Bucket List Checklist
The following list is the things I wish
to accomplish by the time I turn 50. Enjoy, and feel free to add your own ideas
and comments on things you want to accomplish!
Monday, March 3, 2014
The Bucket List Reveal!
Sunday, March 2, 2014
Then versus Now
I recently asked a question to my friends. This question involved soap in the mouth as punishment for a child who has gotten a bit big for his britches. This turned a normal debatable topic into something akin to reporting someone for child abuse. REALLY? It's soap in his mouth. I'm not burning him with cigarettes or anything.
Which prompts my entry this evening. What people are considering child abuse now that they used to consider good parenting when I was young.
SOAP IN THE MOUTH:
I got soap in my mouth. Once, during a struggle, I got liquid soap in my eye. That's another discussion, and the reason I will use bar soap. I know many people who have either gotten soap in the mouth or given soap in the mouth. If they consider this as a reason for children and youth to come visit my house, the door is always open. Come on in. But when my kid gets mouthy to you too, I get to be the one to put the soap in his mouth.
SPANKING:
I got spanked. Not only did I get spanked by my parents, I also got spanked by the neighbors. I remember once I did something I wasn't supposed to do. The neighbor spanked me, walked me home to tell my mother what I did, and stood there to watch my mother spank my butt too. That's what they used to call using a village to raise a child. That village had permission to treat a child as if they were their own. I remember being afraid to do things in front of other people because you never had the entire list of who could hit you and who couldn't. Now no one wants to spank their children. And maybe they should. I know a few kids who could use a few swats on the butt with a 2x4.
LILAC SWATCHES:
Not many people got this I'm sure. But I did. Now, feel free to insert the plant life of your choice. I remember once I did something so ridiculous my mother made me go pick my own branch off the bush. It was pure agony standing there trying to decide- large or small, leaves or no leaves. It was almost as much torture picking it as getting hit with it. For the record, whatever offense it was I did, I never did again. Maybe just letting a kid pick a branch would deter the ignorant behavior. Again, I didn't die. I don't have any permanent marks to show for it. But I have a distinct memory. A vivid memory. And that my friends is what matters.
WOODEN SPOONS:
I never personally got the wooden spoon. At least not that I can remember. But my cousins did. They had a full blooded Italian grandmother. And they will all tell you they remember her wielding the spoon. I see these cousins regularly. None of them are disfigured. None of them have been arrested. And they all loved their grandmother. Getting whacked with that wooden spoon didn't cause them any angst that was long lasting. And rest assured, my kid pulls his crap while I'm cooking and I'm liable to whip a wooden spoon around too. I think most Italian grandparents used the spoon because it was handy while they were cooking. And the Italians in my family are always cooking.
PADDLES:
I never got the paddle. We didn't own a paddle. But Daddy's family had a paddle. With holes in it. And it hung on the wall. I'm not sure him or any of his brothers ever got paddled with it. But I'm sure seeing it was enough to scare the crap out of them. I hear they whistle if you whip em fast enough. Maybe I should buy one and just wing it around when I get really mad. Bet that would scare the sh*t out of them. They would go running before they could get into and more trouble.
I'm absolutely not saying that we should beat our children senseless. Or feed them enough soap (or pepper, or vinegar) to permanently harm them. I'm simply saying that this irrational fear of hurting our children by punishing them is stupid. This incessant need to talk about feelings is crap. I'm all about talking about things. BUT I don't think I need to discuss a child yelling at me. It's just not going to happen. I'm still the Mommy.
My feeling is this: this kid may THINK he's big but I KNOW I'm big. And I'll be happy to show him any time he needs reminded. And my way includes a butt beating and soap in the mouth. If you don't like it, feel free to call Children and Youth. I'm sure they will tell you it's perfectly acceptable. Or call the cops. I'm sure they don't mind it either. Me spanking my kid will keep them from having to arrest him down the line.
Pennsylvania State Police: you are welcome. I am saving you from having to deal with yet another person who feels the world owes him something on a silver platter. I'll beat that out of him way before you get to him. HA
Which prompts my entry this evening. What people are considering child abuse now that they used to consider good parenting when I was young.
SOAP IN THE MOUTH:
I got soap in my mouth. Once, during a struggle, I got liquid soap in my eye. That's another discussion, and the reason I will use bar soap. I know many people who have either gotten soap in the mouth or given soap in the mouth. If they consider this as a reason for children and youth to come visit my house, the door is always open. Come on in. But when my kid gets mouthy to you too, I get to be the one to put the soap in his mouth.
SPANKING:
I got spanked. Not only did I get spanked by my parents, I also got spanked by the neighbors. I remember once I did something I wasn't supposed to do. The neighbor spanked me, walked me home to tell my mother what I did, and stood there to watch my mother spank my butt too. That's what they used to call using a village to raise a child. That village had permission to treat a child as if they were their own. I remember being afraid to do things in front of other people because you never had the entire list of who could hit you and who couldn't. Now no one wants to spank their children. And maybe they should. I know a few kids who could use a few swats on the butt with a 2x4.
LILAC SWATCHES:
Not many people got this I'm sure. But I did. Now, feel free to insert the plant life of your choice. I remember once I did something so ridiculous my mother made me go pick my own branch off the bush. It was pure agony standing there trying to decide- large or small, leaves or no leaves. It was almost as much torture picking it as getting hit with it. For the record, whatever offense it was I did, I never did again. Maybe just letting a kid pick a branch would deter the ignorant behavior. Again, I didn't die. I don't have any permanent marks to show for it. But I have a distinct memory. A vivid memory. And that my friends is what matters.
WOODEN SPOONS:
I never personally got the wooden spoon. At least not that I can remember. But my cousins did. They had a full blooded Italian grandmother. And they will all tell you they remember her wielding the spoon. I see these cousins regularly. None of them are disfigured. None of them have been arrested. And they all loved their grandmother. Getting whacked with that wooden spoon didn't cause them any angst that was long lasting. And rest assured, my kid pulls his crap while I'm cooking and I'm liable to whip a wooden spoon around too. I think most Italian grandparents used the spoon because it was handy while they were cooking. And the Italians in my family are always cooking.
PADDLES:
I never got the paddle. We didn't own a paddle. But Daddy's family had a paddle. With holes in it. And it hung on the wall. I'm not sure him or any of his brothers ever got paddled with it. But I'm sure seeing it was enough to scare the crap out of them. I hear they whistle if you whip em fast enough. Maybe I should buy one and just wing it around when I get really mad. Bet that would scare the sh*t out of them. They would go running before they could get into and more trouble.
I'm absolutely not saying that we should beat our children senseless. Or feed them enough soap (or pepper, or vinegar) to permanently harm them. I'm simply saying that this irrational fear of hurting our children by punishing them is stupid. This incessant need to talk about feelings is crap. I'm all about talking about things. BUT I don't think I need to discuss a child yelling at me. It's just not going to happen. I'm still the Mommy.
My feeling is this: this kid may THINK he's big but I KNOW I'm big. And I'll be happy to show him any time he needs reminded. And my way includes a butt beating and soap in the mouth. If you don't like it, feel free to call Children and Youth. I'm sure they will tell you it's perfectly acceptable. Or call the cops. I'm sure they don't mind it either. Me spanking my kid will keep them from having to arrest him down the line.
Pennsylvania State Police: you are welcome. I am saving you from having to deal with yet another person who feels the world owes him something on a silver platter. I'll beat that out of him way before you get to him. HA
You know those friends....
I make friends like other people make relationships. I find one, and I love it. I don't have a gaggle of friends, although I do have a ridiculous number of Facebook friends (I call them acquaintances). I do however have 3 friends whom I shall die calling friends. I wholeheartedly love these people.
Friend 1- I met this friend at work of all places many years ago. Now, she and I knew each other before. We were acquaintances. We would say hi and wave, sometimes. We could remember each other's names. No big deal. Then, someone somewhere thought it would be a great idea to put us together at work. Repeatedly. A lot. And we became ridiculous. We were the mean girls. We picked. We were loud. We had a blast. We followed each other department to department. We shared our children with each other. TO THIS DAY, I love her with all my heart. I can go months without speaking to her and we pick up right where we left off, usually making fun of someone we mutually know. We have inside jokes, like a giraffe, where a single picture can prompt a belly laugh and a phone call. I can tell her everything, and trust she will tell me when I'm making a truly awful mistake. I'm sure I don't tell her enough, because as she points out I rarely answer my phone, but if you're reading this my dear, I am honored to have you tell me when I'm an idiot.
Friend 2- I have a tendency of making friends at work. I throw myself into everything I do with reckless abandon. So, no surprise, I met this friend at work too. My first real job. And wouldn't you know, we ended up reorganizing a porn room together. Now listen, I worked in a video store. We had an "adult room". I didn't simply drag her to one of those places and make her play with porn. We were being paid to do it. And you'd be surprised how well you can bond with someone when you are knee deep in pictures of naked women. Any person who can look at pictures of naked women with you and discuss where you can find those shoes and which hairstyles would look best on you, is a forever friend. Luckily, this friend married my cousin. Which makes her family. And I made her Child 1's godmother, just so she couldn't get away. We have been friends for 13 years, and I wouldn't trade a day of it. I also go long periods of time without talking to her, because well, we are grown ups and have to do stuff. She's my friend I go to when I need grounded. When life is overwhelming and I need reminded of just how good things really are, I seek her out. She's also my friend who I call when other friends do something incredibly stupid, because we share the same opinions of people. And when Friend 2 reads this (if she reads this), I know I'm not always a great friend because children are overwhelming and suck the life out of you, but I love you too.
Friend 3- Please tell me by now you won't be surprised when I say I met this friend at work too. HA. Where I live, we have a huge yearly event. The Little League World Series. People from all over the world bring their children here to play baseball. Awesome, huh? No. Just no. It's loud, it's crammed, no one speaks English, and someone has to manage all these people when they get dehydrated or fall down the hill. BRING IN FRIEND 3! That's right. We met while working Little League as "ambulance drivers" (or in this case, really bored EMT's who smoked a lot and told awful stories). There are incredible amounts of down time working these events. We get bored. He managed to keep up with my insanity. We made jokes out of everything, he watched me learn how to juggle, and made fun of everything myself and everyone else did. I am most consistent with this friend, because we bitch together. Our lives run parallel. If it happens to me, chances are it's happened to him too. With the exception of children, which he claims he never wants, we are identical. We suffer the same issues, we live in the same situations, we commiserate. I refer to him as my "gay best friend" although he lives with a girl he will probably one day marry. I have not seen this friend in many years, as he got some harebrained idea to run off to the big city and live a life involving more money. And it may be many weeks between any interaction, simply because we have nothing new to say, but when I do say anything to him, it's usually dumb. Thank you friend 3 for just being dumb with me. For actually thinking I can do something with my dumb ideas and not talking me out of them. For encouraging me to do said dumb things. And for reading this and honestly telling me what you think, seeing as how you are honest to a fault. And I can never here a Sublime song without thinking of your dumb ass singing it.
I have more friends. I really do. And those friends are ones I may keep forever too. But these 3 are ones who constantly remind me of what I used to be, how far I've come, and where I need to go. And with regularity they often tell me where I ought to go......
It's the middle of the night, which is a time I do my best thinking. And while playing on Facebook I realized I know a lot of people. I like a lot of people. I value the opinion of many of them. I would go out of my way to make some of them happy. I read their blogs. I follow their lives. I love their children. I share my life with them. But these 3 are ones I can't imagine my life without. No matter where life takes me, I'll share it with you and drag you along with me.
The rest of you have to come along too, because seriously, my life is a riot. Just ask these 3.
(Please note these friends are not listed 1-3 based on preference, I actually listed them alphabetically in my head as to not show favoritism to one over another. I am a strange one sometimes.)
Friend 1- I met this friend at work of all places many years ago. Now, she and I knew each other before. We were acquaintances. We would say hi and wave, sometimes. We could remember each other's names. No big deal. Then, someone somewhere thought it would be a great idea to put us together at work. Repeatedly. A lot. And we became ridiculous. We were the mean girls. We picked. We were loud. We had a blast. We followed each other department to department. We shared our children with each other. TO THIS DAY, I love her with all my heart. I can go months without speaking to her and we pick up right where we left off, usually making fun of someone we mutually know. We have inside jokes, like a giraffe, where a single picture can prompt a belly laugh and a phone call. I can tell her everything, and trust she will tell me when I'm making a truly awful mistake. I'm sure I don't tell her enough, because as she points out I rarely answer my phone, but if you're reading this my dear, I am honored to have you tell me when I'm an idiot.
Friend 2- I have a tendency of making friends at work. I throw myself into everything I do with reckless abandon. So, no surprise, I met this friend at work too. My first real job. And wouldn't you know, we ended up reorganizing a porn room together. Now listen, I worked in a video store. We had an "adult room". I didn't simply drag her to one of those places and make her play with porn. We were being paid to do it. And you'd be surprised how well you can bond with someone when you are knee deep in pictures of naked women. Any person who can look at pictures of naked women with you and discuss where you can find those shoes and which hairstyles would look best on you, is a forever friend. Luckily, this friend married my cousin. Which makes her family. And I made her Child 1's godmother, just so she couldn't get away. We have been friends for 13 years, and I wouldn't trade a day of it. I also go long periods of time without talking to her, because well, we are grown ups and have to do stuff. She's my friend I go to when I need grounded. When life is overwhelming and I need reminded of just how good things really are, I seek her out. She's also my friend who I call when other friends do something incredibly stupid, because we share the same opinions of people. And when Friend 2 reads this (if she reads this), I know I'm not always a great friend because children are overwhelming and suck the life out of you, but I love you too.
Friend 3- Please tell me by now you won't be surprised when I say I met this friend at work too. HA. Where I live, we have a huge yearly event. The Little League World Series. People from all over the world bring their children here to play baseball. Awesome, huh? No. Just no. It's loud, it's crammed, no one speaks English, and someone has to manage all these people when they get dehydrated or fall down the hill. BRING IN FRIEND 3! That's right. We met while working Little League as "ambulance drivers" (or in this case, really bored EMT's who smoked a lot and told awful stories). There are incredible amounts of down time working these events. We get bored. He managed to keep up with my insanity. We made jokes out of everything, he watched me learn how to juggle, and made fun of everything myself and everyone else did. I am most consistent with this friend, because we bitch together. Our lives run parallel. If it happens to me, chances are it's happened to him too. With the exception of children, which he claims he never wants, we are identical. We suffer the same issues, we live in the same situations, we commiserate. I refer to him as my "gay best friend" although he lives with a girl he will probably one day marry. I have not seen this friend in many years, as he got some harebrained idea to run off to the big city and live a life involving more money. And it may be many weeks between any interaction, simply because we have nothing new to say, but when I do say anything to him, it's usually dumb. Thank you friend 3 for just being dumb with me. For actually thinking I can do something with my dumb ideas and not talking me out of them. For encouraging me to do said dumb things. And for reading this and honestly telling me what you think, seeing as how you are honest to a fault. And I can never here a Sublime song without thinking of your dumb ass singing it.
I have more friends. I really do. And those friends are ones I may keep forever too. But these 3 are ones who constantly remind me of what I used to be, how far I've come, and where I need to go. And with regularity they often tell me where I ought to go......
It's the middle of the night, which is a time I do my best thinking. And while playing on Facebook I realized I know a lot of people. I like a lot of people. I value the opinion of many of them. I would go out of my way to make some of them happy. I read their blogs. I follow their lives. I love their children. I share my life with them. But these 3 are ones I can't imagine my life without. No matter where life takes me, I'll share it with you and drag you along with me.
The rest of you have to come along too, because seriously, my life is a riot. Just ask these 3.
(Please note these friends are not listed 1-3 based on preference, I actually listed them alphabetically in my head as to not show favoritism to one over another. I am a strange one sometimes.)
Saturday, March 1, 2014
Causing the Calamity
I joke sometimes that my house is a zoo. This really isn't a joke. My house is a zoo. At any given moment of any given day, someone is making a mess. Or being loud. Or doing something they just aren't supposed to do.
Usually it's my children. Children do all sorts of things they aren't supposed to do. Sometimes it's because they don't realize they are doing something wrong. But then sometimes, I'm convinced they do things just to get under my skin. They know all my sore spots, and they poke them. Good thing they are cute, eh?
Occasionally it's Daddy. (I know Daddy hates to be mentioned too much in my internet life, but...... well, sorry.) Daddy has a habit of leaving things places they shouldn't be. Some days I just smile and put things back where they belong. Other days I have the urge to call him and give him the same ultimatum I give his children "PUT IT AWAY OR I WILL THROW IT IN THE TRASH!"
By the time I get around to mentioning throwing things away, everyone is running for their stuff. But once in a blue moon, this tiny little voice from 4 feet off the floor will utter "No you will not."
I'm not sure if he's informing me that he is the rule maker and I won't throw things away because HE says so, or if Child 1 has merely learned that I talk a good game but my follow through is a little lacking. I mean, I bought those toys. Who wants to throw away their own money?
And yesterday, the calamity was caused by a pet. We have quiet pets (you know, the ones by son keeps alive because I forget them?). Quiet pets are both a blessing and a curse. They are lovely because most days you can coexist peacefully and not bother one another. Other days, like when they escape, you don't know it's happened for quite some time.
Last night, I get a moderately panicked sounding phone call from Daddy while I was on my way home from work. "You have to come home NOW. Your hamster has gotten out. I caught him but you gotta figure out what to do with him." Great, on my way. I'd love to handle hamster disasters at midnight.
The hamster is pleasantly playing in his exercise ball, completely oblivious to the fact that if he had gotten out just 15 minutes later and I was the one to see him, he would be dead. I would have killed him. It's dark at midnight. Dark in combination with crawling things are bad. And I am a shoot first ask questions later kinda girl.
Somehow Elephant had opened a plastic port in his cage and crawled out. So I devised a plan. I fixed the cage last night, so I could sleep without fear of losing the hamster. And this weekend, I am going to the pet store, buying a million connectable tubes and he will no longer have any plastic ports to open. It should only cost me $200........
In my house, the squeaky wheel gets the grease. And the money.
I should start charging admission to people who come visit my house. We are either a poorly run zoo or a wildly amazing side show. Either way, we sure are a fun house to come visit. You just probably don't want to live here.
Usually it's my children. Children do all sorts of things they aren't supposed to do. Sometimes it's because they don't realize they are doing something wrong. But then sometimes, I'm convinced they do things just to get under my skin. They know all my sore spots, and they poke them. Good thing they are cute, eh?
Occasionally it's Daddy. (I know Daddy hates to be mentioned too much in my internet life, but...... well, sorry.) Daddy has a habit of leaving things places they shouldn't be. Some days I just smile and put things back where they belong. Other days I have the urge to call him and give him the same ultimatum I give his children "PUT IT AWAY OR I WILL THROW IT IN THE TRASH!"
By the time I get around to mentioning throwing things away, everyone is running for their stuff. But once in a blue moon, this tiny little voice from 4 feet off the floor will utter "No you will not."
I'm not sure if he's informing me that he is the rule maker and I won't throw things away because HE says so, or if Child 1 has merely learned that I talk a good game but my follow through is a little lacking. I mean, I bought those toys. Who wants to throw away their own money?
And yesterday, the calamity was caused by a pet. We have quiet pets (you know, the ones by son keeps alive because I forget them?). Quiet pets are both a blessing and a curse. They are lovely because most days you can coexist peacefully and not bother one another. Other days, like when they escape, you don't know it's happened for quite some time.
Last night, I get a moderately panicked sounding phone call from Daddy while I was on my way home from work. "You have to come home NOW. Your hamster has gotten out. I caught him but you gotta figure out what to do with him." Great, on my way. I'd love to handle hamster disasters at midnight.
The hamster is pleasantly playing in his exercise ball, completely oblivious to the fact that if he had gotten out just 15 minutes later and I was the one to see him, he would be dead. I would have killed him. It's dark at midnight. Dark in combination with crawling things are bad. And I am a shoot first ask questions later kinda girl.
Somehow Elephant had opened a plastic port in his cage and crawled out. So I devised a plan. I fixed the cage last night, so I could sleep without fear of losing the hamster. And this weekend, I am going to the pet store, buying a million connectable tubes and he will no longer have any plastic ports to open. It should only cost me $200........
In my house, the squeaky wheel gets the grease. And the money.
I should start charging admission to people who come visit my house. We are either a poorly run zoo or a wildly amazing side show. Either way, we sure are a fun house to come visit. You just probably don't want to live here.
Friday, February 28, 2014
Did I forget......?
Honestly, I used to be a huge drinker. And by huge I mean I would have qualified for a program somewhere. I got it under control, and kept it under control for the past 8 years.
TODAY, I'm seriously wondering how I haven't gone back to that.
I bought a calendar. My mother bought me one of those date books. I have post its. I have reminders on my phone. People mail me things.
I STILL MISS MEETINGS!!!!!!!!!
In the past month, I have missed 2 meetings of little importance. I'm honestly afraid the next one I miss may be something really important. Because honestly, it's not like I pick meetings to miss based on importance. It just kinda happens. And to me, it happens a lot.
I used to blame my lack of retaining information on "pregnancy hormones" when I was pregnant with Child 1. Then I blamed it on being a new mom. Then I blamed it on getting a new job and being in charge of way too much. Then I blamed it on working too many hours. Then I blamed it on "pregnancy hormones" when I got pregnant with Child 2. Then I blamed being a mom of two.
Honestly, it's just me. I'll own it. I can not remember anything. I lose my phone. I lose my keys. I lose my keys often, and blame my kids. CHILD 1 AND CHILD 2 PLAY WITH THEM AND LOSE THEM ALL THE TIME!!!!........ This has happened a total of twice. Usually, I put them somewhere I won't forget them. And I forget them.
I forget to file paperwork. I blame Daddy for moving it. He must have put it in this bill pile because it clearly isn't on my paperwork pile. I put those piles together last Tuesday but it can't possibly be my fault.
I forget when Child 1 has meetings at school. They happen quite frequently so you would think I could remember. I have a set time for someone to come to my house every other week for Child 1. I still forget that. Sometimes I make up excuses, sometimes I say I forget. Depends on whether or not I'm in the mood for the look I get.
I make plans with friends and forget about somewhere else I said I'd be at the same time. I forget to do things around the house. Daddy asks me to wash his work jacket. I forget until he text messages me at 3 to ask if it's dry yet. I calmly say "No, it's still wet" and run to put it in the washer.
I forget to eat. People, this honestly happens. I get distracted by life. By going and doing and being responsible and being Mommy. I notice at 9pm that my stomach is growling. And when I think about it I realize the last thing I ate was that half a club cracker Child 2 didn't finish eating at 10 in the morning!
I forget to water my house plants. Thankfully, people know me well and gave me cacti. And some rather large leafy semi-trees that withstand even the largest lack of attention. And when I do remember to water them, I vow to remember not to let them go so long without water. Which reminds me, I haven't watered them in a week. I should do that today.
I forget to feed the pets. We have quiet pets. A hamster named Elephant and a turtle named Tuck. Child 1 reminds me to feed them and water them every night. Honestly, if it wasn't for Child 1, both pets would have perished.
Hopefully my lack of the ability to remember is helping to teach my children responsibility. Child 1 is the pet minder. Not because he needed a job, but because Mommy kills things. When Child 2 is old enough, I shall make him the plant minder. Not because he needs a job but because Mommy kills things.
Maybe I'm not an alcoholic because I keep forgetting to go to the liquor store!
TODAY, I'm seriously wondering how I haven't gone back to that.
I bought a calendar. My mother bought me one of those date books. I have post its. I have reminders on my phone. People mail me things.
I STILL MISS MEETINGS!!!!!!!!!
In the past month, I have missed 2 meetings of little importance. I'm honestly afraid the next one I miss may be something really important. Because honestly, it's not like I pick meetings to miss based on importance. It just kinda happens. And to me, it happens a lot.
I used to blame my lack of retaining information on "pregnancy hormones" when I was pregnant with Child 1. Then I blamed it on being a new mom. Then I blamed it on getting a new job and being in charge of way too much. Then I blamed it on working too many hours. Then I blamed it on "pregnancy hormones" when I got pregnant with Child 2. Then I blamed being a mom of two.
Honestly, it's just me. I'll own it. I can not remember anything. I lose my phone. I lose my keys. I lose my keys often, and blame my kids. CHILD 1 AND CHILD 2 PLAY WITH THEM AND LOSE THEM ALL THE TIME!!!!........ This has happened a total of twice. Usually, I put them somewhere I won't forget them. And I forget them.
I forget to file paperwork. I blame Daddy for moving it. He must have put it in this bill pile because it clearly isn't on my paperwork pile. I put those piles together last Tuesday but it can't possibly be my fault.
I forget when Child 1 has meetings at school. They happen quite frequently so you would think I could remember. I have a set time for someone to come to my house every other week for Child 1. I still forget that. Sometimes I make up excuses, sometimes I say I forget. Depends on whether or not I'm in the mood for the look I get.
I make plans with friends and forget about somewhere else I said I'd be at the same time. I forget to do things around the house. Daddy asks me to wash his work jacket. I forget until he text messages me at 3 to ask if it's dry yet. I calmly say "No, it's still wet" and run to put it in the washer.
I forget to eat. People, this honestly happens. I get distracted by life. By going and doing and being responsible and being Mommy. I notice at 9pm that my stomach is growling. And when I think about it I realize the last thing I ate was that half a club cracker Child 2 didn't finish eating at 10 in the morning!
I forget to water my house plants. Thankfully, people know me well and gave me cacti. And some rather large leafy semi-trees that withstand even the largest lack of attention. And when I do remember to water them, I vow to remember not to let them go so long without water. Which reminds me, I haven't watered them in a week. I should do that today.
I forget to feed the pets. We have quiet pets. A hamster named Elephant and a turtle named Tuck. Child 1 reminds me to feed them and water them every night. Honestly, if it wasn't for Child 1, both pets would have perished.
Hopefully my lack of the ability to remember is helping to teach my children responsibility. Child 1 is the pet minder. Not because he needed a job, but because Mommy kills things. When Child 2 is old enough, I shall make him the plant minder. Not because he needs a job but because Mommy kills things.
Maybe I'm not an alcoholic because I keep forgetting to go to the liquor store!
Thursday, February 27, 2014
I love it when they punish themselves
Small funny bonus post.....
Child 1 had a kind of rough day at school today. He just genuinely didn't want to be there, and made sure to inform everyone of that every time they got to close to him. He gets his people hating skills from me, in case you were wondering.
Child 1 asked the teacher not to tell me about his bad day. Apparently he thought he was going to be in trouble. Considering I have days that I snap at my family because I don't want to do things either, I was simply planning on talking to him about it. Usually a little chit chat fixes whatever ails him.
After I got the story of being mean to other kids, a lot of yelling, an occasional swatting of hands and random other things he was doing to show people "LEAVE ME ALONE ALREADY", I asked what his problem was. (I hope I was more tactful than that, but I highly doubt it.) His response was "MOM, can we go home already?"
This is the point where at home I would have hauled his butt to the couch to sit until he stopped with the attitude, but we were in public. And public means Mommy resolves things a little differently. Don't judge. You know you do it too. So I got down on my knees, looked him squarely in the eye and said "What was the problem today?"
What I got next I can only describe as verbal diarrhea. I have no other explanation. He told me everything everyone he's ever known has ever done wrong to him. Last Tuesday "Sally" pulled his hair. And 6 months ago, "Bobby" down the street didn't want to ride bikes with him. And a year ago, someone yelled at him for spitting. Yep, I got all that. None of it answered my question of what the CURRENT problem was.
However, Child 1 then took a deep breath. He looked me right in the eye. And this was his next sentence.......
"Mommy, can we go home and write down the class rules? I was a little bad today and didn't remember them."
I am a firm believer that if a kid picks his own punishment before we even finish talking about what happened, let him do it. So, we came home and wrote down 10 class rules. Our list was maybe 30 words. He wrote them all, asked for help making his letters, asked what the rules meant and how to do them.
During his self imposed punishment, he volunteered the information to me. I went to my doctors appointment without him today. Apparently I am not allowed to go anywhere without his presence. I suppose next month, to avoid the disasters, I just won't mention I have someplace to be!
Child 1 had a kind of rough day at school today. He just genuinely didn't want to be there, and made sure to inform everyone of that every time they got to close to him. He gets his people hating skills from me, in case you were wondering.
Child 1 asked the teacher not to tell me about his bad day. Apparently he thought he was going to be in trouble. Considering I have days that I snap at my family because I don't want to do things either, I was simply planning on talking to him about it. Usually a little chit chat fixes whatever ails him.
After I got the story of being mean to other kids, a lot of yelling, an occasional swatting of hands and random other things he was doing to show people "LEAVE ME ALONE ALREADY", I asked what his problem was. (I hope I was more tactful than that, but I highly doubt it.) His response was "MOM, can we go home already?"
This is the point where at home I would have hauled his butt to the couch to sit until he stopped with the attitude, but we were in public. And public means Mommy resolves things a little differently. Don't judge. You know you do it too. So I got down on my knees, looked him squarely in the eye and said "What was the problem today?"
What I got next I can only describe as verbal diarrhea. I have no other explanation. He told me everything everyone he's ever known has ever done wrong to him. Last Tuesday "Sally" pulled his hair. And 6 months ago, "Bobby" down the street didn't want to ride bikes with him. And a year ago, someone yelled at him for spitting. Yep, I got all that. None of it answered my question of what the CURRENT problem was.
However, Child 1 then took a deep breath. He looked me right in the eye. And this was his next sentence.......
"Mommy, can we go home and write down the class rules? I was a little bad today and didn't remember them."
I am a firm believer that if a kid picks his own punishment before we even finish talking about what happened, let him do it. So, we came home and wrote down 10 class rules. Our list was maybe 30 words. He wrote them all, asked for help making his letters, asked what the rules meant and how to do them.
During his self imposed punishment, he volunteered the information to me. I went to my doctors appointment without him today. Apparently I am not allowed to go anywhere without his presence. I suppose next month, to avoid the disasters, I just won't mention I have someplace to be!
I have TWO kids, and the many way I know it...
I went to the doctor's today. Rest assured, I'll be around for a while. I know you were all worried. But I took baby number 2 with me, while baby number 1 was at school. This started a discussion between the nurse and I about children. And what we do differently. I started thinking 'There's no way I could have changed my parenting that much'.
And then I really started thinking about it.
And thinking about it.
Which resulted in todays post. The many ways I have changed how I parent from Child 1 to Child 2.
With Child 1, everything had to be new. And clean. And pretty.
With Child 2, used is totally fine. Clean is a relative term. And as long as there isn't poop on it, it's acceptable.
With Child 1, I carried a diaper bag everywhere. Literally everywhere.
With Child 2, a bottle shoved in his car seat and my wallet shoved in his car seat will get us just about anywhere.
With Child 1, I monitored milestones like a Nazi.
With Child 2, I'm kinda sure he is on track, but I can't remember just when he started rolling over.
With Child 1, everything was sterilized and put away correctly.
With Child 2, I wash em and shove em in the cupboard.
With Child 1, his clothes always matched- even to go to bed.
With Child 2, he's lucky if his socks match. And bedtime- HA!
With Child 1, I monitored what he ate constantly and he had only age appropriate food.
With Child 2, he's had oreos and Cheetos before his first birthday.
With Child 1, I read parenting books.
With Child 2, I used the parenting books to prop up the corner of his wobbly dresser.
With Child 1, everyone had to wash their hands before touching him.
With Child 2, if they look clean, have at it. TAKE HIM!
With Child 1, I took pictures of everything!
With Child 2, I can't even find my camera. Uploaded cell pictures will have to do.
With Child 1, I constantly called Daddy to make sure all was ok.
With Child 2, I inform him the kids are asleep and I'm going to work and good luck!
With Child 1, I felt bad if I went anywhere that wasn't work for the first year.
With Child 2, I look for reasons to have to go somewhere, anywhere, for an hour.
With Child 1, I would have loved to quit my job and stay home.
With Child 2, I would love to go back to work. Daycare is beneficial they say......
I'm sure there are so many more that I haven't even thought of yet. As a child, I used to tell my mother I thought my sister could get away with murder simply because she was Child 2 and I was Child 1. I had rules, I had expectations, I had to do it all. Keep in mind, Child 2 had expectations and rules too, but as Child 1, they seemed way more attainable. Children have funny ways of thinking.
Now I just realize that by Child 2, Mommy is tired. Mommy knows what will kill a child and what won't. Will Cheetos REALLY mean he will end up obese? Or will it simply stop the crying long enough for me to put on clean underwear? Will taking the diaper bag with us everywhere really do anyone any good? Or will it be YET ANOTHER thing for Mommy to carry when everyone else's arms get tired.
Thankfully, there are only Child 1 and Child 2 in my house. There will be no Child 3. I'm fearful of what Child 3 may have gotten in the way of child rearing. By then, I probably would have put a juice box in a bottle, handed him so crackers and taken a nap on the couch.
Thank GOD Child 3 is not anything we have to worry about around here.
And then I really started thinking about it.
And thinking about it.
Which resulted in todays post. The many ways I have changed how I parent from Child 1 to Child 2.
With Child 1, everything had to be new. And clean. And pretty.
With Child 2, used is totally fine. Clean is a relative term. And as long as there isn't poop on it, it's acceptable.
With Child 1, I carried a diaper bag everywhere. Literally everywhere.
With Child 2, a bottle shoved in his car seat and my wallet shoved in his car seat will get us just about anywhere.
With Child 1, I monitored milestones like a Nazi.
With Child 2, I'm kinda sure he is on track, but I can't remember just when he started rolling over.
With Child 1, everything was sterilized and put away correctly.
With Child 2, I wash em and shove em in the cupboard.
With Child 1, his clothes always matched- even to go to bed.
With Child 2, he's lucky if his socks match. And bedtime- HA!
With Child 1, I monitored what he ate constantly and he had only age appropriate food.
With Child 2, he's had oreos and Cheetos before his first birthday.
With Child 1, I read parenting books.
With Child 2, I used the parenting books to prop up the corner of his wobbly dresser.
With Child 1, everyone had to wash their hands before touching him.
With Child 2, if they look clean, have at it. TAKE HIM!
With Child 1, I took pictures of everything!
With Child 2, I can't even find my camera. Uploaded cell pictures will have to do.
With Child 1, I constantly called Daddy to make sure all was ok.
With Child 2, I inform him the kids are asleep and I'm going to work and good luck!
With Child 1, I felt bad if I went anywhere that wasn't work for the first year.
With Child 2, I look for reasons to have to go somewhere, anywhere, for an hour.
With Child 1, I would have loved to quit my job and stay home.
With Child 2, I would love to go back to work. Daycare is beneficial they say......
I'm sure there are so many more that I haven't even thought of yet. As a child, I used to tell my mother I thought my sister could get away with murder simply because she was Child 2 and I was Child 1. I had rules, I had expectations, I had to do it all. Keep in mind, Child 2 had expectations and rules too, but as Child 1, they seemed way more attainable. Children have funny ways of thinking.
Now I just realize that by Child 2, Mommy is tired. Mommy knows what will kill a child and what won't. Will Cheetos REALLY mean he will end up obese? Or will it simply stop the crying long enough for me to put on clean underwear? Will taking the diaper bag with us everywhere really do anyone any good? Or will it be YET ANOTHER thing for Mommy to carry when everyone else's arms get tired.
Thankfully, there are only Child 1 and Child 2 in my house. There will be no Child 3. I'm fearful of what Child 3 may have gotten in the way of child rearing. By then, I probably would have put a juice box in a bottle, handed him so crackers and taken a nap on the couch.
Thank GOD Child 3 is not anything we have to worry about around here.
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