of what you should have. My simple boy who thinks the world of even the smallest, meager, gifts, never knowing any different.

Who could ask for anything more of a first child. I love you Grant-baby. I am so glad you had the best sixth birthday as I cannot believe I have been so lucky to share these years with you and so many more to come. A mother and father could not be more proud at your patience, your love, your giving, your selflessness, you my boy amaze me more and more. I love you. Happy Birthday!

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Chonies

Last night Big G had a moment of clarity with Dad. I was very happy to later only hear the story and laugh till I about peed myself. I have to say that I am SOOO glad his Dad handles those situations because I…would give the poor boy a complex. I would laugh until I fell over leaving him perplexed and wondering when I would give him an answer.

Shortly after taking a shower Big G was getting dressed and for some reason outfitted himself in a different set of chonies (underwear for you gringos..HA!!). Not sure why he chose the pair he did, but I did find the selection odd when I walked in the door from my PTO Board/Margarita meeting. (Yes that is how we ladies in the PTO roll….a few margaritas, maybe a Dos Equis, some chips and salsa and we get to business.) So I walk in to see the hubs on the couch and the kids roaming through the house and Big G already dressed for bed….which consists of his white t-shirt and his chonies. As I said…interesting choice for underwear this evening.

After the hubs puts the boy down and we are left wrangling gnomes well into the late demonic witching hours, aka 9pm, I asked about the underwear situation. Here is how the whole thing goes down:

Me: So what’s up with Grant’s chonies tonight?
Hubs: What do you mean?
Me: Not his typical underwear….those are usually the “Last Ditch” Mama needs to get the laundry done pair. I have them at the bottom of his underwear pile.
Hubs: Oh yeah, he just picked them out. And then he figured out they were different.
Me: Um yeah! (My best DUH impression rolling eyes and all)
Hubs: Yeah but it was funny because he got all “Dad, why are these shorter than the rest?” and he began pulling them down and fidgeting with his package.

The package…the penis….as if their “tool and jewels” were the beloved and sacred genitalia of all the world. Okay moving on……please enjoy the eye candy. Yum

Me: Giggling uncontrollably now.
Hubs: Grant was telling me “Dad and they are…..well they don’t feel right.”
Me: Laughing still
Hubs: I told him “Well buddy those are Tighty Whities” and he was like “Huh!? What are tighty whities?”
Me: Cackling!!
Hubs: “Buddy, well they are tight….and white…so they are called Tighty Whities.” Grant then tells me “What are the other ones called that aren’t tight and white?”
“Bud, those are boxers, you can move in those.”
“Yeah Dada these ones don’t really squish my penis.”
Me: I am falling over ready to pee myself.

So glad the hubs deals with moments like those. I couldn’t keep a straight face let alone handle the penis comment I would be cackling like an evil witch the moment he said “squish my penis” about his underwear, I know I am such a mature mom.
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Blogging and Toddling

Toddling twins and a mom who enjoys blogging….do not mix. Basically this mixture is like taking a mom who is on Prozac and loading her up on shots of tequila…no bueno!

I have attempted….okay really I have done more than attempt….I have started a half dozen posts only to have them so graciously (screaming, yelling, wailing, and crying) interrupted by the twins. This requires my moment of Zen to be disturbed by removing my ass from said chair in front of laptop to inspect said disturbance. This gets old!

Needless to say I think I am making a good exercise of it. I am thinking of moving the chair altogether to avoid the whole truly sitting down to just doing air chairs. I will have a sweet looking ass and thighs in no time if I do this!

As I remove said arse from said chair I find scenes like these strewn through the house:

I see toilet paper from a BRAND NEW roll completely dismembered through my vanity area of my bathroom and the latrine area.

I then see where the twins are becoming a gaggle of trouble…..unloading my Tupperware from my cabinets. Which normally I have no issue with…..except lately they disappear outside, in the sink, under cribs.

Finally, Little Bitty decides she will be the lookout for her brother….who was most likely the one who unrolled the toilet paper. Not only is she the lookout but the distraction….can you see in this picture why she would be a distraction?

Ah yes, the favored Victoria’s Secret brazier that she managed to get out of my bedroom and strung from her neck like a set of beautiful ivory pearls.

This kind of chaos ensues all.day.long. I pray for nap time. I begged for it yesterday when they refused to nap. They woke so early from their nap just to rummage and create more damage. By the end of the day I was spent. I still had to work out and said…EFF it. I went to bed. I had laundry that needed to be done…PFFFTT…it will grow larger tomorrow…went to bed. If you want to know how a mom of multiples does it everyday….she just says EFF IT and goes. to. bed!

So I went to bed. And now….that the twins are napping and….in.bed. I get to blog! HOORAY! I have to say on these days I miss the Big G just for the older entertainment he is for the squids.
Enjoy what a normal day looks like in my house of Blogging and Toddling.

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I am Quitting my Job

This morning when Pickles Magoo, who I think we are going to call Seth-en-Stein from now on because he is FINALLY starting to walk, a little, walks like Frankenstein. Plus he is so big and bulky like Franken, so what the heck, sounds good. Seth-en-stein (with 80’s zombies voice)

So Seth-en-Stein decides that 5 a.m. is the most fabulous time to start talking in my bed. I know dumb that he was even in my bed, but he was there because at 1 a.m. when you are praying for sleep because the big baby won’t go to sleep, you let him snuggle with you. Which by the way I rarely do, I highly dislike other people in my bed. Anyway, Seth-en-Stein begins talking, singing, crawling all over DH and I. Ok, I can semi-ignore this and get a few more Z’s. WRONG!

The little monster, I mean my little sweet boy, decides to start smacking DH and I because he thinks the sounds of slapping skin in hilarious! WRONG AGAIN! I try to go back to sleep yet again and put Seth-en-Stein on the floor to go play.

I have been SOOOOOOOOOOO WRONG today. He goes in and wakes up Big G and the Little Bitty. FANTASTIC!! Now everyone is awake and the time is barely reading 6 a.m. FABULOUS!

Big G decides to crawl in bed with DH and I, and then DH grabs Seth-en-Stein to throw him back in bed with us. WTF?! I mean seriously, are you kidding me? Now I am dealing with a ton of penises praying for intelligent life to show somewhere when I finally kick everyone out of bed!

I huff and storm out of the room, make coffee as LOUD as I can, even running the garbage disposal out of sheer spite and frustration, to no avail. DH is still in there, SNORING.

Oh and did I mention that my washer went out of commission last night….yeah! With a full load of water and laundry in it. I hope it is an easy fix, because seriously, I can’t take it anymore!

At that point I decided to officially quit my job………..only I am not sure which one to quit!!!???

  • Maid
  • Nanny
  • Chef
  • Cook
  • Baker
  • Coffee Maker
  • Gardener (oh crap….I need to go turn off the water! BRB)
  • Landscaper
  • Pool Guy
  • Launderer
  • Dish Washer
  • Dog Groomer
  • Dog Walker
  • Garbage Man
  • Recycle Extraordinaire
  • Soap Maker
  • Teacher
  • Chauffeur
  • Personal Shopper
  • Sex Kitten
  • Loan Officer
  • Wife
  • Mom

So seriously those are the only jobs that I can think of off hand with only a single cup of coffee and I am not sure which one to quit. Maybe after another cup of coffee I will quit one and ask for a raise, or maybe vacation time.

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I wasn’t always a REAL mom

My journey for motherhood began seven years and three months ago. I had no intention of becoming a mother. NONE. My mother told me for MANY years that I would reap every hell I had sown to her. I would reap because of my own children that “One day, your kids will do the exact same thing you have done to me!!” And so I vowed to never have children. I vowed to never get married.Eating all of those words will probably explain why I am on a diet!

I met my husband in the spring of 1997 in Albuquerque. Of all places, a bar. I know, such a bad cliche. He was married in the process of a divorce. I, was a hot young thing with no intention of settling, he was looking for fun and so was I. Needless to say we have been having fun together since then! We married in the fall of 2000.

Shortly before we were married we discussed children. I still did not really want children. I did not feel I was mother material. I was very set in my ways, a control freak by all means, perfectionist on every level, I was jaded, harsh, young, and could not be bothered. I worked long hours as a finance manager in the car business. That lifestyle was no place for children, my father was living proof, as was I since I was third generation “car guy.” As we talked more and discussed our future life, goals, and dreams, I began to crumble under my inherent calling of womanhood and the “clock.” So we agreed on children, well I did. I demanded no more than two, and of course if we could get it done in one shot with twins I would be more than satisfied.
Like I truly had any control over my conception of a child, you can tell I was a TRUE control freak back then. You can also tell I have had LOTS of therapy since then! HA

In June of 2000 I went off the pill. For a few reasons, one which was to lose the 15 pounds I had gained on the pill so that I could get into my perfect wedding dress. Right now I would kill to look like that again….but that in itself is another post. The other reason I went off the pill was to begin our unprotected sex journey to conception.

The journey took TWO LONG years before I even got pregnant.

One March Sunday I awoke and just had “that feeling”, the one where you KNOW to take a pregnancy test, where you know your heart will jump out of your chest in complete disbelief? I called my boss and told him I would be late to work that day…..I was pregnant!! DH was already at work that morning, he worked the first shift at Home Depot. I being the sentimental little miss I was ran over to Wal-Mart, picked up an “I Love Daddy” bib and took that to him at work. I arrived and walked to the millwork desk where I found him loading doors into an overhead display. He seemed worried as to why I was stopping by to see him on my way to work. My eyes began to well and I handed him the bib. He pulled the bib out of the bag and looked at it in disbelief……just as I did with the stick I just peed on not 45 minutes earlier….and he asked what this meant. I asked him what did he think it meant? We went around and around for a minute and then I told him I was pregnant. We just stared at each other for a minute and then hugged like there was no end. Our movie moment was over and then we both had to get to work.

I was beaming! I beamed for about a week, maybe two. I hadn’t even had a chance to have my first doctors appointment to confirm via ultrasound that I was pregnant. Complications set in…..fast!!

While at WORK, work of all places. Nothing but men, jaded, alcoholic, mean, self centered asshole men. I began to show signs of a miscarriage. I ran out of work, grateful my boss was a good, kind hearted man! I went to the ER with DH where they said that I was having a “threatened” miscarriage and that all appeared fine, but to take things easy. Another week passed, and again while at work, signs, signs that I had no idea about with cramping, spotting, I was a train wreck! I was sick, nauseous, not nauseous, not sick, I was a pregnantly confused young woman. My body was telling me yes and no to pregnancy. I waited until I was out of work and things seemed fine. I knew then it was stress from work. So I called in sick to take things easy on a Saturday. This was UNHEARD OF in the car business. I took the day easy watching TV, not worrying. Until that night and I knew we had to go to the ER. Something was terribly wrong. DH and I sat in the ER for over 10 hours. Grueling tests, pokes, prods, no drugs, ultrasounds, more tests, LOTS of waiting. My HCG was off the charts, so they said I was definitely pregnant, maybe a little farther along than I had calculated. But the bad news came at just before dawn. Just before dawn on Easter Sunday. We were miscarrying. We looked at each other in silence, in love. Our first loss as a couple. We had never experienced the grief and loss we experienced that day. I called my mother…..and I called into work for Monday. We were in mourning. To add injury to insult, we were also told I had LARGE ovarian cysts. WHAT?!!

And so we sat…..waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for the “miscarriage” to happen. I was writhing in pain for DAYS. Emotional and physical. I had returned to work on Tuesday only go go home. I was in the worst pain, somewhat spotty. I called my doctor only to get the run around THREE different times by the nurse who answered when I finally put my foot down and was my normal bitch self. I told her I was in pain. I told her I had NOT lost the baby yet, not enough substance. I TOLD HER I FELT LIKE MY LEGS WERE BURNING!!! I went to the doctors where they did an ultrasound. OH SHIT, is what the tech told us.

GREAT! WTF is that suppose to mean?

The doctor came in, told us to rush to the hospital for surgery I had an ectopic pregnancy and I was bleeding out. If I did not go into surgery that day I would surely bleed to death.

FANTASTIC!

After all was said and done I had found I was pregnant with twins. Fraternal quite obviously, one in the womb which was my “blighted ovum” as they called it and the second became entombed in my right fallopian tube which is nonexistent to this day. Thanks to a ruptured appendix four years prior that left scar tissue which choked off the path to the uterus. I researched from then on all about pregnancy after an ectopic……the results were dim at best. 37% success rate.

SUPERB!

I was looking forward to struggling to get pregnant once again. However, I endured great pain in order to conceive. You see I never did fertility. Crossed my mind, but never did. I knew I was fertile, but standing on my head and raising my pelvis were not assisting in the dates of DH’s sperm and my ripe eggs. I had to be tested before I attempted to conceive again, the doctors had to test whether or not my left tube was open for business. There I lay…on a cold, sterile, flat bed with my “Frieda” exposed to some random lab guy who was inserting an instrument into my vagina and met my cervix. He explained how a “balloon” at the end of this tube would inflate to open my cervix and a dye would enter to check the tube. GREAT, sounds easy. Nope. I begged for more rectal exams before enduring that test again. But the results were life changing. We had an open tube that was ready for traffic. That was July of 2002…..by December, when we thought we would NEVER get pregnant, we conceived. I know the date. Christmas Eve. Such a beautiful night.

Yet in the time that we found the results and conceived we put our house in Albuquerque up for sale, started job hunting and decided Arizona was the place to move. My family lives here (there) and so we thought, that would be perfect. Still close to family.

In January of 2003 I scheduled a trip to Arizona to interview with car dealerships, at least three, and a few mortgage companies. I met with almost all of them but settled with the dealership since I would be making the most money. (Wrong! Thats a whole story in itself) I returned home and went to work the following day. My general manager and the owner of the dealership I was working for found I was job hunting, they knew I was going to give notice. They let me go with my vacation pay and the pay for the rest of the month! So I was well on my way to moving. I got home that day and knew….just knew in my gut to take a pregnancy test, I was only like a day late if that.

EUREKA!!

I called DH at work….told him the great news about being let go early. He was shocked. I told him about all the money being paid out. He was relieved. I told him I was pregnant!

***********CRICKETS***********

But we moved anyway and I had an ultrasound and this baby was a keeper. My Big G!
On September 14, 2003 at 2:22pm weighing in at 8 pounds 2 ounces and 19.25 inches long, DH and I welcomed Grant Thomas Herring to the world. Big G!

I couldn’t believe I did it! I made it through 10 months, 8 hours of labor, 45 minutes of hard pushing, and I did it! I was a mom. But I never felt it. Something was there, but not there. I have pictures where you can see I adored the boy (and still do), just gazing at him. Yet, something felt missing. I went back to work at 7 weeks and he went to daycare. I was crushed. I cried a week straight dropping him off, but that slowly eased.

DH and I met troubled waters after having Big G. We went from living in a house to an apartment when we moved to Arizona, so cramming all your house furniture into a tiny apartment with two dogs was not ideal. Plus we began to grow apart. We finally bought a house though in February of 2004. We still live in the same house we bought, the house is home. DH and I started to come back to center with each other, things were mending, I was struggling personally. I felt something was wrong with me. And then we had another blow. In May of 2004 we found we were pregnant………AGAIN! I was furious. I was just barely done being pregnant. DH was excited, I was pissed. He was crushed. After some time and just before our first appointment (since I am high risk I had to go in right away) I finally accepted and was happy to be pregnant. Then the doctor did an ultrasound. He took forever. I wanted to know what was going on. And then I heard the words…………………..

You have TWO in there………..You see?!

Then I wanted to lose my mind. I couldn’t believe it. But we had another quick jab. I was asked how far along I was…..because the yolks did not look big enough. So we rescheduled to come back in a few weeks to check. Those were the longest.weeks.ever! The following ultrasound was killing me. I lay in wait for weeks to tell people we were pregnant, I told some, I need positive affirmations. The power of positive did not yield. The twins were mono-amniotic (sharing the same sac, quite possibly identical twins) and they were not growing. No heartbeat. No babies. No healthy babies even if the pregnancy took and went to term. I was warned of Twin to Twin Transfusion, heart problems, a whole spectrum of medical mumbo jumbo that I immediately heard “wah wah, wah wah wah wah.” We were devastated again. To add more injury I was sent home with a script to help ease along the miscarriage.

TWO THUMBS UP!

Within a few days of that appointment I was fired, over the phone, by my boss at the time. So that was great. I had lots to contend with. Luckily one of my old bosses (at a different employers) offered me to come back and I worked for them for a year and when I was pregnant with Big G, so I was happy to oblige. They were also very sympathetic of what I was having to endure…..as the process was not moving along. But then it did….and I never wish the experience upon any woman in my life. I awoke to labor pains at 16 weeks gestation. Awful. I could not wake DH. I would not. So for hours I suffered alone until the ordeal was done. I writhed, cried, hid, felt shameful, prayed for mercy. And then I suffered more as I began my awful bout with depression which lasted me some time and then the nasty medication that completely ruined me.

I had a breakdown in 2006. I nearly lost my mind. I almost had myself committed. I detoxed off of the worst anti-depressants known to man. I searched, I fought, I lost, I won, and then I was saved by a wonderful woman. She told me how to deal with myself. That feeling was OK. All that I had learned was wrong, and I have been every sort of medication (except the occasional motrin for headaches, etc) free since March of 2006.

In 2007, DH and I went to our friends wedding in Reno. We. Had. A. BLAST! Big G free weekend to enjoy ourselves. And we did. And we got loaded on many occassions. And DH told me he wanted another baby. And so after celebrating a wedding and in the nostalgia we worked towards another baby.

June 2007 came upon us fast. This was the year The Police were on their reunion tour. GET. OUT. OF. TOWN. We got tickets. On the floor. We rocked out to The Police that year. And that night, nostalgic from the concert, we conceived. June 18th 2007.

July rolls around and we were planning the 4th. Somehow DH and I got into an argument. I ran to the store to get smokes (I was smoking at the time) and a pregnancy test. I know, great combo! Like a salad and a double cheeseburger.

I get home from cooling off, take the test. DH and I are still battling. We were on the brink of the BIG D coming to our lips when I return to the bathroom. I was in tears. Still. From the fight. From the results. I stood there as we were half assed deciding our fate when I whipped out the pee stick. His jaw dropped. We laughed. We mended our stupid fight. We started going back to counseling.

The pregnancy seemed to be your regular run of the mill, feel like crap, look like crap, eat like crap. But I felt like something was going wrong again! I know right…a running theme. I go to the Urgent care thinking I had a UTI or a bladder infection. The ass hat doctor tells me I have back pain. WTF?! Dude….I have pain….not back pain….the pain is near my back…..but not my back. We go to the ER. I couldn’t take it, granted the doctors appointment was in 2 days, but I had not eaten in those two days and could not keep anything down. I knew I was having a girl, but did not want to be so seriously ill. We went through tests again in the ER, but thankfully in a hospital that is knowledgeable unlike the ones in Albuquerque.

Tests, tests, lots of tests. Pain, pain, and lots of pain. I accepted their drugs. I needed their drugs, I felt like I was going to die. Now I can handle A LOT of pain. I went to 7 during my BACK LABOR with Big G before I crumbled for the epidural. The tests were run, and now I just wanted results and I wanted to go home. The doctor came in with the nurse, the time was just after midnight, approaching 1 am.

“Well folks, everything looks totally normal. So you have nothing to worry about.”
Me and DH “Whew so everything is A-Ok, the pregnancy is alright, I am alright?”
“Yeah nothing wrong with you………you just have two babies in there so that will cause a bit more discomfort.”

***********CRICKETS***********

“Um two babies?” I asked in disbelief….brinking on the edge of tears. DH, “TWO BABIES!? OMG babe did you hear that?”
“Are you sure?” I asked again.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” the doctor said. We both shook our heads unable to speak a word.
“Yeah you are looking good, we saw two heartbeats in there, so can’t ever say you didn’t get good news in the ER.”

And we left still dragging our jaws on the ground. Slid into the car and screamed. Then we called everyone. We woke them up. We told them our shocking good news.

On February 15th 2008, at 36 weeks and 4 days by Casearean section I delivered Seth Michael at 4:53pm weighing 8 pounds 2 ounces 19.75 inches long and at 4:54pm I delivered Sara Noel weighing 6 pounds even and 19.25 inches long.

From them on my job as a mom has changed. I have been able to see and enjoy all the firsts. I was robbed with Big G because I had to go back to work. I was robbed based on my own selfishness of failing to accept I was a mom, I wanted my DINK lifestyle. I robbed my oldest of a healthy, well adjust mom the first few years of his life. But I feel like I am making that up to him. I am a 30 somethings mom now who has no desire to keep up with fashion….I mean I am lucky if I match at all some days. I have two more children that I am learning from everyday, watching grow like I should have with Big G. I should have just stopped to watch, what was my hurry?

I am better with compassion to my children, I am patient, kind, and I am always listening. I listen to the sound of the giggles. I listen to the cries, I know which ones are pain, hurt, hunger, tired, thirsty, or the ones that mean I just need a hug. I didn’t always know these things. I wasn’t sure I wanted to, but felt obligated to do so. Now, I love it. I look back at how BORING my life was before kids. My house was always clean, I mean I vacuumed dog hair…big woop. Meals were boring, we sat and watched TV never speaking. Now, dinner is like a three ring circus with Big G and the twins, never a dull or lifeless dinner. I no longer go days or weeks without a hug from someone, as I get hugs all day everyday. I used to spend money on excess fashion, where now that is spent on school clothes, school shoes, and play clothes for my kids, now I spend on their fashion. I used to never worry about what time I went to bed, and now, I am lucky to stay up past 11pm.

Some women claim they were “born to be a mom,” I think we are all born to be a mom based on gender makeup. But moms are made. My kids made me the mom I am today. I love them more than words can say and I never regret, wish, or ask for anything different with them or in for myself in my life. Each and everyday I try to stop a little longer to cherish, love, and memorize them just as they are in that moment, on that day, because they grow so fast.

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The Way to a Mother’s Heart

In my meme yesterday, one of the eight things I had done was cried. Now the crying was definitely tears of joy, but tears nonetheless. I am a feeler, I am one of those people who will cry at movies, weddings, graduations, I am a feeler, I feel everything. Now my son, Big G, must know this because he can put me to tears in an instant.

In October of 2007 when we had taken a trip for a wedding I was getting dressed and when DH was helping me zip up my dress the first thing Big G told me was:

“Mama, you look like a PRINCESS!”

Cue tears.

Well the boy had another moment like that on Sunday evening when he was with DH. DH was helping him to take a shower and get cleaned up before bed. As he was drying him off the conversation turned to being a baby. They discussed everyone that is and was a baby. My mother, my grandparents, DH, the Squids, me, and finally Big G. Big G mentioned how he was 14 years old before I gave birth to him……remnants of a memory of a past life maybe? Interesting.

But the boy felt compelled to tell me something and this is how the conversation went:

Big G: Mom I have to tell you something.
Me: Okay buddy.
Big G: No Mom, look at me….look into my eyes.
Me: (holding my composure) Okay buddy, you have my attention.

Big G: I want to thank you Mom.
Me: Thank me for what baby?
Big G: For birth
Me: what? ( I look inquisitively over at DH who is laughing uncontrollably)
Me: Ok, babe do you need a shovel for whatever this boy is trying to say to me.

DH: No, no, he’s just so cute.
Me: Okay buddy what are you trying to say.
Big G: Dad, whats the word I am looking for……
DH: Birth buddy.

Big G: Right, Mom……thank you for giving birth to me.

And that is the way to a mother’s heart each and every time when my boy says something so innocent and beautiful just like that I melt and cry like a big baby!!