I feel like it's been a while since I've written a "keeping it real" post. So let me enlighten everyone with the reality that I seriously question my parenting skills more often than I admit.
1. My child dipped his macaroni and cheese in KETCHUP this week. And I let it happen. And kept adding more ketchup. This is just gross.
2. Lukas wears bright green sneakers every single day. No matter what else he is wearing - khakis and a cute button down or sweat pants and a bright blue tee shirt - he has on neon green Saucony sneakers. He refuses to wear anything else.
3. I am manipulated every night at bedtime. I always read one more book. (The other night I counted a total of 9 books read. Really, nine.) I always let Lukas go "pee pee on the potty" again even if he just went and I KNOW he will not go again. This involves a 5 minutes process of Lukas taking of his pajamas himself and putting them back on after he has sat on the potty and sung songs for a few minutes without any pee pee occurring. Then, I let him give daddy "one more kiss" and then 5 minutes later to go "hug daddy" and a few minutes later to "tell daddy night-night". Then we rock and rock and rock some more. Eventually he gets in his crib and then I follow his command of "mommy lay down right there". Until I think it's safe to sneak out. Bedtime has become an hour long ordeal. Part of me loves it. I know he won't want to spend this much time with me forever. But I also realize I am being completely manipulated by a 2 year old.
4. We're no longer anti-TV. The little dude watches Little Einsteins, Bob the Builder, Thomas, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse or Sesame Street just about every Saturday morning. Sometimes for at least an hour. I'm usually checking email or otherwise playing on the ipad. Occasionally I'll fold laundry or clean while he's zoned in to the boob tube, but typically I just zonk out myself.
5. Lukas may have had a cupcake for breakfast last Saturday morning. His auntie had just left and he was very upset that he wasn't getting ON the jumbo jet with her. So we decided to treat ourselves to breakfast at the Highland Bakery since it was early and we were already out. Lukas was still upset and the big display of cupcakes upon entering the bakery diverted his attention. And then we just had to give him one. Oops. Oh, he also might have still been in his footy pajamas. In public. Double oops.
So what about you? Do you have any stellar parenting skills to share?
Showing posts with label Parenting FAIL. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parenting FAIL. Show all posts
Friday, November 30, 2012
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Mommy Pressure
I used to like Halloween. I mean, who doesn't like dressing up like a slut fool. There was the year I was a beer wench (strangely I can't find those pictures....probably a good thing.)
The year(s) I was a naughty nurse. I even won the costume contest. Thank you wonderbras (yes, there were two).
The year I was Velma.
The year I was Little Red Riding Hood...
The year I was white trashy pregnant (baby bump courtesy of yours truly).
I could go on and on.
But this year, I'm not liking Halloween. The pressure is on and I'm feeling like a big mommy fail is about to happen. The little dude has a Halloween PARADE at school. In exactly one week. And I have NO idea what he will be. And worse, I feel like I need to be all crafty and make him something. Because, you know, good moms sew and glitter and glue gun. And Hell if I'm not a good mom.
So I need to get crafty. Quickly.
But we're talking about the little man. And the little man is not a fan of all clothes. He rarely likes hats. I can't just put him in anything. So where does that leave us? What do I make?
We could go the Thomas the Train route. He could be Sir Topham Hatt (i.e. the Fat Controller). But that requires a top hat, which Luke would probably hate. (And where does one buy a toddler sized top hat anyway?) Maybe I could somehow turn him into a blue human-faced train. Cardboard box style. The thought alone is laughable.
Maybe we'll channel Disney and go for Mickey Mouse. Black turtleneck, red shorts over black pants. Black crocs on the feet. A little face paint. Topped with the ears. Shit. The ears would be the downfall and you can't be Mickey Mouse without the signature ears. I mean really.
Ok, the kid loves dinos. Riiight.....let me just stitch up a little dinosaur costume on my non-existent sewing machine. Moving on.
I do have an Oriental toddler outfit already on hand (don't ask), but Mr. Cob thinks this is in poor taste. I hate admitting when he's right. Any ideas on how to turn this into a politically correct costume????
Maybe I'll just dress him as a toddler fashion model. I could handle that. Corduroys. Collared shirt. Vest. Million dollar smile. Done. If only I could get him to put on the cute loafers he has probably outgrown without ever wearing.
On second thought, I think I'll just go to Costco and pick up an outfit. I probably already lost the mom-of-the-year contest with the bed jumping fail. Why start pretending now?
The year(s) I was a naughty nurse. I even won the costume contest. Thank you wonderbras (yes, there were two).
The year I was Velma.
The year I was Little Red Riding Hood...
The year I was white trashy pregnant (baby bump courtesy of yours truly).
I could go on and on.
But this year, I'm not liking Halloween. The pressure is on and I'm feeling like a big mommy fail is about to happen. The little dude has a Halloween PARADE at school. In exactly one week. And I have NO idea what he will be. And worse, I feel like I need to be all crafty and make him something. Because, you know, good moms sew and glitter and glue gun. And Hell if I'm not a good mom.
So I need to get crafty. Quickly.
But we're talking about the little man. And the little man is not a fan of all clothes. He rarely likes hats. I can't just put him in anything. So where does that leave us? What do I make?
We could go the Thomas the Train route. He could be Sir Topham Hatt (i.e. the Fat Controller). But that requires a top hat, which Luke would probably hate. (And where does one buy a toddler sized top hat anyway?) Maybe I could somehow turn him into a blue human-faced train. Cardboard box style. The thought alone is laughable.
Maybe we'll channel Disney and go for Mickey Mouse. Black turtleneck, red shorts over black pants. Black crocs on the feet. A little face paint. Topped with the ears. Shit. The ears would be the downfall and you can't be Mickey Mouse without the signature ears. I mean really.
Ok, the kid loves dinos. Riiight.....let me just stitch up a little dinosaur costume on my non-existent sewing machine. Moving on.
I do have an Oriental toddler outfit already on hand (don't ask), but Mr. Cob thinks this is in poor taste. I hate admitting when he's right. Any ideas on how to turn this into a politically correct costume????
Maybe I'll just dress him as a toddler fashion model. I could handle that. Corduroys. Collared shirt. Vest. Million dollar smile. Done. If only I could get him to put on the cute loafers he has probably outgrown without ever wearing.
On second thought, I think I'll just go to Costco and pick up an outfit. I probably already lost the mom-of-the-year contest with the bed jumping fail. Why start pretending now?
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
TTT: Listen to the Voice
Yesterday began as a normal day. It ended with me crying on and off for almost three hours convinced I was a horrible mother.
I picked Lukas up from school as normal. We sang songs and hunted for fire trucks on the ride home. Daddy was still working when we arrived home, but Wrigley and Bailey were waiting for us. We went inside and mommy needed to change clothes, so Lukas climbed the stairs to the second floor and raced into my bedroom. I changed while he ran around singing and taunting the cat.
At some point when I was in my closet changing I heard Lukas ask to "jump bed". I told him to wait for mommy. He listened. He waited. He played with my dresser draws and shut his middle finger in the door. He cried loudly. Big tears welled in his eyes and he held his finger out to me. I kissed his finger and asked if he still wanted to jump on the bed. The crying stopped.
"Yes, jump momma."
"Ok, buddy, you can jump for a bit."
This is normal in our house. We're all for jumping on the bed. We're for playing and laughing.
But we must take off our shoes and socks before we jump. So Lukas sat on the floor and I removed his new green shoes and his Thomas the Train socks. And I put him in the middle of my bed to jump.
He reached out for my hands, grabbed hold, jumped once and then fell back on his tush. And then he laughed loudly, happily, wildly. He loves to jump. His laughter filled the room. He jumped more. Then I flipped him. He laughed even louder than before. He jumped again. I flipped him again.
And then I heard the voice. You know the one. The one inside you warning you. This is so dangerous. You should stop flipping him this instant. Why are you doing this? Stupid. Bad idea. But he kept laughing and was so happy. I ignored the voice. I suppressed the bad feeling in my gut.
And I flipped him again. Only this time he didn't laugh. He looked up at me scared and stunned. He had landed funny. He didn't cry. He didn't scream. He didn't say a word. He just stared at me frightened. In that instant I thought he'd broken his neck or somehow hurt himself very badly. No, I thought I'd done something that hurt him badly. I thought I'd hurt my precious boy.
He wasn't talking. He wasn't crying. In that moment I completely lost it. Visions of him never walking again floated through my head. At one point I had the thought, I will surely kill myself if I have hurt him. I have never been so scared in my life. My world is this little boy.
I scooped him up and ran downstairs calling Mr. Cob on the way. As I ran outside the front door (I think I was going to the neighbors' house to call 911), Mr. Cob pulled up. Through sobs I tried to explain what happened. I was holding Lukas tight the whole time. Mr. Cob asked to hold him and Lukas started crying and yelling for momma. He flailed his arms and started moving normally again. I tried to put him on the ground to see if he could walk but he would only stand on his tippy toes and cried for me the whole 3 seconds I let him go. I held him tight again and continued to cry myself. At least he was talking and moving his arms and legs. But I was still sure something was very wrong.
We decided we would go to the ER to have him checked. I didn't have shoes on so I handed Lukas over to Mr. Cob while I ran inside and gathered our things. Our next door neighbors are both doctors and luckily one of them happened to be walking home from the park with their sons while Mr. Cob was outside waiting for me. He took a look at Lukas, tried to calm me down and convinced me that Lukas seemed fine. His husband, the pediatrician, would be home any minute and would come over to really examine Lukas and decide if a hospital visit was warranted. He stayed with us and tried to distract me.
At some point Lukas asked Mr. Cob to see his dinos. So we brought him inside and sat him on the couch to play with the dinos. He quickly bored of the dinos and wanted to play with his baseball bat. Just like that he hopped off the couch and raced to his room. He ran back with his bat and was jumping all around, pretending to be a baseball player. He was perfectly fine. He was not hurt. I cried harder. Uncontrollably.
Our pediatrician neighbor came over and did a full examination of Luke and determined he was fine. He tried to calm me down. I continued to cry. Lukas was not hurt, but the damage had been done to me.
I can honestly say I've never been more scared in my life. And mad at myself. Why didn't I listen to the voice telling me to stop? How could I be so stupid? I thank God Lukas is OK and I'll never flip him on the bed again. And from now on I will always, always listen to the voice.
Mother's intuition is real. You just have to listen to it. Next time I will be all ears.
I picked Lukas up from school as normal. We sang songs and hunted for fire trucks on the ride home. Daddy was still working when we arrived home, but Wrigley and Bailey were waiting for us. We went inside and mommy needed to change clothes, so Lukas climbed the stairs to the second floor and raced into my bedroom. I changed while he ran around singing and taunting the cat.
At some point when I was in my closet changing I heard Lukas ask to "jump bed". I told him to wait for mommy. He listened. He waited. He played with my dresser draws and shut his middle finger in the door. He cried loudly. Big tears welled in his eyes and he held his finger out to me. I kissed his finger and asked if he still wanted to jump on the bed. The crying stopped.
"Yes, jump momma."
"Ok, buddy, you can jump for a bit."
This is normal in our house. We're all for jumping on the bed. We're for playing and laughing.
But we must take off our shoes and socks before we jump. So Lukas sat on the floor and I removed his new green shoes and his Thomas the Train socks. And I put him in the middle of my bed to jump.
He reached out for my hands, grabbed hold, jumped once and then fell back on his tush. And then he laughed loudly, happily, wildly. He loves to jump. His laughter filled the room. He jumped more. Then I flipped him. He laughed even louder than before. He jumped again. I flipped him again.
And then I heard the voice. You know the one. The one inside you warning you. This is so dangerous. You should stop flipping him this instant. Why are you doing this? Stupid. Bad idea. But he kept laughing and was so happy. I ignored the voice. I suppressed the bad feeling in my gut.
And I flipped him again. Only this time he didn't laugh. He looked up at me scared and stunned. He had landed funny. He didn't cry. He didn't scream. He didn't say a word. He just stared at me frightened. In that instant I thought he'd broken his neck or somehow hurt himself very badly. No, I thought I'd done something that hurt him badly. I thought I'd hurt my precious boy.
He wasn't talking. He wasn't crying. In that moment I completely lost it. Visions of him never walking again floated through my head. At one point I had the thought, I will surely kill myself if I have hurt him. I have never been so scared in my life. My world is this little boy.
I scooped him up and ran downstairs calling Mr. Cob on the way. As I ran outside the front door (I think I was going to the neighbors' house to call 911), Mr. Cob pulled up. Through sobs I tried to explain what happened. I was holding Lukas tight the whole time. Mr. Cob asked to hold him and Lukas started crying and yelling for momma. He flailed his arms and started moving normally again. I tried to put him on the ground to see if he could walk but he would only stand on his tippy toes and cried for me the whole 3 seconds I let him go. I held him tight again and continued to cry myself. At least he was talking and moving his arms and legs. But I was still sure something was very wrong.
We decided we would go to the ER to have him checked. I didn't have shoes on so I handed Lukas over to Mr. Cob while I ran inside and gathered our things. Our next door neighbors are both doctors and luckily one of them happened to be walking home from the park with their sons while Mr. Cob was outside waiting for me. He took a look at Lukas, tried to calm me down and convinced me that Lukas seemed fine. His husband, the pediatrician, would be home any minute and would come over to really examine Lukas and decide if a hospital visit was warranted. He stayed with us and tried to distract me.
At some point Lukas asked Mr. Cob to see his dinos. So we brought him inside and sat him on the couch to play with the dinos. He quickly bored of the dinos and wanted to play with his baseball bat. Just like that he hopped off the couch and raced to his room. He ran back with his bat and was jumping all around, pretending to be a baseball player. He was perfectly fine. He was not hurt. I cried harder. Uncontrollably.
Our pediatrician neighbor came over and did a full examination of Luke and determined he was fine. He tried to calm me down. I continued to cry. Lukas was not hurt, but the damage had been done to me.
I can honestly say I've never been more scared in my life. And mad at myself. Why didn't I listen to the voice telling me to stop? How could I be so stupid? I thank God Lukas is OK and I'll never flip him on the bed again. And from now on I will always, always listen to the voice.
Mother's intuition is real. You just have to listen to it. Next time I will be all ears.
Friday, June 1, 2012
I Thought Terrible Started At Two
Alternate Titles for this post:
Payback, 28 Years Later: An Early Birthday Gift to my Mom
Is Swinging Really that Amazing?
Why I am Happy I'm not a Stay-at-Home-Mom
Red Wine: The Drink of Choice by Moms of Toddlers Everywhere
Help me. No seriously, help me.
Ok, so can you guess now what this post is about? Two words: Temper Tantrums.
In a week the little man will be 19 months old. And he is making his presence known around these parts. My mom will surely read this post and laugh outloud and know that the karma police have struck again. See, the thing is, I was the queen of temper tantrums. (Shocking, right?) It didn't matter where we were or who was around, if I was upset anyone within ear shot was going to know about it. I'm not sure how my mom managed to keep her cool with me growing up. But she did. At least I don't remember her ever losing her shit on me. And I'm hoping that I can somehow learn to do this with Lukas. Because I fear he is following in his momma's footsteps. (Damn those genes.)
It has surely begun.
A few nights ago was the worst to date. I was inside the house making dinner while Mr. Cob pushed Lukas in our new swing out back. Lukas LOVES to swing. I'm convinced you could plop him in the swing and push him for hours before he'd bore of it. I suppose this was our mistake for putting him in the swing knowing dinner would be ready within 15 minutes. We won't make that mistake again, I assure you.
So once dinner was ready I yelled out back to my boys. Once I realized Mr. Cob was on a phone call, I skipped down our steps to push my little dude in the swing for a few minutes before bringing him in for dinner. Now I should mention that Lukas starts crying and screaming "MORE, MORE" when you aren't swinging him high enough or pushing the swing often enough. And he usually protests when it is time to stop swinging. This swinging thing is serious business. But this time was different. He lost his mind. He had clamped on to that swing and I had to pry his little fingers off the ropes. Then he began flailing his arms and legs as I carried him up the steps. At one point his little fist hit me in the mouth! I don't think it was on purpose, but admittedly, I'm not sure.
Through his screams and sobs and flailing I try to "redirect" by talking about food - mentioning all his favorite things. "Buddy, let's eat some olives, and cheese." Nothing. More yelling. I tried to put him in his highchair, which I'm sure was a comical sight. He just arched his back and pushed off with his feet, screaming the entire time. Mr. Cob tried to call him down, to no avail. So we put him on the ground and said we loved him and that we understood he was upset and wanted to swing, but that it was time to eat dinner. Yea, you can't rationalize with a toddler. He just looked at me like I was some crazy lady and screamed even louder. He ran to our back door and cried "OUT" and "SWING" repeatedly in between his sobbing.
At that point I had no idea what to do. So we just ignored him while Mr. Cob and I ate our dinner in silence. Well, not in silence. We ate to a chorus of screams, yelps and sobbing. And the little dude did not let up. He went on for a good 15 minutes. But I was holding strong and there was no way in hell we were letting him back outside to swing. I kept telling myself that we were the parents. We were the ones in control. Riiiight, we had complete control of the situation. Totally. Clearly.
He eventually calmed down once Mr. Cob offered him olives. But it wasn't the olives that calmed him down. No, he started screaming "MOMMA" when Mr. Cob approached him. Apparently he was mad at dadda. (Score one for momma?) So he ran over to me and finally sat down on my lap to eat dinner. Phew, one temper tantrum down, countless more to come.
Please, someone tell me that this stage will be short lived. Or give me some tips to deal with it. (Other than red wine.) What are you supposed to do when your wee one is in the middle of a colossal meltdown? And worse, what do I do when it happens in a public place for the first time? I can't ignore him in the middle of Publix, can I?
So help me. What are your tips? What do you do? What books should I be reading? Where can I find a toddler whisperer?
Payback, 28 Years Later: An Early Birthday Gift to my Mom
Is Swinging Really that Amazing?
Why I am Happy I'm not a Stay-at-Home-Mom
Red Wine: The Drink of Choice by Moms of Toddlers Everywhere
Help me. No seriously, help me.
Ok, so can you guess now what this post is about? Two words: Temper Tantrums.
In a week the little man will be 19 months old. And he is making his presence known around these parts. My mom will surely read this post and laugh outloud and know that the karma police have struck again. See, the thing is, I was the queen of temper tantrums. (Shocking, right?) It didn't matter where we were or who was around, if I was upset anyone within ear shot was going to know about it. I'm not sure how my mom managed to keep her cool with me growing up. But she did. At least I don't remember her ever losing her shit on me. And I'm hoping that I can somehow learn to do this with Lukas. Because I fear he is following in his momma's footsteps. (Damn those genes.)
It has surely begun.
A few nights ago was the worst to date. I was inside the house making dinner while Mr. Cob pushed Lukas in our new swing out back. Lukas LOVES to swing. I'm convinced you could plop him in the swing and push him for hours before he'd bore of it. I suppose this was our mistake for putting him in the swing knowing dinner would be ready within 15 minutes. We won't make that mistake again, I assure you.
So once dinner was ready I yelled out back to my boys. Once I realized Mr. Cob was on a phone call, I skipped down our steps to push my little dude in the swing for a few minutes before bringing him in for dinner. Now I should mention that Lukas starts crying and screaming "MORE, MORE" when you aren't swinging him high enough or pushing the swing often enough. And he usually protests when it is time to stop swinging. This swinging thing is serious business. But this time was different. He lost his mind. He had clamped on to that swing and I had to pry his little fingers off the ropes. Then he began flailing his arms and legs as I carried him up the steps. At one point his little fist hit me in the mouth! I don't think it was on purpose, but admittedly, I'm not sure.
Through his screams and sobs and flailing I try to "redirect" by talking about food - mentioning all his favorite things. "Buddy, let's eat some olives, and cheese." Nothing. More yelling. I tried to put him in his highchair, which I'm sure was a comical sight. He just arched his back and pushed off with his feet, screaming the entire time. Mr. Cob tried to call him down, to no avail. So we put him on the ground and said we loved him and that we understood he was upset and wanted to swing, but that it was time to eat dinner. Yea, you can't rationalize with a toddler. He just looked at me like I was some crazy lady and screamed even louder. He ran to our back door and cried "OUT" and "SWING" repeatedly in between his sobbing.
At that point I had no idea what to do. So we just ignored him while Mr. Cob and I ate our dinner in silence. Well, not in silence. We ate to a chorus of screams, yelps and sobbing. And the little dude did not let up. He went on for a good 15 minutes. But I was holding strong and there was no way in hell we were letting him back outside to swing. I kept telling myself that we were the parents. We were the ones in control. Riiiight, we had complete control of the situation. Totally. Clearly.
He eventually calmed down once Mr. Cob offered him olives. But it wasn't the olives that calmed him down. No, he started screaming "MOMMA" when Mr. Cob approached him. Apparently he was mad at dadda. (Score one for momma?) So he ran over to me and finally sat down on my lap to eat dinner. Phew, one temper tantrum down, countless more to come.
Please, someone tell me that this stage will be short lived. Or give me some tips to deal with it. (Other than red wine.) What are you supposed to do when your wee one is in the middle of a colossal meltdown? And worse, what do I do when it happens in a public place for the first time? I can't ignore him in the middle of Publix, can I?
So help me. What are your tips? What do you do? What books should I be reading? Where can I find a toddler whisperer?
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