Tag: raising kids

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Anatomy 101 for Little Boys

Thursday night was definitely entertaining.
The whole day was entertaining to say the least.

I had lunch, well frozen yogurt, with my dear gal pal who I have not seen in ages. Last time she and I gossiped over food about men, their penis’, and sex she recently had a biopsy done on her breast. Needless to say she is free of her sickness so that made for some happy news. We gabbed about her latest conquests, her financial woes, and then we got to the kids.

Her Spud is all grown up. Sad that I knew when her daughter was a tween and a pain in the ass and now she is a teen and still a pain in the ass but we love her just the same.

So my pal and I are gabbing all sorts. Have to say quite entertaining, made for a great afternoon.

Come home, normal stuff as usual.

My O.G. BFF Brittany, a.k.a my sister, drops in to pick up her spawn and we gab. She is always good for some gossip. She catches me up on all the “behind the scenes” of the blogosphere (*Yawn) and of course some juicy bits about this bar fly who is stalker-esque to an acquaintance of ours….again interesting conversations.

The day and night rolls on. Sister heads home, we have dinner, time for baths. I finally get around to throwing Big G in the shower. He is really good about handling himself in the shower.

He is a boy though so he putzes to no end. I mean I can hear super hero sound effects until he runs out of hot water. So I mosey on in the bathroom and help him wash his hair, I lather up his wash cloth and tell him to get totally clean. If DH and I are not in there….he “says” he got clean. Yeah, which means we made a soapy mess and none touched his body.

I hand him his wash cloth and tell him to wash these parts in this order….leaving his derriere for last. He complies. Fantastic. But then the boy thinks thrusting his hips at me is funny trying to flick soap onto me while I observe outside the shower curtain…….yeah….not so much. I tell him he needs to get washed up. Here is what the boy tells me:

Big G: Momma I really need to get in this junk right? (Pointing and scrubbing his crack and his crotch)
Me: *holding my breath. Try. To. Contain. Uncontrollable. Laughter.
Me: Yup buddy, get clean.
Big G: Yup I gotta really clean all this junk.

Thank you DH for teaching our boy that his penis and rear end is his junk because I found the comment so utterly amusing. But the fun doesn’t stop there!

I help the boy wash all the soap off and help him out of the shower. He is a bit of a spaz. Last time he didn’t have help he has a bruise the size of Delaware on one ass cheek. Yeah, it hurt.

I am drying his hair off and his arms when he stops and this conversation takes place:

Big G: Momma I need to tell you something, stop drying me.
Me: Okay buddy what is it?
Big G: Mom what are these things?
Me: Buddy they are buttons on my shirt. (assuming that is what he is asking since he is staring at the girls)
Big G: No mom, these….what are these? (As he begins to pull down my shirt)
Me: Buddy, what are you doing?
Big G: Mom I am asking you a questions! (very demanding) What are these?
Me: Bud, those are moms boobies….
Big G: No Momma, whats on your boobies?
Me: (assuming he is talking about how my skin was splotchy fron the heat and cold water of the shower) Buddy its just my skin discolored.
Big G: (he’s getting annoyed now, I can tell in his voice) *pulling my shirt a but again NO Mom, what are those, the things ON your boobies. The things that the babies suck on?
Me: (TRY. TO. KEEP. IT. TOGETHER!) Buddy, those are called nipples. You have some too…see? (as I pinch him)
Big G: So Mom, are those like bottles for the babies? They can drink milk from?
Me: (KEEP. IT. TOGETHER. I am flushed at this point) Yes buddy, the babies used to drink milk from them and now they drink from a bottle.

The End.

No more questions, he was totally satisfied once he asked that.
Never a dull moment and we are only one week into the summer…….this is going to be a LOOONNNGGGG summer.

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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.

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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!

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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.

WHAT WAS THAT BELLOWING ECHO

COMING FROM THAT PORCELAIN SEAT?

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.

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Not Getting It….

I love my moms that dropped by to share their comments about Mother’s Day Sucks! But I have to say that some people are NOT getting the message. I wasn’t bagging on Mother’s Day, I wasn’t saying that my day sucked, I am not that negative. I am a realist…which is why most people dislike me, I give you everything you wanted without a big red bow, without the sugar, just raw, pure, unadulterated slap you in the face good ‘ol honesty *UPDATE There is no drama in honesty, if there is…well then the saying IS true…..ALL THE WORLD IS A STAGE.

Here is the deal with Mother’s Day. You moms, and you know who you are, that go around telling everyone what a “Joy joy wonderful” day you had are full of it! Yup you are grade A, 100% full of minutiae and I will tell you why before you stop following me or leave me a nasty comment that I will leave for ALL to see. You moms are settling. You are settling for ONE lousy ass day for people to treat you like you are special, to appreciate you, to tell you endlessly that they love you. WHY THE HELL DO YOU ALLOW THIS ONLY ON ONE DAY? And then brag about what a singularly wonderful day you had and then the rest suck a goats ear. I say you are settling.

You are settling for less when you deserve more. You deserve to be told at least once a day, once a week, or once every 12 hours that you are appreciated. If you are not being told this or your husband and or children are looking at you like you are speaking Greek then go on strike. If you are not being TOLD everyday at least that you are appreciated then quit. In all honesty quit your job. At a real job you are told you are appreciated, you get a paycheck. The paycheck of being a mom and being a stay at home mom at that is being told you are appreciated.

Some of you are arguing saying “Well I know they appreciate me.” Great, so why not tell you more or more often for that matter. Why do we settle for one day, maybe two a year to receive flowers. Do different flowers not bloom year round? Can you not buy a Hallmark card anytime and anywhere for that matter? Can you not tell me on more than just one day a year how much I am appreciated?

I used to get so angry with DH because I would power clean my house, where you could eat off the floors like they were the finest wood ever laid and my stainless steel was so clean you could use the appliances as mirrors, and then he would just leave clothes, dishes, and whatever strewn everywhere and completely destroy my masterpiece. I thought I am going to quit…to hell with cleaning. But I cannot do that. Why not? I am a clean control freak, I am so OCD about cleaning. I mean I venture into the area around the toilet to clean that no man has gone before….and I do mean no man. If my man went there I know I would get more appreciation as he would see the schtuff I put up with for cleaning, can you say HazMat?

So I finally yelled at him and he asked what exactly I wanted. To be honest I wasn’t sure at the time, but then I was sure. I wanted appreciation. I wanted to be appreciated for the hard work I do around the house. I don’t mind hard work at all, cleaning, yard work, those are all my muse for blog content in addition to the kids. I can putter at my work and think quietly in my head, taking note, and then I am able to look at what I accomplished. And the victory is even sweeter when someone tells me “Wow, looks great babe. Thank you, we appreciate you.” Those few words make every day a great day. I don’t need a pedicure, or a luncheon, flowers, or a card, while they are appreciated I don’t need and or want them. I love the daily appreciation, love, and respect from the everyday and not just on Mother’s Day.

For you Mom’s that had an average day and nothing spectacular, that’s okay. Accept this. I have lived long by this “Expect the worst and hope for the best” that way I am never disappointed or let down. Especially on days like Mother’s Day, but I am not saying I had a craptastic day, I had a nice day, again nothing spectacular, just a really great average day. So while I didn’t have one day where I was treated like a queen, I know that everyday I am a princess who is loved and adored and always goes to bed with her prince. So ladies, here is to you for being a mom!!

A mom has the hardest job on Earth. You are appreciated, you are loved, and you are special, EVERYDAY not just Mother’s Day.
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Sing Us A Song….

The lyrics are ones that pretty much everyone knows. At least I hope you know the lyrics and tune to the ever famous Billy Joel song “Piano Man”. Billy Joel is by far one of my favorite artists, as I have so many.

Seems my youngest son has joined me in my love for Billy Joel. The soothing sounds of the ivory keys on the piano seem to set him at ease……or maybe the sound of Billy’s voice touches his soul, I am not quite sure.

One day while driving on the freeway with Pickles Magoo fussing I tried everything from the Binky, a blanket, a bottle, you name it I tried it and the poor boy wouldn’t quit. So I couldn’t handle the screaming and thought I would turn on the music and turn the volume up a little louder to help drown the crying. (I know…bad mommy….but we have all been there at least once) Little did I know that the musical genius permeating from my speakers would put the boy in a DEAD SILENCE!

“Scenes from an Italian restaurant” came through the speakers and the Pickles Magoo was hypnotized! No one believed me….and I mean no one! Until one day when my mother was riding in the car with me on our way home from Sun City that she became a believer. (Cue Monkeez music…HA HA) Since those moments I have been trying to capture the elusive actions of Pickles Magoo as he is a fuss budget and then suddenly is in the trance of the Piano Man himself. The best I could do was the other day on our way home from our trip to Costco. Unfortunately the picture from my cell phone is less than desirable, but from my perspective you can see Pickles Magoo fighting the inevitable sleep creeping in and just seconds before I turned on the camera and the radio he was screaming as if someone was pulling him limb from limb. Enjoy what you can see…and hear of the Piano Man.

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Before and Not Quite After

So I said like a week ago that I would be playing construction and not sure if I could blog……well let me share the fruits of my labor for the last week(s) or so which includes moving 200 sq. ft. of sh-tuff into my garage and other miscellaneous storage areas in my house. My shed is slowly morphing into what we will call the “pool house” if we ever sell our house. (BTW- We do have a pool to the left of the picture of the “pool house”)

Painting is a slow and go….only because I hate to primer ugly colors…..so enjoy my crasptastic primer job that I am still working on. But the pool house will hold our office and a futon for folks to stay with us and the current office will become 200sq. ft. of play area for my munchkins with all their toys and a twin bed for naps and extra bed space. The huge queen seen in the picture will be moved into G’s room so maybe he will quit sleeping in our room. He sneaks into our bed in the middle of the night since we have a super comfy Seely Posturpedic. So he gets the comfy huge queen. Luckiest 5 year old I know!!

Anyway here is what the interior looks like now….equipped with A/C for those bloody hot summers here in Arizona. Now all we have to do is put up the wall coverings and insulate the ceiling (I did a lot of the insulation with DH….and ALL of the painting by myself). But once the walls go up…..VOILA!!!! Office and area away from the kids. I plan to decorate the area and paint with colors that suggest….um…..whats the word….peace, solace, calm.

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The Working Mother

Ah yes the working mom. We know the stereotype as the Mom who works outside of the home. The mom who commutes and holds a “real” job. I can say I have come to resent that whole stereotypical bravado of “the working mom”. I mean really, what am I doing…..sitting on my duff watching soap operas and eating take out?

I used to be the working mom. The stereotype in the expensive suits commuting to the office making me and my bosses lots and lots of money. I would get Starbucks for lunch and have expensive Vodka drinks after work and I would also be the working mom who would pick up her son from daycare. Yup, I was that Mom. I would drive tirelessly home to fix dinner, cawtch up on laundry and miscellaneous house work and get my son and husband to bed and I would finally crash, then I would wake at 5am to do the same thing all over again. Yes, I was the working mom.

But things haven’t changed. Well, my wardrobe has and I added a few kids (by accident, not like I planned for my biology to say “Here, here’s an extra egg smart girl”).
Here is to the true working mom! The undervalued, underappreciated, underpayed, no thanks at all Mom who busts her ass everyday to take care of her children, her home, her husband and show pride in doing so. We are the true working Mom’s.
I used to mock those women who would stay home. Like “What the hell? Yeah, you so do not have it rough lady?” Oh how I ate my words. Yes, one child is such a breeze. Believe me I got so much more accomplished but add a couple more and let me tell you…..well you probably know. The job is hard. Trying to appease three little mob bosses barking at you for more food at the table. Caring for the homeless when those children ask for “money”, “Food” and “a ride somewhere”. Yes, I just referenced children to being like a homeless person. Then add in the mix laundry, housecleaning, running the kids to this function or that, to and from school, yard work, dinner, dishes, then add a couple of screaming kids and you have to stop what you are doing to pay attention to that situation and your whole day can be shot. So the “working Mom”…yeah….that broad has got it easy. I did your job….for many years…..you come do mine and then we’ll compare notes. Until then…..here is to the true working mom and all of our selflessness for caring for the ones we love and showing pride in our home. Way to go Girl!!!
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Project Manager

I think that is my new term I will use for everything since I am not treated like the CEO who runs this operation almost flawlessly everyday. Here is how a typical week of operations look like, including G and the Squids:
Sunday: attempt to finish any school projects, follow around kids cleaning up messes, attempt to blog about said messes, feed dog, water dog, brush pool, sigh at weeds that need pulled, make lunch, breakfast, dinner, play clown to Squids, personal assistant to G and Chad, watch my HBO shows, set up coffee for morning, bed.

Monday: Awake @ 3 by Squid Seth, lost bottle looking to crawl and fails miserably, back to sleep until 5 where I stumble for coffee and attempt to wake up alone and in peace only to have said Squid wake up babbling LOUDLY (dada, yaya, lala….squeals in the dark), in shower by 6 or 6:30 to be dressed and ready before G wakes up at 7 to feed him breakfast that he argues about (every morning), get him ready, Squid Sara is awake, load all three in car, drop off G at school, haul back to the house to put garbage can out by street before I miss pickup. Home to look over school, attempt to do some school work, squids down for a nap, take inventory of all dirty laundry (at least 3 loads), make beds, have Pepsi, back to pick up G at 11. Back home, fix lunch, take inventory of perishable and non-perishable food items including those that add to the side of my rear end (because Costco has the best damn cookies EVER!!!), make Costco run for said needed items. Come home, unload, back to Fry’s to pick up small items not needed in bulk from Costco, back home to unload. Fix dinner, play clown and wait staff to the three small mob bosses barking at me from the counter eating. Clean up dinner, baths all around, then bed for the three little amigos, I then pull in the trash can sitting at the curb all day waiting for someone else other than me to bring in. I get to watch some DVR shows with DH (if he is not occupied by War Crack, I mean War Craft) bed.

Tuesday-Friday: Rinse and repeat. Except on Thursday, put out recycling bins instead of trash bin.

Now in the mix throw in doctors appointments for the Squids which is a circus (oh are they twins, oh, oh….SLAP), PTO committees, school functions like the Halloween parade on Friday, picture retakes, school recycling program. I swear, you think that parents are like the parents on TV and from Desperate Housewives….I mean seriously….who is over scheduled here? The kids or the parents? Sheesh!

Add on top of all of this….I have an electrician doing something outside of my home…that I need to check on right now…he is doing what we asked…though I hear funny noises. I have to pick up G in 20 minutes, write two papers this week (BLAH!), cut the last two pieces of trim for my room that DH said he would do Saturday (is it still Saturday?!!!), nail said pieces of trim in, caulk, touch up paint, move bed back, somewhere in there clean my house and find some peace. So as project manager I will delegate all BS projects to DH as I am tired of getting them all done. Which also include making a trip to an e-cycler (electronics recycler) to do my duty to our environment and get rid of the SHIT computer stuff taking up precious space, trekking through Home Depot with the Squids to pick up building materials, and I don’t even know what else!! So, that is my rant for today. Here is what I have done though so I have proof of my hard work!! Now all of these items have been cleared out so the entire shed is EMPTY!!! Ready for the electrician to run lines and us to close in, etc.
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McCalls Pumpkin Patch

G was in Albuquerque last week as we all know since I had some free time (HA!) last week. During his stint there Grandma ran him around and they did all sorts of fun stuff. One of his memorable activities was visiting the McCalls Pumpkin Patch in Moriarty with his cousin Colin and Colin’s church day school. Here is how their pumpkin patch visit went along with pictures of BIL #1, G-Mommy (Great Grandma), cousin Colin, and pictures of the hayride. G was able to pick out his own pumpkin which is so cute since it is the size of a softball and he brought home baby pumpkins to our baby pumpkins. Such a great brother! Also big thanks and love to Grandma Bev for setting up the field trip for G for the pumpkin patch and all the great pics!