I've been sounding like Seinfeld all weekend, spewing too many "Serenity now(s)!!" to count. This is because I've just determined that parents need vacations. Yes, news flash folks. And here are the 10 reasons why I know I need one very, very soon:
1) I'm dangerously close to cussing at my children and not caring one iota whether the public hears me or whether they repeat the words verbatim (yikes!);
2) Cute sayings and phrases repeated over and over aren't so cute, they're just irritating (insert mom guilt here);
3) I raised my voice at the boys at the store today and actually got a "look" from another parent--and was my reaction embarrassment? Oh no, I shot a look right back, like "watchu lookin' at."
4) I keep imagining myself sitting on a beach reading a trash novel drinking a margarita...for a long, long time;
5) Just the words: "But mommmmmm..." are enough to send my blood pressure through the roof and question whether they'll be the recipients of a 4th birthday party--that is, unless it's in a juvenile detention center;
6) I want so desperately to be patient, but my inner frustration with their fighting just makes me want to strap them to the roof-rack of our car and drive in peace;
7) The more they run, the bigger my grin gets because I picture them hibernating like bears... but in the spring;
8) I miss talking to my husband about things besides serial nose picking, whether swallowing a penny will hurt when it's pooped out, and whose turn it is sit on which side at what time;
9) I find myself daydreaming about sleep--any kind of sleep...in a chair, on a bed, in the middle of a room on a towel, whatever; and
10) Because I'm starting to look forward to Mondays--work sounds like a walk in the park!
Now that I've vented--thank you!--did I mention that my boys are only 3 1/2 and really some of the sweetest kids I know? So who's got the REAL issues here...hmm...it rhymes with "tommy"... ;)
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
It takes a village...and some rockin' heels
It's days like today when you realize that without help, working parents like Mark and I would be in some serious doo-doo. Within a span of 3 days, we both found out we had to fly out on business the same day--today--at the crack of dawn and return at dusk. Oh, yes, anyone recall we have these two little things called KIDS? It's not like they're going to walk themselves to preschool--oh, yes, I hear DSS calling now--then pick themselves up, give themselves a bath and read themselves to sleep. Granted, it'd be amazing if they could, but come on...they're 3.
So, in flies Super-Grandparents--and not a moment too soon. As I stand in my bedroom at 4:50am this morning with half of a power suit and two different earrings on--couldn't decide on which one looked better and luckily I remembered to change one of them or I'd have looked like a nut--in walks my dad (affectionately known as Papa to my boys). Gotta love him. He's exhausted, but stands there smiling as his daughter gets her s@#$ together and gives him instructions of what to feed the boys, what to let them wear (and NOT wear), etc. What a trooper. Oh, and did I mention that my hubby had already left for the airport 30 minutes before that?? Who needs to sleep anyway.
When I get to the airport, it turns out that Mark and I are at the opposite gates, so for a moment we text back and forth, laughing a little at the fact that we almost--just almost--saw each other this morning...we were only a gate away. In some ways it felt like one of those cheesy scenes from a sitcom where the two people keep missing each other, but just because one bends down to tie their shoe just as the other walks by. We had to laugh.
So what gave me strength and a sense of humor today--especially with a huge presentation looming? A cool suit and some rockin' heels. 16 hours later, my feet are killing me, but damn if wearing them wasn't worth it. Yes, I might be an uber-working mom with a village of people helping take care of my family as my husband and I jet around like crazy people, but you know what? I looked good (at least for the first 8 hours...not so sure about the second 8).
And yes, I think that's what you call rationalization. ;)
So, in flies Super-Grandparents--and not a moment too soon. As I stand in my bedroom at 4:50am this morning with half of a power suit and two different earrings on--couldn't decide on which one looked better and luckily I remembered to change one of them or I'd have looked like a nut--in walks my dad (affectionately known as Papa to my boys). Gotta love him. He's exhausted, but stands there smiling as his daughter gets her s@#$ together and gives him instructions of what to feed the boys, what to let them wear (and NOT wear), etc. What a trooper. Oh, and did I mention that my hubby had already left for the airport 30 minutes before that?? Who needs to sleep anyway.
When I get to the airport, it turns out that Mark and I are at the opposite gates, so for a moment we text back and forth, laughing a little at the fact that we almost--just almost--saw each other this morning...we were only a gate away. In some ways it felt like one of those cheesy scenes from a sitcom where the two people keep missing each other, but just because one bends down to tie their shoe just as the other walks by. We had to laugh.
So what gave me strength and a sense of humor today--especially with a huge presentation looming? A cool suit and some rockin' heels. 16 hours later, my feet are killing me, but damn if wearing them wasn't worth it. Yes, I might be an uber-working mom with a village of people helping take care of my family as my husband and I jet around like crazy people, but you know what? I looked good (at least for the first 8 hours...not so sure about the second 8).
And yes, I think that's what you call rationalization. ;)
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
A shower...of cranberry juice?
If you're like me, you're always looking for ways to save time and cut corners. I never leave a room without grabbing a full trashcan or picking up a random sock or grabbing that nasty furball my ever-shedding dogs have left behind because it just means there's more for me to do later! I'm like a giant multi-tasking vacuum cleaner.
I've even noticed at times that my kids follow me around--right on my heels--as I go flying through the house collecting, cleaning and fixing because they know that they better keep moving when I'm getting things done. I know this because often times I'll turn and we'll smack right into each other, or because they'll get sick of my whirling around and hold onto the back of my shirt to slow me down. (It's the newest weightloss plan, don't you know? Dragging around an extra 30 pounds behind you? ;)
And yet every once in a while, I just hope to have a moment to myself, where I slow down and have a smidge of privacy--no emptying woodchips out of shoes, picking up old grapes from under couches, cleaning the stovetop for the 15th time after something s'more-like gooey glued itself to it...
So last weekend, after we went for a run in our now flat-tired jogging stroller (go figure, we push 60 pounds of hunkin' little men in it), we plopped the kids down in front of The Incredibles (also known as The Credibles--they're obviously very believable cartoon characters to my boys...) so Mark and I could jump into the shower for 5 minutes without total chaos ensuing.
We jump in together--again, to save time...who needs elbow room anyway while shaving, right?--and are standing there talking (trust me, nothing exciting going on, this was purely clean up and "catch up" time) as we shower. And for a moment, there's quiet.
Ahhh...
Until the shower curtain flies open and a sippy juice cup is flung into the middle of us--yes, MID-WATER STREAM--by our child with a loud demand/request: "The thing fell out of the sippy cup and now I can't drink my cranberry juice!! Will you fix it?!!"
So there we are, commando, suds and all, water pouring down and Cole completely unaffected by his surroundings and totally fixated on the need for an emergency sippy-ectomy. A non-parent might freak, shriek at the kid and grab for the curtain. Not us parents, though...what do we do? We look at each other for a second, laugh, I fix the sippy, Mark keeps showering (to save time, of course), Cole saunters away back to his Credibles, and I non-chalantly slide the curtain back.
Granted, we had a good laugh after we realized what had just happened, but hey, it got us 5 extra minutes of "peace," right?
I've even noticed at times that my kids follow me around--right on my heels--as I go flying through the house collecting, cleaning and fixing because they know that they better keep moving when I'm getting things done. I know this because often times I'll turn and we'll smack right into each other, or because they'll get sick of my whirling around and hold onto the back of my shirt to slow me down. (It's the newest weightloss plan, don't you know? Dragging around an extra 30 pounds behind you? ;)
And yet every once in a while, I just hope to have a moment to myself, where I slow down and have a smidge of privacy--no emptying woodchips out of shoes, picking up old grapes from under couches, cleaning the stovetop for the 15th time after something s'more-like gooey glued itself to it...
So last weekend, after we went for a run in our now flat-tired jogging stroller (go figure, we push 60 pounds of hunkin' little men in it), we plopped the kids down in front of The Incredibles (also known as The Credibles--they're obviously very believable cartoon characters to my boys...) so Mark and I could jump into the shower for 5 minutes without total chaos ensuing.
We jump in together--again, to save time...who needs elbow room anyway while shaving, right?--and are standing there talking (trust me, nothing exciting going on, this was purely clean up and "catch up" time) as we shower. And for a moment, there's quiet.
Ahhh...
Until the shower curtain flies open and a sippy juice cup is flung into the middle of us--yes, MID-WATER STREAM--by our child with a loud demand/request: "The thing fell out of the sippy cup and now I can't drink my cranberry juice!! Will you fix it?!!"
So there we are, commando, suds and all, water pouring down and Cole completely unaffected by his surroundings and totally fixated on the need for an emergency sippy-ectomy. A non-parent might freak, shriek at the kid and grab for the curtain. Not us parents, though...what do we do? We look at each other for a second, laugh, I fix the sippy, Mark keeps showering (to save time, of course), Cole saunters away back to his Credibles, and I non-chalantly slide the curtain back.
Granted, we had a good laugh after we realized what had just happened, but hey, it got us 5 extra minutes of "peace," right?
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Taking singing in public to a whole new level
I've sung my whole life. My mom and I always had the record player going while we made dinner or cookies or whatever--just the two of us belting it out. I still love Frankie Valley's "Big Girls Don't Cry-y-y-y!" because of those mom-daughter singfests. Who knows how we sounded, but we definitely don't lack lung power!
I sang in the U of M choir, I sang in an a capella group with my mom a few years ago, and of course, I sing in the car like one of those nuts you see with their hands drumming on the steering wheel and waving their hands wildly like a preacher. Yep, that's me.
So, not surprisingly, I've sung to my kids since they were in utero. Mark played them the soundtrack from The Muppets and a bunch of Led Zeppelin, and I tried to counter that with The Eagles and The Mamas and The Papas. I sang everything from hip-hop (Bootylicious isn't such a good role model start, but hey, it was fun...) to Josh Groban. I was pretty darn sure my kids would come out of my bod entirely confused about their mother and her music taste, but at least they'd be tappin' their tiny toes.
Fast forward to birth. Mark and I've always loved "You are my sunshine," so as our lullaby to the boys, we sang it regularly to calm them down, to make them smile, etc. In fact, it became an almost immediate tradition: every night before the boys went to bed, we sang "You are my sunshine" together--and we saw that they really grew to like it.
As they've gotten older, it's taken on a life of its own because now the boys sing the entire song with us as they sit on our laps at night. They love it--and honestly, I think it just calms them down, which is ALWAYS a good thing--and we love it, too. I'm already picturing the day when Rhys and Cole are 16 and I'm asking them to sit on my lap for sing-time and they look at me like I'm one of those needy, crazy moms...actually, no, they'll probably be sitting there with their iPod headphones on and won't even hear me when I ask!
So, back to sing-time. The catch right now is that Mark and I travel a bunch, which makes a family sing-time hard...or so you'd think! I've taken it upon myself--and Mark does, too--to sing wherever I am. I hate to miss it, and frankly, why should I? I figure I can always step outside of a client dinner or a meeting for 2 minutes to sing to my kids, right? Weeelllll, it gets a little tricky.
I've sang in restaurant bathrooms, in random hallways, in the valet parking circle in front of hotels--you catch my drift. Last week, however, takes the cake. There I am getting off a plane at around 7:28pm (bedtime's 7:30) and my phone rings...I'm walking down the jet stairs outside into the rain, holding my carry-on bag, dragging my suitcase, coat draped over my shoulder and digging deep into my purse to find my phone. I squeeze it to my ear using my cheek and shoulder as I trip my way up the stairs into the airport and I hear Mark say "You ready?"
At that moment, I guess I could have tried to stop...dropped everything and pulled off to the side, but it just didn't seem worth it. What the hell--who do I have to impress, right? (Hmm...probably should have thought about that a little more...) So, I answer "Sure!" and there I go, singing in full volume (but I'm sure muddled voice since my cheek was smushed to the phone) "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..." as I walk through the airport. I glance around only to see giggles and smiles, and I start feeling really stupid, but I was midway, so why stop? :)
Keep in mind, too, that I look a little bit like crazy, disheveled mom meets Linus from The Peanuts comic strip...dragging my coat behind me b/c by this time it had fallen off my shoulder, my purse strap had loosened and I was holding it with my elbow, and my suitcase was actually backwards (I wasn't able to turn it around when the singing began). Class act.
I finish singing and hang up, and just had to crack up. I pulled my messy self off to the side and wondered "why did I go through all of that??" My only answer: because I HAD to--my kids were counting on mommy to sing! The funny part is that even 5 years ago, I probably would have had to have been playing TRUTH or DARE to pull that kind of stunt off--to loudly sing a goofy song while walking through the airport dragging my belongings behind me. I think it's safe to say I'm no longer too concerned about image... ;)
I sang in the U of M choir, I sang in an a capella group with my mom a few years ago, and of course, I sing in the car like one of those nuts you see with their hands drumming on the steering wheel and waving their hands wildly like a preacher. Yep, that's me.
So, not surprisingly, I've sung to my kids since they were in utero. Mark played them the soundtrack from The Muppets and a bunch of Led Zeppelin, and I tried to counter that with The Eagles and The Mamas and The Papas. I sang everything from hip-hop (Bootylicious isn't such a good role model start, but hey, it was fun...) to Josh Groban. I was pretty darn sure my kids would come out of my bod entirely confused about their mother and her music taste, but at least they'd be tappin' their tiny toes.
Fast forward to birth. Mark and I've always loved "You are my sunshine," so as our lullaby to the boys, we sang it regularly to calm them down, to make them smile, etc. In fact, it became an almost immediate tradition: every night before the boys went to bed, we sang "You are my sunshine" together--and we saw that they really grew to like it.
As they've gotten older, it's taken on a life of its own because now the boys sing the entire song with us as they sit on our laps at night. They love it--and honestly, I think it just calms them down, which is ALWAYS a good thing--and we love it, too. I'm already picturing the day when Rhys and Cole are 16 and I'm asking them to sit on my lap for sing-time and they look at me like I'm one of those needy, crazy moms...actually, no, they'll probably be sitting there with their iPod headphones on and won't even hear me when I ask!
So, back to sing-time. The catch right now is that Mark and I travel a bunch, which makes a family sing-time hard...or so you'd think! I've taken it upon myself--and Mark does, too--to sing wherever I am. I hate to miss it, and frankly, why should I? I figure I can always step outside of a client dinner or a meeting for 2 minutes to sing to my kids, right? Weeelllll, it gets a little tricky.
I've sang in restaurant bathrooms, in random hallways, in the valet parking circle in front of hotels--you catch my drift. Last week, however, takes the cake. There I am getting off a plane at around 7:28pm (bedtime's 7:30) and my phone rings...I'm walking down the jet stairs outside into the rain, holding my carry-on bag, dragging my suitcase, coat draped over my shoulder and digging deep into my purse to find my phone. I squeeze it to my ear using my cheek and shoulder as I trip my way up the stairs into the airport and I hear Mark say "You ready?"
At that moment, I guess I could have tried to stop...dropped everything and pulled off to the side, but it just didn't seem worth it. What the hell--who do I have to impress, right? (Hmm...probably should have thought about that a little more...) So, I answer "Sure!" and there I go, singing in full volume (but I'm sure muddled voice since my cheek was smushed to the phone) "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..." as I walk through the airport. I glance around only to see giggles and smiles, and I start feeling really stupid, but I was midway, so why stop? :)
Keep in mind, too, that I look a little bit like crazy, disheveled mom meets Linus from The Peanuts comic strip...dragging my coat behind me b/c by this time it had fallen off my shoulder, my purse strap had loosened and I was holding it with my elbow, and my suitcase was actually backwards (I wasn't able to turn it around when the singing began). Class act.
I finish singing and hang up, and just had to crack up. I pulled my messy self off to the side and wondered "why did I go through all of that??" My only answer: because I HAD to--my kids were counting on mommy to sing! The funny part is that even 5 years ago, I probably would have had to have been playing TRUTH or DARE to pull that kind of stunt off--to loudly sing a goofy song while walking through the airport dragging my belongings behind me. I think it's safe to say I'm no longer too concerned about image... ;)
Monday, January 26, 2009
Networking or Cereal Boxes?
I was on time--in fact, I was early this morning. Until I checked my voicemail. Turns out, today is the day we were supposed to take in empty cereal boxes for the kids' class because they were making a book using the box fronts, and my boys were the only ones without their boxes. Yep, there goes mommy/daddy of the year award yet again! Mark's message: "I told the boys that I'd call you and see about the cereal boxes...thought maybe you could bring some on your way to work."
Damn, in a split second, I'd gone from happy and early to crazed and late. Oh, well, my boys had to have their boxes--I couldn't have them think they were the only kids whose parents didn't care enough to send them in with their "homework" done!
So, here's where it gets funny, and where the mix between working professional and parent come together so nicely--you become an Action Jackson... I call Mark and we have a 2-second conversation about this oh-so-serious situation and immediately the two of us brainstorm about where to get the boxes..."we don't have any empties..." "I don't have time to go to the store...." Then, light bulb from Dad: "Just take the bags out of two boxes and bring 'em..." Problem solved.
So, rather than mosey my way to a networking coffee, I now bee-line it to the kids' school with an empty box of Cheerios and an empty box of some Date & Pecan cereal that makes us look like hippies. The best part? I run in the door to their classroom and they run to me with open arms--not for me, mind you--but for their cereal boxes. Their teachers crack up and have a moment... and I'm thrilled because I've now hopefully avoided one year of therapy for my kids when they get older and remember how their parents never remembered to bring the cereal boxes that meant so much to them, etc. etc. Woo-hoo! Big hugs and kisses and I run back out the door.
And for the next 6-8 quality minutes as I drive the speed of light to get to work, I had a good laugh thinking about how hilarious my life now is. And how I hope I have pants on and the same color shoes. And yet how I wouldn't have it any other way. What a day.
Damn, in a split second, I'd gone from happy and early to crazed and late. Oh, well, my boys had to have their boxes--I couldn't have them think they were the only kids whose parents didn't care enough to send them in with their "homework" done!
So, here's where it gets funny, and where the mix between working professional and parent come together so nicely--you become an Action Jackson... I call Mark and we have a 2-second conversation about this oh-so-serious situation and immediately the two of us brainstorm about where to get the boxes..."we don't have any empties..." "I don't have time to go to the store...." Then, light bulb from Dad: "Just take the bags out of two boxes and bring 'em..." Problem solved.
So, rather than mosey my way to a networking coffee, I now bee-line it to the kids' school with an empty box of Cheerios and an empty box of some Date & Pecan cereal that makes us look like hippies. The best part? I run in the door to their classroom and they run to me with open arms--not for me, mind you--but for their cereal boxes. Their teachers crack up and have a moment... and I'm thrilled because I've now hopefully avoided one year of therapy for my kids when they get older and remember how their parents never remembered to bring the cereal boxes that meant so much to them, etc. etc. Woo-hoo! Big hugs and kisses and I run back out the door.
And for the next 6-8 quality minutes as I drive the speed of light to get to work, I had a good laugh thinking about how hilarious my life now is. And how I hope I have pants on and the same color shoes. And yet how I wouldn't have it any other way. What a day.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
"My pee-pee hurts, mommy..."
So I have to admit, this whole "boy part" thing is new for me. Don't get me wrong, I get how it works...I just don't "get" how it works, if you know what I mean. Today, Rhys turns to me with his hand fully down his pants, clearly grabbing himself and says "Mommy, my pee-pee hurts." And what's my clever response? "That must mean you're growing, kiddo..." Nice dodge, eh? Especially since we all know that an erect pee-pee is the first sign of growth. Geez, are we sure I even grew up??
So much for me tackling the tough stuff head on... I totally wussed out, and I have no idea why. Maybe it's because I didn't want to have a sit down conversation with a 3 1/2 year-old about the fact that a lot of times guys have, as my male coworker says, BWARs...or something that rhymes with "Donors" Without A Reason. The first time he said that to me I just lost it laughing, but now I know what he's talking about!
For some odd reason I'm just avoiding the whole "Well, honey, see boys often times have little erections..." (Rhys: "What's that mommy?") Well, see it's when your pee-pee feels like it wants to stand up and cheer like as if it's at a football game...." You see where I'm going. It's not that I can't deal with it, it's that it just seems like something my husband should have to tackle instead of me, so I'm punting. In fact, I'm thinking we should just get it all overwith at once and give Rhys and Cole a box of condoms and the birds and bees talk now. Our kids are precocious, why not just get it all out in the open and avoid the awkward stuff later on???
Ok, maybe not, but I swore I wouldn't be one of those parents who found a million reasons to avoid the tough talks--one that tries to rationally explain why their door was mysteriously locked the night before and the TV was blaring CSpan or a Western all night. "Obviously, kids, it was because your dad and I were having an all-night dance party in our room and we fell asleep without turning the TV off." Right, obviously.
So much for me tackling the tough stuff head on... I totally wussed out, and I have no idea why. Maybe it's because I didn't want to have a sit down conversation with a 3 1/2 year-old about the fact that a lot of times guys have, as my male coworker says, BWARs...or something that rhymes with "Donors" Without A Reason. The first time he said that to me I just lost it laughing, but now I know what he's talking about!
For some odd reason I'm just avoiding the whole "Well, honey, see boys often times have little erections..." (Rhys: "What's that mommy?") Well, see it's when your pee-pee feels like it wants to stand up and cheer like as if it's at a football game...." You see where I'm going. It's not that I can't deal with it, it's that it just seems like something my husband should have to tackle instead of me, so I'm punting. In fact, I'm thinking we should just get it all overwith at once and give Rhys and Cole a box of condoms and the birds and bees talk now. Our kids are precocious, why not just get it all out in the open and avoid the awkward stuff later on???
Ok, maybe not, but I swore I wouldn't be one of those parents who found a million reasons to avoid the tough talks--one that tries to rationally explain why their door was mysteriously locked the night before and the TV was blaring CSpan or a Western all night. "Obviously, kids, it was because your dad and I were having an all-night dance party in our room and we fell asleep without turning the TV off." Right, obviously.
Friday, January 9, 2009
I just want something other than a burrito
I realized the other day that I eat an Amy's Organics Burrito topped with cottage cheese at least 3 nights (and some lunches) every week. I think it's a fair statement to say I like them. The reality is that I do like them, but it's more about convenience than anything. (And I really don't eat them as much as I inhale them by the way, often times burning the roof of my mouth.)
Why do eat so many burritos instead of the zillions of other options, you might ask?
1) I'm a rut person - if it works, I stick with it more often than not...these "work." Just ask me to tell you how long I ate PB&Js in school for lunch.
2) They're healthy and filling, and I'd rather eat a healthy burrito than walk around with a ziploc of carrots pretending I'm full.
3) I'm putting off the inevitable--that I need to start really cooking for my family...I'm told that
growing boys need fully fortified meals, not bits of cheese, half of a soy chicken patty, apple bites, etc.--go figure.
4) Did I mention I'm a rut person?
I'm sort of wondering if one day I'll wake up and suddenly loathe my good friend, the organic burrito, like I hated coffee during my pregnancy, and then have to find a NEW rut, or better yet, eat normal meals like normal people. Yikes...sounds like a daunting task.
The crazy thing is that I really like cooking--but only when I have time to play and have fun with it. I realized a couple of years ago, though, that I like cookbooks even more than I like cooking, which is probably why I have a mountain of them and still only eat burritos.
Why do eat so many burritos instead of the zillions of other options, you might ask?
1) I'm a rut person - if it works, I stick with it more often than not...these "work." Just ask me to tell you how long I ate PB&Js in school for lunch.
2) They're healthy and filling, and I'd rather eat a healthy burrito than walk around with a ziploc of carrots pretending I'm full.
3) I'm putting off the inevitable--that I need to start really cooking for my family...I'm told that
growing boys need fully fortified meals, not bits of cheese, half of a soy chicken patty, apple bites, etc.--go figure.
4) Did I mention I'm a rut person?
I'm sort of wondering if one day I'll wake up and suddenly loathe my good friend, the organic burrito, like I hated coffee during my pregnancy, and then have to find a NEW rut, or better yet, eat normal meals like normal people. Yikes...sounds like a daunting task.
The crazy thing is that I really like cooking--but only when I have time to play and have fun with it. I realized a couple of years ago, though, that I like cookbooks even more than I like cooking, which is probably why I have a mountain of them and still only eat burritos.
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