Sunday, September 28, 2008

Terrible Two's...My arse

When you have kids, you receive a lot of advice. Some of it you ask for, and well honestly, most of it is unsolicited. My mother, however, has really held back on giving me too much advice in any arena. In fact, she claims she doesn't remember anything about our childhood just so she doesn't have to admit that my 4 year old is WAY more of a handful than my sister and I ever were (if this is the case, I am REALLY in trouble come high school!). But one thing that she did say to me that I keep repeating to myself over and over and over and over again is, "whoever called it the terrible two's just didn't have a 4 year old yet."

She is really on to something here. We have recently entered the stage of "I am SO mad at you", "I don't like you anymore", "You are SO mean", "You are not my friend". This accompanied by a symphony of screaming in frustration, slamming doors, stomping is such a pleasure to be around here. Don't you want to come visit?

So now I am asking for some advice...or at least some sort of psychic reading...when does this end? When does my loveable, polite, even tempered boy make an appearance. When does he stop having the ability to make my blood pressure rise to unhealthy levels, when do I stop being embarassed by his actions, when am I sure that he will grow to be a stable adult?

You know what my mom said? "I'll let you know when it happens for me."


Thursday, September 25, 2008

My secret fear

You know how you are always supposed to wear clean underwear in case you get in an accident or something...that's not really a fear I have. I hope I have underwear on at all, but other than that...not really worried about it.

You know what worries me...what if someone who I want to impress got ahold of my tivo list, my itunes, or my pandora stations? It would be like looking into my soul. And people, let me tell you, it would not be a pretty sight.

I fear the day when someone innocently enough scans the list of my recorded shows and sees the new 90210, Gossip Girl, ALL Bravo shows, and much much more that is slowly draining all of my brain cells.

And since I just confessed the TV part of my soul...I'm going to keep my bad music taste to myself.

Bribery or positive reinforcement...your choice

I have a friend of a friend, or maybe this mother is just an urban legend, but the story goes that she doesn't bribe her children...EVER. Not for nothing.

After I roll my eyes, laugh, close my wide open/fly catching mouth, and make sure the other mothers are reacting the same way, I shout, "no freakin' way, it's not possible."

But is it? Is it possible?

After hearing this story for the first time, I really tuned in to the amount of bribery that occurred in my house on a regular basis.

"boy eat your dinner"
"if you eat is I'll give you gummies"

"Boy get dressed for school"
"if you get dressed we can go to the park after school"

"Boy make your bed, clean your room, and pick up your toys"
"if you make your bed, clean your room, and pick up your toys, I'll buy you a firetruck"

"NO!" (Alright, for somethings even bribery doesn't work)

At the end of my highly extensive and reliable survey, I concluded that we bribe A LOT. In fact, I don't think that we could get anything done without a little mob boss bribery.

But last night I figured out that the urban legend mother does exist and it is possible to live a life with children without bribery. You just have to use positive reinforcement.

Today the scenes went like this
"boy eat your dinner"
"if you eat is I'll give you gummies"

"Boy get dressed for school"
"if you get dressed we can go to the park after school"

"Boy make your bed, clean your room, and pick up your toys"
"NO!""if you make your bed, clean your room, and pick up your toys, I'll buy you a firetruck"
"NO!" (Alright, for somethings even positive reinforcement doesn't work)

Ahhh the beauty of semantics.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Cover yourself up...or not

So I went to the doctor. No worries people...the dermatologist...there will be no stirrups in this story. And, after 30 some odd years in the sun, many of them equipped with baby oil, a chaise lounge, an extension cord and a tv... I thought it was time I got a full body check. You know, make sure all these freckles really are just that, freckles.

As the nurse brings me into the room, she instructs me to leave my underwear on and then put on the robe. Sounds simple enough.

I picked up the robe, but in actuality is should be called a paper towel. Only that a paper towel is softer, more absorbent, and probably bigger. What the F? This robe had neither a front or a back, it was about 6 inches long, It scratched the bejesus out of my skin and I tried it on 10 different times. Were the holes for my arms, my head, my legs? Did it open in the front or the back? Was it a top or a bottom? Did they forget to leave the robe and I was actually struggling with toilet paper?

When I finally decided on the proper position/alignment of it, I settled down onto the table, looked down, and realized that my "robe" didn't even cover all of my bra, my stomach was completely exposed, and forget it about covering my underwear. (none of this was really an issue because after childbirth, modesty doesn't really exist around here).

At that point the Doctor walked in, smiled, and said, "Sorry about the robes, we're trying to cut back on costs."

Save your $.12 a patient lady. I would have been easier to stay in just my underwear.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

I'm not THAT mom!

Pre-kids I was a teacher. So let me tell you, I have more than my share of opinions of THAT mom. You know...the mom who wants you to change her child's grade, the mom who calls you at home to ask about her child's homework assignment, the mom who hangs around school ALL day watching what you do, the mom who believes her child's version of a story over yours...OMG the list could go on.

I swear to you, I am not nor will I ever be THAT mom. I won't let it happen.

BUT...pre-school started this week. And while my darling 4 year old loves it (in fact he gave me a high-five at dinner last night and when I asked him what it was for he said, "for letting me go to school") I can't help but worry. When I ask him in the car each day what he did he tells me "we played, we painted, we had so much fun." And as he is saying this I feel all the little hairs on my arm stand up straight.

No math, no writing, no reading???? What are they doing over there? Is he going to fall behind?

I follow up with thinking

He's 4, he's bright, he's doing great.

And then I repeat to myself.

Don't be THAT mom. Don't be THAT mom. Don't believe everything he tells you.

I know, I know but I can't help but worry about his academics...did I mention that he is only 4?

Maybe I should also mention that I apparently am totally crazy.

Friday, September 05, 2008

Weight Loss

I'm back on Weight Watchers.

Big freakin' surprise as I seem to ALWAYS be "on" something. On Adtkins, on Jenny Craig, on WW, on the wagon...whatever drastic measures I have to take to lose some weight.

And tonight, I think I deserve some seriously good weight loss karma.

We ordered pizza. Delicious, regular crust, pepperoni and sausage pizza. Hubby and big boy and little girl all devoured more than their share (actually I'm currently listening to hubby compain about his indulgence). And you know what I ate? No...not grilled fish, I'm not that good. But a Lean Cuisine pizza and a salad. I KNOW...I deserve a weight watching medal of some sort.

At the very least I think that calories should be calculated by not how much you ate, but by how much you resisted.

Today would go something like this:
Bagel and cream cheese with kids: -525
hot dog at lunch: -350
milkshake with son after teacher meeting: -425
lots and lots of pizza: -800
vodka with tonic: -1000 (it is Friday people!)

Total weight loss= -3100 calories...which should equal about one WHOLE pound for today.

Damn I'm good.

Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Back handed victory

Rewind about 4 years ago. I head off to London to visit my parents with my then 8 month old. I leave my husband in our home alone for what I figure will be 7 days of beer, pizza, and freedom to sleep in an unmade bed. I expect to come home to a house with the toilet seats up, recycling not taken out and lots of dirty laundry. How wrong I was.

This is what I came home to:

Yes, doesn't every family with a new baby need a 1973 Bronco? One that "is such a good deal honey. We're going to make money on this, I swear."

Fast forward to present time. That great deal has sat in the garage for 4 years and has racked up only 400 miles (one trip from old house to new house)

So imagine my delight when last week my husband ON HIS OWN decided to sell the great deal in exchange for this:

why the little girl is wearing a helmet still remains a mystery!

I really thought that after 7 years I had made an impact. Our third car was going to be one that we both would enjoy, could take to the beach, to yoga, to the store...wherever. He was considering my desires, recognizing the immaturity of the purchase of a 1973 Ford Bronco that doesn't even work and just drips oil in the garage, and putting the safety of the kids before his juvenile joy ride. (again, the helmet is a mystery!)
Can I just say it again...How wrong I was!

Because...within one week, this is what I came home to:

Oh...did I mention that in order to pay for this lovely vessel, he has to sell the Bronco AND his now there is no 3rd vehicle...just his car (see picture above) and mine.

So after seven years, the only thing that has happened is that his impulse purchases have gotten more expensive and he has gotten A LOT better at working things to his advantage. Damn.