Tag: raising kids

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The Hat Diva

This little girl is something. She is overly independent, knows exactly what she wants all the time, demands it, is ornery as all get out, gorgeous, loving when she wants to be, and has her tender moments and of course she is bossy. Man, she is her mother’s daughter. But I love shoes….she loves hats, I will forgive her when I see her at Churchill Downs donning the biggest, most fabulous hat ever while sipping a mint julep.

Until then, I will enjoy these precious moments with my baby girl. Some days I cannot get over how beautiful this little girl is and she is all mine! Best of all, she plays in the mud, water, and loves to say shit…or is it ship…or chip…either way she is one of a kind and all mine. My Little Bitty, Hat Diva.

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The Warm Fuzzy Mommy Moment

A lot of moments in a child’s life can be considered proud parental moments but none so bright as watching your child evolve. When I had Grant I was a full time career woman, basically a child was extracurricular for me at the time. Call it status quo of life, having a child at 25 was something I was suppose to do and internally I had this drive, a desire to be a mother. I did not quite grasp the motherhood warm and fuzzy until Big G was about three. The Chad and I experienced a lot of emotional and trying ups and downs early into Grant’s life; with living in a nice but cramped Scottsdale apartment as we waited for our home to sell in Albuquerque so that we could buy another home here in Arizona, putting a dog down, losing employment, gaining employment, having a child, moving again, getting pregnant again (with twins) and losing the pregnancy, losing employment again, gaining employment again. We went through a lot so we were busy trying to be the responsible adults and basically in survival mode to care for our child that I did not get to stop and say, “Hey I am a mom, my child is unbelieveable.”

I finally was able to experience that warm fuzzy, the emotional wave of the real connection of motherhood only after our turmoils, only after I received the opportunity to stay at home with Grant and work out of the house. My baby boy was sent to daycare at the ripe age of seven weeks. I missed almost everything, but experienced and learned a lot. I look back now and am sad that our life circumstances were such, but I do not carry any regret just a pain in my heart that I know will be healed over time. But I had my moment where I watched my boy play and smile, cause trouble and push the envelope of what was allowed in our home and I was awe struck. Dumbfounded at best. I could spend all day with him, uninterrupted, raw, precious.

He is my child. I gave birth to him. No aliens will be back to take him home. He is not leaving, he’s all mine, to love and guide through life. To watch him fall down and get up, to watch him follow his dreams, to gaze upon him and he in turns looks at me to embrace me with the largest hug his small arms can muster and say:

“I wub joo mama”

I have watched him as he has evolved in his young life. I will watch him as he continues to evolve, grow and mature into a wonderfully brilliant young man. From the day he was born I knew he was brilliant. Not because of his father and I (although we do make damn fine children), but he has a spark like that of a growing star. His spark will one day reach a super nova and revolve in that state for all eternity as I do not see his brilliance overtaking him. But in the last few years I have really watched him change and become his own person.

So today was like any other day with the exception of a parent teacher conference. I chalked this visit to be like the rest, minus The Chad again as he is traveling for business. Upon walking into this meeting though I did have a new feeling, the warm and fuzzy that has swept me before, came in waves again. I began to recall Grant through the various stages of his life. From the bean sized shadow on a black and white ultrasound printout, an infant, an adventurous tot, and now he is a young boy, almost a young man with his demeanor.

One day I felt I woke up and he was this magnificent creature who has a wide and wondrous mind that sees no boundaries in his fellow man. Each carries the same features and abilities as he, ever accepting, ever loving, and he treats everyone as an equal. I am speechless to watch him interact, his bold blindness as if he were Eve prior to the apple debacle. The meeting commenced and when they told me of his educational brilliance I felt another wave, deeper than the one before. I could not believe the accomplishments of my child. Math, addition and subtraction, graphing, time and money, grammar and grammatical tenses, reading books at the first and second grade levels and progressing rapidly. My eyes began to well and I fought back the tears. I fought my feelings in the middle of a mundane, seemingly average parent teacher conference.

Tears of grief for the fact that I am slowly losing more and more time with my boy as he becomes a man. I want nothing more than to hold him tight to take in as much as I can during the ever fast moving continuum of time. Soaking in everything as I watch as the gears turn and lights click with him. Of course my tears of joy at his singular accomplishments. While I know I am his mother, and his father and I have played an intricate role at home, I know he is on his own. I am not there to hold his hand but I gave him tools and he is creating a masterpiece. For which I will always be his biggest fan, ever so proud of him in everything he does from his most prestigious accomplishments to the most dolt fall backs, he amazes me still and forever. I also know that your brother and sister are so lucky to have you as an older brother. I am so proud of you.

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My New Reality Show

Forget the “Table for 12” and move over “Jon and Kate” because had my body gotten her way….I would have had my own reality show. Seriously 7 kids in 4 pregnancies…do the math. We would have been a school of fish…or maybe a gaggle as the title would be so fittingly called.

I shared my story of not always being a mom and my conception quest, but little did you know that conception was the least of our problems.

When DH and I began our parenthood journey we did like every couple does. We screwed like rabbits. We did. All the time, anywhere, anytime, whenever we could. Here, there, everywhere. We were like Sam I Am eating our green eggs and ham.

After a year or more of trying and still an empty nest and a cold oven, we did what the old wives would do:

  • Stand on my head
  • Tilt your hips at a certain angle
  • Not move after sex (okay, passing out counts too)
  • Drinking a caffeinated beverage
  • Not drinking a caffeinated beverage
  • Waiting a few days in between
  • Eating more beef
  • Taking my temperature
  • Took his for good measure

You get the gist.

So when a baby didn’t come we began to question our ability. My ability. I knew it was all me. Something drastically changed after my appendectomy. I did not have a traditional appy but a nasty ooey gooey mess of peritonitis appy. The kind you clearly die from, which I almost did. I had complication after complication and I think I have had more CT scans than anyone under the age of 25 is allowed. Finally after recovery and giving up and just getting back to rabbit shifting and the occasional married sexless night we get pregnant.

JOY & RAPTURE I tell you!

I could not believe the test in front of me. I freaked. I freaked some more. I ran to the store and bought more tests. PINK, PINK, and more PINK told me YES! I called the boss on a Sunday to tell him I was running late for work and they could sell cars without me to draw up papers for at least an hour. I ran to DH’s work and surprised him with a bib that says “I Love Daddy.”

He looked at me like I was nuts. He looked at the bib confused. Me confused, the bib is nuts! Sheepishly he says, “You’re….??” YUP! And like that we were pregnant. But not like that was all that hard….or easy. Nothing in life has ever been easy for me. Not saying I have had the hardest life, but I was never given even the chance to look at a silver spoon.

A few weeks later…cramps, bleeding. Possibly a scare. Went home to rest and called the doc. They said go to the ER if it gets worse. So I did, as the pain got worse. Six hours later….a threatened abortion which means that bleeding happened but the pregnancy seems A-OK. Wait until my docs appointment to follow up. Which was at least a two month wait. But clearly my body and higher powers had other decisions because only a week and a half later I was in the same ER. FOR. EVER! Writhing in pain. Wanting to kill the nurse. Wanting something for the pain but not wanting to hurt the pregnancy. After an ultrasound and many more hours of waiting on into the morning of Easter Sunday we get the news. We are miscarrying.

Devastation. And then the five stages of grief. I took a week off of work to get my act together. During that week I still did not experience any “miscarriage” per se. Lots of pain. Burning in my upper top thighs. More pain. I called my doc. At least 100 times. I had some incompetent nurse attempt to coddle me as if I was a teen pregnancy. My mom finally told me….”Karie, this is the time to be a bitch!” So I did. And was I ever in my doctors office faster than you could make the appointment. An ultrasound was done and an “Oh Shit” was said by the sonographer when the doctor came in to tell me I was being admitted to the hospital downtown.

OK

Por que? Well, seems that I have a “blighted ovum” which is a pregnancy that didn’t take in my uterus and an ectopic pregnancy. Fabulous. What does that mean? A surgery and a D&C. So I lost my right fallopian tube and twins all in one fail swoop. Great first round.

For months later while I wallowed in my sorrow, continued to work my ass off at the dealership with the false hope of ever getting a promotion, I researched my condition. Was it a condition or a fluke? Turns out I had a condition. I had adhesion’s from my appendectomy, severe enough to wrap themselves around my right fallopian tube, choking off the path. I researched pregnancy with one tube after an ectopic. Chances of another ectopic at the time were HIGH. Chances of getting pregnant on one fallopian tube. 34%. The odds sucked. So in July of 2002, a few months after the ectopic I had a test done to determine my chances of pregnancy on my left fallopian tube.

The test seemed simple enough. Inject dye into the tube, do X-Ray simultaneously, done! Not so much. They only told me that before until I got there when they decided to open my cervix with a plastic balloon to shoot the dye into my fallopian tube. Pain pain and more pain, followed shortly by burning, burning, buring. Get this done! Success. The left tube is open no problems.

So we washed, rinsed, and repeated the above pregnancy attempting ritual. Until one fateful December night, on the red chair. My mother now owns that chair. *Hi Mom! Yes, Christmas Eve to be exact. Weird how I know this but I just know. In the meantime our house in up for sale, we have plans of moving from then Albuquerque to here (Arizona) and I am job searching. In January I fly to Phoenix for five interviews and land a job. Fly back that night, and the next day plan to submit my resignation working until the end of the month. Because I was a greedy bastard at the time running a department I wasn’t given enough pay or the title for the 100 plus hours I was putting in and the bullshit I would shovel each day.

Into work I go. Daily morning meeting. Then I am asked to stay behind by the GM and the owner. My heart is racing which tells me…they know I am bailing. YUP. They told me I didn’t have to stay until the end of the month, I would be paid out on all my deals (SA-WEET!), my vacation, and this month (last months deals) pay. FAN- FREAKING-TASTIC! Vacation! Until I got home.

I had a suspicion. So I took a pregnancy test. And another. And yet another, until I had eight urine sticks waving in front of me like an orchestra. Pretty much I was pregnant. I freaked. I called my mom again. I called DH. Hey dude….I got let go today AND I’m pregnant AND we are moving in two weeks.

Yeah, that’s how we roll.

That was January 2003 and on September 14, 2003 we welcome our Grant baby.

So after being settled in Arizona, buying the house, in May we get a huge oops! Yes. BIG. OOPS. May 2004 mind you. I am pregnant again, totally spontaneous, not planned. Only this time I am mad. In total denial. Hubs is excited. Sure. Of course you would! You don’t have to be pregnant, fat, have heart burn, hemorrhoids, indigestion, swelling, random farts, sure. Peachy Freaking Keen! We get into to see the doctor right away. I am finally getting used to the pregnant idea. I have told people…bitterly, but with a smile. I am bitter because I JUST had a BABY! YEESH! So the ultrasound day comes, early mind you because I am high risk. Nanner nanner. Sorry. So really, high risk so they do an ultrasound to be safe. Would you believe it.

TWINS

I about died. Reanimated myself, slapped the hubs, told the doctor he was lying and seriously changed my shorts. NO. No way! Oh yes, and they are identical. Why? How can you tell? By the sac. They are monoamniotic twins which means that they are (were) sharing the same placental sac. Not good. But the doc says the ultrasound seems funny, so he wants to see me in another four weeks. Pleasure.

Four weeks later we are in the office. Ultrasound again. The doctor is taking all sorts of pictures, not saying much. We sit in silence, with an eight month old. The twins are not growing, they are failing, no heartbeat. Crushed. Just when I got used to the idea of having twins, and being pregnant for that matter, the low blow. I am devastated. Not again. Not another loss. We leave in silence. Only after the doctor reassured us that I will miscarry on my own within the week. Here is my medication. But had the twins gone full term we would have experienced twin-to-twin transfusion, possible heart failure, major health complications. We accepted the blessing in disguise. Nonetheless any easier.

Neither was going into full blown labor, in your home, in the middle of the night and not being in the hospital. I wish for no woman to experience the horror and pain at 17 weeks the miscarriage of a child, or two.I know you wonder why I didn’t wake my husband, to support. I tell you ladies, there are things in life that we spare the ones we love the experience and overall trauma. I know he is strong, but not like this, this is unlike anything any man or woman who has children would want to go through or even have a support team to share with. This is a loner job. One that sickens me, but I know everything happens for a reason.

After that I am done with children. Grant wasn’t named Grant for no reason, he is our gift, our blessing. We moved on. Or so I thought.

I was a hot mama! I was looking good, lost all my baby weight and was looking hot. We take a trip to Reno Nevada for our dear friends second wedding. Yes they had two. They are goobers. He has his wedding which was called the Vow-B-Que, they exchanged vows, were legally married, Ta-Dah! She got the white wedding in January of 2007 when we flew out again. During this time DH is nostalgic, we are missing Grant since he was with grandparents, and the day we fly out, we find our friends are pregnant, right before they leave for their honeymoon!  But the night before in an alcohol induced state, the hubs says to me “Let’s have another baby.”

Yeah…he baited me.

Months pass, we hear The Police are doing a reunion tour. SO. THERE. And we were. On the floor of USAirways Center in Downtown Phoenix. We have a sitter. A Hotel within walking distance. DATE night at its finest. We partied up the night, totally nostalgic in The Police concert on June 18, 2007. We then head back to call it a night…if you know what I mean. Wouldn’t you know just a few weeks later. I am pregnant. AGAIN!

WITH. TWINS.

Now the chapters have closed. The third and final twin pregnancy was a success!
Because on February 15th 2008 @ 36 weeks and 4 days I delivered Seth and Sara.

I tell you I am the luckiest and blessed spontateously, pregnanting twins, all the time woman ever!
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A Super Halloween

At times a mom can over think a situation. I was always told by my mother, buy the RIGHT size as some items run larger (like costumes) and some run smaller (wedding dresses).

So this year I was the ultimate mom with the goal to totally humilate her twins in true mom style with the sick humor that I have. Murphy and Karma stepped in. Foiled again.

The gnomes were suppose to dress up as just that! GNOMES! AWESOME! Garden gnomes. But alas, I think one garden gnome was called away for a Travelocity commercial. So the Little Bitty was left to tend to the garden by herself while I rushed as fast as I could to the store to exchange the too small gnome outfit for one that fit.

Foiled.
They were sold out. But we did make “Doo”  and the kids had a blast!
Lots of candy for mom and dad to eat.
Karie Herring, thefivefish.com, Halloween, costumes
Karie Herring, thefivefish.com, Halloween, costumes
Big G went as Obi Wan and he really looked like him….if only he wasn’t so cracked out on candy I could get a picture of him. He ended up having a sleep over at his friend’s house next door.
You can also see my kids are way too busy to sit still for pictures!
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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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These Kids Eat Like….Hobbits?

You thought I was going to say
horse
I fooled you!!

Seriously I think my kids eat ALL the time. Non-stop from the moment they wake up to the time they go to sleep. You would never know with Sara, unless she has a tape worm or something, we don’t call her Little Bitty for nothing! Seth and Grant could probably eat some linebackers or at least some fullbacks under the table FOR SURE! And they aren’t fat…..but I have been tracking their eating, and seriously all day. So instead of telling you their eating schedule, please watch this informational video that I found on YouTube which will fully explain the extent to which my children eat….and the times they eat!

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The All New Momma Diet Plan

Ladies, the buck stops here for all those diet scams and plans.
(Oh really?!)

Have you tried all pills, exercises, food and meal plans? Exercise machines and bogus contraptions? Let me tell you I have the ultimate plan for you and this is how you begin said plan!

  1. Have twins, or at least a couple kids, get nice and round.
  2. Make sure said kids have appetites like NFL Linebackers
  3. Make meals they will NOT eat and YOU will (or so you think)
  4. Sit down to attempt to eat said HOT, warm meal children will not like
  5. Children flock to you and said HOT meal to eat it
  6. They eat it off YOUR plate
  7. Every speck
  8. Leaving you just the crumbs
  9. ENJOY your little morsel of a meal, at most 100 calories in crumbs ladies
  10. You will be fit and trim in no time with that meal plan, BON APETIT!

Watch the gnomes, at least the Little Bitty Sara gnome,
in action as she feeds her Daddy…after she feeds herself.


Mom and Dad feeding from Karie Herring on Vimeo.

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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.