I know. I know it has been months since I last posted. I think about my posts all the time. When something strange happens or something hilarious or sad, but I didn't write about them. Then, every time that passes, I wish I would have written it down. So, I don't want to let that happen anymore. To catch you up real quick: This summer, Jon and I took the kids to England. It was an 11 1/2 hour flight with a 3 year old and a 1 year old. On that trip, Jack started to walk and got all 4 of his molars. That trip is a whole other story. I might get to it. If not - I think you can imagine. It. Was. Exhausting. Wonderful, but exhausting. We came home and recovered and now I'm back at work. Every single freaking day. Working. So, yah, that sucks. Anyway...here we are. September 4th, 2012. The day I started to lose my little girl (AKA the first day of preschool)!
Okay, I know, that might sound a little dramatic, but that's how it feels. That's why I was crying so much. And not just this morning when I had to say goodbye to her. I felt weird all day yesterday. I couldn't quite put my finger on why, but I just didn't feel good. It's kind of like when I'm going to fly on a Saturday and I have a messed up stomach all Friday and tell Jon that I'm not sure why I don't feel good. It's always the flight. Duh. As I crawled into bed last night, I just lost it. I cried and cried. There are a million reasons why. I can't exactly say if I was crying about one or all of them, but I was crying. She's my little baby girl. My precious little firecracker of a girl. She's only 3...and I will already lose a little piece of her. It's hard enough that I work full time and have to leave her every day, but it's at least okay because she's with Jon and he can tell me how her day was. But now, she goes to someone else. We just drop her off at school. I have no idea what she does, how her conversations go, who she plays with, who might bother her...who she might bother!, none of it! It's just...the beginning of letting her go. She's our little creation that has belonged solely to us and now we have to start giving up pieces of her life to belong only to her*. So, this morning when we dropped her off, I was not so excited about it. We walked in, found the playground, signed her in and she was off. She didn't even look back. I stood there, hiding my tears behind my sunglasses while she ran off to her play with "her girls" as she calls them. By the time we go to the car, I had really lost it. It was rough. As if that didn't suck enough, I had to go to work in the afternoon with giant puffy eyes. Awwwesome.
*Belonging only to her is very true. These days, she has become quite the story teller. When she is home with Jon or I, I can weed out the stories from the reality - even if we do have to cross check information. Today she came home and is telling us things from her day and we have NO idea what is true and what is a story she has created. Makes for interesting dinner conversation.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
A Bad Day... and My Baby is a Drug Addict.
Last week, life caught up with me. Everything just hit me at once. Working full time, never seeing Jonathan (because of our work schedules), crying kids, being exhausted, not being organized enough, not being good enough...aah. Everything just got me. It was a bad day. And once the emotion starts - it's hard to stop it. I get to a point where there is no rational, everything is just this gigantic, horrible thing weighing me down. Once the emotions clear, I can begin to think, but that wasn't the case on the bad day.
I think part of what really put me over the edge was Jack - who hadn't been so precious the past few weeks. A few weeks ago he had a cold, then got his 1 year shots, and I'm pretty sure must have been teething. When he got the cold, he was a little fussy, but not miserable or anything. After the shots, still, he wasn't so bad. But as that week went on the crying got worse and worse. The week after that it was pretty miserable - and I was only with him a few hours a day because of work. He was just crying - sometimes screaming - for what seemed like no apparent reason. Not actually knowing what is wrong with your child or what they need is one of the most horrible, exhausting feelings. It just was wearing me down to hear him crying all of the time and to not be able to figure out how to help him. This is the week my son became a drug addict. After his shots, he had some infant Tylenol to help with the reactions. Then the crying just kept coming and coming - we even took him back to the doctor because we were sure something MUST have been wrong. The doctor said it could be a reaction and it's not horrible to give him more Tylenol. So, he got some more medicine, and he seemed to need some the next day. Then...he learned where it was kept. He would see the spot or the bottle sitting somewhere and would vigorously point and grunt because he wanted it...he needed it. He became an addict. If I would walk away from it - this would trigger an absolute fit. How sad, that at barely 1, my little baby son is a drug addict - and it's my fault? I didn't know what else do to - I had become an enabler. What a horrible parent.
But...I don't want to mess with him because I'm pretty sure he's in a gang as well. I know, you think, he's only 1, how could he? Almost every time I would see him, there was a teardrop right there under his eye. A permanent tear drop under the eye! Drugs and gangs at such a young age - a reeeally horrible parent. Although - this week he seems to have overcome his habit and gotten out of the gang - things are looking up. Let's hope we don't have another week like that because I'm pretty sure that I'll have a breakdown at the end of that week too and I don't think can handle another one of those any time soon!
I think part of what really put me over the edge was Jack - who hadn't been so precious the past few weeks. A few weeks ago he had a cold, then got his 1 year shots, and I'm pretty sure must have been teething. When he got the cold, he was a little fussy, but not miserable or anything. After the shots, still, he wasn't so bad. But as that week went on the crying got worse and worse. The week after that it was pretty miserable - and I was only with him a few hours a day because of work. He was just crying - sometimes screaming - for what seemed like no apparent reason. Not actually knowing what is wrong with your child or what they need is one of the most horrible, exhausting feelings. It just was wearing me down to hear him crying all of the time and to not be able to figure out how to help him. This is the week my son became a drug addict. After his shots, he had some infant Tylenol to help with the reactions. Then the crying just kept coming and coming - we even took him back to the doctor because we were sure something MUST have been wrong. The doctor said it could be a reaction and it's not horrible to give him more Tylenol. So, he got some more medicine, and he seemed to need some the next day. Then...he learned where it was kept. He would see the spot or the bottle sitting somewhere and would vigorously point and grunt because he wanted it...he needed it. He became an addict. If I would walk away from it - this would trigger an absolute fit. How sad, that at barely 1, my little baby son is a drug addict - and it's my fault? I didn't know what else do to - I had become an enabler. What a horrible parent.
But...I don't want to mess with him because I'm pretty sure he's in a gang as well. I know, you think, he's only 1, how could he? Almost every time I would see him, there was a teardrop right there under his eye. A permanent tear drop under the eye! Drugs and gangs at such a young age - a reeeally horrible parent. Although - this week he seems to have overcome his habit and gotten out of the gang - things are looking up. Let's hope we don't have another week like that because I'm pretty sure that I'll have a breakdown at the end of that week too and I don't think can handle another one of those any time soon!
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Where'd that go?
I LOVE being with my kids. Jon and I don't go on many dates and we don't mind being all together. I'm not saying that if you do go on weekly dates and don't loooove being with your kids all the time that you love them any less, I just really don't mind it. So, what I'm getting at is I don't really miss ME time. Yes, when the kids go to bed and I am not chasing someone or can go to the store alone I appreciate it, but I don't miss it. I do miss having things that I know are mine. Not because I love things, but it would be nice if I could put something down and go back to that place and find it, still there, in the condition I left it.
As you know, I'm not Pinterest organized - at all. I make piles. I actually spend way too much time looking at Pinterest, pinning all the organization ideas I should be doing - and I have probably gotten to...one of them. I'm hoping this is most people - but deep down I think it's just me. Now that I have kids, I feel even more horrible that I'm not more organized. I do NOT want them to be a pile person or to put stuff down everywhere like I do, but it is hard to change. Unfortunately, my daughter is that person. From the time she could walk (probably before), she has gathered things and put them from place to place (hence the nickname: Transporter). She just has. We did NOT encourage her to do this - and now I wish I could make it stop.
Pretty much every single day when I come home from work, I walk in and after saying hello with plenty of hugs and kisses, I notice what has been moved, what shouldn't have been touched, and/or what things are damaged, ruined, or destroyed. Jon on the other hand has no idea what I'm seeing. It is amazingly hard to separate something that your 2 year old has done from something that you think your spouse should have NOT let them do. I know it is essentially Charlotte. She touches EVERYTHING. Despite my best efforts to create activities just for her, give her tons of play space and toys to play with, and her own bedroom full of things - she still feels the need to find every single little thing that I have put down somewhere. Even when I try to put things in a place I think she can't get - somehow, she gets her tiny little hands on them. I then, sadly, had to create the rule that if she touches something that doesn't belong to her, she gets something of hers taken away. The first time this happened - we got tears (which, generally when you set a rule for a 2 year old, you know it really got to them if they cry!). After that, she would just hand things over - even her lambies! That was really annoying. I'll walk in from work and just get the comment, "I didn't do nothing." (Yes, I know that is incorrect grammar - she's 2 okay!?) Then she'll proceed to show me what she touched and hand one of her belongings over. Uuuugh. So now, in this house, you know that if you ever have to ask the questions, "What happened to this?" or "Where'd that go?" - you know, it was the Transporter...who may be earning a new nickname soon.
As you know, I'm not Pinterest organized - at all. I make piles. I actually spend way too much time looking at Pinterest, pinning all the organization ideas I should be doing - and I have probably gotten to...one of them. I'm hoping this is most people - but deep down I think it's just me. Now that I have kids, I feel even more horrible that I'm not more organized. I do NOT want them to be a pile person or to put stuff down everywhere like I do, but it is hard to change. Unfortunately, my daughter is that person. From the time she could walk (probably before), she has gathered things and put them from place to place (hence the nickname: Transporter). She just has. We did NOT encourage her to do this - and now I wish I could make it stop.
Pretty much every single day when I come home from work, I walk in and after saying hello with plenty of hugs and kisses, I notice what has been moved, what shouldn't have been touched, and/or what things are damaged, ruined, or destroyed. Jon on the other hand has no idea what I'm seeing. It is amazingly hard to separate something that your 2 year old has done from something that you think your spouse should have NOT let them do. I know it is essentially Charlotte. She touches EVERYTHING. Despite my best efforts to create activities just for her, give her tons of play space and toys to play with, and her own bedroom full of things - she still feels the need to find every single little thing that I have put down somewhere. Even when I try to put things in a place I think she can't get - somehow, she gets her tiny little hands on them. I then, sadly, had to create the rule that if she touches something that doesn't belong to her, she gets something of hers taken away. The first time this happened - we got tears (which, generally when you set a rule for a 2 year old, you know it really got to them if they cry!). After that, she would just hand things over - even her lambies! That was really annoying. I'll walk in from work and just get the comment, "I didn't do nothing." (Yes, I know that is incorrect grammar - she's 2 okay!?) Then she'll proceed to show me what she touched and hand one of her belongings over. Uuuugh. So now, in this house, you know that if you ever have to ask the questions, "What happened to this?" or "Where'd that go?" - you know, it was the Transporter...who may be earning a new nickname soon.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
The Bitching Hour
I know that is not what it's actually called, but maybe that's what it was intended to be called, but since you can't curse in front of your children, a mom changed the first letter from a b to a w. Then it's not wrong, right?
I LOVE my kids. I love being a mom. There aren't very many things about having kids that I think are very negative. My kids are amazing (of course, everyone's are!). I'm really, really lucky because they have always slept very well. (I work at that, but I still know I'm lucky!). They make me laugh every single day, but there's still that time of the day. Parents probably know it and non-parents have probably heard of it. It's not always the same time every day, and it's not always just an hour, but there is definitely a time of the day when kids reach a bit of a breaking point...which causes parents a breaking point. It's generally called "the witching hour" but going through it certainly feels like "the bitching hour."
I work full time and although I love my job, I would trade it in a second if it meant I could spend more time with my kids. I would like to be able to go back to my job when I wanted, in my same position, as if I never left. I would also like the same amount of money and have nothing changed. But...that won't happen, so I have to work. It really makes me appreciate the time I do get with my family. The sort of unfortunate part is that Monday through Friday, the quality time I get with my kids is during this bitching hour. I drive home every day so excited to get home and hang out with my kids. I come home, go inside, get a warm welcome and then slowly, we enter it. The whining starts, the crying comes, the acting out. Everyone is witching. Kids AND then parents. It sucks! You then (guiltily) are relieved when the bedtime routine comes and things start winding down. At least when you're home, all day with your children, and the whining comes, you don't feel quite so guilty when the relief hits you when you leave your precious child in bed. Ugh.
I LOVE my kids. I love being a mom. There aren't very many things about having kids that I think are very negative. My kids are amazing (of course, everyone's are!). I'm really, really lucky because they have always slept very well. (I work at that, but I still know I'm lucky!). They make me laugh every single day, but there's still that time of the day. Parents probably know it and non-parents have probably heard of it. It's not always the same time every day, and it's not always just an hour, but there is definitely a time of the day when kids reach a bit of a breaking point...which causes parents a breaking point. It's generally called "the witching hour" but going through it certainly feels like "the bitching hour."
I work full time and although I love my job, I would trade it in a second if it meant I could spend more time with my kids. I would like to be able to go back to my job when I wanted, in my same position, as if I never left. I would also like the same amount of money and have nothing changed. But...that won't happen, so I have to work. It really makes me appreciate the time I do get with my family. The sort of unfortunate part is that Monday through Friday, the quality time I get with my kids is during this bitching hour. I drive home every day so excited to get home and hang out with my kids. I come home, go inside, get a warm welcome and then slowly, we enter it. The whining starts, the crying comes, the acting out. Everyone is witching. Kids AND then parents. It sucks! You then (guiltily) are relieved when the bedtime routine comes and things start winding down. At least when you're home, all day with your children, and the whining comes, you don't feel quite so guilty when the relief hits you when you leave your precious child in bed. Ugh.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Baby-Ache
So many things happen throughout the week that I think to myself, I should write that down. Chances are, I don't. I don't have time or I don't want to miss the moment or I forget, but I always appreciate what it is I wish I would remember forever! In the past few months I have found myself watching and listening to Charlotte and Jack and getting nervous, or teary eyed, or excited about all the things they are going to do in their lives. The poor little kids are 9 months and 2 and I've already got them off to school, graduating, getting married, and on and on. It's not that I want to - I just can't help my mind wander. I guess it's because that now we have Jack, I really realize how old Charlotte is getting (yes, at 2!) and how even though Jack is only 9 months, he's not a little baby anymore. I have... baby-ache. Which, I realize in not an official medical term, but it's real. I have my two precious little babies and I love them SO much and so many times when I look at them both, I am so sad (and happy!) that they're going to grow up.
Now, logically, I realize that it is life. You have kids, they grow up, they move on and so on, but emotionally, I never, ever want that to happen! And for every "stage" of life that I think this about, I get to the next and think, wow, this is so cool, now I want to stay here forever. I have never wanted and not wanted something to happen to badly. So even though now I can look at my little babies and think that I never want them to change because I want forever to appreciate and enjoy the moments I am having with them, I know that watching them grow up is going to be the most awesome thing I will ever do in my life (this is where I quickly jump them in my head to whichever cool moment I think they'll have in life and tear up because I think about how happy and proud and sad and baby-achy I will be!). Once they're grown, all I'm asking for is to be able to jump to whichever stage of their lives I choose, enjoy for a little, and then come back to reality, that's not too much to ask, is it?
*On a side note, although I know my kids will move on, Charlotte does repeatedly tell Jon and I: "Mommy (or Daddy), one day you're going to get old. But don't worry, I'll take care of you." I just think to myself, I better get that in writing!
Now, logically, I realize that it is life. You have kids, they grow up, they move on and so on, but emotionally, I never, ever want that to happen! And for every "stage" of life that I think this about, I get to the next and think, wow, this is so cool, now I want to stay here forever. I have never wanted and not wanted something to happen to badly. So even though now I can look at my little babies and think that I never want them to change because I want forever to appreciate and enjoy the moments I am having with them, I know that watching them grow up is going to be the most awesome thing I will ever do in my life (this is where I quickly jump them in my head to whichever cool moment I think they'll have in life and tear up because I think about how happy and proud and sad and baby-achy I will be!). Once they're grown, all I'm asking for is to be able to jump to whichever stage of their lives I choose, enjoy for a little, and then come back to reality, that's not too much to ask, is it?
*On a side note, although I know my kids will move on, Charlotte does repeatedly tell Jon and I: "Mommy (or Daddy), one day you're going to get old. But don't worry, I'll take care of you." I just think to myself, I better get that in writing!
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Nicknames Gone Wild
Again - sorry for the delay. We've moved, then we had the holidays to get through, and I haven't spent much time just sitting around. I'm back and if you're wishing I would blog more often (than once a month!), I will.
When I was pregnant with Charlotte, she always used to kick, kick, kick. Then, the moment Jon would put his hand on my belly, she would stop. So, before she was even born, she earned the nickname Stinker. Once she was born, this transformed into Stinka Dinka. We just called her that all the time and as time went on, she started answering to that only. We would meet people and ask her name and she would not reply Charlotte, she would only say "Stinka Dinka." Jon and I had to make a really big effort to call her Charlotte and not Stinker, or any form of it (at least while she was learning her name). Since Stinka Dinka - she has earned many other nicknames. A few she has been called are: booger, monka monk, lovey girl, love, and most recently...dirty whizpopper. Now, she added the dirty part, I did teach her the word whizpopper. If you're not familiar with the word (or Roald Dahl), it is from the book The BFG. A whizpop is a fart. My little girl is beautiful and petite and precious, but she can fart up a storm. She can clear a room. We sometimes really can't believe it was her. And apparently Jon and I are so out of control with our nicknames that our daughter does not know her real name.
We really had to pay attention to make sure she could introduce herself as Charlotte. The other day, we were discussing middle names. She knows her first and last name, but when I asked her what her middle name was she said..."I don't know." So, I started to give her a prompt..I said, "Charlotte Eliiiiz..." and her response, "...izpopper." Oh, my, goodness...my poor daughter thinks her middle name is whizpopper. I really need to work on the nicknames! Not only for her sake, but Jack's too. Charlotte often refers to him as: Mister Man, Budda Bud, Buddy, Snacky Boy, Jacky Boy...and every once in a while - he does get called Jack (poor guy doesn't have a chance!)
When I was pregnant with Charlotte, she always used to kick, kick, kick. Then, the moment Jon would put his hand on my belly, she would stop. So, before she was even born, she earned the nickname Stinker. Once she was born, this transformed into Stinka Dinka. We just called her that all the time and as time went on, she started answering to that only. We would meet people and ask her name and she would not reply Charlotte, she would only say "Stinka Dinka." Jon and I had to make a really big effort to call her Charlotte and not Stinker, or any form of it (at least while she was learning her name). Since Stinka Dinka - she has earned many other nicknames. A few she has been called are: booger, monka monk, lovey girl, love, and most recently...dirty whizpopper. Now, she added the dirty part, I did teach her the word whizpopper. If you're not familiar with the word (or Roald Dahl), it is from the book The BFG. A whizpop is a fart. My little girl is beautiful and petite and precious, but she can fart up a storm. She can clear a room. We sometimes really can't believe it was her. And apparently Jon and I are so out of control with our nicknames that our daughter does not know her real name.
We really had to pay attention to make sure she could introduce herself as Charlotte. The other day, we were discussing middle names. She knows her first and last name, but when I asked her what her middle name was she said..."I don't know." So, I started to give her a prompt..I said, "Charlotte Eliiiiz..." and her response, "...izpopper." Oh, my, goodness...my poor daughter thinks her middle name is whizpopper. I really need to work on the nicknames! Not only for her sake, but Jack's too. Charlotte often refers to him as: Mister Man, Budda Bud, Buddy, Snacky Boy, Jacky Boy...and every once in a while - he does get called Jack (poor guy doesn't have a chance!)
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