Okay, just tell me what I need to hear.
Tell me that your kids are absolute loons.
Tell me that nobody listens to you the first six times you tell them to do something.
Tell me that you still get called up every night an hour after bedtime for ridiculous things like, "I heard a noise that sounded like a car" or "I dropped my bookmark."
That they scream both gleefully and frighteningly for the majority of your day.
That you're never quite sure if someone has broken a bone or snatched a toy based on each scream.
Please tell me that your child wears a very hot and uncomfortable gown to bed even after the ninety-seventh time you've explained that it's the very reason why she's sweaty every night.
Tell me that she refuses to believe you but begs to have her hair put up, her fan turned higher and her cool mist humidifier blowing directly at her head.
Tell me that no matter what cup you give your two and a half year old they choose to drop it on the floor, stuff food into its straw and figure out how to shake water from it at every single meal time.
Tell me they also take mouthfuls of said water and spit it into their dish repeatedly.
That your almost six year old child has started stomping when she doesn't get her way. Stomping. Like that classic image of a spoiled brat we've all come to know and loathe.
That she's also started a new form of whining that is ten thousand percent unacceptable.
That you were certain your second child would potty train early and now you realize that she's been using the toilet seventy percent of the time for eight months with no further signs of readiness and that it's most likely your fault because you simply haven't put enough effort into it.
Tell me that watching your child play with others is sometimes excruciating.
That you constantly sit back and think, Didn't I teach her better than that?
That you always thought you could control all of those things when you became a parent one day. That you now realize you can't.
That you have vodka.
Seas can be a bit stormy sometimes. We go through intermittent swells of horror that dissipate into lulls of wonderfulness. The next time the little ones are pissing each other off I have to reach back in my memory for the image of what their faces looked like when they rode their favorite ride together at the fair last week. Because that minute was one of the best minutes I've ever experienced as a parent. Total joy. And joy is something we strive to find daily when really it should be the biggest part of our day every day.
So for all of the crazy, unpleasant moments that seem to multiply and sometimes never end - I wish you more joy-filled moments. Ones that you can brand into your memory to pull out when you are just a millisecond away from losing your shit. Again.
Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts
August 21, 2017
April 10, 2012
Do the hustle ...
Easter. One of the three days of the year that has become more about hustle and bustle and less about lasagna and leisure. Yes, that's right, I view most holidays in terms of my mother's cooking and how long I can keep my PJs on.
As kids, my brother and I always had the pleasure of staying home in our pajamas for the holidays. We could sleep in if we wanted to. My brother never did, he always had to wait for me to rise and shine. We excitedly opened our presents (or Easter baskets) with our favorite holiday music, movies and specials on the television. Our parents enjoyed their slow cups of coffee. We took our turns showering and primping and awaited our dinner guests. After dinner we were able to play with our toys, watch a movie, play a new game or take that infamous nap that follows a large holiday meal. Occasionally on Christmas night we would go to my Godparents' house for a visit. Ahh, those were the days.
When I got married everything changed. You inherit another family. You learn to make compromises. Marriage is give and take. For the first few years my husband and I didn't even have dinner together. He went to his sister's house and I went to my parents' house. We would meet up later in the day. We eventually worked out a plan that would allow him to eat dinner with his family and I was able to have my favorite meal alongside my family while we are under the same roof and traveling in one car. It wasn't quite ideal as we had to hurry back and forth and essentially watch everyone eat while people asked us, "Why aren't YOU eating anything?" Nevertheless we were together, visiting our loved ones, scarfing our lasagna if you will.
Once Miss Scarlett came along I was sure I'd get my wish - to stay home on the holidays. We have double wall ovens and plenty of counter space. I have no reservations about cooking my mother's meal here. We would welcome visitors later in the day. It didn't work out this time. We went to my sister-in-law's house for one o'clock. Her husband was running around like a lunatic trying to finish all of the side dishes while grilling lamb and taking a shower. It was quite an accomplishment! My hubby had his holiday meal of ham and all the fixin's and then we watched our nephews and the rest of the young'ns chaotically (and adorably) run around during their annual egg hunt. Scarlett took just a mini nap, maybe twenty minutes and we were off to Grammie's house. I had my holiday meal - including my favorite, Eggplant Parmesan while Gregg fed the baby her din din. We reconvened in the living room for the first annual, thirty minute Easter-basket-opening ceremony. My mom went a little overboard! She was just so excited to do it. She can't help herself. S has lots of new summer clothes and a few new toys and even some sunglasses and shoes! Thanks, Easter Bunny. :) The one thing I was really looking forward to was finally having coffee and dessert with my mother and grandmother. It's just something from my past that I really miss and haven't been able to coordinate it in about nine years now. This year fell through as well. We were too full from eating dinner late and I had to get the baby home for her bottle and night-night time. Oh well, maybe for Thanksgiving... or Christmas.
The holidays are always wonderful when we get to spend time with family, eat good food, have a few laughs and enjoy ourselves a little bit more than we do on the day to day. I just want to slow them down a little bit. I want to take some of the agenda out of them and just relax in our home. A couple of cocktails, a hunk of coconut custard pie ... you know, the little things. Plus, not having to haul three meals for Scarlett and her favorite toys and gear would be nice too. We'll see about Thanksgiving! Hope you all had a nice Easter with your loved ones. Here are some of our pics ... sorry the ones of Scarlett Bunny are blurry, I couldn't help uploading them though, they're so cute!
As kids, my brother and I always had the pleasure of staying home in our pajamas for the holidays. We could sleep in if we wanted to. My brother never did, he always had to wait for me to rise and shine. We excitedly opened our presents (or Easter baskets) with our favorite holiday music, movies and specials on the television. Our parents enjoyed their slow cups of coffee. We took our turns showering and primping and awaited our dinner guests. After dinner we were able to play with our toys, watch a movie, play a new game or take that infamous nap that follows a large holiday meal. Occasionally on Christmas night we would go to my Godparents' house for a visit. Ahh, those were the days.
When I got married everything changed. You inherit another family. You learn to make compromises. Marriage is give and take. For the first few years my husband and I didn't even have dinner together. He went to his sister's house and I went to my parents' house. We would meet up later in the day. We eventually worked out a plan that would allow him to eat dinner with his family and I was able to have my favorite meal alongside my family while we are under the same roof and traveling in one car. It wasn't quite ideal as we had to hurry back and forth and essentially watch everyone eat while people asked us, "Why aren't YOU eating anything?" Nevertheless we were together, visiting our loved ones, scarfing our lasagna if you will.
Once Miss Scarlett came along I was sure I'd get my wish - to stay home on the holidays. We have double wall ovens and plenty of counter space. I have no reservations about cooking my mother's meal here. We would welcome visitors later in the day. It didn't work out this time. We went to my sister-in-law's house for one o'clock. Her husband was running around like a lunatic trying to finish all of the side dishes while grilling lamb and taking a shower. It was quite an accomplishment! My hubby had his holiday meal of ham and all the fixin's and then we watched our nephews and the rest of the young'ns chaotically (and adorably) run around during their annual egg hunt. Scarlett took just a mini nap, maybe twenty minutes and we were off to Grammie's house. I had my holiday meal - including my favorite, Eggplant Parmesan while Gregg fed the baby her din din. We reconvened in the living room for the first annual, thirty minute Easter-basket-opening ceremony. My mom went a little overboard! She was just so excited to do it. She can't help herself. S has lots of new summer clothes and a few new toys and even some sunglasses and shoes! Thanks, Easter Bunny. :) The one thing I was really looking forward to was finally having coffee and dessert with my mother and grandmother. It's just something from my past that I really miss and haven't been able to coordinate it in about nine years now. This year fell through as well. We were too full from eating dinner late and I had to get the baby home for her bottle and night-night time. Oh well, maybe for Thanksgiving... or Christmas.
The holidays are always wonderful when we get to spend time with family, eat good food, have a few laughs and enjoy ourselves a little bit more than we do on the day to day. I just want to slow them down a little bit. I want to take some of the agenda out of them and just relax in our home. A couple of cocktails, a hunk of coconut custard pie ... you know, the little things. Plus, not having to haul three meals for Scarlett and her favorite toys and gear would be nice too. We'll see about Thanksgiving! Hope you all had a nice Easter with your loved ones. Here are some of our pics ... sorry the ones of Scarlett Bunny are blurry, I couldn't help uploading them though, they're so cute!
March 13, 2012
Old Lady Leach
It's happened.
I've become that angry old lady on the block. You know the one who glares out the window at the street kids riding their bikes, making sure they aren't in her driveway about to clip her twelve year old Honda with their handlebars. The one who rushes out onto the front stairs, clad in slippers and pajamas yelling sternly at the jerks to stop taunting her dog. Yep. That's me now. I'm her. I'm Old Lady Leach. Sigh.
Well, it's not my fault. I was thrown into this situation, really. We moved here over five years ago and each year it's gotten worse. As the cul-de-sac kids get older they apparently get douchey-er. And they're not like Dennis the Menace douchey. I'd kill to have a good-hearted little blondie who accidentally mowed over my flowers (we don't have flowers) with his wagon while trying to catch a "robber". Instead we have this gang of little bastards that I on occasion have wished harm upon. That's right. HARM. Think all the less of me you like - YOU try living here.
The ringleader is appropriately enough the worst one and a complete prick. He's about thirteen I'd guess, scrawny, pants hanging off his ass, ALWAYS on his phone - riding his bike with one hand and texting with the other. He thinks he is the epitome of cool. I will assure all of you - he is not. He feels that the neighborhood is his kingdom. Running into everyone's yard, jumping on fences, spray-painting fences, leaping off front porch railings etc. Never in his own yard, mind you. Then there are his cronies. Because every little prick has to have a cronie or two. There are about four regulars who follow him around like he is the Grateful Dead. They'll do anything he does, says or tells them to do. I watch as they follow almost directly in his footsteps. They are all younger by about two to four years. Then there is this GIRL. And I put the word in capitals because I want to emphasize my disgusted voice while saying it. She appeared out of nowhere at the house across the street about two years ago. We have no idea who she is but she sucks. She's about fourteen and a rotten, rotten witch. Last week she sat in the car in her driveway for about forty-five minutes while the elderly lady/car owner screamed "GET OUTTA THE CAAAAAARRRR" in her less-than beautiful voice. That was such a zen moment for me.
My least favorite activity these freakshows play is "Let's torment Brody". Because my dog clearly doesn't bark enough. He's a German Shepherd/Akita mix. He likes to bark at people that are too near our house, he's a bit protective that way. Hence the sign...
Brody is not a mean dog, he's friendly and adorable, but for obvious reasons we bought the sign. I've caught the kids barking at him before - not a big deal. I don't like it but I understand, they're kids. They're a little old for it, but whatever. Then I caught them taunting him. Yelling at him. And a couple of weeks ago, the ringleader actually cursed a web of profanity at him and then ran up into our yard and jumped onto our chain-link fence - the fence that Brody was behind. While Bro was going ballistic I ran out into the front yard like a snapped lunatic and shouted "You need to knock it off, leave the dog alone!" (Sounds so hilarious to picture but I was shaking and ready to beat someone's ass). They looked at me, in their cool little gang, didn't bat an eyelash, didn't make a sound. Gradually during the following ten minutes they filed into another neighbor's yard. No apology, no whispers, no 'go shit in your hat', nuthin. I was livid.
Yesterday a similar situation went down. The GIRL across the street was standing directly in front of our house dancing around and shouting at Brody to get him to bark. Naturally he did. She then started barking back at him and yelling at him to shut up. After watching her shout and curse at my dog for a couple of minutes I threw open the front door and yelled at her, "You need to STOP yelling at my dog!" She and her friend walked away and I saw her throw her head back laughing. Funny, right? I could have nailed her chubby ass to her tree in that moment. BUT I cooled off in my recliner... wishing that we could sell this house and move. No peace. No peace here whatsoever. And the fact that the parents just don't give a shit crawls right up my spine.
I cannot imagine being a child and disrespecting my neighbors - my mother would have grounded me for weeks. If I saw cars in the driveway I wouldn't set foot on the grass never mind in the driveway or on their FENCE! I would have apologized up and down and been a mortified nervous wreck if a neighbor came out and yelled at me. I am appalled by what the world is coming to. Where are these parents? It's a small street! Lord knows I can hear everyone's fights and tantrums - I KNOW you can hear me shouting at your children after they torture my dog. Get with it, people. I'm putting this sign up tomorrow...
I've become that angry old lady on the block. You know the one who glares out the window at the street kids riding their bikes, making sure they aren't in her driveway about to clip her twelve year old Honda with their handlebars. The one who rushes out onto the front stairs, clad in slippers and pajamas yelling sternly at the jerks to stop taunting her dog. Yep. That's me now. I'm her. I'm Old Lady Leach. Sigh.
Well, it's not my fault. I was thrown into this situation, really. We moved here over five years ago and each year it's gotten worse. As the cul-de-sac kids get older they apparently get douchey-er. And they're not like Dennis the Menace douchey. I'd kill to have a good-hearted little blondie who accidentally mowed over my flowers (we don't have flowers) with his wagon while trying to catch a "robber". Instead we have this gang of little bastards that I on occasion have wished harm upon. That's right. HARM. Think all the less of me you like - YOU try living here.
The ringleader is appropriately enough the worst one and a complete prick. He's about thirteen I'd guess, scrawny, pants hanging off his ass, ALWAYS on his phone - riding his bike with one hand and texting with the other. He thinks he is the epitome of cool. I will assure all of you - he is not. He feels that the neighborhood is his kingdom. Running into everyone's yard, jumping on fences, spray-painting fences, leaping off front porch railings etc. Never in his own yard, mind you. Then there are his cronies. Because every little prick has to have a cronie or two. There are about four regulars who follow him around like he is the Grateful Dead. They'll do anything he does, says or tells them to do. I watch as they follow almost directly in his footsteps. They are all younger by about two to four years. Then there is this GIRL. And I put the word in capitals because I want to emphasize my disgusted voice while saying it. She appeared out of nowhere at the house across the street about two years ago. We have no idea who she is but she sucks. She's about fourteen and a rotten, rotten witch. Last week she sat in the car in her driveway for about forty-five minutes while the elderly lady/car owner screamed "GET OUTTA THE CAAAAAARRRR" in her less-than beautiful voice. That was such a zen moment for me.
My least favorite activity these freakshows play is "Let's torment Brody". Because my dog clearly doesn't bark enough. He's a German Shepherd/Akita mix. He likes to bark at people that are too near our house, he's a bit protective that way. Hence the sign...
Brody is not a mean dog, he's friendly and adorable, but for obvious reasons we bought the sign. I've caught the kids barking at him before - not a big deal. I don't like it but I understand, they're kids. They're a little old for it, but whatever. Then I caught them taunting him. Yelling at him. And a couple of weeks ago, the ringleader actually cursed a web of profanity at him and then ran up into our yard and jumped onto our chain-link fence - the fence that Brody was behind. While Bro was going ballistic I ran out into the front yard like a snapped lunatic and shouted "You need to knock it off, leave the dog alone!" (Sounds so hilarious to picture but I was shaking and ready to beat someone's ass). They looked at me, in their cool little gang, didn't bat an eyelash, didn't make a sound. Gradually during the following ten minutes they filed into another neighbor's yard. No apology, no whispers, no 'go shit in your hat', nuthin. I was livid.
Yesterday a similar situation went down. The GIRL across the street was standing directly in front of our house dancing around and shouting at Brody to get him to bark. Naturally he did. She then started barking back at him and yelling at him to shut up. After watching her shout and curse at my dog for a couple of minutes I threw open the front door and yelled at her, "You need to STOP yelling at my dog!" She and her friend walked away and I saw her throw her head back laughing. Funny, right? I could have nailed her chubby ass to her tree in that moment. BUT I cooled off in my recliner... wishing that we could sell this house and move. No peace. No peace here whatsoever. And the fact that the parents just don't give a shit crawls right up my spine.
I cannot imagine being a child and disrespecting my neighbors - my mother would have grounded me for weeks. If I saw cars in the driveway I wouldn't set foot on the grass never mind in the driveway or on their FENCE! I would have apologized up and down and been a mortified nervous wreck if a neighbor came out and yelled at me. I am appalled by what the world is coming to. Where are these parents? It's a small street! Lord knows I can hear everyone's fights and tantrums - I KNOW you can hear me shouting at your children after they torture my dog. Get with it, people. I'm putting this sign up tomorrow...
February 8, 2012
watch what you say
"You are deaf, dumb and non-beautiful." These are the words spoken by my third grade teacher, Sister Lucien. Though they've stuck with me over the years they weren't exactly meant for me, they were said to one of my best friends, "K".
Can you imagine telling an eight year old child these terrible things?? Never mind the fact that these unspeakable insults came straight from our Catholic school's trusted NUN teacher (that every kid was terrified of).
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