No Smokeing and No Gunns

My oldest daughter is almost 8 and she's at the age where she likes to escape her sister and sit in her room for hours. She does the funniest thing. She will go into her bedroom and when I peek my head in an hour later her room will be totally rearranged. She will move her bed to the other side of the room – the vanity will have been moved. The kid is a toothpick, she only weighs 56 pounds. I imagine that she closes her bedroom door and turns into the Incredible Hulk.

She often turns her closet into a clubhouse. She will throw her shoes into a pile in the middle of her room (which drives me nuts) and pulls her rug in there. She will tack pictures to the wall in her closet. She has a book light that she rigged to the wall with scotch tape. I often find her just chillin in the closet with the door closed, reading a book or watching something on the Ipad. Acting like that is a totally normal thing to do. “Do you want to come out and have dessert?” “No, you can shut the door.” I feel like a crappy mom shutting my kid in the closet. I know she wants me to, but it just doesn't seem right.

She loves to hang things on the wall. Random things. She always is switching it up too. One day her walls will be covered with Hanna Andersson catalog pages, pictures that she has drawn, pictures of our family. Often, she will tape items from around the house on the wall. A bead that is glittery, a physical fitness patch, a paper clip. Whatever she finds interesting - it gets taped onto the wall. Which means I go through a lot of tape. She's a tape stealer. It is really hard because a big part of me just wants to rip everything off the wall and set it back up to be “perfect” but I am trying not to stifle her creative spirit so I just keep the door shut. It is kind of cute that she gets so excited to show me her “wall creations”. She will be an artist one day.

Her new thing is to create signs that she hangs in the hallway next to her room or on her door. Signs that say “My Room” with an arrow that points to the door, “No Boys Allowed”, “Members Only”. My favorite is this one that has been hanging around for a few weeks:

What I find particularly amusing is that we don't smoke or have guns in the house. Unless you plan on robbing us – in that case we have TONS. If you smoke or are a gun slinger don't even THINK about going in my daughter's room.

I love my little bug. She keeps it interesting!

The Pile

I have a secret. I don't fold and put away my laundry on a regular basis, or a weekly basis, or a monthly basis. Bi-monthly – maybe. We generate a ton of laundry and I just can't keep up with it. The actual washing of the laundry is not a problem for me and I actually do this in a fairly timely manner. I put a load in before I go to work, I move it to the dryer and when I get home I move it from the dryer to a clean area on the rug outside of the laundry room. I don't even put it in a laundry basket. The laundry baskets are reserved for dirty clothes in my house. Ideally, I could keep them in the laundry room but realistically the space isn't big enough and the floors are not clean enough. So they live on a clean area of the carpet, hidden away behind the stairs in a huge pile.

I used to feel guilt about my sad laundry pile, like it was saying something about my mental state. That I was overwhelmed, that it represented the pieces of my life I neglect. I have gone through the stages of grief with my laundry pile. I have been in denial about it. Hiding it out of sight, trying to forget it even exists. Telling myself that it is normal to have 20 pounds of laundry sitting randomly in the hallway. Then I felt guilt about it. If I was a better wife and mother I would make more on an effort to get the laundry folded and put it away. I would make my kids do it. Sometimes I would feel anger about it. Why do we have to wear clothes ANYWAY? We have been to space and no one has invented viable disposable clothing? Why doesn't my husband do it....oh wait – he works 60 hours a week. Then came the sadness – the realization that unless I hire someone to come fold and put away my laundry that the pile will continue to live in my hallway. * Sigh *

I have now accepted my laundry pile. I know it's here to stay for at least the next 5 years. If the kids need underwear, I tell them to check the pile. They dig right in. It's like a hide and seek game. Clean towels in the house? I don't know, check the pile. I would rather spend my time playing a game with the kids, or eating icecream or , you know, sleeping.  

Scrape

A few weeks ago, I had my wisdom teeth out. I have had the worst time. I got dry socket, went in to be treated. Then I developed this horrible pain on the right side of my jaw. So over the weekend I called my oral surgeon who prescribed me some antibiotics and told me to come in yesterday.

My oldest wasn't feeling well and was home from school so I had to bring her with me. So we go in

and the surgeon pokes around and tells me he is going to have to open it up. He gives me some shots

and then leaves the room. I was really concerned that my daughter was going to be traumatized so I

was telling her that they were going to cut me open and that she could read her book and that I would

be okay and all that jazz. She didn't seem bothered and kept busy trying to strap my arms down to the

chair.

They come in and he cuts my gum open and takes this long medal tool and just scrapes my jaw bone. It was the worst sound ever. SCRAAAPE, SCRAAAAPE... It was violent from my angle. Then he filed down a sharp spot and packed it. I sit up and my daughters eyes were like saucers. “Are you okay?” “Yes.” “Can I get a treat?” Obviously she wasn't bothered that much.

We stop to get gas and she picks up a treat and then we picked up my little bean. As I am pulling up to the house, I could feel the aching and throbbing starting in my jaw. It was 5:30 and my husband's car was in the driveway, which was odd. He never gets home before 7 pm. I was so excited. My prayers had been answered, the stars have alined and he can fix us dinner and entertain the kids and I can rest and nurse my exposed jaw bone. My little one was so excited. “Daddy can play with us!”

I go inside and call out his name and hear nothing. He is upstairs in bed, shaking and feverish. He looked horrible. “I am sooo sick”. I have no comfort food in the house and when I go to the medicine cabinet, it is depleted. My husband gives me his wish list, “I need soup, orange juice, soft bread....” A trip to the grocery store...that's the last thing I wanted to do, but a wife and mother's work is never done.

I was so uncomfortable and I was in a business suit and heels so I changed into a pair of capris, flip flops, a wrinkled sweater that I pulled out of the laundry pile that lives in the hallway. No bra. Pulled up my hair in a messy ponytail. My mouth had bloody gauze all in it and I am periodically wiping bloody drool from the side of my mouth. I literally looked like I had given up on life. Screw it. I'm not trying to impress anyone.

I went to the Piggly Wiggly because that is the closet grocery store to the house. I just didn't have the stamina to drive to Publix. I hate shopping at the Pig. I feel like everything there costs a million dollars. They do have Greenbax but you have to spend $800 in a month to get a free carton of eggs. So I go in looking like a crazy person and get 4 cans of soup for $15, $5 for orange juice...uggh.

But then I went to check out and the people in front of me looked younger that I am and had three children under the age of 3 and I as I watched them I thought to myself, "At least me life isn't THAT bad..."

This is Why We Don't Have Nice Things

This past weekend I left the kids with my husband while I went to the grocery store. I always offer to take the kids to the grocery store but they are old enough to figure out that our trips together to the grocery store never end well. They usually wind up fighting with each other and I yell and embarrass myself in public and threaten to leave them in the frozen food section. So I went alone. It was nice- a mini-vacation to Publix.

When I got home, my youngest comes up to me and said, “I made you a cup, mom. Come see it.” We climb the stairs together and sitting on the dresser is one of my nice ceramic mugs. She has painted “I love Mon and Dad” on the side and has colored in the flower with blue and purple nail polish.

It's amazing how many thoughts can run through your head in a matter of seconds. My immediate reaction was to be annoyed that she took the liberty to paint on the nice cups BUT she was so excited about it and she made it just for me. I didn't want to break her spirit. So I bend down and said, “That's beautiful honey, show it to me.” So she picks it up and tells me what it says very cutely. “I love it, thank you.”

Her eyes open really big and she says, “I can paint them all mom, and they will all be beautiful.” Damn! When this child has an idea in her head it is nearly impossible to change her mind. Of course I wouldn't let her paint all of my nice mugs but in exchange, I may endure endless nagging all afternoon. So I stooped down and said, “But if you paint all the mugs, then this mug will not be special anymore and I want this to be my special mug.” She thought for a minute and looked at me sideways as if trying to figure out if I was full of crap. “Okay.” Fall out avoided! Score for mom!

Musical Beds

Last night my 5 year old woke up at 1 am to use the bathroom. She always uses the master bathroom so I woke up to bright lights. “MOM,” she yells, “I need new panties.” For some reason, when she wakes up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom she asks me to get her fresh underwear. I don't understand why. There isn't pee in the original ones. She showers before bed and gets a fresh pair. I don't even argue it anymore. I get up half asleep and trek to her room and get her a new pair. She inspects them to make sure they're adequate. What a diva. When I am in her room, the rustling wakes up my oldest daughter who wakes up at the slightest noise. She gets up and walks into my room and climbs into my bed. My 5 year old follows. It's one of those nights where we play musical beds. I get into my 5 year old's bed and drift off to sleep. For 2 minutes.

I awaken to a pat on the back. “Mom, can I watch a movie?” My little one looks at me with big eyes. “No, it's in the middle of the night. Get back to bed.” “I can't. I am not sleepy. What can I do?” “You can lay in bed and count sheep or think about tomorrow.” She frowns, “That is boring. I want to watch a movie.” “NO – GO TO SLEEP.” She walks over to the door and says “Fine.” Then she turns on the light and slams the bedroom door. What a jerky thing to do. She wanted me to have to get out of bed to turn the light off. So I did and then fell back asleep.

I am awoken again by her poking me. “Mom, I am bored. Can I watch a movie?” I roll over, “What time is it?” She runs into my bedroom and then back to me. “3-4-1.” “Lay down and go to sleep.” She does what I says this time and does not turn the light on.

I drift off into glorious sleep until I hear screaming. It's my husband this time. “JOZZ. WAKE UP! IT'S 6:30!!!!” Great. I set the alarm for 5:15 because it takes a gazillion years to get ready in the morning. My husband must have pressed the snooze button 80 times. We have to leave the house at 7 am. I have ½ hour to dress myself, 2 kids, feed everyone, fix snacks and pack book bags. Hubby and I go into panic mode. He goes downstairs to get breakfast and snacks ready while I get us all dressed.

The kids picked out their clothes the night before, so I tell them to get dressed while I get myself together. The 5 year old refuses to get up because she was up bugging us half the night. In desperation, I pull off her pajamas and get her dressed while she is sleeping. She was like a limp noodle. It was a lot of work. Then I go in to check on my oldest and she is literally laying in the middle of the floor flapping her arms back and forth like she is making a snow angel, like there is all the time in the world. "Please get dressed." She looks up at me and nonchalantly says, "I'm going to." WTF? "When? We have to leave in 10 minutes. Get up NOW." We finally sat down at the breakfast table with 2 minutes to spare. I made them bring the rest of their breakfast with them to finish in the car so now my back seat is literally covered in cornflakes. It was totally worth it though because I made it to work on time. It was close call. 

Falling in Love with the Chik-fil-a Man

  Last week, I was home with my girls on Spring Break. I was folding laundry and I expected the children to entertain themselves for a few hours. They had been fed, they have various toys at their disposal, they are 5 and 7 – I don't feel like this was an unreasonable expectation. I told them if they could be good that I would take them to Chik-fil-a and get them milkshakes. Yes, I reward my kids with frozen sugar milk.

Somehow when I ask my kids to play together nicely, I invoke some kind of sick reverse psychology. My children could not get along for 2 seconds. “Mom, C won't let me in her room.” “Mom, W took my notebook.” “Mom, I don't want W to look at me. Tell her to stop LOOKING at me!” I can only referee for so long before I lose my mind and turn into a screaming mad woman. I got up and stood at the the doorway and screamed unintelligibly about loving each other and cooperating and sharing. I know that they weren't listening but I figured it was better than throwing things or just leaving the house and driving into the abyss.

I finished the clothes folding and told the kids to put their shoes on so we could go to Chick-fil-a. Did they deserve to go to Chick-fil-a? Absolutely not, but I needed it. Plus, I thought we needed to get out of the house. Rewarding bad behavior? Bad mom award for me. I decided that we would go through the drive thru so that I didn't have to make the effort to look presentable.

I order my milkshakes and the 19 year old at the drive thru asks how I am doing and I tell him I am well, and he turns to my children and he asks them how they are doing. They say nothing and smile shyly. I say, “They are driving their mom crazy today.” The guy turns to them and says, “You better be nice to your mom. Your mom loves you and she gets you milkshakes.” Yeah – I thought, you tell 'em. He hands me my cups of frozen sugar milk and I smile and thank him and drive away. I pass back the milkshakes and my 5 year old makes the most bizarre statement ever. “Mom, you are in love with the man at the Chik-fil-a.” I was taken aback about this. “What are you talking about?” “You were smiling at him and he was smiling at you and so you are in love and that is not nice to daddy.” “W, I am not in love with the Chik-fil-a man.” “Yes, you are” “No, I'm not. I can't smile at someone?” “You smile at people you are in love with.” Whatever. It is useless to argue with her. So now I am in love with the Chick-fil-a man and he is in love with me.

The Chick-fil-a man probably already has a 19 year old girlfriend who shaves her legs on a regular basis and I have my husband who has works a 9-5. We live in different worlds. Alas, we can never be together.......

Popular Moms

My oldest daughter was invited to a birthday party of a boy in her class. In lieu of gifts, they requested that we bring a donation for Water Missions International. I thought that was very sweet. It saved me a trip to the store to buy a plastic Chinese crap toy plus we got cake and pizza that I didn't have to pay for. A win-win situation. I assumed that the whole class was invited and that there would be a hodge podge of people so I was looking forward to having my kids be occupied and meeting new people.

We show up and my children find their friends and run off to play and I am alone with the 20 other parents. That normally would have been cool. I am not shy at all and have no problem introducing myself. But these were not random parents. These were the good friend/neighbor parents whose kids have gone to school together for the past 3 years and I am the outsider mom because my kids have just transitioned from private to public school. Maybe I am reading too much into it but it sure felt that way because no one made an effort to talk to me at all. I don't think they ignored me on purpose, they just were too involved in their mom-cliques to notice.

I felt awkward about it but decided that I had to come up with a plan of action within the unspoken rules of awkward school-party etiquette.

Rule #1: Don't act shy and NOT talk to anyone or sit around and wait for someone to talk to you. This could be misinterpreted as snobbery. It is never a good idea for the mom clique to think that you are "too good" to talk to them. Not a good first impression.

Rule #2: Don't talk to men only. Dads are usually easier to initiate some sort of conversation because dads don't usually have men cliques. It's okay to converse with the dads for a short time but if it lingers it could be misinterpreted as flirting which is a no-go for the mom clique.

Rule #3: Complimenting the child of a mom in the mom clique is always an excellent idea. Let's face it - moms care about their perception of their motherhood by other mothers. Is this fair? No way. Is it reality? Hell yes.

I am more likely to hang out with other people who think my kids are pretty darn awesome.

Rule #4: Even if you are not successful in breaking into the mom clique, always be gracious. Thank your hostess and tell everyone that you were glad to meet them. They might lie to you and tell you they were glad to meet you too. This last interaction will help provide another memory of your face so that you won't be so much of a "stranger" the next time around.

I thought I had escaped the awkwardness and social anxiety of my teenage years but then...I became a mom of school aged children.

Does it matter what other people think of me and my kids? No way. Is it important that I get into the mom clique? It is - so that I can include other moms so they don't feel like schmucks at birthday parties where they don't know anyone.