Guilt, guilt, guilt

I started a new job. It's full time. I'm no longer working just 4 days a week. There's something about that extra day that's adding an exponential amount of guilt. Fridays my little man and I would do errands, laundry, he would chase the dog around the house, etc....Now Fridays he goes to daycare. I feel kind of guilty about that.

Last night Hubby and I were looking at a house and we picked up Baby C late. He was upset and clingy for the rest of the night. Poor little guy. Some days I feel like he just wants to spend time with Mommy, and some days I feel like I don't have the free time (like when I'm making dinner) or some days it's simply impossible for me to retain my sanity and take him to the grocery store with me. And, I feel guilty about that in a way that I really didn't before I went back to full time. Because I worked one less day a week, was I a better Mom? I don't know...

I came from a European-mutt family with some Italian in the mix. I'm used to guilt, I could have majored in guilt, I'm the queen of guilt. That being said, I don't know why I always feel guilty about the fact that (a) I work and (b) I LIKE working. If I were to stay home all day with my child I would either turn into a raging alcoholic or a maniac. So, I'm a working Mom. Why can't I get over the fact that someone else watches my child while I'm at work?



I'm sure that every working Mom deals with the same thing... The GUILT...  I've been dealing with it by hugging my baby boy every second that he'll let me. It's incredible. How does every other Mom deal with it?

2100 miles in a Suburban with a dog, a 20 month old and my husband

We finished our big road trip from the Midwest to the Pacific North West. It went about how I thought it would go. The dog panted the first day of the trip. The baby rarely slept (I know… usually babies love to sleep in cars, right?). Baby C is always afraid he’ll miss something consequently he’s a crappy napper. Day 2 of our trip C was crabby… majorly crabby and wouldn’t sleep in the hotel. We were wrecked. The next day the hubs and I traded off driving while the other slept. That was the day we drove 800 miles. While we were in some tiny little one horse town my hubby noticed C had 2 crusty ears. With his tubes, the crusty ears meant an ear infection. Great. Just what we needed. Fortunately, I had ear drops and baby Tylenol with us. Unfortunately, baby C was still a major crab.

I learned a few things during the trip, one of them being that I would have lived (and so would the dog) if we would have had to drug the dog to take her on a plane. My poor dog has doggy cancer and only has 2 years to live. I feed her whatever she wants, whenever she wants. She’s on way out… why not? I just couldn’t bring myself to drug her and put her in the cargo hold of the plane.

But then how was being cooped up in a saburban for 4 days with my son throwing toys (and misc goldfish) at her any better?

I would like for all 2 of you reading this now to benefit from the wisdom of this hellacious trip. Here you go…. My tips for long road trips with a 2 year old.

(a) pack toys or a movie player (if it will keep their attention).

(b) pack snacks – even if they only eat half, it keeps them occupied

(c) overnight diapers are the best. If they’re sleeping you really don’t want to wake them. Baby C pees a lot (what can I say he’s well hydrated, right?) and when we’d press on and wouldn’t change him every few hours, he’d leak. I just started using the overnight diapers so that we wouldn’t have to worry about that.

(d) Pack your patience

(e) Stop often

I would like to point out that the last point also includes stopping for a sanity break. For some reason my child is more well behaved around others than me. Am I alone here? Who knows. What I do know is that if he’s really acting up I just need to take him on an errand and he’s a saint.

We had a few hours until we reached Seattle and I could not handle Baby C moaning in my ear anymore. It felt like he screaming at the back of my head… and well, in fact he was, but he didn’t really do so intentionally. I saw a sign for a winery and insisted that my husband pull over. Keep in mind, I hadn’t showered in 2 days, I was crabby, wearing the same clothes that I had the day before and had not a stich of makeup on. The good Samaritan at the winery let us come in, even with the baby, but I’m sure she could tell that I need a drink… big time.

My wonderful husband let me do the tasting and walked Baby C around the property. After only 30 minutes I started to feel like a new person again. Note to self: drinking in the middle of the day for sanity purposes is ok. Happy Trails.

Parenting lessons learned from my husband’s ex-wife

When I decided to marry my husband, I knew that I found a great man and partner. I also knew that he had some baggage… mainly his ex wife. The past few years has been a roller coaster of drama and emotion coming from the general direction of the EX. As I step back and look at these many tense situations I think about how to raise my own child, Baby C. Making lemonade out of lemons, I’ve decided to take these experiences with a grain of salt, as a reminder of the type of parent I would like to be. Here’s what I’ve taken away from my dealings with the EX:

1) My Baby is his own little person and as much I might like to, I can’t always bend him to my will. I can already see his own personality forming. As much as I would like for him to be the type of kid who sits and plays with blocks, I don’t see that happening. He wants to climb, jump, run, etc… he’s a do-er and he (unfortunately) gets that from me. I just need to take a good breath.

2) Do you use your kid… for anything, but most importantly as a pawn for your own personal gain. They will grow to understand what you have done.

3) Always be as truthful with your kids as you possibly can be (keep in mind this is age appropriate). I’ve seen certain situations (from both the EX and other EX’s I’ve seen) where the ex spouse has lied about their ex in order to make the other party look bad. Don’t do that. Again, your child will figure this out and will resent you for it in the long run.

4) The focus of my life is my family. When you’re single, your focus is yourself, YOUR clothes, YOUR job, YOUR car…. Etc… Now that I’m married with a child and stepson, my family is my focus, as is should be. I want my son and my husband to know that they are the most important things in my life. Period. As such, a act accordingly and do my best to make sure that they feel loved and special.

There are more things that I’ve taken away from this situation, but the kids are asleep and in bed and I’m dog tired. Good night!

Cha-cha-cha changes

I haven't written in a while. I've been busy… seriously busy… the type of busy where you just want to go to bed at 9PM because you're exhausted. We're moving from the Fly Over States to the Pacific North West... In 2 weeks. AHHHHHH!

One thing I've noticed about a big move like this… Well, more than on one, but the thing that stands out to me is the fact that when people find out that we're moving they (a) tell everyone they have ever known and (b) always seem to ask "are you (small pause) excited about this move?"

I was talking with the owner of Baby C's daycare yesterday and the topic of moving came up. So, I gave her a heads up that we'd be moving. By this morning I had several people at the daycare (most of whom I only share a smile or "good morning" with) made comments about our move. My favorite comment was made by a woman who works in the toddler room and who's age is indeterminate. I can tell that she doesn't take care of her skin (she must clearly not be obsessed with moisture the way I am), never wears makeup and has a sort of shabby old lady bob haircut. I rarely talk with this woman and if I do it's in relation to how much Baby C has eaten or how many dirty diapers he's had that day. I walked into the toddler room this morning with C. As I tried to get his coat off and get him in his seat for breakfast she started a weird line of questioning.

We hear you're moving to Washington. "Are you (pause) happy about that?"

I just replied "Of course we are" while I took off Baby C's coat. I promptly kissed my child on his fuzzy little head and headed out the door while commenting "thank you" as I walked out. What did she expect? Did she expect me to say "Well, I really don't want to move (especially after just putting in a new kitchen) but we have a good opportunity to keep our jobs with our company… so yea, we're friggin' happy about having jobs".

Moving is stressful enough. Moving this far is overwhelming. We have no idea what areas are horrible, what areas are nice, overpriced, etc… We have to find a new daycare (ugg), a new house, a new favorite grocery store, a new …. EVERYTHING. It's an adventure. And it's an opportunity to reinvent ourselves, to see another part of the county, to experience fresh salmon on a weekly basis (oh yea). It's so strange to me that some people are curious about my life when they really haven't had much involvement in it up until now. Oh well... like everything in life, you need to just roll with it.

Cracker Barrel Rantings

Last Sunday I decided to treat the family to cracker barrel for breakfast. My 18 month old either acts up there or is a saint who can't stop stuffing his face with biscuits. I was hoping for the latter problem when I heard a girl behind us screeched and yelled "no" at her parents. Ahhhh, the public temper tantrum. How utterly embarrassing. I know them well, though. I also know how to diffuse them. A walk around the store full of crap that I don't need and then a quick rock on the rocking chairs outside and he’s ready for breakfast. Is it always easy? No. Is my walk around the building necessary to restore balance and order? Yes.

Well, that’s not what happened at 1 table over. I saw the mother (a) try to negotiate with the 2 year old. Really? You’re going to use your “inside voice” and negotiate when you child is screaming their head off. Then when that didn’t work both parents (b) IGNORED the child and buried their head in the menus.

Now I can see ignoring the tempter tantrum at home. That’s what “they” say you’re supposed to do, right? But in a restaurant? I don’t want to hear my old child scream, much less someone else’s. As this child continued on for most of our meal I was slightly afraid that Baby C would join in and let the mutiny begin. My son was too busy eating a bowl of fried apples, a blueberry muffin, part of my eggs, half of my parfait, and some of my husband’s grits. The boy just could not eat enough and didn’t seem too interested in what was going on with the table next door.

In thinking about the situation, I have just one thought. I know what’s wrong with America. I know why there are “occupy” protesters in the streets and entitled people with their hands out, rather than a resume in hand. Here’s the problem.

How are our children expected to understand how to behave, act, make the right decision, be stand up people, if we as parents never tell them, show them, and (quite frankly) make them act that way from a young age?

When I was pregnant with Baby C I was determined that my child would be well behaved enough that we could go to a restaurant and he would (a) not throw food, (b) not scream, (c) and be an all around well mannered child. Well, it’s harder than it looks to train you child to do this. You have to be prepared to take their food away when they decide to throw it or walk their little asses out of the restaurant when they act up. This means that my meal is cold most of the time due to the fact that I'm either feeding the kids or disciplining them. And... my husband ends up taking the boys for a walk while I finish my meal alone after everyone else has eaten.

Is it ideal? No. But I hope that my child is learning that in the long run you can't behave like a little shit in public, and if you do, expect to be taken outside with Mama.

There's another aspect to this whole scenario. If you allow your children to walk all over you, how do you expect them to understand the concept of consequences and responsibility!? All of these crazed occupy wall street people strike me as entitled spoiled brats who grew up, spent their parent's inheritance and now realize that they need to actually get a JOB and WORK and it's hard and you don't get paid as much as you like, but you make it work. They're like spoiled children who pull the "that's not fair" routine while they pout and cross their arms.

Is it FAIR that Donald Trump has gazillions of dollars and I make a modest living? Well, he did inherit a bunch of money (lucky him) but he did work hard too and make smart decision (hence, working for his money). So, yes, I guess it's fair that I make a pittance compared to Donald Trump. Because, after all, life isn't fair... but we have roll with it.

Whew... I wasn't expecting to go there, but now that I have... I'm glad I decided to discipline my child in a restaurant rather than just ignore him.

I Hate Daycare

I been super busy and haven't written a lot lately. Though I was off from work I was working hard... with my child.

Right before Christmas there was an outbreak to strep throat in the "toddler room" of my son's daycare. I didn't work the week after Christmas and assumed that the long weekend would kill any trace of strep that might reside in that room. I went into daycare Dec 27th (hoping to drop him off so that I could get a few hours of downtime from my boy). Well, they had another case of strep creep up. Fearing that my son would be infected, I kept him home for the week.

So there went any plans of thoroughly cleaning the house or getting some post-Christmas mall shopping done. But, I had to pay daycare for the week. I had to pay them so that I could watch my child. How does this make sense?

I hate to be the grinch, but....

What is it about the holidays that just make me want to tear my hair out? I used to love the holidays, even those years where I made the whole meal myself. Now that I'm a Mom and I'm dealing with buying presents, hiding the presents, trying to keep Baby C (now 16 months) from attacking the Christmas tree, it's become a daunting time of year.

This year I decided to pear down and make the holidays manageable. This year, we have a bare Christmas tree. I figured if we put up ornaments that the baby would just find a way to grab them... and you what will happen next. For the sake of my own sanity, I decided that this year might be a good year to just enjoy the lights... that's it.

I went to Target on Saturday morning with the boys... that's right... all 3 of them. The hubs, Baby C and my step son Jay accompanied me (just to clarify, I volunteered to take Baby C but my husband offered to come with). It was MAHEM!

I noticed that there were some good stocking stuffers down the isle (the one thing left on our list) so I left the cart with my husband (big mistake) and walked down the isle with baby C on my hip and picked up stocking stuffers. Five minutes later, I had 10 items, Baby C was holding 3 of them, I was holding Baby C and the rest and I was frantically looking for my husband as I started to sweat while dragging my 25 pound baby down the toy isle.

I walked all the way down to menswear and I couldn't find my husband ... at all... I had been ditched with the Baby. I might have been worried expect that I knew that I had the car keys. I found a cart on the side of one of the isles and finished my stocking stuff extravaganza. By the time I found my husband it was clear that some miscommunication had happened because he said "where have you been. We've been playing video games."... I went home and I had a glass of wine.

Parties...

I've noticed that parties are a lot more complicated now that I have Baby C. I guess I didn't notice last year because Baby C didn't sleep through the night until he was 6 months old. I think I was in a fog for the first year of his life... I'm just now waking up. We went to my sister in law's party. It was 7:30 and no one had been served dinner yet. I asked about dinner and she said it would be served shortly. Shortly? Is she crazy? Baby C's bedtime is 8. Once you factor in putting pj's on, story time and snuggles with the stuffed animals, lights are out by 8:15 and he's asleep by 8:30. If the series of events do not happen in this order bad things will happen. This is a very delicate schedule here. Eating dinner at 8PM is no longer an option for me. Maybe I'll become a hermit, until he's 4 or so, maybe that will be easier.

I've decided to just stay home and drink with my husband. It'll probably be easier all around. Merry christmas.