Friending Your Mom on Facebook is a BAD Idea When You are Talking About Tattoos

Yes, I am a Suburban Housewife who wants to get some ink.  It’s trendy. It makes me feel not quite so homely.  The tats are for me, my self-expression.  (Although I ain’t gonna lie, Hubby thinks it’s HOT.  And well, anything to keep the fires going is probably worth pursuing.)  So Hubby and I attended the DC Tattoo Convention this past weekend with the hopes of meeting some local artists and preview their portfolios. 

I returned home very excited about the prospect, thinking about the work I want done and what it symbolizes to me.  Of course, it’s not official until I post it on Facebook.  My post:

Sorry, Mom! But I'm one step closer to getting inked. Just got home from the DC Tattoo Convention. Butterflies, dragons, and a lil crab. ;)

I got a few likes and comments from my friends.  And then my Mom weighed in with

You are not JOLIE and ERIC is not PITT. KEEP YOUR SKIN FROM INTENTIONAL BLEMISH. WHY GO THROUGH THE PAIN. LOVE YOU MUCH. BE CLEAN...

I am nothing but amused.  And yes, she did write in ALL CAPS.  But it gets better.  My sister chimes in with

            LMAO! (at mom's comment) I'm next...Shhh! I'm thinking a sleeve..

Mom’s reply:

What does LMSO mean? just voicing my opinion. You are adults who decide what is best for you, whether I agree with you or not, you are in control. MY love is always with both of you.

Oy!

When I called home for my weekly check-in, I got an earful.  After her 20-minute tirade, she ended it with “But it’s your body.  You are old enough to do whatever you want.”  You think?! 

I got nothing but love for my mother.  But I am still building up my patience reserves for when she sees all the tats for the first time.

Teething Baby = Cranky. Needy. Insomniac. Up every 2 hours.

Teething Baby = Cranky.  Needy.  Insomniac.  Up every 2 hours.

Mom Tending to Teething Baby = Exhausted.

Last night was a rough night for both of us.  Victoria was only happy as long as she was touching Mommy in some way.  When she is feeling miserable, having me within sight is not enough.  She needs cuddle time. Which  means it was decision time for me.  Let her cry it out--my least favorite option (too grating on my nerves not to mention the psychological damage the experts are now spouting off about).  Carry her around while I finish up cleaning the kitchen (It’s like an extra workout – carrying 20 pounds around.).  Attempt to hang out online with her on my lap (Too much interference -- As I type one-handed, she is on my lap, cooing, playing with a teether, and is a snot bucket.)  Or go into cuddle mode.

Cuddle Mode wins out, primarily because I had been trying to get her to sleep since 7:30 and clearly at 10:30 with an awake, fussy baby, my other attempts had failed.  I anticipated there would be many interruptions to my sleep, so I set up camp on the living room floor with the baby corral.  The baby corral covers a large enough space for me to sleep in comfortably while giving Baby Girl enough freedom to explore and play safely with slumbering mama near her side. I know she’s safe and I can get my much needed zzzz’s.  The good news about this set-up is that when she wakes up crying, I can nurse her and tend to her needs half-asleep. 

I think what is so bewildering about Motherhood is that so much of it is just Attempting and Hoping that you are doing right.  So before bedtime, I attempted to give her Motrin and hoped that she ingested enough to actually  make a difference.  That little stinker puts everything in her mouth EXCEPT the things that will make a positive difference.  And forget the Orajel.  She had her mouth firmly clamped shut with that attempt!

As predicted, we were up every 2 hours.  So needless to say, when Little Man came bounding into the living room this morning, I was less than thrilled to be up for morning duty.  I got through it but without coffee!!  I was too tired to figure out why my Keurig wasn’t working.  I’m sure it’s a simple fix but sleep deprivation does me no favors.  Thankfully, as soon as the Boy was off to school, Baby Girl and I headed back to our beds for nap.  That is the perk of being a SAHM with no set schedule.  Whenever I seriously consider going back to work, those long nights of fussy baby, interrupted sleep patterns, and tiredness, while infrequent, makes me reconsider.  Some type of Work Outside the Home will always be there, right? (I hope!)

Two hours later, rested and regrouped, Baby Girl and I are ready to face the day.  We haven’t left the house.  It’s a Domestic Bliss kind of day.  And now it’s about that time to go meet the bus.

P.S. I dislike cleaning out the fridge. Ugh!

Christmas 2011 Recap

I’m giving myself a pat on the back for a job well done in regards to our Christmas.

Our Christmas Celebration, as seen through the eyes of my Boy, was fabulous!

My two favorite moments of this Christmas:

1.  Alex’s note to Santa: We had a slight fiasco with our homemade cookies for Santa. We made Butterscotch-Oatmeal cookies and set them aside. Unfortunately, and I hate to admit this, we have a slight, and I mean very slight, but recurring and very annoying ant problem. And wouldn’t you know, those damn ants found their way to the batch of cookies sitting on the counter. (For the record, their appearance is intermittent and is localized to one counter and near the sink. We just can’t find their point of entry to spray them to oblivion.) Obviously, we can’t serve ant-ridden cookies to Santa, so we improvised with Oreos. Alex felt compelled to write an explanation to Santa.

The note reads:

Santa,
Ants got into your cookies. Please have an Oreo instead.
Love, Alex

2. Alex’s Delight with the Unexpected Santa gift of Angry Birds: Alex asked only for Playdoh Transformers from Santa. Imagine his delight when Santa over-delivered. Not only did he receive his requested gift, he must have been on the Very Good list, because he also received 5 Angry birds–red bird, blue bird, black bird, yellow bird, white bird-and 2 pigs, the King pig and a helmeted pig. They couldn’t all fit in his stocking but were scattered nearby. He was surprised and really excited about them all, declaring that this was his favorite gift. Way to go, Santa!

 Alex on Christmas morning, which started at 5:45am!

Of course, this Christmas was also very special because it was Victoria’s first. She wore the same red Christmas pajamas that Alex wore for his first Christmas. She was very happy to be part of the festivities, watching her brother unwrap his mountain of gifts. She did receive gifts, a disproportionate amount in comparison to her brother, but she is still at the age where the gift wrap and box are usually more entertaining than the toy itself.

Eric’s mom, aka Gamie, spoiled all of us with presents and with the gift of sleep. She is such a wonderful help with both the grandkids, that she frees up our time for other things (i.e. sleep, or in my case, long showers in the morning!). Alex adores her and dominates most of her time when she visits. She happily obliges to his demand for attention and plays and plays. She is, however, enabling our family’s Starbuck habit. She gave each of us Starbucks gift cards to include Alex. Eric & Alex used theirs today. Alex bought himself a hot chocolate.

This year, Eric and I had a $100 limit each to spend on each other. We always provide wishlists for each other to make shopping easier, although there is no hard and fast rule to buy from the list. I was fretting a bit since as of Friday, I had not really given presents for Eric much thought. Amazon.com with rush shipping and a kid-free hour at Barnes & Nobles quickly resolved that! I walked out with several books –a travel guide to India and to New Zealand (we are dreaming of travel) and The French Country Table cookbook by Laura Washburn . Eric enjoyed all his gifts but his favorite is a book entitled Zombies vs Plants (based off an online game Alex has played apparently) that Alex made for him.

As I write this, Eric is hard at work in the kitchen, making Pistou soup from his new cookbook. Alex is, as he says “multi-tasking” (I detest that word!), by watching Harry Potter and playing with his Magnetix. Victoria is napping.

Life is Good!

This Christmas Season My Mental Capacity Has Been Reduced to Nothing More Than Composing Facebook Posts to Combat Stress

Sadly, my mental capacity has been reduced to nothing more than composing Facebook status updates to combat Christmas stress. I usually self-impose a one-per-day limit. But lately with all the Christmas hype, angst & bliss – I have gone through an emotional roller coaster in the past few weeks trying to get everything done to create the Christmas magic, only to be derailed by the Boy’s 5 days of fever (missed school, doctor visits, phone calls, snuggling and vegging out).—I’ve been wanting to reach out and update my Facebook status every couple of hours. Before you roll your eyes, know that I have resisted. I know I’m not *that* interesting. Interesting, yes. But not every-couple-of-hours interesting. I realize everyone, at least my peer group, is going through the exact same thing (So quit your whining, Woman!). I have nothing profound or original to say, at least in regards to Christmas, that hasn’t been said or thought of a million times before. Perhaps I have a few relatable exasperations about the holiday, cutesy kid stories, or heart-warming Christmas spirit stories to share, but really most of my “would-be” posts are more along the lines of whining. Or, oh yes, posts about my adorable children. While I know they are, in fact, hands down, the most adorable kids in the world, I suppose, if I really had to acknowledge the truth out loud, I know my friends and acquaintances don’t really care all that much. On the other hand, my Mother does. And yes, we are Facebook friends. However, even now, all she really cares about are pictures of her grandkids. She doesn’t always understand my posts, but she reads them all the same because she hearts me. (Love you, Mom!)

Yes, I do completely succumb to the Christmas hype to include pictures with Santa especially for Baby Girl’s 1st Christmas:

The Boy was along too for a Santa visit because he was home from school. He technically was fever-free but it had not been the required 24 hours without fever-reducing medication. I definitely needed to get out of the house after 5 days in the House of Ill and 3 days of missed school. And can I get a gold star on my reward chart for doing my part and keeping the Boy home on the last day, considering he was pinging off the walls and clearly feeling better? I digress. We had a great outing to the Mall to see Santa, lunch, and a relatively inexpensive and whine-free excursion into the Legos store.

Like every mother, my Christmas to do list has been long and never-ending. I have felt varying levels of stress dependent on how much I have or have not accomplished. I was getting a little snappy yesterday. However, one kid-free hour of shopping tonight at the bookstore has restored order, karma, bliss into my life as I am now done with shopping. Yesterday, I was fretting because Hubby was definitely getting short-changed with the holiday gift exchange. I am a big fan of Christmas gifts, not so much for the sake of outdoing the Joneses or complete excess , but because I like to receive presents and I enjoy knowing Hubby was thinking of me. (We will discuss our spousal gift-giving some other time, but it involves lists and not as much imagination as I’d prefer.) I think it is satisfying, when not under a time crunch, searching for and finding the perfect gift, rewarded with a delighted smile. Ok, hmm….I’m not sure Hubby has ever given me a delighted smile, but I know when I have scored big with him. However, in my time management assessment, shopping for him kept falling lower and lower in terms of importance. Yet, I know he has been working hard at getting it right to delight me (Spoiled Wifey Moment: Um, yes, I have that expectation! But on the other hand, he only has to shop for me. I shop for everybody else to include his mother.) Needless to say, I didn’t want to send him the message that he is not important nor disappoint him. I pulled through, found a few things he wants from his Amazon wish list. I also bought a present for him, meant for us, but he’ll think it’s really for me (It’s not!).

I feel better now and have let go of all the other holiday stresses and the guilt for not getting it done. The only thing left on my to do list is to bake cookies. For those friends who aren’t receiving their Christmas cards until AFTER Christmas, I do apologize. You will forgive me, won’t you? That is, if you have even noticed.
Merry Christmas!

Tomorrow: the Christmas Pageant & the Boy

An Unexpected Free Hour, What to Do? What to Do? (And Our Christmas Tree)

I really should make yet another list. A list of what to do should I ever have unexpected free time. Little Man has a playdate. Little Girl is napping. I’m literally running around with my head cut off trying to accomplish too much in too little time, waiting to hear either crying or footsteps that my children are up and/or home. This means, of course, I’m not getting anything done.

I have been neglecting writing and recording my life as I know it. Because one day, if and when I ever re-enter the paid workforce, I am going to wonder what I did with “all that time” when I was a stay-at-home mom.

So in no particular order (because order is

[Drats! The Boy is home. But he is completely uninterested in me. I got a kiss and a request to have a playdate with some school friends and he has since disappeared to the playroom.]

continuation….(because order is something I must practice every day to be successful as it does not come naturally nor has it been a habit.)

• IM’ed with Danielle, a daily occurrence.
• Loved on Baby Girl
• Light Housekeeping – never-ending laundry & dishes
• Worked on my resume
• Paid bills and fretted over the Christmas budget, or lack thereof.
• Emptied the car of the bags of goodies after running errands all afternoon.
• Hung up Little Girl’s Christmas stocking – pretty pink, of course!
• Gas.
• Starbucks.
• Pet Store.
• Target – for Secret Santa gifts & a few groceries.
• Contemplated going to the Commissary but since I didn’t motivate until after lunch, there wasn’t enough time.
• Picked up the Boy at school & dropped him off at his playdate.
• Dinner.

My free hour was gone in an instant. So I’m back to my original idea of having a to do list for the unexpected time.

In the meantime, I still have Christmas cards to address. I have decided that I’m not going to write a newsletter his year. Frankly I’m not in the Christmas spirit this year. If I didn’t have children and the responsibility of creating the magic for them, I very much would be a non-celebrant. I’m trying to let go of my idea of a perfect Christmas since my ideal and my reality are not merging. Case in point, the Christmas tree excursion. We are now “proudly” displaying a table top 2.5 foot tree that the Boy picked out. I tried to persuade him at the tree lot to go bigger. Hubby, annoyed at the time, didn’t encourage him as he just wanted to get out of there. Some things are just not worth the argument, but I was very disappointed. In fact, I still get miffed every time I look at that tree. However, the Boy and his Gamie decorated the tree with ornaments that he has made over the years. They both enjoyed decorating. So in the end does it really matter if the tree was 2 feet or 6? Nope. I know this, I’m trying to let it go.

[Spoiled Wifey Note: So I wrote this 2 days ago, and just now getting around to posting because I wanted to include photos. I have since found my Christmas cheer, thanks to a shopping spree today (payday!) and opening a batch of Christmas cards from family & friends.]

The Boy helping with the tree stand.

The Boy helping with the lights.

Yes, it is perched on a Thomas table to keep Little Girl at arm's length. She is now pulling herself up!!

MORNING MADNESS!

Night Owl by nature. Procrastinator by choice. Children with mismatched sleep schedules.

All these contribute to MORNING MADNESS!

My weekday mornings are always chaotic. I wake up usually to a series of alarms and snoozes. Usually, I am slightly awake when the Hubby leaves for work. Today I thought I heard him say to the Boy, “Don’t let your Mom sleep in too late.” Oy! I was coherent enough to feel indignant, as I glanced at the bedside clock: 7:15am. So 45 minutes later, I was jolted from my slumber by the realization it is now 8:00am and we have 30 minutes before I must usher the Boy out the door for school. Insert a string of expletives. Instant action!

The mad dash begins.

Fighting off the feeling of tiredness and fuzzy brain, I walk around the house to assess the hierarchy of needs—my own and the family. I greet the Boy. I flip on the coffee pot. I press on the computer. I open the blinds. I listen for Little Girl. I consider the weather as I yell “Calm the [Expletive] down!” to the dogs, who are anxiously scratching at the door. Little Girl is awake but calmly playing in her crib (Thankfully!) so she gets pushed down the list while I tend to the dogs. Time check. 8:10am. I feed the Boy. (Arguably, we need to train him to get his own breakfast. He gets his own juice. Yet, I need to curb his juice intake. This life, my life, is always about striking a balance. Always. Because although no one is judging my parenting skills except myself, I know allowing too much juice consumption is bad. How do I know? Because the omniscient Mommy Police have decreed it so. Anyway, I’m a good mommy citizen and don’t want to be criticized for allowing my son to drink too much juice, risk having rotten teeth, drinking empty calories, and having too much sugar in his diet.)

8:15am

I attempt to calmly direct the Boy to get dressed after finishing his breakfast. I say calmly because while I am moving around with a sense of urgency, I recognize that this is not a good way to begin the day and don’t want to pass it on to the Boy. He unfortunately has been snapped at one too many times when I am, once again and forever more, late and he is being pokey. He knows the routine. He also knows that when the alarm sounds, for the last time in the morning, we need to be walking out the door within minutes to catch the bus.

I am clock-watching.

I assemble his snack and backpack. I rush to the bedroom and make myself look presentable, which essentially means I put a bra on (not that anyone knows whether I have a bra on since I’m wearing a coat. But putting a bra on means “game on” for me. Those mamas are contained and ready to face the day.). I dress with the clothes in grabbing distance (i.e. floor). If the hair is really unruly, a baseball cap can be a good friend.

Heart pulsing hard, I’m feeling agitated. I know the alarm for the bus is about to signal.

I waltz into Baby Girl’s room, to be greeted with a big smile and pure joy. Kisses all around! I change her diaper, keep her pajamas on for now and throw on her coat. And with that, the alarm begins to sound, just in time once again.

Out the door, we three go. [For the record, the Boy has only missed the bus once in the past three months.]

The wait at the bus stop is short. I have a pleasant chat with the neighborhood parents. With a wave to the Boy as he climbs onto the bus, Baby Girl and I return to the house to start our day. It’s time for coffee, to de-compress from the whirlwind 30 minutes, and map out our day.

So that Madness is my morning, every morning, for five days. It occurred to me the other day that I can make a few changes to help myself. To others, it must seem so straightforward and obvious. Go to bed earlier. Plan ahead the evening before. Wake up earlier and give myself more time. Yes, yes, thank you for your kind suggestions. But I want to have to do it. I have to choose to make those changes. Do I want Morning Madness or Calm?

While going to bed earlier is a worthy and probably rewarding endeavor, I think I’ll start with planning ahead. I will have everything ready in the morning, so when the signal sounds, I go! Ready, Set, Go Mama Go!

Spoiled Wifey Thanksgiving 2011

Our Menu:
Salted Roast Turkey with Herbs and Shallot-Dijon Gravy
Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Garlic and Pancetta
Green Beans with Chives
Cranberry Sauce
Leek and Wild Mushroom Stuffing
Mashed Potatoes
Rolls
Pumpkin, Pecan, & Cherry Pies from Heidelberg Bakery

In all of our married Thanksgivings, this year was the first that we had both of our parents here to celebrate and to feast. That in itself was special, especially considering that both moms had major health scares earlier this year. My Mother-in-Law decided on the menu and generously provided our dinner. Not only did she brave the grocery store for all the ingredients on Wednesday, she did most of the cooking, too. My parents played with the kids. I got to sleep, my favorite indulgence of late. I wish I slept for pure indulgence but that really wasn’t the case. I was unfortunately recovering from a particularly nasty cold/virus and feeling extremely rundown. Sleeping was a necessity. I think Hubby was in the Man Cave for most of the day but he did spend some time in the kitchen, too to help out his Mom.

To keep the Boy amused and to limit whining, one of the kid activities was a Dinosaur Skeleton Excavation Kit, which I think is designed to kill any dream of becoming a real paleontologist and to vex any mother who attempts to keep a clean house. The activity involves sawing away at a block and brush away debris until bones are revealed. Supposedly, there is an entire dinosaur skeleton that can be assembled. Gamie, Hubby and I all had our turn with the young wannabe paleontologist, made a huge mess in the process, and at the time of this posting have only discovered three bones, which are already misplaced. This activity did keep him out of the kitchen and out of our hair for awhile, so I begrudgingly must deem it a success, despite creating more work for myself with cleanup.

During their visit, Grandpa got to play Santa, bringing joy and gifts to our family by funding Grandma’s shopping habit. My mother is an emotional, recreational shopper and is addicted to the high of a good sale, regardless if she/we need it. (I have been trying to reverse my own aimless, shopping-for-entertainment trend for years.) Thankfully, along with my Dad’s intervention, my pleading over the years that I really don’t need any more stuff in my house and that I will only dispose of her gifts , not to mention we don’t have the same style in just about anything, I have finally gotten my message through to curb her shopping generosity towards me.

However, Grandma shopping for her grandkids is a different story. She wanted to direct her energy toward fulfilling my shopping list for the kids, which I find perfectly acceptable. Is it not their job to spoil the grandkids? And isn’t one of my job duties to counteract the spoilage? The kids were SPOILED all week with toys, and more importantly time and attention. Grandma and Grandpa attended the school book fair with the Boy before the holiday break and showed only enthusiasm as he brought a tower of books to the checkout line. Meanwhile, I’m in the background, breaking into a sweat from calculating how much that tower of books is going to set him back. Grandma outfitted Little Girl with socks, socks, and more socks and a new pair of shoes. She gave me only a mild titter when she saw the price tag - $29 for shoes (the most darling pair of Robeez!) but then couldn’t resist to also give me a lecture on how I have expensive tastes. I sighed internally and just smiled. I said nothing but thank you.

I enjoyed spending Thanksgiving with my parents and Mother-in-Law for their company but because they spoiled me, too. I always had a clean kitchen when I woke up in the morning. Someone took the dogs out in the morning. Someone rushed to the nursery at the slightest whimper. Someone read, read, and read some more to Little Boy. Someone let this Mommy sleep, sleep, and sleep some more. My Dad commented that I took a long time getting ready in the mornings—I did disappear for at least 45 glorious minutes – a long shower followed by applying lotion to my body, blow-drying AND styling my hair, and *gasp* applying makeup. I looked and felt terrific. I am rested and almost recovered from the cold, so much so I may just be ready to face Christmas, all its merriment, and my duties of creating magic.