Monday, March 31, 2014

Space Wars



Why do married people have to live together?  I mean, who started that?  I get sharing a house, I suppose, but a ROOM?!  It's too much.

I used to think that the hubs and I just needed more space.  If we had a bigger house, we could spread out more and fight less about what to do with each inch of wall space, what angle each picture frame should be at, and where I am or am not allowed to place a clock. 

Then I realized...it's not the house.

We are both very affected by our environments.  We agree that knick knacks are the devil, and antiques make us itchy.  That's where the similarities end.  Agree on a paint swatch?  Never.  Pick curtains out together?  Please, God, no.

This is what the hubs wants the house to look like:


I could be exaggerating, but I'm not entirely sure.  He doesn't like anything on the walls, floor, or taking up space.  This eliminates decorations, furniture, and pretty much all signs of life, sooooo....
 
 
This is what I want the house to look like:

Despite his accusations, I am neither tacky nor driven to cover the walls with nail holes.  I might get tired of those white walls, though....
 
 
It doesn't really matter WHAT we want, though, because this is what the house actually looks like:

Ok, it's not THAT bad...but that's what it feels like sometimes.
 
 
So really, it's only ever pointless (for now) to ever argue about what WE want the house to look like.  The kids took over.  All of the stuff that I begged to hang on the walls is gone and there are pictures of them hanging up now.  Everything that was on our living room bookshelves is in boxes in the attic - it's full of toys now.  (THEIR bookshelf was already full of THEIR books, duh.)  Our coffee table drawers have puzzles in them now...I don't even remember what I kept in those.  Our DVDs are in the attic and have been replaced with Disney movies and Baby Einstein.  My scrapbook gear got packed up and my craft drawers are full of Hello Kitty coloring books, safety scissors and scented magic markers. 
 
The joke was on us. 
 
One day, however, there won't be Barbie shoes to step on in the hallway, Legos sticking out from under my refrigerator, doll clothes in the laundry hamper, or crayons melted on the heating vents.  And I will miss those things.  I will look around at all of my "grown up" stuff that is now safe from being destroyed, used as weapons, or causing safety hazards... such as anything glass, scented candles, anything with batteries or moving parts, decorative items that cost more than $5.00... and I will sigh wistfully.  I will wish there was a sticky spot on my entertainment cabinet to wipe away, puzzle pieces in the floor to pick up, or a hula hoop to trip over by the front door. 
 
I suppose I shall find comfort in still having the hubs around to argue with.  We can revive the traditions of going behind each other and moving things on a shelf an inch to the left, throwing away ugly rugs when the other one isn't home, and lamenting over the drawer handles being a stainless vs. brushed nickel finish to our hearts content.
 
♥M
 

Saturday, March 29, 2014

Survivor: The Sick Mom + Birthday Party Episode

 

I was just plain arrogant when I claimed to NOT be stressed out about the upcoming birthday party, earlier this week. (Spring Party Planning Madness

In  making that claim, I did what I do best - I spit in the face of Murphy's Law, shook my fist at fate, and dared life to throw me it's best curve ball.

Which is why, in my opinion, I was stricken with a stomach bug Thursday night.  I spent the night in the bathroom floor, trying to remember why similar situations hadn't seemed nearly as traumatic in college after a good frat party.  (Probably because I had been to a good frat party...and didn't have to work in the morning...and throw a party for 20 little kids the day after that.)

The next morning, the hubs made valiant efforts at being a nurse.  He was shocked (SHOCKED, I tell you) to learn of my illness, and couldn't imagine how he had missed out on all of the action.  He brought me water and an English muffin.  The 4-year-old drank the water and the 2-year-old ate the English muffin.  While our 2-year-old jumped up and down on my stomach shouting, "Mom. Mom. MOM. MOOOOOM!" there were offers made of people staying home and taking care of me. I informed my family that I loved them very much, but that if they loved me - they would leave. 

It was quiet.  I slept all day.  My party of dutiful nurses returned home that evening, bringing with them gifts of Gatorade, mac-n-cheese....and fish sticks.  (I just.........fish sticks?!)  I said thank you, drank the Gatorade, made myself a bagel, and returned to the couch to continue dying slowly.

I spent a good 15 minutes being jumped on, took one good headbutt to the nose from the youngest, told the hubs no, I wasn't quite up to changing poop diapers yet, and squashed a half-dozen temper-tantrums over the kids not being able to drink after me because all of a sudden, Gatorade was the only thing they had ever wanted to drink, ever, in their whole life, and I was a total "meanie-butt" for not allowing them to partake of it.  I announced that I was going to take a bath.  I will not lie - I just wanted to hide in the bathroom.

My hiding spot was safe for 2 minutes and 16 seconds.  Then the door opened, and my two lovely daughters came in to check on me...each dragging one of their little folding chairs behind them.  They set up their little chairs and sat there eating pretzels.  I closed my eyes and pretended to be very boring, so they would consider relocating.  I gave up on the bath 10 minutes later.  By then, there was a handful of pretzels, a blue crayon, and one of Daire's socks floating in the tub with me.  There had been an assassination attempt on my cell phone.  They had "helped" me wash my hair.  Daire had tried to get in the tub with me - with her clothes on.  By the time they went to bed, I went too.  The alarm had rung, my "sick day" was over and I needed to put my game face on for the next day. 

I felt fine this morning - my "bug" was behind me, and I was ready to throw a party for my babies.  I still wasn't freaking out because I have AMAZING people in my life who had set up and decorated everything for me.  Thank you, baby Jesus! 

We arrived at our church (a.k.a the party site) and the bounce house was being delivered.  It was time to cue a mini-panic attack.  It was raining, so the bounce house was being set up indoors.  Scratch that - the ceiling was ONE FOOT too short, so the bounce house was NOT going to be set up indoors.  That's ok.  We will come up with a Plan B.  No?  Ok, Plan C...Plan D...Plan E?!  I started feeling sick again.

We settled on a suitable location for the bounce house outdoors (the portico turned out to be perfect...whew!)  Disaster averted.  Ok, now we're late to pick up the pizza.  No big deal, I called ahead it will be ready.  It was not ready.  I called yesterday.  The hubs reported the following conversation:

Hubs:  I'm here to pick up 16 pizzas.
Pizza Guy:  *shouting over his shoulder, to another employee* HEY - that order WAS for today!
Hubs:  Soooo...they're not ready.
Pizza Guy:  Not really...you were supposed to be here at 11:30...
Hubs:  Soooo....you had an EXTRA 30 minutes....
Pizza Guy: Oh...well, yeah.
Hubs:  It's ok, how long do I have to wait?
Pizza Guy: 10 minutes.
Hubs:  ....you're going to make 16 pizzas in 10 minutes?
Pizza Guy: Uhhhhh....

An hour later, the hubs showed up with pizza.  He was alarmed about our country's future in the hands of today's youth.  I was glad I had stopped and picked up the chips and dip.

The rest of the day was a blur of happy chaos and memory making.  The girls were happy with their party and I was happy to watch them be happy.  I didn't get a lot of pictures, but such is the story when you're in the moment. 

Every year, I learn a little more about throwing the "perfect" birthday party.  Little tips and tricks on everything from a cheaper or easier way to do something, a better way to organize things, or "the" best way to set it all up.  This year, I decided that we will just leave town next year.  We are "eloping" for their birthdays.

I reserve the right to recall the genius of this same plan for any and all holidays.

♥M

Thursday, March 27, 2014

50 Things That Make Me Feel As If I’m Being Punished By a Slow Death



Sitting outside of my daughter’s dance class, listening to her cry about me not sitting IN the dance class with her (again)…after being in dance WITHOUT crying for almost 3 years…has inspired me to pop my earbuds in and write a list of things that make me cringe. 

50 Things That Make Me Feel As If I’m Being Punished By a Slow Death:

1.       Letting my kids “cry it out”

2.       Getting stuck behind a school bus on the way to work

3.       Someone trying to explain football to me

4.       Museums

5.       Watching the cartoon “Caillou”

6.       The last 5 minutes (just kidding – the last 10 minutes) on the treadmill/elliptical

7.       Shopping with anyone other than myself

8.       Trying to figure out a malfunctioning electronic device

9.       The Discovery Channel

10.   The History Channel

11.   Waiting rooms

12.   Being the Designated Driver for a bachelorette party

13.   Leaving the house with no makeup on…then running into a dozen people that I haven’t seen in months/years

14.   Calling my insurance company…or cable company…or phone company

15.   Faculty meetings

16.   Getting my student loan statement in the mail

17.   Ordering food in a drive-thru

18.   Trying to get a cell phone signal in a “dead zone”

19.   Chapped lips

20.   Deciphering kids’ explanations for “What happened?”

21.   Folding footed pajamas

22.   Feeling like I’m being softly choked all day while wearing a t-shirt that has a too-small neck

23.   Vacuuming my car

24.   Balancing my checkbook

25.   Spending more than 5 minutes on my hair

26.   Being in the grocery store with the Hubs AND the kids

27.   The last 2 weeks (just kidding - the last 4 weeks) of pregnancy

28.   Country music

29.   Being bumped into repeatedly in a large crowd

30.   Having something stuck in my teeth

31.   Opening presents in front of people

32.   Trying to pick a knot out of something right after I cut my nails

33.   Traffic jams

34.   Running into someone who calls you by name, and you have no clue who they are

35.   Peeling old wallpaper off of a wall

36.   Talking coming from my radio instead of singing

37.   Getting stuck in a conversation with someone who tries to “one-up” everything you say

38.   Getting stuck in the check-out line behind the person with an “issue”

39.   Being able to hear someone chew their food

40.   Waking up within the hour that my alarm is set to go off and not being able to fall back asleep

41.   Having to refold all of the clothes in the kids’ dresser…every time I go in it

42.   Counting down to our family beach week

43.   Trying clothes on in a dressing room

44.   Watching a kid tie their shoes and resisting the urge to do it for them

45.   Trying to convince my kids to open their mouth so I can brush their teeth

46.   Dusting my blinds

47.   Not making it through the Railroad Crossing in time and having to wait for an entire train to pass

48.   Separating puzzle pieces after the kids dump a dozen different ones out at once

49.   Listening to the Angelina Ballerina CD on repeat

50.   Wal-Mart



♥M

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Spring Party Planning Madness

 

The girls' birthday party is in 6 days, and I'm NOT my usual stressball of party planning....which leads me believe that I am overlooking something major.  Or, maybe I'm just getting better at going with the birthday party flow....

I am a notorious birthday party planning freaker-outer.  It all started with the oldest's first birthday.  She was the first and the only, so when Jace turned one, I had to have every detail just so.  I had a Fancy Nancy-themed party, complete with Jace's picture on a personalized birthday banner, every decoration/balloon/serving tray in the right place, and custom invitations from Etsy.  My sister-in-law made a cake that could have been for a wedding.  My brother-in-law practically broke out a level to hang the streamers.  My cousin took pictures, my husband took video, and I almost had a stroke making sure everything was perfect.

I really intended to turn things down a notch with the second birthday.  Except I was pregnant with daughter #2, and if you remember from A Second Love, I was going a little crazy trying to prove to myself that I could still give the same amount of attention to Jace as always.  Which resulted in an extreme Lalaloopsy-themed party...before they made Lalaloopsy themed party decorations.  I made my own invitations, scoured the internet for party favor ideas, and labored over the decorations.  I stressed over each of the 5 seperately-themed tables I set up.  Each one was based on a different doll with appropriate colors and themed items for that character.  Jace had the perfect party outfit, a huge cake, and of course, lots of pictures were taken.

By the third birthday, I was stretching myself a little thin.  I had to pull off the perfect Tinkerbell party for Jace, and then follow up with a one-of-a-kind Strawberry Shortcake themed first birthday for Daire a few weeks later.  They each had the right banners, balloons, tablecloths, themed party food and drinks, and of course - the personalized invitations from the cute little Etsy shop.  I had to do all of this while throwing a baby shower for one friend, a bachelorette party for another, and be the matron-of-honor in the wedding while sweating over my three-year-old being the flower girl at the same time.  I did it.  It almost killed me, but I did it. 

Maybe I have party-planning PTSD, but this year I am not allowing myself to reach any of my previous levels of hysteria.  For one thing, they don't give a rip about all of the decorations or the handmade, themed crap that I slave over. I knew this all along, but kept telling myself "one day they'll look back at the pictures and be so impressed." Yeah, right.  Get over yourself, lady.

For the sake of helping to reform any of my bretheren party-planner crazies out there - here are some of the things I have learned from my party-planning-zilla moments over the past few years:

1. If you work 45 hours a week and have two small children, it's Ok to not have time to hot glue stuff, teach yourself how to make cake pops, and whip up 3 tons of finger food for an event.

2. If you hate baking and kind of suck at it anyway, there are people out there who do such for a living and will gladly accept cash payment for taking over the burden of creating edible masterpieces that people will actually want to eat at your party.  If you're really worried about it, just throw it all on your own serving dishes and let people think you made it all.  *Warning: Your guests could potentially ask for the recipe or try to get you to bring said items to a future event.  Not that I've done that....I'm just saying, it could happen.

3. If you're a big fan of taking money out of your wallet and lighting it on fire, then please, by all means, spend tons of it on balloons and streamers.  You will only have to sit and pop $45 worth of helium balloons exactly 3 hours after filling them ONE TIME for that lesson to stick.  Also, the physical anguish of ripping down streamers that you spent hours putting up is almost unbearable.

4.  Children are not impressed with your organized activities.  Attempt to entertain them with well-thought out party games and they will yawn right before they run outside to play tag or roll around in the floor playing with balloons. 

5. No one cares if your party food fits the theme.  They just want to be fed.  Your tea cakes and fruit kabobs are cute, but order some pizza and everyone is happy.  They will also be grateful that you compensated them with an adequate food suply in exchange for having to spend their afternoon at a kid's birthday party as opposed to the 4 million other things they could do on a Saturday.

6. The birthday invitations and party favors ultimately end up in the same place: the trash can.  It causes me a lot less pain to imagine you throwing away the flyers I got printed at Staples, than the cute Etsy invite I had printed with the kids' names and pictures on them.  I gave up completely on stressing over favor bags.  I save money and you don't have to step on little plastic toys in your living room floor.  You're welcome!

7. Delegate.  I have had to relax greatly over the years as far as accepting help goes.  I used to be a "must do everything myself or it won't be done right" person.  Now I'm a "someone else offered to do it, THANK GOD I can take something off of my to-do list" person.  Someone offers to bring food?  Sure!  My mom offers to pick up the cakes?  Yes ma'am!  My sister wants to help decorate or a lady from church offers to do the centerpieces?  YES, YES, YES, and THANK YOU!

This year both girls wanted the same theme (Sofia the First).  Jackpot.  ONE party, ONE set of invitations to make, ONE day of freaking out about putting up decorations, and ONE load of party food to buy.  I felt guilty they weren't each getting their own party...for like 5 minutes, then I rented a bounce house and called the whole party planned.  Aaaaand DONE.

♥M

Saturday, March 22, 2014

THE Meltdown

Before you read - If you haven't already, reading the following posts will help make a lot more sense out of this one :)

Love...With or Without the Memories

The Greatest Love Story of [All] Time

Happy Valentine's Day!

A Day to Remember


 

*THE Meltdown*


So I finally had the inevitable tear-fest about my grandparents.  I knew I would get around to having a good cry about everything eventually, and I could feel it coming for a few days before it hit.  I had been cleaning the house like a maniac all week, and while I was ever so vigorously scrubbing the shower the other night, I broke a tile loose.  (Whoops!)  From there, I just pretty much immediately turned into a hot mess.  I cried and cleaned for another hour before I just sat in the the kitchen and sobbed dramatically all over the "was-clean" kitchen table.  The hubs knows better than to get involved when I build myself up to one of these doosies, so he just kept to the safety of the living room.  I was wearing one of his sweatshirts though, so he did request that when I was done snotting all over it, to please put it in the laundry room and not hang it back up.

After I finished crying and blowing my nose (on his sweatshirt, of course, HA!) I decided I needed to drag other people into my meltdown.  (Good grief, M.)  I did this by texting my immediate family and a few close friends and telling them that in light of everything going on and how crazy things had been lately, I felt the need to let them know I loved them and that they were important to me.  I did this for three reasons: 1) Because we don't really tell people how we feel about them very often. 2) Because it terrifies me that one day I might not be ABLE to tell people that I love them because I won't remember who they are. And 3) Because I was in a highly emotional state and didn't really think the whole thing through.

I'm not saying it was a bad idea, just that it might not have been a totally good one.  For starters, I really freaked a few people the hell out.  Not everyone is as "Hey World! This is how I feel!" as I am.  I sensed that those people were more annoyed and/or made to feel awkward by my declaration than anything.  Still, everyone but one said, "I love you, too."

Almost half of them, however, were alarmed that something was wrong.  Like that I was dying or something...I'm not sure.  (Possibly, because I am rarely very serious...)  This told me that maybe I need to "push pause" for the people that are important to me more often - SHOW them they are important,  not just TELL them.  Then they won't think I have a fatal disease when I tell them. 

What stops me from calling it a bad idea, though, is that a few of the messages I got back were things like "I had a really bad day and needed that!"  This reminded me that it's important to BE that positive boost, that pep talk, or that much-needed hug when our loved ones need it.  It's not hard to be there for people if we just SLOW DOWN and notice when they need us.  If I hadn't sent that message, then I never would've known my friend was having a rough time at work, or that my brother was feeling that same way I am about things. 

What started out as me being crazy upset and needing to reassure MYSELF that others knew I loved them, turned into a lot of little lessons about how I can do better at BEING a loved one.  My "loved ones" might be important to me, but that doesn't really mean much if I don't ACT like it...calling them that in my head, through a text, or on Facebook is just NOT enough.

So here's to slowing down!  Here's to letting the world rush by and just waving as it passes! 

(Disclaimer: This will NOT be an overnight process for me.)

♥M

Sucker for Stalling

I wish I could claim to be a lot tougher about bedtime shenanigans.  I'm just such a sucker for every stall...despite knowing them ALL for what they are, I fall for them. Every one of them.

It's the empathy side of my personality.  I can't cut it off.  Not even when I know that I'm being had.  I am notoriously gullible when it comes to practical jokes and hoaxes.  I am the kind of person that would end up on the news for being scammed out of their life savings.

These are the top scams I fall for at bedtime:

 

"I'm hungry." 

What kind of parent sends their child to bed hungry?!  This is a guaranteed way to add an extra 15 minutes to the bedtime routine.  If my kids make this plea, I immediately conjure images of the Haitian children from my mission trips - wide eyes and hungry faces - and I make haste to the fridge to scour for bedtime snacks...even though we just ate dinner an hour ago.


 

"I'm thirsty."

Have you ever been thirsty?!  It's awful!  How can one sleep when one is parched?!  This is a ruse that gets me multiple times a night - including midnight wake-up calls and wee-hours of the morning distress signals.  I get it, man.  I wake up thirsty too.  Thus, I fall for it every time.


 

"My lips are chapped."

We all know this sucks. You cannot sleep if your lips hurt real bad.


 
 
 

"My sister ____________."

This blank can be filled in with SO many things.  "...bit me."  "...kicked me."  "...pulled my hair."  "...stole my pillow."  "...is hogging the covers."  "...touched my stuffed animal."  "...looked at me."  The list is endless.  My patience, unfortunately is not.  After 5-6 of these type of complaints, I tend to lose my cool and say things like, "If anyone screams again, I will give you something to scream about!"  I feel like that is an excusable reaction on my part.
 


 

"I'm hot."

Well, who can fall asleep when they are hot?!  I fall prey to wardrobe changes, exchanges in bed covers, and sips of cold water when these dramatics come to surface.  Again I say, I AM A SUCKER.
 


 

"I'm itchy."

Ok, so itchiness is a serious dilemma.  If you have an itch, it is mind-obsessively overwhelming.  Plus, they both have eczema, so I am easily convinced that a rub-down with oatmeal-based lotion is immediately necessary....kind of...probably...probably not.
 



 


"I lost my stuffed animal/favorite blanket/specific pillow/random object that I just decided I needed tonight to go to sleep."

Neither of you have a favorite and/or necessary bedtime item since kicking the "binky habit."  Whatever you are looking for - it's under the covers.  Go to sleep.
 
 
 


"I need a tissue."

Prove it.  Right now.  Give me a test-snort, and if I witness signs of snot, then you have proven you need a tissue and may get up.  Oh my God, there's snot everywhere.  That's disgusting, go get a tissue.  I don't guess it would do me any good to point out that YOU CRIED when I tried to get you to blow your nose an hour ago.
 
 
 

"I have to go to the bathroom."

Well, what are you supposed to say to that?  "Pee in your bed."  NO.  Valid pass to get out bed, granted.  Even if I am convinced that you held it until now.

 

 

"One more kiss/hug."

This is an advanced mind-ninja move, if I've ever experienced one.  I'm pretty sure that the proper response cannot possibly be: "No, I'm a monster and I will not kiss or hug you anymore tonight!" Therefore, I go in there and pass out kisses and hugs like the SUCKER that I am.  Ugh.
 


This is why "bedtime" at our house remains between 7:30pm and 8:00pm.  If we START at that hour then there may be actual sleep happening by 9:00pm.  At least until 3:00am, when they both just come get in my bed, and kick the hubs in the face until he gives up and heads to the couch. 

♥M

Monday, March 17, 2014

My Sensitive Child (a.k.a. "The Drama Queen")



We've jokingly called my oldest daughter "the drama queen" since she was a toddler.  The older she gets, however, the more I recognize her for what she is - a "highly sensitive" child. 

I first got turned on to this notion while reading some random parenting article.  I couldn't get over how spot-on the article was in relation to Jace and her behaviors.  I had previously recognized little things here and there - what worked when disciplining her, or what she responded to the best when presenting something new.  Somewhere along the way, a lot of my concepts and ideals of parenting changed to fit the kind of child she is, as opposed to what the perfect child was supposed to be in response to my "perfect" parenting skills (i.e. the defense techniques I had read in a book).

In Jace's case, she just needs a certain tone, a certain presentation of expectations, a clear cut definition of consequences (NOT threats) in order to respond positively.  This can be said about a lot of children, though.  What made things really "click" for me, made me really "buy into" all of this "highly sensitive" mumbo-jumbo, was a combination of many articles and my ever-efficient "M-research."  I'm sure I'm not alone in that I take paranoid journeys driven towards discovery when it comes to my children.

According to The Highly Sensitive Person (and their Parent Checklist) these are some of the qualities of a highly sensitive child:

-startles easily
-complains about scratchy clothing, seams in socks, or labels against his/her skin
-doesn't usually enjoy big surprises
-learns better from a gentle correction than strong punishment
-seems to read my mind
-uses big words for his/her age
-notices the slightest unusual odor
-has a clever sense of humor
-seems very intuitive
-is hard to get to sleep after an exciting day
-doesn't do well with big changes
-wants to change clothes if wet or sandy
-asks lots of questions
-is a perfectionist
-notices the distress of others
-prefers quiet play
-asks deep, thought-provoking questions
-is very sensitive to pain
-is bothered by noisy places
-notices subtleties (something that's been moved, a change in a person's appearance, etc.)
-considers if it is safe before climbing high
-performs best when strangers aren't present
-feels things deeply

Not all, but most of these apply to Jace.  That sent me looking me for more information, because God knows, I'm probably screwing this all up and traumatizing her daily with my horrendous parenting, right?  Thankfully, this was not the case.  I was actually reassured by a lot of what I read. 

Sensitive children respond better to requests and logic than to harsh discipline and raised voices (the latter will typically result in the exact behavior you are trying to avoid or correct.)  Luckily, I had picked up on this already with Jace, and usually try to present things in a way that's more of a "Hey, let's do this together..." kind of approach.  Doesn't ALWAYS work, but definitely gets better results than "Go do such and such RIGHT NOW!"

Sensitive children will start to "act out" (or as I say, "You're showing your tail!") when they become overly stimulated or tired.  I had noticed that when Jace has friends over, or when we are in a large social group, she can turn into a total monster.  The only way to adjust that is to remove her from the situation and calmly explain to her exactly what she is doing that's super crappy.  Time-out or yelling always just makes her lash back.  Explaining that a certain behavior or tone of voice makes her sound "mean" or "makes Mommy upset and disappointed" SEEMS to work better.  I have to be careful how I phrase everything, however; because any slight inclination that I'm shaming, embarrassing, or laughing at her makes her totally shut down and/or have a meltdown.  It's a seriously tricky tightrope that I walk with these "discipline talks" and it's straight up exhausting.  Sometimes I get it just right and feel like "Mom of the Universe," but I'm not going to lie....I've also been known to totally blow it...and she ends up crying on my shoulder...and I feel like crap for a mom.

Sensitive children need language to describe their feelings.  If they aren't able to understand or explain how they feel, then they will just lose it completely.  I'm not a hippie or anything, but "feeling" words are a big thing for me with my kids.  I want to make sure that they can not only describe how they feel, but that they understand it's ok to feel ANYTHING - what matters is how you ACT on it.  If they are angry about something (or at me), I try to teach them that it's ok to be mad, but there are acceptable ways to handle that emotion.  Go scream into your pillow, cool off by yourself, and when you're ready to tell me what's wrong, we can talk about it.  I try to avoid getting sucked into an argument or anyone yelling at each other.  That never seems to end well. 

Sensitive children are terrible with transitions.  Really and truly, though, most people are.  I decided a long time ago that if I were doing something that I thought was super important and someone said, "Hey stop that right now, and come with me," it would probably piss me off pretty badly.  So then I kind of understood why I was being met with resistance when I would say, "Ok, time to ____, come on!"  The solution was a forehead-slapping easy one.  All I had to do was say, "Ok, 5 more minutes and then we gotta go!"  And then there was no problem.  It's beautiful.  That was all it took.  Just a simple heads-up before transitioning. 

Sensitive children are very critical of themselves.  It's so important to filter yourself when you think that you are offering advice.  A lot of the time, no matter how well-intended your words are, they WILL be taken as criticism when spoken to a child who is highly sensitive.  The best way to avoid them running from the room crying, while you stand there scratching your head, trying to figure out what you said - start everything with a positive.  And I don't mean, "Great cartwheel, BUT you're supposed to keep your legs straight."  I mean, "Awesome, cartwheel!  Show me that way you do it with your legs straight!"  Don't get the difference?  They will.

Some of the best material I found was by a psychotherapist, Elaine N. Arnon, Ph.D. (The Highly Sensitive Child: Helping Our Children Thrive When the World Overwhelms Them).  She wrote this about highly sensitive children:



"First, appreciate that this is a wonderful trait. It is no illness or syndrome. Nor is it something new I made up or 'just discovered.'  It is an inborn temperament or style that is found in about twenty percent of children and of nearly all animals. Anything so persistent is not abnormal. It represents a strategy of taking everything into account before acting (the other, more common innate strategy is to act quickly and be first, then think later). The trait serves an important purpose for the individual sensitive person and for the larger society--for example, sensitive persons sense danger and see the consequences of an action before others do.

Unfortunately, the trait has been somewhat misunderstood in our culture, so that most psychologists and parents tend to see only one aspect of some sensitive children and call this trait shyness, inhibitedness, fearfulness, fussiness, or 'hyper' sensitivity. If one could see inside the mind of a sensitive child, however, one would learn the whole story of what is going on--creativity, intuition, surprising wisdom, empathy for others...

But, for all of that to blossom, they absolutely must be raised with understanding. Otherwise, as adults they are prone to depression, anxiety, and shyness."



Omg....no pressure.  If I screw this up, though, my kid will just be shy, depressed, and anxious forever.  Crap. 

The biggest piece of advice that I think I gleaned from all of my reading was this:  Parenting a sensitive child is not about changing them, it's about changing how you parent.  Do not force society's demands onto your child.  Your job is to nudge them into trying new things, without making them feel as if you won't be there or love them as much if they can't "be like other kids."

The bottom line:

Love them. 

Maybe I got this after all....

♥M




Saturday, March 15, 2014

A Day to Remember


This morning, I picked my grandfather up from my aunt's house and we spent the day together. If I learned anything today, it was that the only thing we ever truly need to be afraid of in life is having to regret not stopping and making time to create more memories with the people that we love.

There were sweet moments:
He insisted on carrying any and everything for me - from the fundraiser donuts we picked up at my daughter's dance school, to the grocery bags we left Food Lion with.  He even took my friend's baby carrier to her car for her when she stopped by with her son to visit today.  He helped my oldest daughter ride her bike and listened patiently while my youngest explained the plot of Harry Potter to him in 2-year-old jargon.  He pushed both girls on the swing set and made the appropriate (expected) complimentary remarks when they put their princess dress-up clothes on.

There were rough moments:
I wasn't able to convince him to eat more than one chicken tender for lunch and one slice of pizza for dinner, even though I know he loves both of those things.  He was worried about my grandmother looking for him and not knowing where he was.  He got stressed out towards the end of the day about when and how he was getting home.  He wanted to drive himself, but was frustrated that his car wasn't at my house.  At one point he tried to explain something to me, but ended up crying because he couldn't figure out how to explain it.  I just hugged him, told him that I loved him, and said that the rest wasn't important.

There are some things, however, that he KNOWS for a fact, and can tell you with certainty how he feels about them.   Here are a few:

1. He could not be a teacher "these days" because we are no longer allowed to paddle the students.

2. My younger cousin is "full of bull."  Those are HIS words.

3. If one baseball team is losing so badly to the other team that they cannot possibly come back and win, you are wasting his time (and "the good money that he pays for the cable box") by not simply ending the game right then, and carrying on with life.

4. The movie theater will never be making any money off of him because he will not be paying $12.00 to see a film that he can buy at Wal-Mart.  FYI - it cost $0.12 when he was a kid.  This was also a little pricey at the time.

5. No matter what, he knows he loves my grandmother.  He will tell you every time that her name comes up, "I won the lottery when I met her."  Of all the things he forgot today, he knew he hadn't been to see her since yesterday and wanted to know when we were leaving for the hospital.

No matter what, I feel lucky that I will get to remember today, spending time with my grandfather, and watching him spend time with my children.  They won't remember that he didn't call them by name because he forgot what their names were; they will remember that he helped them ride their bikes and pushed them on the swing.  I will get to remember his smile when they call for him to "Watch this!" and the sound of their laughter when he teases them.

One of the things that we talked about today was why some people end up having Alzheimer's, and some people don't. There is no satisfactory answer to that question.  Different researchers have different opinions on the matter, but the only real truth is this - The only way to live your life is to know that you never know what's coming next, and therefore, should take nothing and no one for granted.

♥M

Friday, March 14, 2014

A Week Summary


To conclude my batcrap-crazy week, I gift you with a list of conclusions.

Conclusions that this week has led me to make...

1.  At any given moment, there are people around you suffering.  You never know if someone just lost a loved one, is dealing with illness, is getting ready for a surgery, is going through a nasty divorce, is worried about their job....so just BE NICE.  It won't hurt...not every time anyway.

2. All children can be loved. Some just make it really hard...on purpose. They have to test you to feel out whether you will "still love them if..." They think that you won't. Prove them wrong.

3.  If I could answer the question "WHY?!" then I would be rich.  So. Rich.

4. I have become one of those obnoxious people who are all, "Man, I haven't been to the gym (or gone running) in over a week.  Poooooor meeeee."  It's so awful to realize this about yourself.  Uuugh.

5.  If a physician has prescribed a medication, it should be taken as directed.  For the sake of everyone.  Please.

6.  Pajama Day at work is not what you'd expect.  It is not "comfy."  You will remain in a state of distress all day and feel like you're in a bad dream where you forgot to get dressed before going to work.

7.  You should have to pass an IQ test before you are allowed to create a Facebook account.  Or have a co-signer who pledges to proof your posts before they go out into the world.

8.  My 2-year-old is possessed by a demon.  Maybe more than one.

9.  Driving home with your car's gas light on and thinking "I'll stop in the morning" is never going to work out for you.  You will ALWAYS be running late the next morning.

10.  There is such a thing as being in a constant state of forgetting something.  At all times, the answer is "Yes, you are forgetting something."  Don't bother wondering what it is; just hope it comes back to you before it's too late and your forgetting causes any damage.

11.  God made earbuds so that I can put them in and ignore people.  Sometimes "people" means my spouse.  (If I can't HEAR you, then I can pretend like you are saying whatever *I THINK* you should be saying.)

12.  Back to #1 - When all else fails, and you feel like you might be slipping into a grouchy, pity-party mode, the best way to put the brakes on that is to reach out and offer your hand to someone who needs your empathy more than you need a "woe-is-me" session.  Had a bad day at work?  Get over yourself - someone else probably had a worse one.  Call a friend who's going through a rough time and ask how they are doing, offer your buddy to help with his project or move this weekend, visit your sick aunt and take her some soup....Why?  Not because it will make YOU feel better about YOUR bad day, but because it will make you realize that you actually aren't the one that the sun rises and sets with after all.  Plus, no one likes the person that only ever complains and never, ever listens.


With all of that being said, I'm fairly certain that I could get at least a solid two-hour head start before anyone realizes that I have run away from home.  Feel free to shoot me an e-mail with a location and meeting time if you have the name of a good source for forged papers.  I'd prefer not to travel under my real name.  Thank you in advance.

♥M

A bonus struggle from my week:  Being torn, while editing this piece of writing, between trying to guess what the "s-word" at the end was supposed to be (shock? strike?) OR just adding "in his pants" after it...
 

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Emotionally Compartmentalizing


So I did some research on "emotional compartmentalization" tonight.  I was inspired by my extremely "off" day today, and being curious about how I might do a better job at this, I empowered myself through Google.  Some articles left me slightly confused about whether it's a good defense mechanism...or an alarming symptom of being a sociopath.  Yikes.

I think we all do it though.  When you're at work, you focus on who you are as an employee and what you need to accomplish during your time there that day - in that particular capacity.  When you leave your job, your focus shifts to whatever other role you are switching gears to.  For me it's usually straight to "mom mode."  When I am with my kids I am in their moment, and they are my focus.  (Kind of hard NOT to be, they're kind of demanding...)  There are so many other "gears" to switch between, though...so many other roles and responsibilities to keep lined up in a row.  Sometimes you forget which "gear" you're supposed to be in, or it's necessary to cross the wires and be in more than one at a time.  That's when my neatly arranged "compartments" get messy and require a lot of extra balancing.

This week, I've been extra foggy.  My grandmother is not doing well, and I'm not doing a very good job at figuring out how to fit that into my "acceptable emotions compartment."  Therefore, I am pretending like it's not happening.  I had a very candid conversation with her ICU nurse yesterday, and I appreciated all of her honesty when answering my extremely direct questions.  I'm just not yet ready to absorb her answers, however, so I will just tuck them away for examination at a later time.  Not today.  Probably not tomorrow. 

The problem with switching parts of your brain on and off is that the things you push back, with the intention of ignoring them, have a certain way of niggling their way up to the front anyway.  It might just show up in different ways than you'd think.  I've been extra spacey, extra forgetful, less engaged when having conversations...detached, I guess.

Which is what led me to believe that I needed some advice on doing a better job at "compartmentalizing."  Here's a summary of my "research."  I may have added some of my own advice, as well.  You know I can't help myself.

To Compartmentalize, Or Not To Compartmentalize?


1. It's ok to compartmentalize....as long as you're not like, schizo about it and have multiple families and/or identities (i.e. Bill Clinton, Batman...Ted Bundy).

2. Use compartmentalizing as a way of being in control of your psyche for the sake of productivity - NOT for the purpose of avoiding or separating from your feelings.  That latter one will turn you into one of those weirdos that starts screaming at the check-out girl for putting a can of corn in the same bag as your bananas.  No one wants that.

3. DO NOT multi-task.  (Whaaaaaaaat?!?!)  It only takes your focus away from whatever you are trying to immerse yourself in at that time, and it will NOT increase the number of tasks you check off of your to-do list - it will in fact, keep you from accomplishing as much in the long run.  I know...crazy, right?!

4. It's ok to tuck difficult, personal things away - IF YOU RETURN to them later and deal with them.  Again, let's not get all "rocking-in-the-corner-while-hugging-your-knees," Ok?

5. Do not waste valuable time obsessing over things that you have no control over.  If thinking about it isn't going to magically fix it, then DON'T.  Move on.  Go be distracted.  Unless credit card debt is one of the things you're trying not to think about, then I suggest retail-therapy.  You don't even have to buy anything.  Pretend you're shopping for a new recliner and read a book in the furniture store.  (Just be sure to switch chairs every 10 minutes or so, or they might get suspicious).

6. If you are compartmentalizing your life to the point that the thought of different areas merging frightens you, then you have gone too far.  If your co-workers and your family couldn't discuss you without feeling as if they were talking about two different people...then you have a problem.  Do you hide under tables, duck behind displays, or put a pair of sunglasses on if you are with people from one "part" of your life, and see people from another "part?"  Get some help, man.

7. Learn to say "NO."  If you are even bothering to compartmentalize your life, then you probably shouldn't be adding any extra commitments or taking on any additional huge responsibilities without cutting something else out.  Sometimes we are all narcissistic enough to think that we "have to" do something because if we don't, then it might not get done (i.e. might not get done OUR WAY).  The truth is, you aren't the only one out there with any particular skill set.  Sorry to break it to you, but there are probably people actually waiting for you to move over so they can have a turn. 

Now go, be merry, and compartmentalize away, my friends!  Just don't be a weirdo about it.

♥M


Tuesday, March 11, 2014

To My Oldest



Dear Jace,

Today is your birthday AND the fourth anniversary of me becoming a mom. 

You are my "mini-me."  You are my sweet and sassy oldest child.  You changed my world in so many ways.  No pregnancy book, no parenting article, and no well-worded advice from a loved one can ever truly prepare you for everything that you feel when peering down at that tiny little person for the first time.  The one that you loved before you ever even met.  When they handed you to me in the hospital, time stood still and my heart burst with happiness and pride.  It is not something that one person can explain to another; but rather something that one can only experience and then hold onto tightly, forever and ever, as the most wonderful memory of all time.

You came into this world and I looked at you and I saw a new life, a new reason to live every day, a new reason to be a better person, and a new way of viewing the world.  I fell in love with you; and I fell in love with your daddy all over again, too.  I already loved him as my husband, but this time I fell in love with him as your father.  He loves you so much, that it makes me love HIM even more than I already did.

Your birth marked a new chapter in our life that is a never-ending journey of "firsts."  Your first hiccups, your first bath, your first smile, your first tooth, your first steps...the excitement of every little thing you do makes the whole world a brighter place.  I will never tire of celebrating you and all of the things you do, no matter how big or how small they may be.

You fill my heart with joy, love, and pride.  That will never change...even when you are a teenager.  I am your mother and you are my daughter - I will love you forever and I will forever be here for you.

Happy birthday, sweet girl.

♥M

My favorite "birthday" quotes from Jace today:

Me: Hold up 4 fingers so I can take a birthday picture.
Jace: (holds up four fingers, stops and examines her hands) Whoa...I think my hands are bigger...

Me: I made you cupcakes, but I can't find the candles!
Jace: *Sigh* We should have just done this at Grandma's house.

Me: Why did you act scared when they sang "Happy Birthday" to you?!  (Or rather, "Feliz CumpleaƱos" since we were at a Mexican restaurant.)
Jace:  I didn't know what they were SAYING to me?!

Monday, March 10, 2014

Top Chef - Watch Out!

 
 
I'm feeling super proud and domestic tonight for 2 reasons:
1. I baked brownie bites AND cupcakes - on the same night.
2. Neither of them were horrendous disasters.
 
Don't get excited or be stupid - they were both boxed mixes.  I would never be so dumb as to bake from scratch and ruin that many ingredients and waste that much time in one fell swoop.  It's not my thing.  I accept that and it really doesn't bother me anymore. 
 
 
 
 
I used to be super jealous of my friends and family that could bang out awesome, homemade creations.  Now I just appreciate the stuff that they cook...and know my limits.  We all have gifts and talents.  Usually, they happen to coincide with what you really enjoy doing (not always...but usually).  Once it finally dawned on me that I wasn't even really ENJOYING cooking or baking, I got over the fact that I wasn't exactly on my way to winning any competitions.  Not that I'm a total quitter - I still cook.  Only as necessary, however.  You know, like, dinner...or if someone says "Hey, can you bring...?" 
 
 
 
 
Like I said, though - know your limits.  We all have them...especially in the kitchen. 
My process for evaluating new recipes:
1. How MANY ingredients are involved?  (My limit is 5.)
2. Can I pronounce all of the ingredients?  (No?  Forget it.)
3. Is the prep time longer than 15 minutes?  (If so, not going to happen.)
4. Will I spend more on the crap that goes in this, than if I just went to a restaurant? (Yes?  Then grab the car keys.)
5. Who is going to be eating it? (People other than the hubs and the kids?  Forget it - I don't need this stress in my life.  Or the lawsuits after I poison everyone.)
6. How complicated are the directions? (If I have to call someone for clarification, it's best to just move on.)
 
 
 
Rest assured that if you are invited over to my house for a meal, there will be no experimenting in the kitchen.  I will either be serving frozen pizza or something that I have made enough times (with positive results), that there is no way I'll screw it up (spaghetti, chili, FROZEN PIZZA...)
 
 
 
 
 
Before you think I'm exaggerating, or being too hard on myself, let me share some of my most epic failures with you. 
 
1. One year, for my daughter's Lalaloopsy themed birthday party, I attempted to make pink and yellow swirled sugar cookies.  The picture online was super cute.  I didn't even MAKE the cookies - I used a mix.  Somehow they all ended up purple.  And hard.  Oh, and I wanted them to look like buttons, so I used a straw to punch holes in them...before I baked them.  DUMB.  Hard, purple, blobs - THAT'S what went in the favor bags.
 
2. The next year, I kept it simple.  I sent cupcakes to the babysitter's house.  I iced the cupcakes too soon, though; so what I actually sent was soggy cupcakes in a sea of icing.  Good thing 3 year-olds don't care what their sugar fix LOOKS like.
 
3. I made deviled eggs for my grandfather's retirement party.  I even got fancy and used a piping tool for the filling....which DID NOT MATTER because I put too much mayonnaise in the mixture and it all bled all over the place by the time we got to the party.  They tasted great - but no one was brave enough to find that out.  (I don't blame them.)
 
4. I ruined Hamburger Helper.  I used spoiled milk and it tasted like sewage.  In my defense, I had just bought the milk that day, so that was their foul.  In my husband's defense, he ate half of his like a champ, not wanting to hurt my feelings, until I took a bite and screamed, "WHY ARE YOU EATING THIS?!"
 
5. And the most epic of all?  I left a pot of boiling water on the stove and forgot I was cooking.  I burnt the pot.  I screwed up boiling water.  Fail.
 
 
 
 
 So cooking isn't my thing.  That's Ok!  It actually works out well for me, because now that it's been pretty established by my "A for effort" failures, people know better than to ask.  I'm the person who brings chips & dip to parties, canned green beans to Thanksgiving dinner, and store bought desserts to baby showers.  Do they sell it at a bakery or deli?  Then I got it!

♥M
 
 
 

Sunday, March 9, 2014

Kids' Checklist for Leaving the House



You may have a mental checklist for leaving the house, but the kids have their own...

Kids' Checklist for Leaving the House:


-Remove at least one article of clothing after Mom dresses you, but before making it out of the door.

-Spill something (preferably a liquid, and preferably on your clothes).

-Take your socks and shoes off.

-Demand a band-aid for an injury that is only visible to your eye.

-Insist that Mom applies any and every beauty product that she is putting onto herself, onto you as well (makeup, deodorant, lotion, etc.)  You know she is only pretending to put it on you, but the point is to slow her down, so you are satisfied with the facade. 

-Hide something (keys, wallet, cell phone, etc.), but claim you haven't touched it.

-Pack 3 bags of random crap that you obviously NEED, then lay in the floor and cry until Mom gives in and lets you take at least one of them along.

-Take your socks and shoes off.

-After walking down the stairs of the front porch, realize it would be much more to fun to hop down them.  Go back and hop down them, no less than 3 times, in a variety of hopping-styles.  Insist that Mom rate each type of hop, and choose a favorite.

-Insist on waving and saying goodbye to the cats on the porch, the dog in the yard next door, the squirrels in the trees, the birds on the powerline....  Encourage your sibling(s) to participate as well.

-Prove your strength by breaking multiple sticks in the yard, on the way to the car.  Demand that Mom watch you break each stick, and commend your strength each time.

-Collect rocks from the driveway. Insist that they must be taken with you.

-Take your socks and shoes off.

-Claim that you left something in your room that you absolutely cannot and will not be expected to leave behind.  If Mom takes you back inside, choose a random object that you haven't played with for at least 3 weeks.

-Announce that you are both hungry AND thirsty, after you have been buckled into your carseat.  If Mom produces food and drink from her bag, insist you don't like whatever she has packed and therefore cannot possibly be expected to consume them.

-Take your socks and shoes off on the way to wherever you are going.  Lose one of the socks.


Sound about right?

♥M

Friday, March 7, 2014

Freaky Friday


Today was one of those "Awkward Anonymous" kind of days that made me question being allowed in public. 

I was relatively well-behaved at work; but after leaving there, things just kind of went to crazy, quick.  I had my six-month skin cancer body-screen at the Dermatologist's office and was patting myself on the back for being so well-prepared for it.  I wore my sunscreen all summer, was only 5 minutes late (a real accomplishment for me when going to the doctor straight from work), and had even shaved my legs that morning. 

Normal chit-chat with the nurse, she hands me my gown, she tells me, "Ok, just take everything off except your bra and underwear."  I was all, "Okaaaa....*GAAAAASP!*

"What's wrong?!"
"OMG...I don't have any underwear on."
"Why?!"
"I got dressed really fast this morning...?"

She just kind of stuttered for a few minutes...and then offered me DEPENDS (that was "all she had").  I died laughing and told her I'd rather her see my naked butt than wear a diaper, but I sincerely appreciated her offer. 

In my overzealous effort to tuck the paper lap gown around myself, I tore it in about 4 different places.  I just gave up after that.  "You've had two children, for God's sake," I tell myself.  "HOW could this be worse than being naked in an operating room with a dozen people?!'

I survived that embarrassment just in time to make it to my sorority dinner....and go for broke in the Awkward Games. 

We played a fun game while we waited for our food - one woman called out letters of the alphabet and whoever could produce an item from their purse that started with that letter FIRST, got a point.  Being first meant being quick.  Being quick meant blurting things out.  Being encouraged to blurt things out is NOT ideal for an awkward person, such as myself.  It's like offering an alcoholic a drink, or inviting someone with a gambling problem to go to a casino.  It will not play out well.

I got too excited in the beginning and shouted "Examples!" for 'E' - but what I produced was a SAMPLE of eczema cream from the dermatologist's office.  (No, M. No.)  Other people were pulling out cool stuff, like a leprechaun ('L') and a tazer (T') and an iPad ('I').  I feel like they had played this game before.

I pulled it together and produced deodorant for 'D' and Mickey Mouse bubbles for 'M' (I KNEW those bubbles would come in handy).  I got some weird looks when I produced a chunk of Twizzler from the depths of my bag for 'T', but things reached a really new level when everyone was stumped by the letter 'X'....until I found some Xanax in a side pocket.  I attempted to play that off by announcing there would be an after party in the parking lot with that and the bubbles.  Polite laughter.  Ouch.  (Hey, next time you get nervous on an airplane or break out in hives over a dreadful event you're being forced to attend - you'll think of me and how wise I am to stash the stuff.)  Just stay home, M.  Just stay home.

Well, either they're as crazy as I am or the Xanax compartment of my purse didn't scare anyone too badly, because I was asked to consider being President Elect for next year.  That's what you want, ladies - an awkward president who forgets to wear underwear.  Maybe that will be my campaign slogan...

♥M