Oldest Child Syndrome

Being the oldest child of any family is a real pain in the neck. Really, it sucks a giant goats ear if you have to know. Speaking, clearly, from experience.

I, am the oldest of 5 children. Not all from the same mother. Hang in there….
I have 2 “blood” siblings from my mother, then 2 “half” siblings from their mother.
Our common denominator is…..our father (yeah he was a man whore).

Now being the oldest of THAT many siblings is trying at best. My youngest (half) sister completely looked up to me and thought I was and am the most beautiful person ever. Very sweet of her, granted she just turned 20 so I chalk her up to being naive and not as jaded as I am. My younger sister, the sister I called my baby sister, poor dear always felt the need to live up to me. She too thought I was some goddess of heaven, I think, when we were growing up. Only recently did she find that I am not, nor was I ever, perfect.
Perfectly flawed really, but far far far from perfect.

My mother. Ah, yes, my mother. I was the first. I was the guinea pig. I was the one child you learn from, make all your mistakes with, wish the world for, expect the most out of. Yes, I was the ultimate mold, the continuous masterpiece in progress.


I love my mother dearly, but when she gets around me and starts “mothering” me in front of other people like I am still that masterpiece to be molded, my pitchfork and horns begin to poke through my skin and I can feel the fiery wrath of hell behind me just waiting to be unleashed at my command. I understand and love that she is my mother, I would ask for NO OTHER, however, STOP with the crap. And let me explain the crap…..and of course I am the only child who gets it….because you see I am the unconventional, NEVER have listened to my mother, oldest child. Strong willed, my way or the high way, you are always wrong I am always right oldest child. The other children get her crap…..but not to the extent I get it, because I am the first and oldest child, forever and always, the oldest child.

Here is how the “crap” was laid today in my “perfect” kingdom.

My mother, God-mother (yes I really have one of those….my folks were old school), sister, nieces and nephew all came to visit and play in the pool today at my house. I love visitors, because they visit and then they leave. Not like guests…guests stay a while….I hate guests. Anyway, the women are sitting around the kitchen yakking like a bunch of hens would while the children played when we began discussing children. I hate this discussion…..always have….I was hounded by a MIL for years about bearing fruit for her and what does she do? Never visits. Gosh, off on another tangent…sheesh! See this is why I have a therapist.
OK…..where was I?
Oh yes, the discussion about children.

Mom is telling god-mom all about my sister, myself and our brother and how many children we each have, planned to have, going to have, are not going to have anymore. Yadda Yadda Yadda My mother, being the snipe she can be threw out into the conversation about my situation with more children, like I really need more children…with my history,

“Well in my mind you are not done having children yet since neither you or C are fixed yet!”

“That does not mean we are going to have more children mother, this just means that we have craptastic health insurance and the cost of “FIXING” the flowering fruit is out of our budget, so what is in our budget is condoms.”

“No! You are not done yet. Until that deed is done, in my mind you are not done.”

“Not going to argue with you about MY uterus and HIS penis.”


Now my mom never means these comments as a joke, or a kid, or I’m just saying. No, she says this to drive me mad. Half the time I want to reach over and choke her. Does she NOT understand the brutality I went through with my pregnancies? With my journey to motherhood? Does she truly not get that I AM DONE?!

Sister on the other hand, she chimed in how she is fixed, which mom backed her 100% that she is done having kids. (No offense Britt….you know how Mom can be)

???????????????????? Are you serious????????????????????

See as the oldest child we are pushed to the very edge of being perfect, we have to meet these untold standards. What standards? Where is the damn book that says “You must be this tall to ride this ride.” I find myself riding on Big G in that manner and I have made a conscious decision to stop, because I do NOT want the boy to end up like me. Resenting the comments his mother makes. I also do not want him to constantly be in pursuit of something that is unattainable and does not exist……PERFECTION. He is perfect in my eyes just the way he is, no better no worse. He is my creation and that makes him perfect.

I just do not understand why moms push the oldest children as hard as they do. I mean my life is challenging enough WITHOUT the childhood minutiae my mother can bring to the table.

So Mom, I love you, but do me a favor and keep your crappy comments to yourself. Even if you think you are just making cute jabs that are jokes or what have you….I really don’t need anymore hell in my life. Bad enough hell is my neighbor, I’d like for it to remain so.

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.


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.


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.


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!


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.


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.”


“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.

The Good, The Bad, and the Unclear?!

Moms, grandmoms, Great-grandmoms, just about any mom you can think of asks this question when they see a young child and or baby:Is he/she good?

I mean seriously? What kind of question is that?
When anyone asks me that I truly think about messing with them a little and telling them how awful my child is because he has a small (I mean child size)penis aiming into a LARGE porcelain bowl and he can never hit it….always the outer edges making cleaning a real bitch….how my youngest boy Pickles Magoo is the biggest whiner and Mama’s boy ever….and Little Bitty…..yeah, she is no princess….she is the second biggest whiner in the house and to top things off she beats up her twin….I mean who does that to their twin?

But all of that does not make my children good or bad. My kids are awesome. Do they have moments of bad behavior? Sure. Moments where they forget to use manners, hit, or worse…..forget to brush their teeth. (LOL)

Kids and people are never bad. Bad is a terrible word, the use gives a connotation and an association that suggests that this is a quality or trait of an individual. That by telling your child when they have done something wrong “bad boy” or “bad girl” they lose self-esteem and or self worth. They then feel that they are less because of their actions and choice resulting in actions and consequences.
(I hope I didn’t lose you)

For example, Big G had a problem with hitting when he was a toddler in daycare. I attributed this to the fact he was the largest, the largest eater, and he learned this from other children. I learned to tell him, “No, we do not hit. Hitting is bad” as the proper way to tell my child what he had done wrong at a young age. If I told him “NO! Bad boy” he probably would have been lost as to what the hell I was talking about. Here is the thing, if you are questioning whether or not your child understands…..DO NOT underestimate them. Seriously, for little people they are super smart and they can comprehend a lot more than what we give credit.

No one, in my opinion, is bad. I think even the killers and criminals of the world are not bad people, they have just made bad decisions and they behave badly because no one showed them otherwise or they were not given the right environment or love needed. But I believe they are inherently good people. Maybe because I carry a Rogerian theory of people, but I think that we learn how to behave properly or in a way that is acceptable, ethical, and at best morally sound.

Maybe my years of therapy and self help books (thank you Melody Beattie) have helped me to become a better person and a better mother in the way I discipline and teach my children. Some people are truly unclear on the thought that actions do not make a person, they do not define the very essence of their being, so by telling them they are bad or good because of the good and or bad things they have done sends mixed signals. When I discipline Big G I am always sure to tell him these sentences and they seem to be a HUGE difference in his demeanor:

“Big G, what you did is unacceptable. We do not (*insert bad action) hit our little brother. If you are mad or you want to hit something, go get the stuffed Spongebob and wail on him. Now I need you to take a time out. I love you very much, you are a very good boy, but hitting our little brother is bad, you hurt him.”

And with that, he is upset because I made him take a time out and he understands WHY he is taking a time out and why I am mad. I am mad because he hit his sibling and he knows that I love him, that he is still a good boy, and that we take out our anger on things like a punching bag like Spongebob because that always makes us feel better when we need a release of bad energy.

Some may not agree, which is Okay by me, I am not looking for approval. I just know that no matter what, my kids are GOOD kids ALL the time, not just because they picked up their rooms or helped me set the table for dinner. I tell them all the time what great kids they are for no reason and in return I have happy kids who learn actual right from wrong and good from bad.

Wrong Tube of Toothpaste

Oh this is going to be such a long summer. I so desperately need to get my Big G involved in something. Crafts, arts, exercising, something other than his Wii, the daily dip in the pool, and his short stint of cartoons for the day.
This morning while we were all rushing around trying to get ready to take my car into the dealership for some much needed warranty work I hurried Big G into getting ready as well. The boy is a well known putz. He can putz like no other if the whip is not cracked.

Being that I am whip cracking, ball busting Mom extraordinaire, I told him he had to put his shoes on and brush his teeth.

He was taking exceptionally longer than normal to brush the few teeth he has not lost yet and that have not yet come in.

I run into the bathroom to ask what was taking so long!

To find this:

Now I can see how this looks like your standard tube of toothpaste. But upon further investigation…..I found that the tube was really:

Now to my complete HORROR and shock I asked if he had swallowed any to which he said no. Luckily I caught him in time. I then washed his mouth out as fast and as much as I could. Made him spit out as much nothing as he could and then made him brush his teeth with the correct tube. The actual toothpaste.

Later I pondered what made him think that was toothpaste. I know the only way he could have thought it was toothpaste is because of the tube itself. But the hydrocortisone was actually with the Neosporin and all the other medicinal items. Which told me he had to really really look and climb to reach this, when the toothpaste rests right there on the sink. Big G also told us he happened to brush his teeth with this yesterday!! YIKES. We are so lucky he didn’t become deathly ill from brushing his teeth with the cortisone cream. We are also just as lucky he didn’t reach for the tube of hemmoroid cream!! DOUBLE YIKES!!

Dirty Jobs

Mom’s always have the luxury of the dirty jobs in the house. Not sure why….but we do.

Mine include picking up the land mines my bulldog has strategically placed in the backyard when attempting to play with the kids (poo on foot..YUM), laundry….definitely a dirty job, taking the trash to the curb (DH attempts to on most weeks but forgets), of course changing dirty diapers.

But one job appears to be the taboo in some households…..but not mine.

The other night while giving the Squids their nightly bath, DH was so kind to draw the bath for the little gnomes and proceed to wash them while I did dishes. (Another dirty job)
I walked in just when Pickles Magoo was set to be dried off and readied for jammies (another dirty job…..here is why) when I noticed he had what appeared to be a bit of a rash.
Not your typical splotchy rash, but one that was a solid red…..and in the worst spot.
Right on his “junk” as referred to by Big G and DH.
Yes, the poor boy had a solid red looking rash right on his baby testicles. Upon further investigation I found that he was probably just a tad chapped from his diaper and that the rash would clear once we dried him off and put in a fresh diaper.

So I went about drying him off and lubing him up (what we refer to as putting on lotion) when DH looked over at me and this conversation took place:

DH: You gonna do anything for his rash?
Me: No should be fine, it’s already subsiding.
DH: Well you are already lubing him up…..why don’t you get his junk, just rub it all over and that should help.
Me: (As if I didn’t already know that…..I am a mom!! DUH!! Look that I give him)
Me: *Continued moment of silence
DH: What?
Me: I just realized that I have lubed up every male’s testicles in this house……

It’s a dirty job…..but someone has gotta do it!!

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!!

My Quotable Sunday Savior

Be sure to go See Toni @ A Daily Dose of Toni for more great Quotable Sunday Quotes.
This quote has saved me in every way possible…..including my sanity…..from the mouth of the wise Benjamin Franklin who said:

“Believe none of what you hear, and half of what you see.”

Life is about perception. Every person’s perception is different from another. The same can be said about reality. So as to say that perception is reality, my perception is not the same as your perception which means that my reality is different from your reality.

Which in reality, what I am trying to say, is embrace all that is different. No one way is right, no one way is wrong, just what works, and what does not and even then what works for you may not work for me. Anger over differences means that you lack control…you lack control over oneself and others. In reality, NO ONE is in control of anything EXCEPT themselves. Accept it, let it go, move on. Maybe even grieve a little.

Truth be told….I’m a Failure

I for one am not a perfect mother, I am 100% WIP (Work In Progress). I have no books to teach me to be a mother, no books to tell me what is what, I just have my simple knowledge to help me decipher my asshole from a hole in the ground. I am humbled by the fact that I love my children whole hearted, that they look to me for everything. They can throw fits for their father and the moment I walk in the room…..all is right with the world again.

I do not have the answers. Any mother who claims to “have the answers”, well sister…..you need to ascend to a higher astral plane because we are clearly, unworthy.

Each child, each mother, each family and situation yields different actions, reactions, and well care handling. I do not expect my sister to raise her kids the way I raise my kids, despite the fact that we were raised in the same home by the same parents. I also for one would never tell my sister “you are doing this wrong” when talking to her about raising kids. I think that NO MOTHER has that right. I for one would not want anyone to tell me that how I am raising my kids is wrong, how I discipline them is wrong, what I feed them is wrong.

I birthed 22 pounds 4 ounces worth of kids. Big G was 8.2, Pickles was 8.2 and Little Bitty was 6 even. I even had two at the same time. But this does not give me any right, the fact I have three or that I birthed two at the same time does not give me any right. But yet I see mothers from my local Costco to the blogosphere who judge women…….ESPECIALLY mothers without mercy and I cannot understand why.

So here are my failures that other mothers call out on:

Truth be told I am a mother who does not spank….while every ounce in my angered body wants to swat my child I do not.
I do not put my child in a timeout in a corner, he is sent to his room….where he has NO toys.
I do not always feed my children organic. (GASP!)
I do not let my kids drink soda, lots of juice, eat certain snacks, so clearly I fail as a mother.
I fail at the fact that when I brought the twins home all Big G wanted to do was play with his siblings instead of hit them be angry and ignore them.
I fail at the fact my five, soon to be six year old son can count to 200.
I fail that my son can count in Spanish.
I fail that my son has known his alphabet and colors since he was three.
I fail that my son asks to be excused from the dinner table each night.
I fail that the twins can show me with their hands, sign language of sorts, that they are all finished with their meals.
I fail that Big G knows how to load the dishwasher.
I fail that he feeds the family dog.
I fail that my 15 month old daughter Little Bitty knows where the trash is located and properly disposes of trash…..and some miscellaneous items too.
I fail that they kiss and hug, without a cue.
I fail that ALL of my kids are in bed generally NO LATER than 8:30p.m.
I fail that at every meal my kids have at least one food group…..somehow.
I fail as a mother that ALL of my kids are happy.
I fail that all of my kids are healthy, well fed, and well cared for.
I fail that I choose to vaccinate my kids, for everything, yup, even Swine Flu (just kidding).
I fail that I want my kids to go to public and private schools.
I fail that I want more for my kids that what I had.
I fail that I work EVERYDAY on my marriage to my love so my kids have happy, healthy, get over it, parents.
I fail that EVERYDAY I work to be a better mother, mom, wife, individual.
I fail that I make self-centered choices, for myself, my kids, and my family…
I fail that I have LOTS and LOTS of faults….and I admit them, embrace them, and learn from them.
I fail that I have cussed in front of my children.
But most of all……..I fail because they know ME as Mom. I fail that I raise them as a mother, as their mother.

I can keep going. Do any of these fit you? Do you fail at any of the aforementioned the way I have?

Please give me my due process if you are one of those mother’s, because clearly, you need to ascend sister and I for one am unworthy. Because of you our world would be perfect, full of codependents, naysayers, and happy people for judgments to be passed by a mere mortal.
Leave the judging to others of a higher power would you please?! Agree to disagree about how anyone raises their children. No parent, no mother, no one on Earth is perfect. We all do the best we can with the tools we are given…which by the way are from another mother…..usually our own. We live, we learn, we pass on. We try to break cycles, create new ones. We love with no end and beginning, no boundaries and no limitations. So the next time you think about saying how you do not like someone because of the way she raises her kids or the opportunities she has been given or failed to receive, just remember we have ALL been there.
We have all had good times and bad, wealth and poverty, sickness and health, life and death, gratitude and ungratefulness, felicity and sadness, crudeness and civility.

Who? What? When? Why? How?

The questions of any and every child. Though I am thinking these statements are only from my child on an excessive basis. My mother warned me that when Big G would start kindergarten that kids transform.

Transform? Like into Optimus Prime? HA, just kidding.

Anyway, transform into what? Little did I know that he would transform into a know it all who would have to argue at every turn. Seriously, every topic is a debate, up for negotiation, the boy argues until you want to just give him what he wants. I for one want to tear every last piece of blond lock from my head when he does this.

For instance, dinner time:

Me: Finish your dinner buddy and make sure you have some trees (broccoli) we gave you a little.

Big G: Uh…Uh…but…I’m full. I can’t eat any more. Can I be excused?

Me: No buddy, eat a few more bites. You haven’t even come close to getting full. If you don’t finish you don’t get anything later…..this is it!

Big G: Alright! (with complete discontent) I will eat three more bites.

Me: Five okay? that includes your trees.

Big G: No, two.

Me: No I said Five please. (Like “please” will get me anywhere)

Big G: Six

Me: Ok

Big G: No three.

And me, being that I am an aspiring law student and debate extraordinaire just got baited by a five year old into negotiations. At some point in time DH has to jump in because our oldest child syndromes, Big G and I, start to butt heads like a couple of rams battling over territory! I just wonder when he will grow out of this incessant need to argue to the point where everyone starts arguing and then…..he loses privileges. I guess he thought he could win…right up until I take away the Wii for a week. I guess there is a win situation in some arguments. Which doesn’t say much for someone who is arguing with a child!

Here you go Mom….

This will be one of my TMI blog posts.

I know other Mom’s who have had these moments…..

And you wanted to blog about it……..

And it was hilarious…..but just TMI

Welcome to the dark side as I tell you my TMI tale.

DH decided he would take Big G to the movies. We debated about the movie because the movie was X-Men Origins: Wolverine. I really didn’t have a problem except for the possible violence, but I know the kid has seen worse and heard worse on the news. Plus he is a HUGE superhero fan like no other. Anyway, the big boys were gone leaving me with the Squids. They were sleeping the entire time. YAY for me. I got to blog, finish an article, surf the net, write another article, write some of my paper that I have no interest in.

Needless to say I got a LOT done. So Pickles and Little Bitty finally wake up and I feed them their lunch and I have an issue. I HAVE to go to the bathroom. Sure no problem right, just go!

Not so easy. You see, Little Bitty is fearless, a trained escape artist and clown extraordinaire. I cannot leave her in her high chair alone, she climbs out and pretends that she is King Kong of the high chair, shaking it wildly, screaming and barking like a dog… you get the picture. So I am fearful she will fall and break something.

So I hurriedly remove them from their high chairs and beeline down the hall to the bathroom.

Here is the deal………………..I’m stalling I know……………………..my Aunt Flo is not kind to me. Never has been. I have NASTY back pain. I mean I would rather have back labor again than to have the back pain Aunt Flo provides. Aunt Flo is visiting me, she dropped in today. Lovely. When Aunt Flo visits she also brings other issues south of the border…..like BM issues. Not the pipes are clogged, oh no, my pipes are runneth over.

I make it to the bathroom and forget to shut the door….easy to do in my house when in a hurry. So Pickles Magoo decides he is going to strollingly crawl into the bathroom and keep an eye on his favorite woman, which happens to be me. While diddling in the bathroom keeping an eye on me he becomes distracted.



Yes. The boy heard what no woman wants to admit she does…..SHART.

Oh, I could feel the flush in my face. I am not quite sure why it mattered because I was looking straight at a person who craps his pants ALL the time. He has no shame, he thinks his penis is an attached play toy, his butt is a tickle zone, why am I embarrassed.

But then more. More noise, I am a scene straight out of Dumb & Dumber and all I can do is finish so I can not be in this white room with a small child watching me. And then……he tries to help me in my moment of total nature nastiness………..

The sweet little boy with the cutest cheeks, happy smile, pale skin, and bold blue eyes looks up with his precious smiling face and hands me a diaper.

Yes ladies…….my 15 month old hands me a diaper.

At that moment I was so proud to know that I gave birth to such an intelligent child that he knew that what I needed……was a diaper.